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lilac-5ky · 1 year ago

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Roommates from Hell, pt.2 (Toji x Fem!Reader)

Chapter 2: 2912

Chapter 1 | Chapter 3 | Story Masterlist | Masterlist

A/N: Thanks to everyone who read and enjoyed the first part of the story! I'll do my best to update every 1-2 weeks and to keep things interesting. Feedback and suggestions are always welcome, and if anyone wants to be notified for updates, drop your name in the comments and I'll gladly tag your @.

Warning: Flashback, mentions of violence, blood, and sex toys (odd combo, I know)

2…9…1…2

Deft fingers punched in the numbers on the door’s keypad, a practiced crescendo of beeps and bops granting you access to your flat. Hesitant fingers that dropped to the handle, but refused to push forward, instead anchoring you there. Not yet, you mumbled, your eyes squeezing shut as soon as your forehead hit the frame.

Today has been a long day. So long that you barely had a moment to process the line of rapid escalations as it brought you to this very doorstep, with the ghost of your former scarf dangling from your neck. Some people would rather be glued to the little screens of their little phones than discipline their eight-year-old brats who, for some reason, thought playing tug of war with others’ scarves while they busted their gut to make a leaving to be of utmost entertainment.

Some people ought to keep their genes to themselves, you exasperated, untying the fabric from your neck and then balled it inside your bag, zipping the bunny across the seam.

The bunny…

Toji…

It was becoming a habit of yours to follow up his name with a sigh. Sometimes a sigh that meant “What am I going to do with you?” and others coming from a place of deep longing and frustration, meaning “What am I going to do without you?”

He said he’d be home after “snipping some loose ends,” which in his dictionary either referred to him breaking some poor woman’s heart, or quite literally stabbing some equally unfortunate man’s heart out of his body at his job’s demand. Depending on the plausibility of each scenario, you were given a minimum of four and a maximum of six hours to try and make sense of his actions and devise a plan to make this cohabitation work.

You licked your lips for the millionth time that day, gnawing at the chapped flesh with the edge of your teeth. No lip balm could aspire to salvage their sorry-ass state, aggravated by the low temperatures and honed by your continuous munching on them. You’d become so conscious of their existence, that it seemed as if you were trying hard to erase it before he had the chance to realize his goal of kissing them— even when that was a common goal shared by the both of you.

The taste of metal pooled in the hollow of your mouth, your teeth sinking a tad too deep. There wasn’t much reason to keep contemplating that which never happened and that which, perhaps, would never come. You wiped your shoes on the crooked doormat (was it always crooked?) and walked inside, your legs nearly giving out at the sight of two knees dangling from your beloved couch’s armrest.

“Woah, keep it down, won’t ya?”

None other than the voice of Toji reprimanded you as you screamed at the top of your lungs. His body was spilled across your couch, the expanse of muscles barely fitting upon the three azure-colored pillows. A soda —your soda— nested in his palm, while a bag of empty potato chips —your chips— lay on the kotatsu.

“What the hell are you doing here?!?” A trembling hand reached out to where your heart supposedly was, checking whether it was still in its place.

“Watching some travel show about Chikura,” he answered, unfazed and undisturbed. “You like abalone, right? Why don’t we-”

“I’m asking, how the fuck did you get in here?”

“Oh, that,” Toji smirked, lowering the TV’s volume just when the travel host was about to devour a platter full of steaming hot seafood—mouthwatering enough to divert your attention for a second. “Sayaka let me in.”

“Sa-yaka…?”

“Flat hair, narrow eyes— kinda like Izumi Pinko. Walks around with a cane twice her size. Rings a bell?”

“Talking about Ogawa-san?” you asked, a caricature of your crabby landlady taking shape before your very eyes. “She never lets in anyone without a key, though. Last time I forgot mine, she acted as if she didn’t know me and went right past. Had to phone a locksmith,” you sighed, murmuring under your breath about the extravagant sum of money you were forced to pay. “How did you do it? Convince her to open up?”

“How else ya think?” His chin rotated leisurely atop his knuckles.

“You can’t be serious! Y-you fucked her?” Your eyes went wide like saucers, the notion sounding both feasible and surreal.

His smirk sharpened into a sly grin as he stood up, a slight slouch on his shoulders carrying him to your eye level. You couldn’t exactly look away from this proximity, so you began quietly analyzing him. The tight-fitting black tee and baggy training pants that greatly accentuated his hips and shoulders; his work outfit. The overgrown hair that curtained the dark circles of his eyes; evidence of a sleepless night. The absence of scent, not even of dirt, sweat, or struggle. He must’ve actually been working on a bounty, you deduced, your final thought of rationale as he invaded the last bit of personal space you’d left.

“You really think the worst of me, huh?” His tongue circled his lips, prompting yours to do the same as you sheepishly shook your head, the sultry sound of his voice as hypnotizing as his hooded green eyes were.

“You think I go ‘round spreading the legs of everything that moves?” Toji asked again, his tone growing more condescending by the second. “ ‘fraid that ain’t the case, princess. I’m not into goodwill. Don’t do things without merit, either. She asked who I was, got all perky when I said I’m moving in, and then handed me these,” he paused, throwing a bundle of creased envelopes at your feet.

You kneeled awkwardly, seeking the sender’s origin in each logo seal. Water company. Electricity company. Phone company. Insurance company. Even the bills from that one debit card Hinata issued in your name in case of an emergency.

“Could say I paid my way in,” he scoffed, his eyes searching for an inkling of appreciation that he failed to find in your stubborn squint.

“I could’ve handled these myself.”

“Thought you’d say this, that’s why I saved this one,” he tossed another, smaller yellow-tinted paper onto the pile. “Eviction notice. My, you have it quite hard, don’tcha?”

“I don’t need classes on financial handling from someone whose living conditions are entirely dependent on ‘the bimbo of the week’,” you snapped, rising back to your feet with the bills in hand.

Maybe things were a bit tighter these past few months than you’d accounted for, but you weren’t like him. Sooner or later, you paid all expenses through sheer work and effort— a concept foreign to him, who’d rather be thrown into the streets than save a dime.

You weren’t like Toji. Not one bit. You knew that if he hadn’t run into your landlady, you would have definitely paid all your debts off in a month’s time or two, even if that meant devolving your breakfast’s nutritional value to that of instant ramen. You could take care of yourself, just like you’d done for 14 years now. He had no right to interfere because, come next month, you’d—

But the overdue deadlines at the top of each paper spoke louder than your inner thoughts and bravado did. The next month would never come for you. Not in this house, at least.

Defeated, you unfolded the paper, straightening the creases your fingernails had helped create. You hated feeling this way— indebted. The last thing you wanted was for this to turn into just another transactional relationship with an expiration date dependent on the other’s wage.

“Thank you, and,” you mumbled, your stare hiking up his body and stopping at his chest —right about where the difference in your height manifested— “….sorry, I guess. Just thought that with the way you look, and all that-”

“The way I look…?” A winsome smile tugged at his dimples, his left hand weaving through his hair as if he were oblivious to how effortlessly attractive he appeared in his work clothes, every single crevice of his body visible under the little piece of fabric.

“N-never mind.” You tore your eyes away, cheeks flushing bright red at thoughts a friend shouldn’t be having. “How was work?”

“Pretty dead,” he shrugged, using the same hand to rub some of the tension around the crook of his neck. “Don’t see a real challenge rising until that Gojo kid hatches from his egg. Rest die like flies.”

As a regular person with about an average percentage of cursed energy running through your system, you had little understanding of the mystical world of Jujutsu and its sorcerers, all the information you had acquired being bits and pieces that Toji had shared with you over the years. He never went into too much detail about his job but never hid anything either. He killed sorcerers with the same ease he spread butter on his bread.

You really didn’t understand much, and perhaps the keywords “kills for a living” ought to ring an alarm or two, but an outsider like you who didn’t abide by their rules had no right judging those who broke them. Besides, with the way his family had disposed of him as if he were a chewed piece of gum stuck on the back of their sole, things weren’t as black and white as one would assume.

“Gojo, you say,” the name sounding awfully familiar on your tongue. “Is that one of the three big clans?”

Toji nodded, his arms folding over his chest. “Special grade when he ain’t grown any pubes yet,” he scoffed, voice twisting in an unnatural way that could have tricked you into thinking he was jealous of the young boy.

“Are you gonna kill him?”

His brows knitted together, clearly not expecting such bluntness. “Question is, can I? Answer being, for the right price,” the frown he wore subdued into a crooked smile. “maybe. Kid should fetch one good wad of cash. I’m sure many want the six eyes out of the picture.”

Six eyes?

“Just make sure you save some of it,” you mindlessly said, eyes dancing around the room for the first time since you’d entered the house.

There were no real signs of his presence. The duffel bag seemed to be nowhere in sight either. Only his shoes were left by the door right next to yours, a sign you’d completely missed upon entering.

“What happened to your things, by the way? Don’t see ‘em.”

“Took the liberty of sorting them out,” Toji said. “You had a lot more empty space than you made it sound earlier.”

Somehow that statement terrified you— not because you were some overbearing control freak who didn’t want others interfering with their stuff, but because you feared the misplaced items he might have found casually lying around, providing him with all the excuse he needed to tease you to an excruciatingly slow and shameful death.

You went on a parade through the rooms, Toji following in your steps like a well-trained puppy, letting you freely inspect the new “changes”.

In the living room, you spotted a pair of dumbbells lying by the window, heavy enough that when you tried to pick one of them up, it resulted in one loud, unintentional shriek as your feet were nearly crushed, much to Toji’s vile amusement. Then in the bathroom, you found a second toothbrush that shared the exact same color yours did, along with a black fuzzy towel and a men’s deodorant that was missing its lid. You’d have to get another cup for his toothbrush, you noted, and moved along, eventually making it to your apartment’s sole bedroom.

“Where are your clothes?” you asked, Toji nodding in your closet’s direction.

You opened the first door, finding a series of dark-colored shirts, sweaters, and cardigans hanging from the previously vacant racks. You didn’t wear much color yourself, but when comparing the disparity between his almost exclusively black side of the space and the creamier pastels that predominated yours, the clash in taste was indisputable.

Absentmindedly, you run your fingers through his clothes, stopping at the dark blue parka you’d gotten him for his 21st birthday. He wasn’t the type to keep gifts from women, but seeing he’d preserved yours in mint condition filled you with a strange sense of pride.

“Not bad,” you exclaimed, satisfied with how aptly his clothes were displayed until a new worry surfaced. “What about your underwear?”

He glanced toward the bottom drawer, his instep gently kicking against it. You weren’t too sure if that was necessary, and under different circumstances, you’d rather avoid such overt embarrassment, but this was your house first and foremost. Your closet, your drawer, and—

“The bottom drawer…?” The realization struck like a ton of bricks, your pupils widening and then trembling as a breath hitched up your throat, remaining there.

The bottom drawer is where you kept it, perhaps the only thing in this entire household that you’d rather he didn’t see, at the cost of your own life, even. A rabbit, whose little ears tapped in excitement every time it saw you. A rabbit vastly different from the ones that hopped around happily in fields or the one that was weaved through the zipper of your handbag. A rabbit that had kept you company in his place many nights and knew the sound of his name better than Toji himself did.

Sinking to your knees, you felt his shadow loom over you like the shadow of imminent death. You let go of that breath and yanked the drawer open, eyes squinting at the sight of neatly stacked black boxers, their size big enough to make you arch a brow, yet not big enough to completely conceal 6 inches of hot pink. You were safe.

“Looking for this?” A light buzz rang in your ear, your head tilting to meet Toji’s namesake.

“G-give it back!” You dived forward, gracelessly collapsing at his feet when he pulled it out of reach.

“Come and get it,” Toji retorted, wiggling it before your very eyes.

Piecing a loose strand of hair behind your ear, you pounced at him, fingers locking around the silicone and his hand, while he refused to surrender, his thrilled expression revealing just how much he enjoyed the demand in your tone as you bossed him into handing back the vibrator.

“What will I get in return?”

“Wha— why would you get anything?” You gritted your teeth, stumbling forward as he dragged you to him.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk,” he shook his forefinger playfully. “Finders keepers, losers weepers. If ya really want it, better compensate me first. Oh, look, it has multiple speeds, huh….” he said semi-impressed, revving up the rabbit’s switch to its second and third speeds.

“…What do you want?” You practically begged, seeking a way out of this humiliation.

“Now we talking,” Toji smirked, barely restraining himself from ruffling the hair of the ferocious, albeit cute, beast that attacked him. “2912. What do the numbers mean? Tried your birthday first, but seems like you do have a few brain cells in there,” he tapped at your temple with his free hand, frustration pooling in your eyes. “Then your mom’s death anniversary, your sis’ birthday, that brat’s too— even mine, but no good.

“So, what’s 2912 to you? Indulge me, and I’ll let you have it.”

2912, or more accurately, 29/12. It didn’t surprise you that he didn’t remember. After all, it wasn’t an important date, just another winter’s day from many, many years ago. A day that was all but erased under the thick blanket of snow as it engulfed your tender memories.

A heavy sigh parted your lips, and at that moment, you knew you’d already lost.

“You really wanna know?”

It was the 27th of December.

The 27th morning of a month whose sole notable event was the week-long blizzard that’d condemned the entire nation to a period of absolute and unfaltering inertia. Well, as unfaltering as the in-between downpours let it be, snow washing over the streets in a diluted mixture of ice and mud every two days— streets turning into a dangerous minefield, and hospital beds quickly filling up with broken-boned smarty pants who thought wandering out and about in the heart of winter would be as inconsequential as those dull days were.

You were one of those idiots. Not quite, but you were on your way to join their ranks, every step you took across the frozen pavements of Tokyo threatening to leave you with a bad case of a sprained ankle, or worse, a cracked skull. You regretted wearing those worn-out boots today of all days, but then again, your wardrobe choices were limited to whatever clothing you’d grown out of, and the clothes your mother left behind.

This old suede pair was hers, too. A gift from back when your house was still open to crowds and birthday parties— when it wasn’t just an empty carcass of termite-eaten joists and web-infested corners that could barely welcome, let alone host, the final of its residents: yourself.

Returning to the reason why you’d chosen today as the day to stride across Shibuya —a thermos of soothing Butajiru soup gripped tightly between your mitten-clad palms and a backpack full of advertising fliers for your afternoon job attached to your back— and consequentially, the reason why you sported your mother’s beloved shoes: you had a job interview. Your first non-canceled interview in over two months since your personal inertia began when you were suddenly and unjustifiably laid off.

Those were tough times. The entire country was dipped in despair over the biggest economic recession they’d known. Left and right, people had their jobs snatched from within their grasp in the name of meek excuses such as cost reduction, or merging and buyouts, or even staff redundancy, and who could blame those small enterprise owners, really?

In any case, the cost of running your previous employer’s rathole of a convenience store might have been reduced, but your living expenses weren’t, and the supplementary funds the state provided were running dry. No one wanted to hire an inexperienced, uninsured high schooler. It was too much of a gamble, especially when the contenders were overqualified college graduates desperate enough to work menial jobs for the same breadcrumbs a part-timer would.

You were at your wit’s end. Out of luck and starved for something other than vending machine onigiri. Thirsty for a life you’d probably never be able to obtain. But today wasn’t about wallowing in self-pity. No, today was the day you’d take your first step toward normality and dignity. Today, you marched proudly in your mother’s most prized possession, and today you felt her comforting scent linger in the breeze, giving you the much-needed push to achieve what you’d set out to do.

Live. That was the final request that left her lips, and that was exactly what you were planning to do. You’d live. No matter what, against all odds, you would live.

The headlights at the bustling intersection shone a brilliant green as the herd of sharply dressed businessmen and casually dressed students on their day off pushed forward like a troop of toy soldiers, sweeping you past Shibuya River, where the crystallized waters from below its bridge stilled your grimacing reflection.

It’d been so long since the last time you’d genuinely smiled that your facial muscles barely remembered how to. It looked awkward and forced. Foreign. You’d practiced your introduction days ahead, but that damn smile stood in the way. If only there was a “smiles for dummies” playbook, though you doubted it’d help. Those without a reason to smile could only second-guess the happiness of those who were blessed with it.

As if to further test your theory, today’s misfortune came pedaling right in your direction, a hasty biker knocking the thermos off your hands and onto the water with a faint “sorry” echoing in his stead. You ducked over the handrail, spotting the silver shine a couple of meters away from the river’s brink. You sighed in relief, grateful that the impact hadn’t shattered the ice and that you still had about 45 minutes to catch your interview— more than enough time for you to carry out your flask’s impromptu rescue operation.

You walked over to the bridge’s sideline, where, in place of stairs, an overgrown cherry tree cast its shadow. This was far from sensible, but the cliff wasn’t steep enough to dissuade you. You looped your scarf around a leaning branch and began your descent, the non-existent friction between your tattered soles and the slippery cement sending you to meet your maker as you tumbled down the slope and hit the ground. Shit.

Once you were done lamenting your sheer idiocy, your faulty shoes, the tree branch, the weather forecast, and every Shinto deity’s name you could remember off the top of your head, you pushed yourself onto your knees, carefully rotating each ankle around itself. Not broken. Thank those aforementioned gods you cursed, or else you’d never be able to afford the medical bills.

You shook the snow off your clothes and stood up, stretching both arms over your head, only to realize your blunder had become a lonesome spectator’s object of amusement. The man —assuming that the creature behind you was a man and not some wild beast with the way his jacket fluffed over his skull— was bent in half, knees to his chest, and arms coiled around, the sole distinctive trait that of his sparkling green eyes zeroing in on your plainer orbs.

You could have sworn you heard a chuckle, too, but you weren’t about to start a fight with some unhinged bum at the bottom of a bridge— not when you were one missed bill away from sharing his fate.

Deciding to temporarily forsake his presence, you located the now broken branch and attempted to fish your bottle out, moving as close to the ice as you could. Desperate lunges pushed the thermos further in, your hold on the wood relaxing with each failed attempt until you barely had a grip.

“Excuse me!” you turned at your last resort. “Hi, um… could you please help me out here? I dropped this into the water, and it’s really important I get it back, but my arms can’t reach and the ice is so thin and slippery I just might fall.”

An uncomfortable chuckle failed to appease its tough crowd, with the man remaining lost in his thoughts, his eyes blinking slower than traffic lights during rush hours. It seemed like you’d found the worst person to exercise your communication skills with.

“Hello? Can you hear me?”

“Shut up.”

It was your turn to blink in surprise, your jaw dropping at the man’s barking. You were too shocked to be offended and too offended to question if it was you he addressed, but his next sentence left no real room for misunderstanding.

“I said, shut the fuck up and take it elsewhere. You were the one who dropped it. If it was that important to you, then shoulda taken better care of it instead of avalanching your way down here and disturbing my peace.”

Clapping your hands over your agape mouth, you muttered an apology and faced away from him, coming to your senses a minute later when you realized you weren’t in the wrong. Sure, he could be dealing with some lachrymose life-shattering situation you knew nothing about, but that wasn’t an excuse for him to act like a complete jerk to a fellow stranger in need.

You weren’t sure why you held back from flipping him off. Maybe you’d accepted that dealing with douchebags was going to become part of your new reality as a service worker, or maybe it was because you really didn’t want any trouble with a guy who looked this intimidating even while seated. Either way, you whipped out your trusty branch again and neared the brink, this time using it as a cane to help you tread the frozen waters and snatch your thermos.

You didn’t even get a chance at a victorious cheer when you felt the ice shatter beneath your feet, eager to swallow you into the depths of its bottomless abyss. Or that’s what would have happened if the river didn’t cap at 2 meters, and if a hand didn’t yank you by the scruff of your neck, hurling you back to the shore as if you weighed no more than a snowflake.

“The hell you think you are doing? Got a death wish or something?” the brass voice of your savior accused, belonging to a much more pleasant and youthful face than one would have expected.

The boy was more or less your age, about a head taller with broad shoulders and a toned physique his baggy clothes undermined— much stronger than your average high-schooler, judging by the sheer strength he’d flung your body with. Messy raven black hair rained down to his ears, sloppily chopped into shape by their owner himself. Eyes as green as a thousand springs gone by, and as fiery as the blazing fury scorching them. The only discord in his features was that of a scar on the right side of his lips, begrudgingly moving with each profanity he spat.

Your second apology came as a knee-jerk reaction to his outburst, encouraged by the temporal trance his good looks had subjected you to. You wouldn’t say you had a type, and even if you did, you doubted that a no-good, rude bridge inhabitant was it. However, the only way for you to tear your gaze off of him was to physically force yourself away. The guy murmured something under his breath and moved back to his original spot, arms dangling over his spread thighs.

You were unsure of what to do. The time for your interview was closing in, and no one guaranteed he wouldn’t rip the vocal cords off your throat if you tried to verbally thank him. You had a very bad feeling about this guy, and perhaps you should have listened to your gut rather than nullifying the distance with a peace offering.

“Here,” you prodded a spare cup of soup into the empty space between you.

He arched a brow at your gesture, his irritation gradually melting into curiosity and then acceptance as he brought the cup to his lips and took a hesitant sip.

“Hmm,” he hummed, gulping down some more after he’d made sure you weren’t trying to poison him.

You expected something else to follow, but it seemed like his outburst exhausted his vocabulary. You could always ask what he thought of it, but the thought alone was as scary as going for another suicide dive. So you said nothing, and he did the same. Just two strangers who barely tolerated each other sharing a moment of silence in the snowy landscape.

A short while later, the boy shoved the cup toward you and dug his hand in his jacket’s front pocket, dropping about six crumpled ten-thousand yen bills at your feet.

“For the soup,” he explained as if the notion of spending such an extravagant sum on half a cup of pork loin soup made sense.

“Are you outta your mind?” You pushed the bills back at him, lest your greed take over. “How much do you think this cost to make?”

“Dunno,” he shrugged, no real hurry to reclaim his cash.

Your initial impression was completely false. No bum would ever wave ten-thousand bills around as if they were nothing. No, this guy ought to at least be some troubled conglomerate heir that’d run away from his five-bedroom mansion.

“I’m sure you don’t know how dangerous this neighborhood is,” you said, placing your hand against your heart. “But as a born and raised local, allow me to say that if you keep flaunting wads of cash in people’s faces so recklessly, it won’t be long before you get mugged. It’s your lucky day you ran into me and not some sleazy money grabber, but trust me, not every day’s lucky, and not everyone’s as nice.”

Something about what you said must have resonated with him, considering his frown cracked into a simper.

“I’d like to see them try,” he spoke in a cocky tone that reeked of confidence. “How much for seconds then?”

“Not for sale,” you answered, throwing the thermos inside your backpack.

His weight shifted in your direction, chin balancing against his elbow. “Why not?”

“You see, I’m on my way to a job interview. Figured if I don’t cut it, then the soup will,” quickly adding, “It’s my trump card.”

“What a dumb plan,” he sneered. “If ya wanna bribe someone, better make an offer they can’t refuse. Couple of these work like a charm.”

He waved the money again, successfully drawing your interest when you noticed tiny splotches of red on one of the bills. Blood.

Picking up on the change in your expression, he hurriedly stuffed the cash inside his pocket, his thumbs sticking out in a relaxed grip so as to hide his discomfort. The air grew heavy once more, albeit for a different reason.

Every guess you’d made regarding this guy’s identity clashed with the next one. He was rude, but he’d jumped to your rescue. He looked unkempt yet strikingly handsome. He’d taken refuge under a bridge but was damn loaded. A walking (more like seated) contradiction of a man that intrigued you in more ways than he repulsed you.

“So, what are you doing out here? Did you also fall from up there?” You chuckled nervously while pointing upward.

He smiled.

“That’s a pretty old-school pickup line, if ya ask me.”

“That’s not what I meant!” Your chest pounded against your fleece jacket, hands quick to dispute him. “Did something happen? Why did you end up here?”

He shook his head.

“Did you run away from home?”

He shook his head again.

“Did you get into a fight with someone?”

He thought about shaking his head a third time, but instead, he opted for a groan and hissed about how he should have let you drown.

Your tongue embarrassed you yet again, as you mumbled an apology and cowered in your corner. For some reason, you couldn’t stop apologizing to him, and if that was enough to frustrate you, then it was definitely enough to annoy him. Maybe the time to leave had come. You’d done your part in thanking him, and it was really none of your business to pry into his sad character backstory.

“Well then. It was nice knowing you, and all. Hope you have a Happy New Year’s and a nice life, and let’s never see each other again for as long as we-”

“What if I told you I just killed someone?”

The blood in your veins froze for a reason separate from the cold. You were left staring at him with wide-open eyes and a wide-open mouth that refused to form anything other than a soundless “What?!”

“Thought so,” he scoffed as if he expected the outcome, sorrow lingering in his voice. “Go away if ya don’t wanna end up the same way. I’m still getting the hang of it, and I’m afraid it’d hurt more than drowning.”

But you didn’t leave. Even when that little voice of reason thrashed and begged for you to seize the opportunity and get the fuck away from this place, your legs refused to take another step. Instead, you settled back upon the snowy blanket and stilled your gaze on his face, watching a glimmer of something tune in the green of his eyes.

“W-Who was it?” You feigned calmness.

“Does it matter?” he shrugged.

“Why did you kill him?”

“Does it really matter?” he sighed, reconsidering his answer. “Dunno. Money, I guess. Not as if I had a personal grudge or anything. Didn’t even know the dude up until three days ago. Took him out with a single bullet to his brain. T’was instant since he didn’t move. Painless, too.” He tried to humanize his actions.

You weren’t entirely sold on his story, but on the off chance he was telling the truth, that made him a murderer and you a witness to his crime. Worse, if you didn’t rat on him, it made you an accomplice, and as far as you were concerned, neither was less illegal than the other.

Your hands cupped your mouth completely as you pretended to blow hot air, the reality being that you didn’t want to spew anything too backhanded before thinking things through. Oddly, it all made sense. The reason he sat down there like a puppy kicked by his owners. His devil-may-care attitude and rude comments that meant to throw you off. The blood on the bills and the stain on the hem of his jacket that you’d previously overlooked.

That was all the incriminating evidence one needed to possibly sentence him, and yet you sensed no real danger in his presence. Only a deep sadness that stemmed from his lifeless eyes, making you believe that his so-called victim was none other than himself. He looked as if he hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep in God knows how long, the light in his eyes reduced to a murky shade of jade now that everything was laid bare.

There was so much you didn’t know about this boy, his name included. But you knew that look of despair all too well. If it was because of money, then maybe, just this once, you wouldn’t mind giving him the benefit of the doubt.

“How much did you make?” You lowered your palms.

Your question surprised him more than he thought possible, and his stupefied expression was a telltale sign of that. He flipped both pockets inside out and let the money fall onto the snow, revealing twice the amount he’d held before— a total of 120.000 yen.

“Minus a grand. Felt hungry after,” he admitted.

“Must be nice… With that amount of money, I could have rice to last me until the end of the year.”

“You’d kill for rice…?”

Glancing at his face, you couldn’t help yourself from snorting. You were both too deep inside the twilight zone to be questioning each other’s motives.

“Why act surprised? People like us do all sorts of things to get out of our predicaments, don’t we?” you asked, deciding there were more things you had in common than things that divided you. “Is ‘just money’ a better reason than rice?”

“Nah,” he shook his head. “But if I were you, I’d get myself a pair of boots that ain’t a death trap of its own. Gotta be a special kind of idiot to wear crappy shoes in the snow.”

“These were my mother’s!” you objected, and he smirked. “What about you? Where do you plan on spending all that money?”

“Roppongi probably. Or Kabukicho. Heard the right price fetches you the right type of fun there.”

He couldn’t be serious. Those were two of the most renowned bad districts in the history of bad districts. Drugs, gambling, prostitution— you name it.

“How old are you again?”

“Older than you,” he childishly retorted.

“What’s your name?”

“So you can snitch?” His tongue wet the scar below his bottom lip. “Toji.”

“Last name?”

He contemplated his answer for a bit before proudly stating that he didn’t have one —that he didn’t need one— and then he asked you the same.

“Y/N.” You smiled faintly. “I do have a last name, but doubt the one who gave it wants me to have it. Would’ve asked it back if it had any real value.”

“So we are two fuck-ups,” he— Toji, declared.

“I suppose we are.”

The two of you shared a quiet laugh, the kind that wasn’t heard but felt through the eyes of two kindred spirits entirely content with each other’s presence. Ever since your mother passed, you lived in a sphere separate from other people. Your classmates and those who tried to be your friends could afford the luxury of sharing takoyaki on a school day and going karaoke singing the next. They could attend field trips and leave memories on a string of Polaroid frames.

You didn’t. You couldn’t. There wasn’t a single moment in your life when you hadn’t thought about the cost of milk and the value of one-plus-one deals you convinced yourself you didn’t need. Such were the concerns you had at seventeen. Not boys, no friendships, no university entrance exams, no nothing. You couldn’t afford the price tag of a dream, let alone a tomorrow. You lived for today and for making ends meet, so how could someone like you ever aspire to be understood? How could you ever view yourself as something other than the zeros at the bottom of your meager paycheck?

Your self-exile had no room for others, yet somehow, this foul-mouthed stranger had barged his way in and given you a moment that you couldn’t price. A moment that neither loan sharks nor the bank could ever steal. A moment of your youth.

The thick fingers of a calloused hand came to tap at your knee softly, making you wonder whether you’d missed something during your short period of contemplation.

“When’s the interview?” Toji asked.

“Uhm.” You rolled your sleeve to check your watch. “Ten minutes? There’s still time; the place’s right around the corner.”

“Somethin’ tells me getting your ass over there will take longer than that.” Suddenly, the hand that was on your leg hovered above your head, prompting you to grab it as Toji towered over you. “Let’s go.”

“You coming with?”

“You think I’d rather sit down here like some bridge troll that reels in defenseless damsels in distress?”

You were tempted to answer “yes” to see his reaction, but he resumed talking before you could utter a word. “Won’t say it again. Let’s go.”

And with that, you followed Toji to the other end of the bridge, where the stairs you previously failed to locate mocked you with every little squeak your heels produced, until you stood back at the top of civilization, finding it, unsurprisingly, the same as you’d left it. Thoroughly white and eerily quiet.

Just as you thought your ways would part, Toji took your hand in his rather forcefully and picked up a steady gait that you were made to keep up with, your shoes leaving deep imprints in the snow.

He held your hand all the way to the diner, and although you were truly curious as to why he did that, you didn’t dare ask. You walked side by side in silence, occasional fleeting gazes catching his warm breath clashing with the cold. It was then that you realized how warm his palm felt, despite it being all bare. Warm, strong, and certain. So this is what holding a guy’s hand feels like, you giddily mused.

By the time you reached the front door, you were more reluctant to let go than you’d been to grab his hand, thinking that this was the first and last time the two of you were saying goodbye. Sweat made your fingers slippery. You were anxious. You slid your mittens off your fingers and, on a whim, pressed them tight against his palms, making him the recipient of the first gift you’d ever given. He shot the pink-colored wool a funny look —maybe because the prospect of him accepting such a girly-looking accessory puzzled him— and then lingered for a moment or two before he turned around and waved at you over his shoulder.

“Aren’t you gonna wish me good luck?” You asked when the distance between you began to increase.

“You won’t need it,” you heard him say. “The soup will do.”

And with those final words exchanged, you traded the frigid cold for the diner’s artificial heat and the presence of a prospective friend for that of your boss-to-be.

Just like Toji predicted, you didn’t need luck, and you didn’t need that lukewarm soup either. The man hired you almost as fast as he saw you, sternly announcing that you start come Monday. You thanked him from the bottom of your heart and ran back outside, searching through the various white-painted buildings for that stubborn hint of black you’d not too long ago parted with— which you quickly spotted a couple of alleyways ahead.

“I got the job! You hear me, Toji?” You yelled in utter glee, sensibility alone keeping you from springing upward like a jack-in-the-box. “I’m not a fuck-up anymore; I got it! I got the job!”

You weren’t even sure whether that shadow really belonged to him and whether he’d actually made sense of all your frantic cries, but maybe if you’d hushed a little, then you could have heard a distant voice chiming, “I knew you would.”

It was the 27th of December when we first met, but it was on the 29th that I fell in love with you— the scruffy boy with the snow-laced hair and emptied pockets who ordered the cheapest fries off the menu as my company’s fee.

You had your answer locked and loaded— a trigger waiting to be pulled. A clear shot. One bullet was all it’d take to end it. One word, and the farce you called friendship would fizzle right then and there. A sadistic impulse uncoiled deep within your stomach, hitching up your throat like a vile serpent of temptation spurring your chaste tongue to commit the greatest sin imaginable.

I hate being your friend. I don’t want to do this anymore. Do you have any idea how hard it is?

All synonyms for the same emotion. A gut-wrenching, soul-crushing, and above all, self-destructive unrequited love that made your heart clench at the mere sight of him, pound at the sound of his voice, and hammer at the ghost of his touch. If you could reach deep within your chest and cut that useless thing off the strings that held it in its cavity, you certainly would. You’d hand it over to him and gladly watch him stomp on it with the biggest smile contorting the final expression on your face. You wanted to rid yourself of this pointless emotion, but you knew very well that to destroy yourself meant to destroy him.

The 18-year-old Toji that held your hand on a cold winter’s day as if it were the most precious thing to him. The 20-year-old Toji that came along to meet the sister and nephew you didn’t know you had. The 22-year-old Toji that said he was proud of you when you paid off your parents’ house’s mortgage. The 24-year-old Toji that came to your graduation from state college with blood-stained lilies in his hand, again letting slip how proud he was. The 26-year-old Toji that didn’t hesitate to knock the teeth right out of a handsy prick’s jaw, spending his first and last night in a holding cell. The Toji from the last ten years of your life that never strayed too far away from your sight and always managed to return in time for lunch.

Standing in front of the 28-year-old Toji, you felt more apologetic than ever, wishing that you wouldn’t have let your love for him fester into something so selfish and consuming. Because if Toji left, then you’d still have your sister and her family, but if you left, Toji would have none.

And that was why you could never tell him what that day meant. It was impossible to speak of it with any less fondness than the one depicted in your memories, and as dense as Toji could be at times, he was no idiot. So rather than giving him the answer he thought himself to seek, you retracted your hand and took a step back, forcing the meekest smile your guilty conscience could muster.

“How about an offer you’d never refuse?”

tags: @absoluteindulgence

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firstkanaphans · 4 months ago

Note

Hi, I love your writing, so I'd be happy if you considered doing Nr. 5 and 17 for PhumPeem for the smut prompts. There not nearly enough fanfics about them...

Thanks!

I was late to the game with We Are, so I haven’t had a chance to fangirl about these two nearly as much as they deserve, but my god do I love them. I went into We Are expecting QToey to be my bias, but PhumPeem have my whole heart. I'm glad you gave me a chance to write them. Enjoy! Rating: Somewhere between mature and explicit (I don’t know how to rate BJs, but there is one, so…) Word Count: 1800ish. My first failure of this prompt challenge because why is this a whole ass fic??? The point was supposed to be to not write long things 😭

{calling} them late at night to come over + {laughing} midway through

Peem couldn’t sleep. He hadn’t been able to for almost a week. He was too distracted thinking about Phum.

His thoughts were manageable during the day when Phum was busy teasing him—it was easy then for Peem to convince himself it was all just a game—but at night, when the line between dreams and reality became impossibly thin, Peem couldn’t help but lie awake and wonder whether it might actually be real because the sadness in Phum’s eyes any time they parted felt genuine. Peem was starting to feel it too. Knowing Phum was currently alone in an empty house with only his army of plushies to keep him company…It bothered him.

In a fit of what could only be called madness, Peem picked up his phone and dialed a number that had become more familiar to him than he was willing to admit. If it had rung more than once, he probably would have hung up, but Phum answered almost immediately.

“Is this a booty call?” he asked in lieu of a greeting.

Peem had never regretted anything faster. “I’m hanging up.”

“No, wait, I was only joking.” Phum laughed. “I’ll behave myself, I promise. Why are you calling me at one in the morning?”

Was it really that late? Peem pulled his phone away from the ear to check the time and sure enough 1:12 was flashing back at him from the screen. “Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t realize it was so late.”

“I don’t mind. I was already up.”

For some reason, that made Peem unimaginably sad. Was Phum lying awake thinking about Peem the same way Peem was thinking about him? Was he just as confused? Was it Peem’s fault?

“You can’t sleep either?” Peem asked.

“Not really,” Phum agreed. “It’s too quiet.”

Peem didn’t recall making any conscious decision to say what he said next. All he knew was that Phum was right—it was too quiet—and he didn’t want to be alone. “You could come over if you want,” he said. “We can be awake together.”

It took Phum so long to respond that Peem was seconds away from retracting the offer altogether. “You mean that?”

“Well, I…Yes. I mean, if you want, but there’s no—”

“So this is a booty call?”

“I’m hanging up now.”

“I’ll see you in twenty.”

It was easier to sneak Phum up to his room than Peem thought it would be, but once they were there, he wasn’t quite sure what to do with him. He felt more settled in his presence, though. He always did. It was hard to doubt Phum’s sincerity when he was staring at Peem as if he was just as beautiful as the stars in the night sky.

“Good drive?” Peem asked, looking everywhere but at Phum.

Phum smirked and sat down on the foot of Peem’s bed. “It was fine. No traffic.”

“Good. That’s…good.” Unsure what else to do, Peem sat down as well. As soon as he did, Phum reached out and used a single finger to turn his face so that they were looking at each other. Peem could have sworn his heart stuttered in his chest. How had things changed between them so quickly? How had he gone from hating the very sight of Phum to drowning in his eyes?

Although Peem would deny it later, he was the one who leaned in first. The taste of Phum’s lips was familiar now, but he still hadn’t grown tired of it. He would have stayed there kissing him all night if Phum let him, but he didn’t want to impose—didn’t want to seem too desperate—so after only a few seconds, he pulled away.

To his surprise, Phum chased his lips with his own until they were kissing again. This time, the kiss was not so innocent. Phum tangled his fingers in Peem’s hair, forcing him closer, and deepened it, pushing Peem down onto the bed.

“This isn’t why I called you,” Peem insisted when Phum broke away to draw breath.

Phum smirked down at him. “Do you want me to stop?”

Peem didn’t, but his pride wouldn’t let him say it out loud.

“Fine then,” Phum said with an unbothered shrug. He sat back up. “I’ll stop.”

“Wait, no,” Peem said. He grabbed Phum by the front of the shirt and pulled him back down to his lips so that he wouldn’t have to stare at the smug smile on his face. He could still feel it, though. He could taste it on his tongue.

They kissed for so long that it felt like Peem’s blood was boiling beneath his skin. He was hard and he could feel that Phum was too, but neither of them made any moves to go farther. Then, much too soon, Phum broke away and looked down at Peem sheepishly.

“Sorry,” he said, clearing his throat. “I, um, need to stop.”

“Oh,” Peem said, not quite following. “Okay.”

“Let me just go take care of this in the bathroom and then we can go to sleep.”

“You want to go to sleep?”

Phum, who was already halfway out of the bed, turned around with his brows furrowed. “Do you not want to go to sleep?”

“No—I mean, yes—I mean, sleep’s fine.”

“Are you sure? Because you’re acting like sleep’s not fine.”

“I just thought that maybe we could…” Peem trailed off, too shy to say the rest. He really hadn’t called Phum over for this, but he couldn’t deny that now that they had started, he didn’t want to stop.

“Maybe we could what?”

“Nothing. It’s…nothing.” Peem moved to roll over as if he was, in fact, going to sleep, but Phum grabbed him by the shoulder and rolled him onto his back once more. Peem tried to roll away again, knowing his cheeks were so red that merely a glance would give him away, but this time Phum straddled him, sitting back on his thighs to hold him still.

“Maybe we could what?” he repeated. His voice wasn’t teasing like it usually was. It was genuine. Earnest.

“I just thought we might do more, okay? But it’s fine. It’s not like I’m ready for that anyway.” It was a rare moment of vulnerability for him, but he felt safe in Phum’s arms. Despite their previous arrangement, Peem somehow knew that he was the one who held the power between them. “Go to the bathroom,” he said, pushing fruitlessly on Phum’s chest. “It’s fine.”

Phum didn’t move. Instead, he leaned in close until his lips were hovering right over Peem’s. “I’m not ready for that either, but there are other things we could do. If you want.” His hand drifted below the waistband of Peem’s pajama pants and although he didn’t touch him, the possibility that he could excited him. “It’ll help you sleep.”

“Oh yeah?” Peem laughed. “And what’ll it do for you?”

He didn’t expect an honest answer. “The only thing I need to fall asleep is you. What do you say?”

His hands drifted low enough to tangle in the hair of Peem’s groin and Peem's muscles twitched in eager anticipation. He couldn’t fathom saying no. “You’re not allowed to make fun of me,” he said instead.

Phum grinned. “I wouldn’t dare.”

He leaned in and kissed Peem again. Peem hadn’t been expecting another kiss. For some reason, he thought the kissing portion of the evening was over and it was a relief to find that it wasn’t because kissing he knew how to do. As Phum kissed him, Peem calmed. He barely even registered that Phum was taking off his pants until cool air touched bare skin.

Peem felt compelled to cover himself, but before he could, Phum began kissing his way down Peem’s body, staring up at him the whole time. He paused right above Peem’s cock, sitting erect against his stomach.

“If you don’t like it, just tell me and I’ll stop,” Phum said, turning his attention to Peem’s dick. His eyes widened slightly at the sight and Peem could tell he was impressed, but the size didn’t seem to intimidate him. Without hesitation, he took Peem into his mouth.

Peem’s first instinct was to pull away because the sensation was so overwhelming, but it only took a few seconds for the pleasure to kick in.

“Oh,” he said, relaxing back onto the bed.

Peem had never asked Phum about his previous experiences with men, but he seemed to know what he was doing. He worked up a slow, steady rhythm, using his tongue to trace patterns on the underside of Peem’s cock, and as he did, he reached out, grabbed Peem’s hand in his, and tangled it in his hair himself. Even without words, Peem knew what he was asking for. He pulled Phum’s hair, causing him to moan around his cock, and although Peem would like to lie and say his stamina was impressive for a virgin, he knew it wasn’t. Phum was too good.

“I’m gonna—”

He came before he even got a chance to finish his sentence, but Phum didn’t seem to mind the lack of warning. He took half of Peem’s seed into his mouth before pulling off and letting him finish on his lips. Peem watched as he licked himself clean.

“That was—” Peem started as Phum settled into the space next to him, folding easily into his side.

“Yes?” Phum weedled.

“Adequate.”

Phum laughed, burying his face in Peem’s shoulder, and Peem wondered if he should be offering to return the favor, but Phum gave no indication that was necessary. He seemed content to just lie there and fall asleep in each other’s arms.

“Do you need to go to the bathroom?” Peem asked, remembering their conversation from earlier. “To…finish?”

Eyes still closed, Phum fished around until he found Peem’s hand and then pressed it to the front of his pants. His erection had flagged; his pants were damp. Peem tried not to laugh, but he couldn’t help it. Phum smiled into his shoulder.

“I told you I needed to stop like fifteen minutes ago,” Phum muttered sleepily. “You don’t listen.”

“Sorry,” Peem said, rubbing Phum’s back soothingly. “Go to sleep. You deserve it.”

#we are the series #phumpeem #phumpeem fic #sarah writes things #smut prompts

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innernachoesandguacamole · 2 months ago

Text

Input You, Output You

(I understand this may be completely redundant as there’s only so many ways one can describe the very simple and intuitive concept of ‘just be’, but my mind has run in circles with ‘what about the circumstances or senses’ despite the principle being repeated a million times over, so I thought I’d put my thoughts down to help myself better understand it, and hopefully help others better understand through this interpretation!)

I’ve recently been spending more time on my phone that I’d like on brain-numbing, meaningless stuff

Not just social media, but mindless mobile games

Just being inundated with excessive visual and aural stimulation that says nothing, means nothing once the app is closed

I feel drained and disconnected afterwards

I can’t engage with family or friends as much as I like, my thoughts drift back even when I’m not actively scrolling or playing, it’s like my mind becomes a jumbled pile of brainrot mush that doesn’t even make me happy

Yet I find myself going back again and again for that comfortable, predictable stimulation

But I recently came across an ig reel by Adam / etymologynerd that’s lingered in my mind since first watching: https://www.instagram.com/reel/C_VnTi2Pjg8/?igsh=djFuYnNtZnY0c290

If you don’t feel like watching he’s discussing how ai generated content’s ability to make comprehensible… anything is solely due to the massive amounts of human-created data it’s trained on

It doesn’t actually understand or create like a person does because it’s a pattern predictor, not a soul or individual being

Once it starts training on itself it loses that conscious discerner and so the outputs get less coherent until it eventually eats its own tail and just makes nonsense

Same thing can be applied to you because the human mind-body is itself a pattern predictor that spits out whatever it’s fed - think solving an equation, drawing from past experience, a mediocre song stuck in your head because you were fed it against your will by spotify’s stupid algorithm and now you’re singing the lyrics, your internal clock being fucked up because you kept sleeping at 3am lol

The mind-body is not its own conscious entity, it can’t do anything by itself

But even with all these seemingly automatic thoughts and actions, you always have the ability to consciously step out and change the scene

You as the observer bring it into existence and continue to keep it alive through your awareness of it

If you allow your awareness to follow or focus on a certain belief or habit, your world will naturally adjust to output that initial belief again and again and again

This doesn’t necessarily have to be inherently good or bad; it’s up to you to continuously check on the data you choose to input

Are you content with what you are observing? If not, why have you not already tweaked your dataset?

As you continue to submit your power to the primitive, lifeless machine of the mind-body with manufactured fears and desires and identities, does your life feel like it’s losing meaning? Do you want enough to escape that comfort of familiarity in order to go beyond?

Is the reward of loving yourself, of returning to yourself enough for you to step out of the cycle into the vastness of infinity, even with initial resistance and garbage outputs from the pattern predictor?

Remind yourself of your autonomy again and again

Your inner foundation trains your ‘AI’ to imitate the input of your focused attention and your being

Take time to take a step back from the generated illusion and focus on what speaks to you :) as the dataset consolidates, the output will naturally reflect it

Don’t worry about the how or when

You don’t need to source, blueprint, or assemble the parts of the machine in order to install it and reap the rewards

Know it’s part of you and let the magic happen

Input ____, output ____

That’s all :)

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thelesbianpoirot · 11 months ago

Note

can you share some of those social anxiety strategies some tips&tricks perhaps

People's memory aren't that great. They can hardly recall the face of a perpetrator of a crime when it is vitally important, very few people will recall, what you look or sound like. So if you did something super embarrassing in front of a stranger/customer, you will just be anonymous woman to them, not Jessica Jones, age 22, from 21st street New York.

Practice what you are going to say. For my job, I got put on phones, I literally wrote down a script of most asked questions, and read it off, and then eventually I could adlib the rest. This works for most phone convos, like ordering things online or reporting a problem to the light/water company.

Be nice and polite to people, and they will be nice to you, especially if you fuck up, they will forgive the mistakes of a person who was kind to them, then someone who was standoffish. Social anxiety can be view as standoffish/rude, so try to always greet people, acknowledge people, say their names, even when you feel like you're bothering them, or you're trembling.

Go to places, theatre, restaurant, bar, ALONE, anxious people often like to rely on friends or family to interact with the world, just using people as a crutch, and start being people okay with yourself exist. Start by putting in headphones, but work your way up to eating a meal in silence, by yourself, in public.

Force yourself to interact with people in a controlled environment at first before branching out. Volunteer, join a club, go to event, something you are interested in. PICK a single place. One day a week you do to a book club or old folks home, or a bar, and strike up a conversation with ONE person on the bus. Just a minimum of one. That last three minutes or more. Throw up afterwards if you have to, but GRIT AND BEAR IT!

Admit to people you're anxious, "I never do stuff like this, i'm anxious, if I say something wrong please tell me."

STOP FOCUSING ON YOURSELF, anxiety is often the result of self absorption, it sounds mean, but for me, when I am feeling most anxious, I am worried about how I look, how I sound, and making myself an exception from others in my head, "Damn I sound stupider than everyone else." Humans are very predictable, you're more alike people than you are different, if you are scared, chances are the person you are interacting with might be too. You're two terrified mammals in an interaction trying to come out alive, you are not alone.

Dress comfortably and practically, if you are wearing anything that makes you feel physically uncomfortable and self conscious, it will cause anxiety in everything you do, if you're at work, don't overdo it with the accessories, you're there to collect a checque, not wow people. Create a uniform if you must, a generic comfortable things that are WORK CLOTHES, check your appearance once before you leave the house, and never again until you are home. Stop looking at yourself and just be.

You have to become methodical of interaction before it is natural. In my head, I had a step by step plan for approaching a stranger. 1. GREETING. (hey) 2. Asking how they are? (if someone I see frequently/coworker) 3. Compliment (That is a really nice watch/earring/anything non-physical) (italicized is option but nice) 4. The objective. ( Are you busy? I don't know how to work the fax machine, can you please show me). (Do you know where I can get lunch?) (I didn't understand that instruction) (Is that your blue honda in that parking spot, It's my spot, and I don't want to get in trouble by parking in someone else's). 5. Closer. (Thanks for all your help) (do you have any suggestions for me?) (I hope that is okay) (sorry for the trouble,) (I have to go, I have to (insert tasks) bye!) Soon or later you'll find yourself sounding more natural, but you must push through the cringe of robotic rehearsed conversations.

Ask yourself: Why am I scared? Why am I anxious when talking to my coworkers? Reason it out: - I am afraid of saying the wrong thing. - I am afraid they will laugh at me - I am afraid they will dislike me. Find the root of anxiety about various tasks. And tackle things at the root. I hated being laughed at because of bullying at school, and at home, I had to become okay with that. I didn't care if people didn't like me, but I did not want to be a joke, which made me realize I was taken myself too serious.

CBT - I am not a big fan of therapy, but I believe in CBT for anxiety, it is practical, and stuff you can do at home. You will find a lot of resources online. CBT anxiety worksheets, toolkit, self aids key words. https://psychcentral.com/anxiety/cbt-for-anxiety#cbt-worksheets

SELF HELP BOOKS: I also hate bullshit self help books, but I will admit, I read this book cover to cover:

How to Win Friends & Influence People (Dale Carnegie Books) Paperback – October 1, 1998

(it's an old book so you can find PDFs online) https://www.pdfdrive.com/

Set various missions with goals.

I have more advice in me, but I just got off a long shift and I am exhausted.

#thelesbianpoirot

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beyondthebelle · 1 month ago

Text

Diet Pepsi

(CM Punk x OC)

Hi! This is fun and new and exciting for me.

Consider this the prologue to a story I've had brewing in the ole noodle.

Nothing much to warn about other than depictions of a panic attack.

Description: she's got no job, but gets a job as an assistant to who....? uhoh couldn't beeeeee

(Truth be told I couldn't (can't) decide if I want this to be a Damien or Punk fic)

Anyhoozles, story after the jump. Ciao!

Attic Apartment, 1:30 p.m

Buzz.

Buuuzz.

Buuuuuzz.

Amelia sat on the precipice of her chipped wooden chair. She watched as her phone danced across her desk. MEGAN – JOB INTERVIEW flashed on the screen. She’d forgotten she saved the number after her phone interview. Her ear hot after the half an hour glued to it, afraid her wireless headphones would spontaneously die or disconnect or some other fiasco.

She took a shuddering breath in and put on her most cheerful voice.

“Hello?”, she said with a toothy smile. She read that people can hear it when you smile when you’re talking.

"Hi Amelia, it's Megan from your interview yesterday. I'm happy to say we'd love to have you on our team and offer you the position of Personal Assistant t...”, ringing filled her head and the echoes of her interviewers’ voice drifted across her ears. The edges of her vision blurred in tune to the thumping of her heart.

"Congratulations. We think you'll be excellent. I'll email you the details shortly after I end the call."

Through the din of her rising panic attack Amelia heard herself thanking Megan, feigning exhilaration, and telling her she was "excited to join the team" and "jump into the ring*". Megan laughed at that, and said Amelia would fit right in.

*She later stayed up until 4 a.m. thinking about that joke and wondered if she would even make it to orientation or if she'd die of embarrassment first.

Blog: Amelia's Feelias

dear diary, i suppose this isn't a diary, but i don't know how to start. i got a job! I GOT A JOB! finally but the thing is it's with the wwe?? that's insane, right? oh my god? what am i going to do? i don't know anything about wrestling. i think my cousin does? i researched enough to understand the company, the main players, googled some buzz words, read the wikipedia, and checked out their socials. i must have tricked them into thinking i knew what i was doing. maybe they saw i'm a people pleaser and that's what they need in an assistant? what if they throw a cellphone at me?!

Attic Apartment, 1:50 p.m.

Amelia pushed the laptop away from herself, sighed and dropped her head to her hands. After she got the call that she had the job, she opened her laptop and began typing but didn't get far. Her therapist had encouraged her to start writing when she got overwhelmed. The words she was spilling out felt forced and self conscious. She was so scared, so nervous, curious and excited. Not to mention relieved to finally have a job, but at what price? Where was this even taking her?

Swirling sensations zapping through her body, thoughts racing. Prickles of heat on her hairline made her hyper aware of her body. She was getting sweaty. Heart racing. A personal assistant? To a wrestler?? What the hell was she thinking? How do you assist a wrestler? Do they practice moves on you. Do you actually have to get in the ring?! She heard the last words cry hysterical on her mind.

"Deep breaths Amelia" She muttered shakily to herself.

In through the nose,

out through the mouth.

Slowly.

Feel the air fill your belly.

Amelia could hear the low, soothing tones of her therapist in her head, guiding her through her panic attack. With each breath she felt herself become clearer.

Finally, Amelia came back to reality. The rhythm of her breathing centering her focus, she was no longer consumed by the images of her dressed in a giant feather boa or being tossed through a table. That didn't even make sense from an OSHA stand point. And HR would have a field day. Plus, they asked if she could do heavy lifting up to 50 lbs. That's a pack of water, not a person.

She chuckled to herself now. She'd seen wrestling matches. The idea was so preposterous. Giggles escaped her between little alleviated sobs. The kind you didn't know you'd been holding in until you finally let them out. She felt silly. She felt relief.

She had a job; she was going to get out of this apartment.

Now it was just time to google who or what the fuck a CM Punk is.

#damien priest #wwe raw #monday night raw #wwe #wwe fanfiction #wwe fic #wwe damian priest #wwe cm punk #cm punk

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milarqui · 3 months ago

Text

Scarlet Lady: Gorizilla

Directory | The Mime

Plagg wasn't sure what to make of Adrien wearing sunglasses and a completely unusual set of clothing (not that he cared much about that), but he still felt curious about what he was doing.

“So, we're just sneaking out?” he asked.

Adrien gave him a side glance.

“Well, you saw what happeend when I tried asking directly.”

----

“Nathalie will let you know when I'm available to talk,” Gabriel had said, not even bothering to look away from his large computer.

“Wuh–?!” Adrien babbled, but to no avail.

“I'm busy right now.”

Adrien couldn't see it, but he would have certainly become quite worried if he had seen what his father's computer was showing: a photograph of his hand, wearing a ring... next to a photograph of Chat Noir's hand, wearing a ring.

“Yes... busy...” Gabriel mumbled as he looked between both images.

“Uh, père?” Adrien asked, trying to catch the man's attention.

“Why are you still here?”

Adrien just rolled his eyes and left.

----

“Here's the perfume you wanted, mon trésor!” André Bourgeois said, as Chloé happily opened the door.

“Adrien's new scent!” she proclaimed, and she immediately told Jean-Charles to carry the boxes to her bathroom.

“Ma chérie, a special screening of Daddy's movie is playing today,” André said, even though Chloé was clearly ignoring him. “Shall we go watch together –”

“Nope!” she replied, slamming the door on his face before rushing to the bathroom... to throw all the bottles into the bathtub and then jump in right behind them. “Radiant... carefree... dreamy... Adrien–”

“Single handedly financing the business, are you?” Tikki asked, not even surprised.

----

Her Queen was getting ready to have fun, but unfortunately there was something she had yet to realize.

“So this swimsuit is in case something happens to the first swimsuit in the wave pool,” she said, showing a striped swimsuit, “and this swimsuit is in case someone spills ice cream on themselves,” she continued, pulling one with spots, “and this swimsuit is in case someone is self-conscious of the swimsuit they brought and want to change...”

My Queen is so prepared and so going to be late, Pollen thought.

----

Adrien looked around the corner, hood and sunglasses in place, to check for any potential dangers, and saw none apparent as he stepped ahead.

“Coast is clear...”

“GASP! ADRIEN AGRESTE?!”

COME ON!

“Aw, poop,” he mumbled, as he was suddenly manhandled.

“Remember me?! It's Wayhem! We met at the buddy competition! I can't believe we ran into each other, say cheese! Aaand POST!”

It all went so fast, he barely had a chance to react – but hearing that last word was enough to set off the alarms in his mind.

“Wai–”

But it was too late.

And, of course, this guy's complete lack of volume control ruined his plan.

“Over there!”

“It's Adrien!”

“Adrien Agreste?!”

There were many things he wanted to say. Some of them enough to turn the air blue. But the shock was so large that none of it made it out.

“Oh no.”

----

Tikki didn't even bother saying anything. Why would she? It just led to further disappointment with the girl that had taken the Earrings.

Instead, she just watched her spritz that overrated perfume everywhere around the room.

“And this will smell like Adrien, and this, and this–”

DING!

“Hm?” Chloé said as her cellphone sounded out an alert, and she thankfully stopped her contamination to check her phone, and she gasped. “Adrien's outside! I must grace him with my presence!”

Tikki didn't even bother pointing out that Adrien didn't consider her a friend anymore. Why would she? Chloé had never cared for anything but her own little universe where everything revolved around her.

Unfortunately, she wasn't fast enough to dodge the spritz of that kwami-awful liquid Chloé threw in her face.

“Ready to go!”

“Now that you smell like teenage boy and cheese?!”

----

Marinette did her best to run with her flip-flops on, while carrying her bags... and talking with her friend on the phone.

“I'm so sorry, Alya! I lost track of time!”

Alya just laughed, the traitor.

“Let me guess: you tried packing backup swimsuits 'just in case'?”

“HRK!” she grumbled. She wasn't about to admit that to Alya.

Unfortunately, that kept her from looking ahead... and she crashed into a rather tough obstacle.

BAM!

“OW!”

“AH!”

“MARINETTE!”

“ADRIEN?!”

What were the chances?

----

“ADRIEN?!” Alya shouted, as she heard her best friend and her boyfriend's best friend talk.

“Please, hide me!” she head Adrien beg, and she could almost figure how flustered Marinette would be.

“O-okay!”

That sounded very, very interesting to her reporter ears.

----

Fortunately, they had had enough of a headstart that Marinette had managed to pull him into a fountain that had been running dry for a few weeks, and it was deep enough that they could duck inside without being seen.

“He went that way!” they heard some of Adrien's persecutors shout, and both of them were suddenly acutely aware of how close they were to each other.

“Thanks for saving me,” Adrien managed to say. “People are going crazy because of the ad.”

Marinette had a bit of trouble knowing what that meant, but she realized soon.

“Oh right, your cologne,” she replied. “Is it okay to be out then?”

“I don't know, but I have something that I have to do today and today only,” he whispered back.

“Oh... well, whatever it is, I'll help you!”

Adrien rewarded her with a smile, as they held hands.

“Thanks, Marine–”

He was interrupted by a flash, and they both turned to see someone had managed to catch up to them...

“Adrien and his girlfriend in the fountain! Cute!”

… and they were publishing it on the social network!

“Huh?!”

----

“GIRLFRIEND?! I won't stand for this! Tikki, spots on!”

Tikki didn't bother to point out that Adrien couldn't be more obvious about how he liked Marinette.

Good grief.

----

“Does that say girlfriend?” Rose asked, surprised at the photo, while Kagami shot into Alix's back with her water gun (something that they had wondered but had chosen not to ask questions about) as Ondine looked with shock.

“I thought she was into Chat Noir?” Mylène pointed out.

“C'mon, you saw how she couldn't stop staring at him at your dad's show last night!” Alya said, cheering at the idea of her friends getting together.

“So cute!” Rose squeed.

----

“Sorry I dragged you into this, Marinette,” Adrien said as they laid hands and knees in the first metro station they managed to find after getting away from the crowd. “Now everyone thinks you're my girlfriend.”

(Yes, he was happy about it, but he wasn't going to tell her. Yet.)

“Ah–!” she exclaimed as she recovered her breath, and held onto her bag as she bashfully looked at her friend. “Uh, do you think you'll be alright with your father?”

He winked at her, and pulled out the one thing he carried everywhere with him (apart from his Ring).

“Nothing can happen to me thanks to your lucky charm!”

Marinette felt like an arrow hit her in her feelings, as she pulled out the one thing she carried everywhere with her (apart from her Comb).

“I–I have mine too!” she replied.

“Really?!” Adrien happily asked... and yet again he was interrupted.

At the other side of the rails, a large crowd had formed.

“It's Adrien from the ad!”

“He and his girlfriend have matching bracelets! Adorable!”

As they looked to the stairs out of the station, and a train entered from their right, they found, on one side...

“Adrien–!”

Wayhem, the boy that had ruined Adrien's attempted subterfuge.

And, on the other side...

*grumble*

Adrien's mute bodyguard.

“We're surrounded!” Marinette exclaimed, as a train entered the station. “What do we do?!”

“HERE!” Adrien exclaimed, pulling Marinette through the closest door.

“AIYAH–!” she screamed, as the doors closed right behind them... and the lucky charms they so treasured on the other side.

----

“Aw, they're gone,” one of the stalkers Adrien's fans complained, but then they turned to look at the large man that had arrived.

“Adrien's bodyguard!”

“Yay! Get his phone!”

Before he knew what to do, Adrien's bodyguard was mobbed by the crowd, and trying to get away without hurting anyone...

----

“What the heck, Adrikins, stop hiding in poor places so I can rescue you already!” Scarlet Lady complained. “The public park?! The subway?! Didn't your daddy raise you better?!”

Had Tikki been there, she'd have said that (a) Adrien didn't need to be rescued, and (b) based on available evidence, Adrien's daddy didn't raise him at all. But, alas, she wasn't available for comments.

----

For Adrien's bodyguard, nicknamed 'The Gorilla' because of his body size and form (not that he minded it much – he wasn't ashamed of his looks), the day had suddenly started to go for bad when Mr. Agreste sent him to retrieve young Adrien from wherever he had gone to. He had been forced to run around in the car, following the hints left by careless people on the Internet. He had managed to track Adrien to the metro station (forcing him to park in a rather uncomfortable place) – but then Adrien had jumped into a train car with his friend, leaving him unable to retrieve him and to the mercies of Adrien's fans.

He had been fortunate that he was able to fend them off without losing his belongings as he retrieved what the two teenagers had dropped and then made his way out.

“This your car, sir?” a police officer asked, looking quite irritated.

He nodded. He wasn't about to lie, when it was clear it was the family car.

“Do you think you can park wherever you want?!”

Oh, that didn't sound good.

----

“Master, you really think Adrien is Chat Noir?” Nooroo asked, really hoping that he wasn't, or at least that he would be able to prove otherwise.

“I know he's hiding something from me,” Gabriel replied, his eyes closed.

“Hiding something...?” Nooroo muttered... while trying very hard not to point out that that was Gabriel's usual modus operandi.

“Now I have one thing to do to find out his secret,” he said, pulling out his cellphone and transforming so he could send an Akuma after the bodyguard.

----

“What are you doing?! Where's Adrien?! How do you lose a 14-year-old boy?! I expected too much from you?!”

He was angry. The man couldn't even bother to remember that he was unable to speak! He wasn't a babysitter! Why did he have to do three jobs at the same time?!

“Gorizilla, I am Hawkmoth...”

----

The time in the train car had been enough to garnish a pair of disguises out of the stuff she had in her bags (along with grabbing a perfectly serviceable motorcycle helmet someone had thrown away – what were the chances that it would happen twice in a few months?), good enough for them to sneak into Adrien's planned objective.

“This is the thing you needed to do?” she asked, somewhat stunned, as they sat at the middle row in a small cinema.

“Yeah, it's...” Adrien began, doubtful, before he finished. “A screening of 'Solitude'. My mère is the lead actress.”

Marinette turned to look at her friend, shocked.

“You... can't go to the movies? Not even your mother's movie?” she asked. She did remember how he was able to go with them back during Siren's attack, but...

“O–Oh, I can! With Nathalie or my bodyguard,” he said. “Père seems to have something against this specific movie. He even hid the DVD copy we had. And when I asked about it, he told me to go through Nathalie...”

Adrien stopped himself, as he realized Marinette seemed... tense.

“A–Are you okay?”

“TOTES.”

That did not sound okay.

----

Will Adrien mind if I put Gabriel Agreste two meters underground?

Such was Marinette thinking as she realized that Adrien's father was even worse than she had thought. Maybe she could plan something out with Nino to bring him down in a subtle–

The projection began, and as she saw the quite familiar scene on the screen, her plans laid temporarily forgotten as her lips involuntarily spread into a grin.

“Radiant... Carefree... Dreamy...”

“Adrien, the fragrance,” Marinette completed, struggling not to burst out laughing as Adrien groaned and lowered the helmet visor.

She wasn't going to tease him.

Much.

----

Fortunately for Adrien's dignity, it wasn't long before the movie finally started, as the screen finally began to show a woman holding an umbrella – a woman Adrien knew was his mother.

Unfortunately, that was the moment he heard a cellphone taking a photo to his left.

“Ah–!”

“Adrien's at the movies with a helmet!”

“Hey!” Why couldn't this people get that there was a reason for that?

“And his girlfriend who just got out of the shower!”

“Aw, c'mon!” Marinette complained.

And, right behind them, the biggest nightmare came.

“I found you, Mon Prince!”

“S-Scarlet Lady?!” Marinette let out, and Adrien agreed with her tone. He had enough of having to deal with her as a hero, why did she have to mess with his normal life?

“Adrien!”

“He's at the movies!”

“I watch movies!”

“Gah!”

If it weren't for the fact that theones shouting were a large crowd that were clearly not interested in watching his mother's movie, he would have laughed a bit at seeing Scar getting run over.

It wasn't enough to put her down, though, because, as he struggled to hold off the crowd, she managed to slink through and walk up to Marinette.

“How dare you pretend to be my Prince's girlfriend?”

What did it take for her to get that she was as unattractive as a patch of mold?

“Is this what you do in your free time?” he heard Marinette reply, but everything else was drowned out by a large rumble – followed by a large hand crashing through the cinema roof.

“A–Ah!”

“A–Akuma!”

Before he could jump away, the large hand had grabbed him and pulled him out of the cinema – which was when he saw that the hand belonged to a building-sized gorilla that didn't look happy at the sight. A gorilla that looked extremely familiar...

“Y–You're–! My bodyguard?!”

…

Maybe he could have been a bit smarter about this...

----

“He got Adrien! Someone do something!” she heard Scarlet Lady yell, as she waited for everyone else to evacuate the cinema theater, so she could transform. She rolled her eyes.

“Isn't that what you're here for?” someone else asked. She would have laughed if the situation wasn't serious.

Still, people were smart, and left for safer pastures... save for one person.

“Adrien, I'm coming to save yoooooou!”

Welp, couldn't be helped.

“Buzz on!”

----

“I'll save you Mon Prince!” Scarlet Lady shouted.

“I won't hold my breath,” Adrien replied from his place in the Akuma's closed fist.

(She ignored him)

“Just stay calm, Adrien!” Marigold said, arriving to the building roof and readying her weapon. “This'll be easy with my Ven–”

“I'm saving him Marimold!” Scarlet Lady yelled, slapping her top away... making it fall off the roof.

Marigold briefly considered the irony of wanting to throttle Scarlet with the rope she no longer had in hand, but soon they were met with other troubles – such as the Akuma reaching down and grabbing Scarlet Lady herself.

“Hey, let go!” she shouted, pounding her fists against the Akuma's large finger.

“Scarlet Lady!” Marigold shouted, grabbing the yo-yo that, fortunately, the 'heroine' had dropped when she got grabbed.

“Good job, idiot,” Adrien threw out, completely unsurprised by her regular demonstration of incompetence.

Seeing an opening, Marigold tossed the yo-yo – and tied the rope around the Akuma's right hand's thumb, pulling to force the hand open and free Adrien.

“JUMP!” she yelled, as Adrien realized he had a way out – although he was so high he definitely wouldn't enjoy reaching the ground. “You have to trust me!”

Adrien smiled. Of course he did.

“Always.” And he jumped. “Don't let me die, 'kay?”

“I'll do my best,” she replied, pulling the rope to free the yo-yo and get ready to jump after him – only for the empty hand to suddenly grab her. “Aw, FU–!”

----

As he began to fall, Plagg surreptitiously snuck out to have a conversation with his holder.

“Maybe you should transform before you become runny Camembert,” he suggested.

“Not in the open, Plagg. Besides, I believe in Marigold!”

----

Hawkmoth watched for a second, before sighing.

“Fine, fine, let Marigold go, he's not Chat Noir. Can't make ads with a pancake son.”

Yes, that 'Father of the Year' cup had been well earned.

----

When the Akuma's hand suddenly opened, Marigold didn't hesitate to jump after Adrien. Hooking the yo-yo around the nearest extended point, she quickly grabbed her friend in a hug, smiling at him as they slowly dropped down to the ground, hanging from the rope, and... well, he was quite close and looked quite nice...

“She did it!”

“Marigold saved Adrien!”

“Our hero forever!”

The people were quite enthusiastic as they finally touched ground. Marigold pulled from the rope to unhook it, and she slightly stepped away from Adrien, giving him space, but he didn't seem to have minded the closeness.

“I knew you'd save me, Hon– uh, Marigold!” he said, thankful. There was something there that really stood out, but...

“'Hon'?” she heard someone whisper.

SLAM!

Oh, right, the Akuma was still there.

“Marigold, your trompo!” the boy from earlier in the cinema yelled, tossing her weapon at her.

“Thanks!” she replied, dropping the yo-yo and quickly running towards the Akuma. “Venom!”

As the tip of her top touched the Akuma, he was paralyzed. Marigold sighed in relief, knowing that they now could deal with the Akuma without a problem.

“Thanks for the assist!” he told the boy, who blushed a bit.

“Anything to protect Adrien!”

“HEY! I'm stuck you idiots!” Scarlet Lady yelled – still held in the Akuma's left hand.

“Your arms are free, aren't they?” Adrien shouted at her, before he turned to the boy.

----

“Thanks for helping Marigold, Wayhem!” he told his fan-slash-stalker.

“It's the least I can do after posting your location... and your photo... and following you. What was I thinking?” Wayhem muttered, having realized (a tad too late) that maybe he could have gone about this all in a smarter way. But Adrien... felt a bit of pity for him. So he pulled out a pen and Wayhem's hand, where he began to write.

“That's–! Your email address?!” Wayhem exclaimed, shocked. “But why–?!”

“I liked meeting you at the contest too,” he replied. “And now, if you want to hang out, you don't have to chase me all over Paris.”

“Adrien...” Wayhem added, surprised.

That was when Adrien gave him a stern look.

“But it's only for you. I better not find it on Reddit or something.”

Wayhem nodded, slightly scared.

“F–Fair.”

“Adrien!” Marinette said, coming from wherever she had been during the attack (or maybe...).

“Oh, it's your girlfriend, Adrien!” Wayhem said.

“Yeah...” Adrien followed, before he realized what Wayhem had just said and felt his face flushing. “W–Wait, no–!”

The Gorilla suddenly stepped in, halting Marinette's movement and incidentally keeping them from the rest of the crowd.

“Huh?” Marinette mumbled, as the Gorilla silently extended a hand...

“Oh, our lucky charms!” Adrien said, having forgotten about them in the chaos of the persecution and the Akuma attack. He quickly grabbed his and let Marinette grab hers.

“Thank you!” Marinette exclaimed, before looking at him with a smile, and turning to the Gorilla. “Can we have one more teensy little favor pleeeease?”

Adrien turned on the puppy dog eyes. They normally didn't work... but this time, they had to!

----

They did.

The theater was full of people, eager to watch 'Solitude'. Adrien happily explained to Marinette a few things about the movie that most people didn't know.

The Gorilla sobbed at the scenes. He may not have said much about it, but he did miss Mme. Agreste.

Everyone else simply enjoyed the movie...

“Adrien's mother!”

“We're at the movies with Adrien!”

… even if it wasn't for some actual reason related to the movie.

All but one, that is.

“Hey, I'm no where near Adrien!” Chloé yelled from the last row.

“SHHHH!”

Nobody cared.

----

Gabriel finally acquiesced to release the family's copy of 'Solitude' from whatever dark recess of the mansion he had thrown it in, and, for once in his life, decided that maybe, perhaps, it could be a moment he could have with his son.

Adrien didn't count on this ever happening again, so he'd do the best he could with it.

“You just had to ask, Adrien,” Gabriel admonished him, but Adrien wasn't going to take it easily.

“I tried, you told me to make an appointment,” he shot back.

“You should have trusted me.”

“But you've never given me a reason to?” Adrien asked.

Perhaps Gabriel should have taken that as a warning sign.

Of course, to anyone that had met him and his son, it was obvious what was going to happen.

“If you start hiding things from me, I'll imagine all kinds of things,” he said, completely missing the point.

“No? What kind of things?” Adrien asked.

“Uh, nevermind,” Gabriel finished, deciding his breath was best spend watching the movie.

----

Marinette finally arrived to the water park after the longest afternoon in her life, and was slightly surprised to see everyone was still waiting for her.

“Heeeeey–”

“Girl!” Alya exclaimed, quickly standing up from her sun bed and catching everyone's attention. “We've been following your adventure online, give us the deets!”

Before Marinette could even react, all the girls were surrounding her, eager for answers she didn't know if she could actually provide.

“So, are you, like, Adrien's girlfriend now?” Alya continued, smirking.

“N–No!” she stumbled, embarrassed.

“But do you want to be?” Rose asked, eager.

That left Marinette in a quandary. Her heart belonged to Chat Noir... but Adrien was so nice... so cute... so... amazing... (and maybe...)

“... I don't know,” she replied, shyly.

“WRONG ANSWER!” Kagami yelled and--

SPLASH! COLD!

“GAH!!!”

----

Sandboy

----

535 pages, 213791 words, 1153636 characters. Oh my god, this keeps growing! Pity that I didn't manage to reach the end of the season before the Epilogue finished!

Fret not, I'll continue to write! (Just wish that @zoe-oneesama's amazing work hadn't just left us without knowing whether the heroes would recover the Peacock Miraculous, how long Gabriel Agreste would have to stay in prison, or how long before Emilie just exploded as she became unable to reconcile her Main Character Syndrome (TM) and her Control Freakiness. Maybe I could write extra epilogues about those matters...

#scarlet lady the novel #fanfiction #milarqui #long post #adrien agreste #marinette dupain cheng #marigold #adrienette #scarlet lady is better than canon #gorizilla #the gorilla

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faofinn · 2 years ago

Text

DAY 10: difficulty breathing

@febuwhump

When Fao’s phone rang in the middle of the night, he startled awake, fumbling for it in the dark. He’d been out for dinner that night, definitely wasn’t sober, but the adrenaline was already doing a pretty good job of fixing that. They didn’t give him much information over the phone, just that they’d got a GSW and their rough location, in code so they’d be safe if anyone else happened to be listening. They were too far out to get back to the basement, and Fao would need to meet them halfway to treat.

He woke Ely, gave her a quick update, and pulled on some clothes, the first thing he found on the floor, his shirt and trousers from the evening. He didn’t have time to go looking for anything else, and bolted out of the house. There was kit in his car, and he knew there was kit in the van. He wasn’t sure what he’d need, but between both he’d probably have everything he needed. He sped through the streets to the meet location he’d been given, ditched his car somewhere safe, and scrambled into the van.

“What am I doing? Talk to me.” He asked breathlessly.

Harrison had become combative as he deteriorated, struggling between conscious and not. It scared the men, and they'd all taken a step back, too uncomfortable to help.

Fao was a welcome sight, his reputation preceding him.

"Uh, Harrison got shot. He won't let us near him, so we haven't."

Fao’s heart sank. Of course it was Harrison. “Oh, good. Just him bleed out all over the van, then.” He snapped, quickly throwing his hair up into a bun. “I need proper light, one of you sort that.” His voice was cold, commanding, rolling his sleeves up and quickly looking Harrison over. It wasn’t hard to see where the blood was coming from, and he shifted his weight to brace himself as he grabbed gauze and put as much pressure on it as he dared. “You. Come here, take over the pressure.”

“I, uh, I…”

“Shut up, I don’t want to hear it. Cover my hands with yours and hold the pressure until I say otherwise. Unless you want to start an IV? No? Didn’t think so.” He snapped, as the other man took over. He wiped his bloody hands off on his shirt, and shifted over slightly to Harrison’s arm, eyes looking critically for a vein as he rifled through the kit.

The pain somehow got worse. Harrison wasn't sure how, but it did. He cried out through gritted teeth, trying to arch away. It took a moment to coordinate, but he started swinging, trying to get away.

Fao ducked out of the way, catching Harrison’s fist and gently forcing his arm back down. “Harrison? It’s okay, you’re okay. It’s Fao, I’ve got you. Try and relax, you’re safe now. I’m helping, alright? Let me help.”

"He's going to hit me!"

“He’s half unconscious, try harder to dodge him.” Fao shot back. “I’m working as fast as I can.” He gritted his teeth as he tried desperately to get a vein, struggling with poor light and Harrison’s struggling. He got one eventually, shouting triumphantly. It wasn’t enough, and he wanted more access, but he could at least get some pain relief in, hopefully settle him.

Harrison twisted as Fao shouted, whining as he tried to get away. His chest heaved as he struggled to get his breath, the feeling he was drowning all too much.

“Sorry, sorry.” Fao soothed. “You’re okay, I’ve got you. It’s gonna be okay, Hars. Just focus on doing that breathing, let me to do the rest. Giving you something for the pain, now, gonna make it easier.” He told him, quickly checking the drug before he gave it.

His shouts died down into cries, quiet whimpering softly to himself. The pain had started to ease slightly, making it easier to focus. It made breathing more difficult, though, and he couldn't stop the panic coursing through him.

“You’re okay, that’s it. Well done, keep breathing for me.”

He turned his head, looking towards Fao's voice. "Help."

“I’m helping, I promise.”

"It hurts." He managed, finally managing to focus on him.

“I know, I know. I’ve given you some painkillers, they’ll work soon.”

"'m dying."

“No you’re not. Just focus on your breathing for me, let me sort the rest.”

"I am."

“That’s it, good.” Fao reassured. There was so much blood, and he was really struggling to properly control it. The van went over a bump and jolted, and Fao tried to brace himself on his knees. “Fucking hell.”

Harrison whined, trying to pull away from the pain. It was everywhere, though, and there was nothing he could do.

“Well done, that’s it.” He soothed. “I’ve got you.” He stretched for his kit, rifling through to try and find what he needed. He needed a trained someone, anyone who he could trust. Not Harrison’s little team.

Frustrated and tired, he started fighting against the other man. He got a solid elbow in their ribs, the relief of pressure against his side just bliss.

“I know, I know.” Fao murmured, moving to try and pack the wound.

He twisted again, curling away from Fao. His scream died on his tongue, his hands pushing against Fao's.

“I’m sorry, I know it hurts.” Fao muttered. He was happy enough with the packing, and moved to try and get a listen to Harrison’s chest. It was loud on the van, and he struggled to keep his balance as he listened, swearing to himself.

Harrison could feel himself slipping, the ceiling of the van swimming in and out of focus. Even the pain couldn't keep him conscious, his head lolling.

Fao’s stomach twisted as Hars lost consciousness, but he was relieved in a way. At least he wasn’t in pain. He didn’t like what he was hearing at all from his chest, and dug in his kit to find what he needed for a chest drain. It certainly wouldn’t be perfect, but it would do. He didn’t even bother talking to the other men as he grabbed a scalpel, found his landmark, and made the cut.

He definitely felt that, and he cried out again, but he wasn't with it any more. The men beside Fao retched, especially as blood quickly poured from the drain.

Fao rolled his eyes as the men retched. What he wouldn’t give for Steve or Finn or someone. Trying to manage this completely on his own wasn’t working. He took a set of obs as best he could, blood soaking his trousers and making them cling to him. The numbers he got back were more than a bit concerning, despite his interventions, and they weren’t getting any better. Fuck.

Harrison coughed and choked, spots of blood on his lips. His resps were through the roof, his heart rate doing its best to compensate for his blood pressure circling, for his blood volume pooling on the floor. He managed to catch Fao's eye, and he met his gaze with panic and fear in his eyes.

Fao locked eyes with Harrison. “I’ve got you, Tomcat. You’re gonna be okay.” He told him firmly. Things were just consistently getting worse, though, and Fao felt considerably out of control. He gave as much TXA as he felt he could, but it wasn’t close to enough to help the bleeding.

“How far out are we?” He snapped, asking whoever cared to listen.

"We've still got at least fifteen minutes."

“Fuck’s sake.”

Hars could feel himself slipping again, missing parts of the conversation. He grabbed for Fao's top, his hand leaving more bloodied streaks across it.

"I want Steve."

“We’re gonna be with him really soon, Hars.” Fao murmured. “He’s gonna be waiting for us at home.”

He shook his head. "I'm not gonna make it."

“As if I’m giving up on you. I’m gonna make sure you’re okay, alright? Hold on for me.”

He knew Fao was trying his best, and he’d continue to do nothing but. He trusted Fao with his life, and they unfortunately kept ending up in situations where it was tested. It didn’t take a genius to know he wasn’t okay, and the small bit or working brain he had left had worked out it probably wasn't going to end well.

He forced his eyes open again, though he didn't remember closing them. "It's okay."

Fao’s repeat set of obs were no better. In fact, they were worse. He swallowed thickly, digging around in his pocket for his phone. He needed to talk to Steve, needed someone medical he could talk to, to reassure him he wasn’t completely out of his mind.

He chucked it on the floor of the van on speaker as it rang, and he prayed he’d answer.

"Fao, talk to me. I heard the call for medical."

“It’s Hars, and it’s bad. We’re still miles out, in the back of a shitty van, and all I have is my kit.”

Hars stirred again. "Steve?"

"Hey, Hars. You causing problems for Fao, eh?" He tried to sound light for him, but even he could hear the waver in his tone. He cleared his throat. "What's happened with him? Head to toe, obs, and what kit do you have?"

“GSW, it’s gone just under his vest, entry is the abdo but exit is further up into the chest. Haemothorax on the right. I’ve got a drain in but it’s putting out so much fucking blood. Pulse 138, BP 76/50, SpO2 94 on high flow, Resps sitting at 36, he's still not getting chest rise on the right. He's with it enough, but he's starting to pass out and stay out. I've given the TXA but it's just not stopping. The floor is covered, I'm covered. It’s my kit, it’s decent. Airway kit, ket, paralytics, TXA. I’m just out of my fucking depth here, nobody else knows a fucking thing and I feel like I’m going insane.”

Steve took a moment. Well, fuck. "Right. Take a breath. Reassess, keep going ABCs. You need to get on top of that bleeding. He's not going to be able to compensate forever. Have you got anything to give? Will they follow instructions?"

“I know he won’t compensate forever.” Fao snapped. “I’ve got saline but no blood. They’re fucking useless, hadn’t touched him at all when I showed up. Not even put pressure on.”

"Fucking hell. Okay. Fluid bolus, see if that helps his pressure at all. He's not going to hold his airway by himself if he goes, so just be careful."

Fao quickly set up the fluids, wiping his hands on his trousers as he struggled with the connectors. Fluids running, he forced himself to breathe. “Alright. Fluids in. I want to sort his airway before it becomes a problem.”

"If you're thinking RSI, you need to trust they can help."

"Steve." Harrison interrupted again, apparently unaware of the conversation.

“I don’t think I’m going to have a choice, Steve. I’m watching him deteriorate in front of me, and we’re still miles out.”

"You can see him, not me. Do what you think is best."

Unimpressed by Steve's lack of response, he shoved at Fao with a frustrated grunt. "Steve."

Fao huffed. “Thank you, Hars.” He muttered under his breath. “He’s very insistent that he wants you, Steve.”

"Hars, we're just trying to help you."

"No." He shook his head, though Steve couldn't see, and Fao wasn't sure he didn't realise that.

“We are, I’m doing my best right now Hars. Focus on breathing like I said.”

He sniffed, setting himself off coughing again. The pain exploded again, despite the morphine, and, once more, slipped under.

God, it was just getting worse. He hated watching Harrison slip into unconsciousness again, powerless to stop it.

"Fao, talk to me." Steve's tone was tense, and Fao could hear him pacing.

“Unconscious again, I’m repeating obs.” Fao replied, his own tone similarly tense.

"Come on, Hars. Don't do this." Steve murmured, wishing he was there with them.

The blood pressure cycled, protesting at the numbers. It continued tightening, way into the two hundreds, and Harrison gave a whine. He tried to pull away from it, panicked.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. Just give it a minute, I know it’s uncomfy.” Fao murmured, but it wasn’t a good sign. He knew full well it wasn’t high enough to need that kind of pressure - it was just struggling for a read full stop.

Harrison, of course, didn't listen. He twisted away, an unintelligible shout in both pain and frustration.

"Hars, listen to Fao. He's looking after you."

“It’s alright, it’s okay.” Fao tried vainly to soothe. But sure enough the blood pressure gave up, failing to get a read, and Fao’s stomach dropped. “Fluids haven’t done shit. It won’t even read, just cycles until it gives up.”

"You're going to have to give more, you can't RSI that low. Has he got a radial?"

It took Fao a moment. “No. Nothing.”

"Give him fluids."

“I might as well just pour them on the fucking floor.” Fao muttered, but swapped the bag over to give more.

"Just try."

“Yeah, they’re running.”

Harrison screwed his face up, managing to squint at Fao. He was sure he'd heard Steve too, but the huddle of men behind Fao were too small to be him.

“That’s it Hars, you’re alright.” Fao said softly, half as reassurance for himself.

"Where's Steve?" He slurred, more of a mumble than anything.

“On the phone with me.” Fao replied.

"Right here, Hars."

“Both of us are looking after you.”

"Sorry."

“Don’t apologise.” Fao said firmly.

Harrison lapsed back into silence, somewhere between conscious and not. As the blood pressure started again, he whined once more, but didn't pull away.

Harrison’s blood was drying on his hands, as Fao waited for the machine to read, praying it would give him something. Just a number would be better than the endless cycling.

Harrison's breath caught in his throat again, and his frown deepened. He knew Fao was looking after him, and Steve was there too, somewhere. He could see Fao leaning over him, doing things in slow motion. Which left Steve..

"Dad?"

Fao’s stomach twisted, and the noise Steve made over the crackled phone line was less than dignified.

“I’m right here, Hars. I’m right here, I’ve got you.” He replied, his voice wavering. “You’re going to be okay.”

He seemed to have a sudden rush of energy, though his observations were still terrible, and his prognosis even worse.

"Thank you." He muttered softly.

Fao sucked in another deep breath, forcing himself to re-focus. He had to keep doing this. “Blood pressure is a little less shit. I’ve at least got a number.”

"That's good." Steve managed.

Harrison reached for Fao’s hand, for a moment of comfort in his desperation.

Fao squeezed his fingers. “I’ve got you.” He murmured. He laid out his airway kit with the other hand, leaving smears of blood all over it, though he didn’t notice. He needed the blood pressure up a bit more before he could fully RSI, but it never hurt to prepare.

The squeeze managed to help, a tiny hint of a smile gracing Harrison's blood-splattered lips. He tried his best, his fingers twitching in Fao's before his eyes rolled. It didn’t take long for things to go south, as Hars took a breath and then stopped.

“Fuck.” Fao muttered, snatching up his kit. He couldn’t put this off any longer now, he needed control of his airway. Unsure just how conscious he was, having watched him flick in and out, Fao chatted away to him as he sorted it, half to keep himself from losing it. “Alright Hars. That’s you finding your limit, hmm? It’s okay, I’ll take over from here. Got some meds to get you off to sleep now, so you can have a nap whilst I do the hard work.” He quickly pushed the ket, watching him carefully. There were men clustered around Harrison’s head, and Fao snapped at them to move, which they did. Happy with his sedation, he pushed his roc, bagged until he was happy with it, and snatched up his tube and laryngoscope. He was rusty with his intubations, of course, so what better time to practice than in a dark, moving van covered in blood? But Harrison, for all he made Fao’s life difficult, apparently wasn’t a difficult airway, and Fao got it first time. He shouted triumphantly, checked his placement, and then secured it.

“Tube’s in, airway’s secure.”

Steve let out a shaky breath. "Good. Well done."

Fao couldn’t breathe for Harrison forever, not if he was going to continue to manage the bleeding. “Which one of you lot is the most competent here? Who’s not a complete idiot?” He asked.

They were all quiet, slightly afraid of Harrison and definitely afraid of Fao. After a moment, one of them stepped forward.

"I can help. What do you need?"

Fao looked up. “Are you capable of breathing?”

"For him?"

Fao huffed. “Essentially, yes. Every time you take a breath, I want you to squeeze this to breathe for him, too. Can you do that?” He asked, demonstrating. “I can’t sit here and do it, I’ve got other stuff to do.”

Panic flashed across his face. "Okay. Yeah." He swallowed, taking a moment. It was Harrison. He'd got him out of shit so many times before, it was only fair to return the favour. "I can do that."

“Just whenever you breathe, breathe for him too. Just got to think about breathing. Okay?”

"Okay." He moved to take Fao's place. "I can do that."

“Shout if you get stuck.” Fao murmured, and moved away, to carefully take yet another set of obs, praying they were better than before.

Steve hated being so far away, so unable to do anything. "Fao, talk to me."

“I’m taking obs.” Fao shot back. “I’ll tell you stuff when I know it.”

"You just went silent. I need to know what's happening."

“I’m trying to concentrate!”

"Fine, hurry up."

“Going as fast as I can.” He muttered. For once, Harrison’s obs had trended slightly upwards, and Fao was glad of it. “A bit better. SpO2 has come up, as has his BP.”

"Good. The tube will be helping with his sats."

“Yeah, that’s why I did it.” Fao said flatly.

"I just mean that he's not going to be resping at fifty or some shite."

“Yeah.”

"How's the bleeding doing?"

“Still fucking bleeding.”

"I've put a call out for more blood, you just need to get back."

“I’ll need the whole trauma setup.” Fao muttered, doing his best to manage the bleeding. “Can you go up and wake Ely? I’m going to need her.”

"Everyone's up. They're just sorting the basement out."

“Good.” Fao was relieved he had a team waiting for him.

"If the second lot of fluids helped, you can give him another 500 bolus."

“It’s helped, but I don’t know for how much longer. I’ve got no pressors, and limited fluids.”

"You just need to get him back. If he's still got pressure, give it."

“Giving it now.” He muttered, trying to push his hair out of his face.

"Give me a run down of his obs once you've done that."

He finally got it connected and running, discarding the spent bag. His ‘assistant’ was doing well ventilating, surprisingly, and so he quickly started on obs. He hated having to do this in such an old fashioned manner, he missed his hospital conveniences and continuous monitoring.

But as he started, he just knew it was wrong, and when he didn’t find a pulse, his stomach twisted. “Oh, fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

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imariejoyce · 2 months ago

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Social media detox...

Recently, I found myself once again uninstalling social media apps from my phone. All that remains now are Reddit and Tumblr. It's funny how these things sneak up on you, isn't it?

You wake up one day and realize that scrolling through social media has become an integral part of your daily routine. Without even noticing, you're suddenly caught up in the lives and issues of people you don't even know personally. It's the same story before bed - phone in hand, mindlessly scrolling, despite knowing it's never a good idea to do so right before sleep.

It's alarming how quickly social media can become an unconscious habit. You reach for your phone without thinking, and before you know it, you're deep in a rabbit hole of posts, comments, and debates. It's as if your fingers have a mind of their own, automatically opening these apps and scrolling through endless feeds.

We've all heard about the negative effects of blue light on our sleep patterns, yet how many of us still find ourselves scrolling through our phones right before bed? It's a hard habit to break, but one that's crucial for our well-being. The constant stream of information, emotions, and stimuli from social media can leave our minds racing when we should be winding down.

Recognizing the need for change is the first step, but are we actually implementing that change? That's where the real challenge lies. It takes a conscious effort to put down the phone, to resist the urge to check "just one more notification." But remember, you have the power to make this change. You are your own best ally in this journey.

For me, uninstalling most of my social media apps was a necessary step. It creates a barrier, a moment of pause before I can access these platforms. This small obstacle can often be enough to make me reconsider whether I really need to check social media at that moment.

As I continue on this digital detox, I'm learning to be more mindful of my online habits. It's not about completely cutting off social media - after all, platforms like Reddit and Tumblr can be valuable sources of information and community. Instead, it's about finding a balance and regaining control over my digital consumption.

It's always okay to remember to take a step back. It's okay to prioritize your mental health and well-being over staying constantly connected. At the end of the day, the most important connection you need to nurture is the one with yourself. It's in moments like these that you realize the importance of self-control, and you're the only one who can help yourself break free from these habits.

What about you? Have you ever felt the need to detox from social media? How did you go about it?

#social media #thoughts #experience #writing #stop scrolling #wasting time #bad habits #unconscious mind

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crater-lake · 3 months ago

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146

8/11/24

I could not decide where to put this writing specifically because of the context of the day. My one goal for right now is to get writing on the computer because I am feeling aimless and bizarre and I am wondering about not being on my phone. I am also having trouble deciding how to spend my downtime because it feels so sacred. Or limited. Because some limited things do not become more valuable, they become worthless, when there is one of them, like the last person of a culture. What is making it difficult to write is how I am checking Grindr every 5 seconds because my want is mobilizing and I feel alone and it drowns the loneliness when something sharper. I do not know. Beautiful thoughts people want to listen to aren't around for me right now. And the lack of organization within what I am writing also feels not worth forgiving. Imagine squandering everything just to be who you are - it doesn't feel like there is anything more laughable. But I will maybe remember some of what has happened to me the last couple of days because I actually have the time to think today.

Last night, I stayed up one whole extra hour so that I could be on Grindr and I was waiting for someone to come to want me but nobody came to want me. I was so frustrated that it was hard to function and even this morning, the first thing I did was check the app to see if anybody had been wanting to me. What is fun about human reasoning is that sometimes you are not loved enough or sometimes you are not hungry and both things can gouge you. Right now, I am making effort to focus on what I am writing because I have decided to turn off my phone for 10 minutes. I felt surprised last night that I could not get anyone to come to see me because I think I am attractive.

Today Ananya and I went to Metuchen Diner with her dad and she explained her current living situation to him. He had initially reacted by saying she hadn't done enough and I told him that he was not listening, even if he thinks he was giving her respect. It was interesting to disagree with him and to observe his miscommunication with her in real time. I felt glad to be there to defend her and that I also provided structure to the conversation itself because Ananya feared that the conversation would go awkward otherwise. I was talking about growing older with your parents and how one must do things despite and for the exhaustion. That motions gives way to more motion, more motion. And that being expert in transition is being God. We all remember as children when we were not tired every single day. Now we are tired every single day. Her dad reminds me of Dad, because of how they are both hardworking and intelligent. I am hoping she finds a way to fix her housing situation because she deserves peace. She loves me so much and I am absolutely saved by that. It makes me the most me I have ever been.

I am also thinking that many if not most of my friendships feel on mute because of the infrastructure adulthood. Noname said that happiness is a lonely road and I might want to finish that sentence. No one got me birthday cards or gifts. This afternoon, I was going through my old things in the basement because I have like 9 boxes and I was finding old birthday and graduation cards. It was making me sad.

While I remember, there are few things I would like to do before I go to sleep tonight and wake up at 6:00am in order to go to Tarrytown for work. I need to pack my suitcase and fold my clothes, get my bags and toiletries together (including the skincare that I forgot) and I want to tidy up my room a little bit. If I gather these things tonight, my morning will be easier.

While I was writing that paragraph, I was feeling upset that I have not been planning more conscious and intelligent writing because while it is useful to journal, to become 'better' requires genuine arbitration, thought, and tact. Writing freestyle reminds me I have a voice but adult writers suck and only listen to beautiful people. Imagine me singing out-of-tune because it is mine and people love me not because I am out-of-tune but because I am me. So this is me announcing that I will be even more radically accepting of myself because I am sitting here typing this what feels to be quite consciously. And that this exists just to silently pay homage to this exact person typing who is unfortunately equally as important as every other infinite iteration.

While I was going through my old things in the basement, I was remarking at all of the random notebooks and worksheets that served such a small, miniscule purpose that I feel inclined to save. I remember other students throwing out whole notebooks and folders at the end of the school year and I just could not understand that for the life of me. I have things about the Ottoman Empire, and your learning style, and the Guidance Award that I won. The senator signed it, or they put the Senator's signature on it.

I was remembering High School. I won a trip to Ecuador and felt huge. I ran the second best Freshman time in Cross Country in my school's history. I was at several School Board Meetings for accolades. I was in the school orchestra and I wrote poetry and have copious notes of writing other languages and thinking at length about the construction of meeting. I was remembering college and saw a Rutgers Honors Program folder and felt glimpses of that long hope you feel at the beginning of something. In reconciling that with the present, I feel resigned and let down by my apparent lack of engagement with Rutgers. I was asked to be in the Honors Program and I do remember how absolutely huge that felt- trying to understand what requirements meant and looked like. I was quite terrified of the Capstone and it was fine. I moved to Spain and came back and it was fine. I am quite stunned and perplexed by the temporality of everything and the extreme amount of experiences that I hold within me. And I wish that more experiences did not devalue the experiencing of newnesses but it just does. This is just mathematics. I remember all of that hope and how arresting it was. I am glad that I am in the after of that because of the hugeness of everything. I had a lot of potential and now I am an expert lover who will be a poet.

It is kind of insane that I write that last sentence as I contemplate going to give some random dude head because of Grindr. I am trying to ask myself not what it means, but what happened. Poets who are adults write poems for each other.

I'm More Alive Than I Am Afraid

"To alchemize atrocious times into poems to help metabolize us..."

"Trying to be a death worker..."

"To be buoyed..."

To Ananya; I'm More Alive Than I Am Afraid

I just decided to write a poem or try to write a poem which is what writing a poem is with the title of the above. It is not that good but at least I did something instead of consume.

This is the third time that I downloaded Grindr in the hour because I am still wanting. Or my wanting wants to want. I am bored of saying that too. At least I know I am very exhausted. I have tried to do anything. Imagine that.

I added this after the original posting but I did want to mention that I saw Murod Saturday morning on Grindr and immediately messaged him and I got his nudes and he told me that I induced anxiety in him and that he was in the mood to bottom and then he drove away from Metuchen (I do not know why he was there) to Philadelphia (which is information that I do not know the reason that I have) and that was that. He said that my body made him horny. That was cool. I do not care about this so much that I only write about it now. I wonder what I could be doing if I did not devote myself to missing the missing.

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mclhotras · 2 years ago

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{ why would anyone think that? } | jai self para

What was I even doing last night?

The first conscious thought Jai had all morning as he jumped out of bed and hopped onto the exercise bike in the corner of his bedroom. Nothing ever made sense to him until he had gotten his AM cardio completed. The faster he rode, the easier it became to handle the constant stream of thoughts. It wasn't as though he was on some type of high or had a hangover, but something had changed overnight, without his permission.

Eventually, after 45 minutes of pushing his heartrate to a smooth 110 beats per minute, Jai finally decided to check the bane of his professional existence, his phone. His manager had tried to convince him to use two phones, like every other actor, however Jai had refused - that's what his team was there to handle. This singular brick was dedicated to his personal life, the one he never wanted to lose. The only non-personal thing he checked though was social media, mainly to understand what type of trouble the media was brewing this time.

But first, he had to speak to his stepmother.

As he dialled her number, Jai also began putting together his daily smoothie that he refused to let anyone else make for him. "Maa, what on earth are you doing?" Her laughter was like bells to his ears, a soothing sound compared to what the rest of his day looked like. He never expected to become as close as he had to his father's second wife, but it worked for the both of them. His own mother had disappeared into the Mediterranean a few years back, and as much as it had hurt at the time, Jai was grateful for the way his life had travelled since then.

Listening to his maa's chatter as she was preparing for an afternoon meeting with her business partners in Sydney, Jai settled on his couch, face turned towards the smog filled sky, with sunrays inching towards his apartment. What he wouldn't give to be able to enjoy this everyday, just him & the way he wanted to exist.

"Hang on maa, there's no one here but me. What do you mean a new kudi? Maa, come on, you're always the first person I tell when I get roped into these things. Na jaane kya bakwaas media ab phelar raha hai. I'll have to talk to Tanvi, I'm sure she knows.

"...nahi meri maa, please do not involve your daughter. Neena madam is still upset with me for pushing Advait her way. -okay, okay, I'll behave. Don't I always?

"...Maa, my lovely mother, you do not need to come to Mumbai. Stay in Sydney; I'm coming to see you next month right? Toh you don't have to be so stressed. Who's going to handle all your clients if you're here? Besides dad is still in Singapore, you know you don't like being in Mumbai by yourself.

"-you make me laugh. If the tabloids get worse, I'll make up with them, just to make you happy. ...oh maa, why would anyone think that? My fans know I'm happy being single, I think they'd all die of heartbreak if I said I was dating someone. Have to keep them happy ya know..."

Her laughter filled the apartment, and he realised how much he missed hanging out with her. He opened his MacBook to check his calendar, and was pleased to see he wasn't needed until the 20th of the current month.

"-hey maa, what would you say if I came down to Sydney this weekend? We could go to that place in Bondi you love so much for brunch, and make dad jealous. Might force him back from Singapore quicker. Okay, I'll book & let you know the flight details. Need to shower now, Tanvi would be on her way by now; and yes maa, I'll be a good boy. Just for you. Okay, love you, say hi to Rohit uncle for me. Bye maa."

The conversation ending there, Jai felt a lot more energised and ready to find out just what type of nonsense his favourite paps were spewing now. He messaged his manager Tanvi to let her know he'd be expecting a lot of answers, but otherwise he didn't care.

-except that niggling feeling hadn't left, and he wondered if this news would end up becoming something bigger than he was ready for.

#{ chapters; }#{ 001 casanova; }#{ casanova; }

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time-of-objects · 2 years ago

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Dear Internet and How to... Lean Too performed at Hair Antics Micro-cinema

I preformed Dear Internet for the first time in Canberra early in 2023 at Hair Antics micro-cinema. It seems a little ironic to write this up for consumption of the internet but in a commitment to writing up my practice for Time of Objects. I place it here.

Affordance of development

Early development of the work began with paying attention to my fatigue in living a digital life. This feeling bubbled up in bits of scribbled writing on paper, in my personal smart phone notes and in typed word documents. Some of the writing I remembered doing could not be found. Collating this in a single document and trying to visualise what it might be, the idea got complicated. After seeing the Teaching and Learning Cinema perform the Mc Grice work at Hair Antics I became convinced the work needed to be simplified. Simplification came when I took the idea from theory to practice and started piecing it together with 16mm materials and the apparatus which was not only central to the theme but necessary as a design feature to help create and mould the work. It was the affordance of making it real that helped me make something concrete at all.

I attempted to document the process by filming it sometimes with a head worn action camera or with a digital camera rolling on a tripod. This I new made me more self conscious but perhaps also made me pay attention to the performance side of what was to become Dear Internet. It made me conscious of the body interacting with the apparatus and how I might put this on show and into the audiences mind when they watch it.

The affordance of working with the 16mm apparatus showed its hand when my minds eyes moved from page to the physical materials and objects. The materials allowed for creative decisions to be made because they provided boundaries to be traversed or avoided in the physical world. I also consciously took a stance of openness and attention to allow thoughts and responses to occur. Instead of focusing on a finished product my approach was to see what would happen by doing.

The process roughly took shape by:

1. Writing, reflecting and re-writing

2. Recording and editing the soundtrack digitally. I often check my grammar by using speech to text. When I heard the computer reading the text I decided this was better than my voice which I initially thought I would use.

3. Organising and breaking down the footage on the winding bench in searching and assessing mode

4. Assembling 16mm found footage and original shot material on the Steenbeck while playing it against the edited sound track. Experimenting with different speeds and direction.

5. Testing screen sizes and different screen material to project onto

6. Gathering objects at home to construct a portable winding platform with a screen that would feature as a kind of performance object.

Significant parts of the performance came from mistakes and failures which then become features and positive agents of affordance. For example I shot the opening title sequence upside down by mistake. This then led me to considering back projection, keeping this title reel separate, hanging it to were the audience could see it, and using the winders in both directions. All things that became significant features of the performance.

Before the show

Driving down to Canberra on a 30 degree day with cumbersome gear I really wondered if it was at all worth the expense and time. I was nervous not knowing if it would connect with an audience. I wondered if the combination of ideas I put together might have no meaning for other people or that I have muddied the water too much.

My judgment of the work was that is was a ‘work-in-progress’. That it was not complete. I expected that the work might change after the screening. That learning from this first performance would reduce or expand it. That technical problems might need to be incorporated or adapted. The three risks I saw where:

1. The globe might fail I had no back up as the projector viewer is not a common device.

2. The image be too dim for an audience to see.

3. My performance nerves might reduce my ability to adapt or fix the shutter effect that can turn the image into a blur and make it not easy to see.

I have heard Richard Touhy speak of priming an audience for expanded works. That how the audience enter the performance space is part of this priming. I thought a short introduction for the work would also help it to land. I planned to tell the audience Dear Internet is about digital fatigue of our times, beyond a frustration of password management, it is about how the materials we live with change our perception to our environment and change our behaviour and attitudes. It is a critic of technology that explores process through action. How what we do with our bodies changes our we are in our environment. I also wanted to incorporate that early projectionist hand wound the projector and that this art form changed with the automation of projection that came with sync sound.

An article (see below) about ChatGPT days before I screened Dear Internet made me feel I was expressing an ever growing concern for where technology was heading and the need to keep it in check. A reminder to be attuned to how technology corals our experience and how we are in the world. I made a note that GPT stands for Generative Pre-trained Transformer. What a strange name and something for future exploration.

Setting up

The three of us, Louise Curham. Carolyn Huf and I arranged to meet for half an hour or so the night before to be in the space and work out, where things where to go and in what order. I was a lot to do in a short time. I was fascinated that Lou hadn’t quite settled on what she would show. She seemingly comfortable, on the forward edge of creating to performing. I wanted to be as prepared as possible. I tested the strength of the globe on the winder for Dear Internet. I tested my projector and lens on which I would screen a contract work print I had made of How to…Lean Too. My short throw lens produced a bigger picture than fitted on the wall. I decided I would change lens during the film as an extension of preforming projection.

To borrow the Arthur Cantril term, Event Packages takes into account equally the event and the package. The event is a time based thing, that occurs with a kind of underling of a moment. Package, suggest themes but also the environment. How will people be welcomed, what does the space suggest? The three of us decided to select our own material with little consultation. Interesting links can emerge on their own. In deciding what work to show I settled on How To… Lean too to accompany Dear Internet not because they are similar in theme but because they have a similar approach. They both have a soundtrack with text that holds the shape of the overall effect. The text is a collage of material on the same subject. Their is a subtle shape to the structure of the text which creates a beginning, middle and end. Another approach to curation is I could have shown work such as Window which has no text to create a contrast.

Performing Dear Internet and How to… Lean too.

While performing the piece I felt the quite attention of the audience. It was special to share this moment with the room of 20 or more people. It felt worth it. I also felt a wave of emotion, something like grief, that underpinned making the work for me. A loss of connection to nature and our environment. A loss of choice in how one interacts with the world through the things we live our daily life with. Film making for me is a cathartic experience and I felt lucky to share that with a room of people that must bring so many different perspectives and stories to what they where observing.

Changing lens and speed during the projection of How to… Lean Too didn’t quite go to plan. The contact print I have made is quite dark in places, also when I changed speeds the brightness noticeably changed which impacted the readability of the image. I may have over complicated the screening of it but trying speed changes and lens changes. It was an experiment in context and performance. Perviously I have showed the work on a loop in a gallery setting wear audience members wear headphone and watch it on a small monitor. An intimate context. With the micro-cinema experience, it was to be shown larger than life and in a group setting. My partner who had seen it on a small screen before suggested that she missed the intimacy of the smaller screen. I want to make a better print of it and try it again.

Reflections after the event

Louise Curham and I discussed the event the next day. Of Dear Internet and How to …Lean Too she commented that both pieces have strong sound track but that I might get them mixed so the volumes and equalisation is better. A technical note I would like to improve. She also said that she was interested in it as the work said something. It appeared to present a position. To have an opinion. In contrast she said many experimental works from the history of the canon appear mute or seem reluctant to take a position. When comparing structure films against narrative films they can appear mute however there is a reflexiveness quality to structural films that in focusing on the material qualities of film. My approach of structural or formal design when incorporating the apparatus is to explore how things work. To bring the audience in to the process so they can be aware of all these things at play. It is like the rabbit and the duck image. I am attempting to have them see both at the same time. To look through the material and have its magic work on you and to step out of it and look at it from an discerning and critical point of view which questions the magic too. It is in engaging with story this way that spectators bring themselves to the work. It is the unknown part of what I am doing and the part that makes me feel most uncertain. This to me feels like the dangerous part when I attempt to see how far I can take an idea before it falls over.

We also discussed our mistake in not doing an acknowledgment of country. This was a big learning and a failure in rushing the set up and not discussing how we would introduce the show. Louise did the introduction. I was politely waiting to a moment to speak. In retrospect I should have politely interrupted. The good side of this mistake is we entered into a broader discussion about working with Indigenous people. Indigenous poet she recently interview suggested these goal posts:

1. Remember the history

2. Starts with one

3. Be consistent

4. Make it visible

5. Show people are welcome

6. Hold an event that is specific

I think the words ‘be consistent’ is really helpful here. Some of my thoughts about not interrupting Louise are really excuses for not being consistent. Being consistent will now be my guide because it helps navigate, nerves and uncertainty.

References:

#16mm film #microcinema

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autumnmsu · 2 years ago

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CH. 14 YOUR TURN FIELDWORK

Making the State Real

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Food

I ate my first meal of the day at 1:20 pm on November 28th and I was eating leftovers from thanksgiving dinner. So, they didn’t have any presence from the state but I’m sure the ingredients were prepared a certain way because of the state regulations. Like the turkey I ate you have to refrigerate it and can’t leave it sitting out all day and become warm. Or with canned goods the state adds preservatives into them to make them last longer. I also work in a restaurant so I know that the state has codes/rules on how things are supposed to be run. Like you have to have a clean environment and have to pass a test of how the restaurant is run. And the state doesn’t have many rules from what I know on how trash is exposed. They just come pick it up for us using the trash people.

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People

When I go to a store I notice that the employees are wearing uniforms and act a certain professional way because of where they work. And because of that they provide a service of helping me out and checking out any items I need. And I would say I really don’t know how many employees I expected when shopping or going anywhere but I would say there were a lot of helpful employees that were very kind and helpful.

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Transportation

At around 9:30 am on Monday November 28th I left the house for school and drove there in a car. When riding around you tend to notice that you have to follow many laws and rules to be able to drive that the state makes. I’ve also seen that the state had put up more cameras in certain areas to regulate drivers to follow the law. There's also this one intersection where I live that is either having the roads redone or they are fixing a problem, but it's taking forever. But it’s nice to know that our tax money is going to something useful.

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School

I had class at 2:00 pm today November 28th, and I started to think about why I came to this school, and because it’s the only school that has my program for a bachelor degree. And because of that it will be a lot of money, and even though I have a grant that still won’t be enough money. So, I applied for financial aid and unfortunately I don’t know if I will qualify for aid. And I'm pretty sure the state provides many scholarships, grants, and loans for the students who qualify at Morgan.

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Environment

I was on my phone sometime in the afternoon and saw that South Korea tends to have bad air pollution sometimes. And that made me think about the environment in which I live, and how I’m blessed to have purified water and decent air quality. And some things the state does by regulating the people to be more conscious of the environment is by getting rid of plastic bags at grocery stores. But they also don’t do enough sometimes because they are still not regulating how much pollution is being put into the air and how we are disposing of things and creating too many landfills.

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Infrastructure

The state supports my needs by providing safe drinking water for me in the area I live in and for that I do have to pay money and the same with energy/ electricity. The state provides safety by using police officers and the military to protect us and come to us if there is a problem, and also by having that accessible to almost everyone for most of the time. They also provide ways to get rid of our trash which is either going to a dumpster and getting picked up by them or them coming directly to our house to get it. They also clean the roads for us by using our tax dollars, and one example of that is during the winter they come and get rid of the roads of snow when it snows a lot.

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Public Agencies

The grocery store is a public agency that helps me provide food for myself and my family. The police department and fire department provides safety and useful help when in a bad situation and it’s a state agency. And a federal agency that also protects me from real bigger issues is the military.

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Social Life

The state does regulate marriages, for example the act of same sex marriages just became legal not to long ago. We also had a regulation on interracial marriages/relationships in America. Some other things the state regulates is that you have to be 21 or older to drink alcohol and you have to be like 15 and 9 months to be able to start driving. And because of these age restrictions I'm not allowed to do some things even though I’m legally an adult, like drinking and smoking.

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Media

The state does regulate what is shown on the media but it’s not too extreme like in some other countries. Like you can’t have inappropriate things on some media platform, for example when they’re cussing on award show performances they have to bleep them out or use a different word.

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Absence

I feel like the state is absent on how they treat black people in this country. And because they treat us so terribly it can be detrimental to our existence in this country. And if they could strengthen their laws, regulations, and punishments, me and other fellow black people would feel a lot more safer than before. This can shape a better and safer world if we were treated equally with others.

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millenialfanfictionaddiction · 3 years ago

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Please Me: Oikawa's Oasis Part 3

⚠️This Fic is 18+, Minors DNI⚠️

Welcome to week 4 of the Please Me Series! A collaboration with @axoxtxhxh! This weeks theme is Virginity Loss featuring Oikawa and Goshiki! This weeks fics are broken into 3 parts! Parts 1 and 2 are linked in the master list below! Please check out Joey’s fic, Guiding Goshiki! I will also link it in the Please Me master list!

Warnings: swearing, slight angst, fluffy ending, virginity loss, kissing, male oral receiving, thigh riding, masturbation, locker room sex, shower sex, unprotected sex, creampie, guided female masturbation, sub! oikawa, fem dom reader, petnames, one hell of a safeword

Word Count: 5,000

Staring at the wall, you heard your alarm sound the following morning as you slowly arose from your bed. You hadn’t slept at all since you had arrived home last night. You couldn’t shake the feeling of shame and guilt for running away from Torū.

You’re feelings were valid, you knew that. But you knew it wasn’t right to run away from him like you did. You should have talked to him. In a way, you probably made him feel more self conscious then you had your first time.

You sighed as you got up to shower and head to the gym. You knew you needed to talk with Torū. You needed to explain to him that none of this was his fault.

Locking your door, you headed to the gym as you mentally prepared yourself for the conversation that would follow. You wanted to tell him about how you were afraid you would ruin his first time. How your first time failed miserably and that you didn’t want him to regret anything.

Torū had become very special to you as both a teammate and a friend. You didn’t want to make his time with the team awkward in anyway. You knew the conversation would be a difficult one but you had to do it.

Arriving at gym you saw several of the other players nursing hangovers and you began setting up for the days practice. You yawned as you went to the bench, to grab your notes as the teams captain approached.

“You must have really worn Torū out YN” he said nudging your side as you looked at him confused “he texted me this morning telling me he was too ‘worn out’ to come to practice” he said throwing up air quotes “I’m actually surprised you’re here today.”

Hearing the Torū wasn’t coming to practice hit your like a ton of bricks, the feeling guilty washing over you as you felt the urge to cry. You turned away from the captain as he watched you walk away in silence, going to fill the teams water bottles.

Stepping from the gym, you felt the tears flow as the guilt and shame of your actions washed over you. How could you act so immature? How could you just run away?

You cried as you went to fill the teams water bottles. God I probably made him feel so insecure. I’m such an idiot you thought to yourself as you tried to calm down enough to finish your task and excuse yourself to your office. You could camp out there the rest of the practice, telling the coach you had some work to catch up on. At least then you could cry in peace.

Torū groaned as he woke up from his small nap. He hadn’t been able to sleep because of what had transpired between YN and himself. He felt so shamed, so inadequate. These were feelings he didn’t often have, causing chaos in his mind as he jolted hearing the sudden ring of his phone.

He answered the FaceTime call to a smiling Iwaizumi as he tried to bring a smile to his glum face.

“Shittykawa what’s the matter with you? I didn’t expect you to pick up. Don’t you have practice? Iwaizumi says as Oikawa just stared at him.

Iwaizumi was confused. He had known Oikawa for many years and this was the first time he had ever seen the former high school captain so gloomy. Even losing their 3rd year volleyball tournament hadn’t made the captain as sad as he was now.

“I messed up Hajime” Torū said as Iwaizumi reeled back. Oikawa never used his full name.

“What happened? Are you ok?” He said as Torū tried to hold his composure in. His emotions were all over the place, he had never felt so vulnerable, so destroyed “Hey Torū, are you ok?”

That did it. Iwaizumi saying his name caused Torū to cry like he had never cried before. He wasn’t even embarrassed, not one bit. He didn’t have time to feel embarrassed. He felt too ashamed.

“Hajime” Torū said finally calming down “she- YN doesn’t want me.”

Iwaizumi was stunned. Never had this ever happened. A girl didn’t want the Torū Oikawa? What kind of alternative dimension was he living in?

Iwaizumi watched as his friend wiped his face with his palms, trying to figure out what to say.

“Uhh- well umm what happened” he managed to muster up as he tried hard to still comprehend the previous statement made by his friend.

“Last night, I went out with the team. Things with YN got heated. We came back to my place. Everything was going so well. Then I told her I was a virgin and she freaked out and ran” he said as he looked down, unable to make eye contact with his friend.

Iwaizumi couldn’t help but chuckle to himself and try as he might, he was unable to hold a straight face. He laughed loudly as Torū’s head whipped up into view, sending glares at him.

“Dude, I'm sorry” he laughed “but please tell me that you just didn’t say ‘YN I’m a virgin’ and expect her to be like ready to rip your v-card from your grasp.”

Iwaizumi laughed loudly as Torū just continued to stare at his friend “I don’t think it’s very funny Iwa-chan” he said he scuffed at his friends laughter.

“Boy, you really are lame shittykawa” he said chuckling “are you sure you really are good with women? I mean I don’t blame her one bit! Taking a guy’s virginity would suck! I mean men really don’t know shit about pleasuring women so what’s in it for her?”

Torū thought hard while his friend talked. Maybe he had approached it wrong to begin with. Not that he thinks about it, his method of delivery was a bit hasty.

“Dude, I think you need to just talk to her You don’t really know why she turned you down. I mean it sounds like she likes you from the way things went last night. Maybe you just made her nervous.”

Torū knew his friend was right. You had never given him any indication that you didn’t like him and he knew that, last night you felt something just like he did.

Torū looked at his friend as he smiled “you’re right Iwa-chan I’ll talk to her tomorrow.” Iwaizumi laughed as he watched the light stream back into his friend’s face.

“Good luck idiotkawa” he said hanging up as Torū laid his phone down. It was getting late, well after practice had ended. He knew he should try and get to the gym to practice some before tomorrow. He gathered his gear as he made his way to the gym, hoping someone was still there so he could practice.

You had managed to avoid the team for the entire practice. The coach had bought your excuse and you stayed cooped up in your small office until after practice.

You signed as you stood up from your chair, tired from sulking and crying the entire afternoon. You grabbed your bag and locked the office door. Thankfully it was Friday and you could spend the weekend sleeping. You were exhausted but yet somehow found the strength to cry for hours on end.

You approached the gym doors as the all too familiar sounds of volleyball slamming into the floor radiated into your ears. You checked your phone, nothing that it was 7pm and well past practice time. You approached the gym doors as you quietly peaked in to see a sweating Torū setting up a serve, smashing it straight into the net

“UGH DAMMIT” he said shouting as he prepared the throw another one up, once again managing to net the ball. He leaned over, placing his hands on his knees and he grabbed his towel and headed to the locker rooms. He had only been practicing for an hour but he was just unable to get into it.

You watched as he made his way into the locker rooms, following to the doors as you slowly opened them, hearing him shout from inside.

“Torū,you idiot!” he shouted as you winced at his words. You felt awful. You knew he was like this because of what had transpired between the two of you the previous night.

You walked in the doors, standing for a moment as you see Oikawa sitting on the bench, a towel placed over his head and his elbows rested on his knees.

You knew you had to say something. You couldn’t let him think any of this was his fault. This was all your doing and it was time you owned up to it

“Hey Torū” you said softly as the locker room door closed behind you and Torū’s head snapped up to meet yours. He looked at you as you walked over to him, sitting directly in across from him on the other bench.

“We need to talk” you said as he put his head down, trying not to cry again.

“It’s ok YN. There’s nothing to talk about” he said he went to stand up, stopping when you grabbed his forearm.

“No Torū” you said as you sniffles lightly “I need to apologize.”

Torū was confused as he sag back done the bench, removing the towel from his head. He stared at you questioningly. What were you apologizing for?

You played with your fingers for a moment as you tried hard to muster up the courage to talk. You knew what you wanted to say, rather what you needed to say.

“Torū, I’m sorry I ran out on you. I shouldn’t have done that. I- I just got really nervous” you say, still looking down at the floor as you took a deep breath and tried hard not to cry.

“When you told me you were a virgin, it made me nervous. I remember my first time all too well and I- well I just don’t want your first time to be like mine was” you speak as Torū looks at you, still confused.

The whole time the issue hadn’t been that he was a virgin, it had been that you wanted him to have a good experience? He was shocked. Here he though the issue was him, when in reality the issue was your own self doubts. He listened as you continued to talk.

“My first time wasn’t good Torū. I didn’t know what I was doing and I thought I had feelings for the guy but like he didn’t have feelings for me. And I really like you Torū and I just don’t want you to regret anything. The fact that you trusted me with something so special made me nervous and scares” you said as your eyes went up to meet Torū.

He looked at you, staring into your eyes as he tried hard to comprehend everything you had just said. He felt awful that your first experience wasn’t good but he also knew his feelings for you were valid and now he knew you had feelings for him too. He continued to stare as he worked his way thought the issues in his mind.

You frowned as you took his silence as a bad sign, sighing as you stood up.

“Thanks for letting me explain myself Torū. You are so amazing and you deserve someone special” you said as you went to leave the locker rooms.

Torū snapped from his thoughts as he quickly grabbed your hand, pulling you back into his as he placed a light kiss on your lips. He smiled as you looked at him, very confused as to what had just happened.

Torū put his forehead on yours as you smiled softly.

“YN, you don’t get it. I want you to be my first because of how I feel about you” he said as he looked at you softly. You had become an oasis for him. An escape from reality and daily life. You had loved volleyball as much as him and you had always been genuine with him.

You smiled as you grabbed his neck, kissing him softly again as he pulled your body flush against his as he deepened the kiss. He placed his hands on your soft waist as he moved his hand up and down your back as you grabbed at his hair pulling him in closer to you.

You break from the kiss, staring at each other as your lips hovered over his. Your body hearing up as you could feel his erection forming against your thigh. You kissed his chin to his neck as he pulled your pelvis in closer, grinding where he could, trying hard to gather any amount of friction to ease his aching cock.

He backed away from him as he watched in confusion as you approached the locker room door.

Not again he thought as he heard the lock click, watching you stroll back to him, pulling him back into a full embrace. He needed you and bad. He couldn’t stand this pain in his cock anymore. He needed relief and the only medicine was you.

You push him back to the bench as he sits down looking up at you as you smirk down at him.

“Torū do you really want this?” You said as he groans, looking up at your gorgeous figure.

He nodded frantically as you took his chin in your hand “I need a verbal response Torū” you said as his eyes widened.

“Yes- yes YN I want this” he said as you step back, removing your shirt and leggings, watching him ogle at your nearly naked form.

“Ok Torū, I want you to pick a safe word just incase things get to be too much for you” you said as he gawked at you in your bra and panties. He was having a hard time concentrating on the task at hand with you standing tall in front of him.

“Torū!” you repeated as you snapped your fingers in front of his eyes, trying to get his attention turned back.

“Oh shit- yeah a safe word, umm how about ‘Kageyama’?” He said as you stared strangely at the word.

“I’ve never heard of ‘Kageyama’? What does that mean?” You said as he stood up from his spot approaching you as he grabbed at your scantily clad hips.

“Don’t worry about it. It’s just something will definitely snap me out of the mood” he said as you chuckled lightly embracing Torū in a heated kiss.

Your tongue licked his lips lightly as he granted you access, opening his mouth to your wet muscle as you massaged your tongue against his, pulling light groans from his pretty head.

You tugged on his shirt as he lifted his arms up, letting you pull the shirt from his body as your fingers and palms run up his sculpted chest.

Your fingers graze lightly over his nipples as he shutters and groans. His body was so reactive to every touch, every movement. The fact that you were about to engage in intercourse with the setter still made you a bit nervous but you tried hard to cast the self doubt aside, wanting to make the experience memorable for both you and Torū.

As if on queue, Torū looked at you sweetly as he brushed the tip of your nose with his. “you know YN, we could just count this as your virginity loss too. I mean clearly you are as nervous as I am” he said chuckling as you laughed loudly throwing your head back.

“That’s a good idea Torū but I am experienced in pleasuring a partner” you said as you push him down to the bench “just be a good boy for me and let me take the lead, ok?”

Torū gulped as he eyes widened at as your form sunk to your knees in front of him. This was really happening and in the team locker room. Not an ideal place to lose your virginity but he was not about to interrupt you.

“Umm YN” he said as he looked at you , kneeling before him with your hands placed on your plush thighs “don’t you umm, don’t you want me to make you feel good too?”

You chuckled lightly as you reached up pulling him into a heated kiss as he gently rubbed his hands along your soft arms.

“How about I show you what I like while I make you feel good, then you can try?” You say as he nods quickly watching your hands go to his gym shorts, pulling his erection free as he shifts his hips upwards, helping you to remove his pesky shorts.

Your eyes widen at his size as you think about all the possible ways his cock will pleasure your wet cunt. You felt your core heat up as you looked up to Torū.

He was completely blissed out. Lost in translation between here and fantasy. He’s eyes sparkled with excitement as you tested the waters, lightly kicking the tips of his hard cock.

Groaning he threw his head back in pleasure as you smirked to yourself, going in for another lick. Your tongue laying more and more on his stiffened cock as he writhed in pleasure under your control.

Your body headed as you watched his abs contract in the moment, his mouth hanging open as his tongue lolled out in ecstasy. He watched as your fingers traced lightly from his legs to your own, peering down at your chest as your fingers danced lightly over your clothed clit.

“Fuck YN” he moaned as he tried his hardest not to come from the sensation of your tongue on his cock.

Taking one final lick, you stand up as you slowly remove your panties from your body, revealing your cunt to him as he stares at the wetness coating your inner thighs.

“Did you- did I” he said staring at you as you laugh, pushing him back on the hard bench, placing one leg on each side as you rub your clit with your fingers.

“Yes Torū you made me this wet” you say as you widen his legs on the bench, his cock standing tall as you bend down, grinding your cunt on his lower thigh.

“Holy shit-” he groans as you moan throwing your head back as his leg rubs your clit perfect. He grabs his cock as he slowly begins to stroke himself, trying hard to concentrate on your moments and pleasure as he feels the wetness pool on his legs.

You lean over, placing two of your wet fingers in his mouth as he sucks violently, causing you to grind faster and harder. Your orgasm builds as moans and groans fill the air

Your body heats up rapidly as the cord in your stomach tightens. Your pace quickens as does Torū’s as you feel the cord begin to loosen.

“Oh fuck Torū” you moan as Toru groans deeply, letting go of his aching cock to watch as you tip over the edge.

“Come on baby, come for me” he says as the pet name tips you over the edge, your cunt pulsing on his thigh as he watches your face contort into pleasure.

“That was so hot YN” he says he has gently caressed your arm and leg as his cock aches painfully beside you.

“We are just getting started Torū” you say as you adjust yourself over his pelvis, pushing his cock between your wet folds as your grind back and forth, trying hard to ensure your good and ready to take his cock.

“Fuck YN- I, I’m not going to last long” you say as you shush him, halting your movements.

“Hey its OK. I already came so now we need you to come. How do you want to come Torū?” You say as he bites his lower lip, watching your pussy settle above his cock.

“Please YN- please put it in. I need to be inside of you princess” he squeaks out as you smirk at his request. You knew he wouldn’t last long inside of you. One thing you prided yourself on sexually was your ability to ride a cock and boy was Torū in for a treat.

You line his cock up with your wet cunt, slowly bending your knees down as you impaled yourself in his cock.

The stretch was delicious as Torū’s mouth fell open as he groaned and panted beneath you. You knew he could feel the tightness you felt as you waited for him to adjust to being inside of you.

Torū’s hands flew to your hips as he tried his hardest to remain calm. Your cunt was so tight and so warm around his cock. The pleasure was unimaginable. All he wanted was to feel the release.

“Torū are you ok?” You said as you steadied your hands on his chest watching to make sure the man below you was still coherent.

“It’s so tight YN, please” he moaned as his hands went to your hips and you ground a little down on him as his core shuttered, causing his dick to jolt inside you.

“I’m going to go slow ok” you said as he nodded. Your feet planted firmly on the ground, you pushed lightly on his chest as you propelled your hips up and down, impaling yourself on his cock over and cover again.

The pace was agonizing for Torū as whimper and moans fell from his mouth. You could feel your orgasm building and you knew Torū couldn’t hold on much longer. You needed to go faster.

“Torū” you groan from above him as you continue your leisurely pace “I’m close can I go-”

“GOD PLEASE BABY FUCK ME” he shouts as your hips speed up, jerking his cock as you felt the familiar knot began to unwind “fuck YN I can’t hold out-”

“Almost baby” you moan as you feel the cord snap inside your stomach as your cunt pulses on Toru's cock causing him to groan and grunt.

“FUCK FUCK FUCK-” he shouts as his hips still into you, painting your walls white as he grips your hips firmly, whimpering below you as he tried his hardest to come down from his high.

He felt absolutely spectacular, like his body was floating on air. He couldn’t believe how amazing his first time had been. He never imagined it would happen the way it did but he wasn’t complaining. His body and mind were in complete bliss.

Coming down from your high, you laugh as you look at Torū’s blissed out state. He smiles at you as he opens his eyes slowly caressing your cheek.

“That was amazing YN” he said, breath shaking as he came down from his high, breathing steadily.

Your chest filled with pride as you felt sheer happiness fluid your body. You had redeemed yourself and you had made Torū’s first time amazing.

Standing up slowly, Torū watched as his cum leaked down your thigh as you stood in front of him. His eyes traced your form as he felt his cock jolt to life again, ready for another round.

Standing up, he quickly grabbed you in a bridal carry, running towards the shower as your screamed and laughed as he set you down, turning the water on and pressing your body against the shower wall.

“eww Torū, this wall is gross” you groan as his lips attach to your neck as you feel his erection growing against your pelvis.

“It’s fine YN, I’ll clean you up afterwards” he says as he kisses you deeply, pulling your body against his as he pulls you under the warm water.

You break the kiss as you smile softly up at his tall form, water cascading down his body as you feel his hardened chest under your hands.

“I need you” he says as you smirk at him, turning around to face the wall. You grind your ass into his already hard member as he grabs your hips, pulling you firmly into him.

“Then fuck me Torū” you say as you peer over your shoulders, watching Torū’s face fill with excitement as he lines up his cock with your still damp cunt, slowly pushing in as he slowly sinks deep into your hole.

“fuck YN- your pussy is just amazing” he says as he slowly pulls his cock back out, moving at a snails pace in and out of you.

“Torū” you moan as you mouth falls open “give me your hand” you say as Torū’s hand appears in front of you as you place it between your legs on your hardened clit. Torū moans when his fingers hit your clit as you rotate his wrist, showing him exactly how you like to be pleasured. You let go of his hand as he continues to rub tiny fast circles into your clit as you propel yourself faster onto his cock, meeting his thrusts half way.

The air feels with the smell of sex and the sound of skin slapping as your ass meets his hips over and over.

“Fuck baby” he groans

“I know Torū, just a little more” you squeak out as he picks up his speed, meeting your ass fast and harshly as his fingers speed up on your clit.

“TORŪ FUCK-” You scream as his hips still on your ass as he presses hard, his head falling to your shoulder as he tries to gain control of his breathing.

“Ahhh fucking hell- FUCK” he shouts as he chest heaves in relief as you both come down from your highs as he releases you and you turn to face him, kissing him softly as he grabs you, pulling you into a tight embrace.

“Thank you YN” he says whispering into your neck as you smile softly.

After cleaning up and getting dressed, Torū helps you clean up the gym as you get ready to leave for the night. Locking the gym doors, Torū grabs your hand as he pulls you along with him.

“Torū” you say laughing as the brunette pulls you hastily out of the building “my apartment is the other way!”

“Who said the night was over YN-chan? I need to practice pleasuring you” he smirks as you gulp, following behind him quickly.

You sure were in for a long night ahead.

taglist: @chaotic-nick @yep-seeyalaterbranflakes @serostapesweat @lovelyzabrak-meadow

#please me #Please Me series #virginity loss #haikyuu #haikyuu!!#haikyū!!#haikyu x reader #seijoh #aoba johsai #oikawa #oikawa toru #oikawa torū #oikawa toru x reader #oikawa toru x you #oikawa toru x y/n #oikawa x reader #oikawa x y/n #oikawa x you #haikyuu oikawa

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violettelueur · 4 years ago

Text

— JUJUTSU KAISEN EPISODE SEVENTEEN || KYOTO SISTER SCHOOL EXCHANGE EVENT - GROUP BATTLE 3

↳ featuring : basically everyone at this point from jujutsu kaisen

↳ warnings : mention of killing + mention of explosion + EXTREME grammar issues

↳ form : story

↳ published : 02 april

↳ pronouns : she/her

↳ word count : 2.5k

↳ synopsis : within the jujutsu world, there were three famous clans to be aware of, the Kamo clan, Zenin clan and the Gojo clan. However, unknown to many sorcerers there was one last family that was known to be apart of the three, only for them to disappear after the golden era leading some to speculate that they had died in battle after the sealing of ryomen sukuna, but....

↳ previous episode : kyoto sister school exchange event - group battle 2

↳ next episode : sage

↳ barista’s notes : hehe you guys really don’t trust me anymore ʕ ꆤ ᴥ ꆤʔ...but here is the real episode everyone ╲ʕ·ᴥ·　╲ʔ i hope you enjoy it with all your hearts and don’t worry about anymore pranks, i am not that type of person unless it’s april 01 ʕ – ᴥ – ʔ

BEFORE READING, I NEED YOU TO BE AWARE OF THIS:

1. the whole story belongs to Gege Akutami and the credits go to them and them only.

2. the spell curses used belong to Tite Kubo due to them being the ‘Kidos’ being used on the manga and anime ‘Bleach’ - but none is mentioned in this chapter.

2.5. for the ‘cursed spells’/kidos (bleach) i will link this video here and tell you the time stamp to check out what i am intending to show - remember i add a few twist here and there by adding the katana to link with Y/N’s cursed technique : hopefully this video is slightly better...

no cursed spells used this episode..

crescent moon shape cursed energy swing : here

3. if you are confused on anything, please don’t hesitate to message me since i know this whole thing is so confusing.

“You want to become the head of the Zenin clan?!” you questioned in a surprised tone before turning your head to the side to face the weapon specialist sorcerer, only for your upperclassmen to continue to take a swing from the water bottle that you had brought her.

“It’s to spite them. What? Don’t you believe in me?” Maki responded to you once she twisted the lid of the water bottle closed before turning to look at you with a small smile.

“No, it’s not that...it’s just the process is just a whole drag, you know the paperwork, the connections with the other clans as well as your own family, it’s draining,” you commented before slowly laying down on your back leading your head to land on your track top that you had placed as a pillow.

“I’m surprised that you didn’t mention anything about the criticism,” Maki mentioned, leading you to stare up to the sky for a second before shifting your eyes to her direction, only to peer at a face that didn’t show any hesitation nor worries but rather confidence.

“I don’t care about criticism at all, it’s just a whole drag ass of a process, especially when you have to deal with two other male clan leaders,” you muttered under your breath since you didn’t want to mess up by saying three since you were technically the head of the L/N clan unofficially.

“I guess so, but I can’t wait to see the look on my family’s face when I become a hotshot sorcerer though,” Maki mentioned as she took her glasses off to give you another smile causing you to fully turn your head to the side to gain a proper clear view of your upperclassmen before giving her a soft smile back.

“If it’s you, then I wouldn’t mind at all Maki-san,” you declared causing the sorcerer to giggle lightly at your comment leading you to follow on since the laughter of Maki became really contagious for some odd reason.

‘If it’s you, then I wouldn’t have to hide anymore…’

“By the way, where is that idiot taking you this week?” Maki suddenly questioned, causing you to look at her with a slightly perplexed expression on your face before you came to the sudden realisation that she was talking about the strongest sorcerer that became your adoptive father.

“He’s taking me somewhere this week?” you asked confusingly as you quickly sat straight up only to find the mentioned man wearing a pair of black tinted glasses with the classic outfit of a simple white button-up shirt with black suit-like pants waving at you.

“Looks like he is, have fun on your daddy-daughter date,” Maki teased before standing up to continue training with the other second years as well as your classmates that gave their teacher a glare since they wanted to train with you a little longer.

ꕥ

“Why does Maki-san have to suffer because of that stupid clan?” Nobara shouted loudly causing you to jump slightly because you didn’t expect her to be yelling in the middle of Starbuck with her chocolate Frappuccino in hand before you started to look around to make sure no one was looking in your direction since people weren’t supposed to know about the existent of sorcerer as of right now.

“What’s wrong?” you asked in a concerned tone since you didn’t really want to cause a scene right now as you moved your vanilla cream Frappuccino straw away from your lips.

“I don’t get why the Zenin clan are halting Maki-san’s promotion, it’s stupid!” Kugisaki declared as she waved her arms around to exaggerate her statement nearly making you giggle at the sight since she looked like a sea creature right now.

“Well, it is quite common for families to do that when one of their members do not have cursed energy within them, they don’t even take the Heavenly Restriction into consideration,” you answered before taking another sip of your sugary drink.

“But why, isn’t superhuman physical prowess a good thing?” Kugisaki asked, before beginning to scroll through her phone to look up other places that you and she needed to visit before you both left to go back to Jujutsu Tech.

“Well, once they reject someone, they won’t take someone back, it saves them from the embarrassment of taking someone back,” you answered before looking to the side where there was a window, showcasing the roaming crowd in the city of Shibuya as some students were roaming around with books in their hand to head off to the library and some office workers, who were rushing back to their workplace from their lunch break.

“To be honest, it’s quite pathetic, it’s better to have someone that has superhuman strength and speed than a pure jujutsu sorcerer sometimes,” you commented, causing your classmate to look at you with confusion on her face.

“Why do you think that?” Kugisaki questioned as she was becoming intrigued by what was going on in your mind right now.

“Sometimes they survive things that other sorcerers can’t, it’s like a cheat code from certain death,” you answered as you turned to look at your friend before taking another sip of the vanilla drink that was right in front of you. “Besides, the Zenin clan are just full of weak men that are scared that they have to bow down to a woman, it would be funny to see them shocked,” you stated with a smile on your face leading Kugisaki to look at you with a surprised expression before seeing the slight hint of amusement in your eyes once that statement left your mouth to which caused a small smirk to appear on her face as well.

“There’s a reason why the queen is the most important chess piece on the board,” you comment before taking another sip of your vanilla Frappuccino letting the sweet flavour fall onto the tip of your tongue as if you could already taste your victory if you ever went against the Zenin clan in your lifetime.

ꕥ

“Do you get it?”

Snapping out of her thoughts, Kugisaki quickly looked up to discover her opponent in an extremely irritated expression, who was currently in the air as she was sitting upon her broom that just minutes ago slammed across the face.

“They don’t demand strength from female jujutsu sorcerers, they demand perfection! And on top of that, Mai-chan is also fighting against even more outrageous demands,” Nishimiya declared as she stared down at Kugisaki while trying to explain the disadvantages of being a female within the sorcery world that they were both currently in while trying to make Kugisaki conscious about the situation of her lower classmen and somewhat make her feel some sympathy towards her.

“I get that you’re a pain in the ass!” Kugisaki declared as she used her cursed energy to raise up three nails before swinging towards them Nishmiya leading her to dodge with her broom effortlessly before using a huge gush of wind towards the first-year, only to her surprise that Kugisaki was still standing with a smirk on her face, just like the one she showed you back when you both went on that Starbucks date.

“I’m used to getting knocked around and that attack isn’t even enough to compare to what I’ve been through,” Kugisaki mentioned while lifting her bangs away from her face as she began to recall the amount of time you had made her lose her footing as well as violently hitting her to the point where Panda had to save her a few times before she could even hit the tree she was going to crash into during the two months of training that everyone had.

“All done with your lecture?!” Kugisaki rhetorically asked as she raised up more of her nails before violently smashing them with her hammer towards Nishimiya again leading the sorcerer to dodge them once again while continuing on with her speech.

“Perfection is easy compared to what’s demanded of Mai-chan! She’s from the Zenin-can, one of the three major clans of elite jujutsu sorcerers. Perfection is expected as a matter of course there,” Nishimiya commented as she continued to ride her broom before stabilising herself once the attack had finished.

“‘Inherit the Zenin clan’s hereditary technique.’ Anywho don’t meet that demand, start their sorcerer lives as failures. Among those, women aren’t even allowed to stand at the starting line. Without the Zenin clan lineage, they’re not considered jujutsu sorcerers and if they’re not jujutsu sorcerers, they’re not considered people,” Nishimiya yelled out as if it was her own story that she was reciting to Kugisaki, leading to the first-year to somewhat zone out as she began to remember something that you had mentioned to her one time.

‘Gender should not matter at the end of the day, if you can beat or exorcise them...why should you care what gender they are? You won the chess game, right?’

“She’s lived her entire life with such scorn in a family without a shred of affection. Can you imagine how much Mai-chan and others suffered just to obtain what we enjoy as a matter of course? Why don’t you try thinking over with that brain of yours that confuses curses for friends?” the blonde-haired sorcerer questioned, before swiftly dodging a nail that was thrown at her suddenly.

“Shut up. Do you think misfortune is a free pass to do anything? What, then? You’re satisfied with those who are blessed getting trash-talked behind their back? That’s how Saori-chan…,” Kugisaki questioned in a low and threatening tone as she began to reminisce about her childhood friend that was run out of her countryside town just because she was from the city.

“I can’t stand her, regardless of her upbringing and I love Maki-san, who endured the same upbringing. Have you all even bothered to think about what kind of person the idiot you’re trying to curse is?” Kugisaki asked once again, only to get a silent and annoyed expression as her answer. “What makes us obligated to meet such perfection or such absurd demands? Gojo...she doesn’t even strive for perfection as a special-grade sorcerer. Is your entire life just a job?!” the first-year yelled out before lifting her hand as she angrily activated her curse technique leading to multitudes of large explosions of cursed energy to surround the entire forest, forcing Nishimiya to fly around the area in a panic towards getting hit by any of the blasts.

Suddenly, as Nishimiya tried to, once again, stabilise herself on her broom, another nail was thrown causing it to land on a tree trunk only for a sudden foot to make its way on top of it as a stepping platform leading Kugisaki to jump up with full strength to reach up towards her opponent. However, it only led her to grab a few bristles of the flying divide.

“You might have brought me down, but you still won’t reach me!” Nishimiya declared as she released another gust of wind to push Kugisaki back down to the ground only for your classmate to land roughly on her feet as she took out one of her straw dolls from her school jacket.

“No, I reached you. This is plenty,” Kugisaki mentioned as she stuck one of the straw bristles on the doll as she continued with “I don’t give a damn about ‘men’ this and ‘women’ that! You can keep that shit to yourselves! I love myself when I’m pretty and all dressed up! And I love myself when I’m being strong!”

“I am... Kugisaki Nobara!” Kugisaki proudly declared before slamming her hammer down on her doll letting her cursed energy flow into her equipment, suddenly causing Nishimiya’s broom to malfunction as she began to drop.

‘If I hit here with my hammer, I might kill her,’ Kugisaki thought as she remembered what you told her leading her to smirk, yet she knew she couldn’t break the rules causing her to reach behind her back to reveal a red and yellow hammer that suddenly expanded to which lead the Kyoto sorcerer to identify it as a squeaky hammer only to be violently smacked with it across her face.

“One more time!” Kugisaki yelled out. However, before the hammer could even connect to Nishimiya’s face again, a sudden small but large impact was felt on her temple causing Kugisaki’s body to be flung over to the side leading Nishimiya to look surprised before facing forward as she wondered who was the person responsible for saving her.

ꕥ

“Hello? Momo?” Mai greeted as she placed her phone on her ear trying to communicate with her teammate. “Don’t worry, it was a rubber bullet,” she then reassured Nishimiya as she knew that the third-year already sympathised her and now she was worried that she might have killed someone during the Exchange Event.

“Most importantly, that light was Ultimate Cannon, right? But I can’t get in touch with Mechamaru. If he was cornered enough to use such a powerful technique, and now this, he most likely lost,” Mai informed her schoolmate as she was trying to relay information that she could assume since it was important to know the status of the Kyoto team right now.

“Panda will likely be returning, you should leave that spot and support everyone from the air. We’re all in trouble without you,” the Zenin member mentioned leading to the other person on the line to agree before she slowly uttered her name.

“It’s all right, Momo, I know,” Mai mentioned in a soft tone, trying to convey to her friend that it was alright before hanging up once Nishimiya got the message.

“What? Not going to call your friends?” someone yelled out as they stood on a branch, directly opposite to Mai at this current moment in time. “I don’t mind going two-on-one,” the second-year confidently stated with a smile on her face.

“There are many ways to enjoy this, right?” Mai asked before processing to stand up on her feet. “I could have everyone beat you together, but I’d like to enjoy you...by myself,” Mai declared as she raised her gun with a vexed expression displayed on her face as she faced her twin sister.

“Call me ‘Onee-chan,’ little sister,” Maki stated as she raised her katana.

However, before they could even start a fight another deafening explosion was heard causing them to turn in the direction to where it was heard, only to see a similar crescent-shaped wave of cursed energy flung into the air leading Mai to took at the scene with widening eyes as she slowly came to the realisation who was the cause of it.

“I think you should call Kamo and tell him to stop fighting with Gojo...it might lead him going to the hospital,” Maki mentioned before pushing herself forward to attack her sister.

‘If it’s you, then I wouldn’t mind at all Maki-san’

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