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justafairytailofinnocence · 2 months

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Modern Thranduil x anxious reader

Caged birds with broken wings

Chapter 1:

A Dance with tardiness

Synopsis: An antisocial, anxious writer in her early 20s attends a ballet class under the teachings of a mysterious, reserved, austere dance instructor. They form an unlikely within their solace and past.

Warnings: mentions of blood

Chapter 2

A/n: This fanfic doesn't follow along the lines of the hobbit but rather a loosely spin-off au that only uses some characters. I do not own the right to them as they are Tolkien's characters and I respect his creation. (even if the characters might be ooc). Feel free to comment, reblog and like. Let me know if you'd like a chapter 2.

I tended to daydream often, more so when I listened to the music. The tune and tone of the song that played one after the other sent me to the realms I immersed; typically, anyone would daydream into another realm far better than their own: a princess, pirate, elf, fae—anything. My imagination is my realm of comfort, a sealed bubble that I can freely roam however I wish. Unfortunately, within fantasy, we must face reality. Within my reality, I’m not much of an importance, at least not one to have a whole written memoir about. I’m more of one of those faces you’d pass by in the street or grocery store, not giving any second thought to. Though I’d prefer it that way, I’m not much of a talker but rather a writer; I’m more fluent in my words than my speaking. Every attempt I’ve made, I’ve stumbled or become still; my chest would rise heavily and lower deeply. I always asked how people can do it, how they can speak—talk—communicate like it’s a piece of cake. I’d rather shroud myself in my isolation than speak to another living being.

At my desk, in my somewhat clean apartment, I was planning my next latest story in a saga of 3 books. So far, I’ve managed to get in contact with a publishing company via email who were willing to get behind the idea of a feature-length young-adult romance novel, a romance novel about a pirate king and a fae queen. The first chapter was still relatively underdeveloped, yet I’m willing to spend an entire day finishing it. I had only five months to publish the entire chapters. I’ve been a fantasy fan ever since I was a child. To me, fantasy is what the word impossible turned into possible. For ten years, I’ve been writing, and never once has it stripped me of what I truly adore.

Whilst my fingers pressed against the keys on my keyboard, I received a text message on my phone from the side of my desk surrounded by papers. It was from my mom, who was wondering about my well-being. As always, I respond with the usual ‘everything’s going well—I’m pumping out new chapters for my new novel, ‘A Puncture in Time’, you know—the one with pirates and fantasy, new chapters soon to come ;)’. Even though she’s smart enough to see through my little façade, she writes back, ‘Hey listen, I know it’s hard right now, but I can assure you, things will get better; it just takes practice; I know you’ll meet someone you’ll find it easy to talk to’. I sighed heavily; within her words, I have faith, yet doubt. Should I choose to believe her, bite the bullet and try to speak up or wallow in a lie that can send her mind at ease? Before I wrote back, she sent a post with a link. I furrowed my brows as curiosity swelled my thoughts, my finger tapped the link. It was an ad. An ad for ballet classes. I thought it odd why she would send me something like this: I’m no dancer; I’m certainly no ballerina.

I replied with a question mark ‘?’.

A message bubble popped up: ‘…’ I awaited her reply.

As she was still typing, I took the liberty of glancing through the ad quickly. The tab loaded with a cursive font in bold ‘Les danseuses se réjouissent’. Scrolling past the stock images of ballet dancers, I came across a small section of different levels offered: beginner, Intermediate, and advanced. My mind raced with doubt; I had no experience in ballet, at least not since I was a young child. I wondered to myself, ‘Do I really want to take this? After all, I’m not exactly one for groups’. However, my mind was put at ease when my eyes came across an option for ‘one-on-one private lessons’. At least, I wouldn’t be with people who were far more experienced—let alone a group; the thought of many eyes staring at me—would have my heart sink. As I clicked the option, I was astounded; there were no reviews, pictures, or even a description of the instructor. I was sceptical. Surely, if you were to teach a class, you’d have at least a brief introduction of yourself. Even as an author, I have a concise introduction in my publications. I lightly sighed, weighing my options; on the one hand, it’ll please my mom, get me out of the apartment, and keep me fit; on the other hand, despite being private, I’m meeting someone I don’t know. Who knows what this person’s intention is, even if it’s for a class.

Finally, I heard a ‘ding’ as she replied, ‘Please try, at least for me; it’ll be good for your health, and you once mentioned you wanted to be a ballerina. I know the world isn’t always what we want it to be, but I know you can make it shine; I’ve seen it in your novels; give this a chance, give them a chance, to show them how you can shine, because I know you’ll be the brightest star there :).’

My eyes softened as I read every word; I couldn’t deny she had a way of getting through to me. She was always a caring woman, along with my dad. They were the only two people I could speak to without pressure or the weight in my chest.

I pressed back onto the tab with the private lessons. I clicked to see the booking dates—there’s an option to book for tomorrow, and the price is only $45 per lesson. For the price, it wasn’t too bad; yet still expensive. I filled in the details required to send the booking through, yet my finger hovered as I was about to press ‘confirm’. My mind came to a tussle of thoughts and hesitations; this would be the first time, in a long time, that I would speak face-to-face with an actual living being. However, I recalled Mom's words, ‘Because I know you’ll be the brightest star there’.

Breathing in—I pushed it, I pressed confirm.

I did it. I’m going to attend a ballet class. My head slowly lowers onto my desk, surrounded by papers. My hair dangled over my forehead. The adrenaline that reached the height of my mentality came crashing down. It’s like going on a rollercoaster you didn’t ask for, coming from the highest point of the rail down to the pit below. I start to feel light-headed. I want to sleep. I want to stay here. Perhaps I’ve made a mistake. What if this doesn’t work out?

I rose slowly from my desk chair, picked up my phone, and texted, ‘I’ve booked lessons for tomorrow…I hope you're right about this.’

I watched as once more, awaiting her response, ‘…’

‘Oh, I’m so happy, you’ll fit right in, I know it :)’ she texted.

I didn’t respond. She’s pleased, at least.

I decided to call it a night; I’ve had enough pressure for one day. I logged off, cleaned the papers on my desk, pushed them into a neat-ish pile and headed to the bathroom to shower. As I opened the door, I went inside to set down my pyjamas by the medium-small bathtub’s acrylic side rim. My bathroom isn’t big exactly, but neither is it small. It’s moderate for what it was: a bathtub, shower, toilet, sink, and a medium-sized mirror in the same room. It’s not precisely palace material, but it helps soothe my thoughts. I held my hand out as I turned on the shower, feeling the trickling water against my skin. The temperature quickly changed from cold to warm in just five seconds. Once I was satisfied, I stripped bare, sliding my long-sleeved green shirt off and sliding my darker tracksuit pants. I tossed my unmentionables inside the bathtub. I stepped inside the shower, allowing the warm water to run freely down my skin. I shut the shower enough to have a slit entrance still. I grabbed the soap, rubbing it over my skin, arms, legs, and body. I splashed water on my face as the water rinsed the suds away. I hovered my hands in my eyesight, glancing closer at my fingers. I could see the redness and patches from where I’d picked my skin; it’s a habit I developed since childhood. The habit would annoy Mom, often whispering or saying straight, “Stop picking”, even touching my hand to remind me. Unfortunately, this habit hasn’t subsided; I sometimes even look at my skin with little care, picking the cuticles or rough patches.

Once I finished scrubbing my body with soap, I turned off the water and opened the shower door to step onto the bathmat. I grabbed a towel from the single towel rack located beside the shower. I dried my body, running the towel over my skin. As I wrapped the towel around my body, I glanced at my face in the mirror above the sink. They say eyes are the most expressive in emotion. My narrowed, pinkish lips thinned.

I snapped out of my gaze, continuing to slip on my long blue pants decorated in owl prints, then, the next, a long-sleeve top with the basic purple on them topped with a giant owl embroidered in the front area. Owls have always resonated with me, whether it's their symbolism or captivating beauty. I placed the towel on the side of the bathtub’s rim. I picked up my previous clothes and took it into my bedroom. My bedroom was also medium sized, having a queen-sized bed and an oaken cupboard with a mirrored wardrobe. My room was decorated with tiny figurines I’d collect overtime, albeit from movies I’ve fancied or books. I placed the clothes in my hamper basket behind my door. My body relaxed when my eyes lingered toward my bed, the messy, deep blue sheets draped to the left side. I dismissed the thought of tucking them in for the time being, only plonking myself onto the mattress and wrapping myself within the single cotton sheets and doona drifting off.

Dreaming is the easy part, letting what visions came to my mind run wild. Sometimes, it’s suitable for inspiration, but other times, it's nightmares. The imagination is still enchanting, although, this time, it was peculiar. I was in a birdcage decorated with gold; the entrance was bolted shut; my hands gripped the golden rods holding the cage together. I tried to scream but to no avail. I tried to shake the cage, yet I was too small to provoke movement. My body lowered, feeling the coldness of the metal plate below. I had nothing but rosy ribbon pointe shoes. I suddenly felt myself, in no control, rise as though my limbs were attached to strings. I started to dance, my arms and legs stretching to fit the perfect movements. Eventually, I stopped mid-movement, standing on one leg while extending the other behind. I couldn’t move; I was frozen in place. I could do nothing but shut my eyes.

Suddenly, I woke up; my eyes fluttered open from the confusion I had just endured. Rising from the bed, I pondered for a few seconds. ‘What on earth did I dream about?’. My hands pressed against my face, trying to comprehend my dream and reality. I pulled the sheets off me and got up for the morning. A typical morning for me results in the usual routine: dressing, brushing my teeth and hair, and then looking forward to what the day offers me. Until I remembered that I had booked that class. I typically picked out green tracksuit pants with a white singlet, hoping that would suffice. I picked up my purse and headed out the door to my car. I entered inside, placing my purse in the front seat as I turned on the white car. I noticed outside that it started to snow. Snow is beautiful, especially the little snowflakes that fall into your hand and dissolve upon touch.

As the car started, I prepared to drive to wherever it was that awaited me. The location was further from where I lived; it must’ve been at least twenty-eight minutes. The drive wasn’t particularly bothersome for me; when you live in New York, you get used to the traffic.

As I drove, the snowflakes emerged in more significant numbers. Eventually, I found parking just next to the side of a café. I wasn’t aware if it was for the staff or guests. However, it seemed empty with only a few cars, so—if I get called out on it, I’ll move my car. No one seemed to notice, so I assumed I was okay. I grabbed my black parker from the back and zipped it up. Exiting the car, I stopped to admire the snow falling for a few seconds. It was January 4th, so the snow season was still here. My hands shoved in my pockets, beginning to wander toward where I needed to be. According to the ad, it was building ‘52’; it was vague, I know, but it was the details given. I trudged through the snow, seeing building after building, until I came across something with the number ‘52’, where I needed to be. My hand gripped the gold-looking handle attached to the glass door. As I entered, I came upon a staircase; I took one step after the other. I quickly glanced at the ad to see what floor it was on, yet to no avail. Was it the ‘4th floor? Oh god, oh god, please don’t resort to me asking someone. My fingers started to twitch; I raised one of my fingertips to my lips, feeling the rough patches. My thumb started scraping off the first layer, and small blood trickles formed. I ran my fingers over my lips again as I trailed up the stairs. I could feel my chest becoming heavier, my mind swell with thoughts of self-doubt. Suddenly, the anxiety soon started to subside as my eyes saw the sight of a door. My fingers hesitantly wrapped around the door handle; I took one breath in, trying to be brave. I pushed it open—only for my worst nightmare to come to life.

My breathing became heavier, my heart sank, my eyelids widened, and I could feel myself hyperventilating. There was a group of ballerinas staring directly at me. There must’ve been at least four? Five? Looking my way! Their ages varied, going into their late 20s.

The one brunette asked in French “es-tu perdu, cherches quelqu’un”.

I couldn’t concentrate; my mind dwelled with clouded thoughts of judgment. I pressed my finger against my lip, trying to feel the rough patches.

Another asked in English, “My friend asked if you’re searching for someone”.

Quickly, my eyes diverted to the ground, avoiding their gaze. “I-I-, pr-viate, less-on”. I stumbled over my words.

“Lessons? Private lessons?” the girl spoke once more.

I nodded, avoiding eye contact.

As I quickly glanced, a middle-aged woman in her mid-forties stepped closer; I assumed she was the dance teacher. “Are you referring to the private dance lessons advertised? the one taught by Mr. Oropherion?”.

I paused for a moment, trying to gather my words. Mr Oropherion? Is he the teacher I’m with?

“I-Is. This. Right. Floor.” I tried to sound out the right words, but it was impossible. Perhaps my conscience was right; perhaps this was a terrible idea.

The middle-aged woman, confused, pointed toward the direction I needed to go. “you’ll need to head up one more level, then head to your right” Her voice was calm with a hint of soprano.

Still avoiding eye contact, I left, not even saying thank you, focusing on wanting to escape. I closed the door in front and let out a heavy breath. My head lowered to touch the tip of my hands. I wanted to melt in that moment; I wanted nothing more than to return home. However, I reminded myself that I was doing this for Mom. I breathed in once more, looking up at the door; my hands quickly released, and I began to walk quickly, edging further up the stairs. My mind came crashing down, feeling the dreariness wash over me. Feeling tired, I finally, at last, came across the door I needed to be. It was blank, the painted white withering away around the edges. My hand reached the doorknob, feeling the roundness, turning it slightly. I could feel the adrenaline kick in. I was hesitant, but my nerves started to build.

I started to whisper to myself, “Just a general hello, that’s all it takes—

You're doing this for Mom—

Give them a chance to show them how I can shine; give them a chance to see who I am because I’ll be the brightest star there”.

I breathed in, closing my eyes and opening the door. As I tried to force my eyes open, I was confused. There was no one here. It was an empty space surrounded by mirrors with bar beams attached to them. My eyes scanned the room, yet no one was there. I suppose I should be relieved, maybe the teacher had caught a sickness and decided to ditch the whole class. I wandered further inside; I might as well take a quick peek. I unzipped my black parker with a furry hood, tossed it on the coat hanger and took off my shoes, leaving my white socks on. I stood in the middle of the dance room, embracing the quiet ambience. I looked in the mirrors, reflecting my figure. Was this even what ballerinas wear? Who even is Mr. Oropherion? If he doesn’t show up in the next 15 minutes, I’m heading off and not returning.

Perhaps Aelwynn, the fae queen in my novel, would’ve also been able to dance freely and eloquently in movement. I still wonder what would entrance the pirate king Sarek Salazar. I never pictured him to be devilishly handsome, though. I suppose Aelwynn would be a beauty, but there must be more to it—beauty can only go so far in their bond; what would their obstacles or hardships be? Perhaps the fae queen is somewhat intertwined with difference, the opposite of a fairytale. Aelwynn is fair, kind, beautiful and strong; she meets all the criteria for something otherworldly, yet what if Sarek is her opposite, a beast? No—What if he was average, a gross-looking thing? Pirates are anyway; what if he wasn’t powerful, just an average man with greed—and the dynamic changes, challenging Sarek to choose between the love of his life or treasure?

Or he would choose—

Suddenly, I heard a male voice emit behind me: “You best have a thorough explanation, girl. Do not even think about squandering my precious time.”

My breathing became heavier as I realized someone was speaking to me. I did not turn around; I was afraid to. Instead, I avoided eye contact, too paralysed to move. My head stooped low, and my hands stood to the side. He spoke again, “Clearly, you are here for a reason, are you not? I’ll admit your intrusion is rather fatuous.”

I didn’t glance up; I couldn’t look; I needed time to gather the words to explain. What should I say? Hey, sir, some ballerinas told me to come here, and I fear speaking to people.

“I see you have a mouth; that means you must have a tongue. Go on, speak.” His voice was deep and tranquil, composed yet icy.

I took a deep breath in, slowly turning around. As my legs moved, I slowly gathered the courage to look into the man’s eyes, even if I muttered a ‘hello’. It would be enough. As my head glanced up to meet his, I noticed his appearance.

He—was like—something out of a fairytale. His face was lean and chiselled; his eyes were like ice; his blueish-greyish irises complemented his cold gaze. His hair tressed down like water reaching his chest, light like snow. Whilst his skin was pale in comparison, a fair tone in colour. His attire seemed far more affluent than mine, donning a black trench coat with white underneath. His trousers complimented the darkness of his coat, and his black loafers were polished. I glanced at his right finger, an oval-shaped ring with a diamond glass stone crafted in sterling silver.

“Did you hear me not the first-time girl?” his tone turned stern.

My mouth moved, finally finding the words to speak. “H-hello, I’m Y/n”.

“y/n?” he muttered.

My eyes glanced downward once more as I slowly nodded.

“So, you have a voice after all, pray, tell. Why are you lingering in my domain?” he said shortly.

I muttered “private lessons”, though my voice sounded like a whisper.

“Ah, so you’ve seen the ad; I suppose you haven’t wasted our time after all, although you are five minutes late; I expect punctuality, to be exactly on time at the hour.” His voice sounded stern once more.

Well gee, it’s not like it’s my first time here, and gotten lost. My eyes still avoided his; I couldn’t look up, so I nodded.

He didn't react when I avoided his gaze, dismissing it. However, he commented on something else: “Your posture is lamentable. Stand up straighter like so.” The tip of his finger lightly touched my chin, lifting it to meet his gaze. I didn’t turn away precisely, yet I still flinched. My breathing slowed down as I once more met his gaze. His eyes narrowed, and his lips thinned.

“You stand there like a bird, wounded by the natures of evil, ignorant of the world’s knowledge, caged and sheltered from the shadows that lurk within the realm. Tell me, little bird, care to spread your wings?” I glanced at myself in the mirror, standing straighter. I could feel the flush in my cheeks, but I didn’t say anything, only breathing slowly.

His finger pulled away, and he turned his back to me, walking away.

“I expect to see you here tomorrow at exactly the seventh hour of the night”.

“Do not make me regret my decision, or you shall return to the cage from where you came, little bird”, He muttered.

With that, he walked out of the room, distancing himself further and further away. At that moment, I stood in disbelief for a few seconds, trying to understand what had happened. However, once my thoughts were collected, I gathered my things and scurried out of there, wanting nothing more than to enter my car. Once I exited the building, I was hit with the coldness in temperature as it touched my face.

I opened the car door, tossing my things in the back, turning the engine on. I looked back, trying to see the building to the left. As I drove, my thoughts were plagued with astonishment. I didn’t look away; I maintained eye contact for longer than three seconds, and—I managed to speak my name without stumbling over my words. My emotions displayed were as if I’d seen a ghost. Yet—his face—his appearance—it reminded me of snow; I always loved snow; even when I was a child, it was the happiest of my memories. I recall when my parents took me to the park; I was fascinated by the sight of the winter wonderland, my face lighting up with delight and laughing with joy. I always find that snow rekindles the fond memories I have.

Perhaps Mom was right after all; this might be the start of something I’ve never been able to do. Talk.

#thranduil au #thranduil x you #thranduil #thranduil oropherion #the hobbit au #the hobbit #thranduil fanfic #lord of the rings #thranduil ballet au #thranduil headcanon #thranduil fanfiction #thranduil x reader #thranduil oropherion x reader

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pandenewie · 1 year

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08 - It’s Giving Control Freak

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Being a pushover is one of Jungwon’s many… quirks you could say. He often finds himself using his rare off-time running around and doing favours for anyone who asks. It’s not rare for him to spend his afternoons in a random classroom, offering his help to whatever teacher needs it - much like today.

Except Mr Jeon isn’t here yet, and as much as Jungwon wants to have faith in his friend Ni-Ki, the one who set him up with this task, it wouldn’t be the first time the younger boy had set him up.

The clock strikes 10 past 3 - marking a marvellous 15 minutes that Jungwon has been waiting. Just as he’s about to go home (setting a mental reminder to email Mr Jeon and apologize for leaving) the door to the classroom opens and shuts.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

Jungwon’s eyebrows furrow at the familiar voice, turning around to see a confused Y/n standing by the door. “Uh… I’m waiting for Mr Jeon.”Jungwon says, a slight waver in his voice. This is the first time he’s even made eye contact with Y/n since their… disagreement. Let alone spoke to them.

“Mr Jeon hasn’t been here all week.” Y/n says blankly. Oh. Well… that would make sense. Jungwon isn’t in any of his classes, so it’s not like he would have known.

“That explains why I’ve been waiting I guess… but why are you here?” Jungwon asks. From what he knows, Y/n doesn’t hang around after school. They’re not in any clubs or extracurriculars, and they’re certainly not the type of person to offer up their time like Jungwon is.

“Detention.” Y/n mumbles, almost embarrassed. Jungwon’s eyes widen at their words… they got detention? He can’t help but feel a little guilty - as if it is his fault.

“Uh… can I ask why?” He speaks hesitantly. Y/n sighs, fidgeting with their top as they avoid eye contact. “Skipping class… yelling in the halls… and… dress code.” Y/n mumbles, their voice almost going silent at the last part of the sentence.

Jungwon doesn’t know what to say. Well, he knows what he wants to say but he likes to think that his self-control is impeccable. Another one of his quicks. Unfortunately, his self-control seems to have clocked out for the day. Four words leave his mouth before he can even fully comprehend them himself:

“I told you so.”

Y/n’s head snaps up at Jungwon’s words, their eyes narrowing as his own widen in shock. He didn’t mean to say that… at least not out loud.

“Oh fuck off, Jungwon.” Y/n scoffs, turning around to leave the classroom. “I’m just saying… actions have consequences.” Jungwon mumbles, his eyes widening even further when he realises Y/n heard him. He mentally curses at himself to stop talking.

In the blink of an eye, Y/n is face to face with Jungwon, their index finger jabbing at his chest as their words cut through the air. “I don’t need you to tell me that actions have consequences, I’m not an idiot. But if you would focus on something other than yourself for once, you would see that no one likes the dress code. I’ll get detention every fucking day if I have to until it’s changed. Because unlike you, I sacrifice myself for other people.” And with that, Y/n turns around to leave once more.

Jungwon is the definition of being stretched too thin, and for possibly the first time in his life, he feels his restraint snap. All senses of rationality go out the window as Jungwon strides towards Y/n, ripping their hand off the door handle and turning them around to face him.

“You have spoken to me maybe twice ever, and both times have done nothing but yell and insult me. Who the hell are you to say that I don’t care about people? Do you have any idea how hard I have to work? How many people depend on me?”

“Oh boo hoo. It’s almost like that’s your job, Jungwon.” Y/n spits. “You’re literally the president of the student council, you signed up for this!”

“Name one member of the council other than me.” Jungwon challenges calmly - a stark change from the aggravation in his voice just moments prior. Y/n’s eyebrows furrow, they’ve never seen him like this. He squeezes their wrist and they quickly try to rack their brain for an answer…

Nothing.

“Exactly.” Jungwon mumbles, stepping back from Y/n’s frame and collapsing into his previous chair. Y/n watches curiously as he buries his head in his hands, letting out a tired sigh.

“I know the dress code is unfair, Y/n. But I can’t fix that. Not when I have all this other stuff on my plate. So please just… leave it.” Jungwon sounds almost desperate, and Y/n mentally curses at themself as guilt starts to form in the pit of their stomach.

Their body seems to move on its own as Y/n cautiously takes the seat next to him. The atmosphere is awkward and uncomfortable, and Y/n has to bite back a snide comment. They’re not that mean.

Swallowing their pride, Y/n lets out a sigh before mumbling a quiet “I’m sorry”. They can practically see the way Jungwon’s body tenses up at the words. He hates it when people pity him - hates feeling vulnerable.

“You can… stop, y’know. It’s not your job to do everything.” Y/n says quietly. “Who’s gonna do it if I don’t? Jungwon asks, awkwardly shifting in his seat. “Even if I did… pull back. The guilt of not doing things is just as bad as the burnout of doing it all.”

Well… now Y/n feels like shit. They always assumed Jungwon did everything for selfish reasons - that he wanted to be the centre of attention, the one with all the praise. Little did they know, he does it all because he has to. He was right, Y/n can’t name a single other person on the council this year. They thought it was because Jungwon was stealing all the spotlight, but it’s actually because he’s the only one doing the work. Heck, he probably does more than some of the teachers do.

Glancing at the time, Jungwon sighs as he rises to his feet. “I should go, I’ve still gotta finish my essay for tomorrow’s class.” He says, causing Y/n to look up at him confused. “You have an essay to write, and yet you were gonna spend your afternoon helping some random teacher clean their classroom?” They ask in shock. Jungwon smiles sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck as he nods. Y/n shakes their head, sighing as they go to move past him - knocking their shoulders together in the process.

“I don’t get you, Jungwon.” Y/n mumbles. The words cause an awkward chuckle to escape Jungwon’s lips. “That makes two of us.” He finishes his words with a sound of confusion as Y/n jingles the doorhandle once, twice, three times.

“Is it jammed?” Jungwon asks curiously, moving his hand to push hard against the door. “Probably… yet another thing this stupid school needs to upgrade.” Y/n mumbles, ramming their shoulder against the wooden surface.

“You got a paperclip by any chance? Or like… a really thin pen?” Y/n asks, rummaging through their back to find any form of sharp object. Trust the one day they forget to bring extra bobby pins for the girls, to be the day they get locked in a room.

“Paperclip.” Jungwon says, holding the small piece of metal in front of their eyes. Y/n quickly takes the item from his hand, mumbling a quiet thank you which causes Jungwon’s ears to perk up - a small smile spreading across his face.

The smile quickly turns to a look of shock as Y/n stretches out the paperclip, quickly shoviving it into the lock. “Hey, wait… you’re gonna pick the lock?” Jungwon asks, pulling Y/n’s hand away from the door. “That’s destruction of poperty.” He adds, earning an eyeroll as Y/n yanks their hand out of his grasp. “Would you prefer we stay locked in here till tomorrow morning?” Y/n asks sarcastically. When Jungwon doesn’t respond, they go back to their task - the lock releasing with a click in no time.

As Y/n turns around to grab their bag, they furrow their brows at the sight of Jungwon crouched over a desk, writing what appears to be a note. “Watcha doing, Prez?” Y/n asks, pulling the piece of paper from his grip. “Writing an apology note for the broken lock.” Jungwon says matter-of-factly. He takes the paper back and grabs the tape from Mr Jeon’s desk, fastening the note to the classroom door.

“Oh my god, you really are a goody-two-shoes.” Y/n can’t help but laugh. “Oh, and here’s your paperclip back. Think of it as a souvenir.” They add with a wink, placing the broken paperclip in his hand before turning around to leave the classroom. Jungwon shakes his head as a small chuckle escapes his lips. He looks down at the paperclip sitting in his palm, before stuffing it into his pocket and following Y/n out the door.

The hallways are silent and dead as the two students make their way out of the school buildings. They walk side by side, but without spearing each other so much as a word or glance. Eventually, Jungwon breaks the silence with a sigh. Something Y/n has noticed he does a lot. “I’m sorry for yelling at you.”

Y/n can’t help the laugh that escapes their lips, causing Jungwon to look at them confused. “You’ve got to be kidding me. That was your definition of yelling?” They ask sarcastically, causing Jungwon to shrug. “Well… kinda.” He mumbles, causing Y/n to roll their eyes. “You really are too nice, aren’t you?” They ask before silence falls between them once more. A few moments pass before the peace is broken once again, only this time by Y/n:

“Just to be clear, I still don’t like you as a person.”

“That’s okay… the feeling’s mutual”

“Watch it, Yang.”

“Sorry.”

TAG LIST (closed): @kang-yeosangs-initials @kpopstanmeg @b1ndignity @soobiverse @dudufodd @mikadorbs @pagesofmiracles @tya0 @ilovewonyo @bringer-ofchaos @huening-ly @ifearjwn @callmeblondie @run2min @straykids-riley (can't tag) @rikimylove @chaechae-23 @lacimolela @n1ght-maring (can't tag) @luvvsjungwonn @yenqa @tzuyusluv @viyqe @vocaloshin @deadgirlwalking3

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aria-keplr · 4 months

Note

Goro Akechi fluff ?

its been so long since I’ve consumed or made any media of P5, will try my best here 🤞

For the purposes of the story and my bad memory, Akechi is going to a private school.

Not fluff but pancake boy being caring :3

Being in the same high school with the detective prince really wasn’t all that special. Not many people cared , it was a private school after all. Fortunately or unfortunately, the choice is yours, you shared a few classes with him. Now obviously it’s not like you cared much. I mean it was cool you attend a school with this boy genius detective and what not. Albeit the only thing that was concerning is that he was falling behind. Of course being a detective and a high school student could be awfully stressful. You would always find that he would ask others for notes. Some teachers reprimanded him, some were lenient.

No matter what he had done, you now landed in a two period AP Literature class with him, doing an analysis project. The class is scattered around while the teacher does god knows what at her desk. You and Akechi opt for the small corner near the bookshelf. You and him never really interact outside of school matters. Despite not showing it, you could tell he’s frustrated. Small huffs and rubbing his face up and down as he reads the god awful 40 pages you two were assigned. Sure you have like two weeks left to finish this, but he seemed so stressed about it. You don’t really address it, probably something on his mind.

You open your mouth, thinking for a split second before speaking, “I can take care of the note taking… All you have to do is just write the essay”

It was a weak attempt at trying to relieve the workload he had.

“I’m almost done with the notes, its fine but thank you” He replies, still absorbed into the work.

You exhale softly, he had a tendency to do this, “Just share the document with me, we can work on it together Akechi,” Your tone isn’t demanding but stern.

He nods and types in your email, sending it to you and allowing you to edit it. Once you open it, it’s nothing less of what you expected. You smile slightly at this, “You know, you’re a good note writer”

You swear you left a crack in him, his eyes no longer a void, but not showing much. He nods, “Thank you”

You smile softly back and continue to work on the notes with one hour left, you won't see him again till lunch in like two periods. Your notes aren't as concise, neat, and arranged as Akechi’s is, but they’re something. As the bell rings, you both narrowly finish up the notes. You definitely lost a few brain cells. You lean back in your chair before closing your chromebook and gather your stuff to leave.

Before you could leave, Akechi clears his throat. You turn to him, looking slightly confused.

“Here’s my.. contact info I shouldn't be busy around 11 PM most days” He says while handing you a piece of paper. You almost find it strange that hes giving you his information.

“Why? Is there something you want to talk about outside of school?”

Not that you know it but he’s trying his best to play it normal, “Ah.. just in case you have any questions or concerns really”

The answer is weird, but you deem it acceptable, “Oh, alright, see you!” You turn on your heels and speed walk out the class, being a little behind schedule from the interaction between you and Akechi.

Shortly after school ends, you contact the number,

‘This is Akechi right?’

The reply is almost instantaneous, a buzzing from your phone is heard.

‘Yes this is’

It's a little strange, you thought he would’ve been more busy but it’s really none of your concern is it. Walking a little more, you sit down at a bus stop, waiting for it to arrive. You set your bag down next to you and reply back, only to find out he sent a second message.

‘Don't plan on taking a bus, there's been more reports of harassment and muggings on the bus’

You sigh and get up, I mean it would be foolish to not listen to a detective’s advice.Yet you find it weird that he somehow or it felt like he knew you would take the bus. You reply back finally,

‘Thanks for the heads up, I was about to take the bus lol’

Quickly you see the three bubbles as you get up and start to walk. Another buzz rattles your phone.

‘Be careful while walking too’

You raise your eyebrows and look around, wondering if he's watching you or something. You quickly shrug it off as paranoia and type back.

‘…’

‘So how tf am I supposed to get home safely 🧍’

It was a genuine question, you can't walk or take public transportation safely it seems. It's still a surprise at how quickly he responds as well.

‘I could walk you home, safer that way’

…

Then how is he supposed to be safe..?

You shrug and decide it's the best option, not like you have the money to call a cab right now, you spent it on snacks earlier. You take slow steps, sending a text back as you walk.

‘Sure, meet me outside of the Shinu Coffee shop’

He likes the message in response.

You take the short walk there, and shortly spot him there outside, almost looking stressed. I mean, it’s probably because of the public snapping photos of him. He spots you and quickly walks over, motioning his eyes to keep walking. You let out a blow of air before turning on your heels and speed walk, hoping to avoid the paparazzi. As you walk, you feel a small buzz in your phone again,

‘Uh, just meet me here, in a bit that is…’

He shortly sends a location, and within a good 20 minutes, he enters the cafe that he sent you. It was a warm small town cafe, simple yet cozy.

He smiles, lines under his eyes crease and his smile lines become apparent, “Sorry about all that,” he waves his hand as to excuse himself.

“No worries,” You reply.

You hum as you start to open your bag, opening up the small zipped up pocket taking out a thousand yen bill.

Although it seems like Akechi had the same idea.

He stares at you before you both give an awkward smile, “No I insist it's okay, I dragged you all the way here”

“You’re tired after all of it, it's quite alright,” you claim and smile.

On a normal occasion you would have let him pay, but he truly seemed exhausted.

“You like caramel lattes?”

Before you could even shake, nod and shrug, he stands up and heads to the counter to place his order. You’re taken aback by the absurdity of the prince detective actively offering you a drink. You slightly smile before he sits back down with the two drinks in hand. The smell of his coffee is strong, but he smells like pancakes nonetheless. His hair shines under the yellow light of the coffee shop, with his soft content after sipping from the paper cup, he closes his eyes.

What a charming young man he is.

#goro akechi #p5 akechi #p5 imagines #persona 5 imagines #p5 x reader #fluff

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isabel3710 · 1 year

Note

Bad things happen bingo request, Missing and Presumed Dead.

In less than 24 hours you and one other person requested this. Not that I'm surprised! The other user decided to remain anonymous so I'm going with your message.

-----

Fandom: Gravity Falls

Prompt: Missing and Presumed Dead

Masterlist

------

Initially, Dipper's absence went unnoticed. It was not unusual for Dipper to forget to call them since he was always pretty preoccupied with classes. Mabel was the only one who regularly talked with him, but due to her upcoming art project, she didn't have the time.

As soon as Mabel was done with her project she called him.

Dipper didn’t pick up.

This was strange, but not alarming. Mabel assumed that Dipper had forgotten to charge his phone and would call her back once he saw the missed call.

He didn’t.

After a couple of days Mabel tried calling her brother again. And just like before she didn’t get an answer. So she decided to reach out to her Grunkles and see when they last heard from her brother.

“So let me get this straight,” Mabel said, on the phone with Stan and Ford. “Neither of you have heard from Dipper in almost two weeks?”

“No,” Stan said, “we thought he got busy with his fancy college courses.”

“I did too,” Mabel amidted, “but I’ve been calling him non-stop for the past few days and he hasn’t picked up.”

“I am sure there is nothing to worry about” Ford said “like Stan said, he’s probably busy and doesn’t have time to talk.”

“But if that was the case then he would text me and tell me he’s busy” Mabel said “just like he always does.”

“Well my dear” Ford said “why don’t you call the police and request a wellness check?”

“That's a good idea” Mabel said “thanks Grunkle Ford.”

“Anytime.”

—------

Mabel paced back and forth in her tiny dorm room, anxiously waiting for a response after calling in the wellness check. Although she knew the police were probably busy and hadn't had the chance to investigate yet, but that did nothing to calm her nerves.

Her phone ran and Mabel rushed to answer it. “Hello?”

“Hello” a male voice said “may I speak with Mabel Pines?”

“This is her.”

“Hi, I’m Officer Green and I’m calling to follow up on the wellness check you requested.”

“Yes?”

Officer Green seemed to hesitate for a moment “ma’am, Mason Pines is your brother. Correct?”

“Um yeah” Mabel said “though my family and I call him Dipper.”

“Right” Officer Green said “well ma’am-”

“Mabel.”

“Sorry, Mabel” the officer said “it seems like your brother wasn’t home and his roommate hadn’t seen him in almost two weeks.”

“That was the last time I heard from him,” Mabel said, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Now normally” Officer Green said “we think that the person in question decided to leave, especially people his age.”

"Dipper isn't like that," Mabel protested. "He wouldn't drop out of school, especially without telling us."

“I believe you” he assured “we found no evidence of him leaving, at least under his own free will.”

“So you think he was kidnapped?” Mabel’s voice was starting to shake.

“We aren’t sure” Officer Green said “but I am going to do what I can to find out.”

“Is there anything I can do?” Mabel asked.

“Yes” the officer said “if you could come down sometime in the next couple of days we would like to interview you.”

"Okay," Mabel agreed, her mind racing. "I just need to clear it with my professors."

“If I can get their emails I can have a letter sent to excuse you from classes,” Officer Green offered kindly.

“Okay,” Mabel agreed.

After they hung up, she sat in silence for a long while, worried and fearful for her brother's safety.

—-----

As promised by Officer Green, Mabel received an excused absence for all her classes. Although she was unaware of the contents of the emails, it didn't matter to her at the time. She hastily packed a bag and caught the first flight she could find.

Stan and Ford also flew in as soon as they heard about the wellness check results. Mabel knew that their friends in Gravity Falls would have come too if she hadn't talked them out of it. She didn't want to inconvenience anyone for something that might turn out to be nothing. And Mabel was doing her best to hope and manifest it to be nothing.

So Mabel went to the police station and met with Officer Green and talked with him for a few hours. The man wanted to know everything about Dipper and she complied. Anything to find her brother.

There were, of course, a few things Mabel didn’t tell the officer. Things that would make her and Dipper look like crazy people but since he never asked she didn’t feel too bad about it.

After the interview the Grunkles took Mabel out to lunch. “I’m sure he’s fine, '' Stan said for the hundredth time. “Dipper’s a strong and resilient kid.”

Mabel just nodded, picking at her food. She knew Grunkle Stan was just as worried as the rest of them but was trying to stay strong for their benefit.

—-----

Days passed and during that time the three of them worked with the police to try and find any word on DIpper’s location. Then they get a call down and are asked to come down to the station.

Officer Green leads them to a private room and had them sit down. The man doesn’t say anything as he sets the object on the table. It was a clear plastic evidence bag.

Inside is Dipper’s pine tree hat.

The hat had a few extra rips and stains from when Mabel last saw it but the things that caught her attention were the blood splatters. She was vaguely aware of Stan letting out a curse but couldn’t take her eyes off the hat.

“I assume this was Mason’s?” Officer Green asked.

“Yes” Ford said, “he’s had it since he was twelve and never takes it off. Where did you find it?”

“I see,” Officer Green nodded, “we found it in a wooded area not too far from here. But this wasn’t all we found. I can show you everything we’ve found, if you’d like.”

“Yes,” Ford said, “we would like that.”

Officer Green led them to a room where there was a long table with plastic evidence bags were all lined up. They were full of Dipper’s things.

There were pieces of one of his shirts, ripped to shreds and covered in blood. There was his wallet and keys. There was a single shoe, chunks of his brown hair, and fragments of his other shoe. And so much more.

Officer Green let them take in the scene and gave them a sympathetic look, “we believe it was an animal attack but we’ll do some more investigating to be sure. We’ll need to do a DNA check as well.”

Mabel was frozen in place, unable to remove her eyes from the table. She felt Stan wrap and arm around her shoulders as Ford questioned the officer.

“Have you found a body?” He asked “or any type of human remains?”

Mabel choked and felt tears in her eyes.

“No” the officer said “all of his belongings were scattered across the area and we have people looking for more. All of this was found over the course of a couple of days.”

“He’s dead?” Mabel’s voice was on the verge of a sob.

“Until we find a body we can’t proclaim him to be…” Officer Green said “But we assume that yes… Mason is dead. I’m so sorry.”

Mabel felt her knees buckle and someone caught her as she began to sob.

------

Author's Note:

Not much to say about this one...

NLGQDSSHG

------

Tag List:

@badthingshappenbingo

#bad things happen bingo #gravity falls dipper #gravity falls #gravity falls mabel #gravity falls stanley #gravity falls stanford #whump prompt #prompt missing and presumed dead #dipper pines #fanfiction #fanfic #gravity falls fanfiction #mabel pines #stanley pines #stanford pines #whump #angst

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gaynaturalistghost · 1 year

Note

Do you mind talking about how you became a mycologist and what your normal work is like? I’ve been interested in the field for a long time but hardly get any answers on what it is like day to day. If not don’t worry and have a nice day !!

I don’t mind at all! I’m not a full-time mycologist, most of my mycology is based on a multi year undergraduate research project I designed and got a grant for through the Office of Undergraduate Research (OUR). I got into the field like a lot of people do, just being generally curious about mushrooms, and having some mycology that overlapped with my microbiology coursework. I took mycology in 2020 and had my labs at home (I got to grow cool stuff in my house!). Once I really noticed lichens after mycology I never stopped seeing them, I started taking pictures of lichens everywhere and took a lichen course in the fall. I had to identify some for that class and wound up writing a grant to continue my project and combine it with another symbiosis I normally studied around 2020. I worked on that grant every chance I got, most memorably when I was dressed up like Dr. Ellie Sattler while waiting for my ride to a Halloween party. At the end of 2021 my grant was approved and I got funded!

So my normal work is partly collecting and identifying lichens, which can take anywhere from an hour to 60+. I emailed a person who worked with the state park asking how I could set up a permit because there wasn’t one I could fill out. No one had collected/ID’d lichens for 150+years, which isn’t that odd for lichenology. I spend a few hours in the field every couple weeks collecting samples then bringing them back to the lab where I put headphones in and blow through music or podcasts while I do chemical test and cross sections, look at gorgeous lichens and work through my key.

More recently I was able to get eukaryotic sequences since my project began, so I go through a huge excel file with different species and groups and track down those groups in other papers to see what they can do. It feels like having a big conspiracy board but for ecology? Solving a crime.

#asks #ghost speaks

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dmsden · 2 years

Text

One Chance - Running D&D for new folks as a one shot

Hullo, Gentle Readers. Once again, an Anonymous reader comes to us, with hat in hand, asking for help. They ask, “ So, I’ve been chatting to a coworker about our respective dnd games and long story short now I’m going to be running a one shot for 8 of my coworkers, 7 of which have never played before. How the hell do I do this and make it fun for people? Right now my plan is to make a classic Indiana Jones style dungeon and just let them run around in this closed space. What would you do?”

Well, Any, what you just outlined sounds like pretty good fun. I’m sure you could have a good time just doing that. If you’re asking me what I’d do in such a scenario, these would be my plans:

1. Make sure everyone was fine playing pre-generated characters. I might even start an email chain explaining the types of characters you’re offering to let folks play, and let people talk out what they want to do. If you have the time, you could suggest that the players come up with some flaws, bonds, ideals, and personality traits, just to make the characters more theirs. The reason I recommend this is that it can be very intimidating for a new player to come in and have to make a lot of decisions right off the bat, and creating characters involves a LOT of decisions. It also frees up valuable table time that could be used playing the game.

2. I would also briefly talk to the players about their characters already being established as friends and allies and play up the cooperative nature of things. This tends to prevent someone from deciding to strike out on their own, which can big things down.

3. I would put together a storyline with a defined goal. In the case of the Indiana Jones type story mentioned above, the goal could be, “Locate the dungeon, survive its perils, claim the golden idol, and escape alive with it.” Having a clearcut goal provides directions for the players to follow. When they’re in doubt, they can fall back on this goal to push them forward. If you’re ambitious, maybe each character could also have a subgoal. Just make sure that the players’ goals don’t contradict each other; you don’t want anyone to walk away feeling they lost and someone else won.

4. Put together an adventure that takes into account both the characters your group is playing and D&D’s three pillars.

4a. Make sure there are some fun and interesting combat encounters. Sure, you can fill the dungeon with nothing but orcs, but changing things up adds variety and surprise. Maybe toss in a mimic, stirges, some undead, and some encounters that can be avoided through cleverness or diplomacy.

4b. Make sure your adventure includes chances for social interactions. Maybe one of the orcs seeks out the PCs to parley after the first combat encounter, seeing an opportunity to betray the chief to his advantage. Give the PCs a chance (and a reason) to interrogate a prisoner. Have the evil cleric monologue at them. Have the mimic be one of the intelligent variety and have it bargain with them. Players love to talk to monsters, in my experience, and some characters may consider this their time to shine.

4c. Make sure your adventure has meaningful choices and interesting locales. In any given room with a choice of things to examine or doors to leave by, there should be something to differentiate between them. For example, if there are three doorways, don’t have them identical and featureless. Maybe one them has a briny smell, and the PCs can hear the lapping of ocean waves from it, one smells faintly of decay, and the buzzing of flies it audible, and one smells wet dog and blood, and there are sounds of snarling and growling. The PCs don’t know exactly what’s down each one, but they now have interesting information they can use to inform their decision. This is always preferable to just going down a path arbitrarily, because it doesn’t seem to matter.

4d. Look at the classes, races, and backgrounds the players chose. Are there a lot of martial classes? Make sure there’ll be plenty of chances for fighting. Is there a wizard? Perhaps include a magical puzzle their spells can help with. A cleric and a paladin? Definitely put in some undead. Maybe someone’s playing a dwarf; if the dungeon is an old dwarven ruin, make sure to add some details that they’ll pick up on that the others won’t. If one is a Noble, perhaps put some clues that the evil high priest is being bankrolled by a rival family. These touches will make it all more personal and hopefully interesting to the group.

5. Plan for success, but accept that not everyone will want to keep playing. If you enjoy playing with these folks, maybe you’ll want to propose that you keep playing and expand things into a full campaign. If they’ve had fun, they just might be interested. You have to understand, however, that D&D isn’t for everyone. Some people may simply be being polite in agreeing to play. Or maybe Bob from Marketing just doesn’t get into it and would rather pass on future games. That’s okay. You gave them the chance to play, and, if it’s not their thing, that’s nothing for you to take personally.

I hope this helps, Anonymous. I myself am going to be running for some people who’ve never played before in the near future. I’ll wish us both luck in these games.

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chronicparagon · 2 months

Text

[I don’t want to cry and I hate venting but I don’t really know what to do. I don’t have anywhere to go about this and it’s getting to a point that hiding it is becoming too much.

I’ll have it under read more but it involves my grad school and fighting to get permission to start my dissertation. I don’t know if all grad schools are the same but that’s how it is for mine.

What’s weird is I started my thesis without jumping through so many hoops when I got my master’s degree.]

I’ve been having a lot of trouble with my advisor. I am done with classes and my comprehensive exam. However, I can’t get permission to enroll in dissertation credits. My advisor wouldn’t talk to me for months. I tried to reach out so many time and I couldn’t handle it anymore.

I asked to change my advisor which was accepted. However, I have to search for a new one that will want to work with me. After that, the nightmare begins.

I was so close to getting that permission. But now, I have to redo my IRB at the school and hope for approval, but I also have to redo the IRB process at work since my dissertation was related to my work.

I will have to also need to see if the rest of the committee will want to work with me anymore. If they don’t want to work with any new advisor I can find, then they are out and I have to start that step over. That took me almost a year to find everyone who was willing to be in my dissertation committee. Restarting IRB will take at least a few weeks to several months.

This is not counting redoing the plan of study and possible have to start all over with my topic proposal which took a year and a half to work on and it’s not even approved to be presented and formally submitted. That would have been the last step to have that permission number to enroll for my dissertation.

I don’t think I can back out of the advisor change to save the progress. She already left and when she was working with me, she wouldn’t answer me for months. I waited for half a year for any response, only to be told I have to rewrite sections of my proposal, add more to it like policy briefs that she wanted (originally not my idea for my dissertation but I did what she told me to do).

I will say I am not leaving my grad school. I came this far for my PhD and I’m not quitting. That has never been an option.

I have people delay me and some even admit they never believed in me. My former advisor didn’t say that explicitly but how she always had me as an after thought and ignore my emails and calls, I felt that was a message.

Then, she would be unhappy with my progress in my proposal and tell me I need to do it over. It happened four times. I told myself I was being too sensitive to think my former advisor is sabotaging my work. I don’t want to be unfair and assume that . She has a lot going on like her family, work, her own research and travel. Still, that thought hasn’t left my mind since one of my coworkers told me sabotage is happening and I need to do something about it now. She is also a PhD student from another program and school and I explained my situation to her because I felt frustrated but also worried that I wasn’t giving my former advisor the grace she deserves.

I hate rushing people but I don’t have much time left. Once my time runs out, then I am removed from the program. It doesn’t matter if I never got the dissertation. When time is out, then I have to leave. The dissertation plus defense can take about 6-12 months, sometimes longer.

A lot of my cohorts who I studied with already graduated and got their doctorates. I don’t understand why I’m so behind. I got everything I could done but I was still pushed back.

I’m at a loss. All I can do is pick up the pieces and keep advocating for myself. I just need someone to listen and help me get to the final phase of my studies. I will be quiet today because I have to start searching for a new advisor and restart the process in hopes to be a candidate by the fall. This needs to be done in between my projects at work which also needs my attention.

I’m very sorry about this. The advisor change was bound to happen and I knew I may had to redo some things but not everything. Over a year’s work gone. It really hurts and honestly, I feel rejected because of all of this and searching for a new advisor.

#ooc #spam #negative tw #venting about my studies #a lot of that work is gone #and I have at least some of the blame if not all of it #basically over a year’s work blew up

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maguneedsalife · 1 year

Text

the judaism weeaboo

back with another fun work story bc this has been going on for five years and we all finally got sick of his shit

Okay, so. This guy. Let’s call him Bob.

Bob is a non-Jewish individual in our local community who has a deep fascination with Judaism, but has said he has no desire to convert. Instead he seems to like talking with Jews in order to show off his knowledge and explain our traditions back to us. I’ve taken to calling him a Judaism weeaboo, as his general know-it-all attitude and lack of respect for actual Jews is similar to the way weeaboos behave around Japanese people.

Bob has been in contact with us for a few years now, with most of our contact in 2018 and waning considerably in the pandemic. He is usually cordial and friendly on the phone, but in reality he does not have a lot of self awareness, nor does he demonstrate any real respect for synagogue staff or the Jewish community. When he calls he keeps staff on the line for a really long time, either showing off his own knowledge of judaism or trying to get us on his side. He’s never threatening or angry, just persistent.

Things Bob has asked about:

whether he can email us entirely in hebrew

whether i speak hebrew (and when I responded that I didn’t, he said “the conservative movement has great resources for learning hebrew” implying that i should know hebrew)

whether it would be alright for him to attend a bat mitzvah so he can say mazel tov to a 13 year old girl he does not know and who does not know him

whether it would be okay for him to record a class (and when we said no because our members aren’t comfortable being recorded by a stranger he tried to debate us on it)

whether he can add a message to our refuah shlemah/get well list wishing the (then-pregnant) rabbi an easy birth in hebrew (not what the list is for)

Bob attended services occasionally pre-pandemic. At the after-service lunches he consistently tried to corner the rabbis for a discussion, and on at least one occasion ran over a synagogue member’s toes with his chair. He has also attended classes held at the synagogue, and made the other people in the class uncomfortable with his know-it-all attitude. He even had an appointment with one of the rabbis once, during which he made her extremely uncomfortable with the endless mansplaining/debating/etc. Bob has been trying to get another appointment with that rabbi for years. He has not specified why he wants to talk (only that he likes talking with her and “appreciates her wisdom”) so I can only assume he is looking for another chance to debate an expert and show off.

I don’t have a mean bone in my body so I unfortunately haven’t been able to be clear with him that he’s not going to get that appointment, just continually telling him the rabbis aren’t available to meet with non-members and hoping he’ll either get the hint or give up. My previous boss tried to tell him off more clearly in the past, and it only resulted in him calling the front desk to complain that she was rude to him and that he would like a written apology from her. He has called multiple times asking for the written apology.

Anyway. He hadn’t called in a while so I assumed he finally decided to move on, but today he calls and I unfortunately answer the phone before I notice the name on caller ID. He wants to know if the rabbis are available between shavuot and “the 17th of Tammuz” (when prompted for the english date he just repeated the hebrew one). I passed him to my coworker for backup because they have an easier time telling folks off. Bob proceeded to keep them on the line for almost an hour, holding them past closing time so he could air his various grievances and try to get them on his side. He barely let them get a word in and did not answer their questions. He also apparently referred to one of our rabbis as a “Jewess” (which is a SLUR).

They finally managed to end the conversation and then were like “ok so I’m going to send him an email explaining why we aren’t going to speak to him and I’m copying our boss.” Tomorrow I’m learning how to block numbers in our phone system so im just like. prayer emoji that we never hear from him again

anyway. now you all know about bob

(please don’t send me advice for what to do about bob, i’m not looking for help with my bob-related problems nor looking for possible explanations for his behavior. we are going to very clearly tell him we’re done talking to him and then block his number.)

#synagogue tag

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rosethornewrites · 3 months

Text

Over a decade ago, I graduated with an MFA in creative writing focused in fiction. I discovered that graduate school is mentally and psychologically draining and I had a mental health crisis during it.

It wasn’t just the workload, or the fact that they gave me the 7am classes to teach for 2 years (idk who I pissed off) while having grad classes that ended at 9pm. Or the fact that despite teaching I didn’t receive tuition remission.

No, the last year was especially bad because the university lost the professor I had come to work with because they disrespected them, and the other guy I was working with suddenly got a movie deal and his books translated into like 26 languages and he didn’t need to live in that shithole city anymore.

That left the narcissist, who I thought would be a good chair because he’s also part of the lgbtq+ community and I was writing queer lit.

Alas, he was not. He was an abusive jerk who once went on a rant in class because a few students were turning in drafts not ready for feedback, and so he felt the need to tell the entire class that none of us would ever get published. Who was the only fiction writer left to chair my committee, but who outright told me he didn’t “have time” to read my thesis. Who, when I emailed him a week in advance to ask for a letter of support for a grant, also sent me a response that he didn’t “have time.” Who wouldn’t sit down with me and talk about what he expected of my thesis (even length). In my mind I called him Douchebag McWhinypants.

One time he let an undergrad take our grad-level workshop. When she made an undergraduate mistake of writing outside her culture without enough research, we as her classmates were gentle in discussing why this was problematic in her short story. Unfortunately she was writing into the professor’s culture, and so when we were done he tore this poor little undergrad a new asshole. It ended with her crying in the bathroom and never coming back. One of the ugliest things I’ve ever seen, and certainly cast a pall over the rest of the semester.

At one point I found myself standing on the 4th floor of an open-air building, thinking about jumping, and I immediately went to the counseling center for help.

I figured if he wasn’t going to support me in any way, I didn’t want him on my committee. So I got the paperwork to kick him off and took it to the CW chair after filling it out. She was shocked I already had it filled out, and became my new thesis chair.

During my graduate reading, she introduced me with a lovely letter written by the person I had moved to work with, who was then gone. Meanwhile the narcissist introduced my classmate by talking solely about himself.

As a result, I haven’t picked up my partial novel/thesis, though I want to. It really made me doubt my own fiction writing abilities. Part of why I write fanfiction is an attempt to heal.

I’ve since published a couple of original short stories and a fuckton of poetry—well over 100 poems and a chapbook.

What I learned from this experience was how NOT to treat students. It was sadly not the only experience that taught me this.

Undergraduate and graduate school can be traumatizing experiences, particularly for queer, bipoc, and neurodivergent people.

It’s been over a decade and I’m honesty still dealing with it.

Douchebag McWhinypants is of course still teaching.

#writing #mfa #cn suicide ideation #trauma

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scoutpologist · 9 months

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I’ve been debating looking into Jewish conversion stuff, what all are you doing/have left to do?

OMG !!! so to get the exact sort of course of study you'll be doing, you have to first find a sponsoring rabbi!! to do that you need to think about what specific type of judaism you're looking for. here's a page of the different movements on the r/judaism wiki (note: i don't believe renewal identifies itself as an orthodox movement - it's pretty close to reform in terms of a lot of policies). then you can research rabbis for that movement in your area, and reach out to them to talk about it.

as for what i've been doing and what i think generally happens at reform temples, i reached out and was told by the clergy to attend services for 6 months and then reassess to see if that specific temple is right for me. at the end of the 6 months, we had a new rabbi than the one i'd started with, but i like this new one so much that i started going to services weekly, so that wasn't a problem. i emailed them about the six months being up and hearing stuff about a new conversion class, and was set up with an online class through the union of reform judaism!

after that, i'm going to take an in-person class in january with my rabbi which i'm VERY excited about. after that class, we're going to see where i'm at and if i'm ready to go through with the final ceremony. i think you have to submit some paperwork and then they set a date!!

on the day of, i'm going to meet with a beit din (three people) who will then ask some questions and approve or deny my conversion. (it's mostly a formality, i don't think i've ever heard of anyone getting told no at this stage). if they approve, i get full-body dunked in a ritual bath called a mivkah, and once i get out of the bath, i'm jewish!! yippee!!! the whole process will take about a year and a half for me. it can be longer or shorter depending on your sponsoring rabbi and your personal journey, it's different for everyone.

in the meantime while i wait for the classes to start (online starts october 12th AAAAA), i've been reading since the beginning! my jewish learning is an amazing place to learn the basics or to get a quick refresher on things. chabad.org has nearly encyclopedic levels of detail about chasidic judaism (an orthodox group). all of the books in here are probably good, although i haven't read all of them yet (also, trust the reviever - "here all along" really did make me cry). also just going into the #jumblr or #jewish tags!!!

uh yeah i'm not really sure how to end this but here's the low down!!! feel free to message me about it if you have any questions i'm happy to answer them!!!

#ask #dachshunddyke #i think it took me an hour to answer this i'm so sorry i kept rechecking if everything was written well #i hope you have fun!!!!

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mleighsquickspot · 2 years

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Back at it again on this Monday my friends. How are you all, I hope you're doing well. May your day and week ahead send you only much love and good vibes 💗.

Do me a favor and use the the link below and check me out on my other social's. Mainly my Patreon and YouTube channel. Head on over and show them some love. Also, if you or anyone you know us un need of a proofreader/editor feel free to leave me at the email below. I'm accepting clients. It's first come first serve especially with folks returning to classes. School is in session.

Now, here are my thoughts on the questions I asked last week...

Tuesday, Name the Story

1. Gone with the Wind

2. Through the Looking Glass

3. The Catcher in the Rye

4. Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone

5. Persuasion

Thursday, Thought Provoking Questions

36. My Las major accomplishment was feeding some of my poetry published a few years back.

37. Through all of life's twists and turns my awesome mom and brother have been there for me every step of the way.

38. The only one that's truly been distracting me is me lol.

39. In this upcoming week I’m looking forward to possibly celebrating 2300 followers on my blog.

40. I really wouldn't say I've had a mentor in a really long time. But, I have learned a lot from very important people close to me.

Sunday, Quick Shot

Just my opinion, I see Netflix bring a thing maybe for a few more years but not so much after that. It may still be around but it won't be used or talked about as high as it once was. It's already on the decline and has been for years. I think it will be at the bottom of the list soon if not already for go to streaming services in the near future.

Have a blessed day my Lovelies.

Stay safe and well InterWorld 💗.

Click on this link and join me on all of my social media https://linktr.ee/Mleighqs

Check out my YouTube Channel and become a $1 patron and support my work

Message me at [email protected] if you are in need of a proofreader/editor

#tumblrcommunity #interworld #weeklyanswers #mlanswers #answersgiven #namethestory #thoughtprovokingquestions #quickshot #muchlove

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what-if-nct · 5 months

Note

(cw // mentions of sh in case anyone is triggered)

hii it’s christmas where i live meaning it’s probably not christmas for you (unless you waited hours to finally reply back) but i just wanna say merry christmas and thank you for being there with me during my hard and mentally draining days. it’s so hard being on social media without bumping into negativity such as real life news, people debating about bare minimum things such as rights for body autonomy, gay rights, etc, and especially for my case, being shunned by a community of people i thought were friends simply for talking about jonghyun on my posts that solely rely on users to create posts in order for the app to work.

while i wish i don’t want to be super negative all the time, this was exactly how i felt this year. i felt violated, stripped from my pride and tormented — yet i’m expected to be happy all the time and put up a brave face all the time.

the truth is, i hated turning 18 because i couldn’t bare the responsibility of being considered an adult at the face of the law, when i had my childhood partially taken away from me. nobody was there during my mental breakdowns. just because it wasn’t 2022 anymore, doesn’t mean i didn’t face cyber bullying and faced targeted harassment simply for talking about my bias just like any other kpop fan, and people liked to downplay it by telling me to “keep it to myself.” i didn’t get to do my dream course at my new college due to my grade, and i felt so fucking shit because i’ve done everything in my willpower just to get the same score 3 years in a row, nobody took my mental breakdown seriously. i was sexually harassed and taken advantaged of by several men, because they did not respect my boundaries, used me as my drunken self, and tried to contact me via twitter acting like a kpop fan from london in the comments, when he was a 25 year old man who only saw me for my body. i was overwhelmed with the way the job centre was treating me and making me feel worse for simply asking a question to prevent email spams by sending me to a centre that could help me get to know the basics of using technology. i had a job, but got scammed for 2 weeks worth of work and i never got paid. i lost £500 which i rightfully worked my ass for, even almost passing out due to walking upstairs and having my feet ache over the constant standing for 8 hours for 3 days a week. i never got to go to france and meet my cousins. it’s sucks because i was planning this since summer and i’ll never be able to go since my parents took the only savings i had to go to africa for a month due to how expensive plane tickets are. i even got fucking pregnant and not to mention, my mum started to act weird around me… and just the way i was treated after turning into an adult… i don’t really wanna go there.

i know it has been a long year, but idk if it’s gonna change at all or if it’s gonna get worse. i just wanted to have a peace of mind for once. that’s literally my wish for 2024. i just want to be free, to have amazing friends, having a normal life, just like everyone else so i don’t have to always compare myself to people on snapchat who show off their day or shout out their friends for their birthdays. i wish i could get rid of my anxiety symptoms, because now notifications, messages (especially pending ones) and anything that shows a number next to an icon would get me really fucking nervous that it would be a harassing message. i just don’t want guys to take advantage of me, i just want a loyal and sweet first boyfriend/girlfriend that is genuinely there and physically as well as emotionally. i just feel like i’m missing out on life just because some stupid systemic ableism in the uk where i was forced to learn at home and be in a special needs class, which can explain why i’m socially awkward and don’t know how to be a normal friend.

basically saying… i just want to be happy. (i’m so sorry for the vent i didn’t expect it to be this long loooool)

Merry Christmas!! there's about 10 minutes till Christmas for me. I am so sorry that this past year has been so hard on you. And its horrible that you had to endure all of that I can't even imagine how hard it's been for you. You deserve so much better than what you've received. You deserve respect, care, love, understanding and you deserve happiness and it breaks my heart you've been treated like this by so many people. I just send you the biggest hug and I'm proud of you, I know life has been hard but I'm proud of you for continuing. And I can't promise when, but things will get better and one day before you know it you will have the happiness you want and deserve and I will always be here to listen and talk to you.

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kentucky-daisey · 11 months

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Work

The head of another department at work doesn’t like my department. Like, to the point that she deliberately withholds information we need to complete tasks and then claims it’s our fault when our work is delayed or incomplete.

We used to be friends but, a few months back, she flipped out at me when I pointed out an issue with a change she wanted to make, and I haven’t really been comfortable around her since. It’s been a lot of scoffing, ignoring me, back handed comments, talking shit behind my back.

Until very recently.

I’ve seen how she treats people, so I’ve been cautious. Today she proved that I was right to do so.

We have classes that students have to apply to get approval to enroll in. Once approved, a qualification is attached to their account and they can enroll online. Only issue is I recently discovered two of these classes have a glitch that was allowing anyone to enroll, regardless of whether or not they had the qualification.

The first time I brought it up, her team reached out to the students and had them apply. Both were approved, so it was all good. Her team are the ones who build the classes, so I assumed, since they were aware of the issue, that they would fix it. But when I checked on these classes today, I discovered three more students had enrolled who shouldn’t have been able to. So I emailed her and her team asking them to contact the students, withdraw them, and ask them to apply. I also asked, again, that the problem be fixed. Because of the glitch, the only fix is to rebuild the classes (and transfer the kids over). She didn’t reply. Instead they simply removed the option to enroll in these classes online.

There’s no note on the class saying families need to call in to enroll. We just accepted five more kids, which means none of them can enroll without calling, an issue considering I let them know they could do so online. I brought it up with one of her team members who I’m friends with and instantly got push back, informing me that the only way to fix it is to rebuild the class.

I used to work in their department and know it would taken five minutes max. But apparently it’s too much work. Which means we’re now going to lose thousands in revenue, which I’m going to have to tell my boss.

We found a bunch of mistakes when they first built the classes and, since then, every time there’s an issue with the classes it’s like pulling teeth to get it fixed. But unlike the previous issues where they refused to budge, so we adjusted on our end, this is actually going to prevent people from enrolling and potentially lead us to cancelling the class. All because they don’t want to deal with a glitch that they didn’t catch and didn’t bother fixing the first time.

I don’t think you need to be friends with everyone you work with. You don’t even have to like each other! I just wish people behaved professionally in the work place. I shouldn’t have to walk on eggshells every time there’s an issue just because someone I work with takes every comment or request as a personal attack.

I’m so fucking tired.

#work is exhausting #and one of my work friends is leaving in the fall and i don't think i'm ready #i've had so many people yell at me for things people above me did #that i flinch when i see certain people #because i don't know if i've committed some imaginary slight #our departments literally have to work together #we program the classes #hiring the faculty #etc #and they make the classes available online #and deal with families looking to enroll #she's literally yelled at senior directors before #but she's performatively nice to the point she rarely gets in trouble for the way she behaves when she's angry #i literally trained her #christ #i need to go back to school #get additional qualifications #and get a higher level job so i have a leg to stand on when people take their shit out on me #she's made people in my department cry #and seems to find it amusing that people are nervous to talk to her #she's so manipulative and until you get on her bad side you'd probably never know #she also gets really angry when i don't cower when she snaps at me anymore #it's a small pleasure #and i'm too over it to care how she feels about me anymore #work #difficult coworkers #non-profit

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stormy333 · 3 years

Text

Gemini

Hello and welcome back to our second Wrap Up Wednesday! Today unlike with the September W.U.W. we are not wrapping up a month of blog challenges but doing a wrap up of a mundane month I suppose? In this post I’m going to be covering a few things about this past month (June) and adding a few things about the month(s) to come. But to start us of I figured I’d share a new picture of Bellamy ❤️

They grow up so fast! He’s already being accepted into the family and EVEN Molly is beginning to like him! ❤️

A quick recap of May/June...

Since May I’ve been doing a tad better at consistently posting, in my own way. I have also been doing classes online for blogging and writing in general. With those classes I have learned a bit more about myself. And my writing. For instance, I have learned that I love creative writing! Currently, on the site there's only the one but I am actually working on two. One is just in the beginning phases while the other is already on second draft phase I’d feel safe in saying. The best part is these two posts tie together! Plus finally you all will meet something that has deep meaning to me!

So as a result of learning more I’ve also learned that I need to keep reading to help with the creativity. Before I never really thought that much of it and just read occasionally but during recent times I’ve fallen back on the escape of reading and the escape brings creativity and the creativity brings more writing which brings me back to myself in a sense. Being able to keep my writing up and being back to my book loving self gives me another step back to being the woman I desire to be.

Now all of that being said I have still indulged myself in my TV shows when I’m not working. I recently finished The 100 and started watching Grimm. I also have loads of other shows I watch and enjoy for instance my mom and I watch Naked and Afraid like a lot 😂 it’s actually really fascinating. My life is not all sunshine and rainbows though. I don’t like making my blog all about my chronic illnesses because well some people do good at sharing it but I’m not one of those. I suck at dealing with it and talking about it. Working pushes me to a brink while my body tries to adjust while constantly asking is it just a typical pain? Typical exhaustion? Typical issue? Or is it something ACTUALLY wrong? When I’m home I’m resting and writing and trying to do what I can with what I was given for a body. I’m supposed to do physical therapy daily but I struggle to keep up with it. Generally resting and trying to be 100% for work and myself is how I spend all of my time. When I do go out it’s typically just to my aunt’s to spend time with my cousin and see him and that in itself is a lot for a healthy person. Long story short my health is a full time job that I never get a day off from. On top of it we’ve had doctor’s appointments after appointments recently while prepping for other things in the future.

Which brings me to the next topic of discussion, possibility of what the future holds for this site.

I have a new series that is in the works it’s a Creative Writing series and something special to me. The first part was originally going to post on the 12th of June but I thought better of it and began upping it’s game. Now that is said it brings me to my next point. I will be trying to stay consistent with posts here and there at the very least once a week BUT if I don’t post it’s because I’m working on really strong content. Like I’ve said so many times I am not a professional but I am trying my best to keep good content up for you all. And it just so happens that my preferred content lately is the creative writing and it may take longer for these posts though again I want to and plan on trying to honor posting at the very least once a week.

Now that all of these things are out in the open I would really appreciate it if you all like this to sign up for the email list, follow the blog and maybe comment some content you would like for me to write about?

As always Loves I hope you all have a lovely day or night whenever you are reading this👑🖤

🥀Hailey Marie

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marinabays · 1 year

Text

[M/M] [Sex Work] [Overstim] [Dirty Talk]

Jenny is sitting back in the wicker café chair, looking every bit the relaxed retiree she is. She looks tan. She looks good. She’s squinting at Lee’s phone, because it will be a fair few years before she admits she needs reading glasses, one leg folded over the other, bouncing her foot around with such lazy enthusiasm that Lee worries she’ll kick her cappuccino off the table. Lee thinks Jenny could still be infamous, charging S1,000 for an hour of her time, if she wanted to.

Then again, youth sells was one of the first slivers of advice Lee had managed to pry out of Jenny, after he’d sworn up and down that he was going to go into this line of work no matter what, with Jenny’s blessing or without it. “A lot of these guys are looking for something new. Their lives, their wives, their first-class trans-Atlantic flights, it’s all old hat. You get to be the shiny new thing on the block.” Countless people looking to break into the industry must have solicited help from Jenny over the years. Lee still hasn’t wrapped his head around why Jenny sees potential in him in particular.

But Lee likes being shiny. Likes being appreciated, desired, noticed, scouted. This isn’t the least logical career choice he could be making.

“Your site looks good. Who’d you hire to do it?” Jenny asks, incredulous.

Lee tries not to look too pleased. He knows it looks good. It’s got SEO coming out of its ass, too, but that’s all hidden. “I did it myself, ‘s not that hard. What do you think about the photos?”

“They’re nice.” Jenny zooms in with two fingers, considering. “Tasteful. In my day you paywalled anything racier than underwear shots, but these days all bets are off.”

“Did those myself too.” All it took was a secondhand DSLR, a couple of ring lights, and a bootleg copy of Lightroom.

“You’ve got a full bio, gallery, wishlist, and services page, and you haven’t even had a client yet?”

Lee crosses his arms in front of him, tucks his chin into the neck of his hoodie. “With how much you’re telling me to charge, I can’t have anyone realizing this is my first go ‘round. Everyone wants a virgin but no one wants an amateur.”

“Hey, don’t quote me at me,” Jenny warns, but he looks fond. “Please tell me you’re at least not planning on dressing like this.” She looks Lee up and down. Her evaluation of Lee’s dress sense is obvious.

“I’ve got nice clothes,” Lee protests. They’ve all still got the tags on, but he was going to make sure he tried them on before his first booking. He’d just been really busy.

Jenny is unconvinced, but she doesn’t say it. She just smiles over the lip of her coffee, looking satisfied with the execution of her mentorly duties.

“Here,” she says, and reaches under her chair. She brings out an expensive-looking shopping bag, the kind of thing Lee wouldn’t dream of touching on his student budget. “I know it’s just going to end up on the floor, but I can’t have any protegé of mine wearing something that came from Target.”

Lee wants to argue, but he’s gone all in on being cheeky, not rude. He’s already taking Jenny’s time, mentorship, advice, and gifts. He doesn’t need to try her patience as well. “Thank you.”

Jenny waves him off. “Don’t worry about it. Just promise me you’ll be safe, alright? Remember the basics? You’re your own best friend when you’re out there. Just— keep your head on straight, yeah?”

Lee nods but if he’s being honest he’s thinking more about how much he’d like to be like Jenny, when he gets to be that old. Jenny’s got croissant crumbs down her blouse and doesn’t seem bothered by it. She’s embodying a kind of unselfconscious ease that has been totally alien to Lee’s twenty-one years on earth. But maybe he can be like that one day. Maybe once enough people tell him he’s beautiful in cold, hard cash.

⁂

The guy’s “name” is Andrew, and apparently he’s a cheapskate because he only books an hour-long session. Still, the message is the most exciting email Lee’s received since his college acceptance.

He tells Jenny the time and place and makes plans to check in five minutes after the session is meant to end. The check-in and a can of pepper spray in his backpack are all he has in terms of safety, a fact which only really sinks in once he exits the elevator and is finally alone in the silent, extravagantly carpeted hotel hallway.

It all feels a bit surreal. He’d asked himself a million times if he was really ready for this and made sure the answer was an emphatic yes. He’d thought about it for so long, planned it down to the millimeter. But he still has to focus on the things that remind him that this isn’t a daydream: touching the silky lining of the sharply cut blazer Jenny bought him, checking the Signal notifications on his phone, running his finger over the condom packet in his back pocket to make sure that it’s still there. There’s probably never been a more important time to think with his head and not his dick, but he’s already half-hard in these new paint-on jeans.

Eventually, he just stuffs his headphones into his bag and tries to focus instead on not obviously blushing, on not thinking too much about how good it felt to finger himself open in the shower before he left, on not accidentally knocking on the wrong room.

Andrew is wearing an oversized tie-dye t-shirt when he opens the door. The floor behind him is covered in discarded clothes, and the air is thick with herbal steam from the shower. “Hiya, Gordon?”

Lee tilts his head in a way that he hopes comes across more as an interested coquette than puzzled bird. “Hey, Andrew? Can I come in?”

Lee had expected older. A lot older. Andrew seems youthful at least. On the inquiry form he had unhelpfully listed his occupation as traveling businessman, but with his tattoos, he looks more like a lifestyle influencer. He’s got a smile big enough for YouTube, beckoning Lee into the room like they’re old friends and not strangers. “Sorry about the—er—everything. Travel lifestyle, you know how it is.”

Lee hasn’t traveled in years, but his website still has a Fly Me To You section. He glances at the dresser. There’s a heavy, expensive-looking watch laying on its side next to an unmarked envelope. Just where he asked for it. It’s odd to think that he’s set the rules of the interaction before they’re even met, but he supposes that’s the point. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve seen worse.”

He should really, really count the money first. Another winning piece of rookie advice from Jenny. He slips the envelope into his pocket instead.

He can feel Andrew watching him. He examines the view of the city through the picture window instead. “Are you in town for long?”

“Through the end of the week. Do you deepthroat? It didn’t say in your bio.”

Jesus Christ. It sounds like he’s asking Lee what he had for lunch. Lee doesn’t miss a beat though, just arches his eyebrow and turns to look Andrew in the eyes. “Er, yeah? Part of the job description, isn’t it?”

Andrew shrugs. “Takes all sorts.” He pulls his shirt over his head, revealing more tattoos and tan skin. He is, truth be told, very good looking. Lee goes to the gym, obviously, and the photos on his website were specifically taken to showcase it. He never expected a client to give him a run for his money. Andrew really doesn’t need to be paying for sex, but Lee won’t be running out to file a complaint. “We don’t have that much time, I figured I might as well get comfortable.”

“Yeah, of course. You, uh, you look really good.” Lee does his best to keep up. He’s meant to be the impressive one here, not the other way around.

Still, Andrew seems charmed by it, smiling as he sits on the edge of the bed. He spreads his legs wide, relaxed and lazy and completely unsubtle. It’s as wide-open an invitation as Lee will ever get. He strips off the jacket and folds it over the chair in the corner with as much care as he can. Then he shucks off the rest of his clothes onto the floor before he can second-guess himself. Andrew just stares with open appreciation, especially when he gets to the things the photos didn’t show.

“Do you mind if I—?”

“No, go ahead,” Andrew says, his voice dry. It may have been a prepared line but it works, and has Andrew leaning forward in anticipation as Lee’s underwear falls to the floor.

It’s a little embarrassing to be so hard already. Ideally, Lee would like to be a little more aloof, playing a little harder to get, a seasoned professional. Still, he strokes himself a few times, since Andrew is watching. This is all happening quicker than he’d imagined, no polite small talk, but he’s not sure he could have waited much longer anyway. Anxiety and arousal are working together to slowly swallow him whole. He can’t really believe he’s doing this.

Condom, right. Remember the basics. He snags it from his pants and sinks to his knees with as much grace as he can manage, which isn’t much. It’s familiar and strange at the same time, but he relies on his instincts and doesn’t waste any time. Andrew hardens nicely against his lips, the satisfying physical evidence of what Lee can do to guys, when he tries.

There’s no use playing coy when Andrew’s been so upfront about what he wants. Lee takes a deep breath and relaxes his throat, then takes Andrew as far down as he can manage. It’s worth it for how Andrew goes from silent to swearing in no time at all, his fingers tangling in Lee’s hair.

Just as Andrew is getting completely taut and hard on Lee’s tongue, and Lee starts letting pride drive him to suck deeper, to the edge of gagging, Andrew tugs lightly on the back of Lee’s hair, pulling him away. Lee goes, looking up at Andrew with big eyes. He knows he looks good. He keeps working Andrew’s dick with his hand, pleased by how he can make Andrew bite his lip and breathe out hard.

“Not yet,” Andrew says, stopping Lee’s hand with his own. He still squeezes hard at the base, looking down at Lee with a spark of something mischievous in his eyes. He ushers Lee to his feet and onto the bed, maneuvering him with warm, steady hands until he’s bent forward over Andrew’s lap, his ass high in the air.

Of the less-bad scenarios Lee had imagined for tonight, the worst was if he had to lead the whole thing himself and improvise a suite of suitable sex acts that would get him a good rating on PrivateDelights. Andrew, thankfully, seems more than willing to ask for what he wants. Lee tries not to feel too much like he’s slacking on the job.

“This is what I’ve been thinking about all day. I was looking at your pictures.” Lee preens a little at that, rocks back and forth on his knees. Andrew hums and runs a hand down Lee’s side, across his abs. “Couldn’t stop thinking about how I was going to get my hands all over you. I already got myself off in the shower once before you came.”

Andrew’s voice is nice. It’s low and always seems to be poised on the edge of a joke, which makes it more satisfying when he turns dead-serious and filthy. The head of his cock brushes Lee’s thigh, but Lee ignores it for now, Andrew’s attention clearly all on him. This is something he’s confident that he’s good at, taking the attention with an aw-shucks bashfulness that he’s been assured is a much more popular persona than a dirty-talking porn star.

There are two lube-slick fingers rubbing at his hole, and then they’re pushing in, slow and firm. Lee forces himself to relax and properly enjoy it. He’s been turned on for so long, he can’t stop himself sighing in relief. The stretch is delightful and so much better, thicker, than when he did it himself. He curves his back a little deeper, presents his ass with a little more flair, and moans when Andrew adds a third finger.

“I wish you could see yourself right now,” Andrew breathes, his breath blowing across Lee’s lower back, sending pinprick shivers up his spine. Lee can imagine it, but he wishes he couldn’t. The thought is too much, too quick. Andrew’s hands are so big, his fingers would be stretching him obscenely wide. Lee wants more, wants a break— he needs a clear head, but his neurons are only transmitting analog fuzz, no signal.

They’ve got an hour to kill and Lee is going to come before his guy even fucks him. It’s just poor customer service.

Andrew rubs slowly, purposefully over his prostate. It’s a blast of static at the edges of Lee’s reality, slowly occluding his other thoughts. Lee moans into the duvet, a bit of precome dripping off his cock and onto Andrew’s knee. Andrew chuckles at that, bringing his other hand up to rub his palm over Lee’s balls. “That’s good for you, then?”

“Oh, you might want to— Your hand on— I might come.”

Andrew just leans in closer, so he can whisper right into Lee’s ear. “That’s so fucking hot. Do you think you can handle me inside you when you’re all sensitive?” Lee squeezes his eyes closed and nods his head. He can do anything, if he’s asked. He can be good, adaptable, impressive, worth it. “Good, I want you to try. I want to see the faces you make.”

“Anything you want, Andrew.”

“I want to see you suck your fingers, will you do that for me? That’s good, just like that, nice and full.”

It doesn’t take long after that. Andrew fingers him in time with short, quick strokes over his cock, keeps running his mouth about how he looks so pretty, baby, yeah, just let go, just let it all out. Andrew is so clearly getting off on how into it Lee is letting himself be, so Lee slips his fingers out of his mouth and yelps when he comes, rides it out and thrusts back on Andrew’s fingers until it’s too much stimulation to bear. Then he collapses across Andrew’s knee.

Andrew keeps his word and barely gives Lee a second to recover before he picks him up by the hips and flips him over so they’re face-to-face. It’s the closest they’ve been to kissing, Andrew staring down at Lee as he struggles to catch his breath. He disappears for a moment to wipe the mess off his thigh and then he’s back, pushing Lee’s knee up towards his chest and whistles when he sees how far it bends. Lee does not have the spare mental capacity to even be proud of himself anymore. “You ready?” Andrew asks, rubbing the head of his cock over the lube on Lee’s inner thigh.

“Yeah, yeah, go on, please—”

Andrew hisses as he pushes in with one slow thrust, bottoming out and sitting there as Lee spasms around him.

Lee doesn’t know what to do with his hands. He grasps at the sheets and covers his face and grasps at Andrew’s shoulders and keeps moving because all of his nerve endings are firing at once and the energy from it needs to go somewhere. Andrew only pulls out halfway before pushing back in, not relenting for a moment. “It’s, ah, it’s too much, but don’t, don’t stop—”

“You can take it darling, you’re perfect for this, come on.”

Lee anchors himself to the bed, caught between pushing back into Andrew’s thrusts and squirming away from the overstimulation. It doesn’t help that Andrew is rubbing his thumb over the come-sticky tip of Lee’s soft cock in time with his thrusts. Andrew is so focused on him — it’s nothing like he expected. He thought of himself as entering a service industry, but here he is letting Andrew do all the work. The feeling of Andrew watching his jigsaw expectations fail to fit is almost as overwhelming as the sheer physical sensation of being dragged to the limit and hauled over it without warning.

Lee wants to say something to wrestle a bit of control, a bit of dignity back, but Andrew can’t seem to stop talking. “Jesus, you’re big. I bet all the guys love that big dick, don’t they?”

Lee almost chokes on his own tongue “‘S all yours,” he bites out. He can still do this, sell the fantasy— exclusivity, for an hour.

But Andrew doesn’t seem to want to play ball. “Bet they want to see it bounce when they fuck you, huh? They want to see you come all over yourself while you ride them?”

Lee can barely focus on Andrew’s words, on formulating a reply, let alone on keeping his back arched and his eyes half-lidded like a centerfold. He probably looks sweaty and half insane by now. Andrew’s cock keeps glancing off his prostate, an electric shock every time.

“You’re my first,” Lee admits, before he can stop himself. Andrew stops moving. Fuck, shit, shit. “I mean, I’m not, I have had sex before, don’t worry—”

Andrew is still very much balls deep in Lee’s ass and breathing hard. “But you’ve never done this before, sunshine?”

Lee is now very, very glad he has his eyes closed. He really looks like a fucking amateur now. He can feel the blush spreading down his neck, giving him away, but still, he smiles through it. “Someone had to be the first client, right?”

Andrew swears under his breath. “You know, I wouldn’t have guessed. You’re a natural.”

He pulls out slow and then shoves back in, knocking Lee’s breath out of him with the force of it. It takes no time to get back up to pace, even faster now, like being first really turns him on, makes him want it more. Andrew’s bracketing him with both arms, his body so close over Lee’s that Lee can smell Andrew’s eucalyptus aftershave and feel his breath on his neck. “You take my cock like you’ve had a lot of practice. You do this a lot? You figured you could get paid doing what you love, laying on your back and just taking it?”

Lee is caught out entirely. It makes his heart beat in double-time, makes him want to haul Andrew closer. “Yeah, you’re right, fuck, don’t stop.”

Andrew laughs at that, a burst of hot air against Lee’s ear that somehow feels as good as getting fucked. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Lee should have his guard up, should never have let it slip at all, but he’s too far gone now. If all the guys can be like Andrew, he doesn’t think he’ll ever quit. “Wish you could fuck me without the condom,” he says, which is stupid, so incredibly stupid and dangerous and goes against everything he’s told himself but he means it and the thought alone is making him hard again, fuck. He wants every guy to be like Andrew but he really, really can’t do this ever again. It’s too late to think about it or say anything different. He opens his eyes in time to see Andrew’s eyes go almost comically wide.

“Wish I could too, wish I could see my come dripping out of you. You look like an angel, baby.” Andrew’s getting wild, arrhythmic, and Lee does his best to squeeze tight and wring it out of him.

“Call me Lee.”

“Yeah? Want to give you everything, Lee. Want you to take it ‘cause you like it.” His fingers dig deep into Lee’s hips, as though it were possible for them to be any closer than they already are.

There’s $600 in cash in an envelope on the floor, and that’s reason enough to like this, but Andrew is pulling Lee back onto his dick with every thrust and Lee is throwing every carefully learned lesson about how to get fucked for money out the window, along with his higher brain function. Andrew’s hand is so good, almost painful on Lee’s cock and Lee’s name is on Andrew’s tongue, and Lee just about chokes out, “I like it, I like it,” before Andrew groans into Lee’s neck and trembles through his orgasm.

Slowly, slowly, Andrew disentangles himself from Lee’s body, lets go of his hips, slides out of him, flops to the side and stares up at the ceiling like he’s been etherized or maybe just struck over the head with a heavy object. His dumbstruck silence feels like a victory, even though Lee is similarly quiet. Lee just focuses on how Andrew’s breathing slowly goes back to normal and wonders how exactly he let himself fuck up this badly. He’s still maddeningly hard, again, and he can’t do anything about it but breathe and try to let it go like an unscratched itch.

Maybe when he gets back to his flat he can count the money and actually get himself off again, thinking about Andrew’s scent.

If he does this again, he’s going to have to prepare better. If he does this again, he’s going to have to be ready for clients like Andrew, who are hot enough and attentive enough and responsive enough to stroke his ego in just the right way to make him utterly stupid.

He rolls over and kisses Andrew for what feels like the rest of the hour, then grabs his clothes and leaves just in time to pick up Jenny’s call.

⁂

Lee gets back from his evening lecture late. Nothing would feel better than turning off his brain, eating the leftover pasta in the fridge, and falling asleep watching speedruns. Still, he checks his email as he shovels the spaghetti into his mouth, because that’s how his life is now. He’s a young businessman, of sorts. An entrepreneur. There are a few new inquiries in his inbox, but the guys don’t have any references. Apparently they can’t read the rules. He marks them read and moves on, slowly putting his fork down as he spots a familiar name.

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Hey Lee, I mean, Hey Gordon ;) I’m in town again this week. I was hoping to connect... i heard you’re doing overnights now?

Either way, here’s the place I’m staying. Can i reach you at the same number?

Andrew

P.s.

Do you take gifts? I was just in paris and i couldn’t stop thinking about you

Lee should really just mark it read like the others. He has plenty of regulars on his calendar, and more inquiries than he needs to fill in the gaps. He’s got a cozy, steady business going. Rookie mistakes can stay rookie mistakes. Jenny taught him that.But the idea of being thought of, longed after, by a handsome man on the streets of Paris — well, he’s only human isn’t he? It’s been a year, but he’s still got Andrew’s number in his phone. He licks a spot of tomato sauce from his lip and tries not to smile too hard when Andrew texts him back immediately.

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