Our new scholarship student could use some help finding their way around.
My theme is entirely made by @.wonderkat-jirai. You are a wonderful friend — I owe you my life and more.
A pleasure to meet you. You may call me Glyde or any diminutive you can think up. I’m… frankly unsure what you could come up with, but feel free to experiment. I’d be rather delighted if anyone were to figure anything out.
I’m a high school sophomore, aged 16 years old. I’ve no qualms about interacting with anyone of any age, but do follow your own DNI. I am a minor.
I’m taken by… the apple of my eye. Do not pursue me. Jokingly flirting is alright. While I’m not entirely sure why you’d like to, feel free.
Before you interact; this is a jiraiblr/shedblr/yanblr blog. Triggering topics such as suicide ideation, self harm, disordered eating, obsessive love, and whatever else may and will be discussed here. Such posts will be trigger tagged accordingly. If there is a post you’d like me to tag in a specific way, simply let me know; I am more than happy to do so and apologize for any discomfort potentially caused.
Additionally, I’m endo-neutral (while syscourse interests me and I’m open to discussing it, I’ve found I do not have a definitive stance) and I do not engage in ship discourse (antiship, proship, darkship, etc.) as I truthfully do not care for it. That being said, I’d rather incestuous/pedophilic/zoophilic/necrophilic ships not be discussed with me directly. If any of this isn’t your cup of tea, you’re free to leave. I won’t hold it against you.
DNI: Homophobes, transphobes, transmedicalists, racists, sexists, nazis, pedophiles, ableists, xenophobes, so on and so forth. Do not be bigoted on my page. It quite openly showcases your idiocy. I’d also prefer radqueers and pro-contact paraphiles not interact with me either.
My tags are a work in progress; one can only hope Gluttomy gets at least one more episode. One doesn’t have many voicelines to work with.
Tag sorting:
⤷ ゛I’m afraid I can’t approve the request to allow hair dyeing and piercings on campus. ˎˊ˗ — Original posts/additions.
⤷ ゛Ah— right. You haven’t met. ˎˊ˗ — Reblogs.
⤷ ゛I know. Asthma is listed in your medical profile. ˎˊ˗ — Vent posts.
⤷ ゛Look who showed up at just the right time. ˎˊ˗ — Asks.
⤷ ゛Allow me to introduce… ˎˊ˗ — Mutual interactions.
⤷ ゛The apple of my eye. ˎˊ˗ — Yanposting, or general posts about my love.
Tags for mutuals will be your preferred name preceded by an arrow (➳).
Suggestive and self-deprecating. Proceed with caution — this is nothing but me yearning rather abhorrently.
I wish I could be as honest with her as she is with me. She'll tell me when she's thinking of me, what thoughts she's having about me, while I can't do anything of the sort. The most I can do is lie there and get myself off to the thoughts she admits to having about me, thinking about her hands on me, the way she'd go about undoing me, the things we'd try with each other... if only I dared to tell her. Her voice is so smooth and so soothing and so absolutely her, I could spend ages utilising that alone to pleasure myself. I feel so fucking gross imagining all the things she could say to me, especially knowing she's too kind and gentle to ever use those words with me... God, I'm disgusting. I want her so badly. I just want her to do whatever she wants with me.
It's not that she doesn't have depraved thoughts as well — as mentioned prior, she admits to them quite openly — I'm just... not nearly as used to voicing such desires as she is. Whenever I hint at them, I get far too flustered to continue the thought, despite her encouraging me. She'd never call me vile to my face, but, much in the same vein, I could never admit to said vile thoughts. To her, I'm innocent, I'm shy, I'm... none of this. I don't want to be any of this.
My mental state can be precisely determined based on the state of (dis)order of my room.
As someone who requires a clean, orderly space to feel at ease and productive, there are currently eleven items belonging to the kitchen, including plates, bowls, and glasses, strewn across my desk. There's also a ten-day-old, unfinished strawberry milk tea in the corner of my room, and trash littering every perceivable surface. I've neglected to mention laundry, both dirty and clean, everywhere.
As you could imagine, this is not conducive to improving my mental state. So I'm in a perpetual downward spiral of sorts.
I promised I’d be a better person than I was then, but apparently all I do is lie, to others and to myself. I’m sorry. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me.
Right, well… today I arose later than I’d have liked to, so now I’m running on none of my prescribed dosage. I suppose we’ll see how this ends. Assumedly badly.
As much as I try to be an attentive and courteous student, this environment is truly starting to grate on my nerves.
…I genuinely cannot stand the blatant sheer idiocy making itself known in this classroom. I didn’t get enough rest last night, either. Admittedly, the latter is my somewhat my fault, what with how long I stayed up — but I was being plagued with nightmares, and if given the choice, I wouldn’t have to deal with those ever.
