#This thought popped in my head right after I pictured myself as some kind of shrimp that's being boiled (tub has hot water)

[aviisick13]

[zorrasucia]

Congrats on 300💕 & thank you for your fics

Sooo many prompts that it’s hard to choose, but these spoke to me, but whatever inspires you most:)

Carmy x reader

❛ say you want me, and i’m yours. ❜

❛ you look like you were jealous. ❜

❛ there’s so many things i wanna do to you. ❜

Hi, Anon! Thank you for reading 💜🥺

I chose ❛ there’s so many things i wanna do to you❜ for a established relationship Carmy x Reader phone sex moment 😉 I hope you like it!

"Hey."

"Carmy," you replied sweetly. You had rushed to call him as soon as you read his text. are u awake? "Can't sleep?"

He let out a sigh. "Long day."

"Bad day?" you asked.

"Busy. And everyone was acting like a fucking asshole, even me. Especially me," he confessed. In the background you could hear the tattletale crack of aluminum foil and plastic as he popped some chewing gum.

"Trying to quit smoking again?"

"Always," he mumbled.

"Are you actually trying to quit for your palate and whatever or are you avoiding Richie?"

"What do you mean?" he replied a little defensively.

"Well, you usually talk with him during your smoke breaks. And... I don't know, he understands you. Maybe you don't want that right now," you guessed.

There was a long silence as Carmy took in what you said.

"How do you do that?" he asked abruptly.

"Do what?"

"See through all my bullshit," he explained. "I didn't even- I mean holidays are the worst and he'll definitely talk about Mikey at some point and how I didn't come home enough-" he paused. "I just don't want to feel like that again, you know?"

"Maybe talking with him can help," you said. "Maybe he feels like shit about it too. You both miss him, right?"

"Yeah..."

"You can't avoid him forever, Carm."

"I know," you heard him sigh. "Fuck, I miss you."

"Miss you too, baby," you replied softly, lying back on the bed of your childhood bedroom. "It's only a few more days."

"Are you having a nice time?" he asked gently.

"Yeah, it's, uh... Holidays with family are always a little weird, right?" you shrugged. "Got you a present, by the way."

"Yeah?" you could hear his smile.

"Yeah. Top secret," you giggled. "I also bought lingerie on discount - I don't know if that counts as a present for you or for me."

"Fuck," Carmy sighed again. "I already said I miss you. You don't need to say shit like that."

"There's a long weekend coming up," you appeased him. "We can make up for lost time."

"There's so many things I wanna do to you," he rasped.

"Yeah?" you tried to hide just how flustered his voice was making you. "What kind of things?"

"Fuck, baby..."

You could picture him laying on the couch, head over the armrest, blushing.

"Come on, I want to know," you encouraged him, you could only hear static for a little while. "It'll be fun. Like a wishlist but sexy," you teased. "I can touch myself while you tell me."

He coughed - you had taken him by surprise. You had surprised yourself too to be honest, but it was exciting and oddly liberating to only listen to him, the way his voice and breathing betrayed his emotions.

"You're going to kill me one of these days," he said after he recovered from his coughing fit.

"You don't sound too upset about it," you commented. You didn't pressure him - if he wanted to forget the whole thing, you'd let him.

He took a deep inhale. "I- uh- I wanna eat you out."

You let out a shaky exhale, a familiar warmth in your belly as you thought of Carmy between your legs.

"How?"

"I want you to sit on my face..." he said.

"Fuck, Carmy," you inhaled sharply, your free hand going into your underwear, touching your folds and finding them damp already. "I would love that. Fuck. Your tongue always feels so good on me."

"The way you taste. Fuck," he panted. Was he touching himself too? "I always end up with my face covered in you. My chin, my nose..."

"I love when your nose- Fuck, I think about it for days. Just your pretty nose making me shake and moan," it was so easy to tell him embarrassing truths when your fingers were playing with your clit, making you roll your eyes.

"Jesus," Carmy groaned. Oh, he was definitely touching himself. "I'll make you cum like that. I want your thighs shaking around my face. I want to hold you with both hands while you ride me, use me."

"Fuck," you moaned, your pussy clenching once around your middle finger, the heel of your hand pressing on your clit.

"What do you want, baby? What do you want to do to me?" there was an urgency to his voice. You liked him like that, a little needy.

"I want to touch your cock, make you feel good with my hands-" you said, putting a second finger inside you and moaning.

"Yeah," he was breathing heavily into the speaker.

"I want you to beg for it, Carm," you confessed. "I want to make you feel so fucking good and stop right before you cum. Just keep going until you can't take it anymore."

"Holy shit," he gasped. "And then? After I beg?"

You started fucking into your hand, writhing on the bedsheets.

"After you beg, I'll give it to you," you said simply, hearing as Carmy groaned lewdly. "Let you fuck me however you want, as hard as you want. You can cum as long as you cum inside me."

"Shiiiiit," he keened and the sound took you right over the edge, pussy fluttering around your fingers as he let out low grunts. You pictured him, face red and hair sweaty, eyes glazed and8 breathing heavy, ropes of cum painting his stomach. You sighed, feeling electricity all over, a gentle warmth caressing your skin.

"Fuck," Carmy exhaled on the other side of the line. "You meant that?"

"Yeah," you let out a nervous laugh. "You?"

"Yeah," he replied.

"I think we have our weekend planned out, then."

[pininghermit]

Mockery of Errors

Pairing: Alucard x Reader

Genre: Fluff

Summary: Alucard's got a personal idiot to save him decade's worth of therapy.

AN: some nsfw vocab so minors dni

"Omg oh no I am so sorry."

Three pairs of eyes stare at you.

"I can get myself out," you mumbled, shuffling awkwardly. Turning to leave through the broken window you entered by, you paused. "Oh crap," you muttered, glancing at the shattered glass and then back at the golden-haired vampire, who you assumed was the owner.

"I can pay for the damages," you offered, patting your pockets frantically. You desperately hoped you hadn't been an idiot and left your purse at home. You studiously avoided looking at the vampire's bare, luminous legs.

Was that… rope? Your eyes widened at the crimson bundle peeking out from under the bed. Great. You'd just stumbled into some bizarre threesome. Just your luck.

The commotion seems to snap the supposed lord out of his shock. Though you desperately tried to avoid their gaze, you heard the rustle of clothes and felt the air shift as the vampire lord moved in front of you. And much to your dismay a sword.

Your spine felt like jelly, but you forced a wobbly smile as you looked up at the ridiculously good-looking vampire lord. It all clicked into place. Dammit! He deserved a good threesome. Insanely handsome vampire lords with deary castles deserve a good bang.

"Now, now, my lord," you began, your voice betraying a slight hitch. "There's no need for that. I assure you, I'm no robber." You mentally shoved aside the very inappropriate picture that had just popped into your head, desperate to stay alive.

"This is all just a…jest, you see? A silly little bet with friends. Terrible timing, I admit, and terribly sorry for the interruption. I can, of course, make myself scarce." You finished with a weak attempt at a conspiratorial wink, hoping it landed somewhere between charming and utterly insane.

You flashed a friendly smile at the, ahem, occupants of the bed, who (to their credit) did a fantastic job of conveying annoyance through sheer silence. You waved awkwardly, but they weren't having it.

"Ahem," the vampire lord cleared his throat to catch your fleeting attention. "Do you know where you stand?" He asked, his voice surprisingly weak. He sounded young...a young adult vampire? They came in all ages and formats you mused internally.

Focusing on his question, you tried to hide the relief of finding a young master instead of a slithering nasty vampire."Ah, my lord," you stammered, "we, uh, my friends and I…had no idea a vampire resided here...the cutesy garden in the back yard had us guessing this castle was looked after a kind granny."

That was not the right thing to say. Apparently, even unageing vampires were vain enough to detest being called a granny...to your credit, his white nightgown was not doing him any favors.

Alucard felt a furious blush creep up his neck. Thankfully, you seemed too terrified to meet his gaze.

The shattered window was a godsend. A distracting agent that prevented acknowledging the scene you walked in on.

He towered over you as you sat perched precariously on the windowsill, inspecting the broken glass with an unsettling focus. "Sturdy stuff," you muttered in approval, completely oblivious to the elephant in the room - or rather, the castle.

Not the damn ropes! Adrian groaned silently. He wasn't easily flustered, but this… this was pushing his limits.

Steeling yourself with the air of someone who'd made a grand decision, you rose to your feet. "My lord," you declared, "I can totally replace this glass tomorrow! No worries. Besides, who carries a purse on a ridiculous late-night dare, anyway?"

Adrian let out a sigh so deep it could rival a tectonic plate shift. Clutching his face in his hands, he squeezed his eyes shut. This, he thought hysterically, was worse than a thousand post-nut clarity moments combined. There was no way he could ever face Sumi or Taka again.

He nods. At this point, he would be better off flying away as a bat and never show up to his accursed castle ever again.

Peering out the window, you mumbled, oblivious to the tension, "Yikes, that's a drop. So, about those ropes…" A collective cringe echoed through the room, the occupants unified in their secondhand embarrassment.

"Just use the damn door!" Adrian roared, his voice cracking spectacularly mid-scream.

And thus, with a shattered window, a flustered vampire lord, and a shockingly oblivious mortal, the future of Adrian Tepes, son of Dracula, took a most unexpected turn.

[sag-dab-sar]

Day 1 of Hellenic Polytheism

Who was the first deity you began worshipping? Do you still worship them now? If this has been answered before: how has your worship changed since last year?—by @wisdom-devotee

I started studying and believing in paganism at age 16ish and attempted to worship "The God & The Goddess" as the Wiccan book I picked up at Barnes & Nobles instructed me to.... and it was just not working. Then the book (or a second book I forget) mentioned "faces of The God and The Goddess," and how I was "allowed" to worship them in different faces. So I thought that might fit better.

Athena popped into my head immediately for "The Goddess." No contemplation just immediately in my head— as if she wasn't allowing anyone else. [I did research for "The God" and chose Thoth.] I printed out little pictures of them and pasted them onto the Wiccan "God & Goddess" symbols I had made earlier. I discovered very quickly I was a hard polytheist.

I 100% believe she was present at my birth.

🏺🦉My Journey With Athena🦉🏺

Wiccan God (orange) & Goddess (grey) homemade symbols

Pasting on images of Athena & Thoth

The altar photos are like 4 generations away from the original file which is probably lost in an old hard drive which is why they look like they were taken with a potato. I believe this is the exact image I used for Athena:

I dedicated all of my education to her in High School. She helped me get my High School Diploma, which I was not sure I would achieve. An altar from 2012:

Helped me through my Bachelor's Degree.

Here she is (owl) on my 1st year (freshman) desk is 2013, next to Inana and Thoth

And an altar in April 2017, three days before the presentation of my undergraduate thesis 4th year (senior), with my trusty Chicago Style Manual.

She helped me through my Master's Degree. An altar from November of 2018, kind of begging for her help when I felt I might be close to failing a course. I swear I then practically got a miracle from her in that course. She gave me more strength than I probably deserved.

A bit after this altar I started referring to her with the epithet Ergane meaning "worker" in November of 2018, since the epithet related to education & career goals.

Yes, she is still with me to this day! This is the most recent shrine I had her on.

She has my graduation tassels of HS, B.S, M.A on her spear; two pin things that represent scholastic achievements on her chest; a sash with three dots representing three professional certifications I obtained; beads representing continuing education courses on her shield. The adornment process started in 2019 and finished in 2020 at "her request" and she is "loud" when she wants something (I rarely get UPG link so it was... a lot). I wanted to make the sash and beads less ad hoc but haven't come up with anything and simply wanted to make her happy. I have one more scholastic thing to add but I have to finish the orientation process first and well disability is limiting that. If my disability improves hopefully there will be more things to add in the future.

I have I think 4, maybe 5, statues of her, two of which are idols. One of which my sister bought for me while in Greece

I have some "UPG" right now that I'm working through about the epithet Phrónēsis link and some other stuff with her that I'll keep to myself for now.

Side Note: I focused on a Hellenic Theos for this post, I don't know if I'll be also including my other primary pantheon Sumerian or other two traditions for the rest of the days

[7association-was-here]

Uh. Why’s everyone tellin’ me to be careful..? I mean that’s real kind but anyways. Heathcliff here again with a report on that case I’m working on. This is gonna be a doozy to explain but sit tight lads, lasses, everything in between and out.

After painfully flipping through those piles of folders I only learned a little bit about the victim (I kid you not half of it is just a bunch of complaints from the Zwei and Tres, also someone snuck pictures of their cat in there??) But the report says they’re an important fixer, semi-inventor of some fancy shit, owns three cows(??) and yadda yadda.

I went over to the scene of crime which was the poor sod’s own workshop. But there wasn’t actually anything new for me to see there since most stuff’s been covered already by the chaps handling this case before me. He was found dead hunched over his workbench, cause of death was a hatchet swung right into the back of his head and its still stuck there. The only big mystery was that there was no signs of obvious break in. I was recommended to leave and focus on the stuff we already know but even then though, I felt like… Something wasn’t right. Like you know that intuition of mine I tell everyone about? It was telling me there’s one more clue we haven’t found.

I checked around his notebooks, his desk, to no avail. Until I checked his warehouse. Where he keeps all the gear— Or well, kept, cause it ain’t here anymore. All stolen. But I found this… Crack in the wall. I dunno I just somehow knew it would be there though. Like something told me the key behind this all lies beyond that wall. So like any sensible bloke I went to destroying that bloody wall with a steel chair nearby. Hopefully I don’t get in trouble for that. Oops.

Now, I found some stairs leading downwards, and a thread of red string pointing me to go ahead. It was kinda shady but I thought “Hey! I found new shit!” and so I followed it and it led me down some kinda hidden tunnel. Down there I ended up in… Some underground room? It was dark but the walls were covered in this sickly lookin’ white colour so that in itself gave it a sense of light. There wasn’t much down there actually. A few empty shelves, cobwebs, paper sprawled on the floor everywhere, but in the middle of it all was this

Complicated device I think. It’s a.. mirror? With a bunch of wires and magnifier thingies that I don’t understand. It looks dusty but still, what’s this shit doing down here?

Well, that’s all I’ve found for now. Oh, wait! One more thing before I pop off. When I got back to my desk I found another one of those paper message things. What’s it called again? A prescript? I actually caught a glimpse of the bastard who left it here it’s just that he ran away before I could say anything and slammed the door in my face.

He kinda looked like that guy I think’s been following me around….

This one looked kinda messy written but it says

To Heathcliff: Follow the city’s ribbons. To a meeting with yourself. This is related. Visit L corp. Must be alone.

…Don’t get what that means but. Looks like I really did jinx myself.

[svnluns]

him | mitchel cave

Kelly dragged me to this party, and honestly, I was already over it before we even walked in. She’d had a shot at home, so she was tipsy, practically bouncing around like we were heading into Disneyland.

I was only a little buzzed, though. Just enough to tolerate the chaos waiting for us.

The music was insanely loud, shaking the walls. Everyone inside was either too drunk to walk straight or trying to be the life of the party. Kelly fit right in.

She grabbed my hand, weaving us through the sweaty crowd like it was a mission, and we ended up at this table where three guys were sitting.

Okay, so let me paint the picture.

One had perfect, stick-straight blonde hair, another had his hair in a messy bun, and the third guy?

Long brown hair with braids and these crazy blue eyes that caught me completely off guard.

Like, hello? Who allowed him to look like that?

He was… fine. Really fine.

“Hey, guys!” Kelly said, already leaning into the table and giggling at nothing. She introduced me, barely making sense, but I caught that the guy with the braids was named Mitchel.

I was polite, smiled when I had to, but I felt super awkward. Meeting new people at these parties was not my thing.

So, I did the first thing that popped into my head. “I’m gonna go for a smoke,” I mumbled to Kelly, who just waved me off, already deep in conversation with the other guys.

The balcony was a lifesaver. Cool air, a quiet view of the city lights—exactly what I needed. I grabbed a chair and lit a cigarette, letting myself just… breathe.

Then I noticed him.

Mitchel.

Out of nowhere, there he was, leaning against the doorframe like some movie character. He didn’t say anything at first, just walked over and sat across from me like we’d planned this or something.

“Hey, I’m Mitchel,” he said, like I didn’t already catch that inside. “You came with Kelly, right? What’s your name?”

I took a drag, playing it cool. “Y/N,” I said, blowing the smoke off to the side. “Nice to meet you, I guess.”

He nodded, his eyes flicking to mine, then back to the city. For a second, I thought maybe he was just here to escape the chaos too. But then I caught him looking at me again.

“What’s up?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. The silence was starting to feel… weird.

“Nothing,” he said, smiling a little. “You’re intriguing.”

I snorted. “Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “You don’t look like you even want to be here. That’s kind of rare.”

I laughed under my breath, shaking my head. “You’re not wrong. These kinds of parties aren’t really my thing.”

“Same,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “I only came because Kelly wouldn’t stop bugging me about it.” Then he added, almost like an afterthought, “I was gonna leave until I saw you.”

I froze for a second, not sure if he was serious or just pulling some cheesy line. “Smooth,” I said, rolling my eyes, though my cheeks felt a little warm.

He just laughed, this low, soft sound that made it hard not to smile. “I mean it,” he said. “You’re not like the others in there.”

I didn’t know what to say to that, so I just shrugged and took another drag. The silence this time wasn’t so awkward. It was almost… nice.

“So,” I said after a while, “what’s your game plan for the rest of the night? You gonna tough it out, or are you planning your escape too?”

“Depends,” he said, smirking. “What’s your plan? Are you gonna vanish when no one’s looking?”

I laughed. “How’d you guess?”

“You’ve got that vibe,” he said, studying me like I was some kind of mystery. “Quiet, but sharp. Like you’re always two steps ahead of everyone else.”

That caught me off guard. No one had ever said anything like that to me before.

I didn’t really know how to respond, so I just stubbed out my cigarette and stood up, leaning on the balcony railing

[she-karev]

Girl's Night In (April Kepner x Alex Karev’s Sister Friendship Imagine)

Previous Part Here

Age Rating: 12+

Chapters: Two of Five

Fandom: Grey’s Anatomy

Summary: Amber gets a voicemail from Andrew and is conflicted on listening to it while April helps dye her hair at home.

Words: 1507

Chapters Links: 1,2,3,4,5

March 25th, 2020

Amber is sitting in a chair in the middle of Jackson’s living room with April behind her with the dark brown hair dye. April is brushing the carefully sectioned blonde hair on Amber’s head with the dye. While she is doing this Amber is eating kale chips watching 2010’s Nightmare on Elm Street on the high definition tv. Amber is enjoying the film while April is getting scared as Kris is washing her face after her nightmare.

“Is he gonna show up?” April asks in anxiety gasping lightly when Kris looks up the mirror, but Freddie is not there to her relief and Amber’s amusement knowing what happens next. The next scene Freddie jumps out and attacks Kris causing April to shriek in terror and Amber to laugh at her reaction, “Why are we watching this? I’m gonna be up for days!”

“Hey we agreed I pick the movies and the movies I like are remakes of classic horror films.”

April shudders behind her as Katie Cassidy is thrown around like a ragdoll on the tv, “Why remakes? I mean aren’t the classics better?”

“They are but the good thing about the remakes is the CGI has improved.” Kris gets sliced open by an invisible Freddie on the screen, “And that makes the death scenes much gorier than when they used puppets.”

April groans, “Okay not only is this movie lacking in story but it is an anatomical nightmare.”

“If you feel that way now wait till we see Final Destination 3 next.” Amber pops a kale chip in her mouth, “I could barely get on the rollercoaster after I saw it.”

April grins as she brushes another blonde stand on Amber’s head, “Well that I can understand, I never go on the roller coaster I’m saving that stage in Harriet’s life up to Jackson. He’ll appreciate it or he won’t.”

“Your afraid of roller coasters?”

“No, I’m not afraid of roller coasters, I’m afraid of the 18 year old operating it for minimum wage.”

Amber shrugs understanding, “Okay so what kind of movies do you like to watch then? Oh wait! Let me guess, The Notebook? A Walk to Remember? Some other Nicholas Sparks cliché boy meets girl unrealistic as hell movie that rendered you a virgin until you were in your thirties?” Amber laughs at her own joke.

April scoffs at her sarcasm, “You know what I don’t judge other women for sleeping around and exploring their sexuality so why do they feel the need to judge me for my lacking of it?”

“Okay, okay serious question though…Did you wear a chastity belt?”

Amber laughs at that and April narrows her eyes, “God you and your brother are so much like, your both condescending assholes.”

“I’m still debating if it’s nurture or nature.”

April shakes her head, “It must so nice not to care what people think of you or if they even like you.”

Amber stops chewing as she looks at the tv in thought before her defense mechanism comes back, “I’d rather be hated and content with myself than be loved and stressed about what to say. Besides your not the only one who’s had to deal with condescending assholes who don’t care if they hurt you or not.”

April looks at Amber in sympathy without her knowledge since she’s busy eating chips and watching the awful movie. April decides to change the subject so Amber can feel better.

“So, you grew up with two brothers?”

“Yep, my whole life with two older asshole brothers, I guess you can chalk up my pleasant attitude to them.”

“What was that like? I’m picturing underwear with skid marks on the floor, playboys on your shelves where they hide it and a lot of roughhousing with you as the referee. Basically, I imagine you living with two horny and blood thirsty pitbulls.”

“And you would be right.” They chuckle at that, “It’s no wonder I played sandlot when I was a kid when most of my friends played barbies. My brothers taught me to never care what others thought of me and that I should be myself…and if anyone had a problem with that I can just give them a little Rocky Balboa treatment.”

“Wow you just explained so much.” April puts dark hair on another strand, “It was the opposite for me growing up. I was the youngest of four girls and growing up Libby, Kimmie and Alice called me Ducky. As in the ugly duckling. I was always the young, boy repellent, braces wearing, acne prone sister who spent more time in the library than she did finding a boyfriend. My sisters make it a point to remind me of that awkward and terrible phase of my life and that’s why I fired them as my bridesmaids before my wedding.”

Amber chews on a chip intrigued, “Wow. I always thought growing up, ‘why can’t I have a sister? It would make my life so much better’.”

“Trust me it wouldn’t.” April tells Amber bluntly as she brushes the last strands, “Boys are simple minded and at times idiotic, but their simplicity makes them sincere and more caring to the people they love. Unlike girls like my sisters who find a weak spot and press on them like a wound. In a way you were lucky to grow up with two boys, even if one of them was Alex Karev.”

Amber chuckles, “It’s hard being the baby of the family, isn’t it? I mean no matter how much we grow up or how many college degrees we get we are always gonna be the baby in the highchair they fed mashed peas to.”

“I know!” April agrees with Amber full heartedly, “I mean with your two brothers you think you would be more likely to end up a virgin at 30 than me.”

“I would have but I’ve learned how to sneak past them. Besides I didn’t need overprotective brothers to shield me from horny boys. Nobody wants to date the weird goth girl with the psycho mom.”

“Goth?” April asks intrigued causing Amber to chuckle.

“Yeah, I was a very angry child, and it turns out you can find quality grunge clothes at the Salvation Army.”

April puts a shower cap around Amber’s head, “Did you read Stephen King in your down time while listening to Nirvana?”

Amber scoffs, “No…I read his son Joe Hill and listened to NOFX.”

April grins proudly at being right, “Okay now we just wait for the dye to set for 35 minutes and then you can wash.” April grabs her hair dye box and hands it to Amber, “In the meantime you can apply my dye. You just apply a little from the root and brush it down the strand, can you do that?”

“Yeah just let me set the timer.” Amber pulls out her phone to set a timer and the notifications board stops her. Andrew’s voicemail is still on it and is still waiting to be heard. The thought of it sends Amber down the rabbit hole that Andrew pushed her in this past year. She takes a deep breath to try to collect herself and remind herself that listening to it will only make things worse. April can see the notifications behind Amber and decides to address the bipolar elephant in the room.

“Have you talked to him at all since he came back?”

Amber sets the timer on her phone, “No, last thing I heard was from his sister telling me she dropped him off at a treatment center. I guess he got early release and is back to making my life a living hell.”

“You don’t know that have you listened to the message?”

Amber scoffs and stands up, “I left him a voicemail telling him that he was ruining his life and was gonna end up like his estranged crazy father. I was drunk and angry and I wanted him to feel a fraction of the pain he put me through, God knows what he said to retaliate.”

April shrugs, “He’s been in treatment, maybe he’s better and he wants to make up with you.”

Amber scoffs, “My mother was two days out of treatment before she yelled out loud in front of my volleyball team about what a colossal disappointment I am and…and how she should’ve listened to my father and aborted me. No, I am not gonna be somebody else’s punching bag when they hit a breakdown. I’m done with him, and he has made it more than clear he is done with me.”

April looks at Amber in sympathy, “Look I can’t force you to listen to the message-”

“Good because I’m not gonna listen to it now sit your red head ass down so I can apply this hair dye and make you look somewhat better.”

April knows she’s overstepping and pissing Amber off so she listens and sits in the chair watching the slasher movie that she feels perfectly describes Amber’s mood right now.

Next Part Here

[ariathelamia]

Speed running learning about myself?

So i ended up starting questioning if i might be plural... which... i won't go into it in THIS post particular because that would be a lot to talk about in just one post.... so i start with the other two things i figured out about myself and was already kind of able to confirm? not through a psychologist but through doing those online tests for one.. and then having a talk with friends and suddenly hit with "Wait we thought you knew!?"

So because of me asking in a very long message on another page (idk if i am allowed to mention where but its round.. and reddish.. and white as a logo...) I was told by some that, it didnt sound much like plurality.. more like adhd... another said yeah it does sound like their pre-plurality phase... but also adhd... so i ended up taking an adhd test.... turns out the results came back as "Highly consistent with ADHD"... while i do know that these self tests are not really made to self diagnose but rather give you an idea you might have it and talk to your therapist, which i am definitely going to do... (this will be an interesting next session)... But some of the things really resonated strongly.. like when i sit still for some time, and have nothing to do stimulate me enough... i end up bopping my legs quickly up and down, or open and close my legs/bop my head to a song that pops up in my head... or i end up walking around the house a lot which... all of these things were very often pointed out by my mom that she HATES when i do that, and keeps telling me to stop, only for me to do it again shortly after... And the other thing i super strongly resonated with in those tests, was the statement "I often miss what is being said to me in conversations" which... lord this happened to me like 3 times already just when typing out the message while also talking to people in a discord call if i am not absolutely focused on the conversation, and to literally any small task, like writing something down, or just scrolling through pictures... I totally tune out conversations... The amount of times i played video games with friends while talking, and i just suddenly hear the sentence "Good she didn't hear" or "oh i think she is not there... Nah she is moving?" is LUDICROUS. So yeah... i could see myself definitely being diagnosed with it from my therapist... So i brought that result to some close friends of mine in a call and told them about it... and got hit with the sentence "Well, at least now you know you got the full package of ADHD and Autism!" My reply was "... i don't have autism?" Which was immediately hit my multiple people going: " Aria?... Aria...." and "I thought you knew!?" (disclaimer: My thought about what autism was is probably really skewed by the show "the good doctor"... which is probably a very extreme version of autism.. or something else mixed in?) Which, i asked them to elaborate.. they took a few moments to collect their thoughts and started listing some things which i could right away relate to several occasions or mannerisms of mine, which i never really thought about... here is a list of things that were brought up.. Sensitivity to sounds: During new years, when out with the family and throwing firecrackers, I am not able to function properly, when i know one of those dynamite shaped ones... or square ones, is about to go off, like i cant look away from where they are thrown, and if i notice one about to go off, i have to hold my ears shut or put in headphones.. Fast opening zippers: No, just no, i have to open my jacket or backpack slowly, cause that sound just makes me shiver. I had to stop playing the game 7 days to die, which otherwise was super enjoyable to me, simply because i just couldn't take the inventory opening sound anymore. Silverware: When emptying the dishwasher... i have to take out the silverware and sort it in slowly one my one, because the clinkering sound makes me start breathing very heavily through my mouth to the point where i am uncontrollably blowing air... and when my mom was in a bit of a hurry and started "helping me" by picking them up fast and putting them in the drawer... i physically cringed away from it with my entire body. Texture Sensitivty

Silk: Don't try getting me into anything silky... i hate it i hate it i hate it. It's itchy, it's scratchy, and i hate how it feels running my fingernails across it... Silk bedsheets are a torture device.. Those holographic cards that change when you turn them? running my fingers across them is disgusting... and hearing someone rubbing their finger nails across them is giving me a physical reaction.. as if they are making ME do that... it's also the sound that just sounds like high pitched sipper sounds!? just like times 10... I also struggle a bit with social queues... like some situations in Roleplays confuse the hell out of me, and that shows in my characters reaction at times where i got the "what the f*ck you on about?" response... Also when i do talk with people in real life, i end up just staring off into the room, and not to the person.... i do look at them from time to time to make sure they know its them i am talking to.. but that never lasts for long before i stare off in the room again because i get very uncomfortable when looking at people and talk/open up to them... i fidget with my fingers, rub my thighs... laugh nervously even if it's a serious topic or i am close to crying... just to lift a bit of that awkward feeling... Or when people open up to me! I do love to lend a ear because i know how much it helps to just have someone listen to you! but when it comes to helping them i usually am hit with the realization that... i just don't know how to deal with that situation... idk what i could say or do a lot of the times.. So yeah... that was my day today... lots of realizations and topics to talk to my therapist about... but I'm happy to finally put a name to my weird actions! Cause before i always thought i was just... different but never knew what made me different. Thank you for your time! (idk how to end this post so... sorry it ends so abruptly...)

[samama--khalid]

[Click]St-st-tatement of Joshua Gillespie, regarding his time in possession of an apparently empty wooden casket. Original statement given November 22nd, 1998. Audio recording by [Static]

Statement begins.

It started when I was in Amsterdam for a holiday with a few of my friends. Everything you’re thinking right now, you’re right. We were all early twenties, just graduated and decided to spend a couple of weeks going crazy on the continent, so you can almost certainly fill in all the blanks yourself. There were very few points where I’d say that I was entirely sober and even fewer where I acted like it, though I wasn’t quite as bad as some of my friends who had a hard time handling themselves at times.

This may have been why I headed out alone that morning – no idea of the exact date but it was sometime in mid-May. The others were sleeping off their assorted hangovers and I decided to head out into the beautiful sunshine of that Netherlands morning and take a walk. Before graduating from Cardiff with the others, I had been studying Architecture, so was looking forward to spending a few hours by myself to wander, and really take in the buildings of central Amsterdam. I was not disappointed – it’s a beautiful city, but I realised too late that I hadn’t taken any map or guidebook with me, and an hour or two later I was thoroughly lost.

I wasn’t particularly worried, as it was still mid-afternoon at this point, and getting lost in the backstreets had kind of been what I was trying to do, but I still decided I’d better make an actual effort to find my way back to where my friends and I were staying off Elandsstraat. I managed it eventually, but my inability to speak Dutch meant I spent a good hour riding the wrong way on the various trams.

By the time I got back to Elandsstraat it was starting to get dark and I was feeling quite stressed, so I decided to pop into one of the cafés to relax before joining up with my friends. I couldn’t say for sure exactly how long I was in there, but I do know it had gotten fully dark by the time I noticed I wasn’t sat at my table alone.

I’ve tried to describe the man who now sat opposite me many times, but it’s difficult. He was short, very short, and felt like he had an odd density to him. His hair was brownish, I think, cut quite short, and he was clean shaven. His face and dress was utterly unremarkable, and the more I try to think of exactly what he looked like, the harder it is to picture him clearly. To be honest, though, I’m inclined to blame that on the drugs.

The man introduced himself as John, and asked how I was. I replied as best I could, and he nodded, saying he also was an Englishman inside a foreign land. I remember he used that exact phrase because it struck me at the time as very odd. He said he was from Liverpool, though I don’t recall him having any sort of accent, and that he was looking for a friend who he could rely on for a favour.

Now, high as I was, I got suspicious as soon as he said that last part and I started to shake my head. John said it was nothing too onerous, just looking after a package for him until he had some friends pick it up, and that he would pay well. I thought he was talking about smuggling, and was about to refuse again when he reached into his… jacket, I think? and pulled out an envelope. Inside was £10,000. I know; I counted it. I knew it was a stupid move but I kept remembering my friend Richard telling me how easy it had been to get a pound of hash through customs on his first trip to Holland, and holding that much cash in my hands…

I said yes. John smiled, thanked me, and said that he would be in touch. He left the coffee shop and I immediately started panicking about what I had agreed to. I wanted to chase after him and return the money, but something weighed me down, kept me locked into my seat. I just sat there for a long time.

I don’t remember much about the next few days except worrying about when I’d see John again. I was careful not to spend any of the money he’d given me, and had decided to return it as soon as he turned up. I’d say I had made a mistake and couldn’t take his money or look after anything from him. I tried to enjoy myself, but it was like this shadow hanging over me, and I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I waited for days, right up until the end of our trip, but he never showed up. I obsessively checked my suitcase before boarding the plane home, just in case someone had snuck something into it, but there was nothing new in there. I flew back to England with my friends still high and £10,000 tucked into my coat pocket. It was surreal.

It wasn’t until almost a year later that I felt confident enough to actually spend any of the money. I’d moved down to work for a small architects’ firm in Bournemouth on the south coast. It was an entry level job and the pay wasn’t great, but it was the only offer I got in my chosen field, so I moved down there with the hopes of getting some experience and a better position in a year or two.

Bournemouth was a decent-size seaside town, though much less idyllic than I’d assumed it would have been, but rents for a place on my own were a little bit out of my price range, given my starting pay grade. I didn’t know anyone else down there, and wasn’t keen to share my space with strangers, so I decided to use some of the money I’d been given in Amsterdam the previous year. I reasoned they were unlikely to find me at this stage – I’d not given John any of my details when he spoke to me, not even my name, and if they hadn’t been able to find me over the course of the last year, it was doubtful they’d be able to track me here. Also, if it had been drug smuggling, as I suspected, £10,000 probably wasn’t so much money to them that they’d track me this far over it. Also, and looking back this sounds stupid, but I’d just grown a beard and thought it would be hard for anyone to recognise me as the same guy. So I spent a bit of John’s money on renting a nice one-bedroom flat in the Triangle, near the town centre, and moved in almost immediately.

About a week later, I was in my kitchen cutting up some fruit for breakfast, and I heard the doorbell ring. I answered it to see two red-faced delivery men. Between them they carried an immense package, which they’d clearly had to manoeuvre up the narrow stairs of the building I lived in. They asked if I was Joshua Gillespie, and when I said yes they said they had a delivery addressed to me and pushed past into the hall.

They didn’t seem to be from any delivery company I knew and they weren’t wearing any uniforms. I tried to ask them some questions, but as soon as they’d placed the box on the floor, they turned around and walked out. They were both well over six feet tall and very imposing, so there was little I could have done to stop them leaving even if I’d wanted to. The door slammed behind them, and I was left alone with this package.

It was about two metres long, maybe one metre wide and roughly the same deep. It was sealed with parcel tape and written on the top was my name and address in thick curving letters but there was no return address or postmark of any sort. I was starting to risk being late for work at this point, but I decided I couldn’t bring myself to leave without seeing what was inside, so I fetched the knife from my kitchen counter and cut the tape keeping the box closed.

Inside was a coffin. I don’t know what I expected but it wasn’t that. My knife fell to the floor and I just stared at it in mute surprise. It was made of unvarnished, pale yellow wood and had a thick metal chain wrapped around it, which was closed at the top with a heavy iron padlock. The lock was closed but had the key sitting inside it. I started to reach for it, when I noticed two other things on the coffin lid. The first was a piece of paper, folded in half and tucked under the chain, which I took. The other was the presence of three words, scratched deep into the wood of the casket in letters three inches high. They read: DO NOT OPEN.

I withdrew my hand from the padlock slowly, unsure what I was supposed to do. At some point I must have sat down, as I found myself on the floor, propped up against the wall, staring at this bizarre thing that had inexplicably turned up at my home. I remembered the piece of paper at this point and unfolded it, but it simply read “Delivered with gratitude – J”. Strange as it sounds, it was only then I made the connection with the man I’d met in Amsterdam. He’d told me he wanted someone to look after a package for a while. Was this the package he was talking about? Was I to be looking after a corpse? Who was coming to pick it up? When?

I called in sick to work, and just sat there, watching the coffin for what might have been minutes or might have been hours. I just had no idea what to do. Eventually I steeled myself and moved towards it, until my face was just inches away from the lid. I took a deep breath, trying to see if I could smell anything from inside. Nothing. If there was a dead body in there, it hadn’t started to smell yet. Not that I really knew what a dead body smelled like. It was early summer at this point, which would mean they must have died recently. If there was a body in there at all. As I got up, my hand brushed the wood of the coffin and I realised it was warm. Very warm, like it had been lying in the sun for hours. Something about it made my flesh crawl slightly and I withdrew my hand quickly.

I decided to make a cup of tea. It was something of a relief, standing next to the kettle, as from that angle I couldn’t see the thing out in the hall. I could just ignore it. I didn’t move even after I’d filled my mug; I just stood there sipping my tea, not even noticing that it was still far too hot to drink comfortably. When I finally got the nerve to step back out into the hall, the coffin still lay there, unmoving.

I finally made a decision and, firmly gripping the padlock, I removed the key, and placed it on the hall table next to the door. I then took hold of the coffin and chain and started to pull it further into my flat. It was weird to touch it: the wood still had that unsettling warmth to it, but the chain was as cold as you’d expect from a thick piece of iron, and apparently hadn’t taken on any of the heat. I didn’t have any cupboards with enough space to hold the thing, so in the end I just dragged it into my living room and pushed it up against the wall, as out of the way as possible. I cut up the cardboard box it had been sealed in and put it with the rubbish outside. And just like that I had, apparently, started storing a coffin in my home.

At the time I think I assumed it was full of drugs, at least as far as I assumed anything about the situation. Why anyone would store something in such a noticeable way or with a total stranger like me, these weren’t questions I could even guess at an answer to, but I decided it was best to think about it as little as possible. For the next few days I avoided my living room, as I found being so close to the thing made me nervous. I was also staying alert for the smell of any sort of rot, which might indicate there was something dead inside the coffin after all. I never smelled anything, though, and as the days passed I found myself noticing my mysterious charge less and less.

About a week after it arrived, I finally started using my living room again. I’d watch TV, mostly, and keep half an eye on the unmoving casket. At one point I got so cocky as to actually use it as a table. I was drinking a glass of orange juice at the time and absent-mindedly placed it on top of the lid, not really realising exactly what I had done. At least not until I heard movement from underneath it. I froze, listening intently and staring, willing myself to have been imagining things. But then it came again – a soft but insistent scratching, just below where I had placed my glass. It was slow and deliberate and caused gentle ripples to spread across the surface of my juice.

Needless to say I was terrified. More than that, I was confused. The coffin had been lying in my living room, chained and unmoving, for well over a week at this point. If there had been anything living in there when it was delivered, it seemed unlikely it would still be alive. And why hadn’t it made any sound before if there was something in there capable of movement? I gently picked up my glass and immediately the scratching stopped. I waited for some time, considering my options, before I placed it back down on the other end of the lid. It took about four seconds for the scratching to start up again, now more insistently.

When I took the glass away this time, it didn’t stop for another five minutes. I decided against doing any further experiments, and instead made the very deliberate decision to ignore it. I felt at that point I either needed to use the heavy iron key to open it and see for myself what was in there, or follow the gouged instruction and resolve myself to never look inside. Some might call me a coward, but I decided on the latter, that I would interact with it as little as possible while it lived in my house. Well, I guess “lived” may be the wrong term.

I knew I’d made the right decision the next time it rained, and I heard the box begin to moan. It was a Saturday, and I was spending the day staying in and doing some light reading. I had few friends in Bournemouth, something about having a mysterious coffin lying in my living room made me reluctant to make the sort of connections that might lead to people coming round, and so I spent most of my free time alone.

I didn’t watch a lot of television even before my living room was taken over with storing this thing, and so I now found myself sat in my room reading quite a lot. I remember I had just started Michael Crichton’s The Lost World at the time, and it started raining outside. It was a hard, heavy rain, the sort that falls straight down with no wind to disturb it, until everything is dark and wet. It was barely past midday, but I remember the sky was so overcast and gloomy that I had to get up to turn on the light. And that was when I heard it.

It was a low, gentle sound. I’ve seen Dawn of the Dead, I know what the groans of the undead are meant to sound like, but it wasn’t that at all. It was almost… melodious. It sounded almost like singing, if it was muffled by twenty feet of hard-packed soil. At first I thought it might have been coming from one of the other flats in my building, but as it went on, and the hairs on my arms began to stand on end I knew, I just knew, where it was coming from. I walked to the living room and stood in the doorway, watching as the sealed wooden box continued to moan its soft, musical sound out at the rain.

There was nothing to be done. I’d made my decision not to open it, and this certainly did not make me want to reconsider that. So I just went back to my bedroom, put on some music and turned it up loud enough to drown out the sounds.

And so it continued for a few months. Whatever was in the casket would scratch at anything placed on top of it and moan whenever it rained, and that was that. I suppose it goes to show that you can get used to anything if you have to, no matter how bizarre. I occasionally considered trying to get rid of it, or finding people like you guys to investigate, but in the end I decided that I was actually more afraid of whoever was responsible for entrusting me with the coffin than I was of the actual coffin itself. So I kept it secret.

The only thing that worried me was sleeping. I think it gave me bad dreams. I don’t remember my dreams, never have, and if I was getting nightmares, they were no different – I didn’t remember them and I certainly don’t now. But I know I kept waking up in a panic, clutching at my throat and struggling to breathe. I also started sleepwalking. The first time that happened it was the cold that woke me up. It was the middle of winter and I tend not to keep the heating on when I’m asleep. It took me a few seconds to fully process where I was. I was standing in the dark, in my living room, over the coffin. What concerned me more about the situation was the fact that, when I awoke, I seemed to be holding the key to it in my hand.

Obviously this worried me. I even went to my GP about it, who referred me to the sleep clinic at the nearby hospital, but the problems never recurred in a clinical setting. I decided to hide the key in more and more difficult to access places, but still I kept waking up with it, and I was starting to panic. When I awoke one morning to find I’d actually placed the key within the lock and was, as far as I could tell, moments from opening it, I knew I had to find a solution.

In the end, what I took to doing was perhaps a bit elaborate, but it seemed to work: I would place the key within a bowl of water and then put it in the freezer, encasing it in a solid block of ice. I still sometimes found myself trying to get to the key in my sleep, but the chill of the ice always woke me up long before I could do anything with it. And in the end it just became yet another part of my routine.

I lived like that for almost a year and a half. It’s funny how fear can just become as routine as hunger – at a certain point I just accepted it. My first clue that my time keeping the coffin was coming to an end was when it began to rain and there was silence.

I didn’t notice at first, as my habit at that point had been to put on the music as soon as the weather began to turn, but after a few minutes, I realised that there wasn’t anything to drown out. I turned off my music and went to check. The living room was silent. Then came a knock at the door. The sound was light and unobtrusive but it rang out like thunder in the quiet flat. I knew what I’d see as soon as I opened the door, and I was right. John and the two delivery men stood there.

I wasn’t surprised to see them, as I say, but they actually seemed quite surprised to see me. John had to take a second to look me up and down, almost in disbelief, as I asked if they’d come to collect their coffin.

He said that they had, and he hoped it hadn’t been too much trouble. I told him where he could stick it, and he didn’t seem to have an answer for that. He did seem genuinely impressed, however, when I got the key out of the freezer. I didn’t even try to thaw it – I was so eager to have this thing out of my life that I just dropped the bowl of ice on the floor and shattered it. I watched as John picked the icy key off the floor and I told them it was in the living room.

I didn’t follow them. I didn’t want to see what they did with the coffin. I didn’t want to see if they opened it. And when the screaming started, I didn’t want to see who was screaming or why. I only left the kitchen when the two delivery men carried the coffin past the door. I followed them down the stairs, and watched in the pouring rain as they locked it into a small van marked “Breekon and Hope Deliveries”. Then they drove away. There was no sign of John.

That was the last I heard of it. I got a new job and moved to London shortly afterwards, and now I just try not to think about it too much.

Statement ends.

It’s always nice to hear that Bournemouth has at least a few apparitions to call its own.

Breekon and Hope did, in fact, exist, and were a courier service that operated until 2009, when they went into liquidation. They were based in Nottingham, however, significantly north of Bournemouth, and if they kept records of their deliveries, they are no longer available.

What is interesting, however, is the address Mr. Gillespie provided for the flat this all took place in. The housing association that ran it does keep extensive records on the tenants that have lived in their buildings going back some forty or fifty years. From what [Static] could find, it appears that for the two years of his residence, Mr. Gillespie was the only person living in that entire building, with the other seven flats being utterly vacant. Nobody moved in following his departure, and the building was sold to a developer and demolished shortly after this statement was originally given.

Predictably, no-one who worked for that housing association in the 90s is still there, and despite [Static]'s best efforts, we could get no explanation for why, in a building of that size, Mr. Gillespie spent almost two years living alone, save for an old wooden coffin.

Recording ends.

[CLICK]

Is this one of the tapes it mentioned...?

i guess this is the coffin? What happened to that John guy- John as in Jonathan, i'm guessing? How did he live in that building without realizing no one else was there for two years? And what about those delivery men?

What's with the static whenever it mentions someone's name outside of the statement?

God, what's going on here?

[theoddcatlady]

I'm Never Shooting Another Snuff Film

You don’t start out shooting snuff. You build up to it. To be honest, I never thought I’d let it get that far. And I wish I never did.

I started out wanting to be a legit film maker. But that’s a hard business to break into when you don’t know the right people. Living on your own is expensive, and it gets humiliating to ask your parents for help covering your rent after the second time. My mom was always more than happy to help, but it wasn’t like my parents were loaded, and I hated being a leech.

Eating nothing but ramen noodles and cheap mac n cheese is its own kind of misery. Not to mention being unable to go out and do anything with friends. I mean, I survived, but I was miserable. So when the chance to film a porno came up, I jumped at the chance. I told myself it would be just this once.

Just this once turned into just one more time, then this would be the last time, and before I knew it I started getting deeper and deeper into the taboo. Like Fifty Shades of Grey looked vanilla compared to some of the BDSM I was behind the camera for.

I knew I was getting out of the realm of legal when I filmed a girl cutting open her arms and licking up the blood. I don’t know what she was on, but she had to be on something to do this all while smiling and giggling. But that check felt so damn good, so I kept my mouth shut. I was finally in the black. I told myself no one made her do those things, so what was the harm in it?

Then one day I was approached with a once in a lifetime deal. I normally worked with my guy Charlie, he got all the hook ups for the weird stuff. One day Charlie came over with this other guy I’d never met before who introduced himself as Noel.

Noel doesn’t look how you’re probably picturing someone in this scene, he was about five foot six and balding on top. He wore these round wire framed glasses and made me think of a schoolteacher. The kind of teacher that everyone loved, the one that you couldn’t wait for his class every day because he never assigned homework and let you listen to music while you worked.

“I’m a fan of your work, Frank- can I call you Frank?” Noel took out his wallet and counted out a few hundred dollar bills. “This is your signing bonus. Once the film is complete, I’ll give you double that.”

My eyes nearly popped out of my head. “How long’s the filming going on for?” I asked, already snatching up the money.

“Oh, just a day. Maybe two, if we need to do reshoots. Don’t worry, you’ll be compensated if it takes any longer than it should.” Noel extended his hand. “What do you say? No hard feelings if you feel you’re not up for the task.”

I shook Noel’s hand and asked when I started.

I figured it would just be over the top BDSM when I saw the set, all chains and brick. I had a few drinks with the two male actors while we waited for the actress to make her appearance. Not gonna lie, I got Ted Bundy vibes from the guy calling himself Tommy, but Gabe seemed like another average, fun guy.

When I saw the actress get dragged in, I realized how very deep I was in over my head.

Her mouth had been duct taped shut, she’d clearly been crying and looked pretty banged up. Noel followed the men dragging her and clapped his hands together. “Let’s get to work then! Frank, I’d like for you to focus a lot on her limbs. The commissioner is very into legs and arms. You’ll only get one chance, but since this is your first time filming this sort of kink, I won’t be too upset if it’s not perfect.”

I should’ve just bolted then. Gave Noel back his goddamn money and left. Gone to the cops, gone to someone.

Instead, I quietly sat behind the camera and treated it like any other porn film.

Lights, camera, action.

I never knew the girl’s name. Both Tommy and Gabe wore full leather masks and were armed with hand saws. I zoomed in as they started sawing through her shoulder. Drops of blood landed on the camera and I brushed them off without even thinking. I saw Noel nod approvingly at that natural motion. The arm fell to the ground and I panned over it nice and slow as it rested on the floor.

They took off her other arm and both legs, her struggles slowly fading and her eyes fluttering shut by the time they got through the final femur. Tommy and Gabe stood, bowed to the camera like they were on stage for a play.

And cut.

I had to run to the bathroom after that. I vomited for what felt like an hour. When I finally stumbled out, Noel handed me the rest of my payment. He patted my shoulder and helped escort me to my car. “It’s always hardest the first time. I bet you had dreams of filming the next summer blockbuster someday?” He said.

I didn’t say anything, but I didn’t need to. Noel just nodded. “We all had dreams like that. Maybe if things turned out differently we would’ve been working on one of those blockbusters together. I’ll call you when I need your services again.”

I told myself that I wouldn’t pick up the phone again when Noel called.

But I did.

I did twenty-five snuff films in total. The money felt so, so damn good. And after a while, you really do become desensitized to it all. For me, it just felt like I was in a dream. A dream with gore and guts and horrible, horrible things happening to people, but it wasn’t happening to me. I just saw it through a lens.

The twenty-fifth film was the one that finally made me quit.

I was out drinking with my fellow crew members when Noel came up with this darling blonde on his shoulder. I don’t know how he did it as he was pretty average in appearance, but Noel could get the hottest women.

“Gentlemen, this is Rada. Rada, this is Tommy, Gabe, and Frank,” He said, gesturing to them all.

Rada giggled and clapped. “Noel tells me you are… actors?” She said, her Russian accent thick on her words.

Gabe puffed up. “Tommy and I are the actors. Frank’s the camera man,” He said.

“Camera man?” She cocked her head to the side. “Is it fun?” She asked.

I shrugged. “Well, I like it. It pays the bills,” I said.

“Very good, very good!” Rada clapped before looking up at Noel. “Could I be in a film? I’ve always wanted to be an actress.”

I nearly dropped my glass. I had to excuse myself from the table, unable to ignore that glint of darkness in Noel’s smile.

I got a text about twenty minutes later saying to head to the ‘studio’. I stopped by at home to change into clothes I didn’t mind getting bloody before I walked over.

Rada was clearly drunk as she teetered around the set. She poked at the chains on the wall and smiled. “Am I a captive in your scene, Noel?” She asked.

“That sounds about right.” Noel helped her into the chains, Rada’s innocent doe brown eyes looking excitedly around. This whole thing made me genuinely sick. It was one thing when they were terrified, begging for mercy and sobbing as they realized they were doomed. But the innocent expression on Rada’s face, how clear it was she had no idea what was going to happen… I almost walked out then.

But then Noel slipped a few hundreds in my hand and I just got the camera ready.

“Now remember, Rada, you are terrified. You are in true fear of your life as this man is about to gut you. Don’t be afraid to scream,” Noel said.

Rada nodded. “I can do that! I’m very good at being scared,” She said.

Tommy snickered before he pulled on his leather mask. “This is just too easy sometimes,” He murmured to me. I just rolled my eyes.

Lights. Camera. Action.

Rada’s bubbly expression changed to one of true terror as Tommy walked into the camera. “Please, why am I here? I want to go home, please,” She said as a tear rolled down her cheek.

Tommy twirled around the knife before sliding it down her front, slicing through the front of her dress. Rada whimpered and turned her face away. “I’ll do whatever you want! Please, take my money, use my body!” She begged.

The knife nicked her skin and I saw this brief moment of confusion before she began to struggle in earnest, realizing this wasn’t just a movie anymore. “Nyet! Unchain me! I don’t like this game! Director! I don’t want to play anymore!” She shouted.

The knife went into her stomach and her breath caught before she screamed so loudly I felt my ears pop.

Tommy sliced down her stomach, thrusting his hand inside to pull out her intestines. He held them in front of her eyes as she continued to scream actual bloody murder. Even Noel, who was typically quite passive during these scenes, winced and rubbed one of his ears.

Rada’s dying breaths came as all her organs were spilled out in front of her. Tommy bowed for the camera.

And cut.

“Incredible,” Noel shook his head before he got up and threw Tommy a towel, “You’ve outdone yourself.”

Tommy nodded before I heard a groan.

“Noel, can I go again? I can do better.”

I am not lying when I say I literally pissed my pants when I saw Rada’s head roll back up, blinking a few times before her eyes focused on Noel.

Tommy screamed like a school girl as he scrambled away, ripping off his mask. “How the fuck!?!” He yelped as Rada began to tug at her chains.

The girl groaned before rolling her eyes and smashing her right hand against the wall, I heard bones crack before she pulled her mangled hand free. She did the same to the left before she began the impossible task of shoving her organs inside her mangled torso. “Scene… sorry… your language is hard… when I hurt…” She grunted as she popped her large intestine back inside. “Scene would look better, covered in my blood? I can be cleaned,” She looked up with a smile as she attempted to pull her skin together.

Noel got up from his chair, I saw him shake as he slowly approached this woman that should absolutely be dead. “What are you?” He said softly.

Rada giggled.

“An actress, Noel. I want to be a very good actress.”

We filmed that scene three more times. Rada had to film the rest of the shots naked, but she didn’t mind. Only thing that bothered her was how cold the stone under her ass was. After each time she’d get up, put herself back together, and we’d go again. I’d never filmed for so long before, not for one of Noel’s films. The sun was coming up when Noel finally said we were done.

I was about to leave when Rada stopped me. “Can I see?” She asked, snuggling into the shirt she’d stolen from Tommy.

Swallowing, I let her have the camera and rewound to the final time we filmed, which Noel had said was going to be his best work yet. She watched silently, nodding approvingly as Tommy tore out her heart and squeezed the beating organ in his hand. “My expressions are believable?” She asked.

“Does it really hurt you?” I asked.

Rada nodded. “It hurts like it would if it would kill me. But like I said, I want to be an actress. Will I be famous in these films? I can change if the director needs me to be a different girl.” She looked so eager for my response.

“… In certain circles, you’ll be a star.”

I left that day and never went back. I never picked up Noel’s phonecalls. Charlie was as good as dead to me. I cut my lease early and am now living back with my parents in Ohio. I think I’ll be going back to school, go into something less bloody like accounting. My mom always wanted me to be an accountant.

I never want to film anything again. Especially one of Noel’s films.

I wonder if Rada’s starring in all his movies now.

[crmsnmth-journal]

5/15/2024 10:08 PM

My day started off depressing and weird. I woke up, took my coffee and cigarette on the porch and checked social media. I got a notification that someone wanted to message me on FB, which is really weird in general. I don't talk to people, they don't talk to me. I prefer to use the platform as one big joke. And I really don't like talking to people. Either way, it's weird and my first thought was that it was a scam. I won't lie and pretend that for one breif second, my thoughts went to her, cause you know, I'm stupid and apparently like hurting myself. It was not spam, and it was not her (duh). It was the guy who was in the other car. I've mentioned before that my dad past away in January unexpectdly. And that was because of a serious car accident that happened in the very tale of December. The person who messaged me was that guy. The guy was in a coma after the accident. I guess he's wanted to reach out for months, but was advised by his lawyers and insurance to wait until everything was settled. Last Friday, it was apparently settled and he decided to message me. He just wanted to know what happened. Why it happened. And I get that. I felt bad that I had no answers to give him. None of us know what happened that day, at least the one's on earth. It was senseless in every day, and filled with weird behaviour. Someone claimed he did it on purpose, but I know my dad, and if he was going to take himself out, it would be by drugs or a bullet, not a car accident where he'd hurt someone else if it happened. We talked back and forth quite a bit, and he said it helped a bit. I wish I could've done more. I feel awful for him. I don't know how bad his other injuries were, but coma's a pretty big one. I think I saw a picture of his vehicle and it's demolished. I was led to believe that my dad rear-ended someone, but looking at the pictures (unconfirmed that it was) it looks more like a t-bone incident, which would explain my dad's injuries and why they were so severe. Things sucked for my dad's last year here. He lost most of his freedom (yes, it was his fault. You don't make modified fireworks, and set them off near your own apartment. turns out it's a felony. A few of them.) He gained that and lost his right's to guns and so much more. And then he had the stroke which took away his ability to swallow, and was very rapidly taking his ability to speak. He was miserable. This was not the life he wanted to live, and I understand that. I really do. I don't think I could live like that either. I visited him in June for a couple days, and we had a great time. And that is really important now. Really important. And then the accident. I've gotten bits and pieces of his life, and when we went to see him before he passed, he couldn't talk or really move. His hands jerked involuntarily, and that for some reason sticks with me. That's what flashes in my head. His hands restrained and still jerking and pulling. And when my step-mom got there she unrestrained him right away. Which is what I think he was trying to tell me and my brother. Neither of us were any good at reading his lips, and we didn't know he had the letter-board which would've helped so much. I don't know why the hands thing bothers me as much as it does. I guess it might have been the juxtaposition that the last time I saw him before that, he was playing guitar, and fishing, and using his hands, and then they were nothing but electrical currents. I need to stop talking about this. I don't need myself getting all worked up over something right before I try to get some sleep. I haven't been getting much the last few days.

Other than the weird start to the day, nothing else about it was even noteworthy. Just another Wednesday in a long line of them. Work was pretty slow. I think Sherry got annoyed by my choice of music. 90's and early 2000's pop. It was kind of funny when she came back from a smoke break, and I was singing along to Christina Aguilera's Candyman. She stopped right in her tracks. She says she's never surprised by the music I listen to because it is so erratic, but seeing me in all black, trimming a loin to size singing the line "He's a one stop shop, makes my panties drop" was just too much for her.

[deasbanker]

Weekend treat: take my parents to the Ghibli Museum in Mitaka for the first time, and we spend a refreshing time in a zoo as well as on a boat ride in Inokashira Park in the early summer sun!

29/4/2024（Day1 during the Golden Week）

When I was in high school, my parents were no interested in Ghibli nor eager to watch any of the films. So, I visited the Ghibli Museum in Mitaka alone and explored this place by myself. However, recently dad, 65, got open to anime and obsessed with Gigi from Kiki's Delivery Service without I noticed. Also, he's been immensely keen to take pictures with his fancy camera, which could be more important than his family, expecting to capture something touching within the premises in photograph（Yet, he knew the fact that taking pictures inside the building is prohibited in entering）.

Anyway, I felt somewhat glad then; this is because I was being with my parents, who wouldn't have any interest in it but now are sort of fans of it, in the place where I had been alone half a decade ago. In comparison with once, it was much crowded with people, and such minor details as dining area or some object by the entrance changed. Since I've obtained a bachelor's degree in Film Studies in college, I got to understand each exhibit more deeply than before, which I was satisfied with.

After we walked around and looked all over, we had a hotdog and fish-and-chips for lunch at the deck. Mom regretted not having stood in line at another restaurant which had a lot more options on the menu, though. While going down the stairs and heading toward Inokashira Park, which is located right next to the Ghibli Museum, I heard a man playing a song from the Ghibli movies on the violin. That was absolutely a synergistic effect.

When we walked across the park to a zoo, countless tiny leaves were fluttering and clung to our hairs and clothes; this made me feel that I couldn't get along with abundant nature at heart. Then, my parents and I popped in the zoo for the first time, and I was being excited to see goats in person（because I love ones）.

It was yet to become 1pm even after admiring each animal. We were off to Inokashira Pond for a boat ride. Despite the Golden Week now, it didn't take more time than I thought to wait in line. I chose a typical boat for 3 people and asked mom to row. Thanks to water and a pleasant breeze, that was so refreshing, and I managed to chill out from the bottom of my heart literally going with the flow on the water. I wished I had been able to stay there for good.

Subsequently, we headed over to Kichijoji station enjoying checking out some thrift clothing stores on the street. I, actually, didn't know how thriving the neighborhood of the park was and there were many clothing shops located side by side. Once you pass through the street, you'll face the shopping complex named Marui（OIOI）. I found that this complex didn't have attractive retails but food options for snacking; therefore, dad had matcha dessert, and mom ordered hojicha, which is also a kind of Japanese green tea, dessert. I was content to take plenty of pictures of them together for the day, because rarely have they had pictures taken together.

[sirchubbybunny]

It's almost 2:30am and I'm sick. I'm also full of feelings listening to a playlist I compiled for a friend, and while I'm polishing it up, I'm looking over Reddit to kill time until I feel well enough to sleep.

I just came across a family drama thread and it made me think about my grandma passing away last week. I still have weird feelings about it for a lot of reasons. I was disconnected from her and my grandpa at a young age due to my parents separating as a toddler and I never got to see them more than a few times before I refused to see my dad and step mom at some point.

My grandpa died sometime in the late 90s or start of the 2000s, which I had to find out the hard way. She outlived him by 23 or so years and I'm just thankful I got to see her one more time, a few months before the pandemic. In spite of all her health issues and dementia, my cousins [H & J] told me that she still remembers all of us - even me. I think she was okay with me being trans, too, which was what I was worried about.

The news about her dying was quiet. Subtle. J changed her profile picture to her holding someone's hand. Then, changed her banner to her and her sister [H], and our grandma together. The profile picture was my major hint and the banner confirmed it before I heard. Fast forward about two hours and my mom comes to me. I already know what she's going to ask.

"Have you heard the news?"

Yeah, I kind of drew my conclusion from the other side of the family.

That's when she told me that, out of nowhere, the phone rang. It was my dad. He said my grandma died and he was on his way to the hospital. My dad went radio silent on me ten years ago after I tried to reconnect with him and my step mom for support when I was coming out. They even visited me when I was in the ward. Then, after being involuntarily committed months later - nothing.

They weren't returning any my calls from the hospital payphone. They weren't returning my mom's calls or texts from any our numbers. This continued to happen after I got out, along with emails going unanswered. It was like they vanished. I didn't know until I met with H and grandma years later that she and J did some Scooby-Doo detective work and figured out he was still somewhat local, but farther out. If I go down a certain road, I can still find the last place the two of them lived when they drove me out to clear my head.

I was doing well for myself. He made a choice to go no contact with me, not the other way around. If he wanted to find me, he could have. I just accepted the silence as his answer.. But now, after all this time. Why he decided to pop his head back in by phone and not even bother to ask for me is what I don't get. I think he knows I met with H and my grandma, too. How, I'm not sure, unless I'm thinking about my mom saying she knows I met with them and not him hearing it through the grape vine.

I was working on coming to terms with him being out of the picture. I was sad and angry ten years ago. I was able to channel that into art. I was doing better. I thought I was. Now I feel like I'm devolving back to square one again and figuring out how to start over since I feel like it's just hanging over my head that maybe this time, things will be different.

Fuckin daddy issues at most 3am here. What a shit show note to bring us to the end of the year, right?

[misterellyott]

It's been a long time since I have even thought about this site. But, I recently got rid of my other sources for venting and just letting things out so I figured why not? Somewhere I can write about things that pop into my head and maybe just maybe get them out of my mind for a while.

Just before opening up this site I was looking through some of my google photos. Probably something that was better left alone, but I was doing it because I'm tired of the 'no more room left' notification.

That's when I saw a picture of my dad.

And it feels like centuries since I've seen him. But, it's only been roughly three years. Time moves so quickly and yet so slowly it seems almost like another universe.

I have to catch myself and stop myself from thinking about him occasionally. When I see someone who looks kind of like him I panic. Parts of me wishes he was still in our lives but another part knows that, that never could be.

He didn't love me or my son. We were his obligations, but never truly loved. Everything always came before us. And when I finally stood up to my father and told him that I was tired of the way he treated me and my son, he told me either deal with it or I'll leave.

And while I know it was the right thing to do, I look back and wonder why it had to be that way. What parent can look into their child's eyes and then just leave. He didn't truly say goodbye and it's been a rough ride since.

I was twenty eight, I'm thirty one now.

Sometimes, I wonder what he is doing, where he is at now in life after a third failed marriage. I wonder if he has connected so deeply with my sister that he no longer even thinks of me. And I think the part that hurts me, is truly believing that he has no remorse over leaving.

I pray every single day that I do right by my son so that he doesn't choose to go no contact with me after he has moved out. Isn't that what a parent is suppose to want?

To be there to support their child living the life the CHILD wanted, not the life the parent wanted for the child?

I mean, my life isn't perfect. But, I don't think I could have or would have changed anything. Sure, we are struggling right now, but who isn't? We are gonna make it out of this and look back and be like, wow that time seemed like it would last forever but here we are.

I just... idk.

I used to think about what life would be like after I grew old and my parents die. I never imagined my mom dying when I was young and my dad walking out like I never even existed in his life.

But, I'm going to do my absolute best to make sure that I do what I can and my son always stays in my life.

If he comes to me and tells me I've done something wrong, or hurt him. I will beg him to explain it to me so that I can work to change whatever it is so that I never do it again. My son, like my wife, is my life and I want them here. Ego, pride, etc, be damned.

I just wish my own parent had felt this way.

Maybe then my family wouldn't be so alone.

[hoagmaster]

Cody's Indiana Jones revisit

I wound up marathoning all five Indiana Jones movies this past week in the lead-up to the new one, which included four of them in the past two days. They're touting this fifth one as the last, which is probably at least the third time we've heard that statement but we'll see if that holds. (The middling box office numbers of the new one certainly won't help its cause for continuing.)

A marathon to the new one is actually what I did before the fourth movie because at the time I knew -of- the series but not much beyond what was often referenced in pop culture. I think my thoughts have stayed largely consistent with each picture since my first viewings, but have some longer thoughts.

(Maybe mildish spoilers follow?)

Raiders of the Lost Ark - If I was tasked with showing someone the "best" Indiana Jones movie, as in what best represents what people might know the series for, I'd point to this one. It's fleet, exciting, and always engaging from start to finish. Plus, I daresay Harrison Ford in this movie might be the dreamiest a guy has ever looked on camera.

Temple of Doom - This is a contentious and likely problematic picture, for good reason. Older movies' depictions of Indigenous cultures may not always be the most sensitive and this is where it's probably at its worst with this series. You've got characters who are probably less integral to the plot than the first movie and the tone can get pretty uneven at parts. But despite all that, or maybe because of some of it, this one actually sticks with me the most. I remember all the zaniness more than some of the other movies. It has my favorite action sequence in the whole series with the mine cart chase. It has my favorite piece of music besides the main theme ("Slave Children's Crusade"). I can agree with many of the criticisms but happily stick with it as my favorite entry.

The Last Crusade - Maybe the one I've cooled on the most because a lot of it wounds of feeling familiar to bits of the first movie. But it's not really a problem when it's done well, which is the case here. Most of the family actually sat down for this rewatch and we were all into it, which was neat. All told, a good time.

Kingdom of the Crystal Skull - Oh boy, now is where the wheels fall off. The worst thing to ever happen to this franchise. Depends on who you ask, I suppose. I've always kind of enjoyed this one for what it does, which held true on this rewatch. I can see the issues and agree with them like the second movie. But while my enthusiasm never reaches the levels for that movie I can still watch and have a good enough time. And on a more personal note, I just don't think I can bring myself to dislike it because of what happened to me afterward. See, I was a young Cody who used to read and write fanfiction a lot more frequently on an old site back in the day. It was right after I watched this movie for the first time and came across a story written by someone who purportedly was spurred to write their piece after seeing this one as well. I left them some kind words and they soon returned to the favor. One thing led to another, and I can say they've been one of my most cherished friends for 15 years. They know who they are, so if nothing else I can always thank this movie for that.

Dial of Destiny - And now we get to this new one, which as stated previously is reportedly the last one. Without going into too much detail as it is still in theaters and just opened, I got to say it felt like they just played the hits a bit too often. The opening sequence feels like something right from the first couple movies and the ending sequence gets suitably over-the-top for the series, but the middle is a whole lot of wandering around. We get plenty of callbacks, some that made me smirk (they mention specific events from a certain movie for one) and some that made me tilt my head (eeh, the way they resolve someone from a previous movie). What we end up with is the most "fine" movie in the series. But considering how entertaining and engaging most of these movies can be a lot of the time, simply being "fine" feels like a noted step down. For something that is reported as being the end, it feels like a weak note to go out on. Even though I'm fine with the fourth movie, I can agree with calls it should have ended with the third one. (But then maybe I would have never met that friend and we'd have a paradox or something...)

Then after some thought, I can give my series ranking:

Temple of Doom

Raiders of the Lost Ark

The Last Crusade

Kingdom of the Crystal Skull

Dial of Destiny

But really, I'd say they're all worth a watch. Plenty of good times to be had with them and I'm glad I decided to give this series a shot.

Now to figure out what to watch next!

[rbbrbikerthorp]

From Work Stressed to Smoking Skinhead

[Initially, I’d intended this to be a one-off story, but the set-up has taken so long that there’s going to have to be a second part. Enjoy!]

I’m Gaz, I’m 31. I’m a skinhead. In the picture you can see what I look like, now that my new m8s have transformed me, and have made me unrecognisable from the person I once was.

But, I’m getting ahead of myself. Before I forget who I was, let me tell you about how I came to be here. I had a job that some would describe as being a stressful way to earn a living. I was one of those office drones who chased figures every month. As part of my job, I was required to travel, often several times a week; this could be to London, Birmingham, Edinburgh, or where-ever our customers were based. In preference to sitting in traffic on the motorway, taking the train was the stress-free way to travel. It meant I could use the time to check reports or presentations and, on the way, home I’d catch up on any emails that needed dealing with.

So, this one day when my life changed forever, I had a table seat booked on the 6:40am to London, but when I looked at the departure board and saw the word every traveller dreads, ‘cancelled’ was posted against my train. So like dozens of other passengers heading for the capital on that day I was told to catch the next train. When I climbed on board, I realised the train was already very crowded. I’d struggle to get any seat, let alone find a table seat. I walked through three carriages, but there was no empty seats. Just as I was about to accept that I’d be standing in the vestibule, I heard, “Oi, fella...” a voice. Was that aimed at me?

I turned around. “Here fella, the window seat is free”. So, he was talking to me. I was so grateful for the offer of the seat that, other than his shaved head, (which is normal for many guys these days), At this point I hadn’t taken much notice of him. I thanked the shaved headed guy then I got my laptop out of my bag, which I put up on the luggage rack. Then I took off my jacket hung it on the peg next to the window and plonked myself down in the seat. Very quickly I was lost catching up on a report I needed to finish.

As soon as the train departed, I heard the familiar sound of cans being opened and the familiar smell of beer, which wasn’t that appealing at this time of day. “You look really stressed mate. You should have one of these.” 

I looked up watch, it was just after seven in the morning, “er, what?” I asked. It was then that I realised I was looking at a guy with a completely shaved head, wearing what I thought was a black polo shirt and green kind of bomber jacket.

“You heard. Do yer want a can, a beer?” it was a different voice. I looked up from my screen to see another guy with a shaved head. He was holding out a can of beer, one I didn’t recognise. “I’m Sam by the way.” That’s Billy already ‘on the pop’, and this”, pointing at a slightly older looking guy in the other aisle seat, “is Jimmy.”

“Oh, no thanks. I should have been on the earlier train, but it got cancelled. I didn’t think I’d get a seat on this train because it’s so busy. I’ve got a meeting that starts at 9:30 and I’ve got a report to prepare for it.”

Jimmy quickly chirped in, “Come on”, pulling the ring-pull, “that’s over two hours from now, here.” He grabbed my hand and gave me the can.

“No, honestly, it’s very kind of you, but I’ve...”

Sam interrupted, and I looked over at him. “Listen, I can see how stressed you are right now. I can see the sweat on yer top lip. You need to relax or yer gonna blow a fuse. I bet you’ll be talking bollocks all day in the hope of closin’ a sale or summit’. Chill m8, you can surely spare a few minutes to have a beer. And it would show us how much you appreciate us giving you the seat. Now, you know our names, tell us yours.”

Reluctantly, but out of politeness, I accepted the can. and said “Cheers. I’m Gareth  by the way, Gareth Fairburn” Not really sure why I included my surname. They all looked at me as I took my first swig of the beer, and coughed “Wow, that’s got a kick.”

“Yeah, but you’ll get used to it after a few swigs”, said Billy. “I fact I’m pretty sure it’ll be your drink of choice when we’re done with you.”

“You know this is very nice of you...” I said, about to get back to working my report. But before I could look down, I saw Jimmy’s hand reach across and shut the lid on my laptop. I could see letters on the knuckles and there was a bird tattoo on the back of his hand. “C’mon fella, put your work stress aside for a bit and have a natter with us while you sup your beer.” 

Jimmy read me like a book, I was stressed. I was on my way to see a key customer; one that knew how important they were to the business I worked for and would make me jump through hoops to get the contract renewed. I knew I had to finish the report because I’d promised to email it ahead of my meeting. I was thinking about looking for another seat, when Jimmy coughed to get my attention. I looked up at him; He had that rough but good-looking appearance. Until then, I hadn’t noticed the ink on his neck, it looked like some ancient design but I couldn’t really see it properly. It was the first time I noticed the rings in his ears too. He grinned at me. I watched him swig his beer from the can. At that point I knew wasn’t heading off to a stressful meeting. He wouldn’t be selling his soul to get a contract renewed.

Jimmy leaned forward and I could smell his smokey breath. “Right, let me tell you how it’s going to be Gaz, my boi. We’ll take your stress away, but before we can help you need to tell us about who you are and what you do. Got it?” 

Billy belched several times, The belches were so loud and the other people looked up from their laptops and tablets to see where the sound was . He slammed his empty can of beer down on the table in front of me. “So m8 what do you do?”

My heart was pounding; yet suddenly, I felt that a weight lifted from my shoulders. These guys had shown an interest in me. No one normally did that, not my boss, not my customers, not my family. They wanted to help with my stress. So, I took another swig from the can - I wondered whether people really like this taste? Anyway, I began telling them was a commercial development manager.  

“You in sales then Gaz?” Billy interrupted. 

“I guess you could put it that way,” I replied 

“Keep drinking mate, it’ll help yer stress go away for now.” I did as I was told and took another swig from the can Jimmy pulled another one out of the bag and pushed it towards me. “See, we’ve got plenty. And we want to help de-stress our new m8.”

I was about to take another swig of beer when I remember, “...ah, I’ve got to do this report, or I’ll be.”

Sam jumped in. “You’ve got plenty of time.” Like the other two, he had a shaved head, but he also had a gold ring in his nose, when he talked, I could see a stud in his tongue and there were tattoos in multiple places.

“Yeah, Gaz plenty of time to do work boring shit...I bet you work all hours of the day and night. That’s why you get stressed.” 

I was about to say I did, but they spoke first. “Here you are Gaz, you can have another can with us. If you want, we can give you a stress-free life” 

“If only.” I sighed.

“Listen m8, we can make all those worries go away,” Sam was leaning up close to me now. 

I realised I was slurring my speech at this stage, “Please, my name is Gareth. Look, I’ve a lease on my flat, I’ve got car payments to make and I’m running an overdraft right now. I don’t think you can make that go away” I replied, feeling slightly sick at the amount of debt I was funding. 

“Don’t you fret about all of that,” The other two joined in, “let us take charge and your problems will be gone.” 

What could I say to that? So I smiled a knowing smile and thought I’d humour my skinhead m8s. Hemmed in the way I was, I couldn’t escape even if I wanted to. I don’t really remember too much more of the conversation as my three new m8s plied me with beer; but it was me talking and they were listening. At the time I didn’t realise they were that whilst I was taking relatively big gulps of beer, they were only taking small sips from their own cans.

An announcement came on the tannoy to say the next stop would be Doncaster. Jimmy piped up, “Right lads, we’re here. Gaz, get up and we’ll show you how to live stress-free.” Through my haze, I didn’t really know what was going on. Then all of a sudden, I felt someone grab my arm, pulling me out of the seat. I was about to get my stuff when Billy came really close to me and said, “Come on Gaz, we gotta go. Now!” 

“Why do they insist on calling me Gaz?” I wondered

“[Burp] Hang on guys my name’s Gareth, and I’m going to a mee...” I was cut short by Billy again. “You’re meeting has just been cancelled, so you’re gonna be spending the day taking it easy with us. And we’re calling you Gaz, so get used to it. Let’s go.”

“What about my stuff?” I was trying to pull back so that I could grab my bag, coat and laptop. But Billy and Sam pulled me along the carriage. I tried to pull in the opposite direction, the direction of my belongings, but they were too strong for me. I had allowed myself to be marched off the train by two of my three new skinhead m8s who were going to ‘help me’ get rid of all my anxieties. 

Once off the train, I turned around to hear the audible warning that the doors were about to close started, I was watching the train doors slide into the closed position when Jimmy came up to me holding a lit cigarette. 

Blowing the smoke in my face, he spoke with reassured confidence. “The train’s departing and as you watch it leave, think this: with it goes your old life. With it goes all of your stresses and problems.” I watched the train pull out of the station, and he was right, on board were all my possessions, including my wallet and phone. I was about to panic, but Billy and Sam were beside me, holding me. Jimmy offered me a cigarette to which I declined. He came into my face and said, “take it,” he ordered. “It’s the first step to getting rid of all that stress. We’re m8s. If yer m8s smoke, then you smoke!”

I was still under the influence of whatever beer I’d been drinking, so gingerly I took the cigarette, but I didn't know how to hold it. Billy got his lighter out and lit it. “Put it between your lips and start sucking Gaz.” So, I sucked in as the flame touched the end of the cigarette. My fingers, clamped on the little cigarette, which, as you would expect for a novice was poorly positioned in my mouth. The smoke, ashy and light, filled my mouth, made my eyes water. I coughed on every drag, even though I barely inhaled. My three skinhead m8s were beside themselves with laughter. I noticed passengers gathering for the next train, and I heard them comment about smoking being banned in stations, but new m8s didn't care. Once I’d finished the first cigarette, Jimmy handed me another. “Right, here’s what you do. Put the cigarette between your lips. When I light it, gently suck the smoke - nice ‘n’ steady into your lungs.”

I gave it a go and found this time I wasn’t spluttering everywhere. 

Jimmy continued, “now hold the smoke in yer lungs, and breathe in through your mouth.” I did as I was instructed. Jimmy reached into the pocket of his green jacked, as he was pulling out the contents, he said, “these are yours now. If we are going help alleviate you of your work stress you need to get through these. When you’ve finished that one, light up another.”

It wasn’t a request; it was an instruction.

Sam, who’d been talking on his phone during this time chipped in, smiling at me, “nice one m8, you’ll be smoking twenty a day before you know it.” 

I just nodded, not taking much notice of what was going on as I tried to master smoking a cigarette.

Sam turned to the other two skinhead, “Tony said he’s got no appointments this morning and he can be at the studio in ten minutes. It will take us about that long to walk there with Gaz, even in the state he’s in.” 

Hearing my name, piqued my interest in their conversation, “wh... wh. where ere are we going?”

Billy jumped in, “we’re taking you to another m8′s gaff. His work is transformative. In no time at all your work worries will be a faded memory.”

Sam has started sniggering, so had Jimmy, but then he managed to say, “Before we can go to Tony’s studio, we need to stop off with Gaz at the house. Let’s get a move on, we’ve a lot to do.”