#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."

[mattsobvimyfav]

roommates (matthew sturniolo)

the final.

It had been four years since that chaotic, heartbreaking day. Four years since Charlie and I had stormed out of the dorms, and left behind Matt, Chris, and Nick and that entire chapter of our lives.

In the years that followed, the little fame we had garnered from appearing in the triplets’ videos became a stepping stone for something much bigger. Charlie and I threw ourselves into creating content, documenting everything from our college experiences to our spontaneous adventures, and even sharing vulnerable moments about personal growth and moving on.

The hard work paid off. Our YouTube channel blew up, amassing millions of subscribers. On TikTok, we were even bigger, By the time we graduated college three months ago, we had become well-known influencers in our own right, working with major brands and having multiple other influencers collabing with us.

But through all of that, there had been one rule we both followed without question: we didn’t speak about the triplets. Ever.

At first, fans flooded our comments asking about them. There were edits of Matt and me, of Charlie and Chris. Some even romanticized our fallout. But over time, the questions faded as our own content overshadowed the past. For over a year, there hadn’t been a single mention of them on our platforms.

In those four years, I rebuilt myself. I learned to let go of the hurt, piece by piece. And now, I was happy. I even had a boyfriend, Leonard, who I’d been dating for eight months. He wasn’t flashy or overly romantic, but he was dependable, and kind. He grounded me in a way I didn’t think anyone could after Matt.

Today, Leonard had helped us load our bags into my car before kissing me goodbye. Charlie and I were heading to the airport, about to embark on a new chapter of our lives in Los Angeles. We’d been offered incredible opportunities to work with major brands, collaborate with influencers, and expand our content. We’d also decided to live together, finding comfort in the bond that had carried us through so much.

As The uber drove us to the airport, Charlie was buzzing with excitement, scrolling through Pinterest for decor ideas. “What do you think about a gallery wall in the living room?” she asked, turning the phone to show me.

I smiled, glancing at her briefly. “I love it. Just don’t let me handle the measurements this time. Remember the disaster with the string lights?”

She laughed, shaking her head. “I still can’t believe you used duct tape.”

We pulled into the airport parking lot, and for a moment, the reality of what we were doing hit me. This wasn’t just a trip. This was the start of something huge, a completely new life.

As we grabbed our bags and made our way to the terminal, Charlie grabbed my hand, squeezing it tightly. “Can you believe we’re doing this?”

I looked at her, my best friend who had been through everything with me, and nodded. “I can’t believe we made it here.”

Four years ago, I thought I’d lost everything. But now, as we boarded the plane to Los Angeles, I realized I hadn’t lost anything that truly mattered. Charlie and I had built something incredible out of the ashes, and this was just the beginning.

A week into our trip to LA, Charlie and I stood outside a beautiful two-story blue house on a quiet, tree-lined street. The kind of street where you could hear birds in the morning. It wasn’t overly fancy, but it had charm, and as soon as we saw it, we knew. This was the one.

The house had a wrap-around porch with white railing, The blue siding gleamed under the California sun, and there were flower boxes under the windows, some with blooming plants that added pops of color. It was perfect.

“I can already see it,” Charlie said, her eyes sparkling as she stood on the porch. “Us sitting out here, sipping coffee in the mornings. You editing videos, me thinking of video ideas… This is it.”

I smiled, looking up at the house, trying to picture what our lives would look like here. It was hard to believe how far we’d come. From two broken heart eighteen year old girls to traveling across the country to start fresh, this felt like the reward for every hard decision we’d made.

Inside, the house was just as inviting. Hardwood floors, big windows that let in so much light it felt like you were outside, and a kitchen with just enough character to feel homey without being outdated. There were two bedrooms upstairs—one for each of us—and a small extra room we immediately decided would be our “creative space.”

As the real estate agent handed us the paperwork to sign, Charlie nudged me with her elbow. “You sure about this?”

I nodded, a grin spreading across my face. “This is ours.”

By the time we walked out with the keys, the sun was setting, painting the sky in shades of pink and orange. Charlie unlocked the door, pushing it open dramatically and yelling, “Welcome home, baby!”

We laughed, running inside like kids, already talking about where we’d put our furniture and how we’d decorate for Halloween.

That night, as we sat on the floor eating takeout in our empty living room, it hit me. This wasn’t just a house; it was a new beginning. A place for us to grow, dream, and finally let go of the pieces of the past we’d been holding onto.

“This is gonna be good,” Charlie said, raising her smirnoff bottle in a toast.

“To us,” I replied, clinking mine against hers.

As Charlie and I sat cross-legged on the living room floor, laughing over our plans for the house, a sudden knock at the door startled us. We both froze, exchanging wide-eyed glances.

“Who could it be?” Charlie whispered, her voice barely audible.

“Maybe the real estate agent forgot something?” I suggested, though my stomach churned with unease.

We stood up, the mood shifting instantly from lighthearted to tense. Slowly, I made my way to the door, Charlie right behind me. My hand hesitated on the knob for just a second before I turned it and pulled the door open.

My heart stopped.

Standing on the other side of the door, looking older but all too familiar, were Matt, Chris, and Nick.

Matt’s eyes met mine first, his expression dropped, Chris looked like he was trying to form words but couldn’t, and Nick mouth was hanging open.

“Y/N”-

ROOMATES SEQUEL OUT NOW CHECK MASTERLIST

a/n- THANK YOU ALL SOOO MUCH FOR THE SUPPORT ON THIS SERIES I LOVE YOU ALL🩷 ITS BEEN A FUN RIDE

tag-

@ch0llies @namelesssav @christmastreecake @mattsturnii @larnieboox88 @izzylovesmatt @tbfaptbfae @2muchofaslvt @sturnioloshottiekay @rockstarchr1s @simply-a-simper @realuvrrr @sophia-77n @christophersstar @mattscore

[boyfriendchrisenthusiast]

how shy!matt and ladybug!reader met ꨄ

wc: 2225 words

warnings: none!

a/n: this is kinda long so I apologize.

dividers by: @bernardsbendystraws

Matt loved living alone. Being able to come and go without telling anyone where he was going, spending the whole day in his boxers, and sometimes not speaking at all the entire day. But after a while, he started to feel lonely. He knew he didn't want a roommate. Especially after living with his two brothers for 3 years prior to moving into his new home. He wanted to be able to be alone, but not feel lonely. which led him to the conclusion that he would adopt an animal.

Matt sits up in bed and reaches over to his nightstand, grabbing his computer. He flips it open and immediately opens a new tab. ‘Animal shelters near me’ he types into his browser. The first one that pops up is called “Purrs and Paws Rescue”. He clicks the website linked to the location page and is quickly brought to another page with dozens of pictures of animals. Cats, dogs, and even reptiles. He scrolls on the site for what feels like hours, smiling at all the pictures and clicking on them to read more about their personalities. He knew he needed an animal that was low maintenance but still provided him company and comfort. Which is why he ultimately decides to get a cat.

The next day, he climbs out of bed early. He was so excited to finally have a pet that was just his. He takes a quick shower, brushes his teeth and gets dressed all in only an hour. He does his final touch ups before he leaves, messing with his hair in the mirror. He walks out of his bathroom and grabs his keys off the kitchen counter on his way out the door.

It was a pretty typical day at work for you. Today, It was your job to help potential adopters meet their perfect match. Walking them through the facility and showing them animals that you think would make a good fit fir them and finally, giving these sweet babies the second chance they deserved. This was one of the parts of your job that you loved so dearly.

You sit behind the front desk with your coworkers, patiently waiting for customers to come in. It gets boring waiting around for people, but you pass time mindlessly scrolling on your phone until there is something better to do. suddenly the door chimes ring, you sit up straight to appear more approachable to the incoming client. In walks a cute brunette boy, a smile resting on his face as he waits at the desk. “Welcome in! What can I help you with today?” I ask flashing him a quick smile.

“I was looking to adopt?” He stuttered, immediately moving his eyes to the ground. A small blush creeps across his cheeks as he turns his head away.

“Yay!! What kind of animal were you looking to adopt today?” You respond with enthusiasm.

“Um I was looking at maybe a cat… you know something low maintenance.” He says looking into your eyes, trying to read your expression.

“Perfect! If you'd like to follow me I'll walk you through our facility and we can discuss what you're looking for exactly.” I stand up, motioning him to follow after me. He turns to follow behind me silently. “Before we start what's your name?” I ask him tucking my hair behind my ear.

“My name's Matt, you?”

“Y/n.”

“Pretty name” he mutters, almost barely audibly. He doesn't know what confidence washed over him, but it felt right.

“Oh thank you.” Your cheeks heat up, a pink blush washes over your face. Quickly you try to divert the subject off of yourself. “So, you're looking for a low maintenance cat? Do you have kids,roommates, a partner?” You technically didn't need to know if he had a girlfriend, but it didn't hurt to ask. Plus, you couldn't help yourself. He was exactly your type.

“No, no, and no. I live by myself. Just looking for something to keep me company. I've always loved animals so I thought it would make the most sense.” he explains while walking next to you now.

“We have a lot of options for you then! I can introduce you to some of my favorites and we can go from there.” I smile at him, noticing the way his eyes dart away. Almost hiding embarrassment or shyness. You turn the corner together into a smaller room, the walls lined with cat cages. Each cat having a name tag with their likes and dislikes on it. He was in awe seeing all of them here, even recognizing a few from the website he looked at. They had everything. Persians,Tabbys, Tuxedos, you name it. There was one in particular though, that caught Matt's eye. A shy calico cat, sitting in the back of the cage who is clearly uninterested in his presence.

You notice him stop at the cage, smiling softly at the small animal. “Oh that's Bea. Someone picked her up off the street a couple weeks ago and dropped her off here. She's only a year old, so she's still a baby. She's not super social, but she's a doll.” You explain looking between him and the cat. You found it cute how he'd chose the one that most people just ignore. “If you'd like, we can take her to the meeting room! See how your initial chemistry is.” you smile back at him, hoping he'd take you up on the offer.

“Yeah, I'd actually love that.” He thanks you, making eye contact for a little longer than anticipated. His shyness peaks through, as he nervously runs his hand through his hair, turning his head away. You open the door of the cage, putting your hand out gently for Bea to sniff, letting her know you weren't there to hurt her. She had always liked you, so she quickly rubs her head into your hand allowing you access to pet her. You suddenly scoop her up into your arms as she lets out a meow in annoyance.

“Ok if you wanna follow me” I motion towards me walking towards the door to the meeting room. “I think you're going to love her, it might take a little for her to warm up but she might be exactly what you're looking for.”

“Her colors are so pretty” He says admiring the cat, who's head is turned looking at him.

“Aren't they?”

You stop at the door, slowly opening it and bending down letting the cat free from your grasp. The room is decorated with pastel paw print painted on the walls, and various toys scattered across the floor. Matt follows behind you as you close and lock the door to the room. Bea immediately starts investigating the room, sniffing around all the toys and the small carpet in the middle of the floor. You open the door to the closet in the corner of the room, taking out two cushions for you and matt to sit on. You toss them on the carpet, sitting down on one and looking at matt to sit down next to you.

“Bea, come here baby” You coo at her trying to lure her over to where you and matt are sitting. You make clicks with your mouth trying to grab her attention. She trots over to you, rubbing against your side. Matt puts his hand out for her to sniff, as she determines whether she would trust him or not. “It's ok sweetie he won't hurt you” you talk to her, as if she could understand you. Suddenly she slowly walks towards him, testing the waters before allowing him to pet her.

“Hi there… you're so cute…” he speaks softly at her, scratching the top of her head. Your heart melts at the sight. It was rare to see a man, especially his age, be so gentle towards a cat. Most guys your age don't like cats. They say they're mean or not playful enough. While Matt is loving every second of this, getting lost in the act of loving on this sweet little baby. The room is filled with silence besides the occasional sound of meows and purs.

“So, Matt what do you do for work?” You ask wanting to know more about him. Becoming increasingly infatuated by his nature.

“Oh uh I work at a record store.”

“Really? I love music. I go to concerts like every 3-5 business days” You giggle softly.

He chuckles at your words, while internally admiring the sound of your laugh. “What kind of music you into?” He questions, wondering if your music taste is similar to his.

“Well honestly, I listen to a little bit of everything. I think my main genres are pop, r&b, and indie.” He smiles at this, realizing you did like some of the same genres. He looks down at the cat, still giving her attention as she purs in comfort.

“Maybe you should stop by sometime, we have all kinds of cool records. You know, only if you want..” He says nervously, hoping you'd take him up on the offer.

“Oh absolutely, I'd love to.” You smile back at him. The room falls quiet for a moment after, while matt struggles to find words to say. “You know, I think she really likes you. I've never seen her like this with anyone. Seems like she's met her match.” You point out, hoping he'd love her as much as you do.

“I really like her, when would I be able to take her home?” He asks looking back up at you.

“You can take her home today! I'll just have you fill out some paperwork and as long as you're able to pay then she's all yours.” you say standing up. “Do you feel comfortable holding her for a minute while I grab a travel carrier?”

“Yeah yeah sure.” He gently and hesitantly approachs her, attempting to not scare her. He wraps his arms around the small cat, carefully trying to keep her calm. He holds her in his arms, petting the top of her head gently. He watches as you leave the room momentarily. “You're going home today…” he whispers to the small animal in his arms. You walk back in the room quickly with a cat carrier.

“Ok here we are. If you just wanna put her in here. She might fight you a little bit but don't worry she's not a bitter or anything.” you laugh as he struggles a little bit getting her in the crate. She lets out loud, unamused meows from inside, clawing at the bars of the carrier.

“it's ok, you'll be out soon.” He whispers gently to her, trying to calm her down. “uhm- y/n I was just wondering. Do you want my number? Just to you know, check in on her maybe. Or if you still wanted to check out my store-” he stutters on his words, getting nervous you might reject him or shoot him down.

“Oh- yes please.” You interrupt his stuttering, pulling your phone out of your back pocket. “Here, you can type your number in.” You hold out your unlocked phone for him, anticipating him finally punching his numbers in. Quickly, he wipes his somewhat sweaty palm on his jeans hoping you didn't notice. He grabs the phone from you and swiftly types his number in and shoots himself a quick message, making sure it goes through.

You walk back up to the front of the building, Matt following closely behind you, now holding the cat carrier. When you reach the lobby, you walk behind the desk as he goes in front of it, ready to check out. You reach under the desk into a storage cabinet, grabbing out papers to fill out. “Ok so you'll just have to fill out your information on these papers, so if you'd like to take a seat and bring these back up when you've finished that would be great.” You explain handing over the papers attached to a clipboard, and a pen. He takes a seat in one of the chairs in the lobby, setting the carrier on the small coffee table next to him. Every few minutes he looks back over to you, catching you staring at him momentarily before you dart your eyes away. You put your head down blushing.

Matt finishes his paperwork, bringing it back up to where you're sat and lays it on the desk. You look over the papers, making sure all the information was there. “Perfect, and you're paying with card I assume?” You ask while he starts pulling out his wallet.

“Uh yeah card” He hesitates before taking out the card.

“Your total is $100” You confirm spinning the cars reader towards him. You watch as he swipes his card and puts it back in his wallet. “Well, looks like you're all set. Keep me updated on Bea yeah, I'm gonna miss having her here!” You add, almost a hint of sadness in your voice.

“Don't worry, I will. Thanks for all your help today. I'll see you around then, yeah?” He suggests, nervously twiddling his fingers.

“Yeah, uh- I'll see you.” You say, giving him one last smile before he turns around, cat in hand, and walks out the front door.

a/n: soo im finally putting out my first fic. I introduced this au a WHILE ago but I was really nervous to actually put anything out. I've been very nervous about being perceived or just opinions from peers in general. Also, I'm sorry there's not much actual fluff in here I'm trying to make this sound realistic and well thought out😭 Likes, reblogs, and positive feedback will be greatly appreciated. I love you all and I really hope I can do this au justice because I love them sm.

[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.

[heresmaitake]

Saturday Thoughts

Happy Saturday! It’s been a little bit over a month since I moved to a new country, and honestly? I’ve been loving it! Super busy, but in a good way. Anyway, random thought popped into my head, so here we go… So, there’s this guy I’ve liked for a long time back then. When I think back, I can’t even remember a time when he wasn’t in my thoughts in some way. It started back when I was a teenager, and I had one of those classic crushes, the kind that makes your heart race whenever you see them or even think about them. He wasn’t just any guy, though. I genuinely thought he was handsome hahaha. I mean, sure, I was young and idealistic, but there was something about him that just caught my attention. Even after I turned 18 (yay young adult), that feeling didn’t really go away, even though I tried to move on with my life. I would still find myself checking his social media every now and then, just to see what he was up to.

But you know what’s funny? I know he had several girlfriends throughout those years when I was still secretly (or not?) liking him, and yet, it never really bothered me. I mean, yeah, when I first realised my feelings for him, I felt that sting of jealousy. It was hard at first, especially when I saw him with someone else, and I couldn’t help but wish it was me. But as time passed, that jealousy just faded away. It was almost like I realised that those feelings weren’t really mine to hold onto, and I couldn’t keep holding onto something that wasn’t real. It’s not that I didn’t care, I did, but the jealousy never stuck with me.

Maybe I was just selflessly liking him? It wasn’t like I wanted him to be mine, or like I was holding onto hope that one day he’d feel the same way. It was more like I simply wanted to like him from afar, to hold onto that feeling of warmth and admiration without the pressure of wanting anything back. I think it was about feeling that connection, even if it was one-sided. There’s something comforting in liking someone without wanting anything in return, without expectations. In a way, it felt like I was rooting for his happiness, even if that happiness had nothing to do with me (lol so dramatic). I wanted him to have the life he deserved, even if it wasn’t with me. And maybe that’s a strange and cringey realisation, but it’s true. (i'm actually cringing rn)

Looking back, our interactions were few and rare, just the occasional chat every few years, maybe? Honestly, I don’t quite remember, but if I had to guess, I probably talked to him twice or thrice over the course of ten years. It was never anything significant, just small exchanges that never led to anything more. But the last time we talked, something unexpected happened. That nostalgic, fluttery feeling I hadn’t felt in so long came rushing back. It caught me off guard, like a brief moment of déjà vu, a memory of something that once felt so important to me. But I knew right away, it wasn’t because I still loved or liked him or anything like that.

You know that feeling, right? When someone you once liked reaches out, and for a split second, it feels like magic? Like time folds in on itself, and suddenly, you’re back in a version of yourself who used to care so deeply? It was almost like a flashback to a simpler time, when I still carried those feelings in my chest, when he still held a certain significance in my life. But just as quickly as that feeling arrived, reality settled in. I realised how much time had passed, how different we’d become, and how our lives had drifted in completely separate directions. He was no longer the guy I had spent so many years liking, and I was no longer the person who looked at him that way. We were just two people who used to exist in the same space, and now, we were little more than strangers.

And you know how when you get older, you start thinking more realistically about relationships? Like, when you like someone, you picture what a future with them would actually look like, and at some point, it just clicks whether it would work or not. That’s exactly what happened with this guy. I mean, I don’t really know much about his personal life because we don’t talk about that stuff, so maybe it’s wrong of me to assume. But from what I’ve seen, he’s the type who’s always out and about, living the "cool kid in the city" life, super social, doing all the things I don’t. And me? I’m the complete opposite.

I do love hanging out with my friends, but my idea of fun is more like chilling at a café, strolling through a park, or just spending a quiet evening at home. I actually enjoy cooking (even though half the time my recipes turn into disasters), working, studying (yep, I’m back to being a student, lol), playing games by myself, and spending time with my niece. Sure, I like going out, but for me, that usually means shopping, running errands, eating out with family and friends, or working out. I’m just not into drinking, smoking, or partying, it’s just not my thing. I'm not claiming that my lifestyle is better than his or vice versa, and I'm not here to judge other people's lifestyle, it’s just, you know… different. On top of that, I’m a Muslim, and I live by Islamic principles because that’s what I believe in. I also grew up in a household where no one smoked or drank. My dad, mom, even my brother-in-law don’t, so I’ve always had a clear idea of the kind of life I want to live, no matter what changes around me.

So when I think about this guy, yeah, he’s physically attractive, and I know I once liked him for that. But I’ve realised that if I ever tried to make something happen, we’d just clash. I wouldn’t want to change my lifestyle to match his, and I’m sure he wouldn’t want to change his to match mine. And honestly? That’s okay. I’m not trying to mold myself into someone else just to fit into their life, and I don’t expect anyone to do that for me either. So, I just let the thought go. I’ve kept my distance, not because I dislike him, but because I don’t want to fall back into those old feelings again.

It was really just a lingering crush that stayed with me over the years, something that quietly existed in the background of my life, even as I moved forward. But at some point, without even realising it, I let go of the idea of anything ever happening between us. There was no dramatic moment of closure, no big realisation, it just faded with time, like an old song I used to love but no longer felt the need to replay. A long time ago, I made peace with it. I accepted that we were never meant to be anything more than a small chapter in each other’s lives, and I genuinely became okay with that.

But still, when you’ve liked someone for that long, the “what if” never completely disappears. It’s not something that keeps me up at night or affects my life in any real way, but every now and then, a random memory will surface, and for a brief second, I’ll wonder how things could’ve turned out if circumstances had been different. It’s more of a passing thought than a lingering hope, one that comes and goes without leaving any weight behind. I don’t hold onto it, and I don’t dwell on it. If anything, it just reminds me of how much I’ve grown.

He was someone who left an impression on me, and I think that’s okay. Not every connection has to lead to something bigger. Some people come into your life and shape you in quiet, unexpected ways, even if they were never meant to stay. He was a part of my story, not the whole thing, and that’s more than enough.

When we last talked, I already knew I’d be leaving the country soon, chasing my goals and starting a new chapter in my life. Because of that, I made a rule for myself, not to catch feelings, not to get too close to anyone before I left. It wasn’t about him specifically, it was just something I knew I needed to do for myself. I didn’t want to deal with the mess of a long-distance relationship or even the long-distance version of a crush. It’s not that I don’t believe those things can work, but I know myself. I know how exhausting it is to try to keep something alive across different time zones, missed calls, and long gaps of not seeing each other.

My last relationship was tough. It drained me in ways I didn’t expect, affecting my work, my happiness, even the way I saw myself. It was a hard lesson, but I learned from it. And now, as I step into this new chapter of my life, I know I need to focus on myself, on my goals, my growth, and the life I’m building. I can’t afford to get caught up in old habits or feelings that hold me back.

So no, I’m not hoping for anything to happen with him. That part of my life, no matter how important it once felt, is over. And I’m okay with that. But if there’s one thing I still hold onto, probably because he was once a friend and he was someone that left an impression at one point in my life, I hope that he’s happy. I hope life is treating him well, that he’s surrounded by good people, and that he’s doing things that bring him joy.

Because at the end of the day, he was someone who even in a small way, left a mark on my life. And as I move forward, I can honestly say I’m happy too. I’m doing my best to create a life that feels full and meaningful. And maybe that’s the best kind of closure, knowing I get to move on, live my life, and find happiness in my way.

xixixi this got way longer than I planned lol. Been listening to Lizzy McAlpine - Apple Pie on repeat while typing this. Not related to anything I just wrote, but yeah, good song. 🎶

[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?