#like I’ve been in classes for the past 20 years of my life

[singlethread]

I should be excited that I’m done with lectures and classes at the end of the month but instead I’m absolutely petrified

[evermarch]

“like the geese, we really did mate for life.”

an interesting thing about the sotr epilogue is that, despite its placement in the early years post-war, where haymitch would be in his mid-40s, it feels like it’s set at the end of his life. his tone is reflective. he speaks often in past tense. he talks about lenore dove coming to him, and he uses her language, saying that he’s not sure he’ll be in the “old therebefore” much longer. how his liver’s destroyed and he’s not sobering up, even if he’s not drinking for the same reasons.

but this is the same book where we saw one poor little girl transformed into another. the same series where skin grafts grow easily in a lab. where “genetic manipulation” class is part of the core curriculum before university. where mutts with practically supernatural abilities are designed at will. where the capitol populace has a notable substance abuse problem. in my mind, there’s no way transplanting a liver, a regenerating organ, particularly in a district whose new industry is medicine, isn’t possible.

so, to me, haymitch isn’t near the end of his life unless he chooses not to pursue a future. which he very well could. as he says, “when my time comes, it comes, but i’ve no idea when that will be.” but i think there’s a lot of evidence that he would choose to stick around. or at least, to try. namely, his lenore dove telling him he can’t go to her yet. because he needs to look after his family. and geese, for one thing, have an average life span of 10, 15, 20 years.

whether haymitch is or is not at the end of his life, i think it’s clear that he has not and does not intend to marry or have children beyond katniss and peeta. but i think the wording of the line which best establishes that is notable. “lenore dove likes it best [in the meadow], and I’m content where she’s content. like the geese, we really did mate for life.”

when he reflects on the life he’s already lived, he uses past tense. when he talks about his life now, on his reasons for sticking around with katniss and peeta, haymitch uses present tense. lenore dove exists in both places. throughout the epilogue, she exists in the present. she grows older with him. so i think it’s interesting that haymitch uses past tense tense for this one line. “we really did mate for life.”

that’s not to say that haymitch ever “moves on,” because that’s a false characterization of people who lose their loves in the first place. however, i think this line is past tense because it makes this question, like the rest of haymitch’s life, ambiguous. it also opens up discussion on what “mating for life” means. it’s a statement which implies exclusivity, but i don’t think necessitates it. because it’s not true that geese mate for life. they mate until one dies, after which the surviving goose mourns and then finds a new partner.

there’s room for a version of haymitch, who lives many years past the epilogue, who finds romantic attachment again.

if he does, he would not be replacing lenore dove. he would not be disgracing their romance or defiling their love. and 16 year old haymitch, believing he’s about to die, caught in the throes of the exploding tank and grief over ampert’s death, knew it, too. he was “furious” with himself that he didn’t tell lenore dove to “move on” from his death, because he was terrified of her living out her life haunted by his death. even while he desperately clung to her as he faced his imminent end, he was hoping she’d go on without him.

to love someone like all-fire is to love them enough to let them be free to go on after death. and that’s how haymitch loves lenore dove. and that’s how lenore dove loves him, too, because she is his goose. except haymitch has never been free to go on. the life haymitch was terrified for lenore dove to live is exactly the life he does live. from the end of the book, we know that he is doomed to repeat the 16th year of his life over and over again for 25 years. there’s no reprieve until katniss and peeta come into the picture.

yet, the epilogue’s tone is entirely different. it’s melancholy, but hopeful. he is no longer the 16 year old boy living in a repeating cycle of his own tragedy. when he next revisits it, it’s on his own terms. from that point on haymitch is finally allowed to grow up. to live a life in the “after.” to truly enter his mourning period. for someone new to join him in this new life would not mean he leaves behind lenore dove, or that she’s no longer his mate. because we know lenore dove stays with him, and will continue to stay with him, always.

and it’s likely that anyone with whom he finds comfort in his remaining years would carry someone with them, too. there’s no shortage of people who lost their loves in panem, whether from the war or before. there’s no shortage of people who would understand that his love likes it in the meadow. because maybe theirs tells stories around the fireplace in a creaky house in the seam. or fashions snares in the woods around district 12.

maybe 5, 10, 15 years in the future, when his geese are all grown up and two new goslings hatch, he’ll be an example of a different kind of love. of how new love is not a dilution of the love that was lost. of how lost love never dies, even as life goes on. of how love is not finite.

regardless of whether haymitch finds something resembling romantic love again, i am at least comforted by the thought that his end is much more peaceful than we dreamed it could be. because he has a family again. and because lenore dove is with him, too. and, no matter how long it takes for him to leave the old therebefore, she’s waiting for him in the next world.

[evie-sturns]

teach me - Chris Sturniolo

summary: you find out you’re bestfriend chris is a total virgin, and has never touched himself, you offer to teach him everything

contains: nsfw, sub!chris, virginity loss, inexperienced!chris, handjob, fluff.

——————————————————————————

chris and i have been friends for years, i met him in middle school when we were placed in the same class.

we tell eachother most things, but a topic that never gets brought up often between us is our personal sex life, obviously he makes dirty jokes every hour of the day but that’s about it.

i sit on the couch with chris as we yap about useless topics,

suddenly he goes dead silent.

“chris?” i question, inspecting his blank face. he shakes his head before speaking,

“what.” he mutters, my eyebrows furrow from the very unexpected change in attitude.

“what happened with you?” i ask, scooting closer to him on the couch and tracing my fingers over his knuckles.

“i can tell you anything right?” he whispers, my heart rate starts to subtly pick up.

“yes- of course!” i state with a nervous laugh.

he hesitates for a moment, his hand reaching up and rubbing the back of his neck.

“i’m like, really frustrated.” he says with no other context,

“frustrated? did i say something-“ i fidget with his hand.

“no! like… sexually frustrated-“ he says barely above a whisper.

my cheeks flush, that’s the first time chris has mentioned anything sexually involving him.

“oh? when was the last time you fucked a girl.” i ask calmly, he buries his face into his palms with a small groan

“never.” he whines quietly.

“what?”

“never!” he repeats slightly louder.

“you’re a virgin?” i ask, he nods shyly.

“you’re the most- i mean i just didn’t expect that-“ i ramble, trying to make him feel better.

“i’m honestly coming up on 21 and i’ve never done anything it’s so annoying.” chris speaks up.

“i get it, just do stuff with yourself.” i sigh,

“i don’t know how to..” he groans,

“you don’t know how to do what?” i ask,

“touch myself? i don’t fucking know-“ he says.

a small laugh escapes my lips, “you are literally the most horny man i know, how have you gone a solid 20 years without touching yourself.”

“i’ve never had a need to, but these past few months have been.. different” he laughs,

“jesus chris, i understand why you’re frustrated now.” i scoff,

he nods with a grin, a silence filling the living room.

he avoids eye contact before opening his mouth, “you’re like.. the only person who knows about that.”

i nod, “thank you for telling me chris.”

“so- you genuinely don’t know how to touch yourself?” i repeat,

“i mean i know how to but i’ve never tried- i did try once but i don’t think i did it right cause it didn’t feel good.” he sighs.

“i can teach you.” i blurt out, almost cutting him off. i clasp a hand over my mouth before spinning around.

he goes quiet, almost contemplating his decision.

“would you?- teach me..?” he whispers,

“i- i mean i guess” i reply,

how the fuck is this happening.

chris’s chest rises and falls more dramatically now, he runs a hand through his long silky hair.

i stand up off the couch, grabbing his hand and tugging him up.

i pull him down the corridor into his bedroom, “god what are the chances of you, chris sturniolo, being a total virgin?” i say in disbelief, his cheeks go red with a small laugh.

i sit him down on the edge of his bed, “we’re really doing this?” he asks,

“it’ll just be- normal, just a one time thing. i mean it’s a positive thing and you’ll finally be able to do stuff with yourself!” i smile,

“o-okay you can just tell me everything i need to do.” he breathes,

“let’s start by getting these off you.” i say crouching down next to the edge of the bed and tugging his sweatpants down his legs.

“you might wanna take your shirt off, you’ll get hot.” i tell him,

he complies, discarding his shirt onto the pile of pillows at the other end of the bed.

he sits in just his boxers.

i take in a deep breath before harshly pulling my shirt off my body, exposing my completely bare chest.

i mean, i had to get him hard at some point?

a small “woah” escapes his raw lips as he shamelessly stares

“woah is crazy.” i mock him, earning a small giggle from him.

i push him further back onto the bed, his back resting against the headboard.

i sit down and straddle his thighs, looking down at him slightly.

“okay, can i take these off?” i ask, tugging at the hem of his black boxers, which have a large tent in them.

“yeah- go for it-“ he sighs with an excited grin.

i tug them down, his erection springing out and resting against his stomach.

“oh my god chris!” i state without thinking,

“is it bad?” he instantly replies with,

“no- no just big.” i whisper,

i take his length into my hand, just holding it up right.

he sighs deeply,

i almost forget i’m meant to be teaching him.

“right, so give me your hand.” i say, grabbing his hand

i spit into the palm of his hand, “oh-“ he breathes,

“sorry.” i giggle,

i grab his wrist and guide his hand to his cock.

“what i want you to do first is just rub that spit all over it f’me.” i say, looking into chris’s eyes.

he wraps his hand around his dick, before stroking it slowly up and down.

“there we go, just like that.” i nod, he watches his hand intently as it runs up and down his length.

i adjust my position on his thighs before holding the outside of his hand, and taking it off his dick.

i just hold the outside of his hand now, moving it wherever i want it.

“i only need your thumb right now.” i whisper, he nods, curling all his other fingers.

i hold his thumb and brush it over his raw tip, a small gasp escapes his mouth.

“just keep rubbing that for me.” i instruct him softly,

he nods frantically as he continues to do exactly that.

i guide his thumb into his slit, a pathetic gasp escapes his lips, “oh my god!” his voice raises a couple octaves.

“good boy, you’re doing really well.” i praise him, which he responds very well to,

i hear several loud whimpers fall from his lips, along with his hips lifting slightly off the bed.

“now give me your other hand.” i say, prying his hand away from the sheets.

i place it on the lower portion of his dick, and guide it up and down.

i squeeze his hand slightly around his dick, his mouth falling open.

“i- i need to stop its getting too much!” he protests with tears pooling in his eyes,

“no sweetheart, that just means you’re about to finish, which will feel really nice, okay?” i assure him,

“fuck-! yes-“ he squeezes out, bucking his hips up into his hands.

his eyes are squinted open slightly, still directly staring at my tits.

i take my hand off the outside of his, and reach it down to cup his balls.

that seems to tip him over the edge.

“pleasepleasepleaseplease”

he rambles, throwing his head back against the headboard before spurts of white land on his stomach and chest.

“good, so so good, keep running your hand up and down and ride it out.” i instruct him, which he does.

he slowly takes his hands away, letting them fall limp onto the sheets as he’s completely silent.

“that- that felt incredible y/n.” he pants in shock,

“how did i go 20 years without ever doing that? jesus.” he covers his flushed face with his hands.

“you did so well.” i assure him, he lets out a soft whine.

i laugh lightly, “you respond well to words like that” i say under my breath.

“mmhm.” he agrees, “that shit did something to me.”

i reach over and tug on my shirt, he lays still on the bed,

streaks of white still lay across his torso.

“oh- hold on.” i say, grabbing his shirt and starting to gently clean him up.

i tug up his boxers and sweatpants, he sighs deeply before flopping down on the bed.

“thank you- so much.” he sighs,

“do you want me to.. maybe teach you more tomorrow?” i ask boldly,

his eyes almost light up, “shit, please do.” he laughs.

—-

tags:

@downbad4reid @sturniolo04 @similartokayyz @sturnsintrouble @ilovemattsturn @raysmayhem-72 @75sturn @sturniol0s @secret-sturniolo @hfkeclnendmwodne @sturniolosass @gxldenlush @stonermattsgf @101sara @beccaluvschris @oliviasturniolo21 @imwetforyourmom @tylerstacobell @sunsetsturniolos @aliceloveschris @jayz4dayz4 @sassysturniolo2008 @nyktoxs-lover @nathandoesgf @starsturns234 @chrissturnsss s @joemamaaa42069 @sturnthepot @zayyluvz @realuvrrr @livialifesblog @sturnioloblogs @riowritesitall @raysmayhem-72 @sturnsdoll @obvisturns @stupid4sturniolo @meerkatzthings @witchofthehour @rosalierenee43 @gabrielle-brun1 @ilovemymannnnnnnn @sturnioloxlver @buckys-goodgirl @sturniol0s@ilovemymannnnnnnn @chr1sgirl4life @luanetaluenta @sturnsssbow @mattfangirl @luvr4miya @luvtay111 @lolasturniolo @freshloveforthefit @ruedowney @lovingchrissposts @333michelle @h3arts4harry @jamiesturniolo @chrisstopherfilmed @itzdarling @ @daddyslilchickenfingers2 @ev3rgreenxtrees @certifiednatelover @solarsturniolo @mattsenthusiast @yomamaslays4lyfe @peachmels @alinaa131 @pepsiluvr0209 @creamoncreamoncream2 @szobofc @mattscoquette @blahbell668 @sturniolo04 @bitchydragonparadise @sturni0l0 @ratatioulle @sturnsfav @mattsonly @justalittle47 @sunsetsturniolos

[violenteconomics]

FRESHMEN 101 FOR ASPIRING UPPERCLASSMEN

today’s lesson: proper communication and translation 🗣️

azul: greetings! i am your professor, azul ashengrotto! welcome to "freshmen 101 for aspiring upperclassmen" at night raven college! the only class that will you teach how to effectively handle those little brats— I MEAN loveable new faces you see around your dorm!

riddle: today, we will focus on how to properly communicate with your first-years. some of the things they say may be confusing and/or contradictory, so it's important to know how to translate their sentences into coherent language you understand.

vil: we have set up a variety of examples with our fellow co-professors and fellow seniors to guide you along this journey.

^

epel: vil, do you think i’d look better with a tattoo?

vil: translation: i am entering my rebellious phase and also want to ruin my delicate skin with a glorified paint job that i will most definitely regret in the future and will make me wish i had listened to my housewarden more. also, i have no hope of a happy future and will live out my days as a gangster on the streets.

epel: …what?

^

ortho: big brother, can you help me with a cosmetics alteration to my gear?

idia: big brother, i want to be the sparkliest, prettiest, most drop-dead gorgeous, most attractive, most charming, 5-star-reviewed, no notes, darling, glamorous, talented, brilliant, incredible, show-stopping, spectacular, never the same, totally unique, stunning, bewitching, adorbs, graceful, beguiling, smashing, knock-out, irresistible person in the classroom tomorrow.

ortho: yay~! 😀

^

deuce: sorry i was out past curfew, trey… i’m a little tired, so is it okay if i skip brushing my teeth tonight?

trey: translation: i have a secret boyfriend that i don’t want you to know about because he coerces me to engage in illegal underground boxing rings and convinces me that brushing my teeth is for losers. please get involved and maybe call the police and also never let me out of the dorm again until i’ve properly relearned the benefits of proper dental hygiene!

deuce: …huh?

^

sebek: silver, i think… i would like to make some friends with the people in our dorm. could you… mayhaps give me some advice?

silver: translation: i am a strikingly realistic imposter of your actual friend. i do not love nor care for you, and in fact, am very frightened by your presence, so i will gather allies from other places in an elaborate scheme to destroy you, the liege you’ve sworn your life to, your father, and your friend, whom i’ve already killed and whose body i have hidden in the basement. please end me.

sebek: pardon? what— what are you— why are you carrying around a camera— NO! NO NO NO NONONONO SILVER IF I’VE OFFENDED YOU I DEEPLY APOLOGIZE— SILVER PUT THE SWORD DOWN—

^

yuu: everyday, i’m scared that everything i’ve worked so hard to build in this world, all the friends i’ve made… all of it will just— slip through my fingers like sand… kalim? azul? what are your biggest fears?

kalim: translation: wow, things sure have been getting a little upsetti spaghetti around here! let’s throw a huge party in the mostro lounge with food and games and bright lights and elephants and and invite all of our friends to lighten up the atmosphere! the more, the merrier!

azul: translation: and while we’re at it, please don’t forget the mostro lounge’s limited time “part of your world” event, which offers authentic drinks, food, and even little trinkets from all around the world, for 20% off its original price!

yuu: guys pls

^

ace: hey, riddle? i, uh… i need help with smth.

riddle: translation: i have gotten into some very serious trouble and am about to lure you into a death trap that will get us both severely injured in all likelihood, and i am coming to you, specifically, about this, because i know you care deeply for me and couldn’t say no if you honestly thought my life was in danger, and i am going to exploit it for my own ends. what is it, ace?

ace: …ok, u lil bitch i see how it is

^

jack: hey, leona? ruggie? do you… do you love me?

leona: 

ruggie: 

leona: 

ruggie: 

ruggie: translation: give me food!

jack: …would it help if i said it first?

leona: 

ruggie: 

leona: 

ruggie: 

leona: …no, wait— i think maybe he said “give me sliced pears on a plate”... not sure, tho.

ruggie: that does sound right...

jack: oh my seven.

[jiminjamms]

sex therapy :: 30. breaking news

chapter tags/warnings: manipulative! naoya. physical aggression. verbal abuse (not to reader). infidelity/adultery. extremely strong language. corruption. family drama.

word count: 3.4k

notes: thank you again for your patience with the chapter! life update: i resigned from my company (on good terms, even though the work had sucked my mental and physical health), and i am soon doing a trip to japan and southeast asia as part of my recovery. still, i will be actively writing and responding since this community is so important to me! also, has anyone been keeping up with jujutsu kaisen's manga?! likes, comments, and reblogs are much appreciated. xoxo

fic masterlist | 01. 02. 03. 04. 05. 06. 07. 08. 09. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22. 23. 24. 25. 26. 27. 28. 29. 30. 31. 32. 33.

Life without a sugar daddy was rough.

As Toji Fushiguro's ex-wife and Naoya Zenin's ex-mistress, Mari faced this harsh reality since no one threw their money in her direction anymore. She slept little this past week, overwhelmed by financial stressors. While she still subsisted on the younger executive's credit card (with his fortune, Naoya hardly noticed the charges on his bill), she realized that she actually had to work for an income.

Such was the case as Mari walked home one evening after interviewing for jobs, her body and mind exhausted from fielding mundane questions about her previous professional experiences (which she had little of).

Upon unlocking her apartment door, she was immediately greeted by the sight of her illuminated living room.

That struck her as odd.

She always switched the lights off before she left.

However, when she spotted a familiar face down the hall, she found the answer.

"Tsumiki." Mari dropped her purse by the door. "What are you doing here?”

The woman had not seen her one and only blood-related child in months. While she knew that her daughter—who was, without doubt, a fantastically accomplished and intelligent young lady—just completed her second year at Oxford University, she thought the girl had chosen to remain in England for her summer break. Didn't Toji mention that she did not want to return to Tokyo?

Not that Mari complained. She was just...confused.

Admittedly, Mari should know the answer to her question, but she had been too ‘occupied’ to contact Tsumiki as much as a good mother should. As a result, Mari found herself in the dark about the girl's life in the United Kingdom, her plans for the university holiday, and her recent classes in…what was her field of study again?

Surely, Toji and his twerp son Megumi would know all the answers since Tsumiki had always been closer to her Fushiguro stepfamily. Quite a shame, since Mari would have considered her daughter as the most perfect angel otherwise.

She toed her shoes off.

“When did you arrive in Tokyo?” Mari continued with a plastered smile and approached the girl sitting with crossed arms in the living room.

Genetics ran deep between mother and daughter. Uninformed observers might even mistake the pair as sisters, the physical resemblance uncanny in how Tsumiki presented a more youthful version of the older woman by sharing the same warm chocolate-colored eyes, long dark hair, and flawless porcelain skin.

Yet, physical similarities meant nothing when Mari could not fully decipher her own flesh and blood.

“I came back to Japan earlier this week,” Tsumiki responded a terse edge in her tone.

“But I haven’t seen you until now.”

“Because I’ve been staying with Dad.”

“Oh.” So, she meant with Toji. “You mean your stepdad.”

“No,” she corrected sternly. “He's my dad.”

Theoretically, Mari could go into a whole tangent on how Tsumiki’s actual father was some middle-class nobody whom she hadn’t seen or spoken to since her first divorce (and that was many years ago). Or how the Fushiguros technically were Tsumiki’s ex-stepfamily since Mari had divorced her second husband Toji earlier this year.

But she spared her daughter from the reminders.

“Well, I’m glad to see you back, honey.” With a bottle of unfinished cabernet sauvignon in the fridge, Mari meandered to the kitchen to pour herself a full glass. She returned to living room and joined her daughter on the sofa. “How have you been? I’m guessing England has been treating you well? I have never been, so I wouldn’t know. Heard that the fish and chips are good there."

No response.

Am I being ignored? Mari commented inwardly and swirled the red wine in her chalice.

She took her first sip amid the long and awkward pause before switching the topic to encourage conversation. "Anyway, whenever you would like, you’re always welcome to stay a few nights here. Wouldn't hurt to spend some more time with your mother."

Only for Tsumiki to quip, “We’ve talked about this before. I don’t want to live with you.”

Now, this—Mari believed—was certainly uncalled for. "Watch your tone with me, young lady."

"For what? I am not here because I miss you," her daughter resumed. "If I had a better option, I would not bring myself to show up here and be in front of you."

The older woman placed her glass down and tried to appear calm. Hearing Tsumiki speak with such contempt twisted a deep knife into Mari's heart. Once upon a time, her daughter had been the sweetest girl—warm, full of life, and eager to express her innocent thoughts with anyone she encountered. Now, however, that same person had been tainted into someone cold, guarded, and withdrawn, demonstrated by her disrespect to the very woman who had given her life.

"That is no manner to talk to your mother," Mari cautioned.

"Well, maybe because I have my reasons."

"Which are?"

"Do you want to know why I did not bother to text or call you these past several months?" and Tsumiki did not wait for an answer before she angrily added, "Because I am so upset that you filed a divorce with Dad!"

While Mari had hoped to not bring up the topic before, she had no choice but to do so now.

"That big, burly, bulky man is not your father," she snapped. "He and his emo Harvard-bound son are not your family! In the eyes of the law, there is no longer any relation between you and them. But, I am your mother. I had given you life, and this is what you think of me?"

"Because I love them!" Tsumiki opposed through a hardened glare. "Dad and Megumi treat me more like their blood-related family than you do!”

Mari could not believe the preposterous words her daughter spewed. She always presumed that the Fushiguros had been corrupting her child, and to see her suspicions confirmed had Mari standing up promptly from the couch.

"How dare you say after all I have done for you, Tsumiki?" Mari interrogated angrily. "Did you think that I left your biological father and then divorced your stepfather for what...for fun?! These choices were difficult for me, too! But I made those judgments because I wanted to give you a better life in which we didn't have to worry about where our next meal, our next piece of clothing, or our next rent payment would come from! Your biological father is a no-name nothing. He could’ve never supported the lavish lifestyle you had experienced during your adolescent years. In fact, if I hadn’t married Toji Fushiguro, you probably wouldn't be studying at the University of Oxford right now! I, alone, could never have afforded all your years of expensive tutors or private school tuition. Please, think before you speak. I know I did not raise an ungrateful brat.”

Tsumiki furrowed her brows from the comments.

“You're the ungrateful one, Mom!” she insisted, and the said woman visibly reeled back when the girl continued to seethe with antipathy. “All the money that you had spent while married to Dad, he never asked for a single cent back. Never. In fact, he still pays for my university. In his eyes and mine, I’m as good as any blood-related child to him. He hadn't asked you to chip in because he knows you wouldn't have the money to. Divorcing the man you've been leeching off of isn't a sign of appreciation, Mom."

To hear her child defend another family, Mari wasn’t sure if she was going to laugh or cry at how ridiculous this scene was, the only thing she could process being the pain and betrayal that slammed her with one bitter blow.

"Well, did you want to become a laughingstock?" the woman rationalized. "Given our ties to the Zenin name when Toji left the company, those nasty journalists would've clung onto any scrap to label you a buffoon. You know what those tabloid writers are like! I had the foresight to divorce that man. I did not want the disgrace if we remained attached to the Fushiguros."

After that response, Tsumiki turned quiet with one sharp exhale as her eyes snapped shut, and Mari, whose entire body had undulated from heavy and irate breaths, thought that finally—finally—she had won this godforsaken argument.

Until she heard the younger girl speak again.

"Yet, you have humiliated me more than anyone," and noticing how her mother quirked a brow, Tsumiki went on. "Who are you really trying to protect, Mom? Are you truly making these decisions for my benefit? Or is it...for yourself?"

Despite hiding a gulp, the older woman noticed her heart race. "What do you mean?"

"How can you explain this?"

As though that was her cue, Tsumiki reached for her phone. She tapped onto the front page of the Yomiuri Shimbun, the most highly circulated newspaper in Japan. Before Mari could read the bold title labeled as 'Breaking News,' Tsumiki provided her with a verbal summary:

"The world knows you're a homewrecker, Mom."

Naoya found no surprise when Naobito Zenin burst into his executive suite as an angry bull would charge toward a provoking cape.

Plenty of times, his father barged into his private office completely unannounced, slamming the door open with enough force to rattle the wooden bookshelves behind him. Usually, the dramatic entrance would be followed by a slew of harsh admonitions, and this encounter—Naoya could tell—would be no different.

The astringency cast on his father's countenance gave the executive no other choice than to rise from his seat, his office chair sliding back so he could pose tall and confident as the heir to Japan's largest conglomerate should be.

"Father," he greeted, curt.

Taking hurried steps around his mahogany desk, Naoya aimed to meet the older man halfway until he instead came into contact with one harsh blow that sent his face flogging to the side.

Naoya froze, his gaze lowered.

Instinctively, he reached for his throbbing cheek with one hand as the other wiped briefly over his busted upper lip. To have his father approach him physically like this didn't even register as a surprise. Despite his title as the Zenin CEO, Naoya continued to be scolded, lectured, and outright ignored because, in his father's words, he 'never seemed to get anything right.'

Even now, the older man found no hesitation in cursing out his only child.

"You fucking son of a whore! Want to explain why your affair with Toji's ex-wife is all over Japanese media?!"

Slowly, Naoya lifted his eyes from the floor. He had suspected that this would be the topic of discussion. In the last hour, Naoya saw his name plastered over tabloid pages, news websites, and social media feeds as an anonymous whistleblower tipped publishers in regards to his scandalous affair with Mari—and the millions Naoya spent to hide it. Evidence ranging from supposedly long-gone paparazzi photos to screenshots of money transfers circulated quickly with the internet.

Naturally, Naoya had seen the headlines too...

'Zenin Corporation CEO Exposed for Concealing Affair with Predecessor's Ex-Wife' 'Everything to Know About the Zenin Household's Uncovered Drama in Family, Business, and Love' 'Billionaire Naoya Zenin Entangled in Cheating Scandal, Accused of Bribing Press to Silence Coverage'

...and the comments:

'That’s why you can’t trust rich people. They never have any shame.' 'His wife and company deserve better.' 'Disappointed that this is the scumbag leading our country's largest company.' 'The Board should fire him.’

Now, that last comment struck a very particular chord, especially since the Chairman of that very Board stood before him.

Naoya clenched his hands, yet he stood mute. With every wrong move certain to cost him far too much in return, he was completely powerless in front of the family patriarch and, as a result, his first logical reaction was to defend himself.

"I do not have the evidence yet, but I am certain Toji had planned this, Father. Him, and also Sukuna, Geto, and Choso. All four leaked these details because they didn’t want to see your son succeed. I will resolve this. I am going to call Toji immediately and—“

"You're right," Naobito interrupted coldly. "If Toji had still been CEO today, he would've made sure that none of this bullshit would’ve happened.”

Naoya widened his eyes in bewilderment, not anticipating his father to twist his logic like that. He already received a literal slap across his face, but to realize that Naobito still compared him to his older cousin all these months later drove him insane!

"No, Father. What I meant was—"

"Oh, there is no need to correct me. I know what you meant," Naobito tested in a low voice. "What I gathered from this conversation is that I have given you a million chances in life, and you know what? You blew every single one of them. You're an asshole, you're a cheater, and you're a complete humiliation. I can always count on you to paint me as a failed father."

Outrageous.

With the bitter staring contest between father and son, the latter boiled internally listening to the insults from the man who sired him. For the ruthless Naobito Zenin, Naoya meant no value as an heir without the ability to achieve his high standards. 

"Some twisted brain you have for sleeping with your cousin's ex-spouse,” Naobito then chided, yet amusement remained absent in his tone. “Was that the low-class tramp I saw in the photos with you on the private jet the other day?"

The blonde kept his mouth shut.

But his father wanted an answer. "Well?!"

Suck it in, Naoya. That's all you can do now. "Yes."

What a sight, to see how someone blazing as a furious flame then erupt into a violent volcano. Naobito grabbed his son's collar, pulling him forward and shoving him against the wall. His fists shook as he sought the other's gaze.

"You're fucking married, you realize that?!" he snarled.

"I do! Which is why I have cut Mari from my life! I don't talk to that woman anymore."

Unimpressed, Naobito tugged forcefully at Naoya's shirt again. "I am truly astonished by what an idiot you are. Your answer doesn't change shit." He tightened his grip and did not care that his son wrapped both hands around his wrist to prevent himself from choking. "Let me tell you something, boy. I did everything—everything—to convince our Chief Operating Officer to let his treasured daughter marry you, you despicable bastard. He didn't want to hand the girl over because he knew—oh, that man is wise!—he knew that the union mainly served as a tactic to improve your public image and that there was little obvious benefit for his child. Power and money did not interest him when compared to his daughter, so the one promise I made is that you would love her," and he roared, "so, what the hell have you done?!"

Naoya had heard his father’s warnings countless times, yet he previously brushed each one aside with an ambivalence he now acknowledged as foolish. Unlike before, the threat to his hard-earned position suddenly became very, verypalpable. He grappled with a strange fear, unable to pinpoint what precisely unsettled him the most. The scorn from a world that no longer saw him as an honest businessman? The sneers from relatives with an undeniable reason to mock him? Or perhaps the fury from his draconian father, whose disappointment cut deeper than any public disgrace?

"I—" Naoya's choked voice resembled a croak. He could hardly breathe. "I apologize. This entire situation...this got out of my control."

Alongside his callous disregard for his son’s feelings, the Zenin patriarch even scoffed.

"This isn’t about getting out of your control, boy. This is about your complete lack of judgment. In fact, Daisuke called me when he saw the headlines, and you know what he told me?" and he had to refrain from flinging his son onto the ground before he continued, "That Y/N's been staying in her family residence again because she is going to leave you!"

Naoya held his next breath. Fuck, he knows. Naoya intended to keep his recent arguments with you a secret, hoping to resolve the situation first. However, since your father snitched...lying would be a dangerous move.

"I have not seen Y/N in a week because we've had a few fights." Naoya did not dare admit the details about how you two became arguing spectacles, first in his cousins' presence and later on at the café. "Just...marriage quarrels. We will get over—"

“She would be a moron to stay married to you,” Naobito cut off. "Y/N and your unborn child deserve more than to have a public disgrace like you in the household."

Right. Had he not been reminded, Naoya would've forgotten that he had lied to his father about your pregnancy, too. His hands grew clammy where they still seized his father’s wrist.

“There"—a cough—"there is no child,” Naoya blurted out, determining to rip all bandaids off in one go.

Naturally, his father became perplexed.

“Excuse me?” His hold loosened just enough for Naoya to gasp properly for his next breath.

“Y/N is not pregnant,” Naoya repeated, his voice hollow with resignation. “During our last family dinner, I only said that because I wanted to please you.”

The older Zenin became still, appalled by the younger one's bravery to say those words. For a moment, Naoya braced himself for another physical blow before his father released him, shoving Naoya backward such that he stumbled.

“If you weren’t so disappointing, there would be no need for you to lie to me,” Naobito pointed out coldly. "Not only to me, but also your wife, your colleagues, and your shareholders on matters about your family, your marriage, or your commitment to the company. If Toji had not brought this to the media's attention, how much longer would you have manipulated the truth for your benefit?"

There he went again.

"I don't understand," Naoya protested, unable to contain his frustration any longer. "Toji doesn't belong in this family anymore! Why do you keep talking about him? Father, you forced him to leave earlier this year, citing his threat to our family and company's reputation."

"You're the one to talk!" Naobito shot back. "At least Toji has the brain that you utterly lack." Before the younger man could react, the Chairman had already turned on his heel. "I have made my decision."

His decision?

A confused Naoya watched his father head for the exit.

"Wait, Father...!"

"Enough!" The infuriated man raised a hand right as he neared the door, a warning for him to not speak further. "Our discussion has concluded. Effective immediately, Toji Fushiguro has been re-instated as the Zenin Heir and CEO."

Instantly, Naoya slumped forward in disbelief.

Even as the older man disappeared, the room appeared to spin dangerously. Toji Fushiguro...re-instated? As the heir and CEO?

Naobito Zenin could never make up his mind, now could he? In Naoya's head, this must be some cruel joke.

Ever since he comprehended his ability to bend fate to his will, he had promised himself to fight tooth and nail to defend the (very rightful!) position that he worked hard to earn. He had disposed of his cousin through slander, he had to put up with shitty corporate politics, and, hell, he had to even marry you!

Some may label Naoya's current negative publicity as irredeemable, but he held hope the situation would normalize once the steam blew over.

With these thoughts in mind, Naoya regained his balance and rushed out as well. "Father!"

However, by the time he reached beyond the doors, Naobito Zenin was no longer there. Even his secretary could not be found as, instead, two imposing figures stood by the desk where his assistant should be. Naoya didn't recognize them. The men were tall and well-built, their muscled arms and thighs visible despite the fabric that covered their tattooed skin.

"Nice to meet you," one started after the long silence. "I am Eso and this is my younger brother Kechizu."

A stumped Naoya frowned.

"May...I help you?"

"No," the other answered nonchalantly, "because we are here to knock you out."

"Wha—"

And Naoya's vision went dark.

last chapter || next chapter

end notes: Note that Eso and Kechizu are Choso's younger brothers in JJK. (Both are not completely human in canonverse, but we shall suspend beliefs.) Also, I cannot explain the satisfaction as I wrote about Naoya and his mistress finally getting wrecked! Talk about justice being served! There were many ways these scenes could have played out, but I strategically chose Tsumiki and Naobito as the agents in the discussions. Freed from corporate America handcuffs, I plan to post again soon. Love you all!

taglist: @dissociatingdiva @httpsplanetmarsdotcom @nemoyr @huangfairy @shadowarchon @203steph @agentdedf1sh @cloudybabes @lynn-writes-things @illicitwriter @7oji @kikuchimi @chaoticjojofan @musicisme333 @kumocchin @s-guru @mwahilovemylife @hey-gurls69 @cloudsinthecosmos @moon-mumu-moon @kazscara @skilerfrostfairy @funicidals @nico707 @proteovaldez @tsukiyohanayome @marimoares @qirbys @puffaloxx @sakanoshitaa @arizzuruu @kissditrio @lewd-bunny14 @mistyheart @szired @supsii @yvy1s @lazyassfinals @katkbc @tokyometronetwork @downtown-roponggi @the-cosmos-network

[0vergrowngraveyard]

random vent, feel free to ignore

i think im falling down another spiral of hopeless (or, i’ve been falling down it for months now, im just falling faster)

here i am, turning 20 years old in 2 months, and i don’t make money, i don’t drive, i don’t do things most people in my age group do, and im too scared to ask for help with any of these.

when i was younger, i prided myself on not needing help. i didn’t need medication. i didn’t need to go to special classes or get tutors. i wasn’t like other neurotypical kids, i was “normal”. but here i am, years later, completely fucking lost in life and it just feels like i’m past the point where i can ask for help with this stuff without being seen as an idiot

i don’t know why i feel this way, ive only been alive for 19 years and 19 yr olds typically dont have things figured out and everyone goes through life at their own pace, but i just do and its a scary and lonely feeling. i always see things about autistic people learning to navigate life or people getting into the industry i want to be in but it feels like ill never have that kind of success story because i dont even know where to start. idek if im good enough to start

i do also have massive anxiety and just straight up fear around doing something incorrectly so there’s that. partially why i haven’t opened commissions yet

maybe all this is because comparisons have been a very prominent thing in my life, online and offline. maybe it’s because of younger me’s desire to be seen as “normal”. maybe this is just a huge depression and anxiety episode. idk. what i do know is that existing has been miserable as of late (both because of this shit and orange man related events). i feel like life is just eating me alive

i want to get help. i’ve been thinking of talking to a counselor at my college but i don’t have the money. i need to open art commissions very soon, just need to figure out how to

every day my hatred for people who try to paint autism as a fucking “super power” or whatever grows exponentially. this super power sucks ass i want a refund

[penvisions]

zest {chapter one}

Pairing: Chef! Joel Miller x Professor! Reader (formally known as Bartender! Reader)

Summary: Changes are sudden, lifestyles are altered, and important questions bubble up but through it all, you have Joel by your side.

Word Count: 6.5k

Warnings: canon typical language, c'mon reader and joel have potty mouths, age gap (joel is mid 40’s / reader is late 20’s -early 30’s, protective joel, reader is canonically midsize, pregnant reader, surprise pregnancy, reader goes through nicotine withdrawal, smoking, cigarettes, nicotine use, lots of feelings, lots of emotions, complicated family dynamic, reader has family issues, death of a loved one, mention of life-threatening cancer, reader has religious guilt, restaurant lingo, triggers associated with the food industry, reader canonically has an eating disorder, mentions of therapy, references to time apart from each other, adult content, smut, piv, unprotected piv be safe y'all!), talk of marriage, adult conversations, joel and reader are down bad for each other.

REMINDER: this is a sequel series, the previous series can be found here {garnish}

A/N: THEY'RE BACK, BABY! ♡♡

ao3 link || series masterlist || masterlist || ko-fi

It’s the perfect spring day: sun shining in a warm but not hot brightness, a gentle breeze rustling the trees as you zip past them, an iced coffee, and the singing figure of Ellie in the passenger seat all make the first half of the day melt away. The amber of your sunglasses allows for everything to be swathed in the honeyed hue and you smile to yourself as you recall a rather heated comment from Joel ‘that every goddamn show feels so creative ‘n artsy when they slap the same tones over Mexico’ and then a softer set of words as he had cuddled closer to you on the couch ‘it’s not really like that, I’ve been there, darlin’, trust me’.

“What’re you all gooey lookin’ for, Sabrosa?” Ellie pauses to catch her breath between songs from the newest pop punk album from a band you first enjoyed in your teenage years. Unable to resist the temptation of adding it to your already laden down basket at the bookstore last week when you and the young girl had ditched Joel to run errands. “Ew, gross, don’t think about my dad while I’m sitting right next to you.”

“Oh hush,” You stuck your tongue out at her. Getting a kick out of how casually she sounded. It hadn’t ever been awkward between you two, or her and Sarah despite the six or so years between your birthdays. But then again, Sarah had let you into the secret of the older guy she had started seeing in her graduate program the last time she had been in town visiting… “It’s nothing dirty, just one of his many rants about my choice in television.”

“Lemme guess….oh! The washed-out way they show Mexico, huh? Cause you were watching…oh fuck, what’s that show called…”

“Breaking Bad.” Was the supplied answer from your lips as you turned on the turn signal and began to slow down to turn into the parking lot for the restaurant. It wasn’t operating hours quite yet, too early yet for the dinner crowd Joel preferred to cater to. But Ellie had a shift, and you were dropping her off after classes. She wasn’t in either of the ones you teach, having completed the two semester course you had started off with. But you both had a class that ended around the same time, living so close to the university, she liked being able to walk but then catch a ride with you. Tradition, the word rang in your head. Routine, followed it and you smiled wider at the way your life had fleshed out.

“That’s the one!” She exclaimed as she unbuckled the seatbelt and leaned back in her chair. “Man, I really don’t have the energy for work today, but the old man said we have a full reservation list and then open seating at the bar.”

“Gonna be that way for a while, the article about him came out only two months ago. Everyone’s clamoring for a chance to try the ‘bursting flavors’ and ‘exciting combinations’ of the renowned Chef Joel Miller.”

“Yeah, yeah. He’s hot shit right now, at least the restaurant is.” Reaching for her coffee in an imitation of you, she sipped at the whip cream, caramel whatever it is she had gotten. Coffee wasn’t her favorite, so she always got the espresso taken out, a glorified milkshake Joel had teased her once. “Proud of him, though. The restaurant was in shambles when he bought it from the previous owners, some shitty Italian place that never cleaned anything.”

“He’s done good.” You quietly agree, sipping from your own overly complicated drink. That was another tradition of yours and hers, to make your way through the menu at the coffee shops on campus, always pausing to get the special of the month. Joel claimed he didn’t understand the need for so much stuff mixed in with coffee, but you caught him stealing sips of yours if he were to come across it unattended around the house or when you were out and about with him and treated yourself.

“There’s my girls.” Joel chimes as you input your code into the gate for the employee parking and round the side of the building. His voice filtering in through the open windows as you pull into a spot and cut the engine. He’s leaned against the back of the building, cigarette in hand. “Was wondering what took you so long.”

“Accident on the main road, had to detour.” You appease as he approaches to open the door for you and pressed a greeting kiss to your cheek as you roll up the windows. He does the same for Ellie as she sidles up beside him for a side hug before trotting off to the door and disappearing through it. He let’s you pluck the lit cigarette from his fingers as you shoulder your bag and close the door. His hand goes around your waist to walk alongside you toward the building.

“As long as you two are safe, that’s all that matters. Today’s special is spaghetti all nerano, wanna do some grading here and try a plate?” He takes the smoking roll back from your offered hand and takes the last drag before tossing it into the pale beside the door. Opening it and leading you through it with a hand hovering over your lower back.

“That sounds yummy, I’m starving.” You toss him a smile over your shoulder before greeting everyone with a wave.

It’s well into the third hour of service and you never got the chance to leave once the doors opened. The bar had been struggling, Millie having taken over as manager and Mary trying to appease the picky impatient customers who all want a taste of the raved over menu and a glimpse at the alluring Chef Miller.

Picking up a shaker and twisting a bottle of vodka in your grip, you glance at the ticket that just printed and adjust the amount you free pour into it. Mary had been looked so guilty as she approached you’re the table where you do your work on a regular basis, the question of if you were willing to help out getting drinks started for those waiting on tables barely out of her mouth before you were nodding and cleaning up your stuff. It was now safely tucked away in the office and you were moving at a fast pace behind the bar to keep up with everything. Millie stepped down to let you take the reigns, knowing she would only get in your way. Ellie could be seen picking up and dropping off glasses at the well as often as Millie as she acted as barback.

The restaurant was buzzing, excited conversation and pleasant atmosphere making you remember the tingling high of getting off from a busy shift with a wad of cash tucked into your pocket. Just as you place a strainer over the shaker and begin to pour the contents over six shot glasses the door to the kitchen swings open and Joel walks through. You’re too busy, so you shift the chilled shots to the mat over the well and place the corresponding tickets beside them. Moving onto the next drink, you rinse out the shaker with the star sink in place.

His eyes catch yours through the crowd of people when you look up as Ellie comes up to take the shots and then watching as she delivers them, the sound of the shaker loud in your ear as you hold it over your head. His steps don’t falter as he approaches the table, he was delivering the plate to, but you could see something flash over his face. He’s back behind the door as you move to lodge the shaker open.

The night goes by quickly, taking orders for those lucky enough to snag a spot at the bar but hadn’t been able to make a reservation. Shoving each cash tip into a pint glass for the girls and even taking a few business cards from people interested in hosting parties in the space. You’ll be sure to pass those along to Mary, even if some of them requested you as the bartender. You didn’t mind, missing the atmosphere and good moments you had experienced in the setting. Ellie is taking back the remaining dishes from the last few tables, Millie is out back smoking after helping to clean up the bar top when Joel ambles from the kitchen once again.

He's got his chef’s coat unbuttoned and loose around the shirt underneath, the glint of his belt buckle catching the fairy lights around the bar. His steel curls are slicked back, but you could see the frizz and fluffiness where they rested over the back of his neck. He had been saying he needed a haircut, but you had made a sound in the back of your throat that made him put it off.

His eyes are trained on you as you move the trash cans full of empty bottles to line up beside the drink pick up area. You’re about to return behind the bar with a wink thrown over your shoulder when he snakes his hands around your waist and pulls you to him. He smells amazing, the perfect mix of savory spices, smoke, and Joel.

“Playin’ restaurant, huh? Thought you went home and passed out.” He leans down to kiss your jawline.

“Nah, Mary asked for my help when Millie got swamped.” You breath out, hands coming up to rest on his chest and push should he get a little too enthusiastic in you still being here.

“Not your responsibility.” His eyes hold no real heat or command, you know it’s born from a place of worry, of not wanting you to stretch yourself too thin.

“It’s okay, baby. I don’t mind.” You cradle his cheek in one hand and play with the collar of his open coat with the other. His eyes glance down, the glitter from your lotion catching the light on your neck and chest.

“Hmm, you looked good. Dress looks good on you, shakin’ those drinks and-“

“Dad, holy crap, it was so busy tonight. Some dude tipped me like fifty percent because he was trying to impress his date!” Ellie plops down on a stool with her server’s book. She doesn’t even look up from where she begins to go over the receipts. “Wait until everyone leaves to start doing that or better yet, wait until you’re home to do that.”

“One day you’re gonna meet someone and it’s gonna be hard to keep your hands to yourself.” You only giggle at the typical parent response from Joel. Ellie wasn’t a touchy-feely person, but you were sure she would be with the right person, you’d seen her flirty interactions with girls while out with you and your friends, tagging along for the free drinks and to have safe company. She was pretty smooth if she didn’t get into her head too much, soft touches to shoulders and waists, though she steadfastly refused to dance. With anyone, no matter the setting.

“Gross,” She begins to fill out the printed shift report before organizing the receipts in order and then asks you for the stapler. Detangling yourself from the man, you do make it back behind the bar. That’s when she notices the pint glass. “Holy shit! You made all that?”

“Huh? Oh, no. The restaurant did. Here.” You hand the wad of bills over to Joel. With your own shift report and stapled receipts. He uses two nimble fingers to extract the shift report but leaves the cash in your hand. Frowning, you track the report as it’s tucked into his back pocket along with Ellie’s. Her own cash tips secure in her booklet.

“Also gonna see about getting some of the petty cash from the safe for the hours you worked.” He begins to take the full bags from the trash cans, tying the ends together tight.

“Joel.”

“You worked, you get paid.” He doesn’t look up as he reaches into the bottom for the rolls sitting inside and begins to place new ones over the lips of the plastic.

“I’m your girlfriend. Who used to work here. I was just helping out.”

“Nope, not gonna fly, darlin’. It’s yours.” He slides the empties cans back around the bar for you to put back in their designated places.

“If you don’t want it, I’ll take it.” Ellie reaches for it and you let her swipe it from your hand. Only for Joel to set her with a look. “Oooor not.” She says as she puts it down atop the clean bar top.

“Joel!”

“Can’t hear you, Sabrosa, gotta make sure the kitchen duties were done.”

“Seriously, I’ll take it if you don’t want it.” You quirk an eyebrow at the younger girl, but Millie bounces up and says everyone was going out for a bite at the taco truck parked a few blocks down. They have a spot in a lot that has picnic tables and offer late night service. Ellie takes off, ensuring you she’ll text either you or Joel when she’s back at the townhouse afterwards. She’d been staying the second bedroom there more and more, as you found yourself splitting your time pretty evenly between it and Joel’s. He would join you sometimes, but certain nights either you needed you own space or he did and that was okay.

Sighing, you lock the patron door behind her and turn the sign from open to closed.

As you’re double checking everything is shut down properly, you open the washer to let the last load of glasses air dry, the steam billowing out. Turning when you hear the swing of the kitchen door again, Joel has his chef’s coat tossed over his shoulder and his backpack over the other. His eyes zone in on the cash and then a smirk takes over his face. You turn your attention back to the washer and ensure it’s off before you round the bar top and makes sure it was swept underneath the stools. You’re about to ask him which car you were gonna take home when you spot a crumpled napkin you must’ve missed.

As you bend down to pick it up, you feel thick fingers sneak beneath the skirt of your dress. You don’t think anything of it until you feel Joel tuck a bill from the stack into the band of your panties. Knuckles grazing against your slit as he moves to the other hip and does the same. You shoot up, the napkin forgotten as you try to turn around.

“Nu-uh,” His palms come to rest on your lower back and shoulders, bending you over one of the stools as the heat of his body looms close. He whispers something about having to scrub the video cameras set up around the dining room before you hear the clink of his belt being undone and feel him move your panties to the side. You throb at the feel of the cooler air circulating around the room, a gasp leaving your lips as he gently runs the head of his cock over your folds, arousal from you both making it such a smooth motion.

As he reaches over your back for something, he fills you up, the stretch of his girth feeling like a reward for the hectic shift completed. But you know the night would’ve ended like this either way.

A moan rips from your chest as he grabs a hold of whatever he had been trying to get, hips flush with yours. He chuckles, pleased with himself before his hands sneak around to cup your breasts as they threaten to spill out from your dress at the prone position. His fingers tuck more bills into your underwear, beneath the straps over your shoulders, into the already full cups to peak out over the swell of your chest. He even tucks one into the mess of your hair thrown up into a clip at the back of your head before his hands secure around your waist and he begins to thrust.

That’s the last memory you have of both smoking and drinking, only a few days before you had anxiously waited for a piece of plastic to tell you your fate. It was now a month since finding out, Joel making sure to go with you to get confirming bloodwork and a full physical. The headaches from missing both finally having abated. Joel on the other hand, he was sneaking cigarettes, you could smell the lingering smoke on him when would come home and you were still up. It didn’t really bother you, knowing he indulged for far longer than you had in the bad habit. But you missed the social aspect of the act, of seeking out the designated spots around campus and chatting, of sitting out on the back patio with Tommy as he enjoyed one on the evenings he stopped by with his own little family for dinner.

But it was all worth it, you mused as you poured yourself a cup of steaming water into what was once your coffee mug. Tea was something you indulged in now, the cupboard filled with the different types you were trying to work your way through to see what would help with the onslaught of nausea and also appealed to your tastebuds. You preferred the fruity ones, just like you did with your cocktails, hence the nickname Ellie had graced you with that stuck.

Jingling keys and heavy footsteps signaled you to Joel’s return, the sun still shining on the calm afternoon. He had been gone when you showed up at his house, a cookout planned for the day. Tommy and Maria had been here an hour, the grill just about ready for the first of many things to be cooked and the pool was sparkling as it awaited the arrival of Sarah and Ellie. You had spent the morning cleaning it of debris and adding a few treatment drops. The whole family getting together. It was good, it was a good feeling being surrounded by them all. You and Maria hitting it off even more over the news of what was to come. Her own child now nearing two, she had given birth while you and Joel were split. But you had sent a care package and visited her in the hospital with her favorite takeout.

It was so domestic, so full a life…it made you wonder why you hadn’t been able to experience it as a child yourself.

“Missed ya, darlin’.” Joel steps up behind you and embraces you. Kissing your temple, you feel the frown mar his lips as you don’t respond. “Everythin’ alright?”

“Yeah,” You mumble, turning in his hold and wrapping your arms around his chest. He smells like cinnamon and the grill brick he used while closing up the restaurant after a brunch shift and you breathe him in as you press your face into his broad chest.

“Gotta shower, wanna join me?’

“The girls will be here soon.” You hold him tighter, missing your own family even if it had never been the same as his own. Dinner once a month with your own father, no visits offered or initiated, grandparents raising you since you were young. A mother who had passed early due to complications from cancer she hadn’t known she had until she was pregnant with you herself. “Wanna make sure everything is ready for them.”

He peppers kisses into your hair before pulling away and disappearing upstairs.

The afternoon continues, the smell of grilling meat and roasting vegetables lilting into the air alongside ruckus laughter and bad jokes. Everyone is comfortable around the patio and the in the pool, food served and consumed. Just a few bites left of everything, Joel ensuring you that he would heed your cravings and what you felt like you could stomach, not worried about leftovers lately.

“So when do we get to meet the rest of the Sabrosa clan?” Tommy askes around the lip of his beer bottle. He’s across from you at the table, Joel off by the grill as he messes with something he hadn’t let you sneak a peak at.

“Oh, um…you don’t?” Caught off guard, the bite of food falls from your plastic fork frozen halfway to your mouth.

“No siblings or nothin?”

“Um, well-“ Clearing your throat you take the bite and chew it contemplatively. Honesty or the thinly veiled truth? Your mind is working hard, something Maria must hear in her seat beside you at the patio table. She shoots Tommy a look you catch out of the corner of your eye, trying to keep calm so the child in dozing in her arms doesn’t stir. “I’ve got two half-siblings, but we don’t keep in contact much.”

“They gonna be at the wedding?”

“What wedding?” “Oh my god, dad! You proposed and didn’t tell us!” Ellie and Sarah holler from where they’re in the pool, one of them resting on a floating device and the other is practicing her laps to get more comfortable in the water. Joel turns from where he was ensuring the grill was off and brings over the s’mores dip he had just let melt to perfection. Your stomach rumbles at the sight of the gooey swirl of marshmallow and dark chocolate, of the rye biscuits he must’ve whipped up at work steaming beside it in a single use tin. Set up with a divider in the middle.

“Haven’t proposed to ‘er yet, quit it.” He sits it down atop a trivet, but no one makes a move to reach for it until he gives the go ahead. But he doesn’t until he’s got one of the dark biscuits covered in the dip and set in front of you. Then it was fair game as the girls begin to swim across the length of the pool, or well Sarah tries to glide her floaty across while Ellie does. Tommy readies one for Maria before making his own, quirking an eyebrow at you as he watches the pull of the dip.

“But your dad is gonna walk you down the aisle, right?” Tommy presses on, not catching onto the awkward way you were shifting in your seat or how you had placed your fork down to rest on the edge of your paper plate. The dessert untouched. But you don’t get to think of an answer before one is flying from your emotionless face.

“Can’t, he’s dead.”

Silence falls over the once happy and jovial backyard, the splash of Sarah slipping from her floating longue echoing.

“Tommy.” Joel’s voice is firm as he pins his brother with a mild glare. Maria is equally unpleased with her husband’s penchant for talking without thinking, not reading the room. He yelps as she kicks his shin underneath the table.

“It’s okay, wasn’t much of a father when he was alive anyway.” You reach for the mocktail you had made a pitcher of for you and the girls to enjoy. No one says anything as you pour yourself another and take a sip from it. Not liking the tension that had crept into the atmosphere, you gather up your nearly empty plate and stack it atop Maria’s to take inside, making more room for the messy dessert. Slinking away, you feel Maria reach out a hand to trail down your arm, comforting you before you’re gone back into the house.

“You dumbfuck.” Ellie mutters under her breath, earning a glare from Joel over his shoulder for her language. But he doesn’t disagree. You do, but it wasn’t his fault. How was Tommy supposed to know he had picked the one subject you had nothing good to say about?

“Shit, I- holy shit.” Tommy’s voice follows you before he yelps a second time as Joel brandishes the still warm tongs from serving biscuits.  

“Way to shove your foot in your mouth, we were havin’ a good time.”

“I didn’t know! I thought she was just quiet about her family not that she didn’t have any.”

“Tommy, you’re the father of my child and my husband but you are seriously so stupid sometimes.”

“Dad, she-she doesn’t have any family?” Sarah is tearing up, affected by the sudden realization of why you never brought anyone around except for a friend every once in a while. She could understand not having a mother, as her own was so distant, only showing up when she needed something or felt lonely in the life she created for herself. But to not have a dad? That was all she knew and she couldn’t fathom how her life would have been without him in it;.

“She’s got us, baby girl.” Joel goes to run a hand over her shoulder and press a kiss to the fluff of her kinky curls as she stands beside the pool set into the ground outside the patio. He wraps the towel she brought out around her and rubs it across her shoulders before lifting his hands. “We’re her family, pretty good deal, huh?”

“Dad….”

“She’ll be okay, I promise.”

The laid back vibe from the afternoon returns once everyone piles into the living room to watch the season finale of an admittedly awful reality tv show. But everyone was hooked and harmless bets were made on who would cause the most drama and how things would end. You’re a little subdued, but you make comments along with everyone else and laugh at the absurdity of what happens on the screen.

Stepping out of the bath you had decided to soak in, you startle when you see Joel sat on the small bench in the master bathroom across from the vanity as you pull back the shower curtain. He’s already changed into his sleep pants, his freckled and bronzed chest on display through the steam.

“Darlin’, why didn’t you tell me your dad was passed?”

“Because it doesn’t matter.” You stand in front of him, taking in the way he watches you through the mirror as you press a bead of toothpaste onto your toothbrush and wet it before popping it into your mouth. A heavy silence fills the room, tangling with the rose scented steam from the bubble bar you had used. The pink water swirling down the sink a near silent hum.

“It-uh, kinda does. Makes me feel…like a whole wedding would be…”

“You don’t have to ask me. We don’t have to get married if it’s going to be a problem.” Shoving down the worries and residual guilt of being raised in a certain religious culture at the thought of having a child out of wedlock, having a child as a single woman you catch the man’s gaze through the mirror. The burn of embarrassment simmers beneath your skin, shame for feeling such embarrassment sparkling behind it, creating a swirl of emotions you hadn’t wanted to feel this close to bed with an early class. You want to marry him, to experience that with him, to live life together as husband and wife, but it feels perfunctory when you didn’t even believe in the reasoning behind why you felt that way. He’s frowning, his brows knit close together, something off in the depths of his brown eyes.

“It’s not a problem…right?” You see the worry flickering through him, in the way his eyes shift and the way he clenches his fists in his lap. “I just…you know you’re a part of the Millers. Have been since the moment you caught my attention, but baby…I don’t want you to feel lonely if it’s my family and your friends.”

“Are you insinuating because I don’t have a family of my own, I’m somehow missing something?” Anger flared hot and sticky in you, washing out the embarrassment. The heat from your bath making it so much worse and you cross the room to pull the door open. Back at the vanity, you ignore his gaze and rinse out your mouth before moving on to clean and moisturize your face. He’s quiet behind you, knowing he phrased his sentiment wrong and this…this communication was new for you both. Still hard sometimes as you both realize how deep some things run and how different you could be.

“You know I’m not.” The gaze he has trained on you reminds you of the way he would watch you through the kitchen, tensions high as you both couldn’t seem to get your heads out of the dirt and just be honest with each other. A time that had passed, allowing for the present to bloom.

“Then a wedding wouldn’t be a problem. But it’s kind of moot, you haven’t proposed.” You don’t anticipate the slight edge to the words as they leave your lips, but they slice through the air. You feel shame overtake the waning anger, making your face hot underneath your massaging hands. The burn of tears threaten to ruin the routine you just completed and you hiccup as your hands flatten atop the vanity, head hanging between your shoulders. You do not like this, but you have no idea where it’s coming from. It really doesn’t bother you that he hasn’t asked. You know he has the intention to, the agreement of a visit to town hall and then a small party to celebrate. Nothing fancy, nothing crazy, simple.

“Hey,” He whispers as he comes up behind you, hands resting over the quick beating of your heart, his naked chest pressed to your back, the damp towel the only thing separating you. But you can feel his own heart between your shoulder blades, strong and sturdy. Grounding you in the way you had explained you preferred when overwhelmed. “I promise I wasn’t trying to upset you, just want you to be comfortable, to have everything you deserve.”

You let him help you to dry off the rest of your body, lotion lovingly applied to your body by his hands before you slip into a nightgown and slip between the sheets beside him. You kiss an apology to his lips, needing him to know that it was just initial panic and not the real way you thought or felt. He accepts it and offers one of his own, lips pressed to your chest, right over your heart before sleep takes ahold of you both.

“I said don’t.” You warned, no humor in your voice. You had tried and failed to put on every one of your pairs of pants, jeans, leggings, and none of them were comfortable. None of them zipped, buttoned, or stretched enough underneath the slight bump that had seemingly blossomed overnight. Joel was sprawled on the bed, working his way to getting up at the late hour. He had been at the restaurant late, later than usual as they had a party stay well after service hours. He had let the staff go on time, ensuring they would get the tip out but not wanting them to have to stay once all the cleaning and side work was done. One of the many things you adored about the man, his willingness to heed situations like that in favor of his staff even if he was gruff and to the point most of the day.

“Didn’t say nothin’, darlin’.” He rumbled from beneath the sheets, tan skin looking deliciously golden paired with the pale pink set you had insisted changing from the white that had previously been curled around the mattress. You had woken up with bad cramps last month, terrified something had happened as you pulled back the covers to find blood spotting the pristine fabric. A quick trip the emergency room as he shared in your panic, albeit in a more controlled way, assured you that spotting was normal during the early months of pregnancy.

“Dress...” You muttered to yourself, hand cradling around the small bump. Joel only hummed, stretching out to alleviate his sore body, thick legs appeared from beneath the fabric. Your eyes traced the long lines of his body through the mirror atop the dresser, drinking in the sight of him and your body began to thrum with arousal. When your eyes roved up the expanse of his broad chest dusted with dark hair to his face, he was smirking at you with an eyebrow arched in a silent question of how long you would ignore his deliberate departure from the bed.

You had all but jumped him when he got home last night, papers you were grading scattered all around you on the couch and coffee table, a Josh Gates show on the television for moral encouragement. He had teased you once about your affinity for the man but you had clapped back with his borderline obsession with Anthony Bourdain, to which he simply said ‘can’t help it darlin’, the man knew his shit’.

The dinner he had brought home had been tossed to the entry way table, as you knelt down to help remove him from his shoes and pants. Mouthing at the line of him through his boxer briefs before he could even get his keys hooked on the mirror over the table. He had been prepared to find you fast asleep, a different kind of tired taking hold of you more and more, almost demanding naps during the day when you got home from campus and right before dinner if you hadn’t worked. But you had sprung up from your spot and welcomed him home, the food forgotten in favor of getting your fill of the man that had been consuming your thoughts. The thought makes his cock fill, twitching underneath the sheets as he recalls your enthusiasm.

He sees the way your eyes dilate at the movement, the hush of his hand skimming down to grip himself.

Suddenly, you’re no longer debating over the clothing flowing from the draws inside the closet or those of the dresser. You peeled the pants you had been fruitlessly trying to zip up and nearly threw yourself at him. He greedily accepts your frantic kisses, starting from his shins and all the way up neck to finally connect with his own. He groans at the taste of coffee you had allowed yourself this morning, his own cup still steaming on the bedside table. His glasses beside it, his cellphone lighting up only to be ignored.

“Does mama need some attention?” He breathes into your open mouth, large palms caressing the exposed skin of your hips. His hands graze your middle, and you shy away from him, self-conscious of the extra jiggle, the stretchmarks from rapid weight fluctuation of your years now accommodating the swell of the beginning signs of the life you two had created together. “Hey, no, c’mere.”

You’re sure he sees the flicker of emotions across your face before you school it into a cool arch of your brow, the playful smirk of your lips. Falling back on bravado that wanes far too quickly these days as your hormones ping pong all over the place. You were just as apt to burst into silent tears as you were to jump him, confusing for you and devasting for him as he tries to read your moods as well as he can. He was hoping to dislodge the habit of you seeking refuge in the townhouse you had gifted Ellie, her own budding relationship prompting her to ask for her own space just as the new stage of your life became known to them. Equal parts of respect for the more tender and tense moments sure to happen and yearning for her own space again.

“Mama needs some new clothes, wanna spoil me?” Your voice is a confident hush, hands reaching forward to urge him to shift closer, both of you on your sides and facing each other.

“Do anythin’ for you, darlin’, you know that.” His teeth sunk into the curve of your neck, tugging you back to him. That seemed to get you to forget your insecurities as he felt you pull him closer, your smaller hands so soft on his chest as they caressed his skin.

“I think I wanna go to that fancy mall, maybe get some pretty underwear that won’t make me feel like a total loser.”

“I’ll take ya anywhere you want, maybe even that big shopping center in Dallas? It’ll be just like the trip we took to Arizona. Could get a hotel, see the sights and just relax. Hear they have a mac and cheese restaurant in the arts district.” He rolls to pin you down, and you move to allow him space between your legs instinctually. Body hovering over yours as he kisses down your neck, your chest, he lets his words sink in. The bralette you had put on doing nothing to hide the perk of your nipples. He laps at them through the thin fabric, delighting in the way it makes you arch up into him. You were so sensitive to his touch lately, your body on high alert as your hormones fluctuate erratically.

“That’s a lot, Joel. Shouldn’t we-“ Your hesitant words are cut off by a searing kiss, the press of his skin against yours making it hard to keep your train of thought.

“We should do what we want, darlin’. Wanna get everything sorted to go this weekend?”

Tears are suddenly pitter pattering over the sheets, darkening the fabric where they land after rolling down the sides of your face. He pushes his weight from where it pressed you to the bed, back on your sides and you let him, unable to stem the tears.

“Oh hey, hey it’s okay,” Joel crowds close, the thin fabric separating your bodies as you bury your face in his neck and curl your legs up, knees pressing into his stomach. Hiccups startle you both as you find it suddenly hard to breath through the onslaught of emotions spiking. “Hey now, darlin’, it’s alright.”

“I’m sorry,” You mumble into his skin, embarrassment flaring up hot in your cheeks and chest. You feel so silly, pulled in too many directions in so quick a succession. “I just…you’re so hot and I’m all bloated and my skin feels all tight and I really want some ice cream.”

Twenty minutes later, you’re happily spooning a sundae into your mouth with a red plastic spoon in the passenger seat of his truck. All the tears and frustration gone from you as you held tight to the treat in your hands with far too many flimsy napkins. He’s got a cigarette dangling from the hand he rests on the inside of the door, trying to keep as much smoke from wafting back into the cab as possible. Errands, today was an errand day and you smiled over at him. Pairs of sunglasses meeting, eyes hidden beneath them. He just leans over to press a kiss to your temple, not wanting to disrupt your enjoyment of the ice cream you literally cried over.

next chapter

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[nattcatart]

Emergency commissions!!!

0/612$

For some background I’m a 22 year old trans guy who is currently trying to make it through nursing school. I’ve had a really rough go financially and in life the last few months- I had to get emergency thyroid surgery in the middle of my first semester of nursing school- and my grandmother was murdered just two weeks after my recovery. This has led me to being out of work for a extended period of time due to the stress of surgery recovery- now having hypothyroidism and grief- all ontop of school. So I’ve been surviving this semester paycheck to paycheck without getting to get a lot of money in savings.

So my college just informed me that my scholarship will not be able to cover my summer semester- I am required to take summer classes to stay in the nursing program. The total that I’ll have to pay in two weeks is 612$.

I don’t typically ask for help like this but I’m at a loss at what else to do- so I’m going to open up emergency commissions.

Here are some examples and starting prices. The way I’m doing these commissions is the starting price is the lowest price I will accept for that commission style- and if you want to pay above that feel free! These commissions will be discounted due to the urgent need of this situation

I can draw pretty much anything! I mostly do dnd character art- and flight rising dragon art- but I’ve done a wide range of commissions in the past! I’m comfortable with furries- robots- humans- animals.

Prices start from highest to lowest!

Full scenes: 45+

Painted fullbody basic background: 35+

Character reference sheet/ fullbody with no background 20-30+

Half bodies: 15+

Headshots :5-10$+

These commissions will have a long turnaround time! Can’t start working full time on them until after finals on may 13th. I will try my best to provide sketches before then ! Please don’t commission if this timeframe does not work with you!

Can do PayPal/cashapp for payment

If you can’t afford any of these options feel free to message me! I’m willing to do sketch commissions as well!! Thank you for reading this far down and let me know if you have any questions

[earthtoharlow]

From the Dining Table

chapter 02

previous chapter

Maya sat at her desk in class, mindlessly scrolling through her phone as she waited for class to start when a text from her best friend popped up.

“You didn’t tell me that your mom dated JACK HARLOW?!”

She stared at the screen, confused, thinking it had to be a joke. Her mom had never mentioned anything like that. Maya quickly texted back;

“What are you talking about????”

Her friend responded immediately, sending a link along with a string of shocked emojis. Maya hesitated, her heart racing, before clicking on the link.

“Scarlett Hayes Spotted at Jack Harlow’s Concert: Former Lovers Reunite After 20 Years”

The headline was followed by pictures of her mom at the concert, and old photos of her and Jack together from years ago. Her stomach dropped.

Frantically, she started googling more. Article after article talked about her mom’s past relationship with Jack Harlow, with pictures she had never seen before — her mom smiling, holding his hand, standing close to him on red carpets.

She couldn’t believe it. The world was going crazy over this. And she had no idea it had ever happened.

Maya’s fingers tightened around her phone, her mind racing. Why didn’t her mom ever tell her about this? Why did she have to find out from the internet like everyone else?

She spent the rest of the school day thinking about what she read about her mother and her favorite artist in the world.

Since it was her week to stay with her dad, when he picked her up after school, Maya was unusually quiet, staring out the window. He glanced over a few times, sensing something was off but waiting for her to speak.

As they pulled into the driveway, she finally blurted out, “I’m really mad at Mom.”

Her dad frowned, cutting the engine. “What happened?”

She took a deep breath, trying to collect her thoughts, but the frustration bubbled over. “I found out that she used to date Jack Harlow?! And she never told me. I had to find out from some stupid article online!”

Her dad’s expression softened as he realized what she was talking about. He leaned back in his seat, letting out a slow breath. “Ah…”

“I mean, how could she keep that from me?” Maya continued, her voice rising. “All this time, I’ve been a fan of his, and she didn’t say a word! I had no idea, and now everyone knows! All my friends are sending me messages like I should have known!”

Her dad nodded, his face sympathetic. “I understand why you’re upset. It’s a big thing to find out like that.”

The daughter looked at him, her eyes filled with hurt. “Did you know?”

He hesitated for a moment before nodding slowly. “Yeah, I knew. It was before you were born, before we even met. Your mom’s always been private about her past relationships.”

“But why didn’t she tell me? It feels like she’s been hiding this huge part of her life from me,” Maya said, her voice cracking.

“I can’t speak for your mom,” he said gently, “but I don’t think she was trying to keep secrets to hurt you. Maybe she just didn’t know how to bring it up, or didn’t think it was something you needed to know. But I get it, you have every right to feel upset.”

Maya looked down at her hands, still angry but also conflicted. “I just… I don’t know what to say to her.”

Her dad gave her a reassuring look. “Take some time to process it. And when you’re ready, you can talk to her. She’ll explain everything.”

She sighed, leaning back in the seat. “I don’t even know if I want to talk to her right now.”

The daughter sat in silence for a moment before she looked at her dad, her brow furrowed with uncertainty.

“One of the articles said that Jack was the reason you guys got divorced because she could never get over him. Is that true?”

Her dad shook his head gently, giving her another sad smile. “No, sweetheart, he wasn’t the reason.” He took a deep breath, trying to explain without overwhelming her. “Your mom and I… we realized we were better as friends. It wasn’t anyone else. It was just something we figured out over time, and we both wished we’d realized it sooner.”

He paused, glancing over at her, seeing the mixture of confusion and pain in her eyes. “But that doesn’t mean we didn’t care about each other. We still love each other, just in a different way now. And no matter what, our marriage brought us you. You’re the best thing that ever came out of it.”

She looked down, biting her lip. “So, you guys were never… unhappy because of him?”

Her dad shook his head again. “No, our marriage ended because we grew apart. Nothing more than that. Your mom’s past with Jack has nothing to do with what happened between us.”

Maya nodded, her emotions still a whirlwind but feeling some of the weight lift off her shoulders. “I just don’t understand why she kept it from me,” she whispered.

“I know,” her dad said softly. “But I think she’s probably been carrying this for a long time, not knowing how or when to tell you.”

Maya sighed, leaning her head against the window, still trying to make sense of everything. “I guess.”

“Maya knows.”

Scarlett sat in her publicist’s office, her heart sank, and her stomach twisted in knots as she read her ex husband’s text. She had hoped she could explain things to Maya on her own terms, but now the timing was completely out of her control.

“They’re going to release the photos any minute now,” the publicist said, looking up at her. “You being at Jack’s concert… it’s already blowing up online. We need to get ahead of the story, make a statement, or at least spin this in a way that—”

Scarlett cut her off, her voice sharp with frustration. “He’s ruining my life again. Twenty years later, and somehow, he’s still a problem. I can’t believe this.”

Her publicist sighed, trying to remain calm. “We need to act fast. The press is going to eat this up, and if we don’t address it—”

“I said I’ll handle it,” she snapped, standing up abruptly. Scarlett couldn’t believe she was in this position again, with the past she had tried so hard to bury now being dragged out for everyone to see.

Her publicist frowned. “How are you going to—”

“I’m going to fix it. Don’t worry about it,” Scarlett said firmly, already grabbing her coat and bag. “He’s still in town. I know he still has a place here in Atlanta.” Her eyes were blazing with determination as she headed for the door.

“Wait, what are you—” her publicist began, but she was already out the door, leaving her with no choice but to watch Scarlett go.

The drive to Jack’s place felt like it took hours, though it was only across the city. She hadn’t been to his home in years, but she still knew the way like the back of her hand. Pulling up in front of the familiar house, she sat in the car for a moment, trying to gather her thoughts. This wasn’t how she wanted to deal with this, but she couldn’t let him destroy her peace again.

Scarlett got out of the car, her heart racing, and walked up to the front door. Without hesitation, she knocked, the sound echoing through the quiet neighborhood.

For a moment, there was nothing, just silence. But then, the door opened, and there he was—Jack, looking just as surprised as she felt furious.

The door barely opened before Scarlett shoved past him, storming inside without so much as a glance in his direction. Jack staggered back, shocked by her bold entrance, but before he could say anything, she came to a halt.

Two girls were sitting on the couch, wearing barely anything. They looked up in surprise, caught off guard by the actress standing in the middle of the room with an icy glare. Scarlett crossed her arms, her expression hard as steel. “I suggest you both leave. Now.”

The girls exchanged nervous glances, knowing exactly who she was and not daring to argue. Without a word, they gathered their things and hurried out of the house, leaving an awkward silence in their wake.

As soon as the door shut behind them, Jack turned to her, his frustration clear. “You can’t just walk into my house and kick my guests out like that!”

Scarlett whipped around to face him, her eyes blazing. “Well, I just did,” she snapped, stepping closer. “And I’m not here to deal with whatever… situation that was.”

Jack shook his head, still trying to process what had just happened. “What the hell do you want, anyway?”

“Have you seen the news?” she asked, her voice sharp. “Or are you too busy with your little party to notice how your concert has blown up every tabloid?”

He looked confused for a moment before realization dawned. “What are you talking about?”

She threw her hands up in frustration. “You’re ruining my life again! Just like you did twenty years ago! I can’t believe I let my daughter talk me into going to your stupid concert, and now the whole world knows! The headlines are everywhere, and I’m not dealing with another scandal because of you.”

Jack stared at her, his expression shifting from confusion to irritation. “You can’t be serious.”

“Oh, I’m very serious,” Scarlett said, her voice trembling with anger. “I’ve worked my whole life to put that mess behind me, and now, because of one stupid concert, everyone’s dredging up the past. I don’t owe you anything, but I’m telling you—this is the last time you mess with my life.”

He stepped closer, his voice low but firm. “You think I did this on purpose? You were the one who came to my concert, and now you want to blame me?”

She scoffed. “I didn’t come for you. I came for my daughter, who’s obsessed with you, by the way, and now she knows that we used to be together. And I have to deal with the fallout!”

Jack crossed his arms, his jaw clenched. “That’s not on me.”

“Oh, really?” Scarlett shot back, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Because it sure feels like you’ve been a problem in my life since the day we met.”

Jack clenched his jaw, forcing himself to stay calm, but Scarlett’s words stung. He could feel the familiar tightness in his chest, the kind he hadn’t felt since they’d broken up all those years ago. But he wasn’t going to let her get to him this time.

“It’s not my fault you tried to cover up something that can be easily looked up,” Jack shot back, his voice low but steady. “You’re mad at me for what? For living my life? You knew this would come out eventually. Maybe you should’ve been honest with Maya in the first place.”

Scarlett’s face flushed with anger, and she took a step toward him, her hands balling into fists at her sides. “Honest?” she spat. “You don’t get to lecture me about honesty, Jack. Not when you left me with no explanation, no reason—nothing. And now you’re going to tell me how I should live my life?”

Jack didn’t flinch, though her words cut deep. “You wanted to move on, and you did. So did I. But that’s not on me if your daughter didn’t know. If she was gonna find out, it was always gonna happen.”

“You think I don’t know that?” she shot back, her voice rising with each word. “But now she’s hurt and confused, and the whole world is watching, making assumptions! I don’t need this in my life. I don’t need you in my life.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Then why are you here?”

“Because you need to fix this,” Scarlett demanded, her voice sharp. “I don’t care how, but you need to figure out a way to make this go away. I’ve got enough to deal with, and I’m not going to let you screw everything up again.”

Jack scoffed, folding his arms across his chest. “You think I can just make the headlines disappear? That’s not how this works. You walked into my concert—you knew what that could mean.”

“I didn’t expect the world to lose its mind over it!” she shot back. “Fix it, Jack. Or at least stay out of my way while I do.” She stared at him, her chest rising and falling with frustration, before turning toward the door. “I’m not going to let you ruin my life again.”

Jack watched her leave, feeling the weight of her words hang in the air. As the door slammed behind her, he stood there, feeling the sting of the past and the mess they were both tangled in once again.

Scarlett got back into the car, slamming the door harder than she meant to. Her hands gripped the steering wheel as she tried to steady her breath, but the frustration and anger boiling inside her were too much to contain. The words they had exchanged echoed in her mind, hitting her harder now that she was alone.

She inhaled sharply, willing herself to calm down, but instead, a sob broke through her clenched jaw. She quickly covered her mouth with her hand, her eyes stinging with the tears she was desperately trying to hold back. Her whole body trembled with the mix of rage and sadness, and she leaned her head back against the seat, closing her eyes tightly as if that could stop the flood of emotions.

Why does he still get to me like this? Scarlett thought, her chest heaving. The weight of everything felt suffocating—the media storm, Maya finding out the truth, and Jack standing there, as if he hadn’t left her broken all those years ago. She felt the tears spill over, and for a moment, she was thankful for the tinted windows, knowing he couldn’t see her like this.

After what felt like an eternity, she finally wiped her eyes, taking deep breaths as she tried to pull herself together. She stared out the windshield, her face still damp, and forced herself to focus on what mattered now. Maya. She needed to explain things, to make things right with her.

With shaky hands, she started the engine and pulled out of the driveway, not glancing back at Jack’s house. As she drove, she tried to gather her thoughts, mentally preparing herself for the conversation with her daughter. It wasn’t going to be easy, but it was time. She owed Maya the truth.

Before long, she found herself pulling up to her ex-husband’s house. Her stomach knotted with anxiety as she parked the car and sat there for a moment, trying to prepare herself for what was to come. After a deep breath, she got out, determined to fix things with Maya, no matter how painful the conversation would be.

She stood at Robert’s door, her fingers anxiously fidgeting with the strap of her purse as she rang the doorbell. She hadn’t even realized she’d forgotten her key in her rush to get there. Her heart pounded as she waited for him to answer, her mind racing with thoughts of Maya and how she was feeling.

A few seconds later, the door swung open, and Robert stood there with a knowing look in his eyes. He didn’t say anything at first, just gestured for her to come inside. She stepped in, glancing around the house she used to share with him, memories flashing before her. But now wasn’t the time for nostalgia.

“Where’s Maya? How is she?” she asked, her voice tight with worry.

Robert looked at her, his expression serious, and said, “Last I saw, she was burning all your pictures together.”

Her eyes widened in shock, and before she could say anything, he cracked a smile. “Relax, I’m kidding.”

She smacked him on the arm, exasperated. “That’s not funny, Robert!”

He laughed softly, but there was warmth in his eyes. “Maybe not, but it got you to lighten up a bit. I can tell you’ve been crying.”

Scarlett paused, realizing her eyes were probably still red and puffy from her meltdown in the car. She tried to brush it off, but Robert had always been good at reading her, even after all these years.

“I’m just—” she started, but her voice cracked, and she stopped herself, taking a deep breath. “I don’t know what to say to her. I never wanted her to find out like this.”

Robert’s teasing tone softened. “I know. But it’s Maya. She’s upset, yeah, but she’s also smart and she loves you. You’ll figure it out.”

She nodded, taking some comfort in his words but still feeling the weight of what was to come. “Where is she?”

“In her room,” Robert said. “She asked to be alone for a bit, but I’m sure she’ll talk to you when you’re ready.”

With that, she headed toward the stairs, mentally preparing herself for the conversation that had been a long time coming.

Robert watched her with a concerned look as she started toward the stairs. Before she could take the first step, he gently called after her, “Do you want me to be there when you talk to her?”

She paused, turning to face him. Part of her wanted to say yes, to have someone there with her for support, but deep down, she knew this was something she had to do alone. This was her past, her truth, and her responsibility to explain to their daughter.

She shook her head. “No. I need to do this on my own.”

Robert gave her a soft, understanding nod, stepping back to let her go. “Alright, but I’m here if you need me.”

Taking a deep breath, she made her way upstairs to Maya’s room, her heart pounding with every step. Once she reached the door, she hesitated for a moment, listening for any sounds from inside. Hearing nothing, she gently knocked.

“Maya?” she called softly. “Can I come in?”

Silence.

Scarlett waited for a few seconds, hoping for some kind of response, but there was none. Deciding not to push too hard, she slowly turned the handle and stepped inside. Her eyes landed on Maya, who was lying face down on the bed, her body unmoving, clearly in her own world.

Seeing her daughter like that, her heart broke even more. She carefully approached the bed, sitting down on the edge, unsure of how to start.

“Maya,” she said softly, her voice full of love and concern. “Can we talk?”

Still, Maya didn’t move, she didn’t know if Maya was ignoring her on purpose or just too upset to respond. Either way, she knew this conversation wasn’t going to be easy, but it had to happen.

She hesitated for a moment, watching her daughter’s still form, before deciding to lie down next to her. Maya didn’t flinch or acknowledge her presence, but that was okay. She wasn’t expecting a response just yet. The important thing was that she was there, and she needed to say what had been held back for so long.

“Okay,” she whispered, her voice soft but steady, “you don’t have to say anything. I’ll do the talking.”

She stared up at the ceiling, gathering her thoughts before continuing. “I didn’t tell you about Jack because… well, there are a lot of reasons, I guess. At first, it was because I wanted to protect you. You were so young, and your dad and I had our own relationship by then. I didn’t want you growing up thinking things were more complicated than they needed to be.”

Her voice wavered slightly, but she kept going. “And then as the years passed, I thought it didn’t matter anymore. Jack was a part of my past—something I had locked away. You see, we were together a long time ago, and what we had… it was intense. When he broke things off, it hurt me in ways I wasn’t ready to talk about. I thought that by not telling you, I could pretend that part of my life didn’t exist. I thought it would be easier if I never had to relive it. But now, looking at everything, I realize that keeping it from you only made things worse.”

Scarlett swallowed, feeling the weight of her own words. “I didn’t want you to find out like this, Maya. I should’ve told you sooner, and for that, I’m sorry. I didn’t want to hide anything from you, but I guess I was still hiding from myself.”

Her eyes drifted over to Maya, who still hadn’t moved, but she could see the slight rise and fall of her shoulders, hear the quietness of her breathing. Maybe she was listening.

“Jack wasn’t the reason your dad and I split up,” she continued, wanting to make that clear. “Your dad and I—we loved each other, and we always will because we have you. But we realized that we were better as friends. It had nothing to do with Jack or my past with him. It was just… life.”

She let out a soft sigh, her emotions starting to overwhelm her. “I know you’re upset, and you have every right to be. I just hope you understand that I never meant to hurt you, Maya. I love you more than anything, and I hope we can talk about this—really talk about it—when you’re ready.”

Maya shifted slightly before turning over onto her back, her eyes meeting her mom’s for the first time since the conversation started.

“Why did he break off the engagement?” Maya asked, her voice quiet but direct. “And… do you still love him?”

Scarlett felt her heart tighten at the question. She had expected something like this, but it still hit her harder than she thought it would. She blinked, taking a deep breath before responding.

“I… I don’t know,” she admitted, her voice trembling slightly. “I might never find out why he ended things, Maya. He didn’t give me a reason, and I’ve spent a long time trying to figure it out. Sometimes I still wonder, but… he just walked away without an explanation. And that was hard.”

Maya’s gaze didn’t waver, and it was clear that she wasn’t going to let the conversation drop there.

“And the other question?” Maya pressed, her eyes softening as if she was almost afraid to hear the answer. “Do you still love him?”

Scarlett hesitated, the weight of the question hanging between them. She wanted to be honest with her daughter, but the truth was complicated. It always had been.

“It’s… complicated,” she finally said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know if I can even answer that right now. What I felt for Jack back then—it was real. It was strong. And losing him… it hurt me more than I can explain. But love? I don’t know. After all this time, I’ve tried to move on, but part of me will always wonder. Part of me will always remember the good moments we had. But it’s not the same as it was. People change. I’ve changed.”

Maya searched her mother’s face, trying to read the emotion behind the words. There was so much she didn’t know, so much she couldn’t understand yet.

“So… you don’t hate him?” Maya asked quietly.

Scarlett closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them with a sigh. “I don’t know if I could ever hate him. But that doesn’t mean I still love him the way I used to. It’s just… complicated.”

Maya shifted closer, wrapping her arms around her mother in a tight hug. “I’m sorry you went through that,” she whispered softly. “If it makes you feel better, I won’t listen to his music anymore.”

Scarlett chuckled despite herself, hugging Maya back with a warmth she hadn’t felt in a while. “Oh, sweetie,” she said, pulling back just enough to look at her. “I’m not going to stop you from listening to his music. As much as I hate to admit it, his music is pretty good.”

Maya smiled, the tension in the room easing with a bit of humor. “Really?” she asked.

“Yeah,” Scarlett replied with a playful roll of her eyes. “I might not be able to stand the man, but his talent? That’s something else entirely.”

They both laughed, the heaviness between them starting to lift.

***

AN: tell me what ya thinkkkkk

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[lilzyex]

Bloodstains of a past life ₊˚🕯️♱‧₊˚. M.S

(Chapter 1)

In which

Julia went to a bonfire party where she met a sort of strange set of triplets. She never heard their name before. Never even saw their face, but they felt so familiar. Everyone around them knew them well. Even her closest friends which was weird. They never talked about them. But now it seems as if they attended her high school for years.

pilot Chapter2 Chapter3 Chapter4 (tbc)

I was finishing my eyeliner when I got a call from my friend Ava I quickly reached for my phone and picked up the call “hey” I say

“Yo Julia quickly! We already bought the booze and you have 10 minutes to get to the park before we literally go without you.” Ava said in a sarcastic tone

“Alright alright! I’m almost ready I’ll be there in 15.” I say opening my mascara with my teeth holding my phone in one hand “did you guys buy jäger?” I say taking the mascara out of my mouth putting it on my eye lashes

“Yes, don’t worry we thought of you. But you’re paying gas now because we bought the booze” Ava said

“Alright” I chuckle and hang up the phone on the other line I could hear Ava yell “15 MINUTES JULIA! We’re not waiting 50 years for you mate. Some ppl are already texting me if we’re on our way!”

I look at myself in the mirror one last time checking myself out I look at my black shorts with dark nylons and a white crop top. I did a curly hair method on my hair and looked at my gold jewellery

I quickly take my bag and I close my room door.

I rush down the stairs of my house where I meet my mom “be back by 11!!” She says

“Mom” I whine “at least 12? Please Ava can be out until 1am!” I complained reaching for the front door

“I don’t care what Ava can or can do! Be back by 12 jesus”

“Bye love you” I say closing the front door behind me

It was a really sunny day and it was extremely hot outside my eyes squinted at the brightness of the sun

After 10 minutes of walking I see Ava waving at me from the back of Oliver’s car. I wanted to sit at the front but it already was taken by Abigail

I open the door of the car “hey!!” I say sitting down next to Ava

“Hi!!” Ava hugged me and raised the bottle of jäger “My baby!” I giggle as I take the bottle in my hand pretending it’s my baby “ok alcoholic.” Oliver said sarcastically “Oliver you should be the last person to say that” Abigail defended me as Ava and I chuckle in the back seat

“So how long until we get there?” I ask as Oliver started driving

“About 20 minutes” Oliver said “juli you’ve already been there. You’ll see!” Ava said “I literally don’t remember. Why couldn’t we go to the usual place? The forest that isn’t too far away from town like 5-10 minutes?” I ask

“Oh Chris said that cops go there often and he told us it’s better in the other forest more aesthetic also. Oh did you bring your camera!” Ava said

“Yeah I did.” I realise she said the name chris “who’s chris?” I ask confused. Knowing there’s no chris in our school or town as I know of

Ava and Abigail look at me funny. “Julia hello? Chris sturniolo. He literally is in our history class?” Abigail said

“He’s so hot!! Oh and also he’s a triplet! I’ve never met triplets. But they’re all SO hot.” Ava said

“What?” I became even more confused “yeah their names are Matt and Nick. Too bad Nick is gay.” She explained “Wait it’s not even that bad! We can try to set him up with Oliver” Abigail said Oliver immediately rolled his eyes “Abby stop”

“No this is great! Finally a hot gay guy for you!”ava giggled

“How do you even know he’s gay for fucks sake?” Oliver groaned “oh Stella told us, she tried to flirt with him. Didn’t end well” Ava tried to hold in her laugh

I get a weird wave of Deja vu when I heard the name Sturniolo. I knew them from somewhere, but definitely not fucking school.

I look out the window trying to forget the feeling I have in my chest.

17 minutes later we arrive infront of the woods and we call Bryan who invited us in the first place because he wanted to get with Abigail. We all know it even she does, but she’d never get with Bryan he’s not her type at all. And also he’s a fuckboy. But the invites to the coolest high school parties even tho we weren’t really considered popular in our school were worth it.

“Hey Bryan” Abigail said on the other line we heard Bryan’s voice “hey sweetheart, so where are you guys?”

Abigail awkwardly giggles and says “in front of the woods. Where exactly are you guys?”

“I’ll send someone to get you. Are yall next to a fallen tree?” He asks

“Uhh yep” Abigail says

“Alright. Matt! Can you go to the broken tree a few friends of mine are waiting there they don’t know their way here”

I heard on the other line.

Matt.

A few minutes later I see a tall brunette walking towards us. I could barely see his face but some I could sense some fear inside me for my reason at all

“You okay?” Ava asked “uh. Yeah” I say keeping my eyes on the brunette

“Hey” Matt said looking at Ava chris Abigail but when his eyes met mine his eyes went wide.

“Mary?” He said with a concerned look on his face

I scrunch my eye brows “No im.”I pause “im Julia.”

He tried to laugh it off “oh. You just look.” He tried to get any excuse he could out of his mouth, but still completely shocked by her looks “you remind me of an old friend of mine.” He said “anyways let’s go” he made us following deeper into the woods

The walk was akward when Ava whispered into my ear “girl did you see that?? He totally wants you!!”

I shake my head “stop”

Moments later were being greeted by Bryan who is already handing Abigail a drink “thanks, we also brought some booze” she said grabbing Oliver’s backpack taking out a bottle of vodka and jäger

“Oh that’s great!” Bryan said practically eye fucking Abigail

Matt went to sit down next to his two brother who were sat at the fireplace

Suddenly chris and nick looked at me with horror in their eyes

“If we do kill someone tonight we have to keep a really fucking close eye on that girl her name is Julia. But I don’t fucking believe her.” Matt whispered to nick and chris

“Fuck that’s Mary. You turned her into a vampire?! I thought you killed her!” Nick whispered with a pissed off tone

“I didn’t! Okay. She was dead when I left her.” Matt said “what the fuck.” Chris sipped on his drink

An hour later I found myself sitting next to the fire with Abigail sitting across from me was Matt and chris.

Chris was talking to Ava while Oliver went for another drink.

I felt eyes on me again when I looked up from my drink to see Matt staring at me. The eye contact lasted what felt like minutes and none of us broke it.

I felt a strange feeling in my stomach. I swear I met him before. It’s almost like I know everything about him but at the same time nothing. I look at his bright blue eyes, the eyes I remember looking into maybe in a dream.

Maybe im just drunk. I said to myself, and I continued the conversation I had with Ava.

“Guys! Did you guys know that the story of the bitten Mary was in this woods?” Bryan yelled out as he leaned against his best friend Lucas

A few people agreed and yelled out. A few people started scaring each other.

I sat there confusion washing over me, why did he call me Mary?. I knew about the story but I thought it was a made up story to scare people into not going into the woods alone.

“What?” I asked Jake he smirked at me and sat down next to me “dear Julia. The bitten Mary is a TRUE story about a girl who died in this woods. She got attacked by a wolf” he explained as a few people came to sit down to hear the story, Jake put his arm around my shoulders “people say her spirit is angry and is stuck in this exact woods. And if you’re alone she’ll kill you but only young people because she’s mad that she died at a young age.”

“And how can she even kill people she’s a ghost?” Some girl said not believing the story

“She’ll bite you and drink your blood until you die. Don’t believe me? Go deeper into the woods and you’ll see.” He said

“Alright someone give me a shot I wanna see if your bitten Mary isn’t an excuse to flirt with Julia.

She takes a shot and gets up to walk deeper into the woods “good luck!” Jake Bryan yelled

“Should we go scare her?” Jake said chuckling

“Nah fuck that I know she’s already shitting herself walking there” Bryan said chugging his beer after.

2 hours later im wasted, my legs feel weak as i feel a warm sensation in my throat. I can’t help but smile at Ava while she’s talking to me and that buzz in my head I love the most.

“I’m gonna go get another drink” I giggle stumbling towards the tree where the alcohol is on the floor

The rest of the night went pretty well before I realised I was supposed to be home an hour ago I look over at Oliver to see him drunk “fuck! Oliver why are you drinking you’re supposed to drive!” I said seeing Oliver sitting with Nick “it’s okay I can drive you home.” Matt said

I turn around my intention is telling me not to let him drive but we had no other option “thank you” I sigh out of relief “I quickly drag Oliver in my drunk state almost making us both fall I see Ava and Abigail next to the drinks

“Guys we’re going home Matt is driving us since Oliver got fucking drunk” I said “msorry” Oliver chuckled

“I’ll take him” Matt said

The drive home was pretty quick since I almost fell asleep. Finally we got Ava home now it was time to get me and Oliver home. A few minutes later we were in front of my house and when Matt stopped the car I said out of pure frustration “who the fuck are you guys?” Matt turned towards me so he can look me straight in the eyes “were in history class together don’t you remember? You remember right?.” He didn’t take his eyes off of me

It was almost like he wanted to hypnotise me or something “no I don’t. I’ve seen you in my life” Matt look confused “yeah. I’m kind of a quiet type of person. Unlike you.” Matt said turning around quickly

I get out the car slamming the door behind me and slowly getting into my house so nobody wakes up.

Soon I changed my clothes and brushed my teeth and went to bed.

(A/N : did yall see the tvd reference 😜 sorry if there’s any mistakes I didn’t re read this)

[rypnami]

How do Theseus and Chiara meet?

THIS IS A GREAT QUESITON I'M GLAD YOU ASKED. char rypnami answer a question without writing a novel challenge failed instantly. ANYWAY since you're not the first that's asked, might as well write the scene out. hehe. but the abridged version is she shouts in his face for doing better at an exam than her and she's pressed, even though he is In Fact Older. who would have thought after all this they fall in love lol. she's a second year, he's a 3rd year!! word count - 566

theiara taglist - @amethystandemma @whalesongsblog . also gotta tag my girl @fizzing-whizz-bee since you're the biggest theiara stan after me lol <3 <3

Theseus has never been an especially big fan of Herbology class- perhaps unusual for a Hufflepuff, but he simply can’t abide by working with all that dung. Yet he finds himself crossing Central Hall towards the Greenhouses almost 20 minutes early today, as Henry Prewett has been looking for a bit of help with his plants.

“-because most of my seeds have been just sitting there, not doing anything at all! Perhaps I need new ones,” Henry grumbles, finishing off a long rant that Theseus was only half listening to. “Or just drop Herbology all together.”

“Speaking of, you wouldn’t happen to have any spare Dittany seeds, would you? I’ve misplaced mine.”

“”Er… I might. Give me a moment. Dunno how useful they’ll be, seeing as most seeds die the second I touch them, but…” As Henry is digging in the pockets of his robe, Theseus sees a short blonde girl scowling at him from just past the fountain and stomping their way. This should be good. 

“YOU!” She shouts. 

“Do I know you?” He’s certainly seen her around, but he doesn’t even know her name. She might be a second year? 

“Hello, Chiara,” Henry says, sounding very tired.

She completely ignores him. “How did you score higher than me?”

Theseus hesitates, trying to process. “Er… what?”

She stares at him as though he’s stupid, which he privately thinks is very funny, given that she’s shouting at him over him allegedly getting higher marks. “The exam! The practise exam  in Professor Onai’s class!” She crosses her arms and scowls at him. “I asked her who got the highest marks, and she said I was behind you for the best score!”

“Ah. Didn’t realise she gave it to the second years, too.” It hadn’t been particularly difficult, but if a second year had managed to outscore almost all the rest of the third years, well. Hm.

“How did you do better than me?! That’s not possible!” She has a rather thick Scottish accent, that seems to get even thicker the more frustrated she becomes. 

Theseus rolls his eyes. “Clearly possible, since I did. That said, I am older than you.”

“So??”

Now it’s his turn to look at her like she’s slow. “So, I’ve had more schooling than you. So I know more.” He shrugs. “Or, I’m simply better than you.”

The girl puts her hands on her hips, scowl deepening. Clearly, it’s an attempt to look intimidating, but with the fact that she’s likely 4 foot nothing, and that she’s no older than 12, the effect is lost. “You are not better than me!”

“Aren’t I? The marks certainly say I am.”

Saying that might have been a mistake, as she now looks as though she is going to launch herself at him and bite him. Beside them, Henry is trying very hard not to absolutely lose it.

“Tha thu làn tholl! Amadan gòrach!”

“Oooooooookaayyyy….?”

“It means you’re a stupid idiot!”

He snorts. “Seems redundant to say ‘stupid’ and ‘idiot’ in the same sentence.”

“AAGH!” The girl stomps her foot, her face going red. “I will DANCE ON YOUR GRAVE!” She storms away.

“Merlin. She needs serious anger management lessons.” Theseus mutters as they watch her leave.

“Seems like you’ve made an enemy for life.” Henry agrees. “In my experience, that girl can hold a grudge.”

“Eh, she’ll probably have forgotten it by tomorrow.”

If only.

for the rest of their time at school after this, chiara follows him around shouting at him all the time lmfao.

[writing-by-lunalight]

A/N: So for months I've been reading lots and lots of Yuri manga, probably more than I've ever read before in my life too…So I decided to try my hand at writing my own. Though it’s more of a novel, since I don’t draw, and I’ve attempted to be as faithful to the media as I can. LoveHarmful is my own take on the Yuri genre while playing to a specific kink, you’ll have to read on to find out which one though hehe. At the time of posting this I’m working on chapter 8 and my goal is get this to 20 chapters without dropping it or losing interest…so STAY TUNED!!

Chapter: (1)/2/3/4/Coming Soon!

!!Trigger Warnings!!

Consensual: Smoking, Burning(w/ cigarette)

Non-Consensual: None

—————————————————

[I understand this is a lot to ask of you but, I’m hoping you can work your magic here. ]

[Work my…magic? ]

[Don’t be so modest, not only are you class president, but you’ve managed to turn around all the troublemakers in your class. If anyone can get through to Shigure-San I’m certain it’s you, I want to be able to resolve this amicably, I’m worried about her. At any rate, you shouldn’t believe the rumors, she’s far more bark than bite.]

I agreed to this despite my reservations, but what was I thinking? Work my magic? All I did was talk to my classmates and help them vent their troubles from home, support their studying, then they improved on their own. But this?

Seiko Shigure is beyond being a troubled student…they say she’s insane! Always wearing this dark makeup, skipping class, showing up late, and that's not even half of it! I even heard she wears costume horns everywhere, does she think she’s a fantasy creature? UGH! Hard to believe she’s a 3rd year…I wish I could REALLY teach her a lesson. But talking it out and a slap on the wrist is what everyone wants me to do - what they expect, so I have to.

Still, just once, I’d love to really let loose on somebody.

From a young age, I always tore my toys apart, I wanted to see what was inside them and whats more I enjoyed it so so much. Yet my parents would get upset with me, and eventually convinced me to stop breaking things, it’s not normal they’d tell me. Though it pained me to stop, I didn’t want to hurt or upset anyone, not that much anyways. When I gained access to a computer of my own, I learned there was a name for people like me, a sadist. It made me feel relieved I wasn’t the only one who felt that way, but what hope could I have for an outlet? I have to be nice, I have to be good, I have to keep. It. In.

I said to myself, though at the same time I became aware of my nails digging into the back of my notebook I clutched in my arms. I sighed and released my grip, the small access stairwell looking back at me, I took my first step upwards. In the silence of the third floor hallway, each step echoed down the empty halls until I reached the roof door. With a sigh, I opened the door, only to be hit with an unfamiliar smell as the wind drifted past me into the building. Quickly I discovered the source, smoke coming from the tip of Shigure-Senpai’s cigarette, she failed to notice my entrance onto the roof. 

I approached quietly, not wanting to startle her for fear of reprisal. Shigure-Senpai sat with her back against the fence, one leg outstretched and her other tucked in with her knee up, supporting her arm and hand which held the cigarette burning away. On her wrists spiked bracelets hung loosely, made of shiny leather or perhaps plastic. As I neared I spoke up, clearing my throat first to call attention to myself.

[You’re Shigure-Senpai, correct?]

I tilted my head when she did not answer, only to notice the faint sound of snoring coming from her slumped down head. Really? As though it wasn’t bad enough to wear things besides the uniform, skip class, AND smoke on school grounds??

My face twisted into a pout, and I looked at her fake horns in anger, such a whimsical accessory for such a joke of a girl. Still, as I crouched down to see her face, I could see she was rather pretty. Her eyes had dark rings below them which I guess people mistook for makeup alone, but it’s clear up close she’s only tried to make it look that way. Her brow furled in frustration, perhaps due to a bad dream or some such, a frown falling across her pursed lips.

I held my cheeks in my hands and allowed myself to ponder how Shigure-Senpai’s face would look under real life duress instead of a nightmare. How would her screams sound? Would she lower herself to begging if it got to be too much? Or would she tough it out, and put on a brave face till she REALLY broke? I felt my face blush and my smile crawl across it as I thought about it in excruciating detail.

Just then, the ash fell off Shigure-Senpai’s cigarette and onto her thigh just below the hem of her skirt, causing her to jolt awake with a shrill cry and. . .a moan?? Her heavy breathing afterwards confirmed my suspicions, Shigure-Senpai collected herself and rubbed her eyes before looking up to see me in shock. Her brilliant sapphire eyes, shimmering against the sunlight and contrasting the blushed skin of her face looked up at me with embarrassment, yet her gaze quickly shifted to one of confusion. 

[Odd way to react to a burn.] 

I chided her, my desire to poke fun at her overwhelming my sense of reason.

[Odd way to stare at someone who’s sleeping.]

I looked away suddenly in a panic realizing I was still blushing, I-i hadn’t still been smiling at her though had I?

[Hey wait, you’re Meisa Enya-Sama aren’t you? What are you doing up here?]

[Sama? I’m only a 2nd year you know and student like you, San is more appropriate.]]

[Well still-]

Shigure-Senpai lit a new cigarette and got to her feet, taking a quick drag of it before exhaling away from me, which I found surprising given her reputation. She turned back to me and smiled, though I was still viewing her from a side glance as I calmed down.

[You’re a real go-getter from what I hear, the most impressive girl in school they say, and you certainly have better grades than I do. So Sama seems just fine given your status, don’t you think?]

Just as I’d managed to relax, I felt my cheeks blushing again,  even though it’s all true why was she praising me so much anyways?

[So, Enya-Sama, whats a girl like you doing up here, skipping class?]

[I…just wanted to talk.]

[To talk?]

[Mhm.]

[So, which of my senseis put you up to this?]

I didn’t reply, I instead flicked my gaze in the opposite direction, trying to think of where to steer the conversation. Maybe become more familiar first? Just try to play off what she asked and change the subject?

[You’re uncomfortable, I get it, even if someone asked you to speak with me it could still do a number on your reputation to see us together. But hey, let me ask you something else instead?]

[...alright?]

[It must be insufferable right? Dealing with that kind of pressure from everyone, having to be so perfect all the time, it must really suck huh?]

What is this? I’m supposed to be the one helping her, not the other way around, and how can she be so relaxed - friendly even? She takes another drag of her cigarette, then exhaled with a frown before taking a step closer, I turned to face her.

[You don’t have to tell me, I’ve dealt with it before, but much happier now though.]

[It…can be a bit much sometimes.]

Shigure-Senpai smiled again, yet all it did was annoy me. She’s a failure, a ridiculous joke of a student, how dare she pity me.

[I bet you don’t even get a chance to let loose, do you? Are your parents at least good to you?]

[They are, they’re not the ones who force me to try so hard, if that’s what you’re implying.]

[Oh? I’m glad then.]

[And you?]

[What about me? Tell ya anything you want to know, Enya-Sama.]

[Don’t you hate the way everyone looks down on you? And what do your parents think?]

She closed her eyes and chuckled to herself, it felt like she wasn’t taking me seriously at all, I felt my foot begin to tap involuntarily.

[I ran away from home a few years ago, couldn’t take their oppressive attitude anymore, so I live alone. As for being looked down on, well, it’s not always a bad thing to be looked down on huh? Especially not when being looked down upon by one’s gorgeous classmate.]

[You’re looking down on me?]

[Only in the literal sense - I was actually referring to you though, I liked feeling you look down on me Enya-Sama.]

[What is that supposed to mean?]

[Forgive me for saying so, but I think you know exactly what I mean.]

I blushed and she took another drag of her cigarette, reddening a bit herself. She couldn’t…possibly be referring to the look I gave her after she got burned, could she? Even if I was blushing and smiling, that doesn’t mean anything, she couldn’t have guessed I was a sadist from just that. Furthermore what was with that compliment, was…she saying she was into me? Into girls??

I turned around and shook my head, slapping my cheeks a few times for good measure, I had to get a hold of myself. I came here as a request from Sensei, I can’t let myself get distracted, besides even if she likes me it’s irrelevant. I’d never be caught dead with someone like her, it’d ruin everything I’ve spent my whole life to achieve.

[SO, why the class skipping, being late, and sleeping during school?]

Shigure-Senpai froze and looked at me in bewilderment, and it was no wonder why, I just blurted out everything I was going to talk to her about. She’d shaken me up so much, and I hated her for it, my foot began tapping again.

[Well alright, I did say anything I guess…let’s see. It’s all a little bit related, I mentioned that I live alone, well I pay for it by working part time at a cafe kind of late into the night. Then I sometimes end up oversleeping, thus the being late, annnnd taking naps during the day thus the skipping class and sleeping. But I mean it’s fine, I test well and never miss the more important classes, so I won’t fail or anything. I’m not planning on attending university, so the bare minimum is fine.]

[I see. And the horns?]

[Oh! I think they’re cute, don’t you?]

She beamed a bright smile at me, then took another drag, her cigarette starting to reach it’s end. They were cute, ridiculous as they made her seem, and everything else seemed to add up too. Could it really be just a string of coincidences that made her out to be a delinquent? One the things I hear most often is she’s intimidating and scary, I guess she’s tall but, I don’t feel any animosity from her.

[I like you, Enya-Sama, I can see why everyone does too.]

[You’re…you’re not as bad as everyone says either.]

[Oh? Well you can just call me Seiko-San then, if you want to.]

[Isn’t that too familiar? Especially when you keep calling me Sama?]

[I don’t mind, like I said I like you, and huh you don’t like being called Sama, Enya-Sama?]

[Ugh you’re a pain, fine - Seiko-San. It’s not that I mind it, but it feels like you have an alternative reason for calling me that.]

[Well…you prefer to be on top, don’t you Enya-Sama?]

[W-what did you say?]

[To be in control? To cause pain? Isn’t that what you like?]

I’d had it, she doesn’t know me, she doesn’t know anything - how dare she try to throw that in my face. Even if it’s true, even if she’s right, what gives her the right to say that so casually? 

I reached up and took her cigarette from her mouth, she looked at me in confusion, she had no idea what I was about to do. No, what she made me do. Turning the cigarette around in my fingers, I pressed it into her exposed arm, causing her to recoil and moan before falling to one knee. I barely saw her face twisted with pain as she slumped her head back down, and I laughed, unable to contain myself anymore. Then I slapped my hands over my mouth as the reality of what I’d just done set in, I hurt someone, like I told myself I never would, no matter how much I’d wanted to. I couldn’t even find the words to speak, and so I ran, leaving Seiko-San alone on the roof with a severe burn I had caused.

[Damn, Enya-Sama, I really like you.♥]

[femmefatalevibe]

Hello! I recently found your blog and I love it!! Thank you for sharing your wisdom 💓 I’m looking for advice on something (apologies for the long ask!)

I’m 22 and I’ve been in a relationship with my boyfriend since the past two years and counting. Over the course of it I’ve lost my girl friends. Our friendships weren’t quite strong or close and things happened which felt right enough for me to give up on them. I do have girl friends overseas but unfortunately I meet them once a year if I’m lucky.

On the other hand I’ve stopped putting effort into making new girl friends. I do have some friends who are girls but they’re ones I meet maybe once or twice a month for a party/event.

I’ve also been immensely struggling with my mental health so meeting new people and putting effort has been increasingly difficult. I somehow can connect with boys my age easier than women too. It’s not something I’m proud of but I think it maybe easier because I’ve told myself that they don’t judge nor are they too sentimental to fault my actions.

I do want to have female friends, to share my secrets with and to go to nail appointments with. And much more. How do you think I can help myself?

Hi love!

Thanks so much for the kind words and for trusting my opinion on these intimate thoughts.

Firstly, I think it's important to note that your early 20s are a very transitional time in life, including with friendships, but I get how being in LTR makes it way too easy to give up on making new friends and/or maintaining certain friendships in general, so it's a compounding effect.

Without knowing you personally or your situation past this ask, I presume that it's easier to get along with men because they're less similar to you in certain ways, so you're not comparing yourself to them to such an acute or minute degree.

My advice would be to join some sort of social type of class like a sport, art class, language-learning class, cooking class, etc. to meet people who have a similar interest. Chances are, there'll be some women are these classes and maybe 1-2 of them over time can become friends of yours.

Otherwise, I do believe in the power of loose connection networking as a way to make friends in your industry and HAVE friends in your industry without potentially harming your career while separating your personal and professional lives. If you're still in school, consider being more active in study groups or activities like a newspaper where you'll chat a lot with others and can forge more social connections based on common interests and goals.

Hope this helps xx

[1dfangirls35]

I’ve been finding myself wanting to write down just what I’ve been thinking over the past 48 hours and who better to share them with then the former community I have through this blog.

I remember the day I learned about One Direction distinctly. While I think I had heard WMYB on the radio, it was another girl in my yearbook class watching the music video on YouTube my sophomore year of high school that subsequently lead me to stay up watching Funny Moments videos on my KindleFire late into the night. There was no going back after that.

It is hard to articulate precisely what One Direction means to me. I often joke that it’s a part of my personality at this point- much to my mother’s dismay of me never growing out of the “phase”. I lived and breathed One Direction throughout my last two and a half years of high school. Watching videos, writing fanfiction, sending fangirl Fridays to my friends, and even starting this blog. Through this band I made not only a best friend, but a community of worldwide fans. In the good old days, nothing could make me happier than staying up to listen to a new album (leaked more than likely), the boys tweeting out or going to a concert. That kind of pure happiness is something that I don’t think I have experienced to the same level in my adult life.

While I was always a Louis girl, this blog was started with a Lilo focus- with my friend at that time being a Liam fan. I have always viewed Liam as a strong foundation to the band- especially in the early days. “Daddy Directioner” always guiding them. His songwriting has also been part of many of my favorite tracks.

When Zayn left my freshman year of college, I truly thought that would be the worst day in the One Direction fandom, perhaps second only to the day they announced their 18 month hiatus. But soon I learned there was a whole new aspect to being a fan as each of the boys launched their solo careers. While some members of the fandom broke off and supported individual members, I stayed true to OT5 and was so looking forward to going to each one of their solo concerts.

The dream of course, was that one day they would reunite. 20 year old me thought that would be in less than 2 years, but as each anniversary passed, I started to have a new dream about the reunion. I had my savings account accumulating and knew that when the announcement came, that experience would be priceless. I didn’t care if I was in a nursing home or raising a baby I would be there. I looked forward to the feeling I would get when they announced a reunion or dropped an unreleased album- even if it didn’t happen until I was old and decrepit.

On Wednesday I learned there was a new worst day to be in the fandom- and that was the day I learned of Liam’s tragic passing. There would never be an OT5 reunion in the way that many of us dreamed of and more importantly we had lost a piece of the band.

I think the thing people in the fandom don’t understand is even though I’ve never met Liam- I still feel like he’s been incredibly influential to my life. It’s weird to grieve someone you’ve never met but yet means so much to you. One Direction and even the boys solo work has been a comfort to me at many stressful times. If I’m having a bad day it’s always my One Direction Forever playlist I turn to. I still can’t believe he’s gone. That I will never get to see him perform Strip That Down Live or throw water at Louis on stage again. There will never be a One Direction reunion- not in the way we have dreamed of.

As I’ve gotten older I’ve realized just how much these boys must have went through at the peak of One Direction. I look at myself between the 16-22 and see how little I knew at that age and how different of a person I was. I can’t even imagine what they went through with that level of fame at such a young age. We will never know what really happened to Liam. There were be speculations and autopsies and eye witness reports but the only person who knew what was going on in those hours leading up to his death is no longer with us. I only wish that he can now see the outpouring of love and support to a boy who shaped millions of lives around the world.

This tragedy is powerful reminder of the power of social media in both his negatives and positives. It’s a reminder that social media can be a harmful and toxic environment. But I’ve also realized over the past 48 hrs that social media can be a powerful tool for connection and community. My TikTok feed is full of memories of Liam and 1D. I’m in a groupchat for girls in my city setting up a tribute. Our fandom still continues to amaze me.

My heart aches for Liam’s friends and family. For Bear. For Niall, Harry, Louis and Zayn. I can’t even imagine what they are going through right now. I hope that even if this tragedy never leads us to a formal reunion between the remaining four, that this reconnects them together. I hope Liam is in a better place now and that all his pain and suffering are gone.

Take care of each other, take care of your friends and let us remember Liam as a boy that changed our lives forever. Let us remaninsce on all the joy he brought to our lives. One Direction isn’t One Direction without him 🥲.

Rest In Peace Payno

[talenlee]

Game Pile: Most of the Quest for Glory Franchise (1-4) (Video)

Quest For Glory 1-4 And Dirty Cole Prodcts

Watch this video on YouTube

Thumbnail and script below the fold!

Any story of our history, any attempt to tell someone a narrative from the beginning to the end, is always telling a lie. The lie is one of omission, the lie that this story has a beginning, and an end.

For example, the story I want to tell you today is a story about games I played growing up. It’s also the story of game engines. At the same time it’s kind of the story of a genre that reaches from Zork through to Disco Elysium. It’s also a story about me, a person who has been playing and replaying these games for thirty years and the people who chose to make them.

Let’s talk about game engines.

In the DOS era, the PC was a platform for text. It had a keyboard natively, it had a system way to recognise what text was, and thanks to that, if you wanted to play a game that was primarily text, you played it on a PC. Consoles could make a heroic effort of drop-down-menu selection but the games where you typed in specific commands, chosen scene to scene, moment to moment? That was the domain of the PC.

The first great age of the PC text adventure started with the Infocom-based games, starting with Zork. Zork and all of its compatriots under Infocom’s auspice were made with the ZIL engine. ZIL engine games included games like Planetfall and Infidel, which I’ve already spoken about in the past. They did a lot, they could do a lot, once you got past the fact that they couldn’t do much but text responses to text questions. The whole genre was thrown down the stairs collectively by the release of Kings Quest 1, by the at-time nascent company Sierra.

Kings Quest 1 was released on the AGI engine, which stood for Adventure Game Interpreter. From 1984 to 1989, Sierra established a number of game franchises through the AGI engine games, King’s Quest, Space Quest, Leisure Suit Larry, Police Quest, and some miscellaneous crap like Manhunter. Don’t worry about Manhunter, it’s quite rubbish.

The sucessor to the AGI was the Sierra Creative Interpreter, which went through two distinct different modes. The first engine was a text parser based game that ran on EGA graphics, and it was displaced by a VGA mouse-and-icons input system. The SCI was the engine that Sierra used for over a hundred releases, if you count demos and rerelease versions, and it was used in this form, from 1988 to 1997, or about nine years. This also covers the time, more or less between the company’s going going public (based on the success of the AGI games) and their disastrous acquisition by the CUC group.

It stood for Comp-U-Card.

The CUC group convincved Ken Williams to sign on their company with his wife Roberta Williams shortly before being found out in a false accountancy scandal that meant they’d been over-reporting their income by half a billion dollars a year. This scandal broke and dropped their stock price from $40 to $20 in one day, then $9 shortly after. This representation from the CUC group about the implied value to their relationship went quite extravagently wrong and resulted in CUC – which had just bought Sierra! – having to pay out over 2.5 billion dollars in class action lawsuits. Oh and this is also after lying to Sierra about actually, how they totally had their friends Lucasarts and Broaderbund involved.

This history is itself fascinating and I promise I don’t just talk about 1990s videogame companies when there’s a truly disastrous outing on the stock market but it is a fun coincidence that it’s happened twice.

It’s interesting to me because it’s a way in which the story of Sierra Online is this dreadful tale of a company and the movements of the greater tech bubble, which is itself this endlessly deceitful web of inflated fantasised value and all of that is the greater context in which the most important part of Sierra’s influence on my life which reached from the ages of about seven to the age of fifteen.

See, while I liked plenty of games that Sierra released during this period, there were four, in particular, that I loved, united across one game engine, one sliver of time, and it was the Quest For Glory series.

Spoiler warning ahead for, like, all of these games!

Quest For Glory I

Our story begins in 1989’s Quest For Glory I, formerly Hero’s Quest obligatory trivia note. It’s set in…

And I suppose this is where we need to address the idea of tone. Because on the one hand, Quest for Glory is a narrative about a lone adventurer, seeking something to do with their life, travelling to a remote valley that’s in the thrall of terrible problems, like a grieving baron who has lost both his children, a son and a daughter, and who is being tormented by an evil ogre, an organised thieves’ guild robbing people in the city, a hard winter, brigands robbing people who travel through the valley, and a forest full of monsters that kill and eat people. And on the other hand it’s a game where your first encounter is with a Sheriff and his best friend Otto Von Goon, you fight the three Stooges, almost everyone who can have a pun in their name has a pun in their name, and to finish the game you have to dance with faeries that will make fun of you for it.

The game is a pastiche of European/Russian folklore, primarily European, with dryads, ogres, kobolds and fairies. Everyone is white, even the hyperbolic foreigner Abdulla Doo, and while the game is cut deep with a sense of humour that runs towards cornball puns including the classic Sierra many-deaths-of-you death messages, it tries amongst this to write characters with as wide a variety of tones and personalities as they could manage with the game’s limited text-only interface. There is a real attempt to make characters varying degrees of sympathetic and dangerous – some very affable bad people, some very cranky good people, and even some ambiguous people! The game has a morality system of sorts that’s based on tangible cause and effect. If you break into people’s houses and steal from them, they will be more paranoid. If you kill an optional (but very hard) opponent, his friends will grieve him.

See, Quest for Glory is a fairly conventional adventurous D&D-style setting story, as run by a Dungeon Master who can’t help but make a joke out of everything perhaps as a pre-emptive defense against being too sincere. Which is a pretty reasonable thing and I think informs the whole vibe of the entire game franchise, where a story ostensibly of serious pieces also wants to take a break to make sure you’re very aware the person running the game has watched Monty Python and the Holy Grail too many times.

Unlike prior outings from Sierra, you choose and create your character at the start of the game, picking a class and skills that change how the game world treats you. The skill system does something comparatively neat (and honestly, best in a computer game instead of a tabletop one), where to improve on any skill that you have points in, you have to just do it, at least until you’re doing something you consider trivial. Climb more, you get better at climbing. Throw more rocks, you get better at throwing. Fight, you get better at fighting. Amplifying your skills is therefore a task of finding the things you can do with them that’s still a challenge, and this can encourage you to build all sorts of skills over time.

Except stealth it’s a bit rubbish in this game.

What the game did that few videogames had done up to that point was scale up and express a world. If you started the game anew and went to a new location you hadn’t been to before, you could memorise that information and its location and it would be the same when you played otherwise. The game had a complex enough world that there was a feeling of a persistent world with things in it that happened regardless of if you were there or not. Other games of the genre let you roam through spaces pretty freely, but few gave you a place with dynamic, changing threats and things to do while you sought the way to finish the game. There are multiple endings to the game, depending on how thoroughly you pursue all the possible quest threads, and there are multiple routes to get to those endings. Finally, when you’ve solved the problems in the little valley of Spielburg, you then are whisked away on a carpet, and given the option of saving your character, so that same character can move on to the next game!

I think I was six when I received this game on ten 5.25-inch floppy disks, and the idea of clearing out about six megabytes of storage space on my dad’s computer so I could play it was an enormous ask. I would run the game off the disks – crossing into a new area, being told by the game insert disk 3 – and not have room to save anything on the disks that were full of game-ness.

I think more than any other videogame I’d played to this point, Quest For Glory consumed my imagination with possibility. I know now, looking at the game, how limited it is – the text parser is a bit of a joke, and there are numerous areas created just to make the forest feel larger than it is. There are dead ends and ways to lose the game without ever finding out how to win, and the combat system is terrible, where you either completely obliterate your opponents or you are smeared to the floor as a thin paste. Despite all these things, though, even now as an adult, I’m still surprised to find – or rediscover! – things the original game still could do, or at least let you try.

I remember this game keenly because it gave me a panic attack as a child, in a time in my life when I was an extremely strange little kid in a weird little cult. In the world of Quest for Glory there was the dead enchantress Erana, and you learn of her story bit by bit. I wound up being so affected by the story that I sobbed with grief over her — affecting me so deeply, emotionally, that I was convinced that it had to have a demonic influence in it.

I was convinced I was being possessed by a videogame.

I still can remember how, with shaking hands, I formatted every one of those disks, after telling my mother about my plan to do so. I destroyed a Christmas present to assuage my guilt at experiencing art – and then I spent the next ten years of my life invariably recovering and playing those games again.

Quest For Glory 2

After Quest For Glory 1 promised more, well, I wanted more. That worked out well for Sierra, though, because the game was great, with personality and charm and other words that reviewers like to inflate like they have inherent meaning. From time to time I’ll complain about sequel releases in games, and time to time I reflect and realise that I’m usually comparing them to the changes I saw between Quest for Glory 1 and 2.

First things first, the game is better looking. Using the same small resources of an EGA graphics adaptor with SIXTEEN COLOURS, Quest For Glory 2 puts less effort into map areas that are just transitional. You will walk through a lot of twisty mazelike passages that look all alike, and the desert map sections are four repeated frames endlessly. On the other hand, the hero looks quite a bit better, and can do more, treating the world more like it’s again, alive. The game’s systems are improved in ways that just speak to more effort being put in. Like the player can differentiate between telling someone something and asking them something. Sneaking cares about how much you sneak, not how many screens you sneak between, and the introduction of mouse aiming for spells and daggers allowed for some remarkably clever puzzles – such as showing you the difference between hitting someone’s chest with a thrown dagger, or hitting their leg. It became even more evident in the mage’s puzzles, where you could do cute things like ricochet shots off ice to knock it apart.

In Quest for Glory 2, the people of Shapier brought you from Spielburg to help address problems in Shapier. Of course, while you do solve them, it does serve a comical loop that you, hero, are responsible for one of the worst things that can happen to the world. Still, you arrive in Shapier, you fight a bunch of elementals that attack the city, and you do such a good job you’re thrown to the sister city of Rasier that is, just coincidentally, an anagram of Sierra, and fight back against a police state and only just a tiny bit risk destroying the world because you’re easily mind controlled.

None of the game was emergent – it was just an intricate and thoroughly constructed sequence of possible permutations. If you wanted, you could max out your skills and go out into the desert to hunt jackals and scorpions, could build up a huge reputation with the vendors in town, could buy everyone’s miscellaneous guff, earn the class distinctions that belonged to other classes, arm-wrestle a misogynist, burgle houses, consult an astrologer to hear about almost every major NPC, cuddle a tree, and almost none of it was essential.

The plot is also a nice progression that most sequels don’t do. In Quest For Glory 1, you saved a barony, a village and a castle. You were dealing with bandits thanks to a capricious and meanspirited supernatural power – but you didn’t confront her yourself. In Quest For Glory 2, you’re trying to save a city, then another city, then the rulers of those cities. In Quest For Glory 1, you’re afraid of fighting bandits en masse. In Quest for Glory 2, you crush bandits, without even trying. Sure, it’s a joke, but it still shows growth.

I can remember this game as a sort of unicorn for me. I wasn’t a very resoureful child at the time – my chances to obtain software were limited to my interactions with my friends who had computers of their own, which was typically a small handful of school friends – who also had church-operating fathers – and my cousin. My cousin was how I obtained Quest For Glory I – it was a Christmas gift. That began a small obssession for me – he had the sequel, but not when I visited him. He had a faster turnover of games – he could afford to delete games when he was bored of them, and disks were more valuable than the stuff stored on them.

Also, I understand he has a Youtube channel these days. Hullo, Grae, I thought those Homelander gifs you made on imgur were very impressive and your Deviantart photogrpahy is really good. Yes, this is the extent of my ability to reach out, yes, I am deeply emotionally damaged, did you miss that I was formatting disks earlier in this script because a videogame made me feel something?

What made Quest for Glory 2 most remarkable to me is that I played it after I’d played all the other games. Because I got a copy when it was on the bargain pile at the Gamesmen, as a rare gift from my dad, purchased for no particular reason and given just as an act of kindness.

Hard to think about that story any other way, really.

But anyway, that meant I played Quest for Glory 2 well after I’d played…

Quest for Glory 3

Here, the engine jumps, from SCI-0, to the new and improved, 256-colour, point-and-clicky interface of SCI-1. Quest for Glory 3 is set in the African inspired region of Tarna and its surrounding Simbani savannahs. You arrive to a city teetering on the precipice of… War? Kinda?

Kinda.

Look: There’s a weakness in Quest for Glory 3. The game was ostensibly made to buy time for the proper sequel to Quest for Glory 2, and to space out the story so that the game didn’t just go ‘goodbye forever,’ with its villain, then ‘hello again’ immediately afterwards. Spoilers for Quest for Glory 4 I suppose.

Point is that Quest for Glory 3 feels like a game that’s kind of mostly done, mostly there. Still lots of fun and imaginative ideas, but if you didn’t know the game was called Wages of War it might be a bit challenging to realise it was supposedly about a war that you were averting. Its villain pops out at the last minute, its free-roaming areas make the world feel more sparse rather than more interesting, and its story has this whole weird subplot about buying a girl but it’s okay, because she’s into it at some point. Combat is low-contact and awkward, to allow users to use their mouse instead of the keyboard, but the system is un-tuned and messy. You can spam attacks or hit them in a more patient form and they don’t seem to make any difference. You burn stamina to attack, but you still need to attack a certain number of times to win, which means you might as well burn your stamina fast. Magic doesn’t seem to have much impact, so broadly speaking the best strategy I found was to amp your stats with mundane practice and just rely on pills to restore your stamina.

Heroes do drugs.

The music is lovely, the graphics are pretty good, and… and…

sigh…

Poor Quest For Glory 3. Nobody ever really wanted you.

If you played to the end of Quest For Glory 2, you were treated to a stylish little animation at the end of your hero staring out at the wild sands of Rasier, where the moon turned red and you were told that the story was going to continue in, dun dun dun, Shadows of Darkness. Then it didn’t. It continued in Wages of War, which came out of nowhere and expanded the stories of Rakeesh the Lionaur and Uhura the warrior.

It’s not a bad game. It really isn’t. It’s just lesser. In previous games, you’d often meet a person before they became important, there’d be some greater context to them. You’d meet them, then they’d be involved in doing something. Also, there were opportunities for the classes to differentiate themselves, while the greatest distinction here in Quest For Glory 3 was Paladin or Not Paladin. There’s a very clear hierarchy in Quest For Glory 3. Paladins get the most and most interesting stuff, since they have to introduce all your abilities. Magic users and Fighters get a nice little segment dedicated to them, and thieves…

It seems reasonable given that Quest For Glory 1 and Quest For Glory 2 featured extensive sections where the thief could leap ahead of the game’s economy and do things like live on a potion drip or run around with an armoury in his pockets, but in Quest For Glory 3, thieves have a surprisingly limited range of options for thiefy things to do. You have access to ropes as a new puzzle avenue, but there are only two locations I can remember where being a thief is meaningful compared to being anyone else. You can pickpocket off a drummer and you can commiserate with another thief, but that’s pretty much it. Compared to the elaborate fighter/paladin path’s obstacle courses, it seems honestly a bit rude.

Maybe I’m just sore about that. I always loved to play the thief, because even more than the mage, they felt like they were the clever character. The thief flirted with Dinarzad and overcame elementals with clever tricks, and danced circles around Khaveen – rather than spending time fighting directly. Even the two thief opportunities you have are basically identical.

The edges of greatness are here. The use of romance – and its rejection – is interesting. The character of the storyteller brings the thief’s motivations into question. The honour system has a direct, tangible effect on the game, even if it is incredibly easy to cheat it. The use of a huge map with small key locations on it was interesting even if it fell flat. Mages received the first outline of the whole ‘staff’ mechanic. Fighters were given something more expansive than the Eternal Order of Fighters with its near-binary ‘be a dick/don’t be a dick’ choice. It even had a fun little cinematic moment where a fight was interrupted thanks to an earlier choice!

What’s really surprising in hindsight is how much Quest For Glory 3 tries to tell a big story. It has at its conclusion, a genuine Big Damn Heroes moment where characters from all throughout the story, and from different cultures, come together to fight for you, and it’s honestly rad as all hell. It’s little touches, like the way the painted backgrounds don’t have doors and how static the city feels compared to Shapier. It’s the way you can’t compare how much you hated Ad Avis to how much you hated The Demon Wizard (who if he’s ever named, I don’t remember it). It’s the way the bazaar’s denizens all represent puzzle piece retrieval places, and that’s it.

I remember enjoying this game, but no matter how much I loved it, I only like it when I’m done playing.

Quest For Glory 4

Quest For Glory 4 is a remarkable improvement over Wages Of War. While Wages of War was uncertain about how they wanted to use their engine, with its point-and-click movement, Quest For Glory 4 is much more confident. The windows port of it is a little shaky, but hey, it was 1994 and Windows 3.1 wasn’t exactly a renowned game platform. The combat system is a bit weird – I remember being quite good at it, but anything you practice for a hundred hours probably becomes easier. It was a stranger attempt to make combat more arcade – and it even included an AI version that could fight for you, if you were all thumbs. Other than that, the game’s core is more or less the same. Items, skills, pointing, clicking, solving puzzles, balancing the resources of your stamina and time, sleeping and eating and stabbing things – there isn’t anything here you haven’t seen already.

The game still has stats that determine how well you do at things, and if you’re weird and obsessive you can drag all those numbers up to a very sassy 400. There is some incentive to do so, if you like numbers that are larger than other numbers, and some point in the game, you will notice a tangible difference when you start random fights in the wilds to collect coins and miscellaneous junk, but you don’t have to do that. You don’t have to try and do everything in this creepy little valley of Slavic horror.

Quest For Glory 4 also abandoned Quest For Glory 3’s world map, and returns to a screen-by-screen small valley just like Quest For Glory 1. I preferred this, especially when they made sure that there were fewer ‘empty’ screens – more than a few areas had something in them, whether that was a hawk or a particular random encounter or a goddamned grieving ghost of a lost woman, pining for her husband who had never stopped missing her.

Oh yeah, the big change from the previous games is that Quest For Glory 4 is fucking dark.

It plays with the same goofiness of the earlier games, of course. There’s a mad scientist trying to bring a woman made of vegetables to life, like Frankenstein. There’s a gravedigger who makes amazingly bad puns. There’s a talking bush. There’s also John Rhys Davies, as the narrator, going for full Hammer Horror style histrionic when the narration comes to a tense head.

It’s also a game with suicide, sacrifice, and a dreadful hybrid of Lovecraftian horror and the Slavic myth of Chernobog. It was designed around a made-up Lovecraftian horror monster called Avoozl. I don’t think I can tell you what Avoozl was, to me. Oh, sure, I can tell you he’s a big bad horrible thing, an evil so dreadful nobody wanted to use his name until it was necessary for puzzles. That’s just description, a pile of words thrown over a shape. Avoozl was something more and more dreadful, to me.

When I played Quest For Glory 4 for the first time, I was still a Christian. I was still a Christian who believed in a very fundamentalist, very literal and controlling fashion of the faith. I was a Christian who genuinely believed that as a fifteen year old virgin, I had committed acts of adultery by looking at women on magazine covers. I believed in a literal devil and demonic possession. I believed that Satan took control of media in the world to convince people of ideas that would make us easier to control. This had happened to me once before – after a nightmare inspired by the first game, I was convinced that there was something wrong with the game, and I had to ‘purge’ the disks, wiping them all, one by one, ritualistically.

I had read my Bible enough, however, to know that the book hinted in some terrible places about the other gods.

I very, very seriously thought Avoozl might exist.

I know, it’s ridiculous! Laugh at me if you want, but this was the perspective I had! And in this game, I was being given a glimpse of, of, of a world with more gods. Of a world where a Christian warrior was not opposing ideals and cusswords, but was taking up an arm against something so much worse. When this topic breached the surface, when Avoozl flashed his fins, unnamed and terrible, I was suddenly galvanised. This world was full of demons, ghosts, the dead, horror and fear.

It was so realistic.

These days it’s reasonably safe to admit you crush on a videogame character. There’s a subculture that talk about it. Even people who are proud of it. There’s fanfiction and there’s fanart and it’s all just acceptable. I had no culture like that, back then. I also didn’t have any friends, let alone friends I was attracted to, with whom I could stiltingly start those emotional experiments I imagined I’d have called ‘going steady.’ No, I was an isolated young man to whom videogames were an effort at socialisation.

Now, Quest For Glory 4 was not written for the sweaty pocket-mining department of gamers, per se, but it did have some raunchy stuff in it. A rusalka was designed to look beautiful, so she could horrify you and disgust you when she started to rot. A servant girl was obviously beautiful so she could startle you with her ‘unveiled’ appearance. These things stuck with me. I remember the shame and guilt I felt when I met the rusalka, as if my dad would burst through a wall and see what I was doing (which he never did). This is why I wound up rearranging my bedroom so much – to create illusions of space and safety, to put my back to a wall when I was using my computer, to hide the screen from anyone who simply entered the room.

That prurience, however, underpinned another element of my experience with the game, though. Katrina. Katrina is a character who guides you out of the swamp, teaches you spells, expresses concern for your wellbeing, listens to you, flirts with you a little, and is gone, poof, so regularly. Remember, this is pre-GameFAQs and such. If Katrina showed up at some point in the game thanks to a trigger, I didn’t know what that trigger was. I only knew that she was there, and I wanted to talk to her and I loved hearing from her. I kept thinking that I would eventually learn more about her, that she would stop evading questions and talk to me about who she was, about what she wanted.

See, Katrina is the evil vampire lord that rules the valley.

It’s not subtle, you probably worked it out the first time you spoke to her in the middle of the swamp by the big deadly monster cave face.

Me, I was crushed.

She was the one who oversaw Ad Avis in Shapier.

She was the one who stole a child for her own selfish want for family.

She was the darkness that claimed the sky of Mordavia.

As quickly as I realised I had a crush on Katrina, I realised I couldn’t do anything about her. Evil walked the land and it had in its fist my heart.

What followed then – in the game, mind you – was a story about a hero saving a town, and thanks to that, the world. It was a greater scale than the previous games, yes, but only because the threat to this town was something that would also completely consume and ruin the world. Recurring throughout the story, though, was the strange theme of sacrifice. Strange because to me, the meme was that sacrifice was our ideal. It was what we, Christians, did. Greater love hath no man than this, we were told.

Then I watched as an old man died to give his wife peace.

I watched a monster surrender its life to save a child.

I watched the worst person in the world give her life to save mine.

I think this was a game that introduced into my young mind a level of complexity that nothing else I was able to experience did. With Katrina’s bubbling sexuality, with the sadness of the ghosts Niklai and Anna, with a story about suicide and death and vengeance from beyond the grave, with the repeated theme of people giving up their lives for others… I was horrified to think at the time that this game, this marvelous, wonderful, intense game, was the work of Satan. It could not be. It could not be, that this game that tried to say that a monster was a moral person underneath and that morality meant they were capable of making moral choices that were necessary to be a monster in the first place, that you could leave behind something that you would never enjoy if it benefitted others, that this, these ideas could be the result of sin and manipulation.

No.

No, this was a noble game. This was a game that told a story about an evil thing that couldn’t exist, and a dark, horrible place full of fear that showed the world the way I thought the world actually was and how in that place, people found peace. Some people fought for it. Some people killed for it. Some people died for it. Some people died for other people’s.

Erana gave her life for the world.

Toby gave his life for Anna.

Katrina gave her life for me.

I remember shutting the game down that first time. I remember walking away, going down into our back garden, down by the little brickwork barbecue and the piles of red leaves and flowers, and finding a place where I knew my parents wouldn’t look for me. I remember sitting with my arms holding my legs and my head on my knees, and crying. I remember crying for Katrina, I remember crying for that act. She was bad. She was a vampire, she wanted to take over the world, she had lied to me, she had manipulated me, she had used the fact I thought she was beautiful against me.

And my heart ached knowing that in that time and place, with that one moment, she still gave up her life for me.

It’s such juvenile, mawkish bullshit now. If you look back at it and read it now, it even tells you ‘you realise that she loved you.’ It’s not good writing. You finish this scene by telling a dirty joke then immediately chatting up another woman. I am sure that I can take this game to a dozen people I know and respect and they will tell me why it is god-awful.

It can’t change that this game broke my heart, and broke me.

Man, being a teenager is hard. Be nice to them, it can’t have gotten easier.

Lumps of Cole

Shadows of Darkness is to my mind the ‘last’ Quest For Glory game. By the time the fifth game, Dragon Fire came out, my world and outlook had changed, and I simply did not know the game existed. Plus, going back and trying to play it, it controls like ass and looks like bums, and for some reason I guess I just see a 256 colour pixel-art display as superior to a 3d engine.

Something I love about the Quest for Glory games, though, and something that I find that even modern games with similar directors can struggle with, is having a consistent voice and worldview. The Quest for Glory world is one where an individual can do good by doing the right thing, where small acts of kindness are worth doing, and cynicism doesn’t reward anything.

It’s strange to consider, but these games are an example of auteur media of the time. Oh, sure, they were produced by a major company, but that company was, itself, like, twenty people, and it was when they went properly corporate that everything slithered down the tubes fast. Sierra was a corporation egg, cracked and scrambled all at once, but the making of Quest for Glory was a task that seemed to be left to the wife-husband pair, or husband-wife pair I suppose, of Lori-Ann and Corey Cole.

This is a game franchise that crackles with a spcific perspective, a single particular way of telling jokes and way of telling stories. The dialogue and characterisation is this mix of time and place, and it’s not really like anything else that Sierra was doing. It is their work, informed by how they wanted to make the games. And they were the kinds of people who were… like I said, dungeon masters who wanted to tell a serious story, but couldn’t resist telling a joke along the way, at every single opportunity.

And the Coles?

They kept making games.

Check it out on PRESS.exe to see it with images and links!

[leaoic]

✰ Put down the vape ꩜ .ᐟ

Soooooo >ᴗ<

This year I have decided to quit vaping. 2025 is the year bitches. This page in my sketchbook is my little nod to my past addiction. The collage of dum dum wrappers I’ve consumed over the past few weeks in attempts to curve the cravings, dumb written in big letters because vaping is dumb, and the guy screaming in the corner which perfectly encapsulates how I feel as I put an end to this nasty habit that has had me in a choke hold since freshman year of high school. I’m officially in my 20’s. I’m grown. It’s time to act like it. The girl with the swirls was a sketch i did in psychology class last year and I’ve been trying to find a home for her in the dump that’s my sketchbook, idk why I decided this was a good fit but I like her here. And that’s all the reason I need.

But back to the vape free life— it’s nice. Well… it’s nice after the first week. Actually make that the second week. You know what—scratch that it’s still hard even a couple weeks in but it does get easier. I can’t wait to be free from nicotine and live my life without the embarrassment of carrying around an adult/teen marketed pacifier.

If you’re thinking about quitting… do it. Your wallet and body will thank you… one day lol

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