#spent an embarrassing amount of time on the construct

[yanigma]

basically how it went, right? (other versions under cut)

[whoreseason]

RANDOM JAMES MARCH HEADCANONS

CW for murder, drug use mentions, and discussions of trauma/implied child abuse

I think he excels at doing cocaine. I don’t know how to explain what I mean though

He's done quite a lot of it in his life but no longer does, not only because his ass is dead and he can't get high but because such crass indulgences remind him of his younger days

He’d wear women’s perfume if it were more socially acceptable but his ideas around masculinity refuse to let him do this

His hair is naturally a bit curly and he has spent years gelling it into submission

Is 5'8 and rather small build-wise

Despite his size, he can really, really hold his own in a fight, though he fights very dirty. Hand to hand fighting triggers something in him and he does it with pure rage. His opponent will be on the ground before they know it and he'll probably have killed them before he realizes what he's doing

Is a bit resentful of his babyface, as well as his height, and wishes he were both taller and more mature looking

Growing out a mustache was influenced by this

Also deeply resentful of the phrase “prettyboy”, which he’s heard a fair amount

Either puts lifts in his shoes or wears slightly heeled ones. Do NOT bring this up

Has been smoking since he was 12 or so

His eye twitches just slightly when he’s annoyed. It’s often his only outward tell

His only two modes of expressing irritation/anger are “irritated but not showing it” or “literally screaming”

I feel like we as a fandom don’t talk about his canonical temper enough. This individual has probably thrown a fork into a maid’s eye because she got the placement of a napkin wrong

His original accent is lower class Boston, and while this may not be a headcanon, I feel the need to bring this up. His actual voice may sound more like Kit's than anything

Speaks a bit of French and Latin, largely in an attempt to fit in with the old money upper class

Started drinking pretty hard very young, maybe when he was around 12 or 13? And was basically an alcoholic throughout his teenage years

Barely went to school growing up and was more or less able to charm his way into university

Is embarrassed of his Irish heritage. He's a product of his time

Killed his first victim in a rage episode in an alley behind a bar somewhere when he was 16

His first victims were impulsive kills along these lines, but his motives switched from triggered anger to relying on it as he went on, and by the time he was in university he'd get tightly wound and restless if he'd gone a week without it

Took various traits from his first victims-- ways of lighting a cigarette, vocal quirks, body language tics, that sort of thing. As the number racked up and his designed personality become more fleshed out he stopped doing this, but he carries his first kills with him through certain mannerisms, though it's now subconscious

Also took various traits from movie stars and book characters. Spent a lot of time at the cinema as a young man finding things on screen to make a part of himself

Is so very, very fake. Has constructed basically every aspect of his presentation and outward personality

He hates being reminded of who he was before, who he truly was-- he’ll reference parts of his childhood in the context of who he is now and what he's had to overcome, but it’s more like he’s using pieces of his past to construct a story about himself. Anything vulnerable or authentic to that part of his life he won’t bring up, he doesn’t even let it cross his mind

Has worked very, very carefully to suppress his flinching instinct at sudden noise or movement, but sometimes it still comes out when he’s snuck up on

Used to wake up screaming sometimes when he was alive

Would just as often wake up crying, which he quite hated. He never remembered what those dreams were about

He’s glad that he doesn’t sleep anymore and can thus avoid all that. Which is what he loves to do with his memories or any sign of emotional vulnerability, avoid it. Good luck trying to get him to open up about anything

Love you grandpa

[kalims]

⊹ㅤasking you to be their valentines | first years

note. happy (late) valentines guys, not proofread

cw. reader implied to be around ace's height (in his part only) sorry I just can't keep the throwing an arm around your shoulder hc off 😢 aghhh but other than that I tried my best to not describe any features. (just imagine you tp to his height for one paragraph then your mc can go back to your height after LOL)

deuce spade ── has everything planned out but most of it doesn't go to plan

deuce sweats.

never in his life has he even considered doing something for someone in valentines day.

correction; he did not make a move to his old crushes so he could very well be compared to that of a kid with no knowledge about the area whatsoever which is embarrassing cause he knows kids younger who had somehow managed to score a lover.

he had always thought nothing of it and wondered about them being too young to even be 'in love' but damn was it humiliating to get humbled now!

the bouquet of flowers seem to be shaking in his grip every second and cater had commented that he should loosen his grip—lest he actually breaks it with his nervous strength alone, and that's the last thing deuce wants. the madol he spent for it was a hefty amount and his mother would strangle him if he broke the only thing he gave to someone in a romantic sense.

there's clear traces of gel in his hair. slicked back, shiny and unmoving. he looks a little weird standing in the middle of the field looking like he was plucked straight out of a private school which is ironic considering his delinquency.

deuce looks back at the hasty morning he spent. waking up, realizing he just slept past the 5 alarms he set up, clumsily finishing his routine before sparing a good moment to stand in his mirror and recite the paragraph he'd been constructing for days.

ace had caught him there once, talking to a mirror like it was someone; you. and snorted so loudly that deuce wondered if anything about it was wrong.

'everything is wrong with it' ace had told him with a dead kind of look, disgusted but amused nonetheless. deuce never took his word for it, his mother had said something similar to his father and look where they were!

he is practically choking the round, white plush in his other hand the more he tightens his jaw out of anticipation. eleanor smiles at him cutely, pink round blush stitched below her eyelids. eleanor, or so he'd named the egg plush. deuce would have went with the signature bear plush but the moment he set his eyes on eleanor he just fell in love.

... with the exception of you of course.

like a puppy brightening up when it sees it's favorite person deuce perks up and does a quick run over.

he'd practically begged trey to bake some of your favorite delicacy and trusted to leave it bravely within the confines of the heartslabyul fridge. of course sticking a sticky note on the container with a threat and an angry face.

if you accept he'll take you right over there for a little date.. (if he's being too presumption that it is that is)

flowers, got it. he misses the wilted petals from his previous vice grip.

"prefect!" he yells from across the field. successfully making you pause in the middle of your traversing towards the gate. your eyes land on deuce spade, looking a little different than you remember—clad in a suit that definitely isn't nrc's, slicked back hair and decked in the 'will you be my prom date' set.

you sweatdrop. but raise your hand in a friendly wave despite it. "hi deuce," you greet sweetly and deuce swoons from his spot. his cheeks erupt to fire as he shyly looks away.

is he okay? you think.

deuce gestures you to come over.

so that's exactly what you did. I can spare a few, you glance at the time and make your way over to the boy certainly acting strange.

once you do his arms reaches up to show a bouquet of.. flowers in it. you stare at it in confusion, then at the several parts that had stared falling off. deuce curses under his breath but keeps a twitching smile. ".. for you," he says.

you smile, unable to stop the laugh that had emerged. "are you sick deucey? what's the occasion?" you tease lightheartedly. nudging him and taking a whiff.

you sneeze.

then blink. oh that's kind of... strong?

deuce grimaces from beside you.

"uh.. nevermind those, you can have this instead," he presents you a plushie in the shape of an egg. once again, perhaps deuce really is sick. you can't help but laugh again at the endearing silliness.

"can I name it?"

"sure..?" he doesn't look too sure. it's name is eleanor he bites it back.

"(plushie name)." I was gonna name it ash but coughs

he forces a smile. "wow. what a nice name,"

deuce suffers in the silence that follows after, and he's a little bothered by the new name of his favorite egg plushie. you will be missed eleanor, he thinks. midst the loss of his friend he supposes the fact that his favorite person ever makes up for it.

you do a quick do over deuce, blinking slowly at the attire that seems foreign. "what's the occasion? you look fancy," that's right. deuce almost forgot the reason why he was standing in the middle of the field in the first place, he doesn't wanna blame the fact that you practically knock the words out of his throat but.. it is you.

and, momentarily he forgot what nerves were in that very moment.

he can feel it come back, to the cold sweat on his neck, the clammy fingers, and the tightening sensation in his throat. deuce unconsciously nips at the skin of his lips as he exhales—then he straightens his top to prolong his question.

"you.. know that valentines is coming up right..?" he asks nervously.

you nod. "yep, about a week from now," you pause. "why?"

he looks down. "do you,,, wanna be my valentine?"

silence.

deuce slumps at the non verbal response of rejection as the shame fully descends on him. how could he do this? now he's ruined the friendship he's glad he'd built with you.

"what's with the gloomy face? I haven't said no, you know,"

a laugh and instantly it shines down a new hope at his darkness, like light upon an enclosed room. sparkling eyes full of suprise stare at you and you resist the urge to pinch his cheeks and simply wrap him up in a burrito blanket. strange, you know but it fits him.

"you mean?" right. he'd burst into tears when he gets home if you're just playing a joke on him.

you smile at him fondly. "there's like, a gala that the school is hosting. let's go as each others valentines date," you laugh and close the space between you two. a hug, deuce recognizes and it's almost the warmest he's ever had.

albeit awkwardly arms wrap around your body and return your love fully.

ㅤ

ace trapolla ── is 'going with the flow' but 'forgets'

"you're totally down bad!"

ace huffs. what could cater know about romance? people would totally run away from him before he could even ask someone out! meanwhile he; the classic boy everyone's after. he claimed, but cater just laughed at refused to believe him.

whatever some people just don't have good taste. ace rolls his eyes and takes out his cellphone. besides, I'm not down bad at all! he groans. the chime of a notification has him looking down, sparing the air from his annoyed glare.

'a user has commented to your post'

at the sight of it his cheeks turn ablaze and he shoves the screen to his chest, obscuring the view of anyone who dares to peer.

(said 'anyone' is just the air, there's no one besides him and a group of students far away)

ace inhales sharply. he's not crazy he was just,, curious. a man's gotta have his secrets! even if he was gonna drown himself if anyone find out.

he spares one more look at the non existent crowd before swiping up. the big letters read: 'how do I ask someone out as valentines' he most definitely didn't run to google, googling things like 'why is the idiot no longer annoying' 'why do I feel like this I like it but I hate it' which would be cringe worthy if cater ever found out.

I am not down bad. he thinks as he clicks on the comment icons then reads the latest one.

monsieur d'amour_ : there is no better way than to speak from your heart! 💖 n'ayez pas peur ~

( n'ayez pas peur — do not be afraid )

this guy has screws loose. speak from his heart? what a bunch of stupid shit.. and he's not afraid! ace is no coward. he stares silently but he can't deny that it was just a tad, bit inspirational. how could he ever do that? his mouth basically runs on auto pilot to protect his pride and his pride certainly doesn't correlate with his feelings.

yes.. he's not scared.

do it pussy. a second conscious voice seems to taunt him, he sighs. sometimes he hates the attitude that his thoughts,, think.

as if the seven really wants to laugh at him for entertainment the object of his affections silhouette keeps getting larger and larger.

you; the prefect of ramshackle. the same person that had him up for a punishment on the first day of school, he can say that you're the reason he was almost expelled but you're also partially the reason why he wasn't. crazy isn't it? his best friend (other), the same person he just had to fall for.

you're coming closer, ace concludes and he squares up his shoulders and presents the most natural grin he can.

ace saunters up to you and throws a casual arm around your shoulders. it's been habit at this point, perhaps ace just does it because you're his friend or maybe he's just finding another reason to keep you close. (he does the same with deuce but there's an almost guaranteed wrestle and ruffling of the head aggressively affectionate right after)

"what's my favorite prefect doing around here?" ace grins. you roll your eyes at his words but mirror his smile. "favorite prefect? are you serious?" you push him with your shoulder lightly but never enough to shove him off and decline the skin to skin contact he gives. technically it is true though. he doesn't like nearly all the dorm leaders, perhaps with the exception of scarabia's but he can't say they're close.

he smirks. "who else?" then the raw confidence he doesn't have a problem excluding dims when he remembers the whole,, valentines thing.

his smile drops for a second before he repairs it back up.

okay ace, go with the flow. speak with your heart. he can't believe he's actually heeding that random idiots advice. "soooo... you must be date-less on valentines, I mean who would want to go with you?" cruel words seem to spout out of his mouth as a habit. it was like that the first time you met but you practically shoved it all back up his ass.

you were used to it so you didn't mind. maybe that's why ace likes you. you aren't as weak hearted, and sensitive like the other people. a little selfish and strange on his part but he always wanted someone who'd joke with him, not minding his rather dark humor.

"no actually. I'm going with someone," you say. all smiley and all and ace feels like barfing his breakfast in the toilet. his smile immediately falls into a deadpan that he could not hide from you. in turn, you smile mischievously at the new revelation. this idiot is so easy to read. you think.

likable, lovable idiot on your part.

ace grimaces and ignores the tight fist he has curled up on his other, free hand. "... someone actually wanted to go with you? suprising," he comments dryly. a little colder than you expected so you still spare a raised brow to his quick, words. you shove him playfully. "I am completely—perfectly date material,"

I'd like to be the judge of that. ace sighs quietly. that kind of thought seems way out of reach in reality now though, whoever got you first is one lucky bastard.

"sure,"

"yeah I just hope grim doesn't get us kicked out of the venue,"

oh.

oh.

incredulously, he turns to you with barely contained shock. "grim? you're going with grim?"

you tilt your head. "who else? we are each others platonic soul mate," you claim with a grin. grim might be a headache most of the time but you can't deny that you've grown fond of the chaos he brought into your life.

if he's your platonic soulmate then what is he? ace gulps. "I must be your, other kind of soulmate then?" he says in a joking manner. your romantic sense of soulmate? you side eye him.

"I think so,"

he blinks. are we flirting right now? he'd like to ask.

ace is great at changing topics.

kind of.

"you can't bring a cat as the one you go with. riddle will literally behead you with his bare hands," moments ago ace had let go of your shoulders and let his hands settle behind the back of his head. act casual, he thinks.

at some point he's been telling himself what to do several times in the middle of the conversation with you, taking in the points he constructs an appropriate action. he's completely gone off track from going with the flow.

you snort. "no way dude. with his tiny little hands?" obviously joking you shiver at the thought of riddle listening to your conversation and comment. you'd be beheaded on spot. he is true though, if you brought grim the rules technically wouldn't account him as a guest so basically you're listed alone.

I refuse to be single in valentines day. you think in determination. but alas.. no one really had ask you. you cast an inquisitive look at ace, you certainly wouldn't mind him..

you clear your throat and look away, I am not down bad!

but if I don't ask now would I be able to spend a valentines with the person I'd like to be mine at all? you both think.

"hey do you—"

"I've been thinking—"

you both pause at each other running over the others words. you point at him then nod, but he shakes his head and nudges you. "you first,"

ugh.

"I've been thinking.. you said I can't go with grim, how about you?" you say quietly. embarassment coating your features and ace's heart actually started racing. is this really happening right now? is this real?

but.. "I'm gonna pretend you didn't beat me to that," he deadpans. and you smirk once you realize what he's talking about. ace does not like being one upped at all.

he fakes a cough and clears his throat. "wanna be my valentines?" you're lucky if you are my valentines. ace tells himself. but I might be even luckier.

ㅤ

jack howl ── actually asked crewel at first (since it seems like that man practically adopted you) before asking you.

"so puppy," in an empty classroom—his, empty classroom crewel sits on his velvety cushioned chair. over the table jack howl sits tensely, ears stiffed up high. his tail in a similar dilemma, listening to even a single sound of displeasure on crewel's face.

jack has never felt so nervous in the face of his professor, but he doubts crewel is even his professor right now. the 'technically' only family you consider right now would be the best word to describe him. even he wasn't this nervous the first time he was let on the field. his first magishift game.

he doubted crewel would even spare him the time. but when he mentioned something about you, the man's face shifted into something blank and frankly the way he peered down at him was terrifying. jack realized you were something precious to the man and had gotten a look deeper into his fatherly protectiveness.

of course crewel assumed something worse. and demanded, that he spit out whatever he has to say about you before he makes him. jack thought no one would find anything if he were to miraculously disappear right now.

he does understand, rather than thinking it was cruel jack emphasized. he would do anything for his pack too, his family.

"let's continue with that conversation we had shall we? now in particular," crewel hums. "I'd like it for you to spit it out, if anything happened to the prefect I assure you. the following events, you will not like,"

jack shivers at the underlying fury beneath his words and hell. he completely forgot to tell crewel the reason why he's in front of a noticeably worried parent. and perhaps if he did about a while ago? maybe he would be facing something more bearable, and less.. scary..

"I,,, I apologize sir. nothing bad happened to the prefect," jack clears his throat and breathes in the air in relief when crewel's sharp stare softens—he breathes a similar sigh to his. "why didn't you start with that? I can't say I like puppies who beat around the bush,"

he is not a puppy. jack would like to add but he doesn't think he'd like to see another sharp stare for the sake of his pride.

this one is fidgety. crewel notes, noticing his tense shoulders and averting gaze. he wonders what kind of business he has with him when the boy practically had done everything to 'discuss something' with him. maybe a failing grade? he is quite strict with academics. if he mentioned you then are you the one failing?

crewel huffs. impossible, you can't have a failing grade! he tutors you after class!

the man crosses his arms. "what is it then?"

the moment of truth. jack wills the anxiety to evaporate out of his body as he faces the man whose answer will depend on his answers. "I would like to ask if I could ask the prefect out this week—" jack feigns a cough. "—as my valentines as well,," not entirely consensual on his part but his voice trails off weakly at the end.

(okay I might be writing this too seriously. jack treats this seriously it's kinda comedic lol)

crewel blinks, huffs and barks out a laugh. a little out of disbelief but it's quite entertaining to him to see this puppy on his knees figuratively asking him? for the prefect? on a date? how funny.

maybe he would have said a simple; 'absolutely not' because no one could ever have someone as good as you. but he's seen enough, clearly this boy's love for you might even be beyond his imagination. if he says yes it will only continue to grow and surpass even his own.

the thought of someone loving you more than him is preposterous! maybe he feels a little old for this time to happen so soon. and no way he's letting some,,, boy take you away from him!

but it would do the both of you some good. he concludes.

jack stares at him in confusion. was it so ridiculous that he had to laugh?

crewel plays a rare smile, small but one nonetheless. "you must be jack," the prefect has told a lot about you. it seems like your love is returned in full. he thinks.

the door opens and jack jolts. speak of the devil. crewel smirks. this will make up for good entertainment.

what an unlikely pair, jack and crewel? you raise your brows in suprise. your eyes slide to the former, he looks kinda scared wonder what happened here. you wondered.

the smirk on crewel's face has jack internally praying. "has anyone asked you for valentines, honey?"

you deadpan. that is quite concerning, the first thing crewel would've done if that was the cause was hunt whoever that was down. "... no, why?"

crewel stands up and saunters over to the other side of the table—where jack sits and the boy tensed up quickly when he felt the skin of crewel's gloves on his shoulder. crewel was gripping his broad shoulders, menacingly but yet managing to smile at you.

"how about this one?" he grins.

in all fairness—you gaped, and stared at the two like they had grown three heads. "w-what?" you gulped. a little embarrassed by the stammer but can you blame yourself? you had gone in the room you know whose crewel's to unwind and maybe have a chat with him not.. this strange predicament.

you know full well what he's implying and if it were any other person you'd have no problem saying no.

but it's jack!

you scratch your head. awkward silence drifts over the atmosphere when you and jack both meet eyes. crewel's hands finally leave the former's shoulders but not without an aspirated sigh. he thought this would be amusing to watch, not... overbearing.

"oh for seven's sake. why don't both of you go to the gala as each other's valentines?" crewel smiles thinly, and it seems like there's no room for arguments. "any objections,"

you stare at jack's silence. he's alright with this? you nervously think before frowning. "that's.. unfair, jack would want to have a valentines that's his own choice," you shake your head. willing he strange pressure around your throat as you do so. hell you're practically already jealous on the person he'd choose.

"no." jack denies. "I'm glad, you're the only person I'd like to be mine," you assume he's referring to you as his valentines but honestly? the way he said 'mine' had you feeling kinda warm.

finally. crewel is pleased with his work.

he scowls. "good. now get out," enough of this teenage romance. crewel's had enough for the day.

ㅤ

epel felmier ── tried to ask you several times in a planned day but ended up chickening out. that is, until the situation just called for it

"what did they say?"

epel blinks away from his haze at the sound of vil's questioning voice. "what?" he dumbly mumbles out. besides heartslabyul famous rose maze, pomefiore has a rather beautiful garden. more variety of flowers and wildlife. exclusively only accessible to the dorm's students.

even epel can say that despite his hate for the dorm itself it's very nice to be around this particular spot—epel would have stayed, and used it as his hiding spot if vil didn't like it as well. unfortunately for him it meant that the garden is still under the scrutinizing gaze or the dorm leader.

which meant that he basically gets no break. epel would like to climb over the dorm's walls.

right now the field isn't housing people other than him and vil. he assumes rook had shoo'd them away, given how vil is currently using it. the latter sets down his tea cup on it's tray before raising a brow at epel. "... the prefect? you were going on all about how you were gonna ask them to be your valentines earlier," vil says.

epel curses in his mind and hoped that the distraught look was something vil didn't catch. though he doubts it he still hopes.

vil stays silent but keeps the raised brow for a second longer. he shakes his head after dropping it entirely. "don't tell me you failed," something as simple as that? come on. vil is sure that you wouldn't even deny the apple of pomefiore. anyone could see how reciprocated epel's feelings are.

his stare hardens in disappointment. "epel,"

epel keeps his mouth shut and replies in his mind. what? he told me to not tell him. epel resists to roll his eyes..

vil crosses his arms over his chest just as rook chimes from the entrance. "what a shame. I thought it was a perfect time to strike!" he grins.

epel blanches. "what the—rook you were there?" that, he did not know. epel points an accusing gaze at vil whom pretends to not notice, sipping on his tea and all. the smile on rook's face does not waver as he tips his hat as a greeting. "fufu.. we simply could not leave our precious apple without guidance,"

"I don't need your guidance, imma a grown man!" epel snaps. letting his accent accent slip past for a second before deflating once he realizes. vil stares at him silently, though rook spares him a look of pity. which is not really helping!

"I mean.. thanks?" as some kind of last effort to lessen the fury epel clears his throat.

fortunately vil was in a good mood so he let it slide.

"we were speaking about the prefect?"

vil urges epel to explain whatever happened and the boy's face twists into awkwardness. probably having war flashbacks hours ago, it was embarrassing because all the things he had planned went to waste. epel does not want to talk about it.

"prefect? oh they were looking as magnifique as ever~ they are on the way here as we speak now,"

what.

epel completely freezes as he practically was on the road to breaking his neck with how fast it snapped over to rook. did he hear that right? if he did epel hoped he was deaf in that moment. he looks down and hastily pats the crumbs of crackers out of his uniform.

oh seven no! he looked atrocious right now, his hair still had twigs from the mishap with you earlier and the literal reason he ran away was because he definitely did not want you to see him like he just crawled out of a jungle.

vil shoots him a look. I told you so. he should have taken up his suggestion of taking a bath to clear out the dirt. he didn't even have time to change, epel slumps. it's a miracle vil let him walk around like that which epel actually hoped he didn't for once.

maybe this is vil's influence. epel suddenly caring about appearance and all but he does admit he had grown a little self conscious when you were in his case.

he doesn't get a chance to ponder about it any longer since your head popped in to peer into the garden, suprised at the three guys looking right at you. all varying faces of happiness, indifferent and grief?

vil clears his throat even though it feels completely all right. "ahem.. rook why don't we finish our plans for the annual magishift?" the man is already walking to which the other follows. his words catches your attention.

your brows raise. strange "magishift? i thought you guys didn't like that," true. comes vil's blank face but his dorm isn't a loser. after all, their performance reflects on the evil queen and vil would hate it to be a bad light.

"hmph. we are not just beauty you know," he smirks and continues on towards the path, rook trailing behind him nodding along.

on their way out he can still hear the duo. vil's huff; "it's painful to watch them," and rook's response; "I am merely pleased i could bear witness to the fruits of love,"

you take in his messy appearance and epel winces, placing a carefully practiced 'cute' smile on his face. "don't say anything about it," please. epel has an abnormally softer voice compared to that of he shows you.

this boy is trying to manipulate me? you wonder in amusement. he does look quite messy though, it's a wonder vil acted so casual with him a few minutes ago. since you were the one who scared him to tripping on that poor bush you suppose the least you could do was help him clean up.

epel recoils away from your outstretched hand the moment it touched his hair. heat soars through his face as he nearly screeches. "what are you doing?!" calming down the slightest at your bewildered expression.

"there's twigs in your hair,"

",,oh,,"

reluctantly he sits back down in his chair, squirming at the sensation of your fingers digging in for the sticks and twigs he had forgotten to shake off. epel feels awfully flustered by a simple thing.

the time passes. the sky gets darker, and epel gets more comfortable. the tense in his shoulders eventually deteriorates into a relaxed posture. he's never felt so comfortably before. I hope there's more stuff in there so you don't have to go. epel thinks.

"all done,"

yes, epel will do anything to get you to stay longer.

"what if you were my valentines tomorrow..?" he blurts out.

you movements stutter in response. well that was forward. you think, you'd expect nothing less from epel, plans weren't his forte anyways. with vil's absence he has no problem saying his mind. then again, the reason he probably failed before was because of the presence of rook.

"I mean,, it's just a what if,," he trails off looking unsure.

you sigh and shake your head. unable to keep the smile off your face. "sure. let's ditch the gala tomorrow, yeah?"

the grin on epel's face is practically shining. "yeah!" he perks up in excitement before pausing. "I mean,, yeah," to pretend he's cool. you suppose.

ㅤ

sebek zigvolt ── ITS ALL LILIAS WORK

"you! where is the human prefect?"

the student at the end of sebek's finger pretty much all but froze up. staring stupidly at it (admittedly looking a bit scared) only igniting the impatience within sebek since he scowled and the scared silence and shook his head. what else did he expect from a human?

the intense sharp stare from sebek probably ran off the shock and fear from the student because finally, they started speaking. "u-uh... who are you looking for?" they quietly ask.

sebek's eye twitches.

did they not hear him? "hmph. if you were listening to what I was saying, you'd know," maybe a mouth he just kind of got from the early years of his father, maybe he did actually get that from lilia.

the student cowers. I want to go home. they knew they shouldn't have rolled off their comfortable bed... far better than this predicament. they definitely don't deserve this anger. but there's like,,, 4 human prefects, they'd like to add to defend themselves but the word just dies up in their mouth when sebek huffed—and turned like he didn't figure it would be wise to waste his time here.

they sigh.

further down fhe hallway sebek marches. quickly, quietly—back stiff yet proper, just as he'd been trained to do. proper manners. something you don't seem to have. you're always cooped up in the center of chaos somewhere, in the back of sebek's mind a voice reminds that you weren't given the same treatment and training as him but he needed a reason.

a reason to hate you, and love you less he supposed.

it doesn't seem to be working though, given as he's literally about to turn the school upside down to look for you.

he has no idea why he'd even asked his father in the first place. attempting to 'court' a human! it seemed preposterous when you're just about every trait he dislikes. ahem, the fact that you aren't a fae is enough for him to consider it horribly.

what if you were taken? someone delusional tells him in his mind.

why should you care? another chips in.

yeah why should he care? he grumbled incoherent words. currently he has the brain to stop in his tracks, not waste his time here—but not the heart.

because his heart speaks the feelings his mouth won't let him, because it beats for you, and is just about to leap out when you do anything that he'd really like to keep the withering smile out of his face.

he doesn't smile. soliders do not, a great one like his father had learned to control his emotions but the one they call 'love' is something he can't get the hang of.

sebek thinks back to the occurrence that had went by a while ago.

── 

"I don't get it father. I don't need to calm down I need a doctor!" sebek explained loudly. trailing after the much shorter boy like a puppy. lilia can tell that his very jolly dear son is taking hid 'disease' very seriously by the exaggerated hand motions that he pairs with his equally flabbergasted words.

lilia chuckles, silly yet so endearing. "go again by your symptoms dear," he strolls in the kitchen, completely missing sebek's mortified face.

should he run right now? but he must not ignore lilia's request!

some things need sacrifices. he concludes. "well! my chest is beating very fast, it's like I am going to have a heart attack. which is why I need a healer, father!" he argues before pausing. "—also I've been very warm lately, I think I have a fever as well," he adds.

my dear little sebek is oblivious, lilia giggles to himself. but in the face of his son he merely raises his brow in feign suprise. "and,,, all of this is with the prefect around?"

sebek nods.

lilia's giggles intensify.

"I know just the thing!"

the younger boy perks up. he knew going to lilia was a spectacular idea! lilia seriously beckoned sebek to bend down to his height a little. "you have to proclaim your feelings to the prefect themselves so it would go away,"

lilia added, "and to seal the deal you have to ask them to be your valentines,"

he grinned.

though sebek blinks in confusion.

── 

sebek thought his advice was strange but if lilia thought it was the right thing to do then he'd do it.

after a period of just questioning people around the halls. he found you himself—and all by himself. hm, if he knew the humans wouldn't serve any purpose he would have did this in the first place. to think he had conversed with them for nothing after all.

you remove one earbud from your ear at the light flooding into the room. you stretch your arms and yawn lightly. "sebek? what's up?" you greet shortly. the green haired boy shutting the door behind him with no regard to his strength as it lead to a loud sound of impact.

atleast it closed?

sebek scours the room with disinterest but answers you. "the ceiling, I'm suprised you don't know,"

you deadpan. "i- whatever, I meant to ask if you needed something from me," you gesture to him. "seeing as you entered my humble abode without knocking,"

he crosses his arms over his chest. "I thought ramshackle is your abode," less humble. sebek thought, watching you shrug and flop down on a cushion comfortably. the music still plays in your other ear, so it was kind of hard to hear him fully.

you hum along the melody. "it's quite far so I set up my little corner in the school," you snort. so this is where you probably disappear to. sebek thinks. he can't bring himself to insult anything.

"anyways. why're you here?"

"you've made me sick and father told me to tell you some things," he explained. surprising you with the lack of intensity and volume in his voice. sebek would very much like to flop down next to you right now but that wouldn't be proper at all..

and, he doesn't know if he can ever control that feeling if he does.

you raise your brow. "uh? go on?" am I going to be told a briar valley secret then executed for knowing? you wonder.

he exhales slowly. "I've told father about my symptoms you've infected me with," sebek huffs. his first words both concerning and confusing you. "the heart attacks, and warmth so I've come here to tell you to get rid of them,"

I have no idea what he's talking about. you think, other than a flu a month ago you're pretty alright in terms of health..

"to seal the deal i would like to ask you to be my valentine!" he proudly says.

you stifle a laugh. lilia, that bastard. poor sebek doesn't have an idea of what he's asking. with the whole valentine deal you can see what kind of 'symptoms' he's talking about. "um,, I'm not sure you're aware of what you're asking right now," you say. as much as you'd like to take him as your valentine you wouldn't be too happy if you knew it's not because he wanted you to be.

"how about I tell you what lilia's talking about then I'll ask you again if you want me to be your valentines?"

you smile at his nod then pat the spot next to you.

sebek is no fool.

he understood what lilia was doing. but to him it's a clear opportunity to take you for valentines without you knowing that,, he is. he feels kind of horrible for using lilia to cover it up but..

the time you spent together is enjoyable enough to let it slide.

[istariot]

> 𝙰𝙽𝙳 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙲𝚁𝙾𝚆𝙳 𝙶𝙾𝙴𝚂 𝙼𝙸𝙻𝙳 !!

and as promised i bring you ZHANG XIAOTIAN, pathological liar, pyro-hobbyist, and devil chilling on your shoulder. below the cut is a little disjointed overview but you can check out more here ! i'll be floating about im's to plot with everyone ( slowly getting back to everyone who messaged already ! ), but feel free to like this post and i'll come your way posthaste !

i. information you may care about:

zhang xiaotian ( Rh1 ) is really just kind of existing.

the family business is all about that construction and steel manufacturing life, hence the chiseled jaw and aversion to manual labor.

he's spent the majority of his youth in a boarding school for wealthy wayward youth, following in his brother's footsteps since it seems to be a rite of passage for this family ( ...plus the kid just couldn't stop setting shit on fire and that really did need to be addressed in a structured environment ).

his brothers have been in this intense game-of-thrones-style rivalry his entire life and honestly he's just here to vibe so he doesn't really get involved ( except for this one time, but it was all alleged and mostly just some nasty rumors that he played a minor role in spreading but that's beside the point ).

said rivalry is pretty much what got xiaotian heading to snu in the first place ( along with father dearest's cash money ). casualty of war and all that.

the king's club is probably the only club he's managed to stay in throughout the entirety of his college career.

and it's not for lack of trying. he did all that he could to sabotage himself, lose friends, and alienate others and yet here he is your 2016 white rook ( his initiation was seriously lacking red carpet fanfare but its whatevs ).

on the bright side he had more fun tormenting initiates than he does embarrassing his father publicly, so he didn't mind sticking it out long enough to barely graduate ( below average ayyy lmao ) and roll into the nice cushy job his eldest brother created for him because we love a little nepotism.

ii. information you didn't ask for but you're going to get anyway:

certified yapper. physically can't shut the fuck up. believe about 82% of what comes out of his mouth.

would totally sleep his way to the top if he could. but for now he's satisfied with just sleeping his way into whoever is willing to let him crash at their place until he figures out what the hell is going on with all of his credit cards ( he suspects identity theft or something ).

his hobbies include long walks by the han river, spending exorbitant amounts at luxury grocery stores on random weekdays at 2:15pm specifically, and minding your business.

thankfully, he has grown out of his klepto phase but is not opposed to showing off his skills like a fun party trick when needed.

is completely capable of reading the room, but actively chooses not to. the whole no-filter thing doesn't really help either. his favorite pastime is figuring out how to offend each member of the king's club in a new and exciting way.

thinks cilantro tastes like soap. not really all that important, he just thought you should know.

oh, and it's probably a good idea to keep him away from flammable materials.

iii. some present day tidbits:

currently manager of operations for one of his father's smaller materials manufacturing subsidiaries but honestly he could not tell you what his title means or what it is exactly he's supposed to be doing. he just kind of sits in on meetings and looks handsome, but he's boosting morale and that's kind of all that matters.

is pretty late to this whole case reopening news and really is trying to figure out how everyone found out about it before him. who started the groupchat and why was he not invited?

now what happened to hyungseo was unfortunate, but he had nothing to do with it. he might've said something to try to shake him up in passing during one of the rituals, but there wasn't a single recruit he hadn't messed with back then. and even if he did know something about the whole thing, it's not like he'd tell it. at least not the truth about it. in fact, he doesn't even know what you're talking about. what rituals? what club? ...by the way can he borrow some money for the bus — kidding, kidding ( it's for his rideshare actually he just figured out how the app works ).

iii. information for plotting purposes?

if it wasn't obvious i'm still figuring this lil guy out, but i think it's best to plot on a canon-by-canon basis? but just to throw some random plot ideas out there —

blasts from his past with the teen delinquent squad ( think bling ring but without all the publicity ), fling, friend of a fling, and flings twice removed, friends of his eldest brother ( the guy is wrapped up in snu alum activities and spends a substantial amount of time with the business school, so totally plausible that he's done some mentoring and your muse has no idea how those two are even remotely related ), someone who's interested in his father's business dealings ( barking up the wrong tree with him but tian will bite and be the best source of misinformation he can be ), extracurricular activity buddies with strong livers, business associates ( can he copy your homework or something because someone is asking him for accrual data and he might just cry ), and maybe a few fellow daredevils that love a good thrill ( cliff diving anyone? no? too soon? )

i've got some other random things in mind and am so hype to get brainstorming so i'll just end things here and start floating about. thanks for making it to the end of this ramble and for that i'm going to give you a tian peptalk pov free of charge !

[toastspirit]

I spend an unfortunate amount of time wallowing in self hatred but y’know I’ve got a pretty interesting set of character traits once I get past that!!

-scared of people and being perceived + has poor social skills, does acting whenever possible

-specifically does improv comedy despite not really being funny and again, being very anxious

-constructed a whole plan/persona pretransition to make myself incredibly unnoticeable to avoid being remembered as a girl, planning to become more outgoing after coming out. It kind of worked! (Also still did theater despite The Plan)

-was almost given a Christmas themed name (my birthday is Christmas in some cultures, including my parents’)

-chose the second name I liked for my first name. Which was just the first name I liked but more normal. Routinely lies to people when asked of the origin (which is rare anyways!!! Let me lie more it’s funny)

-chose middle name as an attempt to pacify my mom, who was unhappy with my name change. Unsure if it was successful (?)

-sang in chorus by choice for ~eight years straight, suddenly stopped post HS and never did it again (tbf it hasn’t been that long)

-occasionally forgets how to spell simple words/what previously known words mean. Is an English major

-despite playing Minecraft for a significant portion of my childhood, I’ve only beaten it once without cheating and that was as a tag-along player (I was not helpful!)

-has forgotten both my chosen name and deadname before

-refuses to tell anyone my pre-ToastSpirit online name since it’s attached to my wattpad account

-on that tangent, wrote a Percy Jackson fic in middle school (sometimes on my school chromebook) which has 90k+ reads. It was never finished rip

-my parents have cardboard cutouts of me and my brother in the kitchen. I am afraid of them

-I have spent almost all of my money on plushies and at one point the majority of my floor space was Squishmallows. (I no longer collect Squishmallows)

-was briefly an (unsuccessful) animal jam YouTuber but showed up in some more popular people’s videos

-has thrown up blood repeatedly and never mentioned this to a doctor

-was a Girl Scout from kindergarten to sophomore year (?) of HS. No longer a girl, did not identify as one for all those years. (Stayed until the dysphoria was unbearable to use as college application filler. Came out to troop leader via email and disappeared without telling anyone else, and hid from other members whenever possible)

-also never tried all the GS cookies due to refusing to eat peanuts. Not allergic, just picky.

-potentially allergic to the cold, lives in a pretty cold US state, was born in winter, was my favorite season for most of my life

-can drive, shockingly

-family begged me not to tell anyone what my first job is as it’s embarrassing or something (they also begged me to quit for the brief time I worked there. I lasted a couple shifts?)

-scratched and hissed at people as a child. Did perhaps not fully grow out of this (this started before reading Warriors, surprisingly)

-was introduced to Pokemon as a small child, every other aspect of who I am changed, became more obsessed with Pokemon somehow

-started reading a manga series at eight years old, owns all the books now, has not finished it

-can barely remember anything but knows every single Pokemon + lots of other Pokemon stuff

-forgot the vast majority of my childhood, dad is convinced I am purposefully repressing it for gender reasons. Legitimately just forgot it

-submitted Pokemon drawings in art class, art teacher randomly put it in the yearbook once or twice

-had two nosebleeds total throughout my life (trampoline accidents at the same friend’s house), until my nose would randomly start bleeding in my first semester of college (after being sick)

-constantly needs to be doing a bit/chronically unserious due to being terrified of vulnerability

-was at one point only staying alive to finish my part for a Warriors MAP on scratch. It was NOT good

-has made it to almost-20 despite not developing emotional regulation much better than the “im going to kms but need to finish this shitty animation” period of my life mentioned above. A true miracle.

-primary social media was quizup for several years

-took Latin due to being too into mythology… Still suffering the consequences of this middle school choice

-name was mispronounced by Latin teacher for multiple years. Never corrected him

-just remembered this one. Everyone had to submit drawings for a Latin assignment, which were displayed in class for months. Drew some furry shit. Did not get bullied for this (but was bullied previously!)

-straight up said “I’d rather die than live as a woman” in college essay, was shown to two HS teachers, somehow ended up in the final draft anyways????

-ended up going to a college I was certain I would not get into, after applying to it a couple hours before the deadline. Only applied because my dad asked me to. Typing this while lying in my dorm! :P

-probably not a binary trans man but hasn’t told anyone this

-and other stuff~!

[confido-sed-dubium]

Setting: Downtown, Wicked's Rest With: @recoveringdreamer & @confido-sed-dubium Summary: Brothers reunite but not everything goes as (poorly) planned. Trigger warnings: n/a

There was no kitchen in the boiler room, but Felix had managed to make space for a microwave. The things they could use it for were, admittedly, pretty limited — they had a mini fridge, but no freezer, which ruled out frozen meals, and they refused to try to use a microwave for any actual cooking — but they’d learned there were some things they could make do with. Canned food had become an unfortunate staple of their diet, something they ate more of than they’d like to admit. 

They carried several shopping bags of it now, having elected to walk to the store rather than take the truck. In all honesty, they found it nice to maximize the amount of time they spent outside of the Grit Pit, so they’d taken to walking more than driving as of late. They kept their head down as they moved, fiddling absently with their phone. Mostly, they were just opening and closing the messaging app. No one had texted them during their journey, and it felt odd to reach out to someone for conversation just to ease the boredom of walking home alone, so they just stared at the screen and willed a message to come in.

Instead of a message, though, they found themself staring at a pair of shoes that appeared within their vision and quickly side-stepping to avoid running into the owner of said shoes. Embarrassed, Felix shoved their phone into their pocket quickly, rubbing sheepishly at the back of their neck. “Sorry,” they said, looking up. “I guess I wasn’t really —” 

They broke off, mouth falling open as they stared at the familiar face. For a moment, they were silent, because what was there to say? They hadn’t seen this face in years, not since disappearing from their father’s house and ruining their own life in the process. It certainly wasn’t one they’d expected to find here, in Wicked’s Rest. But their brother stood before them all the same, looking just as he always had. Felix blinked. “Santiago?” 

—

And so ended his long journey to find his sibling, on a street corner, because he was looking up to try and get his bearings. He had a map in his hands, the kind of cheap map that looked like a disposable placemat and could be found for free in bus stations. 

He'd left the forest with clothes on his back that dated back to college, a time when he'd learned to skateboard to impress the gallery, and had one of his ears pierced to annoy his parents, or prove that he couldn't always do things exactly the way they wanted him to. 

It was a time when Felix was still a kid, and the Mendozas still believed they could live a life like everyone else. Damn. What had they done to deserve all this?

He'd spent the last few weeks thinking about how to tell his father he was leaving to find Felix, but not only that. He'd also thought long and hard about their meeting. Part of him had expected the worst, that he would be visiting two graves instead of just one. The other, more optimistic part of him had thought about what he would say to his brother.

But, now that he was face to face with them, words failed him and his wet eyes looked at him for a long moment before he managed to speak again.

“You’re….” Alive. “Felix.”

—

Of all the people they’d expected to run into walking down the street, their brother wasn’t among them. They’d dreamed of it, of course; for months after their disastrous breakup with Leo and their attempt to return home only to find the things that made the cabin qualify as such gone without a trace, they’d imagined running into Santi, or their sisters, or even their father on the street. They’d constructed happy reunions, built worlds in which their family was in front of them and all their problems were solved as a result. Some naive part of them used to assume that their father would know how to get them out of Leo’s bind, but they knew it wasn’t so simple now. Still, they longed for him. Despite their disagreements, despite the scars and bruises, despite all of it, they’d longed for their father to find them and make things okay. 

And they’d longed for Santiago, too, of course. Their big brother had seemed the way big brothers always seemed to their younger siblings; large and imposing and invincible. Felix used to think Santi could take on the world, used to be sure that he would if only Felix asked him to. No matter what else had gone on between their family, they’d never lost faith in their brother.

But… it seemed almost wrong, in a way, seeing him here. It was like one of those pictures on the back of a magazine in the waiting room of a doctor’s office — find what doesn’t belong in this photo. Santiago was a fixture of that cabin in the woods. He’d always belonged there far easier than Felix had. Here, in the streets of Wicked’s Rest, wearing his old clothes and carrying a paper map, of all things, he looked…

Out of place. 

It was never something they’d thought of their brother before.

“I… yeah,” they said, their throat suddenly dry. Would Santi be angry with them for leaving? Did he hate them now for their departure? Felix felt smaller than they had in a long time, like the world was swallowing them whole. “I’m — You’re here. In — In town. I went — I went back to the cabin, and you weren’t — I don’t — What happened?” 

—

Although he'd thought about what he'd say, he'd also imagined that it would be a few days before he found them: days spent going door to door, putting up posters on bus shelters and lampposts and waiting for a positive response:

I know them well. Oh yes, they bought a house with their husband. The person who works in parks maintenance?

He'd invented a thousand different lives for them, all of them happy. The only negative outcome seemed to be death, which was both naive and depressing. You really had to have little expectation of life to see death as the only obstacle to it.

He would have liked to tell them that they looked well, but that would have been a lie. Felix looked tired, dented, as if battered by the last five years. Life in the woods may have been less comfortable, but Santiago could at least congratulate himself on not having experienced the stress so often in recent years.

Was he really surprised ? All this had been wishful thinking. His father had warned Santiago of the dangers of life among humans, he should have known better than to wish the best for Fe. “We moved out.” He cut them off. The reply was dry, coming from a place of sorrow. It was an emotion he had not shown often, early on forced into being others shoulder to cry on, and right now, as he was brought back to the night they left the cabin, to that bloody, murderous night, Santiago couldn't bring himself to shed a tear. 

He didn't want Felix to feel bad about what happened. Their father would probably do that anyway. Why inflict it on Felix twice ? 

—

Santiago was looking at him and, suddenly, Felix felt incredibly self conscious. Their clothes were disheveled, their hair a mess. They’d barely slept for weeks now, laying awake at night with memories of the nightmarish few months they’d had replaying in the back of their mind alongside the usual greatest hits of general Grit Pit drama. What must Santiago think of them? Did he resent them, they wondered, for leaving their family only to build a life for themself that was arguably worse than the one they’d left behind? Would he be disappointed in them for trading one cage for another, would he resent them for it? 

It felt like the world was closing in a little. Seeing their brother here made it feel like two lives that had always existed separately were colliding into one. They didn’t want Santiago to know what kind of person they were now. They didn’t want the friends they’d made in Wicked’s Rest to know what kind of person they’d been before. But the two were coming together in a way Felix wasn’t sure could be stopped. If Santi was here, he was here for a reason, wasn’t he? He wouldn’t have left the cabin otherwise. Or… wherever he was now. Wherever they all were now.

“You just… moved?” A hurt expression crossed over their face, brief and fleeting. “Because of me?” Was it a punishment? Their father’s way of removing them from the family entirely after their decision to leave it? But there was something in Santiago’s tone, something in the expression on his face. Felix had rarely seen their brother show any kind of emotion; even the smallest amount of it seemed like a glaring, screaming thing. “What — Why would you just leave? And why — Why come back now?”

—

Surely there were more polite ways to answer Fe’. Santiago ignored them, and cut him off defensively. “We didn’t move because of you.” He didn't want to talk about what had happened after Felix left. Felix wouldn't bear to learn what he had put them through, him, his father, his sisters. Some of them had paid dearly for the youngest's departure. 

And yet, Santiago had promised his father that he would bring Felix home. Fe would realize the reality of things soon enough. 

As memories of that awful day surged, Santiago swallowed hard. He could feel the taste of bile on his tongue. Those thoughts made him sick with anger and pain, but as the older brother, he did what he always did. He bit on his tongue and gathered his strength to do what needed to be done. Like often, he felt as though he had tears prickling at the corner of his eyes. If he checked in the mirror now, he knew that he would see nothing, not even an eye glossier than usual. He hadn’t cried in a very long time, so long that one couldn’t recall if he ever did. 

“We had to leave.” No. He couldn’t bring himself to tell him the truth. Not now when he had just met him again after so many years apart. “The cabin wasn’t safe.” His head dipped and he reached out to wrap his arms around his youngest sibling breathing in a scent that he remembered too well. “I’m here cause I miss you Fe. I… We miss you.” 

—

Felix used to know Santiago as well as they knew themself. Looking at their brother often felt like looking in a mirror. He could pick out every line on Santi’s face, every tiny shift in expression. Living in close quarters with someone for ten years with no one else around helped with that familiarity, meant that Felix’s siblings and father were extensions of Felix himself.

It wasn’t like that anymore.

It was a jarring realization, one that stung. They looked at Santi now, and they couldn’t quite figure out what he was thinking. And that was normal, that was expected. You weren’t supposed to be able to read someone’s mind, no matter how much you loved them. But Felix used to. They used to know Santiago so well, and something had changed. Something had shifted, and they longed for the way things used to be. Their father’s house was a prison, sometimes, but it was a prison full of people they loved. That was better than they had now.

They shifted their weight, swallowing as they looked down at their feet. The cabin wasn’t safe. Was that their father speaking through Santi now? He’d always been so adamant that they were in danger, that nowhere was safe if someone outside of the family could find it. Had Felix’s departure eliminated the safety of the cabin because it removed them from the family, made them a threat? The question was on the tip of their tongue, but they couldn’t ask it. Felix was as much of a coward as he’d always been.

The rest of Santiago’s words weren’t any less uncomfortable, though. He said they missed him, and it felt like a physical blow. Felix had abandoned his family, and they loved him all the same. It might have been easier if they hadn’t. “I miss you, too,” they said hoarsely. “I — I looked for you. After. I went back to the cabin, and —” It was empty. Everyone was gone. And that hurt, even if they’d been expecting it. “I guess it doesn’t matter now.”

—

“You did?” Santiago stepped back to take a better look at his younger sibling, to see beyond the face he was once so familiar with, to actually see them, because with the way things had ended, Santiago could only imagine that Felix wouldn’t have changed his mind on leaving the family, that they wouldn’t have liked to admit to having been wrong to their father because Lord knows Felix would have never heard the end of it. Giving precedence to their dad used to be the worst thing you could do to yourself.

Grief, of course, had a way to change a man. They both had witnessed it once when their mother was taken away from them. They had seen the way it sunk its talons and crawled into their father’s mind. Grief was a chimera of despair and pain. 

He wondered if Felix had been going through that lately. Through furrowed brows and hyperactive eyes, he took in the circles beneath their eyes, how messy they looked once the surprise and shock wore off. “Do you - Erh.” This used to be easy, effortless banter and name calling. “How are you doing?” 

Well that was pathetic. He’d have had more ease telling him he looked like a dead possum a couple years back. Santiago wondered what would have happened if he had tagged along with him to keep an eye on Fe. He wondered what would have happened to the rest of his family. 

—

“Yeah,” Felix replied quietly, “I did.” There was more they could say. They could tell Santi that they’d been afraid, that their father was right and they’d gotten in too deep, but what good would it do? Santiago couldn’t travel back in time and be at that cabin when Felix showed up and, even if he could, he couldn’t have done anything about the root of the problem. Felix’s return to the cabin would have been too late even if their family had still been there to greet them. “It was — a while after I left. More than a year. I guess it was stupid to expect you guys to still be there.” That word fit so comfortably on their tongue now — stupid. Leo hurled it at them often, and he was far from the only one. There was a saying, wasn’t there? If the shoe fits… 

They shifted their weight as Santi asked after their well-being, wondering how well their brother could still read them. Could he see the bags under their eyes for what they were? Did he know how much they’d been carrying? Was there still blood under his nails, trapped there from the incident at the farm even though it had been weeks ago now? Or had it been washed out by all the new blood the Grit Pit had added? 

“I, um… I’m okay.” It was a lie, and part of them wanted to take it back. Part of them wanted to tell Santiago everything, to beg their big brother to step in and fix everything the way he had when they were kids. Like a child struggling to beat a particularly difficult level on a video game, Felix longed to hand the controls over to Santiago and let him take a spin, let him lead them to that victory screen.

But… they’d forfeited that right, and they knew it. They left, and Santiago owed them nothing. Not assistance, not a listening ear. They left, and Santi stayed, and Felix could only imagine how hard that must have been. Dealing with their father after that… Felix couldn’t drag Santi into any more of his problems. Not when he’d created them all himself. “Um, hey, what about you? Are you — I mean are you guys — You’re in town now?”

—

��A year?” The question remained on why Felix even tried to find them in the first place, only a year after they abandoned the rest of their family for a school friend. 

Seeing his sibling again filled Santiago with joy, but he still couldn't forgive Felix for abandoning him. How could anyone be so selfish? So careless? He huffed, staring off into the distance to clear his head. His sibling looked unwell. His features were drawn and tired, and they looked like someone who hadn't had a good night's sleep in weeks. His resentment remained. No amount of joy could completely erase how he had been feeling for the past 5 years. It was one thing to live isolated in the middle of nowhere with your family in fear, but united and to lose a part of your family and add to the terror, sorrow and betrayal. 

“You’re okay?” Santiago’s tone betrayed his doubts. His nose scrunched up and he shook his head. “ Right...” Hands in his pockets, he waited for Felix to stop lying to him; and so, their questions were not welcomed with a kind response. “It's just me.” He cut him off curtly. “You're going home. It's clear you're not well. You don't belong here.”

—

Santiago didn’t look particularly happy, and Felix wasn’t sure they could blame him. After all, hadn’t Felix made such a big deal of leaving? Hadn’t they begged Santi to help them, hadn’t they claimed they couldn’t thrive in their father’s house? Knowing that they’d made it only a year or so before they’d tried to come home was probably disappointing. It probably felt like a waste. Or maybe the fact that they’d left to begin with was still upsetting. After all, their father wasn’t the only one Felix had left when they’d run away. They’d wanted to get out of their father’s house, wanted to get away from his controlling nature, but they left Santiago, too. And their sisters, for that matter. 

Felix swallowed, unable to miss the doubt in their brother’s tone as he repeated their statement. “I’m okay,” they lied again, trying to make it sound more honest. It didn’t. They knew they looked haggard, knew the last few weeks or months or years had taken a heavy toll on them. Of course Santiago wouldn’t miss that. He’d always been pretty smart, in Felix’s opinion. 

Santi was the only one here, and for a moment, Felix wondered if their brother had run, too. Had their father gotten worse in the time since they’d left? But before they could question it, Santiago continued. You’re going home. It felt like a knife. Felix closed their eyes, chest aching. “I can’t, Santi.” Not even if they’d wanted to. And, in all honesty, they weren’t sure they did want to. They wanted to be their own person; they weren’t sure they could do that at their father’s home any more than they could at the Grit Pit.

—

Against this lie. I’m okay. Of course he had said it too, but not to his own family, his own blood. Santiago kept his eyes trained right on theirs. Perhaps if he kept on looking, they would tell him the truth. Perhaps they would remember that they were family. They must have forgotten how much he cared for his siblings. After all, didn't he stupidly agree to help Felix speak to their school friend Leo ? All because he wanted them to be happy, to feel normal. 

Now, Santi told himself he would never again take the smallest road to achieve something. Clearly, that road had done nothing for his sibling in the long term. 

Their next word felt like a slap. I can't. 

Had he really returned to this hell of a town only for them to tell him that ? 

“You can't?” He wasn't sure how he had managed to still his voice like that. The words were even, without a trace of sorrow, but by the gods, did he ache right now. He could have wept had he remembered how to.

“Felix, you can't possibly be so stubborn. Dad’s been feeling miserable about this situation,” in narcissist guilt, their old man believed that all of this was his fault, but Santiago wondered if Felix’s free will was not more to blame than his papa. He was the eldest, he had gone through the worst of his father’s expectations after all. 

“Do you have any idea how much convincing it took for me to be in front of you?” Because dad was scared of losing yet another child. Santiago couldn't even blame him. They had lost too much. They had lost more than Felix could imagine. “I’m sorry Fe, but this time, you’re going to listen to me.”

—

Santiago’s eyes burned like a wildfire, climbing up the side of Felix’s legs and threatening to turn them to ash. You weren’t supposed to lie to the people you cared about; you weren’t supposed to lie to family. But how could he tell his brother the truth? How could they admit that they were spiraling here, that this town had chewed them up and spit them out the way their father always warned all of them it would? Part of it was pride, Felix knew; he didn’t want their father to be right, didn’t want him to be vindicated. But part of it was something different. Love, maybe. A desire to protect their brother from everything that had happened, the same way Santiago had been protecting Felix all their life. 

Wouldn’t it be better if Santi thought they were okay? Wouldn’t it hurt less? It was terrible to see someone you loved in pain; it was heart-wrenching. Wasn’t it good, then, to protect him from that? 

(Or was it a selfish thing? Wasn’t it funny how selfless and selfish could sometimes be both antonyms and synonyms, how so many things could fall so firmly into both definitions?)

They flinched again as Santi repeated their own words back to them, disbelief clear in his expression. He thought they were being stubborn, and maybe part of them was. If they were free to leave with him, they thought they still might have stayed. But this wasn’t a matter of needing to be convinced; the chains holding him to this town might as well have been physical ones.

“It’s not — I’m not being stubborn,” they replied, frustration tugging at something in their chest. They’d forgotten, almost, what it felt like to argue with their older brother. It was like being a little kid again, like kicking the back of his seat on long car rides just to be contrary. “I’m telling you I can’t. It’s not about listening to you or not listening to you. It’s — I can’t, Santi. I can’t go with you.”

—

“Right. Because that would be so unlike you.” Stubborn was genetically attached to the Mendoza DNA: case and point being his father and siblings, but also himself. It was certainly a trait of character that made it hard to stay under the same roof for too long but that stubbornness also meant that they never would let someone down if they had decided against it. Santi didn't think of it as a flaw even if right now it made him want to slap Felix out of his nonsense.

His gaze remained undoubtedly severe, unwieldy and determined. Santiago had traveled all the way back to his hometown to bring Felix home to their father and he wouldn't take no, or I can't for an answer. That simply was not good enough.

A part of him hoped that Felix suspected so. “Fine. Then I'm staying here until you get your shit together and start making sense.” Because Santiago would convince him, make him come to his senses. It was non negotiable. Clearly, Felix had not been doing too well. They had tried to find them after only a year, and, pardon his french, but they also looked like fucking shit. Just walked out of the jailhouse kind of shit. “Expect to see me around.”

—

“That isn’t —” Frustration bubbled up in their chest, and they felt so much like that little kid picking fights with their siblings just to steal away some of their attention. Back then, all they’d ever wanted was for Santiago to look at them. He’d seemed impossibly cool in the way older brothers always did, and Felix would have done or said anything just to make him talk to them, even if it was just to tell them to stop being annoying. Stubborn was a good word for what they’d been back then; they weren’t sure if it was a good one for what they were being now. “It’s not like that, Santi.”

If they could have, would they have left with him? If there was no Grit Pit, no Leo, no contract, would they have followed Santiago back into the woods and disappeared back into their father’s house, where they’d never quite felt like themself? They thought they might have. Just looking at his brother, Felix felt their resolve wavering. If resolve was the only thing keeping him here, he wasn’t sure they could have kept it up.

But there was more than resolve tying Felix to Wicked’s Rest, and so much of this was out of his hands entirely. Out of Santiago’s, too, which had seemed impossible once. They used to think their brother could do anything. They knew that wasn’t true now. No one was as invincible as Felix had once made Santiago out to be. He’d seen proof enough of that in the Grit Pit. 

Santi said he was going to stay, and it felt like both a threat and a promise. Wasn’t this all Felix had wanted since the day they ran home to find their family’s cabin empty? Hadn’t they thought of little else? But he couldn’t give Santiago what he wanted. He couldn’t offer answers trapped behind the wall of their contract. It wasn’t a matter of changing their mind and leaving with Santiago, and they couldn’t tell him what was happening, either. Santi was stubborn, he knew; he’d stay until he knew something. And if he found out the truth… he’d get involved. And Felix really didn’t want him to get involved.

They shook their head, swallowing roughly. “You should go home, Santi.” They knew it was a lost cause. No one had ever been able to convince Santiago Mendoza to do something he didn’t want to do, least of all Felix. 

—

“I’m staying.” That was his final statement. Arguing this truth would only grate his nerves and the last thing Santiago wanted to do at the moment was to raise his voice at Fe’ or make a scene. 

His mind was set. He would get a room, a meaningless job to pay for his expenses in the sort of places that wouldn't search for him if he vanished overnight. Maybe he’d find some answers from Leo. Santi had taken the longest of times to quit seeing his sibling’s friend as the reason for his family’s problems and hold. Any grudges against him, but he had good hopes that such a close friend of Felix would be honest with their worried brother.

Giving Felix a moment to themselves, he glanced aside to look at the pavement instead. “I don't think you have any idea of how much we’ve all missed you,” it wasn't his thing to get sappy, still Santiago felt it was necessary that they knew that. Felix was loved and they mattered to the Mendozas no matter what. “Where can I find you again?” 

—

Santiago’s tone left very little room for argument and, in all honesty, Felix wasn’t sure they wanted to argue. Having their brother around would complicate things, but… god, wouldn’t it be good? Wouldn’t it be a relief to have family nearby, to feel a fraction less alone? It was a selfish thing to want. Santi was going to get caught up in all of Felix’s problems, was going to suffer for Felix’s mistakes, was going to ache in the same way Felix ached. It was such a selfish thing to want, but — 

But Felix wanted it anyway. He wanted his big brother, wanted someone… stronger and smarter and better than they were to take over for a little while. They used to tease Santiago about being bossy, but bossy sounded like exactly what they needed now.

Guilt crept in as Santiago talked about how much their family missed them because up until now, some part of Felix had always just assumed that they wouldn’t. After all, they’d abandoned the cabin where they’d lived and left no way for Felix to contact them. He’d figured that meant they didn’t want anything to do with him anymore, let themself stew in the self-pity of being abandoned only after they’d done the abandoning themself. “I’m sorry,” they said quietly, and they weren’t sure what they were apologizing for. For not going back with Santiago, for being unable to tell him why? For leaving in the first place, for being so unhappy in their father’s house? For all of it, maybe. They were sorry for all of it. 

Pulling out their phone, they handed it to their brother. “Put your number in,” they said. “And send yourself a text. Then we can — You can text me.” They didn’t think they could tell Santiago where they were living without setting off a whole slew of red flags that they weren’t quite ready for. “I’m — The place I’m staying right now isn’t really good for… visitors or whatever, and I’m not there very often, but I always have my phone on me. And I’ll answer if you text or call. Every time, okay?”

—

Santiago’s shoulders dropped. He had not realized how tense the idea of losing Felix a second time was already making him. He reached into his jacket for a notepad to find where he had scribbled on his own phone number before he followed his sibling’s instructions. “I heard they don't make Blackberry phones anymore. Can you believe that?” Santiago had distinct memories of nagging their mother about those while he was attending culinary school. The thought made him scoff.

Wrinkling his nose, as if to say Don't worry about it, Santiago took in the information. Maybe Felix simply didn't want to bring his brother into their cocoon yet, or maybe they simply didn't have room. 

It was fine. Things couldn't be so easy. 

“Don't worry about it. I’ll find myself a room,” and a job, and whatever else was necessary to make sure their father saw their family somewhat reunited again. “You take care Fe. And if there’s anything you need, you call me.” 

[j0jorocityisntokay]

The Truman Show GerRome AU

You guys gotta hear me out about this

For the people who haven’t watched the movie, it’s about a man, Truman, whose entire life is a tv show and he’s the star. His entire life is broadcasted 24/7 since the day he was born, and he was adopted by a tv studio. Everyone he cares about is a paid actor that is being fed lines. Truman does get a happy ending (he escapes the tv set), but think about it—it’s not exactly happy. Why would Truman be able to trust anybody ever again? If someone holds the door open for him, is it because it’s out of the genuine kindness of their hearts, or is it because he’s Truman? Is it because they’re also being fed lines through an earpiece he can’t see? He would be in a constant state of paranoia. The only person that has cared about him was a woman named Sylvia, the woman he fell in love with when the producers intended for him to fall in love with another woman named Meryl. Sylvia wanted to free Truman so she tried to tell him the truth, but she was immediately taken off set and he never got to see her again. He’s motivated to escape for someone he fell in love with years ago, someone he only got to spend a brief amount of time with, and someone who he never stopped loving, despite having a wife. For this GerRome au, Agostino (Rome) is the star of the show. He is charismatic and handsome and funny and really all you could want in a man. He has a loving wife (Ancient Greece/Aikaterini) and a bright son (my Byzantine Empire/Alexios oc), as well as a beautiful home by the sea and a stable job as a college history professor—what more could he want? But deep in his heart, he never wanted a mundane, suburban life style. He yearned for excitement. He yearned to explore the world, to venture beyond his small seaside town. He’s tried to do it, but his fear of the ocean due to a horrible experience he had out at sea has prevented that from happening (his former boyfriend, my Ancient Carthage/Hannibal oc, took him out on a sailing trip to try to mend their relationship but drowned. The producers set all of it up so Agostino would be too scared to try to escape by sea, if he ever got the idea).

Agostino met Germania (Aldrich) in college, as a student. The producers wanted him to fall in love with Aikaterini—and he did, sort of. He thought she was pretty. They dated. But he was never truly happy. He just wanted to please Aikaterini. Agostino was practically attached to Aldrich and probably spent more time with him in college than with Aika. He wasn’t sure what it was about Aldrich that interested him, but he supposed it was everything. How he looked, how he talked, how he laughed (if ever), his look of surprise when Agostino came running to him, his blush of embarrassment, he could go on and on. But Aldrich did have somewhat of an ulterior motive once he got closer to him—he was going to get Agostino out of here. Before he became an actor on the show, he was a part (and still is) of a small group that advocated to free Agostino because obviously confining someone to a tv show and making them believe that their constructed reality is true is kind of fucked up. Aldrich thought the best way to free him was to become apart of the cast (he made sure to cover up the time he spent in that group). He eventually tried to tell Agostino the truth, that all of this was a lie, and tried to talk to him about escaping together, but a security guard dressed up like one of the background characters took him away pretending to be Aldrich’s father and he was fired.

Agostino lived in relative peace afterwards, but that wasn’t to say Aldrich left his mind. Agostino thought about him almost everyday. He even picked up drawing just to make sure he never forgot his face. His words never left him either. Agostino was wholly shaken up after the incident and for a while genuinely considered his words, but his “best friend” convinced him he was just overthinking it. He believed him obviously, but after finally finding out the truth for himself and going on a paranoid trip, he faces his fear of the ocean and tries to escape. The producers almost drown him, but he survives and makes it till the very end—only to find out that he’s in a tv set. Though, he does find stairs and an exit door and with a final goodbye to the camera, leaves, thus ending the show permanently.

Once’s out of the tv set, he attempts to find Aldrich, though Aldrich comes to him first. They have a bit of a cheesy confession scene and Aldrich decides to show him the real world.

Paranoia settles in again. What if people do favours for me because I’m me and not because it’s kind to do so? What if they’re also actors? What if the world he was in right now was just another tv set on a larger scale? Like with Truman and Sylvia, nobody has ever actually cared about Agostino besides Aldrich, which led him to cling onto Aldrich like it was the end of the world. They would’ve probably had a lot of fights over this since Aldrich thinks he’s overreacting and Agostino a genuine mistrust of everyone else, but Aldrich does eventually realise what Agostino is going through and helps him realise that maybe it isn’t so bad after all.

I’m going to keep thinking about this tbh. Sorry this was incredibly long, I just had a lot on my mind lol. Feel free to ask questions!

edit: I changed Rome’s modern human name

[enteroctopusdarkysilis]

✨Trade Space Station !✨

[1/4] >Next>

Finally...More than 60 hours of work, I can present my masterpiece. I have been working and planning this project for a long time. Given the sheer amount of things to talk about, I will split all of my rambling in (at least) four posts : one about the concepts, ideas, and general aspect (you're here !); one about the technical side of things; one depicting how the project evolved (using pictures taken during the construction); and one dealing with all the smaller details, ships, and such.

Enough with planning, though. Explanations, other images and more explanations below the cut !

(less) edited picture of the build :

So. You might see, now that I got rid of all that pesky editing (or most of it) that there is a big arm holding the thing in place. It's easily a fifth of all the work of this build, because I absolutely wanted to hold this thing at an angle, and it's heavy, at around 15 kilograms (33 pounds). I'll talk about the technical difficulties of that in a later post, but it was important for it to be solid, because the station was the central piece of my second ever (very small) lego exhibition. AND it allowed me to meet the recruiter of a much larger exhibit. Long story short, in a month, I'm presenting this piece again (just before my exams, whoops-).

Anyway. Not only is it heavy, but it's also quite tall and wide. Around a meter at the highest point (tilted or not), while the diameter of the main ring is at around 0.75m. Quite a difficult thing to move around. Or is it ? Well, yes and no.

Here are all the main components (excluding the holding arm), when I move the piece around. Of course, all the ships are detachable (it allows me to move them around from one day to the other), but the dome carrying the antenna can also be removed, and then, the entire ring can be disconnected (that, too, was quite a challenge).

Removing the ring obviously makes it waaay easier to transport, because a single wooden plank can then be used (again, except for the arm, but that thing was made to be sturdy, so it can be transported with less care); and , once the dome is removed, I can just let the central cylinder stand upside-down (useful for storage). The only trouble I found with this system is that I once connected the ring the wrong way around, meaning everything in the small hangars was upside down. Quite an embarrassing moment.

Speaking of the hangars, I initially wanted to keep them all empty, to store ships inside, but it didn't really offer this piece the sparkle of life. Setting up these small decors inside most of them, with colors contrasting with the general theme of the build, was actually a really good addition.

The colour scheme as it is now is not exactly the one I had planned at the start of the project. I originally planned on using bright light orange (bricklink colour name) instead of sand green, but I found out that this colour was tough to find in large quantities, and I already had quite a bunch of the sand green, so this tragic decision was made. I think it would have offered a more vibrant colour to the build (resembling a Subnautica default palette, which I enjoy quite a lot), but in hindsight, the green works really well, appart from a small detail I'll expand on in a minute.

What's really funny for this project is that, when it started, I actually only wanted a nice way of showcasing all the little space ships that I tend to make whenever I have access to a small amount of cool pieces. Then came a long time where I only daydreamed about it and planned how I would want it to go, and only when I had a clear vision did I start the actual building process. So, taking all that into account, you can probably double the amount of time I spiritually spent on this project.

What I knew is that I wanted to get this huge ring held by beams to the station's body, which made the build both more interesting and more complicated that it would have been. But the challenge was appealing.

At first, the main body was completely flat and white, but I soon had to add texture, both because it was becoming ugly and because the 2*2 white curved slopes were starting to diminish fast. The first modifications I did were to add the sand green curved slopes instead to create stipes, then letters : the big A-2 you can easily spot. With the few bits of lore that I have created for this piece, you have to imagine that there are hundreds of these stations spread in the galaxy, which can be easily described through 3 criteria : the Letter, the Number, and the Colour. That would mean that, if you wanted to meet with someone at the exemplar I made, you would say something along the lines of 'Meet you at Sand Green A2'.

Texture-wise, the other element of the largest cylinder is the exposed bits of machinery, very classic in sci-fi, I know, but it does work well in this context. The second cylinder has much less textures, with only a few grates, and some 2*1 ingot pieces (because they look cool); but it also has its own, smaller ring (diameter slightly larger than the largest cylinder's).

Then come the smaller cylinders, which don't have much texture, except in their transition from one to another (barely visible in any of the pictures, but it exist).

Overall, I'm also really happy of how round it looks, given that circles are not my speciality.

Here is a completely unedited picture of the support arm (Lewa for scale), with a nice counterweight which might be necessary to hold the entire thing in place (it may not be, but I'm not trying to remove it. Bad idea.).

As you might notice, my studio is not a shelf anymore. I built something new from scratch with a green screen, because I thought it would make my editing job easier. And it would have, if I didn't use sand green in my build. Anyway, I'm keeping this for a few days, to snap some pictures of the MOCs which don't fit in my shelve (and are not green, meaning editing will be easier.

Here is the 'studio' from an outside point of view :

I know it's quite a mess outside of my clean perimeter, but I do as I can. You can see one light in the foreground, but there is also one (less visible in the background), symmetrical to the first one, and a third one behind and above the camera (outside of the picture).

You may also notice a lot of sorting boxes. Sorting pieces can greatly improve your productivity, if you label all your box correctly. Covered by the greenscreen is essentially a shelf full of these sorting boxes, labelled by colour and piece type, and it was really practical. Anyway. Thank you for reading until this point, I guess ? If you survived through all this rambling, you probably deserve something...

I mean- Have these pictures I took during the exhibition, I guess...

(You can notice that these are two different days because of the ships’ placement).

[river-in-the-woods]

Tips on divining for others

As someone who has been giving free readings on the internet for a modest while, I have some tips to share if you want to sharpen your skills.

🌿 Find your audience If reading for friends and family is not an option, there are many forums, Discord servers and other social platforms for you to practice on strangers and then cut all contact if it gets too weird or embarrassing! (Try not to ghost people too much though, you should practice your communication skills as much as your divination).

🌿 Get clear on your goals This is kind of obvious I guess, but instead of just “practice divination”, decide on some clear achievable goals like: – Practice a particular divination tool X amount of times – Practice a particular spread X amount of times (because each spread brings its own style of interpretation to the reading) – Get X number of positive feedback from querents – Make X number of brave predictions about the querent (and get X number correct!)

🌿 Experiment This is the ideal environment to try out something new. Mixing up different divination tools, breaking in a new deck, changing up your divination style, trying a new pre-divination ritual, and making brave predictions about people’s past, present and future! Every success will build your confidence, every failure will teach you something – if you reflect on it patiently and mindfully.

🌿 Be humble and accept mistakes graciously You will get things wrong and be totally off. This is okay and happens even to advanced diviners. Be upfront about the fact that you are doing this to practice, and if you get it wrong – be light-hearted and have a laugh about it!

“Oh haha, I was totally off! Thanks for correcting me!”

Ask questions, get the correct answer, and relate it back to your divination tool. Then diagnose the reason why you misinterpreted. You didn’t cleanse your deck recently, you’re having a bad day, you’re distracted, you didn’t vibe with the querent, etc. Next time, tweak your pre-divination preparations and see if things change.

🌿 Ask about the querent’s existing knowledge This will save you time. If you are doing a romance reading, ask if the querent is dating. If you are reading for career, ask about the querent’s education and career path. You don’t need much detail, just enough to help you interpret what comes out of the reading. There is no point in you spending time divining knowledge the querent already has! (Unless you’re doing this specifically to practice and get quick answers about your accuracy). Instead, just ask them, and focus on divining the things your querent isn’t clear on, so they come out of it with a little more perspective. This is the goal of divination.

🌿 Be firm about receiving constructive feedback You spent all this time and effort constructing a thoughtful reading aaand... the querent just goes “thanks, that resonates”. This will not help you develop your skills, and it is also the querent lacking in manners. Expect reciprocation! Deal with this as professionally as you can. For instance:

“I would appreciate it if you give me some constructive feedback on the reading I just did for you.”

If they do not give constructive feedback, kindly explain what it is:

“By constructive feedback I mean, please reflect on every aspect of the reading and talk me through how it helps you, and how it relates to what you experienced – in this case, perhaps the events surrounding [the subject of the reading].”

And if they still do not reciprocate, blacklist them. If they attempt to contact you again, simply say:

“I appreciate your trust in me, but I am doing this to practice my skills and I need proper feedback to improve.”

If you are giving a reading about the future, of course the querent can’t tell you much about what they think of it. In this case, it is a good idea to check in with them at a later date and ask them how things went. This is a small request, one the querent should be happy to honour, and will help you very much.

🌿 Sometimes querents just want to vent This happens especially when querents ask about their relationships, especially romantic ones. You will very likely come across the “what does my ex think of me” crowd or the “advice on my love life” crowd when giving readings.

Usually these kinds of people won’t listen to you unless you tell them what they want to hear. They might thank you for the reading but continue riding the disaster train. You might even get an essay on someone’s entire life story and all their relationship drama. It’s up to you whether you want to moonlight as an amateur therapist (or if you are a professional therapist, you ought to be paid for it!)

If you’re doing divination with the desire to help people, then a few kind words will suffice. Thoughtful and practical advice is great if you can provide some. Divination services can attract some very desperate people who just want someone to give them the answer. Your readings are a puzzle piece in the mystery and an opportunity for the querent to receive help from a kind stranger, but you cannot fix someone’s life for them. Wish them luck and send them on their way.

🌿 You don’t have to read for everything Get clear on what subjects you’re willing to read for, and what you want to avoid. Legal matters, pregnancy, medical health, spirit/deity contact, death, ex-partners – these are common ones people don’t want to read for. You can if you want to, but make sure you’re not liable for any advice you give (especially if you charge money for your services). Tell people not to take you too seriously. A common disclaimer is “this is purely for entertainment purposes.”

Similarly, you have no obligation to read for querents that are rude, unresponsive, rambling endlessly, or just... asking weird questions.

🌿 You are paid for your effort This is for those who do paid readings. Personally I have only ever done readings for free (that may change) but don’t feel guilty about charging money, even if the reading was not the quality they expected. You are being paid for your time, and for performing a service. And if the querent accepts this transaction, it was their choice to do so. Make this clear at the very beginning.

[nicklloydnow]

“IN THE ANNALS OF ROCK HISTORY, Chinese Democracy is a punchline and a cautionary tale. Guns N’ Roses spent more than 14 years working on it. At the beginning of the process, they were still arguably the biggest rock band in the world. By the end, they were Axl Rose fronting a collection of musicians who could’ve staffed a rock & roll fantasy camp.

Much of the band’s core when they began making the album — Slash, Duff McKagan, Matt Sorum, Gilby Clarke — either quit or were fired (or both) along the way. New members reportedly had to be approved by Rose’s spiritual adviser, an aura-reading psychic from Sedona named Sharon Maynard, who was often referred to as “Yoda.” At various points, the band’s lineup included ex-members of Nine Inch Nails, Primus, the Replacements, Devo, and the Psychedelic Furs. The list of musicians who auditioned, contributed, or visited the sessions includes Dave Navarro, Brian May, Sebastian Bach, Moby, and Shaquille O’Neal.

You could write an entire book about the tenure of avant-garde guitarist Buckethead, who communicated with bandmates through a hand puppet, and for whom a chicken coop was constructed in the studio, where, according to Zutaut, the guitarist would record his parts and watch porn. Zutaut also once claimed that, after Rose’s wolf puppy took a shit in said chicken coop, Buckethead resisted efforts to clean it up, claiming he loved the smell.

The entire project wasn’t only time consuming, it was wildly expensive, with costs reportedly running to a quarter of a million dollars per month at some stages, and a final tab of at least $13 million. The protracted recording process was a function of, among other things, Rose’s desperate effort to match the sound coming out of the speakers to the sound in his head. A less charitable reading was that he’d simply lost the plot, and without a strong creative counterweight — someone like Slash or Duff who was equally invested in the outcome — there was nobody to help him find it.

(…)

Within the insular confines of the GN’R fan community, though, there were devotees like Dunsford and Madeline, for whom Chinese Democracy wasn’t an embarrassing bomb from a megalomaniac who’d alienated his most important collaborators. It was an overlooked magnum opus by a misunderstood genius. If GN’R’s early albums bottled a certain amount of anti-social rebellion, Chinese Democracy represents a kind of counterrevolution, in which its relative unpopularity has only intensified the passion of its adherents.

Madeline told me that for years on GN’R forums, “85 to 95 percent of fans wanted nothing to do with Guns N’ Roses unless it was discussing the old lineup. Then you have people like me — we call ourselves five-percenters. All we cared about was Chinese Democracy.”

(…)

Amid this void, the less-dedicated fans lost interest, leaving a hardcore group who feasted on any scraps of information they could scrounge. Every paparazzi photo of Rose would be studied for clues to his mind state. Fans would discuss a stray quote from a band member with the dedication of Talmudic scholars.

This sense of scarcity was foundational to the fan community. Anyone with access to new music or information — or anyone perceived to — has cachet. Unreleased music is the most prized of all currencies.

GN’R fans who manage to procure unreleased tracks, or even snippets of them, fall into two basic categories: hoarders and leakers. Hoarders keep whatever they find for themselves or share only with a handful of trusted friends. Leakers distribute it to the rest of the fans. Within the community, hoarders are both despised and venerated. They’re viewed as anti-democratic elitists, but they’re insiders with something everyone wants. On occasion, a hoarder may sell unreleased material or trade it — and some make real money doing this — but they intuitively understand the scarcity principle. If they distribute music widely, it not only puts them at risk legally, it also erases the music’s value and endangers their heightened status.

(…)

By the time of Chinese Democracy’s official release, most of its songs had already leaked, occasionally in dramatic fashion — including one, bizarrely, when then-New York Mets catcher Mike Piazza brought a CD-R of unreleased songs to Eddie Trunk’s radio show. The album’s anti-climactic arrival fed the fans’ thirst for more music. Suggestions from Rose and others that the album was intended as part of a trilogy, and that there was enough music to fill several albums, convinced some fans there was a lost classic just gathering dust in the band’s vault.

In light of this, many fans have come to resent GN’R’s secrecy and stinginess with new music. “The band should’ve figured out a way to manage their community online in a more positive way, instead of keeping them in the dark for so many years,” says Kooluris. “They’ve created all these monsters who just want to pillage, steal, and grab whatever they can get because they don’t feel like they’ve ever been appreciated by the band.… It’s like Stockholm syndrome. They’re chained up in the basement, they haven’t been outside for years, so they act in unhealthy ways.

“It’s more than the music,” he continues. “These people are looking for belonging.… But these guys invest so much that it distracts them from being happy. Because you’re not going to be happy if you’re all in on GN’R.”

(…)

The studio was Village Recorder, the legendary birthplace of Steely Dan’s Aja, Fleetwood Mac’s Tusk, and Dr. Dre’s The Chronic. GN’R moved their base of operations there in 2000. Nineteen of the CD-Rs Bird found in the locker were rough mixes from the 2000-01 Village sessions. They included complete songs, instrumentals, rehearsals, and alternate versions of previously released material. The sessions were legendary among fans. Nothing had ever leaked from them. This, they believed, was where they’d find their lost classic.

(…)

Fans have now been waiting nearly as long for a Chinese Democracy follow-up as they waited for Chinese Democracy. Whispers swirl about the imminent arrival of a new full-length culled from this batch of leaked material. But is this stuff any good?

Within the GN’R community, views diverge. “There’s plenty of material that could really be a legendary album,” says Dunsford. Kooluris is less sanguine: “These fans think Axl’s got another ‘Paradise City’ or ‘November Rain’ in the vault, and he fucking doesn’t.” There’s widespread enthusiasm for the raw, guitar-driven “Hard Skool,” which was released as a single in 2021 and hearkens back to pre-Chinese Democracy GN’R. It’s a particular curiosity because many fans interpret the lyrics (“You had to play it cool, had to do it your way/Had to be a fool, had to throw it all away”) as a shot at Slash, who rejoined the band with Duff in 2016, and ultimately contributed guitar parts to the finished song.

Many of the leaked songs aren’t hard to find online. Listening to them, it’s easy to convince yourself that with a little polish, “Atlas Shrugged,” the tense, dramatic “Perhaps,” and “State of Grace,” an industrial-tinged midtempo creeper, could’ve anchored another classic GN’R album. Other tracks feel half-baked. But judging these songs based on rough mixes feels unfair. Exploring ideas that never get fully fleshed out and trying things that don’t succeed is how the creative process is supposed to work. This, of course, underscores the moral argument against leaking unreleased music. “Ultimately, there’s only one truth,” says Kooluris. “It’s stolen music. These guys try to rationalize it, but it’s not theirs.”

(…)

One of his long-running motivations around leaking music has been to stick it to “the hoarding putzes,” though he recognizes the biggest hoarder of all is Rose himself. “He doesn’t owe anybody anything, but sometimes he teases like he’s going to do something, then nothing happens, and people get frustrated,” Craig says. “It’s almost like drug addicts.… You’re so desperate for a fix you’ll do things not within the norm to get your fix. All these kids are acting like they’re members of a spy ring.… You don’t see that with Metallica or Faith No More.”

(…)

Being a music fan has changed a lot in the past 20 years. Collecting an artist’s every release was once the sign of a true die-hard. Now, we all have that for nearly every artist in existence for the price of a monthly subscription fee.

So, in this time of instant access and overwhelming abundance, what defines real fandom? How do you prove it? Well, if you’re Rick Dunsford, you do whatever it takes to get your hands on the music nobody else has. When being a fan is easy, you do what’s hard. These GN’R fans — not just Dunsford, but the whole collection of crazies — understand that.”

“This, in the Year Punk Broke A.D., was months before Nevermind, and a year before Kurt Cobain, on the exact same journey as GN’R, rocked a “Corporate Magazines Still Suck” T-shit on Rolling Stone’s cover. But even as grunge and punk revivalism supposedly unseated mainstream rock in the Nineties (or so the myth goes), Guns N’ Roses, who’d been covering punk groups the U.K. Subs and the Misfits for years, were playing in stadiums alongside Metallica (another band that covered the Misfits, as well as punks Fang years before Nirvana). Mainstream rock, with all its primordial influences, was still bigger than ever and would remain so for at least a couple more years. This box set, memorializing the 30th anniversary of Guns N’ Roses’ overwhelming and intimidating Use Your Illusion albums — arriving, in true GN’R fashion, a year late — presents some interesting alternate facts for the alternative explosion.

(…)

The albums, in hindsight, present the paradox of a band of outsiders who have become the biggest band on the planet but still want to be rebels (see also: Neil Young’s fable of Johnny Rotten, and Kurt Cobain’s fable of Kurt Cobain). It’s a portrait of an identity crisis and it eventually tore them apart. But at the time, they rose to the challenge and reaped the rewards, even if by all accounts the Use Your Illusion albums are still Too Much Music.

(…)

By this point, the band had been called up from the streets and had risen to the occasion. They were still working together, and, gosh, maybe even liked each other. Three decades since their release, we know understand how the Use Your Illusion albums represented the most of what they could do, and they secured their legend. If they had called it quits completely after the tour, like the Police did after Synchronicity, and avoided all the nasty press digs, it could have been a clean break and we probably still would have gotten Chinese Democracy. But Use Your Illusion was a testament to their determination, which is still their driving force. Not grunge, not Spin, not good taste (or even bad taste) could hold them back then or now. This is a portrait of the kings of the jungle.”

[depressingrantblog]

10-8-23

Update

So, I’m 20 now. It’s been a long two years of not knowing what I’m doing with my life. Right after highschool I started out working at CVS. I’ve been there for 2 years and I’ve got a good chunk of savings for the car I want to buy as soon as I learn how to drive. That is something I’ve been saying I need to do but I haven’t really worked on much because of anxiety about the idea of driving. At this point, I finally finished reading my drivers ed book I got from the SoS. I did the little 10 question test in the back of the book and got all of the questions correct, all I need to do is get a SoS appointment and take the test to get my TIP. The problem is is that I need someone to take me to that but everyone is busy all the time. I’m sure it doesn’t help having to take me back and forth to work. But it’s starting to get really old. And I just feel too old to not be driving. It’s really embarrassing but even my little brother (16) got his license before me. I’m trying not to be salty about it.

In the past two years I took two different semesters at two colleges and never stayed at either. I didn’t really like EMU and WCC was nice but I wanted to decide what I really wanted to do before I spent a bunch of money on it. I partially decided I wanted to do the construction manager program at WCC because one thing I always saw myself doing since I was a child was designing houses. I thought that would be a good start since I’m not smart enough or disciplined enough to get into architecture school. At least I would know how to build houses. But I’m still not sure. I just want to know how to drive and have a car before I go back at least.

The most positive advancement I’ve made was finding a guy. At some point I got so lonely that I got on hinge trying to look for a partner. I briefly talked to a couple guys. But one guy stood out and I immediately picked him. We have so much in common it’s like we’re the same person. I really like him (I think he likes me??). The problem is is that every time we’ve tried to make plans or meet up, they always fall through. At some point I was using so much of my energy to work on the relationship that I was driving myself crazy. So personally I’m taking a break from trying to advance things and leaving up to him or fate.

Right now our relationship is more like friends with the option to be in a relationship. We still occasionally flirt with each other or talk about sex stuff but at this moment it doesn’t feel like it’s going anywhere. Which I’m not too upset about. I don’t feel like I’m wasting my time since I enjoy talking to him, although I was feeling a bit disappointed a while ago.

I just like him. I really hope he likes me too. It’s really hard online dating vs the real thing. I didn’t intend for it to be thing way but we live 165 miles away from each other and neither of us have a car at the moment. Whenever I would ask him what we are, he would say we shouldn’t define it until we meet, which I completely agree with, it’s just hard now even thinking about meeting since it’s been a whole year. And now we’ve got these romanticized versions of each other and our relationship, it would be hard not to be disappointed.

In the end, all I really want is someone to love me, listen to me, be able to share everything with each other, take care of each other, and have fun together. I just think we’re so similar that we’d be perfect together. I’m just secretly worried that he prefers a different type of girl (like maybe a more unrealistic type). I wouldn’t want him to feel like he’s “settling” for me (and then end up killing me or something).

10-10-23

Lately I feel extremely happy.

I think I’ve discovered which depression I have. It’s Persistent Depressive Disorder. It’s pretty much a lower grade lifelong depression unlike Major Depressive Disorder which is more severe but only lasts for a short amount of time but consistently. PDD is always there; lingering. Even when I’m not feeling depressed I always feel like any small thing can trigger it. One small thing can cause me to overthink, putting me into a depression. Usually, I’d be depressed for about 2 (sometimes 3) weeks out of the month or even every couple of days. This has been going on since I was 12 on and off (8 years) but I remember feeling the same way when I was a kid as well, I’m just not sure if can classify it the same. It’s super exhausting living with PDD, it feels like I can never catch a break and in the worst moments it makes me feel like I’ve never been happy in my entire life; which obviously isn’t true. On really bad days I don’t care about anything. I don’t care about making myself look nice, I don’t care what I eat, as long as I can get energy from it, I don’t care about talking to the people I like or doing the things I like to do. I just wake up and try to endure the day until it’s over with.

I’m pretty sure being depressed for that amount of time straight probably wrecks your body and kills you faster. I’m also pretty sure it’s maternally genetic in my family. That’s why I bought one of those 23&me health tests. It can tell me what percentage I’m likely to get a depressive disorder along with other percentages on my health and genetic diseases. I need to also see my doctor about my depression, I’ve talked to her about it before. Formally I’ve been diagnosed with seasonal depression, which it is true that my depression does get worse during the winter, but the PDD is the major factor.

But I just wanted to report that despite all the depression surges I’ve had recently, I’ve been feeling very happy for the past week. It feels like a weight has been lifted off of me and I can finally breathe. I know it’s temporary but I’m trying to enjoy it. Little things aren’t bothering me and I’m not overthinking. Usually when I am feeling temporarily happy I try to avoid anything that’s gonna me overthink. But right now I’ve even encountered things that would usually trigger overthinking and they don’t bother me. I feel great.

It sounds silly but some of the reasons I am so happy are because I did finish the drivers ed book. I have been stressing myself out about it for the past two years. I was worried that I would read the entire book and miss something extremely important and cause a crash or something. So that’s one weight off my shoulder. Another thing is I was able to get my grandpa to help me put up my new blinds and curtains for my room that I’ve been holding on to since Christmas. I asked my mom to get me them so I could try to make my room look nicer. It’s been stressing me out that they were taking up space in my room. I know it’s completely ridiculous, but I think it’s those two little things being erased from my to-do list that makes me feel so much relief. I’m trying to enjoy this moment so I’m even gonna stress the next things I have to do.

I also wanted to say, I quit self harming 2 years ago (nearly relapsed a few times) and it feels good to have healthier coping mechanisms. I feel more mature. Although I do still need to get treatment for depression, I’m not having any suicidal thoughts, self harm rarely crosses my mind. My coping mechanisms probably could be better. Right now to help me get through a depression, I will listen to music, ignore everything that upsets me, watch tv and movies just trying to keep myself entertained and distracted until it is over. I’ve lived through it so long now that it’s pretty much normal to me. It comes in waves and I almost find a comfort in it. It’s like when you’re sick and you’re trying to relax and let your body heal itself. Even with that, it’s still awful. That’s just the dark, bright-side of it. Hopefully still, I’d like to be able to feel as happy as I do now, all the time.

I just wanted to update this blog with some life updates. Originally, I made it during the pandemic when my depression was at an all-time low. I doubt anyone is ever going to read this, I just wanted to make it for myself. It was actually kind of shocking to see where I was at the last time I posted. So hopefully my next life update will be even better.

[cosplaybonez]

Today I spent an annoying amount of time trying to figure out cuffs and my invisible zipper.

I went off script today from my pattern since the instructions have me constructing the skirt and then attaching it to the bodice, and THEN after that I needed to put the zipper line.

Problem is I only want the bodice and I only need it to unzip a bit at the top so my head can go in, so I had to see how the heck I could do that and make it look presentable. The color is obviously off because this isn’t the final piece. Basically I succeeded in making this more of an invisible zipper, but I don’t think the end is a seamless as it could be since it doesn’t lay flat. I probably have to make some kind of adjustments to the pattern piece itself to make it work.

The next problem was the cuff. The instructions are made for people that know how to make one already with a link to a YouTube video in case you need instruction, but then those videos don’t match what the instructions say to do in the same order, so I just end up confused.

I think that everything would have been better had I not attached the sleeve first, but since it was also a hassle to do that I didn’t want to undo it.

I also went off script by trying to add buttons to the cuff, which is not part of anything at all. I dare not take a picture of the other side of this cuff because my attempt was so poor I’m actually super embarrassed about it.

I thought I would have time today to start in the pants, but I barely made a dent on the bodice.

Sigh… it’s fine. This would all be worse if I was trying to actually make my costume and was ruining the proper fabric this is all teaching me something.

Oh well, we’ll see what tomorrow holds!

[priestessofspiders]

The Midnight Door

The apartment was cheap, but not suspiciously so, especially given the relatively decrepit state of it. It was a 1 bedroom affair, the building itself constructed at some point before the Great Depression, and it certainly showed its age. The bathroom was prone to mold, the windows let in a draft even when closed, and the fact that it was up 6 flights of stairs in a building where the elevator seemed perpetually out of order certainly didn't help. However, beyond these usual allowances made for an affordable apartment in a city such as mine, there were no outward signs that anything wrong with the place. There were never any strange noises, unusual cold spots in the center of rooms, no eerie lights. For all intents and purposes, the apartment appeared utterly mundane.

It took me a frankly embarrassing amount of time to notice the door. 7 months in fact. I've never been much of a night owl, and on the rare occasions when I did have reason to be up in the wee hours my time was generally spent in someone else's bedroom.

At first, when I noticed the door, I assumed that I was hallucinating. I was, after all, in a fairly inebriated state, having just returned from a rather pleasant evening of laughter and debauchery. I already had experienced considerable difficulty in extricating my key from my apartment's lock, so I figured it was more likely that something had gone wrong with my perception rather than the unlikely scenario that a wood paneled door had suddenly materialized in my living room where previously there had only been wall.

It was old fashioned looking, with a shiny brass knob and wood the color of old leather. I shook my head for a moment and blinked, squinting at the object. The door was still there. I rubbed my eyes and closed them, counting down from 10. When I'd finished, I opened my eyes again. The door was still there. I'm not exactly sure what I thought counting down from 10 was supposed to accomplish. Beyond one mercifully brief experience with salvia at a very bad party, I'd never experienced hallucinations before, so I was sort of going off of what I'd seen in movies and TV shows.

There was something intensely unnerving about the door. It emanated a feeling of primal wrongness, I instinctually knew that I was gazing at something totally in violation of the natural order. It took a lot of willpower to do what I did next.

Having exhausted all other apparent options to my disorganized mind, I moved on to the next logical stage of inquiry; I tried to open it. The doorknob was cold to the touch, arctic even. It felt like touching the inside of a freezer. A shiver ran down my back, though I can't be sure in retrospect if it was entirely from the temperature. I tried to turn the knob. It didn't budge.

An immense sigh of relief escaped my lungs, releasing a breath that I didn't know I was holding in. Trying to think of what else I could do, I pulled out my phone and snapped a quick photo of the thing, sending it to my landlord, with a caption somewhere along the lines of "wtf is this dude, y is there a new door???"

Nodding sagely to myself, as if I had succeeded in doing anything of note, I stumbled my way into my bedroom and locked the door before falling into blissful slumber.

I awoke to the incessant screeching of my alarm clock loudly informing me that it was 7 o' clock, about 6 hours from when I had fallen asleep. I slammed my fist against "off" button and rubbed the sleep from my eyes with my other hand. In following with my usual morning routine, I then pulled out my phone and checked through my notifications.

Alongside the usual torrent of internet pseudo-acquaintances posting pictures of their brunches and whatnot was a text message from my landlord. "What are you talking about Christina", it read, "is this photoshop or something?"

At first, I didn't understand what he was referring to, but when the rusted gears of my sleepy (and hungover) brain finally started turning, I immediately jumped out of bed and scuttled over to the spot where the door had been just 6 hours prior. I did so with the intent of recording a video to further prove its existence to my skeptical landlord... but I was greeted with nothing but wall.

I texted my landlord an apology, lying and saying it was just a poorly thought out prank. Then I popped into my car and drove down to the local electronics store to purchase a camera from the grumpy underpaid college student behind the register.

Making my way over to the photography section, I searched a long while for the option that simultaneously fit my budget and the requirements for my investigation. Eventually, I found just the item.

It was a trailcam, the sort of thing hunters and geriatrics with too many acres of land and not enough hobbies use to observe wildlife. It had an SD card with enough space for several hours of blurry, black and white nightvision video, and most importantly it was cheap. I paid for my prize with the surly cashier and made my way happily back to my apartment.

I set it up securely in front of where the door had previously appeared, and, feeling like a genius, went about the rest of my day. I fell asleep that night secure in the knowledge that by morning I would have proof of what I had seen the night before.

The next morning, I rushed over excitedly to my living room, feeling like a child on Christmas morning. My giddy excitement died as I stepped into the living room, noticing the complete lack of the trailcam. Old Saint Nick appeared to have shit in my stocking.

I made my way back to the electronics store, forced once again into interacting with the student behind the register for whom my very existence seemed to be an inconvenience. Upon noticing my arrival, he sighed heavily. "Can I help you ma'am?" he said, emphasizing the last word with the same inflection one might say intestinal parasite.

"I'm looking for a cheap camera that will stream video directly to my computer." I said, trying my best to avoid mimicking the man's petulant tone.

Shrugging his shoulders and releasing another drawn out sigh, the cashier shuffled his way over to the photography section and picked out a small camera, rather similar to the last one I purchased, but approximately twice as much in terms of cost. "Do you have anything cheaper?" I asked, trying my best to sound polite.

"No." declared the cashier, with all the compassion of an exterminator crushing a cockroach beneath a steel toed boot.

I ended up paying the exorbitant price on my already abused credit card, and grumpily stalked back to the apartment to set up the new equipment, knowing I wouldn't get to see it after the night was over.

Nevertheless, I had to know how the door got there, and I needed to have irrefutable evidence.

The process to set up the new camera was a bit more involved than the last. There was all manner of fiddling about with connecting the device to my WiFi network and installing some new software to my computer, but by the time it was over it successfully uploaded footage directly to my hard drive where I could watch it at my leisure.

I went to bed that night wondering what I would do with the footage after I acquired it. After all, I couldn't really go to the police with it, could I? Excuse me officer, I imagined myself saying, but a mysterious door appears in my apartment at night, and I was wondering if you could send someone around to take a look? I'd end up institutionalized. Similarly, it's not like I could go to the newspapers either. I live in a big city, and the reporters have more important fish to fry than transient doors.

At some point while I pondered my options, I must have fallen asleep, because the next thing I knew I was awakened by the banshee cries of my alarm clock, angrily informing me that it was once again 7 o' clock.

I jumped out of bed, excitedly moving over to my computer to check the footage, finding that there was about 5 hours of video. I had turned on the camera at around 10 o' clock PM, so that meant whatever happened to the camera occurred at about 3 AM.

I set the video to fast forward and watched it carefully. The first 2 hours or so showed nothing, just the regular blank wall. At exactly 12 o' clock, however, static engulfed the screen, and suddenly the old wooden door simply appeared, as if it had always been there. I rewound the footage and played it at normal speed, trying to discern anything that would show how the door suddenly manifested in the wall of my apartment, but the static was far too heavy to tell. The video simply got incredibly distorted for around 10 seconds, and suddenly the static dissipated and there was the door.

Even on video, just looking at it gave me the chills. That sense of complete and utter wrongness came through even from the screen. I shivered slightly and set the video on fast forward yet again. There was no change in the door for nearly 3 hours, but as the video crept closer and closer to the end, I switched it back to normal speed with about a minute to spare.

As I watched, the door began to slowly open. There was no microphone built into the camera, but I could imagine the ancient hinges creaking. I could feel my palms begin to sweat as I stared, transfixed. I glanced at the time remaining on the video, it was only around 30 seconds.

As the video progressed onwards, the door eventually swung fully open, revealing a black, yawning void beyond it. Static began to gather at the corners of the screen, increasing in intensity as I vaguely discerned something moving in the darkness. The quality was rapidly degrading, and I couldn't tell any specifics, but it moved in an almost spider-like manner, skittery and deeply unnerving. It seemed just about to come into view when the footage fully dissolved into static and the video ended abruptly.

I leaned back in my chair, contemplating my next move. While the video had certainly convinced me that I wasn't just going crazy, I knew that it wouldn't exactly convince the average person. I could easily have added in the static with editing, and the vague movement behind the door could just be computer generated effects or some sort of puppet. After a few minutes of pondering, I came up with an idea.

---

"I'm sorry, what?" exclaimed Lilith, who was trying hard not to choke on her iced coffee.

"A door. It appears in my apartment at exactly midnight. I have it on video", I replied, sliding my phone across the table of the coffee shop.

I first met Lilith in college, where we shared a course on the history of Gothic literature. She was a perfect picture of the stereotypical goth, with pierced septum, dyed black hair, pentacle earrings, and a wardrobe whose diversity of color could charitably be compared to that of a raven. We hadn't spoken in a long time, but I figured if there was anyone I should contact about this sort of thing, it would be her.

I'd condensed the 5 hours of footage down to a few minutes with the help of a free online video editor, and watched in slight amusement as Lilith's brow furrowed, her eyes glued to the screen. After the video ended, she seemed utterly amazed.

"Any thoughts?" I asked, pulling back my phone.

"This is some sort of joke, right? You're screwing with me?" she asked, utterly bewildered by what I had just shown her.

"No joke. No screwing around. I figured you'd be the one to ask about this, because of the whole, you know..." I said, gesturing at the leviathan cross emblazoned on her black t-shirt.

Lilith rolled her eyes at me and fidgeted nervously with one of her bracelets. "I'm not sure Christina, this seems a little bit outside of my pay grade. I don't really know what you expect me to do."

"I just need a witness of some kind. What I've got here isn't really enough to prove anything on its own, but if someone else sees it that might lend me a bit of credibility. If some random chick goes to the news complaining about a mysterious door appearing in her living room at midnight that's nothing, but if I get a witness then they might have to listen to me. Plus, I figured maybe you could, I don't know, set up some form of protective circle or sigil or something." As soon as the last words left my lips, I felt like a moron, but Lilith actually seemed to perk up a little bit.

"I mean, I guess that makes sense. How about tonight? I can come over at about 11 o' clock so we have a little bit of time to get ready", she said, a tinge of excitement in her voice.

"Sound's like a plan then, I'll text you my address. I really appreciate you doing this for me." We got up from the booth, exchanged hugs, and went our separate ways. I was skeptical about how much good Lilith's "magickal" expertise would do with regard to the unearthly door, but I had mainly mentioned it to get her interested.

I wish I hadn't.

---

About 12 hours later, I heard a knock at the door (my front door, in this case, not the impossible one). I peeked through the peephole, saw it was Lilith, and I ushered her inside. She had brought with her a black leather bag, bulging with various books, candles, jars, and other occult accoutrements.

"That's a lot of stuff", I commented, gesturing towards the bag, "are you sure you'll need all of it?"

She shrugged. "I figured it's better to be safe than sorry. I'd rather be overprepared than come up short."

"Seems reasonable."

I showed her the spot of the blank wall where the door appears and she began setting up candles and incense, drawing strange signs with chalk, and pouring salt in a semi-circle in front of where the door would be. As she worked, she occasionally read out loud from some cheap paperbacks with titles like "The Witch's Bible" and "The Unquiet Dead: A Field Guide to the Afterlife".

To be entirely honest it was incredibly underwhelming. I didn't feel any "mystical energies" or unseen vistas of space and time yawning before me. There was just a goth screwing around with some candles while reciting mangled Latin out of books she got for 4.99 apiece at a charity shop.

Nevertheless, I let Lilith get on with her business and sat back drinking some cheap beer. After about 45 minutes she seemed satisfied. The floor and walls were covered with crude sigils done in white chalk, and the whole room smelt of incense and scented candles. I checked my watch, seeing it was 11:48.

I offered Lilith a drink but she declined, instead just taking a seat and fidgeting a bit with her jewelry. We talked for a while about what the door could be, where it came from, that sort of thing. Lilith seemed convinced it was must be the restless spirit of a former tenant, but I was a bit skeptical. While at this point I could no longer honestly say I didn't believe in the supernatural, this didn't necessarily strike me as some sort of haunting.

"I don't think it's a ghost", I said, taking a sip from my near empty can, "it strikes me as something further beyond our realm of experience than that. Something, I don't know, alien somehow. I mean it changes reality itself doesn't it? It transmutes a wall to a door, and let me tell you that door was real wood and the knob was real metal. Aren't ghosts supposed to be intangible or something?"

Lilith seemed like she was about to say something before she paused, a weird look crossing her face. "Christina, what time is it?" she whispered.

I checked my watch, the digital face reading out 12:07. I turned to see the door. It had been there for 7 minutes and we hadn't even noticed its arrival. Something about us not having realized it was there bothered me far more than its materialization. Was it possible that I'd passed by it in the apartment before and just never noticed it? I'd previously assumed that I'd simply always been asleep or out of the apartment when it materialized, but now I wasn't so sure.

Lilith had turned to look at it too, after a moment saying "It's like it's always been there."

The next 3 hours passed slowly, painfully. We snapped plenty of pictures of the door at every conceivable angle on our respective phones, videos too, and decided that after it disappeared again we should take footage of the bare wall for contrast. Lilith and I chatted a bit, but it was hard to continue conversations for long. Now that we had noticed it, we could feel the wrongness emanating out from the door, as if we were being watched by something just out of sight.

I don't know if there is such a thing as true evil, some sort of absolute moral right and wrong on a spiritual level. But being near that door, I felt like I was bearing witness to an atrocity against reality itself. We spent the last 2 hours of observation in nearly complete silence. It seemed like the longer we were cognizant of the door, the worse the feeling of discomfort got. If you've ever been on a roller coaster, you'll be familiar with the feeling of going up the track towards a long drop, the tension in your very blood as you brace yourself for the fall to come. As we sat there, I felt something similar.

I almost wanted to call the whole thing off, just have Lilith and I go to a 24 hour fast food place or something and call it a night. But I had to know.

Unlike with the door's appearance, we noticed when it started to open. We sat there, paralyzed with fear and excitement as it slowly started to creak open, the worn hinges squealing just as I thought they would. The room grew significantly colder, until we were both shivering intensely. Behind the door was void, absolutely void. It was black as the depths of the ocean and emanated pure dread. The smell of incense and scented candles seemed to dissipate, replaced with a vague stench like rotting seaweed.

Finally, the entrance was swung fully open, and we sat there, staring blankly into it. We didn't even try to pull out our phones to record what we saw. The thought to do so didn't cross my mind until well after.

I could see something start to move in the darkness beyond, some sort of motion, spidery, skittering. It was coming towards us. I caught a vague glimpse of a long, thin limb reaching out from the door, coming towards us, grasping blindly from out of the dark, and then-

I felt the sun shining on my face, my entire body sore.

I opened my eyes to find myself lying on the ground, outside. There were trees overhead, but the foliage wasn't dense enough to block out the light which had awoken me. All things being equal, I would have preferred my alarm clock.

I stood up, painfully, taking stock of my surroundings. I was in a park, one which I had been to before, located a couple miles from my apartment. I looked for my phone, but couldn't find it. I began to stumble my way back home, trying my best to ignore my aching muscles. I called out for Lilith a couple times, but was met only with silence. She was gone.

As I limped my way along, a passing jogger called out "Nice tattoo". Confused, I looked down at my arm.

Burned into my flesh in white letters, as if through frostbite, were the words "BRING MORE".

[pornaddictionsymptoms]

What Are The Early Warning Signs Of Porn Addiction?

Porn addiction is a serious problem that can have devastating consequences. If you or someone you love is struggling with an addiction to porn, it's important to be aware of the early warning signs. This blog post will explore some of the most common early warning signs of porn addiction. If you recognize any of these signs in yourself or someone you know, don't hesitate to seek help. Porn addiction is a treatable condition and there is hope for recovery. Thanks for reading!

A growing interest in pornography, including more time spent viewing it and seeking out new material

Pornography has become an increasingly popular topic of conversation in recent years. An increased amount of people are devoting more time to viewing pornography, raising questions about how this increased exposure may be impacting individuals and society as a whole. Various studies have revealed that while some may find it beneficial in terms of education, acceptance, and personal expression, others believe that the widespread proliferation of pornography can lead to desensitization or exploitation. As interest in pornographic material grows, so does the discussion about its effects on our collective consciousness. It's clear that there is much disagreement surrounding the idea of pornography; nevertheless, it appears that no matter the opinion or perspective, appreciation for the subject matter will continue to flourish at an accelerated rate.

Withdrawal from friends and family members, as well as other activities that were once enjoyed

Withdrawal from friends, family members, and activities that were once enjoyed can be a sign of trouble, but it can also act as a natural defense mechanism. During periods of emotional uncertainty or stress, cutting off contact with others may feel like the easier option. People often create barriers to prevent themselves from feeling pain and shifting their focus onto something else. It's important to assess all causes before labeling one's behavior as depression or anxiety because withdrawal can sometimes indicate that an individual needs time to process their emotions and regain balance. With the right kind of support, withdrawal can be short-term and lead to healing - enabling the person to reclaim their sense of self and engage with people around them in meaningful ways once again.

Lying or keeping secrets about one's pornography use

Many people feel ashamed or embarrassed, to be honest about their pornography use, but there are some distinct dangers associated with lying or keeping secrets on the subject. It can deprive individuals of the opportunity to ask for help if they find themselves struggling with an unhealthy level of porn consumption. It can also lead to a lack of trust when it happens in a relationship, as partners become aware of the deception and feel hurt by it. Furthermore, cheating and infidelity related to one’s porn use can completely erode relationships. To avoid this and ensure healthy communication, it's best to be open and honest about pornography use without judgment or shame.

Difficulty controlling impulses or stopping the behavior despite negative consequences

Impulse control can be a challenge for many of us, as it's hard to stop doing something that has become a habit, even if we know it will have negative consequences. Continually making the same mistake and being unable to break the cycle can leave us feeling powerless and frustrated. In order to gain back control over our impulses, we need to make sure we are addressing the issue on multiple levels: recognizing and acknowledging our patterns of behavior, deep diving into why we may find ourselves unable to stop a certain action or behavior, increasing our mindfulness and awareness, and challenging ourselves with positive constructive choices. With persistent effort and dedication toward understanding ourselves better, gradually yet steadily, we can start gaining control over unhelpful impulsive behaviors.

Feeling depressed, anxious, or hopeless after viewing pornography

Pornography can have a powerful emotional effect even if you don't consider yourself an overly sensitive person. After viewing pornography it is common to feel powerless, hopeless and depleted. This erosion of self-worth can lead to an overall feeling of depression since our sense of identity has been clouded by pornographic imagery. To prevent this cycle, it is important to monitor ourselves on a regular basis and be mindful of any feelings of guilt or worthlessness that arise after viewing pornography. Paying attention to our own emotions will help us recognize when we need to take a pause and take responsibility for easing our pain by looking at healthier options for dealing with life's difficulties in the future.

Neglecting work or school responsibilities in favor of looking at porn

Neglecting work or school responsibilities in favor of looking at porn can not only be detrimental to one's personal career, but it can also lead to problems in interpersonal relationships. While watching porn may provide short-term gratification and pleasure, the long-term effects of neglecting important tasks and obligations can be far more serious and damaging. Ignoring the tasks that should take priority for the sake of viewing adult material not only belittles one's sense of responsibility, but it also takes away valuable time that could have been spent more productively elsewhere. Porn addiction is a very real problem, and if left unchallenged it could have serious consequences for an individual’s professional success as well as their domestic life.

Pornography can be highly addictive and can ultimately lead to the loss of relationships and other negative outcomes. Going beyond just viewing, people who become addicted to pornography may experience withdrawal symptoms including depression, anxiety, and hopelessness. In order to avoid the many detrimental consequences that come along with pornography use, it is important to recognize potential addiction early on before it gets out of hand. Limiting internet usage or setting boundaries around what type of material is acceptable can be helpful in preventing it from becoming a larger problem. As always, it's important to talk with family or friends if you fear that you may be addicted to pornography. There are resources available for those who are struggling so don't hesitate to reach out for help.

[theemporium]

[1.3k] late night dinners, home-cooked meals and wayne munson realising his nephew’s girlfriend makes the trailer feel like home.

.

Wayne Munson was not a good chef. 

He could read the instructions on the back of the package. He could whip up basic meals that didn’t require more than three ingredients. He had the number of his favourite local takeaway memorised. 

He never really cared about nutritious meals and all that five-a-day crap, not until he had his young nephew thrown at the doorstep of his trailer with no parents and big brown eyes that could melt anybody’s heart. 

So yeah, it was fine that Wayne Munson was not a chef when it was just himself he needed to worry about. But when little Eddie Munson came into his life, he knew he needed to make more of an effort. 

The microwave meals and the takeaways never really disappeared though. Wayne worked night shifts and it was easy to just leave money on the counter for Eddie to grab what he wanted. And when he came in in the mornings, he was too tired to make anything more convoluted than cereal. 

Wayne knew it was bad, and he knew he wasn’t exactly teaching Eddie any good habits, but there wasn’t much else you could do. 

He just had to deal with the hand he had been given. 

Then the Munson boys met you.

“You don’t get it, Wayne, she’s…” Eddie had trailed off one day, oddly bouncy and on some sort of high he knew wasn’t from anything in that metal lunchbox. He had sprawled himself on the couch, eyes shining with an emotion Wayne had never seen as he continued to ramble to his uncle about his day at school (something he had never done in his life). “She’s fuckin’ perfect, I’m telling you.” 

And as bad as it sounded, Wayne didn’t really expect much to come out of it. Hawkins, Indiana was full of narrow-minded people who didn’t understand his nephew, who were superficial and couldn’t look past the wild curls and theatric persona. He knew how locals viewed Eddie and as much as he hated it, he knew that there was very little he could do to change their minds. People were just bastards like that. 

But much to Wayne’s own surprise, he had walked in back from work early one morning, dragging himself through the door with plans to just make it to his bed before he gave into the exhaustion—only to find you in their small kitchen, clad in one of Eddie’s shirts with a sheepish smile on your face. 

“‘m sorry,” you murmured, cheeks heating up in embarrassment as you looked around at the kitchen counters. They weren’t messy by any means. Hell, they probably looked cleaner than when he left. “I made pancakes…if you want some.” 

The Munsons became quite smitten for you pretty fast. 

Wayne thought it would be weird having another young adult in his space. The trailer wasn’t fooling anyone and he knew it already felt cramped some days with him and Eddie, he didn’t know what it would be like adding you the mix considering you spent a generous amount of time at the trailer (not that he minded). 

But the truth was Wayne couldn’t bring himself to even care if the small couch was a bit of a squeeze for the three of you on movie night because you made his nephew happy in this deadbeat town and that was truly all he could ask for. 

And maybe Wayne hadn’t realised what a family unit you three had become until he pushed through the door after a long shift at the construction site, shaking off the snow and the cold, only to be met with the mouth-watering smell of home cooking. 

He was somewhat convinced that he was hallucinating the smell until he popped his head around, knocking the trailer door closed with his foot and the sounds of one of Eddie’s tapes playing through the trailer, mixed with some snickers and giggles. 

“Eds, leave it!” 

“I’m just taste-testing it!” 

“Are you questioning my culinary skills?”

“Never, baby.” 

Shrugging off his coat and leaving it abandoned on the back of the couch, he made his way towards the kitchen to really take in the sight in front of him. Pots and pans and dishes sprawled around the kitchen, vegetables being boiled and desserts being made and, fuck, he was pretty sure he could see a turkey in the oven. You and Eddie were pressed up against each other, with you hovering by the hobs and Eddie right behind you because god knows that boy couldn’t stand to be away from you for a second. 

“What’s going on here?” His gruff voice broke through the picturesque moment and he almost winced at the way both of your heads snapped around. 

But you just smiled brightly at him, not a care in the world as Metallica’s Ride The Lightning was filling the space instead of cheesy Christmas carols. “Christmas dinner!” 

Wayne never considered himself a Scrooge or anything, but usually there were just more pressing matters on his mind whenever the holiday season came around. But this—sitting with a plate full with a loving, homemade meal,  some trashy movie playing in the background as he sat with his nephew and his nephew’s girlfriend—maybe this was the closest Wayne ever got to feeling festive. 

“You, baby, are a fucking godsend,” Eddie grumbled with a mouth full of turkey and potatoes. “A magician in the kitchen, I swear.” 

“It’s just some turkey, Eddie,” you said with a roll of your eyes, though it didn’t stop the pink tint growing on your cheeks. “Nothing special.” 

“It’s the first time I’ve ever had turkey,” Eddie commented so casually, not seeming to notice the way you paused in your meal. “Now I get why the snobs over in the west side never shut up about this stuff.” 

“I’ll make you turkey whenever you want,” you said to him, voice a little thick but before Eddie could even question it, you were leaning over to press a kiss to his cheek. 

“Careful, sweetheart, sounds like you’re signing yourself up to deal with this buffoon for a long time,” Wayne piped up, causing a snort to leave your lips and an exaggerated sound of offence to leave Eddie. 

Eddie puffed his chest out. “Oi, I happen to be quite the charmer.” 

You snickered. “You sure about that, big boy?” 

“I got you, didn’t I?” Eddie retorted as he threw an arm around your shoulder, pulling you into his side so he could press a loud, wet smack against your cheek. You let out a small shriek but you didn’t move away from his touch.

“Keep her around then, will you? Don’t think I can go back to that dodgy mac and cheese you make in the microwave after this,” Wayne joked, watching in amusement as your face brightened and his nephew’s face blushed in embarrassment. 

“It was one time, alright?” Eddie huffed in his own defence. “I didn’t even know you could get food poisoning from pasta and cheese.” 

You barked out a laugh, a sound so full of love and warmth. You placed your hand on Eddie’s cheek, grinning when the boy leaned into your touch. “It’s fine, baby, I’ll give you some lessons.” 

“God knows he needs them,” Wayne coughed under his breath. 

“Hey! You too, old man!” 

But your smile didn’t drop as you shrugged, your eyes meeting Wayne’s from across the table. “I’ll teach you both then, since you’re just as hopeless as each other.” 

Eddie tugged on the end of your sweater, your attention returning to him once again. “Think we can learn how to make those chocolate pudding things you put in the fridge first?” 

Wayne Munson was not a good chef, and maybe he never would be. But in his little family of three, he didn’t think it was the biggest deal.

.

[lokiskitten]

hiii can you please do tom as dad's best friend/co-worker where they finally meet each other in her dad's office? and that y/n dad have to take an urgen flight trip thats why he needed tom to look after y/n for a couple of days. lots of sexual tension and dirty talk! (also age gap if that's alright with you?) 😌 make it real smutty and kinky u know the drill :) ty!!

Tom Hiddleston | unique babysitter

Tom Hiddleston x fem!reader

plot : being a single father, your dad has no choice but to leave you at home with a friend after he has been called for an urgent business travel. Surprisingly enough, you manage to end up enjoying Tom’s exhilarating company.

warnings : smut, age gap, dirty talking, slight dub/con, virgin!reader, innocence kink, dry humping, unprotected sex, slight after care and cuddling.

Around a week ago, your dad had finally agreed to take you to his office in order for you to discover his job. You had never really understood the way he made a living, and it had therefore been the occasion for you to get to learn more about his work whilst earning the chance to spend some extra time with him. Ever since your mom had left, you had allowed yourself to drift away from your father- an unwilling habit which had brought harm to the two of you throughout the years. But now was your chance to do better by supporting the older man through his daily life and by letting him know that he was not alone. Though, your little trip to his office had allowed you to meet with one of his closest coworkers : a so called Tom Hiddleston.

The man worked at the desk next to your dad’s, which allowed you to get a good view of his friend whilst they both worked. The room remained silent- the sounds of the keyboards being put to good use offering a pretty symphony. Your orbs would sometimes divert towards the infamous older man, feeling your cheeks heat up whenever his blue eyes would take notice of your stares and look up at you- leading your embarrassed self to look away. From the corner of your eyes, you could tell that this gesture had amused him due to the way his lips seemed to curl up whilst his chest bobbed upwards gently. Your hands fidgeted together, this little game lasting through the entire afternoon until it was finally time for you and your father to go home. But even after disappearing from one another’s sight, none of you appeared to forget about the other.

The next day, your dad had announced to you that he would be forced to leave for a couple of days due to an important business offer he simply couldn’t push away. At first, you felt okay with it... until this one added up that his coworker and friend, Tom, would be in charge of taking care of you for the few upcoming days. This stroke anxiety within your heart. The man you had desperately stared at for hours yesterday would now be assigned as your babysitter? The thought of getting to spend time alone with him was surely exciting, but also intimidating. Therefore, you decided to use arguments in order to dodge your father’s announcement, and potentially call off this whole babysitter issue which you believed was unnecessary for a girl such as you.

The first argument you decide to pull up was the fact that you were eighteen, and therefore not in need of a babysitter anymore. You could take care of yourself, which you did whenever your father was at work. But to the older man, this wasn’t the issue. He felt pleased to remind you what had happened the last time he had trusted you to be alone for a couple of days, and you had no choice but to remain silent face to his prominent argument, and your lack of snap back. Even though you could’ve probably explained that this event took place a couple of years back, and that you were now a legal adult to society, you decided to submit to your father’s announcement and decision.

Coming back to the present, you were currently sat in the living room whilst waiting for Tom to arrive. Your father had left a couple of minutes ago already, as he didn’t wish to miss his plane due to his coworker being late- who he trusted in taking good care of you. But little did he know, the older man would do much more than simply cook dinner for the two of you before tucking you in for a good night of sleep. When the bell finally rang, your head diverted towards the door in a hurry before your whole silhouette made an effort to get up from the sofa in order to reach for the entry of your home. Nervously, your hand took ahold of the handle before twisting it and allowing the door to open, revealing your dad’s smily coworker. “Good evening, Princess. I’m sorry I’m late.” He affirmed as your eyes slowly slid down towards the postman bag he carried on his right shoulder.

Face to your prolonged silence, he decided to step in one more time. “May I come in?” Tom asked, hoping that this sentence would manage to pull you out of your thoughts. And it did. “Oh yes, sure. I’m sorry...” You responded, an awkward chuckle escaping your lips as you moved to the side in order to let the older man step inside of your house. As soon as Tom laid a foot of onto the floor of your home, you felt a rather uncomfortable sensation take over your organism. It was a mix of excitement- that due to his handsomeness and attractive aura- and anxiety. A single pressure applied on the door was enough to have it close, trapping the two of you inside of the construction. And from that point, things progressively started to get more risky.

If Tom had agreed to sit down at the living room’s table to work at first, he soon caught interest in your silhouette and the things your curves could potentially offer him. During the first evening you spent together, things remained rather quiet and calm. All he did was look at you from the corner of his eye once in a while, and so did you whenever you felt like allowing your hormones to win over your good sense. You had been the one to cook dinner, and the older man hadn’t stopped praising the meal you had taken time to prepare whilst he worked. You got the chance to listen to a few of his personal informations- such as his nice lifestyle as a single man who enjoyed cooking for himself, as a hobby. Tom even promised to be the chief tomorrow evening, a bargain which led you to feel more comfortable in his presence.

The next day was when you finally started to feel more comfortable about your father’s coworker living in your house. You didn’t get to see him during the day due to college, but coming back in the evening knowing you would be able to spend time with the older man never failed to make you feel excited. Tom had progressively let go of his work, claiming he had taken a one week remunerated break in order to spend some extra time with you. The days went along, and you found yourself skipping class as well to attend the man’s offers about going out to various places. Calling your dad to check up on him wasn’t a priority anymore, which easily led you to bump into multiple missed calls when you finally made your way back up to your room after spending a day with his friend.

On this delightful Friday evening, you had been given the honor to taste Tom’s most famous recipe : bolognese. The dinner went on wonderfully, and you soon found yourself bloated with sauce and pasta- a visual proof that you had indeed enjoyed the meal he had prepared. Wiping the corner of his mouth with a napkin, Tom’s blue orbs stared at your exhausted self who still tried to recover from the amount of food you had previously ingested. It had exhaust you. “I guess I won’t be asking you how it went, seeing the emptiness of your plate.” He affirmed with a chuckle before reaching out for both of your stained yet empty plates in order to carry them until the sink. Shifting in your seat, you allowed your vision to divert away from your guest for a moment- which Tom didn’t fail to notice.

With a smirk appearing on the corner of his lips, the man proceeded to rest the plates down on the workspace before silently making his way back to you, sitting down in the chair which was positioned next to yours before leaning in and allowing his lips to collide with your neck. You obviously reacted face to this unexpected sensation, body shaking just so slightly as you tiredly leant backwards in order to break the contact. “What? What are you doing?” You asked awkwardly, earning an amused smile from the older man. His hand travelled up to your hair, blue orbs following his own gesture as he brushed a strand behind your ear. “Just treating you the way you deserve. You’re a grown woman after all, aren’t you? And adults communicate with one another.” He purred seductively, those few words sending chills down your spine.

“So I’m letting you know... I want you.” He finished, hand still toying with your hair as both your heart and mind fell apart on the instant. Had you heard that right? Was your father’s friend truly offering you to hookup under his coworker’s own roof- a man who had given him his trust to look after his only daughter? But the will to rebel and prove to the world that you weren’t a child anymore turned out to be stronger then your good sense and the respect you held for your dad. Your cheeks heated up as you made eye contact with Tom again, a welcoming smile appearing his lips which led you to fall for him even more. “Okay...” you responded to his previous statement in an awkward manner, leading the adult’s smile to intensify. “Okay.” He repeated happily, hand sliding down to your thigh in order to take ahold of yours.

Tom easily managed to get you to stand up, leading you out of the kitchen and upstairs as his thumb gently rubbed against the back of your hand. Again, you felt excited yet anxious- still questioning whether yes or not you should give in his certainly appetizing offer. But before you knew it, the older man had managed to reach your father’s room- the room Tom had been occupying throughout the journey- which possessed a bigger bed for the two of you to enjoy. His first reflex was to turn on the lights before closing the door, those two gestures requiring for him to let go of your hand which allowed you to move closer to the bed without his help. “Ever done this before?” Tom asked empathetically as his silhouette turned towards yours, both his hands resting on his hips as if he was trying to contain certain pulsions.

Even if you felt ashamed of the answer you were about to give, you still trusted the man enough not to make fun of you nor make any degrading remarks about your sexual life. “Not really.” You answered as he moved closer to you, head bowed down to be able to make proper eye contact. “That’s okay.” He reassured, his hand moving up to your shoulder which he squeezed gently. “I’ll make sure to take good care of you.” Finished the male, his fingers now taking ahold of your chin only to lead your head to look up. Your lips aligned with his, his head slowly moving down towards yours until your closed mouths finally pressed against one another. This was the chastest kiss anyone had ever given you- which reinforced the feeling of safety you felt whenever it came to Tom. Though he quickly ended up softly breaking the contact in order to make sure you were okay.

You silently sucked in your bottom lip, as if you wanted to get some extra taste of his lips even after he had decided to break the kiss. Allowing your lower piece of rosy flesh to go, your orbs finally diverted upwards in order to make eye contact with the man who had just filled you with bliss. “I liked this.” You admitted, earning a smile from your partner. His hands travelled up to the first button of his shirt, progressively undoing the links until his bellybutton and abdominals were revealed to your innocent sight. Those assets made you shiver, and Tom could easily tell that you were too shy to step forward and lay your pretty hands onto his flesh. Smirking, the man dodged your silhouette in order to reach for the bed, removing his shirt through the process before allowing it to drop to the floor.

You watched silently as he sat down on the edge of the furniture, inviting you to take place beside him by laying gentle taps on the spot next to his thigh. Your submitted self obeyed, feet leading you towards your master until you finally took place beside him. “You’re such an obedient girl.” Tom praised, seemingly enjoying the way you agreed to follow all of his commands. An intimidated chuckle escaped your lips as his hand once again traveled up to your face, caressing your facial features and brushing your hair back in the loveliest manner. You couldn’t help but stare at his crouched abdominals, the way his skin formed muscular rolls for you to appreciate and praise. After all, it was the first time you ever saw a grown man bare chested in such an intimate situation.

“You want to remove a couple of layers? It’s the least we could do.” Tom offered gently, making sure to use the proper tone in order not to scare you off- and mostly in order to lead you to accept his proposition. Again, you agreed, standing up from the bed before removing your sweatshirt by pulling it over your head. Your bare breasts were revealed to his sight, though his blue orbs remained mainly focused on the skin of your waist and stomach. He found the bellybutton and stomach as a very attractive part of the female anatomy, and couldn’t potentially get enough of staring at this area of your body. Of course the grown man also felt grateful to be able to get a peak of your breasts- which he would make sure to cherish and praise later on.

His hands bluntly moved up to your waist as you took place between his legs, blue orbs still looking up at you before Tom allowed himself to lay a kiss onto your stomach. You abdominals contracted due to the small tingle you felt within you skin as the older man now took care of laying trails of gentle kisses down your belly. Looking down at him, you allowed your digits to travel up to his perfectly groomed hair before passing your fingers through the strands, messing up his mane in the softest manner. You were able to feel his lips perk upwards, indicating that your gestures were visibly making him smile. It reassured you to be aware of such a positive reaction.

After reaching the waistband of your joggers, Tom stopped himself through his track in order to take another look at your facial features- which in his humble opinion were perfect. Besides, spending time with someone who was younger than him somewhat sent the man back to his youthful days as well; which provided Tom a very blissful feeling. Without breaking eye contact, he began to unbuckle his belt before undoing the button of his jeans without even taking care of sliding the leather material out of the confines of his pants. Though he unfortunately found himself forced to look away after struggling to undo his button, your orbs still staring down towards his veiny hands which worked hard to reach their goal.

Once this step was finally over with, Tom placed a hand on your hip in order to gently move you backwards so that he could stand up from the bed. You could tell by his frustrated appearance that he seemingly couldn’t wait to end up in bed and fully naked with you. Though he always kept a reassuring smile on his face, even whilst pulling his jeans down to his ankle before stepping out of the piece of clothing. The grown man now stood in his briefs, feeling no form of shame nor embarrassment face to your younger self. Besides, there simply was nothing he could’ve potentially feel ashamed of. His body was perfect. A chuckle escaped his lips upon witnessing how clueless you appeared, a sight which could only make him feel more confident through the overall process.

“Well, kitten... there’s nothing you should be ashamed of. Real men are nothing like the boys you see at school.” He insisted, referring to how male teenagers often found many reasons to criticize the female anatomy and make young girls feel insecure. And his tone sounded extremely genuine- which was what led you to finally unleash your silhouette from all these pieces of clothings. You nodded silently, hands moving down to the waistband of your joggers before you slid the material down to your ankles. Sitting back down on the edge of the bed, you proceeded to remove the cloth from your ankles, now revealing your underwear to a rather eager Tom.

He jumped on this handy occasion to gracefully climb on the bed and lay down on the spot where he usually slept, waiting for you to be done and hand out the green flag like the gentleman that he is. Looking back at him, you once again felt your cheeks heat up due to crossing another line of the process. He smiled. “Don’t be shy. I want you.” Tom begged, arm extending towards your chest as an invitation for you to get closer- which you did. Now laying down next to each other, your hands rested against his chest as your bodies faced one another, feeling the warmth which emitted from his skin. He looked down at you, head leaning down and once again seeking for your lips before he was finally able to press them against yours.

You kissed back, now feeling more comfortable as his arms wrapped around your back in order to gently get himself on top of your body. You were consensually overcome by his much larger silhouette, one of your hands moving up to his shoulders as you carried on giving back what the man was generously offering you. As soon as grunts and low moans began to escape his lips, you could tell that things were about to move faster from this moment- legs spreading a little bit wider as you allowed the man to grind his hips against yours. You were able to feel his hardening member collide with and rub against your own clothed genitals- movements which soon led your entrance to leak juices and stains your panties.

“Look at you..” Tom began, breaking the kiss for a few seconds in order to catch his breath and finish his sentence. He was panting. “Legs already spread wide open for me.” The man stated, speaking nothing but obvious facts. You blushed. No one had ever spoken to you in such a way, and especially not on that specific tone which turned out to be quite exhilarating. Now moving his head down against the crook of your neck, you were able to feel warmth take over both your chest and crotch due to Tom still grinding his hips against yours. The movements stimulated your clit, sending chills down your spine and leading more love juice to leak out of your throbbing core. And even if the older man appeared more eager about the situation when it came to visuals, your soul was definitely suffocating with pleasure even if you remained slightly motionless and silent.

Sitting up on his knees, a smirking Tom made eye contact with you as he allowed himself to slide off your panties; taking them off your legs before carelessly dropping them to the side. Such a small piece of clothing certainly wouldn’t be a bother through your shared intercourse, which was the reason to why he decided not to pay much attention to where it landed. Besides, your father’s coworker felt too excited about what was to come to even care about such an irrelevant detail. You were panting, still trying to recover from this first contact which had left you damaged with pleasure and excitement. Though, little did you know, the real fun was only about to begin.

“My pretty girl’s got a pretty little cunt.” He praised, his fingers sticking together as he brought his hand down between your legs. You shivered, sucking in your bottom lip in anticipation to his upcoming touch. It would be the first time you would get touched by a man, by someone else than your own self. A part of you wondered how it was going to feel, though the second one couldn’t help but grow anxious and worried. However, before you could even think any further, you felt Tom’s fingertips collide with your sensitive core- sending chills down your spine and easily leading your hole to squeeze and contract. He chuckled, appreciating his good work and feeling satisfied about the way he managed to make you feel. Though, it wasn’t like Tom had ever disappointed a woman in bed before.

One of the older man’s hands landed beside your face, Tom holding himself up with the help of his left arm whilst his other hand took care of pleasing your core. His fingertips rubbed up and down your clit, sometimes pinching the hardened bud and manhandling it perfectly. His aim was to get your entrance to loosen up for him; and that especially after he took notice that you were a virgin. Tom wanted this intercourse to be pleasing for you too, and he was willing to use any tactic in order to help you to relax. His lips landed against yours again, trapping your moan within his cavity and pushing it back inside of your mouth with the help of his tongue penetrating your moist entry.

Once your moans began to get progressively higher pitched, Tom felt like it was now the right time to initiate you to the pleasures he was certainly going to provide you. Taking his soaked fingertips up to his lips, he allowed his tongue to taste the sweet juices before both his hands took ahold of the waistband of his briefs which was soon to be slid down to his mid thighs. You didn’t dare to look, eyes still staring at the ceiling until your view was blocked by your partner’s facial features. He smiled and you smiled back. “Well hello.” Teased the older man, a few words which easily led you to chuckle. In the position you two had adopted, you were able to feel his rocking hard shaft press against your clit- a sensation that didn’t fail to make you feel nervous.

“You ready, Princess?” Questioned your dad’s coworker, your legs immediately spreading a tad wider upon hearing those few words. Another kiss was laid on your lips, probably in order to distract you from the slight pain which was about to follow. And before you could know it, a warm mass was pressed against your cavity, soon penetrating your entrance and pushing past your hymen that broke on the instant. A high pitched groan escaped your lips which led Tom to intensify the kiss, his hips jumping on the occasion to move closer to yours until his cock had reached balls deep. Slowly pulling away from your face, his ocean blue orbs made eye contact with yours, analyzing your facial features in order to find out whether you were truly suffering or not.

“This is just temporary.” Promised the man, your entrance unwillingly clenching around his shaft which led him to let out a guttural moan. Taking his attention off you for a minute, Tom’s face looked down at your rubbing crotches- as if he wanted to make sure he was properly inside- before his head tilted upwards again. Noticing how you now appeared more relaxed, he was soon to begin the thrusting process- slow movements at first which progressively increased in pace with time. The friction created by the intercourse felt absolutely blissful- filling your soul with excitement and leading your heart to race. You were able to feel the muscle pump blood through your entire system as Tom continued to grind his hips against yours, happy grunts escaping his lips.

Both his arms slid underneath your shoulders, taking ahold of them in order to keep you more still through the pleasant process- and make it easier for him to thrust. Tom felt entirely satisfied with the situation that had taken place- taking notice of how you appeared to enjoy it too which could only make his member throb out of pleasure. Though his masculine ego still pushed him to check in order to receive a verbal confirmation. “You enjoyin’ this?” The man asked breathlessly, earning a single moan and nod from your exhilarated self. The man then proceeded to unexpectedly pull out, offering you no time to understand before you were flipped over onto your stomach. This once his hands landed on your bum, spreading your cheeks apart and admiring the way your entrance leaked with love juice. It looked extremely welcoming, and Tom was soon to step inside of your intimate home for the second time.

Feeling his cock penetrate you again brushed all of your worries away, eyelids shutting close as you began to be rocked back and forth against the bedsheets. Even without being able to see his face, you still managed to enjoy everything that Tom was providing you with on the instant. You could feel his pubic bone collide with your skin of your bum, your nipples perking up against the confines of the bedsheets. “Fuck baby.. So tight and juicy for me.” He praised, leaning down in order to offer your neck rough kisses and gentle bites. You moaned tiredly, rubbing your cheek against his like a cat would do against his owner’s legs. He had managed to take possession of your soul, and there was now only one way out.

Time passed, and Tom’s thrusts progressively began to grow sloppier. Being inexperienced, you couldn’t exactly tell that this indicated he was about to reach his high, though the way he appeared more tired and less energetic than before certainly gave you a clue regarding his state. Frowning out of exhaussement, the grown man was finally filled with temporary satisfaction upon sensing his shaft throb and pump semen out of his testicles in order to have the liquid spray out of his sensitive urethra. His semence stained your walls, giving no chance to the flesh of your cervix which was drowned in the thick liquid. You two moaned in harmony- this warm sensation providing you with one last bit of pleasure before your dad’s coworker agreed to pull out of you.

He collapsed on the bedsheets next to you, hand resting on his chest as he panted in order to recover from this intense moment. With the bit of energy that you had left, you managed to crawl until his silhouette in order to offer him a well needed hug, your arms burying against his ribcage as Tom was soon to turn to his side and secure your naked self with his large and muscular members. Feeling the warmth of his flesh in a whole other way still felt as satisfying as before, this cuddle providing you with as much happiness and bliss than the previous intercourse had.

Hullo thanks for reading! Thank you for liking and supporting my work. I genuinely hope you’re doing well! Take care.

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