Okay so last night I complained about being glued to my screen more than I’d like to be. So this morning I decided I’ll do something about it <3 the purpose of documenting it here is so that I hold myself accountable on my blog instead of writing it down in my notes app and negating it like two seconds later. And also so it’s easier for me to be like “bitch enough” whenever I catch myself scrolling through my Tumblr when I absolutely should not be. I plan on increasing these rules (progressive overload) or decreasing them (too much too soon) depending on results, but for the next week it’s:

Cannot get on my phone until I’ve drunk water, done my am skincare routine/taken my am shower, and taken my am supplements.

Phone in the morning for 15 minutes max. Otherwise I cannot be on my phone until noon (I wake up pretty early so this gives me like 4 hours of no phone time).

Also cannot get on my phone after noon unless I’ve studied at least two hours beforehand.

Need to study 2 hours for every 1 hour I’m on my phone until 6 pm.

Can use my phone liberally after 6 pm ONLY if I’ve: hit my study goals, done my Anki flash cards that are due, and finished my workout (or walk) of the day. Otherwise, the previous rule applies.

Need to read a book for at least 30 minutes in the day. This can be thrown in whenever, but preferably before bed.

Need to set aside 20 minutes after 6 pm to do pm skincare routine/take pm shower.

Survey #402

“there’s a space kept in hell with your name on the seat  /  with a spike in the chair just to make it complete”

Have you ever had any really infected injuries? Not an injury, per se, but I've had at least one ear piercing get infected during the healing process. Shit sucks ass. Are you popular on any websites? No. What was the last song you listened to? "Savior" by SWARM. Are you considered popular at school? I wasn't. If you could host your own talk show, would you do it? No. I've got nothing interesting to talk about. If you were starving would you eat food out of a garbage can? I honestly don't know if I could with how squeamish I am about sharing food, even with family. And we're talking about sharing food that's been in the TRASH. Do you know anyone who has changed their first name? I do. Which one of your senses would you be the most devastated to lose? I THINK hearing. I hate silence, so that would just be... haunting. I want to be able to hear people's voices and other sounds. Do you know anyone who has been on life support, and survived? I have no idea. Do your parents have a strong relationship together? God no. They're divorced for a reason. Have you ever read any of Charles Darwin’s works? No. If there was such a thing as a mental health first aid kit, what would you want to be in it? Some ice cream and a Mountain Dew bc I'm an emotional eater, my "graduation" pebble from my partial hospitalization program to remember how far I've come, some cold water to run over my face (or drink), my iPod for music and phone to watch YouTube, a nice, big blanket to turn into a burrito in... that kind of stuff. If you’re in a relationship, are you happy? And if you’re single, are you looking for someone? I'm not actively searching for anyone, no. What is something that people make fun of you for? Always being on the computer. It makes me EXTREMELY self-conscious, and I really wish people would keep their mouths shut about it. Which supermarket do you like to shop at? Wal-Mart. Have you ever been told that your boyfriend/girlfriend wasn’t good enough for you? In the past. Do you think it’s okay to flirt with someone that’s already taken, as long as it goes no further? Fuck no. Do you struggle to say ‘no’ to things you don’t want to do? YUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUP. Someone attractive is staring at you. What do you do? Probably just kinda smile and blush and look down/away. Are you friends with someone a lot of people dislike? *shrug* Favorite photo search engine? Tumblr for gifs, Google or Pinterest for still images, depending on what I'm looking for. Do you doggie paddle or actually swim in a pool? I'll do both, I think? It's been too long since I've swum. Ever made a snow angel? Ye-ep. Would you ever take up smoking? No. I like having operational lungs. Do you laugh at racial jokes? No. Hate to break it to ya, but they're not funny. Book series you enjoyed reading recently? I've been loving Wings of Fire by Tui T. Sutherland, even if I'm reading very slowly. My psychiatrist has given me a new way to approach my hobbies I have difficulty engaging in, so I'm hoping if I keep it up, my rate of reading will speed up! Are there any keys on your keyboard that have letters fading away? Ahaha, yeah... "a," "s," and "d." A true gamer. How "w" is still alive, I couldn't tell ya. Favorite non-chocolate candy? Sour Punch Straws, probably. The red ones, in specific. Last person you texted? My mom. What did you learn from your first job? That I can't work with people. Favorite website from your childhood? I was a Webkinz A D D I C T. Least favorite flavor of food or drink? Cranberry came to mind very quickly. Least favorite pattern? uhhhhhhh Favorite potato food? Either French fries or Lays wavy potato chips. PC or console gaming? I grew up as a console gamer, so I'm kinda biased. Writing or drawing? Don't make me choose!! I get more satisfaction out of drawing something I'm proud of, but I do way more writing. Who would you put before everyone else? My mom, probably. Lamps, overhead lights, fairy lights, or sunlight? Fairy lights are so cute. How many phone numbers do you have memorized? I shit you not, none. What is your third favourite colour? Hm. Maybe rose gold, or lilac. Can you remember your first phone? If so, what kind was it? I'm really not sure, but I WANT to say it was one of those slide-y, compact Blueberry ones? Who is your favourite character from Alice in Wonderland? The Cheshire Cat has always been very alluring to me. What is the last thing you looked up online? The definition to a word just to ensure I was using it correctly. Have you ever had your fortune read? No. I ain't wasting time or money on that shit. Can you read tarot cards? If you couldn't guess from above, I have zero faith in this kinda stuff, so I don't care to learn. Do you prefer lemons or limes? Lemons. I like lime flavoring in some stuff, though. Are your expecting anything in the mail? No. What would you like to see out of your window everyday instead of what you see now? The forest. Do you own a camera? I do, a Canon EOS Rebel T6. Have you ever written a special note in a book? Yes. Early into our relationship, Jason lent me a book to read, and I wrote a lil love letter in it for him. Do you have any artistic talents? I mean I like to think I'm a good writer and a decent artist. Do you remember the last movie you saw while on a date? Yeah, IT with Girt. It was fun because he's a horror pansy, haha. He did fine, though. What would you do if you found out you were pregnant? Freak the fuck out because I haven't had sex in many years, so that thing's coming the fuck out 'cuz it obviously ain't natural. Favorite thing to get at McDonalds? Look man, I'm shameless, I love me a Quarter Pounder w/ cheese. Plus some fries. :x Do you know anyone named Alex? I know multiple people named Alex, actually. Whose house did you last sleep over at? Sara's. In other words, it's been a loooong time.Would you ever record yourself having sex? God no. Like zero judgment to the people that do, but I get NOTHING out of watching others "do it." I've never actually tried watching porn, but I couldn't have less interest. I know I'd hate it, and a lot. Did the vacuum scare you as a child? I don't think it did, anyway. Have you or would you ever use a dating app? One of my most embarrassing secrets is that I was briefly on Christian Mingle. It makes me want to cringe into fucking oblivion. Who are you most nervous about introducing potential significant others to? My dad. He's... a character. What was the most important non-academic thing you learned in high school? That time fucking flies, so cherish every millisecond. Do you and your friends ever talk about your sex lives? Not really. Even when I was sexually active, I was private about that stuff. I don't care if others talk to me about theirs, but odds are I'm not saying much about myself. What were the best and worst interviews you’ve ever had? What made them so good/bad? I've never had a bad interview, but I mean, I've only had I wanna say four in my whole life. None were anything special either, though. Ever put someone else in the hospital? No. Have you ever sold anything on eBay? If so, what? No. What is the best surprise you have ever had? Finding a container of puppy chow underneath the Christmas tree one year. It was my parents' way of telling me we were getting a dog (which I had been nagging them about FOREVER), and next came Teddy. <3 I miss my boy. Is someone in love with you? I wouldn't know. Ever kiss someone on the first date? No. Ever sleep with someone on the first date? That's a hard no. Do you wear cologne/perfume/aftershave regularly? No. Do you snore? No, actually. Pretty astonishing for someone with such severe sleep apnea. When is the last time someone else slept in your bed? When Sara last visited. How often do you dust? Not... nearly enough as I'm supposed to. Mom gets on me about it all the time. What is the most ‘extreme’ activity you have ever done? Ha, nothing wild, I assure you. I guess riding a four-wheeler through the woods once with our former neighbors, who were good friends of ours.. Have you ever rode on a mobility scooter/wheelchair just for fun? Um, no? That's a jackass thing to do. Some people actually need those. Who’s the most controlling person you know? OH MY FUCKING GOD. OUR FAMILY FRIEND TOBEY. EASILY. She seizes control of EVERY situation, even if she has no right to be involved in it. Does anyone keep a photo of you in their purse/wallet, and if so, who? Not to my knowledge. Do you own a microphone? No. Do you enjoy trailers at the cinema? I do! I like arriving in time to see them. Have you ever been burgled? No, thankfully. Have you ever entered anything into Urban Dictionary? If so, what? No. What’s the last live performance you watched on TV? No idea. Have you ever been embarrassed to buy something from a shop? Not to my recollection. It helps that I'm not the one buying things, like ever. What’s the name of one of your friends’ dogs? Buster! :') He's a precious lil bean. Name a pet you definitely wouldn’t want. A GIANT CENTIPEDE. That's one pet in the invert community that I have ZERO interest in EVER owning. Those bitches are scary. Have you ever needed to wear a tie? If so, when/why? Nope.

listen don’t look at me i’m having a crisis of muse lately but i think… i’ve finally got a chara i have muse for so hopefully i’m gonna be switching around a lot less after this. love me still? plot with me? okay i’m gonna leave the intro and yeet sdfdsdfg OH and here’s her pinterest

(LILY-ROSE DEPP, CISFEMALE) - Have you seen CECILY JACKSON? CECE is in HER JUNIOR YEAR. The WOMEN'S STUDIES/FILM MAJOR is 21 years old & is a GEMINI. People say SHE is STRONG-WILLED, CLEVER, INTIMIDATING and SARDONIC. Rumors say they’re a member of KINCAID. I heard from the gossip blog that SHE WORKS SECRETLY AS A CAM GIRL. (OLIVE. 23. EST. SHE/HER.)

aesthetics. licking wine off your lips, ripped fishnet tights, paying in crumpled dollar bills, curls spilling over your shoulders, ashing your cigarette on your boots

cecily “EAT THE RICH” jackson, 21, just truly a little shit

is the epitome of that quote that’s like “she bangs like a fairy on acid” bc she’s a huge cliche

loves pop music like kim petras, marina, anything slightly feminist that she can dance to and pretend shes a man-eating siren

is always walking around the house Tits Out and probably greets the door in her underwear

always the messiest person at the party but in a fun way. like for example she showed up to a house party once in a rhinestone bra and did lady gaga “bad romance” karaoke but somehow managed to get the numbers of three guys still

has mastered the art of resting obama “then perish” eyes

from an old school italian family from manhattan, always had big dinners on sundays and super close y’know?

her mom got pregnant at sixteen but she was addicted to prescription pills at the time so her grandparents raised them as siblings

after jack left cecily’s mom kind of went on a downward spiral. she had always used prescription pills to numb herself, but her pain medication addiction got worse after this. she didn’t leave the house for three weeks and cecily’s grandparents finally went to check on the girls. they found her unbathed and wasting away after eating nothing but saltines for weeks

her grandparents lorraine and jerry took cecily in after that and told her mom that she couldn’t see her daughter again until she got clean

cecily’s grandparents raised her pretty well, actually, considering. her grandmother was one of the original bra burning feminists of the 60′s and raised the girl to be v strong and confident. i mean you kind of had to be in their family, always shouting over each other to be heard across the dinner table

cecily’s mom (named cecelia) did eventually get clean when the girl was a teen but she became more of an older sister to cecily. she took her shopping and talked about boys and sex and clothes with her but her parental figure was still her grandmother

cecily was kind of a typical new york kid that had a fake id by the time she was fifteen and drank herself stupid in public parks, experimenting with drugs and guys and anything she could get her hands on

she developed a habit of self-desctruction. she would try anything handed to her and she was kind of naive in the way all teens are, thinking they’re tough and invincible and they can ruin their bodies without consequence

she was always that cool girl hanging in the back with all the guys who thought she was hot because she smoked camels and wore red lipstick

her dad tried to come back into her life around this time too, which ended up really fucking her up. she thought that he really wanted to get to know her, but it turns out he just wanted to bring her into the mob to fuck over her mom. he’s also super religious and tried to get her to recommit herself to god in a revirginization ceremony that ended in disaster

TW FOR  ABUSE THIS IS DARK: she partied way too much at this time and fell in with a really bad boyfriend, a guy who ended up being emotionally abusive.

they did a shit ton of drugs together and he was the kind of off-the-wall bonkers guy that tried to drink one of her coke nosebleeds to “bond them” sdfghgfd

Um he eventually robbed her and that was when she drew the line and got a restraining order

anyways she’s studying film and women’s studies at yates and is a raging feminist. she makes a lot of her own short films and publishes them on youtube under the username dirtycowboythot

taught herself how to give stick and poke tattoos and there r a bunch of botched ones on her arm from her experimenting

she dresses like a classic instagram cool girl, plaid skirts, noora saetre-type trousers, lace and those big furry jackets, vintage printed blouses, berets, sleeps in men’s boxers most nights

PERSONALITY:

she has a knife for a tongue and is incredibly smart and witty. she tends to boss people around and has a strong personality. like if you fuck her over once you’ve lost her trust for good

doesn’t have time for men’s bullshit!! is the kind of girl to ruin a party by getting into a fight

sleeps around a lot but isn’t one to fall for a guy’s bullshit. bi af!!!

loyal!!! af!! if you’re one of her friends you get to see her softer side, not just the scary i’ll knife you if you cross me side

smart enough to be in hastings but shes a raging communist and she feels like their elitism goes against her Principals

is one of those Girls From New York that likes to talk about how she’s From New York

roller skates around campus like she’s amma crellin and works at an old fashioned diner

WANTED CONNECTIONS!! um give me all the exes? exes that ended on bad terms, a fling that only lasted for a week, an ex she’s still super close with and people think theyre dating. hookups of COURSE, um friends she parties with and does all the drugs with?? enemies for days, she’s easy to hate. artsy friends that make films together. literally anything im down.

MAXENCE DANET FAUVAL / NONBINARY — don’t look now, but is that viktor samuels i see? the 24 year old visual arts student is in their senior year and he/they are a rochester alum. i hear they can be observant, ingenious, reticent and dependent, so maybe keep that in mind. i bet he/they will make a name for themselves living in garcia row. ( james. 20. est. she/they. )

LAST INTRO WOOOO !! u know what to mf DO !!

TW DEATH, HEAVY GRIEF, OVERDOSE / DRUG ADDICTION, HOSPITALIZATION, HYPERSEXUALITY, RELIGION MENTIONS, MENTAL ILLNESS

a e s t h e t i c s

old tvs and their static, worn tapes, horror movie screams, spilled ink, a sculptor’s hands, clay-stained, chicken scratch handwriting, messy notes, messy hair, scoffs and eye-rolls, bruised knuckles, sore throats, funeral homes and a crying preacher, shattered ceramics, knife fights, high ledges, vertically-striped pants, red lights, the moon shrouded in clouds, cigarette butts.

general info !!

full name: viktor phillip samuels

nickname(s): icky vicky :/

b.o.d. - jan 2nd

label(s): the black hole, the crepehanger, the impious, the opaque, the tempest, etc.

height: 6′0″

hometown: rochester, new york

sexuality: uuuhhh god … probably pan tbh

pinterest

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biography !!

okay so … born and raised in rochester, new york to the well known samuels family. preacher father, a mother, a twin sister born 15 minutes before him - aka tatiana samuels, who died back in january.

kinda … grew up as a really awkward, quiet kid? like … just didn’t really interact with other kids super well, preferred being alone and like … digging up bugs in the dirt. only friend was like … his own sister.

grew out of this as they got older, instead sort of … becoming a bit of a dick? to compensate for years of awkwardness? will bite the hand that feeds him. was a full on nuisance by middle school. tatiana was not, at least, noticeably.

has always been a fan of darker materials, y’know - grim and creepy, morbid shit. big fan of tim burton ever since he was a kid, which isn’t … a good look for a preacher’s son, but he’s never really felt ~in~ with the rest of his family, anyway.

drew disturbing pictures as a kid probably tbh that prompted one or two or five phone calls home 2 assure everything was fine.

has always been really … good at art, in general - from drawing to painting to playing with clay, that’s always been viktor’s Thing.

aNyWaYs. being tatiana’s twin brother was kinda hard sometimes. tatiana and him were near opposites besides their same mean-spirited trait. she was better in the public than he was, but viktor was arguably more talented than tatiana. they both loved each other deeply and found each other as competition for their parents’ attention - a rivalry, of sorts.

high school is when viktor really started to act out - started extreme, like losing his virginity in their church and vandalism around the neighborhoods. faked being possessed in the middle of sunday service. almost had an exorcism performed on him, probably.

the only redeemable trait was like … his sheer talent with art. was in a 3d art AP course, specialized in sculpting - could pretty much create anything he wanted with enough dedication.

because his parents would be focused on disciplining him for his antics, tatiana could sneak away and get away with stuff easier. so like, y’know, that’s on the bright-side of things.

never been particularly motivated to do much - wasn’t planning on attending lockwood but his parents kinda … did and sent in his application for him b/c they were Not on board with him Wasting Away (wanted him out of the house asap)

actually pretty smart !! just doesn’t like … want to apply himself ever. double majoring in english and visual arts because they’re like … two of his only interests :/ plus he wants to write and illustrate his own series of children books with a style similar to tim burton’s

he’d been experimenting since high school but college is where he really started to like … crack down on himself and figure himself out. was out as pan & nonbinary by his sophomore year of college, just … not to his family, necessarily. thinks tatiana always knew, but didn’t … really use it against him, blessedly enough

always felt like the whole twin - connection thing was … both wack and also not-wack? sometimes it felt believable but sometimes he had no idea what was going on in tatiana’s head. but he felt oddly transparent to her, always - like he was predictable to no one but her.

( TW DEATH, GRIEF, OVERDOSE / HOSPITALIZATION BEYOND THIS POINT )

but when tatiana disappeared - it was like, like viktor knew. the moment she had been kidnapped - felt something deeply wrong in his gut. and when tatiana died - viktor felt something cut so severely in him. he knew, he always knew exactly when. he couldn’t put his finger on how - but he knew. even when everybody else held out hope for her to be found - he knew.

went on a bender around the same time, had always struggled w/ drug addiction but it got worse the longer tatiana went without being found.

( also struggled heavily with his mental health, too ?? has manic and depressive episodes. will fixate on a sculpting project for six months and then purposely knock it off the table and destroy it in the matter of seconds once it’s finished for. no fucking reason. impulse spends A Lot. )

when her body was found, viktor went off the rails. ended up overdosing and being hospitalized where he spent the next like … however long months … until they deemed him better.

has been back since the beginning of fall semester in an attempt to finish his senior year - mostly out of his parents’ insistence that he did, because he very much did not want to. 

is still dealing with a lot of trauma & grief, which was only amplified with dean lockwood’s death - causing him to spiral and be unpredictable with his mental health. some days are good, and some days are very bad.

personality !!

the human embodiment of a gremlin, fed after midnight. a goblin, if u will. one of those cats with a narrow head and big ass ears. that’s him.

b i g horror & halloween enthusiast. loves the old campy horror movies. probably has an abundance of masks from different movies. dresses like a grimy millennial beetlejuice more than he should. love those vertically striped pants!

fashion alternates between e-boy (would b tik tok famous if he were like … 17), millennial beetlejuice, and like … goth in a crop top and sweatpants. big fan of crop tops. big fan of sweatpants.

he can be fucking mean. petty, aggressive, instigator. will literally spit in ur face or no reason. kind of person who’ll stick his gum into other ppl’s hair. other than that he’s like … pretty okay. he’s not always mean, he’s just a dick like … 70% of the time lmao

i mean yeah okay he’ll call someone a stinky bitch for no reason except He Feels Like It And Believes It. it’s fine he’s fine, we’re fine.

despite the fact tht he’s probably getting into fights whenever - considers himself 2 be a lover n not a fighter but that’s just because he Fucks a lot. kind of uses it like a coping mechanism, like he’s this big fancy carnival show that’s like ‘come one, come all! fuck the dead girl’s twin brother!’ may have a problem w/ hypersexuality but it’s nothing he’s fully. aware of.

the preacher’s whore son, basically

like i said he’s pan & nb, switches between he and they pronouns but like … he has such a fragile grip on his identity that u could call him ‘dog-faced bitch’ and he’d turn like hey wassup :)

vastly impulsive, like i’ve mentioned … destroys his own creations 4 the fun of it, spends all his money on useless shit, will cheat on someone bc he feels like it. screams into the night sky frequently, like a cat in heat.

i mean he also creates useless shit for no reason too. spent six months sculpting a hollowed out tree the size of him and then took a sledgehammer to it.

dramatic fuck. used to play the organ at the church like … when no one was looking after him and service was about to start. just these creepy as melodies. would do the same thing at home on his keyboard w/ the organ setting whenever he got grounded until his parents took away his keyboard sadjfkg

won’t talk about his time away b/c it’s not rly anybody’s business but ofc nothing is sacred to the watershed app, y’know, nothing’s private.

still like - he absolutely refuses to talk about tatiana’s death and like, his mental health or his addiction (he’s fallen back into it tbh but it hasn’t gotten bad again … yet) or like … anything involving his own emotions

will literally just change the topic! abruptly, no warning, asks about the jonas brothers instead.

that being said he’s obsessed with tatiana’s death. tatiana was very much a rock for him, kinda dependent on her in a way? just … being there, y’know, kept him grounded.

so he obv became a shepherd bc he wants to know Everything there is abt the app, wants to be deep inside it, wanted to know Who Exactly Killed Tatiana and like … not saying he wants 2 commit murder but :/ yknow. he’s very upset.

emotionally unavailable while also like crying twice a day.

will tell you straight up what he wants from you, no bullshit, no beating around the bush - just blunt. if he wants to just fuck, nothing else, then that’s that. if he feels deviation he’ll ghost in like. less than a second. kinda awful like that! feels no shame.

but like … also is emotional ?? as shit ?? it’s confusing. he’ll cry on a whim and then flip u off if u try to console him or like. ask him anything. will bite you.

he goes to therapy but he generally fucks around and wastes most of the time until the therapist threatens to like … idk what therapists r allowed to threaten. to send him off to another therapist? idk.

likes being intimidating but like … not with his body or nothing ‘cos he’s a TWIG, but like … uses his love for horror n creepy shit to his advantage. has an abundance of fake blood. has channeled the energy of jack nicholson and used it on tatiana’s boyfriends before.

( also a big fan of sfx makeup, has dabbled in it)

probably chases kids with a chainsaw (w/o the like … chain … or w/e … so it’s not actually Dangerous) around halloween

he’s generally never doing good, both mental health wise and morally.

would probably steal candy from a baby for the fun of it.

i don’t know if there’s a good to him, deep down, and i don’t know if he sees any issues with himself either !! nothing really breaks through to him anymore, the only person who ever really made him stop and Think about his actions was tatiana.

kinda introverted, recluse type who doesn’t rly like most people or going out, but he’ll go to parties if it means he’ll be high as shit.

pretty observant. likes to analyze people even though he’s probably not … fully right.

wanted connections !!

he lives alone currently but like … ex - roommates where viktor was just. a nightmare to live with.

feel like a lot of enemies is also a possibility !! viktor’s messy.

people that like … knew tatiana. dated tatiana, even, and viktor would pretty much try to intimidate / scare them at any given chance :/

close friends of tatiana too

people who hated tatiana but liked viktor. people who hated viktor but liked tatiana

people who take pity on him and he Hates it viciously and vocally.

a band of hooligan gremlin kids who do drugs and fuck shit up around town like they’re edgy teenagers even though they’re all early to mid 20s.

the girl he lost his virginity 2 in high school lmao … a distant memory

fellow rochester locals, from church or school or whatever

exes from the past !! good terms and bad terms, but i love bad terms a whole lot mainly b/c viktor’s a jackass.

don’t know if he’s soft towards anybody but we can try. we can Try.

friends, old friends, new friends, bad friends, good friends, close friends, frenemies, etc. etc. all of it

hookups !! so many hookups. fwbs, one night stands, whatever.

uuhhhh god. i don’t know. im so sleepy rn. people in the same major or similar majors.

maybe a ride or die.

people he’s a bad influence on / an enabler towards / all around toxic for them / each other.

people he’s fought !! people who’ve seen him get into random fights and were like ‘uh wtf’

fellow shepherds !!

literally anything im not picky.

One Last Time | Martin x fem!reader

[original picture found on: pinterest]

✏️ Pairings: Martin (The Rain) x reader

✏️ Summary: Martin and Y/N’s secret relationship is coming to an end.

✏️ A/N: can’t believe I’m actually posting a The Rain fic after all the Patrick sex I wrote for my homie HAHA I truly hope this fandom exists! As always, please, leave me feedback: it helps me grow as an author! 💛

✏️ Warnings: NSFW, so 18+ only or I will BLOCK you: straight up sex, oral f/r + m/r, squirting (bc this bitch can’t help it), vaginal sex (also, for once it’s protected sex, I did it!). It’s softer sex than my usual sex, but still: MINORS, DON’T INTERACT!!!

✏️ Word-count: 4,910

*

ONE LAST TIME

Martin makes her feel safe, there’s no denying that. Even when the thought of her brother finding out whatever it is that she and the man share pops up in her mind, she knows Martin will always be there. She knows she’ll always be safe. And in a world like this, on the brink of destruction – or rebirth – only God knows how much she craves safety. A roof over her head, food in her stomach, clothes to keep her warm through the rainy days.

“You look distracted.” Martin’s lips brush against the shell of her ear when he speaks and he’s so close to her that a shiver runs down her spine, it makes her shoulders tense for a moment before they relax again. “A penny for your thoughts?”

His arms are strong and when they hug her waist from behind, pulling her closer to him, they help her ease her fears.

“I’m worried about my brother,” she answers after a while, staring at the rain pouring from a darkening sky as the day progresses towards the night.

“Patrick is smart enough to seek shelter,” he reassures her, pressing a kiss to her temple and inhaling deeply. If there’s one thing he loves, it’s breathing her in: it calms him, it makes him feel all homy and warm in a world that is anything but. “Lea will keep him safe. I’m sure Bea and Jean are doing the same.”

She hates it, hates the way he says her name – Bea – voice so soft and thick in her ear. She hates what they share and she hates herself even more for the secret affair she got herself involved in. There’s no telling him, though, there’s no complaining, not when the idea of keeping it all a secret had been her idea, but she’s sure he knows.

And he does know. He sees the fatigue in her eyes when the group sets off for a new day after he’s spent the night with Beatrice. He feels her tears against his cheek when they fuck in the dark. He hears the slight difference in the tone of her voice when Beatrice is present. And he knows the jealousy is eating her alive little by little.

They both ignore it, though – ignore the jealousy, the guilt, the stomach-dropping feeling that always overcomes them when they’re left alone with each other. Whatever it is that lingers between the two of them, it somehow manages to put their worries to rest as it silences their brains.

“If the rain continues, they’ll probably be back tomorrow by noon,” he adds after a long silence as his lips press against the side of her neck. “If not, we will see them much sooner.”

There’s a subtle hint there, lingering in the chilling air of the afternoon as she cuddles back closer to him and the tip of his nose brushes behind her ear. Part of them wants the rain to continue, to give them a couple of hours of peace and solitude while they give in to each other’s weakness. It’s selfish and probably wrong, but there’s no denying it.

They want to stop. Each time is the last one with the only difference that it never stops, though. It never stops, it goes on and on and on, tripping them into a hole of guilt that is slowly swallowing them down.

“We should stop.” There’s no conviction in her voice when she pronounces those words and there’s no strength in them when they’re overcome by thunder as the rainstorm intensifies.

They should probably leave the porch, get back inside the house, but it’s nice outside – they still love the smell of the rain, the way the water washes the streets and the trees and the guilt and the forbidden nuance their desires have. It’s like sitting on the edge of the world, the last two standing survivors in a world that has by now gone to shit, and looking down into the abyss. They would have nothing to lose, in a scenario like that.

But that scenario is a lie and they – they are liars.

“I know.” He knows but he doesn’t want to. He doesn’t tell her this, though, doesn’t give voice to his thoughts – and the truths growling inside him. Even now, the world is complicated and feelings make you a sinner. “One last time.”

She hums and nods against his chest, eyes still trained on the gloomy sky. It looks like yet another Judgment Day, one that will declare both of them as sinners. Not that they care. “One last time,” she gives in, turning around in his arms and looking up at him.

His face is scarred by fatigue, lack of decent sleep, abundance of steps and worries and responsibilities. The shadows the suffused light of the dying day casts across his face make him look older and more tired than he actually is.

“One last time.”

The hope that this will be the last time is there, they both share it even though they do not want to. They want to keep on doing it, hiding around when the others are present, throwing caution to the wind when they’re not. Somehow, it makes them feel alive, makes them thank their lucky star for the fact that they’re still being alive – breathing and somehow thriving.

He moves his hands from her waist and up her sides until he’s cradling her neck, tilting her head back a little to press his forehead against hers. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs mere millimeters from her lips as he looks down at her.

Tears prickle her eyes and she has to close them for a minute as she tries to keep her breathing even.

“Don’t, please.” Her voice is pleading – it always is when he sparks her hopes a little higher than necessary – a little higher than he should – a little higher than she can take. She doesn’t want hope, doesn’t want to be fed hope, not when he’s involved. There’s already too much going on, she doesn’t want to start believing she could have something more with him, something real – something able to live under the sun. “Don’t.”

She still kisses him, though, and it’s soft and barely above a caress at first. Chapped lips against chapped lips, they peck each other’s lips for a moment before he lazily swipes his tongue along her bottom lip. His gentleness always gets to her head, it tricks her into believing there’s more between the two of them than there actually is – than there can actually be.

It’s wrong and right at the same time and when another thunder ricochets against houses and trees alike, Martin is quick at picking her up in his arms to carry her inside. The suddenness of his movements makes her gasp and there’s not a wasted moment when he lets himself deepen the kiss, brushes his tongue against hers. They both moan deep in their throats and her hands are in his hair before she can comprehend what she’s doing.

The world always stops when they do – when they kiss – even more than it does when they have sex. The rain goes silent and they both become lighter and it’s like floating in the air, up high above the world underneath. It’s a way to escape reality – a way to make the lie feel more real.

Martin proceeds blindly with her in his arms, but he doesn’t need to see. He’s memorized the rooms of that house in the hours spent pacing it, staring at the pouring rain as worries pooled in his stomach – he hopes his friends are safe. He hopes Patrick will come back in one piece because the opposite would mean losing Y/N more than a simple break-up could ever separate them.

In the silence of the house, the creaking floorboards are the agonizing moans of a past that is never coming back. And of a future that has no chance to be – no happy family, no husband and wife watching TV together as they sit on the couch, no kids running from a room to the other as they chase each other. No laughter, no singing, no wishes – the upright piano in the living room is slowly dying, decaying under the ghostly eyes of a past life.

But it’s good to dream, every once in a while. To live the lie.

And right now, more than with Beatrice, he feels good with Y/N. His skin tingles when he lays her on the sleeping bag on the ground, his breath hitches in his throat when her nails gently graze the nape of his head.

“One last time.” She murmurs it more to herself than to him – and they both know it’s an empty hope. They both know they’ll do it again. And again. And again. They both know they’ll find themselves in this same situation again – tomorrow, the day after, a week from now, it doesn’t matter, not in a world where time itself has no meaning. They fill a void with their lies, and tired and scared as they are, they’re not ready to be honest just yet.

The rough skin of his hands brushes against her sides when he pushes her sweater up a little and she shudders, lips trembling against his as they stare into each other’s eyes. It’s desperate, whatever it is that they share with their gazes. It’s desperate and hollow but hauntingly there still.

It makes them wish for solitude. For a few hours, they want to be the only survivors, the only two people still able to walk and breathe. And love.

I don’t want to let you go.

He doesn’t say it, though. He can’t bring himself to say those words out loud,not as his eyes devour her body as he helps her take off her sweater and her bra and she’s left there, sitting in front of him, upper body bare and unreachable.

They should stop. And they will – whether they want it or now, this is going to be the last time for real. But right now they’re still basking in their hope, cozied up as they are in the little bubble of lies.

He wants to tell her she’s beautiful. That she’s the most beautiful woman he’s ever crossed paths with. That he regrets giving in to Beatrice. That he wants to go back in time and stop himself. That he fears he’s fallen in love with her, even. But all his lips can do is kiss her kiss-swollen and reddened lips, glide down her neck and suckle on all the sweet and sensitive spots that make her melt under his touch.

And her fingers in his hair are the softest touch he’s ever been graced with. Her blunt nails graze and tease his scalp and he purrs against the skin of her breasts before he sucks a nipple in his mouth.

Her back arches and she leans back a little to open up more. She pants and sighs, but she doesn’t moan yet. He knows she doesn’t want to – doesn’t want to allow herself to know how much she enjoys his attentions, how caring he is with her in his arms, his mouth and lips and tongue on her chest, his hands caressing down her back, tracing the line of her spine.

The pouring down of the rain amplifies it all – the goosebumps on her skin, the grazing of his stubble on the side of her right breast, the pulsing in her clit and the spasming of her core. It amplifies both the guilt and the hope as she gives him all she has and he gives her all he has.

It’s slow and yet, not still too fast. His lips kiss every inch of her stomach as his hands undo the button and zip of her old jeans and when he drags them down her legs and takes her panties with them, his lips skim along the tender skin of her inner thighs as she lays down completely on the worn-out sleeping bag.

Martin is ever the gentleman – he always is, it’s the first thing that pushed her towards him in the first days after she and her brother had met him at that abandoned garage. He gives and gives and gives and never – or almost never – takes anything in return. You don’t even have to ask because most of the time he already knows what you need and in which amount.

He knows she wants to stop thinking – wants to stop thinking that this is wrong, what they feel, what they’re doing, the way they’re doing it. She wants to stop thinking and start feeling – feeling herself come apart at the seams because of him, under him, and feeling all of him. He always has so much to offer, so much to give away willingly and selflessly… 

She’s unbearably wet. Somehow, she always is: he knows what strings to pull and what buttons to press to make her feel like there’s nothing else. To make her feel like this is the only thing that matters in the world. And suddenly, it’s not as heavy as it usually is.

It’s light and she’s floating above this dead world when he drags his tongue through her folds and gently suckles on her clit.

How can something so wrong feel so right?

Why does this have to be the last time? Why can’t they simply keep on enjoying this, keep on losing themselves into each other?

Her moan shatters under the power of the thunder but Martin still hears it; he still smiles against her.

He pushes her to relax with the insistence of his lips and tongue, eating her out like this is the only thing bearing importance in this world – eating her out like she is the only important thing in the world. He worships her as only a sinner can and her body comes to life and sings under his touches. She squirms and the muscles in her thighs clench and she whimpers and whines, breath ragged and wild as she tries to keep herself anchored in the moment.

His hands are cold – they almost always are these days, fingers stiffened by the harshness of the late-autumn weather. But they, too, come back to life when his middle finger caresses up and down her slit before sinking into her. She gasps at the cold feeling and her eyes shoot open and stare up at the dirty ceiling of the abandoned bedroom.

She feels all kinds of colors, as weird as this sounds. She feels red and blue and yellow. And white, when the pad of his middle finger applies pressure to the patch of sensitive skin on the front wall of her vagina. She feels alive and on fire and on the verge of death when his lips wrap around her clit once again and throughout it all, she’s not aware of his eyes fixed on her, drinking her every expression and sound in.

It’s one of the best feelings in the world, to feel her walls flutter around his finger and when he adds a second and slowly builds up a pleasuring rhythm, it’s even better. Her body purrs under him and he feels the tears, those motherfucking tears that shouldn’t be there, that shouldn’t sting his eyes.

Feeling her open up for him is like witnessing the miracle of life. It fills him up with a kind of pride he can’t explain, a kind of pride he can’t describe or justify. It makes him feel alive, more alive than he’s ever felt – that he’ll ever feel with anyone else. And the slick sounds of her juices and his fingers slowly fucking her is music to his ears.

And the rain stops existing. Everything does. Nothing matters now, just her – and him with her. They have all the time in the world because time has stopped being real – and it’s an illusion, but it doesn’t matter, not now.

“Martin.”

His name has never sounded this good on anyone’s lips. He falls in love with it over and over again, every single time she calls him by his name, every single time she moans it, whimpers it, begs it.

“Please…”

She’s asking him to stop. He knows it, they’ve been through it plenty a time. She’s asking him to stop because it embarrasses her, no matter what he tells her.

She doesn’t want to squirt. It’s dumb and senseless in this world, to be embarrassed about it, but it doesn’t matter because that’s just how things are.

He doesn’t care, though. It’s okay and as he shushes her, he tells her that. Tells her it’s okay, tells her it’s hot and it always gets him harder every time – he tells her with his tongue and fingers and touches, though, not with words.

And when she comes with a whimper and her hands come up to hide her face, he chuckles against her lower belly as his fingers draw out her orgasm. Her thighs are shaking and her chest rises and falls at a scorching rhythm and she’s a vision – he can’t stop thinking that.

Hand wet and sleeve partially soaked, he moves up her body, fingers still lazily thrusting inside her, and he kisses her body – kisses her hips and her tummy and her breasts and her neck. Her lips taste like blood when he claims them: she has the habit of sinking her teeth in her lower lip to muffle the moans and cries and Martin only wishes she’ll let the noises free one day. That she’ll stop worrying. That she’ll let herself truly believe the lie.

“You have no reason to hide,” he murmurs into the crook of her neck, his smile pressing against her flushed and damp skin.

She gasps when his thumb bumps into her clit when he withdraws his fingers and when her eyes meet his, there’s nothing but pride and adoration in his gaze and burning in his smile.

“I need you,” she simply tells him, trembling fingers coming up to trace the line of his jaw. “So much.”

He tells he wants her, too, but not that he’ll always want her, even after they break up whatever it is that they share in the secrecy of the night. He wants to wake up one day and find out he can truly call her his, that he can have her without worries, that she can have him without worries, and that they don’t have to hide.

They never take their eyes off of each other, not even when he pushes up on his knees and hastily takes off his sweater and shirt underneath. And she stares up at him with wonder in her eyes as her hands glide up the pale skin of his abdomen, the tight planes of muscles of his chest. She takes him in like it’s both the first and last time, like she wants to commit him to memory. Like she wants to be able to take that picture to her grave when that day comes.

He lets her touch him. He also lets her kneel in front of him to kiss his chest and his nipples and his shoulders before she kisses his lips. He trembles under her touch, his skin breaks out in goosebumps at the cool air of the room.

He never wants this to stop. He wants to feel her forever just like she wants to feel him forever, until the end of time. There’s nothing else in the world but them, now, and when she pushes his pants and boxer down to mid-thigh and takes his erection in her cool hand, there’s nothing but her in the whole room. It feels so good, to be touched like that. It’s different, with Beatrice – she takes and takes like she’s a starved woman, eating a meal for the first time in forever and not knowing when the next one will be. But Y/N… She gives him back what he gives her and her thumb’s caress across the head of his dick is tender and teasing and scorching all at the same time, a touch so overwhelming that his eyes slowly flutter closed as he loses himself in her kiss and in her hand.

Her body is a burning flame against his and he allows his walls to crumble down; he allows himself to be hopeful and childish in those very hopes that always make him feel alive. Naïv.

It doesn’t matter, though, how hopeless he is because, right now, she’s there and he’s there with her and the steady strokes of her hand up and down his length are more than his mind can process.

She bends down to kiss his swollen and leaking head and he doesn’t realize until her lips make contact with his scorching skin. And he whimpers. She whimpers, too, at the sound of him – and at the sweet taste of his pre-cum.

He has ruined her, she knows this. He has ruined her for any other man that might come in her future and he has ruined her in the best way possible. She can’t feel but him. Even when it’s her own fingers, all she pictures in her mind is him – his fingers and mouth and smile and all the deep-throated moans that are flooding her hearing right now as she takes him in her mouth.

It feels good. Even on her still-trembling legs turned to jello, giving him head feels almost better than being given oral.

It doesn’t last long, though: he pulls her up gently and he presses his forehead against hers as he pants, as he tries to catch his breath.

“Not like this,” he manages to whisper after a couple of minutes, after her hands have soothed his arms and sides. The twitching of his cock has slowed down and when he pecks her lips, it’s his signal that they can move.

Y/N crawls back to her backpack, shoves a hand into one of the internal pockets and come back with one of the condoms they’ve been lucky to find a week after she and Patrick had met Martin. She doesn’t tell him it’s their last, though, but he doesn’t need to hear it from her: he knows. He’s been counting down the days – and the condoms – and he knows this is their last time. For real, this time.

He lets her unroll it over his dick, hisses at the pleasure and he kisses the top of her head when her hand reaches the base of his erection. He wouldn’t want it to end.

Neither of them bothers with the rest of his clothes or his boots; they simply push the camo pants and the boxers down to his knees as she lays on her back and he hovers over her.

They stare at each other for a moment, both pulsing, blood thrumming, and they try to convince themselves to stop. There’s still time to stop, to lie there and wait for the return of their friends. But the more they try, the harder they fail.

Her hands cradle his face as he rests his weight on his forearms, body settled between her legs, and her thumbs brush along his cheekbones. It’s soothing, all her caresses are. They make him forget about everything. That’s why he snakes a hand between their bodies and positions himself at her entrance without a second thought.

God, she’s so warm and wet, he feels it even through the latex of the condom. It makes him groan under his breath as his forehead comes to rest on her shoulder.

“Fuck.” It’s a drawn-out moan, one he lets out against her burning skin as her thighs move up along his until she has his waist in an iron hold.

He pushes in to the hilt and he does so slowly – neither of them needs to memorize the feeling of his girth stretching her open, of her walls clamping down on his dick and of general and utter completion that assails them when his hips come to rest against hers.

For endless moments, all they can hear is the raging beating of their hearts in their ears. It’s deafening and wild and it cuts their breath short as they try to clear their mind from the fog of pleasure that is clouding them.

“Make me forget,” she whispers in his ear, then, lips so close they press against his earlobe. Her hot breath makes the hair on the nape of his head stand up on their ends and for a second he goes blind.

He’d do anything for her – he already does, so he just knows that he always will. Even when it’s over, even after this is done, he knows he’ll always do anything she’ll ask him to. He’s hers more than he knows, more than he’ll ever know – and even more than she will ever know. It’s a feeling that roots deep in his being, in his soul, and it’s something he cannot explain. Maybe it’s because theirs is a forbidden relationship – it doesn’t have to be, though: he can let Beatrice go and help Patrick accept the fact that his sister and his friend are a thing –, or maybe it’s because it just feels right – Martin doesn’t know. He doesn’t even want to know, all that matters is that what he feels is real and that at the moment, it’s also right.

So he pulls his hips back slowly and thrusts back into her just as slowly.

Mouth open and pressed against her clavicle, he’s drooling over her but both of them are too lost in the pleasure and they don’t care.

She’s holding onto his shoulders as he picks up his pace and that’s all that matters. She tries her best not to scratch him – they don’t want nor need questions asked – but he knows she’d love to mark him. To scratch his back as hers arches off the sleeping bag and her breasts press into his chest. He wants to suck hickey on her neck, too, wants everybody to know that she’s his, but all he allows himself to do is suck a purple mark on the side of her breast as her fingers move to wind through his hair, tug at the strands.

The world seems to condense where their bodies touch. The rest is just a distant illusion, one that doesn’t seem to be able to reach them now, hidden away as they are in their perfect cocoon of denial.

“Martin.” She moans his name again – and a million times more. The sound leaves her lips in whispers and whimpers, tears its way up her throat as he lulls her with his thrusts, their bodies slightly moving back and forth on the sleeping bag with each thrust of his.

He notices it when he kisses her and his eyes open: she’s crying. Her lips are salty with tears, but her eyes are still closed, cheeks slightly glimmering in the light of lightning where the tears trailed down her skin.

The sight makes him cry, too. They do so in silence, hoping the other won’t notice. It feels good, the perfect goodbye they know they don’t want and don’t know they deserve.

The pleasure builds up slowly but steadily: his thrusts never falter, the tip of his cock brushes against that sweet spot deep inside her more often than not and slowly, the volume of her moans picks up. There’s no one to hear, so there’s nothing to hide, not when the rainstorm can shield their vulnerability with the strength of its thunders.

It pools in their bellies and in their lungs, it makes their head dizzy and their thoughts swim. And the closer they get to their climax, the more Martin’s back arches, his and her toes alike curling almost as though to delay the inevitable to savor the moment a little longer.

It’s a race against time, though, and when he brings his thumb to toy with her clit, one, two, three strokes are enough for her to orgasm: her back arches off the floor, her lungs go still, her nails dig deep in the flash of his buttcheeks. And suddenly she’s coming around him, convulsing around his dick, squeezing him tight.

She comes apart at the seams and it’s a view Martin has learned by heart now, a view he doesn’t want to give up – a view he’s not ready to give up. It kicks him over the edge and he’s not able to hold his weight up when he comes deep inside her – he’d love to truly come inside her one day, but the chances are slim now, they’re falling apart like the petals of a decayed flower.

“Is this the last time?” he asks, voice weak and frail against the skin of her cheek as his hips are still sloppily thrusting into her.

“Yes,” she lies. “We agreed on it, didn’t we?”

“We did,” he lies back.

*

How was this? Should I write more The Rain fics? Let me know :)

TAGS (to be added or removed, shoot me an ask)

Everything: @idhrenniel @saibh29 @fuckthatfeeling @aya-fay @pebblesz892  @mblaqgi

People that might be interested: @sweetvengeancee @flowers-in-your-hayr @kellydixon01

MAXENCE DANET FAUVEL / NONBINARY. — viktor samuels is really making a name for themselves as a tier 3 shepherd. i think that he/they are studying english + visual arts in their senior year at lockwood, living in peregrinis. originally from rochester, new york, viktor is known to be observant & ingenious, but can also be reticent & dependent. — james / 20 / est / she/they.

3/5 !!! once again ... little edits

TW DEATH, HEAVY GRIEF, OVERDOSE / DRUG ADDICTION, HOSPITALIZATION, HYPERSEXUALITY, RELIGION MENTIONS, MENTAL ILLNESS

a e s t h e t i c s

old tvs and their static, worn tapes, horror movie screams, spilled ink, a sculptor’s hands, clay-stained, chicken scratch handwriting, messy notes, messy hair, scoffs and eye-rolls, bruised knuckles, sore throats, funeral homes and a crying preacher, shattered ceramics, knife fights, high ledges, vertically-striped pants, red lights, the moon shrouded in clouds, cigarette butts.

general info !!

full name: viktor phillip samuels

nickname(s): icky vicky :/

b.o.d. - jan 2nd

label(s): the black hole, the crepehanger, the impious, the opaque, the tempest, etc.

height: 6′0″

hometown: rochester, new york

sexuality: uuuhhh god … probably pan tbh

pinterest

stats

biography !!

okay so … born and raised in rochester, new york to the well known samuels family. preacher father, a mother, a twin sister born 15 minutes before him - aka tatiana samuels, who died back in january.

kinda … grew up as a really awkward, quiet kid? like … just didn’t really interact with other kids super well, preferred being alone and like … digging up bugs in the dirt. only friend was like … his own sister.

grew out of this as they got older, instead sort of … becoming a bit of a dick? to compensate for years of awkwardness? will bite the hand that feeds him. was a full on nuisance by middle school. tatiana was not, at least, noticeably.

has always been a fan of darker materials, y’know - grim and creepy, morbid shit. big fan of tim burton ever since he was a kid, which isn’t … a good look for a preacher’s son, but he’s never really felt ~in~ with the rest of his family, anyway.

drew disturbing pictures as a kid probably tbh that prompted one or two or five phone calls home 2 assure everything was fine.

has always been really … good at art, in general - from drawing to painting to playing with clay, that’s always been viktor’s Thing.

aNyWaYs. being tatiana’s twin brother was kinda hard sometimes. tatiana and him were near opposites besides their same mean-spirited trait. she was better in the public than he was, but viktor was arguably more talented than tatiana. they both loved each other deeply and found each other as competition for their parents’ attention - a rivalry, of sorts.

high school is when viktor really started to act out - started extreme, like losing his virginity in their church and vandalism around the neighborhoods. faked being possessed in the middle of sunday service. almost had an exorcism performed on him, probably.

the only redeemable trait was like … his sheer talent with art. was in a 3d art AP course, specialized in sculpting - could pretty much create anything he wanted with enough dedication.

because his parents would be focused on disciplining him for his antics, tatiana could sneak away and get away with stuff easier. so like, y’know, that’s on the bright-side of things.

never been particularly motivated to do much - wasn’t planning on attending lockwood but his parents kinda … did and sent in his application for him b/c they were Not on board with him Wasting Away (wanted him out of the house asap)

actually pretty smart !! just doesn’t like … want to apply himself ever. double majoring in english and visual arts because they’re like … two of his only interests :/ plus he wants to write and illustrate his own series of children books with a style similar to tim burton’s

he’d been experimenting since high school but college is where he really started to like … crack down on himself and figure himself out. was out as pan & nonbinary by his sophomore year of college, just … not to his family, necessarily. thinks tatiana always knew, but didn’t … really use it against him, blessedly enough

always felt like the whole twin - connection thing was … both wack and also not-wack? sometimes it felt believable but sometimes he had no idea what was going on in tatiana’s head. but he felt oddly transparent to her, always - like he was predictable to no one but her.

( TW DEATH, GRIEF, OVERDOSE / HOSPITALIZATION BEYOND THIS POINT )

but when tatiana disappeared - it was like, like viktor knew. the moment she had been kidnapped - felt something deeply wrong in his gut. and when tatiana died - viktor felt something cut so severely in him. he knew, he always knew exactly when. he couldn’t put his finger on how - but he knew. even when everybody else held out hope for her to be found - he knew.

went on a bender around the same time, had always struggled w/ drug addiction but it got worse the longer tatiana went without being found.

( also struggled heavily with his mental health, too ?? has manic and depressive episodes. will fixate on a sculpting project for six months and then purposely knock it off the table and destroy it in the matter of seconds once it’s finished for. no fucking reason. impulse spends A Lot. )

when her body was found, viktor went off the rails. ended up overdosing and being hospitalized where he spent the next like … however long months … until they deemed him better.

stayed out of school until very recently b/c he just … didn’t want to go back. didn’t want to deal with it. didn’t want to be known as the dead girl’s twin. but then his mom kinda just was like ‘u go back 2 school or god so help me’ n he was like FINE.

so ya !! viktor’s back after being gone since tatiana’s body was found. that’s it, that’s him, a lil glimpse of his life.

trying to finish his senior year b/c he … obviously left before he could.

finding out that it was george who killed tatiana has ultimately ... caused viktor to spiral. his lows are some of his lowest, his highs are ... very high, but very bad. unstable & unpredictable in his actions it’s ... a whole thing :/

personality !!

the human embodiment of a gremlin, fed after midnight. a goblin, if u will. one of those cats with a narrow head and big ass ears. that’s him.

b i g horror & halloween enthusiast. loves the old campy horror movies. probably has an abundance of masks from different movies. dresses like a grimy millennial beetlejuice more than he should. love those vertically striped pants!

fashion alternates between e-boy (would b tik tok famous if he were like … 17), millennial beetlejuice, and like … goth in a crop top and sweatpants. big fan of crop tops. big fan of sweatpants.

he can be fucking mean. petty, aggressive, instigator. will literally spit in ur face or no reason. kind of person who’ll stick his gum into other ppl’s hair. other than that he’s like … pretty okay. he’s not always mean, he’s just a dick like … 70% of the time lmao

i mean yeah okay he’ll call someone a stinky bitch for no reason except He Feels Like It And Believes It. it’s fine he’s fine, we’re fine.

despite the fact tht he’s probably getting into fights whenever - considers himself 2 be a lover n not a fighter but that’s just because he Fucks a lot. kind of uses it like a coping mechanism, like he’s this big fancy carnival show that’s like ‘come one, come all! fuck the dead girl’s twin brother!’ may have a problem w/ hypersexuality but it’s nothing he’s fully. aware of.

the preacher’s whore son, basically

like i said he’s pan & nb, switches between he and they pronouns but like … he has such a fragile grip on his identity that u could call him ‘dog-faced bitch’ and he’d turn like hey wassup :)

vastly impulsive, like i’ve mentioned … destroys his own creations 4 the fun of it, spends all his money on useless shit, will cheat on someone bc he feels like it. screams into the night sky frequently, like a cat in heat.

i mean he also creates useless shit for no reason too. spent six months sculpting a hollowed out tree the size of him and then took a sledgehammer to it.

dramatic fuck. used to play the organ at the church like … when no one was looking after him and service was about to start. just these creepy as melodies. would do the same thing at home on his keyboard w/ the organ setting whenever he got grounded until his parents took away his keyboard sadjfkg

won’t talk about his time away b/c it’s not rly anybody’s business but ofc nothing is sacred to the watershed app, y’know, nothing’s private.

still like - he absolutely refuses to talk about tatiana’s death and like, his mental health or his addiction (he’s fallen back into it tbh but it hasn’t gotten bad again … yet) or like … anything involving his own emotions

will literally just change the topic! abruptly, no warning, asks about the jonas brothers instead.

that being said he’s obsessed with tatiana’s death. tatiana was very much a rock for him, kinda dependent on her in a way? just … being there, y’know, kept him grounded.

so he obv became a shepherd bc he wants to know Everything there is abt the app, wants to be deep inside it, wanted to know Who Exactly Killed Tatiana and like … not saying he wants 2 commit murder but :/ yknow. he’s very upset.

emotionally unavailable while also like crying twice a day.

will tell you straight up what he wants from you, no bullshit, no beating around the bush - just blunt. if he wants to just fuck, nothing else, then that’s that. if he feels deviation he’ll ghost in like. less than a second. kinda awful like that! feels no shame.

but like … also is emotional ?? as shit ?? it’s confusing. he’ll cry on a whim and then flip u off if u try to console him or like. ask him anything. will bite you.

he goes to therapy but he generally fucks around and wastes most of the time until the therapist threatens to like … idk what therapists r allowed to threaten. to send him off to another therapist? idk.

likes being intimidating but like … not with his body or nothing ‘cos he’s a TWIG, but like … uses his love for horror n creepy shit to his advantage. has an abundance of fake blood. has channeled the energy of jack nicholson and used it on tatiana’s boyfriends before.

( also a big fan of sfx makeup, has dabbled in it)

probably chases kids with a chainsaw (w/o the like … chain … or w/e … so it’s not actually Dangerous) around halloween

he’s generally never doing good, both mental health wise and morally.

would probably steal candy from a baby for the fun of it.

i don’t know if there’s a good to him, deep down, and i don’t know if he sees any issues with himself either !! nothing really breaks through to him anymore, the only person who ever really made him stop and Think about his actions was tatiana.

kinda introverted, recluse type who doesn’t rly like most people or going out, but he’ll go to parties if it means he’ll be high as shit.

pretty observant. likes to analyze people even though he’s probably not … fully right.

connections to the victims !!

tatiana samuels / his twin sister, other half - the only one able to control viktor.

george craig iii / close family friends ... they could appreciate each other, when viktor wasn’t being an outright asshole.

hana williams / ‘friends’ with benefits, their relationship was rocky at best but she was a good lay. have often fought due to their clash in personalities and viktor’s history with christoph.

christoph wainwright / an ex-hook up, an infrequent occasion whenever christoph wanted to tick off hana. viktor was often on board, never the one to consider others’ feelings.

wanted connections !!

he lives alone currently but like … ex - roommates where viktor was just. a nightmare to live with.

feel like a lot of enemies is also a possibility !! viktor’s messy.

people that like … knew tatiana. dated tatiana, even, and viktor would pretty much try to intimidate / scare them at any given chance :/

close friends of tatiana too

people who hated tatiana but liked viktor. people who hated viktor but liked tatiana

people who take pity on him and he Hates it viciously and vocally.

a band of hooligan gremlin kids who do drugs and fuck shit up around town like they’re edgy teenagers even though they’re all early to mid 20s.

the girl he lost his virginity 2 in high school lmao … a distant memory

fellow rochester locals, from church or school or whatever

exes from the past !! good terms and bad terms, but i love bad terms a whole lot mainly b/c viktor’s a jackass.

don’t know if he’s soft towards anybody but we can try. we can Try.

friends, old friends, new friends, bad friends, good friends, close friends, frenemies, etc. etc. all of it

hookups !! so many hookups. fwbs, one night stands, whatever.

uuhhhh god. i don’t know. im so sleepy rn. people in the same major or similar majors.

maybe a ride or die.

people he’s a bad influence on / an enabler towards / all around toxic for them / each other.

people he’s fought !! people who’ve seen him get into random fights and were like ‘uh wtf’

fellow shepherds !!

literally anything im not picky.

I’ve been feeling so lost and nostalgic lately and been so caught up in my feels that I’m always hitting the depth of my inner fucking dark sea more times than I can count now. But how can I at the very same time be so in tune with myself and where I’m at and knowing where I am also not at. Like I know everything that’s going on around me and everything that’s flying by and time doesn’t stop so I can’t pause it all for shit. But in the midst of not doing anything at all in my life right now I’m watching it all go by and also watching none of it happen also. I’m stuck in fake world I’m stuck in parts of the past and I’m stuck in the present. The present to which only I can apply a change to but I can’t say or type it in words how hard that is except feel and think it. And thinking doesn’t necessarily go down in words or pictures. Thinking is feeling like a literal feeling up in your head with fuzzy shit as pictorial and not just stuff in your body or soul shit. Due to this I can’t describe what I mean when I say things like I’m stuck but I’m not stuck. It’s a fucking catch 22, a paradox whatever you get it. But every feeling is different, so distinct to another in yourself and nobody in this entire world feels a single feeling the same way as another. You can understand somebody because similarly they can relate but really and truly our depth and feelings never truly match. We are all different and so we feel everything differently. So the shit that im going through, shit that’s happening to me? May not be down to the same degree as a bald fucker out here with cancer or some shit worse than that but, my problems are my problems. Who says the invisible shit that’s going on inside of me isn’t equivalent to cancer, or the fucked up rocky ride of an eating disorder? No matter how distinct and small my problems are they’re MY problems and to me that’s just it. It’s my fucking problems and this is how I feel, and it’s being caused by this and that and I just feel so fucking shitty because of it. And worst of all I can so help me and I can’t help me because I won’t because I don’t and because just because. I don’t even wanna say lazy, that’s like a normal 17% in anything anyone does. The rest of it is literally caused by things I can’t think of words for. And I write and I write and where does it all lead me huh? I just come back to write some more shit and im fine for a mo or not fine at all sometimes but what does it help man? Yeah I’ve let it out but there’s still so much writing doesn’t cover. We’re humans and how complex we are that on a real not all inches of us can be shown or expressed down to the grain of us. That’s pretty much why I just come to write as much as I can in words because that’s all I can do. But it’s losing its value in loopholes now. It doesn’t feel as helpful as I thought it would be in prospect to it changing my life in some way that’s more than just subsidiary

I’m so desperate to pee and my eyes are fucking watering and I never cry out loud because it doesn’t happen naturally but shit it’s night time and I come out like this. I find solace in the world asleep around me and this time to just be.. like the world has actually paused you know? But the night doesn’t last long man. It goes by 1am 2 am 3, 4 blah blah so fast bc it’s a norm for me and I have to come to this stage of finally closing my eyes and trying to sleep when I know goddamn very well it’s hours of build up to finally pass the fuck out so it’s no difference if I’m on my phone, reading or even riding a fucking horse. I won’t sleep till it’s like 8 or 9 fucking am. My life’s a fucking mess.. the messiest shit I’ve ever known man. Whys it so bad but what am I even fucking complaining about? What is actually fucking wrong? When did it really fucking get like this. Literally I know when but woahhhh it happened so naturally and was the smoothest fucking flow not even god thought he was gonna send this shit my way till he did. You see my life and you’ll laugh perhaps thinking why do I feel like this or write this shit up. I sometimes really feel like I’m faking all of this but for what? There’s not one grain in me that’s at all associated with attention seeking. I have a lowkey lifestyle and it’s what I’d always choose to stay like. And it’s not lately that I’ve been feeling lost and nostalgic. It’s been a mad while which seems like ten times more as if I never knew bliss or even remember how alright my life was before all this “feeling too much” shit happened to me. What was I before? Who was I? I remember but what the fuck i can’t accept how long ago that was. WhT did it feel like?? So consumed with all these current feelings I don’t remember what the old me felt.

And god I never finish anything. My work, my portfolio, that art piece I started, all the shows I started and never finished, things I half way wrote and said I’d go back to and never do, my blog posts, attaching gifs or images to match my text, seriously the amount of “post privately” posts I have just because they’re unfinished and not written correctly like I want so I have to fix it but I never do. Even the ones on show aren’t finished and they go down all the way to the bottom of this place and I never go down there. Its all piled up now and I never go back to anything when I want to, I plan to but I never do. I can’t say if it’s time or if it’s just me. It’s fucking both because I can work with time I just.. idefk man. I’m just sick. I’m no excuse nor do I have rational explanations. I’m just fucked. And so sick of the way I don’t do things or don’t eat or don’t sleep or edit my pictures or finally delete all this junk shit pictures I don’t need from way back or start that book I was meant to like 4 months ago or start posting on my Instagram and sorting out my file of 9k pins on my Pinterest app or start my journals and just fucking everything. I’m just sick of a million things I’m not doing that I want to and should be and I swear to you my inside cries out loud man. Internally crying because the outside can’t hack it. I’m so sick of just always writing my problems too. I just want to fucking start but start where broo? That’s just so off putting because it’s so difficult to just start and then just where to begin even? I have arms legs a mind and all this fuxking goddamn potential and I am literally so aware of how I’m wasting it. I’m 20 in almost a fuxking month and 19 has run out swiftly and all I’ve done is blink. I’ve done shit all and before I fucking know it 2019 is over. Someone help me man. Just help me. I’m talking to you bitch. Me myself. God just help yourself, please. I’m literally at fucking war with myself