ᴀꜱ ᴡᴇ ꜱᴛᴇᴘ ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ꜰʟᴀᴍᴇꜱ

"Don't. don't stand here pretending you're okay." leyla herself had been like this weeks ago. composed, hiding any sign of emotion from what had just taken place. "i'm not here to argue with you if that's what you think." after the news, she grew worried about him. he could try to hide all of those emotionas all he wanted, but she could see through them. "i saw the news…" she spoke as she looked at him.

Bash's body pressed against the locked door with a heavy thud, his forehead resting against the cool wood as he listened to Leyla speak. "Yeah, yeah, well, whatever the fuck you think you saw, that shit's a lie, got it." He didn't want to do this. Didn't want to be forced into believing a horror that had to be a nightmare, a twisted trick of the mind, haunting him for all his wrongdoings. "Look, Ley. I don't have time for whatever the hell it is you're trying to do here." His tight grip on the device tightened, creaking slightly under the pressure as he continued to wait for a reply he knew was never coming.

pam: 🤣🤣🤣

Soph: okay

Thomas sat stiff backed on the couch across from Evie, large hands resting against his knees while she looked over the paper he’d handed her. His expression stayed mostly unreadable, same stoic face he’d been told about plenty of times before, but internally his thoughts were moving fast. Nervous. Curious. Weirdly excited too, though he doubted anybody could tell just by looking at him. He listened carefully when she spoke about taking things slowly, one thing at a time. That part settled him some. Thomas liked structure. Steps. It made all this feel less overwhelming. At the mention of oral, he gave a slow nod, eyes flicking briefly toward the list in her lap before returning to her face. “I got some understandin’,” he admitted lowly beneath the Alabama drawl. Honest as always. “Watched videos. Read stuff.” His ears burned faintly just admitting that out loud. Thomas rubbed once at the side of his jaw before continuing carefully. “It’s usin’ your mouth on… intimate areas.” The words came awkwardly formal, like he still wasn’t fully comfortable saying them directly. His brows furrowed thoughtfully though at the way she described worshipping or pleasuring somebody’s body. That part seemed broader than what he’d researched. “But…” He paused, genuinely thinking it through. “Does it go beyond just that?” Thomas asked bluntly. “Like kissin’ other places too?” His tone stayed practical, almost studious despite the topic. “Most videos just focused on one thing.” There was no arrogance or bravado in him while asking either. Just someone honestly trying to learn what intimacy actually meant outside of the fear he’d grown up with.

The ghostly aroma of lavender, chamomile, and frankincense swam through the air. A little brew she'd concocted in hopes of assisting to ease any nerves or mortification that dared try to overtake Thomas. It was challenging to tell whether the remedy was working, but she hoped that if the scent didn't, her relaxed appearance would. "That's good." She praises, offering up a considerate grin. "The interwebs can be an endless pool of information, and rather overwhelming when diving into topics we aren't familiar with." The thought of searching the subjects they were discussing online, in this day and age? It was daunting to say the least.

open to: bash ( @burningvalhalla )

Eyes burned from the constant glare of his phone. Messages and calls buzzed the device in his palm, but he couldn't bring himself to exit the last exchange he'd shared with Dario. DELIVERED. No.. no. Any moment, it would be marked as read, and his brother would be darting back a reply. He just had to wait. Be patient for once in his fucking life. The news was wrong. The word spreading like wildfire was WRONG! There was no way in hell that his brother had fallen victim to a pointless murder. But as minutes dripped into hours, his knees began to ache under the unmoving weight of his body, his glazed hues became bloodshot with strain, and his hands were clammy and taut.

pam: question of the day: pam: how much money do you think I could get for pics of a dead body?

iMessage: Fucking Devil