#alas my mind was elsewhere this month

[ded-lime]

happy birthday mozart!!!

[sarahisslytherin]

𝐃𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐔𝐌 || 𝐁.𝐁.

summary: you’ve been receiving love letters from a secret admirer and you’re desperate to reveal his identity. contains: benedict being fucking adorable, fluff n�� angst! a/n: first part of this multi-chapter fic.

It was a day like any other. You woke to the humming of the maid, the hum-drum of life about the house. You rubbed sleep from your eyes as you reluctantly got out of bed. You selected your gown for the day after scouring through your wardrobe of various shades of pastel. You bid good morning to the servants as you made your way downstairs and joined your family for breakfast. There your mother urgently reminded you (as if you had forgotten from one day to the next) the importance that you find yourself a suitor, someone of good rank.

But you barely had any mind to pay her; for it was elsewhere, with another. You cut your breakfast short, unable to bear any more talk of suitors and marriage and a life without love. You were buttoning your coat when an angel descended the staircase. Well, it wasn’t truly an angel; only your lady’s maid, but the letter she held in her hand couldn’t have been any more sacred to you. She passed it to you and your eyes met hers, the looks you exchanged almost like those of two best friends trading gossip, or in this case, your own little secret.

You slipped the sealed envelope into your coat pocket before finally stepping out the door and down the front steps. Outside, London was alive and full of the colors of spring. Though you could’ve walked the streets for hours on end, you opted to head straight to the park and sat down on the nearest bench. You sifted through your pocket, pulling the envelope out. You couldn’t help noting that it smelled of lavender and cinnamon as you gently broke the seal. There, the words you had been waiting anxiously to read.

Dearest,

I dreamt of you last night. I dreamt of those eyes so deep I was tempted to swim in them. Of that laugh so melodious I was tempted to turn it into a symphony. Of the lips so sweet I was tempted to kiss them. Alas, I know not if I shall ever reveal myself to you. I know you must be dying to figure me out. But you must understand I couldn’t bear to be rejected by you. You drive me mad! When I am awake, you occupy my every thought, and when I sleep you visit me in dreams! I am a tormented man, but oh, how smitten I am with my torment! I clutch it to my chest and carry it with me wherever I go. How could I not? When it was you who gave it to me. Such a state of delirium is the one you have driven me to, simply by existing. Anyway, all this to say that I love you and always will. Write to me, my love. I’ll be waiting.

You pressed the piece of paper to your heart, beating faster than ever. You folded the letter back and let it fall into your pocket once more before starting for the Bridgerton house. It took every fiber in you to go on with this written affair for months on end without uttering a word to your good friend Daphne. But you felt it was something too precious, too fragile to speak of; like a creature as easily spooked as it is beautiful. 

This was what you repeated to yourself in your mind when you arrived at the Bridgertons’, and Daphne swore you had a glow about you only people in love wear. 

“Come now, who is it?” she teased as she delicately sipped her tea. “You must tell me!” 

You shook your head with a playful roll of your eyes. “There truly is nothing to tell, Daph. You must believe me.”

“Nonsense!” she poked on. “I wish to know the lucky gentleman who has you so obviously smitten.” It was then that the others entered the parlor. Anthony, with Kate on his arm, and Colin and Benedict following suit. “Fill us in on today’s gossip, sister.” jested Benedict as he lounged on the nearest chaise with his usual happy-go-lucky air. How handsome he looked today, his jet black hair shiny as ever, his grey eyes twinkling with mischief. 

“There’s nothing to share, you busybody.” Daphne scolded him lightly. “Mind your own affairs.” At this, Benedict shot you a cheeky look, one you couldn’t help but return. You wondered if your secret admirer was as handsome as he was, as sweet and boyish.

“Oh!” Daphne exclaimed suddenly. “I forgot to tell you! We are holding a ball this weekend! Isn’t that exciting?” You felt yourself light up at the news. Exciting indeed. Many things can happen at a ball, dances shared and souls intertwined, and perhaps a certain identity revealed.

tagging: @velvetcloxds @oweninadaydream @holdthegirrrl

[fairlyabookie]

Gentle Touch

Author's note: Happy holidays, everyone! Sorry for the lack of posts this past month! I was cramming for an exam, grinding at work, and holiday shopping. Annnndd my laptop was out of commission for a week so I couldn't really write anything for a while but we're back in business! Wow, I'm adulting-

Content warning: established relationship | a little flirting | the features he finds attractive about you

His ways of showing affection are shared moments - stolen glances when he has the chance to see you, a squeeze of the hand when he leans close, but one of the prominent advances he’d do is a kiss on the back of your hand. His hands, a profound cold against your warm presence, would seek yours, his fingers lacing around yours. Melted gold eyes would catch onto yours in anticipation, seeking consent as you shyly smile to him, an affirmation for his motion. 

Warm lips elicit a sensation of panacea to you, the storm of troubles you had a while ago quickly vanishing upon the touch of tender, warm lips against your skin. Your heart beating against your chest, the hand that he had kissed felt like something played from a romantic scene in a movie. You avert your gaze elsewhere, hoping to straighten yourself to decorum to properly reciprocate his feelings; yet, you were answered with a scoff, a playful smile dancing on the first year’s lips. 

“You don’t have to push yourself to reciprocate, [Reader].” He chides gently, giving your hand a squeeze. “What if I want to?” Such a challenge merited a quizzical look from the fae. 

“Is this a challenge we’re having?” 

 “Perhaps.” You bring his hand to your lips, a gesture that brought pink dusting his cheeks as your lips brush against his skin. The gesture brought forth a flustered Sebek, his handsome features a cross between one of indignity and affection. This conflict spills over to your hand, his strength squeezing circulation out of your hand as his lips quiver as if troubled. 

“You human!” 

Laughter bubbles from your lips as the words tumbling from Sebek’s lips come out the other ear, his voice booming a drivel of returning affections and a promise close to his heart.

Ace often sticks with the adage that actions speak louder than words and follows through with this quite meticulously. Well, he had probably read somewhere in the net that he did some gestures towards his loved one; he’d score some brownie points for taking the initiative. Though the content he read were more or less orthodox and tame, some of the gestures he saw were provocative, stimulating in other words. Mischief writes itself on Ace’s lips, a plethora of ideas swirling about his mind. 

He had to wait for the opportune moment to ensure the success of his charm; otherwise, you would find it weird, and he was just being an idiot. Ace definitely didn’t want to screw this up. He told himself that he was taking this relationship seriously as opposed to his first relationship. Alas, the moment landed itself onto Ace’s favor: a shared meal and drink between the both of you.

The meal was a post-exam ordeal, hours of studying paid off with an exam and a perfect treat to celebrate. Ace nonchalantly takes your drink, his lips touching the brim of the cup as he raises his eyebrows. A flaming heat erupts by your cheeks upon realization - the cheeky first year knew what he was doing when he drank from your cup. You wondered if he ever did this to his previous relationship: there was no way. 

The steady gaze the first year gave you was more than enough to fluster you. 

“Ace!” You find your voice in the midst of chaos, your hand reaching for the drink. The cheeky first year he was, he partakes in more sips before giving it back to you, his plan a success. He reveled in your flustered state - an expression that tugged his heartstrings every time he sees it. 

Epel didn’t want to admit that he loved watching your lips move when you talk. Every time he sees you, his gaze would be affixed on your lips, an alluring illusion of fluttering petals. He loved seeing you smile, your lips thinning to a wide grin. Every passing second, the urge to kiss you right then and there grew intense. He closes his eyes, the image of your lips still in his mind. 

“Epel?” 

You softly call out to him, oblivious to his plight. He shakes his head, ridding himself of the salacious imagery, his eyes aligning with yours. 

“You okay?”

There he was again, watching your lips move to form the words as he listens. He felt his heartbeat thrown asunder from the sight of your lips. He had to distract himself. 

“I’m fine, [Reader]. You have some cream on your lips.” 

Your expression turns bashful, nearly apologetic, as you attempt to wipe off the cream. 

“Allow me.” 

With gentle fingers, Epel wipes off the cream, the pads of his fingers brushing close to your lips. You barely bat an eye when he licks his fingers, any evidence of the cream completely gone, save for a satisfied smile dancing on his lips. 

“Sweet, just like you.” 

“Epel!” 

Heat shoots up your cheeks, the devilish smirk starkly contrasting his cherubic features. He lets out a carefree chuckle, a sense of accomplishment blossoming in his bosom. The next time he gets to tease you will be the time when his lips will be on yours.

The sensation of locks fluttering between his fingers is one that he couldn’t put into words. When he weaves his fingers through your hair, he feels a sensation akin to comfort, relaxation - perhaps warmth stirring in his heart. He catches himself looking at your expression, to see any change in your demeanor when he inches closer to toy with your locks. A quiet moment away from the everyday conundrum merited time with you, a time that belonged to no one but to you and Deuce. 

Your eyelashes flutter minutely, your gaze shifting quickly over to him before returning your gaze elsewhere. You place your head against his shoulder, as if inviting him to continue what he was doing. A profound heat finds itself on Deuce’s cheeks, his fingers halting for a brief moment.

“You don’t mind, [Reader]?” 

A sweet smile graces your lips as you turn to him. 

“I don’t mind, Deuce. Keep going..” 

He hesitates, as if uncertain. With your affirmation, he picks another lock of hair, fiddling in a mesmerized way as he was a cat with a toy. His entranced state merited a chuckle from you as you watched him from the corner of your eye. You had him wrapped around your finger as he twirls, fiddles, and traces every inch of hair. 

Deuce catches a whiff of fragrance, one he fathoms must be your shampoo. He wouldn’t risk asking a personal question to you, but he could feel warmth just by being with you. If only he could stay at this moment forever and not think of anything else..

[concretecultist]

Broken Vows

summary: while trying to keep your head above water, Nicholas does the unforgivable.

pairing: fem!reader x nicholas ruffilo

THIS IS PURE FICTION!! Do NOT proceed if these themes are not of your taste.

warnings: ANGST, descriptions of postpartum depression, Mean!Nicholas, negative self talk/image, insecurities, infidelity, mentions of trouble trying to conceive, alcohol consumption

word count: 4.1k

A/N: i told you guys angst is my specialty 🥴 please be sure to comment and reblog 🩷

divider by : @djarrex

~Berry 🫐

———

Nico was a gift to your lives. He was such a beautiful baby boy that you and Nicholas were beyond blessed to bring into this world.

With being together for 6 years, being married for 4 and trying for a baby for 2 of them, despite the difficulties, your baby boy is now here.

But while you can recognize how much you love your son, you just can’t seem to display it. When he cries, you panic and just watch him cry until Nicholas intervenes. There’s times where you can’t even hold him, not being able to accept the skin to skin contact.

In your mind, you were failing to be a good mother to him and it doesn’t help that Nicholas’ mind just seemed to be elsewhere. He doesn’t make eye contact, he doesn’t kiss you, he doesn’t hold you at night and he’s passive aggressive when it comes to your detachment regarding Nico.

At first he seemed to understand, until it was him waking up every time in the middle of the night to put him to sleep because you just stared at Nico in his crib, frozen, not knowing what to do, not knowing how to soothe him.

He was understanding at first until he had to buy formula because you wouldn’t pump, and when you did, it wasn’t enough to properly feed him. Your lack of good production stemming from the stress and not being able to take care of yourself, not eating, not hydrating, nothing.

“He needs his mom, Y/N,” Nicholas grabbed Nico from his crib, the upset infant instantly pacified and the blood curdling cries are finally quiet.

“I can’t bond with him, he doesn’t even know me as is mom!,”

“Because you’re not trying!,”

“I am,” you pull at your roots, speaking through gritted teeth, “I’m fighting for my fucking life here and you’re guilting me about it,”

Nicholas just sighed, he knows this isn’t easy. He had helped you get a therapist and he thought it’d at least help even a little bit. It’s been like this for a month.

“I’m not guilting you! But at the same time we have a son to raise, I know you’re trying, honey, but something has got to give. What are you going to do when we have to go on tour again?,”

“You said that wouldn’t be for a while!!,” you shriek, face wet as you panic, “Nicky, please, I’m not ready,”

You could see his jaw clench and you hate to see him so upset with you, so frustrated. Your mind and body were still healing and despite delivering Nico a month ago, your body just doesn’t feel like yours anymore, you’re confused and the idea that someone now needs you 24/7 was terrifying.

Maybe you were in over your head. Maybe there’s a reason it was so hard to conceive in the first place.

But alas, regardless of Nicholas’ frustration, he still helped get you to therapy, he helped you do some stretches to help get you grounded back into your body.

However, after a while the distance still grew. Once you were at a point where you could be alone with Nico, Nicholas was barely there.

He’d tell you he was leaving and wouldn’t come back until late.

It’s almost like he was punishing you.

Each night he’d come home, hop in the shower and climb in bed, turning his back to you.

Your marriage didn’t feel like a marriage anymore and you’re still waiting to feel that sense of family that so many people talked about.

There’s a night where Nicholas doesn’t come home at all. You’re messaging him, blowing up his phone with calls and voicemails, even going as far as calling the guys but even they’re not answering.

You were up all night crying along with Nico and the only reason he fell asleep is because he cried himself out. You sat in the same spot on the loveseat from sunset to sunrise, you haven’t slept a wink and when you hear his keys jingling, you become more aware of how you look.

Hair all over the place, Nico’s spit up all over your hoodie, dried tear streaks on your face and it just feeds the insecurities that you’ll never “snap back” like all the other moms on social media do.

“Where have you been?,” voice cracking

He doesn’t answer, he just walks past you as if you don’t exist.

“I asked you a question,”

“God, Y/N! Not right now,”

Your breath hitches as you take in his appearance, looking all partied out and hungover, hair up in a messy bun and his clothes all wrinkled.

“I stayed up all night waiting for you! I didn’t know where you were, you didn’t even answer, none of you did!,”

“I told them to turn their phones off,” he replied as if it was the simplest answer. As if he were answering ‘4… duh’ when asked what 2+2 equals.

The sound that escaped you sounded as if someone had their hands around your throat and you were fighting for your life.

“I needed you,”

“And I needed a break!,” the way he raised his voice had you rearing back against the couch cushion. He’s never raised his voice, “I have been taking care of Nico since the day he came home. I’ve been taking care of YOU, I’ve been bathing him, I’ve been bathing you, I’ve been feeding him and feeding you. I have a child and a wife, I’m not a single dad of two children!,”

All you can do is hold Nico close to your chest as Nicholas’ words soaked into your skin, making it hard for the air to reach your lungs, his words a colorless poison like carbon monoxide.

“Nicky…,” you whimper, “Don’t… don’t say that, I’m trying,”

“And I’m tired!!,” he’s still shouting and if he doesn’t stop, he’ll wake Nico and you can’t handle that right now, “I stayed out with the guys, we had a couple drinks and I crashed at Jolly’s and it was the first full nights rest I’ve gotten in a long time so no, I’m not going to apologize!,”

You just stared at him, scared of the fury that had taken over his once comforting eyes.

“I…,” you hiccup, “I’m… I’m sorry, I’ll be better,”

It finally clicks in Nicholas’ mind how he just reacted and his expression softened.

“Wait, honey. I don’t know why I just-,”

“It’s okay,” you smile through the tears, “I’m going to lay him down and take a shower,”

“I can help you,”

You slowly sit up to lay Nico down in his bassinet and you wrap your arms around yourself as a way to self soothe and make yourself seem smaller under his inquisitive gaze.

“N-no. I’ll be okay,” you try to walk past him but he reaches for your arm gently, slowly spinning you around but you avoid his eyes.

“I love you,” sighing in exhaustion, he says the three words you’ve been needing to hear for the longest. This hasn’t been easy for you either.

But there’s a twinge in his tone, almost as if he’s convincing himself.

You want to believe him, you want to relish the words that should have been coming out of his mouth unconditionally this entire time.

But there’s something deep within his eyes that reads he’s just saying it to placate you.

Not to mention, there’s a sweet smell coming off his clothes.

That of gourmand and ambroxan, like of a subdued jasmine soaked in a lactonic caramel.

It’s unfamiliar and it sure as hell doesn’t belong to you.

Despite getting better and working on your bond with Nico, Nicholas seemed to pull away more and more.

So for tonight, you cooked dinner and wore your favorite colored dress, a dress that he always complimented you in, it was his favorite of yours.

You wore a little make up to brighten up your eyes and make your skin seem hydrated and plump instead of dull and dry.

You had fed Nico and put him down for bed, just wanting some time alone with your husband. Your heart skipped a beat when you heard him enter your shared home, bouncing on the balls of your feet while you stood beside the candle lit dinner on the table.

Except when he entered the dining room, he seemed so unamused. His eyes scanned down your body and to the table with little to no emotion.

“What’s this?,” he questions, setting his jacket on the back of the table.

“Well I figured we hadn’t had a date night in ages, we could use some alone time”

“Y/N…,” he pinched the bridge of his nose as if he was annoyed with the whole set up, “I don’t really have the energy for this right now,”

“It’s just…,” your eyes blink in confusion at his words, trying to hide the sadness. He didn’t even say how pretty you looked, “It’s just dinner, Nicky. C’mon just sit,”

Reluctantly, he did so. It was his favorite dish and yet he looked at it as if it was the most unappetizing slop on his plate.

He doesn’t know that his little expressions and lack of energy are killing your spirit but you’re set on trying.

“It’s your favorite,” you take a small bite, watching as he just sits there with his arms on either side of his plate, fiddling with his thumbs. He’s just sitting as if he’s trying to process something.

“I even baked a cake today! It was a new recipe I got it from this Facebook group I’m in. I was thinking after dinner we could take a bubble bath together like we used to and share a piece! Just like old ti-,”

“I slept with someone else,” he blurts out.

Your lips twitch and your ears start ringing.

“Heh… what?,” your motions come to a halt and the smile is no longer on your face. The candle flames seemed to stop flickering and the world outside seemed to still as you zeroed in on him, “What did you say?,”

He leans forward on the table, moving the plate to the side to rest his head in his hands.

“I slept with-,”

“No, you raise your head and look at me,” you demanded. This has to be some sort of sick joke. Sometimes the guys can take their jokes a little too far. This has to be one of them, right?

He sighed heavily, hands dropping to the table with a light knock as his inked knuckles bump against the mahogany.

Those beautiful eyes that you found a home in, stare back at you and you feel so lost now. Like you’re in a place that seemed familiar but you’re experiencing amnesia.

You know this place but it’s distorted.

“I slept with someone else,” he said clearer.

Your breathing seemed to pick up, thumb cramping from how hard you’re gripping your fork.

“It was a mistake. Y/N please believe me. I-,”

“I was at home… taking care of our baby, battling the PPD, overexerting myself to get back into shape so that you would still want me and your first thought is to sleep with someone else?,”

Your voice was eerily calm, robotic almost. Your fork clanks against the plate when you lose your grip. Everything is starting to feel numb.

“Honey-,”

“You don’t get the call me that anymore,” throat clenching around the words, trying to keep your composure.

“I was drunk,” he tried to justify.

“Did,” clearing your throat, “Did you at least use p-protection?,”

“I don’t think we should get into the details,”

A painful wail echoed throughout the house. You knew his answer. Your hand flies to your mouth to keep your cries in so you don’t wake Nico.

The distance. The perfume. His anger and frustration. It all made sense.

“I would have given you what you wanted,” you tremble at your own words, “I don’t care that I was healing. I would have fucking given you what you needed,”

“No,” He whimpered, “Honey, I don’t know what happened. I drank and you know I don’t drink and it just-,”

Another woman… experiencing your husband in that way, when you needed him was Earth shattering. You hadn’t received a hug from him in weeks, no kiss from him in almost two months now, he doesn’t hold you and the sex stopped about two months before Nico was born.

“Was it the… did the stretch marks turn you off? I started using the cocoa butter, I just needed time,”

You felt so raw, like an exposed nerve and the pain won’t stop. You’re just trying to make sense of it all.

“Don’t do this, Y/N,” he had some nerve to cry right now. This was his doing. He went out and cheated.

“It’s a m-myth that we stay stretched out after birth, it would have felt the same,” you pleaded, “I just needed to heal. I-,”

“No I.. It’s not that. I know that’s a myth! I just, I had too much to drink,”

“I refuse to believe that,” you lament, “It had to be something about me that pushed you to her. I-I got better with keeping up on showering, I’m sorry you had to see me like that I was just so sad all the time I was stuck-,”

“Y/N !,” his fists bang on the table and you flinch, breath trembling.

“I don’t know why I did it and I’m sorry I did it. I’m so sorry, baby. I was… I was stressed out and I blacked out. I know that’s not acceptable but-,”

“You turned your back on your family,” you clenched your chest, it was feeling like your heart was actually breaking, “You do not turn your back on your family!,”

“I love you and Nico,”

“I take you, Y/N Y/L/N, as my lawful wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward,” you repeat his vows back to him and you can see him start to get sick to his stomach. How can you love someone and hurt them like this?

“I promise to cherish and love you, to be faithful and to support you through sickness and in health. For rich or for poor until death do us part,” you jab your finger in his direction, images flashing before your eyes from what was supposed to be the happiest day of your life, a day that now meant nothing.

“You said those words!! You lied to me that day, you broke your vows!”

“I didn’t lie. I love you. Y/N, please it was a mistake,”

“This is the last time you lie to me,” this was a man who you’d always follow to the ends of the Earth. The man who made life worth living but has now taken that will away.

“I’m not lying,” he’s groveling, “I drank to ease the pressure but I didn’t know when to stop a-and she was all over me, I thought she was you. I wasn’t in my right mind. I was drunk!,”

“As if being drunk makes it better?,” you whisper, you hate that you’re looking at him and his cheeks are wet. The fucking gall to act like the victim here.

“You gave me Nico! We tried for years. You watched me blame myself for not being able to conceive. You watched as I panicked when we found out we were having him and you watched me struggle to stay alive… watched me struggle to be a mother, you watched me fall apart and instead of keeping your word you run off to get your fucking dick wet?!,”

You stand up from the table, chair screeching against the floor and walk away into the kitchen where he unfortunately follows.

“I love you and I love Nico and I don’t want to lose that,”

“It’s a little too late for that!,”

“Please don’t say that,” he took a step forward but you took two back to get away from him.

“A man… who left me, while I was still recovering, to go party with his friends and sleep with another woman isn’t a man who loves me. You left me to take care of our baby boy knowing I was scared to be alone with him because I don’t know what the FUCK I’M DOING!! But nooo, you couldn’t wait long enough for me to heal. That’s selfishness, that’s not love!,”

You push him but he just stands there and takes it so you do it again and again until you’re pounding on his chest, sobbing at how things fell apart so fast.

“Y/N stop! Stop… Baby, stop!!!,” he grabs your wrists and holds you in place, eyes burning into yours. You don’t know who he is anymore.

“I wish you never told me!,” you gasp for air, “I have a son to take care of, you should have kept it to yourself, you should have continued to lie!,” you push him so hard he actually stumbles back into the wall.

“I couldn’t… it was eating at me, I-,”

“And I hope does for the rest of your life because we are done! You didn’t just hurt me. You hurt an innocent baby boy who doesn’t know any better and I’ll be damned if my son is raised by a ‘man’ who has no respect for his spouse!!!,”

He ran a hand through his hair, panicking about what he has done and how his family is falling apart before it even started. He did this.

There’s no one to blame.

He can’t blame you. You were healing all while falling apart. He knows how common PPD is and yet he centered himself in your own mental health struggles and now he’s here.

It’s his fault.

“How do I make this right, Y/N please? I want to make this work. I love you,”

“Do you have a time machine?,” the rhetorical question made this situation all more real. This was his reality now and he’s ruined something so good, and for what? The man who stood at the altar and declared his love for you in front of the most important people in your lives was not who he sees in the mirror anymore and he’s definitely not who you’re seeing now.

You grip the granite counter, head hanging low. You try to calm down, try to catch your breath but you just can’t.

Picking your head up, your eyes find his once more and your face is stoic, void of any emotions that are overwhelming your nervous system right now.

The hurt of his deception was taking over your body like a virus and there was no treatment to fix it, it has infected you and will slowly deteriorate you over time.

“So what are you going to say at my funeral now that you’ve killed me?,”

Seems dramatic. But it feels like you’re dying. This is a betrayal you never expected. You thought you’d be the exception in life. That you’d get the guy and white picket fence. But you ended up just being another broken hearted woman.

“I love you… so much. Please can we work this out?,”

His begging set something off inside of you and you lost it.

“You don’t cheat on someone you love!,” you threw a vase of flowers, “You don’t cheat on your fucking wife!,” fists pounding in your counter.

“You don’t go out drinking when your wife is left crying at home, beside herself with anxiety that she’ll hurt herself or her son!,” this time it’s a glass plate that you threw like a frisbee in which he dodged just in time.

“I needed you!,” you scream at the top of your lungs, “I needed you! Nico needed you, he needed us!!,”

“Y/N Stop!,” Nicholas shouted over the shattering glass and sobs.

“He needed us but instead you had some random bitch pinned against the wall in some sleazy club bathroom!,” the image makes you sick to envision.

After you throw the last item within your reach, you fall to your knees, clutching your chest as you let out the scream of a banshee.

It hurts to inhale and it feels like you’re having a heart attack.

“Y/N!,” Nicholas rushes over to you and you begin to hear Nico crying in the back.

“Baby, please. Come on!,” his voice becomes muffled like you’re underwater and you can’t make anything out.

He’s blurry and it feels like you’re stuck in a current, trying to keep your head above water, gasping for air but the waves keep dragging you under.

“Y/N!,” he’s shaking you to snap you out of it, to get you back down to Earth but you’re still fighting him off. Still throwing weak punches.

“Come on, baby. Come back to me,”

Your eyes are shut tight as you try to find your breath but it’s not working.

“I’m right here! Just open your eyes! I’m right here!,”

You can’t look at him right now. The fact that he’s even this close to you makes it worse.

“Y/N! Please you’re scaring me!!”

With one last stern shake, you open your eyes, a large gasp echoing in your ears and you’re covered in cold sweats, grasping at what you can reach which are the hot sheets on your bed.

“Hey, shhh. Shhh. I’m right here. It’s okay. You’re safe,” he’s brushing the hair out of your face, your bonnet was nowhere to be found.

“It was just another nightmare,” he whispers.

Your head turns to him and you take in your surroundings.

The white numbers on the digital clock read 2:17 am. Nicholas is in a plain white shirt and his briefs and the moon is shining through the sheer curtains of your room.

You look back to him and your face frowns as your eyes start to burn with the salty drops.

“Was it the same one?,” he asks, all you can do is shake your head.

“Y-you cheated,” you choked, “In this one you l-left me alone with Nico and cheated,”

You see the way the words tugged at his heart, bothering him greatly. He’s trying to hide the hurt on his face but he knows it’s not your fault that your mind is displaying these disconcerting scenes in your head.

“I’d never do that to you,” he caresses your cheek, “Baby, believe me. I would never fucking do that to you. I love you and Nico too much to do that,”

You throw yourself in his arms and just let it all out. This one felt so much more real than the other ones you’ve had before.

Nicholas held you for a bit before he started to ease away but you had a tight grip on his shirt, not wanting him to leave.

“I’ll be right back,” he reassured with a kiss to your forehead, “Nico is up. I’m gonna go get him,” he sat you up against the headboard as you tried to alleviate the uneasiness that soaked your body.

The three week old baby is heard whining when Nicholas brings him in the room.

“You wanna hold him? I think he’s hungry. If not I can get a bottle,”

“I wanna hold him. I need to hold him,”

Nicholas was so gentle when placing him in your arms, even helped you unbutton your night gown so Nico could start to feed. When the baby latched, he was subdued and curled into you, feeling safe in your embrace.

“Your doctor said the nightmares are normal,” Nicholas assured, rubbing his hands on your thighs to ease some of the tension you’re storing in your body.

“I just want them to stop,” You were exhausted. Almost every night since having Nico, you’d woken up in cold sweats and tears. Tonight was so much worse, you were sobbing and thrashing in your sleep, throwing punches at Nicholas as he tried to wake you, unbeknownst to you of course.

“I know it’s a lot but please don’t leave me. Don’t leave us, please,” you flex your jaw, trying to keep your cries to a minimum

“In sickness and in health, Y/N. I meant those words. I will never hurt you or our family, I’d rather die,”

The way he stared in your eyes, this is the man you married. The man in your dreams was just some monster your mind made up, a sick play on your fears.

The mind has a macabre way of playing into your insecurities, attacking itself, like a snake eating its own tail.

But Nicholas was there every step of the way, every nightmare, every therapy appointment, every good day and bad day until you felt like yourself again.

He kept his word.

And he didn’t break his vows.

[maksplaygroundsims2]

Am I a sellout? Maybe lol.

Welp, I bought the Sims 25th birthday bundle thing on Steam, it was 60something. It included Sims 2 and all the packs&stuff packs, and it included the original Sims game and all it's packs, as well as some sims 4 kits(which I don't care about and didn't want in the first place, lol) Now, before I get polverised by the entire sims 2 community here... yes I've been reading what people have to say, I've been reading about the concerns, I've been reading about the warnings...yes I'm aware of both games being available for free on the internet. I was one of the people who switched over to Linux to be able to play TS2 and I don't plan on going back at all to playing it on my windows desktop... HOWEVER, I do want to be able to play it on my laptop. I recently got a new laptop on Black Friday in 2024. I tried Osab's installer, and all the fixings for it, it still did not work and there was tons of pink flashing as soon as I put my cc and mods in.

So, I pondered putting Fedora on my laptop too but, I have to use this laptop for work, and tbh I rather not have to switch to windows and linux to work and then play.. it's just... annoying tbh. I still have windows on my desktop and it's been almost a month since I've logged onto that partition...I'm considering making the full switch on this computer to just linux and use my laptop for windows stuff. But, in all honesty...my biggest reason for buying it is because, as I've mentioned before in a previous post back in December... I have a huge medical surgery coming up, a kidney and pancreas transplant. It's going to require me to be 7hrs away from my home for three or four months... I thought about getting my boyfriend to bring my whole ass desktop down for me when I get settled into where I'm staying... but IFFFFF I can play sims on my laptop without issue then that would be perfect. But again, I don't want to put linux on it so when I saw that EA was planning on doing the re-release I was skeptical, sure but, I thought it would be a good solution to my worries about not being able to play Sims when I was away from home....but, now that it's available, of course I'll throw my money at EA. It's not like I haven't before when the sims 2 first came out, it's not like I didn't hand them my dubloons when Sims 3 was being released, and then bought some sims 4 packs.. even though I barely axtually played the game, but mostly just built in it for my YT channel.

I know most people won't givve a shit about who buys the re-release but I've just seen so many people hating on it and I feel a little wierd because I genuinely don't like EA as a company, at all but here I am giving them money that could be used elsewhere in my life. But alas, here I am.. about to dive into the sims 1 like it's 2002, to hear that sweet sweet sound of "EA Games, Challenge Everything" and let my mind melt into its childlike form.

[sevendeadlywhispers]

7Seals

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Chapter 18

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•Previous Chapter: Chapter Seventeen

•Next Chapter: Chapter Nineteen

•Chapter List

•New chapters every Thursday

•Content: Levi Ackerman × OC female. Slow Burn! Canon verse!

•Word Count: 3.2k

•Warning: This content may not be suitable for all readers. If you've watched all of AOT then you will understand that the show handles heavy subjects such as abuse, racism, violence, and other heavy subjects. This fanfiction will also have the same heavy themes. Chapters with heavy themes will be marked with (*) at each chapter.

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A/N: hey....

So I absolutely hate this chapter with all my soul. It took me a whole month to write. I'm so mad about how things turned out! Totally understand if y'all don't like it. I restarted and deleted this chapter so many times. Also super mad about how I wrote Levi in this chapter. I just want to hurry up and get to the 104th introductions but I have some more writing left before then. bare with me y'all. Sorry for the rant<3 (3-29-24)

I staggered into the pantry, my fingers fumbling over the shelves in search of something to drown out the chaos of my thoughts. But alas, Elenor had beaten me to it, leaving me to grumble under my breath about the injustice of it all. If only I hadn't spilled my flask earlier, I wouldn't be in this sorry state.

Elenor's grip on my ear was like a vice, yanking me away from my futile quest for solace. She muttered something about stains and salvaging, but her words were lost in the haze of my alcohol-addled mind. I stumbled along behind her, my steps unsteady and uneven.

"I can't believe you," she muttered, her disappointment evident in the furrow of her brow. "Do you have any idea how long it'll take to fix this mess?"

"Just dye it black," I suggested with a careless shrug, my focus already drifting elsewhere.

"You are not wearing black to the ball," she insisted, her tone brooking no argument.

"How about we just skip the ball altogether?" I proposed, hoping to evade the impending disaster. "I do it every year. Why change now?"

"You're going and that's an order."

Levi's voice pierced the air, sharp and commanding. Somehow he still managed to slice through the atmosphere even without the precision of a blade at hand. When he spoke, it was all eyes on him no matter where we were.

Startled, I spun around to face him, only to find his formidable figure looming behind me like the specter of authority he was. His expression was etched with a scowl, a silent warning of his displeasure. With his sleeves rolled up, his muscular forearms were on display, revealing how his time and effort had paid off. I couldn't help but notice the way his veins snaked beneath his skin. I watched his finger tap rhythmically against his bicep, a habitual gesture of restraint, he exuded an aura of controlled power that left me momentarily breathless.

I sensed the undercurrent of his pent-up frustration, knowing all too well that I was only adding fuel to the fire. Where had he disappeared to earlier that had left him in such a state of anger? Despite his efforts to conceal it, I could see right through him; after all, I knew Levi better than he knew himself.

"This early?" he remarked, striding closer to inspect the wine stain on my dress. "You're a mess."

"That's rich coming from you," I shot back, my words laced with a hint of defiance as I couldn't help but sneak a glance at the way his arms flexed with each movement. The faint traces of blood stained his sleeves, stark against the crisp white fabric, painting a picture of a man accustomed to trouble. Levi was like a magnet for chaos, and I couldn't shake the nagging thought of whose blood might be clinging to his clothes this time.

"I'm not trying to hide anything," he insisted, his tone laced with irritation. "Unlike you, I wasn't trying to flaunt it."

"Iris," Elenor chided, her voice tinged with exasperation. "Mind your manners. You drunk fool."

"I'm not even drunk!" I protested though the warmth in my cheeks betrayed me. In reality, I had indulged more than I should have, the remnants of last night's revelry still lingering in my system.

"Your cheeks say otherwise," Levi observed, his gaze piercing as he met my eyes. "Not to mention how boldly you're speaking to your captain right now."

"Cry me a river, we're off duty," I shot back, my defiance fueled by the liquid courage coursing through my veins.

"Iris!" Elenor's voice rang out, a note of panic creeping in as she attempted to salvage the situation. "I'm so sorry, Captain Levi. She's been drinking since she woke up. She's been nothing but defiant."

"Let's be honest, she probably never went to sleep after what happened last night. " Levi remarked, his eyes narrowing slightly as he assessed me from head to toe. There was a flicker of something in his gaze, a complex blend of disdain and... another emotion that eluded my drunken mind.

Last night?

"Oh, whatever," I huffed, spinning on my heel to stride away from the brewing tension. I refused to linger and subject myself to their judgmental gazes any longer. After all, it was just a minor mishap with some wine. What's the worst that could come of it?

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The sun hung lazily in the sky, casting a warm glow over our garden as I sprawled on the grass, my mother's voice fading into the background as my thoughts wandered to places they shouldn't dare tread.

"Iris," my mother's voice cut through the haze of my daydreams, pulling me back to reality with a jolt. I blinked, momentarily disoriented, before focusing on her expectant gaze.

"Yes, mother?" I replied, my tone innocent but my mind racing to come up with a suitable explanation for my absent-mindedness.

"What has captured your attention so thoroughly?" she inquired, her curiosity evident in the furrow of her brow. I hesitated, unsure how to articulate the forbidden desires that swirled in the depths of my mind.

How could I tell her that my thoughts had strayed to the forbidden realm beyond our walls? I longed to explore the unknown, to unravel the mysteries that lay hidden in the world outside. The very notion was absurd, blasphemous even. But the urge burned within me, impossible to ignore.

"Iris," my mother's voice snapped me out of my reverie once again, her tone firm but not unkind. I swallowed nervously, my mind still racing as I struggled to find the right words.

"I was just... thinking," I mumbled, my gaze fixed on the ground as I avoided her probing stare.

"About what?" she pressed, her patience wearing thin as she awaited my response. I took a deep breath, steeling myself for her reaction.

"Beyond the walls," I admitted, the words tumbling from my lips in a hushed whisper. My mother's gaze softened, her eyes following mine as we both turned to face the looming structure that cast a shadow over our lives.

The weight of my mother's disappointment hung heavy in the air, she gazed at me, as if realizing a truth she had long hoped to avoid. I could see the reluctance etched in the lines of her face, the weariness of someone who had fought against inevitability and lost.

"I didn't expect you to be interested so soon," she admitted, her voice tinged with a hint of regret as she set aside our books, her movements slow and deliberate.

"But it seems the time has come for you to learn one of life's most important lessons, Iris."

"Are those ugly things truly that important?" I frowned, gesturing towards the looming walls that loomed on the horizon, their imposing presence a constant reminder of the boundaries that confined us. My mother's gaze hardened, her eyes narrowing slightly as she fixed me with a stern look.

"You must take this seriously, Iris," she admonished, her tone leaving no room for argument.

"Yes, Mother," I replied, my voice tinged with defeat as I slumped back against the grass, the weight of her expectations pressing down on me like a heavy burden. Why couldn't this be a simple answer, a straightforward explanation that made sense to my young mind?

"Good, now listen closely," my mother began, her voice carrying the weight of centuries-old wisdom. "Those walls represent safety and security to all of us. They protect us from the dangers lurking beyond. It's only natural to be curious, but it can also be deadly. We must remember the blessings we have within these walls."

"What's out there that's so dangerous?" I interjected, unable to contain my curiosity any longer. The thought of unseen dangers lurking just beyond our reach sent a shiver down my spine.

My mother took a long, deep breath, closing her eyes briefly as if gathering her thoughts. I watched as her hands tensed up before she released her breath, her gaze meeting mine with a solemn intensity I had never seen before. It was a look that spoke of fear, of caution, of a mother's desperate plea to protect her child from the harsh realities of the world.

"Iris, dear," she started, her voice a soft murmur carrying the weight of untold history, "what lies beyond these walls is a realm of nightmares. Creatures known as Titans roam freely, devouring anything in their path. They're not merely monsters; they're the harbingers of chaos, the embodiment of primal fear."

Titans. The word hung in the air, heavy with the weight of the unknown. I felt a thrill of excitement course through me, mingled with a hint of fear. How had I never heard of these creatures before? What other secrets lay hidden within the confines of our walls, waiting to be discovered?

"Have you seen one?"

"Iris," my mother's voice cut through the air like a knife, sharp and cold. It was a tone she rarely used. I felt my excitement retreat, replaced by a somber silence that enveloped us like a heavy fog.

"No, I have not," my mother finally replied, her voice tinged with a hint of sadness. "I've only heard stories."

"Stories?" I echoed, leaning in closer, eager for any scrap of information about these elusive creatures. "What kinds of stories?"

"The gruesome kind," she answered curtly, her gaze distant as if she were reliving memories best left forgotten.

"So these Titans, they're the reason we can't go beyond the walls?" I pressed, my mind racing with questions and possibilities.

"Exactly," my mother confirmed, her voice firm. "That's why we must stay inside the walls. We are safest within the confines of Wall Sina."

"Has anyone ventured outside the walls?"

"Yes, the Scouts."

"Do you think I could ever—?" I began, only to be swiftly cut off by my mother's stern interjection.

"It is forbidden," she stated firmly, her tone brooking no argument.

"But what about Father?" I persisted, determined to uncover the truth behind my father's mysterious comings and goings. "He always talks about protecting the walls. Is this why? Does he go beyond them?"

A shadow passed over my mother's features, her expression clouded with sadness as she spoke of my father's unwavering dedication to his beliefs. "Your father serves the walls in his own way, my dear," she explained gently. "But his duty lies within these walls, among the faithful who uphold the sanctity of our home."

"Swear on your life, Iris, that you will never attempt to breach the walls."

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The wind howled mournfully, chilling me to the bone as I stumbled through the neglected garden. Dead bushes clawed at my clothes, snagging on the fabric as I pressed forward. The iron gate groaned in protest as I forced it open, the rusted hinges screeching in the darkness. The darkness swallowed the stars, leaving me to navigate by instinct alone. Despite the absence of the moon's guiding light, I pressed on, my steps unsteady and my mind clouded by one too many glasses.

I felt like a lost soul navigating the depths of hell. The darkness was all-consuming, swallowing the stars and leaving me to fend for myself in a world devoid of light.

As I collapsed onto the unforgiving marble bench, the cold seeped into my bones, a cruel reminder of my frailty. My mind was a whirlwind of confusion, my thoughts scattered like leaves in the wind.

Why did I drink this much? What was I trying to forget?

"Get up," Levi's voice pierced through the fog of my thoughts, his tone as sharp as a blade but I refused to yield. His hand reached out to help me, but I recoiled instinctively, my body tensing at the thought of his touch.

"No," I protested, my voice a defiant whisper as I clung to the bench for dear life. "I'm fine."

But the darkness pressed in, weighing me down like an anchor, my limbs heavy with exhaustion and regret. With a frustrated grunt, Levi hoisted me to my feet, his grip around my arm as he dragged me from the bench.

"You're a mess. A sloppy fucking mess," Levi muttered under his breath, his irritation palpable as he struggled to keep me upright. I leaned into him, my head spinning with each faltering step.

"You sound just like him," I muttered, my words slurred and barely coherent as I stumbled alongside him. Levi's touch felt suffocating, his fingers digging into my sides like claws as he propelled me forward.

"Let go," I pleaded weakly, but Levi remained steadfast, his determination unyielding as he pulled me closer. "Please."

But my protests fell on deaf ears, Levi's grip unrelenting as he guided me toward the safety of the house. With each step, I felt the weight of my past bearing down on me, the memories clawing at my consciousness like a ravenous beast.

My breath was taken away as I flung myself out of his grip and on the cold cement.

When will I stop flinching at the slightest brush of a hand, my body recoiling instinctively from any hint of closeness? When will I shed this suffocating cloak of fear that wraps itself around me like a second skin, a constant reminder of the horrors I've endured? When will I find the strength to stand tall, to reclaim my body as my own, untainted by the memories of pain and betrayal? When will I stop cowering from a man's touch, and learn to trust again?

After four years, I'm still fighting for peace.

"I said let go," I whimpered, my voice trembling with fear as Levi knelt beside me, his touch gentle against my clammy skin. "Don't touch me."

But Levi ignored my pleas, his patience wearing thin as he lifted me off the ground once more. I felt his strong arms snake underneath me, effortlessly hoisting me off my feet once again. My head bounced against his chest as he carried me, his expression stoic as ever. Despite my resistance, I couldn't help but feel a pang of gratitude towards him, a flicker of warmth in the cold darkness that threatened to consume me.

"God, you smell like a bar," he groaned as he carried me into the house, his voice tinged with annoyance.

Levi's frustration simmered beneath the surface as he carried me up the stairs to my room, his steps deliberate and measured. Despite my drunken haze, I couldn't help but sense the tension radiating from him, like a storm brewing on the horizon. But I was too preoccupied with the swirling chaos in my mind to dwell on his mood.

As he deposited me onto the bed with more force than necessary, I let out an indignant grunt, my limbs splayed out like a ragdoll. Levi's jaw clenched with barely contained anger, his eyes flashing with a mixture of concern and irritation. But I was too intoxicated to notice, too lost in my world of blurred lines and fragmented memories.

"You're a damn fool, Iris," he muttered under his breath, his tone laced with exasperation. "Do you have any idea how dangerous it is to drink yourself into oblivion like this?"

I waved his words away dismissively, my mind drifting in and out of consciousness. "Relax, Captain," I slurred, a lazy smirk playing on my lips. "It's not like I'm the first soldier to drown their sorrows in a bottle."

Levi's expression darkened at my flippant response, his frustration mounting with each passing moment.

"You think this is funny, Iris?" he snapped, his voice sharp and cutting. "You could have gotten yourself killed out there tonight."

I blinked up at him, the severity of his words finally registering through the fog of alcohol. For a brief moment, I saw the worry etched into his features, the genuine concern that lay hidden beneath his gruff exterior.

But then the moment passed, and I was back to see him as just another authority figure trying to control my every move.

I was in Wall Sina, what's the worst that could happen to me? It's not like a Titan is going to appear randomly here.

"Always the overprotective captain, aren't you?" I teased, a mischievous glint in my eye. "What are you gonna do, put me on kitchen duty for a month?"

Levi's reaction was immediate, his jaw tensing as a flicker of annoyance danced in his steel-gray eyes. He let out a heavy sigh, his frustration palpable as he reluctantly took a seat beside my bed.

"Your insolence knows no bounds," he muttered, his tone laced with a fit of simmering anger. "Perhaps scrubbing the mess hall will help rein it in. Your behavior has been unacceptable."

"Do you even realize how reckless you've been?" he chastised, his voice tinged with exasperation. "You're a walking disaster, leaving a trail of chaos everywhere you go. It's exhausting having to clean up after you time and time again."

"Then don't."

"I'm your Captain. It's my job."

I watched him with bleary eyes, the room spinning around me in dizzying circles. Despite my best efforts to focus, everything seemed to blur together in a haze of confusion and disorientation. Levi's presence beside me was both comforting and unsettling, his silent vigil a stark reminder of how much I had let him down.

"Why are you still here?" I slurred, my words barely audible above the pounding of my own heart. "Shouldn't you be off saving the Walls or something?"

Levi's gaze bore into mine, his frustration seeping as he held my drunken gaze.

"We're leaving first thing tomorrow morning," he reiterated his tone firm but tinged with a hint of concern that he couldn't quite conceal.

"I don't have time to babysit a drunken fool."

I chuckled, the alcohol dulling the sting of his words. "Well, lucky for you, I'm a pro at taking care of myself," I quipped, my words slurring slightly as I struggled to maintain my composure.

Levi's expression softened for a moment, a flicker of something akin to amusement dancing in his eyes before it was replaced by a mask of stern resolve.

"This isn't a joke, Iris," he insisted, his voice cutting through the haze of my inebriation. "You need to take this seriously."

I waved him off dismissively, my hand swatting at an imaginary fly as I leaned back in my seat. "Relax, Captain," I replied, a lazy grin spreading across my lips. "I've got it all under control."

Levi's jaw clenched, his patience wearing thin as he struggled to rein in his frustration.

I shrugged nonchalantly, my gaze drifting lazily around the room.

"Hey, we're still alive, aren't we?" I countered, my tone flippant as I brushed off his concerns. "What more do you want?"

Levi opened his mouth to respond, but I was already drifting off, the weight of exhaustion pulling me into its embrace. His words faded into the background as sleep claimed me, leaving me to drift away into a sea of dreams.

When will this end?

[yutasbimil]

Contrary

vyn x fem!oc | tears of themis ff. (psychology major!lead) ✦ (4/8) [series fic] !!! also posted on my ao3 acc! { here } tags: angst, hurt/comfort cw: heavy on the (self) angst; mental anguish; mentions of anxiety and depression, relapse, alcohol and suicidal ideation; perfect combo isn't it? // smut is moved again, oops (it's on the next part i promise) + supposedly this is a 'x reader' fic but got too heavy eventually, I apologize truly ;; word count: 2.4k

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8

do not repost © yutasbimil (2023)

cont.

Vyn didn’t expect such attraction towards a person before, let alone even at the first meeting. He swore he wouldn’t turn to such shallowness.

But there’s an indescribable enigmatic magnetism between them.

And it seems like  the first times  every time she walks by the room, Vyn feels a thump by his chest, knocking as if to strike him back to his senses.

He thanked the lighting of the hotel room for its ability to hide the flush by his face.

Alas,  he can’t look away, as if a fish hooked tightly. Like being hit by an arrow unexpectedly, and this seems straight to the knee. He swore in his new life to  never  fall at first glance, but when he turned to look at her again, it amplified even more.

He’s eaten his words and got his tongue tied into tight knots.

However, Vyn knows that with all  the bullshitery  fiction seems to spread in romance, he knows this by the psychological aspect. He’ll be damned by the pheromones and effects the human mind can bring you.

And the opportunity is within his grasp.

Marius dropped her off by the lobby after their mini shopping spree. Yule also changed into a more appropriate set of formal attire as she went back to the meeting hall. 

Vyn approaches them from across the room, meeting eyes, it easily wavered as Yule felt something by her neck. Her hair was almost snagged by her long earrings. Vyn fixed it for her, brushing it aside her ear, his proximity earning a blush on her face.

“Apologies for not greeting you first, m’lady.” Vyn takes a step back, bowing slightly then takes her hand for a chaste kiss. “I’ve been meaning to meet you tonight, Miss Yule.”

“Same here too, Sir… Vyn.” Yule taps into herself as she looks elsewhere to hide the blush on her face, unintentionally leading to Marius who reminded Vyn of the younger’s presence. 

He turns to the other man.

“Fancy meeting you here, Marius.” Vyn gives him a look, Marius nods back to Vyn with the same greeting.

They actually checked in the hotel for a gathering along with Vyn.

Beforehand, Yule briefly informed him that they’ll be at the same place today, but didn’t expect Yule to be accompanied by Marius.

After another nod, Marius walked away to leave them be as he had other business to attend to.

As if looking between the two of them, she turns her focus to Vyn. Yule feels the bad blood between him and Marius even after the tension diverges their presence from each other. 

She lightly hits Vyn on the shoulder, taking him aback with her sudden rowdyness.

“What’s with you guys?” Yule slipped off, patting him guilty on the shoulder.  Oops,  that’s not a good action towards him. Even if they’ve known each other for a month or two already.

“Ah, nothing…” Vyn wasn't able to continue further. His behavior is a bit… looming.

Yule took it as a sign to brush off lightened up at his slight bashful expression. This is a different side of him she encountered.  How cute.

“I do see you being like a kid with him at times, plus his competitiveness and pettiness on the banter can be quite… amusing,” Yule says, suppressing a giggle around him. 

Vyn took this as a close relationship between the two, it crossed his mind that they are classmates. Vyn was able to recall Yule once in his class to sit in. She picked different subjects to  avoid him  in means keeping it formal with him. She apparently got a better slot at a known state university nearby, and just takes a few classes at Stellis University.

“That’s Marius to you, I guess…” Vyn trails off. He is quite taken aback to be read out in the open like that, he needs to have some restraint. Yule likes this laid-backness though.

Vyn harrumphs, getting his hand out ready. Yule takes it, his hand feels colder than usual. She glances at him as he even shudders on her softened look.

“Shall we go?” Vyn leads the way as both of them proceed to the hall where the party will be held.

The social battery died down moments ago, more than her limit to stay attentive. Everything looks dreary and dim looking at the sea of people talking in the hall.

Mostly she’s already hit with boredom, along with her phone nearly drained, the lump at the edge of her throat seems salient on her system. Substantially, how ungrateful she is to be in a luscious environment, isn’t she supposed to be privileged… only to be truly displeased. She despised this atmosphere.

Her past floods her more as the contents of her dim phone mock her. Even back in the past in these social gatherings and chances of luxury. She isn’t enjoying the company of her family. Not the same with the silver-haired man across the hall, his eyes gleaming as bright as the lights with its golden luster. He cannot attend to her, he’s in need of socializing with others. So, she’s left to relax aside from the bar nearby. Only she's anything but at ease.

Yule yawns, teary as sleepiness fights in her system. The ambiance reminds her of last time, being compared constantly, the plastic comments, and she always seems to be the one to adjust at the expense of her sister. To be consistently second-guessed, though at most, neglected.

It even reached to not once, but both her graduations were disrupted due to lack of sleep. What was the purpose of checking in the hotel to save time going to the venue? Only to be bothered all night by the noise around the room. Does her health even fucking matter? It struck her, maybe that’s why she cannot sleep well despite the lavender-scented rooms meant to "calm one's senses".

She's growing jittery, it might be due to excessive caffeine from earlier. She's grown dependent on it.

Yule could've chosen coffee and sleep deprivation over drunkness. But she picked the dark horse for tonight.

All because of one damn message.

She's in full berserk mode.

As if there's no switch to reformat her system, a deer in the headlights, her senses full on flight  and  fight mode. She cannot avoid the shaking of her body.

Yule usually helps with the emails of her parents, so she read through a bit of some of it when it caught her eye. Bills and accounts paying for her sister's specialized schooling.

Now fully confirms it.

She’s honestly at a loss for what to feel. She has grown numb at every passing expectation as much as this is unexpected.

Of course, I'm a piece of shit, I mean nothing.

She can’t believe one text message would ruin her night.

As to why she leaned into alcohol, turning to it to blind and numb her senses at the intensity of her emotions. Shame fills her the more she chugs down light alcohol in her system.

This burning sensation felt like her college days when she spent a period not sober. There was not a day where there was alcohol stained in her system as little as a shot or two, even if it’s a mere can of beer– it can still be considered alcoholism.

Not tipsy enough.

Every word of the text remains replaying in her head. They’re reaching out again to look after her sister.  As if she doesn’t have a life of her own that she’s taking care of…

It made her furious.

At every flush of alcohol down her throat, to another glass of cocktail, she’s feeling the relapse from everything from the last three months. It’s all for naught, all wasted effort the same as she’s progressing more wasted.

Damn, so money wasn’t much of a problem all this fucking time…?

'But when it comes to me, it seems heavy as fuck, or it’s even my fault on how much of a burden to take care of me and pay off the expenses when I suddenly get sick?'

And how the treatment goes, the other daughter just throws money away as if it’s pennies… When it’s Yule who requests things, there’s hesitation. Her taking Master's degree wasn't even encouraged. But a specialized school?

She feels conflicted about how she views money and wants to leave everything behind even if it’s considered as wealth and comfort. Yule would trade it for better treatment with no guilt and to sustain a life for herself.

All this ill will, she’s willing to baggage, Yule is risking everything for the title of the “black sheep”.

To be one who speaks her truth, doesn't listen as much, is so boisterous, unladylike, cares too much about one's looks, too cautious about one’s body and health… Everything is blurred and murky on how toxic her vision is at all these. She’s very much affected.

She just does what she wants for her own expense and gain. For her betterment.

Of course, that is  bad ; pure evil– turning her into such a liberated, malevolent lady.

They didn't raise her to be like this, it's too much shameful for a girl to be so untraditional.  Out with the stakes!  She should stay pure and submissive. A little child that one can hold onto one's clutches. But the caged bars are breaking, she's growing more aware…

But punish her as well for putting herself in a tight spot when disrespected.  One shouldn't treat you as invaluable.

Even though that's the exact thing they're doing to her.

She's sick of not tending herself first.

Which turned all this misplaced anger towards relying on any vices to cope— she's just so fucking done.

Leave me alone!

Everything seems so fucking tangent, and she swore she got A’s in geometry back then, but  holy fuck!

Leave me out of any of this shit.

At the fifth glass, she’s in a total mental breakdown and crisis, realizing more how bullshit the treatment is, and how much she’s denied her needs. No matter how much she asks for therapy, they're against it.

She’s used to being prohibited from a lot of things growing up, even leading up to her adult days. Even simple self-defense and being active in the gym, she’s not allowed as it’s  ‘not good for girls’  as her grandmother says. Even moving houses as it’s an act of betrayal, that they’re no longer a complete family– even if they're residing in the same town. She's done with these strangling knots.

She wants out.

And out she does.

"Well, I’m the first in my family to graduate with a degree– At least here I achieved something," Yule could only laugh in spite.  'It means nothing though, they look down at psychology.'

With her sister, they'll easily run to the clinic to take her for a slight hyperventilation or just a runny nose. Yule would just lay in bed and  die  as she cannot breathe properly due to her allergies, they can't even be urgent about it.

What's more infuriating is her sister, they would be willing to pay for her psych assessments. With Yule, it's a no-go, what's her purpose to be even taken to therapy? She's got nothing to be sad about. Why would she even be depressed when she's got all her needs and food on her plate and a roof over her head.

'I want to die.'

It's not usual for Yule to turn to help unless it's gravely urgent and intense— but they opposed her from even going to clinics as those psychologists would just tell her nonsense, influencing her rotten brain into outrageous things. To further leech them off of money. It's a complete waste of time.

Hearing all that came out of her mother's mouth just stunned her baffled.

So what even is the purpose of her taking a psychology degree? So she's throwing every effort and her whole being down the dumps?

When she knows herself that's her final call that she is in need of desperate help, and this was her way of reaching out to seek help.

Because she really  really  wants to die.

But even this is refused to be given to her.

As to why Yule set off to be at peace and pursue her Master's degree, to start anew. At least wishing these thorns would bloom into something new.

At least meeting Rosa and Vyn, even Marius, shed some light on her bleak situation.

But she feels so heavy and conflicted about how she views herself. More on lack of self-worth. She doesn't know herself anymore, or if anything that she went through could be considered 'herself', she could take it. Because she’s been so out of it for years.

She's going insane.

-

Having Yule overlooked at the after-party, Vyn was worried about her drunken state as he appeared back on her side.

With her flushed cheeks burning up to her ears, she looks more tipsy than usual. However, he’s got no clue about her alcohol tolerance. Or at least not getting up to this point that she's full of rashes down to her feet.

"Vyn, you're back. I'm sorry, I'm…  like this - I really am…" Her coherence spills the same as her drink almost toppling over at her hand. It had few sips left. Yule just shakes her head weakly. 

"I think you've had enough fun with alcohol, Yule." Vyn takes the drink off her grasp and consumes the last of the alcohol. By her blank glare, it's anything but fun on the time she had by herself for the past hours.

She murmurs spiels of apologies, along with the scent of the rum on her breath. As Vyn asks the bartender what he served the lady, he can only nod. That's a heavy load to drink for a light drinker. 

Good thing it was just the right time as the party was putting on a close.

"Can you walk by yourself, Yule?" His normal voice sounded muffled on her end. 

She shakes her head, how shameful. Yule attempts to stand off the high seat, so Vyn can support her arms.

Though still conscious, her skin is just full of rashes.

It was quite obvious how wide the gap is for Vyn's alcohol tolerance compared to her. He had more hard drinks than her. Hours passed as she filled herself with cocktails, so it was the final straw for her to lean on the pure hard white rum. One shot of the Bacardi, the heavy richass alcohol managed to topple her over like this.

※ my masterlist | #enjeiwrites ※

[askstormscall]

Susano embraced the cool air of mountains as they stepped outside. They sensed it earlier. Electricity crackled in their hair, their expression tense as their jaw tightly clenched. They could scarcely contain their anger as their eyes met a more dangerous and cunning set of azure blue. 

Death had made himself known; he stood proud, amused, with a smirk. The circumstances couldn't be any better. 

Two Titans in one place. 

In a different situation, they would be tearing each other apart until one was left standing. Susano had no intention of meeting their end now. But Death seemed distracted with another.

In their anger, Susano scarcely registered the other man by Death’s side, hovering protectively over a small woman. When his pair of golden eyes met theirs, Susano could hardly contain the menace from their growl. 

You. A single lethal word arrowed sharply into the mind of the man with vermillion hair. A flinch, a sign that the man heard Susano's anger. A glow to Susano’s eyes, seeing through the human ruse, the visage of a golden Ho-oh cowering away. 

“Oh, you both have a history?” Zane mused, his tone colored with amusement. “Fascinating but you appear to want to tear him to shreds.” A glance at the Ho-oh. “I cannot have you killing him quite yet. He owes me a favor I plan to collect in due time. But I believe you need to excuse us, Zhen. Me and Susano have much to catch up on.” 

Zhen wasn’t a fool. He didn’t need to be told twice. To stand in the middle of the two gods would spell certain death for him and his partner. Grasping Abby’s hand, he kept her close by his side as he led them elsewhere. 

Do not think I have forgotten about you. We will have a discussion later. 

Susano’s final words as they briskly walked past. The tension in Zhen’s shoulders was enough to know the message was heard, leaving the two gods alone as a chill began to settle in. 

Susano strained to keep their hands by their side. Instinct warred to fight the beast in the human ruse slowly approaching them as their nostrils flared. Death had a smell that wasn’t the least bit putrid and vile. It was of life and soil, Susano’s gaze narrowing. 

“The great god of the storm civilized before me?” Zane said, his tone incredulous. “I wonder who has tamed you.”

“No one.” With a snarl, Susano’s hackles raised. “What is it you want? Did you plan this?”

“My world does not revolve around the old ones.” A break in Zane’s facade. His eyes filled with heat. “Your energy would be oh so divine to feast on. But alas,” his eyes strayed, making note of the legion of hounds skulking about the grounds, “I hope for a moment of peace only for you both to disturb it.”

The gods stood side by side, neither making a move. Zane murmured into the air between them, his voice becoming ominous. “How long do you believe your rotten vessel can withstand? A few months? You know I can smell it. Your demise.”

Susano refused to utter a word, their features going blank.

“You have a year, Susano. Make peace with your duties, and your friends. I will be at your doorstep in a year’s time. Do try to make it a fight the both of us will remember.”

Susano swallowed their rage as Zane continued to walk into the inviting lights of the ball. 

A year. 

Susano inhaled shakily. 

Just as they felt the wonder, the drive to see how the world evolved and changed in their absence. 

I want to live… 

[nixnwrites]

Susano embraced the cool air of mountains as they stepped outside. They sensed it earlier. Electricity crackled in their hair, their expression tense as their jaw tightly clenched. They could scarcely contain their anger as their eyes met a more dangerous and cunning set of azure blue. 

Death had made himself known; he stood proud, amused, with a smirk. The circumstances couldn't be any better. 

Two Titans in one place. 

In a different situation, they would be tearing each other apart until one was left standing. Susano had no intention of meeting their end now. But Death seemed distracted with another.

In their anger, Susano scarcely registered the other man by Death’s side, hovering protectively over a small woman. When his pair of golden eyes met theirs, Susano could hardly contain the menace from their growl. 

You. A single lethal word arrowed sharply into the mind of the man with vermillion hair. A flinch, a sign that the man heard Susano's anger. A glow to Susano’s eyes, seeing through the human ruse, the visage of a golden Ho-oh cowering away. 

“Oh, you both have a history?” Zane mused, his tone colored with amusement. “Fascinating but you appear to want to tear him to shreds.” A glance at the Ho-oh. “I cannot have you killing him quite yet. He owes me a favor I plan to collect in due time. But I believe you need to excuse us, Zhen. Me and Susano have much to catch up on.” 

Zhen wasn’t a fool. He didn’t need to be told twice. To stand in the middle of the two gods would spell certain death for him and his partner. Grasping Abby’s hand, he kept her close by his side as he led them elsewhere. 

Do not think I have forgotten about you. We will have a discussion later. 

Susano’s final words as they briskly walked past. The tension in Zhen’s shoulders was enough to know the message was heard, leaving the two gods alone as a chill began to settle in. 

Susano strained to keep their hands by their side. Instinct warred to fight the beast in the human ruse slowly approaching them as their nostrils flared. Death had a smell that wasn’t the least bit putrid and vile. It was of life and soil, Susano’s gaze narrowing. 

“The great god of the storm civilized before me?” Zane said, his tone incredulous. “I wonder who has tamed you.”

“No one.” With a snarl, Susano’s hackles raised. “What is it you want? Did you plan this?”

“My world does not revolve around the old ones.” A break in Zane’s facade. His eyes filled with heat. “Your energy would be oh so divine to feast on. But alas,” his eyes strayed, making note of the legion of hounds skulking about the grounds, “I hope for a moment of peace only for you both to disturb it.”

The gods stood side by side, neither making a move. Zane murmured into the air between them, his voice becoming ominous. “How long do you believe your rotten vessel can withstand? A few months? You know I can smell it. Your demise.”

Susano refused to utter a word, their features going blank.

“You have a year, Susano. Make peace with your duties, and your friends. I will be at your doorstep in a year’s time. Do try to make it a fight the both of us will remember.”

Susano swallowed their rage as Zane continued to walk into the inviting lights of the ball. 

A year. 

Susano inhaled shakily. 

Just as they felt the wonder, the drive to see how the world evolved and changed in their absence. 

I want to live… 

[ehlnofay]

tagged by @wispstalk to list five songs that remind me of my characters. this is a query that is perfect for me and also cruel and spiteful, because I have so many songs for all of my characters, complete with detailed analysis of which elements of their story the song is about and a video that plays in my head while I listen. the process of narrowing it down to five is the most harrowing thing I’ve experienced in all my life. and in the end the selection was not perfect. (there are other songs and bands I would have liked to include. alas.) in any case:

1. Metaphor by The Crane Wives

if arabella had a theme song, this would be it. the whole air of it is so perfect for her, the relationship it describes to language and communicating with people in general... it’s so. ugh. she DOES cut her teeth on secondhand sentiments. all these words ARE sweet and meaningless. you CAN’T trust a single thing she says!!

2. Second Child, Restless Child by The Oh Hellos

I love the oh hellos but it is not common for their music to make me think of my fictional medias; I am not sure why. this song however is the exception because it makes me think SO fully and completely of efri. so very and utterly. like she is restless and in my head her nickname is a nordic word alluding to being a younger child. it’s right there in the title before you even get to the lyrics about running far from all you’ve ever known. besides the song is the same age as her, which is neat, and also every time I listen to it I can see her dancing in my head. (she’s not a very good dancer, but she is enthusiastic!)

3: Dlora Yelps by Don’t

the music that reminds me of caelestis is unusually varied, which is very fun and also made picking one of zir songs very difficult. I chose this one because it was a musical niche that I didn’t have elsewhere on the list. this one to me is about caelestis and nerevar and the interplay between them; the dynamic between a guy and his maybe-partially-probably reincarnation is bound to be a weird one, metaphysically and emotionally, so that’s very interesting to me, and how ELSE am I supposed to interpret “I’m born once more / watered by the dewy dawns / and ankle deep in coupled thought”?

4: Secret Worlds by The Amazing Devil

there’s a number of TAD songs that make me think of pax, but this one has got to be the strongest. (martin’s there too, in the conversation of this song, and in the mind video. as a treat.) it so powerfully makes me think of them and their attitude to their role, and eventually the gorgeous way it all crashed and burned, that I incorporated it into an artwork I did some time ago (and have loose plans on doing it again.)

5: Ask Me Anything by S.J. Tucker

this isn’t technically my character... but, yes, it is. this song reminds me of my reimagining of sheogorath and how it relates to people to such a ludicrous extent that it in some small part inspired my short story Comfort. (the idea for that story lurked in my head for months, with several false starts playing around with different angles, before one day I was walking home listening to that song and it captured the sense of sheogorath’s attitude to its most favouritest random people so well that I started drafting stuff as soon as I got to my laptop. I get a lot of my story ideas listening to songs that make me think of them. it’s a delight.)

[mariacallous]

Reports that Keir Starmer has moved a portrait of Margaret Thatcher in Downing Street put me in two minds. On the one hand it could be nothing; on the other it could be the inciting incident for a major disaster drama. You know the sort of thing from TV – cold open on flashing scenes of unimaginable chaos, political besiegement and high-octane anguish, by which the viewer is provoked to think, “Stone me, how on earth did we get here?” Cue a black screen and the words: “SIX MONTHS EARLIER”. And then an immediate cut to a cheery aide going, “Morning, PM! Just had a classic silly season call about some Thatcher portrait story. Anything in it?”

In case you are not familiar with said portrait story, which after all only broke on Thursday evening while you may have been enjoying your God-given freedom to an August evening in a pub garden (more on that later), it runs as follows: a portrait of Margaret Thatcher was commissioned by Gordon Brown and unveiled in the presence of its subject in 2009, and since then has apparently hung above the mantelpiece in a Downing Street room unofficially known as the Thatcher Room. Then this week, Tom Baldwin, Starmer’s biographer, told a Glasgow book festival that he’d had a meeting with Starmer in the room shortly after he’d taken office, and remarked that it was “a bit unsettling” having “her” looking down. He says Starmer agreed, whereupon Baldwin asked him if he was going to get rid of it. The PM apparently nodded. “And,” concluded this Baldwin anecdote, “he has.”

Alas, that which delights the Scottish book festival circuit garners mixed reviews elsewhere. “OUTRAGE AS STARMER REMOVES MAGGIE’S PORTRAIT,” thunders today’s Daily Mail splash, resurrecting a rolling obsession with this sort of thing. Back in 2012, the erroneous claim that Barack Obama had got rid of a bust of Winston Churchill in the White House became a long-running cause célèbre, taken up at various times by Obama haters ranging from then-Apprentice host Donald Trump to then-London mayor Boris Johnson. There is a dedicated page in the National Archives of the Obama administration that addresses this “urban myth” in remorseless detail.

My gut (not on the political Zoe app) tells me that if Thatcher’s portrait is no longer in somewhere called the “Thatcher Room”, this could play out bigger than an interior decor story. Not that Downing Street interior decor stories can’t play out big, of course. Or that, by the time this one has run its course, Starmer mightn’t end up wishing that all he’d done was spaff two hundred grand of someone else’s money on some gold wallpaper and a £3,675 “Nureyev” drinks trolley. (Johnson’s Downing Street was very upstairs-downstairs – the staff wheeled their drinks in a suitcase; he and her ladyship preferred the Nureyev.)

Either way, a cautious Starmer Downing Street probably needs to nip this one in the bud. At this stage the PM has a number of things he could say, including:

1. Fine, I’ll put it back then.

2. Not to throw my biographer under the bus, but he’s totally wrong about this, so … bring on the bus.

3. I haven’t moved it; I’m just having it professionally cleaned.

4. I haven’t moved it; I’m just having it professionally cleaned by that Spanish lady who “restored” the fresco of Jesus in her local church. We think Monkey Thatcher looks better than the original.

5. I have had it moved – to our bedroom. Vic and I wanted it above our bed.

6. I have had it moved. Where better for the Iron Lady than the ironing cupboard?

7. There is no Thatcher Room. Literally doesn’t exist. Debate me.

8. There is a Thatcher Room but the Thatcher picture in it has weirdly completely vanished. We think it might have been swallowed into the upside-down version of Downing Street, like in Stranger Things.

9. The portrait has been replaced by a beautiful one of me. Which – and does this seem odd to you? – seems to develop a new wrinkle every time I appoint a donor to a civil service role.

10. Let’s face it, I’ll be moving that one too as my time in office wears on.

As for what, if true, the portrait story would tell us about our new prime minister, it certainly wouldn’t indicate that he lacks pettiness. Nor would it speak volumes about Starmer’s political foresight, in a week where he has seemed bent on doubling down on his long-term appearance of sympathy with the killjoy tendency. Maybe it was “winter is coming” week on the news grid. The PM began with a speech trailing budget misery that called to mind Enver Hoxha’s famous 1967 new year address, when the Albanian leader informed his people: “This year will be harder than last year. On the other hand, it will be easier than next year.” Then, in Berlin, Starmer poured cold water on the idea of free movement for the under-30s, before returning to confirm a leaked story suggesting he was pressing ahead with an outdoor smoking ban.

As opposition leader, Starmer always seemed most comfortable when telling off his opposite number. We can all agree that particular succession of prime ministers had much to be told off about – but he will have rather less success if the British public come to feel they are the ones being tutted at. Incidentally, while I have been typing this, I note Starmer’s spokesman has disdainfully declared he will not comment on the interior of No 10. We’ll see how long that one lasts. In the meantime, he has handily reminded himself that all prime ministers end up in the attic one way or another.

[gemscales-and-tea]

Hope you're ready for the new year mf Joking aside it's been a wild ride this year but we've stuck it out i'd say, even if we don't talk as much { alas my hyperfixation seems to be elsewhere lately and i dont like pushing my stuff onto other ppl unless they like it too, which is funny bc i dont mind when ppl share their stuff with me } Hope your New Year goes great honestly ! It's nice to see you on my dash too.

2023 is almost over! With the final month of the year here, it’s your chance to send the mun or muse something you’ve wanted to tell them! Whether you haven’t had the chance to or you’ve been too shy, now’s the time to say what you feel, and don’t hold back!;; Accepting

The same to you, mf'er! We should try to talk more, no lie.

[lucky-dyse]

I don't know what I did wrong again, and I wish I did. I'm sorry to see you go, and I only wish you had DMed me and said "hey, can you not [thing]", "could you please tag for (x) so I can blacklist it?", or "hey that [post or ask response I made] really upset me" and given me a chance to correct whatever it was and/or explain any misunderstanding. Because you may not be the only one with that issue, and if I don't know about it, I can't do anything to make it better for you or anyone else. I don't want to be upsetting to people, and I try not to be, but I'm not perfect.

I'm not coming to you trying to get unblocked this time. I just wanted my own feelings to be known. I only hope that should someone else do.....whatever I did, that you tell them and give them a chance to correct it before hard blocking them. Because it was a shock, and I had no idea there was even anything wrong, else I would've taken action.

If you have read this far, then thank you for doing me that courtesy. I don't expect a response, here or elsewhere. That is up to you, but I'll leave this account here so you have somewhere to put it if you do choose to.

I am sorry for whatever I did, and I am sorry to lose you.

But thank you for taking the time to read this.

I told you that the only reason I unblocked you was that I was too stressed to deal with you literally harassing me.

Let me say that again

I only unblocked you because you threatened to harass me if I didn't

Also, I don't need to give you a reason for blocking you. I am curating my online experience. I only wish I had posted the previous five asks you sent me publicly so there was more context. But alas, I didn't.

Leave me alone.

What you did was threaten me. What you did was not give me a fucking choice and then play the "ohhh you didn't give me a chance" card.

The only reason I didn't block you earlier was, as I said, because I had exams and general stressors. You say you want your feelings to be known, and then ignored my boundaries.

This also may come to a shock, but the world doesn't revolve around you. No one needs to tell you why they're blocking you. The only reason I did was because you literally used a sixteen year old who had nothing to do with what was going on as a messenger between us. They were beyond stressed and you didn't stop until you spammed my inbox. I did not want that to happen again, so I messaged you first.

And I did DM you. I extended to you a kindness, because a part of me still cared. It's extremely aggravating that even after I told you not to use a burner account to contact me, you still did.

Oh, and to whomever is reading this, I extend to you the context:

A while back, I had sent the user behind this message multiple (polite, I may add) anons that their blog had a slur in big lettering on their title. They didn't answer me, so I sent another a few months later. Then I sent another to their main, thinking they just didn't see it.

So I reported them, and informed them of it. They only posted the anon of me informing them of reporting them and acted like I had been harassing them.

This extended into me forming a throwaway account and sending this message

They responded thusly

After this is when they realized I blocked them and used a minor to play messenger. After that they threatened to harass me if I didn't unblock them.

I kept this quiet because I was stressed out of my mind and trying to graduate. But now I can finally post it. I am thoroughly pissed off right now.

You told me "it is your responsibility to curate your own experience" so let me fucking do so.

Do not contact me again.

[useless-thought-pit]

A little collection of recent poems

They were all written about a month ago, and to give you just a teeny bit of context I was unfortunately under the spell of some scourge we like to call love (the best of all, of course, being unrequited love). No seriously though, I am now free from this transient infatuation (you'll get to see that word in a bit cos I am a shit poet with a bad memory for synonyms). I've ordered them chronologically, and have also included unfinished fragments.

Also this was pretty much one of my first times actually composing poetry in English, like with meters and rhymes and stuff. You may also find poems written in french on this blog if I please to post them, but that's if you speak it so ahah

Enough babbling now, enjoy.

***

I know not how to get to thee safe and alive Future appears farther and farther with the days There's within me an evergreen spreading its arms Or is it I who bury my roots in the soil Nothing seems surer than when thou flow through my veins When I try to sleep it away I swiftly shift Towards elsewhere a humongous desert of heart The sun glistens as thy dark eyes still yet unknown O wand'ring soul O newest woe but who art thou Does thine essence lie in my mind so delusive Am I the jittery dreamer are thou the dream Are thou but a deadly pommel on which to press With painted hands of thine ego bearer of light Burnt witch that crawls under the wick of candlesticks Nonsense to me and in the end shan't we forget How I made thee aim for my bosom with mine eyes

***

Strange infatuation hath grabbed me hard There seems to be nothing at all to try Attempts to write it off but ain't no bard If anything it stoked instead of dry How come a single thought seed of evil Can grow into such monstrous tentacles Been looking ev'rywhere for some old spell To rid of the disease that harsh and dwells

***

Things do get out of hand And leave myself to hang Exorcism is nigh I pray that I won't die Mayhap all that junk is But a petty pretext To know how to feel next All of that sorrow biz Isn't it so frightening To know not how to live Though easier that to heave Thoughts so unbecoming Tomorrow says the fool But there's no way I could Throw thyself at me cruel Fate do hurt me real good

***

Two glimmering dark pools I can see myself in Am I just acting fool In the abyss peering Lash out thy wrath Kyrie God have mercy on me Am I looking drowning Narcissus in denial Katie I write thy name Thinking it bravery When all it is really Is I can't my heart tame Shall it pass shall it stay Forever evermore I love thee I implore That thou take me away

***

If instead of stumbling upon thy beauty I could have fallen into some old chasm Forever floating into infinity Mine heart wouldn't be prey to all those spasms But alas now each time I go to bed I'm forced by my own mind to dream of thee I shift into reveries so ghastly Wherein I'm charmed ev'n by thy lofty tread I hope I shall in the end kiss thy hands But I'm oh so afraid that thou reject My confession leaving my hopes to mend Why must love be our greatest soul's defect Katie I'm cold I don't mean to be bold But it seems to me that my end cometh With scythe and hourglass so now do behold What I'll gently whisper in my last breath

Fragments

I can well suffer into some long hours If only for a transient sight of her If it means I get one fast sight of her My heartbeat rises far up to the skies When I turn round and see her cherished eyes

---

Feeling beat down life's got me bad or so it seems I cannot think of anything but thee, caught in the stream Feeling beat down life got me real bad The thought of her's deadly as a last strike

---

Tonight at least I get to say What a pleasant ev'ning it's been Although moments of relief sway To fall beyond tomorrow's veil

[phantomofagoodtime]

To live thousands of years, you get used to the changes. Kim Shin had always done his best to adapt but some things still kept him 'old fashioned' to the modern age, which his 'nephew' always pointed out to him; going as far as to call him old man in jest which usually earned him a clip around the ear.

Love was something that the Goblin was cursed to chase, search and wander for so that perhaps one day he could break this immortal curse he had be burdened with those many centuries ago. One man he had met stood out to him, loving a man was something Kim Shin had to battle with for a long time of their relationship because of the era he was born from. The dedication to persevere past that only made their bond stronger and Kim Shin did develop deep feelings for him.

But alas, the gods were not happy with this and it seemed Kim Shin wasn't the only one on the Gods bad side. He lost Aias and for many years he mourned his death because it impacted him so deeply, he rained for 6 straight months that year in their city, the Goblin was unconsolable. He was unsure if he would ever meet Aias again, he knew usually humans were only reborn three times but with Aias's curse would he ever meet him again?

He was certain it wouldn't happen until one day while travelling to a new city, he met eyes with an all too familiar gaze. It appeared the other didn't know who he was which only added to this tragic story. Was it even him? or just a lookalike? Kim Shin was silent for a moment forgetting to even answer before realising where he was once again. "Apologies." He gave a nod, "My mind seems to be elsewhere."

It had been a busy day, everyday on this year Aias memory was always fuzzing and his dreams had gotten worst. He often had a dream of a man, from what he remembered of the dream was that he was in love with them and maybe they had a life together but he could not remember their face or details fully. Aias was cleaning and up, it had gotten slow the last hours. He came out when he heard the door open. "Hello and welcome," he spoke in a sweet and charming voice as he looked at the male who felt so familiar. "What can I get for you?" he asked. @phantomofagoodtime

[your-not-invisible-to-me]

Wax Strips (Matt Murdock x Reader)

A/N: This one shot was supposed to be a birthday present for @pastafossa, but in the time before and since their birthday I've gotten COVID, started a new job, and have been exhausted ever since. But, alas, it is finally written.

I haven't written fanfic in a long time. Please be kind.

Ship: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Summary:

Matt prides himself on his memory until he forgets to take the trash out, causing you to learn a new secret.

Word Count: 1,825

Warnings for Chapter: mentions of toxic ex, insecurities, mentions of body hair/waxing

If there was one thing Matt Murdock was, it was precise.  

He wouldn’t have survived this long without it.  After everything he had been through with the accident, after everything he’d been through with Stick to lead to him becoming the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen, who would he be if he wasn’t?  

That included his memory. Especially when it came to you.  

He remembered everything about the day you had come into his life. The way he picked up your heartbeat before you entered the building where the Nelson & Murdock office lay. You were old friends with Foggy, and had just moved back to the city.  

He remembered the sound of your footsteps as they pressed against the floor, each beat making his heart pound faster as he wondered who they belonged to.  

He remembered the smell of your perfume as it blew past his nose. Cherries and blossoms, like a fresh summer day brightening up the dark in his mind.  

It was your voice, however, that would be sketched into his soul.  

“And this is Matt Murdock, the second half of this esteemed establishment of course!” Foggy’s excitement about seeing his friend could be heard a mile away.  

“Hello.” Sweet and shy. Beautiful. He knew he needed more.  

“Hello,” said Matt. His voice was out like a whisper in the wind.  

After a moment of silence that was just a moment too long, it was Foggy who groaned in annoyance.  

“I’ll give each of you the other’s number later. Now come on, Matt has work to do and we have a lunch reservation.”  

It took Matt another six months before he even dared to mention his secret, completely surprised when you didn’t turn him in, or even worse, turn and run away. It was another six months after that when you finally moved in with him.  

But living together meant knowing everything- and there was one secret he wasn’t sure he was okay with you knowing yet.  

He had thrown them away in the small trashcan he had kept in the bathroom that the two of you now shared. All of his supplies were tucked safely away.  

That’s when he felt the fingers along his back, their soft pads wrapping around his stomach. It was then he felt your lips, soft kisses across his shoulder.  

You had just gotten back from a week-long work trip and apparently weren’t too keen to see him up this early in the morning.  

“It’s too early Matt, come back to bed.”  

The kisses continued across his back before you slowly turned him around, chasing lips of his own. The way your tongue hit his lips, slowly opening him up to chase the feel of his mouth made a shiver go down his spine. He let you pull him back to bed.  

He meant to throw the trash out of the bathroom, he really did.  

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You sat at the end of Foggy’s couch, nursing the beer in your hand. You knew Foggy was trying to tell you a story, but your mind was elsewhere.  

The sound of Matt leaving the apartment had long faded away when you finally convinced yourself to leave the safety of the warm covers. You padded into the bathroom, content to wash up and relieve yourself when you saw them bunched up in the trash.  

Wax strips.  

What was Matt doing with wax strips? You didn’t use them, that was for sure. Why would Matt? The pouring of thoughts started breaking through, and suddenly all you could do was wonder what had gone on in the apartment in the week you had been gone.  

“You okay?”  

“Hmm?”  

“Considering I finished my story, and you’ve been silent, I can only assume your mind is somewhere else,” said Foggy.  

“Sorry, Fogs, I just...”  

“What is it?”  

“Is Matt cheating on me?” you asked. The words were out before you could even blink.  

“What? What in the world are you talking about?” 

“I know you heard me, Foggy.”  

“Which is why I’m concerned. Do you know how long I’ve known Matt? I’ve never seen him more in love than he is now. Why on earth would you think he’s cheating on you?” He took a sip of his beer, his eyebrows scrunched in his own confusion.  

“I found wax strips in the bathroom trash!”  

And suddenly your face was spattered with beer as the only sounds you could hear were the one of Foggy’s laughter. You wiped your face, annoyed.  

“It’s not funny, Foggy! I don’t use wax strips!” You threw a pillow at his head.  

“Okay, one, rude with the pillow. Two. I know you don’t use wax strips. I can’t believe he’s still doing this, but they’re Matt’s.”  

And that’s when he told you.  

Matt had his fair share of ladies in college, but there was one girl, even before Elektra, that had done a number of him. One look at him without a shirt was all it took for her to dump him, and why?  

Cause he had chest hair. 

And she thought it was gross.  

Ever since then, Matt Murdock had a wax strip budget. He waxed his chest regularly, and never let another girl close enough to tell.  

As Foggy finished his story, all you could think about was one thing.  

Someone had hurt the love of your life so much that he felt like he couldn’t be honest with you. He felt like he had to change himself, as if anything different would make you run away. Finding out he was Daredevil was one thing, but you were finding yourself feeling different about this.  

Someone had hurt Matt’s heart, and that wasn’t okay with you.  

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You were sitting on the couch reading a book when he came home. The clang of the roof door echoed as he ran down the stairs and into the bathroom.  

“You okay?” you called out, head not looking up from the page you were, at this point, pretending to read.  

“Needed to pee!” The sound of the toilet flushing echoed throughout the apartment as you waited. You knew him too well.  

“Fuck.”  

There it is.  

More time passed before Matt slowly emerged from the bathroom, devil suit in hand as he now wore the t-shirt and sweats he sometimes kept in the bathroom. He threw the suit into the trunk before slowly turning to you, your head still looking at the book.  

“Sweetheart?”  

“Hmm?”  

“Did you, um, did you take the trash out?”  

“Yes, when I got home tonight.” You closed the book, finally looking up at him. “Is there a problem?”  

“No, no, it’s fine. I just, um.”  

In a way, this was fun. You hadn’t seen Matt flustered like this since the day he had first asked you to dinner. That being said, he was flustered for the wrong reasons.  

“What is it, Matt?”  

“You saw-.”  

“The wax strips, yes.”  

Matt stood there looking like a deer in the headlights. His eyes moved around quickly, and you knew what he was doing. He was trying to read you. But you knew he wouldn’t find what he was looking for. He wasn’t going to find the disgust.  

“Come here? Please?” You reached your arm out to him and waited, like trying to lure an abused pet into trusting you. Hell, maybe that’s what you were doing to an extent. He eventually took your hand, sitting on the other end of the couch. Before he could say anything, you crawled into his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck.  

The stiffness in his shoulders bled out in a near instant as he buried his head in your neck. You took your time, softly scratching your nails down his back as you just breathed with him.  

Eventually, you pulled back, taking his head in your hands.  

“I’m sorry, Matty.”  

“Sweetheart-”  

“No, let me finish.”  

His jaw snapped shut with an audible click.  

“I’m sorry that that stupid girl back then made you feel like this. But I’m even more sorry that I made you feel like this was something you needed to hide.”  

“You’re not, you didn’t, I... it doesn’t gross you out?” asked Matt. You could feel the worry simmer off his chest as if one wrong word from him would have you packing.  

“No, Matt, of course, it doesn’t. And even if it did, I would never ask you to shave or wax for me. Your body is natural. Chest hair is natural. You shouldn’t feel like you need to change it for anyone!”  

Matt dipped his head forward, giving you the perfect angle to place a kiss on his forehead. He let out a breath, each word shakier than the next as he spoke.  

“She told me it was gross. That just, that just looking at it made her want to vomit. I had never even given a thought to my chest hair before then. I didn’t think I had to. How does it not gross you out?”  

“Matthew Murdock, tell me, if I were to suddenly stop shaving my legs, would that gross you out? Would you tell me I needed to shave them or you’d leave me?”  

The silence spoke louder than words.  

“Exactly.”  

Matt let out a sigh, a soft thud could be heard as his back hit the couch. It wasn’t hard to understand that he still wasn’t sure.  

You took his chin in your hands, turning his head so you could give him a kiss. It still made you feel like you were floating on air the way he would automatically open himself to you in a moment like this. You pulled back gently.  

“Listen, I’m not saying you need to change anything that you don’t want to right now. It’s your body.” He shuddered as he could feel the breath of each word hit his lips. “I’m just saying that if you did want to? I’m not going anywhere. Okay?”  

You kissed him again, tracing your thumb against this jaw before breaking the kiss. He softly spoke. 

“Okay.”  

It was only a few weeks later when you walked into the bathroom as Matt was getting ready. He stood up from where he was rinsing his face and faced you, causing you to freeze in your path.  

Matt’s hairy chest.  

He’d apparently stopped waxing, cause low and behold your boyfriend stood in front of you, his hairy chest right there for you to see.  

It couldn’t have made you happier.  

“Good morning,” said Matt. The nerves could be heard as he waited for any sort of reaction from you.  

In an instant, your arms were around him. You rubbed your cheek against his chest as you buried your head into him. The little hairs tickled your face, feeling lovely as you pressed a kiss into his sternum. You looked up, placing a kiss on his chin.  

“Good morning.”  

The smile on his face was all you needed.  

A/N: Feedback/comments always appreciated! I tried proofreading this the best I could! Feel free to let me know if I missed something.