#god i fucking hate my landlord

[theartisticcrow]

This is a post about light pollution and my absolute hatred of modern architecture and outdoor lighting.

This is not going to be a short post, but I had to get this anger and frustration off of my chest. Writing is the best way I know how to do that.

I have seen a great many stars fall from the sky. Most recently when I was out in the field in front of my house, roughly a month ago, and I was wandering around, listening to Queen on my headphones, and as I looked over towards the road, I saw a star fall from the sky. I stood there for a moment, unmoving, staring up at the part of the sky where I saw that beautiful flash of light as one life ended and it felt as though mine had only recently begun, and I thought to myself how this one was different from others that I had seen. It lasted longer, about two full seconds. I continued walking, a little happy yet also a little sad. How tragic it is, what humans will do to obtain power. They oppress people, they choose the cheapest options to save money that they do not need, and rarely do they seem to think things through. They'll do anything to get the people into their grasp. They will even steal the sky from us.

How fascinated we used to be with the stars, but not anymore, because the night sky looked so much different three hundred, four hundred years ago. People used to be able to look out their windows at night and see the entire galaxy. What do we get? A few specks of light scattered throughout the sky if we're lucky? If it is not a boring, grey abyss? I should not have to drive four days into the middle of the wilderness to see the night sky as it truly is. No one should have to put up with this. I remember, when I was fourteen or thirteen, when they built a big house on the property next to where I lived, with blacked out windows, a basketball court and a swimming pool. The owners were rarely ever there, and when they were, they were terribly obnoxious with their parties and loud music, perhaps not realising how exactly sound manages to travel through that part of the island. And yet, for some reason, they felt the need to install a big floodlight which did not even shine onto their own property, but rather the field in front of my house. It shined directly into my parents window, and so often did I wish I could shoot it with an arrow. Now, my family did not own the property that we lived on. We rented a house there and in the day, the property functioned as a business. I recall the day that they installed a floodlight shining over the small parking lot. I hated it then and I still hate it now. The only reason I did not throw rocks at it until it broke was because I did not want to accidentally set fire to the building, or get evicted. Not to mention, my parents would know that it was I who knocked down the light.

But it was so frustrating, because no one is there at night except for my family and our neighbours (until the landlord kicked them out so that she could use the space as her own personal office), so why should they need a floodlight at all? And why must it stretch so far across the property? I did not live out in the middle of nowhere, as much as it used to feel like it at times. There was plenty forest and farmland surrounding the area, but beyond that was just city and suburbs. It used to feel like the only place where you didn't have to see the ugly architecture of the city, but even it caught up eventually. The house that the obnoxious neighbours built was only one example. In the distant hills, there appeared more lights than there used to be, and when I stood at the top of the hill on the property and looked out over the land, I did not used to be able to see the cranes in the distance constructing five or seven story condos. I used to not have to worry about security cameras watching me. I used to be able to wander around in darkness. I used to be able to see the stars. There were many stars at one point, scattered throughout the night sky. It was not the entire galaxy, but it was still a nice sight. I used to see the stars, and now I get little more than the big dipper constellation. Some nights, I am not sure that I can see anything at all, especially when it is a night where there are more cars passing by than usual, and you cannot even see the road when they pass, because their headlights are so unnecessarily blinding.

The night itself used to have a different colour: orange and yellowish, not horrifically bright, but now it is plagued by sterile white lights. I might like to write a complaint to whichever council, board, or committee is in charge of architecture and construction and suchlike in this city, if only I knew how. But even then, I have little belief that it would make a difference, for I would be only one voice with no one to join me. We are capable of change, I am sure of it, but if only I knew exactly how. If only I knew exactly who were the right people to talk to, how to reach them, and what to say. If only more people knew how, then maybe we could recognise that we are not alone. People don't see the point in trying, for they do not feel like putting in that sort of effort because they do not believe it will make a difference if they as an individual do not participate. But tell me, how many individuals think that? How many of you people believe that your voice does not make a difference? Alone, it might not, but when placed among thousands of others who share that same belief, it makes a huge difference! Imagine what we could achieve if we all stood up together and called for action. Imagine if people realised just how much they are actually capable of, and imagine if they actually took the steps to do that thing.

It is not impossible that I could make a revolutionary change in my country, or my community at least, if I really put my mind to it. If I gathered people together, devised some kind of plan, or used all of my writing capabilities to speak against what I believe the government is doing wrong, it's not unrealistic to say that I could make an impact. Now imagine if an entire city's worth of people did that. Do you know how much is actually possible? Do you know how much could have already happened if we didn't wait until the fate of the world was on the line? If only I knew exactly how. If only I had the resources and information. If only I was more willing to take up more responsibility and actually start trying to do something. Ah, but what might parents say if I told them I needed to be driven to the post office to send a letter addressed to the city council? I'm sure they'd be supportive, but it might be an awkward conversation, especially if they tell me it probably won't do anything. And alas, I am a coward.

Look at this entire post. Look at what I have managed to write on such short notice because I felt like it. Imagine what I could do if I were given the right opportunity. This entire post, and all because I was pissed that I could barely see the northern lights those few months ago when it was the only chance I might ever get, only to be disappointed because of that FUCKING FLOODLIGHT THAT MY BITCH OF A LANDLORD DECIDED TO INSTALL FOR NO FUCKING REASON.

[wfuckshit42]

here's my hot take

[feline-evil]

Because of the ceaseless need to destroy the countryside with shitty beige identical houses that claim to be 'affordable housing'- and yet will be inaccessible to the vast majority of those who need homes- the soundscape of where i live, a small town which used to be surrounded just by silent fields, is constantly filled with the ceaseless banging of infernal machines; because not only do they have to do construction what feels like 24/7 to make more and more of these faceless, featureless tiny shitfucks, but they also have to deal with the fact there are

Fucking

Mines

UNDERGROUND

SO THEY HAVE TO MAKE SURE THE SHITFUCK HOUSES THEY BUILD THAT WILL SIT EMPTY INSTEAD OF HOUSING THE VULNERABLE OR HOMELESS DON'T SINK INTO THE FUCKING EARTH CONSUMED BY THE FUCKING MINES

So the banging continues for even more than it would if you lived on a constant construction site; which is essentially unavoidable no matter where you live now because not an inch of countryside is safe, hurrah, hooray, one of these fields used to be home to so much life that i would see birds of prey and pheasant hanging out in it! Now it's featureless houses that make the entire county look the same! Featureless houses i and anyone else like me will never afford! Featureless houses that aren't even good, they're constructed fast and small and will not stand the test of time!! I love it!!! It's great and i'm NOT mad about it!!! And i didn't get woken up on less than five hours sleep by the constant banging!!!

[kaleighkarma]

I did a public speaking thing today about rent control and I didn’t cry! Someone said they liked my speech because I mentioned how raises weren’t at inflation if you even get one so I felt better!

[elprupneerg]

i need to find the people who "inspected" my new place and said it was in good condition and i need to beat their ass so hard they quit their job and never leave any other tenants with a place as weirdly fucked up as this one ever again

[hotmess-exe]

.

[bilboyagathechickenfootedhobbit]

I live in the desert. If I set my air lower than 78, it will run non-stop and blow out in a week. Today it was 119 outside. That’s a 43 degree difference; do you know how much of a strain it is on your ac unit to cool your home to below 80 when it’s nearly 120 outside? It’s the lowest I can go without spending $16,000 on a new unit. And trust me, when you’ve been outside in 119 degree heat, 78 feels FUCKING AMAZING 😂

We got back from vacation in the middle of the night last week and our ac wasn’t working. The house was 95 degrees. Husband slept outside on the patio, I slept on the couch with a soaking wet sheet on and a fan aimed at me, the kid slept on the loveseat by me and the dog sprawled on the tile. We managed. It sucked satans ballsack but we managed.

The coldest it gets where I live is roughly in the 50’s, with some nights getting fairly cool and the occasional random midnight snow. I dunno……anything below 70 is freezing to me; I need a jacket to be comfortable. We all acclimatize. The summers where I live would kill most Europeans but at the same time, I cried the first time my desert rat ass saw snow, so…..you know…..we thrive where we survive I guess.

[racke7]

Saw today that the parking-lot where I park my car (right next to my apartment) had a new sign. Looked at the sign. It said that I had to pay money to park there.

... I'm contacting my landlord to see if they can fix this, but hoooly shit. If I can't even park my car without it costing me lots and lots of money? On top of the various taxes, and insurances, and-...?

Might be time to start thinking about selling my car? Just to not have to pay infinite fucking money for forever?

[dreamyberry]

Currently: my landlord/housemate doesn’t want to pay extra for the heating and all I can do is sitting in bed and making tea to warm up 🥹

Also, I pay 700€/m and it’s 20 min away from the centre and it’s Den Bosch not Amsterdam 🙃 then sure I have a bathtub, a huge tv I will never use, two wardrobes even tho 1 is enough, and a living room I completely ignore. Jesus

[atlas-affogato]

Just when I think my shithole apartment can't get any worse we have mold under the floor 😀🙃

[needsmustleap]

moving out was a mistake i need to go back home immediately (there's a weird noise in the middle of the night)

[renthony]

I really fucking hate memes about "haha, upstairs neighbors are always so loud, they're the worst, they're a universally-accepted target of rage" because when we lived in an upstairs apartment, it was so poorly-constructed and unstable that the entire building shook when anyone closed their front door. You could hear pretty much everything that everyone else in the building was doing at all times, even if they weren't being particularly loud.

Our downstairs neighbors would pound on our door and even register full complaints with the landlord if we walked across our own house at 3 AM. We wound up in an all-out feud with them because they would make near-daily complaints about us "stomping" when we were just walking normally across our own fucking home.

And god forbid we did anything like set down a heavy laundry hamper after hauling it upstairs, or tenderize some meat for dinner, or have a night of tossing-and-turning in the bed--all things that received angry complaints and caused our neighbors to pound on their ceiling/our floor with a broom. Despite the fact that those really ought to be normal apartment sounds that you just fucking deal with because sometimes there are Sounds In Places.

I'm never going to forget how fucking humiliated I was when I had to explain to my landlord for the umpteenth time that I'm fat and can only soften my footsteps so much. That the downstairs neighbors only seemed happy when we sat still, never talked to each other, and acted like living statues. That we were going to have to make some noise sometimes because, again, the entire building would shake when someone closed a door.

Several years of being forced to be on constant, hyper-paranoid alert about whether I'm walking too loud has done irreparable damage to my mental state. I haven't lived in a second-floor apartment in seven years and I still get anxiety over walking "too loud."

Your upstairs neighbors are most likely trying to mind their own business as much as you are. Give some shit to your landlord for the shitty state of the building instead.

[genderqueerdykes]

my apartment complex installed a device in my unit that can monitor sound in decibels because they want to "prevent parties?" SOCIALIZING isn't allowed in capitalism anymore? FUN against the rules?? good god FUCK LANDLORDS. "prevent parties" might be the most evil wording I've ever seen to promote a product ever. not "prevent noise disruptions" or "prevent unhappy neighbors". no. Prevent parties. fuck off

im a paranoid schizophrenic btw i hate this thing so bad i know it's not recording me logically but that doesn't mean my schizo brain believes that.

[neonovember]

Hello, uhm, so this MAY be an uncomfortable thing to request I’m not too sure. It’s totally totally okay if it is absolutely feel free to ignore this, but the way you write Carmen is so so comforting. I have this neighbor that lives downstairs from me, I’ve lived in my apartment for two years but the past 4 months with this guy has been hell. I live in the U.K. and the people that own the building and the police don’t view my situation as anything dangerous or serious, despite the fact I have made numerous complaints and even the other neighbors in my building have complained about him. But he targets me the most and bangs on my door at ungodly hours and threatens the most horrible stuff because I’m a woman living alone. I’m honestly terrified but unless he physically does something there’s nothing I can do. I’m sorry for the sob story but usually I always try and just picture Carmy as something comforting to help through this until I can be safe, would it be okay to request something like Carmen finding out about his gf losing sleep and constantly being terrified and deciding to take matters into his own hands, and demanding she moves in with him and helps pack her stuff because he will NOT stand for that shit (again totally 100% okay if you don’t feel comfortable responding)

oh my god anon, I'm so deeply sorry that you have to deal with such a shitty situation, and the fact that you have to wait to be physically attacked before the police can do anything? Fuck the justice system and fuck law enforcement. Don't every feel scared to send a request to make your day or week or fucking month better, it's why I'm here, and the fact that my writing can make you feel even a little better is the greatest gift i could ever ask for. God I just hope you're able to remain safe, call a friend or family to keep them posted in case anything happens, I'm so very sorry honey :(

Broken bones and soup

carmen berzatto x reader

warnings: misogyny, violence, feral!carmen makes an appearence, angst, horrible neighbours, angst, teeth rotting fluff, carmy feeding you

w/c: 5.3k

a/n: this was hard to write, i really wanted to do it right by you anon, and when have i ever written carmen without him breaking someones face?

The falling sun encapsulated the cerulean sky, exploding against the horizon in heated shades of orange, crimson and pink. The trail back to your apartment complex wasn’t long, but it gave enough time to bask in the warmth of evenings bathed in sunlight. It also conveniently enabled you to tell yourself you had gotten your sun for the day, rather than having to swallow pills you hated to swallow.

It was muscle memory however, your legs moved with the familiar comfort of the sidewalk, forgetting the stomach turning realisation of what had awaited you back at your apartment. 

It had been a couple months, four maybe 5, you didn’t really want to count the days having a violent neighbour moved in directly down your apartment. The other tenants who you've grown to know collectively bristled with the annoyance of a 30 something year old filling the usual peaceful nights with crashes and yells of broken plates and incoherent obscenities. 

When you had raised the issue to the landlord and even to the police, you had been shut down with a shrug of the shoulders. 

‘We can notice him with a noise complaint, but if he aint hurting anyone we can’t do much’. 

That had made you laugh a little then, before you had been close to bawling your eyes out and ripping out your hair. Sure he was loud, your neighbours from the other side of the apartment complex could attest to that, but it was so much more than loud fucking music, and somehow, you had bared the brunt of his violence. It was targeted, you knew it, and your legs began to shuffle at the thought of coming home to another violent outbursts at your door. 

You hadn't gotten any proper sleep for the past 4 months, waking up to loud banging at your door, and declarations of brutality he whispered through your keyhole. It was all empty threats, those men in clad uniform had told you when you woke up shaking with fear as he screamed taunts of murder from below, you had run out in your pyjamas and bunny slippers and they had told you they couldn't help you. 

There were not empty threats, and this wasn’t the hundreds of true crime shows you had binged, you felt it in your bones, you were a woman living with yourself for god sake, he was going to break down your door one day and hurt you, and you couldn't do anything about it. You felt paralysed by the helplessness of it, forcing yourself to stay up past 12, the burn of your tired eyes forced open by the blue light of your phone, in case he tried breaking in. You had begun to keep a bat near your bed, a knife in the drawer of your bedside, and you felt fucking insane. Noone had made a major problem out of it, and yet you felt like he was one bad day from a murderous rampage.

Carmen could tell something had been wearing on your shoulders, the way your eyes blinked slowly, and the syrup slow movements of your limbs when you had visited the Beef not long ago. You couldn't bear to tell him, your past relationships had taught you enough not to unload all your problems onto another person, but it had gotten bad. You had started getting notices of concern from your boss, asking if you were alright, telling you how your performance had been declining.

You had quickly shut down any looks of concern thrown at you, this was something you had to deal with yourself, you didn’t want anyone, especially another woman to be faced with the brunt of his violence. You guzzled caffeine and energy drinks like it was water, and your limbs jittered with the rush of adrenaline until the peak had dropped and you felt like your stomach was ripping itself apart.

You braced yourself as you turned the corner into your apartment complex, keeping your head down, and going through the carpack to avoid the hallway that was right next to his door. You felt your stomach drop, your keys pressed between your knuckles and you flickered your eyes up to the door of his apartment. You watched it like a hawk, ready to flee at any sign of opening, and when you had finally made it to the elevator, you breathed a sigh of relief like no other. The air suddenly fills your lungs once again.

Your phone buzzed in your jean pocket, and you reached out to grab it, the screen illuminated by Carmen’s text. You felt a tingle of glee shoot through you, biting back a smile at the thought of seeing him today.

“You still coming today for the family dinner?”

The beef had begun a sort of tradition, every last Friday of the month, they would close early and hold a sort of family dinner right out back near the tables and chairs. Everyone of the crew’s family and friends were invited to join, some bringing a plate or a drink or two. It was the highlight of the month, and you hadn't missed a Friday ever since Carmen and you had become something more than close friends.

You typed out a quick reply with a tongue in your cheek, as the elevator doors opened, you didn't look up right away, walking with your head down as you tucked your phone back into your pocket. It was a fault on your end, you should have looked up, at least then you could have braced yourself as your neighbour stood stationed near your door with a cheshire smile stretching ominously across his face. 

You wondered if you could run back into the elevator, but the doors had closed well before and you feared turning your back to him was an even worse fate. You walked towards him, plastering on a smile that didn't look even a little believable.

“Something I can do for you?” You ask, your voice heightened by a mix of fear and false confidence

“Hear you've been complaining about me” The man replies with a smile, his hair slicked back, the shadow of a badly shaven skin spiking up. His shirt reeks of sweat and stains of spilt takeaway and you have to take a tentative step back to escape the stench radiating off of him.

“Yeah, you might not realise it, but you have been a bit- uh loud, and the loud banging on my walls?” You prouch him, and his eyebrows rise in surprise, shaking his head with a laugh that horrified you.

“Am I scaring you?” The man replies 

You swallow as your eyes flicker to his burnt hazel ones, they stare down from above, almost mocking in the way they forced you to answer.

“Uh, uhm- well, a lot of us got work in the morning, and I can’t wake up if you're making a lot of noise during the night”

“Oh, is that right?” The man asks, scratching a hand across his jaw

“Well no one's been the one complaining but you” The man replies

“I don't think so many of us-”

“You saying I’m a liar??” The man suddenly shouts, and you can help yourself stepping back a distance quickly

The man watches the way you distance yourself away from him, his eyes flicker to the keys poking out from between your fingers and he bites back a laugh.

“So you are scared of me, liar.” The man spits out with venom, before stepping towards you, caging you to the wall as he whispers near your ear

“You think fucking keys are going to stop me? A little lady like you living here all by yourself?” The man digs his fingers into your sides, until you howl out and retch yourself away from him, you reach for your right side, holding the skin above your rib cage that had begun to swell and bruise.

“See how easy that was? A fucking pretzel in my hand” The man calls out with a smile, before walking back around the hallway corner with such ease and comfort that told you he knew the police wouldnt do shit.

Your hand shakes as you shove your key into your door, you have to hold your own hand to put it in, before shouldering your way through your door with wince, and dropping your bag and belongings to the floor.

You rush into your bathroom, undressing before your eyes flicker to your mirror, seeing the red rash of irritation and the start of a purple imprint of his claws shoved into the skin below your ribcage. You wince as you try to soothe it, the salty tears breaking down your waterline, you can't stop, the wretched sobs of your helplessness echoing off the bathroom walls.

You climb into the shower, sliding down to the bottom as the tears shake through you, you hug your knees to your chest, letting the warm water combine with your salty tears, so they become one, and you know longer now how terrified you are. You stay in the shower like this for a bit, letting the warmth and steam wiggle your body from its stone encapsulation.

You can hear the familiar jingle of your phone ringing from where you had haphazardly left it, and the memory of today's dinner comes rushing in. You had nearly forgotten, and whilst you were terrified to leave your home and go back into the hallway where it had happened, you couldn't let Carmen down.

So you had gotten up, in the same way you had fallen down, and tried to scrub away the smell of his day-old cigarettes and sweat until your skin burned, poking your head through a clean shirt and a skirt that hid the painful purple splotch that had begun to spread across your side.

Entering your quaint kitchen, you can’t stop your arm as it reaches for the brown liquid stored in that old glass bottle Sugar had told you was a century old. You didn't have a little liquid courage to make it past your goddamn threshold.

You downed it in a gulp, reaching for your bag and a pocket knife, just in case. The reality of that decision broke you a little, when did you start needing to armour yourself?

Your phone buzzed from its position edged between the living room couch, it was Carmen, again, telling you he was outside. Carmen had begun to ceremoniously show up to your apartment as the autumn had begun to bleed into the winter nights, and the sunlight had stretched until darkness hit by 5 in the afternoon. Any other time you would have chastised him till the point where he would stop, but now, with the reality of your neighbour, you felt a relief wash through your body at the thought of being close to him. You also don’t doubt he would have shown up anyway, ignoring your requests in the way he does when he thinks it's his responsibility.

You wouldnt say you had a lot of experience in relationships under your belt, but something spoke to you from within, carmen was something special, this was special, sacred in the way destiny was, and you shooke with the relentless fear of fucking it up. And scaring him away with your problems seemed to be on the very top of that list

You shake the thought from your head as you shut the door quietly, take a brisk pace as you walk but kind of run to the elevator. A neighbour you knew well stood near the doors, his dark auburn hair falling in front of his eyes, he nodded to you with a silent smile. He kept to himself most of the time, and you didn't know much about him, just that he always was tugging a sleeve down his left arm, but he always went out of his way to give you some sort of greeting.

The air between you was silent, as you were waiting for the ping of the elevator to drop to your door, and you heard a shuffling near you, your eyes watching the way he coughed and stared at you from the corner of your peripheral vision.

“Heard something out in the hallway, it wasn’t him again was it?” The man replied, concerned about lacing his features as his eyes seemed to be fixated on the way you leaned on one side of your body a little.

“Uh no, it’s- it’s alright, I guess it was my dues you know? Dealing with a shitty neighbour at least once” You reply with a tight smile, trying to poke fun at the very depressing thought.

The man nodded with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes, your neighbours had known that he was loud, knew that you had dealt the worst of it being right above him, but they were clueless to his taunts and threats that he said into your door at night. You think the man next to you had an idea though, the way his eyes scanned anything like he was always assessing, always calculating the world around him. 

It was also because your neighbour was nowhere to be found whenever he was around, you whispered a prayer of thanks that he was taking the elevator down with you, with his sweatpants and top, it was like he knew, a silent nod of protection.

Before you could open your mouth to whisper a thanks, the doors of the elevator had opened, a tired mom and her two energetic kids passed between you both. It was funny, you could see yourself in her, the drag of dark circles and the hunch of her shoulders mirroring your own. 

You knew the very shakily painted on makeup did little to hide the exhaustion on your face and you rushed to enter the elevator to escape the thought. The motion of the elevator moving down nauseated you a little, churning your stomach in the way it always did with motion, but your apartment wasn’t big and soon enough the music of the elevator turned to a halt as the doors opened up to the ground floor.

You could see the headlights of Carmen's car through the automatic doors of your complex, and you gave your neighbour a smile before rushing to jump into the comfort of Carmen and his very, very warm car.

-- -

The car ride to the beef has been silent, just the syrupy beat of jazz from the car speakers and the burn of Carmen’s gaze searing a hole through you, you feared if you caught his eyes and the look in them the entire interaction today would tumble from your tongue.

You couldn’t ruin today, it was tradition, you had just begun to become folded into it. The joy of Tina calling your name for a hug, the talks about the new pastry ideas with Marcus, Sydney’s laughter, it soothes you like a balm, and you were sure the nausea crawling through your stomach would dissipate the second you entered.

But it didn’t, the beautiful lantern lights from outside the Beef glittered against the Chicago moonlight and the smell of Italian meatballs engulfed your senses and you still felt like you were being ripped apart from the inside.

You had said your hellos to everyone, biting back a yelp as Tina’s hand pressed against the bruise on your side, and nodding to Richie’s rambles whilst you felt outside of your own skin.

Your mind kept replaying the scene of him lunging st you, bristling your skin till goosebumps spread through, until your mind was exhausted from fear and well, fucking exhaustion and Carmen had to call your name too many times to rip you from your thoughts.

“Hey, you alright?” Carmen asks with that soft honey tone he keeps for you.

You nod with a smile, and Carmen’s eyes shift towards your plate untouched. It was your favourite, a twist on Osso Buco and yet it laid un moving, Carmen knew it, you did too, and you held back tears as Carmen simply nodded, not sure if he was overstepping his boundaries.

It was the first lick of the start of something, the both of you, the bloom of a companionship Carmen felt was destined, like it was seared into the sand years before you both had even come into existence. And Carmen was new to this, and that opened up a whole can of worms, he didn’t want to fuck it up, he didn’t want to think about fucking it up, but god did he always seem to fuck it up.

You reached across the table to grab the jar of water, your shirt riding up without you noticing. Tina’s eyes widen at the peek of a purple imprint from under your shirt and she has nearly drops her fucking fork

“Baby? What happened to your side?” Tina replies with concern, her voice is quiet but the tables loud boisterous conversations begin to slow down.

You tug your shirt down, and you burn with guilt like you had been caught with this big secret. Carmen immediately looks towards your side, his eyes scanning the way you since a little as your finger brushes against it.

“Nothing, uh um I fell” You don't even believe yourself

“That looks more than something you get tripping over your feet darling, did something happen?”

“What? What’s she saying honey? What did you see Tina?” Tina’s gaze flutters to Carmen, and there’s a pause like she’s assessing whether it was Carmen’s doing before the reality of who he is hits her. It was ingrained in every woman, and Carmen wouldn’t be an exception. Even for a second.

“Looks like someone’s goddam fist imprinted into her skin” 

The restaurant is completely quiet now, and your head falls to your uneaten plate of veal, they look towards you in concern hearing the end of Tina’s words.

Carmen lifts your shirt, and you don’t stop him, the reality of your attack is shown right there in front of him, the imprint of a large hand bruising purple and blue.

Carmen’s eyes burn into the skin, his fists shaking as he remains silent, the rest of the family look on in horror, whispers of “holy fuck?” and eyes seeing the way Carmen practically vibrates, like he’s a second away from exploding.

“..Who did this?”

“It was my fault- I”

“Who did this baby? Who hurt you?” Carmen replies with an exhaled murmur.

“I’m, uh, Uhm- he- oh Carmen” You can’t get the words out, they’re stuck in your throat and you can’t get them out. You feel trapped, your body is sweating like you’re caged, like you're wading through a current and you're losing yourself to the weight of it, your breakdown on display for the whole world to see.

You blink back tears as Carmen tilts your chin to face him, and the look on his face, the look of distraught and fear that blossoms across his features un tetheres the tightly wrapped self control you had formed.

And Carmen scoops you up into his arms so that the entire family doesn’t have to see you break into his shoulder.

His soothing words are like a balm to your distress and he walks you, bridal style to the first aid cabinet, sitting you down on the counter, wiping away your tears as his fingers shake and his throat bobs with a tight swallow. He hastily tugs your shirt, kissing back the howls of pain as he whispers “I know, I know baby girl, I’m so sorry, I’m so so sorry.”

His soft fingers press gently against the bruise as he rubs a heating ointment across it, he wraps a warm compress around it as bandage and his eyes are avoiding your own as he focuses his fingers on your skin.

“Carmen?” You whisper, the hiccups of tears resounding from your throat, Carmen reaches for a painkiller, placing it in your palm with a whisper of affirmation, he gently tips your head back as he pours water into your mouth, and you swallow it quickly, before looking back at him.

“Carmen? Please” You reply, had you done it, had you ruined everything?

“I can’t look at you because I fear I might break, and- and I can’t right now okay darling? I have to find, I have to find who did this, and I need to make it right, hm? I need to make sure your safe because god my heart is outside of my chest and I can’t feel anything but fear” Carmen replies with a tight low voice, his fists shake as he pressed them into the counter beside your thighs, but he looks up to meet your gaze anyway, and he smiles tightly as the tears stream down.

“Oh Carmen, this isn't on you, you couldn't have possibly known” You reply, wiping a hand across his cheeks.

“How can you say that? I am your, I am meant to protect you, and you, you come limping in without me noticing, fucking Tina saw it before I could, and i hate myself for it” Carmen replies, his cerulean blues shining bright against the shine of tears.

“Who did this, someone at work? A guy on the street?” Carmen replies and you flick away from his gaze, hand falling to your lap as your tongue burns with the desire to just say it all.

“You've got to tell me baby girl, you have to know I've got to make it right, I won’t sleep till I do. '' Carmen replies with a pained cry, like his heart is breaking from the thought of letting this go un avenged. And it's the tortured look on his face, it's the shake of his limbs like he wants to destroy and burn the entire world around him till he finds whoever has done this that uncurls your tongue and lets everything out in the open.

“What? This has been going on for months? Why didn’t you tell me?” Carmen replies, his thumb rubbing soft circles across your thigh.

“Didn’t want to scare you away Carmen, i love-i I like you a lot, more than I have anyone and I didn't want to fuck it up and unload all my problems onto you like a dumpster” You reply, and it sounds stupid when you say it out loud, and when Carmen looks up at you in disbelieved confusion.

“Huh? Oh sweet girl, I’m meant to help you bear it all, that’s why I'm here, and the idea of you thinking I'll love you any less, that I won't help you because of something like this haunts me. I’m meant to protect you yeah? That’s my fucking job, and I’ve failed it” Carmen replies with a grunt.

“No one has said anything like that to me” You say, eyes looking up to him, you weren't shocked, but you weren't, were not shocked, never had you experienced this, this burning adoration for another person, this soft warmth that burst through you at the sound of Carmen's voice promising his devotion, promising his unyielding protection. It armoured you more than a pocket knife ever could.

Carmen presses a soft kiss to your head, before shuffling around the kitchen, walking back into the dining tables, hushing out replies of ‘she's okay’ before coming back in with your things under his arm.

“What are you doing?” You reply in question, as he slowly picks you up with an arm, and gently places you back down. His eyes are constantly flickering to your side, like he’s torturing himself with the image of the first time he saw the horrific bruise across your side.

He had never felt true fear until then, the shatter of his heart beneath his breast as he realises you had gotten hurt and he didn't even fucking realise. Nothing had mattered but your safety and he scared himself with how much his body shook with a desire to destroy the person responsible.

“I’m driving back to your apartment, where you're going to grab your necessities, whilst I pay a visit to your little neighbour downstairs. You’re staying with me, for however long,” Carmen replies with a sneer, walking you through the back door, which you were all too thankful for, you couldn't bear to see the look on the crew’s faces if you had to walk back in.

“Carmen you can’t” You reply rushed, as Carmen slid you into the passenger seat, before clicking on your seat belt for you. He cocks his head, before raising his eyebrows

“Oh, I can’t? Honey, the police don’t do their job and my baby get’s fucking hurt. Nah, that doesn't work for me” Carmen replies, before rushing to enter the driver's seat, shifting the gear into drive before speeding down the city streets. 

His focused on the road, his face unblinking and he grips the steering wheel until his knuckles turn white, you can’t stop looking at him, his gorgeous under the moonlight of the skies, his cheeks crimson from his tears, his cerulean blues calling to you like the sea, and the curl of his blonde hair falling like waves.

The view of your apartment complex comes into your vision as Carmen turns into the carpark in one swift move, you can’t stop the shake of your fingers and Carmen wants to slam his first into the steering wheel when he notices.

“You alright?” Carmen replies “You can stay here, I’ll grab whatever you need”

You want to stay, want to remain in the safety of his sleek tinted windows, but you want to face it too, and somehow that need is more important, he doesn’t get to win, no fucking way.

You unclip your seat belt, opening the door as you turn to him “You going to show me how you protect me or what?”

Carmen bites back a smile, god he was so fucking proud. He could tell you were scared shit less, and yet you fought through that fear, and god you mesmerised him. You were stronger than he could ever be, and he wanted to take that burden from you, carry it himself so you didn't have to.

Carmen jogs to the back of the car, reaching into the boot before the clunk of wood on gravel meets your ears. Carmen nods towards you, as he grips a bat under his arm

“He puts a bruise on you and i break all his fucking bones” Carmen replies, and you can’t stop the joy that image brings you

Carmen walks you to your apartment, waiting outside like a hawk, his bat tight against his grip as he watches the hallways, and for the first time in what seemed like forever, you feel infinitly and utterly safe.

You throw your toiletries into a bag, grabbing a few nights of clothes and your work shoes. You eyes flicker around your apartment, it had been home to you for the past 4 years, and yet it felt so foreign to you now, you had grown to attest this place, this place you had filled with so much of yourself, and you hate him so much at that moment, for making you feel this way about a place you had once loved.

You leave your apartment with the door shut closed.

Carmen carries your bag and places them back into the back seat of the car, and as he begins to walk towards the apartment of your neighbour you reach a hand out to stop him.

“Honey, I’ve got to-” Carmen begins before you shut him quickly

“I want to watch” You reply quietly, and Carmen’s eyes flicker, before lacing his fingers into yours, as you both knock on his door.

There's a grumble before the clank of a chain slides open, and his face appears as the door opens to him, you can see the illuminated light of his TV glaring, the floor covered with pizza boxes and beer cans. You see in real time, how his face morphs from anger into fear, his eyes dropping as he sees the way Carmen practically shakes, and the man isn’t able to let out a word, a protest or wail of a plea before the crack of Carmen's wooden bat swings through the air.

-- -

“Are you sure he isn't dead?” You reply, as you dip a washcloth into warm water, wiping away the blood across Carmen’s neck

“He isn’t going to die if I wasn’t the one causing it, besides, if he does, that’s God finishing off the rest of it”. Carmen replies, raising his face so that you cleaned the last of the streaks of blood splattered across his jaw.

Carmen reaches for your hands, pressing a kiss to the top of them as he looks at you in that way like he yearns for you to be closer. 

“You need sleep, but first you need to eat, yeah?” Carmen replies, shushing your protests and he carries you to his room in his arms, after he notices the exhaustion in your limbs. It’s dark, illuminated only by the wall to ceiling windows that look into the busy city streets and light up sky scrapers. 

The sheets are strewn across the bed, haphazard like Carmen had rushed to get them off of him in the early mornings. Carmen slides you into them, tucking you within the soft pillowy blanket, sitting on the edge as he caresses your cheek softly.

He leaves for a moment, rushing to make you something to eat, his skin crawling with a need to feel you against him, nearly tripping over himself as he walks back into his room with a bowl of soup and a bottle of water.

Carmen sits next to you again, pressing spoonfuls of soup into your mouth and wiping the edges ceremoniously as you rest against the headboard half asleep. 

You don’t notice the way he looks at you, like he's trying to memorise every dip and curve of your face, his fingers clutching the spoon tight like he’s going to break if he doesn't hold you against him.

“Honey?” Carmen replies hushed

“Hmh?” You reply, your eyes heavy as the comfort of Carmen's warmth spreads through you.

“Don’t ever scare me like that again, you tell me everything okay? Everything” Carmen replies pained, like the events that transpired somehow still were not resolved, like breaking the man's legs wasn't enough for him.

“Okay” You reply, and Carmen places the dishes onto the bedside table, leaving it to the morning because he can't keep you away from him any longer.

Carmen joins you in the bed, the left side of his bed finally taken by somebody for the first time in a long time. Tugging you against him, Carmen curls your body to lay against his chest, his fingers softly gracing your back, soft circles that had begun to lull you to a sleep you hadn’t felt in months, years even.

The beat of Carmen's heart joins with yours, together and entwined like how it was always meant to be, why had Carmen waited so long? Why had he let time pass without you tucked under him, safe within his arms and away from all the horrors of the world.

It’s only when Carmen notices the shift in your breathing, falling into a soft exhale before he even lets the whispers of sleep grip him within its grasps, his shoulders finally release from its tensed state once he knows you've finally fallen into a sleep that had been kept from you.

“You don’t know how much I love you baby girl, it fucking scares me, but I’ll keep reminding you until infinity if I have to, until you know it deep down like I do” Carmen mumbles out, his eyes falling heavy and you grips you against his chest.

You don’t really know how, but even between the state of sleep and consciousness, you hear him, and you whisper between the space in your bodies, that you already do.

[leeknow-thoughts]

୨୧ WAITING ROOM

𝝑𝝔 son of Athena!Lee Know x Cursed!Fem!Reader

𝝑𝝔 cw: Lee Know has mommy issues, Lee Know is immortal, reader is cursed, angst, suicide, mentions of self harm, mentions of gore and death, there is no happy ending, not very detailed smut, smut with feelings

𝝑𝝔 skz hyung line Greek god!AU m.list | skz maknae line Greek god!AU m.list

He always had hated his mother. Ever since adolescence, the thought of her made his skin crawl. He hated how she was brave, and how that meant he had to be brave. He hated how she was born from her father's head.

How she had a city named after her. How she was gracious to everyone except for him. How she cursed him with immortality.

He hated how he couldn't hate his mother. His mother cursed you.

Like everyone was to him, you were a glimpse. A glance taken around the lecture hall. Eyes mistakenly landing on yours. That's all anyone could be for him; a simple glance.

You were beautiful though, he noticed. At least to him you were. No other boys seemed to glance in your direction for very long. He took another look at you.

Your hair was pulled up messily, your shirt had stains on it, yet you were beautiful. You scribbled on a piece of paper at your seat across the lecture hall from him. Positively not paying attention to the biology professor in the front of the room.

You. You. He found you, yet again.

He remembered you suddenly, a blurry memory that he couldn't put the date on. Your hair. He recognized your hair. He saw it over all the lifetimes he lived.

But why couldn't he know your name? The name from your first lifetime.

"y/n!" he remembered screaming.

"Minho! Go run! Run!" you cried.

y/n, that was your name.

y/n.

The girl who died in Pompeii. The girl who he begged for his mother to spare, to bring back to him.

"Minho?" a tap awoke him from his thought.

He turned around to face you, it was you. "What's your name?" he immediately asked even though he knew you.

"y/n and you're Minho," you smile.

"You know me?" he asks.

You pause, "you don't know me?"

I've known you for eons he says in his head.

He thought of Pompeii. "Pompeii?" he questions out loud.

"You remember Pompeii?"

"I remember you," he whispered.

You had the blanket covering you from the coldness of your room. The landlord just wouldn't fix your heater, even if it was in the middle of winter.

"Fucking hell," Minho mumbles as he enters your room, "it's cold as fuck in here."

"You can thank my shitty landlord for that, he won't fix the damn heater."

"I'll get you an electrician, it's like below freezing in here," Minho mumbles.

"With what money?"

"Sweetheart I'm immortal, I have more than enough money to my name after thousands of years of existing," he reminds you.

"I forget you're literally like Edward Cullen, you freaking vampire," you chuckle.

"I am not Edward Cullen," he persists.

He was now laying next to you, "I am not as pale as him," he continues.

"Are you wearing jeans on my bed right now?" you look at him with disgust.

"Minho," you blurt.

The noise from the TV above the fireplace becoming background music in your ears. "Mhm," he hums, his eyes fixated on the TV screen.

"Are you brave?" you ask, "like, your mom is Athena, so are you like her, are you fearless? Do you have no quest too grand to conquer?"

He chuckles, "no, I'm quite cowardly," he replies.

"Why can't she live?" he begs his mother.

"Minho, she is still alive," his mother reminds him.

"Yeah but for how long? How long until she is gonna die? How long until I have to look for her in her next life?" he yells in despair.

"Minho she is cursed with reincarnation, you know there is nothing you can do."

"Minho?" you ask the boy who is laying next to you in bed.

He looks up at you, "make love to me?" you ask.

He is gentle when he makes love to you, just like always. He kisses over your skin and takes your breast into his mouth like always. But this time feels different. Like he is studying your body. Like this will be the last time he holds you.

You don't question his desperation, figuring it was just due to the lack of time you had spent with him recently.

He gently pushes into you and watches over every way your face contorts with pleasure. He holds you close to him as he buries himself inside your cunt. Mumbling sweet words into your ear while you cum around him.

Taking his time building up his own orgasm before spilling into you his seed.

"Minho," you call out to him, he perks his head up and looks at you, "tell me the story of how we first met," you request.

You curl up into his side, his arms draped around you lovingly.

"Well, we were both kids, living in the village next to Pompeii, your mother was a baker and your father was a farmer. Your parents prayed to my mother, and my mother sent me to bless them one night," he pauses, rubbing circles on your lower back, "and so I walked into your house, and was going to leave the money my mother had sent me to give to your parents but you saw me. You thought I was stealing from you," he chuckles at the memory, "and then instead of doing the logical thing like waking your parents up, you handed me a piece of bread and told me that I didn't have to steal food. D'you remember that?" he asks softly.

"Mhm," you nod your head, "and you told me your little secret," you recall.

He's never been more sure of anything in his entire life. This he knows, he knows he is tired of watching you die.

He knows he must die to break your cycle of reincarnation.

He holds the knife to his wrists and doesn't think twice before cutting them.

He'll wait for you in the underworld. And that is the only comfort he has as life leaves his body. Knowing you and him will one day be reunited.

You sit next to the headstone where he is buried and wipe away any of the dirt and grime that has accumulated on the surface.

The word 'brave' carved into the stone right below his name.

[sam-buck]

my biggest problem with 9-1-1 is the fact that they put plates with food still on them in the sink without scraping them off.

an example is in s1 ep1 before michael and athena argue she puts a plate of waffles in the sink.

NOT TO MENTION THE THOUSAND TIMES EDDIE DOES IT!

i hope their garbage disposals have the power of god bc if it's not their landlords fucking hate them.