#we need to be more kind and soft and understanding with ourselves about our experiences basically

[lesboylycan]

going to drink monster (especially in times when we need to self regulate) and not be afraid of talking about it as a "fuck you" gesture to our ex who

(A) pushed us into a mental breakdown because we decided to drink monster as a form of emotional regulation because we didn't have any other coping mechanisms available that were working under the excuse of being concerned for our health, in spite of us repeatedly telling them that we knew the risks. (keep in mind, we rarely ever had monster. meanwhile, they would regularly have multiple cans of monster in a day. we'd only had what amounted to a single can of monster, maybe one and a quarter that day.)

(B) said, word for fucking word, when we were feeling upset and hurt by things that they did, "we love you+ more than anything, but that doesn’t mean we’re gonna let you+ hurt us in your+ own self destruction" (meanwhile they'd. pushed us into a fucking mental breakdown. and bonus! they didn't even remember they said this when we later tried to talk to them about how much it hurt us, and continued to forget that this was the part that hurt us most in later complaints about us still being hurt when they'd never genuinely apologized!)

(C) refused to apologize or take responsibility for any part of it; the only times they would apologize for an entire year was in an effort to make us "forgive" them so we'd stop talking about it so they could stop feeling bad. they would repeatedly play victim and refuse to actually listen to why we were hurting.

(D) accused us of holding the incident over their heads as an excuse to hate them ("i wonder if you’ll hate us for this too / is this gonna be another monster situation? / are you gonna hold this over our heads when we’re just Worried about you+?") when we had been, quite understandably, fucking traumatized

(E) in the very last apology they made for the incident, while we don't think they were solely making it to make us stop being upset with them (since they did finally actually apologize for hurting us), their very first sentence was "i’m sorry we haven’t been as good of a partner as we thought we were". which um. if you're trying to apologize to someone for hurting them, those probably should not be the very first words you say before actually apologizing for hurting them!

and, in all, the time it took from point A to get to point E was from early/mid October 2022, all the way to mid October 2023. a little over a year. which, in my professional (angry, pissed off) opinion, is way too fucking long. and an extra fun fact: we were literally afraid to mention drinking monster to them at all, regardless of reasons why, even after point E happened, specifically because of this incident.

[estapa-edwards]

YOU LOOK GREAT - N. MOLDENHAUER

paring: Nick Moldenhauer x fem! reader

word count: 6.6k

requested? yes - "Sorry for borrowing your clothes" "Dont be. You look great in them" w/ nick moldenhauer

warnings: use of y/n. change of povs. 1st to third

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As I stepped onto the University of Michigan campus, I was filled with excitement and nerves. College was a whole new world, and I was eager to dive into everything it had to offer. Little did I know, one of the most impactful aspects of my college experience would be meeting Nick Moldenhauer.

Nick and I met during freshman orientation. He was a towering figure, with a friendly smile and an easygoing demeanor that instantly put me at ease. We were both assigned to the same dormitory, and as luck would have it, our rooms were just a few doors apart.

​​"Hey there," he greeted with a casual wave, his voice carrying a hint of Midwestern warmth. "You must be Y/N, right? I heard we're practically neighbors."

"Yeah, that's me," I replied, trying to match his easygoing tone. "It's nice to meet you, Nick. Looks like we lucked out with our dorm assignments."

Nick chuckled, running a hand through his tousled hair. "Definitely. Who knows, maybe we'll end up being the best of friends."

Little did I know, his words would ring true in the months to come. As we settled into our respective rooms, the proximity of our living quarters made it easy for us to strike up conversations whenever we crossed paths in the hallway or kitchen.

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One evening, as I struggled to navigate the maze of laundry machines in the basement, I bumped into Nick sorting through a pile of clothes.

"Need a hand?" he asked, flashing me a reassuring smile.

I nodded gratefully, relieved to have some company in the otherwise deserted laundry room. As we waited for our loads to finish, we chatted about everything from our hometowns to our favorite sports teams, discovering shared interests and mutual acquaintances along the way.

At first, our interactions were limited to passing hellos in the hallway or brief chats in the communal kitchen. But as the weeks went by, we found ourselves gravitating towards each other more and more.

I vividly remember one chilly October evening when Nick and I found ourselves studying in the common area of our dormitory. With textbooks spread out on the table between us and the soft glow of overhead lights casting a warm ambiance, we delved into a deep conversation about our respective majors.

"So, what made you decide to major in sociology?" Nick asked, genuine curiosity coloring his voice as he flipped through the pages of my textbook.

I shrugged, a small smile tugging at the corners of my lips. "I've always been fascinated by human behavior and societal dynamics. Plus, I figured it would give me a better understanding of the world around me."

Nick nodded thoughtfully, his blue eyes reflecting the flickering light of the nearby fireplace. "That's cool. I never would've guessed you were interested in that stuff. I always pegged you as more of a science person."

I chuckled, shaking my head. "Believe it or not, I actually considered majoring in biology at one point. But sociology just felt like the right fit for me."

Our conversation meandered from topic to topic, spanning everything from our favorite books and movies to our most embarrassing childhood memories. With each passing day, I found myself drawn to Nick's infectious energy and genuine kindness, his presence becoming a source of comfort and joy in the whirlwind of college life.

Before I knew it, our interactions had transitioned from sporadic encounters to regular hangouts. Whether it was grabbing lunch between classes or meeting up for late-night study sessions in the library, Nick and I were practically inseparable.

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One chilly evening, with the soft glow of the library's reading lamps casting a warm ambiance, Nick and I found ourselves huddled together at a secluded study table, surrounded by towering stacks of textbooks and piles of lecture notes. The gentle hum of students whispering and keyboards tapping provided the perfect backdrop for our intense study session.

As I struggled to make sense of the dense sociological theories sprawled across my textbook, I couldn't help but steal glances at Nick, who was engrossed in his own set of notes, his brow furrowed in concentration. His tousled hair caught the dim light just right, casting shadows across his chiseled features, and I couldn't deny the flutter of excitement that stirred within me.

"So, what do you think about this concept?" Nick's voice broke through my reverie, pulling me back to the task at hand.

I blinked, trying to focus on the page in front of me. "Um, sorry, could you repeat that?" I stammered, feeling a blush creeping up my cheeks.

Nick chuckled, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "I asked what you thought about this concept. You seem pretty lost in thought over there."

I bit my lip, trying to come up with a coherent response. "Honestly, I'm not sure. It's a bit abstract for my liking."

Nick nodded in understanding, his gaze lingering on me for a moment longer than necessary. "Yeah, I get that. Sometimes these theories can feel a bit...out there."

His playful tone sent a shiver down my spine, and I couldn't help but meet his gaze head-on, the air between us suddenly charged with tension. For a fleeting moment, it felt as though we were the only two people in the world, lost in our own little bubble of shared laughter and lingering glances.

As the hours slipped by and the library grew quiet around us, I found myself drawn to Nick in a way I couldn't quite explain. Maybe it was the late hour or the adrenaline of exam season, but something about the way he looked at me made my heart race and my palms grow clammy with anticipation.

And as we packed up our belongings and made our way out into the cool night air, I couldn't shake the feeling that our study session had been about so much more than just academic pursuits.

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The anticipation buzzed in the air as I made my way to the University of Michigan hockey arena, the excitement palpable with each step I took. It was game day, and as I navigated through the throngs of enthusiastic fans decked out in maize and blue, I couldn't help but feel a surge of pride for my friend Nick and the rest of the Wolverines team.

As I settled into my seat, the energy of the crowd enveloped me, filling me with a sense of exhilaration unlike anything I had ever experienced. The stadium lights illuminated the ice rink below, casting a mesmerizing glow over the gleaming surface, and I found myself holding my breath in anticipation of the game to come.

And then, as if on cue, the players burst onto the ice, their skates slicing through the frozen surface with effortless grace. Among them was Nick, clad in his signature jersey and helmet, his eyes focused and determined as he prepared to face off against the opposing team.

I couldn't tear my gaze away as the game unfolded before me, each play more thrilling than the last. From bone-rattling body checks to lightning-fast slap shots, the action was relentless, keeping me on the edge of my seat with every twist and turn.

And through it all, Nick was a force to be reckoned with, his skill and athleticism shining brightly as he darted across the ice, deftly maneuvering the puck with precision and finesse. With each pass and shot, he seemed to defy gravity, his movements fluid and effortless as he propelled the puck towards the opposing team's goal.

As the game reached its climax, with the score tied and the tension mounting, I found myself cheering louder than ever, my heart pounding in time with the thunderous roar of the crowd. And when Nick scored the winning goal in the final seconds of the game, sending the arena into a frenzy of cheers and applause, I couldn't help but leap to my feet in sheer elation.

Amidst the jubilant celebrations that followed, I made my way down to the ice, eager to congratulate Nick on his stellar performance. And as he skated over to greet me, his face flushed with exertion and his eyes shining with excitement, I couldn't help but feel an overwhelming sense of pride for my friend and all that he had accomplished.

"Great game, Nick!" I exclaimed, unable to contain my enthusiasm as I wrapped him in a tight hug.

Nick grinned, his breath coming in short gasps as he returned the embrace. "Thanks, Y/N," he replied, his voice hoarse with emotion. “I’m glad you came.”

Nick's gratitude washed over me like a warm wave, filling me with a sense of contentment that I hadn't realized I was searching for. His words echoed in my mind, each syllable imbued with a depth of emotion that tugged at my heartstrings in the most unexpected way.

A smile tugged at the corners of my lips as I pulled back slightly to meet Nick's gaze. "Of course, Nick," I replied, my own voice filled with genuine affection. "I wouldn't miss it for the world. You played amazing out there."

Nick's grin widened, his eyes sparkling with appreciation. "Thanks, Y/N," he said, his voice soft and sincere. "Having you here means a lot to me. It's like having my own personal cheering section."

I laughed, the sound bubbling up from deep within me. "Well, consider me your number one fan," I declared, playfully nudging him with my elbow. "I'll be here cheering you on every step of the way."

As we stood there, basking in the afterglow of the game and the warmth of each other's company, I couldn't shake the feeling that something had shifted between us. There was a newfound closeness, an unspoken bond that seemed to transcend the confines of friendship and venture into uncharted territory.

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I fumbled through my pockets, panic rising in my chest as I realized that my dorm key was nowhere to be found. With a sinking feeling, I recalled setting it down on the coffee table in my friend's dorm room across campus earlier that evening. It was already late at night, and the thought of trekking all the way back across campus to retrieve it was daunting, to say the least.

"Shit," I yelled, frustration boiling over as I glanced at my watch, the hands ticking closer and closer to midnight. How could I have been so careless?

Just then, I heard footsteps approaching from down the hall, and before I knew it, Nick appeared in the doorway, concern etched across his features.

"Y/N, what's wrong?" he asked, his voice laced with worry as he took in my distressed expression.

I sighed heavily, running a hand through my hair in frustration. "I forgot my dorm key at Sarah's place across campus," I admitted, feeling a flush of embarrassment creeping up my cheeks. "And now it's too late to go back and get it."

Nick frowned sympathetically, his brow furrowing in thought. "That sucks," he said, his voice tinged with empathy. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

I shook my head, feeling a pang of guilt for inconveniencing him. "I don't want to bother you, Nick," I replied, my voice tinged with regret. "It's my own fault for being so forgetful."

But Nick simply waved off my protests, his expression determined. "Nonsense," he declared, his eyes sparkling with determination."I'm not letting you wander around campus alone in the middle of the night. Besides, my dorm is just down the hall. You can crash on my couch for the night."

I blinked in surprise, caught off guard by his unexpected offer. "Are you sure?" I asked, feeling a rush of gratitude wash over me.

Nick nodded, a reassuring smile gracing his lips. "Absolutely," he replied, his voice warm and sincere. "Consider it a sleepover. We'll watch some cheesy movies, raid the vending machine for snacks, and before you know it, morning will be here and you can go get your key."

His words filled me with a sense of relief, and I couldn't help but feel a surge of affection for my friend and his unwavering kindness. "Thank you, Nick," I said, my voice soft with emotion. "I don't know what I would do without you."

Nick grinned, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "You don't have to thank me," he replied, his tone gentle. "That's what friends are for, right?"

"Right," I echoed softly, my voice tinged with gratitude. But beneath the surface, I couldn't help but feel a subtle shift in the air, a flutter of something unfamiliar stirring in the depths of my heart.

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As the movie played in the background, the dim light casting a cozy glow over Nick's dorm room, I couldn't help but notice the oversized hoodie I was wearing. It was soft and warm, the fabric carrying a faint scent of Nick's cologne that enveloped me like a comforting embrace.

"Hey, you're wearing my clothes," Nick remarked with a playful grin, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he gestured towards the hoodie I had borrowed.

I felt a flush of embarrassment creep up my cheeks as I glanced down at myself, suddenly self-conscious under his scrutiny. "Sorry for borrowing your clothes," I murmured, feeling a pang of guilt for invading his personal space.

But Nick simply waved off my apology, his expression warm and reassuring. "Don't be," he replied, his voice gentle. "You look great in them."

His words caught me off guard, sending a rush of warmth flooding through me. In that moment, bathed in the soft glow of the TV and surrounded by the comforting scent of Nick's cologne, I couldn't help but feel a sense of closeness that went beyond mere friendship.

And as we settled back into the couch, our shoulders brushing against each other in the intimate space, I couldn't shake the feeling that something had shifted between us, something unspoken and electric that lingered in the air like static electricity.

As the movie wound down and the credits rolled, Nick stretched his arms above his head, a contented sigh escaping his lips. "Well, I think it's about time I hit the hay," he said, glancing at the clock on the wall. "Got an early practice tomorrow."

I nodded in understanding, the warmth of the hoodie he lent me providing a sense of comfort as I curled up on the couch. "Yeah, I should probably get some sleep too," I replied, stifling a yawn.

Nick bid me goodnight with a gentle smile before disappearing into his bedroom, leaving me alone in the dimly lit living room. I closed my eyes, hoping to drift off into a peaceful slumber, but as the minutes ticked by, sleep eluded me.

Suddenly, a shiver ran down my spine as a vivid nightmare gripped my subconscious, sending me tumbling into a world of darkness and fear. I jolted awake, my heart pounding in my chest as I struggled to catch my breath, the remnants of the nightmare still haunting me.

Without hesitation, I sprang from the couch and made my way to Nick's bedroom, my pulse racing with a mixture of fear and desperation. I knocked softly on the door, my voice trembling as I called out his name.

"Nick?" I whispered, my hand hovering uncertainly over the doorknob. "Can I come in?"

The door creaked open, revealing Nick's concerned expression as he peered at me from the darkness of his room. "Y/N, what's wrong?" he asked, his voice laced with worry.

Tears welled up in my eyes as I recounted the terrifying nightmare that had shaken me to the core. Without hesitation, Nick pulled me into his embrace, his arms wrapping around me in a comforting cocoon of warmth and safety.

"It's okay, Y/N," he murmured, his voice soothing and reassuring. "You're safe now. I'm here."

And as we settled into his bed, our bodies pressed close together in the darkness, I couldn't help but feel a sense of peace wash over me

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As I blinked away the remnants of sleep, the warmth of the bed enveloping me in its comforting embrace, I couldn't shake the feeling of confusion that lingered in the air. Where was I? And why did everything feel so... different?

As I sat up, rubbing the sleep from my eyes, it dawned on me—I was in Nick's bed. Memories of the night before flooded back, the nightmare that had shaken me awake, and Nick's comforting presence as he held me close, soothing away my fears.

But as I looked around the room, I realized that I was alone. Nick was nowhere to be seen, leaving me feeling a pang of disappointment and confusion. Had it all been a dream?

Without hesitation, I reached for my phone, my fingers trembling as I typed out a quick message to my friends, recounting the events of the night before and the unsettling feeling of waking up alone in Nick's bed.

But as I made my way to the bathroom to freshen up, the sound of the front door opening caught my attention, sending a rush of adrenaline coursing through my veins. Was it Nick? And if so, where had he been all morning?

My heart pounded in my chest as I approached the doorway, the anticipation almost overwhelming. And then, as I stepped into the living room, my eyes widened in surprise at the sight before me.

There, standing in the doorway with a sheepish grin on his face, was Nick. He was clad in a rumpled t-shirt and sweatpants, his hair tousled from sleep and a guilty look in his eyes.

"Hey, Y/N," he greeted, his voice tinged with nervousness. "I, uh, didn't mean to leave you alone this morning. I had to run out for a bit, but I'm back now."

I blinked in confusion, unsure of how to respond to his sudden reappearance. "Oh," I replied, my voice barely above a whisper. "That's okay. I, uh, was just... surprised to wake up alone."

Nick's expression softened, a hint of regret flickering across his features. "I'm sorry," he said, his tone sincere. "I should've let you know where I was going. I just went to get your key.” 

As Nick's words washed over me, a wave of relief flooded my senses. The tension that had been coiling in my chest loosened, replaced by a sense of gratitude for his thoughtfulness and consideration.

"You went to get my key?" I repeated, my voice tinged with disbelief. "But... why?"

Nick shrugged sheepishly, his gaze dropping to the floor. "I know how much you hate running across campus alone, especially at night," he admitted, his tone earnest. "And after everything that happened last night, I just wanted to make sure you didn't have to go through that again."

His words struck a chord deep within me, stirring a swell of emotion that threatened to overwhelm me. Here was Nick, going out of his way to ensure my safety and well-being, even after a night that had undoubtedly left him exhausted and drained.

"Thank you, Nick," I said, my voice soft with emotion. "I... I don't know what to say."

Nick smiled, his eyes lighting up with genuine warmth. "You don't have to say anything," he replied, his tone gentle. "Just knowing that you're safe is enough for me."

Feeling Nick's arms wrap around me, pulling me into a warm embrace, I couldn't help but let out a shaky sigh of relief. His presence was like a comforting anchor in the midst of uncertainty, grounding me and soothing away the lingering traces of fear and doubt.

For a moment, we stood there, locked in a tight embrace, our bodies pressed close together as if seeking solace in each other's warmth. And as I buried my face in Nick's shoulder, inhaling the familiar scent of his cologne, I felt a sense of peace settle over me like a soft blanket.

"Thank you, Nick," I murmured, my voice muffled against his chest. "For everything."

Nick squeezed me tighter, his grip firm and reassuring. "Anytime, Y/N," he whispered, his breath warm against my ear. "I'll always be here for you."

And in that moment, surrounded by the gentle rhythm of Nick's heartbeat and the warmth of his embrace, I knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, as long as I had Nick by my side, I would never have to face them alone. With him, I felt safe, cherished, and utterly, unquestionably loved.

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The euphoria of victory pulsed through the air as Nick and his teammates celebrated their triumph on the ice. The cheers of the crowd still echoed in his ears as he made his way through the bustling streets of campus, the adrenaline of the game fueling his every step.

But amidst the jubilant celebrations and congratulatory pats on the back, Nick couldn't shake the feeling of restlessness that gnawed at his insides. Despite the victory, despite the adulation of the fans and the pride of his teammates, there was a sense of emptiness that lingered beneath the surface—a void that seemed impossible to fill.

So, without giving it a second thought, Nick found himself wandering aimlessly through the familiar streets of campus, the cool night air washing over him like a balm for his weary soul. With each step, he felt the weight of the world lifting from his shoulders, replaced by a sense of freedom and exhilaration unlike anything he had ever experienced.

And then, as if drawn by an invisible force, Nick found himself standing before Y/N's doorstep, his heart pounding in his chest as he hesitated for just a moment before reaching out to knock.

The sound of his knuckles rapping against the wood echoed through the stillness of the night, sending a rush of adrenaline coursing through his veins. What was he doing here? What had possessed him to seek out Y/N in the dead of night, with no explanation and no plan?

But before he could second-guess himself any further, the door swung open, revealing Y/N's surprised expression as she took in the sight of him standing on her doorstep, breathless and disheveled from the night's festivities.

"Nick?" she exclaimed, her eyes widening in shock. "What are you doing here?"

Nick's throat felt dry as he struggled to find the right words, his mind racing a mile a minute as he searched for an explanation. "I... I don't know," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "I just... I needed to see you."

Y/N's expression softened, a hint of concern flickering across her features. "Are you okay?" she asked, reaching out to gently touch his arm.

Nick nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Yeah, I think so," he replied, his voice steadier now. "I just... I wanted to be with you." 

As Y/N ushered Nick inside, a surge of tension crackled in the air between them, palpable and electric. There was a raw vulnerability in the way Nick looked at her, his gaze searching hers with an intensity that sent shivers down her spine.

"Thanks," Nick muttered, his voice husky with emotion as he stumbled into the warmth of Y/N's apartment. "I appreciate it."

Y/N nodded, her heart pounding in her chest as she guided him to the couch, his movements unsteady and uncertain. She couldn't help but notice the way his hand lingered against hers, the heat of his touch searing her skin even through the fabric of her clothes.

As she settled Nick onto the couch, a flood of conflicting emotions washed over Y/N—concern for his well-being, frustration at his reckless behavior, and a simmering undercurrent of something more, something she couldn't quite put into words.

"Here," she murmured, her voice soft as she handed him a bucket in case he needed it. "You should probably drink some water and try to get some rest."

Nick nodded gratefully, his gaze lingering on Y/N's face for a moment longer than necessary. "Thanks, Y/N," he said, his voice hoarse with gratitude. "You're too good to me."

Y/N forced a smile, her heart twisting with a mixture of longing and regret. "It's no problem," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. "Just... try not to make a habit of it, okay?"

Y/N's heart clenched as she watched Nick settle onto the couch, his features softened by the haze of alcohol. She wanted to reach out, to erase the troubled lines from his forehead, but she held herself back, the tension between them too thick to ignore.

"Goodnight, Nick," she murmured, her voice tinged with a mixture of concern and hesitation. "Call out if you need anything, okay?"

Nick nodded, his eyes heavy with exhaustion as he mumbled a barely coherent reply. And with a heavy heart, Y/N turned away, retreating to the solitude of her bedroom, where she could grapple with the whirlwind of emotions that threatened to consume her.

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But just as she was drifting off to sleep, a loud retching sound shattered the silence of the night, sending a jolt of panic coursing through her veins. With a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, Y/N bolted upright, her heart hammering in her chest as she rushed to Nick's side.

"Nick, are you okay?" she asked, her voice trembling with worry as she knelt beside him on the couch.

Nick groaned, his face pale and clammy as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "I... I think I puked," he admitted, his voice thick with shame.

Y/N's heart went out to him, her own discomfort forgotten in the face of his distress. "It's okay," she reassured him, her voice soft and soothing. "Let's get you cleaned up."

Together, they worked in silence, Y/N fetching cleaning supplies while Nick slumped against the cushions, his face drawn with exhaustion and embarrassment. And as they scrubbed away the evidence of his indiscretion, a quiet understanding passed between them, unspoken but palpable.

"I'm sorry," Nick whispered, his voice barely audible over the sound of running water. "I didn't mean to..."

Y/N placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, her touch a silent reassurance that he was not alone. "It's okay," she replied, her voice filled with compassion. "We all make mistakes. What's important is that you're okay."

As Y/N finished cleaning up the mess, she turned to Nick, her expression soft with concern. "Nick, do you want to take a shower?" she asked gently, her voice filled with compassion. "I can go grab you some fresh clothes while you clean up."

Nick nodded weakly, gratitude shining in his eyes as he met her gaze. "That... that would be great," he replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

With a reassuring smile, Y/N helped Nick to his feet and guided him towards the bathroom, her hand a steady anchor against his trembling frame. She couldn't help but feel a surge of sympathy for him, his vulnerability tugging at her heartstrings in a way she couldn't quite explain.

"Here, I'll go grab you some clothes," she said, her voice gentle as she squeezed his hand reassuringly. "Just take your time in the shower, okay? I'll be right back."

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As Y/N slipped into Nick's dorm room, the air felt charged with anticipation, her heart pounding in her chest with a mixture of nerves and excitement. She had come here with a singular purpose—to retrieve some clothes for Nick—but as she stepped inside, her gaze fell upon something unexpected.

There, sitting on Nick's desk, was a small velvet box, its lid slightly ajar to reveal the glint of polished metal within. Curiosity piqued, Y/N approached the desk, her fingers trembling as she reached out to lift the lid.

And then, as she gazed upon the delicate piece of jewelry nestled within the box, her breath caught in her throat. It was a dahlia pendant, its petals crafted from shimmering silver and adorned with tiny sparkling diamonds. It was exquisite, a breathtaking work of art that seemed to shimmer and dance in the dim light of the room.

As Y/N's eyes fell upon the exquisite dahlia pendant nestled within the box, her breath caught in her throat. The pendant glimmered in the dim light of the room, its delicate petals crafted from shimmering silver and adorned with tiny sparkling diamonds. It was a breathtaking work of art, a testament to Nick's thoughtfulness and attention to detail.

But as quickly as her eyes had landed on the pendant, Y/N felt a pang of guilt wash over her. She had never intended to stumble upon such a personal and intimate gift, and the realization that she had inadvertently invaded Nick's privacy filled her with a sense of unease.

With trembling hands, Y/N carefully closed the lid of the box, her heart heavy with regret. She had no right to pry into Nick's personal affairs, no right to intrude upon the sanctity of his space. And as she turned to leave the room, her mind filled with conflicting emotions, she vowed to keep the discovery to herself, to respect Nick's privacy and his right to keep his secrets.

Y/N reentered the room, her heart still fluttering with the weight of what she had discovered, yet determined to maintain a facade of normalcy. "I got your clothes," she announced softly, holding out the bundle she had retrieved from Nick's closet.

Nick looked up, a grateful smile spreading across his face as he accepted the clothes from her outstretched hand. "Thanks, Y/N," he murmured, his voice hoarse with gratitude.

Y/N returned his smile, though her mind was still reeling from the unexpected turn of events. She couldn't help but steal a glance at the closed box on Nick's desk, the image of the dahlia pendant etched into her memory.

But she quickly pushed aside her curiosity, focusing instead on the task at hand—helping Nick get cleaned up and settled for the night. With practiced ease, she guided him towards the bathroom once more, offering him a reassuring smile as she left him to his privacy.

*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨*

As Y/N entered the living room, her steps cautious and tentative, she couldn't help but feel a sense of unease gnawing at her insides. Nick was still there, slumbering peacefully on the couch, his features softened by the light of the morning sun.

With a heavy sigh, Y/N approached him, her heart aching with a mixture of concern and affection. She couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt for leaving him alone on the couch all night, but the events of the previous evening had left her emotionally drained and uncertain of how to proceed.

"Nick?" she murmured softly, reaching out to gently shake his shoulder. "Are you awake?"

Nick stirred, his eyes fluttering open as he blinked up at her in confusion. "Y/N?" he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep. "What time is it?"

Y/N checked her phone, noting the time with a furrowed brow. "It's almost noon," she replied, her voice tinged with concern. "You've been asleep for hours."

Nick groaned, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he sat up on the couch. "Sorry," he muttered, his voice sheepish. "I must have passed out."

Y/N shook her head, offering him a reassuring smile. "It's okay," she said, her tone gentle. "You needed the rest."

Nick nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Thanks, Y/N," he said, his voice filled with gratitude. "For everything."

Y/N returned his smile, her heart swelling with warmth at the sight of him. "Anytime, Nick," she replied, her voice soft. "Anytime."

As Nick rubbed the sleep from his eyes, Y/N couldn't help but notice the fatigue etched into his features. "You look exhausted," she remarked, her concern deepening. "Did you sleep okay?"

Nick nodded, though there was a hint of hesitation in his response. "Yeah, I guess so," he replied, his voice tinged with uncertainty. "I just... I've been feeling a bit off lately."

Y/N's brow furrowed with worry as she took in Nick's weary demeanor. "Do you want to talk about it?" she asked gently, reaching out to place a comforting hand on his shoulder.

Nick hesitated for a moment, his gaze flickering away before meeting hers once more. "It's just... everything feels so overwhelming sometimes," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "I feel like I'm constantly struggling to keep up, to meet everyone's expectations. And... I don't know, I guess I'm just tired of pretending like I have it all together when I really don't."

Y/N's heart ached at the raw vulnerability in Nick's words, the weight of his struggles evident in every syllable. Without hesitation, she wrapped him in a comforting embrace, holding him close as if to shield him from the world's harsh realities.

"You don't have to pretend with me, Nick," she murmured, her voice soft with understanding. "You can be yourself, flaws and all. I'll still be here for you, no matter what."

Nick's shoulders sagged with relief as he leaned into her embrace, the weight of his burdens momentarily lifted in the warmth of her presence. "Thank you, Y/N," he whispered, his voice choked with emotion. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

Y/N held him tighter, her own heart swelling with affection for the man who had unwittingly stolen it.

*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨*

As Y/N made her way to the arena, her heart fluttered with a mixture of excitement and anticipation. It was the biggest game of the season—a chance for Nick and his teammates to prove themselves before the playoffs—and she was determined to be there to show her support.

The atmosphere inside the arena was electric, the air crackling with energy as the crowd roared with excitement. Y/N couldn't help but feel a surge of pride as she watched Nick take to the ice, his determination evident in every stride.

As the game unfolded, Y/N found herself on the edge of her seat, her heart pounding in time with each pass and shot. The tension in the air was palpable, each moment filled with the promise of victory or the threat of defeat.

And then, in the final moments of the game, with the score tied and the clock ticking down, Nick seized his opportunity. With a burst of speed and skill, he maneuvered past the opposing defense, his stick connecting with the puck in a perfect shot that sailed past the goalie and into the back of the net.

The crowd erupted into cheers as the buzzer sounded, signaling the end of the game and a hard-fought victory for Nick and his teammates. Y/N couldn't contain her excitement as she joined in the celebration, her heart soaring with pride for the man she had come to care for so deeply.

As the players made their way off the ice, Y/N caught sight of Nick making his way towards her, a triumphant smile on his face. He pulled her into a tight embrace, his joy infectious as he spun her around in a whirl of excitement.

"We did it, Y/N," he exclaimed, his voice filled with elation. "We won!"

Y/N laughed, her own happiness bubbling over as she returned Nick's embrace. "I knew you could do it," she replied, her voice filled with pride. "I'm so proud of you, Nick."

Nick's smile widened at her words, his eyes shining with gratitude and affection. "Thanks, Y/N," he replied, his voice tinged with emotion. "I couldn't have done it without you."

Y/N's heart skipped a beat at his words, her smile widening as she gazed up at him. There was a warmth in Nick's eyes, a tenderness that spoke volumes without him having to say a word. In that moment, she felt closer to him than ever before, their bond strengthened by the shared experience of victory and celebration.

As the crowd began to thin out and the arena emptied, Nick turned to Y/N with a serious expression, a hint of nervousness flickering in his eyes. "Y/N, there's something I want to talk to you about," he said, his voice low with intensity. "Something important."

Y/N's curiosity was piqued, her pulse quickening with anticipation. "What is it?" she asked, her voice filled with curiosity.

Nick glanced around the nearly empty arena, his expression serious. "Can we talk after I get out of the locker room?" he asked, his voice tinged with urgency. "It's... it's something I've been wanting to say for a while now."

Y/N nodded, a sense of excitement tingling in her veins. "Of course," she replied, her heart pounding with anticipation.

*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨*

As Y/N waited outside the locker room, her anticipation grew with each passing moment. She couldn't shake the feeling of nervous excitement that coursed through her veins, her heart pounding in her chest as she wondered what Nick wanted to tell her.

Finally, the door swung open, and Nick emerged from the locker room, his expression serious yet determined. Without a word, he gestured for Y/N to follow him, leading her to a quiet corner of the arena away from prying eyes and curious onlookers.

Once they were alone, Nick turned to face Y/N, his gaze searching hers with a mixture of apprehension and longing. "Y/N," he began, his voice soft but filled with emotion. "There's something I need to tell you. Something I should have said a long time ago."

Y/N's heart skipped a beat at the seriousness in Nick's tone, her pulse quickening with anticipation. "What is it?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Nick took a deep breath, his eyes never leaving hers as he spoke. "I love you, Y/N," he confessed, his voice raw with emotion. "I've loved you for as long as I can remember, and I can't imagine my life without you."

Tears welled up in Y/N's eyes as she took in Nick's words, her heart overflowing with emotion. She had waited so long to hear him say those three simple words, and now that he had, she felt like she was floating on air.

"Oh Nick," she whispered, her voice choked with emotion. "I love you too."

Without hesitation, she threw her arms around him, pulling him into a tight embrace as she buried her face in his chest. In that moment, surrounded by the quiet of the empty arena and the warmth of Nick's embrace, Y/N felt like she was exactly where she was meant to be.

And then, as they stood there together in the quiet of the arena, Nick reached into his pocket and pulled out a small velvet box. With trembling hands, he opened it to reveal the dahlia pendant, its delicate petals gleaming in the dim light.

"I want you to have this," he said, his voice filled with sincerity. "As a reminder of my love for you, and everything we've been through together."

Tears streamed down Y/N's cheeks as she reached out to take the pendant, her fingers trembling with emotion. "It's beautiful," she whispered, her voice filled with wonder.

Nick smiled, a tender expression on his face as he gently fastened the pendant around Y/N's neck. "Just like you," he replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

I got a little too carried away when writing this. oh well, who doesnt love moldy

[mssr-crumpled-paper]

Gale and the Unperfect Victim

Here I am, back again with Gale posting cause I still have more thoughts on him as a character.

So, today, I read the phrase "the perfect victim" which is a myth often used to discredit the experience of female victims of SA, to dictate a way that victims of violence/assault are "supposed" to act. And when i tell you the concept of a perfect victim to anything immediately made me think of Gale, as well as the state of colonial resistance at large.

I'd like to preface with the idea that there is no "perfect victim" to any systemic crimes perpetuated. There is no one acceptable way of acting or responding to oppression or violence. With that out of the way let's get into the Gale analysis.

I often see people talk about Gale in this specific formula:

"I still don't like Gale as a character. His anger is understandable but [insert violent response to state sanctioned violence here].

There always seems to be such a conditional in the people's eyes of what is and isn't justifiable violence or resistance. To what means is a war just is one of the central themes of THG (or at least I believe so anyways).

Now this question raises a really interesting point about Gale's character. Obviously, Gale is meant to represent the other end of the extremist spectrum: kill all Capitol people indiscriminately, no matter their disposition and beliefs or levels of innocence; take down the Capitol at all cost.

This, coupled with the fact that Peeta represents the other end of the spectrum (do the right thing and hold onto conscience, choosing humanity for all ends) might present Gale as a heartless, cold killer.

Here we meet the instance of a "perfect victim." Subjected to seemingly relatively the same levels of oppression (some would even argue that Peeta suffered more), Peeta still continuously chooses to pacify. He represents conscience, which manifests in the way that he is soft spoken, generally kind/compassionate, white, blond, merchant's kid, unquestioningly devout, barely ever angry. Do you hear it? The sounds of a perfect victim, someone you're supposed to feel bad for because he didn't deserve any of this.

This view is revoked from Gale, someone who's fought, hunt, and kill all his life. Angry, harsh, not as well-spoken or charismatic, a possessive weirdo sometimes, and violent. His response to violence is almost always with anger, with the biting of the tongue until it bleeds, and then it explodes in everyone's face. "Gale is understandable, but..."

It makes me wonder how much compassion and understanding and help we can truly extend to a person who doesn't respond to violence the way he's supposed to. When they don't lay down and take it, or brood in angry silence, or extend a gracious forgiving hand. People would say he lacks humanity or compassion but I would wholeheartedly disagree. His dedication to his people, to his family, to his friends, to Katniss has manifested into anger and hatred for an imperial machine that has never cared if he died or lived.

I find it funny that somehow, this is always a trait demanded to be fixed by the oppressed. Even in post-war, post-apocalyptic movies where previous minority groups establish a closed community that's hostile to outsiders, that's a moral failing on their part. It fails completely to view the responsibility of the Capitol people, whose true extent of innocence can be argued against (how innocent are you really, when you're an exploitative force actively participating in the deaths and oppression of the lower colony-like districts).

Which then leads me to the posts I've been seeing about Palestine. So much focus on constant martyrdom, which is so important. SO important. But why are we turning our eyes away from their resistance? The truth of it is gratuitous violence is not their first choice, and resistance is always so ugly. We distance ourselves away from the violence to excuse ourselves of the need to have to justify the means to life of an entire people.

"By what standard of morality can the violence used by a slave to break his chains be considered the same as the violence of a slave master?” - Walter Rodney

Do I agree with everything Gale does? No. I won't attempt to justify his notions of violence, but I will beg you to situate them within the asymmetrical power context in which they’re committed.

[whoopsyeahokay]

Hey luv bug, I started my first fic I'm gonna @ you on it cus you inspired me. I might not be nearly as good at writing as you are but I'm really proud of it so far. I'm at 1.3k words rn and cant wait to post it. Just wanted to let you know that you truly are an inspiration and gave me the motivation to write. Hope you start feeling better soon. :)

my beautiful autumn soul 🌰😇🍂 i am so beyond proud of you for doing the Thing! and please listen to me when i say, in all my novice wisdom and experience, writing isn't about the words you use. it isn't about how you construct the sentence or whether or not you repeat words 1000 times. it's about translating an image onto a page and imbuing the emotion beneath that. it doesn't matter how. remember, you're unique therefore your writing will be unique, incomparable, no one will ever do it the way you do so you can't hold yourself up to any standard you believe exists.

to everyone else, i read the first sentence of our bb's story and it was already 👏 fucking 👏 diamond 🗣️ for those who are triggered by drug use and addiction, this gorgeous story is a very real, very impactful representation of that. it's beautifully written. submersive and visceral and dense with emotion. like, i cannot praise this enough. *whips @patrickispinky with a soft wooden spoon of love* child, do not ever in my presence say you can't write again bc those are lies that need to be ejected from your brain.

i literally can't express how incredible Sex, Drugs, Etc. (Wally Clark x reader) is. literally. our sweet bae has managed to capture the hollow despair and numbness of addiction, especially in someone so young, and it shook me.

again, if you're triggered by those themes, take leave and stay safe, but for those of you who aren't, i highly highly recommend. check it out and give our lovely summershine soul some love 🫶 this community is kind and mature and i thrive here knowing that we understand as a collective that if something isn't our thing, we're responsible for our own filtering; we have the faculty to back-arrow out of where we feel isn't our space; it's no one else's job to make the world a padded room for us 👍

to my bae, thank you for sharing such a profound and personal story with us. it can be scary and vulnerable but know that i'm along for the ride and i've got you 😉 doing something we enjoy though feel too new at takes courage, and to expose ourselves on such a public forum takes even more courage. you fucking slayed it, love ⚔️💖

Sex, Drugs, Etc.

October Sun

[cyberrose2001]

Hey could I get a request possibly? I was wondering if you could do Optimus with a human woman who is feminine and nice and a bit weird and has an upbeat attitude, but has scars on her face, had them before even meeting the bots and if you back her into a corner she can take care of herself. If someone asks about the scars, she is like “Other people did this to me. I’ve been through some shit”. Or if someone asks them if they would fix their scars the human is like: No. they end up being more understanding to Optimus stresses that he has to go through in the war cuz of their life experience, but also think life’s too short so you should enjoy it?

TFP Optimus x reader

Hi! Thank you for requesting! Here’s a drabble for you, I hope this is similar to what you had in mind. OP just needs an understanding shoulder to lean on sometimes, poor baby is too hard on himself.

Warnings: Slight mention of previous bodily harm, SFW.

Word count: 413

There wasn’t much these days that could beat you down; yes, there were times when your demeanour for life got low, but you’ve learned how to pull yourself out of those dark mindsets.

You’ve also learned how to fend for yourself, and you’ve got deep scars to prove it. A lifetime of no one to back you up, resorting to holding your own hand as you wandered through this cruel world. You never expected to share that same hand with a bot who shares similar struggles in life.

He had been your saviour, rescuing you from an untimely death at the hands of his foes. You could’ve defended yourself, or that’s what you’d like to think, but regardless you were determined to give thanks to him by lending him an ear—alien robot or not.

You’d learned about Optimus’ life story, how he came to be the great leader of the Autobots, a resistance to the ruinous behaviour of the Decepticons. He’s fought countless battles, successful ones and ones he still painfully reminiscences on. And he, too, has deep scars to prove it.

You’ve also told him about your own battles, mental and physical. Optimus had sat patiently with you on his shoulder, carefully listening to every detail. He began feeling a sense of comfort when you confided in him; it made him feel normal. Normal in the fact that even the smallest of creatures can overcome the darkest of hours and wear their scars with pride.

“You are a strong-willed individual,” He had said, “Life has not been kind to either of us, but your optimism for it is most empowering.”

When he asked about your old wounds initially, Optimus had thought that you would despise them and would regret asking you all together. But it was a pleasant surprise when you smiled at him instead. A soft smile that radiates through everything you touch and everyone lucky enough to be in your presence.

“I’ve seen and experienced some shit, Optimus. Things that I’m still haunted by.” You‘d remark, “But, if we let those things cloud our mind, well, what’s the point of living? We need to stay strong, not just for other people, but for ourselves.”

He’d keep those words nestled in his spark, and you would keep his to yours. Life could throw whatever it wanted at you both, but no longer will it leave scars; for as long as you had each other, you’d both run into the fire together.

[intheholler]

Been reading your posts about the accent and all, and I wanted to share two horror stories I wrote in my accent. :)

Knock Three Times

Ol' Knocky

Also it's interesting reading your posts about it - I've always been proud of my accent and my home and not exactly able to empathize with people who internalize the prejudice and turn against their home. So your posts are helping me see that side of things more.

Maybe it's because I grew up in Mount Airy, and of course we pride ourselves on Andy Griffith and Mayberry and all that. So maybe I got lucky and didn't grow up around the shame as much.

As for people assuming we're "dumb" - in 7th grade I scored high enough on the verbal part of the SAT to go to Duke's TIP program. There was a girl there from Tobaccoville with the thickest accent I've heard yet. I hope she kept it and I hope she's proud of it.

Anyway I love your blog and I hope you keep fighting the good fight. :)

hi, thanks! also thanks for being here contributing a counterpoint perspective.

i'll explain it how i see it personally: it isn't like the accent is just a collection of sounds or something equally as simple. it is one of the accents and dialects that carries on its back something much heavier. this has to do with code-switching, which occurs in all sorts of sociolinguistic cases.

it also isn't necessarily us 'turning away from home' (i'd like to address that further in a minute).

so to the sociolinguistic point:

in my case--and in a lot of cases given by those who have shared their stories with this community here--we are queer, non- or ex-religious people with leftist ideals. the opposite of what people are adamant about associating this region with.

the accent has become like a hallmark of that kind of behavior we don't align ourselves with but are still stereotyped and harmed by.

it seems to be a common experience that we want to hide the accent so we aren't automatically pegged as being the exact opposite of who we truly are.

because so many people, consciously or subconciously, revert to their misconceptions when they hear it, before we even have a chance to show them we're of like mind. i say this as someone who moved away from appalachia for several years. it's a thing. i promise.

so if you're trying to see it from our perspective, i think that's an important thing to understand. lord knows there ain't shit wrong with the accent itself. to me, it's home-y and warm, soft and familiar and hospitable.

it's what the accent unfortunately implies before we can get a word in edgewise. it isn't fair that we are made to feel this way, and i am hoping by reclaiming my own accent as i have been, i will be changing minds for the better.

but socially--its HARD. its EXHAUSTING. and code-switching has historically just been so much easier.

also--and i say this gently--i struggle with your idea of "turning away from home," because it reminds me of something regressionists in the south/appalachian south say about young people leaving the region, calling them traitors. this us-them mentality simply needs to be dissolved.

i am not turning away from my home when i protect myself from hatred and vitriol based solely on how i drawl my "i" sounds. my home has turned away from me.

it was always mine, always ours. my ancestors--our ancestors--were generous, loving, community-driven, hospitable folks. these hateful fucks have stolen what it once was and projected an awful image out into the world instead. that's not on me. all i can do is try to set it right again.

thanks again for your thoughts! <3

[sororalice]

On The Blessedness Of Mourning

A homily for the New Moon on October 2, 2024.

Dearly Beloved,

Blessed New Moon in Libra, and a double Libra, no less!

On this New Moon, I find myself in mourning. I am in mourning for Palestine and Lebanon, for Ukraine, for the victims of gun violence in America, and (always) for women, BIPOC, queer people, and the poor and disabled everywhere. I find myself praying fervently that all of those in need, all of those who have found themselves exploited, victimized, harmed, or in need find relief in the scales of blessed and divine Justice, however they—or you, dear reader—may know Her. May your tears be wiped away, your wounds and sicknesses be healed, and your bellies be filled.

So mote it be.

I am also in mourning for a very personal loss I should have felt 26 years ago, a loss that I hid behind a veil of guilt so I that didn’t have to feel it, the loss of a whole life that could have been but never was.

As such, I find myself moved to speak about that special grief that feels like a hole in our chests, that grief that feels like the end of the world. I find myself moved to speak about the sadness that sits quietly weeping at the side of an open grave, the loss that screams at the sky in the middle of a thunderstorm, the pain that sits in stunned silence at the end of a final phone call.

I am moved to speak upon mourning.

I have lost many people in my life, not just to death but also to time and change, those other absolutes of our natural world that stand next to death. And some people have lost me. The same forces that take people away from us can take us away from other people. There are the people who I thought were my best friends, the loves I thought would be forever, even the people who I used to be, the shards of crystallized self that once brought me into focus but, over time, ceased to serve me. I have loved and mourned them all.

And it has been heartbreaking.

Again and again, my heart has been split open, soft and vulnerable, laid bare by the past, by the memories and experiences that made me grow and change and become far more than I could have ever been without them. I have been hounded by thoughts that wound from behind, by the fantasies of what could have been (if only), and by the empty moments that are revealed by the absence of those we love.

And in these times, I have sometimes tried to avoid the feelings. I would drink or smoke or fuck myself into a temporary oblivion. I would hide myself in stories and music. And of course, as anyone who knows me can attest, I would find escape through endless hours of games.

I have always so loved games.

But life isn’t a game. The people we come to know and love during our lives are the really-real, the true truth. They give us some of the few signposts we can count upon to show us our way in a world that is often confusing and frightening. It is through seeing the good in others that we often come to admire the good. It is through seeing others be kind that we often come to value kindness. And it is through loving others that we often come to understand what it could possibly mean to be loved.

Unfortunately, this incredible joy, this continuous growth into a new creature based in love and shared vulnerability, comes with a price: it is temporary. Every person, place, thing, or situation we fall in love with, including ourselves, will come to an end. Even the universe as a whole, according to most accounts of the universe both scientific and mythical, will someday come to an end. The light will go stale, the darkness will grow tired, and the gods will sweep the floor and put the chairs up on the tables. The party will, at long last, be over. All over but the crying.

The mourning.

So what does it mean to mourn? What do we do when we wail over the dead, over the lost, over the endings of things we’d once felt like were forever? What is the meaning of our grief? These are questions so heavy that they can break our backs, can make us get stuck in our mourning, because whatever else mourning is, it is a process, and processes can get stuck, can get derailed, can get postponed. We can get trapped in our mourning, turn our mourning into a blanket that we pull over ourselves, nice and warm, until it becomes suffocating. We can fall in love with our mourning and make it a part of our identity.

At least, I know that I can.

But mourning is a gift, a way of honoring those people and situations that we love. We offer up our grief and tears, our sad and suddenly empty moments, to what has come to an end. We offer up our weeping and our beloved memories of what we once had on the altar of our love. They are a solemn treasure, given in honor of what was, and such a treasure is holy.

There are many who become impatient or annoyed by mourning, by the time that it takes and the energy that it uses. In our world, where “optimization” has become embraced as a universal good, mourning is singularly less than optimal. It grants no advantage over competitors in the market, it doesn’t gain likes or subscribers, and even worse, mourning doesn’t care about any of that…all mourning wants is to finish mourning. The “Spirit Of Mourning” wants our tears and our hours, our dreams and our memories, so how can we blame those who become impatient, who want us to “just get over it” and “move on”? They want us to be fun again, to be available again, to have space for them in our hearts again.

And the secret of mourning is that we will be fun again…someday. The tears will come to an end and we will find ourselves looking forward to the future again. As nature teaches us, Winter always comes…and it always comes to an end. But until then we must hold our tears tight. We must let ourselves mourn.

So let us embrace the crying, dear siblings. Let us embrace the sighing, the empty moments of staring into space. Let us embrace the terrible feeling of absence, that forlorn feeling of lack that feels like it will tear us apart. Because in that place of loss, of lack, of mourning, there is a beauty, a tribute, a loving offering.

So let us love each other deeply, dearly beloved, and let us miss each other when we are gone.

Let us mourn.

Happy New Moon.

In love,

Soror Alice

Art: Frederick Ellwell, “The Wedding Dress”, (1911)

[sentimentalscientia]

Ah, so Itsuki's species was one of those that could be made and didn't necessarily have to be born. That was one question answered.

Kelly shook his head. "Can't speak for others but Garou can't. Bad things happen if they do." He had no idea what would happen if a Garou were to mix with another type of creature but, having seen the results of people interfering with nature, he'd lay bets the results would be pure disaster.

"I'm sure she is," he said, neither confirming nor denying if he spoke from personal experience. "But that's not really what I meant. Learning how to fight is a given but if you're worried that aggression might become a capital-P Problem? Gotta be something beyond sparring." What the kid needed was an enemy to focus on.

Even if he'd tried to, Kelly wouldn't have been able to hide his shock this time. There was no need to hide the curiosity, because Itsuki so willingly volunteered the answers to any questions that might have been posed. The how of it all, the why. Although the why was... less than satisfactory.

"Why on earth would you give that up?" he heard himself ask softly, looking at Itsuki with a profound sadness and something akin to jealousy. "You were free. There was peace. How could you return to this?"

“Well that’s unfortunate I’d say. Pups develop in a certain way and can end up very strong. The one carrying them needs to be able to handle the damage they will accidentally inflict.” It was a very problematic thing considering how often pups would bruise or break their mother’s bones when testing out movement. He dreaded to think what might happen to one that didn’t hold such quick regeneration skills.

“Hmm. And just what do you think there would be beyond sparring?” The question was genuine. He’d noticed the sidestepping of his own question. Curious what was in the other’s mind.

The old wolf’s smile took on a different shape. Kind and gentle. A trace of sadness. But not for himself. “Because while life burdened me with nightmares I still occasionally fight against, it also blessed me with a strong purpose. With love.” His mind flittered from thought to thought. Trying to order them in a way that would make sense. “That caretaker gene you spoke of? I’m certainly in possession of it. It brings me such joy. But I understand it makes me beholden in a certain way. I’m trying to figure out how to properly convey this as I can see it makes no sense to you. I did give up a certain sense of peace and fulfillment. But to me…Well let me tell you a few things about my kind and see if it helps connect a few dots. My species has something called a blood rage. In books it’s written as blood madness. Complete ferality. For my kind, control is our most important resource. But sometimes things happen. Things that break us in such a way we lose ourselves. Then comes the blood rage. Our pain is so great the man side can’t endure. The beast side takes complete control. But the agony is so intense even that piece of us can’t handle it. It’s like being trapped in a dark pit with razors deeply stabbing, slowly peeling your skin. There is no chance of escape and the only thought, the only hope, is that maybe you can turn some of that pain outward. Lighten your burden by destroying all in your path. I experienced that when my mate died. That agony, that despair. I have never found the words to fully explain what that felt like. I slaughtered her killers and all their allies in the blink of an eye. Literally tore them apart. I was just about to stalk off deeper into the woods in search of more sacrificial lambs when something pierced through. A soft crying. It took a moment for my mind to properly register. But when it did….it was both like a pallet of bricks slamming into my chest and a weight being lifted off my shoulders. I recognized the sound. My little pup. So tiny at the time. Frightened and distressed. Crying for her parents to come help her. Crying for me, her protector, to do his job. It dragged me out of that pit. Knocked the sense right back into my head. And that’s exactly how I felt when that veil opened in the afterlife. She was grown. Having pups of her own. But that cry of distress. Of fear. It shook me to my core. Fully reminded me I had children that needed me. Needed a protector. A nurturer. Now I can’t say I don’t miss my mate or the pack on the other side. But I have a wonderful family now. Precious little grandpups that sit at my knees and beg for stories. A partner that is an oddly unexpected but perfect match. Pups that can count on me to watch over them once more. My pup has brought several more bundles of joy into this world since then. Each time she’s had that pain. But she’s never again had that fear because now she simply has to look the side and see me holding her hand and taking some of her pain. I have traveled as a lone wolf for stretches of years at a time. I have had to time and time again bury those I’ve grown to love. I am very well versed in just how tragic life can be. But what this life offers me now, it is well worth the cost of its burdens.”

[coursereview9]

(Courseslibrary.com)Dr Joe Dispenza - The Courageous Heart Meditations Course download

Dr. Joe Dispenza’s The Courageous Heart Meditations aren’t just meditations—they’re invitations. Invitations to wake up, feel your power, and step into a new way of being. He’s not just talking at you; he’s guiding you into the deep, sacred spaces of your own heart. You know that feeling when you sit with yourself, and it’s like the whole universe just gently whispers, “You’ve got this, baby”? That’s the energy these meditations hold.

At the core of Dr. Dispenza’s work is the idea that we can transform ourselves by changing the way we think and feel. But it’s not just a mental thing. No, honey, it’s a soul thing. These meditations are about connecting the head and the heart. They are about releasing fear, opening to love, and expanding into the magnificent, radiant beings we were always meant to be.

Every time you close your eyes and settle into one of these meditations, you’re giving yourself permission to go beyond what you thought was possible. To break free from old habits, old patterns, and limitations. You’re calling in the courage to be raw, real, and unapologetically YOU. This isn’t about some soft, sweet love—it’s the fierce, fearless love that burns inside, that will push you to rise, to heal, and to expand your life.

Dr. Dispenza helps us understand that every thought, every feeling, is a powerful energy that shapes our reality. By tuning into the heart and engaging with these potent meditations, we align ourselves with the frequency of who we truly are—limitless. When we connect to that heart-centered energy, we feel an inner peace that can’t be shaken. We become like a river of calm, flowing through the chaos.

It’s a spiritual kind of intimacy, a deep love affair with yourself. And the best part? It’s not a one-time thing. The more you practice, the more you experience that sweet, seductive shift in your life. Old wounds heal, your vibration rises, and you start attracting the beauty and abundance that’s always been waiting for you.

The Courageous Heart Meditations help you fall in love with the mystery of life. It’s all about surrendering and trusting that you are exactly where you need to be, even in the moments that feel uncertain or uncomfortable. There’s power in allowing yourself to be vulnerable, to feel the divine energy flow through you, and to let it guide you.

These meditations remind you that you are worthy. You are strong. And you are sacred. So, go ahead, darling, embrace your courage, and let your heart lead the way. The universe is waiting for you to step into your greatness. The magic is already inside you.

[harmonyhealinghub]

Embracing Softness: The New Paradigm of Strength Shaina Tranquilino May 24, 2024

In a world often characterized by its relentless pursuit of power and dominance, there emerges a quiet revolution, a paradigm shift that challenges conventional notions of strength. This revolution champions softness as the new emblem of resilience, empathy, and authentic power. In a culture that often equates strength with hardness, embracing softness is not only a counterintuitive concept but a transformative one.

Softness, far from being a sign of weakness, embodies a depth of character and inner fortitude that is often overlooked. It is the ability to remain open-hearted in the face of adversity, to show vulnerability without fear, and to approach challenges with a spirit of compassion and understanding.

In the realm of interpersonal relationships, the power of softness is undeniable. It fosters deeper connections, promotes trust, and encourages authentic communication. Rather than resorting to aggression or dominance, softness allows us to listen deeply, to empathize with others, and to respond with kindness and empathy.

Moreover, embracing softness requires immense courage. It takes strength to resist the urge to build walls around our hearts, to confront our own vulnerabilities, and to extend compassion to both ourselves and others. It is a radical act of self-love and self-acceptance, transcending the limitations of ego and embracing the full spectrum of human experience.

In leadership, too, the paradigm of softness is gaining traction. Traditional leadership models often prioritize assertiveness and control, but true leadership is about inspiring others through authenticity and vulnerability. A leader who embodies softness leads with empathy, humility, and emotional intelligence, creating a culture of trust, collaboration, and innovation.

Furthermore, the ecological and social challenges facing our planet demand a shift towards softer, more sustainable approaches. Rather than exploiting natural resources for short-term gain, we must cultivate a relationship of reverence and reciprocity with the Earth. Softness in this context means approaching our environment with humility, listening to its needs, and working collaboratively to nurture and protect it for future generations.

In essence, embracing softness is about embracing our humanity in its entirety. It is about recognizing that true strength lies not in domination or control but in vulnerability, empathy, and authentic connection. It is a radical reimagining of power—one that prioritizes compassion over competition, collaboration over coercion, and love over fear.

So let us embrace softness as the new paradigm of strength. Let us cultivate a culture that values empathy, kindness, and authenticity. And let us remember that in softness, we find the resilience to weather life's storms, the courage to face our fears, and the capacity to create a world that is more compassionate, just, and sustainable for all.

[shivanesboutique-blog]

Discover the Comfort and Style of Cotton Salwar Materials

Everyday ethnic clothing needs to be comfortable, but compromising on style? That’s not an option, particularly for Indian women who value both comfort and taste in their daily outfits. When it comes to everyday comfort, one cannot overlook the importance of a classic must-have clothing fabric: cotton salwar materials. 

You might be wondering why cotton? Because cotton is the best material to wear on an everyday basis. Its texture, breathable quality, and versatility make it the perfect go-to choice. 

Let's talk about the various kinds of cotton fabrics and their different characteristics. There's handloom cotton, which is simple and plain, and then there's block-printed cotton, which comes with different types of patterns. Each type of cotton goes well with different styles and what people like. 

Understanding the Different Types of Cotton Fabrics 

Cotton, known for its breathability, soft texture, and versatile quality has become an everyday essential in all Indian households. When it comes to cotton salwar materials, understanding the different types of cotton fabrics can help you choose better based on your comfort and preferences. 

Let's discuss the three main categories of cotton: lightweight, medium-weight, and medium to heavy-weight cotton fabrics. 

Lightweight Cotton Fabrics 

Perfect for warm weather and casual loungewear, lightweight cotton fabrics possess the most breathability and comfort. For cotton, fabrics like voile and lawn are popular choices, while silk cotton materials combine the softness of cotton with the classy shine of silk. 

Voile has a transparent, breezy feel that makes it ideal for creating salwars and salwar suits. This makes it a favorite summer must-have in India. Lawn fabric, known for its crisp and smooth finish, provides a glossy look while guaranteeing comfort for throughout the day. Batiste, another lightweight cotton fabric, offers a soft and gentle feel, making it a good choice for creating elegant salwar kameez sets. 

Medium Weight Cotton Fabrics 

Medium weight cotton textiles are adaptable for multiple occasions and festivities because they maintain a balance between the breathable quality and the additional weight of the fabric. This category includes textiles including twill, poplin, and chambray. 

Poplin fabric is tightly woven, so it's strong and feels smooth on the skin. It’s used for both casual and fancy salwar materials. 

Chambray looks like denim but it's lighter. It gives a laid-back but stylish vibe to salwar sets. Twill cotton, known for its diagonal rib pattern, provides structure, making it perfect for tailored salwar sets. 

Medium to Heavy-Weight Cotton Fabrics 

For cooler climates or occasions that require a more substantial fabric, medium to heavy-weight cotton fabrics are the go-to pick. Fabrics such as denim, canvas, and corduroy come under this category. 

While denim is commonly known for its rugged quality, it also offers versatility in creating chic salwars. Canvas’s durability, adds a functional feel to cotton salwar materials, perfect for adding a touch of functionality to your outfits. Corduroy, with its ribbed texture, adds a cozy element to salwars, making them ideal as winter wear. 

Shivane’s Boutique: Your Go-To for Sarees & Material Collections 

If you're in search of beautiful pure handloom silk sarees, ready-made kurtis, or fabric collections, Shivane’s Boutique is the perfect place for you. We know that shopping is not just an activity; it's an experience. That's why we are dedicated to curating only the finest sarees and materials, ensuring that every customer’s visit is nothing short of extraordinary. 

At Shivane’s Boutique, we pride ourselves on offering a diverse selection that caters to every taste and celebration. From the timeless handloom silk sarees to the exclusive material collections, our collection embodies sophistication and tradition. Whether you're dressing up for a special occasion, dressing for daily wear, or seeking the perfect gift such as tussar silk materials, our curated selection promises to fulfill your expectations. 

Shivane’s Boutique sets the standard for excellence with their commitment to customer satisfaction, in silk sarees and other clothing products.

For more: Discover the Comfort and Style of Cotton Salwar Materials

[malka-lisitsa]

Would you show kindness to someone that has had traumatic experiences like yourself, Katherine?

“WOULD YOU…” PROMPTS

"Depends on the situation. If they come out swinging no. If they betrayed me, no. It's not a brotherhood, we don't all band together. There's no secret pass word, no hidden tattoo so we can spot our own. Trauma changes people. Some of us stay soft and cry about it all the time." eLeNuH. "Some of us toughen up, kill off parts of ourselves, and learn to do what we have to do to survive." Like herself. "And some of us become our abusers and push our trauma on others." Klaus.

"The situation dictates how I react to someone with traumatic experiences. I'm not Elena Gilbert, I don't have the security team I need to just be offering kindness to whoever I cross paths with. I can't grantee what kind of trauma survivor they are and I can't risk them being that third kind that I stated. So I can't give you an answer for sure, since I'm not even sure what the kindness you're asking about would be."

This isn't to say in the past Katherine hasn't been kind to other's with trauma. She doesn't make it a habit, but on occasion she tends to tough love the people she sees Katerina in. On occasion she tries to do for them what no one did for her- but its a rare case, considering she can't afford projects.

Perhaps if she were more self aware of her own defense mechanisms and her bpd she might be a little better at understanding certain types of interactions, but she isn't and therefore assesses most aggression and lashing out as a threat rather than a defense mechanism.

[healinghoneybee]

I dreamed you played your music and dressed up and lived your life. I dreamed I saw my old Roomate Oscar get defensive when he brought a gun somewhere he shouldn’t. I was with Sara. I said stay away from people who don’t feel sorry and can’t admit they made a mistake. It seemed obvious to everyone else when I said it… then why did I stay and fight for so long? Why did I try so hard to reflect for you and convince you? I easily accepted Oscar could not be helped, he had to learn to apologize on his own. So why did I try so hard to help you, so hard I hurt myself? I guess that is what happens when we love a person so much but our love is misplaced. We hurt ourselves trying to keep it when we don’t see the truth of who that person really is, their flaws too, the person hurting you now. we hurt the person we loved trying to help them because we try to show them truths that are painful when they’re not ready to be faced. It hurt me deeply that in hindsight what you’ve learned if you were to date a SA survivor is “I would’ve avoided the whole situation”. It hurts deeply that you regret dating me and would avoid it if you could. Yes you hurt me so I hurt you back with the truth of how you made me feel. But isn’t the truth worth something? Can’t you value the lesson that your actions impact other people? Even though this pain triggered deep pain and I suffered deeply, I would not say I feel I “wasted my time”. Yes I may have said that at the beginning, who wouldn’t when they’re on fire? we can always revise, feelings about the situation will change with time. That is what post-traumatic growth is, it sucks for a while because it’s traumatic but over time pain will teach us something. Don’t regret and avoid pain. I am not perfect, I’ve blamed you for causing me pain rather than accepting this growth present. This shit wrapped gift that doesn’t feel like a gift right now. It feels like just another harm I have to heal from and I’m angry because I love myself and there is a gap between what I’m getting and what I deserve. But look at all I’ve learned. Look at me tending to my deepest wounds and nurturing myself. This will only benefit me in time the deep connection and self love I am showing myself. I’m not here to avoid pain. I loved and I’m angry because I deserve better and trauma has honestly stolen my life force and taken years of my life and my sexuality and so much from me. Rape is a stealing and it is wrong and no one should experience it. I thought I could not handle more pain. But I have to believe with support I can heal and expand my capacity to be with painful emotions. The human spirit is incredible.

I fought with you because I wanted to know you were on my side.. but I guess I wasn’t exactly on yours either and I think that I forgive you because you hurt me because you loved but didn’t quite know how to respect and love me. Sometimes love is not acting on it, it is recognizing you have the power to hurt someone and doing everything in your power not to, which may be leaving them be to heal their trust with others who have learned what they need to be ready to earn trust. it may mean to thrive in community with others who understand. It’s okay you didn’t know to do that. The universe has other plans. Even though the universe keeps giving me pain and I’m confused why it thinks I can handle fucked up trauma, I have to believe I haven’t done anything wrong. I have to believe something better is coming. I cannot let the rape steal my hope and faith in my future. I deserve to have a softness and kindness and safety in my future, even if I have to learn to cultivate it deeply within myself.

[rankvisionusa]

Unveiling the World of Perfumes and Fragrances: A Fragrant Journey

Welcome to our fragrant oasis! We’ve got this awesome ecommerce business that specializes in perfumes and fragrances. With a vast collection of over 100 brands, including renowned names like Yves Saint Laurent, Britney Spears, Givenchy, Gucci, Ralph Lauren, Christian Dior, Bvlgari, and many more, we’re here to indulge your senses. But wait, that’s not all! If you have little ones in your life, we’ve got something special for them too. Our website, Baby and Clothing, is all about creating comfort for those adorable little angels, offering everything from baby clothes to toys and all kinds of items related to babies, infants, and toddlers.

If you’re curious, keep reading as we take you on a fragrant journey through our world of perfumes and fragrances and our cozy haven for the littlest members of your family.

Exploring Our Fragrance Wonderland

A Perfume for Every Mood

At our online store, you’ll discover an extensive collection of fragrances that cater to every mood and occasion. Whether you’re gearing up for a romantic evening, a day at the office, or simply want to feel refreshed, we’ve got you covered. From floral and fruity scents to musky and woody notes, our perfumes offer a symphony of aromas that can uplift your spirits and make a lasting impression.

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With over 100 brands to choose from, we pride ourselves on offering an array of options that cater to diverse tastes. Are you a fan of timeless classics like Chanel or a follower of contemporary trends like Ariana Grande? No matter your preference, our collection has something to match your style. You can explore and select perfumes from renowned designers and celebrities, ensuring that you’re wearing nothing but the best.

Perfumes for All Budgets

We believe that everyone deserves to indulge in the luxury of scents, no matter their budget. That’s why we offer a wide range of perfumes at various price points. You don’t have to break the bank to experience the joy of wearing a high-quality fragrance. We’re committed to making luxurious scents accessible to everyone.

Expert Advice

Choosing the perfect perfume can be overwhelming with so many options. That’s where our expert advice comes in. Our team of fragrance connoisseurs is here to assist you in finding the scent that resonates with your personality and preferences. We’ll provide you with tips and recommendations, ensuring that your perfume selection is a delightful experience.

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If you have a little bundle of joy in your life, you’ll love our collection of baby clothes. From tiny onesies to soft and cozy pajamas, we offer an array of adorable options that prioritize comfort without compromising on style. Dress your little one in the cutest outfits that are perfect for both playtime and sleep.

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Keeping babies entertained is a full-time job, and we’ve got just the right tools for it. Explore our selection of baby toys that are designed to stimulate their senses and aid in their development. From rattles to plush toys, our range ensures that playtime is both fun and educational.

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We understand that parenting comes with its fair share of challenges. That’s why we offer a wide range of baby gear and accessories to make your life easier. From strollers and car seats to feeding bottles and diaper bags, we’ve got everything you need to ensure that both you and your little one are comfortable and happy.

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[idaoftheburningmind]

Big

You swear, and you plead, and you don't even understand what you're asking for because he's already giving it to you….

That line there, that line right there perfectly describes our experience of this chapter; a chapter that’s the hottest yet in this series that already burns with blue fire and pure white heat.

It’s something that @becauseicantthinkwritings does, raising the bar for herself and then surpassing it, leaving heaving, breathless bodies (ours) in her wake. When we first saw the earliest drabbles for this series, we could never have imagined finding ourselves here: following a tense face off with (also hot) priest Matt, apartment-hunting as the devil (or this particular demon) intended, and having the closest encounter yet with cock-rocket supremacy (I said what I said).

The chapter already opened strong from the first paragraph:

Two men sit, facing each other angrily. One has devoted himself to his religion, prides himself on the strength of his morality, the other, has killed more people than this church can hold.

Then Billy snarled and Matt smirked and we were there for every word, Chelsea giving us front-row seats to the big d…d-dude energy duel we never knew we needed.

At the new apartment, the Reader’s self-deprecating realization and Billy’s reaction to it…. I think my own eyes turned black as they rolled back in my head, only to have the process repeat as the Reader went through escalating stages of:

… Your nails scratch at the countertops, willing some level of destruction onto the cold marble, trying to unravel something the way he unravels you.

What’s endlessly amazing about Chelsea’s writing is how she’s able to layer the intensity of what her Readers are feeling so that the nuance of every sensation levels and remaps our landscape with the kind of power that creates new continents.

… your pleasure is his and only his to do with it whatever he pleases and the pressure builds in your head and it builds and builds and spills from your mouth and curls your toes and still it's all Billy and the power he wields over you.

The words already lay us flat and Chels is only getting started. So when she writes “You hum against his lips, eager for anything he has to give you,” we recognize ourselves even as we yearn to be the one Billy places “gently onto the dark sheets and making you feel like a person about to be thoroughly worshipped.” Of course it didn’t escape us that he redid the ambience of that bedroom for her, and especially this moment with her.

You can hardly believe that this is your existence. Here, below a breathtaking demon who caters to your every need, who makes you feel safe and protected and appreciated like no one else before.

What we’ve always loved about Chelsea’s demon Billy is how he looks after the Reader. He may have other motives (corruption, as mentioned by Matt), but from the day he spared the Reader’s life, we’ve believed with all our hearts in how much he cares for her.

"I'm sorry I'm so big," Billy murmurs above you…

THAT is himb being caring too. Asddkglkjhfahalakkh…..

The scenes that play out afterwards are also beautifully written, if a little (or a lot) frustrating especially for the characters. The outcome is on the soft side of angst, but still replete with that alchemical mixture of fluff and smut that Chels specializes in.

It’s a chapter though that won’t stop giving, even if we think we’re boneless with satiety. When Billy whispers the words "I'm no ordinary man", the only option we have left is to surrender wholly to what he intends next.

You become something unfamiliar. Something wanton, that thrives on his tongue, yearns for the way his fingers hold to your hips, keeping you steady amongst your wriggling. He makes you his, he makes himself yours.

It’s subtle, the way Chels clues us in on their deepening connection. Even if Matt hadn’t told them, we see in the way Billy and the Reader interact that something powerful and lasting is growing between them. Even before the Reader thinks, “…Because as insane as it might sound, you wanted to share your life with him, permanently”, she already had a reassuring realization.

Your eyes are closed, you reach for him in your head, surprised to feel your warm affection returned.

That their feelings are mutual is so wonderfully plain, we set this fic down in such a state of bliss that we almost miss the wood chipper in the corner.

And it’s got Dmitri’s name on it.

An Altar For Our Sins

Part 7 // Masterlist

Demon!Billy Russo x Female Reader

Warnings: so much where do I start, Smut (18+), tail fucking, fingering, oral sex, come drunkness, an attempt at penetrative sex which stops due to pain, restraints, a little display of tail choking, jealousy, thigh fucking.

Happy New Year babes!

Two men sit, facing each other angrily. One has devoted himself to his religion, prides himself on the strength of his morality, the other, has killed more people than this church can hold.

"I could kill you right now without batting an eye." Billy says easily from his spot beside you.

"He's not going to kill you, I promise." You speak up, trying to deescalate the tension in the room.

Matt turns his head to face you, giving you a sweet smile which you can't help but return even if he can't see it.

"We just want some answers." You say, trying to keep your tone nice and soft and airy enough to keep the peace.

"Ask away." Matt permits.

"How'd you lose your eyesight?" Billy asks invasively.

"Billy!"

Matt grins.

"It's fine. I was in an accident when I was a kid, some really toxic chemicals got into my eyes. I'm not totally blind though, I do have partial eyesight... but it's just mostly shapes."

"Oh, I'm sorry." You say, sympathising with such a traumatic event.

"It's really okay, losing my sight sharpened my other senses and helped me develop a sixth." Matt turns his head to Billy, the smile dropping from his face, "I bet that answers your next question."

Billy rolls his eyes.

You try not to laugh at both men clearly despising each other.

Matt had initially been skeptical about speaking with Billy in the first place. But after pleading with him, he'd allowed you both the opportunity to ask questions in his office, pertaining to his ability to recognise you.

You saw Matt as an asset, possibly even a friend, Billy saw him as a stain, to be wiped out.

"Mistress," Billy says to you, "It would take me a minute to make his death look like an accident."

"No, Billy." You emphasise.

Matt gives Billy a smug smile.

"Down boy." He taunts.

Billy's out of his chair almost immediately, striding angrily to Matt, sitting on the other side of his desk.

You move too, sliding between the desk and your angry demon, a calming hand on his chest.

"Hey," you whisper to him, and his red eyes meet yours, "Please? We just need some answers and we'll be done soon."

Billy takes a deep breath, eyes reverting to brown, he nods before taking a step back.

You turn to Matt a little angry at his disrespect.

"He doesn't have to be bound to me. He could kill me just to get to you."

At the same time, both men speak.

"He wouldn't do that."

"I would never do that."

You swallow, glancing back at Billy, a little perplexed by his overall reaction to Matt. Why did this one priest make him so angry?

You turn to Matt next.

"How do you know that?" You ask softly.

Matt takes a moment, before extending his hand to you, palm up for you to take.

You hear Billy let out some type of low growl as you place your gand in Matt's, but you're unable to pay him any mind, too focused on what Matt could possibly be sensing. Something deep inside you calls out to let him go, to step back and spit in his face and you frown at the irrational thoughts.

"Whatever chance Billy had to get rid of you is long gone. There's so much of his energy wrapped around you that killing you would kill a part of him."

Your lips part in shock.

"What? How?" You ask.

"The longer you stayed bonded, the stronger the bond grew. It would have cost him nothing to kill you when you first met? Now? It'll take a part of him too." Matt explains.

You turn to look at Billy, his eyes are on the floor, doesn't meet yours at all.

He knew, and he still kept you alive.

"What if I die?" You whisper, and you feel a sharp pain move through the space between your lungs at the thought.

"Depending on how strong the bond gets, it could kill him too."

The thought squeezes your throat till you can't breathe, and still Billy won't meet your eyes.

"It's unbreakable right?"

"Yes... but... distance and time apart can weaken it some."

To Billy, you whisper softly.

"When I'm close to death we can try that? So part of you won't have to die with me."

Those words finally make him look up angrily, with irises turning red.

"You expect me to leave you before you die? I don't care if part of me dies with you, I'm not leaving your side."

You open your mouth to protest and he shakes his head.

"Even if I could, it would put us both in an unquantifiable amount of pain to be apart."

You close your mouth, turning back to Matt.

"Is that it?" You ask softly.

"I can also sense that he wants to corrupt you."

You swallow at the thought.

"What demon doesn't?" You ask rhetorically, and instead of waiting for Matt to release your hand, you pull it away.

You sigh, rubbing where Matt was touching to wash away the sensation of his hold, you avoid Billy's gaze.

"Thanks, Matt." You say, appreciating the difficulty of the situation you'd put him in.

"Anytime... and you can always come to me if you need help." You turn to look at him, "You... not him." He emphasises.

"I understand," you say with a smile, bidding him goodbye as you exit his office with your demon trailing behind.

There's something of a tense silence between you, something you hate because it makes everything feel awkward between you and you didn't like it one bit.

"Mistress." Billy finally calls.

You pause, looking back at him in the church aisle.

"I'm sorry." he finally says.

"For?"

"This entire thing. I'm sorry it happened."

You swallow, nodding.

"I'm sorry too." You supply.

The corner of his mouth twitches, his hands are deep in his pockets and his shoulders are hunched and you think this is the first time he's let himself be this vulnerable.

"What could you possibly be sorry for?" He asks in amusement.

"Everything," You answer, "We've just been dealt really shitty hands by the universe and I'm sorry for that."

He smiles sadly, stepping forward, he wraps his arms around you. You eagerly return the hug.

"It's less shitty with you." He finally whispers into your hair. Your arms squeeze him tighter in agreement.

~~~

"Maybe I was jealous." Billy murmurs, opening one of the kitchen cupboards to peer inside.

You pause your examination of the countertops.

You'd been searching for a new apartment ever since you found out that the people that had tried to kill you knew where you lived. In true Billy style, he'd narrowed the search down to some very upscale apartments that he felt were the safest, and now you just had to pick one from his carefully curated list.

"Jealous? Billy... there's no need to be jealous of Matt. It's not like- I mean- I doubt I'm even his type." You say, crossing your arms to look at him. The conversation you were having right now had come up after he'd made a displeased comment that this apartment was only a couple of blocks away from Matt's church... to Billy's dismay.

He closes the cupboard door to look at you.

"Explain."

You make an exasperated sound at the back of your throat.

"Circumstances aside, he'd never go for me anyway, I doubt I'm the type he goes for." After a few seconds of contemplation, you speak again, "Hell, I doubt I'm the type you'd go for."

"And what does that mean?"

You throw your arms up in exasperation.

"Do I have to spell it out for you? I'm weird and awkward and... and ugly!" You heave in air, turning away from him.

"Wanna know why I'm a girl well into my twenties and still a virgin? Well it's cause no one I like wants to fuck me. Obviously."

Before he can say anything, the realtor, who'd been in the other room taking a call, steps in.

"How is everything going? Are we feeling good about this one?" She asks with a voice that's way too excited for the embarrassed way you feel.

"Alice." Billy says her name, in a calm way and you keep your eyes fixed on the floor length windows.

"Um, yes?" She responds.

" I'll give you double if you give me the keys right now and go home."

You swallow, finally turning to look at him in surprise.

Alice, who's brain has just caught up to the profit she stands to gain from accepting, speaks up.

"Consider it done, I'll be back tomorrow with contracts and payment plans drawn up." She pulls the key from her pocket and hands it over to him.

"Sounds great. Have a nice day." Billy says, accepting the keys.

Alice pauses for a second, before nodding her head and grabbing her purse to walk out the door.

You have so many questions coming to mind as you hear the door shut. There was no way that renting or buying such a high end apartment had been so easy. No way.

But while you had been waiting to speak, Billy had had a lot more in mind. He's striding up to you angrily as the front door shuts.

His body against yours, you gasp as he grips your shoulder tightly to keep you from backing away from him, not that you could as he traps your body between his and the kitchen counter.

"Let's get one thing clear," he murmurs angrily, his eyes going red swiftly, his tail wrapping around your hips to press your body tightly to his.

"I have yearned to fuck you from the minute I laid my eyes on you." He says hotly, and you can't help swallowing as pure, unadulterated heat flushes through your body.

"Every night, I think about being inside you, when you're fast asleep beside me, curled into me, dreaming your pretty little dreams," His lips graze the shell of your ear, "I think about how badly I want you, how much I need every clench of your cunt, every drop of your wetness, to be because of me."

You're not sure you're breathing anymore.

"And I know how irrational that is. Not even you have control over who you get wet for, and yet I ache for it anyway."

You breathe a sigh of his name, aroused right now because of his words.

"Be realistic," you try to protest, "You would have never even looked my way if we weren't bonded." The truth of the words almost choke you, you can hardly meet his eyes.

Billy lets out a rough sound of frustration. He presses further against you, burying his face snugly against your neck, holding you as tight as possible to his body as he can. He dwarfs you in size, his large frame enveloping yours easily.

"You're wrong," You gasp in surprise as his fingers find the button of your jeans, undoing them easily and pushing them down your thighs, "You're so wrong."

He strips your bottom half, and you don't even think to deny him, your body's memory of the pleasure he can give is too potent for resistance.

You shiver with delight when he lifts you, sitting you on the edge of the countertop and spreading your legs.

Once again, he looks between your open thighs for a long time before he licks his lips, a hot, languid feeling spreading through you like molten lava.

"I can't remember the last time I wanted something as bad as I want you." Billy whispers finally, before he drops his head to seal his lips around your clit.

You moan in surprise and delight.

You can barely hold your body up as you feel his tongue begin to work over you.

A blissful moan leaves your mouth at the eager way he licks over you. Your nails scratch at the countertops, willing some level of destruction onto the cold marble, trying to unravel something the way he unravels you.

You swear, and you plead, and you don't even understand what you're asking for because he's already giving it to you.

The worst thing is that he moans, enjoying the way you taste, and the way he makes you feel. Briefly, your brain reminds you that he can feel this, he can feel the pleasure swimming in your veins, and he knows exactly what he's doing to you and it makes you almost feral to be as close to him as physically possible.

It's almost too much for your body to handle. The way you feel for him, and the pleasure he wrings from you and the sensastion of his rough, slippery tongue exploring every inch of your most sensitive parts like he owns you wholly and your pleasure is his and only his to do with it whatever he pleases and the pressure builds in your head and it builds and builds and spills from your mouth and curls your toes and still it's all Billy and the power he wields over you.

Your entire body shakes when your orgasm hits. With the force of a tsunami, the brilliance of lightning coursing through your veins, aftershocks that don't slow down until he manages to pull his tongue away from your dripping center.

You gasp, heaving in air, unable to focus, or think with that much bliss drunkening your every nerve.

He leans up, an insistent hand cupping the back of your neck so that he can push the taste of your release into your own mouth. Like a doll, you accept it, limbs too pliant to stop him, mind too hazy to even consider denial.

You hum against his lips, eager for anything he has to give you.

"So," he whispers softly, his tail trailing over your thigh, "I don't wanna hear you say a bad thing about yourself ever again. Understood?"

You pout.

He laughs, pressing his forehead against yours.

"Dont give me that. Be a good mistress and do as I say."

"But I'm the one in charge," you whisper hoarsely, "you need to do what I say."

Something dangerous sparks in his eyes.

"Really?" He challenges, and the next thing you know he's lifting you off the counter, grinning at your sound of surprise.

You curl against him, content with wherever he's taking you.

"You're my demon," you murmur cheekily, "not the other way around."

"Am I?" he inquires, dropping you onto the soft black leather couches of the living room.

"Mhmmm." You hum and affirmative, letting him turn your body however he likes, until you're almost bent over the back of the couch, facing the magnificent floor length windows that overlook the city.

You gasp in surprise when he tears your shirt in two, tugging your bra off as well, until you're naked and dishevelled before him.

You don't get a chance to turn and look at him, before you feel his front cover your back, skin on skin, telling you that he's shed his clothes as well.

His tail wraps around your midsection, you hum in appreciation at his gentle caresses.

You gasp when you feel him spread your thighs, and you tense when he manages to slip his cock between them.

He lets out a blissful sigh of relief, one that goes right to your head and sinks down to your core. You can feel his cock, using your arousal as a lubricant to slide between your thighs. The head of his cock even reaches so far that it bumps your clit, and you find yourself fisting the soft leather of the couch.

His hands on your hips, his stature behind you is large and imposing, trapping you against the couch so that he can fuck your thighs however he pleases.

"I think about fucking you like this all the time." He whispers in your ear, and your eyes flutter shut, clenching as his cock slides along the outside of your cunt.

"I could do anything I want to you right now," To prove his point, he pulls his tail away from your midsection, and wraps it around your neck. You open your eyes in surprise, titling your head up to look at him when he pulls your back flush against his chest.

You let out a small cry when his fingertips meet your stiff nipples, aching for his attention. 

"So while you may be my mistress," he bends his head till his lips meet your ear, "Don't forget who's in charge."

When you orgasm this time, it's completely unintentional. His words are directly responsible, and you whimper and cry as wave after wave of bliss overtakes you, more of your arousal soaking his cock.

When you can breathe without being overwhelmed with pleasure, emarrassment overtakes you.

"S-sorry." you murmur.

Billy grabs your jaw, keeping you face turned towards him so that he can lay a harsh kiss on your lips.

"For. Fucking. What? Being so sensitive for me that your pretty body can't handle it? Making me fucking ache to be inside you so bad?"

Your stomach tingles at his words, he presses his forehead to yours. Your eyes are closed, you reach for him in your head, surprised to feel your warm affection returned.

"I can't believe I have this much self control. I want you so bad I can't stop thinking about it. But I know you're not ready, and I'm not trying to force you. I'm happy with whatever you want to give me, and I'd love to be your first if you'd have me. I've thought about that too."

You're not even sure that he's still talking to you, and not just rambling thoughts that spring to mind.

"You have?" you ask, hoping not to break him from whatever trance he was in.

"Of course I have, of course. It wouldn't be like this," He murmurs, most likely indicating to the position he currently had you in, pressed between the couch and his body, your back to his warm front.

"What would it be like?" You ask, "Show me."

He pulls his forehead away from yours, blinking down at you.

"What?"

"Show me... how you'd take me the first time."

He shudders out a breath.

"Sure?" he asks.

"Yes." You confirm.

"Well it wouldn't be here." He says with determination in his voice, leaning away to turn you around, wrapping your legs around his hips, his hands sliding under your behind before he picks you up. You wrap your arms around his neck to hold on, pressing your head to his collarbone with a little giggle of surprise.

"I'd do it on a bed, so that you're relaxed and comfortable and open for me."

He walks you into the bedroom, that you didn't have a chance to look at before he'd decided to take the apartment.

It's beautiful, with black walls and dark bedsheets and blackout curtains that satisfy a hidden craving within you. The only lighting is below the bed, and behind the mirrors in the room, making everything awash with a soft glow instead of a harsh, direct form of light.

Even the headboard is backlit, and it soothes you, reminds you of the devilish man holding you, placing you gently onto the dark sheets and making you feel like a person about to be thoroughly worshipped.

His eyes glow in the darkened room, taking slow, deep breaths in what you think is his attempt to calm himself.

"What next?" you whisper softly, wondering how far you're willing to let this go.

"Next, I'd get you comfortable, make you come on my tongue a couple of times." He murmurs, crawling towards your parted legs.

You stop him with a foot on his shoulder, making him pause his preadory pursuit to look up at you.

"What if I'm already comfortable?" you ask, hoping he understands.

Predictably, he does understand, and he smiles, moving your foot away so that he can crawl up your body instead.

He hovers over you, red irises meeting yours, you can't help shiver at the sight of his large frame and defined muscle.

"Then, if you're nice and comfortable, I'd start you on my fingers. Would you like that?"

"Yes please." you murmur on a breath.

A small smile on his face as you feel his hand trail over your skin. Over your hip, he swirls a couple of circular patterns before cupping your mound.

You can't help gasping, sensitive to the sensations he gives you.

You part your thighs, to give him more space, and he smiles in approval of your actions.

"I'd start slow, with just one finger." As he speaks, he carries out the action, pressing a single finger to your dripping entrance.

Pleasure sparks within you as your body accepts his lone finger easily, pumping until your leg begins to twitch, before he's withdrawing from you to add a second finger.

You hiss in surprise, the smallest hints of discomfort at first before the absolute pleasure of fullness.

You sigh blissfully, body sinking deeper and deeper into the soft sheets, gasping in surprise as he draws his tail up to wriggle gently against your clit. You clench around his fingers helplessly.

"I'd tell you how good you're being for me, mistress, so eager and ready to give me your wet little cunt. How happy that makes me. How badly I want to please you."

You groan.

"Want a third?" He asks easily, and nothing could ever hope to stop you from nodding yes.

"Breathe for me." He guides, and you try to do as he says while he works a third finger into you.

He does it well, moving in and out slowly, letting your arousal coat his fingers before he continues, pumping in slow little motions that cause pleasure to overshadow the uncomfortable stretch.

He leans down, his tongue extending to lick over your breast.

You gasp, clenching around him, his tail on your clit and his fingers inside you and suddenly you begin to burn with the too little stimulation.

"Need to cum, Billy, please, 's too much I-" You gasp, unable to finish the sentence.

He understands, he always does.

Everything increases.

The speed of his fingers and the movements of his tail and even his tongue hastens its licking on your breast until you're shaking once more and you can't stop youself and you don't want to.

One of your hands reaches into his hair to grip it harshly, a low cry as he plays you like an instrument, fiddling with your body until you have no choice but to orgasm, back bowed, body shaking, vision going black in the bliss.

It's so amazingly good, it's all you can feel, pure euphoria, a loss of your faculties as he lays claim to your body and your pleasure.

When you come to, it feels like you've sunk even deeper into the sheets, gasping as his face comes in to focus.

He cups your face, and he waits patiently for the tremors to subside, his fingers petting along your cheek in a subtle attempt to bring your reality back into focus.

You can hardly believe that this is your existence. Here, below a breathtaking demon who caters to your every need, who makes you feel safe and protected and appreciated like no one else before.

It almost feels like a perfctly magnificent dream- until you remember the circumstances of your meeting, something that reminds you that this is indeed real, and this demon hovering over you, that holds you while you sleep and eases your aches, wants to be here.

In a small voice, you speak.

"What happens next?"

A sharp grin and a kiss to your nose and he's sliding his cock between your thighs once more.

"Next, I'd press my cock against your needy little cunt. I'll use my tail this time to show you."

Though it's not phrased as a question, he waits until you nod to begin working his tail against your entrance.

You sigh in bliss as his tail works its way into you, like a familiar feeling with brand new pleasure, not stretching you as wide as his three fingers were just doing moments before.

There's a little pinch of soreness from the overuse of your body, but it's easily ignored by looking into his crimson eyes.

"I'm sorry I'm so big," Billy murmurs above you, moving his hips in time with his tail, grinding his cock between your thighs to give you a realistic simulation, "no matter how much I stretch you, our first time together is still going to hurt a little."

"It's okay," you gasp, though, in reality, you weren't complety sure it was, "I'll learn to take you." There's a determination in your voice that you hope he hears.

His tail goes in a little deeper at the sound of your words, causing you to cry out sharply in pleasure.

"Do you mean that, mistress? You'd learn to take me? All of me?" His hands smooth over your thighs, touching your skin, tracing it with his fingers before leaning in to kiss you eagerly.

It was some type of torment, to have his cock so close and yearn for it to be inside of you with no hope or possibility of getting him there- at least not tonight. His warm skin pressed to yours, his tail taking its time, working in a steady, mindbreaking rhythm inside you.

When he pulls away from the kiss, you get your chance to speak.

"I mean it," you try to speak between waves of pleasure, "I want your cock, Billy, want you to teach me how to take you."

He pressed his forehead to yours and groans.

His pace increases, until his hips are slapping against yours, the vibration adding to the pleasure of his tail inside you, adjusting his angle just right until your toes are curling and his name is leaving your lips more than normal breaths.

Your walls clamp down around him, thighs shaking as liquid fire burns through your body, an orgasm that sends cascading shockwaves down your spine. Your nails sink into his back and bicep, no fear of hurting his rigid from with your little fingers. You thrash below him, tears spilling from your eyes when your body choses pleasure above breathing and leaves you floating for a moment before you're dragged back into consciousness.

He's kissing at your cheek, something so soft and gentle, body enveloping yours as though he hopes to protect your from any external forces.

His beard scratches along your face and something inside of you snaps.

"Billy." You whisper, and you find that your voice is hoarse though you barely remember screaming.

"Mistress?" he calls, and you clench around his tail, that hasn't left you yet.

"I need your cock. Now."

A moment of hestation.

"Mistress-"

"-I need you to at least try." You say, cutting him off, "Please, please, please, please, please." You emphasize, wiggling your hips.

Still Billy tries to resist.

"I don't want to hurt you."

"Just try? Please? For me?"

You hear him take a breath.

"For you," he agrees, "Promise to tell me if you want to stop?"

You nod eagerly.

"Promise."

He pulls his tail slowly out of you, and immediately adjusts his hips so that the head of his cock is pressed to your entrance.

"Fuck." He swears.

His cock slips from your entrance, and he moves a hand down to guide himself back.

Then, he's pressing in.

You take a deep breath, mewling as the head of his cock notches into you. You gasp, blinking, trying to come to terms with the incredible stretch you're experiencing.

He's inside of you, and it's the greatest sensation, until he tries to press in more, and encounters resistance.

Suddenly there's a lot more pain, and you gasp, trying to breathe. Billy's eyes locked on you, his jaw clenched tight, eyes a dark red that you've never seen before.

He pauses, waiting for your okay to continue.

You nod your head, taking a slow breath.

When he tries to push in more, the pain overwhelms the pleasure, and your body shuts down. You squeeze your eyes shut.

"Stop- I- I can't." You cry, unaccustomed to pain so sharp in that region of your body.

For a moment, he doesn't move, and you have to peek your eye open to meet his.

His eyes have gone all black, and the unfamiliarity of the situation has fear scraping at your insides. You try to back away, and he grips your hip in warning.

"Easy," he whispers so softly that it makes you relax, reminding you that this was your demon hovering over you, and not some untamed beast that he had managed to look like in the moment.

He takes his time, easing out of you so that he doesn't hurt you too much, and you sigh in relief when he's out, your core throbbing from overuse.

Billy's eyes are still black, when he reaches a hand down to begin stroking his cock.

"I need to cum, please. Can I?" He begs, fucking his fist knelt between your thighs.

Your mouth parts in shock at his desperation. His shoulders tremble, his abdomen tightens, his teeth glint in the light like they never have before. A snarling, raging beast all because he'd been inside of you for a short time.

"Mistress." He growls, bringing your focus back to his question his need to have his own orgasm.

Your head spins with thoughts.

Where was he going to cum? On your pussy and thighs? What a waste of cum that would be.

"In my mouth." You rush out, springing up and readjusting your body so that you're on your hands and knees in front of him.

Billy groans, watching you bring your mouth closer to the head of his cock, leaning in to place a gentle kiss on his tip. Tentatively, you suck the smooth head of his cock into your mouth, moaning at the delectable taste of his precum and something extra- a tart taste of you.

"Fuck!" he gasps, and you take him as deep into your mouth as you can, swallowing as he comes.

You close your eyes, listening to his harsh breaths as he releases into your mouth, he tastes the same as last time, something that is not a favourite, but has the potential to be an acquired taste.

You enjoy each drop of his release, and it doesn't take long before your head begins swimming with haziness.

You suck him as best as you can, making sure he has no more to give, before pulling off of him and looking up with grateful eyes.

"Couldn't let you waste your cum," you try to explain, "when it's one of my favourite things."

Billy lets out a harsh breath, the darkness of his eyes slowly retreating into his pupil.

You hold his gaze, blinking slowly as inebriation overcomes you.

You crawl your way up, wrapping your shaky arms around his neck, rubbing your cheek against his chest.

"Smooth." you appreciate.

He grips your chin, and you mewl in protest when he tilts your head up to examine your eyes.

"You're cum drunk again." he says.

You giggle.

"I'm Billy drunk." you correct, swaying in his arms, after a moment you frown.

"I'm sorry I- that I made you-"

"Don't apologise for that. Ever. I never want to hurt you."

You wrap your arms around him, squeezing him as tight as physically possible.

"You're unreal." you murmur, rubbing your cheek against his chest.

"What's unreal, is how badly I need to taste you again."

You can't help laughing, thinking that he was joking.

"Something funny, mistress?"

"You are, Russo. Don't men need a break after they come?" You begin to turn away from him, mind already hazily reminding you that the bathroom was a good idea.

You don't get a chance to move too far away from him, before he's grabbing your wrist, turning you back to him and pushing you flat onto the bed.

Your head hits the pillow, a sound of surprise leaving your lips, eyes widening.

"I'm no ordinary man." He whispers against your lips, before giving you a cheeky smile and moving his way down your body.

It's poitively mind-blowing. You lose all sense of time and location, drifting throught the darkness behind your eyes while he uses his tongue on you, delving where he pleases, almost uncaring in the way he easily manipulates you into each orgasm. When you try to push him away, your skin hot and flushed with the overabundance of pleasure, he uses his influence to bind your hands above your head.

You become something unfamiliar. Something wanton, that thrives on his tongue, yearns for the way his fingers hold to your hips, keeping you steady amongst your wriggling. He makes you his, he makes himself yours.

His cum in your system does you no favours, it heightens your senses, increases the sensation of his touch, until you're trembling, until you're pulling at his restraints, begging for him  to consume you whole and leave nothing behind.

When he's done, he holds you tightly, to his warm chest, little puffs of air disturbing your hair while you drift easily into sleep, his tail wrapped securely around your thigh, reminding you that there's nowhere on earth you can go, where he cannot find you.

It's the best feeling in the world.

~

When he wakes up in the morning, he's eager to make the apartment yours. He uses his influence to move all your things over from your old apartment, he even cleans and replaces any furniture he doesn't think you'd like. Perhaps it would be a good idea to go shopping too, to get anything extra you'd like.

Billy finds himself smiling while he whisks eggs.

~

"Mistress," Billy murmurs in your ear, his hands snaking over your hips, your amusement and affection increasing, "I can tell how much you like it. Please let me buy that lamp."

You study the blue stained glass lamp a second time.

"It's just too much Billy I couldn't possibly-"

He groans, spinning you on your heel to pinch your chin and bring you in for a kiss.

You sigh, happily, uncaring about the public space you were in, too caught up in your delectable demon to care. You throw your arms over his shoulders, standing on your toes, you feel the way he delights in rubbing his tongue against yours.

"Life is too shitty for you to deny yourself the things that you want." He says when he breaks the kiss.

You laugh, wondering idly how you let him convince you to leave the apartment for long enough to get anything done.

Your eyes crinkle, bumping your nose against his. Yup, you definitely wanted to take him somewhere secluded so you could jump him.

He groans again, catching the general idea of what you were thinking.

"I meant the lamp." He tries to clarify.

"Of course you did." You tease.

he rolls his eyes, pulls away from you to find a sales clerk.

Somehow, even after buying so many things, you don't even have to haul it out of the store, Billy handles everything, from paying to delivery arrangements, he gets it done, and all you had to do was pont at items and they were yours.

Ours, you think, turning to look at him, busy writing something down.

Because as insane as it might sound, you wanted to share your life with him, permanently.

You only wonder if that's something he wanted too.

While he's giving the woman at the counter payment and delivery instructions, you begin to turn in boredom to look around, accidentally bumping into someone as you move.

You smile, murmuring apologies, and they do the same politely before walking off.

A vaguely familiar masculine voice calls your name in surprise, and you turn, your stomach dropping as you catch sight of your ex- best friend.

The taste in your mouth sours as Dimitri approaches, the last interaction you had together springs to mind as if it's just happened, as if it was just yesterday he was calling you a 'spiteful bitch' because you wouldn't have sex with him.

Distaste shivers down your spine as he smiles at you. You take a shallow breath, mouth forming into an abrasive smile in hopes of warding him away.

It doesn't work, he only gets closer.

You freeze when he moves to hug you, pulling up short as his eyes make contact with something- or rather someone behind you.

"Who's this?" he asks casually, referring to the six-foot demon man ready to rip him limb from limb if he tried to touch you again.

You swallow nervously.

.

.

.

[typing-noises]

writing angst

hello hello! it’s your favourite angst connoisseur (audrey btw) here to deliver a brief guide to writing angst. this post will cover what signifies as writing ‘angst’, how to do it and how to do it well. buckle in, folks :D

introduction

what is angst? the definition of the word angst from the merriam-webster dictionary is ‘a feeling of anxiety, apprehension or insecurity’. the definition of angst in the world of writing is a bit different. angst in writing revolves around character journeys and scenes with angst intend to invoke strong emotion from the reader.

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writing angsty sensitively

we already went into this sort of thing in our ‘writing queer characters’ post, but I do think it’s worth going over. a lot of times, we write characters that go through experiences that might not be something we’ve gone through ourselves. in these times, it’s super important to do your research and maybe even talk to someone who understands this specific challenge. when writing these un-lived experiences, writing them in a way that devalues or romanticises certain issues does a disservice to anyone who has gone through them. finding sensitivity and/or beta readers is always great for getting the input of multiple readers :)

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word of warning

the problem with angst is that you need to be really careful about not using gratuitous amounts of angst instead of plot and using pain for the sake of getting readers to feel sympathy for your characters. things like tragic backstories and un-foreseen events need to happen for a reason.

heaping a ton of angst onto one character for the sake of garnering reader interest is something that we would definitely caution against. every facet of a tragic backstory has to go towards influencing the eventual goals, motivations and conflicts of characters. for any negative event, showing the impact that it has on a character makes it so much more meaningful in shaping what kind of journey they go on.

for example, maybe there’s a character who experienced a fire breaking out in their family home. then maybe because of this negative event, they have long term health problems due to smoke inhalation and/or apprehension towards fire. this character might encounter more issues later down the line because of how this event has created such a severe impact.

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balancing it out

when it comes to writing angst, balance is key. it’s really easy to get caught up in giving your characters the worst time of their lives ever…you want your characters to go through a journey, to even put your readers through the wringer sometimes (it’s tempting, I know). to write effective angst, what you need is balance.

angst is one of the ways that readers can connect with a character but it’s not the only way. balancing heavier moments with lighter moments allows for not only less overwhelm for your readers, but also for scenes with higher intensity to hit even harder. it’s difficult to appreciate the dark without the light, think of them as complementary forces.

or example, reading about a soft, loving scene between a family before seeing the separation of said family would definitely make the latter part more impactful. moments of humour, relief and comfort can do so much for not overwhelming your readers with scene after scene of heightened emotional tension.

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a light at the end of the tunnel

characters retaining their hope and humanity will be all the more beneficial for both them and your readers knowing that everything is going to (maybe) turn out okay. when treating the adding in of lighter moments as a reprieve for your readers, think of it as a reprieve for your characters too.

like any other person in real life, your characters can seek out ways to make their situations more bearable for themselves. these can be things like small successes. it’s not allowing them to win every single battle but more like having little wins alongside the losses. these happier moments can even serve as a glimpse into what the future could be like for your characters, like a light at the end of the tunnel.

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conclusion

thank you for reading to the end of this post! I had a lot of fun doing this one and see you guys next time :) - audrey