#and that perhaps maybe. for real for real instead of just TELLING myself hard enough a lie that i trust my self and i trust my body and tha

[masuchu]

“𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆?” [WRIOTHESLEY]

what happens when your gaze is hopelessly bound to those seemingly innocent, but inexplicably lewd handcuffs your boyfriend constantly carries around with him? ‧₊˚

genre. smut! nothing actually happens, but the entire thing is extremely suggestive, mentions of bondage & punishment, manhandling lol

pairing. wriothesley x reader

love, masu. ah, i think this is an amazing way to get myself back into writing on this blog again! my real writing style is finally being shown haha, none of that sickly, too cute stuff. hope you enjoy!!!!! let me know if you want a part two :))

Wriothesley always spoke with such a sultry, sickening tone that left you feeling your heartbeat in places you usually do not. Perhaps the gentle rasp was what left you so at his mercy? Or maybe, the simple yet defined vocabulary he used when explaining his day, or in other, more intimate moments, what he would like to do to you.

Having said all of this, why could you care not a shred for his words this very moment? Why were absolutely none of his sentences registering in you hazed mind? Instead of paying attention like a lover should, you had your hungry eyes pinned on those alluring, metal cuffs dangling from his belt. The images they conjure, the activities they connote: it all left you salivating and shuddering in the office of the infamous Duke. (Or in terms more personal to you, your lover.)

“Like I said, the prisoners become rowdy when they get bored. I’ll need to implement— Sweetheart, are you listening?” Wriothesley’s eyes dragged across your abnormal, quivering form and he mentally concluded that something was … distracting you.

You jumped out of fear of your daydreams being exposed, but also in mild concern of the daydreams themselves and their insatiable nature. Nodding fast like a guilty toddler, you blurted,

“Oh, I have never been better! Whatever gives you the impression I am not okay?”

The man in question took a careful glance at your wide, doe eyes and stiff form. Suddenly, his head tipped back just an inch or two, and a low chuckle departed from his lips. (The action having a much more arousing effect on your nether regions than you would ever admit.)

“I said ‘are you listening’, not ‘are you okay’. Well done for exposing yourself, sweetness.”

If only he knew what else you were hiding, you thought gravely to yourself. In a naïve belief that he had unknowingly saved you from a mortifying admission, you attempted to go along with his interpretation of your abnormality.

“How silly of me! I really am not with it-!”

Your hips were suddenly locked in solid grip, hard enough to invoke deep, purple bruises along your skin, and you were yanked into a firm but comfortable chest. A chest you knew all too well.

“Also, don’t think I didn’t noticed the way you were looking at my handcuffs, pretty. Got something you wanna’ tell me?”

“You’re mistaken, I— It was simply a one time glance! Absolutely nothing to do with—!”

Your boyfriend removed one hand from your waist and weaved the remaining arm tightly around your waist entirely, keeping you firm against him. His now free hand took a delicate hold of your jaw, and whilst lifting it up his face travelled closer to yours. His hot breath fanned over your lips, and all you wanted for him to rearrange your guts then and there.

“Ah, and now you’re lying? Lying is not very becoming, especially not on you. It makes you bad, and do you know what I do to bad girls?”

His ragged yet stylish hair, his impenetrable, piercing eyes, his strong hold on your body. The physique of a God, you thought. Every aspect of him, how his eyes were intently fixes on yours, waiting for you to answer his question, to use your words— as he was always so keen on you doing. It all came together to allow you to blurt out such a meek, pitiful and uncertain whimper,

“You punish them, Your Grace?”

A devilish smirk tugged on his lips.

“Clever girl. Your little … imaginations might just be brought to life far earlier then you expected. Now strip.”

2023 © masuchu , do not repost, reword, plagiarise, take inspiration, translate or share my work anywhere!

#⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ sincerely me ‹𝟹 #genshin impact #genshin #wriothesley #wriothesley genshin #wriothesley genshin impact #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley smut #genshin x reader #genshin smut #tee hee #guys this is just a starter in the feast i have prepared … #i’m really hoping this does well over night and that my cuties havent abqndoned me 😭😭 #anyways

[satans-helper]

Smother the Flame in Your Heart - Part XIV

Read previous parts here or read on Ao3

Pairing: Danny Wagner x Sam Kiszka

Word Count: ~3500

Warnings: vampire stuff, you know how it is;)

---

“I really don’t know how else to explain this to you,” Sam said to Josh. They had been sitting outside in the same patio chairs that Jake and Danny had been sitting in on the night of their birthday celebration, and Sam was completely exhausted. He missed Danny desperately. But he also felt perhaps just as much red-hot rage and betrayal so strong that it blew through him like a tornado.

“Samuel, just saying something is something doesn’t make it true,” Josh countered, small enough to lift his legs up and cross them in the chair. “Just saying Danny is a vampire isn’t going to make me believe it.”

Sam groaned, tipping his head back to look at the blazing sunset for a few seconds instead of his brother’s disbelieving face. He actually hadn’t expected Josh to be such a hard sell–Josh loved mythology as much, if not more, than his twin, and was always full of whimsy, always creating stories and lore of his own. 

“I told you, Josh,” Sam whined, snatching the pack of cigarettes that was sitting idly between them. He’d never smoked so much in his life apart from the past four days. “The hickies, Danny avoiding you–that’s stuff you saw firsthand. I’ve felt his fangs in me, I get to see them all the time. Those are real. He drinks blood for fuck’s sake, and he has to drink it to stay alive.”

“And you’re okay with that?”

“What, like I’m gonna take a moral stance against a fucking hot as fuck vampire who actually doesn’t kill people?” Sam snorted with a cigarette in one hand and the lighter in the other. “Yeah, right.”

“Okay, that’s fair,” Josh said, taking the pack back for his own indulgence. “I’m just trying to wrap my head around it, that’s all. How have I been alive for this long and not known vampires are real?”

“Danny always stresses that it’s not glamorous,” Sam supplied, and saying his name again had his heart turning wistful and sore.  “Like I said before, he refers to it as a disease. He’s been infected and it’s just something he has to deal with, but he doesn’t wanna hurt anyone. I’m sure he’s not alone in trying to be stealth.”

“Does he hurt you?”

Sam shook his head while he took a drag. “Fuck no. I fucking love it.”

Josh snorted. “I should have known. You’ve never once looked…hm. Turned off by him, I suppose I could say.”

Sam’s cheeks flushed. “TMI, Josh. Sorry.”

Josh gave a wave of his hand. “Nah, fuck it. He’s hot, Sammy. Anyone can see that.”

Sam narrowed his eyes behind the smoke and stared at his brother. “Shut the fuck up. Don’t get any ideas. Jake’s bad enough for–” He stopped, fingers going limp as they held the cigarette, not sure what he was even accusing Jake of. 

“Bad enough for what? You don’t think they’ve fucked around, do you?”

The incredibly brief blip of that image sent Sam’s heart into a wild frenzy, his mind reeling, the smoke in his lungs acrid. “No, I know they haven’t. Danny would never. He said he just wants to be friends.”

“Also fair.”

Sam sighed, physically too exhausted to get worked up into his own frenzy. “So, since Danny got ‘infected’ or however you want to say it, he’s isolated himself. He’d go out to feed, y’know, because he had to, and he has his job and his family. But that was it.” He took another drag, not entirely ignoring how his hand was shaking a bit. “He didn’t know how to tell anyone. Like, of course no one would believe him, right? You don’t.” At that, Josh shook his head, but Sam went on: “And then we found each other and it’s been great. And maybe I’m being selfish because, fuck it, yeah, a part of me wants all of Danny all to myself all the time. But I know he deserves friends and he and Jake get along really well, but–shit. Why’d they have to fucking lie to me, Josh?”

Josh was silent, face contemplative with his eyes cast out, looking into the trees and the sky for a few moments, then he said, “All I can say right now, Sammy, is that Danny loves you like a motherfucker and it sounds like he was a little scared and unsure of how to navigate all of this. As for Jake, you know he’d never do anything to hurt you. He’s just–” Another, shorter pause as Josh waved his hand in the air, searching for the word while Sam searched his face. “He’s a romantic. And you know how much he loves vampires. To him, I bet it seems like you hit the jackpot and he can’t even get a scrap of leftovers.”

“Yeah, well,” Sam began, looking down at the ash he tapped from his cigarette. “Danny’s mine. Sucks to be Jake, I guess.”

“Sam. We need to take this in stride. Jake is your brother. Yes, he should have done more than just hint to you by reading Dracula in front of you,” Josh said with a quiet chuckle. “But put yourself in his place for a second. I have a feeling you’d also be trying to covet a secret friendship with a vampire, too.” He leaned over to elbow Sam in the arm. “Hello, Sammy! You were already doing that.”

“It’s Danny’s secret, not mine. I wasn’t just gonna tell you guys.”

“Well, did you talk more with Danny about that after your birthday trip? It sounds like you wanted it to be a secret more than he did.”

Sam’s shoulders slumped; he flicked ash from the cigarette again and gave a simple but despondent, “Not really.”

“Ah. Perhaps that’s worth considering,” Josh replied, gently jostling Sam’s shoulder. “It’ll be okay, but you all have to make it okay. I also bet Danny is dying to see you right now.”

“Yeah.” Sam let the silence stick around, smoking some more, letting the acrid smoke fill his lungs some more, until a little alarm rang in his head. “Oh fuck,” he sputtered, that smoke spewing from his lips. “He hasn’t–shit, he hasn’t fed in so long.” The explicit thought being, Danny could actually be dying.

“How long?” Josh asked, Sam not even fully looking at him as he sprung to his feet and grabbed his phone from the deck banister. “How long can he go?”

“About a week,” Sam replied, hitting the call button beneath Danny’s name on his screen. “A week on average. Sometimes a little longer, but not much.”

“How long has it been?”

Sam stamped the cigarette out in the ashtray so hard the whole thing skidded off the table and onto the deck floor, gray ash puffing into the air. “Longer than that.” He could see now how selfish he’d been about all of this, but not even realizing Danny had gone so long without blood made Sam want to die himself. Danny also, Sam knew, wouldn’t go out for a stranger again. Not after he learned how much it hurt Sam, how much Sam begged, what they ended up having together. No, Danny would just let himself starve to simply not bother anyone else, Sam especially.

“No answer?” Josh asked, glancing up from his kneeling position on the wood, trying to scoop whatever ash he could back into place. 

Sam huffed and dialed again. “No.” It rang and rang and went to voicemail again. He locked his phone and started to charge back to the house. “I gotta go over there.”

Not a second passed before Josh said, right behind him, “I’m coming with you, Sammy.” Sam kept moving, gathering his keys, putting on shoes, frantic and frazzled until a small yet strong hand found his arm and made him steady. “He’ll be alright,” Josh said, and though the statement was admittedly a little comforting, Sam couldn’t fully believe it.

-

“I’d love it if you could help me,” Danny told Jake, looking at his neck, his bare arms and wrists–the parts of his body that were visible and that Danny could bite. The parts he did want to bite and drink from, not even to test his taste theory or because he was attracted to Jake, but because he really was so desperate. “But if we did that, Sam would hate me and then, not to be melodramatic or anything, but I really wouldn’t have much of a reason to live.” Not since the beginning of his new life as a vampire had he ever been so depleted–completely empty and clinging to life. But there was no way in hell he was going to betray Sam any further. 

Jake let out a long, slow breath with a matching slow nod. “Okay. So let’s call Sammy, right? At the very least, you guys need to talk.”

Danny nodded too, grabbing his phone from the end table beside the couch. He’d had it on mute all day and had hardly looked at it, since each time he did he just wanted to reach out to his boyfriend over and over. A cold chill ran down his spine when he saw the missed calls from Sam, all from just a few minutes prior. 

“He’s been calling me,” he told Jake, putting the phone to his ear after he hit “call back.” On the second ring, Sam picked up the call, a quick blurt of Danny’s name punctuated with a question mark coming in past the sound of wind. “Hey, Sam,” Danny said, sitting forward on the couch, legs bent straight, feet against the floor, while Jake shifted next to him, positioning himself the same way.

“Thank god you’re alive,” Sam said. “Fuck, I’m so sorry, Danny–I didn’t even realize how long it’s been. I’m on my way.”

Danny’s instinct led him to thoughts of, You don’t have to, it’s okay, don’t worry about it, take all the time you need, but no–fuck that, he concluded. “You’re my hero,” he said instead, smiling a little and nearly forgetting Jake was even next to him. “My white knight. You know I just wanna see you though, right? It’s not about–”

“You need it, Daniel, and I want you to have it from me.”

Danny became more aware of Jake again; he glanced over at him picking at the label on his beer bottle and watching Danny right back. “I always want it from you. I always want you.”

“You’re gonna be fine, Danny. Promise. We’ll talk more after,” Sam told him. “I’m almost there. Josh is with me, by the way.”

Danny swallowed. “That’s totally cool. Um–Jake is here.”

An unsettling pause festered for a long moment before Sam said, “Oh, he is? Great. That’s–fuck. Did you–”

“No. Nothing,” Danny interrupted. “We’ve just been talking. He was worried.”

Sam sighed. “Fine. I really don’t want to see him right now but–it’s fine. I’ll see you soon, okay?”

“Soon,” Danny repeated. “Thank you.” 

More unsettling silence–foreign to Danny when he was normally with Jake–settled in the apartment. Thankfully, the wait was short and soon enough, his buzzer went off; Danny got to his feet again but, also again, found himself wobbly and lightheaded. Jake hopped up and placed gentle hands on his shoulders, easing him back down onto the couch.

“Just sit,” he said, voice soft, even a bit weak–Danny didn’t doubt Jake was also feeling guilty now. “I’ll let them up.”

“I should give Sam my spare keys,” Danny said, embarrassed that he hadn’t offered them any sooner. They’d just always come to his place together. Perhaps those keys would be one step in the road to making up with his boyfriend. 

“He’d like that,” Jake said, who stayed idle by the door, letting his body relax against the wall while his face looked anything but. It was odd for Danny to see him that way; then again, Danny could imagine how odd he looked too, all drained and debilitated. 

After being buzzed up, no knock interrupted the dreadful silence that had resumed–Sam just burst through the door, blazing right past Jake while Josh trailed behind him, and Danny barely had time to blink before his beloved was right in front of him. Sam sank to his knees in front of the couch, hands resting on Danny’s thighs as he looked up at him with far more worry and care than Danny had been expecting to receive right away.

“Fuck. Fuck, Danny, I’m so sorry,” Sam said, grimacing and taking one of Danny’s hands in his.

Danny chuckled. “Do I really look that bad?”

“You look sick,” Sam said, unable to be any more descriptive than that. Before he’d realized how long it had been since Danny had fed, he’d been prepared to eventually approach him with guns blazing, with the rage and self-righteousness he was so comfortable with. All that changed once he realized the situation and his feelings softened further when he got Danny on the phone; but being right in front of him and seeing the pale skin, hollowed cheeks, the bruise-like half moons beneath his eyes and dry lips alarmed Sam so badly that he knew he had just as much to feel guilty about. If not more.

“Hey,” Josh said, just loud enough to break both Sam and Danny’s focus. “Jake and I are gonna go for a walk. We’ll come back and talk?”

Danny nodded; Sam huffed and turned back to him as he said to his brothers, “Don’t rush.” When the door shut and they were in the clear, Sam got up and planted himself right in Danny’s lap, hands on those usually strong but now slumped and deflated shoulders. “Okay, let’s go. And before you say it, don’t say it.”

Danny felt better just being able to touch Sam, though the hunger undeniably remained. It even grew with Sam on top of him, his scent all up in Danny’s face, his skin so smooth and perfect looking, then warm beneath his hands as Danny gripped Sam’s arms. “Say what?”

“Say ‘are you sure?’”

“Well–”

Sam grabbed a fistful of hair from Danny’s nape and gave a warning tug. “Nope. I’m not playing that game today, Daniel.” He brought his neck closer to Danny’s mouth. “Drink up.”

Finally wise enough to not question anything further, Danny did. He hugged Sam into his body, brushed his hair back and sank his teeth into that beautiful neck. He was so overwhelmed by finally being able to hold his boyfriend again, smell him, taste him again, that he didn’t care about the brutal “hickey” that would be leftover or how they even got to this point in the first place. He just breathed and tasted, drinking up his fill of warm, sweet, unbelievably delicious blood from his unbelievably incredible boyfriend. 

Sam didn’t really care either at the moment. He closed his eyes and hugged Danny right back, sighing and relaxing as he sucked as much as he needed, always so careful to never go even slightly overboard. It might have been weird–even downright messed up–but Sam felt safe when they did this. He wanted Danny to feel the same way. So he kept holding him tight as Danny slurped the last little mouthful, then licked and kissed the bite marks until they faded. 

“So are you okay?” Sam asked once Danny pulled back. His neck burned as his skin always did once the biting and bloodsucking was over, but his heart burned even hotter.

Danny sighed through his nose as he licked his lips. He finally felt warm and sort of full–relieved and safe physically, but still unsteady emotionally. “I don’t know. Are we okay?”

Sam slid off Danny’s lap and sat beside him instead, suddenly feeling quite debilitated himself. “I don’t know.” He looked over at the beer bottle that had been left behind by his brother. “What’s been going on with you and Jake?”

“Not really anything, honestly, Sam,” Danny said, reaching for his own neglected beer. “I didn’t think so anyway. I just–it’s like I told you. I was worried he’d lose interest in being my friend if the secret between us died so fast, you know? Like, I just wanted to keep a little intrigue. A little mystery.”

“Danny, what’s more intriguing and mysterious than just being a fucking vampire?” Sam countered, taking the beer for a sip of his own after Danny drank. “I don’t get why it needed to be a secret for you two.” He saw the hurt in Danny’s face and continued: “But I don’t think I made things very easy for you. I was the one who was adamant about everything being secret from everyone and…and that wasn’t fair to you.”

Danny sighed. “Thank you.”

“I just didn’t want you with anyone else anymore. Anyone else, including my brothers.”

“I have no interest in being with anyone else.” Danny chuckled and took the beer back. “Why do you think I’ve been fucking starving lately?”

Sam lunged forward to plant a kiss on Danny’s forehead, cradling his face in his hands. “You’re a good boy. I know. And I’m a fucking selfish asshole.”

Danny shook his head, taking Sam’s hands in his own. “We’ve both been a little selfish. We can work through that. Right now, I’m more worried about you and Jake.”

Sam flopped back with a loud sigh, gangly limbs draping themselves over the half of the couch where Jake had been sitting. “Yeah, me too. But I’m pissed at him. Don’t I have a right to be?”

“You do,” Danny agreed, knowing the road to success for everyone was placating Sam above all else. “I think there’s some things he wants to explain to you. But I can tell you now that he never meant any harm.”

Sam believed that. Jake and Josh and Sam had never been anything but loyal, ride-or-die best friends and brothers since they were kids, no matter how many fights they had throughout the years. Sam would prefer to hash things out with fists than words, but he knew that wouldn’t work this time. Still, when the twins returned and Jake started explaining his side of things, hearing that he had feelings for Danny made it very difficult to not start throwing punches. That was an even worse secret. It proved Sam’s hunches had been right and made Jake to be even more of a traitor in his mind.

Hands clenching into tight fists while Jake spoke, Sam was so hurt and angry he was mostly speechless, only sparing a few grunts of disapproval and scoffs. Jake looked hurt too, with sad, dark eyes that pleaded for his brother to just take it easy on him, not even necessarily forgive him. Beside him, Danny kept one hand on Sam’s thigh as if to try and keep him from springing up and lashing out; but as much as Sam felt that urge, he also still felt exhausted. He had to remind himself that he wasn’t a teenager anymore–he had to remember that if there was one thing he could never control, it was how other people felt. It wasn’t Jake’s fault he had a crush on Danny. It wasn’t Danny’s fault either. It wasn’t Danny’s fault he was a vampire. But it was Sam’s own fault for being so demanding and harsh, for trying to box his boyfriend in and for making it even harder for those secrets he hated so much to be revealed at all.

 “I just like vampires,” was what Jake concluded with, sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of the couch, looking down and fiddling with the fibers of the carpet. “I like Danny too, for more reasons than just that. I’m really sorry I crossed a line, Sam. And Danny, too. Sorry to both of you.”

Sam let all of Jake’s words linger for a minute while he let his breathing slow. With another sigh, he sat forward, hanging his arms between his knees, and looked at his brother as he said, “I love you, Jake. Just stop fucking flirting with my boyfriend.”

Both twins’ faces relaxed at that, but Josh was the first to actually laugh. Jake laughed next, quieter, and nodded while he replied, “Okay. I can do that.”

“You have to admit it, Sammy,” Josh chimed in, and Sam knew it must have been excruciating for him to stay silent this whole time. “Danny really is quite alluring.” 

“I admit that freely,” Sam said, giving his boyfriend a grin before turning back to his brothers. “But he’s mine.”

---

Tagging: @mackalah @sparrowofrhiannon @starbuggie @lightsofthe-living-gvf @sanguinebats @gvfrry @clairesjointshurt @bizzielisteningtogreta @milojames16 @brokebellsgvf @streamsofstardust

If you’d like to be tagged in any of my fics, you can go here or DM me :)

#ty to everyone who has requested to be tagged y'all are my champions! #greta van fleet #gvf #danny wagner #sam kiszka #danny gvf #sam gvf #josh kiszka #jake kiszka #josh gvf #jake gvf #danny wagner x sam kiszka #gvf fanfiction #sanny #stfyh

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

You have no idea how happy you made me with "Stay the Night". Loki is so cunny and sly, I'm dead and Steve is just so....Steve hahaha I like how Loki somewhat got the upper hand and I hope he keeps getting the upper hand.

Maybe Loki forcing reader to go live with him instead coz she is his and no one, not even Steve, can take away what's his.

+ this ask: Roommate Steve vs BFF loki?? That is a rare pair and I love it more than I expected! Could totally imagine them glaring each other down, adore the oblivious reader!

Morning After

Part 1

Warnings: unwanted touching, noncon. Y'all know I do it dark and spicy. You have warnings, use them.

Oops, I added a side of roommate! Steve. Thots, comments, screaming, and feedback are welcome and highly encouraged. Thank you!

Steve places the coffee mug down in front of you. It’s tense, silent. Words unspoken, thoughts concealed. The night before trembles within, ready to erupt like a volcano but you won’t let it. You take a sip.

“You good?” Steve asks.

“Fine,” you answer stiffly, “just waking up.”

You glance at Loki as you lean your elbows on the table. He gives you a brief peek above his cell phone, thumb flicking across the screen. You rub your eyes and squeeze your thighs together. You feel his hand there still, hear his coaxing whispers; it’s okay, baby, I’m just taking care of you.

Since when did he feel this way? You’re friends. You laugh together, gossip even, and tell each other about your shit days. He’s not supposed to touch you like that.

“Sorry we don’t have much to choose from,” Steve sets the tall cup in front of Loki, “neither of us is very into tea.”

You sit back as their eyes meet. Each clench their jaws in a face off. Loki dips his chin slightly, “not at all, very much appreciated. The two of you keep such a warm home.”

“You didn’t find her plushies, did you?” Steve kids and you give him a look. He winces as he notices. “Well, guess I should head off before I put my other foot in my mouth.”

“Thanks, Steve,” you lower your gaze to the table and cradle the mug with your hands, “really.”

“Both our homes, don’t mind some company,” he shrugs, “just make sure you rinse the cups.”

“Thank you, Steven,” Loki enunciates tritely.

A low tisk bounces off Steve’s teeth as he checks his watch and sighs. “See ya,” he marches out and you take a well-needed draught of coffee.

Loki puts his phone down and twirls the spoon in his cup. You watch his fingers, recalling how they felt on your clit, playing you like a fiddle until you keened into his palm. Humiliation spatters on your scalp.

“What’s wrong with you two?” you huff.

“Nothing. I am cordial.”

“Loki,” you warn.

He rolls his eyes and glances away. You watch him, a task as you find it hard to look at him at all.

“You shouldn’t live here with him. It’s… improper.”

You scoff. His eyes flit back to you sharply.

“Improper? What about last night?”

His lips twitch, “last night?”

“Don’t do that.”

“You didn’t kick me out of bed,” he smirks.

“I didn’t invite you in, either.”

He sticks his tongue between his teeth, a guilty expression aimed at the table, “I couldn’t help myself. Perhaps I didn’t go about it the right away but I’ve made my feelings clear. Now we can… work through them. Together.”

“Are you kidding?”

“Not at all. I’m very serious about you. I’ve not put in three years for a place on your floor. To be a third party to him,” he peeks at the door sourly, “you cannot remain. You must come stay with me.”

“I’m not doing that and what happened last night can’t happen again.”

“You didn’t hate it–”

“I also didn’t ask for it,” you retort.

He huffs and his nostrils flare. He places his hand on the back of your chair and looks you in the face, “didn’t you? I come over, you’re getting out of the shower? You text me those photos of all your cute outfits. Oh, and not to mention all your gripes about needing a real man. Surely you’re not dumb enough to think it’s your ridiculous roommate.”

“This isn’t about Steve,” you gulp.

“No, it’s about us. About you. I can’t have you under his roof when you belong to me.”

“Excuse me? Belong to you?”

“Oh, yes, darling, since the day we met. You never wondered once why none of your dates ever called you back?”

You stare at him. Shocked. He wouldn’t. Well you also didn’t think he’d do what he did the night before. How well do you truly know your best friend, if that’s what he is.

#loki #steve rogers #dark loki #dark!loki #best friend! loki #drabble #ask drabble #dark drabble #dark!drabble #mcu #marvel #avengers #roommate!steve rogers

[late-to-the-magnus-archives]

Confession - a Malevolent fic

There’s a trick to confession, if you want to keep another from hearing what you said. But not hearing it don’t make it not true, don’t make it go away.

I fear Arthur’s truth, so big and bright. I fear ours together may strike like flint and leap into devouring flame.

An Oscar one-shot.

AO3

——

There’s a trick to confession.

Well. A couple tricks, if we’re talking honest, but the biggest one is this: if you want to hide somat big but never lie, the way to do it is to put it by somat else just as big and bright.

Lies don’t work so well. They may look good up close, nice and meaty, but take a few steps back, and they’re full of holes. No, if you want to hide a truth, you can only do it with another one.

Take my own past.

What I did to a wicked man when I was but a lad is true. My regret that I didn’t finish the job is also true. Both true, big and bright, and they serve to hide the other truth that anyone would see if I didn’t blind them first with rage and revulsion.

I went after a man’s face with the claw-end of a hammer. I brought it down, again and again, like a knife through eggshell, like an awl into hard meringue. I crushed him, made wet rips in his skin for bits of skull and brain to stick to like salt on the swell of pudding. I smashed his nose, and I popped his eyes, and I ground him into bone-dusted craters, while gore flew and spattered red like tomato sauce left too long on the stone and boiling.

They dragged me away, and dragged him away, and then in my story, I give the second big, bright truth—that I regret he lived, that I didn’t finish, that he is out there somewhere, hurting someone else.

These two are already bad. It is enough to focus on my violence and my regret, maybe to question why the Fathers never saw me done to law. To wonder how I could stand to take vows after that hypocrisy, how I can live with myself and others like those wicked, guilty men.

And with all this, you miss the other truth I said outright, left in plain view, just beside the big-bright shape of truths: he lived.

With a claw hammer to his brain, over and over, he lived.

With holes like rabbit burrows right through his face, he lived well enough to be transferred to a new parish and keep his job.

I don’t believe in lies. Don’t tell them. But there’s a trick to confession that saves the one who listens: with my truths, big and bright, you don’t ask how he could live, what that means he is, and so perhaps you slip the attention of a thing that’s mere embarrassed a human boy caught it out with a hammer, and so left to continue its life somewhere else.

#

I wasn’t real surprised when Marie turned out to have demon troubles. Not that I know what Scratch is; but there’s just too many things stalking the good, struggling people of this city, and ever since I cracked the mask of one with a claw hammer, I seem to find their victims.

I’m never shocked when they come to me, or come near me—trailing monsters that have no name, things that eat their dreams or their skin, things that drink their tears or sate their lust, things that steal their children and replace them or don’t. Sheep are prey animals; wolves and bears and thieves come in the night, and I am supposed to be their shepherd.

Crook and staff are the shepherd’s tools, one gentle-hooked to lift sheep from the mud, the other heavy-cudgeled to crack skulls and spill blood. And I am so afraid.

I don’t want to see the monsters. Don’t want to hear whispering in the night. Wish I could just bless infants and calm widows and give peace through holy sacrament. 

Instead, this. I don’t have mere widows—I get them that made themselves so. I don’t have mere dreams, but creatures that infest like bot flies and persist, lumpish, under skin and feeding.

Scratch will never leave me alone. Hot breaths and lies, secrets and twisted realities, stretching true guilt out into new and terrible figures. And now his host is free, wandering, hidden in sweet sheepskin.

I am so afraid, but I do what’s right, or… I try. That’s what anyone can do, isn’t it? All anyone can do.

“Huh,” says Arthur Lester, when I say how old Marie’s house is. “When Scratch spoke to me, he said that he had been trapped in those walls for two hundred years, so how could that be?” 

A good question. And we both ignore the big, bright truth that he hides with it, the question anyone would ask if they didn’t get stuck on Butchers and injured family and multiple murders just dropped aside, like nothing, like mention of spoilt milk, a consequence of poor attention.

“This book is fascinating,” I say, clutching this well-worn thing with names for the monsters I see. “Have you used it previously?”

“Hm? Uh, yes. Once, another creature–”

“Another creature? Lord.”

“I didn’t get the impression it was a lie,” says Arthur, which makes no sense.

“What was?” I say.

“What… if it wasn’t…” he stumbles through, continuing a conversation I’m only a small part of, “as long as Scratch is saying, but he’s not aware?” 

Time dilation. Theories. A hunt. “It would make sense as to why he’s so desperate for freedom,” I say, because this big, bright thing is true, and we must find Hattie, and free her. “If every day felt like ten, I’d be batty as well.” We make our plan, and so we will go to the other home of the one who owns Scratch’s cage. 

And we both ignore the other shape, the one he spoke and leaves in plain view beside the big-bright shape of other truths: another creature, Arthur Lester said, and moved right along.

Met Scratch, he did. Learned the truth of a possessed woman, and the dead brother-in-law before that, and took both in stride.

Never lied about that. Never said it rocked him when it didn’t.

But now, I have to wonder. How much death must you see, as a man, to hear of a case like this and take it anyway, to represent the murderous widow as the innocent party, but still to use that sin as a lever for the priest what got himself involved?

And what other things must you see, as a man, that Scratch would not shake you to your core foundation, not terrify you into escape, but only turn you toward his heat like some fire hose with a mind of its own?

I hear him talking to himself again as I head into the night to bring Daniel his things, and I wonder about possession, and about what Arthur said, and the big, bright truths he shared that he hopes hide another. 

I heard him talk to himself in that house, not as a man just muttering, but as one arguing with somebody else. He did it in the hospital, too, when I approached.

And I wonder if our big, bright truths will weigh too much, grown too big to be camouflaged by another.

Fire is big and bright, too, but it doesn’t hide. It eats what it comes near. I smile and listen to Daniel’s drugged ramble about a son-in-law with terrible secrets and little hope, and I fear.

There’s a trick to confession, if you want to keep another from hearing what you said. But not hearing it don’t make it not true, don’t make it go away. I fear Arthur’s truth, so big and bright. I fear ours together may strike like flint and leap into devouring flame.

May God have mercy on both our kindling souls.

#malevolent fic #malevolent Oscar #oscar malevolent #malevolent podcast

[martian-garden]

An Open Letter to the People I Love

In one incarnation, this letter was just thousands of lines of "I'm sorry".

I don't have a way to express to you the depth of everything.  I have spent over a decade of my life stringing together words that have tried and failed to capture the complexity of it, paint a galaxy with only black ink.  Thousands of words of narrative, line after line of poetry or song verse, and none of it is everything.  I am molten, and thus I am never the same in each passing moment, and that makes me impossible to grasp, especially to myself.  

I know that I did not want to be this.  Any of it.  And as much as I have trained myself to thank rather than apologize, I do not think thanks can justify the apocalyptic horror that leaks out of me like an oil well.  I have never been any of the shapes or personalities that you have seen or spoken to.  I am an incarnation of restless dissatisfaction, twisting myself to please each of your aluminum vultures whirling above my head in a wretched silver halo.  All my life I sold myself on the notion that I could turn this leaden heart to the gold you thought you saw, and then I could stop pretending. But in the end, alchemy was never real.  

Between the lines, I tried to tell you about the infinite ways in which I have always been a little bit broken, the inherent gothic nature of existing just offset enough that everything is laced in chromatic aberration.  But they were not gaping cracks, instead a sheen of hairline fractures, and that was just embroidery on the fabric of my reality.  A pattern to be embraced rather than evidence that everything could only ever exist a straw from disaster.  I have always been unraveling, and the extent of my power is to tie neat little shoelace bows under my skin and pray nothing pulls too hard on the other end.  

I tell myself that I did not have high expectations, in a world where subsurface is the new normal.  I thought that I just wanted to be okay, to float casually through the world, but in reality I wanted to be everything to everyone.  In an impossibly stormy sea, I dreamed of hauling everyone I cared for aboard and shielding them from a deluge far beyond my comprehension.  Of course this effort was doomed.  I am not a man, but I am even less a titan.  

What am I, then?  Certainly not the human you believe me to be.  I bolt between states of unbeing: I am god and ghoul.  Sometimes I wonder whether you can tell that I am forcing myself through speaking to you without curling up at your feet or smiting you where you stand.  How can something be both divine and unworthy of your presence?  If I knew, perhaps I would be able to properly speak to you.  Enlightened to the duality, maybe now the chaos that tumbles out of my mouth is explainable.  

I cannot tell you what I deserve.  I cannot convince myself that the reasons I don't go to the store or don't eat dinner are fully beyond my control.  Not that I can convince myself that they are within it, either.  I've tried to capture the experience time after time of a fight against fate, but none of it can convey what is to you unknowable.  The fog and the combinatorial explosion of necessities is an avalanche, and my only saving grace is that I don't need to breathe.  

I'm not surprised that I burned up in a race that disqualified me from the start.  I am sorry to everyone who bet on my success; I am your losing dog, snapping freakishly at the end of the lead and then paralyzed upon my paws touching the ring.  No part of it was fair to any of us.  Something that looked like me made a promise to you, and it is with the most bitter of self-loathing that I inform you that it had no real authority.  

I wish I could give you every ounce of a real me, but I am a concept that lives in your head, an imaginary friend.  You say all I can give you is my best, but I can't even tell you the truth.  There is not one to tell.  

I don't have a way to express to you 

the 

depth

of

my

regret.  

#mars speaks #very personal #there is no implied suicide btw #i am just. sorry #neurodivergent #adhd

[bassimelwakil]

Such a Little Thing

Friends make Magic fun.

I had always wanted to build a custom draft environment. To play with friends, to maybe play at game stores, cons, and maybe, if I was lucky, with some of the designers who make the game that gave me so much.

But whatever world concepts I had, Wizards executed their own version. Arranging playtests was hard enough. It would be impossible for a set with the same theme as one Wizards had already made and that my friends had already played. What I needed was something Wizards wouldn’t do, something that I could grind away without fear of duplication.

So I decided to make a multiplayer set.

Along came Conspiracy.

Mechanical hooks wouldn’t work. If I'm to make a set, it can’t be something Wizards wouldn’t do, or haven’t done, but rather, something they can’t do. Something they aren’t allowed to do.

Other intellectual properties.

Not wanting to waste a lot time in printing cards and roping in friends to play, my primary tool for playtesting was solitaire using existing cards, mentally replacing keywords with my new mechanics. For example, if I had an evasion mechanic to test, I’d just tell myself “all the flying creatures have my evasion mechanic instead of flying”. I’d find an analogue, counters for counters, tokens for tokens, I’d grab cards from other games with icons and say, “this icon represents this mechanic”. Whatever I could do to make it easy to remember while piloting two decks against each other by myself.

In 2019, I went to a Magic event in the London Excel and met Mark Rosewater and Aaron Forsythe. I went just to say “hi” and “thank you” but the queue to meet them was for spellslinging: you were supposed to play Magic with them. I didn’t bring a deck. I didn’t bring anything. I just wanted a moment. But Mark kindly sat me down to play pack wars with him. I got back in the queue and waited for Aaron Forsythe to be free. Again, I just wanted to say thank you and not take up his time. But a man behind me said, “I have my silver-bordered cube” and he gave us a random pile of cards each, and I played a 1v1 against Aaron. This experience is my most cherished M:tG memory.

Leaving with a beaming smile, it brought back all the work I’d done on my custom sets with the dream I’d had of sharing my sets with them. I considered the logistics: my idea of skinning other properties into M:tG meant I’d have easy access to a consistent resource for card images but the real issue was still printing prototypes.

The pandemic began. In the tumult, I discovered Tabletop Simulator. I could make my own cards, port them into simulator, and play online because everyone was in lockdown. For the first time, it felt like I could actually do this.

Gathering my many notes, I began blocking out the logistics of a Magic set, considering the as-fan, collation, sheets, and so on, I mapped out a half dozen sets (each with their own three-letter codename). One of which was The Lord of the Rings. I found friends to playtest with and I can only thank Triske, Coop, Jonathan, Lawrence, Pat, and Zefferal for their time.

I quickly understood why Mark Rosewater loves his job: every set posed a unique challenge and creative puzzle. I loved it.

And then... Adventures in the Forgotten Realms came out.

“This is fine” said I, sipping tea amidst the flames. “Wizards owns that IP, it’s not them licensing another IP. Which would be preposterous. Impossible. No, no. This is fine.”

Announcing… Universes Beyond. The Lord of the Rings.

I looked at my work, defeated. If I am generous with myself, perhaps my sets had made the progress in several years what a team at Wizards makes in several weeks. Were I ever to get my set into a stable, draftable form, the novelty would be long gone.

So I gave up.

But as the articles for their many Universes Beyond and Dungeons & Dragons set came out, I noticed that their design process was what I had been doing in my sets for years. Sad to say, but a bitter sense of rejection lingered. A feeling I wasn’t justified in having, but it's there. That pit in the stomach of how I wasted my time, and my friends’ times, on a sunk cost fallacy. I stopped reading articles. Magic design felt like a party I was unwelcome at. I still haven’t even read or watched any Lord of the Rings release videos or looked through the set. I've seen friends talk about some individual cards on twitter, but that’s all.

What I saw of Wizards' wasn’t like what I made. Though I freely accept that my work remains too raw and untested to be seriously considered as a 'set', I'd gone down a fun design avenue that Wizards didn’t. My work here is personal to me, but I'll share it all the same.

Here’s the framework for my custom set of The Lord of Rings.

Codename: JRR.

#gaming #magicthegathering #lord of the rings #middle earth #magic the gathering #tolkein #game design #custom magic card

[alextheavoidant]

Things the covert narcissist did/said to me: Projection #1

"You are selfish and make everything about yourself."

Let me tell you something. It is quite a slap in the face to dedicate years to someone else's mental health and well being. Sacrificing hours and hours and hours of your time, energy and emotion that you could have spent on other things or with other people. Begging someone to get help, giving them advice, trying to educate them the best you can on what you know about mental health, and sharing your own struggles and vulnerabilities in the process. Only to be told you are selfish and make everything all about yourself.

And what did I do to deserve this accusation? Well, it's quite a doozy. Are you ready?

I started taking care of myself.

Yup. That's it. That is my cardinal sin.

I started working out. Eating better. Started a skin care routine. I even quit smoking. And made the mistake of sharing all this with someone whom I thought I could celebrate my success with. Boy was I wrong.

It seemed this person thought I was getting just a little too big for my britches. A little too confident. Too self assured. Too individuated. And as we know, that's a big problem for a narcissist who wants to have control over someone. So of course, they had to knock me down a peg. It was not their choice - but their duty - to keep me humble. Keep me down. Keep me controllable. So that I don't make the catastrophic mistake of thinking that I, of all people, got to be an independent person who got to make their own choices in life. Or, heaven forbid, actually feel good about myself.

But it wasn't just that I was selfish. This person decided that this newfound selfishness translated to more than just the audacity to care enough about myself to take care of my physical body. No, of course, there were dire consequences to this incredibly self centered decision of mine.

But the narc can't say the truth, and admit that the real reason their mad is because I haven't been paying quite as much attention to them. Not picking up the phone as much, responding to their texts as much or validating how hard their life is during every conversation we have. No, that would require them to admit that I have the power to bruise their fragile ego. And I can't be that important, because my job is to be insignificant.

So, instead of admitting the truth, what did they do? They attacked the one thing they know would get a rise out of me. My parenting and my child.

So, according to this person, because I have been working out, and talking about the fact that I have been working out, that obviously means that I have completely given up on parenting. That I "don't care" about my child. I "don't do anything good". "Don't provide" for my child. That I am "not a parent" and "shouldn't have her ". That because I work out, and work out so much, that my child is being neglected, and being neglected so severely that she is now autistic.

Yes, you read that right. I am not even kidding. This narcissist actually made the insinuation that my taking care of my body has resulted in my child suddenly developing autism.

Do I even need to say it? Pretty sure it's common knowledge that... well, that's just not how autism works. I mean, perhaps it is possible if the neglect is severe and the child is very young. But my child is well into their teens and, of course, not being neglected in any way. But apparently, this person was so stupid - or thought I was so stupid - that this would be an effective way of manipulating me. And sadly, at some point, I was broken down enough that maybe it would have. But not anymore.

This person even threatened to call the state on me and have my kid taken away...

All because.

I started.

Working.

Out.

So, in a nutshell, their intention was to make me feel like me being healthy = the end of the fucking world.

Honestly, if that's not abuse, I donno what is.

.......

That's all for today. Cheers.

#covert narcissism #narcissistic personality disorder #narcissistic abuse #blog #family scapegoat #stupid people being stupid #venting

[high-dragon-bait]

I don't know if you're still doing these prompts, but if you could, could you please write #16 (in dreams) for your FenHawke? 

____

Hello @gehayi

You should know that. My Hawke is in the Fade. So. I could not help myself with this

I am so sorry

____

Hawke. It was the first name that came to her. It took the place of the other one. The older one. That name was all she was before, all she knew, and gone the moment she was Hawke. Hawke. It was the same really, it would be enough.

She sat with herself for awhile. Perhaps a long while. You were supposed to bury things like her weren’t you? But herself would never change. Never whither and crumble as she would have elsewhere. The Fade had no use for such a thing. Still, when she stood she found herself in a field. A bright field, under a clear blue sky and full of yellow grass she’d call gold. There was a mound here, a bit of raised earth hidden under that gold. That one had been here last she’d seen it, but the others hadn’t, nor had the one on the end, where she lay now, still waiting to be filled.

She could not waste this place. Perhaps before, but now what did it matter? It was real here, and it’s what she wanted.

So she buried herself in the soil. It was hard work remembering to feel the dirt and roots and pebbles with each handful, but she managed it. Perhaps the Fade would find a use for her, in time.

Then she walked.

She had more names. Not the older ones she had forgotten, her names. Important names. Hawke was a good start, but she needed the names that belonged to her. She would walk until she found them.

She found him.

She was flattered to find him. She remembered from before she knew her name how hard it was, to find a dream that didn’t want to be found. He was right there. Surprised? No. But she didn’t need to be surprised to feel proud.

When she entered his dream he turned to her, and when he looked at her she felt herself grow stronger. More solid. Oh maker, she would never have guessed before how much that look made her.

“Avis,” he said.

Avis. That’s the real name. The important name. When he said it, her heart remembered how to beat. “Fenris,” she said. Her voice was perfect.

She ran to him, he opened his arms and she fell into them. They’ve never done this back there. They’ve never needed to. But they would have, and someone would write they did. A dream moment, immortal on a page of a book neither would ever read now.

His hug- felt like a dream hug. She wouldn’t have been able to tell the difference before, but now she felt the wispy, wish of warmth that made up his arms and his body. Maybe she was disappointed, but she didn’t blame him, and she had time to learn patience. Her hug was real though. Her hug was solid and strong and full of a blanket’s warmth. Fenris would remember that when he woke and all the other things they’d do in this dream. He’d keep it to himself for awhile, until it’d been quiet too long. Then he’d tell a friend, and the friend would pour him a drink, and tell him it was just a dream, and a good dream at that.

“It was,” he’d say. “It was just- real.”

Two days later, he’d know.

But now he didn’t, and it was a good dream. It had been something different before she arrived, but he didn’t remember. For awhile the dream was nothing more than them, together, centered in some idea of a place to hold them.

“Miss me?” She said.

“No,” he responded, putting his mouth on her lips. “Not for a moment.”

That place that held them, that idea, changed then. It became a house. Almost their house. It just sat in a place more private. No city. It was somewhere with trees and grass instead. Still near the city, but here was quieter, and it gave their daughter space to play, though it would be some time yet before she arrived here.

They paid no mind to that change, it had always looked like that. That’s how dreams are, and it took them no effort to find the bedroom.

It’d been awhile since they’d seen each other, it would be awhile again. But there’s lots of time in a dream. Time and freedom, to do what you wish.

After, they laid in that bed together. Fenris’ head on her shoulder. She had her hand in his hair, dream soft, and shorter than she’d seen it last.

“I think I’m done,” Avis said. “Being Champion.”

“I don’t believe you.”

He said it so quickly, before she’d even finished saying it. Had she said that before? He had a tone, like it was funny. She had hadn’t she? She had laughed with him, but it was true then too.

“Can’t I get tired?” she said.

Fenris’ brow furrowed. He turned his head. When he spoke again his voice was low “Perhaps.” He said. “I’ve just never seen it before.”

She said nothing else. Fenris reached for her hand across the blanket, and kissed her knuckles. “We should go back,” he said.

“Back?” Asked Avis.

“Yes we-“

He stopped then, raised himself off of her. His eyes focused out the window, on something very far away

“Where are we?” He said.

Avis looked at him, the wisps of his body beginning to spread apart. He looked like a reflection of himself. Like the shine of water on the sea floor.

He was leaving.

She looked out that large, bedroom window. she could see Kirkwall, peaking out from over the hills. If she turned around she’d Denerim, not a half day’s journey in the other direction. It would snow in the winters here, and have humid, heavy summers. It was spring now, a good time to come here, it would be a good time to come back.

She placed her hand on the memory of his shoulder. “I love you,” she said.

“Avis-“

And then he’s gone.

She isn’t.

She looked outside that window for a moment longer. Enjoying the clear sky. She looked over that field, at the edge, the place where the sky met the land, and the grass began to turn gold.

She fell back asleep.

#submission #fenhawke #my dragon age #Avis Hawke #fenris #Hawke #femhawke #f!hawke #if there are any egregious typos. I wrote this on my phone’s notes app during a 3 hour flight l

[deliriumandmelancholia]

I feel like nobody even realises I have a real, debilitating addiction; simply because it uses my own mind rather than external drugs. My maladaptive daydreams are wreaking havoc on my life, to the point where I’ll spend days doing nothing but daydream, maybe eat and drink if I remember, and sleep. To the point where I forget about my loved ones and just can’t be bothered to come out of the daydream long enough to call my mother. I struggle to remember what’s real and not, I have a hard time telling time and day, and I don’t know when I last showered or anything like that because I’m so deep into it. 

People have told me in the past that it’s good, it’s strong of me, to use my own imagination instead of drugs. What the fuck is that even supposed to mean? All it means is I’m too broke for drugs so my brain started using itself to cope with its inability to cope with reality. It just means I can’t even take myself away from the source of my addiction because the tools to “get high” are always there, always with me. I have to constantly think about not imagining unreal things if I want to stay sober; it doesn’t make me strong, it makes me exhausted. I’m constantly fighting my own mind and physically wasting away just like any other addicted person without help would. What does it matter which substance I use? Why is my own thoughts and imagination better than crack or heroin? Sure it doesn’t wreck my finances. It doesn’t literally kill me if I do it too much (unless I go long enough without water because I’m so caught up in the daydreams, I guess). 

I’ve been thinking about that experiment made on rats; where a group of rats were offered drug-infused water as well as regular water, and the rats that had nothing to live for or entertain themselves with chose the drugs, while the group that had enrichment and shit steered clear of it. I think about my trips in the past, where I’ve been around people I feel safe, happy, and loved with; and my need to daydream quickly diminished. I still did it, but a lot less, and it felt more like habit than necessity. I want enrichment. I want reality to be bearable, and it isn’t in my normal life. It’s not supposed to be like this. I’m so tired of feeling unseen and like my addiction isn’t real because it’s my own mind. This is affecting every single aspect of my life to the point of neglecting everything, and now that I know it doesn’t have to be this way… I just want to talk about it. Be vocal about it. I need support and for my struggle to be recognised as real. Perhaps it is, and I’m just blind to it? I don’t know, but I sure as hell feel alone and not taken seriously. I don’t know what I want by writing this, either. I guess I just want to receive some recognition that my addiction is real and I’m not crazy or horrible for feeling like it is?

#maladaptive daydreaming #delirium and melancholia #addiction #mental illness

[j-graysonlibrary]

Heartbeats; Paradise VIII

Title: Heartbeats; Paradise

Author: Jay Grayson

Word Count: 112K

Genres: Psychological thriller, drama, sci-fi, LGBT+

Available on: Kobo and my website

Synopsis: Melvin Hardy and Kade Axel appear to be a match made in heaven. After a meet-cute in the rain, the two quickly find themselves in a burgeoning, wholesome relationship.

Yet, things feel…off. It isn’t the ghosts of their pasts that resurface to test the strength of their partnership—no—it’s something nebulous. Something indescribable. Melvin can’t put his finger on it but, the more time he spends with Kade, the more he starts to wonder what’s real and what’s pure fiction. 

VIII:

While her expression certainly screams urgency, I’m glued to my spot. She still hasn’t told me anything—what she’s known from before or even what the current situation is. I don’t want to go rushing into something blind and I also don’t know if I trust her fully.

Bree appears to miss my hesitancy as she grinds her heel into the ground, ready to bolt back down the stairs with me in tow. “What are you waiting for?”

I make my stance clearer by folding my arms over my chest. “Not until you tell me what’s going on.”

“Are you serious?” Bree huffs and throws her arms up. “Knowing that Kade needs you right now isn’t enough?”

At some point, it definitely would have been enough but after everything that’s happened and my new understanding of the world, I don’t think I can bring myself to mindlessly leap into the fire.

Before I can answer, Bree’s defensive stance relaxes and she looks up—past me. “…Oswald.”

I look behind me as well and see Oz approaching. He’s dressed but the shirt he’s wearing is inside out. Maybe Bree won’t notice…

“You must be Bree, right?” Oz asks and stops when he’s shoulder to shoulder with me. If I’m feeling more skeptical or cynical than usual, it’s his doing. And if I won’t budge until I know more, then Oz certainly won’t even entertain the idea until Bree says more.

“…Yes.” She sighs and looks between the two of us. The wheels in her mind are turning—I can see it on her face. Eventually, she settles her gaze on Oswald. “I didn’t expect to see you two together.”

“Why not?” Oz rebuts immediately, “You gave him my address, didn’t you? I’d say you expected us to meet.”

“Meet, yes, but not…” Bree gestures with her hand at the space in front of us, “not all that.”

Normally, I might have been embarrassed to be so put on the spot like this but I’m finding myself irate instead. “What’s this have to do with Kade? Or what you’re hiding from us?”

She’s a bit taken aback and even steps backward, further outside. “I haven’t been intentionally hiding anything,” she responds with a flavor of sincerity though I still don’t know if I trust her. “As for Kade…it’s hard to explain.”

“Perhaps you should try anyway,” Oz suggests or, rather, implies.

Bree sighs and pulls her hair back, holding the strands behind her ears before letting go, making them fall right to the front again. “This hair is so infuriating,” she mutters before sighing again, this time quieter. “Look…you two know about the state of this world, right? Or you at least suspect…?”

Oz and I exchange a glance and he gives me a slight nod to let me know I should go ahead and say it. “We’re in a simulation. This world isn’t real.”

“Yeah…” Bree rubs her lips together and glances down.

“You’ve known for a while too?” Oz takes a guess considering her reaction.

She nods. “I knew the whole time. And there’s more to it but I wanted everyone together to tell you all at once—”

“Why can’t you just say it now? Is it that difficult?” I snap. We’ve already been standing here and talking for this long, what’s a few minutes longer? It seems to me like she’s stalling just for the sake of it.

Bree shuts her eyes tight and her hands ball into fists at her sides. “Kade’s gone off the deep end!”

Her shouting gets even Oz to move back.

I take a deep breath and ask, one more time, “What’s happened?”

She still won’t look at me, even when she’s opened her eyes again. Instead, she stares at the floor—at our feet. “He’s figured some things out. I tried to explain to him what I know to maybe calm him down but…it didn’t work. Please, Melvin, I think you’re the only one who can get through to him right now.”

He’s figured things out? I think to myself.

Kade and I never spoke of theories or possibilities like Oz and I did—while he did notice the lifeless state of the world at large, I didn’t want to overwhelm him with information. Especially not with the mentality he was in.

But if he figured it out on his own…

I can see how this is bad.

“Alright,” I concede, “Let’s go. I don’t know if he’ll listen to me or not but…I’ll try.”

Relief washes over Bree. “Thank the Gods. I drove here so I’ll drive you back.”

“I’m coming too,” Oz says and grabs hold of my forearm.

Bree looks back at us and I can tell she’s weighing the pros and cons in her head because I am too. While I would feel better having Oz with me, I seriously doubt Kade will react well to seeing him. But, then again, if we ever want to sit down with Bree and finally listen to what she has to say, Kade and Oz are going to have to be in the same room eventually anyway.

It might be better to just get the awkwardness out of the way now.

“Alright,” Bree responds with a nod and leads the way down into the parking lot.

My mind is a flutter with all the possibilities as we head to Starla’s condo. Bree fills us in a little bit more—mostly to say that she has taken both Starla and Nate to a safe place while trying to calm down Kade. I’m relieved to hear Nate is still alive and was not actually the butchered body at the ice cream shop. Aside from that, however, I wonder why Bree felt the need to shield them from Kade.

Is he threatening others? Or is he spouting nonsense? Or, maybe, he’s discovered the truth and Bree simply doesn’t want Nate and Starla to find out—at least not in that way?

There are too many paths and I keep telling myself that I need to stop trying to guess.

Bree parks a row away from the building and I instantly start to crane my head around, searching for any signs or clues that might reveal the situation to me. Other than the fact the lot is just about vacant, I can’t see anything that’s off.

“I’ll go in first,” Bree says as she takes out a key. She unlocks the front door and I look back at Oz, feeling incredibly nervous.

I really don’t know what to expect.

The mess in the living room is what first catches my eye—the couch is overturned and pushed toward the entrance, almost like a barricade. One of the chairs is pressed against it, making entry into that side of the condo impossible without moving the furniture around.

There’s also a smell…one I know but I can’t put my finger on. I just know that it makes me sick.

From the hall past the living room walks a man I don’t recognize. He’s plain with dark hair, round glasses, and a basic button up tucked into dark trousers. But he’s not alone. A pale hand clamps onto his shoulder and guides him further into the living room.

“Don’t come any closer,” Kade’s voice sounds from behind him. His hand on the man’s shoulder tightens before he veers to the side, revealing a lot more than I am prepared for.

In his free hand, he grips an axe and there is fresh blood on it and on him. His entire torso is splattered with the stuff and lines of red streak across his face. Parts of his hair are matted and there is a wild, terrifying glint in his eye.

Bree really could have fucking warned us better.

“Kade!?” I can’t hold back my surprise. “What in the hell are you doing?!”

“Hi, Mel,” he says and smirks in my direction though he doesn’t hold eye contact. “What’s it look like to you?”

Oswald takes the liberty of answering for me. “It looks like you’ve realized the world isn’t real so you’re slaughtering people for fun.”

Kade’s brow lowers as he narrows his eyes at Oz. “I should have known you’d be here. After all, nothing fucking matters anyway, right? This is all just made up!”

“There are still people here who are real though,” Bree counters.

With the axe pointed at her, Kade snaps, “I don’t want to hear anything from you, you backstabbing cunt!”

My eyebrows fly up. I’ve never heard Kade talk like this before and now, more than ever, I start to realize that I don’t actually know him. He may as well be a stranger.

I don’t know if I can help.

He continues on, laser focused on Bree, “You knew this whole time and didn’t say shit! That tells me you’re in on it!”

I glance to the woman to see a look of genuine hurt on her face. It’s possible Kade is right on the nose and she feels guilty. I hope it’s not the case but there is quite a lot of evidence to support it. I can’t exactly blame Kade for thinking it.

But I can blame him for holding a man hostage. Even if the man is just a bunch of code, it doesn’t sit right with me.

“Kade…put down the axe,” I speak slowly as I approach him with an abundance of caution. The axe isn’t long enough to reach me but I don’t know whether he’s above throwing it at me or not.

“No,” he argues and jostles the man around in his grip so he’s hiding behind him again.

“What does this accomplish anyway?” Oz speaks up, “Is it just to let out your frustrations?”

Kade’s chuckle makes the blood in my veins go cold. He pokes his head out from behind his human shield again and a wide smile paints his lips.

“Want to see what I’ve found out by doing this? You might find it useful—enlightening even.”

I open my mouth, ready to rebuke whatever other claim he’s about to make, but he throws the man forward. Like a puppet cut from it’s strings, he flops limply over the couch, not even bothering to catch himself. Kade doesn’t wait a second before gripping his axe with both hands and bringing it down on the man’s back.

“NO!” I yell but it’s far too late.

Blood squirts up when Kade removes the weapon and I watch in horror as the body slumps back and onto the ground.

“One more for good measure,” Kade says before chopping him in the chest. This time, when he pries the axe out of his flesh, the blood splashes back onto him. It lands among the many other stains and I wonder how many people he’s already killed to be so thoroughly coated.

“What does that prove?” Oz asks immediately. He doesn’t seem as mortified by the murder as I feel but maybe he’s just hiding it. Or, maybe he feels the same way as Kade and doesn’t view the man as a real person. While I do understand that sentiment, that doesn’t mean I want to watch anyone be slaughtered.

They may be computer generated but they’re dressed up like they could be my friend or neighbor. It’s not right.

“Wait,” Kade instructs and raises his hands out, telling us not to come any closer. Sporadically, his eyes dart from us to the corpse on the ground.

Against my better judgment, I look at the body and watch it as if something really will happen. Part of me still wants to believe in Kade, I guess, though when Bree talks again, I feel kind of stupid for feeling that way.

“We’re not going to stand here, staring at a corpse for your entertainment, Kade.”

Bree moves to grab the chair so she can break apart the barrier but Kade swings his axe over toward her. “Just…wait.” He clenches his jaw and slowly switches his focus between each of us before saying, again, “Wait.”

It’s like we’re being held hostage at this point and I’m not sure what I can do despite being the one specifically drafted for this confrontation. But I guess Bree doesn’t know me as well as she thinks she does because I’m at a loss for what I can possibly do to help Kade.

He seems beyond reasoning.

I swallow the lump in my throat and decide that I should at least attempt something—anything. “Kade…” It feels wrong to call him by name but I push on, “I know this is all a lot to take in. Finding out that our world isn’t real…that so much of our lives were just controlled by an outside force—it sucks. It’s been hard on me too, believe me—”

“Shhh!” Kade raises a finger to his lips, completely ignoring my statement, and looks back to the corpse. “It’s happening.”

“Nothing is—” Bree attempts to say but it cut off and not by Kade.

The body on the ground twitches and begins to rise to it’s knees. Strange, faint electrical crackles dance around his form as he steps onto his feet. The wounds on his chest and back pull close toward each other and loud, rectangular colors flash over the blood until it’s no more. I feel the tingle of static electricity in the room and I’m worried that, if I move, I’ll be electrocuted somehow.

But that’s honestly not the biggest reason I can’t move. I simply can’t believe what I’m seeing. I was sure the man was dead yet he’s back on his feet and…

Wait.

The jarring colors and static calm down and I’m left staring at what I can only describe as a completely different person. He’s still fairly plain looking but his hair is short and brown and he no longer wears glasses. His skin is lighter and even his clothes have been changed.

“Do you see it?” Kade asks with a wide, manic grin. “Do you see how fucking pointless it all is? We can’t even fucking die! We just get replaced!”

My heart drops into my stomach at his words. I can’t process what I’m seeing, much less the larger implications it might have. Whether Kade is correct or not…this can’t mean anything good.

#heartbeats paradise #my novel #my writing

[youngwomanthoughts]

Love Thoughts

I spent most of my life wondering and thinking of the love of my life. I had a couple of failed relationships until I met the love of my life at the age of 23 on the street of Naples, Italy, at dawn. I thought he was the one until it all ended at the beginning of this year on the 1st at the age of 26.

There are always characteristics that shape your relationship with your partner, whether good or bad. However, despite all the challenges and battles you may face with them, I believe if there's infinite love coming from both sides, the relationship shall work, disregarding the hardships and how cruel life can get.

Always note the person who loves you entirely would invest in loving you back or just love you if their love is genuine. If you see that they're not giving back in any way that makes you feel not included, and you're begging and communicating your feelings the right way, but he's not, RUN, jog, or walk step by step. It does not matter how fast or slow it will take to get out, take a step forward.

What's more important than leaving is the intention you're leaving with. There is no need for you to walk away with the thought, "There is someone out there who will love and respect me more." Because you will only feed your delusions, and you will be stuck in the same circle all over again.

I am not saying there won't be someone who will love you and return the same love in any form that makes two parties comfortable. My point is there's no need to feed your mind and heart with things you don't know will happen. Eat your heart and thoughts.

With this boyish man, I fell so hard and made sure to show my love and make him feel it. Again, despite all the hardships, it was never enough until I snapped myself out of it. There is great power in walking away with having so much love for someone, but you leave anyway because they disrespect your being and boundaries. Of course, it was and still is hard for me. I am struggling, crying, punching walls and all, but you come first when there's no respect left for you in the room.

The "Love of my life" is already going out with someone else. I don't understand how he managed to do it. I believe I am in a state of shock at the moment, considering how I imagined our love story in my head, thinking of it as a story straight out of a book. But it didn't matter. Any of it didn't to him because he was able to walk side by side with another lady, do the things we loved doing the most together, share playlists, cook for her, going to museums in such a short period. I know some may argue and say: "But that's the way it is, he's moving on, and so should you." And to that, I say fuck what our generation has turned love into because if you feel genuine real love, you would know that it's not that easy to immediately become intimate with another unless the person you were with didn't love you as much as you believed.

Intimate experiences require your feelings to flow, your thoughts to swim, and your heart to beat. If you're looking at a painting, you admire it. When you listen to a song, you feel it, and when you make a meal, you taste it. In other words, he didn't mind sharing all of the intimate experiences we had. He didn't mourn our memories, instead, he replaced them with another candidate.

Now here is where I start reflecting on my love thoughts. Maybe it was all a lie to him. He saw me as yet, an easy target with whom he could do the things he loved, just like he could with any other woman. Two, I was convincing myself that we both equally shared the same amount of love and feelings towards one another. Or perhaps I was desperate for the love I looked for my entire young hood.

Not to say I am old, but I am older than 16, this year I turn 26. And as I become a decade older, I think of my 16-year-old self. Her innocence and life expectations. Now, I won't say I wish I could go back in time and tell my 16-year-old self that ten years from today, you will be heartbroken, and you should focus on yourself and your skills. Because as corny as it may sound, yesterday is history, tomorrow is a mystery, and all I have is now, which is magical and a blessing.

It is a blessing to lower your expectations when it comes to finding love and accepting the reality of some situations and relationships. I can't predict where and who I am going to be a decade from now, but I can say that my fire is gone. I am aware that I am feeling this way due to my broken heart. Still, it's important to recognize the cognitive change I am going through and not to build my dreams and healing journey based on finding someone "better." The truth is, I am still madly in love with this guy. I could never deny how I was feeling or how he made me feel. However, my reflections are concentrated on myself and knowing myself better.

When someone takes you out, don't expect much from them. Because life will snap at you once you face the reality of a situation and read the room.

What's most important is to be confident in yourself and not lower your standards, no matter how much the other person is offering. If they offer something exceptional, you can always return it based on your terms. But never at the cost of your values.

Despite my devastation and depression at this moment, I won't sit here and say real love does not exist, because that wouldn't be fair to the good women and men out there. But I must say, my experience and high expectations have put me in a position where I believe that love is not meant for all of us, depending on how you grew up and how you perceive love.

What I mean is that each one of us grows differently, depending on the family, experiences, and the resources we are offered growing up. If you think this has nothing to do with it, then think again, because it shapes your brain and how you approach others depending on your expectations and what you've always received.

To finish this off, in love there's a sacrifice that has to be made. You have got to come to a common ground with your partner and discuss new ways to revive your love. It doesn't have to be a strategic plan, but there should be an open conversation about what you can do to make it go on. I say so because love, after all, is a chemical reaction you give and receive. You shall reflect with your partner once you decide to establish a relationship. It's like a business contract, but not really, because love is a raw human experience rather than a made-up business plan.

It doesn't take a lot of work. The primary aspect of it all is honesty, and if you ever fall out of love with one another, you face it together rather than giving a silent treatment and letting the other person assume how you're feeling.

There is always a possibility that the person you're with may stop loving you, but in my case, I never found out. Because he would stay silent, he put me through mental suffering. So, if you're going through it now, you leave. You deserve more than just guessing.

#love thoughts

[threadingcolor]

this is the thing, that i intellectually understand to be bad but just. cant. get over. a loved one tells me that its hard, and difficult, to watch me neglect my wellbeing and feel bad and do nothing about it. And all i can hear is the. disappointment. the frustration. a friend tells me: its. upsetting. it feels awful. to see you not doing well and to see you suffering. its. hard. okay. because i care about you.

and my first feeling. maybe my only feeling. is just one of shame. one of frustration, or loss, maybe, but mostly. shame. because me not doing well is not exactly the surprise. i think i am. perhaps. used to it. in a way that is awful and horrifying. but it is embarassing. to have someone else see it.

my friend tells me. this is hard to see. this hurts to witness. and i just feel. ashamed. because i know that. and. i know that. i know. im sorry, i am.

but i think. maybe. not sorry enough to promise change, not yet.

its just humiliating, is the thing, right? Its humiliating, not just to be doing poorly but to have people see it and have them see you do nothing about it. Maybe that's all this ever is, all this ever was- all my sporadic behaviour and being shitty at keeping up with people

All just a smokescreen for the fact that i am. generally. not doing well. and the ways i never want people to know.

Because im. fine with it. im living with it. i could do more and i should but i dont. i am doing poorly and doing nothing about it even though i can. and people learn me and love me and maybe that becomes the worst part, that they start unravelling the lie of me doing well, and then thats. it. theres no reward. theres no additional twist. its me doing poorly and doing nothing about it. Its someone yoive grown to care about neglecting herself and seemingly too uncaring to do anything about it.

I dont think i like myself enough to want better, most days, and its always just. Mortifying. When other people start seeing it. Maybe that's all this ever was. just a shame. because its bad, and i know its bad, and i dont feel. motivated enough to change it.

She says. Its hard to see you like this. And i want to say. You're right. You're so right and I'm so fucking sorry, and. Can you please look away, and just forget that you learned this? Can you? Because I'm not fixing this. I am waiting until a day I want to but it hasn't hit yet. I love you and I do not want to lie to you if I don't have to. I love you and I don't want you to feel bad and I do not want to make promises I will not keep. Can you turn around? Can you forget? Can you look at the smokescreens and pretend they are real again? Can you. Let me lie to you. And believe it.

Im so sorry. Can you turn around? Can you believe me when I lie to you about being fine?

I love you. I respect you. I do not want to tell you things I know to be false. So the only lie I want to tell you is that I'm doing fine, and only because I so badly want you to believe it.

She told me. this is. so hard for me to watch. and i said. i think i understand. it makes sense. and i didn't say anything else because i didnt want to lie anymore. i didnt want to make any more empty promises. because i was. sad. because i was. upset. because i was angry. because i was fucking. mortified.

I do not want to lie to you. So i didn't say anything. So i haven't said anything. I dont want to lie to you. I dont know how to talk to you if I don't.

Humiliating. Its just. Mortifying. I promise I'm sorry. I dont think it means anything until i do something.

Im so sorry. im so sorry. I dont want to lie to you. That means I say nothing instead. Im so sorry. I dont know what to do about it. Other than the same, easy things you ask of me. I dont know what to do. I know exactly what i need to do.

It feels like i will lose you before i ever do it. It feels like i already have.

I want to lie to you. I'm trying so hard, not to.

#fuck. #/god/. i just. shit. i get it. i do. im sorry. i know it doesnt mean anything until i do something. and i havent yet #thats it. its so simple. its so simple. i dont know what to do with it. #im so sorry. im so damn sorry #i wish i could tell you that in a way that mattered. #sysscribbles

[so-gay-it-hurts-t-t]

Let me out

               Do things always work out in the end? They don’t, they never do, at least for me. I know how that sounds, it sounds like I’m trying to make a martyr out of myself, “oh no, my life sucks, I’m sad”, but I have proof to back up what I’m saying. I was raped, then I forgot I was, and then I remembered. Great stuff, isn’t it? It is such wonder to have the same image burned again and again into your mind. As everyone has been telling me for the past year “things are gonna get better”, except they didn’t, I still feel as shitty and guilty, dirty and lost, I feel like I’ve lost control over my life, not that I had that much to begin with. It’s been almost a year and a half, when the fuck is it gonna get better? I’m not even asking for good, just for something slightly better, it would be nice not to wake up in the middle of the night because my nightmares about that day getting more and more real. Still, there are times where it does get a teeny tiny bit better, bet it usually doesn’t last more than a couple hours, a day if I’m lucky. But some shit always happens to get me back to square one, always, things always get worse in the end.

               At some point, as any other person would’ve, I got tired of it, I decided to take away my own life. I couldn’t even succeed at that, I failed miserably, but still spent two days at the damn hospital. Statistics say that most of the people that attempt suicide regret almost immediately, I did, do not. The only thing I regret is calling the suicide prevention helpline, if only I hadn’t, I’d be dead by now, I’d be free. They did ask me if I regretted my actions before letting me go, I told the doctors the truth, which is probably what made them want to put me in a psychiatric hospital, it didn’t work out, and it’s better that way, I doubt it could’ve helped me, I’m already a prisoner inside my own mind, I really didn’t, and don’t, need to be one in real life too. Now I’m being forced to live a life that isn’t my own one that I clearly don’t enjoy living in, but hey, at least, once in a blue moon, things get slightly better for a day, and then they get abysmally worse. Today is one of those days, but today’s also worse than usual, because things didn’t get slightly better for a couple of hours, or a full day, they got slightly better for a whole ass week, and as they say, the bigger they are, the harder they fall.

               To be fair, it’s not like taking me back to square one is hard, the tiniest inconvenience is more than enough. A week ago, I got invited to a party, “finally, I get to worry about something my age” I dumbly thought. And worry I did, as normal people do, without overthinking things that much, for fuck’s sake, I even went shopping with my mother, the fact that I was able to survive that is undeniable proof that things were better. Sadly, the party got canceled, no big deal, right? Shit happens, right? That’s the rational reaction, but I’m not rational, I’m an overthinker, so I overthought. Maybe I was invited by mistake, and this was a way to make sure I didn’t go, or perhaps it was just a cruel joke, it could also be that the party was just cancel, but I doubt that, there’s not that many things I’m sure about, but if had to bet on the one thing I know for sure is that I’m a hardly likeable character. I feel like such a fool for believing that I could be social, for believing that, if only for a night, that I could have a normal life for someone my age, for imagining that people are actually able to appreciate my company.

               In the beginning I tried coping, I decided to still go out, for a walk or something, instead I hooked up with a total stranger. I got distracted while it lasted, but immediately after I got dragged back to reality, so I went home, where I spent an hour and a half researching easy, fast and painless ways to die, but I don’t have neither poison nor a gun. Then I started writing this, but I don’t really see the point anymore, who do I think I am? I’m just another sad and frustrated teenager, there’s millions more of those. I don’t like myself, well, which seventeen-year-old does? Sure, I have trauma, but who doesn’t? I don’t see why I would have a right to complain, even if that’s exactly what I’m doing.

               I really don’t see the point in trying anymore, I should have the right to choose when to die, I should be able to stop my own suffering, but no, people think being alive even if you’re in a constant state of suffering is better than being dead, but it’s always happy people that think that. What about hell and heaven? My thoughts on that are simple, they don’t exist, and even if they did, I’m going straight to hell anyway, I’m a bad person and I doubt I’d change if I stayed alive. The worse part of all this is that the only reason people around me don’t want me to die isn’t because life is great and all that shit, but because my dead would make them feel guilty or sad, so they want me to suffer for their own selfish reasons. Granted, I also want to die for selfish reasons, but at least I’m honest about them.

[kafksaesque]

thoughts on love, being loved, abuse, and healing

i have always had an odd relationship with all types of love. perhaps it was growing up neurodivergent, maybe the specific environment i grew up in, i’m not sure. my love for my family, my relatives, was all conditional, something i never tend to see reflected in my peers. my love for my friends tends to feel more similar to how others describe familiar love rather than just platonic love. i always felt like i loved people faster than normal, stronger than normal. this combined with the environment i grew up in was practically devastating to my young brain. i know i have not recovered from it all.

at first, i fell for my mother’s fake love. she would tell me her slaps were not hard enough to be abuse, that all parents do that, it’s just good parenting, so stop being so dramatic. but i learned soon that her love was not what love ought to be. violence and neglect and manipulation is not what love is supposed to be. maybe i do not know exactly what love is, but i knew what it was not. i was angry. i was angry that i was not loved the way i loved others. i took this out on people. i was immature and destructive and unloving on the outside because that’s how i had been loved. but i regretted it. i still regret how i was back then. at a point, the anger simmered off into a chronic pain. depression and anxiety hit me full force at such a young age and i became self conscious, turned to self harm, locked myself up. i talked to my family about absolutely nothing. i still do. and the abuse didn’t stop, but it reformed itself. i haven’t been hit in years. instead it was comments on my body, pressuring me to lose weight and shaming me for not playing sports, making me count calories, carbs, grams of sugar, protein. i’ve never recovered from that. those mindsets are still with me to this day. and then it was shaming me for academics, being lazy, immature, emotional, dramatic, a procrastinator, avoidant. i was gaslighted into thinking my very real mental illnesses and disorders were simply attitude problems. it was treating my brothers with care, trust, as if they were fragile. you see in my mothers eyes her boys’ struggles were the most important, the most challenging. mine were problems i had to figure out myself.

then, in the fall of 2020, i had a new abuser. typical narcissistic behavior; love bombing, making me feel so loved and cared for, and sudden ghosting. complete abandonment. manipulating me into feeling bad for them. making me feel unlovable. in november i tried to kill myself.

in my eyes, i was unlovable. you see i was dramatic and sensitive and fragile and immature and overly emotional and easily embarrassed and damaged and ugly and fat and annoying and overwhelming and bothersome and stupid and impulsive. all the love i got convinced me of this.

but i realized not long ago, that i am loveable. i am deserving of the same love i give others. i deserve to be loved as hard as i love others. maybe i can be a bit impulsive and emotional, i annoy some people, maybe i’m a bit sensitive, but am i not deserving of love? aren’t i funny and intelligent and caring and creative and don’t i try my best to love people? i have the right to be loved as i love. that overwhelming, encapsulating feeling, the one that makes my chest sparkle and fly; i deserve someone that loves me like that. i know i do. i know what love is not. i know when i am not being loved.

i know i am not fully healed. there is no way to heal in the place i am in. i cannot find solace in the place i am abused. i cannot find comfort in the house i am abused in. but once i am out, i will know how to heal.

#writing #spilled thoughts #lgbtq #self healing #healing

[shanaylightfoot]

This is for me to vent to someone, or even for me to vent to myself. An outlet perhaps. A way for me to escape reality for just a minute. But who cares right. Shanay Lightfoot , a lost girl pretending to know who she really is. Sifting through childhood trauma and tragedies beyond comprehension. Or maybe it's an exaggerated way to put it, but not exaggerated enough in her opinion.

Born in the second month, on the 28th day of 1990. From then it felt as though she was cursed. Growing up with 4 brothers, 1 sister, and a mother who changed men like clothes. Too poor to fit in with others, to skinny to fit into the ascetic of other girls around her, too black and ugly to ever feel wanted. So what did she do? Not take her life because like most people, she was afraid of death. Instead, she tried extra hard to fit in, to be liked and gave her body up in hopes of love. Not even love, to atleast feel wanted. Even if just for a moment.

Primary school was ok. Well kinda, sorta maybe. A lot of days it was stealing out of other kids' lunch bags, eating off the ground when ever there was a cookie or half eaten apple. Pissy from peeing the bed the night before, because I hated baths.

Home during this time was the worst. Could hardly sleep without being molested. From brother, cousin, people who were just there and even mother's boyfriends. A cousin, grown man, made me perform phelatio on him when mom went out. It stained my brain forever.

Mom had went out and I was left awake watching TV. He was watching the game and decided to go out as well. He started switching the channels and put it on porn and asked if thats what I wanted to watch. I nodded "no". He put on cartoon then called me into the bathroom and asked me if I ever saw a real dick before, and told me to suck it. I didn't want to and he said he would beat me if I didn't. So I did. He stopped me after some time and ejaculated in the toilet. He sent me out the bathroom and threaten to beat me if I said a word. I was in grade 3-4 at the time. I was scared shirtless to tell my mom. So I didn't, as all of my siblings, including me carried scars from the beating she gave us.

The molestation carried on till I graduated high school. Even after I moved out from my mom and in with my aunt from hell. The beating stopped when I moved out from my mom.

They say, the things you suffer as a child tends to wrap its sticky claws around you till it fells as though it's embedded into your DNA. You never forget.

This is all I have to share today. We'll for now.... until next time I guess!

-Shanay Lightfoot

[bluewinnerangel]

DEMY ARE YOU STILL WITH US?!

CAN YOU CONFIRM HE IS IN FACT REAL?!

I am on the other side of the world and still can’t move on from this. How does anyone with daily contact with him survive?

ALSO HIS SHIRT. ALSO HIS LIL CURL His curl I couldn't stop watching.... I got the good stuff men i was bless-ed my show fucking ruled so fking hard

Also orange shirt plus Teenage Dirtbag in Amsterdam? This plus that equals:

Also

I just wanna put this pic somewhere too where he might or might not be looking at me and my funny lil shirt im not gonna tell u what it is because i might wanna wear it again and i don't need to be recognised but like who knows its half a pixel but I love these pics lol like the experience bro to experience HIM. LIKE. HE'S REAL. HE'S THERE AND HE WAS SO GOOD. SO AMAZING.

Okay I'll try to stop all-capsing now and tell you all about it. Gonna put a cut in because BLAAAAA about the entire thing including a lot of personal experience queueing and seeing the fans and stuff so if you're here to read a beautiful written concert review about all the songs you're shit outta luck that mans everything i have no words for how mindblowing it was but ill throw some pics at the end to make up for all the rambling ok:

Before the concert - So first of all I have to acknowledge how much of a privilege it is to even be able to watch him like that, not just that he's got a show somewhere close enough to you it doesn't cost you a fortune to even be there (and then still.. to even be able to afford a ticket), and managing to get a ticket in the first place, but I joined the queue in the afternoon the day before in order to be sure of a good spot without being an asshole about it sdfasd (with that I mean, others ensured their spots with other tactics causing quite the.. vibe.. at the front there. It's not even the "cutting line" I'm bothered by it's the part where they'd just brag over and over how they did that. Like you're trying to make people around you feel like shit or start an argument like do you wanna get punched by a horde of exhausted people or what like let's just all enjoy the show instead maybe). Anyway about the privilege thing. You have to be able to afford the time and money to accommodate yourself and also.. who the fuck does that for anyone? that's insane it's absolute fucking insanity what the fuck are all of us what the fuck does this man do to us that we do that for him like it's. ridiculous. I can't believe how willing I was to do that ksadjlakj. I didn't think I was. I don't think it makes sense to do this. I'm gonna be honest here I don't enjoy this aspect of the fandom, this need to be in the first box of people to enter, to run to barricade (tbh that part was kinda fun), to exhaust yourself for 24+ hours, remove comfort, perhaps endanger yourself if you aren't able to do it properly for health reasons or just naivety or whatever, to all keep inching the time you need to be there to get a regular spot further up and up and up as tour goes on until people are claiming the venue doors a full 2 days in advance. And even on the day like if you wanna be in the first 2000 to get in you need to be there for like 8 hours (im just saying numbers here like these are prob total bs but you get the point) like either you camp to be in the first lil clump of people that are let in, or you just arrive just before it starts. Those are your options really. To be honest I wasn't planning on sitting there for 24hrs but I did, like on the spot I decided to stay, because I was there the day before just to bring my friends ( @ialwaysknewyouwerepunk and partner <3 EDIT: @caralara !!! I didn't know if you wanted to be tumblr official so I didn't tag but EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE HI) some stuff for camping and then the plan was for me to go to sleep and join them early morning. But once the system was explained it was clear that would mean a lot of queueing by myself and I just wanted to be with them so I stayed and we managed and were somehow still prepared even though it was an improvised thing. It was actually really fun, I didn't mind any of it really. But that was 100% the company. And in that regard I do get this whole... situation we got going on before every show where fans are just all have a big camp out. It's addictive even, it's part of the whole experience, I do really get it, but for that aspect of it, not for the need to be at the front over and over again. That's just... an amazing perk then. Like really I'd queue again if there are people in it that I wanna hang out with and I wouldn't see them otherwise, but in no way am I sitting outside for that long solely to get a good spot at a concert. Even if that's louis. And the best fucking thing I've ever seen. Anyway on friday we just snoozed with a view of the tour bus which was like.. a night under the stars get it asddsf. The next day we sat in the front lil box for the special first 150 and it was funny to recognize a lot of common fandom faces and then figuring out from what exactly.

I also talked to one of the people working at the venue, and they said they've only seen something similar 4 or 5 events in the 20 years they've been doing this work, but they were all huge and in Ziggo Dome, another venue at that square. They also let us store our stuff in lockers beforehand at that venue instead (but i think a lot of people already had means to store their stuff)... I guess they got the memo we would NOT take ANY time putting those safe whatsoever once the doors opened. literally people were willing to risk their lives and possessions for a good spot. Really just all logic is out the window for louis tomlinson istg and I knew this of course but seeing it all around me was new. Oh but talking to other fans? TALKING TO ELLA? my PEOPLE my PEEOPLLLEEEEE I'm SO happy I got to meet you two you are such amazing amazing kind souls we're absolutely gonna meet again weeeeeeeeeeeeeeee.

So it got pretty shit about 2 hrs before we could get in, because the sun was JUST behind the building and all of us had already stored all our stuff and the temp was being weird, like it almost heated up and then it didn't so we weren't doin too well luv and that was the first moment I really felt like this wasn't it this wasn't the way akasljsal.

Inside - Once the doors opened of course it was total chaos and we ran and managed to get on what I think was 4th row? but by the end it was like 6 or 7. We were slightly to the left, this is the exact spot with the help of louis pointing at me of course its potato footage:

There was a water sent into the crowd, us and the people in front and behind us had a job like we were constantly busy handing over plastic cups, both full ones into the crowd and empty ones back, it got a bit less motivated to keep that up after a while but let me tell you i NEEDED that water and so i also wanted everyone behind me to get it if they'd feel like me or worse. I was well hydrated, i needed to pee but you don't notice it at all with all the adrenaline, but with all the screaming and jumping and post covid lungs/throat you need it.

The intro is LOUD. LIKE. LOUD. Like I felt that everywhere and it adds to the buildup and anticipation perfectly and then the curtain falls and he walks in and I apparently look like a child with wonder in its eyes when he came on, because these bitches were filming me (<3) and I got to see my reaction and its .. askdljalks cute I guess. yeah and then he was just there. he was there. in HD boy real life in very high quality did you know that? and hes fucking perfect like seriously what the hell and he just-. I don't have words I don't get it. I was going in between losing my shit dancing and singing and everything, just standing there staring at him, and trying to take some pictures. Unfortunately the taking pictures caused me to miss his stupidass smileyface green wink flickering thing (did you pick that up online? Yeah it did.). I was taking pictures at that exact moment but it didn't catch it rip.

Another unfortunate bit was that my hearing got fucked from the beginning with all the screaming so I didn't get to fully experience his sound but it was already SO overwhelming in every other aspect I didn't even really mind plus the premise of seeing him again ASAP and experience it then, with the assumption I'll get a ticket (got my eyes on Antwerp so if anyone has one please) that is.

Then there were the stops... again... I don't know if it was just one person or multiple that needed assistance but the show got stopped 2 times and you can tell he's so fking sick of it. I was fking sick of it. Anyway shits not nice of me to say, perhaps these people were in big need of assistance for reasons out of anyone's control and it did end badly but you just get so desensitized to it when it happens constantly I'm just afraid people are either clueless to the point where they just didn't know they couldn't handle it, that with not knowing how to take care of themselves included, or knowing they can't but are willing to risk everything to see him... or they're exaggerating, perhaps not even consciously, to get an unfortunate notice. Like OmG LoUiS CaReS aBoUt Me yeah but do u care about louis anyway I'm just afraid of people, louis included, not responding anymore when there's a very critical emergency at some point and everyone yells to stop the show and louis is just like bitch here we go again whenever i stop the show everyones just good what are we doing lemme just continue? you know? I thought he said something like "really?" something too but it's all a blur.

have a pic have a pic

But man the ENERGY? THE CONFIDENCE? THE even though i know every single fucking bit of this show because ive watched lives 30+x times this was still just all so .. another level. Ella warned me beforehand that it's nothing like it. The lives are missing the sound the vibe the entire stage his whole body how he moves how he talks where he is within the space how awesome his band is the crowd EVERYTHING and man I was not prepared. I have a lil confession i always thought he was a lil awkward. Cute awkward but still... I thought he was awkward and turns out you can make the most confident man look awkward when you zoom in on their face performing without showing the rest of the performance, environment, nothing, and perhaps further made awkward by you as the viewer sitting in your pjs snacking in front of a screen watching it, who knew, apparently. BOY OH BOY he is NOT awkward. He owns that fking stage. What the fuck. Not even a lil bit. I was so so so wrong. I'm. intimidated lol (somehow wasnt at all when he pointed ... i was like YUUUUUHHH BROOOO BRING IT [my partner is telling me to make an edit of mad max where hes like HE LOOKED AT ME HE LOOKED ME STRAIGHT IN THE EYE!!!! i just might]) but yeah so yeah jesus christ omg.

picspics this is a ramble

As for things during the concert I noticed that were cute outside of the regular program... there was a sign in the crowd that said stage dive or something so he saw it, laughed at it, and then pretended to stage dive. it was cute af. he did rock paper scissors, he pointed and agreed with a sign that asked if they could smoke a joint together after the show, he cracked the absolute fuck up about a sign that said "stroganoff to get it wrong? In front of all these people" which was all the way to the right of the stage. Like he deadass just stayed in it it was so fking hilarious watching him just crackling.

He was vibing with someone off stage and making funny movements idk what it was but i was just staring like oh. He really loved some signs all the way to the left as well but I didn't know what they were.

He REALLY hated someone else that seemed to be at barrier on the left of the stage too, it was like... like a fucking dagger stabbed me lol he just gave them the 2 fingers british fuck you sign, then walked away not looking at them and flipping them off behind his back but it was with SUCH force. He was MAD. No idea what he saw but he was not happy. He then looked at one of the bandmembers like yeah they deserve it kinda thing.

He said "I see ya at the back" at some point and we looked back and didn't really see anything. There was a group cheering and jumping, so my best guess is he saw them vibing. There were pride flags on the balcony tho so it could have been that as well.

When he jumped off the stage during kmm we lost him for a long time and then he popped up reaaaaallyl short he just went BLOOP and gone, not sure about that, maybe someone pulled him? idk.

Also he refused to acknowledge a sign that said something not very interesting because we were right behind it and every time he came close like CLOSE CLOSE like i can SEE YOU SO WELL RN close the fucking sign would pop up with the speed of 28 lightyears so stronk so high so present I couldn't see him basically at fucking all i mean... it needs an arrow to show you where louis is because you can't fucking seeeeeeeeee, this is no zoom what it looked like:

I mean.. after the 5th time he has stood right in front of you reading it you don't need to keep holding it up after that? He's read it. What do you want him to do? I'm sorry he's just not gonna interact with it the 28th time if he hasn't 27 times before. It's done lemme see him please :') But this is going somewhere I promise because after a while at more than one occasion he tried to look around it at fucking us god damn it and it was in the way and so I missed 2 or 3 interactions that were directed at either one of us or one of the people next to us because only one of us at the time could see him whenever he got near so I just got half of a sentence or movement or whatever that I couldn't make out now and then, no idea, maybe watch an uploaded live, I know this one was very close to us, maybe I will, but there's one happening very soon so. Anyway he could've been interested in giving us that lil pointypoint for many reasons of which half aren't mine to tell so I won't, but for me it was just 1) going fucking mental, and it wasn't to like get him to see me do that, but lemme tell you when he confirmed that he did and enjoyed it I just got such a fucking sense of like this is the tiny thing I just gave back to him that he's given me. That seems weird probably but I'm very very held back, not just with a celebrity everyone wants to get near it seems, but with anyone I'm just always thinking I'm violating peoples space and I annoy you when I alert you of my existence basically that's just a me thing and makes me not want to like, meet him, send him anything, just... nada. Like I just don't wanna bother anyone. But like this? It's perfect. He had all the freedom to not acknowledge me but he did on his own free will because he enjoyed it and fed off the energy there seeing how ALDKJSDKLJLK we were going from his music and performance? what the fuck else would i want like shit that's just. thats perfect. But then there's 2) which is my shirt, which again I'm not gonna say just yet but you're welcome to ask me in a dm if we talk of course, but it's just combining 2 things he's big on so it would make sense it'd catch his attention.

But that's not what I came there for. I don't wanna be like y/n moment xoxo let's get more (but also, I do now, because he RUINED IT. HE RUINED IT. nothing is gonna compare to him fucking being like YO THIS BITCH IS GOING FOR IT *P O I N T S* like fuck) I just wanted to see him at least once because I could, and I was honestly planning on getting there just before it started and standing at the back by myself, chilling. But that's not what I got, I got to meet amazing people and had the fucking time of my fucking life holy shit. Like everything went better than I could've ever imagined and he was better than i had imagined and i already thought he was everything.

LOOK AT THAT FUCKER WITH THE POINT THAT WILL SHIT ON MY FUTURE CONCERTS:

#also im tagging my pic posts #my photo #so i guess i should do this one too #also theres still more coming i just didnt make it before the next concert apparently rip im exhausted #maybe #maybe. #WITNESS ME