░ BLOTGYDJA.

—  𝑤𝘦  𝑤𝘦𝘳𝘦  𝔈𝑛𝑡𝑤𝑖𝑛𝑒𝑑, 𝘪𝘯  𝘳𝘦𝘥  𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴  𝘰𝘧  𝔅𝑙𝑜𝑜𝑑  𝑎𝑛𝑑  𝔏𝑜𝑛𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑒𝑠𝑠  ...

[blotgydja]

𝕰ast of the sun, 𝖂est of the moon. ░ # 𝔟𝔩𝔬𝔱𝔤𝔶𝔡𝔧𝔞, a highly private and selective multimuse writing blog. featuring muses from a variety of sources; including literature, film, tv and stage. by solveig ( 27, she/her, northern europe ). on permanent semi-hiatus, expect low activity. dark themes and mature content will be present. minors dni. affiliated with sachingja.

¹ 𝑴𝗎𝗌𝖾𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍 ² 𝑮𝗎𝗂𝖽𝖾𝗅𝗂𝗇𝖾𝗌 ³ 𝑺𝗂𝖽𝖾𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗀 ⁴ 𝑷𝗋𝗈𝗆𝗉𝗍𝗌

[blotgydja]

happy pride month!!!!!! I love being queer and I love you all <3

[blotgydja]

Fomalhaut  —  Sender  leans  against  Receiver’s  back. marianne and connell <3

◗ PROMPT COLLECTED FROM A STUDY OF STARS ░ ACCEPTING.

[ 𝑻 ] he cramped grocery store is a temporary oasis from the sweltering Italian sun; droplets of drying sweat dot his hairline, and the sun-kissed skin of his arms are covered in goosebumps courtesy of the A.C. unit blustering above their heads. The cashier, an older man with heavy brows and disdain written all over his face, is focused on the football game playing on the TV in the corner — and it’s lucky for them that the World Cup is on, otherwise Connell would be far more stressed looking for excuses to keep lingering in the shop. He tears his gaze away to search the fruits and greens section for @exitvelo, her name on the very tip of his tongue, when he feels her arms slide around his waist. ❛❛ I was wondering where you'd gone, ❜❜ he says quietly, greeting her with the settlement of his hands above hers, tugging her arms tighter and her body closer to his.

Warmth spikes where they touch, her front a scorching wall all along his back, but this is a heat he can handle far better than the heatwave simmering outside — even as it slips through his pores, into his veins, his bloodstream made up of only her. Her soft perfume is a welcomed respite from the tropical scent of his sunscreen, filling his nostrils and his fingertips with the urge to grasp a pen and put it all to paper. Were it not for the looming presence of the cashier turning his back on the football game in his periphery, he might have spun in her arms and slanted his lips over hers. Instead he picks up one of the jars of cherry tomatoes he'd been pretending to consider purchasing, and (seeking her linguistic expertise) angles it so the label is visible over his shoulder. ❛❛ How do you say this? Pomodorini? ❜❜ A small smile curls his mouth, embarrassment nowhere to be found for he knows he lacks her talent; instead it is laced in knowing amusement, patiently awaiting her gentle admonishment of his butchering of the language. ❛❛ Pomodorini — ? ❜❜

[blotgydja]

GET TO KNOW SOLVEIG!

nicknames: don't really have one because my real name is pretty short and doesn't call for a nickname, but friends have jokingly called me things like typo, dingo and (don't ask) sauron for years. zodiac: sagittarius. I'm not an astrology girlie so I don't know what my moon or rising is soz! last movie I saw: obsession, which you'd enjoy if you like horror and dedicated performances! last thing I googled: red days (translation: public holidays) in may. whit monday got me good this year! favorite musician: just gonna list a bunch of my faves. sam fender, uld, maggie rogers, del water gap, bleachers, fontaines dc, no. 4. the list goes on and on! song stuck in my head: lonely touch by sarah kinsley. other blogs: my angel alina @svyatoiy, who I promise is not dead, I'm just in the middle of fieldwork and grad school and don't have the mental capacity for two blogs right now (though who knows, maybe I'll pop my head in over the summer). do I get asks: I'm so lucky I get a bunch of wonderful prompts! following: trying to keep it at around 50, but I'm pretty sure a decent amount of those are inactive. amount of sleep: my bedroom window opens onto the busiest street in the city centre, which means I never get a decent amount of sleep ever. desperately looking forward to a summer in my hometown where the only thing that'll keep me up at night is the sound of seagulls! lucky number: 27. what I'm wearing: black pants, blue and white striped shirt and a massive grey pullover I finally finished knitting. dream job: honestly I kind of have it! I work at a local history museum as a guide and receptionist and my dream would be to take over as daily manager. other than that, the cliché bookstore owner/publishing house dream still lives on. realistically I just want an office job that pays decently. dream trip: I spent two days hiking and living in a beautiful shared house in the atlas mountains in morocco right before covid and it was honestly the best time I've ever had, so I'd love to go back and do longer treks. other than that I'm desperate for a long weekend hopping between various west end theatres, so london as well! favorite food: don't think you can get more stereotypically norwegian than by saying a good piece of salmon and some rice, but it's true. play any instrument: I used to be able to play a couple songs on the guitar but I've since lost all musical talent. languages: my native language is norwegian, I'm fluent in english, and almost fluent in swedish and danish. favorite songs: jeg skal finne deg by uld, hva kjærlighet er by no. 4, paradigms by sam fender, the young people by lankum, back in my body by maggie rogers. there are so many more but these five are what comes to mind today! random fact: I have four small scars on my neck from a medicine tube/catheter I had as a child, and I spent most of my early teenage years trying to convince people I was bitten by a vampire. only managed to trick the most gullible of my friends though :-( promise I have since stopped! describe yourself as aesthetic things: stacks of books that nearly topple over on the floor, the sound of seagulls, waves crashing against "svaberg" (don't know if there's an english term that would sufficiently explain what I mean by this so just google it), an ever-growing collection of half-written journals, dark wood panels, a messy desk lit up by a single candle.

tagged: @exitvelo 💖 tagging: pretty sure everyone has already been tagged and/or done this but I want to see @sachingja and @skrimslis!

[blotgydja]

Alnilam 🎨🧺

◗ PROMPT COLLECTED FROM A STUDY OF STARS ░ ACCEPTING.

[ 𝑯 ] er life has changed so vividly and so abruptly she cannot help but wonder if perhaps this is all still a dream, her body still in that cold jail cell instead of floating down the halls of Bridgerton house to break fast with its namesakes. If it is, Sophie does not wish to ever wake. At the top of the staircase her steps and disbelieving introspection halt, her gaze caught on the catalyst of all that change waiting at the landing; dark hair combed and cravat tied perfectly round his neck @sachingja looks every inch the perfect suitor. Though the sight sends the kaleidoscope of butterflies in her stomach fluttering, it is the smile that curls his mouth when he sees her that trips up her heart. ❛❛ Good morning, ❜❜ she says in greeting, descending the stairs between them with quick feet, entirely uninterested in playing the part of coy debutante or uninterested lady.

Led entirely by feeling she makes to reach for his lips when the sound of his family conversing in the sitting room spills out the open doorway. Again she halts, her instincts quelled by the reminder of their situation, and reaches instead for his hand with a smile to match his own. ❛❛ I did not expect to see you so early, your mother was quite certain you would be sleeping late after last night. ❜❜ His thumb caresses the ring adorning her left hand, and when he lifts it up to his mouth, pressing a kiss to the jewel, she can only watch with wide eyes, forever his most captive audience. If she thinks he might have suddenly acquired respect for society’s rules of propriety, she is wrong; when she tries to pull her hand back he grasps it tighter, pressing it firmly to his chest, right where his heart beats steady and strong. Even through his shirt he is warm to the touch, and she yearns to lean in close — his mother and siblings in the room next door be damned. Roses bloom on her cheeks, and when she speaks again it is with a teasing tone, an attempt at levity that does not match the true magnitude of her feelings. ❛❛ Could you not bear to be apart from me any longer? ❜❜

[blotgydja]

Alnitak  —  Sender  lifts  the  hem  of  Receiver’s  shirt,  tending  to  the  wound  in  silence. robby and john

◗ PROMPT COLLECTED FROM A STUDY OF STARS ░ ACCEPTING.

[ 𝑻 ] he idea that doctors make the worst patients is an undisputed fact. Controlling, overcompensating, know-it-all attitudes even when treated by the most qualified of physicians — Robby is fully aware of the stereotypes, has more times than he can recount been the one attending to a colleague’s injury or ailment, and might even have once considered himself a bit of a virtuoso at navigating the gray zones of the coworker-to-patient pipeline. Emphasis on once. It is why he is now doing his best to bite his tongue, to leave the Dr. behind and be only Robby, the poor patient with an entirely insignificant stab wound. The past two years have been a thorough hammer to his psyche, and only recently has he picked up the mortar to begin rebuilding. It feels pointed, returning to what used to be his ER after an extended sabbatical only to find his lumbar region impaled by a med student who hasn’t even memorised his name yet. Way to make a guy feel special.

His recently acquired therapist’s motto echoes through his mind as he watches John lift up the hem of his scrub top, the sharp-toothed forceps guilty of the bleeding wound already disposed of on the tray table at his side. Two steps forward and one step back is better than none at all, two steps forward and one step back is better than none at all, two steps forward and one step back is bet— An involuntary yelp halts his internal chant, pain radiating through his body at each prod and prick of John’s gloved hands. He swallows back a hiss and grits his teeth. The one silver lining to appreciate amongst all the blood staining his stomach and scrub pants is that he lucked out with the other attending on shift — John’s quick, doesn’t balk at the sight of his former superior without his shirt on, and knows to adjust his bedside manner to the patient (in other words, knows not to press his buttons by attempting small talk). At least that’s what he tells himself, that the furrow between @exitvelo's dark brows is due to his dedicated focus rather than any worry Robby’s injury might have inspired in him. If it isn’t, he's not in any kind of mindset prepped to handle it, not yet. He has a good few sessions with his therapist left before he’s comfortable broaching the topic of anything more serious than what take-out John would want for dinner or if he’d like him to spend the night instead of sneaking out again. ❛❛ Alright, Dr. Shen, what's your prognosis? Am I gonna make it? ❜❜

[gloomglimmer]

✧       ›       𝐫𝐩  𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬  .   .   .   (   a  study  of  stars   )    rp  prompts  inspired  by  unique  stars  in  our  galaxy.   ✧   ˚₊   Themes:   tension,  romance,  action. 

Betelgeuse  —  Sender  rests  their  forehead  against  Receiver's.

Sirius  —  Sender  traces  lazy  circles  on  Receiver’s  wrist.

Rigel  —  Sender  steps  between  Receiver  and  the  danger.

Altair  —  Sender  lifts  Receiver’s  chin,  locking  eyes.

Deneb  —  Sender  wraps  their  coat  around  Receiver’s  shoulders,  fingers  lingering  longer  than  necessary.

Procyon  —  Sender  grabs  Receiver’s  hand  before  they  can  leave.

Spica  —  Sender  brushes  a  leaf  from  Receiver’s  shoulder.

Pollux  —  Sender  pulls  Receiver  into  a  half-laughing,  half-panicked  hug.

Castor  —  Sender  offers  the  Receiver  a  cigarette

Fomalhaut  —  Sender  leans  against  Receiver’s  back.

Bellatrix  —  Sender  wipes  blood  from  Receiver’s  lip  with  their  sleeve.

Alnitak  —  Sender  lifts  the  hem  of  Receiver’s  shirt,  tending  to  the  wound  in  silence.

Alnilam  —  Sender  places  Receiver’s  hand  over  their  heart.

Mintaka  —  Sender  bumps  shoulders  with  Receiver,  grinning.

Dubhe  —  Sender  wraps  a  scarf  around  Receiver’s  neck,  adjusting  it  carefully.

Merak  —  Sender  places  a  blade  into  Receiver’s  palm.

Phecda  —  Sender  reaches  for  Receiver’s  hand  under  the  table,  hidden  from  everyone.

Alphard  —  Sender  kisses  the  inside  of  Receiver’s  wrist.

Nunki  —  Sender  holds  Receiver’s  gaze  across  the  battlefield.

Scheat  —  Sender  grabs  Receiver’s  collar,  pulling  them  close.

Markab  —  Sender  holds  out  a  map,  finger  tapping  on  a  place  only  they  understand.

Kaus  Australis  —  Sender  rests  their  hand  on  Receiver’s  shoulder.

Almach  —  Sender  runs  a  thumb  across  Receiver’s  knuckles.

Alpheratz  —  Sender  tucks  a  folded  letter  into  Receiver’s  coat  pocket.

[sachingja]

it seems as if the time in the rink is frozen, the air between their bodies charged with a different sort of tension; benedict is used to navigating the warmth of her body and the flex of her muscles beneath his fingers. holding her is an instinctual response, something he only trusts himself with and no one else. the mere thought of sophie finding another partner, someone else, someone other than him, is so ludicrous that he hardly ever entertains it, and he does not think of it now, either. instead, he finds the ache inside of his chest mixed with an alarmed worry, trying to remember the last time or if he has ever seen her like this. maybe early on in their partnership, when she treated him as if he would be gone the next day, like every competition would be their last. benedict has taken a great and considerate care to dissuade her of such a notion, though he can hardly blame her: as far as he is aware, her experience in the junior circuit had been riddled with the wrath of her former coach, the sort of environment benedict hated to skate in as a kid, when he would see girls leave the rink in tears. it is unfathomable how anyone would treat sophie in such a way, who is far above anyone else in their field, who is certainly a hundred times better than benedict herself. in their partnership, he has spent so many years trying to become a partner worthy of her, someone she could trust and rely on, and he does not want it to end here.

" hey, " he says softly, his voice lowering, some of that tension bleeding out, replaced by the warmth he has only ever found with her. everyone else before had only been an imitation of how it really could be, of how it is supposed to be, he knows that now. to see the furrow of her brow and the glassy sheen of her eyes is enough to alert benedict into action, set free the tenderness he usually reserves for the privacy of their home, and occasionally allows to take center stage after a successful skate, lost in the intensity of their connection on the ice. " there is nothing to apologize for, you know i would never be mad at you, yeah? i just want to be here with you, on the same page. "

before she can say another word, he does the first thing coming to his mind, his gloved hands grasping her face gently, always gentle, searching her eyes, wiping a stray tear off her flushed cheek with his thumb. if he could be the only one do this, wipe her tears away and take all her sorrow with him, he would die a lucky man. maybe settling for doing so on the ice would be enough for now; everything she has ever given him, he has accepted with eagerness but not carelessness. he knows better than to be careless with sophie, after all their entire relationship has been built on a mutual trust, a give and take, and benedict's promise that he would always catch her. he would rather eat ice first before he ever lets even an inch of her down, so far, he has at least been successful at that. " i know that it will be a lot, it always is, " he tells her, the other skaters, the crowd of people, the other coaches and the judges. " but i will be there the entire time, i will be with you. you will be so annoyed by day two, telling me that i should bother someone else, but no such luck. i will be glued to your side no matter what, hm? it will be like there is no one else but you and me. promise. "

[blotgydja]

[ 𝑳 ] ong before they became partners, back when he was simply yet another competitor against whom she could never hope to compare, Sophie had watched him from afar; both envious of & admiring him for the ease with which he seemed to glide across the ice,  always with a detached sense of joviality sketched into his smile — she knows better than anyone now that his aloofness and unseriousness was as much a mask as her self-imposed solitude. There are no facades or pretense between them anymore,   his careful touch wiping away her falling tears proof of this. Far beyond the fear and the melancholy she can see the banners of her own anger flying, hoisted in fury at the idea of her former coach having such an effect even now that it threatens the greatest thing she’s ever held in her hands, this partnership that matters more than any medal ever could. Sophie wishes she could wash herself of it all, but like a splinter under her skin Araminta lingers, aching under the slightest pressure.

❛❛ I know, ❜❜ she confirms his gentle inquiry, the agreement slipping from her mouth as she takes a deep breath, shoulders falling and rising with the attempt to steady her own breathing and settle the panicked ruckus in her mind. ❛❛ We are on the same page. I want to be here with you, I want to do this with you, I swear I'm happy I am, even if— ❜❜ With a halfhearted shrug she gestures lamely to her own appearance; even if it might not have looked like it to any spectators, with the tears descending on her flushed cheeks, though they are slower and slower to come. But his gloved hands, soft as they continue to brush the droplets away, keep her focus on him alone, the rest of the rink and the world beyond stripped of any importance so long as he keeps her tethered to him.

Promises are fickle things, easily broken under the slightest bit of pressure and rarely ever amended. The age old instinct to dismiss his oath does not rear its ugly head quite so forcefully now, not when it’s his promise being made — so many of them made over the years, and despite her unwillingness to ever believe even a single of them, he’s never let one break. Instead she allows herself to believe in his words (attempts to, at the very least); with her arms around his waist she uses his weight as a pillar to drag herself even closer, aided by the ice beneath their blades, and tucks her head under his chin, breathing in the familiar scent of him. Forehead pressed to his chest, she feels the thud of Benedict’s heartbeat against her skull. The sensation is a steadying reminder of the mundanity of the moment, the safety of it now that his hands are the only ones she will ever reach for. ❛❛ And are you so certain you won't be the one getting sick to death of me, begging me to go bother someone else? ❜❜ One corner of her mouth twitches, a small smile there and gone. ❛❛ No take backs now, Ben, you promised. ❜❜ She tightens her embrace around his waist, takes a final deep breath to center herself, then slips from his hold; but only enough to take his hand in hers and pull him slowly along the periphery of the rink. ❛❛ You've gotten very good at talking me off the ledge. Thank you. [Her gratitude is expressed with a quiet voice, dark eyes glossy even as she smiles at him.] Anything you want to have a little cry about while we're at it? ❜❜

[katherinehoughtoncastle47]

DEPT.Q - 1.01

[djo]

Trust your gut. I’ll back you up.

THE PITT 1.07 | 2.12

[blotgydja]

sooo my samira is obviously gonna be canon divergent from here on out!

[blotgydja]

thinking about katherine and her siblings/the family dynamics on this fine day.

ralph, joe jr. and constance work for their dad, edith is a lawyer and has switched back and forth between working for the family business and on her own, and herbert is a social media manager for n*tflix or something.

after college katherine refuses to participate in public family outings but does continue to take part in private family gatherings.

she has little personal contact with ralph, joe jr. and constance, but does communicate a good deal with ethel whom she has monthly lunches with and often texts.

herbert is the one she's closest to despite their age difference and him living primarily in LA. he followed in her footsteps and separated himself from the family business when he went to college, they talk daily and he often stays with her when in the city instead of at the family home.

kath and joe jr. argue more often than they're able to have a civil conversation, he doesn't understand why their father continues to respect her when her work often disparages the family business while she thinks he's a spineless moron.

ralph and kath agree on very little but are bonded by way of being the eldest children and so are much more friendly in person.

constance and kath have nothing in common and as such their interactions are stilted and awkward.

kath, edith, and herbert get along very well with edith functioning as a middle man between the two "groups".

[blotgydja]

spine. 🎨🧺!!!!

◗ PROMPT COLLECTED FROM AND OTHER STORIES ░ ACCEPTING.

[ 𝑨 ] t first her intention had been to merely boil water for their tea, a simple enough task even their housekeeper had come to accept her doing. Then the basket of mending left by the windows caught her eye once again; she had told Mrs. Crabtree to forget about it until morning & bade her an early goodnight with every intention of allowing the neglected clothes to remain untouched until then. But even as valiant as attempts to remind her of her newfound position as lady of the house had been, Sophie could not defy the instinct to prove herself useful even now, not when its roots had been tended to so meticulously by her stepmother. This is where @sachingja finds her some time later, lifting her chemise to and fro to observe the neatness of her stitches in the flickering candlelight.

❛❛ You need not say a word, ❜❜ she says in lieu of a proper greeting, an un-ladylike furrow appearing between her brows as she narrows her focus to the work at hand; it is a difficult task that requires much of her willpower for there is something within her that responds to his presence, her gaze drawn to his figure like a flower bending towards the sun. ❛❛ It was only one little tear, hardly any work at all. And see— I have finished! [Adjusting the garment once more, she unearths yet another tear in the ivory fabric, larger than the one just mended; a grimace twists her proud features.] Ah ... Almost. ❜❜

Reluctant to leave work half-finished, she means to reach for another spool of thread when Benedict's dissent is made startingly clear by the curl of his hand around her wrist, & soon enough all other attempts to complete her self-imposed task are intercepted by his attentive presence. Embers of annoyance spark to life in the pit of her stomach as an argument forms on the tip of her tongue, when even that response is halted by him; her loose hair brushed softly to the side, his lips ghost across the exposed skin of her spine — all she can do is sigh deeply, & silently tilt her head aside as if to ease the way of his kisses. ❛❛ You make a good argument, Mr. Bridgerton, ❜❜ Sophie assents at last, her voice little more than a breath, allowing him to pluck the chemise from her grasp and return it to the basket. The burgeoning flames of irritation from before have been stoked sufficiently, though now they blaze with a familiar desire, one he has acquired a deft hand in tending during these past months of wedded bliss. A satisfied smile curls her pink mouth as one eager hand rises to busy itself in his soft hair, tugging only to guide his mouth on the path she desires. ❛❛ Since you object to my mending, I suppose you will be happy enough to distract me from my boredom? ❜❜

[blotgydja]

so late! you will want sleep. ( francesca and sophie <3 )

◗ PROMPT COLLECTED FROM AND OTHER STORIES ░ ACCEPTING.

[ 𝑰 ] n truth the late hour had not crossed the newest member of the Bridgerton family's mind even once. Good company, flickering candles, and a decent bottle of wine to share among new friends (sisters, really, an idea still so foreign it needs constant reminding despite the swelling of fondness in her chest) had occupied her mind & spirit well enough to keep the effects of the encroaching night at bay. ❛❛ Oh! ❜❜ Sophie exclaims, head turning to catch the clock on the fireplace mantel, eyes squinting against the dark to make out the position of the ticking hands. A concoction of sheepish guilt colours her cheeks red; she really had meant to be a better hostess than this, but Benedict had retreated to his study long ago, departing with a wish for his wife and sister to become more acquainted without his shadow looming over them — and when posed with his better ideas, the former Miss Baek could find it within herself to be an obedient wife. Perhaps too much so, given the apparent lateness of the hour ...

❛❛ I did not realise— ! ❜❜ With an apology on the tip of her tongue she tucks her legs beneath her, preparing to stand from what had once been a most comfortable position on the soft carpet. ❛❛ Me? [The word is steeped in disbelief; her husband had been correct in his recounting of @exitvelo's character, she was indeed more selfless than most.] I believe you must be in much more need of sleep than I, with your journey here ... I must apologise, Francesca. Though perhaps we can consider this proof that time slips by in good company? ❜❜

[rainystarters]

๋࣭ ⭑𓆩✧𓆪🗡ྀ࿔ 〖 and other stories . . . 〗 a collection of dialogue + action prompts inspired by angela carter's the bloody chamber and other stories. some prompts usfw. add +reversed for the muse receiving the meme to perform the action instead. adjust details as necessary.

dialogue :

are you sure you want to marry him?

oh! how you must want me!

soon.

i had never been vain until i met you.

anticipation is the greater part of pleasure.

all the better to see you.

what is that key? the key to your heart?

every man must have one secret, even if only one, from his wife.

all is yours, everywhere is open to you.

but now... what shall i do now?

my darling, i cannot wait for the moment when you make me yours completely.

there is a striking resemblance between the act of love and the ministrations of a torturer.

you are in some great distress.

any bride brought to a castle should come ready dressed in mourning.

oh god. i can smell the blood.

i thought all these were old wives' tales, chattering of fools, spooks to scare bad children into good behavior!

can't it wait until morning, my darling?

who can say what i deserve or no?

i've done nothing; but that may be sufficient reason for condemning me.

i have a place prepared for your exquisite corpse upon my display of flesh.

good fellow? i am no good fellow.

forgive me for robbing your garden!

all she wanted, in the whole world, was one white, perfect rose.

and what else was there to be done?

they are the death of any tender herbivore.

so late! you will want sleep.

you will come back to me? it will be lonely here, without you.

i will come back. soon, before the winter is over.

i am sick and i must die.

if you'll have me, i'll never leave you.

i think i might be able to manage a little breakfast today.

i have lost my pearl, my pearl beyond price.

if you are so careless of your treasure, you should expect them to be taken from you.

for all my pride, my heart is heavy.

if you wish to give me money, then i should be pleased to receive it.

i shall twist a noose out of my bed linen and hang myself with it.

you are a woman of honor.

nothing human lives here.

we have dispensed with servants.

take off my clothes for you, like a ballet girl? is that all you want of me?

all cats are cynics.

you read my thoughts, my love.

the woods enclose. the wood swallows you up.

all will fall still, all lapse.

it is easy to lose yourself in these woods.

i thought that nobody was in the wood but me.

there are some eyes can eat you.

sometimes the birds, at random, all singing, strike a chord.

eat me, drink me.

dive in and fetch it for me.

now you are at the place of annihilation.

and she is herself a cave full of echoes, she is a system of repetitions, she is a closed circuit.

can a bird sing only the song it knows or can it learn a new song?

beauty is a symptom of disorder, of soullessness.

a single kiss woke up the sleeping beauty in the wood.

be he alive or be he dead.

coffee. you must have coffee.

welcome. welcome to my chateau.

i rarely receive visitors and that's a misfortune since nothing animates me half as much as the presence of a stranger.

this place is so lonely.

now the village is deserted.

often i am so silent that i think i, too, will soon forget how to do so and nobody will ever talk any more.

i must apologize for the lack of light.

you have such a fine throat, like a column of marble.

i am condemned to solitude and dark.

i do not mean to hurt you.

i will be very gentle.

and could love free me from the shadows?

i've been waiting for you in my wedding dress, why have you delayed for so long.

you will feel no pain, my darling.

so delicate and damned, poor thing. quite damned.

the end of exile is the end of being.

it is a northern country; they have cold weather, they have cold hearts.

the devil is as real as you or i.

do not leave the path.

you are always in danger in the forest.

they are as unkind as plague.

fear and flee the wolf; for, worst of all, the wolf may be more than he seems.

besides, aren't you afraid of the wolves?

actions :

clasp. from behind, the sender places their hands over the receiver's eyes.

opera. through opera glasses, the sender watches the receiver.

choker. the sender fastens a gemstone necklace around the receiver's neck.

carriage. the sender locks the receiver in with them in their train compartment.

spine. the sender presses a kiss to the back of the receiver's bare neck.

cigar. the sender leans in and blows smoke in the receiver's face.

ermine. the sender wraps the furs around the receiver tighter as the snow falls.

keys. the sender silently enters the room and listens to the receiver play piano.

harem. the sender undresses the receiver before a collection of mirrors.

lazy. the sender brings the receiver breakfast in bed.

call. the sender calls the receiver and bursts into tears upon hearing their voice.

note. the sender discovers a love letter sent to the receiver from a previous lover.

death. the sender finds the receiver with the body of their latest victim.

hospitality. the sender watches from the shadows as the receiver take refuge from a storm in the sender's seemingly abandoned home.

servant. invisible, the sender feeds/washes/cares for the receiver.

hearth. the sender and the receiver talk past midnight by the fire's light.

hands. the sender falls to their knees before the receiver and kisses their hands.

bouquet. the sender has a hundred white roses sent to the receiver.

reunion. the sender lays eyes upon the receiver for the first time in an age.

bad luck. the sender hangs their head having lost a bet to the receiver.

voice. the sender sends their valet to speak their desires to the receiver.

powder. the sender dresses/makes up the receiver before an important night.

stallion. the sender grabs the reins of the receiver's horse and leads them away.

weep. the sender cries at the sight of the receiver in such a state.

dry. the sender brushes a tear from the receiver's cheek.

flush. the sender pinches the receiver's skin, watching it redden with blood.

prey. the sender guides the receiver's hands as together they skin a rabbit.

song. the sender sings and the receiver is spellbound, their feet following their song's command.

caught. the sender locks the receiver into a cage.

green. by the sender's command, the growth begins to take over the receiver.

tarot. the sender tells the receiver they are doomed to a sad fate.

stain. the sender touches the bloodstain on the receiver's white negligée.

wild. the sender rides hard through the night, chasing the receiver.

thirst. the sender sinks their teeth into the neck of the receiver.

china. the sender pours tea for the receiver and offers them biscuits.

blemish. the sender explores the receiver's skin and finds the mark of a witch.

wolf. the wolf reveals themself to be the sender before the receiver.

muzzle. the sender kisses the monstrous mouth of the receiver.

[sachingja]

❛  don't look at me like that.  if i don't walk away now, i never will.  ❜   (sophie and benedict) 🎨🧺

" hey, hey, hey. "

it is cold inside the arena, colder inside the rink, on the ice, but it is a cold that benedict hardly notices anymore, that melts off his bones the second he has to focus on other things, sophie in his grasp, how their bodies move in sync, the shared heat of exercise mingled with two bodies pressing close together. his hands on her waist, or his fingers slotting in between hers, all of these movements second nature to him at this point, after having done it for so many years. he could probably do this in his sleep, many early morning practices underlining that theory, where the only thing keeping him from stumbling all over his own feet was sophie besides him, anchoring him. she has always been stronger than him, in every sense of the word, his bedrock, physically and emotionally, but they might have asked too much of her this time around.

he understands the pressure, perhaps better than anyone else, but they decided before the season, before the quad, really, that they would be doing this, that they are insistent on doing it with each other. sure, benedict could have easily found a new partner but he has zero desire to do such a thing: there is simply no world in which sophie is not the extension of his every movement, his every waking thought, in which he doesn't think of her in every waking minute, every moment he spends without her. they might have developed the closest thing anyone has ever come to telepathy between them, so he has seen this coming, sensed her unease, and yet, it does nothing to stop the sharp ache quelling inside his chest, settling there quite unceremoniously.

benedict's hand closes around her wrist and pulls her closer, easy with the aide of the ice beneath the blades of their skates. he tilts his head until he can find her gaze, look into her eyes to see those emotions she never allows to spill flickering through the walls, seeping through the cracks in her carefully curated defenses; benedict has always prided himself in sneaking through those gaps, putting them there in the first place, but he wonders if it is too much now, if he has made her uncomfortable. maybe they are too close, after all, maybe it would be easier if they would part ways, if they would just call it quits. but a part of him that is stronger than any rational thought disagrees. they are meant to do this, after all.

" i thought we said we would do it together, this time. you and me, as a team. not for anyone else, not because of anyone else, but for us, because we want it. has that changed? do you not want it anymore? i won't do it on my own and i will not drag you through this if you don't want to. just tell me. "

[blotgydja]

[ 𝑰 ] t’s nearly impossible to pinpoint exactly the moment it shifted, when the excitement and joy of the season melted into the dread and anxiety which now commands her into attempting an escape —  from the ice less so than from him. She should have known Benedict never would have let her, not without a fight, or at the very least an explanation; when she met him, her days of slipping away unseen ended, his gaze an eternal caress even during the seasons she'd held him firmly at bay. Despite the tension in her shoulders, the cord tied round her form which pulls and wills her to leave the rink & all their plans behind, she stays, her wrist cradled in his familiar grasp.

Then Araminta's cold voice emerges from the depths (a true memory or a figment of her imagination, she can't recall though either is plausible) with a familiar reprimand: this is momentary, a fleeting partnership. He'll toss you aside the moment his eyes catches on something sparkling brighter than you, & you'll be just like your mother, discarded and forgotten, little more than just another notch in a great man's bedpost. For a while Sophie avoids his eyes, her own darting from the line of his shoulder, to where she knows his collarbone lies beneath his jumper (longing for him even in the middle of a spiral), down to where their hands touch before at last meeting his searching gaze head on — even now his green eyes are kind and patient, despite the twists and turns she pulls on him in moments like these, when her fearful mind snatches the reigns of control. Her heart clenches painfully, worse than any physical ache she feels from the hours of training behind them. I don't deserve him, she thinks. ❛❛ I'm sorry. ❜❜ A shaky sigh lifts and drops her shoulders, and with it goes all her resolve; her face crumbles, furrowed brows & glossy eyes poorly hidden behind her hands, teeth worrying a plump bottom lip in an attempt to waylay the words threatening to spill.

By the time she speaks again some of her composure has returned. ❛❛ I think I'm just tired, & nervous about Grand Prix. About being around— everyone. ❜❜ Even a year ago she would have stopped here, bitten her tongue and served him a smile meant to disarm and distract. Now she lets her hands fall, wiping away a stray tear in the process, allowing him a peek through the cracks he's diligently carved into her defenses. ❛❛ Araminta especially. ❜❜ Her cheeks flush bright red in embarrassment at the sound of her own sniffles. ❛❛ I worry about this not being just ours anymore. Nothing has changed for me, I just don't want outside voices to change what we have. ❜❜

[blotgydja]

15 questions to get to know your mutuals better! answer those applicable, then tag a handful of mutuals to pass it on!

[1] a television series i recently enjoyed is: the artful dodger, bridgerton, the pitt, dept q. [2] a meal or food that brings me the most comfort is: i'm a sucker for a stuffed baked potato. [3] 1 - 3 songs i've had on repeat lately are: january by marie dresselhuis, you and forever by bleachers. [4] my favourite go - to hobbies or pastimes are: writing, knitting, going for walks! [5] the pets i have at home ( if applicable ) are: none :-( but i babysit my brother's dog often. [6] the app on my phone with the most screentime is: the clock app (unfortunately). [7] something that always gives me heavy nostalgia is: walking home in the snow, spark/kicksleds, the sound of seagulls on a summer night. [8] the earliest fandom i can remember joining was: technically it was probably the shitty magic school one, but on tumblr it was a tie between peter pan and once upon a time. [9] my zodiac sign is ...: sagittarius. [10] the last book i finished reading was: the third bridgerton book. before that it was circular ecologies by amy zhang. it's been a lackluster couple of months reading wise. currently reading upstream by mary oliver and rereading one dark tower by rachel gillig. [11] my chinese zodiac animal is an: ox. [12] my opinions on ghosts & hauntings are: i have no personal experiences or observations to confirm or deny, so anything's possible!! but i probably lean a bit towards not. [13] a few of my all-time favorite films are: my letterboxd four are the worst person in the world, columbus, short term 12, and anastasia. honorable mention to as above so below, shitty found footage horror of my dreams! [14] if i could cast an actor to play myself, it would be: our color palettes are opposites but i feel like megan stalter could match my weird pretty well. or snorkfrøken from mummitrollet. [15] i'm currently obsessed with: knitting, figure skating, bridgerton, been getting into cooking again after living in a shitty shared flat with a barely functioning stove for four years. also sleeping! (it's been a long winter)

tagged by: @exitvelo and @yharnum ❤️‍🔥 tagging: feel like everyone's already been tagged, so i'll just reiterate that: everyone!