𝖊𝖆𝖙 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖗𝖆𝖜 …

my transgressor,  my greatest sin.

[parabathai]

independent and private writing multimuse. featuring muses from a variety of different sources including literature, fantasy, & videogames. pleased be cautious of dark and mature themes present on this blog. as curated by aiden ( they / them, 24 ) dni minors. 21+. beta editor.

                               𝐈. carrd. 𝐈𝐈. memes. 𝐈𝐈𝐈. rules.

current active muses: adam parrish. neil josten. kell maresh. eagle bearer.

[parabathai]

ok this blog is moved ( again ) (underwhelming) !

[parabathai]

ok this blog is moved ( again ) (underwhelming) !

[parabathai]

ok this blog is moved ( again ) (underwhelming) !

[parabathai]

ok this blog is moved ( again ) (underwhelming) !

[parabathai]

ok this blog is moved ( again ) (underwhelming) !

[parabathai]

ok this blog is moved ( again ) (underwhelming) !

[parabathai]

ok this blog is moved ( again ) (underwhelming) !

[parabathai]

ok this blog is moved ( again ) (underwhelming) !

[parabathai]

ok this blog is moved ( again ) (underwhelming) !

[parabathai]

ok this blog is moved ( again ) (underwhelming) !

[parabathai]

ok this blog is moved ( again ) (underwhelming) !

[parabathai]

ok this blog is moved ( again ) (underwhelming) !

[parabathai]

ok this blog is moved ( again ) (underwhelming) !

[parabathai]

i knew this was going to happen the second i decided to revive this blog and i was waiting for it but guess what they restored my terminated multi now 😭

[abenzstern]

the great remiss of duty unfolded before his eyes in real time. there was something inherently juxtaposed about neil josten, about his disjointed thoughts that leapt from one farcical belief to the next. it was giving andrew a whiplash, this car crash conversation reminding him of the time before, when pills jumbled things up in a mismatched collage he’d tried his best to make sense of. but he didn’t have the pills now to use as his excuse, nor did he have his inebriety. no, this was all on sober-sane andrew, and wasn’t that a headache and a half?

the jut of neil’s stubborn bottom lip was a sorry sight as he clambered to his feet, and for all of andrew’s perfect recall, he couldn’t quite recall where he’d gone so wrong in this exchange. neil had the key, had his promises… was he still waiting for the kisses? what the fuck?

’ i thought we were past lying. ’ the cigarette turned to ash in his fingers, so andrew flicked the butt off the rooftop. he hoped it hit somebody and ruined their day as much as this fucking conversation was ruining his. with a careless swivel, he sat up and turned his body towards neil’s collapsing form on the concrete flooring, straddling the baluster. ’ i’m not good at the sentimental bullshit, neil. if you want roses and grand declarations of love, you’re barking up the wrong tree. ’

this tree was incapable of a great many things, but his fierce level of loyalty had never been questioned like this before.

’ do you think i’d only visit you out of some twisted sense of obligation? missing you was implied. ’ he huffed out, an unsteady foot pushing against his boyfriend’s bicep in a feeble attempt to situate himself outside of the glacial feeling of neil’s purgatory.

’ visit me. not because you have to. i— ’ his words cut off, a stray hand moving to pinch at the bridge of his nose. like bloodletting a stone, bee had once described it, drawing out andrew’s true feelings. ’ — fuck. visit because i care if you don’t. okay? ’

[parabathai]

“  i don't—  ” it felt like admonishment, tasted nearly of insult, to suggest neil expected any more grace than putting a key into his hand instead of a bullet — that he had ever asked for anything more than andrew's trust. a part of him flinches from the suggestion of sentimentality, head whirling on andrew with eyes drowned fifty feet under. there was a sharp refusal leaping to his mouth, with his cheeks hot as tar and doberman teeth gnashing on glass.

yet despite the fresh sting of defensiveness, he doesn't jump the gun this time and bleed his feelings over a floor that wasn't theirs. for once, neil keeps his mouth shut and looks back to his worn down shoes, halfheartedly shrugging away andrew's when it comes knocking on the side of his arm.

said implications were news to him. neil blinked back, pursing his lips as the uncertainty rose and fell. it changed his face a grand total of ten times in the minute alone while he backtracked on their conversation, his mind in a tizzy: it was? he didn't point it out, swallowing down the sting of his own embarrassment. andrew's apparent vexation made sense only a melt-down later, which couldn't seriously become routine.

“  okay.  ” his eyes shifted from shoes to shadow, the familiar shape of andrew outlined against the cast of vermillion. the words tugged at his heart, a clarity begrudgingly given but given nonetheless long enough for him to breathe in some semblance of security, and push down the rising panic of goodbyes. ( it would have been easier, a conversation that could be spared, if goodbyes didn't feel so much losing. ) neil tapped at the key near his throat, which seemed more apt for his sentimentality than stupid roses. “  thanks.  ”

[alovetold]

he hears the tone of voice jem uses with him, making his brows furrow together - and there's a sigh. driving wasn't easy. johnny rook, his first father, had never taught him. he'd cared more about crime and teaching kit how to be a trickster. but in england, things were different. he had a home now, even if his mind still lingers in los angeles. turning his head to watch the other. lips in a small frown / pout mix.

❝ if i'm not looking at the wheel, how will i know what i'm doing ? maybe we should give up. before i fuck up mom's garden. ❞ from what kit could tell - he'd been close to the rose bushes that were now right in front of the headlights. he was quite sure the car hadn't rolled there on it's own. maybe he could blame demons. ( sorry mom, crazy demons possessed the car ) he isn't even sure that was possible, and his parents would know. kit might have not been theirs forever - but it felt like it. and they knew him like so already. ❝ hey dad ? can demons possess a car ? ❞ typical kit, already planning his next scheme. maybe he'd tell the baby about how he once saw their car possessed by demons while he and their dad was in it, it was scary and the lives of the rose bushes will never be forgotten.

[parabathai]

“  language.  ” his disapproval was only a little more visible now from behind his straight-faced bemusement, though jem's adamant resignation meant he intended to do little more than curate his voice to inspire teen remorse. ( it hadn't worked with will, all those years ago, but perhaps … ) leaning forward, jem inspected the little village of rose bush. judging the scenario predictably salvageable, jem softened his voice a touch as he brought a hand down on his son's hair. “  you must trust your hands with the wheel, and keep your eyes sharp on the road. it takes practice, kit, but we will not give up.  ”

and because he knew kit too well, he almost smiled at the look over his face, vying for a number of excuses to entertain tessa with. jem thought it humorous, for two parents who seemed incapable of admonishing him when all that was theirs was entirely his. “  —and no, demons cannot possess cars. they can possess carriages, though, so you're out of excuses.  ” the door clicking open in an arc, jem swept out and stood closer to the bonnet, hands over his hips to inspect the close call. “  alright, let's reverse. use the rear mirror to get back on the road, i'll guide you.  ”