#beyond reason

[thememoryofadream]

Good morning and welcome to your Daily!Tom!

I kind of fell down a Tom Pinterest rabbit hole yesterday and this is one of the thing I found. He looks just as amazing (maybe more so) in dark blue than black. And he really looks immaculate in a suit. (unintelligible noises)

Have a fabulous day!

[kiarastromboli]

𝐁𝐞𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧:

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐞𝐩𝐭𝐡𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐎𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧.

𝐌𝐚𝐭𝐭 𝐒𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐨 𝐱 𝐲/𝐧

⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱

⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱

𝕄𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥

𝕎𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘: Masturbation, smoker!reader.

𝕊𝕦𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕪: Matt's life is going to be completely upheaved by an encounter he will have one day at work, leading him to discover a new feeling: obsession.

ℕ𝕠𝕥𝕖: I'm glad to come back with this new series that I had in mind for a while. I hope you'll enjoy it. The first chapter is from Matt's point of view, but it's possible that in the days to come, the point of view will shift to that of the reader. Anyway, I'll inform you beforehand. Feel free to ask me in the comments if you want to be part of the taglist. Enjoy reading!

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐, 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐢𝐭𝐫𝐞 𝟑

⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏:

My life has always been a damn bottomless pit without interest. I grew up in a normal family, in a normal town surrounded by normal people; there was nothing special about me.

I've always had this feeling of discomfort, like something was missing from my life.

In high school, I tried to fill that void with sports like any other teenager, but nothing worked.

I was fortunate to be a triplet, so I started life with people to love and who loved me in return.

Naturally, people think that having siblings erases the loneliness of life, but it's false. I had my brothers, but I still felt that emptiness and loneliness.

As I grew older, I realized that I would never fill this void, that I was destined to have an uninteresting life and become Mr. Average.

I moved to New York, where I found a job in a bookstore, which seemed more than logical given my passion for books.

I lived five minutes away from my brother Chris, and Nick, my other brother, continued his studies in Boston.

My weeks repeated and resembled each other.

I worked on Monday, Tuesday, Thursday, Friday, and Saturday. On Wednesday, I spent the day with Chris; most of the time, we just went out to eat and stroll. As for Sunday, I dedicated it to my motorcycle rides and various hobbies.

By various hobbies, I mean fleeting activities that I forced myself to practice to keep me from losing my mind from living the same days on repeat.

But all of that was before her.

When I saw her for the first time, I felt like I was waking up after an endless sleep.

It was a Thursday evening, we were about to close, I just had to put away the last books we had received, and I could finally close the shop and go home.

That was until I heard the sound of the little bells at the entrance jingling as the door opened.

I sighed when I heard the door open, thinking, 'Another bookworm waiting until the last moment to come get their fill of books.'

I went back to the counter to wait for the person who was there to bring me their book so I could quickly scan it and finally go home.

I honestly expected a student with glasses or some nonsense like that, so I was surprised to see this brown-haired girl a few meters away from me, browsing the shelves to find what she wanted.

I'm not the type to linger on pretty girls, but she had something extra.

She was wearing this navy blue sweater three sizes too big for her, which forced her to roll up her sleeves, and you could see the collar of her white shirt peeking out underneath.

With that, she wore a small brown pleated skirt that matched the bow she had in her hair.

An outfit that said a lot and so little at the same time.

I'm the type to analyze people on a daily basis; it's my thing when you work in a bookstore like this one in New York, you get bored very quickly.

I had a little game with myself where I enjoyed deciphering the people who entered this shop, first by their way of dressing, then by their mannerisms, and finally, I drew a conclusion based on the book they bought.

However, I was stuck on her way of dressing; I couldn't really figure it out. Her outfit was simple and casual, sure, but there was this complexity with her accessories that made me wonder if she did it on purpose or if she just randomly picked out clothes.

I mean, who pairs such a large sweater with such a small skirt? Maybe it's her boyfriend's sweater?

When I thought that, I felt anger rising within me, but why? I don't even know her; what does it matter to me whether she has a boyfriend or not?

I shook my head to try to think of something else and continued to observe her.

She had been wandering around the store for five minutes, stopping at each aisle without ever grabbing a book. Does she even read, or did she just come here thinking she'd find a fun book to read for once?

Even her behavior was indecipherable; the more I looked at her, the more intrigued I became.

She finally stopped at the romance section, where she picked up a book before walking towards me with a big smile.

Strangely, I felt a certain stress when her eyes landed on me; I hadn't realized how harmonious her face was.

"Good evening," she said warmly, placing the book in front of me.

"Good evening," I replied nervously.

"I hope I'm not bothering you by coming at this hour. I'm new in town, and I thought you closed later," she said politely.

"No worries; I didn't have anything planned after anyway," I replied without looking at her; I was far too intimidated for that.

I scanned her book, and of course, that's when the cash register decided not to work properly, leaving us face to face in an awkward silence while I tried to open the register.

She seemed amused, judging by the little chuckle she let out, and when I looked up at her, she simply said, "Sorry," timidly, unable to suppress the little smile on her lips.

I finally managed to unlock the cash register, then gave her the change and reached for a small bag to put her purchase in.

That's when I saw the book she had chosen.

"Pride and Prejudice, good choice," I said without thinking too much.

"I know, I've read it already," she said, chuckling, and I looked up at her to watch her.

"It's a gift," she added.

"For your boyfriend?" I said again without thinking, and this time I quickly added, "Sorry, that was very intrusive of me."

She looked at me with a smile before saying, "For a friend, I don't have a boyfriend."

"Good to know," I replied, handing her the book.

She took the bag with her book inside and turned to start walking towards the exit, and I was dying to catch up with her to continue talking, but I stood there frozen like an idiot.

She walked through the door, and I sighed.

My heart started beating normally again, and I felt a sense of longing in her absence.

My life, which until now had been flat and uninteresting, was unknowingly taking a whole new turn.

I finished tidying up the bookstore, trying to distract myself, but she continued to haunt my thoughts.

I kept asking myself hundreds and thousands of questions.

Will I see her again? What did she think of me? What's her name? What does she do for a living?

Fuck, what had she done to me? I thought as I pushed the door of the store to leave and locked it behind me.

Unintentionally, the key to my apartment detached from the keychain around my waist, and I hadn't noticed until a familiar voice informed me.

"Hey, you dropped this!" the girl from the bookstore said, catching my attention and tapping my shoulder.

I turned around and felt my heart race again when I found myself face to face with her; if she keeps this up, she'll give me a heart attack.

"Thanks," I said, taking my keys from her hand.

Unintentionally, my eyes roamed over her body, analyzing her.

I noticed the butt of a cigarette she held in her other hand, probably the reason she was still around.

"No problem," she said, smiling.

"Can I ask your name, if it's not too forward?" I asked, curious.

"Y/n," she said, extending her hand after finishing her cigarette and tossing it to the ground to crush it with her foot.

"I'm—" I started to say before she cut me off.

"Matt, yeah, I know," she said quickly, and I looked at her confused.

She knows my name?

"Oh, um, it was on your apron earlier, I promise I'm not a weirdo," she said, chuckling, and I chuckled too.

She seems observant too, interesting.

"You don't really seem like a weirdo, if that reassures you," I said, smiling.

"And you don't seem like a guy who reads romance novels; I guess we can all be surprising, maybe you should watch out," she said, shrugging with a smirk.

"Pride and Prejudice is a classic; I work in a bookstore, I have to know my classics," I replied.

"Fair enough," she said, smiling.

A moment of silence ensued, leaving us there in the middle of the street, staring into each other's eyes.

"Are you just passing through here?" I asked, to break the unbearable silence.

"Hm?" she simply hummed, confused.

"You said you were new here earlier," I clarified.

"Oh, um, no, let's just say I'm in the process of settling in," she said, nodding.

"Great, I hope to see you around here then," I said, smiling.

"There's a chance that could happen; this bookstore seems nice, and who knows, maybe I'll need a friend who knows their stuff to advise me," she said, smiling back.

"You already consider me your friend? Wasn't it you who said I should watch out?" I teased her.

"Oh, because you thought I was talking about you? No way, I was talking about my friend who works at the same bookstore as you!" she said, trying to justify herself.

"Oh, really? I probably know that friend then," I said with a smirk.

"Okay, you got me; I'm a big liar," she said, raising her hands, and I laughed.

"I already suspected that," I said, chuckling.

We stayed silent once again, staring into each other's eyes before she spoke again.

"Well, I have to go if I want to have a chance to catch a taxi before it's too late," she said, playing with the ends of her hair.

"I can drop you off if you live nearby," I offered.

"Whether by car or taxi, the journey is still long in the streets of New York, and I don't want to bother you with an extra 20-minute ride," she said timidly.

"I guess it's a good thing I have a motorcycle then," I said, pointing to my bike parked a few steps away.

"I don't know... um," she said, shaking her head hesitantly.

"If you don't trust me and prefer to go by taxi, I totally understand, I won't hold it against you," I said reassuringly.

"You know what? Fuck this; a little danger never hurt anyone, and anyways, if you try to kidnap me, know that I did boxing in middle school, so I won't go down without a fight," she said, pointing her finger at me, and I laughed.

"Alright, Mike Tyson, let me just grab my spare helmet from the bookstore," I said, chuckling before doing just that.

When I returned, I handed her the helmet, which she put on.

She got on behind me after indicating where she lived, and we hit the road directly.

We weaved through traffic, and I could feel her little arms tighten around my waist with each acceleration.

I couldn't help but slightly harden beneath my jeans because of the proximity between us; I could feel her chest pressing against my back.

This girl had something that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up when I looked at her.

She smelled like vanilla and cigarettes.

She was destabilizing, and I felt like I was losing my balance with every word she uttered.

Once we arrived at her destination, I stopped my motorcycle in front of her apartment complex.

It was large and luxurious.

I wondered if she was a daddy's girl to live here, or if she simply had a good job. In either case, this girl clearly wasn't short on money.

"Thanks for the ride," she said, smiling, after taking off her helmet to hand it back to me.

"It was my pleasure," I said, removing my helmet and staying on the bike while she got off.

"That was really nice; I'm glad I made a new friend," she said, quickly fixing her hair.

"So, we're friends?" I said, smiling.

"Of course," she replied, smiling back.

"Great," I said timidly, and a new silence fell.

"Um, I'm going to head in; it's getting late. Good night, Matt," she said this time in a much softer voice.

Why the sudden change in tone?

"Good night, Y/n," I replied, and she turned to walk towards her apartment complex.

I couldn't help but watch her as she went inside. I should have immediately started my bike and left, but I was stuck in place.

She paused in front of her stairs for a moment before suddenly turning around and running back towards me.

I watched her return, a little confused, and when she reached me, she simply said, "Hi."

"Hi," I replied, a bit confused but smiling.

"Is it weird if I suggest we see each other again? It's a friendly offer, of course; you just seem really interesting, and I felt silly leaving like that without suggesting we meet again," she said quickly, and I chuckled at her tone.

"Of course. I finish early on Saturdays; just drop by the bookstore, and we'll go for another motorcycle ride if you want," I said, smiling.

"Sounds great!" she exclaimed excitedly.

"Well, goodbye for real this time," she said, chuckling.

"Bye," I replied, watching her leave before putting my helmet back on and heading home on my motorcycle.

On the journey back, I had only one thing on my mind: her.

Arriving home, I was surprised to find that my erection hadn't subsided.

How could this girl make me so hard without even touching me?

I felt bad for getting hard like this over a girl who seemed as innocent as her. What was wrong with me that I'd do something like this?

I sighed and slumped onto my couch.

I took off my pants and slid my hand under my boxers to touch the bulge there.

I started to stroke myself, unable to stop myself from thinking about her at that moment.

Her sparkling eyes, her long brown hair, her full lips that I was dying to kiss...

Why was she affecting me like this?

Her curves vaguely hidden by her oversized sweater, her legs, and especially her thighs that looked nice and soft.

"Oh my god," I muttered in a low voice, speeding up my movements and throwing my head back.

Her laughter and her voice, yes, her soft and slightly husky voice, almost like she was sick.

I edged dangerously close to the edge, and that's when I remembered her change in tone when she said, "Um, I'm going to head in; it's getting late. Good night, Matt," almost as if she was inviting me to follow her home and do all the things I was dying to do to her.

Maybe she was just as eager as I was. For my hands on her body, my lips on hers, and my name coming out of her mouth.

I thought about what she would look like sitting on me without her clothes, screaming my name, and it pushed me over the edge.

"Y/n," I moaned before climaxing.

I can't deny it any longer, this girl is clearly becoming my obsession.

⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱

Taglist: @mayhem-72 @tillies33ssss @junnniiieee07 @bernardenjoyer @whicked-hazlatwhore @nicksmainbitch

[omg-hellgirl]

This time I heard a timid rattling on my door handle. Outside stood a skinny, pale little boy wearing a jogging suit. He was in tears. It was Marlon, Keith Richards' seven-year-old son. "Where is everybody? Where are they?" he sobbed. "Dad's lying on the floor crying. What shall I do?"

Margaret Trudeau, Beyond Reason.

[windsweptinred]

Red Rose by Richard Berner 2020

[archivist-dragonfly]

Book 411

Beyond Reason: Art and Psychosis, Works from the Prinzhorn Collection

Bettina Brand-Claussen / Inge Jadi / Caroline Douglas

Hayward Gallery / University of California Press 1996

In the early 1920s, German art historian and psychiatrist, Hans Prinzhorn (1886-1933), amassed some 5,000 art works made by patients of psychiatric hospitals throughout Europe. Interested in the work as art as much as for their importance in the study of mental illness, Prinzhorn saw within them the connection between psychiatry and illness and art and self-expression. By the 1930s, when the Nazis declared such work “degenerate,” the collection fell into disrepair and was largely neglected until a conservation effort was undertaken in 1973. This book, featuring works created between 1890 and 1920 and lists the artists’ biographical details including case numbers and diagnoses, is astonishing. The art work within features fantastic beasts, religious images, sexual fantasies, mechanical inventions, and intricate worlds—some are little more than mere scribbles, while others are obsessive patterns—yet they all express a need to communicate and impose order on chaos.

[dramoor]

God does not die on the day when we cease to believe in a personal deity. But we die on the day when our lives cease to be illumined by the steady radiance, renewed daily, of a wonder the source of which is beyond all reason.

Dag Hammarskjöld

[kiss-this]

[divinedecay]

Beyond Reason

Prompt: Reader snaps after hearing Mammon get insulted for no reason one too many times Pairing: Mammon x Reader Word Count: 1,354 Warnings: Reader yells, swears a lot, and mentions death. Post 16-12. I assume timeline things because I can’t be bothered to check A/N: welcome to even more self-indulgent hours

It was your sixth month in the Devildom, and you were angry.

    You were sitting at a dinner table, surrounded by the seven brothers. It was supposed to be some sort of special occasion, some private celebration, but you weren’t in a celebrating mood. You were too busy listening to the conversations around you. There was the usual chatter, and then there was the constant, incessant insults directed at Mammon. The demon in question was sitting next to you, moving his food around on his plate while he pretended not to be bothered by everything his brothers were saying. It filled you with rage so white hot that you were beyond reason. You might as well be the Avatar of Wrath yourself.

    You’d gotten mad on Mammon’s behalf before, but he’d always told you to cool it before it got out of hand. He didn’t want you in trouble, starting trouble, or any variation of the two (unless the trouble was one of his schemes). But today, right this minute, you’re beyond reason. Your eyes are on Mammon, on the slump of his shoulders after a barrage of insults, on the dejected look in his eyes, on the way he’s arguing for the sake of arguing just to appear like he’s not hurt. Who knows how long these idiots have been alive, and the insults still hurt him. You were going to kill something. You were going to kill someone. 

“Will you all shut up!” Your voice, harsh and loud, cuts across all conversation at the table, effectively silencing even Lucifer. “Lay off Mammon for five fucking seconds, will you? What the hell did he do that was soooo terrible that warrants this kind of- of verbal abuse? He’s your brother, for hell’s sake!”

“Y/N,” Lucifer's voice is deadly, but you keep going regardless.

“No! You will listen to me! I’m sick of this bullshit; do you fucking dumbass demons not see just how badly you hurt him? Do you not understand what you’re doing? Do you not understand that Mammon is the avatar of greed?” Faces are turning red around the table, and the wide eyes and frantic glances of the others aren’t enough to stop your tirade. “He’s here because he loves you assholes, because he’s your brother. Avatar of greed means greedy in all things. Greedy in money, sure, but greedy in other things, too. Greedy in love, especially. He has done nothing but support you fucking bastards as a brother, outside of his money-making schemes, and what do you do? You reward him with insults, with abuse. I would rather have Belphie kill me again than listen to this disgusting display for one more fucking minute!” You shove away from the table, knocking your chair out of the way as you storm out of the Demon Lord’s castle.

    As soon as you reach the outside, you let out a screech of frustration, storming toward the House of Lamentation. Demons that would normally leer at you as you walked along the streets veered out of the way after one approached you and you didn’t hesitate to somehow punch him so hard that you broke his nose. You decide halfway back to the House, however, that you didn’t want to see any of the brothers’ stupid faces - except Mammon’s, anyway - for a good long time, and change directions, deciding to wander aimlessly for a bit to cool down.

    You wind up buying a few rolls to eat from some random bakery and finding a tree to sit under in some kind of park, and busy yourself with clearing the notifications from your D.D.D.. You have several texts and missed calls from nearly everyone, and you angrily swipe away the notifications and skim through the texts without responding. You bite into the first roll a little more viciously than necessary, trying to calm down. You didn’t regret what you said, not at all, but you knew you were going to get chewed out later by Lucifer. Possibly Diavolo. And you weren’t looking forward to that particular bit at all.

    As you take another bite of your roll, a crow lands beside you, cocking its head at you and cawing softly, eyes seemingly trained on your roll. You smile, pinching off a bit of the roll and tossing it to the crow, which gobbles up the offering and hops closer. You feed it another bite, this time out of your hand. It gladly accepts, then settles itself next to you.

“Nice of you to join me,” you smile once more, “it’s good to have some company right now.” It caws in response to your words, and for a moment you think it might understand, then you see it nudging the bag that the remaining rolls are wrapped in and roll (heh) your eyes. “Alright, alright, give me a minute.” You shove the remainder of the roll in your hand in your mouth, then pull out a second. You break off a piece of the new roll and hand it down to the crow. It ignores it, hopping up suddenly and snatching the whole roll out of your hand. “Hey!” You laugh, shaking your head. “No fair!” You grin, finally feeling the tension in your chest unravel a bit. “You remind me of Mammon,” your voice is fond as you watch the crow pick off pieces of the roll. You gently reach out to pet its head when a voice causes your head to swivel.

“Well, he oughta. He’s my familiar, after all.” Your eyes widen as you find Mammon standing in front of you, his hands shoved into his pockets. “So this is where you’ve been. I’m glad one of my crows found you before my brothers did, they’re pretty embarrassed after all the yelling you did.” His tone is unusually serious, and you sigh.

“I’m not sorry for what I said.”

“I know, Y/N.”

“I’m not going to apologize to placate them, either.”

“I know.” He moves closer and settles down beside you, his eyes following the crow as it eats more of the roll. “I wanted to say…” He trails off, struggling to find his words for a minute. “You didn’t have to stand up for me the way you did, ya know.” You glance over at him, and he’s looking at you now, eyes filled with something you could only describe as genuine love.

“Yes, I did.” He looks at you, gratitude in his eyes. The crow beside you flies up and lands on your head, gently tapping the top of your head. “You don’t deserve all the grief they give you, Mammon. Not one bit. You shouldn’t be constantly put down for who you are.”

“Y/N-” He starts, looking kind of nervous, a blush starting to form on his cheeks, “I-”

“There they are! Y/N!” Asmodeus’ voice cuts across Mammon, and the crow atop your head launches away with a startled caw. Mammon sighs, looking over in the direction Asmo’s voice came from. You glance over to see the rest of the brothers moving towards you, determined looks on their faces. You sigh.

“Do I have to?” Beside you, Mammon grabs your hand, pulling you off the ground.

“Run now, deal later?” You turn your head to look at him, squeezing his hand.

“You want me to run away with you?” You tease him, grinning.

“Shut up, Y/N.” The brothers are closer now, and Mammon tugs you in the opposite direction. “C’mon. Let’s go scam someone outta their money.” you laugh as he pulls you along, ignoring the yelling of his brothers. 

    You would deal with the others later; spending time with Mammon was your priority right now. You couldn’t escape them forever, you knew that. But you could take the time right now to chill out. They could be mad at you all they like, but it wasn’t going to change that you meant your words.

You loved Mammon, and by whatever powers that you could command, you would not see him degraded. Not ever again.