#and then not actually making anything make sense to anyone

[0alix0]

Rook's backgrounds make no sense or gatekeeping is good, actually

It's didn't sit well with me ever since bioware admitted that all 6 background for Rook can be played by any race you choose

Looking back at Origins it's clear why most of the backgrounds were race-specific. Not only it provided a better understanding of the separate cultures (you wouldn't really understand what dwarfs are about if you were able to play as a surface dwarf commoner) it also established the rules of the world (elves are opressed, you can't become a queen/king cuz the nobles will riot, humans colonize them and inforce their religion and rules on everyone, dwarfs are considered weird)

Now, looking at the veilguard, I can't help but ask:

How can a fully grown dalish with vallaslin be a crow? They buy slaves as a way to get more assassins, usually elves, children, so they could easier ruin their psyche. why the hell would a dalish stand for it?

How can a qunari be a Gray Warden? Wardens don't discriminate, sure, but this far, we haven't even heard of a qunari warden. Rook should be a legend, Rook should be questioned at actually being a warden by NPCs, OR sit in some Warden outpost and being studied by their mages, because no one actually knows how Blight and joining might work with Kossith body instead of running around with Varric.

Veiljumpers were organized by dalish, right? Then why in the world would a human be allowed to join? How and why did they change their minds to accept literally anyone, even if it's a potential threat/thief(Morrigan)/zealot/etc..?

How can a dwarf, someone who isn't even connected to the fade be a Veiljumper?

How can a dwarf be a part of the Mourn Watch? A Mortalitasi, an exclusively MAGE order? What can they even do?? Preform a non magical mummifications with herbs and salts like Egyptians did? Sweep the mausoleum? Be some sort of a funeral organizer/lawyer/genealogist? That could've been really interesting if only the game actually bothered to say anything about it. It did not

"Well it's up to your headcanons!" then why make the backgrounds in the first place??? They don't matter anyway!

I mean, obviously it was just a way to promote the game to older fans. Look, the backstories! The thing you've been craving for is back in game! Only they forgot what actually made them so great. The most important part. They mattered, they created a basis for my character. They gave them families, connections. They changed the way my character is perceived (elves in general) and what they can do plotwise (become a monarch/paragon).

I don't fucking care if 3-5 NPCs might have some additional dialogues for me, cuz they don't matter anyway. I don't even know these people, i never met them before, my character did, but I didn't. And now I don't care enough to know. like, i'm playing as a mourn watcher, but before going to Nevarra i barely knew anything about them, and what i know now is still rather surface level shit

Let alone the fact that all the backgrounds are practically the same. You pissed off some influencial people by doing good and was send away. Bravo.

........if this post gets one like I'm writing my own ideas for DA4 protagonist's backgrounds

[vaguely-concerned]

having seen at least the rough outlines of all the romances now I have to say that I think emmrich's is probably objectively the best in terms of coherence and completeness of story arc (with the understanding that ultimately the 'best' romance is whichever one makes YOUR heart sing anyway so objectivity is a silly thing to claim that way, it just felt like it's the arc with the most well-paced focused content and the least dangling threads)... but lucanis' is my favourite haha. just. the whole kneeling before your beloved full of reverence but without any of the distance that usually implies??? his complete undramatic certainty and calm in every scene with rook after this, having spent the whole game caught between fear and longing???? mr. lives in a pantry but it says nothing about my psyche don't worry about it it's purely for tactical reasons that I keep myself contained in a small dark room not entirely unlike a cell, love among the parsnips -- finally coming to rook in their room and it's so comfortable and comforting???? after all the times rook supports and comforts him through the game he's finally able to return the same to them when they need it while being so calm and steady and it's so fucking sweet and feels so effortless and with no price attached?????? he basically assigns himself the role of your bodyguard and he WILL stab a god over it??????????????? the turn to protector (which was in his heart all along longing to get out and find a place) of it all????? he sounds like he's found himself unexpectedly stumbling into such a soul-lightening state of revelatory existential relief, full on 'you only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves' mary oliver style, and he goes and he shares that with rook and protectively envelops them in it when they're hurting??????????????????????????? hello for the maker's sake hello can anyone hear me?????

[glass--beach]

i feel like i’ve been openly trans long enough to deal with so many people trying to tell me what’s wrong with my head & attempt to transplant some neurosis in there and it’s so easy to just be like. no, that’s not me. that’s actually not how i think at all and i don’t worry about the things you think i do. i’m not “trying to be” anyone or anything, i just am.

& then i start to recognize this pattern happening over and over again with not just other trans people but systems & therians et al & it becomes so obvious that it’s all just about trying to fit everyone into an experience/being-in-the-world that just does not line up with the actual multiplicity of experiences that people can attest to. it’s as arbitrary as the gender binary or cissexism or any arguments about heterosexuality being “natural” or whatever, & it’s enforced the same way - through pathologization, through positioning differences in experience of self as being deformations of some platonic ideal individual human self: a concept of self that goes back to liberal enlightenment thought & then further back to the christian idea of the human soul, socially constructed, and therefore, while in a sense “real”, entirely possible to change to account for those hurt by it. it’s all an attempt to reconcile variation by forcing it into strict boundaries, by making all variations subservient to a particular one given higher status in our culture, same as conversion therapy, same as coercive surgeries on intersex people, same as “gender identity disorder”, etc etc, it’s creating a problem where there is none, treating an “illness” that is social/political & not medical.

that’s why i’m here for any alternate conceptions of self - i just trust people to know who they are more than anyone else does, & it’s clear that calling these people crazy does absolutely no good for anybody. what harm is there in letting someone be multiple people or an animal or whatever, if that genuinely can make them feel more connected to themself, their community, and the world at large? there is so much more potential for what people can become and therefore what people can do when we stop projecting the exact same internal life & experience onto everybody

[maxdibert]

Alright, let’s dive into the dumpster fire that the Marauders fandom has become last years and threw any sense of canon or character integrity out the window. Because let’s be real, the way this fandom has twisted the characters of the Marauders and the Death Eaters, all while turning Severus Snape into some one-note “creepy stalker,” is embarrassing. The fandom seems obsessed with scrubbing characters clean, romanticizing abusers, inventing tragic backstories for literal sociopaths, and piling up headcanons that turn a few lines in canon into fully fleshed-out, fanon-only OCs. And somehow, the only character who gets relentlessly dragged and demonized is Severus Snape—a character who has actual complexity and trauma. It’s hypocritical, classist, and downright gross.

Let’s start with Severus. Canon Snape is a guy who came from nothing: poor background, abusive father, dead-end town. He didn’t fit into the wizarding world, was relentlessly bullied by privileged Marauders, and still somehow managed to survive and make something of himself. But instead of acknowledging any of that, the fandom loves to reduce him to this “creepy obsessive” stereotype. People act like he spent every waking moment pining for Lily and never did anything else, as if that’s all his character is. Never mind the fact that he was actively trying to get out of a miserable life, or that he was, you know, bullied on a daily basis by James and Sirius, who had wealth, status, and freedom to do whatever they wanted. Nope, to the Marauders fandom, Snape is just the “weird stalker”—because acknowledging his struggles would mean admitting that their golden boys were actually kind of awful.

Meanwhile, the same people are out here bending over backward to make people like Barty Crouch Jr., Evan Rosier, and Regulus Black look like misunderstood anti-heroes. Let’s be clear: in canon, Barty Crouch Jr. was a straight-up torturer, Evan Rosier died laughing as he fought Aurors, and Regulus was a kid raised with a silver spoon who only started doubting Voldemort when he realized he’d been signed up as snake chow. But no, fanon has turned these guys into “tragic, complex Slytherins” who were “just trying to survive.” It’s like they’re desperate for some tortured prince narrative, so they invent personalities out of thin air to give us this dreamy aesthetic of sad, beautiful Death Eaters who “didn’t really want to be evil.” Apparently, actually following the text is too much to ask when you’ve got fanon fantasies to uphold.

Regulus Black, in particular, has become this absurd fanon martyr. In canon, Regulus was a kid indoctrinated into pureblood ideology, who joined the Death Eaters without much hesitation. Maybe he had a change of heart eventually, but it wasn’t out of some grand moral revelation; he just realized Voldemort’s loyalty was to himself alone. Yet, according to the current fandom, Regulus is some misunderstood hero who was only “pretending” to go along with Voldemort and was “forced” into his choices. They’ve built this tragic romance around a character who, in the actual books, doesn’t have even half this depth. This Regulus in fanon is practically an OC at this point, and people cling to this made-up version of him so hard that they’ll defend it like it’s canon. It’s hilarious, and it’s also just plain wrong.

And let’s talk about the Marauders themselves. In canon, James and Sirius were rich, spoiled brats who spent their school years bullying anyone who didn’t fit into their world. They were kids with every privilege, and they used it to torment people like Snape, who had nothing. But the Marauders’ fandom has turned them into these fluffy, “good-hearted” rebels who just made “a few mistakes.” I’m sorry, but nearly killing someone as a “prank” is a bit more than a mistake. Yet people will ignore that or wave it away as “boys will be boys” just to keep up the illusion that James and Sirius were lovable scamps. It’s maddening—and it’s also classist as hell. They erase all the ugly realities of the Marauders’ behavior and then turn around and judge Snape for being “obsessive” and “weird” when he was just trying to survive in a world stacked against him.

The classism in this fandom is so blatant it’s laughable. Snape is written off as creepy and unworthy of sympathy because he didn’t have a cushy upbringing or the social standing to make him likable. Meanwhile, characters like Barty and Regulus, who came from wealthy pureblood families, get excused and romanticized to no end. It’s like the fandom is saying, “Well, Snape deserved it because he was poor and awkward, but the rich kids? They’re just misunderstood.” It’s the kind of privilege blindness that makes you wonder if people actually read the books or if they’re just projecting their own biases onto the characters.

And let’s not forget the army of new OCs the Marauders fandom has invented just to justify this headcanon universe (Mary, Marlene, Dorcas, that that Pandora no one knows why suddenly appears here lol) You’ve got random “best friends” for Sirius, unnamed Slytherins who magically have no ties to pureblood supremacy, and love interests for Regulus who supposedly saw the “real” him. All these characters are based on nothing more than a few throwaway lines, yet people have fleshed them out to a level that they’re practically new characters in the universe. It’s like they need this entourage of made-up people to back up their version of the Marauders and Death Eaters because, without them, their headcanons would fall apart. And all of this, while they keep painting Snape as this creepy loner with no real friends or worth. The hypocrisy is unreal.

At the end of the day, the Marauders fandom has taken a bunch of characters with clear flaws and complexities and rewritten them into these sanitized, tortured souls while dumping all their scorn onto Snape. They’ll go out of their way to redeem a literal torturer like Barty Crouch Jr. or turn Regulus into some tragic hero, but they can’t bring themselves to even consider Snape’s trauma or the systematic abuse he endured. It’s all about maintaining this fantasy where their favorite characters are perfect and untouchable, even if it means twisting canon and ignoring the ugly truths about class, privilege, and abuse that is reflected into the story. And that, honestly, just makes the fandom look shallow, hypocritical, and completely disconnected from the reality.

[jc-writes-bullshit]

OBX Spoilers and thoughts

I am as heartbroken about JJ's death as anyone. The writers absolutely wrote him into the ground.

Hypothesizing about the "why" and blaming Maddie Bailey, Rudy, or Elaine is unproductive and honestly some of you are getting mean.

Reminder that Rudy was doing a play and schedule conflicts are a thing.

UNFRIENDLY REMINDER that you don't know these people personally, you don't actually know anything about their lives, and that really all you guys are doing is making things up and being mean for no reason. Have some common sense, stay out of their Instagram comments and DMS, and just leave them alone.

[shall-we-die]

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{Patience}

How patient are they with their darling?

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↬[Fandom]•⊰ {Bungo stray dogs}࿐

↬[Warnings]•⊰ {Yandere behaviors}࿐

☰[Main list]•⊰ ────┈┈{0091}┈─╮

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╰┈➤Likes/Reblogs are appreciated࿐

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↬|Atsushi|

Atsushi's patience with his s/o would depend on how quickly he becomes obsessed and how much control he wants to exert over them. At first, he may appear patient and understanding, but as time goes on, his patience may wear thin if he feels like his s/o is slipping away from his control or if they show any interest in someone else. He may become possessive and controlling, trying to isolate them from others and demanding constant attention and reassurance from them. Overall, his patience would likely be limited, as his own insecurities and obsessions would eventually overrule any patience he may have.

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↬|Dazai|

Dazai can be incredibly patient with his s/o, especially in the beginning. He would be very careful and methodical in his approach, building up a rapport and making his s/o trust him. He would also take the time to learn their likes and dislikes, understanding what will bring them closer to him. However, if he senses any resistance or pushback, Dazai's patience will quickly run out. Once he has decided that he wants his s/o, he can become very forceful and won't take no for an answer.

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↬|Akutagawa|

Tbh not patient at all. He'd want to be close to them, to be with them so badly that he probably wouldn't be able to stay patient very long. He'd probably try to at least be a little bit patient but once he really gets into the "Yandere Stage" he'd fail at being patient, I can't even imagine him staying chill. If he just can't take it anymore he will just kidnap them, no more patience, just action lmao

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↬|Chuuya|

Chuuya is extremely patient and tolerant with everything when it comes to his S/O. He's the type of person who could wait, and wait, and wait, for hours without getting frustrated or losing his patience, all because he doesn't want to upset his S/O or make them feel bad in any way. He has the patience of a saint when it comes to them, but with anyone else, Chuuya has the temper of a child Chuuya's patience with his S/O is both, very long and very short. He's patient in terms of wanting to wait for the right time to get close with them, he has no issue with watching from afar and observing for quite a while before making his move However, Chuuya's patience can run thin very easily when it comes to his S/O actually being around other people besides himself. He's extremely possessive and it doesn't take much for that possessiveness to kick in and turn him into a total nightmare.

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↬|Tetchou|

Tetchou, being as obsessive and possessive as he is, would have little to no patience when it comes to his s/o. He knows he wants them, and he’s desperate to have them, so he’d get frustrated extremely easily when things don’t go his way. He would try to be calm on the outside, but he’d be angry and impatient on the inside, only hiding it to not scare them too much.

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↬|Jouno|

Jouno can be incredibly patient with his s/o, as he is calculating and strategic in his approach. However, he also has a possessive and obsessive tendency to want to keep them to himself, which can lead to him being clingy and controlling. He may appear patient and understanding on the surface, but deep down, he may become obsessed and frustrated if he feels that his s/o's attention is not solely on him. Despite this, he would try to hide his true feelings, at least for the time being.

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↬|Fyodor|

Extremely patient, doesn't want to scare the person away or anything. Is very very careful, especially when handling his s\o Pretends to be innocent and a harmless person, just to be able to stay close to their s\o Won't try to get closer or to do anything to them until he is entirely sure that he has their full trust.

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↬|Nikolai|

Nikolai can be very patient when it comes to his s/o, but if he feels that they're taking too long to give in to him, he can get very frustrated and impatient. Nikolai would try to be reasonable with his s/o, but he probably wouldn't wait too long for them to start reciprocating his feelings, as Nikolai is not a very patient person in general. Nikolai wants everything to go his way and he doesn't like to wait, so he'd be trying to speed up the process of getting his s/o to like him back.

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↬|Sigma|

Sigma is patient with his s/o, but not necessarily for their benefit. He is patient because he knows that rushing them would only push them away. But his patience is not born of respect for their wants or boundaries, but rather a calculation on how best to get what he wants from them. He understands that in order to make them fall for him, he has to patiently bide his time and carefully maneuver his way into their heart. So he is patient, but only because it serves his own selfish goals.

||[🄿atience]||

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     ⇆ㅤㅤ◁🄾ㅤㅤ❚❚ㅤㅤ🅀▷ㅤㅤ↻

[lostintransist]

Fallen Angel | Nosey Nancy's

Simon watched you from the table as you puttered around the kitchen. He had been asleep when you got home, you hadn’t woken him. Maybe that is why he felt the need to observe you today. He either felt extremely safe with you or you were nearly silent when shifting through the flat. You had just renewed the lease with him. How had it been a year of you sliding into the dynamic of the 141 without ever stepping foot on base?

 An off-handed comment from Roach on one of their last missions had him wondering about some things. You didn’t push. Why did you never push?

“She will never ask for what she needs, I’m almost positive she had convinced herself she has no needs.”

Roach had always been observant, more so around you it seems. Simon wonders why that is. You showed no interest in any of the guys, not even him. Simon is aware women find his size attractive, something about all the muscles a woman explained to him once, but you never look at him like that. When you look at him it is with warm smiles and often a funny one-liner to combat his own. Thinking it over had he ever seen you look at anyone with anything other than warmth?

You accept and give kisses but never ask for them. Your eyes don’t track men or women lustfully. Were you handling your needs only while he was away? Had you even had sex before?

“Are you a virgin?”

The question popped out before he could fully process the implications of asking.

Squinting over your shoulder you look at him.

“Are you drunk?”

Simon couldn’t prevent the heat from flushing over his cheeks.

“No.”

Turning fully, you rounded the counter to stand in front of him.

“Hmm. Simon, not Ghost, okay,” resting the back of your hand on his forehead you wait.

“What are you checking for?” He glares up at you.

“A fever. You’re asking questions that are none of your damn business so you must be sick.”

He guffawed as he pushed your hand from his head.

Rolling your eyes you move back into the kitchen, finishing your breakfast.

Simon watches you again.

“If you’re staring at my ass I will throw something at you,” you say to the cabinets in front of you.

“Still thinking, not staring.”

With a defeated sigh you turn. Staring at him you take a bite of your toast before speaking.

“Alright. Out with it. What’s the question?”

“Why don’t you try to sleep with any of us?”

Chewing as you stare you let the question settle between you. Simon feels like a boy again, asking a question that he should know the answer to and preparing for a slap when he didn’t.

“Do you want me to try and sleep with any of you?” You ask with one brow cocked as you prepare for another bite of toast.

This question caught Simon on the back foot. Did he want that? He thought of you in the same way he thought of his team, as his. That didn’t necessarily mean he wanted to sleep with you though. Did he want you to sleep with any of his guys? It did give his heart a twinge but not enough to throw a fit over.

When Simon looks back to you half of your toast is gone.

“No.”

“Then why does it matter?”

 “Because it doesn’t make sense.”

“Are you feeling insecure because I’m not trying to crawl into your bed except when I’m cold and even then, I actually fall asleep instead of pining over you?”

The needling is effective. Simon grinds his back teeth.

“I am asking, if you are not into men or not into myself and the guys, who are you into?”

“I’m not into anyone.” Dusting your hands over the sink you turn to leave.

Simon moves with speed honed from work, blocking the door with his frame.

“The hell does that mean?”

Heaving a sigh, you look at him with such a drab expression that he would have smiled if he hadn’t been so frustrated by this whole conversation.

“I’m asexual.”

“Which means what?” He glared down at you.

“That urge in your brain that says you need to stick your dick in someone? I don’t have that.”

“You don’t have a dick,” he quipped back.

“That you know of,” you deadpanned. “Do you have any other intrusive questions for me today?”

By way of answer, he steps back, letting you pass.

“Nosey Nancy's the lot of them,” drifts back to him as you shut your bedroom door behind you.

Fallen Angel Masterlist | Masterlist

[salubriwrites-blog]

First Date with Andrealphus: The Christmas Village

Hi. I needed to write something cute, so I did. Christmas time is usually an explosion of the 5 senses, and I really wanted to dip a little into an excursion when you help Andrealphus experience something for the first time. Some of the dialogue is based off of his lobby interactions with you.

I love this little man I would do anything for him.

“How do I look?”

“Good!”

Dawning silence, Bathin elbowed his brother hard in the ribs, and Gusion sighed dramatically. “You don’t look like a maniac with all the blood and feathers in your hair. I can barely tell that you have the scars, you might actually wanna- here, just wear these. They’ll hide your eyes.”

“What are- oh, thank you,” Andrealphus laughed awkwardly, touching the frames that Bathin set on his nose. Needing to feel them to understand, the devil ran his fingers over the slim glasses, clumsily rubbing the lens as he did so. Bathin took the glasses off his face to clean them. 

“Just don’t touch them and you’ll be okay.”

“Am I ready? Has he given us the sign yet?” Andrealphus asked now, doing a nervous turn with his arms outstretched to feel for collisions. 

“No word yet,” Bathin said, staring at his phone while Andrealphus began to pace, holding his hands out to navigate the unfamiliar room. They were in Gusion’s home, which was cramped and filled with books. It was a far cry from the bare bones apartment Andrealphus lived in, with minimal furniture that he knew approximate locations of. Navigating slowly, he paced while running his hands through his hair. Bathin and Gusion were in charge of dressing and preening Andrealphus, scrubbing the blood and gore off his body and brushing the snarls from his hair. Meanwhile Beleth took point in distracting his Lord Majesty. He hadn’t told anyone exactly what that distraction was going to be, just to be patient. 

Technically Belphegor was not aware of what Andrealphus was going to be doing with you that evening. Much less that the two of you were about to leave Hell. His Lord Majesty was strict when it came to letting his underlings out of his sight. Other kingdoms in Hell had need for the capable warriors, and a portion of his wealth and weight among the Princes came from Andrealphus and his brothers, cash cow butchers. The devils of Niflheim were formidable opposition to heavenly warriors, and Belphegor guarded them jealously. You were no exception to the rule, and when his Lord Majesty denied your request to have one of his great fighters accompany you beyond the veil. 

“I’m homesick, and it’s a very special time of year on Earth.” Andrealphus could see the desperation in your eyes just from the way you spoke. “There are no better warriors in all of Hell, he makes me feel safe… please, name your price. Just a few hours of his time, you wouldn’t even know he was gone.”

“Andrealphus does not perform escort duties,” Belphegor said stiffly, and the devil could feel a hand being pushed against his chest to stop him from correcting the Prince of Sloth. “You are loved by Satan, ask him to put together an entourage for you if you wish to return to Earth so badly.” 

The butcher heard your blood quicken in your veins at that remark, he could hear your anger. You would have had better luck talking to a brick wall than Belphegor as he slouched in his seat. “I don’t want an entourage from Gehenna, I want Andrealphus.” He could hear the air being cut by your hand as you swung to point at the devil. No one knew the logic behind your decision, you two had only met in a few freak accidents in Tartaros. The discussion had never evolved beyond, “did they hurt you?” and “Stand behind me, no one will harm you.” 

Rumor had traveled far across the kingdoms of Hell that Satan and Mammon were spoiling you rotten, yielding to your every command. Either because of your unstoppable charisma or a testament to their weakness, no one knew for sure. Whatever it was that was swaying the minds of the Princes across Hell, Belphegor would not fall for it. 

As you turned to leave, Andrealphus felt your eyes on him, and though he had to remain solid, he could hear the scheme brewing in your determined sigh. Almost a month’s worth of secret letter exchanges between his brothers, and encouragement that Andrealphus be on his best behavior, led to the invitation. That you wanted Andrealphus to be your date to Earth. All of the different verbiage circulating around his duty that evening confused the devil. Belphegor had used words like “entourage”, you had requested a companion, and not Gusion was telling him that you had asked him to be your date. 

Preparing for tonight, they had to keep all of those words in mind. Bathin had dressed Andrealphus into something unassuming and charming, while Gusion sharpened and slipped a sword into the butcher’s hand. He was dressed to woo you and decapitate angels if necessary.. 

“It’s time,” Bathin said suddenly, and before Andrealphus knew it a pair of hands were picking him up by his elbows. “He’s asleep.” 

Everything about this was absurd, from the way that Gusion and Bathim had to practically carry Andrealphus out so that he wouldn’t bump into anything, to Belphegor’s snores. They reverberated through the stone facades of the halls, rumbling like thunder and quaking the floors. When his Lord Majesty was asleep, all of Niflheim knew it, and by the sound of it the Prince of Sloth was lost in an early hibernation.  

Acrid cigarette stench met the trio as Beleth stood by the front gate leading out of the castle. Andrealphus’ stomach clenched when he also detected the faint aroma of sweat and orgasm on the tall devil. Understanding why the handsome devil hadn’t told anyone his plan, Andrealphus broke free from his brothers to hug Beleth.

“You didn’t have to do that,” he whispered, and he heard Beleth exhale high over his head. 

“Come on,” the cool devil chuckled, fixing the blind one’s tie and smoothing out his suit jacket. “You know what it takes to put him down. At least now you know you have more than just a few hours. Make it worth my trouble.” 

One more minute of fussing over the finishing touches on Andrealphus’ outfit, touching up the makeup that hid his scars, and brushing cigarette ashes off his suit jacket. All the while his brothers explained in great detail how they had prepared him. 

For once he was trying to hide from the angels, so the halo and angel wings were left behind under his bed for now. Trading out the completely black suit, he was wearing one of Bathin’s shirts that allegedly shimmered like sequins in the proper light. 

“It will make you shine when the city lights hit you, like a diamond.” Bathin explained fondly, fixing the shirt into Andrealphus’ pants. His suit jacket remained though, just in case he would need to offer it to you. Gusion had washed, brushed, and styled the blonde hair so that its wavy texture cascaded perfectly down the devil’s back. 

“It looks nice when its down, but we’ll make it so that it doesn’t get tangled if you do have to fight… Belphegor forbid.” Gusion added under his breath, spraying something artificial into Andrealphus’ hair to hold it in place. Together they had spent hours applying magic and makeup alike to Andrealphus’ throat and eyes to conceal the scars. If it weren’t for the eternal gouges that ran through his eyes, you would never know. Last but not least, Beleth was fixing stalks into Andrealphus’ outstretched hand. 

“Give her those when you get to her, it’ll go well.” 

With that final blessing, the three devils who stayed behind helped to push Andrealphus through the heavy bars of Niflheim’s castle grounds. The first few steps were nerve wracking, he kept looking over his shoulder though he couldn’t see, listening for the snoring of his Lord Majesty to stutter. Prepared to spin on his heel and climb back over the gate and pretend that he hadn’t been about to sneak out of Hell for a night. No one stopped him and he found his way easily to you.

The way to Earth was high and lonesome, filled with the buzzing of souls that moved like bees ‘round his horns. They grazed over Andrealphus as he leaned into the incline as he felt his way along the path to the world of the living. With each step there was agony as his horns began to throb, and it wasn’t until he was halfway through the portal that he remembered. He blamed thinking about you, and all the things that he wanted to talk about with you, as he reached into his pocket for the vial he had prepared hours earlier. Tearing the stopper out with his teeth, Andrealphus reveled in feeling nothing as he knocked the bottle back. A viscous texture that reminded him of angel’s vitae coated his tongue and throat, oozing its way down into his gut. Tossing the bottle to the ground before continuing his march, Andrealphus felt the change immediately. 

His horns receded into his skull, and the devil waited until the headache passed to run his fingers through his hair. It was jarring to lose something so integral to his identity, not having to navigate around the great horns when he touched his head. Wondering if you would approve, he pulled his jacket tighter around himself when an unfamiliar chill worked into his extremities. Not a chill like fear or thrill of the hunt, but something that nipped at his fingertips and made his nose feel numb. 

Nearly there now, Andrealphus began to recognize the comforting sensation slipping away as all around him the sounds of a crowd, the hum of music, and the warm aroma of something delicious took over. There was no audio cue that told him that the portal to Hell had closed behind him, just that strange shiver that made him hold his arms. He was on earth now, walking amongst humans, but it also meant that he didn’t know where he was. In the letter exchanges between you and Gusion, there was a vague direction of where to end up, Earth is a big place after all. With one hand in his pocket as he stood still to try and listen for something or someone familiar, the devil in disguise wondered how silly he looked. His shoulders shivered, but he couldn’t name the sensation as he spun in a slow circle, using his feet to feel for anything he might bump into. When- 

“Get out of the fucking road! Idiot!” Someone screamed, the shouting made Andrealphus reach over his back to remember that his scythe was still in Hell. A fist closed around the arm in his jacket. He was used to being pushed and pulled around by his comrades, and clung to that familiarity as he was dragged. “Maybe if you weren’t wearing sunglasses at midnight you’d see where you were going, are you trying to get yourself killed?” That same person demanded, and Andrealphus swiveled his head in their direction. Their heartbeat was accelerated, whoever his savior was it was definitely mortal.

“P-pardon me,” he started, but their footsteps were receding before he could continue. “I’m looking for a… oh.” 

An immense sadness made Andrealphus reach behind him until he felt something solid, hopefully a wall, and slide down its facade. What am I doing here? He asked with a huff, soothing himself by fidgeting with the items that Beleth had closed his fingers around. It was flowers, he realized with a bitter tightening of his throat, with soft petals that felt like velvet between his thumb and forefinger. He didn’t know the first thing about Earth and no one to help him find his way to you. He had an excellent sense of smell and hearing, honed over years of conquering his blindness, but hunting down devils was one thing. Looking for you in this new world full of strange sounds and feels, was this his limit as a hunter? On top of all of it, this damn chill that he couldn’t identify was making him feel pathetic, pulling his knees to his chest as he sought to fight it off. 

What if you weren’t even up here? What if you decided that since no devil - especially not the devil of your choice - would accompany you to this special occasion on Earth, that there was no reason to make the journey? He could imagine you back in Tartaros, probably sitting on Satan’s lap looking at the clear skies and drinking from the river’s of gold. Not even thinking about the devil who was chained to the duties of his lord-

How am I going to get back? Andrealphus’ thoughts raced to the next worry, forcing himself to stand up despite his bones aching and protesting at the discomfort. All he had to do was find a place to draw his sigil, it would open the way for him to go crawling back to Hell defeated. If that didn’t work, then surely his siblings would try to find him if the devil didn’t return to Hell. Or would Belphegor, upon waking up and realizing the defiant act of the butcher devil, forbid anyone from searching for Andrealphus? Make him a cautionary tale to all future Niflheim, the story of the devil who disappeared without a trace after a rebellious act? Deciding that he was overreacting, the devil shoved his hand back into his pants pocket, leaning one shoulder against the wall as he felt his way forward. Following the radiating warmth of a hundred bodies and the smell of something aromatic, he forged his way through that unknown path. 

This was just another hunt, of course not one he’d ever done before, but the preparation is always the same. Become familiar with the land, know his quarries mind, and move without raising suspicion. No one knew that he was a devil, and the mixture he’d drunk on his way here would mask his aura from angels. For now, there was no danger. You had to be up here somewhere, he had smelt your perfume trailing ahead of him in the portal that brought him to earth. Maybe you had grown weary of waiting for him, and gone ahead yourself. What a shock it would be when he snuck up on you-

“You,” a voice interrupted his thoughts, and Andrealphus felt fear for the first time in centuries. “Did I scare you?” 

Holding a hand to his chest, the devil spun in a circle until he zeroed in on you. 

Instead of answering you right away, the devil stepped closer until he felt the tips of his shoes bump into yours. Your breath mimicked each other as he realized how close you both were. Perhaps too close, but after wondering if he would ever know a comforting presence again, decorum be damned. 

“You got me,” he laughed, feeling the flowers he had gripped to make sure he hadn’t squeezed the life from them. Reaching out, Andrealphus found your shoulder and ran his hand down until his fingers met your wrist, pressing the stems into your palm,  “these are for you.”

“Andrealphus,” your smile was audible, and the devil couldn’t help but do the same. You inhaled with the flowers pressed to your face, and the devil felt bold enough to stay where he was and listen to your appreciation. “These are beautiful, did you find them here?”

“No, I had uhm, some help.” 

“I can tell,” you laughed, and he felt his suit jacket get plucked at. “You aren’t wearing your usual suit, is this… Bathin’s?” Your feet retreated and he stood still while you admired his assembled outfit. “Your hair, too. It’s all different.”

“Different… good?” He asked, wondering if it would be inappropriate to pull you back into him. At the moment you were an anchor and he feared that the sensory overload he was experiencing would wash him away, losing you again. Yes, it would be inappropriate, he decided. This was his first date, of sorts, with you. These were the most words that the pair of you had ever exchanged since the day you both met.

“Yeah, it’s nice. You look nice,” you elaborated, and just as he was going to reach to take your hand, you had a different idea and were stepping into him. He wasn’t ready for the collision of your bodies colliding, thankfully that wall was there to catch him. “Careful!” You laughed when his hand slid down your side, his fingers feeling the thick fabric you were wearing. In kind your cheek pressed against his shirt, your warmth taking the edge off that cold-

“Is this… weather?” He finally asked, having found the word that could not describe the bite in his shoulders and back. 

“Yes,” you explained, letting his hand fall into yours. At last, he thought with a contented sigh as you pulled him to follow you. “I had kind of forgotten that Hell- home doesn't get cold or hot. It’s nice all the time. Would you like to stop somewhere and get a jacket? Or at least some gloves?”

“Gloves would be nice,” he said, fixing his sunglasses on his face while you tucked some of the flowers into his suit pocket. “So, what is this thing? That you wanted to visit.” 

Leading the way, you hugged his hand close to you, forcing Andrealphus’ hips to collide against yours. The proximity was better than any warmth Earth could have given him. “It’s called a Christmas village,” you began.

Following your instructions he used a crosswalk for the first time. Using his feet and listening for the woman’s voice overhead, Andrealphus successfully crossed the street to find the tactile bars. You even let go of his hand to let him feel the confidence of doing it himself, though he quickly snatched for you again once the challenge was conquered. Taken by surprise at how accommodating Earth was, he was tempted to ask about doing it again. The exhilaration of that independence he only felt when he’d been somewhere a hundred times before was unequal.

“Are there many blind people on earth?” He asked, lifting one foot to feel for the curb as he triumphantly crossed the street. 

“There are, they usually have things like guide animals, canes, or even people to help them navigate.” You explained, pulling him closer to the chorus of music. “I’ll be your guide for tonight, don’t worry.” 

“Just for tonight?” He asked, feeling his cheeks turn pink at his audacity and wondering if the makeup that Gusion had put on him would hide some of it. He heard your heartbeat quicken as you gripped his hand tighter.

Now that the devil had found his quarry, the true hunt could start in earnest. Leaning on you, Andrealphus ate up your descriptions of this Christmas village. It was a dense square, much like the city center of Abyssos, with festive streamers that traveled through the air. They began attached to the top of a tall evergreen tree in the middle of the village, leaping from poles and stalls all the way out, creating a thematic web of colors. According to you, the tree was already alight with festive colors, which he asked you to explain in detail. You let him stand close as he pretended to admire the tree, listening to your hushed voice. He liked it when you whispered, an excuse for him to stand closer to you, feel the density of your jacket, the warmth of your breath. Daringly, Andrealphus thought that you wanted to stand next to him too. 

“Why a tree, though?” He asked after you had finished explaining the garland, ornaments, and lights. “Why not… a rock?” Tilting his head to you, he listened to the notes of your laughter rise and mix with the aria of the carols sung nearby.

“Some people think that the tree represents a life and death cycle, they used to decorate their homes with branches to prepare for the coming of Spring. Some use it as a metaphor for Jesus and God. Most excitingly though, it’s where people put their presents for their family.”

“Could I put something under a tree for his Lord Majesty?” Andrealphus mused, allowing you to walk him away. 

“You could, anyone you want to give a gift to, it goes under the tree and you don’t open it until the big day.” 

Musing, Andrealphus dreamt about the people he would give gifts to while you navigated him toward the delicious smells next. 

“Let’s try out some of their food, this village has some really good stuff.” 

You left him to sit on a bench while hustling back and forth between food stalls. So far that evening, candied nuts and an intricately bowed treat called a pretzel had been his favorite. The twists reminded him of his own horns. 

This was nice, he decided as he waited for you, not minding the cold so much now that he knew it wasn’t the worry of danger. In a way, it felt like you were going out foraging for him, returning with bounties to share. Your latest hunt yielded a bratwurst, and you had to instruct Andrealphus on how to eat it. “You hold it like this, you don’t need to use utensils or anything.” 

“Feels phallic,” Andrealphus mumbled, and you both shared an immature giggle as you guided the sausage toward his mouth. Phallic, perhaps, but it was also delicious and you laughed as his eyes bulged behind his sunglasses. “We need to show this to Beelzbub, he would go mad!” After that, the devil decided he wanted to follow his nose, urging you to hold on and help him maneuver the crowds in search of the food stalls. “I wonder what else is here that he would like… could we bring something back for my brothers?” 

Now that your hunger and warmth had been addressed, neither of you were shy about clutching onto each other anymore. All the while you continued to describe the colors, decorations, and sounds in that way he secretly adored. One of the last places you circuited in the village was the ornament stalls. 

“I wish you could have your horns out for this part,” you hummed, laughing and putting a hand to his chest to stop Andrealphus as he pretended to think about growing them outward. “We could wrap them up in tinsel, you’d look so festive. Maybe we’ll just get an ornament you can wear instead.” 

“Like my feathers?” He asked, touching his pierced ears where nothing dangled. “Could we make those into ornaments to hang on a tree?” 

“We could,” you laughed, and there was a pause as something scratchy grazed his nose. “I think I like this one for you.”

“What is it?” He asked, reaching a finger to bump against what you held out. It was a sphere, and just from the way it swung wildly at his inquisitive touch, the devil knew it was fragile. Cupping it in his hands like a prayer, slowly dragged his fingers across the glitter and paint. 

“It says Christmas Village 24, here, and with little angels flying around,” you explain, hesitating before helping his fingers find the painted details to feel himself. Then you laughed even harder as Andrealphus subconsciously dragged his finger across their little throats. “Do you want it?”

“I do.” 

After the quite concerned vendor had wrapped up the ornament, Andrealphus was already explaining to you all the ways he would repaint the ornament. “I can ask Gusion to paint red marks over their throats, and we can erase their wings.” 

“We’ll find a tree to hang it on for the season,” you promised, holding out a piece of kettle corn and waiting for his lips to take it from you. The last food item for the evening was that, taking turns teasing your fingers in front of each other, letting your lips and tongues coyly snatch the popped corn away. 

“Then you decorate the tree, and underneath it you put gifts for your loved ones?” Andrealphus asked, holding out a piece of kettle corn and waiting for your lips to take it from him. Taking your turns feeding each other, the devil’s full belly tightened when your tongue coiled flirtatiously around his fingers. What would he put underneath a tree for you? Perhaps a dress made of the softest feathers from angels. 

“Yeah, it’s a big time for family and friends to come together and express gratitude and love.” You explained, there was a pause as he caught the smell of more kettle corn and opened his mouth. There was a long, sensual pause where your fingers lingered on his lips, where Andrealphus couldn’t tell if you were being playful or if you were trying to turn his face to yours. Did you want to kiss him? He hoped the answer was yes, but before he could test you with tilting his chin, something else about you caught his attention. Not you though, you were sweetly oblivious as you dropped your finger from his chin.

“If you wanted, we could do something like this in Abyssos. We couldn’t do a tree like the ones here, maybe we can get Mammon to loan us one of his dildo pillars,” you laughed, too caught up in your excited day dream to notice his shift in behavior. Keeping an ear out, Andrealphus began to sweep and smell the street. “Can you imagine? A giant penis with tinsel and little ornaments hooked into the foreskin? Oh, and maybe Amon could cook, I know how to make a lot of this stuff but we’d have to… get ingredients from elsewhere… maybe Leviathan would help decorate.” While you had been walking, Andrealphus was already calmly putting himself into the perfect position to catch you as your legs gave out. Deftly, as you were swooning mid sentence, the devil swooped in to snatch you before the ground could claim you. 

“Whoa, is she alright?” A voice Andrealphus did not recognize asked, and a pair of footsteps got too close. Swinging you out of the stranger’s reach, everyone was suddenly an enemy. Any of these people could have poisoned you, angels probably had similar ways to disguise themselves. 

“She’s fine,” he tried not to snarl on the off chance that this was someone who was only trying to help. Being by himself in this place was already overwhelming, but what would he do if he had to fight? With you struggling to breathe in his arms, no less. “She just needs to go home.”

Holding you to his chest, Andrealphus used his hip to find the railing that led out of the village, moving until his feet found the textured bumps on at the crosswalk. “What’s going on? Talk to me, please. Do we need to return?” 

“I need… need…” you were gasping, your fingers interlocked around the back of the devil’s neck as you pressed your lips to his ear. He thought he knew what you were going to say - word had traveled fast and far when you first came to Hell. The human who needed to be regularly given energy in order to survive. Every devil in Hell was scratching and clawing for time with you, hoping that you would collapse into a dire strait. Of course, what rotten luck that it was him, and here of all places, that your breath was growing shallow and your weight was sagging in his arms.

“I know, just hold on a little more. I-I’ll get you back to Hell, back to Gehenna.” Scrambling to keep track of where he was going, Andrealphus moved away from the music and aromas, focusing only on your pounding heart and shivering fingertips. 

“Will we make it?” You asked, he wondered what face you were making when he stopped you from taking off your jacket. There wasn’t going to be a need for that, he thought as he continued to walk, feeling for a place where he could open the portal. “You might have to-”

“That isn’t going to be necessary,” he assured you, smoothing your hair out of your face, feeling his flowers he’d put into your bangs. “I’m taking you back to Gehenna, where his Majesty Satan, or Sitri, even Paimon are able to help.” 

“Andrealphus,” you’d begun to say, but was interrupted by a scream and a crunch. His stomach flipped as the ground underneath him collapsed and he couldn’t figure out how to land. Al he knew was that you could not be harmed, and clutched your head to his chest as he landed awkwardly on his shoulders. Over and over he fell, bouncing and colliding into something that crunched and froze his bones. By the time the devil’s roll had slowed, you were gasping for breath and he tasted blood in his mouth.

“What happened?” He groaned, stifling a scream when he couldn’t move his leg or one of his arms. “Are you hurt?”

“D-Don’t move,” you panted, groaning to yourself. He felt you sit up on top of him, not minding as he squeezed at your thighs and hips. “I’m not hurt, but oh gosh you are. Can you feel this?”

He answered by grunting in pain when you touched his leg. Taking inventory of his pain, Andrealphus' heart stopped as he realized that both an arm and leg were broken. Breathing sent a sharp ache through his core, and something warm was dripping down his neck.

“This isn’t good, r-roll me on my side.” Doing as he asked, you thought you were helping him into some kind of recovery position. Pressing his hand into the biting cold, the snow, he began to draw out his sigil. “I can still get us to Gehenna, just… I need to draw.” 

For a few minutes he struggled to remember it, the pain of his leg dulling his senses. Whimpering and shivering, he couldn’t give up, running his hand over the cold slush to try and erase his last attempt. All the while your eyes were on him, he could feel your stare fading. Clutching his injured self, Andrealphus realized he was losing a race against time. “Just hold on.”

“It doesn’t have to be anyone from Gehenna,” you whined, and he could hear your clothes slipping down your body. “Y-you can help me.”

“I know, I know,” he repeated himself softer the second time, still trying to open the portal. He’d heard the way you flinched at him. Please don’t think I don’t want you, he thought to himself as he struggled. “I just… I want you to be helped by someone you’re familiar with.” 

“Andrealphus,” you whispered, the crunching of that cold powder reaching closer to him. Mindful of his injury, you shifted the devil to lay on his back. “I don’t mind if it’s you that helps me… I like you.” 

“I know!” The devil snapped, slamming his head back into the ground, not caring that it sent a dull throb down his spine. “I know that you like me. I like you too,” he had to pause as he squinted his eyes shut and cursed himself. This was not what he had planned for tonight, not the way he wanted to confess his feelings. “Except I don’t want the first time that we… I don’t want it to be out of necessity. I want our first time to be meaningful and darling, maybe somewhere where you could see starlight and feel safe. Not like this.” He waved his hand to gesture to his useless form, you gasping for breath, cold air blasting between the two of you. Up above carols were still playing, and no one seemed to have noticed Andrealphus fall.

“Our first time will be meaningful and sweet,” you promised him, taking advantage of his damaged body to unzip his pants. Both of you knew that he was too hurt to fight you off, Andrealphus squeezed powder between his fingers as you pulled his flaccid penis into the cold. “This isn’t going to be our first time, because it's necessary. I promise we can do it again, for real, because I want you, Andrealphus.” 

“You do?” He asked, voice hiccuping in his throat as you massaged at his erection.

“I sure do,” you giggled, letting your lips tickle his ears. No match for your hands, the pair of you took turns moaning softly against each other, not wanting to even kiss as he expanded and grew in your hand. Those little words inflated his ego along with his body, and you sighed relieved at the erection you could barely hold with one hand. “I think you’re the kindest and most honorable devil in all of Hell. You could have broken every bone in your body just now trying to get me back. Just so someone I was comfortable with could take care of me. You aren’t greedy, and you wanted to prioritize my sense of safety.” His body was so battered from his tumbling that even just your weight pressing ever so sweetly on his chest made him gasp. “Do you know how hot that makes me?”

The powder that he was laying on top of melted from the heat of his body as you straddled Andrealphus. Asking you if this was an appropriate place was forgotten when he felt your soft, naked skin sliding along his length. Having you on top hurt fiercely, he was sure he had broken at least his leg, and maybe a rib, but he grit his teeth as pain gave way to burning pleasure when you slipped him inside. Freezing air snatched his warm cry and let it fall back down on his chest as you leaned forward, planting your hands firm against his shoulders. 

Rocking slowly, it was like you were milking the energy out of him, each thrust gave you energy. While pinned there in the snow, broken and feeble, he was at the mercy of your hunger. Your hips rising and falling along the lengths of his cock made a sweet sound like that reminded Andrealphus of innocent kisses. He wanted to kiss you so badly, he realized with a strangled breath. Riding and grinding your hips into him almost made him forget about his pain and breaks. His useless arm throbbed each time you slammed your hips down, while his leg and ribs begged to tighten and partake. 

“Oh, mercy,” he whispered into the air between you as you coaxed an orgasm out of him. Gritting his teeth, he ran his hands down your cheeks and over your eyelashes, hoping to have just a taste of what you looked like at the precipice. “I’m so close.”

You didn’t say a word, but the half laugh, half moan as you caught his fingers and kissed them said it all: “no peeking, you have to wait until our first time.” While he came down, you slipped backwards and cautiously dismounted from the devil, helping him button his pants back up. While he was gasping to regain control of his body, shivering and numb in the snow, you let out an energetic sigh as your wits were restored. You weren’t a doctor, but you poked and prodded at the places where he’d hurt himself, peppering him with gentle evaluation while the devil struggled to catch his own breath.

“Thank you for helping me,” you whispered into his ear, finally helping him sit up and aiming his finger at a place to draw. “Now let me help you, you need Morax or Beur.” 

With your guiding hand, the butcher drew his sigil into the snow, and as the door back to Hell opened, you lay against each other and slipped down like a slide. With a quiet oof followed by a gasp that could have woken his Lord Majesty, you both collapsed into a familiar living room floor. 

“What the fuc- oh. Daughter of Solomon, Andrealphus, you’re back early.” Bathin calmed immediately at the sight of them, hopefully using his best poker face as he helped you to your feet. 

“There was an accident, everything is okay now, it's just that,” you waved your hand to the devil’s broken body.

“Oh, what the fuck you were supposed to be looking after her,” Bathin hissed exasperated, dropping to his knees to examine the extent of the injuries. 

“I did-”

“He did-” you spoke over each other, and Andrealphus smiled wide.

“We’ll have to sneak him out to get to Morax’s hospital,” the devil sighed, picking Andrealphus up and clutching the battered man to his chest. “Would you mind getting the door for us?” 

Sneaking out of Niflheim one more time, you led the way to the grand hospital in Paradise Lost. Andrealphus talked his brother’s ear off the whole way, explaining his outing with you in great detail. You of course chimed in occasionally to fill in the details. Bathin tilted his head at you once to silently ask, “what the fuck?” when the butcher couldn’t stop talking about tinsel covered cocks with feathers hooked into the veins. It wasn’t the ideal first date in his mind, but you stayed at Andrealphus’ bed side at the hotel for the whole night. Sitting next to him, one hand holding his uninjured arm, listening to him recap the evening. 

“Can we get bratwurst again?” He yawned eagerly, letting you run your hand over his face until exhaustion became greater than discomfort. At the beckoning of your fingers against his eyelashes, he began to fade.

“Sure we can,” you promised, scratching his arm gently. “I know it got forgotten in all the excitement, but I saved your ornament.” 

“You did?” Andrealphus drowsed, turning his head toward you as you gave the packaging a jingle. “We can find a big tree to hang it on.”

“We can,” you mused sweetly, fixing it to one of his horns. “We can even make our own ornaments, with angel eyeballs or whatever you want. Next time I’ll show you what mistletoe is.” 

“On our second date?” He asked, barely finishing the sentence before a whistling snore passed through his lips.

“Yeah,” you hesitated before stealing a kiss from his forehead. “Our second date will be even better.”

[blushblushbear]

Scale, Seth and Haru husband headcanons pls?

ngl I think all 3 of these dudes would have a weird adjustment period to being husbands, though frankly I think Scale would maybe have the easiest time (well-- MAYBE Haru, but okay---)

Scale

I think the biggest change from boyfriend to husband is going to be him questioning if he should continue his assassin work

He's not going to set down his knives quickly or lightly but like----

he has a spouse now

he doesn't want them becoming a widow/widower

OR EVEN WORSE GETTING CAUGHT UP IN HIS BUSINESS??

bruh, he would DIE

I highly doubt he'd actually end up quitting but there WOULD be some changes around here

for starters--- he has a better divide between his personal and professional life

This is maybe me watching too much venture bros but I really do like the idea of Scale adopting a sort of on the clock/off the clock mentality ("That's my business-- but we're not at the office right now, ya see")

also he gets WAY more protective

your home is probably laced with all kinds of booby traps

and he DEFINITELY makes you run drills

like fire drills but instead of fire it's enemy assassins

Aside from the stuff pertaining to his career, he's actually a very sweet and loving husband

Not necessarily a 'I made a home cooked meal in my apron' every night kind of loving but more a 'I stopped by that place you like and got us dinner' type

also def kind of nerdy husband but less about magic or dnd and more about weapons and armor (though don't get it twisted, he'll get down hard on some dnd)

lots of quality time whenever he's home

lots of texts when he's away

lots of cuddles on the couch and falling asleep in each others arms

he knows your favorites and brings flowers when he's been gone for a while

you're his home <3

and frankly he's very protective of that home

Seth

okay honestly

Seth is probably the one who has to step up to being a proper husband the most

at the start he's definitely bad at this whole 'being a good husband thing'

but all it takes it you getting visibly frustrated with him a handful of times and he realizes he needs to up his game

his life is REALLY different now, but if he gets to spend it with you it's worth it

and for what it's worth he's actually really good at apologies

and also good about being sincere about them too, it's not just fluff to get him out of trouble

he's also very protective of you but he's not as 'DECLARATION OF HIS UNDYING LOVE AND PROTECTION AGAINST THE LIGHT OF THE MOON' as Scale is about everything

also is actually really good at listening to you vent/share work drama

also always offers to send your annoying co-workers to hell

you say no but the offer still stands

is only really good at barbecue and baking so anything too far past that you're gonna have to order in or cook for the night

also I don't know if he'd suggest this first but if the subject of having date night comes up he's actually really really about date night

likes to take you somewhere nice or fun or both

also will try to convince you to adopt a hellhound

this will be a forever conversation in your marriage, just letting you know now

Haru

so look

I'm not saying Haru would ever cheat on you

actually far from it

BUT I WILL SAY that going from a long ass life time of tom catting around every night to a committed long-term monogamous relationship is going to be a major life change for ANYONE

including Haru

that being said that's actually kinks you worked out early in your relationship

I do get the sense that Haru low key misses his old life a bit, but knowing you has changed him too much and he could just--- never go back ya know??

and frankly he wouldn't want to

but again that's like--- also stuff that was dealt with during boyfriend stage

actually honestly, once you're committed to each other, he legit doesn't see you as anything other than his mate

married or not his attachment is the same honestly

marriage isn't JUST a human thing but it's more of a you thing that a Haru thing

as far as he's concerned you two are as good as married already

all though who could pass up a party to show you off and celebrate your union???

so yeah-- you'll have to bring it up, but Haru is down to marry you right away

so I think with Haru, YOU'RE going to have to change your life the most due to marriage

he's kind of the leader of a whole group of people

he's not going to make you come live with them, but you ARE gonna have to at least be next door

that's gonna be the biggest marriage hurdle depending on who you are

though if push comes to shove he is willing to find a successor and run away with you

but low key please don't make him do that cause his people need him and he loves them and also he'd feel guilty about it FOREVER haha

but yeah past that married Haru is not much different from boyfriend Haru except he's a little bit more clingy/up front about pda etc cause HEY that's his SPOUSE, he's allowed

he also does REALLY LOVE calling you his spouse in front of anyone and everyone as many times as he can

[lorenzozurzolocanruinmylife]

Until fate do us together -Theo Nott x f.reader

t.w. Light drugs, fainting and I think nothing else but lmk if I should add something

You didn’t think of yourself as a mysterious person, not really. Anyone could look at your face and know exactly what you were thinking in that split second. 

So it was admittedly hard for you to keep a secret, not because you had a big blabbering mouth, perhaps you thought of yourself as the perfect embodiment of loyalty, just as your house Hufflepuff wanted. But your face couldn’t hold in any emotion, no matter how hard you tried to fight to keep up your poker face.

The only secret you had never ever showed was the one that kept you up at night, the one that made your blood pump through your veins faster than ever.

You liked someone.

It wasn’t anyone, it was Theodore Nott, heir of one of the most illustrious and respected (and feared) families in the wizarding world.

Theo, as he preferred to be called, was a sight for sore eyes, he had some sort of gloomy look that paradoxically could heat up the fire within every girl, even the most uptight.

As of now that’s really all you could tell about him, because even though you were extremely extroverted and nice with everyone you never dared to interact with him. How could you? You didn’t trust yourself, you just knew that it would have taken one look to let him know loud and clear that you could’ve died for him.

You didn’t wanna take that chance, because if he rejected you, or really just ignored you, it would have destroyed your self confidence and not only, but also your safe place. Because after all those years that you spent fantasizing about him and you together, you had built such comforting reality that was just way better than the one you were actually living in.

This whole thing was ridiculous, and you knew it, but it became something too important for you to fumble in just one shot, so you just ignored him.

You avoided him in any possible way, anytime you had a class together you asked the professors if you could change your schedule, anytime there was a party or an event in which he could have been you didn’t go, you avoided each and every member of his friend group because you didn’t want to have anything to do with him. 

But then again fate never lets anyone decide for themselves.

In an awfully quiet night in the greenhouse you had just finished setting all the plants and feeding them when you thought you deserved a treat for your hard work, and because of the stressful week you had just been through. So you reached in one of Hufflepuff’s secret ��pots” for some…you guess it. You rolled the blunt and light it, you were pretty sure no one would come at the greenhouse at this hour, everyone probably was in their common rooms already so you didn’t even think of closing the door with some sort of charm.

Your relaxing moment was interrupted when you heard the door snap open and two male voices, you hid under one of the tables as fast as you could. To say your heart was exploding was a euphemism, this had never happened to you during your gardening sessions, not once!

You couldn’t make out the voices anymore because of how much anxiety was paralyzing your senses, all the worst scenarios came to your head: maybe they were Professor Snape and Dumbledore, it was definitely them, who else would come here right now?! And when they find you??? What would have happened? You surely were gonna get expelled! Or worse…sent to Azkaban, BUT YOU WERE TOO YOUNG TO GO TO AZKABAN!!! 

Million thoughts were running around in your head when four feet stopped in front of the table under which you were hiding, and slowly the table cloth was gonna expose you to the two. When it had been pulled away you fainted under there, with your fingers still holding the blunt, the whole scene unraveled before the eyes of Lorenzo Berkshire and Mattheo Riddle.

They came here to steal some pot just like you did, when suddenly they not only smelled it as if someone was already smoking but also heard some shuffling noises, and that’s how they found you.

Now they were baffled, and also slightly holding their laughter.

“Mate…c’mon stop laughing, we must have scared her to death” “Suits her for being such a naughty student! Smoking pot in the greenhouse…without inviting us?!” Mattheo answered still drying some of his laughing tears. “So what should we do now?” Enzo looked at Mattheo as if he actually trusted him with the whole situation. “I know how to do cpr” Mattheo smirked “I bet she wouldn’t mind it, am I right babydoll?”, when he turned to look jokingly at you he saw you slowly batting your eyes.

You opened them and here you were, on the Greenhouse’s floor holding a joint, you looked up and you saw them, and as if you saw a ghost your face without missing a beat turned white. 

“Woah woah breathe, don’t worry he was just joking” Enzo said getting on his knees so he could be at your eye level, putting a hand on your shoulder to steady you.

“Yeah don’t worry love, I definitely would have bought you dinner first”, and with that you chuckled shyly.

“Oh good Godrick You guys nearly gave me an heart attack, I thought you were Snape and Dumbledore” they both laughed, and after that they introduced themselves.

You decided to share the joint with them to have a laugh about what happened, even though this whole interaction was far from your “Slytherin avoidance” plan, but you were enjoying yourself way too much to shy away.

“So do you come here a lot to…you know?” Mattheo asked “Well I do help a lot around here, and I know where everyone hide their stuff, so like once or twice a week I come here and just chill out”.

“From the next time you have to invite us too, we’re now your two personal smoke buddies” you giggled at what Enzo said, “Anyways it’s really weird how we never shared any class, and I know for sure we have some classes with Hufflepuff, because half of the girls in the grade hate my guts” Mattheo said making you feel a bit uneasy, because you knew perfectly why you never had a single class together. 

“Yeah right, so it has to be you that is hiding huh? Are you trying to ignore Slytherins for some reason?” “Yeah Enzo it’s years I’ve been trying to not see your face and you still found a way to jumpscare me!”. 

The door snapped open again, and the three of you all tried to see who it was, but “You tossers where the hell are you hiding? We’ve been waiting for a fucking hour, you didn’t have to smoke it by yourselves!”. Possibly your heart started beating faster than before, this wasn’t just a scare this was your personal nightmare. 

You tried to find a way out without being noticed, Mattheo and Enzo were standing up, you looked up at them and without even thinking you stood and hurriedly told them “It was such a pleasure meeting you guys, I- I gotta go, bye!”, and you sprinted out of there. 

Theo looked at you throughout the scene and remained speechless, “Who the hell was that? And why have I never seen her before? And why was she here with you guys?” Mattheo walked towards Theo clapping a hand on his shoulder “Theo Theo Theo, the less you know the better, let’s get going Berkshire” “As you wish princess” just like that the three of them went back to their dorm. 

“So are you guys gonna tell me who that was?” “Her name’s y/n and we don’t have any classes in common” Enzo finally answered the now impatient Theo, “it’s such a shame though, I wouldn’t mind seeing that pretty face sometimes” said Mattheo.

As you tried to sleep you just kept thinking of the incredible coincidence that had happened that night, how this was the first time you and Theo were so close, how his voice was so so so deep and just…sexy.

You heated up just with the memory of it, that fueled your fantasies in an astonishing way.

The next day you had just finished charms class with Ravenclaw and you were headed towards the great hall for lunch when you felt two pair of arms circle your neck at the same time. “Good morning y/n!  Found you again, maybe it’s destiny trying to tell us something, what do you say?” “Ugh Mattheo please can you not harass her? And then you ask why we always hang with the same people” Mattheo sticked out his middle finger without even looking at Enzo. “So we were thinking if you wanted to come to our party tonight?” “I get it, I get it, you think you found your new pusher, is that all I am to you guys? I thought what happened yesterday was a real bonding experience…maybe I was wrong” you tried to pretend to be hurt while also trying to avoid answering to their invitation. “Oh come onnnn you know you’re more than that, you’re cool and we want you to meet the group” “please we desperately need someone new or I will blow my brains out! Plus you’ve never been to a Slytherin party before, because trust me darling, I would’ve remembered you” Mattheo winked at you. “Flattery isn’t going to make me say yes” “and what will?” Enzo asked right after “ummm I don’t know guys, I-“ you were going to say something when through the corner of your eyes you saw Theo. He started appearing behind them and walking in their way, which meant…your…way, “I- I’m really really hungry- I can’t even think straight! I’ll let you know after lunch, okay? Okay! Bye guys!”. And just like the day before you cowardly escaped, really embarrassing.

“What the?” “I know right why does she always seem to be running out of time at some point?” Mattheo and Enzo were interrupted by Theo “who were you  talking to?” “Y/n, it’s crazy as soon as you approach she has to go away” Enzo said out loud what everyone was thinking. 

“Are you sure you’re not the same person? Because I’ve never seen you two in the same room” Mattheo said trying to peel off some sort of mask off Theo’s face, and he just slapped his hand. 

“Very funny, really. And what were you talking about?” Theo asked while trying to look for you in the river of people moving towards the great hall. He was starting to be intrigued by you, he had never seen you before, never even known about your existence and now you were merely a presence whenever there was his own, he didn’t know if it was starting to get on his nerves or to challenge him in to this game of catch.

“Nothing much we thought it would be cool if she came to the party tonight” “Do you have a thing for her?” Theo looked suspiciously at Mattheo who was suddenly so hung up on this girl. “Well she’s pretty yes but mostly she’s really nice and chill, you know…a nice addition to the group” he stopped as if to meditate to say or not the next thing “but I mean…I definitely wouldn’t mind” Enzo facepalmed  and they found their way to the rest of the group who was already sat and dining.

You on the other end of the Hall, were trying to think of a plan, because you sure as hell weren’t gonna go to that party.

Although you found it flattering that they had known you for just one day, barely, and still thought to invite you, still the only real problem was dealing with Theo. Not in a million years you would be able to go through a conversation with him, let alone spend a whole evening in his presence.

You were so hung up on all these thoughts creating a vortex of paranoia and anxiety in your head that you had lost your appetite, so you decided to just leave and go spend some time in the library that was certainly empty since everyone was here.

And you just craved to be alone for just one second.

Arrived at the library you took a random book out of your bag and opened it at an even more random page, because reading was just your disguise. 

Part of your secret was that whenever you felt uneasy or anxious you would just space out and dream about Theo, and that’s why it was so important for you to conceal it, the whole thing. Throughout all the years that you had been admiring Theo this daydream scenario grew more and more, and it always brought you peace and you wouldn’t have traded it with nothing else, not with Mattheo and Enzo’s friendship, not with hanging out with Theo, hell, not even with his friendship. You just didn’t want to disappoint yourself, because what if in reality he would just find you annoying or viceversa? What if he thought you were one of the many ridiculous fan girls? You wanted to stick with your dreams because they never they were too comfortable, and you couldn’t.nor.wouldn’t.trade.that. 

As you were completely zoned out, two book shelves away Pansy Parkinson was desperately crying hiding from everyone because she figured, as well as you did, no one would be in the library at this hour.

So without knowing that someone actually was in there, she let herself get lost in sobs and snotty whines, very loudly so much so that at one point you got distracted by them and feeling sorry for whoever was so upset you, slightly annoyed, decided to check on them.

You knocked on the book shelve as if to ask for permission “Hey…is everything alright?” she immediately passed an elbow on her nose to dry it off, feeling embarrassed almost mortified. “Mind your fucking business, will you?” she abruptly answer, and at that you wanted to slap yourself and damn your stupid nosy empathy, so before even seeing who was behind the shelf you started to go back. “No- wait, sorry” she said regretting her impulsively rude ways. So you turned back and finally saw who was the mysterious crier and you thought to yourself -what a fucking coincidence- once again. “Sorry I didn’t mean to pry, or overhear this, I should have minded my business…but here” you handed her a tissue and she gave you a weak smile “thanks, and I’m the one who should be apologizing, I came off way too harsh while you were just being nice”. “May I?” you pointed on the spot on the floor beside her “Go ahead” “Do you want to talk about it?”, Pansy had never seen you before, which was basically impossible since she knew everyone, and for one second she thought that maybe you were an angel summoned to support her, came disguised as a regular hufflepuff girl. 

She started to explain what had made her so upset, her secret crush Angelina Johnson had found out about this infatuation and humiliated Pansy by rejecting her in front of the Great Hall, so she just ran to hide in here, never having felt so weak in her life. 

“She said that I was a filthy slytherin asshole and that she’d rather be with Filch than to ever consider being with me” you hugged her and you started to tear up a bit with her, also kind of relating to her because that was your biggest fear, and you would be just as devastated, if not more, if Theo ever said something like that to you. “She’s clearly blind, because you are probably the hottest girl in school and you are such a catch and if she doesn’t get that than she’s just daft”, she hugged you back twice as tight. “I heard that there’s a party tonight, you should go, dressed up with a great makeup on and let her know that you don’t care in the slightest of her objectively stupid opinion” “you are so right, we’re definitely going” we? “We? As in…you and her?” She looked at you with a stare that meant -are you for real- “No girl me and you”.

“Oh no no I have so much to study I can’t- really” “no please come on, you have to come with me, we will have so much fun, if you don’t come I will stay in my room and cry all night looooong” she prayed you with a really pouting face.

You were doomed. 

There was no possible way back.

Pansy had been very persuasive, at least more than Enzo and Mattheo, but really you were just too gullible and manipulable.

It really seemed as if fate wanted you and Theo to meet, which basically means that it wanted for you to end up just like Pansy, maybe it would have made you bond even more, more plausibly it would have made you transfer schools and country.

Let me know if you’d like a pt. 2🤠

[mydearestbeloved]

Chapter 1 [Draft]

Sung Jinwoo/Trial Player!Reader

CW: All hail traumatized Reader.

Inspired by @circeyoru ‘s “Future Power Couple”

[Masterlist🦋✨️]

The first thing you felt, opening your eyes, was confusion. You weren’t in your room anymore. Sunlight streamed through enormous stone pillars, bathing lush, towering vines and strange, vibrant flowers in a golden hue. The air was warm and fragrant, thick with the scent of damp earth.

But then came the second realization. You looked down, and your heart nearly stopped. Your hands were tiny, smaller than they’d been since childhood. You touched your face and arms, half in disbelief. You were in your body… or some version of it. And young.

That’s when the screen appeared before your eyes, hovering like a digital ghost.

[Welcome, Trial Player.]

The words glowed, taking a moment to sink in as reality wove itself together in a tangled mess of memories and feelings. Trial player?

You tried to call out, tried to make sense of it, but before you could, another line appeared.

[You have been selected to test this system.]

You exhaled slowly, swallowing back the panic that was building in your chest. “This has to be some kind of mistake,” you whispered, though you doubted anyone was listening. You knew what the system was, in theory. This was the same one that would one day be given to Sung Jinwoo, but there was something… off. This was not exactly how you remembered it from the manhwa.

[Your task: Survive, learn, and master the system.]

The words disappeared, leaving you standing alone, feeling like a newborn in a strange, hostile world.

---

The first few days were terrifying, every new experience both a revelation and a potential death sentence. You had no weapons, no training, and no idea what you were up against. For the first time in your life, you understood the gravity of true danger. Every rustling leaf or distant growl put your heart in your throat.

On the third day, a mission screen appeared.

[Daily Mission: Survive in the Gardens. Reward: 1000 EXP.]

“Survive,” you muttered dryly. “Thanks for the reminder.” You swiped the screen away, hoping that would somehow give you more clarity, but it only left you alone with the dense, humid silence of the garden.

Later that day, you stumbled upon what you’d initially thought was an oddly shaped log—until it moved. A giant serpent, its scales glistening, slithered forward, venom dripping from its fangs as it studied you with hungry eyes.

Pure instinct took over. You scrambled for anything you could use as a weapon, but there was nothing. Just your hands. As the snake lunged, something surged within you—warm, pulsing energy—your first brush with the power of healing. You didn’t know how you did it, only that it seemed to pour out of you.

The serpent’s movements grew sluggish, then frantic, as if something was going horribly wrong inside of it. Its scales began to bubble, and it convulsed before collapsing. You gasped for air, heart pounding, as the system screen appeared.

[You have discovered a unique ability: Healing Resonance.]

A “unique ability” indeed. You were horrified, stunned. Healing, but one that twisted life into death. Your first kill was as much a shock as a victory, and as you watched the system flash “EXP Gained,” you felt no thrill. Just numbness.

---

After days of testing the system, you quickly discovered that it was far different than the one described in the manhwa. Instead of the narrow focus on fighting, the system offered skills that were surprisingly... domestic. It felt more like a casual RPG than the cutthroat power-chasing game you’d expected.

“Learning, cooking, crafting?” you muttered, swiping through a menu that displayed an endless list of skills—farming, forging, language... the works.

[Your feedback is appreciated.]

The screen popped up just as you were gnawing on a piece of hard bread you’d somehow managed not to burn to ash. A feedback column appeared below, and you felt a strange thrill—if you could actually shape how this system worked, maybe you could make a difference. You started typing, ideas flowing faster than you could think them through.

Feedback 1: Focus on combat-related skills. Simplify stats for non-combat abilities.

When you pressed submit, the system chimed.

[Under review for final version.]

“Guess that’s all I can do for now,” you sighed, leaning back and staring at the list. You wouldn’t have minded the extra skills so much, except that every single one required you to “grind” by using it repeatedly. Which, in theory, was fine. In practice? Not so much.

Your first few attempts at cooking, for instance, had been… catastrophic. Who knew it was even possible to burn a boiled egg to a crisp? At least it still gave you experience points, but the system wasn’t exactly forgiving. Each skill was tied to a particular stat and vice versa, so for example, to raise Intelligence, you had to keep grinding away at reading, alchemy, crafting, and other mentally demanding tasks.

Then there was Learning, the one skill that seemed to tie everything together. It leveled up whenever you worked on other skills, making them just a fraction easier each time you made an attempt. Slowly, you felt the difference—your fingers became nimbler at crafting, your reading comprehension shot up, and even basic fighting maneuvers didn’t leave you bruised as often.

You sent in feedback about this too, suggesting that leveling up should provide points you could apply to any stat you wished.

[Under review. Changes considered for the final version.]

With each suggestion, the system stayed silent for a moment, as if it was actually thinking it over.

“Are you alive in there?” you asked, half-joking. But there was no response. Just silence.

---

The day you found the abandoned library was the first stroke of true luck you’d had since arriving. Of course, it had come with its own challenges—a plant-beast had nearly mauled you at the entrance. Your solution? A shard of broken glass, some sunlight, and sheer desperation. After you’d torched the creature, you barely had the strength to drag yourself inside, clutching your bleeding arm.

Inside, towering bookshelves covered in dust stretched into the shadows. You felt your pulse quicken—knowledge. In a world where you felt powerless, here was a place where you could gain some edge.

The first book you picked up was written in a strange language. As you stared at the unfamiliar symbols, another screen popped up.

[New Skill accessed: Reading. Level 1.]

You let out a laugh, maybe half from exhaustion, half from sheer disbelief. The reading skill allowed you to comprehend the text faster, though it started painfully slow. Still, as you worked through the book, something strange happened.

[New Skill accessed: Language. Level 1.]

The words were no longer entirely foreign. It took hours, but by the end, you had a basic grasp. After spending weeks working on other skills, you returned to study another language and found it easier than before.

“Thank you,” you muttered aloud, genuinely grateful to the system. You weren’t one to talk to thin air, but sometimes it felt like someone, or something, was there.

For the first time, the system responded, offering you an EXP boost for several skills at once.

“You’re feeling generous today,” you said. The system flashed without a word, but something about its silent response felt… thoughtful, almost. You knew it was impossible, but a sense of familiarity nagged at you.

---

As days bled into weeks, and weeks into months, survival became both an instinct and a grueling grind. Food was scarce, rations stretched thin. Every meal was a gamble—could you avoid poisoning yourself this time? Or would you suffer another failed attempt at cooking?

The creatures that roamed the Gardens were relentless. You’d nearly died several times, if not for a combination of sheer luck, your healing power, and a dormant instinct to survive that you hadn’t known was there. Fighting without real experience was an endless, punishing lesson, and the system had yet to assign you a class. But your healing powers were something you clung to, despite their double-edged nature.

Without them, you would have been left scarred and broken, bleeding from too many wounds to count. The system kept pushing you, relentlessly.

The deeper you went into the mysteries of this world, the more questions you had. Why were you here? Why you? The system itself, sometimes silent, sometimes so alive, only deepened the enigma. You couldn’t shake the feeling that being a beta tester wasn’t the full reason you’d been pulled into this reality.

But for now, you pushed the questions aside, bottling them up in a corner of your mind. Survival was the priority. If you made it out of these Gardens, if you gained enough strength, maybe one day you’d find the answers.

But until then, your only choice was to endure.

-----

Another day, another tight squeeze of survival. You were hidden under a rocky overhang, just out of sight, nibbling on unfamiliar roots and mushrooms you’d scavenged. Every bite was a gamble, a game of Russian roulette that determined whether you’d gain a bit of strength or be wracked with cramps, nausea, or worse.

"Come on, poison resistance,” you muttered to yourself, half-prayer, half-exasperation. Every new toxic bite, every close call, edged you closer to a skill level that might one day make these random edibles manageable.

The system pinged softly with an update.

[System Patch: Skill Cap Increase Applied. Unlocked Sub-Skills for Advanced Development.]

You let out a long sigh. So *that* was why skills maxed out so fast before. Every time you thought you’d mastered something, the ceiling just got higher. Now, skills you thought were perfected were open again for leveling, and any new experience points would feed back into their growth. Until you could level up again, the system would keep exchanging your experience for supplies—something that had kept you from starving more than once already.

But the sub-skills, the “updates,” had you intrigued. You’d noticed subtle effects of higher skill levels before, like how cooking had become more than just a way to sustain yourself. Now, you could create dishes that eased your fatigue or provided a bit of health. Forging was the same—your makeshift weapons had become a little sharper, a little stronger, and now, you could upgrade the stats of items that had already been made. Each skill was branching out into new possibilities.

But your progress slowed as the demands of survival grew harsher. Rations were limited, and you felt each calorie burned in your daily mission drills. The exhaustion crept into your bones, each strike of your makeshift spear against the thick-skinned creatures that roamed these grounds adding to the deepening ache. Just survive, you told yourself. The system seemed to listen, pushing you further than you ever thought you could go.

---

After months of grueling routine, the day came when the system presented a new challenge: the job-change quest. You knew what this meant. You’d read the manhwa a hundred times, could remember every detail of Jinwoo’s struggle. You expected a hard fight, but even then, you weren’t prepared for the reality—a Hydra.

When you first saw it, slithering out from the darkness, its scales glistening with a sickly, iridescent sheen, your breath caught. A single head was bad enough, but the Hydra had seven, each one dripping venom. Its eyes gleamed with a deadly intelligence as it circled, blocking any path of escape. You gripped your spear, willing yourself to be brave.

Stay calm. Think.

“Alright,” you whispered to yourself. “I just have to get it to bleed out… if I can even scratch it.”

The Hydra lunged. You sidestepped just as one head lashed out, venom spraying onto the rocks where you’d stood, sizzling with acidic fury. Your muscles burned as you darted away, barely managing to keep up with its movements. Every time you managed to wound it, its flesh began to knit together again, each laceration closing with terrifying speed.

Think. What did the library say?

The words from a musty old anatomy text swam back to you. The main poison sac, near the heart. You didn’t even know if you could reach it, but it was your only chance. As the Hydra coiled again, you let instinct take over, dodging its strikes until an opportunity appeared.

You gripped your spear tight, channeling every bit of magic into it, then aimed for the base of one of its necks. You struck hard, hoping to wound it enough to reach that poison sac.

Your powers flared unexpectedly, the reptile’s scales near the wound blackened as though they were aging, decomposing under your hands. It shrieked, flesh blistering as your magic intensified. The effect rippled through its body, slowing the regenerative process that had given it the upper hand. You sliced again, faster, your heart pounding, forcing your powers to speed up this, this decay. As you worked, you became aware of something strange—the Hydra’s flesh was rotting beneath your touch, its venom sac swelling under its own poison as it struggled to keep up with your relentless onslaught.

It took everything you had. With a final push, you drove your spear into the Hydra’s chest, deep enough to rupture the venom sac. The poison surged through its body, overwhelming its regenerative abilities. Its massive body convulsed, seven heads thrashing in agony, then slumped to the ground with a heavy finality.

You sank to the ground, gasping, drenched in sweat, your muscles shaking with exhaustion. Blood seeped from a gash on your arm, a painful reminder of the battle. Dark patches spread across your skin where venom had touched, a lingering ache warning you that your body was still working to purify it.

“System,” you rasped, half-delirious. “You’d better give me something worth it.”

A screen popped up in response, and you felt a weak grin pull at your lips.

[Job Quest Complete. New Class Obtained: Mage-Healer.]

Your heart pounded in your chest. Mage-Healer? You’d expected a standard healer class, something that suited your healing ability, but a hybrid class? That hadn’t been part of the original story. As the notification faded, a new title appeared beneath your class:

[New Title Earned: “Dreamer and Chronomancer, She”]

“Chronomancer…?” you whispered, the words tasting strange on your tongue.

Exhaustion weighed on you, but curiosity tugged at the edges of your mind. You remembered the way the Hydra’s wounds had slowed, how its regeneration seemed to freeze under your touch. It all clicked into place. Cellular death. Your healing wasn’t merely about restoring life—it was time itself, bending to your will. And the magic you wielded, the strange power that left the serpent dying on the first day you arrived, wasn’t just about healing either. You had boosted its venom production until it ruptured on itself, just as you had done now.

But what about ‘Dreamer’?

Your thoughts were interrupted by a faint chime from the system.

[Learning Skill: New Sub-Skill Unlocked.]

The notification sparked your curiosity, but the words on the screen blurred before your eyes. The poison was still in your system, and you could feel the fever building. As you closed your eyes to focus on healing, the faint ache from the venom made your body shiver.

When you opened your eyes again, a vision—a faint shimmer—hovered over your eye as your gaze fell on the Hydra’s lifeless body. It was a tiny magic circle, seemingly clicked in place when it found its target. Knowledge flooded into your mind, unfamiliar and clear, as if the system itself was feeding you answers. You could use the Hydra’s remains. Its venom, its scales… everything was a resource, a tool. With careful handling, they could be transformed into potions, armor, even enchanted weapons. You smiled, exhausted but exhilarated. If you’d gotten this far, there was no limit to what you could achieve.

“You know what, system?” you murmured, feeling a strange connection to the silent guide in your head. “I think you and I are going to get along just fine.”

End Note:

Unedited Draft of [08/10/2024] - Chronicles of The Hanging Gardens, Part I

[elrielbaby]

What do you think of the Gwynriels being too confident in their ship? Are you sure Az has feelings for Gwyn and is always looking for her and stuff? And what are they matte?

I have tried, really really tried, to see where they’re coming from. I’ve re read the books multiple times to ensure I’m not missing any context, I’ve looked at it through every angle possible and I still cannot fathom why they are so confident.

I have a couple of theories as to why they’re so confident and I’m feeling a little spicy today, so I’ll share. I could go in to heavy detail, but I’ll try keep it brief anon.

1. They hate Elain and so are looking for any other option. Literally anyone. G*yn happens to be in the bonus chapter and so they go with that, without really thinking about it* (I will circle back to this).

2. They blindly follow the word of one or two people online.They don’t like Elain, or they love L*cien (and they totally miss all the clues that say L*cien doesn’t actually want Elain but that’s a whole other can of worms) and so they accept other people’s interpretations - which those people very intentionally present as fact, and use them as a jumping off point, so when they go back to the books they have that other persons narrative in their head that far better suits their ideals and so they’re looking, twisting, turning any and all of the narrative to fit that. They are gaslighting themselves, basically.

3. They don’t re read the books and they don’t open themselves up to any other possibility. I can say for myself that before I started posting online about elriel, I had heard about G*riel after reading the books and re read them to be sure. I’m nearly positive a lot of them don’t do that, and either never re read or re read as per the second point.

As to the second part of this question, I don’t believe he’s got feelings for G*yn, nor do I think he’s always looking for her - so, I’m very sure of that. If you meant Elain, it’s pretty obviously laid out in the text, without SJM having Azriel and Elain say ‘I’M IN LOVE WITH HIM/HER AND I DONT CARE WHO KNOWS IT’ - because how does that make any sense when they haven’t had their book? If they had, I’d be less sure of their endgame.

As for the last part, I’m going to assume you’re asking if I think either G*yn or Elain are mated to Azriel. I do not believe G*yn is Azriels mate. At all. There are a few signs that Az & Elain could be, but it truly doesn’t matter to me if they are or not. I think SJM has been metaphorically winking at us with some of the things she’s said about them but it could go a number of ways, in terms of wether they’re mates or not.

One things for certain though - they’re endgame ❤️

* to circle back to them not really thinking about it, as I didn’t want to bog down the main text with this, they don’t seem to consider a number of different things.

They don’t consider that it’s a limited bonus chapter that was only available for one specific book store. It is not available in the copies of ACOSF you can buy now, nor was it available in a huge number of copies you could buy at its initial release.

They don’t seem to consider that if you remove the bonus chapter, we still have four books that include build up for them. It literally makes no odds as to wether the bonus matters or not. For them though? Most of their argument relies on that bonus chapter.

They don’t seem to consider any other reason as to why G would be in that bonus chapter. None whatsoever. The Elain part was explicitly romantic and if you look at G’s part there is no romanticism in sight. The ‘spark’ happened after a conversation with Clotho, not even when G was present. Almost like G didn’t actually have anything to do with it at all. If you connect the dots to the main text, at least for my interpretation, you have Elain & Az, who very clearly have feelings for one another. You have G, who has a powerful affect on Nesta, and Clotho who also has, to a smaller extent, a powerful affect on Nesta.

And those are just the few things off the top of my head that I have the bandwidth to come up with right now. ❤️

[fxckn-sxck-fr]

❗❗ HEY ❗❗ I SAUR YEW ADD BUCKY BARNES TO YOUR MLIST 🫵🫵🫵 YOU AINT SLICK ❗❗

anywayssss would you be willing to rank your comic book men on least to most willing to kill for their darling? i know we got your opinion on dick but i wanna see how it compares to everyone else

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐂 𝐁𝐎𝐎𝐊 𝐌𝐄𝐍 𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐌𝐎𝐒𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄𝐋𝐘 𝐓𝐎 𝐊𝐈𝐋𝐋…

!!! GN reader, mentions of death/murder, violence, breaking bones, intimidation, threats, manipulation, general mental issues, biochemical attack (how the fuck did we get here), mutilation, self-harm, can be translated as either romantic or platonic.

Help, why did the beginning of this ask trigger my fight or flight for 0.2 seconds, LMAO. I dropped my phone like I was caught red-handed or some shit.

So, I initially made an oath to not answer any more asks until I either finish Life With Older Brother IV or my secret side project, but then I got this ask and figured I could use a little creative break. I’m hitting some brick walls right now with all of my writing projects, sobs.

So!! Here we go. Remember, this is in the order of least to most likely in a general sense. Featuring some new faces because I’m finally confident in depicting their comic book counterparts, yippee!!

Jaime Reyes: Obviously, if the scarab had its way, anyone who poses as a threat to Jaime’s beloved would be neutralized. But we’re talking about Jaime. As long as he’s in full control, he’d probably do everything in his power to not kill anyone, even if it’s for you. He knows he’s fucked in the head. No matter how hard he tries to convince himself it’s still just the scarab preying on his anxieties, it’s getting harder and harder to distinguish Khaji Da’s thoughts from his own. This spiral into insanity around his own morality and guilt would have him cling oh-so desperately to the idea that he’s still a hero. To him, the no-kill role is the only way to know for sure he’s still (kind of) himself.

Bruce Wayne: He’s The Batman. Of course he doesn’t kill. Sure, he may be a bit more violent towards potential threats when it comes to you, but he still doesn’t kill. It’s a core belief that he’ll stick to for as long as evil lurks in the shadows of Gotham. Besides, why would he need to kill when cracking a few ribs gets the message across just fine? Most people don’t even want to fuck with him in the first place; both as Bruce Wayne and especially The Batman. In many cases, simple intimidation will do the trick. It’s much neater than violence. Though violence is definitely still on the table when he’s in a mood (Alfred, for the last time, he does not need a therapist. He’s perfectly functional).

Clark Kent: Whereas Batman doesn’t kill, Superman can’t kill. Meaning, Clark is well aware of the image he has to uphold as the ever-so hopeful Man of Tomorrow. Which is actually fine by him. Due to his strong sense of morals, the thought of blood on his hands makes him sick to his stomach. But there are some cases where that dark voice in the back of his mind whispers he could easily snap the neck of that weirdo talking to you. Of course, this is clearly just a strange intrusive thought, and he guiltily shakes it out of his head the moment it appears. He’s Superman, for heaven’s sake! He’s better than that! Stooping to that level is simply not an option. But you know what is an option? Gripping people hard enough that their bones shatter. Accidents do happen, after all…

Wally West: The chances of him killing are very slim. Believe it or not, he’s not against the idea or anything (only when it comes to you), it’s just he doesn’t see the need to get his hands dirty. There are enough tactics in his arsenal that the thought won’t even cross his mind. A silver tongue can work miracles on its own, and standing at 6 feet tall, Wally can be surprisingly intimidating in his own right. Should there be any threat agains you, he’s more focused on getting you out of harm’s way than beating the shit out of anyone (that comes later, away from your prying eyes). At worst, anyone who pushes their luck will get fractures and road rashes as a result. Killing just isn’t an impulse Wally has. But if it absolutely has to happen… well, wouldn’t that be a shame?

Dick Grayson: As mentioned before in a previous ask, killing is off the table. Dick’s still a hero, and heroes don’t kill. It’s just that he miiiight accidentally lose control if he sees you in a critical state. The ask goes into much deeper detail than this, but to sum it up, he would feel devastated afterwards but eventually justify it to himself. It was to protect you… if he didn’t do it, god only knows what would’ve happened. Otherwise, he’s not one to get his hands dirty like that. The most he’ll do is deliver a very ominous threat that doesn’t outright mean he’s going to kill anyone, but the implications aren’t very pretty. And, if he can help it, he’d rather if you’re not in earshot. Unless if he somehow sees it as a good manipulation tactic. Then sure, you can hear all about how he’s going to drown someone in their own bathroom.

Peter Parker: He has a strong aversion to killing. Now, is that an outright no? As much as he’d like to think so, there are situations where no-kill is optional. Most of them involve you being in active danger. While he doesn’t go out of his way to kill anyone, he sure as hell isn’t thinking about the survivability of his rampage to make sure you’re safe. Causalities would be collateral damage; unfortunate, but possibly necessary. He also has a habit of threatening people’s lives when he’s particularly pissed off. As long as you’re not in some sort of critical state, he usually doesn’t follow through with them (and may even feel guilty afterwards). That being said, hearing your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man deliver a cold one-liner about wanting someone dead is still hella scary.

Steve Rogers: Listen, it’s not at all what he wants. He wouldn’t advocate for murdering your problems away both with or without the shield. But sometimes — just sometimes — it’s necessary. Of course he’d kill someone that posed as a threat to your personal safety. That doesn’t make him a terrible person or anything; most people would do that for their loved ones. Where the line starts to blur, however, is when there isn’t any immediate danger. Does that weirdo who was looking at you for too long count? God— no, Rogers. What is wrong with you?! But… then again, there was this look in their eyes… something’s just so off about them. Ultimately, Steve wouldn’t go through with it, but the thought does cross his mind. Not that he’d ever admit it, of course.

Hal Jordan: The answer is yes, but mostly because he’s a Lantern. Sometimes, neutralizing the threat is necessary. He would absolutely kill if it meant saving your life. Is it ideal? Absolutely not. Is it cathartic?… Lowkey. Hal’s not afraid to abuse his right as a Lantern to “neutralize the threat.” But keep in mind that this is a rare occurrence that depends on his mood. Really, he only considers it for situations you’re extremely distressed by, like some piece of shit giving you the creeps. He wouldn’t kill for his own personal gain, as much as he sometimes wants to; this is all about you, not him. I also don’t really see him having regrets. If he wants someone dead, he absolutely means it.

Remy LeBeau: It’s simple; if he’s gotta do it, he’s gotta do it. He’s got not moral hang-ups when it comes to killing. He doesn’t do it often, but he’s willing to clean up a mess or two if needed. The need to kill ranges from your personal safety to just not liking someone’s vibe. If that were the case, he’d give the poor sucker more than enough hints to leave you alone. Murder would be a last resort should they not listen; which is totally on them, by the way. Gambit can’t help it if they’re not the sharpest tool in the shed. Is kinetically charging someone’s car to explode not enough of a warning or something? Man, what is wrong with people these days…

Tim Drake: Okay. Tim is just so versatile. Yes, he’s absolutely morally opposed to killing. Yes, it’s a necessary evil. Yes, the thought of it makes him want to throw up. Yes, he’d do it in a heartbeat for you. Somehow, all of these thoughts coexist in his sick little head. What makes Tim a threat is the fact he’s extremely unstable. One day, he’s got himself in check; god, he would never kill anyone, why would he do that?! Then the next day, he seems to have a change of heart; if anyone even looks your way, he’s dumping anthrax in their cereal. His preferred method is something clean, but if he’s in a particularly bad mood, he may revert to some mutilation with his nails. On those particularly violent days, he’d much rather harm himself than others, but there is something cathartic about scratching at someone else while sobbing about minute problems. Though that’s one hell of a “did I do that” moment when it’s over.

Scott Summers: Yes. And he’ll fucking do it again, too. When it comes to you, this man has killed people by accident before. Did he give a shit? Absolutely not. Why would he care if someone doesn’t know how to protect their spinal column when taking a blow; especially if it’s someone who dared to lay a hand on you? And, yeah, he’s supposed to be a good role model for mutants all over the globe, but a good leader knows how to take calculated risks when needed. Your safety is his top priority, meaning he’ll do whatever he deems necessary to keep danger away. Man, is it just absolutely brutal watching someone’s skin melt away from the friction of one continuous optic blast. Who knew he could cave in skulls with that shit?

Bucky Barnes: Let’s be honest, is anyone surprised? Yeah, that’s what I thought. You could simply point to someone you hate and they’d be gone within the next 24 hours. Bucky isn’t here to fuck around. While he may regret any kills he was forced to carry out, he sure as hell doesn’t regret the ones he’s actively choosing to do. If anything, his conditioning has left him no other way to show his total devotion to you. Yes, this means you he leaves fresh human hearts at your doorstep. Yes, this means he strings up the remains of your annoying colleagues where you can see them outside. Yes, this means he watches you sleep while caked in blood and guts after every nightly kill. Some small part of him knows it’s wrong, but he really could not give less of a shit. So much for trying to reform him…

[bidisasterevankinard]

If the end of middle or maybe even whole season finale with helicopter crush I'd believe that Tim actually loves us

Like with middle it ofc makes more sense bc: Buck saves Tommy in the middle season finale -> Buck takes care of Tommy even when he pushes away -> Buck feels like maybe he actually should stop fighting especially now when Tommy is fine, but he still says "I love you". He needs it to get closure-> someone, let's say Eddie, after 118 also takes care of Tommy, especially when he was pushing Buck too hard, hits him with some words like "tomorrow isn't promised to anyone. So don't hide from smt before you know what it is, man. You have someone who loves you so much and you run from them. I'd put my life for a chance to never run from Shannon" -> Tommy thinks, analyzes how 118 was his family, even when he was pushing Buck , but Eddie's right he just scared to commit to relationship , to open up -> Buck is in danger in season finale and Tommy needs to save him, thinking he might be too late to have anything with the msn bc he was stupid -> love confession where Tommy says he loves Buck too -> happy ending

And before helicopter crush we have what they have for us with whore Buck and Buck stopping bc "I love Tommy. I need him". Right before helicopter crush ofc

[endiness]

the showrunner does not hate jaskier. and just to note considering that this isn't the first time i've seen you leave a comment like this on posts about geralt and jaskier's friendship, or rather the lack thereof as the show did drop the ball on their friendship (in s1 and to a lesser extent s2; s3 resolves this, imo, as does the brief sirens clip):

"All the grunts, I either added or I didn't say anything and just grunted instead. It was often up to the other actors to go, 'I think he's not gonna say anything now.'" — Henry Cavill

"Henry likes to cut his lines, 'cause he's lazy. No, he literally just likes to cut them. He likes to do more up here [frames his face with his hands] and just with face and hmms and grunts. There's a lot of hmms, and so I often have to take a lot of his lines and turn it into a lot of my stuff so that the plot happens." — Joey Batey

"Joey did all the work, I just had to take the right look and… we had a ready-made 'comedy.'" — Henry Cavill

"In the books, they are very, very close friends. That is so obvious. They speak to each other fondly. The opportunity is different in this story because Jaskier turns up and he’s not an immediate player straight away. We sort of had to show that essence of Geralt and Joey playing the complete opposite, which creates a wonderful dynamic. If I were to play it more directly like the books, it wouldn’t quite have the same sense of two fated friends. They’d just be like, “Hey, buddy!” Instead, Geralt cares deeply for Jaskier, whether he wants to admit it or not." — Henry Cavill

"I didn't even cut that much. Just little bits when someone says how they feel, I thought if Geralt says nothing, and maybe the well-known grunts or hmms and sometimes the occasional f-word, people can take from that what they will." — Henry Cavill

"I wanted to make [Geralt's voice] something which carried a lot of weight when you say very little. And I found my natural accent didn't quite portray what I wanted Geralt to portray in those brief moments. Whether it be a grunt or a single word or a couple of words directed at a bard." — Henry Cavill

"Henry tends to cut his lines, say less, which means I have to say more. So I had to improvise quite often." — Joey Batey

yeah, js, but if anyone was responsible for fucking up their friendship in s1, it was likely henry cavill more than anyone else as he would cut his lines especially in scenes with jaskier and to the point where joey often had to take his lines and improvise just in order to move the plot along. plus! by henry cavill's own admission, he didn't want to play them all "hey buddy" with each other which is actually the thing that was severely missing in their friendship in s1 and what was really the problem. because just a reminder to everybody, but the problem with their friendship in s1 was not actually geralt being an asshole to jaskier as there were times in the books where geralt was perfectly capable of being an asshole to dandelion:

the problem with their friendship in s1 was that there was not enough balance to any moments of contention in their friendship and that there weren't enough light-hearted, fun moments with them and that there wasn't enough warmth between them on geralt's side of things and that there was not enough sense and indication given that geralt actually cared about jaskier. which as we've already established was something that was probably greatly inhibited by how henry cavill didn't want to play them with that dynamic in the first place and how it's kind of hard to build up a friendship and not have it come off as extremely one-sided when one half of said friendship won't say his fucking lines.

and at least imo, chances are he's the reason why their friendship still wasn't the best in s2 even with geralt coming off as slightly warmer to jaskier than he did in s1 as henry cavill, basically, didn't want to play geralt with any character flaws in s2. and it's kind of hard to address the mountain and move past it in a way that's satisfying if the show couldn't, y'know, actually acknowledge that there was any wrongdoing on geralt's part given that henry cavill didn't want to play geralt with any flaws. (and just a reminder, but the only reason why geralt was more verbose and emotional in s2 (and s3) wasn't because henry cavill just cared oh so much about the sanctity of the books and the source material. it was because he got dunked on by reddit for cutting geralt's lines in s1 and either saying nothing or just grunting instead thus making geralt's characterization inaccurate to the books. if he had not gotten dragged by reddit for doing that, he never would've advocated for a more verbose and emotional geralt in subsequent seasons in the first place.)

also, js, but i don't exactly think it's a coincidence, either, that geralt and jaskier's friendship only really starts to feel like a friendship in s3 and that there's really a sense that geralt cares about jaskier and that their friendship isn't one-sided when that's the season henry cavill seems to've had the least amount of influence over. nor do i think it's a coincidence that geralt and jaskier also come off as genuinely being friends in the sirens of the deep clip, despite it being set during s1 when their friendship was at its least convincing on the live action show, given that henry cavill wouldn't've been involved in the production of sirens at all and thus wouldn't've had any input on it and given that doug cockle, who voices geralt in sirens, can actually act and emote with voice and despite not even physically being in the scene with his co-star, still manages to have chemistry with him. js.

[auntie-histamine]

My therapist just sent me this article, and I think it should be required reading for everyone who's feeling scared this morning. Tumblr won't let me put the whole article under a readmore, so I've included a shorter, edited version below. I highly encourage everyone read the full article, especially as I couldn't include everything here that I wanted to.

Please be aware that I will not be interacting with comments and/or reblogs, unless it is to help with directing to resources mentioned in the article. I am grieving too, like many of us, and I don't have the spoons to facilitate anything more. Read, share, and get organized.

The below are selections the article "There is hope - 10 ways to be prepared and grounded for another Trump presidency" by Daniel Hunter from Waging Nonviolence.

1. Trust yourself I started writing this list with strategic principles (e.g. analyze your opponents weakness and learn to handle political violence), but actually the place to start is with your own self. Distrust fuels the flame of autocracy because it makes it much easier to divide. We can see that in the casual nature of Trump’s rhetoric — telling people to distrust immigrants, Democrats, socialists, people from Chicago, women marchers, Mexicans, the press and so on. This is a social disease: You know who to trust by who they tell you to distrust. Trust-building starts with your own self. It includes trusting your own eyes and gut, as well as building protection from the ways the crazy-making can become internalized.  This also means being trustworthy — not just with information, but with emotions. That way you can acknowledge what you know and admit the parts that are uncertain fears nagging at you. Then take steps to follow through on what you need. If you’re tired, take some rest. If you’re scared, make some peace with your fears. I can point you to resources that support that — like FindingSteadyGround.com — but the value here is to start with trusting your own inner voice. If you need to stop checking your phone compulsively, do it. If you don’t want to read this article now and instead take a good walk, do it.

2. Find others who you trust Hannah Arendt’s “The Origins of Totalitarianism” explored how destructive ideologies like fascism and autocracy grow. She used the word verlassenheit — often translated as loneliness — as a central ingredient. As she meant it, loneliness isn’t a feeling but a kind of social isolation of the mind. Your thinking becomes closed off to the world and a sense of being abandoned to each other. She’s identifying a societal breakdown that we’re all experiencing. Under a Trump presidency, this trend will continue to accelerate. The constant attacks on social systems — teachers, health care and infrastructure — make us turn away from leaning on each other and towards ideologically simple answers that increase isolation (e.g. “distrust government,” “MAGA is nuts,” “anyone who votes that way doesn’t care about you”). If Trump wins: Get some people to regularly touch base with. Use that trust to explore your own thinking and support each other to stay sharp and grounded. I’ve written an agenda for such gatherings right after a Trump win that you can use.

3. Grieve No matter what we try to do, there’s going to be a lot of loss. The human thing to do is grieve. If you aren’t a feelings person, let me say it this way: The inability to grieve is a strategic error. After Donald Trump won in 2016, we all saw colleagues who never grieved. They didn’t look into their feelings and the future — and as a result they remained in shock. An alternative: Start by naming and allowing feelings that come to arise. The night that Donald Trump won, I stayed up until 4 a.m. with a colleague. It was a tear-filled night of naming things that we had just lost. It wasn’t anywhere near strategizing or list-making or planning. It was part of our acceptance that losing a presidency to an awful man means you and your people lose a lot. Ultimately, this helped us believe it — so we didn’t spend years in a daze: “I can’t believe this is happening in this country.” Believe it. Believe it now. Grief is a pathway to that acceptance. 

4. Release that which you cannot change Under a Trump presidency, there are going to be so many issues that it will be hard to accept that we cannot do it all. I’m reminded of a colleague in Turkey who told me, “There’s always something bad happening every day. If we had to react to every bad thing, we’d never have time to eat.”  Chaos is a friend of the autocrat. One way we can unwittingly assist is by joining in the story that we have to do it all.  Unaddressed, this desire to act on everything leads to bad strategy. Nine months ago when we gathered activists to scenario plan together, we took note of two knee-jerk tendencies from the left that ended up largely being dead-ends in the face of Trump: - Public angsting — posting outrage on social media, talking with friends, sharing awful news - Symbolic actions — organizing marches and public statements The first is where we look around at bad things happening and make sure other people know about them, too. We satisfy the social pressure of our friends who want us to show outrage — but the driving moves are only reactive. The end result wasn’t the intended action or an informed population. It’s demoralizing us. It’s hurting our capacity for action. Public angsting as a strategy is akin to pleading with the hole in the boat to stop us from sinking. Symbolic actions may fare little better under a Trump presidency. In whatever version of democracy we had, the logic of rallies and statements of outrage was to build a unified front that showed the opposition many voices were opposed to them. But under an unleashed fascist — if it’s all you do — it’s like begging the suicidal captain to plug the hole.  Let me be clear. These strategies will be part of the mix. We’ll need public angsting and symbolic actions. But if you see an organization or group who only relies on these tactics, look elsewhere. There are other, more effective ways to engage.

5. Find your path I’ve been writing scenarios of how a Trump presidency might play out. The initial weeks look chaotic no matter what. But over time some differentiated resistance pathways begin to emerge. One pathway is called “Protecting People.” This might mean organizing outside current systems for health care and mutual aid, or moving resources to communities that are getting targeted. Further examples include starting immigrant welcoming committees, abortion-support funds or training volunteers on safety skills to respond to white nationalist violence. Another pathway is “Defending Civic Institutions.” This group may or may not be conscious that current institutions don’t serve us all, but they are united in understanding that Trump wants them to crumble so he can exert greater control over our lives. Each bureaucracy will put up its own fight to defend itself.  Insider groups will play a central battle against Trump fascism. You may recall government scientists dumping copious climate data onto external servers, bracing for Trump’s orders. This time, many more insiders understand it’s code red. Hopefully, many will bravely refuse to quit — and instead choose to stay inside as long as possible.  Institutional pillars understand a Trump presidency is a dire threat. Then there’s a critical third pathway: “Disrupt and Disobey.” This goes beyond protesting for better policies and into the territory of people intervening to stop bad policies or showing resistance. Lastly, there’s a key fourth role: “Building Alternatives.” We can’t just be stuck reacting and stopping the bad. We have to have a vision. This is the slow growth work of building alternative ways that are more democratic. Each of us may be attracted to some pathway more than others. Your path may not be clear right now. That’s okay. There will be plenty of opportunities to join the resistance.

6. Do not obey in advance, do not self-censor If autocrats teach us any valuable lesson it’s this: Political space that you don’t use, you lose. I’m not coaching to never self-protect. You can decide when to speak your mind. But it is a phenomenally slippery slope here we have to observe and combat.  Put simply: Use the political space and voice you have. 

7. Reorient your political map A Trump presidency reshapes alignments and possibilities. The bellicose, blasphemous language of Trump will meet the practical reality of governing. When you’re out of power, it’s easy to unify — but their coalition’s cracks will quickly emerge. We have to stay sharp for opportunities to cleave off support. Even if you don’t want to engage with them (which is fine), we’ll all have to give space to those who do experiment with new language to appeal to others who don’t share our worldview of a multiracial true democracy.

8. Get real about power In Trump’s first term, the left’s organizing had mixed results. It was elections that ultimately stopped Trump. This time will be much harder. The psychological exhaustion and despair is much higher. Deploying people into the streets for mass actions with no clear outcome will grow that frustration, leading to dropout and radicalized action divorced from strategy.  Trump has been very clear about using his political power to its fullest — stretching and breaking the norms and laws that get in his way. The movement will constantly be asking itself: “Are you able to stop this new bad thing?”  We're not going to convince him not to do these things. No pressure on Republicans will result in more than the tiniest of crumbs (at least initially). It will be helpful to have a power analysis in our minds, specifically that’s known as the upside-down triangle. This tool was built to explain how power moves even under dictatorships. In our country, pressuring elite power is reaching its end point. Power will need to emerge from folks no longer obeying the current unjust system. This tipping point of mass noncooperation will be messy. It means convincing a lot of people to take huge personal risks for a better option.  As a “Disrupt and Disobey” person, we have to move deliberately to gain the trust of others, like the “Protecting People” folks. Mass noncooperation does the opposite of their goal of protection — it exposes people to more risk, more repression. But with that comes the possibility that we could get the kind of liberatory government that we all truly deserve.

9. Handle fear, make violence rebound Otpor in Serbia has provided an abundance of examples on how to face repression. They were young people who took a sarcastic response to regular police beatings. They would joke amongst each other, “It doesn’t hurt if you’re afraid.” Their attitude wasn’t cavalier — it was tactical. They were not going to grow fear. So when hundreds were beaten on a single day, their response was: This repression will only stiffen the resistance. Handling fear isn’t about suppressing it — but it is about constantly redirecting. Activist/intellectual Hardy Herriman released a studied response about political violence that had some news that surprised me. The first was that physical political violence hasn’t grown dramatically in this country — it still remains relatively rare. The threats of violence, however, trend upwards, such as this CNN report: “Politically motivated threats to public officials increased 178 percent during Trump’s presidency,” primarily from the right. His conclusion wasn’t that political violence isn’t going to grow. Quite the opposite. But he noted that a key component to political violence is to intimidate and tell a story that they are the true victims. Making political violence rebound requires refusing to be intimidated and resisting those threats so they can backfire. (Training on this backfire technique is available from the HOPE-PV guide.) We can shrink into a cacophony of “that’s not fair,” which fuels the fear of repression. Or we take a page from the great strategist Bayard Rustin. Black civil rights leaders were targeted by the government of Montgomery, Alabama during the bus boycott in the 1950s. Leaders like the newly appointed Martin Luther King Jr. went into hiding after police threats of arrest based on antiquated anti-boycott laws. Movement organizer Rustin organized them to go down to the station and demand to be arrested since they were leaders — making a positive spectacle of the repression. Some leaders not on police lists publicly demanded they, too, get arrested. Folks charged were met with cheers from crowds, holding their arrest papers high in the air. Fear was turned into valor.

10. Envision a positive future We’ve all now imagined storylines about how bad it might get. We would do ourselves a service to spend an equal measure of time envisioning how we might advance our cause in these conditions. As writer Walidah Imarisha says, “The goal of visionary fiction is to change the world.” In my mind if Trump wins, we’ll have to eventually get him out. There are two paths available to force him out. The first: Vote him out. Given the bias of the electoral college, this requires successfully defending nearly all local, state and national takeovers of elections such that they remain relatively fair and free. Winning via the path of electoral majority has a wide swath of experience and support from mainstream progressive organizations and Democratic institutions. It’s going to be a major thrust. In my scenario writing I’ve explored what that strategy could look like, including preparing electoral workers to stand against last minute attempts by Trump to change election rules and even stymie the election with dubious emergency orders. They don’t obey — and go ahead with elections anyway. The second strategy is if he illegally refuses to leave or allow fair elections: Kick him out. That means we are able to develop a national nonviolent resistance campaign capable of forcing him out of office. I’ve written several versions of this: One where large-scale strikes disable portions of the U.S. economy. If you recall from COVID, our systems are extremely vulnerable. Businesses running “just in time” inventory means small hiccups in the system can cause cascading effects.  Sustained strikes would face deep resistance, but they could swing communities currently on the fence, like the business community, which already is concerned about Trump’s temperamental nature. Trump’s own policies might make these conditions much easier. If he really does mass deportations, the economic injury might be fatal. In another scenario I explore another strategy of taking advantage of a Trump overreach. Autocrats overplay their hands. And in this imagined scenario, Trump overreaches when he attempts to force autoworkers to stop building electric vehicles. UAW workers refuse and keep the factories running. Eventually he’s unable to stop them — but in the process he’s publicly humiliated. A very public loss like this can cause what Timur Kuran calls an “unanticipated revolution.” He noted many incidents where political leaders seem to have full support, then suddenly it evaporates. Kuran’s analysis reminds us to look at Trump’s political weakness. Political hacks like Lindsay Graham appear to be sycophants — but if given the chance to turn their knife in his back, they might. This means exposed political weaknesses could quickly turn the many inside Trump’s campaign against him. That feels far away from now. But all these remain possibilities. Practicing this future thinking and seeing into these directions gives me some hope and some strategic sensibilities.  On the days when I can’t sense any of these political possibilities (more than not), I zoom out further to the lifespans of trees and rocks, heading into spiritual reminders that nothing lasts forever. All of the future is uncertain. But using these things, we’re more likely to have a more hopeful future and experience during these turbulent times.