#no supports to escape. your only option is giving up everything you own and going to a shelter and thats obviously crazy

[slutdge]

god idk whats wrong with my brain it doesnt matter how tired i am as soon as i lay down to try and sleep i feel like im having a heart attack and being hunted for sport

[thisgirlnamedblusy]

Hallo! Hope you're doing good!

I can’t remember if you've ever written something like this, but check this out:

What if there’s a story where reader and Donna start dating, but reader's dealing with her abusive parents? Donna knows about it too, but isn’t clued into how bad and serious it really is. One day, reader shows up to see and spend time with Donna and has some marks on her body. When Donna sees them, she gets super angry, but reader brushes it off and calms her down.

Then later, they get into an argument, and Donna raises her voice, which triggers the reader. She tries to hold it together, but when Donna gets closer and reaches for her own hair, the reader flinches, thinking she’s about to hit her. This sets off her PTSD.

In the end, Donna calms her down and suggests that the reader should move in with her.

Thank you:)

Yesss!!!! Thank you for your request!!! I hope you like it and sorry about the language mistakes!!!! :))))

Save me

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem! Reader

Warnings: Angst, mentions of abuse

Word count: 6,835

Summary: Sometimes life is like hell to you...

N/A: Sorry about the language mistakes!!! Requests are open!!! I'm waiting yours!!! I love you all!!! :))

Normally, it didn't take you that long to leave the house. It was just another procedure, going out the door, promising that you'd be back soon... For an 18-year-old girl like you, none of those simple tasks should be difficult.

But, even if you were really just another villager, nothing special, your family was.

It's not that you were a rebellious girl, you never were. You were always an obedient girl, devoted to Mother Miranda like any of the villagers. You didn't disobey, you didn't protest... You couldn't do it either.

The Black Gods were merciful, or so they said, although with you... With you, they were too unfair. Every day, all you heard were screams, unfair scolding. Your body didn't receive hugs, caresses, not even your ears could relax with some soft words of support, some that should come from the two people who gave you life.

Your parents weren't like the others. Maybe at first, in the innocence of your childhood, you thought that way, that severity could be beneficial for your future, but as you grew up, you realized you were wrong.

The blows were common, the screams were routine. No matter what you did, for them, you did everything wrong, you did everything to anger them.

It could be a good reason to try to escape from that village, so the Black Gods would stop laughing at you, but it wasn't. No one could leave that place. No one was going to protect you. Your life was already written in indelible ink.

You could only do what many of your friends did to run away from their homes (although due to reasons less logical than yours). You could work at Dimitrescu Castle as a maid, but you thought yourself so useless, you thought yourself so stupid that you didn't even try.

If severity served to achieve a better future... Where was yours? The screams, the beatings, made you start to believe those unfair words, that you weren’t a worthy daughter, that you would never be one.

However, you had another option, the worst of all. You could throw away your principles, the interest you always had for women, and marry one of those brainless peasants. Yes, that way you could leave that house but you didn't know what was waiting on the other side. You could improve, form an unwanted family and forget about your past but, besides the fact that you would never be able to escape from your parents... How could you know if that boy wasn't the same, or even worse than them?

There was no way out and the idea of ​​a loveless marriage wasn’t in your plans.

You thought that maybe you didn't deserve to live, that this horrible treatment was the direct consequence of offending the Gods. Darkness no longer belonged only to the village, it had taken over you.

Giving up was easy, the coward's way, but you didn't see that you had any other option. The Gods apparently noticed that change, that apathy, the bottomless precipice that your life was heading towards. To them, to Mother Miranda, to the Lords, you were just caged animals that had to accept their fate, no matter how terrible it was.

But suddenly, your life changed, the Gods played with you, making it worthwhile to continue listening to screams.

The youngest one, the mysterious lady in black who was barely a shadow to the villagers, Donna Beneviento, found something in you that forced her to come closer.

Maybe it was your tireless prayers for those dark deities to release you from your suffering, maybe it was the beauty you were born with, the desire to have fun with you that someone like her could have.

It wasn't like that. The lady in black didn't come over to play, she didn't scold you for your eternal tears, for your pleas, she just stayed watching you, like a bad omen, like a harbinger of darkness.

Little by little that routine was repeated, always in the same place, always at the same time. Your tears stopped running down your cheeks. For some reason, you wanted her to see you in a different way, to not be the sad and hurt girl you used to be. Her silent presence somehow calmed your laments. You had lived through too many horrible things to be afraid of her.

According to her, that was what caught her attention. Your lack of fear, your apathy, your relaxed way of seeing her presence, of feeling that she was close, were the reasons that pushed Lady Beneviento to come even closer, to ask your name and what was the reason for your constant prayers.

What at first seemed like a curious approach stopped being so. The old chapel stopped being your meeting place. And there were no prayers, no supplications, no tears, just something strange that happened on your face every time you met Donna and her doll, something that you started to do without realizing it: smile.

Smiles, conversations, even funny moments thanks to the Angie doll… All of that became your new motivation to come home every night, to endure the screams, the beatings, to wish for a new day to come, and to be able to see her.

Her beauty surprised you, her beauty lacking that horrible black veil, her bright eye, the face of a wounded and sick woman but that emanated pure beauty, emanated that feeling you also had, love.

Your first kiss was one more sign that someone or something had heard your pleas. She loved you, you loved her. There was nothing that could make you happier at that moment, the moment when the lady shyly confessed her feelings, confessed that she didn't see a friend in you, that she saw the woman of her life.

Sobbing, you walked through the forest, on your way to the old estate, like every day, and, like every day, you had to deal with the hell that was your home. Going through hell to get to heaven… It was a rather poetic way of looking at it.

Of course, your parents never knew and they never would, hopefully. She was a Lord, but… But you belonged to them. Telling the truth about the reason for your daily escapades would only trigger more blows.

“D-Donna?” you asked timidly, wiping away your last tears, erasing from your mind your father's screams, your mother's scorn.

“Oh, (Y/N),” the Lord's hoarse and soft voice had become a magic eraser for all your suffering, along with the elegant sound of her heels on the wooden floor.

The movement of the lady's black dress was always a hypnotic dance, one that forced your corners of your mouth to rise mercilessly.

“H-Hi,” you stammered with a smile that faded when you looked at her face, one that wasn’t like every day, she seemed worried.

“Tesoro…” she sighed, slowly approaching and cupping your face in her hands. “Amore mio… I thought, I thought you wouldn't come anymore,” she whispered, kissing you softly, showing you the reason for that unusual expression. “That you would have forgotten about me.”

The contact of her soft lips sent reassuring signals to your entire body, letting it relax in her arms, with her constant caresses.

“I could never forget you, Donna,” you sighed, burying your head in the black fabric of her dress, letting her chest serve as support, as a balm for the memories of the screams just a moment ago. “Sorry for being late.”

“W-Well, the important thing is that you came,” she said, with the smile that made you fall in love, one that was for you, exclusively for you.

You nodded slowly, hugging the lady and closing your eyes, causing your ears to be distracted by a shy laugh that emerged from her lips as she pushed you away.

“Aren't you saying hello to me?” a different, higher-pitched voice caught your attention.

Of course, the Angie doll also seemed happy about your presence, she was even annoyed that you were running to her owner and not playing with her.

“Sure, hello, Angie,” you said, bending down to be at the height of the doll, who kindly hugged you quickly with an evil laugh.

“Do you want to play?” the puppet asked, always used to having a fun time with you, or with both of you, if possible.

Seeing her owner smile again seemed like enough reason to stop making fun of you like at the beginning but… Somehow you started to think if that doll was more aware of your situation than Donna.

“No, today, today I wanted to be with Donna,” you said softly, getting up to find yourself again with the protective arms of the lady in black, who didn't waste a moment to have you as close as possible.

“How boring,” Angie protested, crossing her arms, but suddenly changing her attitude, climbing up your body in a comical way.

“Angie, lasciala estare…” the lady murmured, picking up the puppet, who had hooked herself onto your body, watching you from close, very close.

“Hey, you! Why are you crying?” the doll asked, being dragged away from you by her owner. “Donna, Donna, the fool is crying again.”

Just as you suspected, that doll saw much further than Donna could do.

Lady Beneviento was a sick woman, horribly jealous and possessive. The circumstances of your delay didn't matter to her. The furrows on your cheeks didn't attract her attention. What she valued was only that you had returned, that you hadn't forgotten her.

You knew her past, her sad and almost eternal loneliness. That cold and perhaps slightly dark appearance wasn't an impediment to your heart melting for her, rather it was an advantage. You knew that Donna would do anything for you, if she saw you crying... You didn't know how she would react.

“Oh, no, it's nothing,” you said with a fake smile, wiping your face clumsily, making the trace of those salty tears disappear.

“It's true, tesoro,” Donna said, frowning and coming closer again, gently removing your hand from your face. “(Y/N), you’ve cried…”

“Oh, it's nothing, really, I've had a bad day,” you lied, downplaying it with a fake shine in your eyes.

“Mm,” she murmured, with a distrustful look, lifting your chin. “You argued with your parents again, right?” she asked with a soft, understanding voice, accentuating her concern with a gentle caress on your hair.

“Y-Yes,” you stammered, lowering your head, embarrassedly allowing a discreet tear to fall on the brunette's hand. “That's why it took me a bit longer.”

Donna sighed, softly kissing your cheek, brushing away with her lips the trace that your mother's slap left on your skin, the internal pain you endured.

“You argue a lot with them,” she commented, taking your hand and guiding you through the mansion.

Her voice sounded sweet, but in her words you could notice an accent that was perhaps more marked than usual. Those small subtle changes were signs, they were ways that Donna had of unintentionally showing an incipient concern, a concern that you wanted to get out of her mind.

“Yes, well, like all parents with their children, I guess,” you said with a sweet look, one that you had spent a lot of time rehearsing.

“Mm,” Donna murmured, pointing to a sofa for you to sit on. “My parents also scolded me sometimes.”

“Really?” you asked curiously, trying to identify your girlfriend's apparent concern, one that was becoming more and more evident. “I-I thought you were a good girl.”

“Yes, the truth is that I used to obey my parents but… Well, you know, kid stuff, I guess,” she explained in a relaxed tone. “Sometimes I couldn't help but get a scolding from my father for stealing materials to make my own dolls.”

You laughed amused, imagining that endearing scene in your head.

“But... I-I don't understand why a girl like you could get into trouble enough to be constantly arguing, (Y/N). Sometimes I think you're hiding something from me,” she said next, cooling her gaze, searching for something in yours, something she couldn't fully understand.

“What? Oh, no, no. I would never hide anything from you, Donna,” you said, knowing that you were lying, that the fear of retaliation from your family was always present even though they weren't. “They're just very strict.”

“Then I suppose you won't have any problem talking to me about the reason for the argument,” she said with a serious tone, with an attentive look, waiting for a rational explanation and not the usual lies.

“Well, I...” you began, moving away, with your father's screams resonating in your head, the questions, the accusations they made every time you left the house to see your girlfriend. “T-They don't really like me leaving the house.”

The lady in black arched her eyebrow and blinked in confusion, nodding for you to continue.

“They think, they think I'm dating someone,” you continued, looking away at the wooden floor, controlling the fear in your hands, your only defense against their physical attacks. “You know.”

“Well, that's true,” Donna said with a smile, moving closer to kiss you softly, something that made Angie protest, eliciting a soft laugh from your lips.

“Ugh,” the doll complained.

“What's their problem with that?” Donna asked, ignoring the doll's grumbling and taking your hand. “You're not a child.”

“Yes, I know, but…” you murmured, noticing how your body began to tremble, how all your fears materialized in an irrational way. “It doesn't matter, Donna, they are like that way.”

“What way?” the brunette insisted, with an impatient voice, one that demanded a firm and confident answer, one you didn't have. “(Y/N) stop lying to me, you're hiding something from me.”

“I've already told I’m not,” you said with a gruff voice, perhaps a bit raised in tone. “Besides, I didn't come to talk about my parents, I came to be with you.”

“Don't talk to me like that,” the lady growled, annoyed with your attitude. “I just want to know why every time you come to this house you're crying.”

“You wouldn't understand,” you said in a whisper, looking away again.

“Do they hurt you?” she asked in a different tone.

You should have known that someone like Donna wasn't easy to fool, but you decided to continue with the lie. You were trash, trash didn't deserve to be worried about it.

“No,” you said in a fake voice, with a tone that made the lady sigh and caress your hand harder.

“Mm,” she murmured, moving away and kissing the back of your hand. “I would never allow anyone to hurt you, you know that, right?”

“I know, Donna, but, but you're worrying too much. My parents are strict and that's it. I understand that they worry about their only daughter and that... Well, that they want who I'm dating.”

“There's a very simple solution to that, tesoro, just tell them,” Donna commented, nodding. “I'm convinced that if they know you're with me, they'll leave you alone.”

“No!” you suddenly shouted, waving your arms. “N-No, they, they can't know.”

“Why? Are you ashamed of me?” she asked, with a different look, offended. It was definitely not a good day.

You hissed, shaking your head. Poor Donna had many problems, many insecurities that complicated your relationship. You didn't make a great effort to act better, to make her see the reality of your situation. You knew that wouldn't bring anything good.

“No, Donna, I'm not ashamed of you,” you said with a dark tone. “But they are very... Very traditional. They would never allow me to be with a woman.”

“Sciocchezze,” she murmured, taking the hand you withdrew. “I’m a Lord, what they think doesn't matter. What I say and how I say it will be done, by the glory of Mother Miranda, do you understand?”

“I wish it were that simple,” you sighed, managing to hide a tear that fell down your face once again.

“It is for me, why it isn’t for you?” she asked again, relaxing her nervous voice, analyzing your face while her hands caressed it, removing from it the damage it always suffered.

“I don't know, Donna,” you said with a sob, something that made the brunette move away, changing her stern face for a soft one.

“Shh, amore mio… don't cry, I didn't mean… Oh, please, come, come here, hug me, tesoro,” the lady said with a sweet voice, pulling your body to lean on hers, so you could enjoy that ephemeral protection. “Forgive me, (Y/N), I didn't mean to talk to you like that.”

“I've, I've had a bad day, that's all,” you said against her clothes, swinging next to her in a silent embrace.

“Well, calm down, you're with me now,” she said, kissing you softly, wiping those tireless tears from your face. “Let's forget it, okay? Let's enjoy our time together.”

The tension finally dissipated, regaining some of the lady in black's sanity, leaving her uncomfortable questions aside and making you spend, as always, one of the best days of your life.

A quiet meal, a moment of reading together, a walk around the grounds. Little things that blurred your fears, that clouded your sense of time and space, something that wasn’t good at all, for you.

The clock struck the hour, just when those kisses and caresses were starting to get out of hand. You had never done anything further from pure innocent affection, and of course, making love to Donna was on your long list of pending wishes, but it was never possible.

Time wasn’t your ally, it wasn’t your friend. It was your worst enemy. That tangle of messy kisses, of naughty hands under your clothes, made you forget what time it was, what time of day it was. You hadn't come home for dinner. You hadn't come back on time and that would have consequences.

The lady in black was always understanding. Her carnal instincts to possess you were always blurred by your worried face, by your sudden escapes. At first it was a game, you were a kind of Cinderella who had to return before midnight, but, little by little, Donna's sighs betrayed more impatience.

Surely it had nothing to do with sex, surely what Donna saw, but at the same time was unable to find out, was your atrocious fear of returning to hell, to your home.

There were no lights in the old cabin. There was no trace of your tormentors. It could be that they had fallen asleep, that they had grown tired of waiting for you. That illusion made you smile, walking in the dark, with stealthy steps, to your room. You weren’t aware that danger always lurked around the corners of that house, always.

“Young lady…” your father's slurred voice stopped you in your tracks, making you freeze. “May I know where you're coming from?”

“Father,” you said with a sigh, lowering your head. “I've just been with my friends.”

“With your friends…” the man growled, finishing his glass of wine, getting up from the armchair where he was waiting for you, like a beast lurking in the dark. “Liar!”

“F-Father…” you muttered nervously, unable to move from the spot. “Father, please.”

“What the fuck have you been doing?” he hissed, suddenly grabbing you by your hair, pulling it back. “You're not fooling me, (Y/N), I know what you're doing…”

“I-I'm not doing anything, father, I swear…”

“Silence!” he shouted. “You're three hours late, young lady, your mother was waiting for you for dinner and how do you thank her? Disregarding her work,” he snapped at you, pulling your hair harder.

“I didn't mean to be late, I'm, I'm sorry,” you begged, hissing in pain, something that never worked for you, nor would it work on this occasion. “Father, let me go.”

“You're a bitch! You're probably fucking someone, aren't you? A whore like you is what she does…” he hissed, throwing you to the floor with a push.

“No, father…” you whispered in an inaudible voice, protecting your face with your hands.

“You're a disgrace! Do you want to be the village whore? Let some idiot get you pregnant? Be a single mother?” the man asked, bending down threateningly while you shook your head.

“No…” you said in a darker tone, much more dangerous than usual. A terrible idea. “You have no idea, father.”

“Do you dare to face me?” he asked, laughing mockingly. “Agatha! Hold this brat! She needs to learn a lesson…”

Your mother obeyed and the beatings began.

Your screams didn't matter, your protests weren't heard. Pain, humiliation, crying… It was all you could feel at that moment. Every kick, every blow acted mercilessly in your mind, erasing each of Donna's kisses, the softness of her hands on your skin, her words of love clouded with each of the lashes on your body.

It was always the same, always the shadows eclipsing your light. Every night you cried, you begged to get out of that place, and every night it was harder to do so. Donna would always wait for you the next day, she would always refresh your memories, make your pain disappear.

Could you endure a life in hell? Could you live misfortunes every day just for the reward of spending a few hours in paradise?

Over time, those questions stopped having answers.

The next day, the demon was still in your life, your tormentors were waiting for you to serve them like every day. Your whole body hurt, the marks of the blows stood out on your body, on your face.

Even though, as always, you were going to leave your hellish life for a moment, looking in the mirror, reality fell on your shoulders again.

Donna didn't deserve that concern, that feeling of guilt for something she wasn't guilty of. She couldn't see you like that, she simply couldn't.

She would surely be angry with you for not having let her know the harsh reality of your problems. She could take it personally at best. At worst, she would simply despise you. She would see you as a coward incapable of facing your weak mother and an alcoholic beast.

You couldn't take the risk, you couldn't put at risk the little happiness was in your life. You had to keep quiet, silence your problems, hide them, cover them up…

Taking the meaning of that phrase literally, you decided to paint your wounds with makeup, hide your bruises, your misfortunes. You didn't want your life to revolve around your problems, Donna's smile was the only reason you didn't give up, and you didn't plan on giving up on her.

Luckily, leaving the house was easy that day. Neither your father nor your mother seemed to want to interrupt you. Your body was totally sore. They surely believed that you wouldn't get far. After all, who would want to play with a broken toy?

“Ciao, tesoro,” the lady said, opening the door when you knocked, granting your lips the grace of a soft kiss, a strange caress on your face.

Your body trembled, suffering the pain of her soft hand from your hidden but silent blows. She would never notice, but even so, her face became thoughtful.

“I notice you look different today, (Y/N),” she said in a soft voice, guiding you into the mansion, enjoying the contact with your skin, one terribly painful, but that you managed to hide.

“Oh, well... I wanted, I wanted to be pretty for you,” you said blushing when the lady ran a hand over your made-up cheek, frowning. “Do you like it?”

“Mm, I like how you are, you don't need that absurd makeup to come here,” she said, laughing amused and grabbing your waist, a serious mistake. Your father's blows had reached that point and they hurt, they hurt terribly.

You couldn't help but writhe in pain at the contact, emitting a slight hiss that Donna, of course, didn't overlook.

“Are you okay?” she asked worriedly, looking at the place she had touched, playing with your clothes. “What is it that...?”

“Yes, yes, yes, I'm fine,” you said hastily before the woman in black lifted your shirt to reveal the marks of torture. “I just have… Gas.”

“Gas,” the lady repeated with a distrustful voice, moving her hand away, luckily.

“Yes, um… I think, I think I ate too much yesterday,” you said, pretending an amused and embarrassed voice.

“Ha, you fart girl!” Angie shrieked, pointing at you mockingly.

“Angie…” Donna whispered, shaking her head. “Amore mio, can I do something for you?”

Get me out of this hell…

“No, no, it'll pass,” you said, downplaying it, guiding her hand to surround your waist again in a place your father hadn't marked.

“I can make you some tea, I'm sure it’s going to be good,” Donna said kindly, rubbing your belly in a motherly way.

You nodded with a genuine smile, stealing a quick kiss on her cheek.

“Stupid mortals…” Angie commented, walking with you to the living room. “Does your stomach hurt, silly?”

“Yes,” you said amused, sitting down when the lady walked away to prepare your tea with a smile. “You don't know what that is… It hurts a lot.”

“I don't want to know,” Angie said amused, getting off the couch and looking for a deck of cards. “Cards?”

“Oh, um, okay…” you sighed, shifting uncomfortably on the couch. Every time you did, your wounds burned, reminding you of that horrible night, making you unable to enjoy the time you had with your beloved.

“Uh… Your stomach isn't there, silly,” Angie said with a suspicious tone, pointing at your hand, which unconsciously went to your side with a hiss. “Come on, spit it out, what are you hiding?”

“Nothing, I'm not hiding anything,” you said with a firm voice. “I'm just tired, that's all,” you explained, taking the deck with your aching arms. “What do you want to play?”

“Mm, I don't know,” the doll said, sitting at the coffee table, with a slightly different tone, lacking the usual irreverence. “Let me give you some advice, (Y/N)…” she whispered in a soft tone, looking at the elevator hallway in case Donna appeared.

“What advice?” you asked shuffling those cards, leaving your mind free of pain, or trying to, at least.

“Donna hates being lied to, silly. Just keep pretending that nothing is happening, and you'll see…” Angie commented, making your heart stop.

“What do you mean?” you asked, nervous, shifting uncomfortably on the couch. “Angie, I… I don't know what…”

“Stop taking us for fools, you silly villager… You can pretend all you want but… How much makeup will you need next time?” Angie said, leaving you petrified again. “You're stupid, (Y/N), Donna may be stupid enough not to know what's going on here, but I'm not.”

“What…? What do you think is going on?” you asked in a fearful whisper, the cards shaking in your hand.

“Someone is hurting you,” Angie said. “Donna doesn't like you being hurt.”

“No, Angie, you're, you're wrong…” you said sighing, incredulous at her accurate accusation. “What makes you think that?”

“It's not the first time I've seen something like that in a villager like you. Donna never notices those details because she's stupid, but I do, I see, you know?”

“You're wrong,” you said with a shaky voice, dealing the cards the best way you could.

“Really? What if we take a look?” the doll said, lunging towards you to lift your shirt, something you immediately prevented.

“Stop, Angie, please,” you protested.

“Angie, basta,” Donna said, saving you from the undeniable revelation, the discovery that the doll was right, mysteriously right...

“But Donna, (Y/N)...” the doll protested, pointing at you effusively. “Listen to me, Donna, she...”

“Go away, leave us alone, don't you realize she's sick?” the lady said, taking the doll down from the table as she kicked furiously. “Leave her alone, come on, get out.”

 “Silly Donna,” she hissed already on the floor, crossing her arms and walking out of the little corner.

“What's wrong with her? Did she lose again?” the lady asked, carefully serving you a cup of tea, with an amused smile.

“I don't know,” you said faking a smile, reaching out your hand towards the offered cup. “Thank you, my love…”

“Drink slowly, it's very hot,” she said kindly, guiding your hand to rise to your mouth.

“It's very good,” you said with a smile, pleased by the bitter and smooth taste of the tea.

“Mm,” she murmured with a smile, looking at you intently, as if there was something that didn't fit for her. “But what have you done? What a mess.”

“What?” you asked confused as she came a little closer, looking at your face carefully.

“Tesoro, if you don't know how to put on makeup, don't do it for me, look at how you've put on, let me help you” she said, pointing at one of your excessively made-up cheeks.

“No, no, it's, it's okay, Donna. I like it,” you said, moving away the hand that wanted to spread that layer of makeup better, grabbing her wrist.

Donna frowned, shaking her head.

“Don't talk nonsense, I have dolls with much less makeup than you,” she said, insisting on fixing your makeup. “I'm not an expert but... Come, I'll show you how to do it properly.”

“W-Wait,” you said, staying seated on the couch while she pulled your wrist to get you up. “L-let me finish my tea.”

“No, I can't stand seeing you like this, you look like a slut,” she commented with an unpleasant tone, pulling you even harder.

“Do I look like a…?” you repeated with a trembling hand. “I'm not a slut.”

“I know, but,” Donna said, pulling you harder, managing to lift you up. “But let me take that off, your skin is beautiful just the way it is.”

“No, it's not,” you said with a nervous, abrupt voice, one that alerted the lady. “Leave me alone, Donna.”

“I just want to help you, (Y/N),” the brunette insisted, with her hands shaking too.

“I said no!” you shrieked, echoing off the old walls of the mansion, leaving the lady in black glued to the floor. “Leave me alone! If I look like a slut like this, then fine, I don't care! I like it! So leave me alone, Donna!”

You couldn't stand the tension any longer, it was too much. Knowing that Angie knew about your problems made your nerves difficult, almost impossible to control. You should have already known that it was a bad idea to yell at poor Donna, that it would trigger a terrible crisis, but it was too late to take it back.

“W-Why are you yelling at me?” she asked, frowning, blinking in confusion, slowly moving away. “D-Don't yell at me, please…”

“Donna, I'm, I'm sorry,” you said regretfully.

Donna's crises were usually random. They used to come out of nowhere, like a horrible curse. But they could also be triggered by anything, by a misinterpreted word, by a comment, by screams like yours, lacking sense.

When you realized your mistake, it was too late. The lady in black was breathing heavily, staring at the floor.

“Donna, honey, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to yell at you, I, I just…” you stammered, putting your hands on her shoulders.

“You don't love me...” she whispered, with a cold, dark look, one that pierced your aching heart. “You don't love me!”

“What? No, honey, don't say that... It was just, it was just a mistake and... Donna, don't lose your mind, please,” you said nervously, seeing how madness took over her gaze irremediably.

“You don't love me... You don't love me... Nobody loves me!” she screamed madly, pushing your hands away with a movement that caused more pain in your blows and an emerging fear in your nervous system.

“D-Donna, don't say that, I, I love you…” you whispered, approaching cautiously, trying to escape from her spasmodic movements, seeing how little by little her presence generated an unknown fear in you.

“You’re lying! Porca miseria!”  she shrieked again, kicking the coffee table, knocking over the cups on it, breaking into a thousand pieces. “You're a liar…”

That last hiss made you step back scared. For the first time that crisis wasn't horrible memories, traumas from the past. You were the cause and you didn't know what the consequences could be, but your mind was already working on imagining them.

“I-I'm not lying,” you whispered in a weak, horrified tone, one that didn't calm the lady's nerves, who approached you angrily, grabbing you by the collar of your shirt.

“You don't love me, I disgust you…” she hissed, swinging you threateningly but suddenly letting go, holding her hair tightly, complaining of an invisible pain. “Ah! No! Taci! Taci!”

Your eyes betrayed you. Her hands pulled at her hair as she shook her head. In a moment, her insane eye met yours, with a look that you mistook.

It wasn't the face of your beloved, of your girlfriend, of the woman who was the most important thing in your life. That bright rage in her eye belonged to your father, that alcoholic and deranged man. Fear rose through your body, paralyzing it, forcing it to only tremble in panic.

You began to run out of air, your heart was beating too fast. You were completely terrified.

“(Y/N)…” Donna hissed, reaching out an arm towards you.

You, seeing your father raise his hand to hit you, pulled away from her grip, running desperately in search of a place to take refuge. Sanity immediately abandoned you and you could only feel panic and terror.

“Don’t, don't hurt me!” you screamed while crying, while you took refuge in a nearby corner, covering your face defensively with your hands. “Don't hit me, please...”

The lady didn't answer but you could hear her saying things you didn't understand, fighting with herself. When that fight ended, you knew you would be next, that you would receive a well-deserved punishment for your insolence.

“Please...” you begged, closing your eyes, bringing your knees to your chest, waiting for the strong blow that never came.

“Donna, Donna!” Angie's screams sounded blurry in your mind, but you could hear them. “Bad Donna, stupid Donna! Oh, oh, eh, eh, don't do that, don't do that!”

“Angie...!” the lady screamed, crying inconsolably. “Angie…”

“Hey, hey, come on, it's all over, my Donna, nobody wants to hurt you, nobody insults you… I'm here with you… (Y/N) is… Where is she?” she finally asked.

“(Y/N)…” Donna sighed, catching her breath with a scared voice. “(Y/N)?”

“Did you hurt her, silly Donna?” Angie asked, locating you immediately and running towards you. “Bad, bad Donna!”

“W-What…? N-No…” the lady stammered, with a much calmer voice.

Fortunately, the crises passed quickly, almost always due to your words, your hugs, or the infinite affection of her doll.

“(Y/N),” the lady sighed, crouching before you, gently pushing your hands away. “Amore mio…”

“No! No please! Don't hurt me, please!” you screamed, frantically, thrashing around in place and fighting her grip. “Don’t hit me anymore!”

“Did you hit her?” Angie asked, crossing her arms.

“Of course I didn’t, I don’t think so,” she said, fighting against your spasms, against your illogical attempts to escape. “(Y/N), please…”

“I promise I’ll be good, father!” you screamed, even smelling the stale wine he was drinking. “Don’t hit me…!”

“Father?” Donna asked, letting your wrists go and forcing you to look at her.

Your face was covered in tears of terror that, unfortunately, took some of your makeup away.

“(Y/N), please react, it’s me… Tesoro, I would never hurt you, please look at me, look…” the lady stopped when her eye passed over your wounded cheek, making you blink in confusion as her hand caressed your wound. “Mio Dio…”

“No…” you sighed, crying harder, without removing the softness of her hand from your wounded cheek, burning from the touch. “No…”

“Who did…?” she asked with a broken voice, putting her hands on your shoulders. “(Y/N), look at me, who did this to you?”

“Nobody,” you answered, burying your head between your legs again, pushing the brunette away with an unpleasant push. “Nobody!”

“Donna, Donna, the shirt, lift the shirt…” Angie whispered, pulling the dress, jumping slightly on the floor. “The shirt, the shirt.”

“Cosa?” she asked confused, kneeling on the floor and bringing her hand to your side, slowly lifting your clothes, gasping in horror when she noticed the horrible marks on your skin, the bruises, your wounds... “(Y/N)…”

You didn't answer. You simply writhed in pain at her cautious touch, shaking your head.

“(Y/N)!” the enraged lady shrieked, abruptly lifting your chin. “Look at me!”

You, fearing retaliation, obeyed. Your face was torn by tears, but hers seemed serious, serene, far removed from the previous crisis.

“It was them, wasn't it?” she asked in a dull, cold tone, with an intense look. “Your parents, they did this to you.”

“N-No, I…” you stammered, shaking your head awkwardly.

“You just confirmed it to me,” Donna sighed, taking one of your hands and caressing it gently. “Gods, (Y/N), how long have you been like this?”

“S-Since I can remember,” you finally confessed. There was no more reason to keep lying. It was the moment of truth.

“Mm,” she murmured, with apparent disinterest. “Angie, stay here with her. Don't, let her out of your sight, is that clear?”

“Yes, ma'am,” the doll said, standing beside you, watching you cautiously.

“W-Where are you going?” you asked confused when you saw the woman stand up and shake off her dress, walking towards the drawer where she kept her veil. “Donna?”

“This ends here and now, (Y/N),” she said in a dark voice, hiding her face. “They won't hurt you again, ever again.”

Her voice betrayed her intentions, ones you noticed, ones that horrified you. You didn't know if it was false devotion or some kind of illness, but imagining your parents suffering Beneviento's wrath made your stomach turn, forcing you to get up and run after her.

“No, Donna, wait!” you screamed, grabbing her arm tightly, something she prevented you from doing by moving in an unpleasant way.

“Lasciami!” she shouted furiously, gently pushing you by the shoulders. “Stay here, (Y/N)”

“N-No… What, what, what are you going to do?” you asked scared. “Donna, wait…”

“Stay here,” the lady repeated, opening the door of the mansion. “Obey.”

“No! You will kill them!” you screamed, making her miraculously stop and sigh, nodding slowly.

“Yes, I'm going to kill them,” she said without remorse. “Stay here.”

“No, Donna, please no,” you said desperately, running back to her side, grabbing her by the waist. The lady in black protested again, using your blows to make you move away of your own free will. “Don’t kill them…”

“Are you asking me to let the one who hurts you live? Is that what you’re asking me!?” she screamed angrily, clenching her fists on either side of her hips.

“Please,” you sobbed, unable to reason with her anger, with her desire for revenge. No, them dying wasn’t justice, it couldn’t be. You were better than them, and you knew it. “Please, I beg you…”

“No, (Y/N),” she said, watching you kneel down, pathetically crawling towards her. “I have to protect you, otherwise, I wouldn’t have the right to love you.”

“Don’t do it, please, Donna, don’t kill them… Please…” you said, humiliating yourself even more, grabbing her legs so she couldn’t take another step.

“(Y/N), stop… Ugh, cazzo, (Y/N)…” the lady protested, kicking for you to let her go. “I won't let those beasts hurt you anymore.”

“Please…” you sobbed again, letting yourself fall on the floor. “If they die, I'll be like them… I don't want you… I don't want you to do something that horrible, please… Don't do it…” you said with an even more pitiful sob.

Luckily, Donna closed the door with a sigh, lifting you off the floor and pressing you against her, letting the crying drown in her dress.

“Not you, please, Donna… I don't want you to be like them…” you said against the fabric while her arms surrounded you lovingly. “Please…”

“Shhh, stop, (Y/N),” she whispered to you lovingly, in a different tone, pushing the veil away from her face and cupping yours in her hands. “It’s okay…”

“Donna…” you sighed, grabbing the hands that held your wounded face. “Donna, I’m, I’m scared…”

“I know… I know, tesoro… But don’t worry, it’s all over now,” she said, cradling you gently. “It’s all over now, amore mio… You’re with me… And you always will be…”

“I can’t take it anymore…”

“You won’t have to. You won’t go back to that house, (Y/N). You’ll stay with me, forever. I’ll protect you. No one will hurt you again, I promise…”

[ginovasims]

MIDWEST PRINCESS LEGACY

A fifteen generation legacy challenge based on the songs from Chappell Roan’s ‘The Rise and Fall of a Midwest Princess’, including a bonus generation of her hit single ‘Good Luck, Babe!’. Each generation will have a different set of goals and requirements before the new heir takes over. Check out my video where I introduce the challenge in more detail: https://youtu.be/bWn7UVu-upc

Rules:

Aging must be turned on, but you can have it at any length you wish.

Each goal must be met before the new heir takes over.

NO MONEY CHEATS.

If you do this challenge, please credit me (@ginovasims).

Vague guidelines/suggestions:

Heir should be female-presenting. 

Some generations require specific careers. If it is not specified, you can have any career you want. Same goes for worlds to live in.

Each generation offers two colours. You can use both of them, one of them, or neither of them, it is up to you. You can use them as much or as little as you wish as well.

Mods and custom content can be used.

The generations will offer three traits, you do not need the heir to have all three traits, but they MUST have at least TWO of them.

If you cannot add any of the required traits when the heir is a child, you are able to choose another trait and change it to the correct trait when available (either as a teen or YA). You can do this through cheats in CAS. But the same rule applies that you must have at least two of the offered traits by the time the heir is a YA.

If you do not have all of the packs required to complete the requirements for each generation, either find a similar alternative or skip that rule. But where possible, you must complete each generation requirement.

(OPTIONAL) Use the hashtag #MidwestPrincessLegacy on tweets, posts, and videos.

Recommended packs to complete all requirements: Lovestruck, Get Together, For Rent, Cottage Living, Horse Ranch, Snowy Escape, High School Years, Island Living, Get To Work, Discover University, Get Famous, City Living, Vampires, Realm of Magic, Dine Out.

Disclosure: Most of the generations are played from the perspective of the first-person narrative sung by Chappell, however generation 8 and 15 (‘My Kink Is Karma’ and ‘Good Luck, Babe!’) are written from the perspective of the person Chappell is singing about. It offered more story-telling opportunities this way and allowed the player to do more gameplay.

Thank you to Max (@maximumdino) for your help and support with this challenge, especially with the colours! You gave me ideas for generations I struggled with and helped me add depth. I really appreciate everything you did to help me get this challenge how it is now!

——————————————————————————————————

THE GENERATIONS

Generation 1 - Femininomenon Well, what we really need is a femininomenon

You always thought you would find your ‘one true love’ and settle down together, because that’s what you’re supposed to do, right? You try your hand at online dating, but it never seems to work out, and you make friends with women who have similar experiences to you. You decide to band together and give up on guys, who needs them anyway? You vow to help queer sims find love that they truly deserve.

Requirements:

Go on multiple failed online dates

Start a club with close girl friends

Reach level ten of the romance consultant career

Raise a child with one/some of your girl friends

Own a rental with only sapphics for tenants

Traits: ambitious, unflirty, genius Aspiration: neighbourhood confidante Colours: hot pink and green

Generation 2 - Red Wine Supernova Baby, why don’t you come over? Red wine supernova, falling into me

Wow, who is that stunning sim who came into your life like magic? Is it lust, or love? It’s hard to tell, you’ve never felt like this about anyone else before. But there’s something about her that draws you in… You both are a little, let’s say, ‘different’ to everyone else, but that’s what makes things so interesting. The flame burns hot, and you’re not going to let it die out anytime soon.

Requirements:

Live with roommates your whole young adult life

Fall in love with a vampire lady

Befriend a rabbit

Collect all ten wands from the magical artefacts collection

Become a rank four spellcaster

Traits: lovebug, goofball, loyal Aspiration: expert nectar maker Colours: red and white

Generation 3 - After Midnight ‘Cause everything good happens after midnight

Your mum always warned you that your hot-headed nature might land you in some trouble, and that’s not all that leads you that way! You’re always down for a good time, letting loose on the dancefloor and with romantic partners. Life’s more fun when you live each day as it comes, even if that means facing some inconveniences. You’ll find a way to make things work for you, but you just can’t ever seem to escape the drama.

Requirements:

Go out clubbing every weekend

Hook up with both guys and girls you meet at the club

Have at least three fights at the club during your young adult years

Max the romance skill

Woohoo with multiple sims in one night and get pregnant not knowing who the other parent is

Traits: hot-headed, party animal, erratic Aspiration: serial romantic (bonus: drama llama as a teen) Colours: navy blue and black

Generation 4 - Coffee ‘Cause If we do coffee, it’s never just coffee

You’re the opposite of your carefree parent, you must have everything perfect, even if that means losing the one you love the most. Although, you never really seem to be able to let go of them completely. They always find a way back into your life, back into your heart. They’re your one weakness, your only downfall. But how long can you go on living this way, knowing things will never work between you both?

Requirements:

Join the barista career as a teen

Have your first date at the park

Meet your partner’s parents at a fancy restaurant

Have an on-off relationship with the same sim your whole young adult life

Develop the coffee fanatic lifestyle

Traits: romantically reserved, perfectionist, loves outdoors Aspiration: master mixologist Colour: brown and green

Generation 5 - Casual Hate that I let this drag on so long, you can go to hell

You’re a hopeless romantic who can’t see red flags when they’re staring you in the face. Maybe you can change them? After all, their family loves you, and you love them. Your friends try to warn you, but you shrug them off, wanting to see the best in everyone. Will things ever change, or are you permanently blinded by love? If love is really what you can call this situationship…

Requirements:

Fall in love with a noncommittal sim but never become official

Become best friends with their sister

Go on holiday with their family to Sulani

Have public woohoo in five different locations

Have an explosive breakup after getting pregnant and raise the baby alone

Traits: clumsy, generous, foodie Aspiration: romantic explorer Colours: turquoise and baby blue

Generation 6 - Super Graphic Ultra Modern Girl We’re leaving the planet and you can’t come

You know what you want, and you won’t let a fugly man hold you back. You’re done giving these guys chances when they can’t give you what you deserve. You have big dreams and you know who will be there to support you, and who won’t. You plan to leave this planet and explore another world without any men to bring you down. And who knows, maybe there will be a cute alien in your future…

Requirements:

Have an awful first date at a bar (bonus if it’s on a friday night with a guy who hates dancing!)

Only date girls after

Travel to Sixam

Host weekly parties

Reach level ten of the style influencer career

Traits: outgoing, high-maintenance, squeamish Aspiration: friend of the world Colours: silver and yellow (or as bright as you can make it!)

Generation 7 - HOT TO GO! Baby, do you like this beat? I made it so you’d sleep with me

You’ve always loved to dance and find it’s the best way to communicate. Who needs words when your body can paint a picture even better? And when you meet a sim who leaves you speechless, surely there’s no better way to confess your love to them than through dancing! But you can’t embarrass yourself, that would ruin every-thing, you need to make sure everything is perfect before you shoot your shot.

Requirements:

Become head cheerleader as a teen at high school

Stay single until you meet your perfect sim at a nightclub

Only develop romance with your soulmate after you’ve maxed the dancing skill

Max the DJ mixing skill

Develop the hungry for love lifestyle

Traits: active, self-assured, creative Aspiration: party animal Colours: yellow and purple

Generation 8 - My Kink Is Karma  People say I’m jealous, but my kink is karma

You’re trash, and everyone knows it. But somehow, you managed to land the perfect sim, who sees past all your nastiness throughout high school. This was never going to last though, you love making sims miserable, even if it means you’re never happy yourself. When your ex becomes more successful than you ever will be, you continue to take it out on everyone around you. How long can you live like this? Will you ever redeem yourself?

Requirements:

Have a bad breakup with your high school sweetheart after living together (all red relationship)

Move back in with parents after breakup

Dye your hair at least three times after breakup

Argue with your ex who has become more successful and happy than you

Max the mischief skill

Traits: jealous, mean, self-absorbed Aspiration: villainous valentine Colours: red and orange

Generation 9 - Picture You  Do you picture me like I picture you?

With a parent like yours, you’ve never been able to differentiate between what’s right and what’s wrong, everything is sort of… morally grey. So when you find an attractive sim who is way out of your league, you’re too afraid to approach them. Instead, you decide to take pictures of them… without them knowing. It’s not bad if they never find out, right? You still admire and appreciate all your other lovers though, but they’ll never be that sim.

Requirements:

Max the photography and research and debate skills

Enter the freelance fashion photographer career

Decorate your bedroom walls with photos of an attractive sim who you have no romance with

Paint portraits of all romantic interests and never sell or dispose of them

Meet your partners at the library

Traits: nosy, bookworm, socially awkward Aspiration: painter extraordinaire Colours: black and lilac

Generation 10 - Kaleidoscope  It’s never just a shape alone, love is a kaleidoscope

Finding love with your childhood best friend was the most incredible thing that could happen to you. They’re your muse, your everything. Until things go wrong. The dynamic between you both shifts and things get awkward. You won’t chase them and make them stay if that’s not what they want. Instead, you reminisce over the years you had together, and you never forget them. You can’t bring yourself to get over your one and only love.

Requirements:

Date your childhood best friend

Write and sell love songs

Break up and lose all contact with your ex

Watch your ex build a new life with a new family

Buy a ranch in Chestnut Ridge and remain a single parent

Traits: music lover, loner, lazy Aspiration: musical genius Colours: purple and gold

Generation 11 - Pink Pony Club  I’m gonna keep on dancing at the Pink Pony Club

You and your parent are very different, and this makes things hard for you growing up. You don’t connect with the world you grew up in. You dream of escaping the small town and starting fresh in the city. You can be who you want to be, do what you want to do, and make friends with sims who feel the same way. You never forget where you grew up, but it was never home for you. You make a new life for yourself and are so much better for it.

Requirements:

Have a pink horse growing up

Move from Chestnut Ridge to Del Sol Valley when you become a young adult

Have a difficult relationship with your mother

Reach level ten of the entertainer career

Create a club with drag queens and kings

Traits: horse lover, insider, dance machine Aspiration: leader of the pack Colours: baby pink and silver

Generation 12 - Naked In Manhattan  Touch me, baby, put your lips on mine, could go to hell, but we’ll probably be fine

Everything changes for you when you find yourself crushing on a cute girl after years of bad relationships with sucky guys. What is this feeling? You can’t explain it, but you’ve never felt this way about anyone before. There’s an undeniable connection between the two of you, and you know you can’t go back to your old ways ever again. But will you and this girl ever be more than just friends?

Requirements:

Have slumber parties every weekend as a teen 

Live in San Myshuno your whole young adult life

Have multiple bad relationships with guys

Get juiced and hook-up with a girl before becoming woohoo partners

Never date guys again after your self-discovery

Traits: romantic, cheerful, materialistic Aspiration: city native (bonus: slumber party animal as a child) Colours: turquoise and white

Generation 13 - California  Thought I’d be cool in California, I’d make you proud

You have always dreamed of making it big, so you move in with your grandparents who live in Del Sol Valley. But things aren’t easy and you struggle making a name for yourself. You won’t give up straight away, but you can’t help but feel like something is wrong. Growing up in two cities your whole life maybe isn’t right for you. Maybe a new dream in the countryside is all you need.

Requirements:

Move to Del Sol Valley and live with grandparents as a teenager and young adult

Never complete your celebrity aspiration

Join the actor or social media career, but never surpass level six

Move to old family ranch in Chestnut Ridge as an adult and quit your job

Live the rest of your days looking after your ranch

Traits: gloomy, family-oriented, rancher Aspiration: world-famous celebrity, swap to championship rider as an adult Colours: brown and orange

Generation 14 - Guilty Pleasure I want this like a cigarette, can we drag it out and never quit?

You’re the perfect daughter, perfect student, perfect ‘good girl’. But when a not-so-perfect sim catches your eye, you can’t turn away. They challenge everything you think you know and push you to do things you never thought you were capable of. They don’t change you though, and you don’t change them. You find the perfect balance in your relationship and continue to help each other grow, keeping each other on your toes at all times.

Requirements:

Achieve A grades throughout school

Have the stereotypical ‘good girl’ image your whole life

Achieve a pristine reputation

Date someone with different traits, appearance, and lifestyle to you

Earn the opposites attract sentiment with your partner

Traits: adventurous, good, geek Aspiration: inner peace (bonus: goal-oriented as a teen) Colours: navy blue and gold

Generation 15 - Good Luck, Babe! You’d have to stop the world just to stop the feeling

It’s hard when you don’t feel in control of your own feelings. You want to commit to a girl you love, but instead self-sabotage and refuse to admit to how you really feel. When she calls it off, you’re heartbroken. You go back to an old boyfriend who could never love you how she does and hope to find happiness with him. But years down the line, you still can’t get her out of your head. Will you ever be honest with yourself and live your true life?

Requirements:

Date a girl in secret, but never be seen in public together

Kiss lots of guys in bars

Marry a guy who you don’t love

As an adult, divorce your husband and reunite with your secret lover from years ago

Only work on your aspiration after your divorce

Traits: noncommittal, paranoid, cat lover Aspiration: soulmate Colours: baby pink and baby blue

[ludinusdaleth]

this is something ive had brewing in my mind for a while, but now that this aeor arc seems concluded, im really thinking on ludinus & other calamity survivors, and the idea of no perfect victim & moving forward.

ludinus & leylas are about the same age, have lived the same years. when we meet leylas, she is sending her soldiers to war in large part because she has seen the cycles of exandria unfold so consistently she cannot imagine peace until she defeats her enemy (quana still prays for it, and unity among everyone. but she holds her tongue). ludinus, on the opposite side of the mountains, knows the cycles too. and he thinks he must wage them to break them. leylas worships the luxon to free herself from the gods. ludinus despises the luxon for being seen as a god at all, that leylas as a survivor would dare worship it. both see the exact same thing but in opposite ways. but leylas gives a small smile of surprise when the m9 stop the war of ash & light. she is surprised, but happy to be wrong, in this one moment; her faith in these non dynasty folk paid off. all ludinus, one who hates cycles seeing a cycle caught short, sees, is a loss at taking more beacons, at destroying the "religious drivel" of the luxons religion. at least he can get to work on the big picture, the cycle he actually cares about, over any he enforces.

devexian & alyxian awaken the same year, devexian by the m9, in the ruins of his (and ludinus's) home. he can only laugh dryly at its fate, say it is a cruel joke of history. he picks up the pieces, tries to bring his people back to life. he wants them to start anew. he wants them to let go. if ludinus cant escape the day the city fell then it seems devexian wants nothing more than to leave it for tomorrow. alyxian has been caught in the hell of being a demigod of divinity & ruidis left to rot in half death. (depending on your netherdeep ending) he awakens to a new dawn, suddenly ancient & old in body, but.... free. freed by your party. he was torn asunder by avandra/correlon/sehanine & predathos within him, their powers festering in him as gruumsh destroyed him - and still he tries to be kind, and have faith, even if he is not the warrior he was, even if everything he ever knew was destroyed. he can see society flourish again, even after his & gruumsh's battle destroyed half of marquet. ludinus has seen society rebuild its entire course of time - and all he sees is a world never as brilliant as what it was before.

all of these calamity survivors are completely fucked. leylas is paranoid, losing her mind from living too long, and still haunted by lolth. quana is resigned to stay at her lovers side even as madness takes her when all she wants is unity with others. devexian is clearly so unwilling to face history repeating he wont tell other aeormatons their heritage. alyxian is broken & battered after an eon of nonstop torture.

but they had help from others, from kind souls, who reached a hand out. and they took that kindness and internalized it. and they have vowed to help their people any way they can. to spread that glimmer of hope. to rebuild.

ludinus hasnt. and i think there is deep tragedy in that. i dont know if he has much hope, ironically, beyond raging cleansing fire. in that broad big picture it is both incredibly real & also heartbreaking when recovery falls through the cracks so badly. to have so little of a support group of survivors around you that you smack the hand of those who came out of it differently, and not have known others who could show you it was okay to move on. you hurt other survivors in your refusal to breathe, and live too large to see the others choosing a small destiny. it is unfair to him to had to have suffered and unfair to inflict that on calamity survivors again for your own agenda.

i fixate on him not disagreeing with the bells finding a third option. deep down, he wants to have that hope the others share so fucking bad. we'll see if he ever finds it.

[empressgeekt]

If Soft Hearts and Flooded Wombs were combined with Laptopsticker87's Just Got Up and Ran Away, how would things go considering Floyd would've been allowed food during his time in captivity and would've made it to Pop Village unscathed with Veneer by his side?

Oh, I've read that one it's a good one. (I do not own this au pls go support that author).

Humm...

Well, considering that Floyd wasn't kept starving he'd probably start showing sooner, and while Velvet wasn't paying attention, Veneer would be since he doesn't actually want to hurt Floyd. I'd imagine that Veneer would be very confused when he asked Floyd about his stomach as Mount Rageons have kids differently. However, even Veneer isn't willing to hurt an unborn baby, so when he finds Floyd escaping, he helps, and they both leave for Bergentown to save the rest of Floyd's family.

On this trip, Veneer learns a lot about trolls...way more then he'd ever think he'd know. Velvet being the one who did the research about trolls to use a talent enhancer. The whole eating them for a happiness kick is horrifying, and his guilt grows when Floyd points out that it wasn't all that different from using him for his talent, and while getting eaten was awful, it was only one day a year, was over quickly and pregnant trolls were usually left alone. ("Wait a minute you want to go back to a place where they eat you to give birth?" "It's my only option, and with your help once it's over I'll be able to get Branch and Grandma out and we'll find somewhere safe to live.") Which leads back to the whole having a baby as a male thing, Veneer asks if Floyd is trans or something, which then leads to a very long discussion about the many ways a Troll can have a baby. A talk that Floyd gently gives while Veneer's face is slow become more like his hair color throughout.

When they arrive at bergentown, and hear the music. Floyd is panicking as he thinks that he's mental calendar was all messed up and today was Trollistice. Veneer's scared too, but he listens to Floyd when he says they need to get in there now. Floyd is not relieved when he hears it's a royal wedding. There was always a troll flavored cake at a royal wedding or birth of an heir. Floyd remains tucked in Veneer's hoodie pocket, as they watch the wedding unfold. Something is clearly off, Floyd would spy a bright pink troll in the front row, a crown on her head and sneaks through the crowd to her. She's the one in charge, even if Floyd doesn't recognize her (he left before Poppy hatched).

Branch and Poppy would be watching the ceremony with happy hearts, thought when an expectant troll approaches them from behind mid ceremony. Poppy's first thought is a medical emergency is about to happen, while Branch is just "not f*cking now". Branch doesn't acknowledge that Floyd is his brother until, Poppy says his name, which Floyd hones in on immediately, leading to a very awkward reunion. When Keith comes slamming into Branch's legs, it doesn't get more peaceful. After all with the kid there, Branch can't help up point out how he couldn't abandon his little brother, unlike some people. Poppy subtly tells Branch now is not the time.

Veneer is understandably very intimidated when Branch, Keith and Poppy are brought over. Poppy is the queen, Branch is Floyd's young brother and clearly doesn't trust strangers, and Keith is so Freaking cute! Who knew the babies were so little!

The reception dinner wasn't any better, Branch would have to take off his mask, revealing his facial scar which would horrify Floyd, and Keith would mention all of the gore details of the injury the Chef gave Branch. Which would lead into discussion about Branch's work, and Branch then turns tables asking Floyd what happened to him. Probing deeply, into where's his partner if he's having a baby, how'd me meet Veneer, and where he was for over twenty years? Once the abduction is mentioned, Branch goes full interrogation mode wanting to know everything and if he needs to prepare troll kingdom for an invasion. In the end Poppy has to talk him down, cause their at a wedding.

By the end of the plot. Veneer would likely have moved to BergenTown since the forest beyond the village borders is dangerous. Branch and Veneer aren't besties but their civil for Floyd's sake and they do slowly get better. Branch and Floyd big brothering the mount rageon better than Velvet. Since he's in better health then in my own Au, Floyd moves into his own pod, and successfully has his baby with little to no complications. However his daughter is born mute, and will never be able to sing on her own.

[melliae]

Refraction Railway Line #3 Abnormalities Part 1 (Analysis)

Something to Live For

“Yes. The deep sea is a dark place. But at the end of that dark path is a light. Because there are things that shine in the dark there." - Abnormality Encounter.

Envy, the devaluation of the self, and Pride, the overvaluation of the self.

They are, by essence, antithetical to each other: one leads to the highest height of the world, seeing everyone as minuscule and meaningless in comparison, while the other leads you to unfathomable depths, making you wish other people would sink alongside you—for them to suffer because they have what you don’t… And maybe that’s the point of Siltcurrent: prideful loneliness in your own suffering, seeing “light” where there is none.

“There are lights that can be seen only when there is no other light.” - Abnormality Encounter.

The fact that the option of “sinking together” has Sloth and Gloom advantage implies that such “sinking” is nothing but the acceptance of one’s own misfortune, relegating oneself into complete hopelessness, which is misunderstood as “uniqueness”. This is supported by the corresponding EGO gift having Pride as its affinity, and that failing the check causes the selected identity to recover HP and sanity—to recognize their situation as something harmful from which they must escape.

“You still fear the dark, don't you? I know that you will miss the surface, forever out of your reach once this fluorescent lamp dies.”

Meanwhile, taking the choice of “fixing the fluorescent lights” has both Sloth and Envy as affinities. The dialogue of passing the check explains it:

“Now, if you ever recall a dream in which you wished to twinkle, even as a faint flicker…”

To restore the light is to return to that one thing that led you to that abyss in the first place, the only thing you can’t achieve while everyone else already did it: your dreams, the source of all happiness, the thing that allows you to breathe. The bitterness of envy has made you remember what you want, however fragile it may be (or you’re just too lazy to give up).

Now, what about failing the check? Well, you can finally let go of everything once you learn how to be content with yourself, able to navigate lightless waters unlike those on the surface. It’s no coincidence Siltcurrent is resistant to Gloom and Lust (pleasure for the sake of pleasure) while being weak to Pride and Envy.

In regard to its attacks:

"Headbutt”, “Pound”, and “Press”: Welp, what better fits Sloth than mere physical attacks, with not much intention behind them?

Crashing Siltcurrent: Silt is heavy, don’t you think so? It drowns you, it makes you heavy, and it separates you from the only light you ever had.

“Blind Obsession” and “Wayward Blind Obsession”: This obsession isn’t born out of an aspiration for the heights but from sinking into the depths. It’s about branding as a sword the sole thing that defines you now… even if it’s against the wrong things, those that remind you little by little of how frail everything is, like the dreams that it blindly has on its back and you can steal to catch its attention (and initiate the battle).

Sweep: Those flotsams aren’t for it, but for you. You are the one that can't breathe in the depths of despair; it can, and pridefully does so.

Wriggle: First, it’s still a fish. Second, what’s the best way to forget and ignore your dreams than outright destroy them?

The Dream-Devouring Siltcurrent is exactly that: a current of silt that devious dreams, sinking you in the furthest recesses of despair. Only your envy for others, for the light they have and you don’t, or too much pride, enough to make you fight back even against the dreams of others, can save you.

In a way, it’s quite pitiful: a living paradox that uses its own fragile pride in order to survive, trying to bury its envy of those who have something to live for. But at the same time, it doesn’t want to be alone; it wishes to make other people fall too, to join it… like the Whales themselves.

“Maybe the Whales were just lonely. And that’s why they carried within them the oil that had the power to turn others just like them. Maybe, people are the same… Out of loneliness, we want to make something, someone ours. To paint them just like us, to fill them with things that make us.” - Ishamel, Inside the Whale (Right Heart Ventricle), Canto V.

After all, Mermaids “feel” just like Distortions and Abnormalities according to Dante: they are fundamentally human.

Luxury and Nostalgia

“According to common sense, plants with deep roots and a good supply of water grow to be resilient.” - Heathcliff, Abnormality’s Observation Log #3

Gluttony and Lust, as of now, are possibly the most misunderstood affinities in the game, and not without good reason: they both refer to all kinds of sensorial excesses in the strictest sense of the word, of food and carnal pleasures, respectively. But I think the previous quote explains it the best: Gluttony, the excessive consumption of “nutrients”, is born of (a perceived) necessity for such things, strengthened by Peccatulum Gulae’s Log (“Yet, those scrawny stems were hungrily seeking the missing sustenance.”); Lust, on the other hand, is just desire for desire’s sake, to endlessly ride the high of life without care. You can compare Dongrang’s and Kromer’s attitudes to see the difference even better: one is hungry to accomplish things and be recognized, while the other really couldn’t care less—she just wants to feel “good”.

By that matter, cotton is the most used natural fiber in the world, by a large margin, being considered one of the most exquisite fabrics through a great part of humanity’s history. And for that, its old farms and fabrics are famous for being the epitome of inhuman, exploiting the employers—be it adults, children, or slaves—to keep producing for the sake of money and luxury. That’s why Drenched Gossypium's most important affinities are Gluttony and Lust, for it needs blood above all to grow and delights in it, just like the cotton market of old (and maybe even today, but in different ways).

But then, what about the mentioned nostalgia in its Encounter? Simply: it hates it. All the smaller cotton flowers along with it attack you once you succumb to nostalgia and wave back at them, expressing and indulging in the paralyzing venom that inhibits growth (or, if you ignore it completely, only fumbling at you). That’s why Gluttony and/or Lust is needed to approach it, because the endless desire for more is the only way to get close to the luxury of  “cotton”, admiring your insatiable hunger and desire, giving you a part of itself.

In a way, it’s a highly affable Abnormality, almost fatherly in a way. It expects people to follow its example, to discard everything for the sake of “eating” and taking pleasure in it, even forgiving you up to three times before it turns red and decides to “punish” (i.e., eat) you. The fact that “Draining Root” and “Flourishing Gossypium” (used only in its red state) are its only Wrath-based skills supports this: you either grow and expand or merely become pathetic food (even more if you’re bleeding and can’t move).

The rest of its skills, by that matter, reflect that mentality more since they’re either Gluttony- or Lust-based, explaining its resistances and the Event mid-combat: you can’t really use Lust or any (sin of) excess of something to defeat it; that is its nature by definition. However, great anger or egocentrism can go against such “zeitgeist” that defines pretty well most of the City.

Either you succumb and watch from a distance, resigned and waving back—maybe as a farewell—to that thriving future that you once wished for, or you do everything that’s necessary to achieve it, drenching you in blood so you can relish in that single, needed moment of ecstasy.

“I think it fancies me—I’ve no clue why. But it keeps jabbing me with its straw vines.” - Heathcliff, Abnormality’s Observation Log #3

I do wonder if that’s the reason why it “liked” Heathcliff…

A Place Made by You and for You

“A giant clam walks before you. With each step it takes, it sprays a fetid green muck. Is the clam the source of the contamination, or is it working to contain the filth?” - Abnormality Encounter.

There’s no need to wonder anymore: the Clam is the source of all filth, with every ounce of that green slime containing countless of its “children”, which contaminated the beach in its entirety. It terraformed sea and land to make it perfect for itself and its children, yet it can’t care less about the latter; they only exist for only one reason:

“When the thing’s shells are shut, green slime seems to gather around it, making sure that the shells would stay shut.” - Sinclair, Abnormality’s Observation Log #3

The larvae only exist to protect the Clam’s pearl, lying inside its “mouth”. They are birthed with that as their only purpose, just like Mermaids and their respective Whales, or even Ahab herself. It doesn’t matter what they have to destroy and corrupt; they will do whatever it’s necessary to protect—or achieve—their purpose.

In regard to its skills, they’re quite easy to understand: 

All its Gluttony ones are it literally shooting the green slime to the Sinners, always around the perceived need to “corrupt” or “dissolve” them as well.

“Predation” is Lust because it’s meaningless; Ambling Pearl simply enjoys devouring its larvae, despite the fact it can just create more if it truly wanted.

“Effervescent Green Slime” is likely Envy because, at some level, it doesn’t like contaminating its treasure while everything else is so clean; it’s insulting to it, as you can see when you throw the green slime directly into its maw. And while it can’t fully free the pearl from “trash”, it can certainly bring you down even lower.

And finally, “Overflowing Poison” is Pride because, well, it’s avoiding the attacks of more “trash", just as it (initially) ignores you during its Encounter.

The resistances of the Shell are self-explanatory, while the Pearl’s ones… Well, Wrath and Pride seem to be the wild cards of the affinities, since they allow individuals to reject the very core of the Abnormalities—the trauma and cultural spirit of the City.

The meanings of its Event and Encounter, by that matter, are also obvious, especially if you understand “Gluttony = (Perceived) Need”.

Finally, I don’t think it’s necessary to explain how Ambling Pearl is also a metaphor for the division within the City, being even clearer with the beaches in the Backstreets in District 21.

“It reminded me a lot of one of those Trash Crabs. Like the green slime, the ocean smell… you know.” - Sinclair, Abnormality’s Observation Log #1

To corrupt and degrade everything as long as you can have what you desperately wanted. If it’s tainted, then just make sure everyone suffers even more than you... even if that treasure isn't that special to begin with.

[herunswithscissors]

Friends of ours lost their 22yo son to suicide recently. He was struggling, but kept the depth of it hidden. There are no words of comfort to give, only grieving alongside those who have lost one that they love.

A good friend pointed out that in the midst of this weeping, while it does not diminish the grief, perhaps something good might come out in that those who are similarly struggling with thoughts of suicide might get some perspective that their lives matter beyond the tiny world mental illness traps you in. Your life matters and is worth living.

Our brains are a precariously balanced mix of meat, electricity, and chemicals. Sometimes because of our experiences and/or biology our brains begin to lie to us. It withholds joy and pleasure. "It’s like trying to laugh at a joke that isn’t funny. Trying to smile for a photo you don’t want to be in. It’s like waking up in the morning and hating that you actually woke up. It feels like someone is just draining the energy out of you all the time, every moment you are awake." Doing anything requires immense willpower. Just plain old staying alive becomes a conscious choice made over and over again. You are just so tired and everything is just too much to deal with. The constant state of suffering leads one to try various ways to feel something positive, feel anything, or just escape the emptiness. It's why depressed people try so hard to bring joy to others and help others- they want to prevent others from suffering too and it allows them to feel some happiness vicariously.

The inevitable diminishing returns on the attempts to feel better, feel anything, or just escape eventually lead to the conclusion that there is only one way out of this hell. And depression shrinks our awareness of our own meaningfulness and inner world. The void is all we can perceive. The knowledge that we are loved, cared for, or important is lost. We can sincerely believe that our loss will not so drastically affect our loved ones and escape through death is a viable option.

These are all false of course. Falsehoods our sick brain tells us with honesty, because suicide is quite reasonable given what we are perceiving.

If you are feeling like you don't want to be here, wishing you would not wake up, desiring an accident, imagining about killing yourself, drugging yourself into oblivion, or seriously thinking about if or how you might kill yourself, you need to talk to someone. I got lucky. Someone who loves me more than I love myself saw me spiraling into self-destruction and made me get help and continues to support me in spite of myself. I spent years where my full-time job was not research or teaching, but just keeping myself alive. It's still my job now and then. But the difference now is that after many years of therapy and prescriptions I know that feeling is temporary and false.

I'm sorry it hurts so much right now. When you have some distance from these feelings (I hope that you will give yourself the chance to), I hope you can see that your life is worthwhile and important because you are.

But the only way out is through and that requires talking. I hope you have people nearby who love you you can talk to. If you do, talk to them. If you don't, this will be harder. Either way, you should also get into counseling. A good counselor will help you find ways to survive, build better mental pathways, & develop tools for processing emotions.

Brutal honesty- American mental health treatment system is shit and difficult to navigate. We have far too few professionals in many areas and online is often the only option. But you are a fighter. Look at you all alive and shit when depression has been trying to kill you 24-7. Live a little bit longer. You can do it. And if you are going to live a little bit longer, counseling can help you live it a little bit better.

[turtlemagnum]

i'm not sure a piece of media has ever impacted me so broadly as fallout: new vegas. maybe just as deeply, yes, but in terms of variety the ways are almost uncountable. i played it at a fairly young age, so it was probably a fair bit more influential than it otherwise would've been, but i'm not entirely sure. i think one of the most straightforward ways is my love of guns. i'm not sure i can 100% attribute it to new vegas, but if memory serves i wasn't really into gun nerd shit before new vegas. with the knowledge i have now of both its development and just of real firearms, i know that a lot of attention to detail was given to giving everything if not outright realism, at the very least a very deep-set sense of verisimilitude that acted as a stellar "foot in the door" for the interest to seep into my brain, so to speak. if memory serves, the project lead actually bought and shot a real lever action rifle to make sure he got it down as best he could in game, and frankly without that degree of commitment i'm unsure if the gunplay would've felt as "real" to me. i cannot express how deeply appreciative i am of that, i still remember the feeling of the gears turning in my brain as i tried to figure out why .223 and 5.56mm went in the same rifle, and it setting my young imagination wild

and that's only one aspect. in terms of music, i wouldn't say that my music taste is broadly inspired by the soundtrack but it has introduced me to country music i actually quite enjoy, adding to my eclectic tastes. in terms of writing and media literacy, analyzing it was very critical in my development of both taste and critical thought in regards to the characters and themes of the game. as such it also deeply influenced my own political beliefs, and i think the fact that it portrays almost every sapient character with a degree of personhood and reasons for doing the things they do and thinking the things they believe had a significant impact too. at the core of the writing of the non-bethesda fallout games, there's always been this overwhelming sense of hope in the face of adversity. i'd argue it's probably the main theme of the first game, and is still a relevant one up to new vegas. and i think it's worth noting that i have my own disagreements with what the game says thematically at times, and i maintain that if you weren't limited by the options that the developers allowed you the yes man ending would unequivocally be the best option, but that's less so the fault of the developers themselves and moreso a limitation of video games as a whole not being able to account for Literally Every Single Possibility in the same way that you could in a TTRPG or even just writing yourself; so i don't really hold it against the devs in the slightest.

i think that to a certain extent, feelings predate ideology. you're born with a fire in your gut, and you can't quite put it into words with any coherence until you're a fair bit older. maybe on the way there you pick up some beliefs from the older folks in your life, maybe even ones that you'll find to eventually contradict what you really value deep down. i was no different, really. i think above all i've always yearned for freedom. not in the conventionally american way, i'd argue that the "freedoms" american ideologues profess to hold dear for the most part, aren't actual freedoms. they're just what we're told is freedom, when in reality we live in as authoritarian a system as those we claim to be diametrically opposed to. this yearning, this lust for freedom that i've always had, i think new vegas really fed into it, for me. the fact that you can go wherever you want, do whatever you want, kill whoever you want, support whoever you want, just as easily help or harm whoever you want, it all amounts to an overwhelming sense of freedom; the kind of radical freedom that you just cant get in the physical reality we currently live in. it's an escape, a fantasy, one where you have a genuine choice of how you want to live your life. i hope that one day we'll live in a world where everyone can have the kind of freedom i hold dear in my heart.

[silvershewolf247]

The Game

The stag was beautiful. Glen had never gotten so close to one before. They only wondered why he wasn’t running off for a minute, before smelling copper. The poor thing had gotten caught in a bear trap. Glen pet the terrified animal, trying to soothe him. He leaned into their touch, seeming to be comforted by it. Glen tried to pry the cursed thing open, and cut open their hands. Glen felt sick to their stomach. They always hated the sight of blood. 

“Need some help there, Champ?” It was their father. Of course. They had been trying to get away from him and enjoy some of their time outside. Glen sighed, 

“Yes, someone left a trap here and this deer got stuck,” Glen said, straining as they tried to pry open the trap again.

“That is the intention of traps,” he said with a smirk. 

“This isn’t funny, he’s really hurt,” Glen responded. Their father leaned over, using his shotgun as support.

“Comedy comes from pain, at least, good comedy.” He punctuated his statement with a laugh. Glen cut their hands again. Dad got on his knees and held onto the springs of the trap. 

“Try it now,” he said. Glen did, and sure as shit, it opened. Glen pulled the deer's leg out of the trap and dad pulled his hands away quickly, as the trap snapped shut again. 

“Thanks,” Glen said with a small smile. Dad used the shotgun as support to pull himself back up. 

“Yeah, don’t thank me too much. Take a look at your little friend,” Dad said, using his shotgun to point at the deer. He limped for two steps before collapsing. His leg was bleeding more profusely now. 

“So, how are you going to put it out of its misery, ” their father asked. 

“What! No! I’m not doing that,” Glen said. 

“You’re just gonna let it suffer? Seems a bit cruel,” he said. 

“Maybe we can help him, wrap the leg up and feed him until he gets better,” Glen pleaded, “Please.” They grabbed their father’s free hand and wrapped it with their own. They looked up at him with desperate eyes. 

“Do you know what to feed a deer?” he asked. Glen let go of his hands. 

“Well, no, but….” Glen looked at the deer.

“Do you know how to stitch up a cut that hit the bone,”

“I don’t…” Glen looked at the ground.

“What about preventing infection, or do you just want it to suffer longer, so you can feel better?” Dad said, his mock concern quickly faded away and was replaced by a smug smile. He grabbed their chin and made them look him in the eyes.

“Either kill it, or leave it to suffer a slow death, there’s no third option here,” he finished releasing their chin. They both knew the answer before Glen could say a word. He put the gun in Glen’s hands, stood next to them, wrapped his arms around theirs and took aim. Glen tried to look away, but their father pulled their hair. 

“No champ, I want you to look at it,” he whispered in their ear. 

“I want you to see what every true hunter lives for. You saw it panic, and you saw it look in your eyes and beg for mercy. Now it knows there’s no escape. This is the end, and you have become a god to this animal. It’s giving its life to you. And all it asks for now, is to make it quick.”

Glen was quiet the entire walk home. Despite their father trying to talk to them. Whatever bullshit he was saying, Glen couldn’t hear it. The whole world was blank. The only thing they perceived was the path to the bathroom. Everything and one around them had disappeared. They could still hear the gunshots. They saw something different in the room as they walked into the bedroom, but didn’t process it. 

They spent a long time in the shower. Scrubbing themself raw and waiting for the world to come back to them. The water at their feet was a bright clear red. They stayed in there, until the water had gotten uncomfortably cold. Glen grabbed some bandages from the cabinet and wrapped their hands. They put on pajamas and brushed out their hair. Just wanting to lie down and disappear. 

They don’t know how long they were lying in their bed. The sun had set long ago. They were finally starting to come back to the world and the first thing they noticed was someone had taken down one of their paintings. Glen panicked and ran to their bag, digging through it desperately. Then what they were looking for appeared in front of them.

“Looking for something,” it was their father, dangling the amulet off his finger. Glen tried to grab it, but their father pulled it back into his hand quickly. 

“You went in my room. You went through my stuff. You promised you wouldn’t do that.” Glen said.

“And you promised you couldn’t find the amulet, yet her we are. Anyway, I didn’t go in your room,” he said.

“Then how did you find it?” Glen asked. 

“Why did you lie to me about having it?” he said.

“Because I didn’t want you to have it. It’s bad enough you and mom have taken Jennifer Tilly, Nica, and Andy’s lives. I’m not going to let you take anyone else’s,” Glen said. They tried to grab it again. Dad put it in his jacket pocket and used his free hand to grab Glen’s in a vice grip.

“I am your father. And you will treat me with respect and obedience. I have been nothing but respectful to you,” he said. His grip tightened and their hands started bleeding again.

“You locked me in the basement closet,” Glen said, trying to pull their hands away. 

“You locked yourself down there to avoid confrontation, you little coward,” he said. 

“Stop lying to me,” Glen said, and they kicked him in the shin. Their father only sighed in response.

“I haven’t lied to you once,” he lied. 

“You promised you wouldn’t go in my room,” Glen said. Their hands only bled more as they pulled away.

“I didn’t go into your room,” he said. 

“Then how did you find the amulet?” Glen asked.  

“I didn’t, Devon found it and gave it to me,” he said. He let go of Glen’s hands. Glen’s stomach dropped. The kid had been here. He had been here alone with dad. Glen had watched him like a hawk every second he was here to make sure their father didn’t hurt him. Not that they were sure what they would do if he tried to. They couldn’t even protect a deer from him. Tears pricked their eyes. 

“What did you do to him?” Glen asked, grabbing their father’s jacket, begging for mercy far too late. 

“What are you talking about?” He asked. 

“Don’t bullshit me, I know what you’re doing,” Glen said. As they pulled on his jacket, there hands left bloodstains on the coat.

“Do tell,” he implored. 

“You're getting close to him so you can kill him.” Glen said. Dad looked puzzled. 

“No, you’re way off, I don’t want Devon dead. If I did, I would have killed him by now. You think your weird staring at him was stopping me,” he said. He was wearing an amused smile. 

“By the way, you gotta stop doing that. You’re creeping the kid out, he thinks you're a killer, like your old man. As nice as that would be, aside from getting the amulet, it doesn’t help me much for him to distrust you,” he said. 

“Help you to do what?” Glen asked. They let go of his jacket. He straightened it out. 

“Keep him around,” he said. Glen gave them an inquisitive look. 

“As nice as it is to use Andy’s body, he won’t live forever. In twenty to forty years, I’ll need a new one. Devon reminds me a lot of him. So I keep Devon around. Keep fueling his hatred of me so he keeps hunting. Keep playing substitute dad for him so he trusts ‘Andy.’ Then when the time comes, he’ll come to me, one way or the other. Just like Andy,” he said. 

Glen looked horrified. 

“I won’t let that happen,” they said. Their father laughed and patted his pocket. He leaned closer to Glen.

“And how are you going to stop me?” With that, their father walked away, leaving Glen to sit in their horror. 

The two of them ate dinner separately that night. Glen avoided their father until he went to sleep. An hour after his door shut, Glen went up to it. They opened it and entered slowly and cautiously. Andy was sitting next to the bed. His arms resting on his knees.

“Hey kid,” he greeted Glen.  

“Andy…” Glen started. Andy put up his hand, signaling them to stop. 

“I already know,” he said. Glen walked next to them and fell to the floor next to him. 

“I’m sorry,” Glen said, before sobbing into his chest. 

“It’s okay, I’ll take care of it,” he said, petting the back of their head in an attempt to soothe them.

The next morning, dad showed them his new wall decoration. A bleached deer skull.

[berenwrites]

Whole New Us Ch11 - Stranger Things - Steddie

Whole New Us: Trauma Bonded and Beyond

Also on AO3 | Or here CH1 | CH2 | CH3 | CH4 | CH5 | CH6 | CH7 | CH8 | CH9 | CH10 | CH11 | CH12 | CH13 | CH14 | CH15 | CH16 | CH17 | CH18 | CH19 | CH20 | CH21 | CH22 | CH23 | CH24 | CH25 (Mature) | CH25 (Fade to black) COMPLETE

Summary: Steve has been ignoring his own problems, he’s been busy. They’ve all been busy, preoccupied with fixing everything that was broken. Vecna has been defeated, but the Upside Down is still there, and the gates are not completely closed even though Hawkins has almost returned to normal. It’s been a couple of months and the aftereffects of Steve’s encounter with the demobats is about to come back to bite him. However, it also brings some unexpected hope.

Pairing: steddie (Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson)

Rating: Teen (with mature content in later chapters)

Chapter 11.    Friends

The government suits, along with Nancy, had come up with added extras to the cover story for Eddie being innocent to explain how he was alive. It had taken a couple of weeks, but everything had been put in place.

Eddie was still the tragic victim, kidnapped, nearly killed defending one Dustin Henderson, so much so he had been reported dead, only now he had miraculously managed to escape, only to be found wandering miles away and falling into catatonic trauma in a small clinic several towns over. This was where Hopper and Steve had tracked him down after Steve had heard a strange rumour and done some investigating. Bringing him back had helped him snap out of it by reuniting him with his uncle. All very dramatic and daytime soap opera like, but this was Hawkins, so no one would question it.

Steve wasn’t sure he liked the role of hero for the whole thing, but when Nancy had glared at him, he’d gone with it, since it also gave a decent explanation as to why Eddie could be staying with him if anyone found out.

It was all set to be released that lunchtime so that it would be a big feature on the evening news. Hence, just before twelve, Steve left Eddie with the phone to call his friends to give them advance warning. He didn’t know a whole heap about the other members of Corroded Coffin, but he knew they meant a lot to Eddie, letting them find out by media was not an option.

To give Eddie some privacy, Steve was stress baking in the kitchen since it was his day off. He’d asked Eddie if he should stay and Eddie had seemed conflicted, but eventually told him no, so he was doing his best to keep out of the way. It was quite hard to not listen since his hearing was that much sharper now, especially when it came to Eddie. He’d just put in his second batch of chocolate chip cookies when he felt a spike of anxiety come from Eddie’s direction. Without his conscious consent he froze.

“Gar, I’m safe, okay,” Eddie was saying. “I want to see you too, but … look I can’t.”

Steve could literally hear the longing in Eddie’s voice. These guys had been Eddie’s support system for years, and Eddie might have been part of the Upside Down party now, but he had been one of them longer. Steve knew all about losing your whole social group and he made a very quick decision.

Walking to the door he opened it.

“Eddie,” he said, peering round the corner to where Eddie was perching beside the phone, “you can invite them over.”

He made sure his voice would not carry over the phone, but Eddie heard him loud and clear. His boyfriend gave him a look that was all furrowed brows and conflicted tightness. For a second Eddie was clearly undecided, before he raised his eyebrows in a questioning manner. Steve nodded back.

“I made cookies,” he added, as if that might be a deciding factor.

Eddie sent back a fond smile for that, although it disappeared in nerves pretty quickly.

“Look, Gar,” Eddie said, “forget what I just said, but you’re going to think I’ve lost it when I tell you where I am.”

“If they need transport, I can pick them up,” Steve added, before disappearing back into the kitchen to allow Eddie to continue his conversation.

~*~

“They know about me,” Eddie said as they waited for Eddie’s friends to arrive.

“You?” Steve asked, because he didn’t quite follow.

“They know I’m gay,” Eddie expanded. “They might … um … us … they might pick up on it. I’ll try, but, sometimes my impulse control is shit around people I trust.”

Steve caught on. Rather than saying anything straight away, he reached out and gently pulled Eddie towards him, wrapping his arms around his boyfriend.

“If you trust them, I trust them,” he said simply, because that was what it all boiled down to.

“They might be, well, a little hostile at first,” Eddie said, searching his face for something Steve couldn’t quite guess at. “They don’t know you like I do.”

“And they only ever saw King Steve,” he replied, because he could understand that.

Eddie nodded.

“And we’re kind of protective of each other,” Eddie explained.

“That I get,” Steve said, doing his best to reassure his boyfriend. “I was an asshole for much of my school career even if I was nowhere near as big a dick as Billy Hargrove. They have a right to dislike me. But I have cookies, I will win them over.”

Eddie took the hint and grinned at him.

“God, what did I ever do to have such a cute boyfriend who bakes too?” Eddie teased.

“I am not cute,” Steve protested. “I am devilishly handsome.”

“Well yeah, but I’m going with cute, adorable, beautiful…”

He shut Eddie up by kissing him. It was only supposed to be a quick kiss, but it deepened as Eddie threaded fingers through his hair, pulling him closer. The feeling of Eddie washed through him. It was so easy for Steve to lose himself in the moment as their desires and needs curled around each other, mixing into a heady cocktail.

Only the sound of the doorbell snapped them out of it.

“Fuck, you’re intoxicating,” Steve said, blinking back to reality.

Eddie gave him a grin, while pulling his shirt straight.

“Right back at ya, Big Boy,” Eddie said.

“Ok, go let your friends in,” Steve said before he got more ideas. “I’ll be in the kitchen with the radio on, so you guys can have some privacy. Just let me know if you need anything.”

Eddie leaned back in and gave him a quick peck on the lips.

“Thanks,” Eddie said. “I will wait for the cookies to work their magic before introducing you properly.”

Eddie’s eyes flicked back towards the entry way, biting his lip.

“I can let them in for you, if you want,” Steve offered, picking up the fizzle of nerves in the back of his brain from Eddie, as well as the more than obvious body language. “Give you a chance to breathe before disappearing.”

“While that sounds very appealing,” Eddie said, taking a deep breath, “I think I’d rather get this over with. Let’s go with plan A.”

“Whatever you need,” he said, giving his boyfriend a supportive smile.

As Eddie headed towards the front door, Steve headed for the kitchen as he had promised.

“Gar…” he heard after the sound of the door opening, but the sound was cut off abruptly.

“Eddie, fuck, you really are alive you bastard.”

He knew the sound of desperate affection when he heard it and he hurried on his way. He flipped on the radio quickly, just loud enough to cover any sound coming from the other room before setting about preparing things for dinner. Robin was coming over later along with Wayne, and he had no idea if Eddie would want to invite his friends to stay as well, so he was determined to be prepared. He was pretty sure he had his Grandma Lucy’s feeding people instincts. No one had ever left her house hungry.

This house had been a bit like that once too, when he was younger, and it was just him and his mom at home. Now he thought about it, it was after his grandmother had collapsed and died from an aneurism (a timebomb waiting to happen no one could have predicted according to the doctors, he remembered hearing them tell his parents) that his mom had started pulling away. Going on business trips with his dad had suddenly been more important than baking cookies for Christmas or cakes for Easter.

Steve understood something about grief now and his thoughts were something of a revelation. Not that he was interested in dwelling on such deep thoughts when he had Eddie to worry about. Pulling out things from the refrigerator and cupboard he began to sing along quietly to the song playing as he went into prep mode.

He’d put together enough lasagne to feed an army (he could put some of it in the freezer if it wasn’t needed) when he heard the door open behind him. He turned to find Eddie standing in the doorway looking dishevelled as if he’d been playing with his hair, a bit shellshocked, but otherwise happy.

“You okay?” Steve asked.

“Yeah,” Eddie replied. “I’ve given them the whole story,” he made quotes with his hands as he said it, “and the sorry can’t tell you all the details speech, there might have been some crying, but we’ll all deny it to our dying day. Wanna come meet the guys?”

Steve wiped his hands on the closest cloth and pulled off the apron he was wearing.

“I’d love to,” he replied, even as his heartbeat picked up.

Following Eddie back into the living room, he found himself the focus of attention of Eddie’s three closest friends. He’d faced the Upside Down and honest to God monsters, but this was right up there with that.

“Hi,” he greeted.

“Steve, this is Gareth, Jeff and Frank,” Eddie introduced. “Guys, I’m sure you remember Steve.”

“We do,” Gareth replied.

“But none of us would have guessed The Steve Harrington bakes,” Jeff added.

“Awesome cookies, Man,” Frank finished.

“One of my grandma’s secret recipes,” he said, raising a smile at that. “She taught me to make them when I was eight. After she passed, they became my go-to comfort food.”

“You could create your own empire with them,” Gareth said, returning his smile.

“Nah, Robin would never forgive me,” he replied. “She uses them to bribe her mom into letting her stay over. If you could get them everywhere she’d lose her leverage.”

“Robin Buckley’s mother can be bribed with cookies to let her daughter sleep over at your house?” Jeff asked incredulously.

The cookies were more of a tradition these days than a bribe, but Steve wasn’t about to admit that.

“Yeah, or sometimes I sleep over at her house,” he replied, falling onto the couch beside Eddie. “We trauma bonded during the Starcourt fire. Sleepovers are way cheaper than the phone bills we were racking up.”

“They’re platonic soulmates,” Eddie offered up. “You should see it, it’s adorable.”

“Says the man who hides behind his hair when he’s embarrassed,” Steve countered.

“Well, I didn’t say I wasn’t adorable too,” Eddie replied, batting his eyelashes and deliberately pulling his hair over his face.

Shaking his head and laughing, Steve elbowed his boyfriend in the side, turning back to look at his guests. Jeff and Frank were smiling along too, but Gareth had a worryingly serious expression on his face. Eddie had mentioned that Gareth was his closest friend even though Eddie was significantly older.

“Adorable, yeah, that’s the word that first comes to mind with you, Eddie,” Jeff said, joining in the teasing.

“You break my heart, Sir Knight,” Eddie responded in true dramatic fashion. “I cannot go on.”

“Oh no,” Steve said firmly, “one dramatic death scene is one too many, so have another cookie and deal.”

Eddie giggled at him, but did take the opportunity to grab one of the few remaining cookies on the plate.

“Yeah, definitely one too many,” Gareth agreed, sobering the moment. “Look, Harrington, we owe you our thanks for finding Eddie and bringing him back.”

“It wasn’t just me,” Steve replied, because there was no way he was taking all the credit, no matter if they were talking the cover story or reality. “And I was just in the right place at the right time to figure out the truth.”

“Yeah, but most of this town wouldn’t have bothered,” Jeff joined in. “Eddie told us how you and Henderson helped him after what happened to Chrissy too and that it got you all in trouble.”

Steve saw Jeff’s eyes flick to the pale scar on his throat.

“Dustin’s a good kid and a force of nature,” he said before Jeff could go on. “He deserves all the credit for that, and Eddie nearly died saving Dustin, so they’re the heroes in this.”

“You keep telling yourself that,” Eddie muttered by his side. “Okay, enough of the deep shit, I want to know everything I’ve missed.”

And Steve was more than happy to go along with that, even if he was pretty sure he wasn’t going to understand half the conversation that was coming.

Over the next however long it was, time seemed to fly, he learned a lot about Eddie’s dynamic with his friends and found them carefully trying to suss him out along the way. There was none of the hostility Eddie had been afraid of. Apparently returning Eddie to them had overcome that part, but it was clear they still weren’t quite sure how to take him. Steve could accept that, after all, they didn’t really know him, and he didn’t know them.

Gareth was waxing lyrical about an album that had come out while Eddie was missing, by a band Steve had never heard of, when the walkie-talkie sitting on the side table crackled to life.

“Steve,” came over the connection, “are you listening? It’s Dustin. Over.”

“Sorry, guys,” he said, standing up and walking over immediately and picking up the device. “Hey, Bud, everything okay?”

“Is Eddie alright? Over.” Dustin asked.

“Yeah, he’s fine,” Steve replied. “He’s right here. The rest of his band have come to see him. Did you want to talk to him?”

There was definitely something off about Dustin’s tone.

“No, that’s okay,” Dustin replied, “just … um … just needed to check.”

When there was no ‘over’ at the end of that, Steve knew there was definitely something wrong.

“Hey, Dustin,” he said, “did something happen? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” came back. “I just … well … I heard the news on the radio and … and … it kinda brought everything back.”

“Where are you?” Steve asked immediately.

“At home,” Dustin told him.

“Is your mom there?”

“She has her gardening group today,” Dustin replied.

“Okay,” Steve told him, “sit tight, I’m coming to get you. You don’t need to be alone right now, and we can leave your mom a note.”

He was kicking himself for not thinking about it sooner. If he had known Dustin was going to be alone, he would have prepared better. It might only be a fake cover story being released to a disinterested public, but it was likely having an effect on them all.

“Sorry, guys,” he said grabbing his keys, “I’ve got to go. Eds, you know where everything it, just help yourselves. I won’t be long.”

Eddie leapt off the couch and came over, placing his hand on Steve’s arm.

“Need me to get rid of the guys?” Eddie asked quietly.

“No,” Steve said quickly, “you need to catch up. If Dustin wants to talk, I can drive him around a bit, or we can go to my room when I get back. In fact, if you want you can invite the guys to dinner. I’m sure it will help Dustin to talk nerd for a few hours and I made way too much lasagne.”

The way Eddie smiled at him for that made his heart flutter.

“You are such a momma bear,” Eddie said without the slightest hint of malice. “And thanks, now go get your cub.”

Then Eddie leaned forward and pecked him on the cheek in what was clearly a totally unconscious gesture. Eddie’s brain caught up with what he had done a second too late.

“I just did that didn’t I?” he said.

“You did,” Steve replied, glancing over at Eddie’s friends who looked surprised and confused, except for Gareth who looked vindicated. “I’d stay, but Dustin…”

“Go,” Eddie said, ushering him out the door, “I’ll deal with this. They’ll be fine.”

“You’re sure?” Steve checked.

“Shoo,” Eddie said and all but bodily ejected him from the house.

End of Chapter 11

Chapter 12

[big-gay-bird]

I have kinda a stream on consciousness a lot the I/P stuff I need to get off my chest. I expect it piss off everyone, so I am putting it under a cut.

I just need to say something outloud and my loving gf has listened to me enough.

Some of this rooted in formal education, some is just my understanding. I am not gonna to dig up sources.

Palestine has been home to many different cultural groups for centuries. That includes a lot of different religious practices and unique histories too

Palestine was occupied, as much of the Middle East was at the time, by colonial forces like England between the world wars.

Historically displaced Jews facing antisemitic violence have at times chosen to go Palestine as they felt it was the best option in the face of a lot of shitty ones. (These are Jews whose homes were either burned down or occupied by others.)

After the Shoah, Europe and the US looked at the hundreds of thousands of newly freed Jewish people and said “instead of doing the slow painful work of getting you your original homes and communities back and stable, we’re just gonna send you somewhere else and give you some stuff to figure it and do the work yourself.”

The US actually weighed bringing them all to Alaska at the time but Palestine was chosen.

Out of a desire to, I believe, not have to deal with it, the US and Europe gave the brand new Israel all it needed to do whatever the hell it wanted to do. They didn’t want to actually help displaced people, but they had to do something so we wouldn’t show up in their own countries and require their help.

This began a multiple generations long genocide driven in part by a deep fear that Jewish peoples were no longer safe anywhere in the world so a iron oppressive grip on “Israel” was necessary. Were the early Zionists wrong to be afraid? No. Were they wrong to commit acts of genocide against Palestinian out of that fear? Of course, there were other ways to make a safe place for Jews, and the US and Europe absolutely knew that but they didn’t care enough to reign anyone in (at literally any point.)

I want to state at this point, I despise the way the Israeli government and the IDF especially has taken advantage of Jewish inter generational trauma and fear.

Now are the refugees of the Shoah and their descendants the only Jewish refugees in Israel currently? No! Not by a long shot! There are Jewish refugees from all over the world living in Israel to escape antisemitic violence. Yes this includes groups such as Ethiopian Jews who are not in any way shape or form white! They came to Israel specifically for a reason. To say Israeli citizens are all white is wild af as Israel, to my knowledge, is how to some of the most racially diverse communities of Jews?

Does being a refugee entitle you to genocide of indigenous people? No! Of course not! Refugees and how to support them in ways that keep them safe while not fucking over indigenous populations is an important international conversation that the west is objectively not ready to participate in and it sucks! A lot!!!

I keep hearing “I support all indigenous Palestinians, if you’re Jewish and Palestinian you’re ok!” But a lot of Jewish people in that area are not going to ID as Palestinian! A lot will ID as Mirachi or Sephardi, two identities I will bet that most gentile USAians don’t know much about!

So now getting into this conflict.

What is happening to Palestine currently is genocide plan and simple. The immensity of War crimes committed by the IDF and is isreali government is something I will do everything in my power to see prosecuted. It should not be happening full stop. It is also transparently an apartheid, which is also unacceptable. There absolutely racism being used to target and dehumanize Palestinians. It ALL has to stop and I have organized around this idea in the past.

Westerns who do not know people in the P/I area or do not have people in community that do know people there, are getting their news filtered to them. I understand that, and I understand there is A LOT of propaganda at work.

However I am literally begging leftists to believe average Isreali person who may have a lot of the same beliefs you do in all this. “Unconfirmed” in a war zone does not mean untrue. (Though I also believe the governments repeating it as fact is causing more harm all around too so like there is a little middle ground here.) I am not asking leftist to believe Netanyahu or the IDF, I am asking them to believe people who are literally there living through this who are not all white women.

I am also begging people to understand that not all Jews have a planes to hop on to leave. The reason why you are hearing from those American Jews who did is because they are American and they are more easy to access by news reporters in the US.

It is an absolute shit show over there and everyone has a bias! That is part of existing! It’s ok to have questions and note where accounts disagree, but to assume Jews are always the ones lying because you think they’re all white western colonializers or something actually is antisemitism!

Also I don’t think gentiles understand that Netanyahu and IDF are counting on your antisemitism. They are counting on you making the US unsafe for Jews. They look all this shit that’s being said and say “see, the leftists want you and your loved ones dead. They’ll assume you’re lying. The only safe place that cares about you is here.” So you want to be a real anti-Zionist? You help us fight that propaganda by being both a Palestinian AND a Jewish ally. I promise it is so possible to be both.

[choices-binglebonkus]

I think TNA and Surrender are the worst written attempts at problematic tropes/darkfic from PB.

TCH at least had a cohesive story. WB too, as annoying and tropey as Bastien was. Haven't read Queen B yet but as far as I'm concerned that story was well aware of MC having shitty behaviors and even tried to have her develop from that.

But Surrender and TNA fail because they somewhat try to use serious themes but only end up contradicting them.

TNA for instance revolves entirely around Sam and MC having an affair, yet they're always criticizing Robin and Sofia for doing the exact same shit. And to add salt to the wound, they force us to support Jenny and Aditya's affair (despite them being 100000× less sympathetic than Sofia and Robin). It's like one of those lampshadey self-aware jokes, except worse because they're forcing me to take everything seriously this time.

And it's not just in the aspect of cheating. MC and Jenny criticize Addi for being petty to "one up" MC then proceed to have options where MC can be petty and "one up" Addi.

It's like PB maybe wanted to say that they don't condone cheating but they couldn't be assed to just say so in a damn content warning because they wanted to have their cake and eat it too.

And Surrender... what else is there to say? The story revolves around MC escaping a toxic spouse and supposedly finding herself through kink. But she's doing so with someone who basically preys on her while she's still vulnerable and tries to coerce her into BDSM no less than 10 minutes after they first meet. Granted Pat and Reagan are both toxic in completely different ways (whereas MC/Sam amd Sofia/Robin did the exact same thing) but STILL. It's like going from drinking dysentery-inducing mudwater to drinking some super toxic chemical, where said super toxic chemical is made all bright and pretty-looking to make it seem better than the dysentery-inducing mudwater.

And it leaves both of them feeling like wasted potential.

I vastly prefer TCH to Wolf Bride, and I vastly prefer Wolf Bride to TNA and Surrender, which are really stiff competition for each other.

TCH’s strong suit was its cohesiveness. Kieran never grew on me because they left a really awful taste in my mouth and didn’t seem to grow realistically. Wolf Bride was…well, it had its own…unique…problems. And the Queen B MC did grow at one point, but still reverted right back into her old catty, needlessly cruel ways, and didn’t really receive any consequences for it.

The Nanny Affair was really just a series where everyone had this holier than thou attitude and it did not suit any of them well. The MC and Sam, forgetting about their toxic relationship for a minute, are both so hypocritical it’s laughable. You’re really going to shame Sofia for doing the exact thing you’re doing? And the Addison thing was a whole mess. Hey kids, your new soon-to-be stepmother bought you this really cool gift! Not because she thought you’d really like it or anything, just to one-up your mom!

Also a side note: Sam was so similar to my abusive ex that it was frightening at times. Like, some of the things they did and said were absolutely uncanny. It was jarring.

As for Surrender, that one’s just a toxic cesspool from the get go. The roots are rotten to the core so just uproot that whole tree. I feel bad for the MC. She seems like a genuinely good person and doesn’t deserve any of the shit Reagan and Pat give/gave her.

Every book and idea has potential, but as you said, the potential was wasted.

[tragedysorbet]

First, I just want to say that Syrill sounds adorable and he deserves hugs. Being Half-drow can't be easy at all. Know that, evil and power hungry as he is, Mal would have a place for him in His Menzoberranzan when he finally takes over things. Being an outsider is never fun.

And for my own essay, please see below:

I view Ascended Astarion through the lens of he matches what the player gives him. If you aren’t happy with his suddenly being scary or his personality reflecting his finally saying his quiet parts out loud, then it really wasn't the arc for you and that's perfectly fine.

If you choose dialogue options that reflect this, then he's going to be harsh and brutal about it. But it's not really any harsher or more brutal than the Act 2 break up dialogue that happens while he's still spawn. He's lashing out because someone he cared about turned out to be just like everyone else and is abandoning him.

However, if you choose the dialogue options that support him post ascension and in the epilogue, he's all in on walking the road to villainy with you at his side. He's got plans to see you kept comfortable in happy with everything you could possibly want for eternity all the while you rule the world together.

I also don't think Ascenscion changes him.

This is still the same man you romanced throughout two thirds of the game just dialed to 30. I don't think he would have offered your character the chance at immortality or treated them with the amount of love he does in the romance scene (all soft kisses and loving eyes and what not) beforehand if his ultimate goal was to treat them like dirt or hurt them. He considers you his treasure and he's going to guard you like a dragon does it's hoard.

With Mal, I see his obsessive/possessive nature coming from a place of finally being able to return the favor of protecting him and saving him from his own demons after Mal spent so long doing that for him without asking a thing in return. It's from a place of love and wanting him safe and happy because they both deserve to be and he sees Mal as not just his husband but a partner. They're a team and if you choose the right dialogue options they're pretty damn happy.

Without going into it too deeply ecause Malvaeryon’s story has some serious trigger warnings (which I'd be happy to talk about in messages, if you'd like. I love talking about Mal), Mal is simultaneously Lolth’s Chosen and Lolth-Cursed after killing several Matron mothers to escape years of imprisonment and being passed around as an unwilling "favored patron" by the Matriarchs of the Hjgh Council. (Because who cares of you like men, boy, you're good looking and that means you're only good for one thing.)

Chosen because most of them were out of her favor, Cursed because they were still Matrons.

Her goal was to drive him insane and, when it became too much and he ended his life, devour him.

In the story I have set up for him for Acts 1 and 2, he suffers terrible nightmares and, during battle, has a chance of ending up possessed by her and it only gets worse with the added problem of the Tadpole dreams.

Part of the reason he grew so close to Astarion is he'd avoid sleeping at all just to keep his mind his for a little bit and Astarion feeding on him meant the dreams wouldn't happen at all. Mal could sleep, Astarion didn't have to eat rats and both of them were in better condition to watch each other’s backs.

Mal tended to prioritize Astarion’s needs first because he saw something similar to himself in him. They were both far away from their tormentors but the thought that they could be dragged back at any moment had them on edge. So if he could keep monster hunters and any other lackeys away from him, he would. One of them would end up free by the time their journey was over and if Mal had his way, it would be Astarion.

By act 2, Malvaeryon’s been in love with him since the Tiefling party and the things he's willing to do for him have only gotten larger. Make a deal with Raphael? Let's do it we need to know what your scars say. Kill an Orthon? Mal talks the thing into doing it himself. Stand up to a female Drow? The one thing he finds extremely daunting and he does it. Because he Astarion is his own person and he won't let her use him the same way he was

When Astarion admits he wants them to be real but doesn't know what real is and doesn't want them sleeping together to feel tainted, Mal doesn't mind a bit. Because he loves him and what he wants has become what Mal wants, too. And it's genuinely nice to just be held without any other expectations. To give your partner a kiss because you want to rather than because it's expected.

By Act 3, they're both panicking. The closeness to the Elder Brain and the constant psychic chatter from the Emperor have Mal's grip on reality in not great places and Astarion is back within getting kidnapped distance of Cazador.

But if he Ascends, he can save them both.

If he becomes a Living Vampire he can turn Mal. All of the death Lolth wants and none of the reward for her. And, since Mal is vengeance and power driven, he doesn't really need to push hard to get him to agree to it. In fact, being a Drow Prince and all, it's normal to want that kind of power as far as he's concerned. If they pull it off, they both have a ton to gain from it and not much of a downside from either of their perspectives. They could take Baldur’s Gate and Menzoberranzan if they felt like it with that kind of power.

So they break into the palace and take over the Rite. Astarion Ascends and Mal is incredibly thrilled to see him smiling. To know the hunger doesn’t have him. To see him in a place Mal always believed he should be in. Knowing that even if Mal loses his own fight, he's going to be safe.

And then Astarion offers to turn him. (In the game it's your choice, but he also brings it up unprompted if you say you want to sleep with him rather than choosing being turned then having him offer one last night while your character is still alive.) From my story's standpoint, it's viewed as an act of love and Astarion’s way of returning the favor Mal gave him by helping kill Cazador. And the method used to turn the player character- The Dark Kiss as it's described in Van Richten's Guide to Vampire’s- is described as a loving act between a vampire and their mortal lover. Vampire Marriage, basically.

The following morning Astarion thanks him for trusting him. Tells him how beautiful he is and just generally tends to act lovesick over him. Wants to spend decades in his arms and all that.

And again this is where your dialogue choices matter. If you choose to be unhappy, Astarion lashes out. But if you're all in on making his waking dreams a reality he's all in on making sure you're part of them. He has all the power in the world and it's all possible because you helped him.

Which is my Canon ending for them. They're shadow kings, pulling the strings of the political world of the gate through an intricate web of manipulation and murder. All the while building an army of vampire spawn and stashing them in the Underdark until it's time to strike.

And all the while they're still in love. Fiercely devoted to each other and inseparable. Both of them finally where they were always meant to be.

With Mal living his best Spoiled Trophy Husband life.

Anyway, if you've read this far I hope it was informative,lol.

The TL;DR is basically Mal loves him and wants him to be happy and thinks power and awful bloody vengeance are good things

It's interesting to read people's headcanons about Ascended Astsrion and a romanced Tav because I've never even thought about it. If Astsrion ascends, Syril becomes the Absolute. That's what we call too bad idiots enabling each other instead of helping.

[furiousgoldfish]

Subtle Red Flags

I've talked about major red flags, but I also need to touch upon red flags that are more subtle and hard to notice; these are things I haven't noticed until very recently, and why I ended up getting into very innapriopriate and imbalanced friendships. Here's flags that don't mean you necessarily need to cut the person off, but you can take them into consideration, and decide that maybe, you don't want to be very close to this person, maybe they're not the ideal best friend, and maybe you want to keep them at a distance, and not let them dominate your time and emotional space:

  1. People who expect everything out of you right at the beginning of your friendship/relationship

You only met this person, but after talking to them for a few days/weeks, they've already decided that you're perfect, special, the only one who understands, and they've opened up about their deepest struggles and secrets to you, and expect you to act in accordance. You find it difficult to pull away because they have no-one and if you do pull away, they will hit a crisis and feel abandoned by you. They might also probe in your issues, ask you to open up and even pressure you to do so, in order to create the bond as quick as possible. This is innapropriate, and will not, in fact, end with a strong best friendship. There is a reason to develop these things slowly and with consideration; so you can really meet the person you're befriending, consider if they're who they say they are, find out if they're reliable, considerate, consistent and kind hearted person you want in your life. A person who wants to skip that, doesn't want to be known; they remain a stranger but with a strong emotional pull over your heart. Often you will find yourself in an imbalanced relationship with them, where you get more stress, pressure and guilt than you would consent to enduring for a friendship with someone who cares very little about your emotional state.

  2. People who make you their last priority

Even if this person is pleasant, fun, charming or otherwise giving you some chances to escape your eternal loneliness and dread, you notice that they're often unavailable, busy, hanging out with others, having something else to do in general, and you, on the other hand, respond instantly whenever they call or message you. It's not a red flag for someone to be busy, of course, and you'd never treat it as such! But with time, you realize that they come to you specifically and only, when they're out of any better options, meaning, you're the last priority. You can accept that, but note that this will never be a balanced relationship. To people who put you last, your emotional well being will not matter as much, your happiness will not be a major concern, and all they will care for is that you're available whenever they have nothing else in the schedule, and that you entertain/accompany them when nobody else is around. This will, with time, cause some feeling of devaluation and lack of worth in yourself, and in order to fight against it, you have to reject them sometimes, and make it clear they will either put your time together on a higher priority, or lose it.

  3. People who find consideration a foreign trait

This is something that is not going to be visible instantly, but with time you might notice this person puts their own wants very far above everyone else's needs; it might not infringe in anyone's needs right away, but once it does, you will notice them fight for themselves even if it takes walking all over someone else's human rights. For instance, they expect to be treated specially, for rules not to matter as much if they make this person unhappy, for others to bend their time and activities to make way for this person's wants, to be in the center of the attention even if someone else is currently going thru a lot and needs support more urgently. They will, however, stay indifferent if someone else is asking the same out of them; they find themselves above of being useful to others, and they'll quickly have an excuse to why they can't help or change their routine to make someone else's life easier. Sometimes, their inconsideration will cause actual grief and disbelief, when they outright ignore someone being in a crisis, or ill, or depending on them for something they promised they'd do and fall thru. They will act like they've done nothing wrong. Like it was impossible to do what was asked of them, and how dare you even expect it, or like you didn't ask at all, and what are they supposed to do if someone is sick or in grief. They won't own up to their lack of compassion and empaty, and will still expect to be treated as gently and permissive as always.

Tolerating this person will, in long term, cause pain and grievance, and even if you accept them, you have to know you can never rely on them, and all and any compassion, care, energy, allowances and exceptions you spend on them, will be taken for granted and never returned in fashion. You might want to be on distant terms, and not give them your whole emotional space, and allow them to use up your kindness until you're out.

  4. The pressurer

This person has decided in their head their plan for your friendship/relationship, and they'll treat you with love and excitement, as long as you play the role they've thought out for you. They will come up to repeat and repeat their expectations of you, and never ask whether it's what you want as well, whether you're comfortable with it, or if you'd like the expectation of it to stop. Even if you fight back, you'll only get the message that this makes them desperate and hurt, and you'll be slowly worn down to accepting at least giving them hope that it might all happen, even if you're cringing at the very thought. You might need a friend to remind you that you do not, actually, owe someone their perfect scenario, and that your own feelings are not something to be trampled and expected to simply go away with time. You also might decide that you don't like having your feelings trampled, and get some distance from the pressurer.

  5. People who take you out of your pace

Some people might not do anything obviously offensive, but during your interaction with them, you feel the pressure to keep up some invisible façade, you don't feel allowed to stop agreeing, to intervene or to oppose what they're saying to you. Or otherwise, you have to keep arguing, you feel the urge to keep fighting for what's true, keep proving them wrong, keep tense and ready to accept new blows, and you can't show that you're weak and that it's uncomfortable and feels wrong and that it chafes on you. You might not even notice or pick up on it, but after the interaction is done, you find you need some time to calm down and recover from it. You find yourself having to come back to what you know is true, having to deconstruct or agonize over what this person has told you, and it can cause anxiety or even a cognitive dissonance (feeling two things are true that can't be true at the same time). Interactions like this will cause you to lose yourself and disrupt your pace in a way that makes you feel lost and exhausted. This is not something that benefits your life, and it is in fact, emotionally draining. You might want to make sure you get as little of that person as possible in your life, and spare yourself the torture; it's possible they're getting something out of it, but you're getting damage alone.

  6. People who show too much, or absolutely no empathy for your painful past

This is undefined territory, for there is no perfect reaction for what you went thru in the past, but two types of reactions are especially dangerous; to immediately start to shower you in reassurances that they’ll protect you from now on, that they’ll make it all better, that they’ll ‘save’ you, that you will never be hurt again, and all other impossible-to-fulfill promises, these point out to an attempt at bonding based on your trauma. It’s not necessarily the case, as again, most people don’t know just how to react, and might react out of place, but if their behaviour in general is to offer you imaginary future and shower you with over-the-top bonding pulls, then it’s possibly a part of love-bombing, and they’re only too happy that you’ve shared your past, so that they can use it as a part of their exploitation.

Another very suspicious one, is people who seem to have absolutely no reaction that suggest they feel anything for you, they might skim over it or just be like ‘okay’, which, in turn, makes it very easy to talk more about it, because on the one side, you don’t have to shoulder their emotional reaction (since they have none) while talking about it, and they don’t seem to be getting upset or drowning in concern or shock, so you feel like you got the perfect space to share, but it’s not exactly natural to be able to hear these stories and not feel shock, disbelief, and have some recognition and compassion towards the victim Again, it might be for different reasons they’re acting as they do, so I can’t condemn every case of this, but I’ve seen this playing out in this person re-traumatizing the victim casually, after they knew the original story, because they felt nothing repeating someone’s trauma, just like they felt nothing hearing it. You might consider getting slightly suspicious and checking if this person makes sure not to inflict further pain on vulnerable individuals, before you decide to get closer to them.

 This is not a list of all subtle red flags, in fact I am sure it doesn't even properly touch the subject, I'm still in the process of figuring these out, so if you know more, or you've noticed some things you only later recognized as red flags, please add them on this post! I will appreciate any help in figuring out inconsiderate and red-flag behaviour.

[scarofthewind]

Plz bless us with showering nsfw

A/N: This took too long to write; also, hello and sorry for the not-writing. I’ve found that my family is beyond annoying and my step dad thinks that women belong in the kitchen and should cook him a meal no questions asked. Anyways, enjoy!

Warnings: NSFW, R18, choking, shower sex, breast worship, no protection, anal

word count: 1.2k Tip Jar (every bit helps!)

Bubba Sawyer: He was way too eager to slip his cock between your legs. What started off as a nice warm shower, ended with the water going cold as he had you clinging to the shower curtain for support. The way his cock hit deep inside you made you nearly topple over if it wasn’t for his heavy grip on your thigh, keeping it raised for the perfect angle. You were so blinded by euphoria that you almost missed the shower curtain rod bending as you held on to the curtain. The creaking of metal was what made you look up, “Bubba stop, the curtain’s gonna fall!” You feel him still and he looks up too, his lips leaving the mark on on your neck as his eyes watch the curtain rod bend, your hand letting the fabric of the curtain go. You make a mental note to keep the sex in the bedroom for safety purposes.

Vincent Sinclair: You hadn’t even gotten the chance to wash the conditioner out of your hair before Vincent had your back pressed against the shower wall. Holding one of your legs up by the back of the knee, he fucked into your sopping cunt at god speed, each thrust into your gummy walls had him closer to his own orgasm. His eyes focused on the way your breasts bounced with each snap of his hips and he bent down to take one into his mouth, teasing your pert nipple and reveling in the way your hands raked down his back. It didn’t take long before he was shooting his cum deep into your cunt while nipping at your breast like a starved man. 

Norman Bates: He never thought it was the safest option due to the idea of slipping and possibly hurting oneself, but when your hands trace down his front, nonchalantly stroking his slowly hardening cock, who is he to say no? Norman likes to watch your face so your back would be pressed against the wall, legs wrapped around his waist while he hold onto your ass for dear life, trying his best to keep steady whilst bouncing you on his member. He’ll cum quicker during shower sex that way he can enjoy eating you out on the bathroom sink once he’s fingered his seed out of you. 

Charles Lee Ray: He’s a lazy, laid back man so usually with sex, you’re doing most of the work. Even in the shower, it’s you working yourself back on his cock, hands pressed against the cold tile walls while his hands grip your hips tightly. His eyes never leave your conjoined sex’s; watching the way your tight little ass swallows his cock makes him groan in satisfaction. “Can you please fuck me already?” You whine, looking back at him and watching his eyes flick up to yours with that same look of boredom as always. He gives a quick snap of his hips in a teasing manner but still makes you do all the work; don’t worry, he let’s you tease him back...sometimes.

Brahms Heelshire: His lips never leave your chest; his mouth has created over a dozen hickey’s that will last longer than a week with how dark they are and his teeth now gently nibble at your nipples, pulling on them softly before flattening his tongue over them. His thrusts are slow but manage to send shivers up your spine every time with how deep they go. “Please go faster, I’m almost there,” you practically sob, knowing damn well he’s doing it on purpose to tease you. You both know that he has your orgasm in his hands and will prolong it for however long he’d like. A sharp nip to the side of your breast has you hissing as he straightens to tower above you, the warm water of the shower hitting his back. Brahms can feel the way your walls tremble around his member and he smirks to himself knowing he has you exactly where he wants you; begging.

Thomas Hewitt: With how big he is, a shower is cramped with you joining him; however, it doesn’t stop him from holding you close and fucking into your drooling pussy like a madman. His thrusts are relentless and his hands have a rough grip on your ass as he plants you against the wall, your breasts bouncing against his chest at is movements. “S-slow down, Thomas,” you barely get out between moans but you know he won’t. He’ll keep hitting that spot inside you that’s almost painful as he grunts and growls above you, his orgasm fast approaching all whilst the hot shower pours along his back.

Michael Myers: Oh sweet Jesus I pray for you; he’s ruthless and feral so he’ll do anything with you anywhere; including fucking you against the cold glass of the shower door. He likes seeing your breath fog up the glass as you try to hold on to it for dear life while he fucks the soul out of you. His cock drags along your walls with ease, the hot water helping aid with the movement while the steam makes everything more feverish - more primal. If you have neighbors, they will defiantly be complaining at some point later in the day because with how hard and fast he fucks, Michael defiantly has you screaming his name like a prayer.

Bo Sinclair: He’s another one who doesn’t really care for it; he doesn’t want to bust his ass from slipping in the shower but the moment you get on your knees in front of him, his cock is hard and ready to go. Bo will get a toothy grin on his face and act cocky but deep down, he’s absolutely losing his mind at the pleasure your warm mouth gives him. Shower sex is the only time you’ll ever see this man cum so fast in his entire life. There’s just something about the way the water droplets roll off your breasts and the steam in the air makes his head cloudy with lust while his eyes watch your juices drip from your pussy as you swallow his cock. 

Jason Voorhees: He’s afraid of water, but when you shower with him, he goes without a word. He’ll start off gently in his touches, wanting to stay pressed against you underneath the warmth of the water. As time grows though, he won’t hesitate to sink his thick cock between your lower lips, watching your mouth part as a soft whimper escapes your throat. Once he’s bottomed out, the fun begins. It’s hard to know what Jason’s really thinking but you can guess by what kind of mood he’s in; if he wraps his fingers around your neck while fucking you against the shower wall, his eyes boring into yours, then he’s mad. If he slows his pace and focuses on hitting your deeper spots over and over again, his head buried in your neck, then he’s in a good mood. Either one has you creaming and gushing around his cock in no time.

[mediocreauthor]

nana komatsu: how we surpass trauma to survive

tw: rape, sexual assault 

I recently wrote the way Hachi didn’t acknowledge or deal with her rape was one of the most realistic portrayals I have ever seen, whether that was Yazawa’s intention or not. 

Now you can say how Yazawa portrayed certain issues was wrong and potentially harmful for many young girls who read NANA and saw incredibly damaging behaviors brushed over or not even portrayed as bad. And you would be correct but this post isn’t about NANA’s affect, but rather story itself. 

The morning after Hachi’s pregnancy was revealed, which I consider as a turning point of the story, Takumi raped Hachi. I really don’t want to sugar coat or be poetic about this, he raped her. Now, I have been seeing some posts excusing Takumi’s actions therefore I will explain why this is considered as rape. 

In chapter 29, we don’t see Hachi explicitly saying no or fighting back, but hesitant and reluctant because Nana is right next door. Takumi first tries to convince her and when Hachi remains hesitant, what does he tell her?  “You should worry about making me angry.” I am paraphrasing but the message was this. Hearing this, Hachi gives up and people might think she ‘lets’ Takumi do whatever she wants therefore it’s okay somehow, it’s not. 

I read this somewhere and I want all of everyone to read it as well: A ‘yes’ only has value when someone is comfortable enough to say ‘no’. Hachi’s unwilling ‘yes’ means nothing because she was just very openly threatened by Takumi. Hachi, alienated from her friends, knowing Nana sees her as a traitor, Nobu as a cheater, Hachi who had no support for her baby, was given a clear ultimatum by Takumi, the only person she had by her side: if you don’t give me what I want, I will hurt you. You will be left alone. So she does. And then she doesn’t even acknowledge it as rape. She is angry and distraught after but it’s for the strawberry glasses and she just looks slightly annoyed with Takumi. That’s all. Where is that dramatic aftermath we usually see in media, where woman cries, breaks everything within reach then stares blankly at the ceiling?

Because most rape aftermaths don’t look like that. I am BY NO MEANS saying women whose experiences was as I wrote above as invalid. Most rape cases aren’t reported, we know that. But there is also a heartbreaking amount of women who can’t even decide if they have been raped or not. Women, who are  haunted by a certain memory but always pushing it to back of their minds.  I believe Hachi is one of them.  There is a high possibility Hachi was unable to register it as rape but we -readers can observe the effects of it through her behaviour. Hachi is terrified of Takumi. Fans give her so much shit for not contacting Nobu, even Hachi called it out of selfishness and no action is done with one mere emotion, but she also avoided it out of fear of angering Takumi. 

Hachi’s fear of him is displayed plain as day during Shin and Reira’s birthday party. Hachi knew she has angered Takumi by staying at the party, she even considers divorcing him and her inner monologue was pretty brave and promising. So what changed when Takumi knocked on Nana’s door? I would like to break down what for me, is one of the most disturbing scenes in NANA.

This scene right here, is a cry for help for someone who can recognize certain patterns in abusive relationships.

Hachi was in a good mood right before this scene, Nana even pointed out she was too cheerful for someone in the brink of a break up. However, at presence of Takumi, she immediately caves and apologizes for doing things without his knowledge while at the same time, still offering a way out. This way out isn’t for Takumi, it’s for her. I am %100 sure if Takumi said ‘okay go live your own then’, even though sad, Hachi’s predominant emotion would be relief.

She is terrified of Takumi. Hachi is unable to escape this unless he gives her an out. She regretted her ‘choice’ of being with Takumi the morning after but she had no one or nowhere to go. Now, you might think ‘she could’ve gone back to her parents!’ or ‘she could’ve lived on her own’ and I want to counter with: abused people’s mind don’t function like that. Even though you are somewhat aware that you are being treated badly, taken advantage of, it’s pushed way back in your mind. Your world consists of only you and your abuser, you can’t think of options simply because you don’t see any. 

And your abuser makes you believe what they are doing isn’t a big deal. They treat you with kindness right after abusing you while not acknowledging their behavior to leave you disoriented and unsure about the weight of what you have experienced. What Takumi did to Hachi was exactly that. So what did she do? She surpassed it and moved on.

‘I didn’t allow it for the sake of our future, but because I wanted to escape the terror and anxiety of that moment’ Read this sentence over and over again and process it. If I read one more take about how ‘what Takumi did wasn’t that bad compared to other NANA characters’ I am going to fucking slap them with this panel. Hachi learned that disobeying Takumi is pointless. She allows it even when considering separation, why? She is paralyzed by fear.  Because she tried to object Takumi once and learned her lesson. Obedience is so much easier than what you might face with your abuser. You bend and cave, do everything in your power to avoid their wrath. It’s safer.  Admitting that you haven’t received the best treatment from someone who is supposed to cherish you is an act strength by itself. I do not blame any victims of abuse who don’t want to admit or process their trauma. It’s hard, it’s terrifying and frustrating. Being able to process your trauma is a luxury most women don’t have. Hachi doesn’t have it with a belly up her nose at the age of 21. She is in a vulnerable position and don’t think even for a second Takumi isn’t aware of it. 

Next day, Hachi greets Takumi by the door as usual. Their home life becomes pretty stable since she takes all his micro aggressions,  his snarky comments and belittlement with slight annoyance, still with humor. Because the other scenario is losing herself. She surpasses her trauma to maintain her sanity. 

Why do I love this? 

Because a lot of women do exactly this. A lot of housewives who stick with their husbands despite years of abuse, young girls with their boyfriends do this. Because I read NANA at the age of 14 and didn’t even understand what Hachi went through but rereading it at 23, with what I have seen made me sob. Whether Ai Yazawa’s approach was irresponsible or genius I don’t know. But I took something valuable from it and if any minors or young adults especially are following me, I want them to recognize these patterns and behaviors too. 

And what should never be done is to take this tragic coping mechanism and turn it into an excuse to diminish your favorite rat boy’s behavior. You can keep saying what Takumi did wasn’t bad based on Hachi’s reaction, be aware it’s a survival instinct, not nonchalance.   To sum it up: Hachi is a survivor and what she lived through was just as sad and tragic as other characters, and  I am fucking sick of people invalidating it because she coped with a smile.