#without consequence without punishment just interest and joy

[supermaks]

‘Maxplaining’ is very cute and funny but sometimes it makes me so fucking sad

[meloriri]

thinking about ren. thinking about how he's not the self principled, righteous person others think he is. thinking of how he adores his mask of anonymity, because he doesnt care for himself as a person. as a person, he's whatever other people want him to be. to use as a punching bag, to use a shoulder to cry on, to use as someone to rant to, to use as a friend. he doesnt oppose to it unless its directly affecting other people negatively. but joker; joker is everything about him that he's not, in a sense. a strong backbone, a leader, a strategically sound, skillful person uncaring of outside opinions. someone that follows their heart with perseverance regardless of the consequences. ren IS that person, he wants to be that person, but he cant fathom that being him as a person. he is glad he can live himself as a second person as joker, but glad to be able to stay in his safe, conforming box as ren.

thinking of how he hates society's norm of "minding your own business" and not interfering with other people's upsetting scenarios. he lived his life feeling that way but keeping it in and just keeping to himself, not complaining, not saying a thing. despite that, he knows he hates it, and because of the way others put him down for it, they both tell him he needs to fix his pickiness on morals, and he also repeats it to himself

the love he's recieving; the love he gets from being a people-pleaser---sometimes it humiliates him, it degrades and defiles him. it disgusts him--But not disgust at the person sending love, at himself. For tricking people, for acting how they want him to despite not believing a word he says. despite him actually being rebellious. he is disgusted by his own act of pretending to conform, but he cant defy it.

And once the world is bright, when the world is good; He'll only be left behind as an afterthought. Someone erased from society's memory.

he only yearns for the ideals of other; he wishes to see the way they do, to conform, but he is unable. He wants to fit in, but never can. he burnt his individuality, his opinions, his feelings and his rebellion to an ash, an ash that takes the form of Arsene. the very spirit of his heart, from the ashes of the identity he left behind.

he is unable to understand what love really is, if it's real, if it's honest; if he even actually feels it. this is why he's so monotone even when confessing to his love interests; he still doesnt quite understand. what love is supposed to be, the different kinds of love, how one experiences falling in love. Such a complex is explained by lack of love presented towards him. a lack of attention, of praise, and most of all, of any care. family, friends, anything.

one of the most inspiring parts of his story is how he learns to experience love, from familial to platonic, and understands it; how he uses it and lives by it.

A lynch mob is a group of people to lynch others. The religious society is the self righteous, conforming society. The phantom thieves are the lynch mob; despite not actually HANGING people obviously, it stands as a metaphor for them actively punishing the poor actions of others while the rest of society is against the meddling, seeing nothing wrong with the corruption. in a religious world, joker is portrayed as SATAN. he actively KILLS GOD. to society, he is an absolute evil; someone only there for the joy of destroying others. to himself, its only righteous punishment. stopping corrupted actions of others. like how satan is seen to be truly evil for his betrayal to god (think about some of things god did for a min. like tell ppl to kill their first born sons for him, hitting people with a huge tsunami......) and for being the ruler of hell, without realizing that satan stands for the PUNISHMENT of those who go to hell. hes not there to ruin others life, ren is there to save them by exorcising the evil. despite the way society treats him as person, despite them going directly against his attempt at helping them, he doesn't let it break him. he keeps fighting for people even when they hate him for doing it.

He's putting his ego, his self acceptance in conformity, the mask he's perfectly crafted as someone that anyone can like to the ground. he's putting his greed, his greed to have the ideals of all others, to understand society, along with it. He's finally himself, and he can announce that to his family, to those who wanted him to conform proudly and unafraid, uncaring of their opinion on who he is.

with a newly, fully solid grasp on rebellion, he will stand with his hell, as satan, punishing the evil until the bitter end of it. So he pleads that just for this time, until this end, that the world will go along with him, with their feelings; their own desires to conform, to please others, ripped out of them. To have their original feelings; their values, opinions and lifestyles revealed from the depths of within themselves and shown to the world. These feelings that they were once unashamed of, before being taught to conform, the feelings from childhood.

and at last, with the person he now is, he will finally be remembered. noted by others, and seen. But now seen as who he is instead of who he acted as. Not someone serious, not someone only there to please others; someone entirely unrecognizable. Someone who has come to complete terms with their own rebellion.

could u tell all of this was from bitter choco decoration by syudou?

[hurtmyfavsthanks]

your euphoric magical Whump is literally so good?? I think it’s the most original idea I’ve seen in a long while it’s just so *chefs kiss*. I love the idea of a mage’s magic coming not from themselves as per, but from a cursed object, and the more they use this power, the more control the object has on them, manipulating them through pleasure. Their squadron are using the magic for a battle or something, but the object has far more ambitious plans that are just waiting to be put in motion.

(context to the euphoric magical whump thing)

Awww how nice of you!

And yes, I do certainly like the cursed object idea! So often, use of the ‘cursed object of unlimited power’ is an unplanned, reckless decision. It’s used out of desperation or ignorance, or perhaps out of a foolish hope that you’re somehow ‘stronger’ than all the others corrupted by it. 

Making the use of cursed objects an organized, managed, and normal part of combat is interesting to me! Instead of desperate last second decisions, the usage of each object consists of years of careful consideration of the benefits and consequences. Each object has been thoroughly studied, its effects researched to the fullest extent. It’s not random, panicked soldiers using these weapons, but bearers trained for years to become the best conduit for their assigned weapon. The potency of the power, the estimated time before corruption, and the best means of extending the useful life of a bearer are all carefully, callously calculated.

I feel like the training one undergoes to wield that sort of power could be really interesting! It’s not hard to use these objects. They’re almost parasitic in nature, offering easy power in exchange for access to a user's mind. They wouldn’t be effective if they were hard to use. No, the difficulty is in retaining your sanity while using such a weapon. 

Bearers aren’t trained as much as they’re conditioned. Bearers need to maintain a mental state carefully crafted to slow the spread of corruption, allowing them to safely use the weapon for as long as possible. Over the span of years, before they so much as see their weapon, whumpee’s personality is broken down with surgeon-like precision with the goal of making the perfect vessel for each individual weapon. 

Does the weapon instill overwhelming rage into its bearer? Train any fight out of whumpee. Treat any hint of aggression or displeasure with swift, overwhelming punishment. Leave them afraid of the feeling of anger itself, and let terror overwhelm that inhuman fury.

Is the object ambitious, whispering premises of power and glory? Then uproot any hints of ambition out of whumpee. Destroy their confidence, break any hint of ego or pride that could tempt them towards ambition. Leave them so doubtful of themselves that they shrink away from the promise of power.

Or maybe the power itself is simply addictive. Maybe it just feels good to use, consuming all other joys whumpee may have had. Maybe it leaves whumpee hungry for more, desperate like a starving animal. And so you give them more. You feed the hunger, give them interestingly destructive jobs, demand increasing numbers of casualties. Keep the promise of more just close enough to stop them from going rogue.

Each object required different training, a different ideal bearer. And said bearers are conditioned for years into that perfect form, their original personalities warped into whatever shape it needs to be in. 

Given the sort of…specialized mental states needed to be a bearer, most would struggle to function without assistance. Weather it be crippling anxiety or a suicidal lack of self preservation, most bearers are simply unable to function alone. It’s equal parts a byproduct of their training and a feature meant to control them.

So they have handlers, someone just as trained to handle whumpee as whumpee is to handle their weapon. Someone who will make sure whumpee is actually taking care of themselves, someone to keep whumpee in line when nobody else is around to. 

Someone to help manage the madness that comes with power. To pry the weapon from their shaking, burnt fingers when whumpee cannot let go. Someone to chase away those overly ambitious commanders who don’t understand the concept of limits. someone to take care of them, and keep them functioning efficiently. 

I think that the relationship between handler and whumpee could be very interesting, asI think it can vary widely depending on the training whumpee has undergone! What mental state needs to be maintained, and what relationship would best maintain that state?

For some, their handler is their master, strict and cold, but fair and rliable. For others their handler is a parental figure, ready to lift whumpee into their arms when things become too overwhelming. And sometimes their handler is simply a friend, a kind face to keep them grounded. 

Whatever the case, it’s the handler’s job to play whatever role is needed perfectly, being whatever whumpee needs to influence them as desired.

It’s an efficient system, but efficiency only goes so far. No amount of conditioning can stave corruption off forever, not when whumpee is constantly injuring in that sort of power. Eventually that power is going to sink into their bones, climb into their minds and twist them into something dangerous. Eventually whumpee will break. Not a matter of if, but when.

It’s simply a fact of the system. Bearers are like…lightbulbs. Useful, very useful, only so far as they can channel a different power. And lightbulbs eventually burn out. And they’re replaced. 

And whumpee’s are replaced. The first hint of wear, the first sign of disobedience or an outside influence, and they’re disposed of. And who is the first person to see that shift? The person who knows them best, the person assigned to remain by their side at all times?

It’s their handler, caretaker. Above all else, that’s their primary task. 

And I! Just, ughhh. Just imagine it. Whumpee, who’s been conditioned and beaten and twisted into this perfect bearer. Who has been in this system’s clutches for as long as they can remember.

They’ve never had the true nature of their weapon explained to them, they don’t realize their handler is trained to act as their friend.

Whumpee is kind and innocent despite the violence forced on them, who looks up to their handler with so much love and trust that it hurts. 

And the caretaker who’s assigned to them. The caretaker who goes in knowing that this relationship is temporary, that in a few months whumpee’s kindness will be swallowed up by madness and crushed. A caretaker who knows the price of that power, who knows it’ll end in death and that they’ll be the one to cut Whumpee down. The caretaker who enters this job determined not to get attached to someone so temporary—

And the caretaker who fails. 

[rineedagger]

Some things I've learned this pasts twenty six years

Do NOT alter your form and size to fit into somebody's ribcage. Authenticity is the ground for a healthy environment.

Authenticity can't exist without self-criticism and sticking to your core values.

A peaceful solitude is just as important as a nutritious companionship.

We aren't born knowing, not even of our own self. Wisdom is the fruit of life-long learning, therefore, making mistakes is the key to be and do better (this reminds me of the famously quote "Do not be sorry, be better" from Kratos lol).

Doubting, asking questions, is the concrete to build a fulfilling life.

Remaining the same does not imply to be more stable nor having a healthier life.

Easy and good are not synonyms.

Enough with the label bullshit and the blaming. It isn't about been or not been normal/right, your life/truth is yours only. Do not try to make sense of it using somebody else's eyes.

Medical checking is important. Nobody likes going to the doctor nor feeling sick (and yes, I am talking about going to the therapist and psychiatrist as well). It is part of been human and you will never be alone in the process.

Cooking life actively and over a low heat, is vital to have an appetizing full of flavour meal.

I'm never going to feel ready nor good enough.

Life isn't right nor makes sense. Do not try looking for the missing leg, you'll lose yourself in the process.

Communication is important, but not all communication matters. It has to be direct, understandable and, overall, precised. Overcommunication is as bad as the total absence of it, if not more painful.

Accepting and respecting are not the same thing. One is mandatory while the other, even important, isn't indispensable.

In order to live and not survive, you have to accept your own vulnerability and fragility.

Drinking water is always the good choice.

There will never be enough strawberries to satisfy the craving.

Whoever loves you today may not love you tomorrow, and that's okay.

There isn't such thing as good and bad emotions, rather comfortable and uncomfortable ones. And we must feel them all.

Setting boundaries with yourself and your surrounding is vital to be certain that, whoever remains by your side, is because they actively want you and love you, since there are parts of your self that are not negotiable. If not, you will always be the coach, the therapist, the mother, the sister, the helper, the clown, the mad one, the weirdo, the mysterious one, the thug, the whore, etc., but never you. Consequently, these means an assured expiry date plus food poisoning (I don't know why I'm comparing so much with food...maybe it's because I didn't eat strawberries for a while).

Social media has become a demanding, violent and sick place, filled with expectations, constant stimulation, manipulated or sensational information, rule-following, triggers, distortions and the possibility of been reachable to people that you don't need in your life. It is okay if you can't live in it. Also, if you're the reactive kind, set boundaries immediately with how you manage your social media and your exposure and be firm with it (believe me, I couldn't stand seen someone hating my friend on social media and saying lie after lie after lie...it was REALLY consuming and it leaded to impulsive and shameful acts).

If you are the one that overthinks or re-read texts after a fight, delete them.

Having life-long or very long friendships does not mean that you should cope with every mistreatment.

Do not remain by somebody else's side only because you pity them. Pityness and no compassion is vile.

The same with egotistical interests. The other person is a whole living being aside of yourself, if you put your own interests and greeds as the motivation of that relationship or over it, is vile.

The world is not trying to punish you for any mistake you've done nor for any joy you've experienced. That is, indeed, the process of living.

Boredom is a freaking gift, and a pleasure indeed.

[intersectionalpraxis]

Person on X, formerly known as Twitter writes: Palestinian political prisoner held in solitary confinement by Israel for 11 years loses his mind cant recognise his own family. [source: @ broseph_stalin] Caption in video states: I forgot my family!!!! Israeli prisons which are graves for living Palestinians get the Palestinian prisoners body without soul. This Palestinian man spent 11 years in solitary confinement in Israeli prisons and as a result he lost his mind. He can't distinguish his family. [Brief video description: a man, possibly in his late 30s, or early 40s, is gently escorted by people, I am assuming to be his family. He wears a matching grey track pants and t-shirt, with slides. He has a large beard, and looks completely disoriented. The people around him gather, one person even strokes the top of his head. The Palestinian man just released seems numb; unable to interact and be affectionate with his family.]

The United Nations' Mandela Rules state CLEAR minimum standards for solitary confinement; that includes how those imprisoned should always be treated with dignity and care -and be protected from torture and abuse (although we know this is a systemic issue -and many prisons around the world are HORRENDOUS, I wanted to state here that it's 15 DAYS -that's the standard.

The United Nations Committee Against Torture established the excessive use of solitary confinement as a violation of the Convention against Torture and Other Cruel, Inhuman or Degrading Treatment or Punishment-this man, like so many Palestinian prisoners, are undergoing cruel and inhumane treatments and are SUFFERING endlessly because violent settler-colonizers are keeping them in isolation and are torturing, abusing, and verbally assaulting them DAILY. Solitary confinement is also stated as a LAST RESORT:

"The Rules restrict the use of solitary confinement as a measure of last resort, to be used only in exceptional circumstances. Mandela found solitary confinement to be “the most forbidding aspect of prison life. There was no end and no beginning; there’s only one’s own mind, which can begin to play tricks”.  

Solitary confinement is a form of psychological torture. The effects will be SEVERE as more time passes. It is a CRIME AGAINST HUMANITY, and to put any human being in that state for any period of time -and over a decade at that... is beyond depraved. I cannot imagine a decade of someone's life being spent completely isolated and void of contact from loved one's, from any stimulation and joy in life. Israel must have consequences to mass human rights violations, crimes against humanity, war crimes, genocide -do NOT stop posting about this. I have attached a few references/articles for those interested in reading about Mandela Rules and The United Nations Conventions against Torture.

End the violent occupation, ceasefire permanently, and free Palestine!

[ripplestitchskein]

Sheltered (Stolas/Blitzø)

On AO3

Summary: The consequence of disregarding Hell’s law is steep and Stolas will pay the price.

Notes: A fun little canon divergence set after Stolas acquires the Asmodean Crystal. How we get here will be revealed. Unbeta’d but if you are interested hit me up. This was written well before we got the new trailer and duet so it’s completely just me playing around with the key theorized beats and my own imagination. Been years since I wrote anything for a fandom I published so may be a little rusty. I have another fic coming as well I’ve been working on that’s a little lighter.

Part One: Hellish Justice

*****************************

The Tribunal of Superior Spirits formed a crescent moon of looming silhouettes, each peering down at him with glowing acid eyes. A coterie of featureless jagged shadows. Their combined magics were heavy and physical, a slowly crushing force of power that filled the Hall of Justice, a miasma of eldritch power. Stolas knelt below them in the center of the dais, bathed in the bright red light of the condemned. He was not bound, but he did not need to be, there was no escape from the watching black figures above him. He had agreed to this after all.

“Prince Stolas of the Ars Goetia you have violated the unholy covenant, bestowing the use of your cursed gift to a lesser demon, allowing them access to the human realm without consequence or regard for the laws of Hell.”

It was impossible to tell which of the Superior Spirits was speaking, but their voice rang through the hall, booming and terrifying. It trembled the stone beneath his knees. In the corner of his eye Stella and her brother looked viscously gleeful, eyes wild with vindictive pleasure. The simple joy of a scheme well executed. The others gathered in the seats of the auditorium looked more solemn, or merely interested in the spectacle. A Prince of Hell brought so low was not an everyday occurrence. It was small comfort that not everyone would bask in his demise.

Only Asmodeus looked troubled. He shifted and moved in his seat as if he wanted to step in, each of his faces frowning, one even openly weeping. Stolas silently willed him not to intervene. It would not benefit either of them. Even as a Sin he was not free from the reach of the Superior Spirits, those impartial arbiters of Hell’s Justice and it would possibly sully the deal Stolas had struck. That Asmodeus had not been brought into this mess was already fortunate. While he was free to grant use of his precious crystals to whoever he chose, it was still a gray area if that included the lowest beings of Hell. Stolas’s only comfort was that Blitzo and his employees were spared and the business unaffected, that his daughter did not have to watch him kneel and receive punishment, that as a Prince of Hell the responsibility fell to him alone and he could keep those he loved safe.

A fizz of magic and a wall of flame appeared, suspended above the room and visible to all. On it images rose from the flames, flickering back and forth in a loop. His possession of the Agent at the facility, the fearsomeness of his demonic form caught on human film. The flames flickered, now he was opening the portal for Blitzo and his team. They flickered again, curling and writhing, showing now Stolas and Blitzo’s shared moment of passion, their kiss blown up grand for all to see. The audience around him hissed and jeered, disgusted by such a display. Stolas’s talons curled against the floor, his jaw set.

“Such an abuse of cursed power cannot go unpunished,” The Superior Sprit went on. One of the figures waved a shadowy hand and the image sputtered out in a puff of blue flame. “We cannot allow such a transgression to be repeated. So let it be known to all the consequences of such flagrant disregard for the rule of law.”

Stolas swallowed. The magic in the room grew heavier. The crowd felt the sweep of intangible authority and fell silent, eager to hear the sentence. They leaned forward, pressed in on him from all sides. Stolas had never felt more alone.

“Prince Stolas of the Ars Goetia we hereby strip you of your title. Prince no more your legions are forfeit to the realm.” Stolas’s eyes burned, the red stone of the floor growing blurry as his eyes filled. The audience gasped at such an unprecedented punishment. Though he had expected it, the reality burned.

“Your wealth and properties will be held in trust for the presumptive heir Princess Octavia of the Ars Goetia with Her Royal Highness Estella of the Ars Goetia acting as trustee until Princess Octavia reaches the age of majority.”

Behind him Stella made a soft noise of pure delight, victorious. Andrealphus laughed and if it would not have jeopardized everything, Stolas was quite sure he would have ripped out the peacock’s spindly throat. His talons scraped against the stone floor.

“Stolas, former Prince of the Ars Goetia you are henceforth banned from all properties and holdings of your former station,” Stolas’s head snapped up, a protest bubbling up in his throat.

“Wait,” he pleaded. If he could not return to his home, if he could not even visit, who knew when he would see Octavia again. “My daughter…please.”

The Superior Spirit ignored him. With a wave of a shadowed hand Stolas’s grimoire appeared, floating just above him, out of reach in undulating purple and blue light. It beckoned to him, the threads of their bond shimmering between his splayed form and the majestic glow of the prophetic tome.

“While we have no dominion over natural born magic, your cursed gifts are forfeit as well,” from the stone floor a set of ghostly golden shackles sprang forth. They clamped down hard around his wrists and ankles, binding him to the floor. He pulled against them reflexively but soon let them bring him down in drooping defeat, a wilted flower suffocated by golden roots. The grimoire bobbed for a moment, as if fighting the pull, and then with a flash of light disappeared into a deep violet box, edges filigreed in gold. A lovely coffin. The box snapped shut, the sharp sound echoing off the stone, and with a final thunderous click a golden lock sealed it away.

It was like being hollowed out, the connection between him and his grimoire, the magical gift he’d honed and sharped for so many years suddenly severed from his soul, yanked out by the heartstrings, leaving only a yawning void in its wake.

Stolas gasped and clutched his chest, the chains rattling in the silence of the hall like a death knell. His pained cry was lost to the high arched ceiling of the chamber and swallowed by the rising murmur of the audience.

The shackles glowed brilliant in the darkness and then disappeared from view. He could still feel them, heavy on his wrists, pulling him down. Stolas’s frame crumpled, palms smacking against the stone as he tried to keep from smashing his face into it. Nothing had ever hurt this much, had left him so cold. Even Striker’s dagger sinking into him, the heel of a boot digging into a fresh wound had nothing on the rending of Stolas’s magic from his very being. It was worse than having his heart broken, but only just, pity that both had happened in such quick succession as to make the comparison easy. Only dark emptiness was left now lit by the single flame of Octavia. Though who knew when he’d see her next. A tear fell, shone crimson in the red light from above. He smeared it away with his thumb.

The crowd was protesting, a fickle beast turning against such a harsh sentence. This was too much even for them. It was frightening to watch one of your own stripped to nothing before you. To know if you stepped out of line it could be you next, prostrate and small, powerless before the realm. The Superior brought down a ghostly gavel and barked for silence.

“We are not without mercy,” the Superior Spirit went on, a tad defensive. “Even Hell has a place for grace. You will be granted a small stipend from your holdings for use in establishing a new place for yourself in the ring of your choosing.”

He waved the shadowy hand again and a small envelope appeared at Stolas’s feet, the seal of the Superior Tribunal pressed on the fold in blood red wax. Stolas reached a weak hand forward and scrabbling, brought it to him. He tucked it with shaking hands into the inner pocket of his vest. The desperation of the act burned. He had dressed for battle though he knew well in advance of his defeat. Now he was clutching at any small mercy bestowed by the victors.

“Owing to your unique position and your view into the will of the stars the restriction on your magic will not hold for eternity. Your life of service has been noted and considered. We the Tribunal of Superior Spirits limit this ruling to a five year sentence, commiserate with your remaining free of any further violations of Hell’s unholy laws. After which you will be granted back your gift, permitted to resume your duties to Hell and aid in the training of your heir presumptive, though your title will remain lost to you.”

Stolas swallowed, his throat dry. He sagged in relief not caring that every aristocrat and Overlord in hell could see him being so weak, so vulnerable. It was rather the theme of the day. The loss of his magic was not forever. He would one day be whole again.

He wanted to sneer at their idea of mercy. Of course they would grant him his magic back only to benefit themselves, they needed him for the prophecies, at least until Octavia could step into the role. There was no one else in all the realms who could read the stars in such a way, who could warn of catastrophe and bring news of good fortune ready to be seized. They needed him, at least for now. It was a cold comfort but a comfort none the less. He could survive five years. For Octavia he would keep pushing forward. She would need him soon. He could only hope that they were not kept apart for long, that she would understand.

“This tribunal is dismissed. Justice has been done.”

One by one the Superior Spirits snuffed out like obsidian candle flames, and the red light faded leaving Stolas alone surrounded only by the hissing whispers of the crowd in the dark.

**********

A burly Hellhound appointed by the court led him through the winding hallways towards a back exit. The press had been clamoring for every tidbit they could eat up and, barred from the chamber, a crowd had gathered at the entrance. It was a small consideration by the tribunal but an appreciated one. He knew he looked awful, that the vultures would scent the carrion smell of failure and delight in ripping him apart. Stella had probably called most of them personally.

Asmodeus had tried to approach as the crowd dispersed from the Hall of Justice, but Stolas had waved him away. Any association with him could only hurt the Sin’s reputation, tainted as it already was by the display at Mammon’s contest. Further interaction would invite scrutiny no one could afford. He would rather face this alone than have it all be for nothing.

The Hellhound guard murmured something into a walkie talkie and grimaced.

“Got some news crews out back,” he warned. “Cars already waitin’ so if you’re quick they won’t catch much.”

“Thank you,” Stolas said quietly and braced himself as they stepped outside.

“Former Prince Stolas! Over here! Do you have any comment on the tribunal’s decision today?”

“No comment,” Stolas murmured, allowing the Hellhound to drag him towards a waiting vehicle. There were cameras and microphones in every direction. The sky was so bright after the dark of the hall that he squinted and held up a hand to block everything out. Panic flared in his chest.

“Stolas! Stolas! What are your next steps? What are your plans now that you are barred from the properties of any Ars Goetia?”

A good question. If only he knew.

“Is it true you used access to the human realm to traffic imp sex slaves?” That one almost made him turn but the Hellhound was efficient, barreling through the gathered press like a fanged bowling ball knocking down pins with a growl.

“Prince Stolas! What is your relationship to BlitzO Buckzo,” another yelled, and Stolas did flinch then, almost tripping over his feet. The Hellhound scooped him up and with a grunt fair flung him into the open door. It slammed behind him and the crowd became muffled and filmy through the glass. He melted back into the seat, exhausted.

“Hello sir,” the imp driver was one of the taller of his kind, though still much smaller than Stolas. Yellow eyes peered curiously at Stolas in the mirror. His smile was bright, impersonal, politeness. He seemed a cheerful sort of chap. “I’ll get us to the main road and then you can tell me where you’d like to go?”

Stolas had no idea. He could not return home, and it was unlikely Stella would be kind enough to send him his things. If he was very lucky she wouldn’t burn them on the lawn. He thought of his plants, of them withering away without him and his heart ached. Maybe Octavia would see to them. He pushed the thought of his daughter away. He couldn’t think of her right now, he would break. He needed to focus, he needed to make a plan. The impending breakdown needed to wait until he was secure behind private walls.

The chauffeur was slowly edging past the crowd, skillfully maneuvering the town car around the crush of reporters and paparazzi. They banged on the windows, pressed their cameras against the tinted glass, trying to catch even the smallest glimpse of his defeated face for the evening news cycle. It didn’t seem to phase the driver, though Stolas flinched back and away.

He reached into his vest and pulled out the envelope. The stipend inside was barely anything. He had given Octavia more for her pocket money. It was humbling to know this was all he had left. The clothes on his back, a measly pittance, and a phone that would work only until Stella realized she could turn it off. She had never bothered with the finances and the estate’s accountant seemed to like him, so hopefully that would buy him some time.

He pulled it out now, bringing up a search window. He needed to secure lodgings. Cheap ones. The more he could save on living expenses the longer that would buy him to figure out what to do. He’d need clothes as well. The royal regalia he wore was no longer appropriate and he cursed himself for not wearing something a bit more practical. But the idea of appearing before the entirety of the leering aristocracy and the imposing Court in anything less than his finest had rankled, and so he’d donned his battle armor for a fight long since lost, and now he would look ridiculous for a bit until he could find something else. His hands shook, that empty void in his chest still twinging painfully, his absent magic grating over his nerves, but he ignored it, trying to force his hands to be still.

He thought through the rest of the practicalities. He could get by if he just focused on the immediate. He’d need toiletries. Food. A job. He typed in a search for motels in all of the cities of the rings.

The Pride ring was probably the best bet, it was closest to Octavia and familiar. Envy was far too expensive. And wet. Greed was mostly factories and industrial properties and the few residences there were under mafia purview. He’d rather avoid further trouble if he could help it and a Goetia, even a disgraced and penniless one, was a valuable prize. Wrath was cheap and he found the people charming, but there was little for him to do there if he wanted to find work. Assuming he even could, with his limited skill set. And after his last visit he’d rather not go back any time soon.

Sloth was mostly medical facilities, and not much less expensive than Envy. And the opportunities in Lust were rather something he’d save as a last resort. He had no issue with sex work as a profession, but a fallen Prince turned prostitute was unlikely to keep him out of the news cycle and he’d rather spare Octavia further humiliation on that score. Though he supposed if it came to that he could use his former status to his advantage. Make a gimmick out of it. He chuckled to himself humorlessly at the thought. As if anyone would be interested, former Prince or no.

“Just let me know where we’re headed sir,” the driver said, breaking into his musings of royalty themed lingerie and if the ballet and ballroom dancing lessons of his childhood would translate well . They had cleared the crowd and were on the main road now, headed towards town.

“Oh. Yes. My apologies, I’m looking for options now,” he returned his attention to the phone and flicked through the results. There were quite a number of hotels and motels in Pride, due to the wealth of displaced sinners, even more in Lust but those were less long term and more hourly. He did some mental calculations and was dismayed to realize that even if he spent only the bare minimum on personal items and food he had only enough for a few weeks at even the cheapest of establishments. The panic he had pushed down was starting to creep up his throat again. There was also the problem that he was dressed to lead demonic legions not blend in with the populace. He would draw attention wherever he went and the press would surely find him, or he’d be robbed, or swindled, or whatever other horrible things happened to the naive fallen wealthy in his novels. An easy mark in more ways than one.

“Are you able to make a few stops?” Stolas asked. “I’d like to purchase some necessities. If it’s not too much trouble.” The imp hesitated but nodded.

“I need to have the car back by 5 but we can go as many places as you like, sir.”

Stolas, please call me Stolas. And you are?”

“Chauncey, sir, Stolas,” the imp corrected.

“Chauncey, lovely. Um, I need to find a clothing shop? I fear what I have on will not suit. Some place… inexpensive? Very inexpensive.”

He had taken Via to the mall many times, but had never paid attention to the prices or offerings for himself. He very much doubted anything on offer at Stylish Occult would draw less attention to himself. His own day to day wardrobe had always been tailored, suited to him personally. There was also the people to consider, the mall was always packed and the less demons he saw the better.

“Somewhere a bit discreet as well, if possible,” he added.

The imp looked at him in the mirror for a moment, and the look of sympathy was welcome but stinging. The void ached. Chauncey returned his attention to the road.

“There’s a Hellmart at the edge of Imp City but it’s usually pretty busy. Or we could try some thrift stores, they’re usually cheap but I don’t know that they’ll have your size sir,” the imp sounded apologetic. “We probably need to head to PC, the sinners have a bigger variety of sizes.”

“I defer to your good judgment Chauncey, we can try a few of these “Thrift Stores” and see if we can find something not too too dear that I can fit into. I think this could be quite an adventure!” Stolas forced a smile. He had to put a brave face in now. It wouldn’t do to fall to pieces. There was too much to be done.

*********

Chauncey was turning out to be a wonderful helpmate and companion. He had been right about the offerings at the thrift stores in Imp City, everything was far too small and Stolas encountered wide eyed looks wherever they went. Thankfully the stares seemed to be more about his size and current dress than any real recognition. At least, no one seemed inclined to film him or ask him any questions yet, though he had caught at least one demon discreetly snapping his picture. Most of the beings they encountered merely looked startled at his presence and shuffled quickly away. It was nerve wracking, and rather lonely, and he still felt sore and off balance, but he’d get used to all of that soon enough he figured. Hoped.

His first introduction to the concept of a thrift store, however, was delightful. It was not, as he had assumed, a chain of shops called “Thrift Stores” offering cheap clothing but charming disparate little shops dotted here and there and owned by various entities. Some of them took in donated items to be sold for charity, others sold things for others on something called “consignment”, others specialized in antiques and vintage clothes, Chauncey had explained. It was a fascinating system that Stolas tucked away for later. He could probably sell his regalia for a tidy sum once he’d procured some more appropriate options.

Each shop they visited was a sensory delight, shelves crammed full of odds and ends with no real sense of order other than broad categories: clothes, knickknacks, kitchen, children’s. Crystal decanters occupied the same shelf as plastic novelty cups, and there were so many cute imp figurines everywhere they went. Chauncey explained they were collectors items from a series called Hellish Memories, and featured huge eyed imp children in twee clothing doing various jobs. He was tempted to buy one that reminded him of Blitzø before he remembered that it would be the height of desperation to buy a figurine that reminded you of a former flame, and that he did not have the money to spare for trinkets, even adorable ones with little cowboy hats and tiny spurs.

His mood was dimmed further by the buzzing of his phone, Asmodeus with his little chicken emoji popping up on the screen. Swallowing his disappointment that it was not Octavia, or another he was trying not to think about, Stolas sent the call voicemail and turned the Hellphone off completely, he needed to save the battery anyway. He turned a bright smile to Chauncey.

“Where are we off to next, my good man?”

After their third strike out in an hour Chauncey suggested they head instead to Pentagram City, not only were there far more options for size but Stolas would have better luck finding cheap lodging and employment there. Especially this close to an Extermination. Property values in PC stayed pretty low, Chauncey went on, warming to the topic. When a percentage of your tenants just might not return, and arrived to the ring with next to nothing, you had to keep things affordable. Being a driver for the wealthy and powerful he overheard many helpful things, and the relative uselessness of Pentagram City for real estate development was an oft complained about topic, apparently. It stood to reason there would be regular job availability as well and no questions about identification as Sinners rarely had it.

Stolas had spent a lot of time in Pentagram City, for business with the various Overlords mostly, and while he was much more comfortable nearer to the familiar territory of I.M.P. he reluctantly agreed it made the most sense. It was easier to blend in among the Sinners, and it was only to the good that he distance himself from the business and the imp who ran it. His chest ached and he rubbed it absently as they entered the boundary for the city.

Chauncey’s excellent advice proved true the first shop they visited. He found several pairs of trousers that were more or less his size, several sets of shorts that were not but that he liked the look of his legs in anyway, and an assortment of tops ranging from mid quality business casual to soft cozy sweaters, and a stretched out crop top that said “Hot as Hell” he added in a fit of whimsy, all smelling faintly of moth balls and brimstone. It reminded him a bit of Valentino and he made a note to find out how to wash clothing as soon as possible.

He was overcome with joy at the total, the entire haul was less than high tea for one at Richest Cup. Chauncey had smiled indulgently as he tried everything on, looking only slightly uncomfortable when he modeled the shorts, and offered to take him to a grocers for the next round of purchases. It was rather like a shopping day with Via, always new and interesting things to peruse and look at. He wondered what his daughter would think of the crop top and then slammed the lid down on that musing. He would call her later.

Stolas had never shopped for food for himself before, things just sort of appeared in the kitchen and if he wanted something particular he could order in for it from the BeeEats app.

The grocers was no less fascinating than the thrift shop had been. Each aisle had a rainbow of different products, some geared towards specific species or tastes, and he delighted over a section that was for avian demons specifically.

It was difficult not to fill the charming little basket with all sorts of treats and indulgences: chocolate dipped voles, squirrel bites, honey glazed chipmunk cheeks. More than once he had returned an item based on Chauncey’s wince over the price tag until he had a basket full of reasonably priced and mostly nutritious food that would keep well no matter where he ended up.

He also found a nice smelling preening oil that was an eighth the cost of his usual brand, and some inexpensive calcium grinding stones to keep his beak in order. He added to the pile a charger for his phone and a bright purple duffel bag for storage of all his purchases. The retail therapy was doing wonders for his mood, each little purchase lighting him up and making him feel a bit more prepared and capable. His phone felt like a hot coal in his pocket, and he itched to check it, but doing so would invite reality back in and he wasn’t ready for that yet.

“Only about half an hour left sir,” Chauncey said apologetically, “traffic is going to be Heavenish at this time of day and I have to get the car back.”

“I quite understand. Thank you for everything today Chauncey, dear,” Stolas shifted his bags to take his hand in his own. “You have helped me immeasurably. I am only sad I can’t return the favor. Or even offer a generous tip,” Stolas blushed. He had never not tipped a day in his life and it was humbling to admit he could not now. Every cent was precious in this new life.

“I could perhaps buy us a meal? To show my gratitude?” Chauncey shook his head.

“All part of the service Mr. Stolas,” he smiled up at him and Stolas’s mood dimmed a little further. Service. He needed to remember that. Sometimes people were kind because they had to be, and he ought not read any further into it than that. It was a bad habit he knew he needed to overcome. He had so enjoyed their time together however, and he owed Chauncey a great deal but that was not friendship. It may be something he was learning late in life, and rather harshly, but he was learning.

“Well,” he said, locking that thought far away, “When I am back on my feet I do hope you’ll indulge me in treating you.” The imp blushed again and nodded, opening the door to the car for him.

Their final stop for the day was a boarding house Stolas would more or less be calling home for the time being. It was a derelict building in one of the points of the Pentagram, right at the edge of one of the border districts that was split between Overlords. It was close enough to the city proper that he had options for employment but not so close he’d have to deal with any of his former business associates or worry about too much Extermination Day ruckus.

It was a hodgepodge of a structure, and seemed to sag straight down the middle from damp as if a great beast had sat on it at one point in its long and storied life. Here and there were signs of haphazard repairs, wooden boards salvaged from other less fortunate constructions, tinfoil and cardboard placeholders in some of the window panes, large pieces of rusting tin nailed to the roof over rotting shingles. Stolas shuddered at the thought of sleeping in such a place, though he had no doubt there was a wealth of vermin he could use to supplement his grocery expenditures within the walls.

The sign on the front said only “Rooms to Rent, Ask Moira” with no other name for the establishment. It was more discreet than one of the motels, Chauncey had mentioned, and required no identification, merely cash up front and regular weekly payments. A former client of his had used the place and had no trouble.

Stolas thanked the man again for all his help, pressing his card into his hands and wincing only slightly at the title it still bore in the gold embossed letters of a, if not happier, than certainly a more well to do, time.

“Call me any time you’d like to get that meal,” Stolas said. “You have been an absolute treasure.”

The imp had blushed again, pocketed the card, bowed and driven away with an awkward little wave, leaving Stolas clutching his purple duffel bag and staring apprehensively at the ghoulish building before him.

He sucked in a deep breath and went up the creaking, wobbly steps, inside to find Moira

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[painful-pooch]

A Hunter's Intuition

Whumptober 2022 (@whumptober)

NO. 2 - NOWHERE TO RUN

Cornered | Caged | Confrontation

Tag list: @whumpopology, @whumper-in-training, @ocean-blue-whump, and @for-the-love-of-angst

CW: Hunting people, serial killer vibes, gun violence, lady whump, blood, knives

The clock ticks away in the rustic cabin, announcing with its incessant sounds how each second goes by while Levi sits in his recliner, his legs crossed and his eyes focused on the outside scenery, watching the forest practically breathe in the wind. It's been over an hour now since he let her have a head start on their fun little game. She never enjoys playing the game, but Levi doesn't give a shit. He's already dressed up for the occasion, but there are a few key elements of his missing. The fire crackles in the background while the clock... keeps... ticking...

Second.

After.

Second.

Everything goes silent for a moment, Levi inhaling deeply and forcing himself out of the recliner, sneaking up to the window to gaze out of it with a different view- a different mindset. There's now an urge building up within him, catching on like wildfire and spreading without any sign of it stopping. It all begins with a deadly focus, looking for any sign of life in the distance, from the smoke of a campfire to the sight of a flock of birds taking off from a specific area... Or even catching the melodic screams of someone ensnared by a bear trap.

Then, just as he thinks she has learned how to not give away her location, a tugging sensation is felt from deep inside, a hunger that is known to all predators before the hunt. He knows it's the adrenaline working its way through him, but it's like a drug to him; one that he welcomes with open arms. It makes everything so much clearer, but it makes his finger tap against the window sill. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tick. Tock. Tick.

He exhales harshly, tearing away from the window and heads over to his trophy room, seeing the countless animals he's hunted from all around the world. He rarely pays them any glances since they no longer bring him joy. Their hunts were meaningless and they didn't offer him a challenge whatsoever. Something about an animal makes their hunting lackluster, and it could be because of many things. For Levi, it's because an animal doesn't truly know what the stakes are nor what the consequences are for being caught. An animal doesn't yearn to live out of want, but only after need and some inherent instinct embedded in them by the laws of nature.

But a person? No, they don't need to live. There's already plenty of people around the damn planet. There's a level of intrigue when it comes to a human for Levi. He finds them complex and interesting during a hunt. Some people will fight back, some will run until they can't, and others try to beg their way out of their fate, but in the end, they are still prey to him. Only rarely does he enjoy a person enough to hunt them continuously, but this one… she's a keeper. There's a fire in her eyes that he finds captivating, even at the moment she's caught and punished for being caught.

His fair Lady is out there, and he can't stop thinking of how beautiful she truly becomes when streaks of red compliment her tear stricken eyes. The image itself drives him into a frenzy, ripping open the gun safe and gazing at his collection of hunting rifles, running his fingers along the cool gun metal of the barrel. He imagines how warm it will become when he pulls the trigger to send a round into his wonderful victim, his heart skipping a beat and a gentle smile decorating his face. This is the rifle he wants, and so he pulls it out, shuts the safe with a loud clang, and steps back, looking at himself in the mirror.

He is used to seeing a dapper man in a suit and tie, leading a company into financial success from his position as a Chief Financial Officer, but that's not who is staring back at him. He's staring into the eyes of someone with an apathetic look, his body both rigid yet fluid, his gaze as cold as ice yet his smile can warm the coldest of glaciers. He sees a man determined to end this hunt by the time dinner rolls around. It is like a switch that Levi can feel whenever he enters into that safe haven within his mind.

And he loves it.

The ticking of the clock continues, but quickly it turns into the crunching of the leaves under his boots, the slight clanging of the extra ammo in his chest pocket along with his knife, and the sounds of the forest dying away as the hunter enters the playing field.

It's simply cathartic in a sense that the animals of the forest don't fear Levi anymore; they don't get hunted and killed constantly, so why should they run in terror from the hunter? Levi never chases them and if they do get caught in a trap, he releases them and sometimes even cares for them. More often do the animals watch a person fleeing away from Levi. And that is exactly what is happening.

Levi has been playing this game for so long, he doesn't have to run after her. He practically has her in the palm of his hand. He can see everything she does based off the evidence she is leaving behind like an amateur. She's had so much time to perfect her skills, yet clumsy mistakes always make the hunt more comical. Though it doesn't matter to him just as long as he gets to enact his every desire unto her, to watch her eyes convey fear, animosity, and most important of all, to see the loss of hope. Her screams, as melodious as they are, can never compete against the sobs that erupt from her when she attempts to hold them back. All in a simple effort to spite him.

There is a fire now, scorching his very being and it can only be satiated by the blood he's going to spill.

Minute by minute, hour after hour, he follows her until he plans out his next move, to force her into a position where she can't escape him. He unslings his rifle from his back, seeing her trying to alleviate the pain from her constant movements next to a river. His heart pitter patters with each passing second. Thump. Thump. Thump. He loads in the beautiful bullet he has pressed himself after he melted the golden ring she had on when he first brought her to his home right into the chamber. With his next breath, he uses the action bolt to send the bullet home, now focusing on his prey through the scope. He thinks about how wonderful her screams will sound soon, a smile forming on his face. One more deep breath he inhales, letting about two-thirds of it out, and he goes perfectly still, rechecking his aim.

Without a second to wait, he pulls the trigger, the quiet forest now echoing with the thunderous bang of a rifle followed by a shriek and then a splash.

His prey has fallen into the river and now is trying to get up, but before she can fully prop herself up, Levi laughs and approaches her, his silver knife glistening beautifully with the setting sun setting in the horizon. He has her cornered, no where to go. He crouches in front of her, watching her pant and try to back away, wincing while holding her wound tightly. His eyes read her and then he is caught by the sight of her blood mixing in with the water and following the current of the river. "Beautiful… Your blood is equal to no one," he murmurs, looking down at her and forcing her chin up with his knife. "Did you have fun? Did you really think you could outsmart me?"

She snarls at him and spits on his face as a response before growling out, "Go fuck yourself."

There it is again. The world going still around him as he feels the switch once more in his mind flip. His body is rigid and his knife is an extension of him, procuring a droplet of blood at the tip. "I like you better when you scream."

When the knife enters her thigh roughly, a guttural scream plays loudly in his mind and he knows he's won.

He always wins.

[anxiouslyfred]

A Gift For Me

Summary: Roman and Remus were both angels once, but from the things that Remus looked after/ was interested in, he got sent to hell when the separation occurred. Now they meet again around a guy called Virgil and a gaming cafe.

/\/\

They had been brothers, or as close as Angels could be siblings to each other. Every angel was an individual, as different from the rest as the many species of animals on earth are different from each other, and as similar as maternal twins still in the womb.

Roman and Remus had decided to claim each others as brothers though and that was the important thing. They cared so strongly for each other they decided to be family with each other and none else, not so long ago.

Things changed, Lucifer began questioning things and convincing other angels to question similarly. Remus listened and found the things he would be fascinated by soon got correlated to questioning. Even if he hadn't actually questioned in the same way the rest of the angels that joined Lucifer had, just questioning how the things he'd been looking after were suddenly so bad had him pushed to join that side.

Battle overcame heaven and Roman just didn't want to face eternal punishment. That was what God described as the consequence for defying his orders even just by asking questions, or admitting to struggle with changing from praising him above all to praising something he'd just created in such a way. He stayed in Heaven, away from the fighting, finding other things to focus on as important work. He had the garden to tend to, prayers to prepare for humans to one day write in bursts of inspiration, all things done to prepare fro a future he couldn't see holding the joy that came from being with his family.

Too late he realised that losing the family of 2 he'd had with Remus was punishment in itself.

/Roman's Turn\

Eons had passed since the separation. Since hell had been formed and Remus was forced away from Roman and finally, eventually, Roman was requesting to visit Earth. He didn't know what would be down there but he was meant to be an angel in charge of giving inspiration to people trying their best and how could he know the inspiration he offered was useful without experiencing the planet they lived on.

He hadn't expected to be warned caution against demons roaming the Earth. He definitely was not prepared to realise that these demons he'd been hearing about were actually the angels that had left so long ago, apparently corrupted by whatever punishment there was in hell.

The sword he'd once been taught to fight with suddenly held a horrifying weight as he realised that should he meet Remus again on Earth he would likely be expected to raise it in violence against him. It was almost enough to keep Roman in heaven, except he could see his first family again.

Surely Remus would remember and not attack him?

Right?

/Remus's Turn\

Remus had loved the centuries, the millenia, that he'd wandered the Earth.

Nothing had kept him in hell after he first fell into it, so he had refused to stay there. Instead he'd climbed straight back out of it and started playing with insects, fish, the other creatures that gradually evolved.

He'd smiled to realise, after at least 2 millenia had passed, the humans God had claimed to have invented so long ago were finally evolving out of the apes. He could meet them, speak to someone with more needs than just survival, and maybe get someone else he cares about.

Perhaps a human could plaster over the bleeding wound named Roman. Perhaps they might help him understand why his family had never even tried to visit Earth to see if he got out of hell.

For now, all he could do to hopefully speed up their evolution was introduce them to honey. Surely that sugary treat will give them enough energy to get bigger brains than monkeys? Right?

/Virgil's Turn\

Dungeon and Dragons wasn't exactly what Virgil had expected his therapist to suggest when he brought up feeling isolated from the world.

Honestly he'd been expecting to get diagnosed with social anxiety once again and offered group therapy sessions, but instead Doctor Picani had asked him over things that interested him. After Virgil had mentioned storms, and a few fantasy video games he'd been playing recently, the idea of D&D had come up and Dr Picani even had a leaflet for a local beginners group.

Now it was simply his favourite thing to do because he didn't have to be himself but could bring things about himself into his characters. The rest of the people he played regularly with just shrugged it off, and he did the same with the odd things they bring into the campaigns.

This was beyond that oddness though, and even Eddie was staring at him and the person who had literally just grabbed his chair, moved it and him in it as close to the next person while pulling up another seat for himself.

“Hi, I'm Remus. Here's my character sheet, so how am I joining your campaign?” The newcomer offered the page straight to Eddie, seemingly pulling out another copy from nowhere.

Eddie had a slight frown as he scanned down the sheet in his hands. “Welcome. You can wait in this bit of the forest. I'm sure our party will be with you shortly.” He decided, pulling an elf figure out of his bag to place on the map.

“I'm gonna build a house from all these trees then.” Remus decided, already picking up his dice.

“Roll for strength and dexterity.” Eddie rolled his eyes and a few of the other people playing groaned, Virgil almost joined them, wanting to just start playing but also curious over the guy who had just decided to join their game.

Remus rolled a 9 and a 13, deciding that gave him 12 for strength and 14 for dexterity and watching the DM to hear the results.

“Fine, you manage to make a lean too shelter, stable but not the most secure. Your axe has been blunted and you only manage to chop 4 trees down to make your shelter. Take some firewood for your provisions as well. Now hush so the rest of our campaign can begin.” Eddie states, checking his notes and looking back to the rest of the party.

The campaign that day continued similarly, with Remus interrupting the play of turns with the decision to do something in his part of the forest while Eddie did his best to hurry the party towards him just to get them all in one place.

Virgil had to laugh when people started noticing the time and having to hurry home immediately after the group had met Remus's elf. That felt almost planned in the coincidence it was.

“Hi, what is your name? I know your warlock is called Nightshade but not yours.” Remus forced a hand basically under his nose in an enthusiastic invitation to shake.

“Virgil and seriously, most people just, like, message Eddie to ask if they'd be able to join ahead of turning up.” He stood up and stepped back enough that he didn't need to twist his arm up when trying to shake hands. “Why didn't you?”

Remus shrugged, grabbing his dice and the jacket that had been discarded at some point. “I didn't plan on joining until I saw someone dressed almost darkly enough to fit in with the story you're all playing. Now I've gotta keep coming back to see how much I can annoy the rest of the campaign. Will Eddie kill my character if I manage that?”

“He'll try his best to.”

That got a grin and the reply, “I'd let him. Death is just another part of life and I have plenty of other character sheets all related to that one, ready to run in screaming and annoyed over the death, or just crash in as berserk to destroy or attempt to whatever we're fighting.”

“Maybe just talk to Eddie about it?” Virgil suggested instead, knowing nobody would enjoy the campaign if Remus insisted on trying to mess things up or annoy everyone.

/Roman's Turn\

People are amazing. That was all Roman could think from his first interactions with them. They were ready to help him as he wandered around bewildered when he first arrived.

One of them had invited him to stay for a while, which he only accepted for a night. He was going to find somewhere of his own and miracle only enough to gain it. The person he stayed with did try to ask him to stay longer, but also accepted his decision to leave, just suggesting an estate agents that he might find an apartment from. Roman left them with a smile, and a small blessing over them and their home. It might not make everything easy, but it would reduce the troubles that broke down their lives.

He didn't actually enter the recommended agents, only pausing outside long enough to recognise the people inside were not struggling or as good a people as others nearby. Roman wanted to help people and that included trying to give his business and his blessings to those who either needed help or deserved a reward for their kindness.

Finding a job had similar goals for Roman also. He was most interested in serving people, so retail or catering jobs were the first things he looked for. He even added preferences for the establishments that either had donations for charity, would provide free good for people in need, or best of all, allowed a pay it forward scheme for their customers to also help others along with the company.

That was the mindset that led him to this cafe.

It was a small gaming cafe on the edge of the city that Roman has come to and both allowed the homeless of the town to have one free drink each day and for other customers to pay it forward on a few different drinks and meals. He didn't have to use his powers at all to gain an interview, only provide a CV with human varieties of roles he'd held in heaven included.

Everyone here was a little different and Roman kept grinning at that realisation. He'd known intellectually that all humans were individuals and unique as much as they were the same, but working in the cafe even beyond his first arrival on Earth taught him just how wide those differences could seem. Roman lived for learning them all as well as seeing how small bits of inspiration offered to them might be taken.

One of his favourite groups of people to lend his gift of inspiration to was soon the people roleplaying their games. Roman had noticed the dice rolling games from the start but from serving the tables and listening to some of what was said was thrilled by the collaborative story building these groups were doing.

Almost thrilled enough that he didn't realise one of the groups had a demon playing with them.

/Virgil's turn\

This was one of the first times Virgil was coming to the cafe with no intent to game, nor any interest in socialising.

He'd had a difficult morning, never knowing if he needed silence or more noise, if the people he worked with were wearing on his last nerve or saving him from facing the customers that came in by leaving him to man the till rather than wandering the shop floor. Essentially he felt like there was nothing right and everywhere he'd usually retreat to was too lonely for him to stay in.

So he came to the cafe, hoping that the generally nice servers and familiar area would give him a way to relax without too many expectations feeling like they're on him.

He only nodded when Roman saw him coming in, already heading to a small corner table and aware that most of the staff knew what drink he'd want and would bring it over when possible.

Roman's expression turning quizzical and what Virgil thought was concerned wasn't expected, but he could accept it when he turned to start making his drink without a word.

Honestly Virgil wasn't sure quite what to make of Roman still. He was the newest member of staff although there were still applications open, but seemed to know more things about the people there than anyone expected. There had been times when he'd come over to their game table however and Remus had gotten completely blanked by Roman until demanding attention.

That was the closest to a grudge anyone in the cafe seemed to held and it was incomprehensible to the party given Roman had admitted to never meeting any of them before when first introducing himself to the table.

At least the thoughts of this served as a distraction from how off Virgil was feeling today, long enough that Roman was setting the drink in front of him without him ever realising it had been finished.

“You doing okay, Nightshade? This isn't a day you usually turn up.” Roman asked, glancing him over with the same expression of concern he'd seen earlier.

“My names Virgil actually. I'm not the character I play as, you know.” He muttered, pulling the drink closer and barely looking up at the other.

Roman made a thoughtful noise. “I know. I also wouldn't want you to be upset without trying to help.”

“I'm just a customer. There's no need to play the 'we're actually friends' card. You barely know me at all.” He snarked again, wanting to be left alone rather than what was feeling like being pitied.

“A regular one, who usually has better come backs than that and is the only one who doesn't seem ready to glare at Remus for any action even if it helps your party's progress in whichever campaign you're currently playing.” Roman stated. “I'm allowed to be concerned for people I see regularly. That is not odd, considering I've had people I walk past check on me once or twice if I change my route for a few days.”

That comment got him to look up, now frowning just as much as before expect in confusion he could understand. “You don't like Remus, why have you paid attention to how any of us react to him? Besides Eddie does the same.”

“Eddie likes the chaos Remus brings. He gets excited when ever any of you do something he hadn't thought of.” Roman dismissed the comment with a smile, before turning a little more serious. “And I don't dislike Remus. It's just complicated. I didn't recognise him at first but after so many years not knowing him, well. Like I said, complicated.”

Roman sighed and shrugged after a moment, leaning against Virgil's table. “Besides I was asking how you are. Is everything okay?”

“The world's too much and home is too silent so I came here.” The mumble could have been ignored and had been by people in the past who claimed to be unable to understand what he said, but Roman just nodded, glancing back to the door.

“If you want to talk about it more, I can come and chat with you when I don't have people to be serving or tables that need cleaning,” he offered with a smile, before darting off without waiting for a reply since a group had come in looking uncertain over whether they could seat themselves.

Virgil hadn't come to the cafe today to connect with one of the servers, but he guessed that sometimes people do just care for strangers for no reason. If that was how Roman was then he could accept the support.

/Remus's Turn\

He'd seen humanity form from the ground and had watched as civilisation was built up. He had been a part of explorations and corporate growth through so many millenia that Remus felt nothing should be able to surprise him about the human world any more.

At least the angel he had called brother so long ago was not part of humanity for that surprise to be attributed to them.

Every week since Roman had appeared in the cafe he'd expected something to happen, for a word to be said or, well, he wasn't quite sure what a goody two shoes could do to interrupt the campaign without being mean. Remus was waiting for something to be done though.

This week seemed to be the one for that to happen though, as a note appeared under his cup when Roman brought brinks out for the table.

Want to catch up tomorrow? I'm off for the afternoon tomorrow so we could stay here for a while.

Could invite Virgil too, if you like.

He ended up rereading the note so many time that he missed the turns of the rest of the party and was blinking at the table when Virgil nudged him. “What's just happened here?”

“We're being attacked by a wyvern. Those two are on saving rolls, if you have any potions on you and I just caused a cave in when it deflected my attack so we can't go backwards.” Virgil answered, waving to a pair of character figures that had been knocked over.

With that information Remus had already decided what his action would be, as well as moved the note to be between him and Virgil making sure to push the others hand onto it while leaping up to declare it.

Once he looked back down there was another line in Virgil's handwriting added to the note.

Sure I'll join. He said there's complicated stuff between you. You sure you want me here?

Remus grinned, quickly scribbling a reply before focusing entirely on the fight their players were going through.

Definitely. It's the most simple complicated ever, and if Roman's here then he's already half way to understanding my side. We can get him to play some stupid games for a bit.

/Roman's side\

After the chats he'd had with Virgil on his occasional mid-morning, early afternoon visits, Roman finally felt able to try reaching out to the demon his brother had become. Except he hadn't wanted to get turned down to his face, and instead assumed that he could just keep an eye out for the demon coming in over his next shift.

Now Roman was beginning to regret that decision since he couldn't stop jumping every time the chime for the door opening rang out. Jenni had teased him once over his jumpiness when she noticed it, asking if he was trying to get a promotion, but thankfully didn't ask more than that.

“Virgil!” He exclaimed when once more he jumped to face the door, grin spreading over his face at the thought that just maybe Remus hadn't rejected the invitation after all.

“That's me. How much longer till you're joining us?” Virgil was more hunched into his hoodie than usual which Roman was fairly sure meant he was uneasy. Hopefully that would move on after they've been talking for a while.

Roman checked his orders tablet for the time before smiling, “About 15 minutes. I'll bring your drink over if you decide where we should sit.”

“Bring Remus's too. He's on his way and apparently stuck in upside down traffic, whatever that means.” Virgil read from his phone with a furrowed brow.

Roma laughed at that, “Well either he's had to visit hell and they don't want to let him up again or he's got so fed up with someone in traffic he decided to punish their road rage by making their car roll over.”

“He said hell installed spinning doors because he kept breaking the ones they tried to lock by blowing them up a few weeks back. I doubt anyone could get him stuck there.” Virgil immediately countered absently, but wandered off to a table that would fit them, picking up a game to look at while he did.

“Wonder how long they managed when he was first sent there.” Roman muttered to himself, not noticing the cafe doors had opened once more.

“About a month. I think so anyway. It's hard to separate the days when in hell.” Remus replied, standing beside him with a grin. “Definitely not as long as they kept you in Heaven for.”

Roman startled, blinking at him for a moment before letting a small smile form. “You mean not as long as it took me to finally realise I could actually come visit Earth?”

“Tomato, Potato. No vegetables here. Go get our drinks made and clock out.” Remus waved the correction off, already heading to the table Virgil had chosen.

While he was making the drinks he could hear Jenni snickering from the table she'd been doing some paperwork at. “Boss?”

“You have the oddest conversations with that group. I'm going to enjoy watching you for entertainment now. Get checked out already.” She snickered again, waving him over to the table easily just as he finished making his own drink.

At the table Virgil and Remus had clearly fallen into some conversation already, Virgil actually smirking as he spoke. “Dude, I get it, being edgy and all about hell is definitely your scene, but you can't just making hell seem like a real place and assume I'll keep thinking heaven is all fluffy clouds and singing carols.”

“And I'm telling you, Ro-ro is the one to ask about that place. I ain't been there in beyond millenia. So far as I know the big man could have decided everything needs to be made of glass and furnished with only fondant icing models.” Remus cackled at the idea and Roman had to chuckle along with him too. He might have seen the things that could be sculpted out of icing but could not imagine some angels accepting that without expressing serious second thoughts.

“Not really. Current aesthetic before I came down here is closest related to those small company offices where 'everyone is like family', quietly stabbing each other in the back in hope of getting some attention from God. I'm just glad Remus isn't there otherwise we'd be expected to compete between inspiration and creation or something. However the other angels would have decided our powers separated.” He explained, placing the drinks down and taking the final seat.

Virgil snorted, “Yeah, I've worked for a few places like that. People really don't believe me that working at an independent bookshop is better than working in an office, I swear.”

/Virgil's Turn\

Chatting and playing games with both Remus and Roman wasn't quite what he'd expected it to be. Actually it was exactly how he'd expected it to be and nothing like he'd expected simultaneously, but one thing was becoming more unavoidable no matter how much Virgil had been trying not to ask about it.

Now they'd been playing Monopoly for half an hour and Remus had just made another comment about giving him more entry fees to the fires when claiming rent off Roman and Virgil couldn't hold the question back anymore.

“Wait, rewind and give me a second. I was thinking it's all a joke but you two are telling the truth aren't you? You're from Heaven?” Virgil narrowed his eyes at Roman waiting for the slow nod.

“And from all your jokes, once you were too, but now you're from hell? Like a demon?” He frowned now, realising that either demons were nothing like popular media portrayed, or Remus was just a very unconventional demon.

Remus just grinned, slightly too wide now. “To be properly demonic I'd have to stay there for longer. I think the only reason they include me in the roster of demons is because I keep blowing the gates of hell up letting anyone in or out.”

“I am an angel, if you want to be specific. The one responsible for providing inspiration for the well-being and progression of the human race. I inspire poets, artists, mechanics, scientists, whomever so needs it to improve the lives of the many.” Roman introduced himself with a smile and a bow that Virgil had to swat him for.

“How if you have so much to do with inspiration are you struggling with Pictionary?” Virgil scoffed, rolling his eyes. “I'm getting this as a gift for you so you can actually practise something you've just claimed to inspire humans to do.”

For a few moments Roman just opened and closed his mouth, looking somewhere between offended and happy at the idea of getting a gift. “Then you must allow me to get you a gift in return. Would that D&D Adventure book be adequate?” He decided, pointing over towards the front of the shop where a few games and game related things were for sale.

“Gift giving is not meant to be I give you something so you return the favour.” Virgil protested, but found his words were drowned out by a clatter as Remus jumped up from his seat to the area they were pointing at.

“I'M GETTING THIS AS A GIFT FOR ME!” He yelled, holding a game called Patchwork over his head as if it were a trophy.

Virgil and Roman both started laughing at that, glancing towards each other and back to Remus, until Virgil finally decided to say, “Okay then. I was going to say gift giving would only be give and get a gift in return at like Christmas or if a group are doing a gift exchange together, but I guess Remus has decided we're doing a gift exchange where he got his own name.”

“And we can all leave happy with something new.” Remus nodded.

[all-about-parenting]

Positive Parenting Advice: Lessons from the Past and Embracing Modern Techniques

Parenting is a journey filled with challenges, joys, and constant learning. Reflecting on the parenting techniques our parents used can provide valuable insights into what works and what doesn’t. As we navigate our own parenting paths, embracing modern techniques and positive parenting advice can help us raise well-rounded, confident, and emotionally healthy children. In this blog post, we’ll explore some traditional parenting methods we might choose to avoid and highlight positive parenting advice that can guide us in fostering a nurturing and supportive environment for our children.

Traditional Parenting Techniques to Reconsider

Authoritarian Discipline Many of us grew up with authoritarian discipline, where rules were enforced without explanation and obedience was expected without question. While this method may have instilled discipline, it often lacked the element of understanding and communication. Modern parenting emphasizes a more democratic approach, where children are encouraged to understand the reasons behind rules and express their opinions. This fosters critical thinking, empathy, and emotional intelligence.

Physical Punishment Physical punishment, such as spanking, was a common disciplinary method in the past. However, contemporary research and positive parenting advice advocate for non-violent forms of discipline. Techniques like time-outs, natural consequences, and positive reinforcement are more effective in promoting long-term good behavior and do not carry the negative psychological impacts associated with physical punishment.

Lack of Emotional Support In many households, open emotional support and communication were often lacking. Modern parenting techniques stress the importance of validating children’s feelings, encouraging open communication, and fostering a supportive environment. This approach helps children develop strong emotional health and self-esteem.

Overemphasis on Academic Achievement A heavy emphasis on academic achievement, sometimes at the expense of creativity and personal interests, was common in many families. Positive parenting advice encourages a balanced approach that values academic success while also promoting extracurricular activities, creative pursuits, and the development of social skills.

Limited Autonomy Parents often made decisions for their children rather than with them, limiting their autonomy. Modern parenting techniques advocate for giving children age-appropriate choices and responsibilities, which helps them develop decision-making skills and independence.

Ignoring Mental Health Mental health issues were often overlooked or not taken seriously. Today’s parents are more aware of the importance of mental health and are more likely to seek professional help for their children when needed. They also strive to create an environment where mental health is openly discussed and addressed.

Rigid Gender Roles Traditional gender roles were strictly enforced in many households. Modern parenting promotes gender neutrality, allowing children to explore their interests and identities without the constraints of traditional gender expectations.

Embracing Positive Parenting Advice

Foster Open Communication Encourage your kids to communicate honestly about their feelings and thoughts. Recognize their feelings and listen to them without passing judgment. This fosters trust and gives kids a sense of support and understanding. Encourage your kids to communicate honestly about their feelings and thoughts. Recognize their feelings and listen to them without passing judgment. This fosters trust and gives kids a sense of support and understanding.

Use Positive Reinforcement Focus on reinforcing positive behavior rather than just punishing negative actions. Praise and reward your children for their efforts and achievements, which encourages them to continue exhibiting good behavior.

Set Clear Boundaries with Empathy Establish clear rules and boundaries, but explain the reasons behind them. Approach discipline with empathy and understanding, ensuring that your children know the rules are in place for their safety and well-being.

Encourage Independence Give your children age-appropriate responsibilities and allow them to make choices. This helps them develop independence, decision-making skills, and a sense of responsibility.

Prioritize Emotional Health Make mental health a priority in your household. Encourage open discussions about feelings and mental well-being. Seek professional help if needed and create a supportive environment where your children feel safe to express themselves.

Support a Balanced Lifestyle Promote a balanced approach to life that includes academics, extracurricular activities, creative pursuits, and social interactions. Encourage your children to explore their interests and develop a well-rounded skill set.

Promote Gender Neutrality Allow your children to explore their interests and identities without imposing traditional gender roles. Support their choices and encourage them to pursue what makes them happy, regardless of societal expectations.

Conclusion Being a parent is a journey that is always changing and needs constant learning and adjustment. By reflecting on the techniques our parents used and embracing positive parenting advice, we can create a nurturing and supportive environment for our children. Modern parenting techniques that emphasize empathy, open communication, and a balanced approach to discipline and support can help us raise emotionally healthy, confident, and well-rounded individuals. As we navigate the challenges of parenting, let’s strive to provide the best possible guidance and support for our children, ensuring their happiness and success in life.

[puffpasstea]

The Rules

A/N: A blurb as requested here. I hope it's what you wanted! Warnings: Dom!Harry, BDSM, mentions of smut, mentions of mental illness. ___

“Honey, I’m home!” Harry yelled out dramatically, strutting into my apartment as if he lived here.

“Hey, took you long enough…”  I glanced over my shoulder at him, keeping my eyes on my knife-work to avoid any kitchen tragedies.

“Yeah, we ended up having to do a second take of that last scene I was telling you about. Took a lot of talking back and forth to get it right. What smells so good?”

I hadn’t seen Harry in a couple of days. The scenes they were focused on filming weren’t ones that required a lot of help from me. And the library had been quiet, what with the film shutting down the majority of it to use for their own purposes. This meant a lot of work from home for me. And some downtime to focus on taking care of myself and my mental health. 

Because I’d been having a rough time recently, Harry had, up to this point, been in charge of food. Mostly because my appetite was one of the first things to go when I was depressed, but also because he was an obsessive, farmers-market, locally-sourced, organic-everything kinda guy. A bit of  rich LA in him that he could never quite shake off. 

I was feeling better tonight though. So, I decided to cook for us. “Oh, I made dinner.”

Harry opened the oven to peak inside. “Wow, a real meal.”

That seemed like a loaded comment, presumably directed at my bizarre eating habits, but I chuckled and let it go.

“You’ve made some sauce too!” He took a teaspoon to the saucepan and helped himself to a taste. “And it actually tastes good…”

“Don’t sound so surprised!”

“Careful, Matilda, if you keep this up, I’m gonna start thinking that you’re trying to seduce me.” 

Damn those dimples. He was clearly finding a lot of joy in this conversation.

“Get over yourself and go set the table, will you?”

***

“So, how was your day?” Harry asked, taking a forkful of roasted vegetables into his mouth.

“Horny.” I blurted, blushing instantly.

Harry nearly choked on his food in response. He coughed heatedly and dropped his fork reaching for his drink and gulping it down noisily.

I was thrilled I’d managed to throw him off, though perhaps I should’ve been more careful about the choking hazard. Though Harry was undeniably the dominant in our dynamic, I still liked to challenge him every now and then, make him work for it.

“Y-yeah,” he spoke again, still a bit off-guard. “Th-that can be.. Uh, har- I’m sorry, I can’t. What did you just say?”

I pinched myself to keep from laughing. “Well, I can’t stop thinking about the time when you made me beg for permission to cum.”

His face was smiling now, recalling the memory to the center of his mind. “Oh, yeah? Go on…”

“I really liked that. A-and when you said I wasn’t allowed to touch you…”

Harry had completely abandoned his food by now, sitting back in his chair, he was staring at me with an open jaw.

“I like it when you give me those…rules.”

“I’ve got more, if you’re interested.”

***

We started with the basics.

If we don’t have time for aftercare, we don’t have time for sex. There will be no skipping out on aftercare.

We can’t try anything new before having a conversation about it first.

Having covered basic safety, we moved on to the fun stuff.

First, Harry insisted I’m not to make myself cum, or even touch myself, in his presence or his absence, without his explicit permission. I was, however, allowed to beg for it.

The begging soon made way for his second rule,

which was about always using my words and vocalizing my needs. I knew this was entirely about him enjoying how flustered I get, how embarrassed i am whenever he makes me plead, how hard it is to for me to  say things like “Please sir, fuck my cunt.” But, this rule actually had important unintended consequences for our friendship as well.  He often reminded me of the rule, and punished me for ignoring it, whenever I got anxious and in my head and began to isolate myself, refusing to verbalize how I felt. Being forced to communicate my thoughts, and knowing that I had no choice but to tell him what I needed, made the bad days just a little bit easier and made him better at offering support. What started out as some embarrassment kink, ended up being genuinely meaningful to me. 

He gradually made the communication more specific. “You are to refer to me as ‘sir’ and only ‘sir.’”

Then, he slapped my face repeatedly after I’d unleashed a string of profanities at him for ruining my orgasm three times in a row. “No cussin’ at me, you disrespectful whore.” I was allowed to curse, just not AT him.

***

One night, having spent all day upstate, visiting my family in my childhood home, I struggled to calm my anxiety using my regular coping mechanisms. The resulting sleeplessness ended up throwing off my whole week, after which, two important rules were born.

“You are to call my phone after every time that you see your family.” Of course, I defied that rule immediately. Mainly out of insecurity that I would quickly become a burden. But also because it was often late at night by the time that I got home from seeing my family, so, Harry added

“If you ever need anything that I have the power to help with, you reach out. EVEN WHEN IT’S THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT.”

Harry’s rules regarding food, similarly, evolved over time. Upon first hearing about the ways that my mental health often affected my appetite, Harry immediately made it a rule that I must eat a minimum of one real meal everyday. “Real” mostly meant a carb, a vegetable, and a protein. It didn’t always have to be healthy, and it didn’t have to be elaborate. Sometimes a cheeseburger would suffice to tick all three of those boxes. The better I got at staying on top of that rule, the higher the requirements got. He began to gradually require snacks…and eventually ended with a “no skipped meals” rule.

***

Though we began negotiating those rules over dinner that night, my favorite part about our dynamic remains the “unwritten” rules. The things we never explicitly agreed on, but that somehow ended up being ritualistically incorporated into our relationship to a point where we genuinely had a conversation if they were skipped.

For instance, Harry took it upon himself to remind me to take my meds everyday. I never asked him to. And he never told me he was planning on doing it. He simply noticed what time they were meant to be taken over time, and just started reminding me, and then never stopped.

I always prepped the bedroom, toys, and sat in position whenever I knew that he was coming over. And if we were hanging out at his plays, I always brought those supplies, and my especially purchased lingerie along with me.

I also sent him a “good morning” text every single morning without fail. And if I’d overslept, let my phone die overnight, or otherwise neglected to do it, there was always hell to pay.

Harry also often punished me if on any random day, he asked if I’d had any water, and my answer happened to be “nope” or “not yet, sir.” Hydration was by far his biggest unwritten rule. And he loved to spring it on me at random. It made for very creative punishments, too.

Though our relationship thrived on some of our reckless, spur-of-the-moment decisions, and a lot of sexual chemistry, I’ve always been secretly grateful for the structure that our rules has given my very disordered mind. I’ve never explicitly told Harry this before, but I hope that my submission has indicated it.

[furiousgoldfish]

Trauma symptoms caused by childhood abuse

Early symptoms (childhood and teenage years):

Inability to show pain and vulnerability to others

deep belief that you ‘have to be tough’, secretly fearing that you’re weak and pathetic if you ever shed any tears or break down in pain

personality changes from outgoing and social, to isolated and quiet, trying not to be noticed

feeling like there’s something deeply wrong with you, deep belief that you’re some kind of monster who deserves to be punished

fear that if someone finds out about whats happening to you, they will blame you and hurt you worse

anxiety around adults, always being scared you’ll annoy someone and be hurt for it

very low attention to your needs and wants, feeling pride in neglecting your own well being, even neglecting your pain

belief that your value is tied to how much pain and mistreatment you can endure

urge to self harm, or outright hurting yourself

feeling like you want to disappear, or not be born at all, contemplating suicide

self hatred, feeling extremely negative about yourself and feeling like things would be better if you didn’t exist

spending phases of time being emotionless, feeling like a zombie and not caring about anything

foreshortened sense of future (belief that you wont live for much longer, inability to see your future or plan for it)

not feeling the consequences of events in the real time, or not at all; for instance, being completely unphased by a violent outburst or screaming, not feeling pain when you’re hurt, or not feeling the exhaustion when you’re clearly overworked

strong urge to not think about certain topics or events, or inability to do so

fear that your body is wrong and disgusting, anxiety about anyone seeing it but desperate need for validation that you’re normal

deep sense of shame in yourself, your actions and your appearance

strong investment in finding excuses for people who do bad things, always trying to see things from their angle and to forgive them

feeling like the blame for any bad thing in the world can be put on you

not feeling like a human being, belief that you’re less than human

feeling like your home is not here and you do not belong on this planet

feeling uncomfortable being touched and wanting people to back off

uncontrolled ourbursts of rage

looking for anything to soothe your pain or distract you, indulging with obsessions or drugs

early development of anxiety disorder, depression, insomnia, ocd

trying to regress your age and force yourself to stay younger than you are, because you feel like your value is dropping with age and nobody will care for you anymore

trying to desperately take control over some aspects of your life, which can result in overdoing or completely neglecting school, losing yourself in virtual life, eating disorders, self harm or magic thinking that enables you to believe you can control your circumstances

in case of a sexual trauma, innapropriate sexual behaviour, deep shame tied to your body, indulging in sexual interactions even before puberty, feeling like you’re meant to be used, violent or forceful sexual fantasies accompanied with shame, fear of touch, fear of anyone finding out, reaching out for pornographic material to put your experience into perspective

feeling desperate to appear normal and clinging very strongly to the perception that your childhood is normal

Later symtoms, can develop anytime after puberty, can be in 20s or 30s or even 50s:

Emotional

Flashbacks, nightmares, panic attacks, freezing up in terror, beyond average amounts of fear and dread

Trust issues, either trusting without suspicion even when you shouldn’t or trusting nobody and feeling completely alone in the world

Episodes of re-living traumatic events from childhood or later in life; emotional meltdowns

Being unable to leave the past and feeling frozen in the moments of trauma

Emotional flashbacks, feeling the events from past as if they’re happening now, except this time you feel it thousand times stronger and completely fall apart from the horror of it

Feeling unstable, ashamed for not being able to control your emotions, fear of being judged, mocked or humiliated for it, trying desperately to not feel it, using distractions or drugs

Self doubt, struggling to know what is real and what isn’t, doubting your memories and emotions, trying to only feel what you believe is obliged from you

Questioning the past over and over again, trying to find sense and who to blame

Trying desperately to put your relationship with your abuser(s) into perspective, feeling both guilt and obligation towards them, but also rage and desire to take over control from them

Self harm, self-destructive behaviour, suicidal behaviour, wanting to die to end the pain

Deep and overwhelming grief over loss of childhood and loss of trust in people you believed wouldn’t hurt you, or believed they were doing it for your good, which now proved not to be true

Depression, loss of joy in anything you used to like doing, loss of optimism in life

Losing the courage to try anything, regardless of how much it would benefit you, if there’s even a slight chance of getting hurt in a way you find impossible to endure, living passively

Feeling irreparably damaged and ruined

Getting lost in maladaptive daydreaming, fiction, or the virtual world, feeling unable to face reality, falling to obsessions or addictions to endure the pain

Feeling other people’s feelings as if they’re your own, especially feelings of pain, anxiety, fear, nervousness, anger or grief; trying to soothe them and especially having strong reactions to anger

Feeling overwhelmed whenever around people, feeling the urge to self-isolate and to be completely alone

Being hit with extreme amounts of rage and struggling to process it; worrying about misdirecting the rage or acting on it, violent fantasies

Getting stuck in a mindset of a child and barely able, or unable to do any grown-up tasks

Struggling to achieve even minimum function, or not functioning at all

Losing the will or the energy to participate in any activities you used to enjoy

Fighting or indulging the urge to normalize what happened or make it ‘not that bad’, trying to re-live it in a way that wouldn’t be traumatic, especally with sexual trauma, needing to perceive it as if it would be normal only if it was ‘consensual’ or more controlled and trying to find a way to frame it as ‘not that big of a deal’ and denying it’s hurting you

Beating yourself up horribly for still being upset and traumatized by events that happened long ago

Inability to have friends or form connections with others, high alert for betrayal and manipulation

Avoding places and people connected to the trauma, getting easily triggered and forced to re-live something that needs recovery time of days or weeks

Losing your sense of reality; not being sure where you are or what year is it for some periods of time, feeling like you’re going crazy

Only being able to focus on surviving a short amount of time (just trying to get thru the day or week)

Physical

Extreme anxety; trembling, spending prolonged amount of time tense and expecting danger and pain at every second, inability to calm down, limbs not working properly, fainting out of fear

Continually activated “fight or flight” response, always feeling endangered, trouble digesting food because your body shuts down your digestion in order for you to be able to escape faster, vomiting, stomach pains after eating

Hyperventilation, problems with breathing, feeling there’s “no air” in small or crowded spaces

Chronic exhaustion, feeling heavy weight over your body, having difficulty moving at all

Chronic pain, tension in your body never leaving, physical pain appearing when you’re experiencing emotional pain, chest pain, heart palpitations

Problems with blood pressure, fainting easily

Dissociation (feeling detached from your emotions and/or body, feeling numb and unreal, your body not feeling yours, feeling outside your body or like you’re stuck in someone else’s body)

Memory issues, not being able to remember whole parts of your life, weak short term memory, not being able to look back on your life in linear way or put the events in they order they happened in, mixing several events into one, remembering feelings but not events

Increased sensitivity to noise, getting very upset at any non recognizable sound, reacting with irritability or rage to background noises, or with terror at loud noises; needing complete silence, or constant soothing background noise

Extreme sensitivity to stress, having to block out stressful things from memory, having physical reactions to stress, like shaking, your hair falling out, feeling incapable of dealing with even minimally stressful tasks

Dry mouth in the night, overheating during the nightmares, getting so distressed after sleep you can’t move from the bed for hours, not calming down for days

Not being able to control your body, falling down and shaking uncontrollably, even trashing around as your body processes violence done to it

Not being able to relax or calm down without experiencing physical pain, feeling addicted to abuse and indulging in self harm, or letting someone else hurt you so that you might gain a moment of not feeling tense, stressed and scared

Feeling sensations of pain or discomfort on your body even when nothing is happening to it, especially the body parts that have been violated in some way; in case of sexual trauma it would mean private parts, in case of overworking yourself or break yourself with effort, pain in all muscles and joints

In case of sexual trauma, reoccurring memories of it, trouble figuring out your sexuality, wanting to escape your body or perceiving it in a distorted way, urge to repeat the trauma to get desensitized to it, hypersexual behaviour or complete lack of interest in sexuality

Weight gain or loss, hatred of your body and desire to change or hurt it, or complete neglect over body, lack of any self care of even acknowledging you need it

Difficulty sleeping or being awake, feeling too high alert to fall asleep or dropping out of consciousness from overexhaustion

Inability to focus or finish tasks, procrastinating or feeling sick just knowing there is a task you have to do.

 If you struggle(d) with 5 or more of early ones, or 5 or more of later ones, you’ve been dealing with trauma.

[thezestyone]

CONGRATULATIONS 🎉🎈🍾🎊 I am so happy and glad u have 100 followers u totally deserve it…. Okay may I request a head cannon with Nobunaga, Mitsuhide, Yukimaru and Motonari ( u can pick one if u want to ) with a s/o with Curly hair Thank u and congratulations 🥳🥳

@joy-the-reader,

Thank you so much, and thank you for being a follower!~ 🥳

A MC with curly hair:

Nobunaga: When he first saw her, he could not believe his carnelian eyes. She had the hair of that of a westerner! But she was a woman, so she could not possibly be a trader. Perhaps the daughter of a trader? What would the daughter of a trader be doing all the way out in Kyoto, saving him from a burning temple?…

After getting to know her more, he decided to try to find every opportunity possible to touch her hair, or to get her to confess how she got it like that. Wait, she was born with hair like this? Perhaps her parents were westerners, though this was very unusual and oh so fascinating to the man who loved anything different from the usual.

“The woman who appeared to save my life with such intriguing hair… I got to make her mine.”

Anyone he caught talking badly about her hair was put to grueling work as punishment for such insolent comments. No one speaks poorly about his lucky charm without facing dire consequences. His punishments would be so taxing, that when word got around about them, everyone made extra sure to not even look at the Oda princess’ hair.

Nobunaga would also inform her maids to take extra care of the princess’ hair and care it to her standards, since they would have never dealt with such a hair type before.

Her hair was just one part of her. The rest of her, especially her spirit, were what drew him to her like a moth to a flame.

Yukimura: Seeing her almost running off a cliff was already much of an introduction, but when he got a better look at her?

“What happened to your hair? It looks like some kind of bird’s nest!”

Tactless, as usual, if his nickname of boar woman wasn’t bad enough.

The bickering that followed was well deserved. How could he say such a thing about her hair?!

So the two would have met with a rocky start. The next time they would have met would be in the markets of Azuchi, where he set up his shop. Though they would bicker a lot at first, the two would have found the other a bit intriguing due to their personal characteristics, and not just their hair textures. Sure, he was tactless, but he was not a bad person.

When a troublemaker came making a fuss in town and being disrespectful to her concerning her hair, he stepped in and got the troublemaker to back off. She would question why he would step in to defend her when he thought her hair was like a bird’s nest, which in turn would make him flustered, averting his eyes and scratching his head.

“B-Because that guy was being a jerk to you… I didn’t mean to come across like a jerk… Sorry for calling your hair that. You’re more of a boar woman if anything, anyway…” He would ramble. His heart is in the right place, but tact and not being awkward was just not his thing!

He really liked her, though. He would happily again defend her against someone looking for a problem with her, hair related or not.

Mitsuhide: How curious was her hair, he thought, when he first caught a glimpse at her. Has he perhaps spotted another kitsune in the wild?

In all seriousness, he found the little mouse interesting. She was such an open book that there was no way she could be a spy, or at least a capable one. Must be some kind of quirk in her bloodline, perhaps.

So she was born with such intriguing hair. With that in mind, he decided to tease her.

“You know, little one, we all have our secrets. There must be something more to your hair, just like there is something more to my eyes,” He would smirk at her, to which she would question what more could possibly be to his eyes.

“Indeed, what more could there be about my eyes?… Perhaps I will tell you my secret if you tell me yours first,” He would chuckle, to which she would get frustrated with him. He knew very well that there was nothing more to her hair, but she didn’t need to know that he knew that. He loved to keep her guessing.

Hearing of the maids struggle with her hair, Mitsuhide would volunteer to care for her hair in the way that she liked, despite the process being quite time consuming. He was quite meticulous, and quite tender-handed. He was fond of her, after all, and the little mouse had to look her mousey best.

Motonari: The pirate captain has seen just about every kind of hair type you can think of due to his voyages. However, he was surprised to see his lady having a hair type not common, if at all prevalent, in Japan.

“How special you are, m’lady. Not only do ya have flowers fer brains, yer hair is also quite special. Are ya really an Oda princess, or a princess of España?” He would tease in their first very rough introduction.

Though, no matter how hard he tried, he still found himself quite fond of the Oda princess. She did not back down to no one, especially if they teased her hair.

Being out at sea a lot, the humidity would get unbearable, and it would take a toll on his lady’s hair. Being a prominent merchant, he would nonchalantly hand her a bunch of hair products that may help her control her frizz. What? He didn’t want to hear her complaining, and he had extra lying around anyway, so she might as well put them to good use…

So he may be more fonder of her than he thought. When she would earn his trust, he would be more than happy to do many braids and twist outs for her hair. He always enjoyed seeing just how her hair would turn out when she would undo the braids and twists.

And the dazzling smile she would have when she admired herself. There was no smile more beautiful than it.

[youreallyshouldtalkmore]

Curious Gaze_Run Ending:Part1

Summary: Continued from Curious Gaze_Prologue. Ending two of this series. You can find the first ending: Stay on my Genshin Impact Masterlist.  

You would probably pay for this later.  

Turning, you darted out the door and down the street into the bustling city of Liyue. As you mosed around, you kept looking over your shoulder, expecting the ex-Geo Archon to be on your tail. It was risky to do this. This was the man that could bring a mountain on your head, not that you ever doubted your safety. Despite that, you couldn’t help but to look up a few times as well. 

You knew you were playing in hot water. 

But he was never on your tail or reigning rocks from the sky. Despite that your nerves were high-strung. 

Maybe you should have stayed and accepted your punishment. 

You knew you were pushing his button. 

This morning, when you saw Zhongli, he looked a lot finer than he did yesterday. You had no idea why, but you couldn’t help but to admire everything about him. As a lover of tea yourself, watching him make tea was a joy. But today you seemed to pick up on details you didn’t before, how his hands stirred it carefully without spilling a single drop. How he blew on his tea, gently caressing it to cool, yet never making waves. You thought about many things during your work, which make the work day pass quickly. 

By the time, dinner arrived, and you met again, you couldn’t help but to find out what else he would do. So first you watched him inconspicuously. Him talking about his research meant you could fully face him and watch his lips move without any fear of consequence. You had every good intention to quietly accompany him as he did his research and brought your own thing. But your own thing wasn’t nearly as interesting as watching him do his thing. So you gave up your good intentions, moved over to the podium and just watched. 

And watched. 

The longer you watched, the happier it seemed to make you. 

You didn’t regret it then, and you still don’t regret it now, even if you were trying to be incognito in the busy marketplace that was Liyue. You weaved through people and used the different stalls as a hiding place, pretending to be interested in their wares. 

“Hey comrade, what are you doing?” a bright voice suddenly cut through your mind. 

You nearly jumped out of your skin and whipped around to see Childe with a huge grin. He waved, and before he could say something loud again: 

“Shhh, moron!” you waved at him before looking around. If anyone would get you found quicker, it would be him. Between his height, being a Fatui and being Zhongli’s acquaintance, he would be a prime suspect for Zhongli to try to find you. You grabbed his arm and darted around a corner, pulling him with you. 

Childe for his part blinked and let you pull him. When the both of you situated around a corner, the Fatui whispered yelled, “Ooh, hide and go seek!” 

You glared over at him once, making his mouth shut. When nothing happened, you gave a huge sigh before poking your head out around the building. You looked left and right. Then you looked up. 

Alright, seems safe….

After some time you felt a poke at your back, “Uh, Girlie, who are we hiding from?” 

“This is immaterial…. “ You swung your head towards him with a hiss, “....but you if you get me in trouble I will roast your behind.” 

Even though you were vision-less, Childe still had the sense to fear you. After all, as Zhongli’s girlfriend, you had adapted some of his traits. You had even used the “I will have order” line and even without the ability to throw rocks, it was still scary. 

Before Childe could say anything, you hissed at him before darting into the crowd, “I’m gone. Wait two minutes and go the opposite way. You never saw me, got it!” 

Childe nodded vigorously. He waited two minutes before walking the opposite way. Then he stopped suddenly, “But who were we hiding from?”

When you made it to your home, you almost fell in the door. Since Zhongli had things to do, you would see him tomorrow.  You kicked off your shoes, humming a little diddy.  Which meant... 

“I’m safe! I made it!!” you cried happily striking a pose. 

“Are you really?” 

You jumped a foot in the air and landed to see Zhongli sitting in the corner of your house sipping tea. He paused, but once he determined you didn’t fall or break anything, he took another sip. All throughout, his amber eyes never left you. 

You clutched your heart, “Don’t scare somebody like that!” 

Silence drifted for a moment as you comphrended that Zhongli was in fact in your house and not still in the library as you assumed. 

Finally a laugh poured from your lips as you asked, “What are you doing here? I thought you had to work.” 

“I have the materials I need, so I can start again tomorrow. Which means I may indulge my curiosity about your behavior. Since you chose to run, the curiosity has since spiked.” 

You gave another forced laugh. You knew how Zhongli was….like a dog with a bone. If something tickled his intellect, he would not rest until it was resolved. 

You forked an eyebrow, “Zhongli, that doesn’t explain why you are here.” 

Zhongli gazed at you for a moment before realizing that you were actually serious. He gave a small sigh, “Y/N, I see you actually forgot I had the key.” 

You almost slapped your head. Zhongli had the key to your house for emergencies, but he rarely used it, which was why you forgot. 

Which explained how he was here. 

The retired Geo-Archon continued, “But even if I didn’t, did you really think I would chase you down the street?” 

He took a sip of tea, “Such an action is undignified and a waste of energy. All I had to do was wait here for you. You would migrate back home eventually. Even if I didn’t have the key, I could just wait outside. How was it you failed to see this simple solution?” 

Zhongli fixed his gaze on you, “So, why did you run? Surely you realized that running only added to the consequences of your actions?” 

You twitch once before clapping your hands together with a huge smile, “Zhongli….I feel we have reached another level of our relationship that I can comfortably say this……” 

He inclined his head once for you to continue. 

“My motives were pure. It’s not my fault that you look good doing mundane things. And then, I wanted to kiss you, so I did.” 

Zhongli sat the cup on the table and rose to his full height, taking steps towards you as he spoke, “Your motives were never in question. It’s the consequences of your actions that you must be responsible for. I was very aware of your gaze all evening. You think that didn’t do anything to me? A tempting distraction. I had an arm full of books and could not properly return the kiss. And then on top of that, you ran, denying me my chance. You think this is fair play?” 

You kept walking backwards only to be stopped by the wall. Before could dodge left or right, two hands placed by your head. You didn’t even see or hear him make the last several steps. 

So you grinned up at him, “I choose to think of delaying rather than denying as denying means you will never get it but delaying means later and as an ex-archon whose virtue is patience surely you understand the meaning good things come to those who wait.” 

Zhongli’s eyes were half-lidded as he slid on hand down to rest on your waist, “You wish to play word games with me?” 

“Where is the lie? Show me the lie!” You demanded. 

“The one that you assume that my patience is boundless, endless….” he wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you closer and closer, his voice almost whispering as his lips hovered over yours, “...I assure you it is not.” 

“It isn’t?” you murmured. 

“No, you are a delightful temptation and tonight an utter distraction.” 

“Oh?” 

“Hm-mm”, Zhongli nodded. 

Your eyes fluttered as Zhongli’s lips hovered over yours. They seem to linger for a longer time that necessary, making you subtly tilted your head up. Without missing a beat, the ex-archon only pulled back slightly, making you miss his mouth by mere millimeters. You gave a small whine that you were unaware of. 

His voice was low as he said, “Tell me, what was so fascinating about me today, Y/N? Tell me that, and maybe I’ll put you out of your misery.” 

It took a moment before the words registered in your head. You lowered your gaze, “But I already told you, I think you look good doing mundane things, and then I wanted to kiss you. So I did.” 

Zhongli cocked his head, “That’s it?”

You couldn’t even nod as you continued to look down. 

He tilted your chin, but your gaze remained on downward. 

“But something tells me there is more. What is it? You know you can tell me anything, don’t you?” 

Your eyes snapped to his, “Of course I know!” 

“Then?” 

You really wanted to deflect and say it was nothing, but you couldn’t. You were never one that lied, nor could you effectively tell a good lie and have people believe it.  But strangely, you didn’t really want to put into words what his question demanded. 

So, like a slippery eel, you slid down the wall and darted under and around Zhongli’s arm.  You fist pumped without looking back at him, “There’s that!” 

“You see this as an effective measure to not answering my question?” 

You turned around and innocently placed your hand back your back, “Yep!” 

Zhongli gave you a small smile, “Well, I won’t force you to tell me anything, if you don’t want to. I just hope we have progress that you feel comfortable telling me anything and everything you want.” 

Zhongli didn’t miss the way you half-chewed on your lip before turning away with a chipper voice, “I know!” 

Zhongli nodded, “Very well. I will bid you good night, Y/N. It’s getting late.” 

You nodded. 

A small gasp escaped you when you felt your hand being picked up. You looked to see Zhongli kissing the back of your hand. Unconsciously, you brought your other hand up to your mouth and bite the fingernail of your forefinger as you suppressed a smile. 

You saw Zhongli’s smile as he allowed his lips to linger on the back of your hand, his amber eyes shining up at you. 

As Zhongli expected, kissing the back of your hand would elicited this response 98% of the time. It was adorable when you did that. He observed that you only did when you were pleased and embarrassed at the same time. 

He straightened with a smile, “Good night, Y/N.” 

Fingernail still in your mouth with that shy smile, you replied, “Goodnight Zhongli.” 

Which was why it was a surprise to Zhongli when he was almost at your door, hand reaching out to the knob, that he felt your arms suddenly wrap around his middle, your face buried in his back.  

TBC

Run Ending_Part 2

[the-insomniac-emporium]

Serenade (Daniela Dimitrescu/Reader) Pt. 11

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: T for language Warnings: Nope! Notes: Here we are, a breath away from the end. This features not one, but FOUR songs written by myself. If you only choose to listen to one of them, listen to the final one (Cradle of Heaven), as it is a duet I wrote specifically for this fanfiction, as something that the reader wrote to play together with Daniela. The links to these songs will be within the fanfiction itself, at relevant times. Past Chapters: Pt. 1: Nocturne, Pt. 2: Overture, Pt. 3: Accelerando, Pt. 4: Toccata, Pt. 5: Poco a Poco, Pt. 6: Elegy, Pt. 7: Harmony, Pt. 8: Obbligato, Pt. 9: Berceuse, Pt. 10b: Hymn AMAB

Chapter 11: Cadence

(Cadence: Two chords that mark the end of a song)

The stage is set, the lights are dimmed, your heart pounds within your chest, and the world is yours. Soon, it will be Daniela’s. She is right by your side, as ever, hand gently taking hold of your own. There’s a silent reassurance in her grip, a reminder that the two of you have overcome a plethora of challenges. A promise that this will be no different. Both of you take a deep breath, in sync, before exchanging a quick kiss. All of your hard work has been leading up to the coming moments. Although you are beyond confident in your lover’s abilities, there is a shadow of doubt in the back of your mind. Not for her sake, but surrounding the expectations held by her mother, the standard against which you would be measured.

“Come hell or high water, Songbird, I won’t let anything happen to you. I promise,” Daniela whispers, squeezing your hand again, eyes unblinking as they stare into yours. “You’ve made every right choice, worked harder than anyone I know, and there is nothing more I can ask of you… except another kiss to celebrate afterwards, that is.” Giggling in response gives you the moment you need to relax, nerves fading into the background of your mind. “Now let’s put on a show the likes of which my mother has never seen, mhmm?”

THREE HOURS EARLIER:

“Here, you can borrow my brooch. It’s been in the family for generations, since before we even came to the village, passed down starting with an ancestor who crafted it himself, from materials he scavenged while fleeing his home country,” Daphne rambles, helping you attach the jewelry to your shirt. Thankfully, her hands do not tremble nearly as much as yours have been for the past hour. “I’m more than sure that Lady Daniela will tell you this much, but I feel the need to repeat just how good you look right now. I don’t know where the hell they’ve been hiding this version of our uniform, but damn do I wish I could get one for my next date with Ygritte. Seriously, if you can get one in my size, please do me that favor.”

“Anything for my best friend. Especially after all the times you’ve saved my ass these past few months,” you reply, pausing to give her shoulder an affectionate pat. If not for her constant interference running, someone would have certainly found out about your relationship with Daniela. “Speaking of that… of my life being on the line, I mean… no matter what happens today, no matter what Lady Dimitrescu decides, take care of yourself. You’ve gambled with your own blood to keep me safe, but what I’ve done, what I’ve risked, those were my choices. My consequences. The last thing I’d ever want is for you to pay for them, somehow.”

Rolling her eyes, Daphne gives you a playful shove to the chest, before smoothing out the fabric of your dress uniform. Now she refuses to meet your gaze, a familiar mistiness taking over her brown eyes.

“Nobody around here is stupid enough to think you’ll die today. You managed to get Lady Daniela, of all people, to stay focused long enough to learn some absolutely beautiful pieces of music. You have proved, time and time again, that you are a talented musician, teacher, and ‘servant’. So get out there and kick some metaphorical ass, my friend, because you are ready,” she finally says, offering you what seems to be a handshake. But as soon as your hand meets hers, she’s pulling you in for a hug, holding you tight for a solid minute. When at last you part, you give her what may very well be the last smile she’d ever see gracing your lips.

---------------------------

A hand’s edge against xer forehead, parallel to the ground, kept perfectly flat. From anyone else, it would be mockery. From xer? Honest salute, solidarity in a traditional form, accompanied by a sharp-toothed grin. Mimicking the expression, you wave at Ava, glad to see that xe would be awake for your concert. After your first night with your girlfriend, Daphne had helped arrange for someone to be your “cover story” for sleeping outside of your usual quarters. With Daniela’s input (and jealousy), only one candidate had revealed themselves, in the form of a (conveniently) mute butler with an inconsistent schedule, love of mischief, and somehow the respect of the Dimitrescu family. Now, xe appeared ready to escort you to the location of your trial by fire.

“Are you sure our mutual friend won’t be upset to see the two of us together?” You teased, knowing full well that Ava was one of the only people that Daniela trusted 100% around you. In response, xe gives an exaggerated shrug, then quickly links xer arm with your own. Together you march onwards to your destiny, amused by the way xe practically skipped down the hallway. Maybe there was a certain wisdom to xer shenanigans, a carefree philosophy that encouraged laughter in the face of death, and you embraced the thought with a smile.

Before long, however, the two of you encounter another unlikely pair headed towards the same destination: Lady Cassandra, looking somewhat embarrassed, with an unfamiliar maiden at her side. Their hands are clutching each other desperately, although neither of them dares to look at the other. Instead they both watch you closely from where they’ve paused in the corridor. Oddly unfazed, Ava gives them a short bow of acknowledgement, earning xer a brief nod from Cassandra. Seeming eager to move on, she addresses you quickly before gesturing for you to keep walking.

“Good luck. Don’t fuck this up for Daniela, or I’ll never hear the end of it,” she growls, doing her best to downplay her obvious concern. Wanting to let her keep up with her facade, you merely give a nod as you resume walking towards the concert stage. Soft footsteps behind you let you know that the strange pair are accompanying you. Still walking alongside you, Ava repeatedly glances behind you, putting out xer hands in the shape of a heart, giggling all the while. If you didn’t know any better, you would almost assume that xe wanted to get hit by Cassandra.

“Ava, please calm down. If you’re not careful, she’ll throw something at you. If she does that, you’ll probably dodge, and then I’ll probably end up getting hit, and then I’ll miss the concert, Lady Dimitrescu will kill me as punishment, Daniela will be sad and whiny about it, and none of you will have any peace for, like, a month. Three weeks, bare mims,” you tease, nudging xer in the ribs. Emphasizing a pout, xe sends one last look at Cassandra and her ‘friend’ (whose hand she was still holding onto like a lifeline), mouthing words you couldn’t parse. Based on the way Cassandra groans, it was something ridiculously cheesy. Regardless, xe behaves the rest of the way there…

ONE MINUTE TO SHOWTIME:

“I love you, Firefly, and I know that you’re going to do absolutely amazing out there. I’m so proud of you,” you murmur, pressing a feather-light kiss to Daniela’s cheek. As dearly as you wish to stay behind the curtain, in her arms, you know that the show was inevitable. With one last nod to your beloved, you part the fabric shielding you, stepping into the spotlight. Imaginary crowds grow hushed at your appearance, a sea of faces greeting you warmly. In truth, there are but five members in this audience, each gazing upon you with veiled interest. Donning you best presentation persona, you set this final act in motion. “Lady Dimitrescu, Lady Cassandra, Lady Bela, and Mx. Caldwell, it brings me great pleasure to present to you, on this day, a concert performed by your own Lady Daniela. For three months now I have acted as her instructor, and these three months have been, perhaps, the most rewarding of my entire life. I could not possibly be any more proud of her than I already am. Now, without further ado… let us begin!”

Stepping to the side, a tug of a rope has the curtains parting entirely, revealing your beloved, waiting ready at the piano. All at once your audience (including Cassandra’s partner, acting as a mere servant in the background) sits up with wide smiles. They look Daniela over, taking in the sight of her fanciest dress, and the way her eyes light up with joy. By the time her fingers begin dancing away at the keys, there is not a single ounce of anxiety in your entire soul. This first song is a relic from your past, a representation of an abandoned idea, yet she plays it like a celebration. It’s fast, hits hard, a bold take right out of the gate. Admittedly, it is also somewhat short. Nonetheless, it serves its purpose, igniting a spark of excitement in those present. Once the song ends, Daniela is surprised by the intensity of her family’s applause. In the back of her mind, she trembles with excitement, knowing that the best was yet to come.

Riding this wave of pride, she immediately settles into the next song, something slower but far grander. Affection thrums inside your chest as you watch your pupil perfectly execute another piece. You can only imagine what her mother must be feeling, to see just how far her daughter has come in such a short amount of time. A quick glance in Alcina’s direction reveals the barest hints towards her being impressed. For now that was enough to satisfy you. Soon enough her face would twist in surprise, as the second song ended, and a new face steps up onto the stage: Lady Bela. Wordlessly she retrieves her violin from the back of the stage, then turns to the front with a mischievous smile.

“Now, a duet! Presenting the ever-talented Lady Bela, to join Lady Daniela for a rendition of an original song, dubbed ‘Northern Lights’. Enjoy!” You call out, before once more taking your place at the side. While Daniela did not need you to count her in for her solo performances, this feels ever so slightly more important, and as such you do your best to conduct for the duration of the song. If either of the performers need it, they hide it well. Honestly, you weren’t sure if your girlfriend had looked your way even a single time so far. ‘Twas incredible to witness her. Akin to a siren, near glowing, taking to the stage as if born to grace its center. Even with Bela working her own magic, Daniela is ever the star. Together they weave a lovely song, notes rising high into the air, swirling around an enchanted audience.

When it ends, both performers give a bow, as if the entire affair had come to a close. Without hinting at what was to come, you switch places with the eldest Dimitrescu daughter. A deep breath rattles your ribcage as you find your center, reaching out to take Daniela’s hand, the two of you raising your arms upward in a display of union. For the first time this evening, Lady Alcina narrows her eyes in what feels like disapproval. But you pay her no mind. Instead you sit alongside your beloved, quietly settling into your practiced position.

There is no introduction for this song. No announcement, no showmanship, nor even a countdown into the symphony. Simply, like exhaling a breath, the two of you start to play. Your phrases echo hers, and vice versa, calling and answering, accompanying all the while, natural as anything holy in the wild. ‘Tis the second shortest song of the night, only long enough to showcase the degree of your partnership with Daniela. As the song crescendos into an ending, you manage to meet the gaze of your employer. Perhaps it is merely an illusion of hope, or a reflection of lights above, but you swear you see tears in her eyes.

“Outstanding, incredible,” she praises, rising to her feet alongside her other daughters, clapping all the while. Once again you rise to your feet, hand clasped with Daniela’s, bowing as deeply as you can manage. Before you can even process what’s happening, your girlfriend is being pulled away from you, swept up into the arms of her mother. Desperation digs like a knife into your heart, as you ache to celebrate with her, but you remain ever in the guise of a professional. “You did amazing, my dear. I cannot begin to describe how proud I am.” The family gathers around each other, buzzing with affection fit to make the hardest of hearts melt. You are left on the outside, awkwardly waiting, without a hint of acknowledgment.

Even if this concert was a measure of your skill as a teacher, Lady Dimitrescu had never bothered to consider you more than another servant. This night was about Daniela. About your secret girlfriend, the brightest star in all the skies. That is not something that bothers you, nor does it surprise you. All that makes you wish to weep is the desire to kiss her. To sweep her into your arms, with celebratory kisses, singing her name as a praise to higher powers. In the end, it takes several minutes for Daniela to pull away enough to move back to you, and even then she cannot give you the reaction she yearns for.

“I’ll come by to talk to you tonight, I promise,” she whispers, as she gives you the weakest hug you have ever felt. Then she is returning to her family, clinging to her mother with a massive grin. Soon enough you are left alone on stage, quiet surrounding you, mixed feelings gnawing at the pit of your stomach. Something feels… wrong. You cannot put a name to it. No one has hinted to you what your beloved has planned, for none but her even have a clue. As soon as she is alone with her mother, as soon as she has the smallest sliver of an opportunity, she knows what she must do. “Mother… we need to talk. I... I have a confession to make.”

[the-kingshound]

ROs reactions to MC becoming a cold and calculated killing machine because of the torture with RO now being their only soft spot?

Ohh, anon, I love this ask and since in game action will have permanent consequences I will make a follow up of this scenario so every RO's MC has been through a different kind of torture. It got a bit long, sorry, I kept writing and writing!

Arthur

When the Knights see you, they bow.

"Your Majesty."

You nod in their direction, signing them to raise. You then unsheathe your sword and stare at them with a pragmatic, focused glance "follow my lead."

You join the battle only after the second wave, attacking from the side and rapidly gaining the upper hand. When no more opponents stand in the field but injured and dying fighters, your chest heaves and your sword drips crimson blood from the tip.

"Your Majesty, a couple dozens of rival soldiers are retreating in the woods."

Your voice betrays nothing but a cold type of control when you answer "get the heavy chivalry to chase them. If possible, we take prisoners."

"Yes, your Majesty."

Arthur will be here shortly, you think just before you start metodically cleaning your sword to sheathe it. Your King, as you predicted, reaches your small group of knights shortly after. He seems to glow like a majestic, regal vision in the bright daylight. You can never get enough.

As you approach his knights, between rigid strides you crouch down briefly to pick up something from the grassy field. You have most of the knights eyes on you as you get near your husband and offer him a daisy.

He takes it with a radiant light in his eyes, you know that the softness there is more than reflected in yours. You plant a soft kiss on his cheek before you retreat.

"For you, my King."

And when Arthur keeps you close at night in your shared bed, holding your hand and kissing your knuckles one by one, you know you you could lose you fingers and your ability to wear his ring, but never his unrestrained, blinding love.

Evaine

Arthur strides through the castle's halls with his usual composed demeanor, exhuding a reflective sense of peace that is only exterior. Inside, he is worried and scared. Ever since the kidnapping, you've been cold and distant. More focused, in a way, calculated when you would have hesitated before. No matter the thin scar that marked your face or the limp that now slowed you down in combat, you were merciless. Arthur just wants you to feel safe again.

He rounds the corner and stops in front of his knight's door. He knocks and recieves no answer, probably because of the sound of more than one voice inside. Slowly, the King opens the door, calling with a soft voice "Evaine?"

The sight that greets him is... unexpected.

Evaine's room is drowning in garments, dresses, robes and cloaks are all over the bed and the large vanity. You're standing in front of the mirror, Evaine is just behind you, their finger ghosting on your skin as they tie a golden neckerchief around your neck.

As soon as Arthur's presence is noted, you clear your throat, molding your expression back in a neutral one, but not quite as closed off as the one you always wear.

"So, how do I look?"

You turn around to let him see the dress in its entirety, the wip scars quite visible on your back. Arthur's pained grimance fades quicky in favour of a soft, sincere smile "you're stunning."

His attention is then on his knight. Evaine is radiant, more relaxed than he's seen them in a very long time. More... present. They've not been well for the past months.

"You wanted to talk to me, my King?"

"Yes," Arthur nods "since I had to reschedule some of today's appointments, your schedule has been rearranged. You have the rest of the afternoon free."

If that's not entirely the truth - Arthur was in need of a Knight for the squire training, but it was also true that it has been too long since he's had fun with the younglings - no one needs to know.

And with a cheeeful "have fun" he's out of the room.

You look at the dress you're currently wearing in the mirror one more time, than turn back and take another robe, soft and tighter fitting, from Evaine's wardrobe.

"How about this?" you ask them.

"Mh," they hum, giving it a very serious assessment "it would compliment your eyes perfectly. And it's not that heavy compared to the previous ones."

You send them a blinding smile, trowing your arms over them in a playful hug, than you let them help you hastly put it on.

Sometimes you forget yourself to the memories and the freezing phantom of a long gone pain, but everytime Evaine is there to bring you back, offering distractions that bring you joy and happiness. That night Evaine tells you you're the most beautiful and bright star in the sky and, for the first time since the kidnapping, you believe them.

Morien

Whispers of the King's hound gone rabid have all but taken hold of the settlements near Kev, the last town to know your uncontained fury as your informants found some dissidents nobles. You made sure not to leave the town unscathed to be of warning for whoever next dared to conspire against the King.

There are frightened voices murmuring of an heartless punisher, what they recount are mostly exaggerated distortions of true events, but they do get right the almost lifeless glint in your eyes as you write down orders.

At this point, even some knights are scared of you, of the seemingly merciless way you stare down at them without ever breathing a word. There is only one person able to get past the coldness that replaced your lost tongue, and it's the court physician.

You are currently in Morien's arms, buried in the familiarity of their scent that is secure and grounding. This feels like a rare privilege for how much Morien usually shyes away contact. With you they have reached a level of comfort, through, that sees you gifted with the warmth of their body whenever you need it and you couldn't be more grateful for that.

"Plans for today?" they ask you a rough but comforting tone of voice.

Frighten the knights, you sign and instantly they let out a humored chuckle.

"Alright, you have my attention. How do you want to proceed?"

Just tell them I want to see them all in the courtyard. They skipped training yesterday and went out drinking to celebrate. you let out a voiceless hum  I'm not really mad but they don't know that.

Morien's laugh is brief but sincere "well, let's go then."

And as you get ready, you tie a red ribbon to your wrist, very alike the ones that sometimes Morien themselves ties to their cane. The physician looks as it and then their eyes are fixed on your face with a mixture of emotion that is both fondness and tender adoration. You shrug, then offer them your arm as you walk in silence through the halls in the courtyard's direction.

Gwyar

The mark has made very difficult for people to meet your eyes and watch you in the face. You don't hold it against them, though, you know you're not an easy sight. The only ones in this room who can actually stomach it are Arthur and Gwyar, and while the King can hardly suppress the guilt, your manservant has managed to push it down in favour of their usual attentive posture.

With a fluent movement they are beside you, refilling your cup of whine and whispering in your ear with a bland tone.

"Lady Deva is under the impression that a necklace has been stolen by the less than reputable Lord Havet."

Your interest piqued, you arch a brow in their direction, only to catch at the corner of your eye the sparkling of jewelry.

Careful to mantain a neutral expression, you subtly extend your arm in their direction with the open palm facing upwards. Gwyar lets the necklace fall in your possession with an effortless movement, then they fall back behind you with the grace of a liquid shadow they've always possessed. No one seems to have noticed the brief exchange.

It does take the meal to finish before finally some action unfolds. You register Lady Deva bringing her fingers to her empty collarbone and instantly her eyes snap to the Lord at her side.

"How dare you" she hisses, low enough not to make a scene but with enough vehemence to make him reel back.

"My Lady, I sincerely don't know what-"

"My necklace."

"What of it?"

By now the altercation has managed to attract most of the other nobles attention. The argument gets heated quickly and as the situation unfolds you fail to contain a wicked grin. Arthur, to your left, is surprised by it ony for a second, then he catches the feral glint in Gwyar's eyes, just behind you, and he has to bring a hand to his mouth to suppress a laugh of his own.

Taking pity on them, you clear your throat, your voice steel cold but not unkind "did it have by chance an engraved pendant?"

The scraped sound of your voice, a bit rough from unuse, is enough to snap the entire room to silence and attention. The lady's eyes widen as she watches you extract the necklace out of your robe, her eyes immediately falling off your face as her expression contorts into a mixture of embarassment and fear.

"I found it just outside of the chamber, in the hall."

"Ah, I- I probably lost it" the lady stammers and you have to figh your lips from curling upwards as another wave of hilarity hits you.

That night, Gwyar is so undeniably proud of your performance you can only laugh with them and take them in your arms as you both fall on the bed. They let their gaze wonder on your face and they breathe out a raspy praise. You are motionless as they kiss your mark and you think in that instant that you'd let it happen only with them. Only with them - and the phrase holds a strange type of comfort.

[dramioneden]

do you know of any fics where there’s a pregnancy scare or Draco accidental gets hermione pregnant?

Dramione Unplanned Pregnancy Fic Recs 

Hi Nonnie, Sorry it has taken me soooo long to reply to this ask. To answer your question, yes I have a few (76) “accidental”/unplanned pregnancy Dramione fic recs to offer - because Draco and Hermione seem terrible at planning pregnancies. So I’ve broken this down into ones I’ve read & recommend and ones on my TBR you might want to give a try. I also categorized the fics into Teenage Pregnancies, Wartime Pregnancies, “Adult Draco and Hermione forget contraceptive” Pregnancies, Marriage Law Pregnancies and “Hidden” Pregnancies. So here is the ultimate guide to Dramione Accidental Pregnancy Fics, hopefully there is something on this list that will satisfy your ask. Happy Reading!

Teenage Unplanned Pregnancy:

Recommended Fics

Snow Storm by kblynne

8th year Post-war healing coping, Head Boy and Head Girl, teenage pregnancy.

Always Mine - A Dramione Fanfiction by SamadiW

8th year, Head Boy and Head Girl. The unplanned pregnancy is more of a secondary/later arc. Main arc on development of relationship between Hermione and Draco. Mixes the right amount of angst with the right amount of sexy.

Fics on my TBR that you might want to try:

From Venice with Love by jamieblye

In Private by acro acro

Locked In by goldhorse

His Sweet Dream by Supernerd22

I Didn’t Know by TriDogMom

Of All the Idiot Things by Lady Imara

Unbreakable by cleotheo

What Happened After The Canaries by Silver Lioness

Wartime Unplanned Pregnancy

Recommended Fics

Broken Chains by Leave It At That

Another Dramione, where Harry and Ron escape, but Hermione is left behind. As Draco and Hermione are forced together by a very perverted characterization of Voldemort, they realize they must rely on and trust each other to survive Voldemort’s demands. Forming a tentative trust and rare magical bond, together they set about playing the roles expected of them until they can find escape.

Resistance by GracefulLioness @graceful-lioness

Very well written, 7th year divergent. Instead of spending the war camping with Harry and Ron, Hermione spends it camping with Draco after they escape a battle together.

The Importance of Breeding by Jessiy  @jessiyl

Interesting twist on “what both sides of the war decide to do about the dwindling wizarding population”. Voldemort comes up with a “perfect mate” spell - guess who Draco’s perfect mate is?  

Manor of Conception by psiphifan

Harry and Ron, escape without Hermione. As punishment to the Malfoy’s for letting Potter get away, Draco is given Hermione to “breed”, thereby sullying his pure blood line. As dark as the set up is, Draco and Hermione adjust to their predicament quite adeptly. A “wartime subversion” read that hurts a bit … but climaxes a lot).

Fics on my TBR that you might want to try:

The Gift of Joy by biscuitsforpotter @biscuitsforpotter 

I Spy by gnrkrystle

The Power of Love by cleotheo

The Edge of the World by phlox

Balaur by two_ff

Tergeo by LadyKenz347 @ladykenz347

Consequences of War by NJ Coffee Queen

The Letter by RN2017

Haeres Genitus: The Begotten Heir by little miss moonlight

“Adults who forgot a contraceptive” - Future fic Unplanned Pregnancies

Recommended Fics

Precious Things by herbeautifullie @herbeautifullies

Beautifully told in a series of vignettes that take place every Christmas over a number of years. The author conveyed and developed Draco’s introspection as he falls in love with a family he never expected or wanted. Well written, emotional character/relationship study.

Liking by Ladyoneill

An adult affair between Draco and Hermione leads to adult conversations (with some input from Narcissa).

Fics on my TBR you might want to try:

A Year and a Day by Mistrus

Best Laid Plans by persephone_stone @persephonestone​

Careless by wish123

A Series of Very Bad Decisions by damnedscribblingwoman @fearsometinywit​

Unexpected Gifts by cryptaknight

Unintended Consequences by rainsrabble @rainsrabble

Knocked Up by dolphinroxy

The Side Witch & The Gift and My Witch & Her Gift by SeptimaBode

Once Upon a Night by longdistance

Ordinary People by inadaze22 @inadaze22

Surround Me by Taintedembrace

The Sweetest Downfall by xXBeckyFoo

A Wonderful Caricature of Intimacy by Countess of Abe @countessofabe

Beautiful Mistake by pinayflava90

One Night Stand with Consequences Series by ruthy4vrsmoaked @ruthy4vrsmoak-ed

Constellations in Flourish and Blotts by MarshmellowMcGonagall @marshmallowmcgonagall

Gasping, Talking, Screaming, Crying by Gette

Heaven Forbid by empathaique

In the Heat of the Storm by xxDustNight88 @xxdustnight88

whispered through the trees by notawitch2580

Back to You by NJ Coffee Queen @mnem85

Circle by wanderlustfaery

Freedom’s Consequence, Rapture’s Reward by CelticSass

Marriage Law (but still unplanned) Pregnancy

I read and recommend all three fics in this sub-genre:

Desperate Marriage by x.Chrissy.x

Nice twist on the Marriage Law trope. After breaking up with their current fiancés when they find them cheating (Ron x Astoria), instead of letting the Ministry choose their spouses for them, they choose each other. Note: I don’t want to give spoilers away, but I think it should be noted that though it’s not tagged, be aware that a couple loses a pregnancy in this. As someone who has lost a pregnancy before, I was not put off by how it is handled, but found it emotional and relatable. There is an HEA and there is a happy healthy pregnancy and I did enjoy the fic completely even the emotional part.

Ninety-Five Percent by HufflePuffMommy @hufflepuffmommy

Draco and Hermione are 95% compatible - who would have thought? ;) I really enjoyed this marriage law fic - has courting quality to it, through all the tension and angst (and denial).

An Unconventional Escape by Ariel Riddle @ariel-riddle

Loved this twist on the “marriage law”. Voldemort has won and his wizarding world is facing population problems due to infertility of purebloods. He enacts a new law that purebloods can choose captive muggleborns as spouses. The only muggleborn for Draco is Hermione - and she’s suspicious, but clever enough to figure out his dastardly persona is more pretense for show.

Secret Child/Hidden pregnancy trope: Not only was the pregnancy an accident, it was kept a secret from Draco.

Recommended Fics

Amongst the Mango Trees by ViolaMoon @violamoonfanfic

Post-war, while in a happy affair with Draco, Hermione discovers his family has him engaged to Astoria, hours after she finds out she’s pregnant. She decides to leave and start over in Australia with her parents.

Breathe by RZZMG @rzzmg

In spite of a loving affair with Hermione, Draco feels obligated to see through his engagement with Astoria. But when he runs into a pregnant Hermione months after they break-up, he must dig deep to be his own man and not his father’s.

Seven for a Secret by Musyc @willhavetheirtrinkets

Anonymous sex during Beltane, has Draco putting pieces together when he encounters an 8 year old spitting image of himself.

Unspoken Words by LilithShade @lilithshadefanfic

Post-war, Future fic. Hermione and Draco have a one night stand. Nine months later, Hermione shows up at St. Mungo’s in labor. Draco is the doctor on duty.

Always You by Emerald2402

When there is trouble in paradise between Ron and Hermione, Draco just happens to be in the right place at the right time with a shoulder for her to cry on. A couple years later, the child she brings to St. Mungo’s with a fever, bears a striking resemblance to him.

The Trouble with Love Series by bentnotbroken1 @bentnotbroken1fanfiction

8th year Hogwarts setting. Accidental pregnancy is secondary arc, post-war coping/healing and Dramione affair primary arc. Note that the first in the series: The Pitfall is complete, but the second in the series is still a WIP (as of time of post 11/2020).

Fics on my TBR you might want to try:

Consequences of War by bentnotbroken1 @bentnotbroken1fanfiction

Aparecium by LadyKenz347

An Awfully Big Adventure by NJ Coffee Queen @mnem85

The Best of Me by MrsRen @mrsren

Choosing Destiny by AkashatheKitty @akashathekitty

Let There Be No More Curse by lexiatel @lexiatel

Nowhere Left to Run by FallenInDreams @fallen-in-dreams

Rose by longdistance

Second by LadyAlinor @ladyalinor

Seventeen by smithandbarrowman @smithandbarrowman

The Silver Dragon by KittenShift17 @kittenshift-17

Webs We Weave by mayghaen17 @mayghaen17

What’s in a Name by ImSlytherinatHeart

Full Body Control by lun27

Growing by the Minute by lozlol

Heartbreak and Horntails by AtHomewithWords

The Taste of Honey by Buzzy