#like that’s just the case for my circumstances and just. even trying to force myself to be bi and feeling like I Had to be into girls bc no | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cairoswrld · 2 months

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hi, i want to stop the cycle and manifest my desired face

but i feel so ugly, i always compare myself to others. i have no idea how can i be fulfilled while feeling like this :(

i want to stop being disgusted when i look to mirror

can you help me? <3

hi anon <3

fundamentally

the whole thing of feeling ugly either came from "oh society says this is pretty and i don’t have that so i’m not pretty" or "someone said smth about me the other day and now i haven’t stopped thinking about it and oh my word now i’m insecure and feel bad about myself" - what’s cool about that is you’ll realise that the thought of feeling ugly didn’t start with you. it started with something you saw or heard that planted the whole idea that you’re ugly.

you’re not ugly. idc if you disagree bc i’m not trying to convince you that you aren’t ugly. i’m telling you that aren’t. our society is just so weird and stupid that you’ll think you are. you’re not ugly. you’re just conditioned into thinking you are.

comparison

in terms of comparison, it’s time for you to get off social media 🤷‍♀️, get off tiktok, get off whatever you’re looking at to compare yourself to. - if not get off, make a new account that has nothing to do with other people. don’t look at a mirrors either, well for now, don’t.

while you do that, you’re going to focus on your self concept. there’s a lot of self concept content out there. if you want me to explain self concept and provide a more detailed description and guide to it, i can do that but little things that helped me insanely:

subliminals in relation to self concept and physical appearance.

rampages on youtube

appreciate the tiniest things about yourself, so e.g when i made someone laugh, i’d tell myself in my head "aw cairo you’re so funny"

forcing yourself to write a list of things you genuinely love about yourself and read it every so often.

anyways, let’s manifest now.

okay so we want our desired face neh?

1.) decide. - write it out - features you want, a general idea, get a few pictures of the features you want if need be (the only time you’re allowed to look at other people so don’t go around comparing ahem) 🤨, whatever it is. choose what that desired face looks like.

2.) assume. - okay yay now you have your desired face. remember that 1. your imagination is the true reality, the face you see/dream of/think abt that you want, is the true reality. and then 2. assumptions don’t require proof, you don’t have to sit there and point at a mirror and be like "oh no i don’t have my desired face" nah uh. the moment you decide "okay this is my face now" that’s it. there’s no need for looking for proof out in the 3D.

after this, you’ll probably sit there and think ok what now? bc i’ve decided, im assuming but i don’t feel different, nothings changed, etc etc etc. and that’s why persistence is the key 🤭 manifestation is instant, i won’t even explain how bc you’ll understand it as you apply, trust me. but because of your past experiences, thoughts, assumptions, you have resistance and persistence is the key to getting what you want in this case.

3.) persist. - the law of assumption is a very much "believe it BEFORE i see it." persisting is when you remind yourself that "i have my desired face." persisting is knowing that you have your desired face DESPITE whatever the 3D is showing you.

when you truly persist, you’ll detach from the 3D, the way you physically look won’t bother you, you’ll feel good about your appearance, you’ll notice the changes, you’ll know that you have your desired face and it will reflect in the 3D.

so anon, what i want you to do is just persist and specifically work on your self concept. because not only do you have whatever you desire, you deserve it. and i want you to KNOW that you have that, and believe that you do and feel good dammit 😭

okay but then how do i persist despite circumstance and feeling icky and sad ?

change your focus on your desired face instead of the 3D. - whenever you’re not busy living life, and you’re sat there thinking about how ugly you feel. - look at the pictures you’ve decided reflect your desired face, look at the script you wrote or just think of it and say to yourself: "ykw i don’t need proof, because it’s law that the 4D is real and the 3D will reflect that, so if i’ve decided that this is how i look in the 4D, it has to reflect"

i want you listening to nighttime subliminals but also subliminals while you’re studying, eating, cooking whatever it is. subliminals speak more to your subconscious mind. you’ll notice as you listen that you’ll have less negative thoughts towards your assumptions.

challenge negative thoughts. - whenever you think negative things about your appearance, challenge them. - tell yourself that those thoughts don’t even come from you. tell yourself that you have your desired appearance in the 4D so it’s guaranteed to manifest. tell yourself anything that negates negative thoughts. - read this too!!

iwl i’m a little brain dead today, i don’t feel like i explained the persistence part right - so if you need other resources, definitely look for that there’s so much content on the law of assumption.

but also a major thing: it’s okay if you don’t fully believe it on day one, because of the resistance you’ve built up against your appearance. so don’t beat yourself up over anything and don’t pressure yourself about it either. you are guaranteed your manifestations. just be consistent, as you apply the law, you’ll notice the changes in yourself, it will get easier and easier to be faithful in manifestation and also detaching from the 3D. the way you feel about yourself will change. just focus on applying anon.

final take: just remember that your imagination is above everything. and prioritise persisting in the new beliefs. remind yourself that the 3D is 1. not permanent and 2. a reflect of what you believe and persist in. READ PHYSICAL CHANGE SUCCESS STORIES TOO OMG i almost forget to say that but yes read those success stories. and then most importantly, take care of yourself anon. - try not to look at people to compare yourself to, do things that make you feel good about yourself, listen to those subliminals,

yeah idk if i explained this as good as i wanted too - i swear just apply and be consistent, things will change, your manifestations are 100% guaranteed. you got this anon, i can’t wait until you realise how beautiful you already are AND manifest your desires at the same time, i’m so excited for you!!!! 🤭

all the best 🌟

#cairoswrld #physical appearance manifestation #loa #loassblog #loablog #manifestation #manifesting #a nonie #🌟

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annabelle--cane · 5 months

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im listening to mag again and damn do the archival crew HATE jon. listen i get it supposedly your lives would be normal if he hadn't brought you here... but he didn't? (minus og archive crew, jon requesting them and all) if anything he was just kinda there when you made decisions, bro wasn't EVEN THERE when melanie got hired like??? like how r u gonna wish him pain rn, he's ltrly sopping wet and on the verge of dying💀

like another anon I got a month or so ago, this is one of my sleeper agent trigger phrases, so this might be another marina monologue moment.

as I'm also in the middle of a (for my standards) incredibly slow relisten, I've been thinking about this topic, too, but I've been coming at it from a slightly different angle than I normally do. in tim's case, we don't get an actual look at the circumstances under which he transferred to the archives, it is theoretically possible that jon laid it on a bit thick in asking him to come with him to the department and tim wouldn't have even thought of it otherwise, but with melanie we have several scenes of her hiring and onboarding where jon is not present and she continually rebuffs people who tell her she's making a mistake, so the text very clearly sets up that her blaming jon for being trapped there doesn't make sense. and, even with tim having been requested by jon, he still had to make the ultimate decision to switch departments himself, so, yknow, what gives?

most people, I think, and myself in the past, have come at this question from a very jon-centric pov because he's the main character and it's a jon-centric show, but I think putting it down to "they lash out at him because he happens to be there and stops defending himself after a while" misses something, as does "they lash out at him because elias sets everyone up to think they have an adversarial relationship to jon." more than that, I think it's about the rejection of agency.

tma is a show that's very much About agency and choices, so it's important to keep track of where characters suddenly balk and try to offload their choices onto other agents. martin, despite being very proactive and efficient when he sets his mind to it, has a consistent habit of thinking of himself as fundamentally unimportant and unable to affect real change. jon, someone who is usually culpability_acceptor_4000, really tries to convince himself that the web made him pull statements out of strangers. and melanie and tim, on realizing that they've gotten themselves stuck in the archives, have similar reactions of trying to retroactively make those decisions jon's.

they hate being stuck there and they can't bear the idea that it might be their fault, and they don't know how to reconcile the choices they did make with the greater forces outside of their control that shape their lives. tim swings right from seeing jon as fully responsible to seeing everything as the result of cosmically inevitable bad luck, and this hits him so hard that it leads directly to his suicide. post-bullet melanie gets a better handle on it; accepting that she chose to fall further into the slaughter opens her up to accepting that she made other choices, like joining the archives, as well as accepting future choices, like quitting the archives.

and yes, in the moments where tim and melanie are most vulnerable and just starting to realize how deeply screwed they are, jon (at least from their pov) does something to make it worse. when jon tells tim that jane presntiss wasn't his fault, tim says "well you sure made me feel worse afterwards! and then everyone had to pay attention to how you were feeling to get you to stop stalking us!" when melanie goes in for a second assassination attempt on elias, elias makes jon talk her down instead of doing it himself, presumably to try and get the slaughter mark done with. neither of these are the inciting incidents for tim and melanie's situations, but they stand out. and because jon is culpability_acceptor_4000, a man who feels like the weight of the whole world is on his shoulders and is even right some of the time, the accusations stick. tim and melanie don't want anything to be their fault, jon thinks everything is his fault, and it's a bit of a vicious self-fulfilling cycle.

#tma #answered #anons #suicide ment

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trips2saturn · 2 months

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towl spoilers below!!!!!!!!!

⬇️

late briefing but it’s here and that’s what matters!!!!! let’s get into this episode! ❤️‍🔥

this episode was amazing. no notes. angst fuels me, so keep it coming in episode four along with some loving intimacy! 🤝

michonne is the most clever, headstrong, charismatic, fearless powerhouse of a woman in the entirety of twdu. there is no situation nor circumstance that she cannot handle. no matter the time, skill, or hardship that woman is going to do whatever she fucking wants. she’s such an admirable character, and yes this is just a fictional show but she means so much to me. tv mom forever and ever and ever. my lovebug!!!! 🫶🏼

rick… my og lovebug. his selfless, tender hearted yet courageous and dangerous personality is sooo missed recently because of these losers who love to keep playing hide the donkey. he’s been so beaten down and forced into the caged mindset, also known as stockholm syndrome. it hurts so much to see it affect him so deeply, especially in this episode. we truly get to understand just how horrified he is of losing michonne, losing judith, losing their home. it’s so layered that he’s come to the conclusion that he has to do whatever it takes to protect his wife and their children (judith for now until further notice). even going as far as pretending to break michonne’s heart just to get her to go back home for the sake of a safe and secured future. and as much as it rips his entire psyche into shreds, this man is a family man. his priority in life is to protect the ones that he loves by all means necessary.

and thank fucking HEAVENS that despite their years apart, michonne knows her husband like the back of her palm and can read him like a book!!! every word that poured out of his mouth was utter bullshit merely for safety purposes and i’m soooo glad that she understood that without even having to retaliate verbally.

she retaliated by throwing them out of a moving chopper LMAOOO 😭 MY GIRL, MY LEADING LADY!!!!!! CAN WE MAKE SOME NOISE FOR THE CRAZIEST CHARACTER IN THE ROOM. thank youuuuuu! i digress.

“we needed a timeout” shdjshdhsjdjs well yes! please knock some sense into your traumatized husband. he needs his wife!!!

moving forward. the phones!!!! “believe a little bit longer”!!!!! CARL MENTION!!!!!!??????!!!!! 😨🫨🥺☹️😖 rick not mentioning any names for three years and never liking any drawings of his son because they could never be depicted perfectly 😣😣😣 try not to cry challenge [FAILED]. punching me in the gut would hurt less. still hoping for a random chandler cameo too :D

i know that what rick said was absolutely fake and futile but as a fierce michonne lover… HER FACE AS HE SPOKE??? if we don’t see him loving on her endlessly in episode four… i might throw myself out of a moving helicopter.

one hundred percent positive that they’ll be pouring bisquick and making pancakes next episode. i’m sat.

thorne is a D. not an A. she’s a piece of shit and will be dealt with eventually. michonne will handle any light work. i rest my case.

jadis is a sexual predator and a grade-A loser with a shit haircut. i almost pissed myself laughing when rick said that. he’s been waiting and so have i!!!! 😁 but yeah she sucks. die asap.

RICHONNE KISS IN THE WOODS AFTER BEING A POWERHOUSE COUPLE. 🥹 reminded me so much of when they took those cars and drove into that herd of walkers. ugh. please put their entire love story into the louvre.

last but not least because i’m tired — unsure what beale is up to. he’s so sketchy, and also SO CONFUSED about rick supposedly having a briefing with him about being promoted?! NO. no thanks we didn’t ask for him to ever be a leader nor get kidnapped in the first place!!!! scared to see what lies ahead for the next three episodes :(((((

in conclusion, michonne is the most beautiful angel to walk the earth. she looked so hot in every single scene. episode three is hands down my favorite episode yet, despite the hardship. again, angst fuels me. so excited to see what’s in store next week, and every other week after that!!!! it’s only up from here. ❤️‍🔥⬆️

okay that’s it. hope everyone enjoyed the episode!!!! this is such a wild ride, and i’m happy to have my television parents back on my screen, making things happen again. 🌟🔥

#trips talks #towl spoilers #the ones who live #the walking dead #rick grimes #richonne #michonne grimes #towl

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lavenderdreams22 · 4 months

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A Court of Dawn & Dusk - Azriel x Reader (Part 10)

Summary: 49 years have passed, and both Azriel and Y/N struggle with their new realities.

A/N: sorry this took so long to get out, I was struggling pretty bad the last few months! It'll probably take a while longer between postings, but I'm hoping to get the rest of these out as quickly as I can. I hope you guys enjoy

Warnings: mentions of blood and violence. Cursing. I think that’s it.

*****

Forty nine years had passed. Forty nine, but it felt as if I had been stuck down here for most of my life. My arms were chafed from the shackles, my mind foggy from lack of sleep and even less food.

I tried not to let myself dwell on the things that I could have done differently, the biggest being that I could have listened to my mate. I could have stayed home and maybe I would still be with him… Maybe I wouldn’t be this shell of a person that I had become.

Rhysand sat at the edge of my collapsing cot, healing one of my wounds that the Attor had given me today. He said nothing, but I could feel the anger and concern like a palpable thing as he ran a shaking hand over my arm.

It embarrassed me to have him here, even if we both knew that the circumstances weren’t my fault. The mattress was flat and uncomfortable, I could feel the metal bars underneath every single time I laid down, but it was better than the stone floor… Or so I told myself to try to hold onto some tether of humanity. But seeing Rhys flinch as he shifted made my heart drop to my stomach nonetheless.

When he was finished, he gently sat my arm back in my lap and scooted back to give me space to breathe. He knew I hated being crowded now, usually hated being touched.

“Thank you,” I muttered, rotating my wrist a few times to test it out.

The ache was still there, but it had lessened enough that I no longer winced when I moved it.

We sat in silence for a few moments before he loosened a heavy sigh and met my gaze.

“You gonna tell me what’s got your wings in a twist, or am I going to have to guess?” I asked.

He chucked to himself, shaking his head slightly. “I went to see Tamlin today.”

I blinked at him, confused and a little surprised at how much this was affecting him.

“Okay…” I cocked my head to the side. “Why is this any different than the time you left a head on that fountain?”

“I was there to speak to them this time.” He glanced over his shoulders, dropping his voice to a whisper. “There was a human girl there.”

“A human?” My brow furrowed. I knew of the curse just as well as any other person, but so close to the end… It surprised me.

“Yes, a human.” He shook his head, his eyes growing sad. “She gave me a fake name, and when I returned… Amarantha forced me to tell her what I had found.”

I clenched my teeth at the sound of her name. Amarantha had done her best to leash Rhys and then keep him as close to her as she possibly could in the time since we had been trapped.

“I gave her the fake name thinking that it couldn’t possibly be a real person… A real family.” He shuddered. “Claire Beddor is two cells down from you, awaiting Amarantha’s summons to be tortured to death in front of the court.”

I gaped at him, my heart clenching at the guilt that must be gnawing at his own.

“You know… You know that isn’t your fault, right?” I reached out and laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. “You are not to blame.”

“That’s not what Tamlin’s human will think.” He whispered.

“Who cares what Tamlin’s human believes? We know the truth.”

“I do.” He shrugged, seeming to mull something over before he met my eyes. “For some reason, I care what the human thinks. I care that she finds me to be despicable… A monster.”

I wasn’t sure why he felt that way… And he didn’t elaborate… Just in case. I had been telling him not to, for fear that it would be ripped out of me when the Attor had his blade cutting through my body.

I hadn’t cracked so far, but it was easier not to know.

Rhys leaned back against the wall, letting another small sigh out. I followed suit, our shoulders touching in a quiet reminder that neither of us was alone.

“I should head back up.” He stated, but made no move to leave.

“Stay as long as you need to.” I took his hand, squeezing his fingers in mine.

*****

Azriel sat at the dining table and watched Cassian pace as he had most days in the last forty nine years.

“What if we bring the Illyrian army and break them out?” Cassian asked, stopping for only a moment to look between Azriel and Amren.

“We’ve discussed this a dozen times.” Amren said. “That’s not a viable option. Rhys was clear in his instructions. We cannot leave. The wards that protect Velaris are tied to us being here.”

Cassian huffed, pausing in his pacing only long enough to give Amren a long, angry look. “Well, what about-”

“That won’t work either.” Amren spat.

“How do you know?”

“Because, boy, she has absorbed a fraction of every single high lord's magic.” Amren seethed. “She’s too powerful.”

Azriel nodded his agreement.

Mor breezed into the room, her arms full of swords that needed sharpened and cleaned.

“What’re we fighting about today?” She asked, taking a seat at the end of the table and letting the weapons clang together against the wood.

“Cassian’s coming up with more hairbrained schemes to get Rhys and Y/N back.” Amren ground out.

“Thought we talked about that already?” Mor glanced quickly at everyone before turning her attention back to the blades in front of her.

“We have.” Azriel growled. “Too many times to count.”

“We can’t just leave them down there forever.” Cassian snarled.

Tempers had been rising steadily for a while, and Azriel was sure there was soon to be a fight. A real fight, not with words and insults, but fists and blades.

“I know that.” Pinching the bridge of his nose to fight off the headache, Azriel leaned back in his chair.

He hated doing nothing just as much, if not more, than everyone else. His mate was down there, suffering.

It was faint, but he could feel her pain down the bond, as if… as if she were consistently being sliced open.

He resented Rhys a bit for letting it happen, even if he knew there was probably no stopping it. He resented her a bit, too, for going when he had told her he had a bad feeling about it all and asked her not to...

But he resented himself most of all for not fighting her harder, not holding her closer. Gods, he fucking missed her. He missed her so bad that it physically hurt him.

Every single night when he would go to bed without her, he felt his heart fracture just a bit more. And every morning when he woke up, he reached for her, hoping that she would have magically appeared overnight. He had been disappointed every single time he woke up. It was getting harder and harder to pull himself out of bed. Velaris wasn’t the same without her. And without her in it wasn’t a place he wanted to be.

“We’ll come up with something.” Mor said offhandedly.

Azriel hoped they would, but he knew better than to expect it.

*****

I awoke to the sound of the door to my cell flying open and slamming against the wall. It was too early for them to be coming to get me, so I clamped my eyes closed and evened my breathing.

“Here you are.” The Attor said, followed by a thump that could only be a body hitting the ground. “You’ll have a roommate. How fun for you.”

When I heard the door clang shut, I let my eyes open completely and took in the sight in front of me.

There was a human girl in my cell. She was bloodied and bruised, testing her face for wounds. A flinch wracked her body as she touched her nose, but she didn’t cry. I could tell she wanted to, but she refused to cry.

“What’d they throw a human in here for?” I finally asked.

She whipped her head around, her golden brown hair flying over her shoulder before her eyes met mine.

“Sorry… I didn’t know you were awake.” She ground out.

I shrugged, taking her in. This must be the human that Rhys had mentioned.

“Nothing to be sorry for.” I shrugged. “I cried my entire first week after they threw me down here, you know. It’s okay.”

She nodded, but didn’t so much as sniffle as she seemed to mull that over.

“What’d you do?”

“I came after my… I’m trying to break a curse.” She mumbled. “What did you do?”

“I killed a dozen of her men a very long time ago… Turns out she holds a bit of a grudge.” I propped my head up on my hand. “That, and she thinks I have information that I do not.”

“You killed a dozen people?” She asked.

I only hummed in response. She looked harmless, but it was possible that she was a different tactic to get me to spill my secrets. I would need to be careful. She seemed to be sizing me up, as well.

“I’m Feyre.” She said after a moment of tense silence.

“Y/N.” I gave her my best smile. “Nice to meet you.”

*****

Feyre had come back utterly torn apart and covered in shit and mud after her first trial. I gagged on the stale bread they had brought me as she fell into a heap on the floor. One of her arms looked to have a piece of bone protruding from it, and I cursed under my breath as I scrambled to her side.

Fuck, this was bad. Her human body couldn’t heal itself, and she still had two more trials left before this was all over. I wished for Rhys to come. Now would be the perfect time for him to step out of the shadows.

“Let me get a look at that.” I whispered.

Rhys hadn’t been down here since I had been given a cell mate. I wasn’t sure if it was the girl keeping him away or if Amarantha had learned of his trips down here. Either way, I would have to do this myself until I could get a healer to take pity on us and help her.

She held it out to me, and I cursed again. We had no fresh water in the cell, and with my power gone, even the small kernel of my father's magic that I had been given at birth had dwindled down to nothing.

“Bad news is, without fresh water, we really can’t clean it, but I can wrap it in bits of the blanket.” I glanced at the bed and winced. Even the blankets were filthy. “We’ll wait for tomorrow's water and use half of it to clean you up…”

“What's the good news?” She asked through clenched teeth as I got to work.

“What?”

“Bad news is usually followed by good news.” She met my eyes. “What’s the good news?”

“I’ll bet Lucien can heal this. We just need to get word to him somehow.”

She nodded, but didn’t offer any ideas. I sent another silent plea out to Rhys.

*****

Cassian grunted as Azriel’s fist connected with his chin.

Tensions were peaking. Time was up, and yet Rhys and Y/N hadn’t come home. All Azriel could think of was whether she was okay. It had been weeks since he had felt anything down the bond. And while everything had been faint up to this point, it was still there.

Cassian swung, and Azriel dodged. It was the same dance every single day. Neither of them could get rid of the bad mood that seemed to follow them around like a rain cloud, and there was really no other way to work through the energy.

“Maybe we could go to Rita’s. Drink a little bit.” Cassian said, grunting as Azriel landed another punch.

“I would rather light myself on fire.” Azriel spat.

Cassian flinched, his eyes flicking down to Azriel’s scarred hands.

“Okay… Then maybe we could take a fucking cooking class.”

“A cooking class?” Azriel wanted to laugh at that. Wanted to find humor in something, anything. He wanted a reason to smile again. But without her, it was like every bit of happiness had been removed from the world.

He couldn’t think about that, or he would start to think about the bond. Maybe she had just put a wall up? Maybe now that time was out, she was trying to keep the worst parts away from him?

Gods, he really hoped she was okay.

“Well, I’ve got to get you out of your head somehow, and this,” Cassian gestured between the two of them, “doesn’t seem to be working like it did in the beginning.”

He was right. Fighting was a distraction, but the twitchy energy was still there once they had finished.

“What we need is for the curse to be broken so they can come home…” Azriel huffed, storming over to the water station.

Cassian moved silently behind him, leaning against a training dummy. His eyes shone with concern, but he didn’t press.

“I need her back, Cass.” Azriel said, his voice so quiet, Cassian wasn’t sure that he had even really heard him.

“I know. You’ll get her back even if I have to go under that damned mountain myself.”

Azriel finally met Cassian’s eyes. “It feels like she’s gone… The bond has been quiet for weeks… It was weak before, anyway, what with her being so far away and magic being dwindled to nothing… What if she’s-”

“She’s alive.” Cassian growled. ‘They both are. They have to be.”

Azriel only nodded before downing a cup of water and gesturing to Cassian to follow him back to the sparring area.

*****

Mor sat in the shadows of the living room, staring into the flames as they flickered in the hearth.

“What do you propose we do, Cassian?” Amren asked, her voice quiet.

“We have to do something… We’re losing him.” Cassian replied.

“We have to break the rules to get them back. But we can’t just… march in there.” Mor said, louder than intended. She cleared her throat and continued, quieter than before. “We need to find a loophole.”

Cassian grinned then. “Finally. I’ve only been saying that for fifty years.”

*****

“Go to hell.” Feyre growled, her words colder than I had ever heard.

“Rhys, what the hell are you doing here?” I asked over my shoulder as I attempted to wipe the gunk out of her wound.

“Heard you call for help. Figured I would comply.” He shrugged, picking a piece of lint off of his perfectly pressed jacket.

“I called for help days ago.” It was my turn to growl. “Took you long enough.”

Rhys ignored me, looking to Feyre instead. She was watching him through heavy lids. I hadn’t been able to get the wound to stop bleeding, and I could smell the first signs of infection in her blood.

“What would Tamlin say if he knew his beloved was rotting away down here?” Rhys asked, his voice dark and elegant.

Feyre bared her teeth, trying her best to look scary. It reminded me of a small child. Rhys could filet her alive if he so chose.

“Rhys, stop taunting her.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” He cocked his head to the side as he studied Feyre.

The look in his eyes reminded me so much of Azriel. The cool calculation mixed with something warm and familiar. It nearly knocked me to the floor.

I had closed my end of the bond so that I could focus on keeping the human alive. She was our only hope at this moment. Our only hope of finally, finally, getting out of here and going home. Gods, I missed my mate and my bed. And my tub… I couldn’t wait to take a real bath again.

But those emotions, those feelings did nothing to help us in our current situation, so I shut them down, refused to think about him, refused to let myself feel things that I knew would only make this harder.

Feyre was our only hope to get out of here, and right now she was dying.

“If you’re not going to help her, you need to leave.” I growled. “Send Lucien or even my father in your stead, but leave.”

“I’ll help her.”

“What are your demands?” Feyre rasped, finally finding her voice again.

I bit my lip as I watched Rhys kneel in front of the cot that she was occupying.

They seemed to stare at each other for a long moment, and I thought that I could hear Rhys’ heartbeat pick up.

“So… You have learned something about our ways, then.” He grinned.

“Your terms.” She repeated.

“Two weeks, every month, with me in the Night Court.” He stated, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

My brow furrowed. Why would he want to bring her to the Night Court?

Feyre was fighting an internal battle. I could tell she didn’t like Rhys, but she seemed to also be coming to terms with the fact that this was probably her only choice.

“Go to hell.” She growled.

“Feyre…” I whispered. “Take the bargain. You need help.”

“Not from him.” She spat.

Brave girl, spitting at the most powerful High Lord in Prythian.

“This is the last time I will extend my assistance.” Rhys purred. “Either take the deal or don’t.”

He stood, making his way towards me and the shadows that I had backed myself into.

I stared at him with horror in my eyes. Was he seriously about to let her die over something like this? He refused to look at me, and I could tell that he was nervous to see how I would react.

You’re my best friend. He spoke, and it took me a moment to realize that he hadn’t said the words aloud. Don’t let this sway your opinion of me.

I gave a nod, and he seemed to visibly relax. There wasn’t much that he could do to make me think less of him.

He took his time melting into the shadows, his edges beginning to blur before he became less and less solid. Before he could disappear completely, Feyre managed to choke out a sound.

“Wait.” She said, “just two weeks?”

“Yes.”

“And what are the terms of this deal?” She was sweating. A fever was a terrible sign. I looked at Rhys, but he only smirked at her.

“Telling you would ruin my fun.” He said, his voice like honey. “And I simply will not allow that to happen.”

She stared at him for a long moment, her eyes more alive than they had been in almost a day.

After a little back and forth, they settled on a week, and Rhys was healing her arm and her blood from the infection, leaving behind a black tattoo of swirls. He had even removed the mess from her skin, leaving her looking as though she had just bathed. Even the vomit in the corner was gone.

A laugh escaped me as I watched her stare down at her new tattoo in horror.

“A bargain mark.” My gaze landed on a smug Rhysand. “You marked her.”

“What have you done?” She growled. “Get this thing off of me.”

“No.” He grinned. “I’ll be excited to see your beloved's reaction to this when he sees you again.”

She spat at him once more, and I choked on another laugh. She was feeling better, that much was obvious.

*****

“There’s no way to remove the mark, Feyre.” I said as I watched her rub at the skin.

She sighed, sitting back on the cot.

“So…” She started after a few beats of silence. “Tell me a story.”

“A story?”

“Yes. Something about you. To take my mind off of this…” she held her arm up to me.

She wanted a story… about me? “What kind of story?”

“How do you and Rhysand know each other?” She asked, meeting my eyes.

“He… he saved me.” I shook my head as my own gaze fell to my lap. “I know you don’t like him, Feyre. But he hasn’t always been so… bad.”

She only snorted, and I didn’t blame her for not believing me. Especially not after he had almost let her die.

“I don’t expect you to speak ill of your High Lord.” She said after a moment of silence.

“He technically isn’t my High Lord.”

She glanced at me out of the corner of her eye. I could tell she was trying to figure me out, and I couldn’t blame her for that, either.

“My father is Thesan. High Lord of the Dawn Court.” I let myself smile a bit at the thought of my wonderful father. “That’s where I was born, where I grew up. But, before all of this, I spent a great deal of time in the Night Court.”

I watched her for a moment before deciding that I could trust her with more than just this.

“My mate is there.”

“Mate?” She grinned. “You have a mate?”

“I do. He’s… he’s waiting for me to come home to him.”

“Tell me about him?” She asked, propping herself up on her elbow.

“He’s quiet and brooding most of the time, but when I have him to myself he’s charming and funny and he’s so painfully handsome it physically hurts.” I sighed, “I miss him terribly.”

She opened her mouth to ask more questions, but the cell door flew open, creaking and scraping against the stone floor.

“Y/N.” The attor growled. “You’re being moved to a room.”

“A room?'' I asked, sitting up and staring wide eyed at the creature in the doorway. His tail swished over the stone floor and I swore I would have nightmares about the sound for the rest of my life.

“The human is to be by herself. Come along before I come in there and drag you out by your hair.”

I flinched, and Feyre touched my arm. I wanted to weep for her, for the fact that she was going to be down here alone, for the fact that one of my only true allies in this hell was being taken from me.

“Go.” She said, bravely. “Go, I will be fine.”

“I… I'm sorry…” I said, standing.

The Attor growled again. I was obviously taking too long.

When I made it to the door, a hand grabbed my arm so hard I could feel the bruise forming already.

“Pity.” The Attor growled. “I am going to miss our time together.”

I flinched as his breath fanned over me.

With one last look at a wide-eyed Feyre, I left her behind.

*****

Taglist: @eos-princess @brekkershadowsinger @cmay25 @fall-myriad @i-am-infinite @mis-lil-red @judig92

#acotar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #acomaf #acowar #azriel spymaster #azriel x y/n #azriel x you

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thegoldenuzi · 6 months

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Stop trying to change the world since it is only the mirror. Man’s attempt to change the world by force is as fruitless as breaking a mirror in the hope of changing his face. Leave the mirror and change your face. Leave the world alone and change your conceptions of yourself. The reflection then will be satisfactory.

Neville Goddard, Your Faith is Your Fortune

Long Post incoming lol

In this day and age social media has become increasingly more toxic. People feel they have the right to be hateful, the right to have opinions on strangers and actively tear them down. Even I have fallen into the trap of allowing people like this to distract me from my path of inner peace. It’s hard seeing people be so nasty everywhere. Sometimes you just wanna reason with them but it’s all in vain. They don’t care. They’re content with the way they are. Just today I seen two popular figures get into a misunderstanding. The way fans rushed to tear one of them apart. It was disgusting to watch. Someone even uploaded a 2 year old clip with a fake caption claiming it was in reference to the current situation. They spared no resources to try and garner more hatred toward this person. Admittedly it frustrated me, because I allowed it to. Now that I have had time to reflect I have a different perspective that I want to share with you all. Just in case you might find yourself feeling this way.

I’m currently reading a book called the Mastery of Love. This book covers the way we relate to others, to ourselves and to life in general. Most people live off fear. They don’t accept themselves they don’t love themselves so they put on this fake persona in order to be accepted. We see this the most on the internet. People do and say things to gain validation from strangers. The sense of community they feel when someone also hates the same person they do. It’s exciting for them because they are disturbed inside. When I dislike someone they don’t exist in my reality. I don’t go out of my way to post about them or join others in a smear campaign. I simply don’t engage with them or their content. I love myself enough to not allow another person to have that much control over my attention. It’s cliche but misery does love company. It gives them that acceptance they can’t give themselves because they don’t respect themselves.

I’ve learned that it is not our job to change someone who’s mind is already made up. They feel the way they feel based on their perception of the world. If that doesn’t align with mine, then I don’t need to be involved with that person. It’s best not to try to make it a goal to change these people. Our job as Neville said, is to change ourselves which in turn will change our experience with unwanted situations. If we choose to be happy and to feel love within, then people and circumstances will replace what we currently experience. Instead of looking at these people as dumb frustrating beings, look at them for what they truly are. Hurt people who live in their own mental prisons. They are sick and it’s their job to heal themselves.

The Mastery Of Love says we are only responsible for our dream. Our truth is only the truth for us and nobody else. We don’t know what the other person is dreaming in their minds. In any relationship we are only responsible for our dream. If there is baggage we are only responsible for our baggage. It’s our job to clean up ourselves. If we feel the need to control or fix others, we don’t respect them. We don’t respect people to make their own decisions and their right to choose. So let’s do as Neville suggests and leave the world alone. Let them be, wish them well and remove your attention. Our highest selves wouldn’t waste their time debating with miserable people. They are responsible for their own realities. All we can do is change our relationship to the situation. Remember you always have the power to change your role and shift perspective.

#law of assumption #law of attraction #manifesting #neville goddard #manifesting mindset #manifestation #master manifestor #loa #manifesting advice #rant #affirmations #my thoughts

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karahalloway · 2 months

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Devil May Care

Fandom: Heaven’s Secret (Book 1: Season 1)

Pairing: Lucifer x F!OC (Devon Hart)

Series: Oh, So Devilish

Chapter summary: Devon sneaks off to track down a lead on her death... But she's not alone.

Word count: 5,100

Warnings: M (swearing, angst, suicidal thoughts, aggro, toxic behaviour, references to death, physical violence)

Chapter theme song:

A/N1: So. This is not what I was supposed to be working on. At all. Not only is this not Intentions, but it’s not even TRR… or Choices, for that matter. However, a couple of weeks ago, @angelasscribbles convinced me to take the plunge with a Romance Club choices game called Heaven’s Secret and I became instantly hooked… especially on Lucifer’s character. I have a type; can’t you tell? 😆

A/N2: This first part of what turned into a two-parter (it just got too long, so I had to split it) focuses on the events that take place at the end of HS S1E5 and the second part focuses on the start of S1E6. Because while I love the character of Lucifer, I felt like that his characterisation missed the mark a bit (especially considering that he is the literal Son of Satan) so, I decided to make… adjustments 😏

A/N3: I appreciate that this is not what most people on my tag list signed up to read, but I have tagged my Permas anyway, in case anyone wants to indulge me. However, in the (highly likely) event that I end up writing more for this fandom, moving forward, I will only tag people who specifically request to be tagged. So if you want in on Part 2, let your preferences be known, or forever hold your peace.

A/N4: By way of context for people who decide to read, but are not familiar with canon for this story, here is some background (which I have also tried to incorporate as much as possible into the fic itself): MC (default name, Vicky Walker, but for various reasons, I decided to create an OC instead) is killed in a car crash. However, instead of ‘simply’ dying, she is offered the choice to become an immortal and join the Angels & Demons Academy (located in Heaven) and train to become either an angel or a demon (your choices in the game actually affect your path — prior to choosing an eventual side, you are referred to as an ‘Unclaimed’). As part of her training, MC is sent down to Earth to complete assignments that require her to influence humans into making various choices… however, MC is also secretly trying to investigate the circumstances of her (highly suspicious) death. Also, for the purposes of this universe, Lucifer is the demon son of Satan and Lilith (not a fallen angel as per Biblical canon). Dino, Sammy and Fencio are true-born angels (don’t ask about the names), Mimi and Adi are true-born demons. Both angels and demons (and Unclaimed) are anthropomorphic and have wings; however, when they go down to Earth, they disguise themselves in human form. Hope that helps! 🤗

Devil May Care

“Ah, there you are…”

Jerking my gaze away from Dino, I spot Sammy’s human form standing a few feet away.

“Sorry,” I say, quickly wiping the remnants of the wetness from my face. “I… I just needed a minute.”

Sammy nods in understanding. “If it’s any consolation, the fact that you care is a good thing. It shows you still have your humanity. No death should be treated lightly, yet most demons… and a fair number of angels have lost sight of that. But it’s a strength. Don’t let Adi or Mimi tell you otherwise.”

“Thanks, Sammy…” I say with a sniffle, forcing myself to stand.

“Any time,” he acknowledges with a lop-sided smirk. “But we should get going.”

“Yes. It is time to return,” confirms Dino, coming to stand beside me.

As if on cue, the air begins to thicken around us, and a familiar crackle of energy raises the hairs on my arms. Glancing up, I see the very fabric of the night sky stretch and strain as an otherworldly wind whips the now-familiar bridge between the dimensions into shape.

Dino steps into the centre of the maelstrom first, lifting into the air as the vortex sucks him back to the ethereal realm.

“See you on the other side,” Sammy winks as he leaps after the other angel.

With a heavy exhale, I shove my hands into the pockets of my biker jacket, and force myself to move towards the epicentre of the storm.

Finding myself back on Earth in the wake of my death hadn’t been easy the first time, and it sure as hell hasn’t gotten any easier the second time either. Because even though everyone at the Academy keeps reminding me that my mortal life is well and truly over, and there is no going back, for whatever inexplicable reason I can’t seem to accept my new-found providence.

And coming back here — to the human realm — just feels like a massive kick in the gut each and every time… Like a kid being taunted with everything they can’t have from the other side of a toy store window. A cruel reminder of what that was wrenched away from me. My friends… My family… Even myself.

The undeniable force of the vortex tugs at my clothes, trying to lift me skywards, but I find myself fighting it.

Maybe because my death had been thrust upon me with such shocking suddenness… giving me no time to prepare, much less come to terms with it before I fell into the world of angels and demons. Maybe because the grief I saw etched into my father’s face has woven itself into the threads of my soul as well, reinforcing the harshness of the truth that we got cheated out of what could have been left of our precious, irretrievable time together. Or maybe it’s because I know that my killer is still out there, living it up despite the crime he committed against me, free from punishment, free from the scythe of justice.

The tip of my finger brushes against the folded letter buried in my pocket.

Since picking it up outside of my house a few days ago — though, to be fair, I have no idea how time converted between Earth and the angelic realm, so for all I know, it could’ve been years since my last visit – I’ve carried the piece of paper with me everywhere. In part because I don’t want anyone finding it and wondering how I managed to get my hands on it in the first place… As given that we aren’t supposed to interact with mortals outside of our given assignments, I am not particularly interested in the chewing out that is no doubt in store for me if someone decides to rat on me. But also, in part because I cannot let what happened to me go… and desperately crave answers.

Digging my heels in on the edge of the swirling whirlpool of energy, I pull the letter out…

…but as if by fate, the square of paper is ripped from my grasp by a particularly vicious gust of wind.

“No…!” I gasp, throwing myself heedlessly after my only lead.

The letter zooms around the circumference of the vortex — like a hapless butterfly riding the edge of a tornado — and begins to track upwards, ever further from my reach…

But just as it’s on the verge of vanishing into the void, it is suddenly snatched out of the air with inhuman speed and precision.

I stumble to stop, mouth agape and arm outstretched like some drunken ballerina as I lay eyes on the dark form on the other side of the vortex.

Crap…

Of all the possible ways this screw-up could’ve gone, this is — hands down — the worst.

As even in human skin… without the horned wings gathered around him like a dark halo, or the pulsing, ethereal tattoos that seem to constantly shift along the visible surface of his skin… there is no mistaking the raw power emanating from the being standing across from me.

Lucifer cocks a lazy brow in my direction as he holds the note up. “Lost something, have we?”

His eyes meets mine, and in spite of the distance separating us, I feel the full heat of the fire that burns in his demonic gaze scorch into me like the blade of a hot knife.

And despite drawing upon every ounce of my willpower to prevent it from happening, I feel an incriminating blush rise up my cheeks.

A slow smile curves at his lips. “I thought so…”

“Give it back!” I snap, my momentary embarrassment morphing instantly into anger… even though I know in the back of my mind this is exactly the reaction he is probably looking to goad me into.

Because I am angry. Angry at myself for being stupid enough to arm someone like Lucifer with such potent ammunition to use against me. Angry with him for the fact that he managed to sneak up on me like this in the first place.

But most of all, my heart is still bleeding for that little girl who died a senseless death mere minutes ago… and the knowledge that I had been complicit in it.

And I cannot keep a latch on the tidal wave of red rising over me. Nor do I really want to.

I have already cried a river on the bench with Dino — commiserating not just for the fate of the girl, but for the fucked up situation I now find myself in as well — and I have no tears left. Just raw, frothing rage at the inherent unjustness of the world, at the flippant and uncaring attitude of my fellow immortals who see humans as mere pawns on their eternal chess board, and my own powerlessness in the face of forces and rules that I don’t yet fully understand, but which I’m being steered to blindly conform to anyway.

And the arrogant demon standing in front of me is just as good a scapegoat for my ire as any.

“Or what?” he taunts, sliding his thumb slowly across the paper… taunting me shamelessly with the missive he now holds in his hand.

Something inside of me snaps and I launch myself at him with a wordless yell.

But the vortex has apparently had enough of being kept on hold by my indecision, and before I’ve made it two steps, I find myself being sucked up to go careening through time and space like a discombobulated pinball.

“Damn it!” I cuss as I’m tugged through the shimmering funnel against my will.

I had one chance to make some much-needed progress on figuring out who killed me and why, and I’ve managed to blow it.

And who knows when I’ll have the opportunity to try again? Or even if I’ll be able to try again…

As knowing Lucifer — the literal Spawn of Satan — he’ll end up throwing me under the bus the moment we get back to the Academy… just for perverse kicks.

“Asshole…” I gripe under my breath as I feel the speed of the vortex slow, indicating that my unplanned trip is about to come to an end.

But as my feet touch down once more, it is not back at the Academy where I find myself. Instead, I’m standing outside of a building that looks very much like a police station… in my hometown.

“Huh…”

Dino had mentioned previously that destinations in the vortex are set by one’s intentions.

Since I had been so focused on the letter — which my father had received from the lead detective assigned to my case — the vortex must’ve thought this is where I had wanted to go.

And I’m not about to look an unexpected gift horse in the mouth.

Knowing that I didn’t have a lot of time before my classmates — and Fencio! — notice my absence back in the angelic realm, I hurry across the street.

Taking the steps two at a time, I shove myself through the revolving door and step into the station. Luckily, I have the contents of the letter memorised, given that I no longer have it in my possession, so I’m hoping that I’ll be able to blag my way through this with some semblance of grace.

The receptionist manning the counter looks up at my arrival. “Can I help you?”

“Erm… Yes,” I confirm, tucking a stray strand of hair behind my ear as I step forward. “I’m looking for DC Lawton. He was heading up the Hart case…?”

I cross my fingers behind my back, hoping against hope that it’s only been mere weeks and not decades since my death, and the police are still investigating.

The receptionist takes a moment to consult her computer. “Yes. He should still be in.”

A relieved breath bursts out of me. Another break!

“Do you have an appointment?”

“Not exactly…” I admit. “But… I do have some information relating to the case that he needs to hear.”

The woman behind the desk studies me for a long moment, no doubt wondering what a petite Korean girl wearing pink pigtails and spiked leather could possibly have to contribute to a homicide investigation… given that that is the mortal skin I am currently masquerading around in.

But she nevertheless seems to take me at my word. “Down the hall, second door on the left.”

“Thank you!” I blurt, already turning away.

Speedwalking past the desk and down the corridor, I locate the correct door and push down on the handle without knocking.

The lone man occupying the room barely glances up from his stack of papers at the sound of my arrival. “Yeah?”

“DC Lawton?” I ask, stepping into the room.

“That’s what it says on the name plaque,” he grunts, indicating the front of his desk.

“Great!” I exclaim, moving up to him. “I…”

I trail off, realising that I haven’t actually planned out what I was going to say when I got here. As I can’t exactly reveal that I am the dead victim from one of his case files, come to demand answers about the circumstances of the car crash that killed her.

The detective raises his head, waiting for a response..

I take a deep breath. “I hear you’re the lead investigator on the Hart case.”

He nods. “That’s right. And you are?”

“An interested party,” I admit. It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the whole truth either.

His brows furrow, no doubt in response to the same train of thought that chugged down the tracks of the receptionist’s mind earlier. “What kind of interested party?”

Shit…

I’m not sure exactly how I had expected this conversation to go, but it definitely wasn’t like this.

But then I remember that I’m not a mere human anymore…

And I’m not willing to leave empty-handed.

Ditching any rational approach, I scrunch my face up in pretend grief as I flop dramatically into the chair at the side of the detective’s desk. “I didn’t want to say anything before because I didn’t want anyone to know… especially my parents… but I can’t keep it in anymore and I need to tell someone!”

DC Lawton startles slightly at my unexpected and borderline theatrical flip of composure. “Keep what in anymore?”

I slap an aggrieved hand onto his. “That Devon and I were in a relationship!”

The detective’s eyes widen in shock, and I use his momentary surprise to lock my gaze with his, just like we practiced back at the Academy.

The physical contact, combined with the suddenly unrestricted access to the window of his soul, allows me to breach the energetic wall encasing his body, and dive right into the hidden recesses of his mind.

Yes! It worked!

But I force myself to curtail my celebration, knowing that I need to focus all my attention on maintaining the delicate connection with the man sitting in front of me.

“You must help me, Detective,” I urge, tightening my hold on his hand.

DC Lawton looks somewhat dazed — like he’s been whacked over the back of the head — but at the sound of my voice, his pupils dilate eagerly. “How can I help?”

“The girl in the Hart case that you’re investigating… she was run off the road. Do you know by who?”

“No,” he intones, his voice slightly groggy. “The vehicle was a rental. A black minivan. I haven’t had a chance to talk to the rental company yet…”

“Which rental company?” I press.

“Global Drive,” he says. “The license plate is NYK 357.”

“Can you write that all down for me?”

He lifts his pen up with a nod to scribble onto a Post-It. “Your hand is so warm…”

“Thanks,” I say, snatching the note from him and breaking off the contact in the process.

He blinks up at me rapidly. “Any time…?”

Jumping up from the chair, I turn to dash out of the room…

…and nearly trip over my own feet when I come face to face with the glowering form leaning against the door jamb.

“What th—?”

Lucifer’s lips curl back to reveal teeth. “I should have you racked in the Pits.”

An involuntary shiver runs down my spine at his words. Not because of the sinister nature of the threat — I’ve been to Hell, and it certainly is no picnic! — but because I can see from the tight set of his jaw that he is actively considering carrying it out.

I force myself to meet his burning gaze head-on. “Well, unfortunately for you, I didn’t end up in Hell when I died. So, you don’t get to make that call.”

“No,” he growls back. “But your flagrant disregard for the rules makes you a liability, and I refuse to take the fall for you.”

“Well, maybe you should’ve thought of that before you decided to follow me,” I hit back, bumping him with my shoulder as I shove past him on my way out of the room.

His hand shoots out to latch around my arm with a vice-like grip, and suddenly I find myself nose-to-nose with him.

“I didn’t follow you,” he hisses into my face, his coal-black irises alight with the very fires of Hell. “The vortex brought me here because you can’t keep hold of your own fucking trash.”

“It’s not trash!” I spit back. “It’s—“

“Was it worth it?”

The question — and the sudden change in his tone — catches me off guard.

I blink in confusion, wondering if I maybe misheard him. But while his piercing gaze is still locked onto me with the same degree of ferociousness as a moment ago, behind the raging inferno of irritation glimmers a genuine spark of curiosity.

“Maybe,” I concede tightly, trying to get a read on him.

As demons, I’ve learnt, are inherent wildcards. Unpredictable at the best of times, and downright diabolical at the worst. Which means their whims and whiles can change at the drop of a hat, and it is dangerous to get caught in a compromising position with them.

Which — unfortunately — is exactly where I have managed to find myself with Lucifer. Trapped in a corner, with him holding all the trumps. So, I don’t want to admit any more than I strictly have to.

He rakes his hot gaze over me one more time — as if trying to catch me out in a lie — before pulling back slightly.

“Hmm… Not a complete waste of wings then…”

I wrench my arm from his grasp. “Fuck you.”

I swear I hear a snort of amusement escape him as I stomp away… But I resist the urge to sucker punch him. He is not worth it, and I have better things to do with my limited time on Earth anyway.

Glancing down at the Post-It in my hand, I can see that DC Lawton has been kind enough to scrawl down the address of the rental centre… and that it is only a few blocks away.

Which is a blessing, given that I don’t have any money on me with which to hail a cab or jump on a bus, and our lessons at the Academy have yet to cover how to magically hotwire a car.

So, walking it is. At least the physical exertion will give me a chance to blow off some steam.

Shoving the note into my pocket, I push through the revolving doors of the station, and back out onto the street. Pausing for a second to get my bearings – it’s been a while since I last frequented this part of town, having spent the preceding four years of my mortal life off at college – I quickly rake through my mental map of the neighbourhood before setting off to the right.

Except, I don’t even make it to the end of the block before I feel a tell-tale prick in the back of my neck. Glancing over my shoulder, my stomach drops as I catch sight of Lucifer a few yards behind me.

Gritting my teeth, I pick up my pace, hoping that it’s merely an unfortunate coincidence that he happens to be going in the same direction as me.

But it seems that I am in no such luck, as he’s still tailing me two blocks later, like an annoying black fly that I cannot seem to shake, no matter how hard I try.

With the result that by the time I get to the next crosswalk, my cool has evaporated completely, and instead of crossing the road in front of me, I end up rounding on him like a rabid pitbull.

“You’re such a fucking hypocrite!”

My outburst seems to catch him off-guard. But whatever jump I may have managed to get on him is fleeting at best, and in the next instant, he’s up in my face again, teeth bared and hackles raised. “Watch your tongue, Unclaimed. Before I rip it out of your mouth.”

“Oh, the truth hurts, does it?” I snip up at him.

“You don’t know the meaning of pain,” he grits, his hand snapping around the base of my throat.

My eyes narrow. “I know more than you think.”

“No. You don’t.” The flames in his eyes lick over me contemptuously. “And your arrogance will get you killed. Permanently.”

“Bet you’d love to be the one to do it, too,” I goad with a humourless smile.

I know I’m playing with hellfire. But I don’t care. I didn’t ask for this life, and I’m still not convinced I want it. So, if Lucifer is willing to put me out of my misery, then so be it. Being who he is, I’m sure he has the means… and I’ve just handed him the opportunity on a silver platter.

The Prince of Darkness stares at me for what feels like an age, his hand wrapped around my throat, face a mere breath from mine, his gaze simmering as if trying to read my very soul.

“Unlike you, angel, I’m not that stupid,” he murmurs, his voice barely a whisper. His hand drops from my neck as he steps abruptly past me.

“Then why are you still here?” I demand, whirling around after him.

He stops a few feet away, shoulders tense. But when he looks back at me, rather than anger or annoyance, it’s that devilish grin playing at his lips again. “Maybe I’m just enjoying the show.”

“Eugh!” I grit, throwing my hands up in the air as I plow past him.

Conceited, egotistical, patronising bastard! Why can’t he fall back into the Seventh Circle of Hell, where he fucking—

I’m so incessed that I end up storming right by the rental centre… and have to retrace my steps from the other end of the block to correct my mistake.

So, by the time I arrive back at the correct entranceway, my mood is even more foul than when I left the police station.

“Save it,” I spit as I reach the still-smirking form of Lucifer, leaning against the metal fence post of the lot.

His brow arches. “Did you hear me—?”

I flip him off in no uncertain terms as I stride past without a backwards glance.

He wants to stick around? Fine. But that doesn’t mean I need to be nice to him. Hell will have to freeze over first.

Arriving at the first row of parked cars, I pull the Post-It out from my pocket and begin scanning the plates, looking for the black van.

“Good afternoon, miss. Can I help you find anything in particular?”

Looking up, I see a suited man with a combover and a name tag looking at me expectantly. The rental rep, by the looks of him.

“Yes, actually,” I affirm. “I’m looking for a black minivan.”

“You have come to the right place,” he tells me with an eager smile as he starts to lead me to the other side of the lot. “Global Drive stocks the largest selection of rental vans available for hire in the area, and we’re happy to accommodate both long- and short-term requirements. Are you moving, by any chance?”

“Huh?” I’d been too busy trying to match the van plates to the number on the Post-It that I totally missed the question.

The rep’s smile falters slightly. “Since your interest is in a minivan, am I correct to assume that y—?”

“No.”

Both mine and the rep’s gaze snap around to land on the hulking presence of Lucifer, who has managed to slither up behind us without either of us noticing.

“We’re not planning on renting it,” he adds, with what I can only deduce is his interpretation of an angelic smile.

My stomach drops. Oh, no…

The rep frowns. “Then why—?”

“Because this lovely young lady is of the belief that she may have left a rather intimate item in one of your vans following a recent excursion of ours. And she’s desperate to retrieve it.”

“Oh, well of course!" agrees the rep. “We pride ourselves on—"

“It’s lacy… And expensive…” Lucifer clarifies with a sly look. “And probably lodged between the—”

“The point is!” I interject loudly, my cheeks burning with mortification despite the fact that the entire story is a shameless lie. “We would like to take a look in the van. The plate number was NYK 357.”

The demeanour of the rep suddenly shifts. “Umm… Are you certain?”

“Yes,” I say, laying a hand on his arm to try and sway him like I did the detective. “Very—”

The rep snatches his arm away. “I’m going to need to see some ID. I cannot allow access to the vehicles without verifying that—”

I reach towards him again. “Surely that’s not necessary… We just want to take a quick peek, and—”

“He’s going to bolt…” breathes Lucifer in my ear.

I flick my head away irately. “Shut—”

But the rep has already turned tail and fled.

“Damn it!” I grit.

“Told you,” Lucifer smirks down at me.

I give him an annoyed shove. “He only did that because of you! If you hadn’t stuck your nose in it, I would’ve—”

“I did nothing,” he counters tersely, the coals of his eyes flaring in warning. “Your attempt to influence him was doomed from the start. But you were too obstinate to notice.”

“Obstinate!” I cry. “You were breathing in my ear!”

“And did you like it?” he purrs, suddenly all up in my space again as he flips the tables on me with diabolical speed.

“No,” I snort, turning pointedly away.

Asshole…

He deliberately sabotaged my attempt to establish a connection with the rental rep. Whether for his own perverse enjoyment — like the Devil temping Eve in the Garden — or whether for some more sinister reason, it doesn’t matter. The end result is the same. And I have no clue how I’m going to be able to salvage this rapidly snowballing clusterfuck, given that I am already working on borrowed time.

But I know I have to try. I’ve somehow managed to make it this far, in spite of the successive obstacles Lucifer’s thrown in my way, and I refuse to give that bastard the satisfaction of believing that I’m going to let him win whatever one-sided game he’s playing.

“He is gay.”

I stumble to a stop. “Say what?”

Lucifer is standing in front of me, blocking the way to the door of the rental centre. “The rental rep. He is gay. That is why your feeble attempts to influence him didn’t work.”

“Yeah… Right…” I snap, trying to push past him. I’m not falling for whatever kind of trick this is supposed to be.

He grabs my arm. “Check that attitude before I check it for you, Unclaimed. Because you’re not going to like my methods…”

“Is that supposed to be a threat?” I hit back. “Because based on what I’ve seen of your ‘methods’, they are mediocre at best.”

His eyes flash in fury. “You’ve seen nothing, angel…”

“I’m not an angel,” I deride, wrenching my arm from his grasp.

He scoffs. “Well, you’re certainly no demon. The way you’re floundering around like—”

I catch sight of something through the window. “Oh, no…”

Lucifer jerks his gaze over his shoulder…

…and before I can blink, he’s vanished into the rental centre, the glass door flapping wildly in his wake.

Catching the handle on the out-swing, I dash after him as fast as my stiletto boots can carry me… and an involuntary gasp escapes me as I lay eyes on the scene in front of me.

The rental rep is pressed up against the wall, his feet dangling a good foot off the ground as Lucifer holds him suspended with the hand locked around his neck. The phone that I’d spotted the rep frantically trying to dial a moment ago lies shattered on the floor.

“Please…” begs the man, clawing desperately at the fingers that are squashing his trachea. “I—“

“Shut up,” growls Lucifer, shoving the rep higher. “You have exactly two seconds to tell us everything we need to know before I rip your throat out. And if you even think about lying… Well, you don’t even want to go there…”

The rep blanches visibly. “Anything! I’ll… I’ll tell you anything! Please, just—“

“Ask him,” Lucifer barks without even a glance in my direction.

I take a shaky step forward. “We… We’re looking for the driver who rented the black van. License plate—”

“I… I know…” croaks the rep, his face starting to redden from the lack of oxygen. “I worked the shift and… and remember him. He never bought the van back…”

My throat tightens painfully. Because he rammed me off the road…

“Who was he?” demands Lucifer.

“Not… local,” the man rasps, struggling for breath. “Gave a hotel as an address… Hotel… Hotel Aphrodite. And his name… His name sounded strange… almost French. But he didn’t speak—”

“To Hell with all that,” comes the short-tempered command. “Give us the fucking name.”

“Am-Amidi Laurent!”

Lucifer drops the rep like a sack of trash. “You got that?”

“Yeah…” I confirm tightly, watching the man wheeze on the floor.

“Good,” he grits. “Let’s go.”

Without giving me a say in the matter, he grabs my wrist to haul me out the door.

I stumble after him like a witless marionette, trying to process what I just witnessed.

Lucifer… Willing to kill… For me…?

The concept simply does not compute.

“Happy now?”

The sound of Lucifer’s voice wrenches me from the whirlpool of my thoughts…

…and looking up, I find that we’re back out on the street, just around the corner from the rental centre.

“I…” I glance back in the direction of Global Drive with a lump in my throat. “Why did you do that?”

“To save time,” he replies dispassionately. “And get the truth out of him.”

“Yeah… But…” A shiver courses through me at the ease with which he’d immobilised the rep… The ease with which he’d threatened him. “Why?”

Lucifer lets out an exasperated exhale. “Hell’s bells, you Unclaimed are dense sometimes… Because that’s what you wanted.”

I gape at him, stupefied. This must be some kind of fever dream…

“Don’t I get a thank you?”

The simplicity of his question knocks me off kilter completely.

My eyes lift to his almost on their own volition, and I find him gazing down at me silently, intently… like a cat waiting to see in which direction the mouse will jump.

Except there is no malice or mockery in his gaze. Just plain old curiosity once again.

And because my tongue has become stuck in my throat, and after everything that’s just happened, my mind is a non-functioning mess, I do the stupidest thing imaginable…

…and reach up to kiss him on the cheek.

He stiffens — probably just as shocked by what’s happening as I would be if I could think coherently right now. But for whatever reason, he doesn’t laugh or pull away. He simply stands, still as a statue, hardly even drawing breath.

I have no idea how long we stay there, frozen in time with my lips pressed against his jaw — the heat of his skin burning me even through the dampener of his mortal guise — before we finally break apart.

I turn quickly away, face flushed and heart hammering, not being able to bring myself to look him in the eye for fear of what I might find there.

Oh, Christ… What the hell did I just do?

The story continues in Devil You Know

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#heavens secret #lucifer #devon hart #lucifer x oc #Spotify

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painted-bees · 4 months

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Hey, about the video, I really hope it didn't come across that way in the way I phrased it, but in case you do think that, let me be clear that I wasn't trying to lay blame on the children or the ever rapidly-growing technology (<-not to a full extent anyway).

I fully agree with the girl in the vid that the parents are not doing their job well enough (if at all) and a lot of them are introducing their kids to devices with internet access WAY too early. (I mean- at just one year??? And they wanted to give it to her earlier than that!?? When she just came out the womb???) Not to mention laying the blame and setting ridiculous expectations on the teachers for things they should've been doing. But the thing is, a lot of those parents do happen to be Millenials, so.. it is kinda saying something...? Maybe? Even the youtuber added in the description "Millenial parents need to do better."

(I really hope you actually watched the full video to understand where I'm trying to get at here..)

Idk- I... I just hope you're not mad at me (based on how you wrote Margie's response....)

oh, no haha I'm not mad at you in the least, no worries about that! My personal opinion is that the issue at hand is a very complex one. The school system is bad, and parents are not provided enough time or resources--especially in America--to raise their kids properly. Not only are american families culturally encouraged to raise their children in isolation, without any significant help/involvement from their local communities/extended family, but often, both parents are forced to hold down very emotionally, physically, energetically demanding jobs to pay for the cost of child birth, care, education, and day-to-day family expenses. In this way, I think it's very hard to even blame the parents--most of whom I truly do believe are doing their best and are running on less than fumes. I do not have children, nor intend to ever have children myself because--the simple fact of the matter is--raising children is hard, even under the best circumstances. Raising children without a community to help with a lot of the heavy lifting, without an economic support structure, without financial stability...is insane, it's absolute madness. To me, it's no wonder the current generation is coming up the way they are. Parents are not fully to blame for it, nor are the schools. The whole damn pot is boiling; it's the whole thing, all of it. In the end, I am confident the kids are gonna be Alright*, in the way that they always are. Every generation has a great deal of concern for the generations that succeed them--because the world is always changing, and that change can look a lot like regression. We backslide in some ways, but the march has always been forward. All anyone can do is the best they know how to.

#*they'll not be without the scars traumas and deficits unique to their generation but they will be as strong and resilient and adaptable as #every other generation that preceded them.

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randomized-sims23 · 29 days

Text

Rebirth Of A Star pt2

Link to Part One below

“Ok Moon just set them down and…I don't know” Sun trailed off a bit as he thought, holding a container of cleaning supplies before he set them on the desk. “Uh…I think we can get away with just wiping them down a couple of times. It's relatively clean in here for once.” “Oh that's because I cleaned on break. It helps with the overall mess and…I guess helps with my obsessive cleaning habits too. Gives me less to distract myself with I guess.” Sun shrugged as he took a rag and bottle, one of the barrels and sprayed it before he began to clean it. Moon shortly followed suit. They were at it for about five, eleven minutes before the daycare doors swung open. Sun looked up to see Puppet enter. “Hey, Puppet what’s up?” He set the barrel down on the other side of the desk. “I have a surprise for you two. And Earth and Lunar, could you text them to come by please?” Sun And Moon glanced at each other before Moon sent the message. “So what's the surprise?” “More like who.” Puppet smiled and reached back to the door, pulling Solar in. They both stared at him before they gasped and Moon stood from his seat at the desk and stepped close. “Is that…?” Solar smiled. “Hey wolf boy. Did you miss me?” Moon's eyes widened a bit- anyone else, any other circumstance he would have snapped about it, but this…he'd make an exception this once. He threw his arms around Solar in a tight hug, the force making them both stumble a bit backwards. Solar brought his arms around him, hugging back. “Easy Moon, legs are still a bit shaky…” “It's you…it really is…Solar you're actually back.” Moon said, his voice shaking a little bit as his eyes grew wet with tears and it wasn't long before Solar felt them fall and begin to soak into the shoulder of his new daycare theater shirt. Solar moved back slightly, just enough to look at him. “Hey, look at me Moon. There's no point in crying, I'm here. I'm back, i'm…I'm home.” Moon reached up and wiped at his eyes and sniffled. “I…I know, I just…I missed you so much and…hell I was starting to think I really couldn't get you back, I would have even accepted a blank slate clone like Eclipse but…” Moon shook his head and hugged him again, and this time Sun joined in once the shock and relief finally passed enough to let him move. The doors opened again and Moon looked up, wiping his eyes again. “Hey guys. Look who's home.” He stepped back, tugging Sun's ribbon gently as Solar turned to face Lunar and Earth. At first they seemed a little confused before Lunar caught on first. “Solar?”

And then Earth caught on, looking between Lunar and Sun And Moon and Puppet and Solar himself, almost like she couldn't believe it. “Is…is it true? Is it really Solar? This isn't some really mean, cruel joke?” She asked, her breath already hitching between breaths and trying to reign herself in a little, to not get her hopes up in case this was a mean prank. “Nope, no joke, no prank. This really is your candy corn twink. Eclipse and I finally managed to figure out how to make the whole revival thing work. And don't worry, all his memories seem to be intact.” Puppet gave her a reassuring pat. “I told you guys I'd find a way to bring him back for you. I meant entirely, too.” Earth looked back to Solar before approaching him, her eyes watered and her lip quivered before she fell to her knees and hugged Solar around the waist and started crying. She clung to him, and Solar just held her back and stroked her hair, letting her cry it all out. “I-I missed you so much and I- I was so scared you wou-wouldn't remember me if you did…if you did come back and-and-” She cried out between sobs. “I know…I missed you too Earth, I missed all of you. It's ok now, though. I'm home and I don't plan on leaving again any time soon. I promise I'm not gonna leave you guys again ever.” He looked down a bit feeling something on his leg, resting his other hand on Lunar's head. “I'm happy you're back too Solar…” Sun and Moon joined the little group hug and Solar couldn't help but smile and relaxed into them. He was going to miss his Sun and Moon, sure. But he still had them here too, and the rest of his wonderful little family. It was his, it felt safe and warm despite all the danger and crazy things that happened to them. But it was his, it was warm, and it was home.

#tsams #tsams solar #tsams eclipse #tsams lunar #tsams moon #tsams sun #tsams earth #sams #sams eclipse #sams moon #sams earth #sams solar #sams sun

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with-love-from-hell · 7 months

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Heyy Storm 👉👈

I hope you're doing better again and that you can get some free time to rest too. I've been thinking about writing comfort headcanons for myself for a Mc with hypermobility but I feel like it'd be even nicer if someone else were to write it for me and I thought of you! Of course, there's no pressure and I won't be upset if you say you don't want to or can't for some reason /gen

My idea was writing smth about how they would try to help/take care of Mc when they get hurt because of their hypermobility, especially Beel and Barbatos for obvious reasons hehe. I do feel like it'd be really soft with Lucifer as well tho, and Simeon!

In case you're not sure about hypermobility, it means (in my case anyway) that I can bend/move my joints more than the average person and my cartilages are softer than usual too. Thus, they are more vulnerable and my joints can get dislocated easier, (I should only use 3/4ths of my strength) and sometimes even just a simple movement turns out wrong somehow and it hurts and click clacks. Especially my knees are a big problem because I struggle walking when they're hurt and they get hurt the most with me, which I do have support bandages(?) for but you'd still see me limping down the street tryna not cry :')

I am in another Lupus flair up, which is why my writing has been scarce, but I'm not flu-ish anymore! I can absolutely take this on, Oji! I'll try my best! (I hope you like it 🥺)

Mc with Hypermobility

Genre: Headcanons, Comfort Characters featured: Barbatos, Beelzebub, Simeon, and Lucifer Wc: ~ 1.9k Written for a Gn!Mc (you/yours) CW: mentions of disability and injury, some mentions of the boys helping you bathe/clean yourself, a little bit of over-protectiveness

Barbatos

First of all, don't expect anything less than utmost one-on-one attention, no matter the circumstances.

Obviously he has to serve Diavolo, but after your relationship solidifies, you are on par with his diligence to serving the future king (if not more important to him)

If he doesn't already know what hypermobility is after you disclose your condition to him, he will research the hell out of it to ensure he knows everything there possibly is to know about your condition and your needs, and will ask pointed questions about how your condition affects you as he feels the need to, to fill gaps in his research.

He knows how fragile humans already are, and he is already very careful and cautious about things that will cause you harm, but he can't predict everything (though sometimes it really seems like he can) and accidents happen.

When you do eventually get hurt for whatever reason, he will drop whatever he's doing to tend to you. It doesn't matter what or when or why or how, but he will make you his #1 priority.

Be prepared to be doted on for a very long time. You wont have to cook, clean, or do really anything on your own unless you are very insistent about it. He will even help you bathe unless you draw a firm line with him about it.

He will do what he can to mitigate any pain, and probably try to talk Solomon into finding a cure for your ailment using magic if he can. Obviously, you wanting said cure after it's discovered is up to you and he won't force it on you, but he doesn't want you to have to live in pain.

He will be more than willing to massage you or give you any sort of help with moving, doing his best to ensure he's well educated on the things he's doing to help. If you insist that it isn't his duty, he will at the very least help you get access to whatever care would be helpful in the human world- no matter the cost. (Also expect him to come with to every damn appointment and critique the PT or OT on what they're doing and how it could be better. lmao)

Beelzebub

Beel is a very active and motivated demon, so sometimes he forgets that his routines for exercising and other interests, as well as just his sheer strength and size, may take a lot out of a human- especially one who has hypermobility.

Despite the occasional air-headedness though, he always checks in to make sure you're okay with what you're doing when your with him, whether it be walking to a restaurant, helping him with his workout, or even just watching a movie and cuddling.

You are one of two most important people in the world to him, so he tries to be careful when he's doing anything with you, but he's not perfect, and neither are you, so sometimes you'll end up overextending or hurting yourself around him.

No matter how many times it happens or how often you reassure him that it's not his fault, Beel will still feel guilty whenever you get hurt- even if it wasn't involving him at all.

Because of the guilt he feels, Beel will often try to make up for it by essentially making it so you dont have to do anything. Like, ever.

I'm talking carrying you anywhere and everywhere, getting anything you need so you don't have to get up, or even feeding you.

Generally, after you're injured, Beel is extra cautious with you and ensures he treats you especially gently. He will also get very protective, and may even growl at one of his brothers if they are being too rowdy near you.

Expect lots of check ins- especially surrounding food. Are you thirsty? Do you want a snack? Are you sure you don't want a second helping at dinner? Oh, did you want this very specific condiment? He'll grab it, don't worry.

Simeon

Simeon is already so gentile by nature, but once he learns of your hypermobility, he somehow becomes even -more- gently with you.

Expect him to constantly hover where you are. Not suffocatingly so, but he's always within earshot, so if you call him he'll be at your side in a second.

He knows how dangerous the Devildom can be for any human, but it can be 10x worse for a human with a condition that makes them vulnerable. He has an inherent need to protect you, so he'll try his best to ensure you are safe from harm.

Unfortunately, he can't prevent -everything-, so there will be times where you do over-extend or get hurt. You've had the condition long enough to where you probably know how to handle it, but Simeon will be a difficult person to convince of this.

At first, before learning more about your condition and your needs, he will bombard you with questions of how he can help you. Once he learns though, the actions become second nature to him (You may have to remind him though that consent is important before he tries to pick you up and carry you somewhere lol)

Generally, he will try to be around you more when you're injured. It may take a lot of convincing for the brothers to let him spend the night, or allow him to bring you to Purgatory hall for a few days, but he probably wont take no for an answer and cart you off anyways, as long as you're willing. The brothers can be rowdy, so he wants to make sure you have a respite wherever you are.

He will dot on you lots, and get you anything you could possibly need- and then some. Often he will convince Luke to bake some extra sweets if you injure yourself, and you will always find him trying to do things to make you smile during times where the pain is really bad- like writing you a poem or doing something to make you laugh

Lucifer

Lucifer was already sort-of protective and helicopter-y over you before he would learn of your condition, but after you talk with him about your hypermobility, its going to be near impossible to get rid of him lol.

He tends to mother you quite a bit, and sometimes it can come off as nagging, but he generally does it because of how anxious he is. It might not be lectures, but just small reminders so you don't injure yourself. Ask when you need something in a difficult to reach place. Stretch frequently when you sit in odd positions. Make sure you don't push yourself too hard.

Lucifer constantly has an eye on you if he can. He will insist on doing any homework, projects, or cleaning in his company, though he cant watch you -all- the time, of course.

When you ultimately do get hurt or over-extend yourself, Lucifer's first instinct is to find out exactly where you're hurting, and do his best to tend to the area. His second instinct, though, will probably be to lecture you- especially if something that caused the injury was preventable with one of his many...many... reminders.

Despite the bit of callousness he may display when lecturing you, he will immediately take on a nurturing role afterwards.

Don't expect to really have to do anything. Often times you'll find he's already done the things that needed to be done. Any homework or projects will magically be finished, any chores or cleaning will be done with no mention of it, and there will always be plenty of your favorite snacks, desserts, and drinks within reach, even before you know you want them.

He will also neglect his own work to spend time with you when you're recovering or in any pain. He will distract you by playing a round of chess, or playing some music for you- either on one of his records or live in the music room. He will either constantly be in your room, or constantly have you in his. He wants to make sure you're as comfortable as possible.

He will also do any personal grooming for you if you allow him. Whether it be bathing, getting dressed, brushing/combing/styling your hair- any of it. He is more than happy to tend to pretty much any of your needs.

He may be a bit dictator-y about your time and activities while and just after you've been injured though. He will scold his brothers when they are too rowdy around you, and try to prevent you from getting involved in any of their activities out of fear that you may get hurt again.

His over-powering attitude toward your care can sometimes be annoying, but it definitely comes from a place of worry for your wellbeing. He hates seeing you hurt or in pain, and wants to prevent it as much as possible.

#obey me!#obey me #shall we date: obey me #obey me lucifer #obey me simeon #obey me barbatos #obey me beelzebub #obey me gn!reader #obey me gn!mc #gn!reader #gn!mc #om!#obey me: one master to rule them all #obey me headcanons #headcanons

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oneshotnewbie · 1 year

Note

Part four of rabbit hole (Special Victims Unit) please? It's so good, you got me hooked up and now I need the whole series or else I will eat a 🛌

⚠️Trigger Warning⚠️ This one-shot includes the topic of domestic abuse, blood and gaslighting. The plots are presented. If this triggers you too easily or you just can´t handle the subjects, I urge you NOT to read this work. I am NOT embellishing this topic under any circumstance. Read at your own risk.

Taglist: @Marvelfan0573 @technotic-prophecy @setsuna1415

---

A loud, sadistic laughter from the kitchen drew your attention and you gave up on trying to rip the cord on your tied hands with your already bloody fingers. The weight of shoes on your old rattling wooden floor caused a vibration throughout your body and shivers started to cover your body in distress.

He made his way to you- slowly like a predator about to ambush it´s prey. In his right fist he held your phone that was smeared with your own blood, the display cracked from hitting the ground as he waved it in front of your face. "I managed to disable the location tracker. Funny that you´re still using your deceased dog´s birth date as your password."

You looked at the phone, and watched it light up with worried phone calls from Olivia. But after the initial surge, the notifications slowed to a trickle and the messages began to flow after another. You watched intently, trying to read each and every message to soak up any personal information you were left with.

Henry has set the phone up out of your reach, where you were powerless to reply but always able to read what was being sent. He turned the phones volume all the way up, resulting in torturous pings every time a message was being delivered and watched you cry.

Soft sobs stole over your beautiful lips and your entire, battered body trembled from the suppressed sounds. You closed your eyes, not wanting to see all the chaos in your apartment that was making your heart clench painfully.

"Please" you tried the impossible and humiliated yourself by begging him. "Let me go. I´m just giving you trouble."

"You don´t understand. You never understood me." For the first time ever, his enraged gaze turned sad and he really seemed to believe the madness he was spouting. His mood changed suddenly; that was his gift and you hated the ability to go from aggressive to lovable in a second. "I love you, Y/n. Even when you make mistakes. I hate myself for hurting you after punishing you- even then I love you."

You narrowed your eyes and tried to follow your ex-husband´s logic while trying to put your pain on the back burner. It no longer frightened you, maybe because the fact that you were still alive seemed like a sign after everything that had happened to you in the last few hours. Perhaps the level of cruelty that a woman could endure was fulfilled.

"No man who loves his wife does what you are doing."

"I´ve changed Y/n. I´ve been in therapy with a shrink who wasn´t that bad. He usually doesn´t take cases and if he does, only special ones." he said, rolling the words tenderly and carelessly off his smiling lips. "I´m just a habitual offender, according to him, when it comes to hitting my wife."

-You don´t hit her, you kill her. And with the beating you break her soul without which she is nothing more than a lifeless shell- you pondered to yourself and noticed how you struggled with your consciousness.

"No, you´re sick. An asshole eaten up by an inferiority complex. You´re trying to break my wings because you can´t take the fact that I don´t want and need you anymore." With that statement, which you didn´t manage to articulate properly due to the agitation, the fear came and with the fear the sub-machine gun in your chest started again.

"You bitch-" he yelled, threads of saliva flying into your face from afar as he ran towards you in a rage; grabbing you hard by the throat. Henry pulled you forwards with force and the cable around your wrists bursted from the pull as he threw you onto the ground, back first, and you screamed out as the slivers of glass pierced your back.

You gasped in his arms, unable to take a single breath- his fingers pressing into your thin and pale skin, already imprinting red fingertips on it. You had seen your ex-husband angry countless times, often to the point of incandescence. But you had never seen the aggression flash so intensely in his eyes. You may have hit a sore spot in him with your statement, which made him start to doubt himself.

Your bloody fingernails clawed at his hands, scraping the surface of that skin to convince him to let go, but he squeezed even harder, banging your head onto the floor countless times. The kicking and scratching of your legs in the shards was in vain. The ground beneath your feet, which you hoped to one day stand on again, began to crumble and you lost the strength to fight.

You were too weak and powerless. And you were more scared than ever. But you were ready to die; closing your eyes in faint, clenching your lids so tight you thought they would never open again and stopping your attempts to escape- you had braced yourself for the worst of pain, including death.

But then his sweaty and shaky hands began to pull away from your bonded skin, leaving you with no air to pass your crushed windpipe. A short and forced cough escaped your throat and was drowned out by a sonorous one that caused you even more pain.

Wordlessly, Henry fixated himself on the smeared blood on his knuckles and ran his fingers over it playfully before moving up and stepping over you like you were nothing but garbage bags standing in the way.

"Your death is not my aim and killing you is not my desire. I punish your ignorance and selfishness in leaving me." he clicked his tongue to confirm his reasoning. "Yes, that´s worse than a quick death if I let you live and you have to walk through this shattered life."

His real pleasure, after countless humiliations, was to kill every last glimmer of hope in the individuals he tormented.

You lay there, your eyes wide open and still gasping for air as he disappeared into the kitchen to get duct tape to tape your mouth shut. He must have had enough of your talking.

Stuck in your own apartment, you couldn´t think of an answer to the question of why you existed and you cursed God for putting you through this experience twice. But most likely, God didn´t exist- no valid, all-powerful being could condone what Henry did and probably would do to you.

---

Tired and drained, Olivia opened her eyes and stared sullenly at the phone gripped tightly in her hand. Immediately and without hesitation, she unlocked it half asleep, looking hopefully at the display; waiting for a message from you.

"Damn it." a heavy sigh escaped her dry lips and her shoulders sagged. Thousands of messages she had sent within the last evening had arrived and been read, but there was no confirmation for her that you were fine.

Her pale hand clutched the back of the couch she was lying on. She hadn´t heard from you since the incident two days ago- your connection remained silent. Since you´ve known each other, there hasn´t been a day that you haven´t spoken, which also made her suspicious.

The brunette took a deep breath, rubbed her eyes and threw the phone on the table. Her gut still spoke volumes and told her to be sure that you were fine so she got up and got ready to check in with you to see for herself that you were okay.

Arriving at your apartment in less than half an hour, she lifted her slender hand and knocked briefly. For a moment, when the silence weighed heavily, she longed for an answer. Heavy footsteps, mixed with an unclear clinking under them, approached the wooden door and when it opened carefully and only a crack, she took a deep breath and wanted to say something, but the sentence got stuck in her throat.

"Oh hello." the iron look of the almost black eyes looked dull at the woman in front of him, registering who he was looking at and nervously brushing the tousled and unwashed strands of hair out of his face. "Benson.. am I right? What do you want?"

"Captain, yes. I want to speak to Y/n." her voice was harsh and broke through any silence the hallway had to offer. Her legs were planted firmly on the floor and she spoke with an authority that made him increasingly uncomfortable. "She is very busy at the moment. Can I tell her something?"

She smiled mischievously as her gaze rose from the floor. "Yeah.. tell her that the violent suspect from out recent case soon gonna be a dead man." she spoke dryly but loudly, certain that you were held by him in your own apartment and knowing that you had heard and understood what she was trying to tell you.

Olivia wanted to free you from your living nightmare immediately, but she couldn´t do anything against him alone; risking your and her life on top. She didn´t know what danger awaited her if she tried to break in alone. Nor did she know what condition you were in.

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a-student-out-of-time · 8 months

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PSA TIME WITH MOD BUBBLES

//I’ve talked a lot about DRDT, and that’s because I’m honestly so blown away by how good it is and how talented the dev is as a creator. At no point have I ever meant to imply that my interpretation of DRDT or the outcome of the story is the only correct one, I’ve only been speculating on it based on the evidence in the text.

//And while I complain a lot about works from creators like LINUJ, that’s only because of writing decisions that either diminish the work’s quality, damage the story and/or characters, or harm whatever messages it’s going for. Even then, I still try to see the good in works I critique and how I think they can be improved, because that's what constructive criticism should be about. My criticisms have never been intended as personal attacks and I’ve been trying to go out of my way to ensure they remain professional and constructive.

//I really don't have a bad word to say about the creator or the fangan itself. I actually want to talk about something else here.

//To be honest, I sympathize with their feelings. The amount of times I've seen posts from people in the fandom taking the piss out of my Switch Theory, mocking it, calling it stupid and me stupid by extension, and spreading misinformation about it? It's a lot. To say nothing about my work on this blog.

//As a small creator myself, I’ve had to develop a thicker skin when it comes to taking criticism or getting hate asks. Early ones I got were pretty harsh, and it did send me into a malaise for many days or weeks at a time, and I had to learn not to try writing when I didn’t feel up to it. Now I have the confidence to challenge bad faith arguments, and I have help from co-creators and friends to improve things.

//I say this because a lot of those asks and a lot of that negativity did affect me and I had to learn to not let it bother me. I still get sad and frustrated, but it’s not a creator-killing attitude for me anymore. That's not always the case every creator, unfortunately.

//Obviously I’m not talking about every single person in the fandom, but I just want to make this clear for fans of any work: please, for the love of all that is good and kind and decent, think about what you say about creators.

//I’m not talking about calling out creators for unrepentant bad behavior, you can and should do that. I’m talking about harassment, entitlement, and even just thoughtlessness commentary that goes into things said about small creators who work on passion projects, who aren’t making money off of it and who are just trying to do their best.

//It can be easy to think your comments, your criticisms, or even your attempts to be funny will be perceived how you perceive them, but not everyone will take them the same way. Your thought processes are not universal, and something small and innocuous to you can really hit a sore spot for someone else. Some people are more sensitive than others, and that’s something you really to keep in mind.

//This is especially true if you’re saying things about a creator themselves. There’s a difference between something like “here’s where I think the creator’s work could be improved” and “the creator is so X.” You can hurt them with the latter more than the former, because that feels very targeted and personalized. Even if it's not true, some people are much more self-conscious than others.

//At the same time, the response to this sort of thing is not and should NEVER be “let’s gang up on the person who said that and force them out of the fandom.” That’s unacceptable, no matter the circumstance. I’ve blocked people who've tried to have that attitude about critics of my own story because I will never endorse that behavior.

//This isn’t meant to be a call-out post, just a PSA on why you should exercise some compassion and thought, and don’t make unnecessary commentary about creators who work hard on projects like these for no money, or for people who say things without intending to be hurtful. We creators do it because we have something we want to share, and as bad as bullying can get, comments like that are worse in their own way.

//Even if you don't intend it to be hurtful, thoughtlessness can hurt worse than open cruelty. Please keep that in mind when talking about other people, especially people you either don’t know or only know from their work or one bad action. At the same time, someone making one bad comment is not an excuse for you to declare war on them.

//Above all, just be kind to people and show how much you appreciate their work. Even small comments have gotten me through periods of bad depression, and when people need time to work on their health before they feel ready to get back to working on their projects, respect that. We aren't content machines, we're just as human as the rest of you.

//Finally, to the DT dev, I don't know if you'll see this, but I've been where you are and also had to take time off for myself. I feel lucky that I have so many kind people in my life, and I sincerely hope you do too. Take all the time you need, and know you've got my wholehearted support when you do return.

#mod talks #a student out of time #drdt #danganronpa despair time #drdtappreciation

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miscmonstro · 1 year

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The Uno Reverse Adoption Saga 8

AO3 Link: here

First: Chapter 1

Previous: Chapter 7

Next: Chapter 9

Current Characters: Sam Manson, Tucker Foley, Danny Fenton, Jason Todd

Summary: Forced to attend a gala by her parents as she is every year, Sam Manson was resigned to suffer through the stifling three-night gala until something pulled at her core. The something turned out to be a someone. Just who is Jason Todd and can the trio gain enough of his trust to help him before his struggling proto-core collapses?

warnings: 1) the picture Jason sees at the end not super graphic but still it is of the trio's deaths. It starts at "Several states away" and as it's the last paragraph or so there is nothing after it. 2) you aren't supposed to do the psychology thing on friends/family, it's not ethical. Also Jazz's approach is not what a psychologist is supposed to do but… extenuating circumstances and fanficition.

👻 {Chapter 8 Below!)

“You didn’t eat anything.”

The trio were sitting at the small rickety table at Jason’s behest, and at the moment, the person in question was looking through the fridge.

The half ghosts all shared a look.

“We were tired. Went straight to sleep, pretty much,” Sam said.

Tucker wished he had decided to sleep. He didn’t feel the consequences of his actions, not while in ghost form, but he knew the minute he turned human he’d be out like a light.

He’d probably do that when he got home. If nothing else, sleep would disrupt the echoes of Jazz’s shrill tirade and worried questions still bouncing around his skull. Sam, who had dealt with Jazz last time and Danny, who couldn’t escape her worrying in any case, were not sympathetic.

Feeling perturbed, Jason huffed and closed the fridge door with a little more force than necessary.

“What’s up?” Tucker asked.

“I’m sorry. I- fuck.” Jason ran a hand through his hair. He glanced to them. “I’m sorry. I have almost no food. I’ll have to run to the store.”

“I can do it,” Danny offered. He rose out of his seat and towards the door. “You should take a quick nap.”

Jason raised a brow.

“Don’t think the corner store takes ghost bucks, kid.”

Danny just smirked and let his transformation rings engulf him, leaving a human in place of the ghost. He dropped to the floor and pulled out his wallet. “I’ve got cash.”

Jason tensed for a moment, then let it go with a gusty exhale. “Phantom, Gotham isn’t safe. You’ll get mugged.”

“I can handle myself,” Danny replied. “And did you just dead name me?”

Sam groaned. Tucker did too and then let his head hit the table.

“I- what?” Jason sputtered, doing a double take.

Danny’s face split into a shit eating grin. “Because that’s my ghost name? My dead name? Get it?”

“Get out of here,” Tucker complained, voice muffled by the wood.

Danny laughed and bolted out the door before Jason could muster a response.

👻 {Boo!)

It wasn’t long before Danny returned with an armful of groceries, passing straight through the door as to not wake Jason, who Sam and Tucker had cajoled into “closing his eyes for ten minutes”. He handed the bags off to Tucker, who was the best at cooking of the three of them, and switched back into his ghost form. Tucker grumbled on principle but pulled out the contents of the bags. Sam floated over to help but he shooed her away.

“You’re going to throw out the bacon,” he sniffed.

Sam didn’t bother trying to deny it.

Danny wandered over to the couch as the two began to bicker. Jason was sitting with his arms crossed and head tilted to the side. His breathing was even and deep; peaceful and asleep.

He didn’t want to leave Jason at the mercy of a random ghost. He wished they didn’t have to go back so soon.

“It’ll be a miracle if your parents haven’t noticed,” Tucker said in response to the thought.

“Yeah well. It’ll be a miracle if your parents don’t ground you,” Danny replied. “You can’t be grounded on Christmas.”

“I told them I was staying over at a friend’s. S’good as long as I get back before nine.”

Sam looked at the microwave and squinted. “What time zone is Gotham in again?”

“We’re an hour ahead here so it’s six back home,” said Danny, making his way to the kitchen.

Amity time: six hours two minutes thirty seven seconds fourteen milliseconds, Tucker absently supplied as he flipped a hashbrown.

Sam noted that they’d need to leave after breakfast as she wordlessly handed Danny a knife and a vague impression of apples. Seeing an opportunity to practice his telekinesis, Danny eyed the bag with the apples thoughtfully.

“Do that on the other side,” Tucker instructed, turning his legs into a tail and sweeping the bag across the kitchen. In his mind’s eye he saw haywire apples raining down on his poor hashbrowns. Danny chuckled and obliged, sliding the bag farther and onto the edge of the carpet outside of the kitchen before he started practicing.

Sam rolled her eyes and pulled out a drawer to get another knife. The serrations on the blade were more dramatic and were probably not meant for fruit, but it would get the job done. Snatching the fruit Danny wasn’t using, she got to cutting them into little uneven pieces.

Cooking breakfast after late night escapades had become a small tradition of theirs. It had started way back when Jazz had suggested they find a way to destress together their first year as halfas and had spiraled from there. They tended to overcook, though it had never been an issue; it had the bonus of feeding a very exhausted Jazz, producing leftovers for themselves and an extremely overworked Valerie, and now giving an obviously worn Jason some much needed fuel.

Tucker was a storm in the shape of a chef. He made scrambled eggs and bacon and hashbrowns and biscuit sandwiches. Eventually he did relent and let the other two near the stove. Danny made pancakes and Sam made breakfast potatoes.

(Tucker hadn’t always been an enthusiastic cook. It was something he started after the whole Duulaman thing.

Royalty didn’t cook.

It was a moot point anyway.)

They set the table with the paper plates Danny had picked up when Sam realized the cabinets were mostly empty. Paper would degrade but plastic wouldn’t so Danny had resigned himself to making utensils out of his ice. Sam appreciated it.

“Should we wake him?”

“Nah,” Tucker thought, “he was up all night. He needs the sleep.”

“He’s sleeping awfully well for someone hosting three ghosts,” Sam said.

“Oh. Maybe it’s a ghostling thing?”

Danny tuned in at the mention of ghostlings. “Ghm?”

The other two snorted. “Of course that gets your attention,” Sam dryly said.

“Yeah. I’ve been thinking… what if there is an emergency or something? I could give him my number, but even at top speed it’d take me a hot minute to get here from Amity. So, I think I should ask CW after the truce if he could send me back here.”

“Dude,” Tucker said first. “Maybe?”

He wasn’t confident. Don’t get him wrong- Clockwork was powerful, and he hadn’t steered them wrong, but the problem was that the solution was never obvious. He also didn’t trust the master of time to not add a few obstacles and side missions. He had before, and for no discernible reason.

Sam agreed. “I can’t change back anyway,” she said, mentally building up to what she was about to propose.

“So I guess… I can let him hold onto my camera.”

Danny almost froze the table in surprise. Tucker dropped the syrup and barely caught it.

“Sam?!” he exclaimed, slightly horrified.

Outwardly, she scoffed and seemed unperturbed. But they all shared a headspace; they couldn’t really hide from each other. The boys knew how disgusting the mere thought of parting with her camera felt.

“We’ll find a different way,” Danny said firmly.

“It’s fine.”

“Liar.”

Sam huffed and pulled the camera over her head. “I’ll feel it if he’s in trouble, and I can use it to get here in seconds, unlike you. Besides, it's not like I’m using it.”

“Sam, you can’t just like… do that,” protested Tucker, clutching his PDA tight in one hand.

Her stubborn resolve was her answer.

They stewed in silence for a bit. Danny tried and failed to think of a better solution and Tucker didn’t do any better.

“We should get Jason up,” he thought at last. “The food is getting cold.”

Danny more than happily began poking the sleeping man with the tip of his tail. Jason grunted and opened a bleary eye.

“Breakfast,” Danny said.

“Yeah, in a minute,” Jason grumbled, standing slowly and stretching.

Danny corralled their stumbling, half asleep host to the table. Jason only blinked as Danny all but sat him at the table. The lights were on, but nobody was home.

Tucker passed a plate of eggs. Over the next few minutes Jason became more alert.

“You kids made breakfast?” he asked, taking another spoon of eggs. “How long was I out?”

“Not long,” Tucker said.

“Mmm.”

“Yeah. We have to hurry though. We need to head out soon,” Danny added, skewering his potatoes.

That got Jason’s attention. He sat up straighter and surveyed the three. “Where will you go?”

“Our haunt. We need to get back,” Sam explained.

Jason paused. “Er… do I have a… haunt?”

“No, not yet. Don’t worry, once you grow up you’ll be strong enough to claim a haunt,” assured Danny.

Jason didn’t outwardly react but he didn’t seem to like the idea.

“Our haunt’s Amity,” Tucker added. “Lots of ghosts trespass and try to defeat us since that’s where the portals are.”

It was a bit of a white lie. Ghosts no longer come to cause mischief so much as they came to challenge Danny.

Sam picked up on what Tucker was trying to do- reassure Jason that his life wouldn’t be totally uprooted. “Haunts can be in the living world. They don’t have to be in the zone.”

That didn’t seem to reassure him.

Sam cleared her throat, which suddenly felt tight.

“So,” she drawled, thankful she didn’t need to breathe like this and therefore her breath wouldn’t hitch, “we were thinking. A lot can go wrong in a day, never mind a few, and we do need to leave. So… here.” She thrust the camera at him with a little more force than necessary. The strap swung in an arc and almost knocked over the salt shaker. “This camera is a part of me. If you’re in danger, click the button on the top, the one that takes pictures on normal cameras. I’ll be here in a heartbeat.”

“Be careful with it,” Danny instructed as Jason gingerly took the spectral camera. “This is the ghostly equivalent of someone chopping off a hand and handing it to you, except we don’t lose our connection with severed body parts.”

Jason poked the camera. “You can feel that?”

Sam shrugged. “More or less.”

Jason put the camera on the table.

“Uh-uh,” Tucker said sternly. “That’s Mane’s camera. Keep it on you.”

Jason rolled his eyes and then lopped the camera around his neck.

It felt a lot less awful than they were expecting. Tucker once again chalked it up to Jason being an unclaimed orphan- he didn’t have much of a core to contest Sam’s essence.

They finished eating (read: watching Jason eat) and then the trio said a quick goodbye. If they didn’t move quickly then they might not end up moving at all.

Jason seemed alarmed by their insistence to bolt.

“How are you kids even going to get back?” he asked pointedly.

“We’ll just… get there. Fly, you know,” Danny said vaguely.

Eventually they went invisible and moved to the guest room where they pulled out the map. Danny inhaled, found the nearest portal, linked arms with Tucker and Sam, and then they were off.

👻 {Boo!)

“Danny.”

“Danny!”

“What?” Danny asked crankily. He’d spent far too much time in the zone preparing his lair for the truce party and Jason’s checkup.

Jazz stuck her hands on her hips.

“You’re moping,” she accused.

There was a crash from downstairs. Jack bellowed something about getting his trap operational before tomorrow.

Christmas.

Danny harrumphed and crossed his arms.

Truthfully, Christmas wasn’t the only thing bothering him. Jazz, who had clearly picked up on this, gave him the snooty older sister look. As if she could read his mind she amended, “More than usual. What’s wrong?”

Well, Jazz always found out sooner rather than later.

“I want to be a dad?”

His voice cracked as if to mock him and he winced.

“Oh Danny,” Jazz began, setting a hand on his shoulder, “wanting to be a parent is-“

“Wait,” he interrupted with a bout of irritation, ducking out from and under her arm. “I didn’t even finish Jazz.”

She made a ‘go on’ motion with her hands.

Danny sighed and began pacing.

“So, I’m almost an adult human but I’ve been an adult ghost. And there’s, uh, there’s a ghostling. Except he’s part human too? So I want to adopt him, all the ghost urges are there and they’re driving me insane. But like, at the same time he’s an adult man. He totally adults better than me. Like he’s gotta be in his thirties or something.”

“You sound worried,” Jazz pointed out with a poker face that might’ve fooled someone else.

“Sam gave him her camera so we’d know if he was in trouble but not even two hours after we left, he took it off! For hours! Anything could’ve happened in that time.”

From Jazz’s expression, Danny knew she’d be psychoanalyzing that statement for a while.

“And why does that matter?”

“Jazz-“

“Danny.”

“Ugh! It’s a ghost thing. Everyone will want to adopt him. But he obviously has a life and stuff, but if he wants his core to stabilize he needs a parent. He’s like, ghost skin and bones Jazz.”

Jazz frowned. “This has more to do with concepts of autonomy and enculturation… I don’t think eating disorders apply here.”

Danny grumbled and pivoted to cross the room again.

There was a deep, rumbling boom and the house shook.

“What do you think about being a parent?”

“I can’t let another ghost take him,” Danny said promptly. “They will forget to take care of his human needs. He needs someone who won’t be confused or forgetful of his human side.”

Jazz nodded. “Hm. Is he a halfa?”

Danny almost tripped.

“No,” he denied vehemently. “He can’t be.”

“And you know that for sure?”

“Well… no.”

“Would it change anything if he was?”

Danny didn’t respond for three minutes. He never answered the question.

“So what’s the verdict?”

Jazz pinched the bridge of her nose. “Firstly, this is your reminder that this is unethical. Secondly, your obsession is mingling with your usual desire to help people. Because of their status being similar to yours, you feel responsible… this is on top of your regular ghost biology urging you. You’re afraid of what a human-ghost child implies and don’t want to think about it. You’re especially afraid of what a halfa child implies. So, is this something Vlad did?”

“We can’t discount it, but we’re not going to confront him about it either. Even if it’s something he did, we don’t want him to know we know. But… we talked it over. It’s unlikely with what we know right now.”

Which, admittedly, wasn’t much.

Jazz nodded. The sounds of bullets and blasters echoed, as did the cheerfully vengeful voice of their mother declaring the new system operational.

“So, like, enculturation,” Danny said in response to a faint nudge from Sam, biting his lip. “Being a ghost is overwhelming.”

“Make a list of things you wish someone had told you at first,” Jazz suggested. “And maybe things that took you a while to get the hang of. And remember- children are naturally not going to be as capable as adults. They’re developing. That skill gap will be frustrating for someone who’s used to managing themselves.”

“A list?” Danny mused. Did they even have the original ghost idea list anymore?

“Think school subjects. History, biology, science, economy, government. The things that we learn in school are basically enculturation.”

“So ghost history, ghost biology, ghost science, ghost economy. Got it.”

“And ghost government.”

Danny rubbed his neck and avoided eye contact.

“Danny,” Jazz said, voice laced with reprimand, “he knows you’re the king, right? You weren’t going to adopt a baby ghost and introduce him to the zone without planning to explain the governing bodies, right?”

“But Tucker hates being called a helpmate,” Danny blurted.

Tucker, in fact, could not care less.

Jazz looked at him flatly.

Danny hunched and glared at his sister. She glared right back and crossed her arms.

“Well, I think you ought to tell him but it is your decision. I just think it’s a stupid one.”

“Gee, thanks.” Danny rolled his eyes. “And I was gonna tell him, just… later.”

Jazz glared for a moment more and then relented. “Alright. An important part of parenthood is clear communication about important issues that can affect your family dynamic.”

Then they both cringed.

(Danny was going to tell his parents… just not now.)

“Wait,” Danny said, the implication of her words finally registering, “you’re not going to talk me out of it?”

“Do I think it’s a good idea? No,” Jazz said bluntly. “But I think that the other option is far worse.”

👻 {Boo!)

On Christmas morning the three woke to an echoed itchiness originating from Sam.

That was not an uplifting omen.

“What the hell is he doing to my camera,” she hissed.

Danny reached for it through Sam and held still for a moment.

“… I think he’s looking through it.”

“That feels about right,” Tucker said.

“Huh,” Sam muttered. “Well, that won’t look bad at all. Nothing suspicious about a collection of carcasses.”

Sam’s camera, after the accident, had begun to only capture dead things. It was usually the thing that’d died most recently in the camera view but if Sam focused, she could narrow the parameters. They’d helped solve more than a few old cold cases by filtering the photographs for human remains.

Very unsuspicious.

Tucker hissed.

“I hope he doesn’t go look at all of them.”

The very first picture was the worst.

All ghosts were sensitive to their deaths, even halfas. It was hard enough being in the lab sometimes, never mind looking at that accursed first picture.

Still, none of them had been able to convince themselves to delete it.

Several states away, Jason Todd looked down at the little camera display, the younger contorted and screaming face of Tucker’s flickering form in full view. In a tunnel behind him, just past a wave of green, Danny was suspended, back arched and face equally pained. Engulfed in dazzlingly bright energy, his mouth was stretched wide open. He was screaming too.

The hand, half dissolving as it reached toward the dying boys, could only have belonged to Sam.

👻 {Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed it.)

Taglist time! If you want to be added, just say so!

@depressed-bitchy-demon @dp-marvel94 @birbtails @mr-lancers-english-class @miraculousandmore @iglowinggemma28 @manapeer @azzysflowergarden @notwhat-i-seemtobe @whobee7 @trippingovermyfeet @stormhaven257 @imsociallyanxiousgetoverit @passivedecept @lovetheryu @ever-after-aaa @mysteriousooze @wegetitethan @cyber-geist @t-nayira @wisteriavines @starscreamlover @recently-diagnosed-lady-knight @thescarletcryptid @jaguarthecat @blankliferain

Next week: Amity! It's a nice place to live…

Jason POV :3

Next: Chapter 9

#Halfa trio pretty much from DarkNymfa's Third Time fanfic #dp x dc fanfic #dp x batman #dpxdc #dc x dp #danny phantom #miscmonstro writing #fanfiction #halfa biology #halfa!trio #halfa!trio au #danny fenton #sam manson #tucker foley

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reginrokkr · 2 months

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While I know that I shouldn't apologize for this, I do feel like I'm being more inactive than I would've liked for myself even in these moments where I have free time before the training starts. Know that I love Dain to bits, always have and he's been the reason why I got into Genshin. I love his lore and everything that surrounds him. But many times it can get really dragging when the content in Genshin is lacking for the most part and for a character that has so little about him, the fact that there is so little content to go with as things stand worsens it.

It becomes even harder when there is a newer game that will barely make it to a year soon to compare it with. And no, I won't get into the "Genshin would never" because I find that stupid and it's not the case. But it's the gameplay, the storytelling and a whole list of things that I won't bother to write up here that I discussed in private with friends. As for what the current circumstances go, it's hard to think that H.YV is taking it seriously with this game when, as soon as they finish the main arc of the newest nation, we're jumping from one festival to the next without little regard of the aftermath of the current nation after everything it went through. I don't want Genshin to get suddenly gore-y or anything of the story, but it does get sad when this game story becomes interesting when it gets dark. It has many reasons to be and a select amount of antagonists to make it interesting if it weren't... because they make it laughable at this point, so not-threatening or they pull redeeming qualities out of their behind for marketing purposes. There are many interesting things that could be done in Genshin both from the storytelling and gameplay perspectives, but eventually it's all reduced to this go-happy thing that in essence, feels so forced.

To conclude with this ramble, I just wanted to say that I've been feeling demotivated and it's showing to me, I can't imagine what it'll be to you. Know that I won't stop writing Dain, he's been the muse I've been the most invested in years and it'll continue to stay that way. It's just that... it's being hard in my end and that I'm trying my best to get out of this by thinking new things to address with him. All in all, I hope that the team responsible for Genshin will get their poop together soon and get serious with it.

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cannibal-nightmares · 2 months

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sharing this with you all for perspective and also as a processing method for myself

being schizophrenic can be described by the time I bought a small air dehumidifier for my bathroom. the appliance in the box was fine and normal, it wasn't until I tried to take it out was something Wrong, something was Bad--the thing felt like it was living somehow and that was supremely Not Good; the logic part of my brain (and, truly, god bless I still have any semblance of logic still thriving and kicking) thought annoyedly, "Ugh, not this again, it's an inanimate object," but it will never ever be enough to override the inherent paranoid delusion completely. So they fought, the two sides, and when logic stands a fighting chance, the only way I can get through something is by shouting over the noise... and in this case, it was at a dehumidifier. I managed to get it out of the box all while yelling at it--which may sound like absolutely nothing, but this circumstance was actually huge for me--put it on the floor, and... Walked away. Backed away. I was too scared to plug it in, and this isn't telling the whole of the story: If remember correctly, I think I ended up crying because my hands felt "tainted" after touching the thing, and I was getting so worked up and annoyed because the only self-soothing that helps is your stereotyped incoherent rambling, and I often mitigate the shouting by forcing stressed out laughter which just makes it all seem worse, frankly. I left the dehumidifier on the floor until the next morning when I was able to plug it in and use it; I still to this day struggle to empty out the water carafe and I can't directly look at it, but at the very least I can use it for its functionality.

never thought I'd admit to this story, but I just woke up to my smoke detector beeping because the battery must be dying. the beeping bothers me way less than I would have othewise imagined, but instead of removing and replacing the battery myself, I have to call the landlord to do it for me. I have to. I set up a stool to do it myself, and my head just started swarming. And that shit is louder than any fire alarm chirping. it feels like a swarming, like pressure, like someone shouting at you to get out of the way of an oncoming car fifty times over. it's like standing next to a blaring firetruck at a parade. it feels like There Is No Worse Consequence Than This, like somehow my consciousness will be overridden if I touch the smoke detector, if I get too close to it, if I think about it at a specific angle for too long.

and I try to talk to people about my paranoia, but they don't understand there is no reason to be had. "You're right, the beeping is very loud and kind of scary," they might say. "You don't have to worry about electrocution," they might consider, "it's just a battery." It's like the instance I was having a hard time at work and asked my co-worker if a customer's service dog was real and I was replied to with, "I hope so! A robot dog would be spooky!" it has nothing to do with the physical logic at all, but absurdity like "if I fix the fire alarm myself, magically the next door neighbor will be able to read my mind" and etc beyond etc. And it may sound silly, but that's the point, that's the problem, and it's just as real as the sky is blue.

anyways im not telling this tale for pity, but, again, to offer perspective. This ish robs you of your autonomy in the most jarring and absurd ways and all I can do is laugh through it. What makes it such a monster to deal with--at least for me--is that working through the logic doesn't seem to do a damn thing. So I really do have to force myself to rely on others in times like this, and it's infinitely more difficult when your brain decides that others are the enemy, as well, even when they never had been before.

#cannibal-nightmares rambles #actually schizophrenic #actually schizospec #schizoaffective #actually neurodivergent

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evelhak · 9 months

Text

📚

Since some people have evidently found my books through Tumblr despite of me not being very active on the Finnish side of it, I thought: why shouldn't I post about my books? It doesn't matter they are not available in English (yet, anyway) because I would be curious enough to read about stuff my mutuals do even if I couldn't read the actual material.

So, I plan to make a post about every book I write, do cover art for, or am otherwise involved with. Best case scenario is someone finds something new to read, worst case scenario is someone is bored.

This time, I'll introduce you to my debut novel:

☁️ Unitytöt ☁️

(dream girls)

Published: 2021 by Nysalor

Genre: New Adult, Fantasy, Slice of Life, LGBT+

Certainly not the first book that I wrote but this is my first published novel and my first cover project. ✨ I wrote this book in 2017 when I was about to graduate university, trying to juggle a full-time job as a mail carrier, nearly daily ballet training and writing both my original work and fanfiction which I also started doing the same year. The schedule turned out to be too much for my autistic brain and physical conditions. Regardless, I'm so happy I wrote this book!

It's a story about a technically bodiless creature, Venna, and a human, Aiju. Venna's species lives in people's heads or musical instruments because they need music to live. Venna is an outcast, and has been living in a wind chime to avoid people and their overwhelming array of feelings, which Venna's kind experiences directly in the human brain they are living in. Circumstances force Venna to move into the head of a young woman, Aiju, who is starting her studies at a temple (=a magic university). Unlike Venna's previous humans, Aiju can hear and feel Venna and is curious for, rather than scared of a new friend in her head. Aiju is also able to control and create elaborate dreamworlds where she and Venna can meet in their own separate forms. The two begin to live their life together, studying, enjoying music, maybe even falling in love when an older student is intrigued by Aiju's peculiar behaviour. It's a story about sharing a body and partially a mind, about merging, sense of self, neurodiversity and particularly sensitivity, and also abuse and healing. It's a slow love story, a fantastical exploration of the subconscious, a fantasy focused on characters and dreams that also touches on the larger context of the universe and existence.

I wrote this book because I had read many body sharing stories and was dissatisfied with the lack of portrayal of the ordinary every day experiences that would come with it, as well as I was with the ease with which body shifting creatures always seem to adapt to their new circumstances. I wanted to see more of the reality. I wrote this book because I had briefly introduced and later edited out a music eating demon in another fantasy story of mine, who possessed a girl and made her dance in a tavern until she fainted. I was curious what a story about a similar but gentle creature would be like. I wrote this book because themes of merging and separating your sense of self were relevant to me and I wanted to explore them through a fantastical world but also reality based concepts.

I was so much more nervous about the cover project than I was about actually publishing the story. I had zero experience apart from my personal cover doodles, no graphic design studies, and had only recently started learning Photoshop. Thankfully I'm still pretty happy with the cover, although there are technical details I would do differently. The most glaringly obvious one is the ginormous bar code. It was hard to tell how big it would actually look and my publisher had warned me not to make it too small, so I overdid it. My publisher is small so there are no resources to make test copies of the books, and it's due to the smallness of my publisher that I even had the opportunity to design the cover myself despite having no experience, just some visual skills.

I still like the cover art itself, the only problem which I did suspect back then too, is that in an attempt to make the cover dreamlike, it turned out a bit like children's literature. I was the only one who was worried about it, but in some libraries people have clearly thought this is aimed at 12-year-olds. I'm sure some of them would enjoy this, but it's a bit off. A lot of people have told me not to underestimate children, but it's not that I'm doing that, I'm simply aware that this book is not written in a way nor does it contain themes or life events that are relevant to very young people. It's a very psychological story and its issues are the most relevant to people in their late teens and early twenties. It's not that there's anything in this book that a 12-year-old couldn't handle, it's just going to be boring for most of them because it would be a lot to ask from a child's attention span to be interested in stuff they can't relate to for 400 pages. Even if many 12-year-olds still like to read about characters older than them, characters they can look up to, this book is written with people in mind who can relate to 20-year-olds. Of course there are exceptions. I probably would have loved this book as a 12-year-old. But I'm sure 90% of my peers would not have cared enough to finish it.

The cover seems to have done some of its job well too, because I know some people (adults) bought this book because they thought the cover was pretty, so that's good at least. Most of the feedback I've received has been really positive, the book seems to have found some of the readers it was clearly meant for. Some relevant criticism has also come my way and I believe I've learned some things since writing this book. The only really negative review I came across so far contained so many factual errors that it seemed the reviewer had been too busy to actually process the book. From that perspective it seems like the cover has also worked well enough to draw mostly the intended people towards the book.

The most memorable experience in its publication process was probably how it was chosen for an interview at the biggest national book fair by high school presentation/communication students who hold interviews on one of the stages there every year. It was such a good interview because the two students interviewing me clearly loved the book, related to it, and were excited to talk about it with me, and asked really thoughtful questions. I couldn't imagine a better first interview as an author. It was also the day the book officially came out. It was also my first time at that book fair (I don't often visit the capital) and I was the first author from my publisher to land an interview there, so I was really very nervous at first. I was unfortunately a COVID debut author so this was the only place I was able to present my book physically that year, which obviously affected its already marginal distribution. But it was such a lovely event for me that it is the more memorable for it.

I wish this book would find more readers who love dreamy, character driven and fairytale-esque fantasy. It's not without plot, mystery, or danger, but it's definitely not the best pick for someone who needs an epic, fast paced and world-shaking chain of events from their reading experience. This is for the other sensitive dreamers out there who just love to drown in characters, experiences and subtle magic, and would rather stop to contemplate it than to rush forward at all times.

#eve's books #cover art #unitytöt #finnish books #nysalor #author life

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