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tadpolesonalgae · 11 months

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Demon!Azriel x Reader: Teeth and Talons

Summary: you’re accused of witchcraft and sacrificed to the shadow creatures, only to be saved by their ruler who’s suspiciously in sudden need of a bride…

Warnings: demon!Azriel, drinking blood (more vampiric), mentions of cannibalism, sexual tension, rituals, monsterform! azriel?, biting

A/N: I do want to make a small note that @azrielscrown ’s Prince of Hell series made me want to write my own demon!Azriel fic!

-Part 2- -Part 3-

Visual Prompt here!

You’re a trembling mess, cold sweat slicking your body with sallow skin, temperature fluctuation from sizzling to so cold you feel you’ll seldom be capable of movement once the fit has passed. You know what the priests will say. Possession. They’ll say you’re being inhabited by a shadow creature, tie you to the bed and mist sacred water across you until your body shatters.

The fever isn’t subsiding, and you’re not the first to succumb to the strange plague sweeping through the citadel. Just one of many poor, unfortunate souls. You’ve heard they’ve taken to burning the bodies. Some not completely void of life before they’re set alight.

Is this really the end? It swept in so abruptly, seizing you firmly as it ravages you internally. You can only hope death will come silently.

————————

When you wake, your rags are soaked with sweat, a dark pool having formed beneath you, yet you are no longer being sieged by heat. Your brow is clear of sweat, your limbs no longer being wracked with tremors.

You’re struck by the peculiarity of the miracle. Nobody else has survived. Surely if the plague wasn’t fatal word of mouth would have carried the news to the emperor by now. Not as if he would know what to do. Not as he if was actually ruling.

Maybe some god had taken pity on you.

You should make an offering to Thesan.

————————

The following morning you were arrested. Witchcraft, they said.

Not miracle-worker. That was reserved for men.

The stories had willingly flown in. A woman without husband, living by herself, suddenly recovering from an absolutely fatal plague? Corruption. A pact made with the Lord of the underground. The king of Hel.

Devil worshipper.

Witch.

Whore.

The last you knew had nothing to do with the allegations and everything to do with your sex. It didn’t make the sting and less painful.

————————

You’re thrown to your knees at the foot of the dais, the boy-king sat atop the throne, lounging in a bored fashion. He only perked up when he was brought ‘visitors’, or rather, people for him to inflict punishment.

Candle-wic, he cries, clapping his hands in puerile manner, his young mouth lifting into a gleeful smile as he points at you. How a child could so joyfully sentence someone to being doused in scalding tarmac only to be then set aflame, you could hardly fathom, yet here the boy-king sat, dictating your fate with a flick of his youthful hand.

His advisor advises him. Something less flamboyant. More discreet.

It’s the first time you’re setting eyes upon the emperor’s advisor and you’re not at all surprised to see the old man with already fading hair and wrinkles that swallow his eyes beneath flaps of loose skin. But that’s what you catch on. Eyes black as the devil’s, black like you’ve never seen black. Dark as pitch.

They’re alarmingly void, more than anyone’s have any right to be…and lacking in definition. Just one solid layer glazing across the obsidian coloured surface. Depthless.

He suggests leaving you for the devil you sold your heart to in order to revive a remedy. There’s no use in proclaiming your piety, their minds are set. You’re a threat to their power, an unseen obstacle and must be dealt with accordingly.

————————

And that’s how you find yourself in the centre of The Blood Rite. The private ceremony is reserved for great warriors to prove their worth. Though apparently, it serves as a discreet method of elimination for unwanted - innocent or not - citizens.

The earth is damp beneath your knees, the bones sinking into the mud. Your wrists are bound painfully - a courtesy that would not be extended to a warrior. The ties are designed to hinder, to make an already inevitably gruesome death all the more horrid by removing any ridiculously self-indulgent notions of escape.

Your breath fogs as you exhale harshly, the night air freezing your lungs with every breath. How long had you been kneeling here, waiting patiently for your end? Because it’s coming for you. There’s no point of struggling. Movement would only catalyse the inevitable. Maybe if you remained still, calmed your heart and removed any sort of thrum from your body the unknown entity would leave you be.

Wishful thinking.

The night air presses in on you, goosebumps pebbling up your forearms, hackles rising at your back. There’s a presence to the forest you’ve been dumped in, a cloying madness that lies between the trees, stalking every silent breath of damp air.

A twig snaps to your right, tension rippling up your body, neck flushing with heat as terror seeps from your being. Your eyes dart around the forrest in a frenzied dance.

A shadow flickers in your peripheral vision, darting behind a tree. Pulses thrum through you, beating your blood melody loud and clear. How long would your death last? Would you unnecessarily suspended in those agonising moments that should be limited to mere seconds? Or would the dark beasts draw out your torture, playing with the shreds of your skin with carnal delight.

Something rustles to your left, like a hurried shuffle through leaves, only made to taunt and confuse. Made to misdirect.

Then something pounces on you, sharp claws biting into your shoulders as you’re slammed backwards into the ground. Maybe it would be quick, but not painless. A beast wreathed in shadow, four paws with talons the length of your forearm and rows of razor sharp teeth that glitter with wet saliva beneath the silver moonlight. It has an elongated snout, a flat nose sliding over the protrusion, skin around it’s eyes peeled back to be permanently bulging.

It shoves it’s snout against the spoonful of your abdomen, sizing up how big a bite to take. You pray, silver lining your eyes as your body trembles, petrified to the spot. You can easily imagine entrails decorating it’s teeth like the wreathing in temples. Your stomach lurches.

Then it releases an ear splitting scream, agony slicing down your ears as it howls to the sky. Hot, dark liquid splatters onto your torso, followed by a wet ripping sound. Its blood - you assume that’s the liquid - smells of damp clothes left in a pile beneath the sun: stagnant. Admittedly, not the worst scent.

The large creature goes lax, slumping forward, toppling on top of you. You’re crushed by the weight that slugs into you, knocking the breath from your lungs as you careen backward.

The beast is nudged aside by a large protrusion of shadow, flipping the creature onto its back, allowing you to see the viscera spilling from its soft, round belly. A cold sweat slicks your skin, hairs standing on end as inherent dread twists you round it’s sharp talons.

The humanoid shadow steps forward and you’re frozen in place, hardly able to even shift a muscle as it prowls closer. Until it’s stood in front of you. Fight or flight kicks in, everything kickstarting inside of you as you scramble to your feet, finding safe purchase on the forest floor.

You back up, paralysed with fear as you watch the creature, shadows flickering at its silhouette. Before you really have a chance to move, or even do anything, the shadows swarm forward and you feel rough hands gripping your upper arms.

The last thought you have is how abnormally elongated the creatures talons are, like those on a phœnix.

————————

Your mind can barely comprehend the information. Words turning to mush in your brain, thoughts slowing to a sluggish squelch as you sit across from the dæmon. Azriel.

Azræl? You had asked, trying to pronounce the word on your tongue, but the syllables simply bumbled together. He’d shaken his head, Azriel, he’d repeated. You’d kept you silence, deciding the chance of spelling it out in your mouth to his liking was low enough to class as a risk. Instead you’d swallowed and nodded. He’d looked as though he’d push, but his eyes flicked to the bowl in front of you, ordering you to eat.

All he’d told you was he was in need of a human bride. Not why. Or what your role was. Nothing. So you went on with nothing, deciding to follow his command to eat, despite the protests from your stomach.

You look down only to see there’s no cutlery. Your lips part silently in question, flicking about the table as he watches you from the opposite end, marking your actions. His gaze makes you squirm in your seat, discomfort pressing down on you.

Eventually you swallow, lifting your gaze to his nervously. That was another thing, his eyes: Eyes black as the devil’s, black like you’ve never seen black. Dark as pitch.

“May I have a knife and fork?” You request, voice hoarse and scratchy. His eyes bore into you, piercing your soul as they filter through your pupils. You swallow again, throat feeling dry. The table has a single jug - no glasses. The water is crystal clear, mist condensing over the glass, no doubt refreshingly cool. Your parched throat is desperate for reprieve, yet he gives you none.

You’re in Hel, he’d told you. That was becoming clear.

You try sitting in silence with him, but he keeps staring at you with those wild, pitch black eyes, pupils that swallow his irises - if dæmons have irises.

“You’re not going to inquire why I selected you?” He breaks the silence, his deep voice rolling across to you, encompassing your sentences.

“I’m not so conceited as to believe you intentionally chose me,” you reply, steeling your spine as your eyes flick to his. “You are clearly a creature of self-serving narcissism.” Is it wise to say that to a dæmon that technically saved your life? Either way, you hope he doesn’t hold that over you. Dæmons can be…unkind when it comes to their debts.

“Creature over beast?” He responds. Despite the casual tone he’s using, his sharp gaze reminds you it’s anything but. “Are you a beast?” You settle on.

“That’s for you to decide for yourself.”

You bite off some of the fluffy bread, “so there’s no definitive answer?”

He cocks his head, amusement sparking in his obsidian gaze. The movement makes you pause. You have close to zero idea what his intentions are.

You swallow. “You’re not going to eat anything?” You nod to his end of the table, void of any eating instruments. What do dæmons eat, anyway? Do they eat?

A slow smile lifts the edges of his mouth, the tips of glittering canines protruding beneath his lips. There’s nothing remotely kind about it.

Discomfort coils in your lower belly. You’re no longer hungry. Moving slowly, you quietly push the plate away a little, lowering your hands to your lap as you shift in the chair. Something gleams in his eyes and you wonder if he derives pleasure from the buildup of tension before a kill. Immediately, you regret the thought.

“I think I’m full,” you announce, softly, hoping you’ll be allowed to leave the chamber. “Not curious about my eating habits?” He drawls. You know you probably don’t want to hear the answer, but he’s not really giving you a choice. All you can hope for is that it won’t upend the contents of your stomach.

“It didn’t seem as though you were keen on answering,” you reply, watching your hands fiddle in your lap.

He hums, and you prepare yourself. But silence follows.

When you lift your gaze to see what he’s doing, he’s gone, seat empty. It’s unnerving being in his presence, but at least you have a vague sense of where he is. Now you feel as if he’s watching from every corner. You shift in your seat, heart pounding.

A hand wraps beneath beneath your jaw and you flinch, jumping in your seat. He pulls your head to the side, lips grazing the sensitive skin of your neck as your fingers turn white with how hard they’re biting into the wood of the chair arm. Your jaw tightens as you feel the menacing scrape of canines tracing your throat, every muscle in your body turning rigid as you shrink into the chair.

“How obedient,” he drawls, the muffled murmur making your hair stand on end. “I bet I could sink my teeth into you and you wouldn’t move a muscle.” Your breathing turns shallow as you try to limit your movement. “Isn’t that right, bride?” His razor sharp teeth scrape a little too close, a hot stinging sensation prickling your neck. You try to lean away from him but his grip tightens.

“You eat humans?” The tremble in your voice is prominent, and you’re surprised you don’t stutter with the fear that’s thrumming along with your heartbeat. “Among other things,” he drawls, inhaling your scent as you try not to move. Your breath catches as he opens his mouth over your throat, a whimper working it’s was from your own as terror climbs higher. A quiet squeak leaves you as his tongue swipes out, hot and wet, dragging over your skin as he tastes you.

“I can imagine how your skin would come apart beneath my teeth.” Another scrape, followed by that sting. He huffs a dark laugh onto your neck, “does that terrify you, bride?” White spots swim in your vision, dark blotches accompanying them as he squeezes on your throat.

Then he’s pulled back, the spot on your neck feeling cold and empty now his mouth is no longer latched onto you.

“Come, it’s time to retire.”

————————

I can imagine how your skin would come apart beneath my teeth.

The more you replay the words, the stronger the thrill they send spilling inside of you. You have to remind yourself it would be painful. Unpleasantly so. It wouldn’t the be sting he’d given you over the meal, it would be a frenzied shredding. Ripping and tearing as you’re pulled apart beneath his teeth and talons.

If he becomes bored of you, or you fail to meet any expectation of his, would he be free to replace you? Your brow furrows. Are you dead? Surely nothing alive can exist in the underworld. It’s a home for the damned.

Are you damned?

An adrenaline-fuelled smile cracks your lips. Maybe he’s your damnation.

What a silly thought.

At least the bed looks comfy. It’s circular - you hadn’t known they could be circular - and has a distinct lacking of pillows and blankets that you would have expected to decorate the mattress. Maybe that’s just another difference between your kinds.

“You don’t like it.” Displeasure drips from his words as you jump. He’s a very quiet predator. Automatically, you retreat a few steps, finding him directly in front of you when you turn to face his voice. He follows like a dance partner, hand gripping your jaw as he looks down at you, face blank. “Ungrateful,” he taunts, softly.

“I’m curious about the bedding,” you stammer, hauling yourself together. “The nest is fashioned after your own,” he replies, eyes remaining on yours as he pulls you closer, “you did not seem to value them in your own den.”

Heat flushes your cheeks, eyes snapping away from his, “they’re expensive.”

“Steal, then.” You bite back your reply, that if you were caught, you’d suffer a less than favourable death. His brow twitches, “swallow your tongue and be surprised when you choke,” he mutters.

“What?”

He releases your jaw, stalking away, leaving you dazed and confused.

————————

He prowls through your thoughts that night, every scene you dreamt up tainted by a dark shadow lurking just out of sight. The presence grows more sinister as the imagery drags on, growing stronger with every second. He brings a flare of heat with him, every touch of shadow sending flame to lick between your thighs until the dreamscape shifts.

You’re lying on the circular mattress, darkness shrouding the surrounding room, lit only by candles. The milky wax melts to the floor, moving in circles until it forms a tight ring around the mattress. Then, the streams start looking toward your bed, rolling beneath you to inevitably join.

It’s an altar.

Your heart pounds as you look up, that dark presence returning, lurking at the end of the mattress. His pitch black irises take up the whole of his eyes, leaving the ball smothered in darkness. There’s no doubt he looking at you. Shadowy sinew runs beneath his skin, and you follow the lines with your eyes.

He’s naked. Completely without clothing.

Gorgeous. Crafted. Divine.

He’s different from earlier. The blotted out eyes and sinew aside, his canines are more pronounced, fur dusts his abdomen, thickening as you follow down. The same black veins pulse along his cock that’s hard and swollen. Begging to rut into something.

You’re desperate for water, throat parched as you tear your gaze away, dragging it over the rest of him. Scars lacerate his torso, decorating the corded muscle of his arms. Sharp talons split from the skin of his fingertips, curved and razor sharp. As long as your forearm, you would guess, if not longer.

You suck in a breath, raising your gaze to his blacked out eyes. He’s hungry. Ravenous. All of it piercing into you as you shift in the nest, trying to slowly shuffle backward. You catch sight of yourself as you’re doing so, clothed only in a white robe that’s barely concealing your breasts. The lace reaches just past your elbows before it cuts of, and the rest of the silky fabric does nothing to conceal your heat from him. He has the perfect view of you: your thighs are parted though you’re trying to squeeze them together, nipples peaking through the sheer silk.

But he doesn’t move. He just stands there, watching. Waiting.

He’s waiting on you. Waiting for you to come to him.

Heat spools between you thighs as a sinful curve tips the edges of his mouth, like he’s hearing your thoughts and giving you the confirmation you need. You’re not sure what will happen if you don’t adhere to whatever ritual he’s caught you in.

But you know you’re in a dream. You’re asleep; safe. He can’t hurt you here. It means nothing.

Maybe that’s why you shift onto your hands and knees when he beckons you toward him with the pull of his middle and index finger, crawling toward him, eyes trained on one another. It’s like you’re enraptured by him, everything around the male fading to negative space as he encompasses your conscious. He’s everything.

You stop when you reach him, tucking your legs beneath you as you kneel before him, hands in your lap. How obedient. His mouth splits open in a murderous grin, baring his sharp canines as he takes in your submissive form. Small.

How he’ll enjoy defiling you.

————————

You wake with a gasp, skin damp but clothed. You pant, fingers gripping the mattress as you haul down lungfuls of air.

“Bad dream?”

You scream, jerking away from the voice, scrambling backward but a hand wraps around your ankle. He pulls you toward him, making you scream harder, kicking as your night robe rides up until the silk is pooling at your waist.

He snarls at the noise, lifting from his stomach, muscle flexing with the movement, as he climbs on top of you. His hand covers your mouth, silencing you as he straddles your middle. The male sleeps naked. You silently thank his shadows for sparing you the humiliation of a shameful flush decorating you cheeks should you have seen him again, in such a short span.

Silver lines your eyes as those same shadows tie your wrists down.

Terror sets in and you open your mouth, biting down hard on his hand. He doesn’t even flinch. Only cocks his head in what seems like confusion, pulling his hand away to examine it. You still, not knowing what to do. You don’t want to provoke him any further. “You bit me,” he states, eyes flicking to yours, back to normal.

Then a dark laugh rumbles from his chest as one hand grips your jaw, the other thumbing your upper lip away from your teeth, “how adorable.” The pad of the digit runs beneath the blunt edge of your canine, pressing against the enamelled bone, “what were you expecting to do with these?”

You tremble beneath him, the true power imbalance dawning on you. His teeth broke your skin by grazing it, while he’s pressing against your own canine without so much of an ounce of pain showing.

I can imagine how your skin would come apart beneath my teeth.

Before you can manage anything he’s pressing his face into the crook of your neck, scenting you. He pulls back, nostrils flaring.

“You’re in heat.”

“I’m not an animal,” you breathe, a hot flare of indignation flushing your skin. Despite the denial, warmth envelops your body, settling deeper in the pit of your belly. “It just happens sometimes,” you hiss, hot embarrassment flushing your cheeks. “It’s not something I can help.”

“I can.”

“No.”

He tilts his head, lips curving into a malevolent grin, “you’re aroused. That’s what a husband is for.” Your breath hitches at his implication. “You aren’t my husband.”

“Not yet. But you’re still mine.”

“I am not.” His thumb brushes against the soft skin of your neck and you flinch, feeling the sting his canines left. “Maybe to you. But you’re surrounded by my kind. They’ll understand my mark.” Your eyes widen, “you can’t do that,” you breathe, “you can’t just lay claim to any human you want.”

He leans closer and you press back into the bed, “what’s stopping me?” The words brush over your mouth and you shiver.

You’re aware of the shadows thrumming around the bed, how his powerful arms are caging you in, but it’s taken you a while to realise there’s something hard poking into your middle. You squirm beneath him, trying to wriggle out of his dominating hold. “I said: what’s stopping me?” He growls, hand fisting in your hair as he yanks you upward, his mouth grazing leisurely along the lifeline in your throat.

A whimper claws its way up your throat and he laughs at the sound, canines searching for their earlier mark. “That’s right,” he purrs, lapping once over the scratches before he lines his teeth up, preparing to bite down, “nothing.” His fangs sink into your skin and you don’t even have enough breath to scream.

His shadows loosen and your hands instantly fly to his hair, nails raking over his scalp. He doesn’t let up and you grasp onto him desperately, clawing for something to grip, to tie yourself to for some form of safety. You go lightheaded as he feeds.

The myths you’ve heard about their drinking habits are false. In the tales they don’t leave a drop behind, needing every ounce to sustain themselves. For Azriel, it’s a display of decadence. He doesn’t need every drop. He’s drinking you up for his own enjoyment. You aren’t a necessity, or even a luxury; you’re a gluttonous indulgence.

Blood trails hot paths down your neck, sloping over your collar bone, trailing between your breasts as the liquid flows down your body. It spills over your back, saturating the bed with sanguine flavour. Then he pulls back, licking over the bite mark to heal it. You receive a metallic zap, and you’re sealed. Fresh as ever.

He looks down at you, soaking in your look of shock as he releases your hair, a blood-red slash instead of a grin. It drips from his lips, weighted droplets splashing on your chest, staining the silk night clothes. “My side is fulfilled,” he drawls. Your vision swims, fingers releasing their grasp on his soft hair, brushing over his shoulders before falling at your middle.

You manage a few shaky pants before he’s lowering his mouth, a surprised whimper being stolen from your lips as he settles over you. The blood mixes with his taste, tongue sliding over yours as his canines inadvertently slice up the inside of your lips. You lie there, passive, still very much in shock.

With the little strength you have left, you bite down on his tongue. Blood - not yours, this time - fills your mouth, gushing from the wound you’ve made. His eyes snap open angrily, hands brutally digging into your shoulders as he shoves away from you. Fury dances in his charcoal eyes before it’s smothered.

“If I’m going to choke on anyone’s tongue,” you hiss, words dripping with venom, “it’ll be yours. Not mine.”

Taglist: @myheartfollower

#demon! Azriel #acotar #dark! Azriel #Azriel smut #acotar au #azriel acotar #shadowsinger #Teeth and Talons

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granulesofsand · 8 months

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Reasons people underestimate the prevalence of RAMCOA:

Untraumatized people don’t think about trauma nearly as much as survivors

People don’t know what the signs are. Trainings are shitty when given, attendees don’t think they’ll need to use the information, and trainings offered are usually online and easy to walk away from

Mandatory reporters don’t usually follow through their contracts. This is sometimes a good thing, but it can leave room in the wrong places for endangered children

People who know the signs will ignore them. They think it unlikely, that they’re overreacting, or they just don’t notice

Survivors are quiet. Speaking up puts us in danger, and more people think of us as media material than peers

The police don’t do jack shit for us. Some stations train officers to overlook our cases, and it’s difficult to take to court if a survivor wants to. In larger cases, government works with organized criminal groups that perpetrate or do so themselves for research

We’re a test question. The only time we are brought up in psychology classrooms is if they want to nod to a DID diagnosis. Few therapists are educated and willing to take us on as clients

Abusers know how to make connections with local authority. In high control groups, members may be taught how to abuse and evade interception

All of this makes it hard to report anywhere how many survivors exist free, and the low numbers in turn make us less believable when we do report

RAMCOA includes severe religious abuse, manipulative coercion, programming, cults, trafficking rings, criminal gangs, and more. Survivors are your coworkers, neighbors, cashiers, librarians.

Signs to look for:

Ritual Abuse

History of self-harm, substance use, sui/homicidality, especially with prescribed patterns

Unusual phobias (red or brown foods, kinds of houses, churches, hospitals, fear of the dark or being alone in adults)

Aversion to or obsession with the occult/witchcraft or other faith traditions

Patterns of nightmares, aversions or obsessions with common or nondescript themes (gore, needles, bugs, rodents, monsters, babies, men or women)

Sudden or irresistible urge to relocate, recontact abusers, participate in abusive ceremonies

High pain tolerance

Repeated phrases with violent, aggressive or religious themes

Mind Control and Coercion

Unquestioning obedience of a person or doctrine

Defers to another, speaks as though scripted, frequently accompanied by another or has to ask permission inappropriate for their age

Sudden or dramatic change in behavior, hobbies, or long-standing habits

Refusal to consume media unless approved by another/without further explanation

Anxious or idealized descriptions of childhood home and family, unable to recall these things

No memory of childhood or missing years

Multiple self-states, especially in high quantities

Organized Abuse and Trafficking

Disconnection from peers, family and friends

Does not attend community events or faith services or is perpetually preoccupied with a single group

Repeated unexplained absences from work or school

Disoriented, confused or dissociated for long periods of time or without explanation

Fearful or self-persecutory behavior, especially with allusions to another person or group

Bruises, broken skin or other wounds in various stages of healing

Minors engaging in commercial sex (including CSEM or survival sex)

Timid, skittish, fearful or submissive behaviors (including when this is the norm)

Malnourished, dehydrated, exhausted or with untreated ails

Without belongings or suitable living space

Many indicators of abuses flow together, as do the events themselves. It’s common that RA and OA perps use MC to keep victims in line, and techniques are often implemented by default in abusive environments. A group using RA or MC also qualifies as OA. This is why the community acronym includes all three.

There are more discreet examples for each. It’s possible to find many symptoms of RAMCOA and have none of those maltreatments as the cause. It’s possible to have none and still be abused.

Noticing indicators in children should be followed up by alerting any available reliable authority. Children sometimes disclose using metaphors or slang words they have been taught, so keep this in mind if you work with them.

#ramcoa #tw ramcoa #ritual abuse #mind control #organized abuse #did osdd #dissociative identity disorder #traumagenic system #osddid #did system #polyfragmented system #ramcoa system

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nastyavolk-cp · 3 months

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The Angel of Hades I

Tagging: @aphroditelovesu @the-broken-truth General warnings: Yandere themes (next part), platonic love, kidnapping, themes about autism and ADHD, mental health discussion, etc. Notes: Bianca and her mother are my OCs, do not use them without consulting me. Everyone else belongs to Rick Riordan and belongs to the Percy Jackson universe. Good reading, welcome to the part one!

“You are a demigod, Bianca.”

The young girl swore she had heard something similar in the past, more specifically the phrase 'You're a wizard, Harry.' When she had a phase of liking Harry Potter and witchcraft, in her defense she was a child who had just found herself. in a fandom she liked. But now she was over 17 years old, one step away from reaching the age of majority, she finished high school and was already listing all the public universities in Curitiba, her hometown where she currently lives with her mother and relatives, to take the entrance exam to college.

This news, however, was one of the most unexpected things she had ever heard, but it did not appear, at least in her mind, as something impossible. Since she was a child, she has seen some very unlikely things and has experienced situations in which she thought impossible to happen, but which unfortunately were very real, she believed it was because of her diagnosis of Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder that she received. aged seven, in addition to his confirmed Autism Spectrum Disorder, which was diagnosed months after ADHD.

But at that moment, she was facing a fucking satyr, or faun? This didn't matter to her at the time, because the moment he had said what she really was, with her mother present, Bianca had her doubts.

“A demigoddess? Like, daughter of some god?” She asked just to make sure that was what he was talking about, as obvious as it was, and the creature nodded, confirming her suspicions. “Whose then?” The young woman continued, her pale hands trembling slightly, her right leg swayed in a discreet way but which made the satyr and her own mother a little nervous, who looked at her with a look of compassion.

“I’m not sure, you’ll only find out once you’re at Camp Half Blood.” The creature explained before taking a sip of the fresh cup of coffee that her mother, Isabel, had prepared for this visit.

“Camp Half-Blood? What is this place?” Bianca asked, leaning a little towards the coffee table, her hazel eyes showed curiosity but also slight fear, did she really have to go to this place?

“It's a camp, obviously, dedicated to training demigods, just like you, from all over the world. This specific Camp is dedicated to the direct descendants of Greek gods, I don’t know if you’re already familiar with━”

“Zeus, Poseidon, Hera, Demeter, Artemis, Apollo, Eros, Aphrodite, Had━”

“Yes, yes, those same ones. I can already see that you are already familiar with this matter.” The satyr comically interrupted the young woman listing all the Greek gods that came into her head, extending his hand and making a stop sign right in the young woman's face.

Bianca quickly returned to her original posture, she seemed more tense than before, she didn't know exactly what to do with these feelings, she felt like her chest was about to explode, or maybe she was close to having a heart attack, either way, she didn't seem to be taking this news very well.

“Do I... have to go to this place, where is it?” She asked nervously, seeing her mother looking worried, who immediately went to sit next to her daughter to try to calm her down and prevent a possible panic attack.

“It is in the state of New York, in the United States of America.” The satyr replied, drinking the last sip of the cup of coffee and placing it carefully on the coffee table. “It is rare that we find demigods who are already reaching adulthood, we usually get demigods who are entering adolescence. Maybe because you live here in Brazil it made our search for you a little more difficult. A few years ago we found a demigod just like you, but younger, who was from Rio de Janeiro. Maybe you two can get along.”

"No! I do not want to go!" Bianca said sounding a little too desperate, surprising the satyr and Isabel with her tone of voice, the latter immediately tried to comfort her.

“I don’t think that’s an option, young lady. When a demigod is discovered, heit needs immediately go there. It’s protocol and this serves to increase your chances of survival.” The satyr explained but the young woman shook her head.

“What part don’t you understand that I don’t want to go to?!”

“But sweetheart, you will be safe there, you will meet people like you, you will make friends there━”

“I don’t want to go!” The girl interrupted her mother, with tears already forming in her eyes, she couldn't stop acting like a child who refuses to go to school, but in her defense she was being forced to go to a place she didn't know, mixing with people she didn't know and the worst part of it all was that she wouldn't have any relatives or family there. How the hell is she going to stay in a camp in a different country and how is she going to get back to Brazil? Furthermore, she had everything prepared so that she could enter a public university in her city, wanting to study Arts or History, her plans could not be snatched away from her like that.

“Bianca please-” Her mother was startled when the young woman got up from the sofa and walked away, with Isabel desperately going after her worried daughter, at the same time apologizing to the satyr and asking him to wait in the living room, but the girl as soon as she arrived in her bedroom, she closed the door and locked it before her mother could reach the handle and try to open the door, the latter had no success.

As her mother insistently called her, Bianca threw herself on her bed and began to cry into the pillows, when everything seemed to be stabilizing and her life was getting back on track, a fucking satyr came and ruined everything and told her the whole truth, in addition to wanting to force her to go on this camp without respecting the decisions she wanted to make for the life that was hers.

The young woman didn't know how long she cried, ignoring her mother calling her, who eventually gave up when she saw that she wouldn't have any response and that the whole situation had upset her, but at the end of it all, after feeling her eyes pulsing and swollen , her face burning and a throbbing headache, Bianca fell asleep out of the blue, she would undoubtedly wake up feeling bad afterwards but that didn't bother her as she could finally have an escape in her dreams.

☠☠️☠️☠️☠️

Not long after she woke up, she felt really bad, the headache was worse and her eyes hurt a lot, she rubbed her face against the pillow that had previously been used to dry her tears, which were not few. She moved her arms a little until in her hands she felt the softness and fur of a stuffed animal, she turned to the side and saw that it was her plush of Tigger, a character from Winnie the Pooh, one of her favorite childhood cartoons and since she was little she was attached to him, taking him anywhere, no matter where.

Then Bianca took her old stuffed animal and pulled it towards her, hugging it tightly and rubbing her freckled face against it. This immediately improved her mood. She felt calmer, lighter, but when she remembered what had happened previously, She felt shame invade her and her first thought was…

“Ah… my mother must be upset with me…” She said, vocalizing her thoughts. Bianca was very disappointed with herself, he must have embarrassed her mother in front of that satyr, or faun…?

At the same moment, she heard someone knocking on her bedroom door, she already knew who it was because of the rhythm and tone of the knocks, it was her mother. She got up from the bed, still holding the Tigger plushie, and went to her bedroom door, she turned the key and immediately opened the door.

Isabel stood before her, with a guilty look, and in her hands she held a gourd with the already prepared chimarrão. Upon seeing her daughter's swollen eyes, the older woman sighed, feeling even more guilty about what happened.

“Mama… I’m sorry…” Bianca began, her voice was a little hoarse, her mother looked surprised but it was nothing unpredictable, her daughter apologized for many things even if she wasn’t at fault.or causing any problem.

“Honey, this isn’t your fault. I know you were upset because you… well… had other plans and no one expected that…” Isabel began and entered her daughter's room, the two then sat on the bed, the older woman handed the chimarrão to her daughter, and she took it. and drank some of it through a straw, it was bitter but at the same time it relieved the tension in her body, now allowing her to relax again.

“He told me that you really need to go to this camp, that it would be for your own safety and that you will be prepared to defend yourself from monsters. I swear, my dear, that whatever these monsters are, I know you will be more than capable of protecting yourself. I believe in you, my love. Everything will be fine."

Everything will be fine…

“How long… how long do I need to stay there…?” Bianca asked before taking a few more sips of mate.

“3 months, it would be like spending the whole summer there.” Her mother explained, this worried the girl a little because in the northern hemisphere summer would be June, July and August, and if she entered a university, she would only have a single month of full vacation which in this case would only be July. Hmm..

“And would it be that if I went to college I would only need to stay there for a month?” It was a valid question, after all she didn't want to give up going to college, and it was already the beginning of July, she spent half the semester studying so she could take the entrance exams for public universities in her state.

“You can try to negotiate.” Isabel said, encouraging her. Bianca felt more relieved, of course she was still very insecure, as this was something that came up suddenly, but with her mother's unconditional support, she could begin this journey as a demigod daughter of whoever.

"I love you my love. Mama is here, always.” Isabel said, kissing her daughter's forehead, she was one of the only people who could do that to Bianca, since she didn't really like physical touch and affection in that way, but her mother was the exception, as she was her daughter. greatest comfort person, your companion and even partner in crime.

Bianca felt scared, as it was normal for everyone to feel scared, but if she was to actually go there, she could finally answer the questions she had been asking her entire life.

Starting with the fact that she saw ghosts, but it was probably something that anyone could see, right?

☠☠️☠️☠️☠️

She had a few hours to prepare for that day, her mother had said the same day the satyr was at her house that he would show up the next day to take her to Camp Half Blood via teleportation. Yes, Bianca really thought she was living in a fiction book just like Harry Potter, but obviously all of this was different for several, many reasons.

Her mother helped her separate her clothes into a large gym bag as well as some personal hygiene items, makeup (at her own insistence), her medicines and even some drawing materials if they had free time and she didn't die of boredom. In the end, she was ready, at least physically, emotionally she couldn't unfortunately say the same.

Now it was her time to go, after having breakfast, taking a shower and getting ready, she knew that the satyr would be there waiting for her, her mother, in a way of bringing comfort to her daughter, had prepared soup for her to eat in a thermos cup, it was one of her comfort foods and safe for her to eat, since she preferred creamy foods with a soft texture as they were what pleases her sensitive palate. Before going to the satyr who waited before them, Isabel hugged her daughter, feeling that this would be the last time she would see her and who knows, after three months she would return to her arms again.

“Are you ready for us to go, miss Bianca?” The satyr asked, as much as the young woman wanted to say no, she lightly bit her lip and nodded yes. In one of the creature's hands there were two small shiny spheres, the size and shape of a marble. Bianca took this marble while the satyr explained that these pearls were used to teleport them wherever they wanted to go.

“Close your eyes, miss. Allow me to guide us to Camp Half-Blood.” Bianca sighed and closed her eyes, he instructed that on three, they would throw the pearls on the floor while holding their hands free. When the count was over, the two threw the pearls on the floor and the young girl felt a sensation like butterflies fluttering in her stomach, but she didn't dare open her eyes.

“Miss, we are here.” The satyr said in a gentle voice, still holding the hand of the teenager who slowly opened her eyes, which little by little became accustomed to the natural luminosity of the Sun and hearing birds singing in the distance, sounds that looked like laughter, screams and moans. “Welcome to Camp Half Blood, miss━”

“Bianca… please. Call me Bianca.” The girl responded by letting go of the satyr's hand and letting out a deep sigh, relieved to be able to breathe fresh air and release all the tension that existed in her body and soul. She looked at the entrance to the camp, there was a text in ancient Greek but she couldn't understand what it was, then suddenly she heard the sounds of horse footsteps and in front of her was a large centaur, but it wasn't just any centaur.

“Good morning, Miss. Santos or Miss. Alves?” Chiron he said, probably lost because she had two last names and wasn't sure which one she would feel comfortable being called.

“Alves, you may call me Bianca Alves.” The girl replied in English, it wasn't the best and had her paranaense accent, and without looking the centaur in the eye, who dismissed this flawed presentation and extended his hand to her. Still without making eye contact, she shook his hand but quickly let go, not wanting to prolong this physical contact.

“Understood, Miss. Bianca Alves. Welcome to Camp Half Blood, I believe you have already received a brief explanation about our camp and the purpose for which it was created.” After a brief pause,Chiron continued. “We are happy to have you here, how did you manage to stay out of our sights? And monsters too, I suppose?”

“I don’t know… until yesterday I didn’t know I was a demigod in the first place.” Bianca responded by scratching her neck, which was true, the information that she was a demigoddess came very quickly and she still didn't know how to handle this news well.

“Usually we welcome and find demigods a little younger than you, you must be around 17 years old, we find demigods who are 10 to 12 years old, younger than those ages, it’s not difficult, but older demigods? They are a rarity here, as many… do not survive to adulthood.” The centaur explained and the last part scared the young woman, Chiron immediately realizes that his words may have frightened her and changes his approach so as not to prolong her despair any longer. “However, miss. I believe it must be because you probably haven't manifested your powers yet. Tell me, have you never noticed anything ‘abnormal’ in your life?”

“Well, I believe that something that is out of the ordinary is the fact that I see ghosts, but I think it’s nothing too out of the ordinary.” She replied, she didn't want to go into details about her autism and ADHD, if no one asked, she wouldn't need to talk, for now.

Then the centaur invites the girl to go with him, she follows him while he gives a brief explanation about how the camp worked, the daily activities, about the cabins, basically saying what was necessary and of course clearing up any doubts the girl had along the way. He also responded how she could contact her mother whenever she wanted, preferably during her spare time, and that if she joined a public college in her country of origin, he could make an exception for her to attend the camp in a single month, despite showing his concern about how little time she will stay compared to the other campers, but education comes first so it wasn't difficult to convince him.

He also explained that, as she has not yet been acclaimed by her divine relative, she will stay in the Hermes Cabin, along with the children of the god Hermes and some other campers who were not acclaimed yet. But there was a moment when as she looked at the cabins, she felt the centaur's gaze on her, narrowing his eyes at something.

"Is there any problem…?" She asked, a little embarrassed and the centaur quickly realized that he made her uncomfortable.

“Ah, my apologies, Ms. Alves, now having a good look I swore I had seen you before, but I don't think so, you must just look like someone I must have known a long time ago.” Chiron explained but the subject died once and for all, as Bianca didn't want to ask anything about it. They immediately walked around the camp again, with some campers looking at them and the Brazilian girl becoming even more uncomfortable with all this unwanted attention, she used her black hair to hide her face more from anyone who saw her from afar.

She started playing with her rings, it was one of the ways she used to calm herself, to relax her body and release any unpleasant emotions from her, while she listened to what Chiron was saying, she continued to look at every corner of the camp, not believing that this was her life now. There were many sensations and feelings at the same time and she continued to play even more with the rings on her fingers, trying to remain calm.

“Miss Alves, are you okay?” The centaur asked, noticing that the young woman was tense, he had already noticed something the moment he met her, the two stopped in front of the cafeteria, and Bianca didn't know how to answer that question. “Do you have something you would like to tell me? No need to be afraid, I’d like to help you fit in and get involved here.” He said reassuringly, his voice gentle and concerned.

“It's just… I don't know if there will be others like me… I'm autistic, sir. And… I don't know if I'll get along like everyone else here…” She explained, without still looking at him, the centaur contemplated the girl's words. He was thoughtful about her concerns, but in the end he was satisfied that she had told him the truth and opened the game so he could help her.

"Ms. Alves, I'm very relieved that you told me this, besides autism, do you have any comorbidities?”

“ADHD.”

“Hm, I figured. Do you take any medication or psychological treatment?”

“I do both, I take medication for ADHD.”

“Interestingly, no demigod here is taking or has had treatment with medication or even psychological support, you are a rarity, but of course that doesn't mean it's something bad and that it excludes you from others, in reality I believe it will be the opposite, I would like to know how it will handle your training and on missions if you are called upon. I want you to know that I am willing to do my best to help and support you on your journey at this camp, you can come to me and I will give you my support when you need it. But everything in its time, in no way do I want to pressure you or speed you up.”

"… Thank you very much. I mean it." She said, feeling embarrassed, but Chiron's words managed to reassure her enough, now she was less tense and they were able to continue walking around the camp. In the meantime, she met some campers and finally, when Chiron needed to take care of some matters about the camp, he left Bianca with Ares' children, where Clarisse La Rue took her in and was willing to be her trainer to teach her, for now, simple combat skills.

☠☠️☠️☠️☠️

Hours had passed, Bianca had already settled in the Hermes Cabin and met some of his children, although she was still not comfortable, she had started well with Clarisse, the daughter of Ares, even though she seemed brutal and bloodthirsty, she was patient and welcomed her quickly at the speed of light. Bianca felt grateful for having achieved a new friendship, even quickly for her standards, as this rarely happened to her.

It was then that one of Ares's children ended up getting injured and someone ran to call one of Apollo's children who worked as healers. A few minutes later a blond boy a little younger than her appeared with a first aid kit. He didn't take long to tend to the son of Ares' injuries and at the same time scolded him to be more cautious in the next fight.

“I don’t want to see you hurt again today, capiche?” The blonde said and when he got up he immediately looked at Bianca, a little surprised to see someone he had never seen in his life, but he opened a huge warm smile when he realized that she was a new camper. “Oh, hello! You must be the new camper that arrived today, right? What’s your name and where are you from?”

“A-Are talking with me?" The Brazilian girl asked, surprised and embarrassed, pointing to herself and when Apolo's son approached, she was embarrassed and couldn't look him in the eye.

"Yes, I am!" The blonde stated, waiting for an answer and left his hand extended to shake her.

“I'm Bianca Alves, actually Bianca Heloísa Alves dos Santos, but you can just call me Bianca Alves. And I’m from Curitiba, Brazil.” She said, feeling ashamed at having made this shabby introduction, but still reluctant to shake his hand. Upon realizing this, Apollo's son lowered his hand seeing that she wasn't going to do it but didn't seem offended by her apathetic gesture.

“I'm William Andrew Solace, but everyone here knows me as Will Solace, son of Apollo! I hope we get along well, Bia!” Will said happily, Bianca expressed surprise at having already gained a nickname in a matter of seconds of interacting with Apollo's son.

“Ehh.. me too, I guess…” She replied, putting her hands in the pocket of her coat, she felt very embarrassed. It was getting close to dark and someone had mentioned Capture the Flag, a common activity in this camp. She was hesitant because she didn't know if she would be successful in this game or if she would end up experiencing some kind of humiliation or embarrassment, either by others or by herself. fault.

The Brazilian girl felt Will was still watching her, she had the feeling that he was analyzing her and that made her even more awkward, but Will quickly decided to leave saying that his obligations called him and that he had to prepare for the Capture the Flag.

“I hope I don’t fuck anything up.” Bianca thought, sighing deeply and deciding to follow Clarisse so as not to miss one of the only familiar faces. But little did she know that someone, from far, far away, was closely watching her and her movements.

☠☠️☠️☠️☠️

Bianca can definitely say that she hates the Capture the Flag, she obviously stayed on the Ares children's team and Clarisse put her in a hunting position, the part of facing rivals was up to her, as leader, and the others. However, at a certain point when Bianca was distracted by some noises, she lost her team.

She felt panic but tried as much as she could to calm down, not wanting to destabilize herself in this way, but that proved impossible, the desire she had to sit on the dirt floor and remain silent, dealing with her panic attack alone as he often dealt with when he was younger. However, she needed courage and to move forward, of course the feeling of guilt also bothered her, as she only had one job and she was already capable of failing miserably.

But patience, that was all she needed, one time or another she would meet other people, whether they were on her team or not, but the darkness of the forest didn't really help her get around or get to where she was, she tried to guide herself through of the sounds but seeing that she was basically lost, she reconsidered actually sitting down and crying, waiting for someone to find her and later being seen as cowardly and scared.

So after walking so, so much, and not finding herself anywhere, just in front of a stream but still without finding anyone, she sat down near a tree and started crying, how was she really able to get lost like that? Bianca knew that this was not a grown-up attitude, that she should be more resilient and courageous, but it was impossible to contain herself like that.

One sound, however, caught her attention, she heard it as if it were several people celebrating from afar, is the game over? For how long was she lost? Did her team win? When she got up to finally go find her colleagues, something appeared from the shadows and appeared before her. It was a huge dog and had black fur with scarlet red eyes, thirsty for blood.

A hellhound.

Bianca stood frozen, watching in terror at the creature before her, ready to make mincemeat of her, growling loudly at her, then the creature waited for her to make a sudden movement to attack it and at the height of her panic, Bianca walked back, stepping on a branch and breaking it, opening the gap for the creature to attack ferociously.

She let out a cold and dark scream, but she was quick enough to avoid the hellhound, being narrowly caught by him, but Bianca fell to the ground and she wouldn't have time to get up and run away, it would be useless, she continued to scream. desperate, an attempt to get someone's attention but she had no hope.

This was definitely the end, it was almost pathetic, die on your first day.

But when the creature got dangerously close to her, ready to attack her, with Bianca still screaming and hearing sounds of people getting close, something hit the great hellhound and the earth beneath her shook, she couldn't see what was really happening, but the hellhound moaned and made sounds of pain, as if something was hitting him from behind and finally, the creature couldn't resist and fell to the ground, revealing its back pierced by sword blows and a bunch of skeletons holding swords.

Bianca was paralyzed once again.

The skeletons looked at her with their non-existent eyes, they were wearing gladiators' uniform and had shiny bronze swords in their hands, there were three of them and one of the group walked over the dead hellhound and walked towards her, she managed to recover her movements but was left with her back pressed against the tree, thinking that perhaps her destiny was to die.

To her surprise, the skeleton raised his bony hand and gently patted her head, as if she were a scared puppy, and she felt as if he was trying to comfort her from her fright, she thought he had even said 'It's okay. It's okay, my lady.' The footsteps became more audible and the voices called her name, suddenly a light took over the ambience, the glow came from the top of her head.

When the light dimmed and many of her campmates arrived, she saw that a figure was forming in the middle of that glow, it was a bident, Bianca could see the shock on the faces of everyone who was with her, the skeletons took off their helmets and knelt down before her, which left her even more confused but it didn't take long for Chiron, who was in front of her, to take action.

“Everyone hail to Bianca Heloísa Alves dos Santos, daughter of Lord Hades, the Unseen, God of the Underworld, Riches and the Dead.” With that, everyone without exception hailed before Bianca, who couldn't handle all the pressure towards her and lost consciousness quickly.

She is Daughter of Hades...

☠☠️☠️☠️☠️

For Nico di Angelo, it was just another normal day, he could easily sum up his day as staying at his cabin, spending time with Will and some friends, as well as sending Iris Messages to Hazel, Reyna, Jason and Frank at Camp Jupiter. However, he knew, through some campers, that there was a new girl wandering around, but he didn't pay any attention to it, after all, it was just another one.

How wrong he was.

A whole day had passed, after having spent hours talking with his Roman friends, he left his cabin and went to meet Will, who he had heard was in the arena area to take care of a neglected son of Ares. However, when he entered, but still hidden through the shadows, he saw his blonde boyfriend talking to a girl, but he couldn't see her face well.

“... I hope we get along well, Bia!” The son of Hades only managed to capture this phrase coming from his boyfriend and he froze when he heard the nickname, Bia was the way he affectionately called his older sister Bianca, who had died so long ago and who he missed every day. Curious, but slightly afraid, Nico came out of the shadows a little while still remaining hidden so he could closely observe the girl with whom Will was trying to have a decently animated dialogue.

Now a little closer, Nico could see some more features of this girl, although he couldn't see her face, it was scary how similar she was to his sister, she had straight black hair that went past her shoulders, she wore a wide brown flannel coat, a long ankle-length skirt with several cutouts of distinct dark prints and black sneakers. Nico wanted to tell himself that this was just in his head, there was no way the girl could be his sister, as she was obviously dead.

But when her boyfriend walked away from her he could see a part of her face, even though she couldn't see him, he froze. Identical. Almost an accurate reflection of her sister, except that she looked much older, perhaps around 17 years old, the same age Bianca would be if she were alive, had paler complaxion, quite similar to his, her freckles were subtle and she had a languid, delicate form.

"My love!" Will said, appearing next to his boyfriend, Nico almost jumped and looked at the blonde with his black eyes looking at him seriously, he didn't really like being surprised but as he was his partner, he ignored it most of the time. They greet each other with a quick peck but even with that, Nico couldn't stop seeing the girl in his mind and how frighteningly similar she was to Bianca.

“Will, who was the girl you were talking to just now?” Nico asked, wanting to quell his curiosity, maybe it was all in his head, maybe just a freak out he was having.

“Ah, it’s Bianca, she’s the new camper who came from Brazil.”

Nico froze once again, he hadn't heard it wrong, the girl's name was Bianca, it wasn't possible that fate was playing a sick joke on him, as if the fact that he had lost his older sister several years ago, suddenly, wasn't enough. Just because he got over it, a girl came along who looked extremely similar to her and had the SAME NAME AS HER.

He was just a few steps away from having a mental breakdown and Will quickly realized that his boyfriend was acting strange, but decided not to ask at the moment, considering it might make the son of Hades more uncomfortable than he already was. The blonde took his boyfriend's hand and decided to take him to the infirmary to spend time together, but he wouldn't forget the strange way his boyfriend had reacted when he found out about the new camper.

Hours later, everyone was playing Capture the Flag, after some time, the game had ended, resulting in the victory of the team led by Athena's children, but Ares' children showed concern not because they had lost the competition but because they noticed the absence of a person and just when they began to question themselves, screams were heard from not far away, many ran to help the missing camper who was in obvious danger.

Nico went with the crowd with his boyfriend Will and some friends, following the sound of the camper's screams, but as soon as they arrived at the scene, they came across an unusual scene. A dead hellhound was on the floor, with a bunch of skeletons wearing gladiator clothes with swords in their hands and one was patting the new girl, Bianca, on the head.

Then, with a touch of magic, a bright source of light appeared on her head, which gradually revealed itself to be the sign that she had been acclaimed, and she was the daughter of none other than Hades himself.

“Everyone hail to Bianca Heloísa Alves dos Santos, daughter of Lord Hades, the Unseen, God of the Underworld, Riches and the Dead.” Chiron spoke and everyone with no exception hailed to her, but due to the shock and fright Bianca fainted. Clarisse was in charge of taking her to the infirmary where she would be taken care of and they would carry out general examinations to locate possible serious injuries.

When Clarisse passed by his side, Nico couldn't help but look once again at the passed out girl, her unconscious face was really and inevitably identical with his long deceased sister.

Who was she? What did Fates have in store for them? Why is she identical to his sister and why the same name? Was it really all coincidence or was it the work of the Fates, ready to fuck with Nico di Angelo's life again?

☠☠️☠️☠️☠️

Oh my God, guys. Finally I did it, it took me whole weeks to write it, I know my writing skills aren't refined and English obviously isn't my first language, but I want to thank everyone for reading the first part of Angel of Hades, I'm so excited to write the next part, I promise it will be way more interesting than this part, since it's only an introduction!

And yeah, Isabelle Fuhrman is Bianca's face claim, keep that in mind, hehehe ❤️

Edit: Oh God, how embarrassing. I corrected some writing mistakes I just noticed now 😡😡

#platonic yandere #yandere percy jackson #yandere nico di angelo #yandere hades #nastya's stories #nastya's oc #percy jackson #the Angel of Hades #part one #bianca heloisa alves dos santos

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yourmoonie · 3 months

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Hello! I love your blog! Ive been trying (I know we dont try but that's the word I can think of for this rn) to manifest but I'm having a little but of an issue. I know a lot of people say think in your favor, embody the person in imagination and dismiss the 3d. And I've been but I havent received my manifestation in the 3d for months. Ive also heard people say to feel the wish fulfilled but I've been on strong medication so I can't really "feel" in a sense. I know I can manifest, I practice witchcraft but a part of me is still doubting the law. 😭 I know that's a lot and I'm sorry I was just really hoping I'd have my desires before the new year.

Hey darling

Thank you for the question

I mean, if you want to check the 3D, it's your right, but do we really have to remind ourselves every 2 seconds that we have got slippers at home? (Just an example), No! we don't, because we know we have them, even if you are 2 hours away from home and have different shoes on you still are IN THE KNOWING that you have got those slippers.

Can you remember my cat example? If not, here is the link

When we talk about a feeling we don't mean an emotion

Emotion is the byproduct

Emotions are neither good nor bad

Emotions are just there

But FEELING is different

Feeling = inner knowing

You don't need to have billions in your account to walk in this world as a wealthy person (everything starts from inner knowing)

Because wealth is a mindset it's not about money

Nobody is holding you from entering a specific building and feeling like you own the building

Nobody is holding you back from experiencing whatever you want within

Also about the 3D:

- You are free to acknowledge what's going on in the 3D, don't put your human wants and needs on hold "just because you are ' manifesting' " live your life. You aren't going to "ignore" the 3D. What you are going to do is "become indifferent towards the said circumstances." this means that you are simply not going to "identify" with them or let them get in your and your desires' way.

- also just be in the present moment. That's all that you can truly do, be in the present moment, and know that you and your desires are ONE. You wouldn't be "desiring" something if it wasn't "meant" for you

- You aren't "ignoring" you are just "choosing" to see things differently and well according to your awareness things shift

- When you order a coffee, do you go up to the barista every 2 seconds and ask where your coffee is? I am pretty sure you don't

Your assumptions about yourself and your reality shift your character and your world

So it's like, "If you see and treat yourself like a queen, that's how you are going to be perceived" like is there anything else you need to do ? No because being a queen is a STATE of mind/ a state of being

It's simple

Neville has 3 really powerful sayings about this topic:

1. Doubt is the only force capable of disturbing the seed or impression; to avoid a miscarriage of so wonderful a child, walk in secrecy through the necessary interval of time that it will take the impression to become an expression. Tell no man of your spiritual romance. Lock your secret within you in joy, confident, and happy that someday you will bear the son of your lover by expressing and possessing the nature of your impression. Then will you know the mystery of “God said, Let us make man in our image.

2. So go out wisely today – go out determined to become more selective, more discreet in your choice of ideas you will entertain and single out the idea that would bless an individual and produce in yourself the emotional response that you have witnessed that state in his world, and know at that moment of response, you planted for that individual, and he is rooted in you, there is no such thing as he will not be found in your world for he is rooted in you. Everyone is rooted in you – therefore you will not lose them. It is planted relative to that being, and that being is going to harvest it, and you will know the harvest when it appears in his world. You simply plant and let the harvest take care of itself.

3. This is a reminder for you to realise that it is done. Once pregnant, you don’t need to wonder how you just need to know that you have been impregnated by your wish fulfilled. Once the seed is planted, we must let it grow in the darkness of the soil. It cannot see the sun and the darkness around it shows a reality of not being a beautiful flower but surely enough if you let it grow with the assumption of being that flower even in the darkness then it shall see the sun and bloom ever so brightly. When you stop digging up the seed after planting it, then it will have time to grow. You seek validation of how and when too often, and if you remained faithful, then you will give birth to your wish fulfilled in this physical reality. No longer will your wish fulfill miscarriage or never sprout. You will bloom in full awareness of your wish fulfilled as if it was so natural you didn’t even know it was your own creation. It was meant to be. So let it be. Your reality may be dark now, but as you remain faithful to your wish fulfilled, you shall know inside yourself that you already are that flower and that you already have given birth. When you experience it in your mind, you have already experienced it in your mind you have already experienced in your reality. When you feel it real with the sense, then it must be real in this physical world. You are God, and this is your world pushed out. A private dream for you to express yourself. Your awareness is the answer to all of your questions. As you walk through life, you are constantly dropping seeds into the soil that you walk upon. Which ones do you water with your awareness and let be? And which ones do you keep digging up?

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neonswitchhouse · 2 years

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PCWT: Closet Crafting, Discreet Devotions, and Inconspicuous Altars

So while not necessarily in the full vein of Pop Culture Witchcraft and Pop Culture Paganism, I’ve had several requests regarding how to work one’s craft discreetly. And so I thought, why not put a little PCW spin on things while I’m at it at least?

Whether it’s a nervousness about being open as a witch, wanting to be more subtle, or in some cases harsh living situations, there’s several reasons to want to be perhaps more inconspicuous in one’s inner ways. Though in the case of the latter situation in particular, --please-- make sure to put your personal safety and well-being first before trying any of these tips. We cannot guarantee that you won’t get in any sort of trouble for these.

Starting off, we have

In-Game Ideas

Do you devote yourself to anyone in particular when it comes to Pop Culture Witchcraft or Pop Culture Paganism that stems from a game-based source? Do you enjoy playing games focused on decorating, building, or life simulators? Then why not try these tips!

Try making an altar or devotional space in games such as Animal Crossing, The Sims, Minecraft using in-game items or even modded items! Rooms and spaces can easily be made for general purposes such as elemental altars, nature-based altars, and depending on who you work with, even items that pertain to them in particular

Use games such as the aforementioned Animal Crossing or The Sims as a form of sympathetic magic! Want to focus on self-care and inner beauty? Why not give gifts to your favorite “Snooty” villager who represents those aspects? Want to perhaps make some misfortune come to someone? Make them into a Sim and get up to some mischief with their Sim-Poppet!

Don’t have space to do your own gardening but want to still do some sort of green witchery? Why not try farming sims such as Stardew Valley or Story of Seasons to scratch that botanical itch for the time being? You can even make digital spell jars in some cases by growing the plants that best represent your purpose and placing them in chests with other items that may also best represent that purpose?

These are just some possibilities in the way of In-Game methods of spellcrafting and the like, but what about those hidden little shows of devotion or love towards someone you work with outside of their mediums?

Discreet Devotions and Obscured Offerings

Hear me out: Devotional Ita Bags. Collect charms, pins, stickers, etc. of who or whatever you work with! Work with a traditional pertaining to solar energies? Why not a brightly colored bag with sun-based imagery? Work with a pop culture deity/entity/spirtit/etc.? Places like Etsy and Redbubble just to name a few have plenty of options when it comes to fan-merch (of course make sure that the stuff from Redbubble is not stolen from other artists)

Playing an RPG game or something similar? Why not devote a playthrough for whomever you wish? Make your character a hunter-based class in honor of someone associated with hunting and the wild! Pop Culture Wise, if working with a game characters, why not play as them if applicable or even bring positive actions to your character of choice? Boost their stats, complete some quests, the whole nine-yards for them!

We’ve mentioned this before, but why not try making private moodboards, Pinterest collections, or even music playlists for whomever you work with? Energy and devotion is still energy and devotion no matter the medium, ancient and traditional or even modern and tech-focused. At the end of the day, it’s your safety and comfort that matters the most.

While this isn’t a complete list of ideas, here’s a few to get yourself started! But as we’ve said before,

Do not compromise your health, safety, and/or financial stability for the sake of your craft.

You. Come. First.

But as always,

Stay safe, have fun, stay spooky! 🦇💜

#pop culture witchcraft #pop culture magic #pop culture paganism #witch tips #pop culture pagan #pop culture witch

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maxs-grimoire · 6 months

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Hi!

So I'm a (minor) young witch and I want to learn how to get into hellenism. I'm looking to pray to Aphrodite, Ares, and Dionysus particularly, but also Hestia, Thanatos, and Hera!

I kinda want to be discreet about it, because my mom is very Christian lol.

Thank you for the help!

- Anon Ziggy

Hello! I like your little Anon tag, that's kinda cool! This post will be broken into two parts, the first is about Hellenism and how to get into it, and the second part about broom closet witchcraft.

==-🏺HOW TO GET INTO HELLENISM🏺-==

--=-==-=--What is Hellenic Polytheism?--=-==-=--

Hellenic Polytheism is the modern recreation of Hellenism, the ancient Greek religion. It is an open pantheon/practice, and anyone can get into it.

Hellenic Polytheism is a partially animistic religion, believing in nature spirits and treating all things with respect, including plants and inanimate things found in nature (rocks, the wind, water, etc.). The Hellenic Pantheon is made up of these nature spirits, the Twelve Olympians (link), the cthonic deities, and the lesser gods.

I recommend looking at this webpage to learn about traditional Greek religion. Keep in mind that while it's 100% okay to not do things exactly as they were done in the past, it is important to keep things in mind the cultural context and history of Hellenic Polytheism.

--=-==-=--How do I start?--=-==-=--

"Step one" on becoming a Hellenic Polytheist is to decide how you want to go about worship. Do you want to worship Greek deities, or do you want to work with them (link , link)? What is your view on cleansing yourself before interacting with the gods? Do you want to work with every god and deity from the Greek pantheon, or just a select few? Figuring these things out will give you a place to start.

As I mentioned above, some people decide to cleanse themselves before interacting with the gods. It isn't necessary, but it is a huge sign of respect. You can go about this the traditional way, by making khernips (link), or just by washing your hands and face.

The next big step would be to research the deities you want to work with. Find out what appropriate offerings are (like bay leaves for Apollon), their mythology, festivals for them (Aphrodisia for Aphrodite), associations with them (mint and Hades), and any customs that are common with them (honoring Hestia first and last).

I would also learn or at least read their traditional hymns and media (poems, plays, etc.) created for them. You can even make some for them yourself!

As for praying, here is a great video on praying in Hellenism, here is a great video on altars, and here is a good one on offerings.

--=-==-=--🤫 Secret Witch Tips 🤫--=-==-=--

This post is already a million words long, so we're going to rapid fire some broom closet witch tips.

Travel altars! These can be made in an Altoids tin, a small box, a shoe box, or anything else! Let me know if you need ideas on small things to go into a travel/mini/hidden altar.

Digital worship! Check out this post on virtual worship

Subtle witchcraft. Can be done through glamour magic, art magic, kitchen witchery, affirmations, taking care of nature, or any other small form of magic that makes you feel centered, connected to the earth and universe around you, or honors your guides and deities.

Get plants! Taking care of plants is a great witchy thing to do, and you can dedicate a plant to a deity and take care of the plant as an offering to them

Get e-books, read articles, watch videos, and listen to podcasts on witchcraft.

--=-==-=--=--=-==-=--

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jasper-pagan-witch · 2 years

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Jasper's Pop Culture Magic/Paganism Resource Masterpost

This post aims to compile as many useful posts and other resources as possible. As such, some of these offered sources have opposing views on certain topics (e.g. working with villains).

My stuff on Tumblr

My pop culture witchcraft fandom tag directory for what I have gathered: https://jasper-pagan-witch.tumblr.com/post/189708407809/pcw-fandom-tag-directory

My pop culture tag of my primary witch blog: https://jasper-pagan-witch.tumblr.com/tagged/pop%20culture

My pop culture chapter of my Tumblr grimoire: https://jasper-grimoire.tumblr.com/tagged/chapter%3A%20pop%20culture

My guide on how to get started in pop culture magic/paganism and ways it can be incorporated into magical/religious practices in various ways: https://jasper-pagan-witch.tumblr.com/post/681522570893377537/pop-culture-magicpaganism-you-dont-have-to-use

My theory on how pop culture stuff works/doesn’t work in my practice: https://jasper-pagan-witch.tumblr.com/post/678440977848057856/hey-there-i-was-wondering-if-youd-maybe-be

Unforeseen downside of pop culture magic/paganism and how that influences how you interact with the media from my perspective: https://jasper-pagan-witch.tumblr.com/post/680469128881078272/fire-emoji-sorry-im-on-desktop-unpopular

The results of my pop culture magic survey: https://jasper-grimoire.tumblr.com/post/681431738203947008

How to Start Pop Culture Deity Research: https://jasper-grimoire.tumblr.com/post/685862541927317504

What “counts” as a pop culture deity: https://jasper-pagan-witch.tumblr.com/post/686536875942559744/hello-this-is-kinda-linked-to-your-pop-culture

Worshiping villains: https://jasper-pagan-witch.tumblr.com/post/686985999434268672/do-you-have-a-particularly-strong-opinion-on-the

Why pop culture magic appeals to me (and other common questions): https://jasper-pagan-witch.tumblr.com/post/691430114855092224/hi-i-have-heard-a-lot-of-pop-culture-paganism-and

Pop Culture Deities & Spirits: Common Questions: https://jasper-pagan-witch.tumblr.com/post/693138711667425280/pop-culture-deities-spirits-common-questions

Common theories behind pop culture deities and other spirits: https://jasper-pagan-witch.tumblr.com/post/698400540201287681/hey-there-just-wondering-exactly-how-pop-culture

Stuff by @neonswitchhouse on Tumblr (who does a great job of writing broad-scope pop culture magic stuff)

BoS/Grimoire/BoM Prompts & Ideas for the Pop Culture Witch/Pagan: https://jasper-grimoire.tumblr.com/post/680111771676180480

Pop Culture Paganism/Witchcraft & Days of Celebration: https://jasper-grimoire.tumblr.com/post/680111811749625856

Pop Culture Paganism & the Main 3(ish) Categories of Work/Worship: https://jasper-grimoire.tumblr.com/post/681250490352271360

Working With Villains in Pop Culture Paganism/Witchcraft: https://jasper-grimoire.tumblr.com/post/680111745850884096

Pop Culture Witchcraft/Paganism & Active VS Static Sources: https://jasper-grimoire.tumblr.com/post/681463993451298816

Popular VS Obscure Sources: https://jasper-grimoire.tumblr.com/post/681882919252492288

How to Find Correspondences & Associations in Pop Culture Paganism & Witchcraft: https://jasper-grimoire.tumblr.com/post/682794767861579776

PCWT: Invocation & Calling Forth / “How to Summon Your Scrimblo”: https://jasper-grimoire.tumblr.com/post/693125408805257216

PCWT: Closet Crafting, Discreet Devotions, and Inconspicuous Altars: https://jasper-grimoire.tumblr.com/post/703188483174481920/pcwt-closet-crafting-discreet-devotions-and

PCWT: Villain Work Expanded Edition: https://jasper-grimoire.tumblr.com/post/710349149939367936/pcwt-villain-work-expanded-edition

PCWT: Communication, Confirmation, and Conversation: https://jasper-grimoire.tumblr.com/post/717340545380483073/pcwt-communication-confirmation-and

PCW and the Importance of Being Cringe: https://jasper-grimoire.tumblr.com/post/735816894793285632

Other

The source material you’re drawing from itself

Any wikis or databases for the source material

"A Look at Pop Culture Magick" by Heather Greene on The Wild Hunt: https://wildhunt.org/2015/07/a-look-at-pop-culture-magick.html

"Pop Culture Spells Are Real Spells" by Samantha on This Crooked Crown: https://thiscrookedcrown.com/2018/02/05/pop-culture-spells-are-real-spells/

"How to Pick Your Pop Culture for Pop Culture Magic" on Magical Experiments: https://www.magicalexperiments.com/blog/how-to-pick-your-pop-culture-for-pop-culture-magic

"Making Light: Hero Worship" by Sunweaver on Patheos: https://www.patheos.com/blogs/agora/2013/05/making-light-hero-worship/

Charging spells with your special interests: https://jasper-pagan-witch.tumblr.com/post/693130786588753920

Fictional entities you probably shouldn’t work with: https://jasper-pagan-witch.tumblr.com/post/695056090797375488/what-fictional-entities-should-you-not-useavoid

Creative self-reflection by @serpentandthreads on Tumblr: https://jasper-grimoire.tumblr.com/post/717391517572005888

"Pop Culture Paganism: An Introduction" by The Pagan Study Group Page on Tumblr: https://jasper-pagan-witch.tumblr.com/post/695056338802425857/pop-culture-paganism-an-introduction

"Pop Culture Paganism & God Theory" by The Broken Stones on Tumblr: https://jasper-pagan-witch.tumblr.com/post/695056788410793984/pop-culture-paganism-and-god-theory

"A Short Intro to Pop Culture Pagan Theory" by Pop Culture Pagan 13 on Tumblr: https://jasper-grimoire.tumblr.com/post/699017745584570368

"How UPG May Vary Even When Drawing From the Same Source" by Storm Water Witch on Tumblr: https://jasper-pagan-witch.tumblr.com/post/699017962919690240/hey-storm-if-you-dont-mind-me-asking-did-you

"No, You Don't Have To Stop Writing Fanfiction" by Ren Elfchild on their website: https://renelfchild.dreamwidth.org/1054.html

Last updated: December 4 2023

#jasper post #pop culture magic #pop culture magick #pop culture pagan #pop culture paganism #pop culture witch #pop culture witchcraft #pop culture #beginner #masterpost

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irenethewoman · 7 months

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Mrs. Shelby- Chapter Five- Closer

Master list

Fic masterlist

Join taglist

warning - light smut

tag: @ell0ra-br3kk3r

He had even propositioned me for sex once, which left me astounded at how straightforward and direct people could be about relationships in this place. I refused, firmly believing it wasn't John who had impregnated Martha before their marriage.

During meetings, I often played absentmindedly with a pen, tuning in and out, occasionally voicing support for Thomas and attempting to persuade others. I swear, my agreement with Thomas was purely professional and unrelated to our love life. Polly always deemed Thomas's ideas as reckless. She confided in me that if given the chance, she could sway Thomas and ease his tension. But I knew the truth. The arms we possessed were both an asset and a danger. Used wisely, they could pave the way for us; mishandled, they could obliterate us. To make these weapons more impactful, we needed to engage in more complex maneuvers, and Thomas was merely leading us to a higher-stakes chessboard.

Late at night, we would steal moments to kiss secretly in the deserted kitchen. "We don't need to be so discreet," Thomas would complain for the fourth time that day. His voice, deep and charming, never failed to captivate me. I would cup his face, offer a reassuring kiss, and then attend to the stove.

"If people knew we were together," I'd say while pouring steaming milk into his cup, "they'd think I support you out of love, and my words would carry no weight."

"Is that so?" He raised an eyebrow disapprovingly. "Oh, Mr. Shelby, never underestimate a woman," I sighed, "I'll use my brains to think and my heart to love you. Supporting you and loving you are separate matters."

He sipped his milk, and the topic was set aside. We both knew there were many issues to address, and dwelling on them was fruitless. Thomas sometimes shared my father's belief that women didn't grasp their men's work, so they should provide love and a stable home. Changing Thomas in such a short time was improbable, and honestly, I didn't want to. Despite his occasional vexations—like never uttering sweet words to me, loitering in my office, and sometimes using his sharp tongue—I cherished those imperfections that only I knew. They added warmth to the otherwise cold and ruthless gang leader.

He was my little prince, concealing a sea of sorrow in his eyes. "I heard there's a witchcraft girl in Garrison Lane," he mentioned, pulling me into his arms and placing me on his lap. "But that's Chinese territory."

I couldn't help but try to maintain Thomas's composure. He was just as obstinate as I was, even though I wasn't entirely committed to the task Polly had entrusted to me.

"Calm down, Thomas. Be patient, my dear, and remember not to be pushy. After all, we're the ones seeking assistance."

"Will the great diplomat accompany me tomorrow?" Thomas's hand ventured up my thigh again. "I'll be going to the bar to check the accounts tomorrow."

I swatted his hand away, stood up, and retrieved his empty milk glass. "Remember to give Boy Monaghan two coins."

"Boy Monaghan seems more like your son," I remarked, giving him an odd look. What was going on with him? Was he jealous of his horse?

"I don't mind if you consider yourself a stallion," I teased. Looking at Thomas's deflated expression, I couldn't help but laugh with a touch of schadenfreude. "Ha! Even Heath's venomous little prince can have his moments."

"I'm not sharing this with you to be mocked, my dear," Thomas said as he stood up and positioned me between himself and the sink. "When we have a son, I'll tell him to learn from my past."

"You really should," I replied, hooking my arms around his neck and accepting his kiss.

Tommy's strategy worked. The horse racing business thrived like never before, with people flocking to place bets on the Monaghan boy. People tended to fear and revere things they didn't understand, like the Witch of the East and the Pink Blessing. These laborers were afraid of poverty, and at the first glimpse of hope, they flocked to it. But dreams of a better future were often illusions, a disguised trap.

John continuously updated the odds and shouted in front of the blackboard, while I worked diligently below, tallying, making change, and keeping records. Originally, John had only asked for my assistance in record-keeping, but now, I was busier than ever.

It wasn't until Thomas tapped me on the shoulder that I realized he had returned. "Are you alone?"

"Your men are too slow and getting in the way," I replied, continuing my work. Then, as I handed out winnings to the gamblers, he gestured toward another table. I instructed several men to handle the gamblers who couldn't reach my table.

"If you ask me, it's better to let them play with Finn. Finn is bored out there alone," John chimed in. When he saw Thomas return, John excitedly abandoned his post and snatched the account book from my hands. "Look, Tommy! Everyone's betting on the Monaghan Kid!"

He was as excited and proud as if his shouting had single-handedly drawn everyone to bet on the horse. Although I was also involved in orchestrating this gambling operation and understood the whole picture, facing the constant stream of people and coins, I couldn't help but smile and glance up at Thomas. He returned my smile and was summoned to a corner by Arthur. I could guess what Arthur would say, even if Thomas was immune to anyone's persuasion. Thomas genuinely desired recognition and approval from his family rather than criticism. But I couldn't just walk away, so I kept an eye on him.

"I'm calling a family meeting at eight o'clock tonight! I expect everyone to attend! We're in trouble! Do you hear me!" I watched Thomas leave without looking back at Arthur's proclamation. He didn't even glance my way. My little prince was genuinely angry.

"And you, Diana, you're invited too. We've been busy from ten in the morning until five in the evening."

"Clearly, you're more of a capitalist exploiting your workers than Thomas," I retorted, biting into the chocolate I

had brought with me. Thomas might drag me into hard work, but at least he provided me with sustenance.

"I'm just being generous to you," John replied, eyeing the account book with satisfaction. "What would you like to eat tonight?"

"You should go all out since you're treating. I'd like to go to Garrison Lane for some Chinese cuisine." I realized that I needed to investigate Thomas's stance, and the Chinese in Garrison Lane could provide valuable information. We had always advocated peace as our top priority. If cooperation was possible, we needn't resort to violence. Though I had been forced to endure the smell of burnt tobacco all day, I was the first to exit the horse racing betting station, only to find Polly waiting by the door. Just as I was about to greet her, she pulled me behind her and pointed a gun swiftly at John.

"Polly... What are you doing?" I exclaimed.

"Do you recognize this gun?" Polly asked John, ignoring my presence.

John nodded, and Polly proceeded to strike him hard, knocking him to the ground. Ouch! It was painful to watch. It turned out that Finn had discovered John's unsecured gun on a sideboard while we were working at the horse racing betting station, nearly causing an accidental discharge that could have harmed Ada. After learning about this incident, I became even more resolute about sending those useless men to watch over Finn.

"I understand that it's tough for you to raise four children on your own, but it's no walk in the park for me either," I said, trying to maintain composure. "Well, you're the one who decided to feed them. I don't have an easy time either."

Every time I thought about John's four children, I couldn't help but think of Martha and Maria. It had been three months since Martha's passing, and I still missed her dearly. She had been like a sister to me, patiently addressing my concerns, teaching me how to cook and clean, and reading with me in her spare time. Sometimes, Ada and I would accompany her to deliver meals to the beggars. She was a genuinely good person, too beautiful to belong in a place like this, yet John seemed to have forgotten her, only remembering Liz Stark. Stark often visited brothels, and sometimes Liz would come to help take care of the children. She once let slip that John, on one of his drunken nights, had muttered, "I'm sorry, Martha."

As for little Maria... Thomas and I had become wild and less available for her since falling in love. As Thomas's secretary, I had little time to keep her company. The poor girl was left to care for her brothers after her mother's death. I hoped she could enjoy a more carefree life, playing with kids her age, using her allowance to buy candies, and being pampered when she returned home. But it seemed I had broken my promise.

John and I were in very different moods. We ended up at a restaurant to eat, driven by John's low spirits. Then I found myself sitting at the conference table, lost in thought, as usual. The Shelbys had grown accustomed to my distant demeanor.

Until Thomas handed me a flyer. "If you're over five feet tall and can fight, come to Birmingham."

It seemed the Chief Inspector had arrived with ulterior motives and couldn't be dismissed lightly. He knew that the local police were mostly Shelby men and couldn't be trusted, so he had brought his own force. Thomas claimed he was here to clean up the city, to rid it of the remnants of Irish rebels and figures like Freddy Thorne. But we both knew that these were secondary concerns. He was primarily after the arms. John, however, seemed to have an inflated sense of importance. The Birmingham Peaky Blinders Gang was indeed a legal entity in the city, but there were larger and more powerful gangs in London and throughout the UK. Compared to those groups, the Irish rebels, and the ambitious Germans, we were merely a group of joint gamblers. We were a motley crew with no official racing licenses; we were nothing.

I sighed, touched by a sense of nostalgia as I recollected my earlier life. In India and Germany, I had seen politicians cover their tracks with bloodshed and was familiar with such tactics. The key was to negotiate rather than confront. Those who set the terms first often lost out. Regardless of Thomas's decision, I would stand by his side throughout this dark journey. I wasn't an inherently determined person, but Thomas had given me a second chance when I was down, providing me with a good life. I had joined him without hesitation, abandoning the ideals I had clung to for 15 years. But Thomas Shelby, unless he betrayed me first, would never lose my loyalty. The reason might be what Polly had pointed out on Christmas Eve in 1914: "You're a lot like him." I had found another version of myself, and from then on, I loved and protected him unconsciously, even to death. It suddenly struck me that if my father knew his eldest daughter, whom he had high hopes for, had fallen in love with a gang leader with gypsy blood and loved him to the point of death, he would be furious, his beard bristling with anger, and he might even rise from the grave. The thought of that scenario amused me.

"Did I do something wrong, Diana?" I heard Thomas whisper softly. His voice had never sounded so fragile and helpless, and it tugged at my heartstrings. He had once fought for the king's glory, but now he fought for his family's better future. He projected a tough, cold, bloodthirsty persona, but I knew better. Tommy enjoyed teasing me, giving coins to blind beggars, and asking for kisses as he walked me home. I extended my hand and placed it on his head, an affectionate gesture.

I held my head high, like a warrior, and gazed directly into the eyes of the Virgin Mary. "Tommy," I turned my head and kissed his ear, "Tommy, honey, you know what to do. You've always known."

"What if there's hell ahead?" He raised his head from my arms, and I met his gaze with unwavering resolve. "There won't be hell ahead, Tommy. Not now, not ever, as long as we live, as long as we want."

God had ignored my pleas in the past, subjecting me to hardship in foreign lands. He allowed evil to thrive and tried to break me with harsh living conditions. But I had endured, thrived, and would continue to do so in the future. I pushed him away before our kiss could sour. Practice made perfect; I knew his movements and thoughts well. "Please, we can't do this here..." I wiped my mouth, feeling embarrassed. Making love in a church? He couldn't fathom it. Although my faith in God's capabilities and attentiveness had waned in 1914, I wasn't ready to make love so blatantly and defiantly within a sacred place. Besides, it was my first time with Thomas. What would the church think? "I don't believe in God," Tommy protested. "Yes," I raised an eyebrow, "but we still have some decency. At the very least, let's go home. Before coming to Birmingham, I had always assumed I would spend my wedding night with my husband. On a soft and

comfortable bed adorned with freshly picked roses and surrounded by candlelight, it would just be me and my lover. When the day finally came, I found that there was nothing but my lover and a small, uncomfortable bed.

"I haven't heard the shovel digging into the wall in a long time," Tommy murmured in my ear.

"Really? That's my contribution." Despite the sun streaming in through the church's windows, warming me, I didn't want to leave the bed. I simply rolled over, curling up in Tommy's arms and reaching out to hug him back. Thomas Shelby had a strong scent of tobacco about him, sometimes mingled with the malty aroma of whiskey and spirits, all intermingled with the scent of my perfume, creating a strangely intoxicating blend. There was a bullet scar on the back of his left shoulder and an enigmatic black sun totem tattoo on his left chest, but his arms felt like the safest place in the world. I enjoyed the feeling of his strong, powerful arms holding me like this, our skin touching, exchanging a tender and profound kiss as we greeted each other with a heartfelt "good morning."

"Good morning, my virgin queen."

"Good morning, my little prince."

#tommy shelby #tommy shelby x reader #cillian murphy #peaky blinders #thomas shelby #peaky blinders fanfiction #tommy shelby imagine #thomas shelby x reader #tommy shelby fanfic #fanfiction

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