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whentommymetalfie · 8 months

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Home to you -chapter 41

-Hitting the ground-

Prologue//1//2//3/4/5/6/7/8/9/10/11/12/13/14/15/16/17/18/19/20/21/22/23/24/25/26/27/28/29/30/31/32/33/34/35/36/37/38/39/40

Pairing: Tommy/Alfie

Summary: Alfie is increasingly fed up with the Shelby family. The night brings more than Tommy's usual nightmares.

Warnings: disordered eating, suicidal ideation, mental instability, hallucinations, victim blaming, harmful attitudes towards mental illness and suicide, violence, brief discussions of rape/non-con

Content note: sexual content

Wordcount: 6,7 K

There isn’t a spot on Tommy’s body that Alfie doesn’t love to put his mouth on. And not just the obvious bits, right, that’s a given, no, Alfie fancies himself a man who can see beyond that, to the inside of his knee, right below his thigh where there’s a white, razor thin scar, to the sharp dip of his hipbones that bruise so easily, to his wrist, right where the pulse taps away and the veins lie so close to the skin… There isn’t a pale stretch of skin or freckle or scar that Alfie doesn’t shower with attention. But the one where the valley above his collarbone meets his neck is one of his favorites because not only is the skin soft and freckled and beautifully paper thin, Tommy always squirms delightfully when he kisses him there. Does now too, squirms and arches his neck so that morning sun catches in the dark strands of his hair.

“You a bit ticklish there, eh, treacle?” Alfie chuckles and trails kisses up his neck, savouring the little gasps he lets out. Tommy grasps at the pillow underneath his head, wraps his legs tighter around his waist, digging his heels into the backs of his thighs. Alfie understands what he wants, doesn’t he? And fuck if he doesn’t want it too, but it still feels like things might be moving too quickly. Tommy might think he’s ready, but Alfie doesn’t think he realises just how big this step would actually be, and might be unprepared for the raw vulnerability of it all. Even if part of him scoffs at the objection: he’ll be fucking careful, he’ll be so gentle and considerate and attentive that Tommy will melt underneath his hands and open beautifully until he’s fully ready to let Alfie take him. But the thing is, he very much suspects that part is influenced by another, one which feels that if he doesn’t get to fuck Tommy soon, he’s going to fully lose it.

Tommy squirms underneath him, drawing a moan from him as Alfie’s cock rubs against his hip, his own erection weeping where it’s trapped between their bodies. Alfie kisses him, rocks his hips and grabs onto Tommy’s backside to get some leverage. Tommy moves with him, his breathing growing deeper, and Alfie is very close to listening to the less rational part of his brain when the doorhandle twists. Thank fuck, the door is locked, but the twisting is followed by a hard knock.

“Oi, Solomons!”

Alfie rolls his eyes and is entirely set on ignoring this interruption, but Tommy has frozen up under him and is staring wide eyed at the door, pale beneath the blush on his cheeks.

“Don’t worry, love, door’s locked,” Alfie mutters and kisses him again, in hopes of making him forget all about his older brother now trying to break down the door. Tommy’s legs have fallen down from around his waist and he hikes them up again.

“Hello?” Arthur calls and knocks again. “Solomons?”

Tommy pulls out of the kiss, puts his hands on Alfie’s chest and tries to push him away without much success. But Alfie has to give up, doesn’t he?

“A bit busy here, Arthur!” he calls back. “Come back in half an hour or so.”

“What is going on in there? Why’s the door fucking locked?”

“Take a wild fucking guess,” Alfie barks, and immediately regrets it because Tommy lets out a panicked whine and stares at him with impossibly wide eyes. He smiles sheepishly. “Sorry, sweetheart.”

There’s a brief pause, and Alfie, foolishly, thinks Arthur’s regained his senses and fucking left, but then the banging is back with a vengeance.

“Solomons, if you don’t open up right now I swear I’ll break it!” Arthur roars. “And then I’m cutting off what’s left of your cock. You hear me?”

“Jesus, calm the fuck down, I’m on my way,” Alfie says and rolls off Tommy who immediately pulls the blankets up to cover himself. Shaking his right leg to get it to cooperate, he snags his trousers from the floor and pulls them on as he limps towards the door, struggling a bit to fold his quite stubborn erection against his leg. Fucking hell what a way to start the day. When he opens the door, he’s just doing up the last button necessary to keep the trousers up, leaving the top one undone.

Arthur’s face is an impressive shade of red. Almost resembles a beetroot. Though accompanied by the moustache, Alfie finds himself thinking of an angry walrus. An angry walrus who is currently staring at him with murderous intent.

“Good morning, Arthur,” he says amicably. “And what might you want on such a beautiful day, eh?”

Arthur lets out a huffing breath and looks from him, over his shoulder at Tommy, who is now sat on the bed, blanket clutched to his chest. And of course it’s fairly obvious even to someone as thick as Arthur what’s been happening, because Tommy looks positively debauched, hair mussed, lips swollen and with an impressive collection of marks around his neck and collarbones. Arthur’s eyes might fall out of his skull at any moment and his breathing grows sharp and rapid as they turn to Alfie again. If Tommy didn’t look so mortified, the poor delicate little flower, Alfie would’ve found it comical. Tommy pulls the blankets up even further and draws his knees to his chest to shield himself. Alfie crosses his arms over his chest and moves to fully block Arthur’s view.

“Can I have… a word… with you,” Arthur asks him through gritted teeth, nostrils flaring. Alfie turns to Tommy.

“Tommy, petal, I’m just going to talk with big brother here for a moment. No need to worry, alright? I’ll be perfectly nice. You just stay right there.”

Tommy nods, and though he looks in no way convinced, he makes no move to get out of bed and follow, frozen like a deer in headlights he is. Alfie closes the door behind him and sighs as Arthur drags him further down the hallway. Thankfully he catches a glimpse of Esther at the foot of the stairs.

“Esther, dear, keep an eye on Tommy, will you?” he calls as they pass and gets a briefly quizzical look, but hears steps coming up the stairs as Arthur shoves him into the study.

At least this has resolved the compromising situation in his trousers. Difficult to keep a hard-on when there’s an angry walrus staring at you.

“That better not have been what I fucking think it was,” Arthur hisses and slams the door shut behind them.

“Well, that depends, doesn’t it? What exactly did you think it was? Because if, for example, you thought we were reupholstering a chair or something, then no, that’s not what was happening.”

A vein has begun throbbing in Arthur’s temple.

“You’re not fucking him, are you?”

“If it’s taken you this long to figure it out, I’m sort of concerned for the state of your head, mate, because I’ve made no attempts to hide that from you.”

“I know that you- you clearly had that kind of… relationship, before. I fucking knew that.” Arthur says. “And no, of course I didn’t approve, but at least, well, he was doing better, you said. And I could I see that you- that you care for him, right. Took some time, but I figured as much.” His voice has grown softer for a short moment, but then it’s as if he remembers himself and raises it again. “But how can you do something like that to him, now? Fuck, he’s- he doesn’t even talk. Seems to not even be here, half the time.”

“There are ways to show that you want, or don’t want something, other than speaking,” Alfie says, patience already running thin. “And if you don’t realise that, then I feel bad for every woman who’s had to spend even a fucking second with you in bed.”

“He doesn’t know what he wants,” Arthur says. “That’s the issue. And, on top of that, how can you- here? Fuck, anyone could’ve walked in! Lizzie may have given you her blessing but she shouldn’t have to see you fucking her husband. Ishouldn’t have to see it!”

“Well, you wouldn’t have had to see it, and no one would’ve walked in, because the door was fucking locked! Which you would know, since you tried to break it down not a minute ago.”

“I don’t have to see it to- to fucking picture it! I’ll have to live with you doing unspeakable things to my brother, fine, but not when I’m under the same roof. And not-“ Arthur digs a finger into Alfie’s chest. “Not when he’s so fucking gone in the head that he’s unable to even properly want it. It’s wrong, is what it is. Fuck’s sake it’s practically-“

Arthur snaps his mouth shut around the last word, but it’s too late. The room fills with a silence so cold it makes ice creep across the windowpanes bathed in morning sun.

“Practically what, Arthur?” Alfie says, voice low as he takes a step closer to him. “What, exactly, are you accusing me of?”

Arthur’s jaw is clenched shut, and they’re stood so close that Alfie can see the exact patterns of red in his bloodshot eyes.

“No, go ahead and say it, practically fucking what? Rape, is that it?” he spits and Arthur flinches. “You’re accusing me of raping your little brother? And if you fucking are, then how come you haven’t blown my fucking head to bits yet? How can you stand there, eh, saying that as long as it doesn’t happen when you’re under the same roof, it’s fucking fine? If you thought, for even a fucking second, that I was hurting Tommy, and haven’t done shit about it other than glare and huff, then you’re a worse fucking brother than I could’ve ever imagined.”

Arthur finally lowers his gaze, his gangly frame seeming to shrink by an inch or so, but Alfie has zero fucking sympathy for his self-pity right now.

“And you listen to me now, Arthur Shelby,” he says. “I don’t owe you shit, but I’ll say this for Tommy’s sake and his sake only: I know more about what he wants and needs than you could ever dream of. And when the fuck would you deem him sound enough to want things, eh? What if he never recovers enough to talk, enough to function to what you deem an acceptable level? He’s still a man of flesh and blood. Needs to be shown that, that he’s still a whole fucking person. That he’s not so broken that no one can touch him without cutting their fingers on the pieces. Otherwise, what the hell did he fight so hard for? He’s so bloody scared, all the time, he’s scared, and hurt and doesn’t… understand the world around him, and you’re not fucking allowed to trample all over the few little good things I can give him!”

Alfie stops and catches his breath, Arthur glares, jaw set tightly, and after a moment where they stare each other down, Arthur visibly deflates. His shoulders sag and his long limbs fold into the closest chair. Alfie leans against a desk, trying to regain his composure and the air lacking from his lungs.

They’re silent for a long moment, until Arthur finally rubs the back of his neck.

“I suppose I- I know that he feels safe with you,” he begins. “That he wants to be with you. On some level, I get that. And that’s what keeps me from listening to this whole other part of me, which, yeah, wants to rip your fucking balls off for sleeping with my little brother. Sort of took over, right, when I saw him like that. Suppose it wouldn’t matter, really, the circumstances, because I don’t think I could’ve accepted it before all of this, either.”

“How very reassuring,” Alfie snorts but reluctantly swallows his objections when Arthur holds up a hand.

“But I want him to be happy. He deserves to be happy.”

“And…”

“And if you can make him happy, or… content. Less scared and fucking sad. Whatever. Then… fine.”

That’s the closest they’re going to get to approval, isn’t it? Alfie is frankly too exhausted to be fighting with Tommy’s siblings. Got enough on his plate to deal with. So he decides to be gracious and let this go. Or at the very least not punch Arthur in the face. And it’s true, what he told him. From a certain perspective he might even see where he’s coming from, right -and since when is he that fucking gracious? This ordeal has done a number on him. Point is, he knows a thing or two about being what some might deem “overly” and “obsessively” protective. Especially where certain blue eyed little someone is concerned.

“Well, Arthur, there was a day when I’d have to put a fucking bullet right between your eyes for behaviour like this,” he says. “But, since you didn’t hesitate to shoot your cousin, yeah, for what he’d done to Tommy, and consequently also kept me from possibly entering an early grave, well, that shows me there’s at least something in there worth preserving.”

He taps his index finger on the spot between Arthur’s eyes. Arthur grunts and bats it away.

“And if I hadn’t seen you throw yourself between Tommy and that fucking knife I might not be so trusting of your seemingly… mostly honourable intentions with my brother.”

“So, the next time you find a locked bedroom door, you’ll leave it alone?”

Arthur’s jaws are working and he’s glaring at Alfie. “I suppose.” He gets out of his chair, suddenly, jutting a finger out at Alfie. “But if I find out, if there’s even an inclination to show, the slightest hint, that you’re hurting him… If I see a bruise, or find him fucking limping, then I’m taking out your good eye. To start with.”

Alfie refrains from explaining to Arthur that a bit of limping, right, that’s something to be expected no matter how careful you are. Especially the first time, Tommy’s going to feel it the next day. But again, he doesn’t say that, because those details may put Arthur into an early grave. He also doesn’t say the first thing that comes to mind: that Arthur won’t have to worry about seeing any of that, because now when everything’s resolved in Birmingham, they’ll be going home to Margate where there are no big brothers who can walk in on them. The mere thought of that puts him in a better mood.

He pats Arthur’s shoulder.

“I’d be offended if you didn’t,” he says. “Now, did you actually want something when you came barging in, or do you just have some special big brother sense that goes off when your baby brother’s about to be defiled by another man?”

He grins and Arthur scowls and things are just as they should be.

“Just wanted to see if you were coming down for breakfast,” he mutters, and Alfie can’t keep himself from barking out a laugh as the oldest Shelby sibling stalks off, muttering obscenities under his breath.

When he returns to their bedroom, Tommy is not there, and Alfie has to accept the fact that any possibility at resuming the amorous activities is gone, so he gets dressed and goes downstairs instead. He finds Tommy in the kitchen, seated opposite Esther at the table, meticulously peeling an apple. It’s a slow process, but one that seems to keep him adequately distracted. Alfie bends down to kiss the top of his head and Tommy lights up, tilting his head so that Alfie can plant another kiss on his forehead, and then one on his nose, making him let out a content little sound. Compared to that, what’s some interrupted sex?

“Got everything straightened out, Sir?” Esther asks, glancing up from the cutting board where she’s got an impressive pile of chopped apple.

“Sure, sure,” Alfie says. Stands behind Tommy and pets his hair absentmindedly as he watches him peel a second apple, after putting the first one onto Esther’s cutting board

“Mister Shelby walked by in sort of a huff. But I do think he muttered some kind of apology.”

“Well, he’s learning, isn’t he?

Tommy looks up at him. Blinks in the sunlight. Alfie runs a thumb over his cheekbone.

“It’s all fine, sweetheart. Me and your brother are great friends, aren’t we? Nothing to worry about.”

“I should hope so. We don’t want any petty bickering,” Esther says with one of her best admonishing looks. She gets up and puts the knife down, carefully pushing the cutting board across the table. “Me and Tommy are making pie. Why don’t you make yourself useful and do some chopping, and I can make the dough?”

“God forbid I just stand here for a moment enjoying the view,” Alfie mutters and tugs lightly at Tommy’s hair, tilting his head to get a better look at said view. “No, of course I have to be immediately put to work.”

Esther shuffles around the contents in the cabinets to grab a jar. “You know what they say about idle hands, Sir.”

And of course Alfie has already sat down, because he’s long ago learned the futility of arguing with his housekeeper.

They sit in silence for a bit. Tommy is fully focused on his task but still flinches whenever there’s an unexpected sound: a door slamming somewhere, Lizzie or Ada calling something from another room, one of the kids running down the stairs or Cyril barking. And whenever anyone passes by the kitchen, he visibly shrinks into himself, as if he could make himself disappear.

Alfie needs to take him home. Really, in hindsight, they should’ve left the second Tommy came out of that near catatonic state after the fire. But time has passed quickly, and he’s been fighting so hard to keep Tommy afloat, taking things hour by hour and sometimes minute by minute, and it’s only now he can momentarily stop and see that there’s nothing keeping them here. His men have successfully tracked down every loyal man Michael Shelby still had by his side and eliminated that threat. And while Tommy’s family do care, bless them, they’re not much help, are they? Because they can’t be trusted to look after him and Tommy still only clings to Alfie (a fact that darker part of his mind is quite pleased with).

The thing is, Alfie is terrified that a change will somehow hurt him. They’re walking a tightrope, right, and a single tiny step in the wrong direction might sent them hurtling into the ravine again. And it’s easier to deal with a known, if at times, less than ideal situation, than something uncertain.

Then again, how long are they supposed to wait?

Perhaps he should call doctor Adelman?

Alfie mulls it over that whole day, and come evening, he still hasn’t brought it up, but decided that yeah, he’ll call and talk it over with the good doctor first thing in the morning. Mostly to get his own hope confirmed: a change in itself might be difficult for Tommy, but it’ll get easier the second they’re alone in the safe haven Margate seems like compared to this, surrounded by family members who certainly know how to create a less than ideal environment for recovery, some more than others.

But as of right now, they’re still there, still surrounded by the Shelby clan, in Ada’s living room. He can always tell that Tommy can’t quite keep up with the conversations around him, when he’s surrounded by so many people, but if he wants to be here, then that’s fine. It can hardly do him any harm. And right now, things are unusually calm. Ada is sat in her armchair with a book in one hand and a drink in the other, Lizzie is opposite her with today’s paper, and Arthur’s once again trying his hand at a crossword, but has abandoned it for now to pick out a new bottle of whiskey from Ada’s liquor cabinet to refill his glass.

Tommy meanwhile is leaning against Alfie’s side, tucked under his arm, lashes fluttering as he fights to stay awake. Adelman says it’s fine, that it’s natural he needs so much rest, but it still worries Alfie. Then again, most things do where Tommy is concerned.

“You looking at listings?” Arthur asks and glances over Lizzie’s shoulder as he passes with the bottle. “Thought you were going to rebuild?”

“I don’t know,” Lizzie answers quickly and glances up from the paper. “Don’t know if it’s worth the hassle.”

“You’ll never find something’s big as Arrow House around these parts,” Arthur says and sits down on the sofa, pours himself a drink and picks up the crossword again. Tommy pushes himself even closer to Alfie, turning himself into a tiny ball of limbs and blankets as if he’s trying to burrow into his body.

“We don’t need something that big,” Lizzie says.

“Suppose not. Just you and the kids, now. Though it’s not like Tommy took up all of the other rooms. Could fit him in a drawer.” Arthur chuckles to himself and doesn’t notice that Alfie is trying to glare a hole through his head. “Especially now. But I think-“

“It’s nice having you and the kids here, Lizzie,” Ada says very loudly to cut her brother off. “You don’t have to stress about finding something.”

“And you might be onto something, about not rebuilding. Too many bad memories in that house, I suppose,” Arthur mutters and keeps looking down at the crossword.

Alfie rubs Tommy’s back. Covers his head with his palm and gently caresses the scarred side.

“There are good ones too,” Lizzie says softly, but Tommy can’t see the look she’s giving him because he’s hiding his face in Alfie’s shirt, breathing quick and uneven.

Thankfully, right then, Finn comes through the door, and it breaks the tension in the room that everyone except Arthur seems to notice.

“Never seen you focus on something for this long, Arthur,” he grins and nods towards the crossword.

“Well, I’m trying to branch out,” Arthur mutters and furrows his brow. “You know, broaden my horizons.”

“He’s already learned five new words, it’s all very impressive,” Ada says, and Arthur is too engrossed in his new hobby to notice.

Finn pours himself a drink and sits down on the sofa, eyeing Tommy, but he at least picks up on the look Alfie gives him and leaves him be. Ada and Lizzie are both gracious enough to do the same. Instead, they all get involved in Arthur’s crossword, which therefore soon turns into everyone’s crossword. Alfie sits back and strokes Tommy’s hair, and he eventually re-emerges from his shirt and lays his head in his lap instead, watching his siblings bicker about the capital of Algeria while Lizzie tries to tell them they’re all wrong. When the whiskey bottle is half empty, they’ve turned to a card game instead, and the brief peace is long gone. It’s all a bit too loud and rowdy. Both Finn and Arthur have drunk too much, Ada isn’t far behind, but Tommy still declines Alfie’s suggestion of going to bed with a faint headshake. Alfie gets the feeling that he just wants to feel included, and there’s something heart breaking about the thought because they don’t really know how to include him, do they? Though Arthur makes a valiant effort with the crossword and Ada asks every time a new round of cards starts if he wants to play, even if Tommy only blinks every time he’s spoken to, never caught up enough with the conversation to respond further. And eventually she stops asking. They tread around him the way you do an injured baby animal, afraid to touch it should the mother show up, but just as quickly forget about his presence in between the awkward attempts at interaction, reverting to talking entirely too loud and interrupting each other sentences.

And they may be doing their best to make up for past mistakes, right, and Alfie might have buried most of the old anger for Tommy’s sake, but he’s suddenly reminded that these people left him alone to slowly fade away in that bedroom at Arrow House, because they were too cowardly to face the tragedy head on. And though he quickly pushes that thought to the back of his mind, it still leaves a bitter taste in his mouth.

He eventually picks Ada up on the offer of joining in on the card game, if only so that he can show Tommy the cards and claim that it’s a team effort when he wins. When he’s lost count of the rounds and the shadows around the room have grown tall, Tommy is asleep, despite all the noise around him. Or perhaps because of it.

“Shh, shh, Tommy’s… Tommy’s asleep,” Ada hisses and waves her hand at Finn and Arthur who’re currently arguing about whether Finn has just cheated or not.

“He’s been asleep for nearly half an hour,” Lizzie says and refills her glass. “If your shouting didn’t wake him up before, I don’t think it will now.”

Ada and Arthur look at their sleeping brother, both suspiciously misty eyed all of a sudden, which might come down to the empty whiskey bottle. Alfie feels like it’s strangely intrusive.

“Right, think it’s time for bed anyway,” he says and scoops Tommy up into his arms with well-practiced ease, without causing him to as much as stir. Arthur is already halfway out of his seat.

“You sure-“

“Arthur I fucking swear if you keep insinuating that I’m so old and decrepit that I can’t carry someone who weighs about as much as a fucking kitten, I’ll kill you,” Alfie says.

Arthur slumps back down.

“Just don’t want you dropping him,” he mutters, which Alfie ignores as he leaves the increasingly drunk gathering behind. He’s pretty sure Finn waves.

…

A sharp banging wakes him. Tommy is still asleep, curled up against him, one of his hands tucked to his chin. Alfie lies perfectly still in the dark and tries to identify the sound, but his mind is moving slowly. Somewhere, he hears a door open, quick steps, another door, voices. The banging doesn’t stop, and he finally realises it’s someone quite literally trying to kick the front door down, and he sits up. Tommy shifts uneasily in his sleep as Alfie climbs out of bed, reaching for the gun in the bedside table. He pulls on his trousers, shoves the gun into the waistband, snags his shirt from a chair, and is out the door within seconds. Halfway down the stairs he realises it might’ve been safer if he’d locked it, but he keeps moving, hearing faint voices as he reaches the main floor, moves through the dark corridor, past the living room and through the kitchen towards the front door.

“I want to see him,” a woman’s voice he recognises but can’t quite place says. But the list of women it could be is pretty short and the sinking feeling in his chest proves right when Arthur’s response comes in a hiss.

“Pol, it’s the middle of the fucking night, and you’re drunk or high or fucking both. Go home.”

“Go wake him up. Bring him here. I want to talk to him.”

“You don’t get to come here and make any bloody demands, and you’re not talking to him in this state,” Arthur says. “You’ll upset him.”

“You’re not talking to him period,” Ada says. “Unless you’re here to fucking apologize.”

Alfie reaches the hallway and finds Ada and Arthur standing opposite their aunt, blocking her way. She makes for quite the nightmarish sight, Polly Gray, looks as if she hasn’t slept in days, eyes bloodshot and too wide, glazed over with a crazed shine that eerily mirrors the one in her son’s eyes. A light sheen of sweat covers her forehead, and she’s dressed in her nightgown still, underneath her long coat. If he weren’t furious, he’d understand the concern in Ada’s eyes as she looks at her aunt. Though her brother seems to share his sentiment, because Arthur’s eyes are hard as steel.

Everyone’s attention turns to Alfie as he enters the hallway, blinking in the light.

“Get the fuck out,” he says.

“I want to speak to Tommy,” Polly demands, words slurred. “He owes me as much.”

“Fuck off, he doesn’t owe you shit. And I’ll make sure that you never fucking see him again.”

Polly laughs. It’s a hoarse, awful sound.

“Why do you want to see him, Pol?” Ada asks, sounding weary.

“I want him to know, I need him to know… They’ve told me-“

“Jesus, who told you what exactly?” Arthur interrupts her. “You started talking to the ghosts as well?”

“I want to hear him admit it, that he- that he fucking brought this onto himself. I want him to take some fucking responsibility for once.”

The gun burns where it digs into Alfie’s back but he knows that if he pulls it now, he’s going to shoot her and it’s going to break yet another piece of Tommy’s heart, he fucking knows it will, and still…

“Right, I’ll drive you home, come on,” Ada says and walks up to her, but Polly shoves her away.

“After everything I’ve done, everything I’ve fucking lost because of him, he owes it to me to at least listen to what I have to say.”

“You can’t do this to him,” Ada says. “He can’t- you just want to hurt him.”

Polly’s eyes shift to something behind Alfie’s back, Alfie looks over his shoulder, and finds Tommy standing in the doorway, having snuck up on them on quiet, bare feet. He’s taken his blanket along, wrapped it around himself on top of the flannel shirt he likes to sleep in, and now he’s clutching it in a white knuckled grip as he looks at his aunt with sad eyes. Polly looks back and her gaze is as black as the night.

“I tried to forgive you, Tommy, I did,” she says. “When I came to Arrow house that day to see you, I did try. I thought if I only got to see you, I’d- But there’s nothing human left in you, just this fucking… darkness. And it spreads to everyone and everything you touch, I’ve seen, I know, even if everyone else seems to have forgotten-“ she looks at Ada and Arthur. “And I could see it in Michael’s eyes, that day when he came to me. How just being near you had corrupted him. I thought I had to try to save you, how laughable is that? As if I fucking owed you anything at all.”

Alfie has stood frozen, listening to the words as they pour like black tar from her mouth but at that, he finally breaks free of the paralysis and pulls his gun, aiming it at Polly’s head. His knuckles are white around the handle.

“You knew,” he says. “You realised he was about to do something, and you did nothing to stop him.”

Polly stares at him, mouth twisting into a smile.

“Solomons, put the fucking gun down,” Ada says, but stays where she is.

“Fucking hell, Pol, you let him set fire to a house with all of us in it?” Arthur asks, incredulous. “Charlie and Ruby were-“

“I didn’t know!” Polly interrupts him and her voice grows loud and shrill. “How could I have known? I thought- He only talked about Tommy. That house wouldn’t have burned if Tommy hadn’t been there-“

“Polly…” Ada begins, a pleading not to her voice.

Alfie steadies the hand holding the gun.

He can’t do this. He fucking knows he can’t.

“Michael wouldn’t be dead,” Polly says. “Aberama wouldn’t be dead. John wouldn’t be fucking dead-“

“Polly!”

But he has to.

“And all I’m asking for, is that he fucking acknowledges it!”

Alfie cocks the gun. The click finally makes the room go quiet.

He feels Arthur’s presence behind him, but he doesn’t dare coming too close. Ada is just a blurry figure to his side, she too frozen in place. His finger is tight around the trigger, and the rage pulses white hot behind his temples, spreads like wildfire through his nerves.

“Do it. I bet it makes you furious,” Polly hisses. “Oh, how fucking dare she say that about my precious little Tommy. Who’s done nothing wrong, who’s just an innocent victim in all of this. Poor, helpless little Tommy with his broken fucking head, who destroys everything he touches.”

Alfie’s finger squeezes tighter around the trigger just as Tommy appears before him, and thank God the adrenaline has sharpened his reflexes because he eases off right at the last second, before a bullet ends up in Tommy’s head. Tommy stands between him and Polly, at the end of the barrel of his gun. Alfie breathes sharply through his nose. Blinks to remove the images, ones of Tommy reeling backwards from the force of the bullet, skull breaking into pieces, blood spraying over the pale wallpaper, his still body lying sprawled at Alfie’s feet...

“Get out of the way, Tommy,” he grits out. His hand, unbelievably, is shaking. He was in the fucking war. He had all of London in the palm of his hand for years. He’s shot men at point blank range without batting an eye, and now, he’s shaking. “She knew, and she didn’t do shit. She made her fucking choice.”

But Tommy doesn’t move out of the way. He takes a step closer. Gently lays a hand on his outstretched arm. Alfie flinches at the touch and everything blurs around him except Polly Gray and the insane glint in her eyes. She knew. She chose not to say anything and how, how can she look at Tommy and not feel crushing guilt, look at what she’s caused, what she’s destroyed, all the broken fucking pieces no one will ever be able to put back together-

“Alfie,” a quiet voice says, and for a moment he’s certain it’s just his imagination, but it’s not, it’s Tommy’s, weak and hoarse from disuse but undeniably real. His world come back into focus, Tommy’s eyes locking onto his. Tommy shakes his head. “Don’t- don’t do this.”

“I have to,” Alfie says. “I have to do right by you. Someone- someone is fucking paying for this.”

“It’s okay,” Tommy says. Reaches out and cradles his face in the palm of his hand as he looks at him with soft eyes. “I’m- it’ll be okay.”

Alfie’s wanted to hear his voice for so long, hear him say those words himself, that it feels surreal when it happens. But he can’t let this go, not this too…

Tommy steps even closer until he’s all Alfie can see, his eyes that are as blue as the sky and the sea and forget-me-nots looking only at him, as if Alfie is the only thing that exists in the world, the very centre of it. Tommy runs his thumb gently over the scarred side of his face.

“It’s okay,” he says.

The gun slips from his hand. Alfie barely hears it hit the floor, he grabs onto Tommy, his too thin shoulder, the back of his neck, and pulls him close, holding onto him like a man drowning. Tommy wraps his arms around his waist. Rests his forehead against his shoulder for a moment’s reprieve, before he turns in his embrace and faces his aunt. Polly is silent, finally, as they stare at each other. No one dares to move. Tommy keeps his eyes steadily fixed on Polly. Her chest heaves as she draws shaky breaths.

“I’m sorry,” Tommy finally whispers. He wavers on the spot as if the words have taken a physical toll. His hands bury themselves in Alfie’s shirt, holding on tighter. Something passes across Polly’s face, behind the eyes.

“Tommy,” she says. “I’m- I didn’t-“

“I want you to leave,” Tommy says quietly, but Polly stays right where she is and his voice breaks as he pleads, “Just go.”

That finally breaks everyone out of their frozen positions. Ada hurries over to usher Polly towards the door, arm around her shoulders, muttering things about driving her home, and Arthur trails behind them, hands on the back of his neck as he watches them step out into the night.

Alfie looks at the gun on the floor. It replays in his mind, Tommy stepping in front of the barrel… Moments, a fraction of a fucking second later and he would’ve-

He never should’ve raised that gun.

He should’ve dropped it the second Tommy appeared before him.

He should’ve put a bullet in Polly Gray’s fucking head. Couldn’t even get that right. Couldn’t protect Tommy, even from this.

His heart hammers so hard behind his temples that it’s all he can hear, all he can feel. His arms drop around Tommy, numb, something sharp and painful builds in his chest and he can’t be here, can’t let Tommy deal with this too, so he pushes him away. Flees the room, ignores Tommy’s cries as Arthur holds him back, Arthur’s voice, let him go, Tommy, let him cool off, because he can’t let Tommy see the fucking tears that well his eyes and he needs to get out of this house and away from it all.

The cool night air nearly knocks him off his feet as he tears open the glass doors in the living room to the darkness outside. He walks right into that darkness, stumbles until he reaches the stone wall surrounding the outer edges of the garden, and there his legs give in and he sinks to the ground, back against the cold stone. He buries his face in his hands and breathes through clenched teeth, trying to reel it back in, pull himself together.

But he’s so fucking tired.

“Alfie?” Tommy’s voice comes from the house, cracking at the edges. He’s afraid, of course he is with the way Alfie stormed off. “Alfie?”

His voice is closer now and Alfie breathes and breathes but can’t gather himself enough to answer, enough to be what Tommy needs.

When Tommy appears before him, he sees him through a blurry veil of tears. He’s barefoot, in the wet grass. Alfie pushes the heels of his hands into his eyes until white lights dance under his eyelids.

“Just need… a second, love, okay? Just a second,” he says and tries to put on a reassuring façade, just to get Tommy away from here. Swallows and swallows without success and the tears begin dripping down his cheeks as a choked sob rips from his chest. He bites the inside of his cheek until he tastes blood.

Without a word, Tommy sits down next to him in the grass and hugs him, huddling close to his side and Alfie should pull away, tell him to go inside, that he’ll be fine, he just needs a second to breathe. Instead he leans into the embrace, buries his face in his shoulder. Wraps his arms around his waist and pulls him closer until Tommy is nestled on his lap and he can bury his face in the crook of his neck. He’s holding him too tightly, he’s going to hurt him, his fragile little bird, but Tommy doesn’t break, he just wraps his arms around his neck and gently runs his fingers through his hair. And his Tommy is all sharp angles and bones but right then he feels like a warm and soft little animal burrowing into him, a safe weight resting over his heart. Alfie finally stops trying to swallow down the sobs and lets himself cry against his shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” he chokes out. “I’m sorry-“ that I couldn’t keep you safe, that you had to hear those things, that I put you in fucking danger, that I can never give you the retribution you deserve. I’m sorry.

Tommy doesn’t say anything, he simply holds him. And Alfie lets himself be held.

#tommy x alfie #peaky blinders fanfic #tommy shelby #alfie solomons #breathe again verse #home to you

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elevenelvenswords · 1 year

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Regarding Post-Angband Maedhros

You know what I keep thinking about these days? Maedhros’ recovery and PTSD after being rescued by Fingon and nursed back to health. He’s a tragic character, an anti-hero if you ask me, and I firmly believe that most of his decisions (good and bad alike) were highly influenced by the traumas he endured.

He was held captive for some 30 years (if I remember correctly?), and no stories tell what horrors he was subjected to during his time in Angband other than being handcuffed on Thangorodrim. But, considering that he was practically begging Fingon to kill him and that Fingon burst into tears upon seeing Maedhros, it’s not hard to imagine that whatever the experienced there was absolutely horrific.

Here are some of my headcanons re: post-Angband Maedhros. Heads-up for mentions of torture, rape and mental health issues.

His recovery took longer than any other recovery ever recorded by his kin. It took weeks for him to properly speak, and even then he only talked when spoken to. At first his brothers thought it was merely his massive injuries and physical trauma that made him unable or unwilling to articulate words, but it quickly became starkly obvious that fear bound him to his silence tighter than any injury could.

Analgesics were necessary to keep him asleep for more than a couple of hours. Herbs and teas were given to him to help him rest, but they were not quite enough to keep the nightmares at bay.

Children would stare at him, some in innocent curiosity, some in fear. His scars were deep, the left side of his face almost mutilated. In time, their people got used to his new appearance, yet outsiders would still whisper and snicker behind his back. A freak, a pariah, a half-mad man they would call him. Maedhros slowly learned to pay no mind.

The first time he encountered an orc after his escape, he froze. He was filled with dread and panic, but they quickly gave way to hatred. He wanted vengeance, he wanted to make them suffer as he once did.

Maedhros was a complete beast on the battlefield, and he mostly made it out of battles unscratched.

Despite his ruthlessness in battle, he never found joy in killing. It never eased the void left in his heart.

Even after years of recovery, he would eat his meals extremely fast, as though someone might snatch his food away. Large quantities of food would vanish from the table in minutes. No matter how safe he felt, it was a habit that was difficult to break.

It took years for him to be fully capable of having sex again. He could still feel their hands on him, their ugly smiles, and their mockery. It made him feel polluted to the core, and it was all he could do not to sob, not to scream and kick at Fingon at the slightest display of romantic affection, be it a kiss on the cheek or an innocent stroke on his thigh.

Paranoia would eat away at his mind sometimes. He would see enemies everywhere. He expected betrayal and dishonesty even from his closest allies and friends. It was difficult to gain his trust, and painfully easy to lose it.

Reclaiming the Silmarils was the only way for him to make sense of his suffering and loss: better gain something at the end of this anguished existence than leave it empty-handed. Better make father proud. Then his pain would at least mean something. His sacrifice would then have purpose, it would at least be acknowledged as ‘good damage’ instead of empty, hollow, unwarranted damage.

#maedhros #silmarillion #headcanons #tw: non-con #tw: torture

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with-love-from-hell · 2 years

Text

Vermillion Skies

{part Eighteen}

Fandom: Obey me!

Genre: hurt, comfort, angst, some fluff

Pairing: Mc x Lucifer (pre-established relationship)

Written for F!MC

WC: ~5.5k

Music Accompaniment

TRIGGER WARNING FOR ALL PARTS: graphic depictions of sexual assault / rape, gore, and violence.

CW: catatonia, PTSD, panic attacks, depression, dissociation, anxiety, swearing, negative self-talk, self-blame, intrusive thoughts, graphic depictions of torture, graphic depictions of violence, blood/gore, references to past sexual violence, graphic descriptions of threats of violence and sexual assault, mentions of genitalia, use of misogynistic language, mentions of virginity

>> Though I have a Masters Degree in Psychology, I am not your therapist. If you have experienced any form of sexual abuse, assault, or harassment and are in need of help, please utilize the RAINN sexual assault hotline or online chat service, or find additional help using the NSVRC website. <<

You can find any future parts by searching the tag #vermillion skies on my blog!

Read part 17 here

Read the Q&A post for parts 1-9 here!

Read the Q&A post for parts 10-15 here!

“I’m sure it will be fine as long as she has someone by her side at all times.” Diavolo reassured. “You just have to trust she can handle it.”

Lucifer sighed in frustration. “But what if she can’t handle it, Diavolo?”

Diavolo met Lucifer’s concerned stare, the deep fear he had for how you would respond to returning to RAD tomorrow sat uneasy within the eldest brother. It was hard to believe that it had already been 5 weeks since the initial assault that caused such a large headache for everyone, but especially you and Lucifer. Diavolo considered extending your leave of absence, but your insistence to both him and Lucifer that you wanted things to go back to normal again resulted in upholding the same guidelines for your treatment as initially proposed by Simeon.

Lucifer bounced his leg, anxiously awaiting a reply, but Diavolo met his retort with prolonged silence. After a moment, she gritted his teeth and broke the silence. “My lord, I know Mc has been able to see stark improvements over just the last week alone, and has been shown to be quite resilient over her whole recovery. There's no doubt in my mind she could try to muscle through her discomfort...But you don’t see what I do behind closed doors. The nightmares have only worsened, and despite her increasing presence in other areas in the house without an intense reaction, she has seemed to be pulling herself away consciously from everyone. The absentmindedness and loose association to reality during her waking hours that has partially been influenced by her dysfunctional sleep has only worsened throughout her recovery.”

Diavolo raised an eyebrow at Lucifer’s assertion. “Loose associations with reality...hmm...What do you mean by that?”

“I believe he is referring to the concept of dissociation.” Barbatos interjected. "It often occurs in humans after trauma- its marked by the individual feeling a staunch disconnection from their body, or from time or the world around them."

Lucifer nodded. “Precisely. She can physically be somewhere, but there’s a distance in her eyes that says she’s not mentally there. She's also been losing track of time and misplacing things. There also seems to be gaps in her memory throughout the day."

“Hmm...I see.” Diavolo stroked his chin, pondering his concerns. “While that is concerning, This is more or less a trial period for her to see if she’s read to return to RAD at all. She will be working at a significantly reduced capacity and has accommodations in place for classes where she can leave whenever she feels the need. And as I have already mentioned, Lucifer- she will have someone with her at all times, between Barbatos’ company, and the amount of classes she shares with Simeon, Mammon, Luke, and Solomon.”

He visibly grimaced at the sound of Solomon’s name. “That doesn’t replace the fact that there are risks. Need I remind you of the threats?”

Diavolo shook his head. “You needn’t- I have already given both you and your brothers permission to deal with those individuals as you see fit. The rumors have ceased for the most part too, given my public announcement at RAD last week about the consequences. Besides, Barbatos will be serving as her escort for the next 3 weeks as she adjusts, and will neutralize any identified threats. I believe you may be underestimating Mc’s capabilities because of your own anxieties.”

Lucifer flushed and turned away. Perhaps Diavolo was right, but he still wasn’t so sure. You were still so vulnerable, and he wanted to ensure you were truly ready to return to RAD; he didn’t want to just drop you into a sea of sharks without the appropriate safety nets in place.

“Lucifer,” Barbatos murmured, placing a hand on his shoulder. “If she truly isn’t ready, we wont know unless we try. We can’t keep her isolated forever. You have to trust in her.”

Lucifer sighed, nodding slowly in agreement. “I know...I know.”

“Then it’s decided.” Diavolo folded his hands on his desk; the look of concern he held was replaced with a mischievous grin. “Now, on to the other topic at hand.”

Barbatos matched his expression, but tried to contain the excitement. “Ah, yes. I shall go retrieve the items necessary for this conversation.”

Lucifer raised an eyebrow, glancing uncertainly between the two royals. Hadn’t Diavolo only requested this meeting to discuss the plan for your return to classes?

Diavolo leaned forward, his voice holding a barely subdued tone of joy that Lucifer hadn’t heard in ages. “We are planning a ball in Mc’s honor- Both to celebrate her recovery, and to mark two years since she's come into our lives.”

Lucifer blinked back his surprise. Had it really only been two years? At this point he felt like he’d known you an entire millennia, and the love he felt for you matched that.

Diavolo let out a hearty laugh at Lucifer’s inability to form words to express his thoughts of the plan. “Well- it has actually been more than two years. But it’s never to late to celebrate such a wonderful relationship, is it?”

“Besides.” Barbatos mused as he set down the documents in his hand. “We are looking for some excuse to bring some positivity into her life. That source of stimuli has been lacking as of late.”

Lucifer nodded, picking up the documents and reviewing them. He smiled at the plans detailed so thoroughly by Simeon, Barbatos, and Diavolo for the party in your honor. After taking in the information on the page, he glanced up at the two royals, who looked at him expectantly.

“Well, we should probably begin putting these things into motion after my other obligations today.” Lucifer smirked, excited for the surprise they had in store for you.

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

“I thought ya said they’d be here by now!” Mammon whispered sternly. They had been waiting outside Hocus Pocus for over an hour now, and he was starting to get annoyed by the fact that Agares and Raum were supposed to have been meeting up at this location to discuss their plan of action in hurting you.

Leviathan had intercepted their direct messages on their DDDs. How he did so, they had no idea- but Leviathan was a wiz when it came to technology, and with a little help from Satan’s spellcasting, he was given a direct window into their conversation about you, and how they knew you would soon be returning to RAD. To his unfortunate realization, they had been planning an attack on you upon your arrival to the class you shared with them- the last period of the day, when there would be no one else in the class with you that you were close to.

The brothers were completely irate upon hearing of the plan they concocted, but were relieved to find that it seemed these two demons were the only ones in on it- or rather, were the only two stupid enough to think they could send a political message to the demon lord by trying to bring you harm like their friend had. Lucifer could almost laugh at the idea, if he wasn’t so disgusted.

“Calm down, Mammon.” Lucifer warned. “These two numbskulls couldn’t even think of an exact time to meet up. They said ‘some time around 6pm.’ Not ‘at 6pm’.”

Mammon rolled his eyes. “I still think we shoulda just tracked them to their house.”

“It’s easier this way.” Satan shrugged. “Two birds, one stone.”

Just as Mammon was about to give a sarcastic retort, Lucifer suddenly clasped his hand over his mouth. Lucifer then quickly jerked him back so they were both flush against the side of the building. Satan followed suit, having seen what Lucifer had only seconds later.

Walking side by side a few blocks away were the targets. Lucifer had assumed the reason for this meet-up spot was they were going to obtain items that could be deadly to humans if exposed to them. Lucifer nodded to Mammon, releasing his grip on his mouth. They each stood a bit straighter, giving each other a knowing look. It was time for their plan to be put in place.

Right before the two demons entered the building, Mammon waltzed up to them as casually as he could. He had gotten tips from Satan on how to hide his emotions so they wouldn’t be suspicious, and it was paying enormous dividends. He was even able to hide the fact that he managed to find out where Lucifer was keeping Goldie without him finding out, which was something he was never able to do before.

“Oi- Raum, Agares...Hold up a second.”

Both the demons looked around for a moment before locking eyes on the Avatar of Greed, shocked to see he was acknowledging their presence. Mammon had a reputation for being easily swindled and manipulated by money, and he was also considered weak by other demons, so he often used this to his advantage to get folks to borrow him exorbitant amounts of money that he had no intention on paying back. Raum and Agares were no exception to believing the façade he put on, which would play right into his hands.

“Mammon?” Raum questioned, confused as to why he was approaching them. “What do you want?”

Mammon threw his arms around their necks, letting out a sly laugh. “Oh, what? Can’t a guy make a few new friends without gettin’ the 3rd degree?”

Agares eyed him suspiciously before shooting a glance at Raum. Raum could only shrug in response. “I guess? But you’ve never talked to us before.”

“We ain’t givin’ you any money.” Agares snapped, throwing Mammon’s arms off of his shoulder.

Mammon smirked. “Aye now, I wasn’t after ya for your money! What kinda demon do ya take me fer?”

Agares crossed his arms and rolled his eyes. “Then whattaya want? And make it quiet- we're busy."

Mammon smiled, forcing back the anger he felt at even pretending to be chummy with the likes of these bastards. He felt so much rage in his heart for what they had threatened to do to you, and for the way they talked about you like you were just a piece of meat. “What do ya fine gentlemen say to helping me win a bet?”

Both demons cocked their head curiously.

“Oi, got your attention have I?” Mammon gave a devilish smirk, showing off his pristinely white teeth.

“Wait a minute- Hold on,” Raum placed his hands on his hips. “What kind of bet?”

Mammon rubbed his hands together, playing up his greediness to make his story seem convincing. Through Levi’s research, they had found the demons had a fair amount of debt to the owner of Hocus Pocus- so paying off their fees would put them back in favorable standing with the store owner- which they would need in order to get items for their nefarious plot

“Well ya see, Leviathan and I made a bet that I couldn’t find evidence of fairies in Devildom, and I told ‘im he’s lost his marbles if he thinks that there ain’t any down here. But ya see- if I manage to find proof, he said he’d give me all of his savings- that’s nearly 900,000 grimm!”

Raum rubbed his chin thoughtfully, glancing at Agares before nodding. “Alright- what would we have to do? I’m assuming we’d be given a portion of this prize...’

“Yeah!” Agares added, giving Mammon a sly smirk. “We ain’t doin’ this for nothin’.”

Mammon nodded, lifting his hands and bowing to them slightly. “Right, Right...I’m gettin’ ahead of myself here. Yeah- We would split the money evenly- 300,000 grimm each.”

Raum smirked, elbowing Agares discretely before turning to mutter amongst themselves. They turned back to him with smirks on their faces. “Make it 400,000 grimm each and you got a deal.”

“400,000!?” Mammon pouted. “That only leaves me with with 100,000!”

From behind the shop, Lucifer snarled. “What the hell is he doing?! It’s not even real money!”

Satan put a hand to Lucifer's chest and signaled for him to be quiet. “Just wait...Mammon’s got this.”

“That’s our offer.” Agares shrugged. “Take it or leave it.”

Mammon turned his attention away, mulling over their offer. He turned back to them with his arms crossed. “How about 325,000?”

Raum shrugged at Agares, but Agares shook his head. “350,000. Thats as low as I’ll go.”

Mammon sighed, rolling his eyes. “Fine. I’ve tried every other demon in this stupid town and y’all are the only ones who even let me explain. Deal.”

Mammon extended his hand, shaking that of the other two demons before him.

“Now what is it we need to do?” Raum queried, curious as to how they’d find proof of the farries that he was sure didn’t exist.

“Well, you two are gonna help me get the evidence I need.” Mammon grinned. “So we gotta go out to Siren’s beach- that’s where the rumors place them, after all!”

The two demons glanced at each other. Mammon secretly knew they would come along. For if they saw him as much of an idiot as the other lower demons, they probably figure they can get some money out of him regardless of if the non-existent bet was won. Little did they know, Mammon and the rest of his brothers had other plans for them.

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

“So explain to me what we’re doing here again?” Agares asked in annoyance as they struggled to maneuver through the woods toward the beach. Mammon hadn’t stopped talking since they had left, playing up the fact that many demons tend to find him obnoxious for his continuous attempts at getting others involved in his schemes to make a quick buck. He figured that if he was deadly silent, they would be suspicious. So what better way to reduce their suspicions than to play up their biases on what they think they know about the most underestimated brother? And to maybe get under their skin in the process...

“I told ya already.” Mammon threw his hands in the air in exasperation. “You two are gonna help me make a circle of mushrooms on the beach, and make some puppets outta sticks and leaves. then I’m gonna film while you two make the puppets dance around the circle. Boom! Faries!”

Raum sighed as they finally broke through the clearing. “It doesn’t sound like a very good plan.”

Upon reaching the destined mark in the sand that Satan had placed, Mammon dropped the charade. He gave a dark laugh as he turned to the two demons, who were now even more confused than before. “It didn’t have to be a good plan to get you two morons alone.”

“What?” Agares took a step back, realizing that this had maybe been a trick- perhaps Mammon was going to try to shake them down. However, his blood ran cold when he backed into a hard body, feeling the dark aura of their wrath envelop him from behind.

Agares yelped in shock as he was sent flying face-first into the sand. Satan let out a scoff, approaching him with the intensity of a panther stalking it’s prey. Belphegor appeared from behind, eagerly following in pursuit.

Raum turned to run but ran head-first into the chest of Beelzebub. His eyes widened in terror as Beel glared down at him. Mammon yanked the demon back by the collar, throwing him into the sand next to his friend. The 4 demons stood around them, each sharing a deadly serious expressions and wrath-filled auras wafting off their bodies. The two demons stared in wide eyed shock as they each took a position around them.

“It seems you two have a debt to pay.” Lucifer’s voice seemed to envelop them- coming from all directions. Their blood ran cold and faces drained of color as he approached slowly from the tree line. His voice was calculating and his eyes glistened with a rage unlike either one of them had experienced before.

“W-what are you talking about?” Raum gulped, realizing that somehow their plot to kill you must have been unearthed.

Lucifer looked to Mammon and nodded. In a flash, Mammon had him by the throat, lifting him so he was only centimeters away from his face. “I don’t take too kindly to folks who plan on hurtin’ my favorite human.”

Raum’s eyes widened in fear He stuttered out an excuse but was cut off by a brutal punch to face. Mammon dropped the demon to the ground, scoffing at how weak he was. Bruises already began forming in the shape of the rings on mammons fingers, blood seeping from the scrapes the impact caused.

“You two really thought you were so smart, huh?” Belphie snarled as he kicked Agares in the stomach.

Raum tried to scamper toward the forest, but was grabbed by the back of the neck. Beel held him off the ground high, looking straight into Raum’s eyes. “Nobody threatens my family.”

Suddenly, Raum felt the searing pain of his bones crushing underneath Beelzebub’s hold. He clawed at Beel’s arm, desperate to escape the vice-grip he had on the back of his neck. The nerves in his spine screamed as the vertebra in his neck nearly turned to dust, rendering him immobile from the neck down. Beelzebub tossed him to the ground, eyes drilling holes into his soul.

Agares looked on in horror, paralyzed himself from fear. He couldn’t find the words to beg for mercy, but realized his mistake in crossing the fallen Family. A tutt from behind him nearly made him jump out of his skin.

“What’s the matter?” Satan mused. “Cat got your tongue?”

Before Agares could even think of a response, Satan extended his claws and slashed at his face. Agares wailed in pain, but the noise was short-lived as Belphegor wrapped his tail around his neck, raising the demon to the tips of his toes- just enough so he struggled to breath, but not enough to complete hang him dry.

Lucifer approached Agares with documents in hand. He stood in front of him so that his eyes stared directly into the demons, watching as he struggled to get air into his lungs. After clearing his throat, Lucifer began reciting passages off the papers. Each passage was a quote from the demon from the sock-puppet accounts, stating what they would do to you if given the opportunity, and details of their plot to kill you.

“Man, If I could just get my hands on her... I would love to see her cry as I force her to her knees.” As Lucifer finished the sentence, he clicked his tongue. His nose twitched in anger as he reeled back and landed a punch in the center of Agares’ stomach. Agares wheezed in pain, tears bursting from his eyes as his feet kicked at the ground, desperate for stability.

“I'd love to shove my cock in her ass.” Lucifer extended his claws and slashed at the demons chest. Agares' desperately breathless screams continued as he turned toward Raum, reading yet another passage.

“Maybe we should both take her at the same time before slitting her throat.” He stomped down on Raum’s knee, shattering the joint. The screams of the two demons echoed across the water and through the forest, a symphony of pain that had only just begun.

Lucifer stood back, his lips slightly parted and nose twitching into a snarl. As much as he would like to continue torturing the demons himself, he had promised his brothers they would all have an outlet for their hurt. He gave a small nod to the brothers, who took turns mauling the two demons as Lucifer continued reading their disgusting comments about you. He felt a strange sense of relief hearing their pained wailing as he read through the hateful words, knowing that they wouldn’t be around to hurt you. But another part of him felt so much despair for the fact that you had again been at risk. They were fortunate in their ability to stop the heinous plot, but barely so.

Blood soaked through the sand as the waves lapped at the shore, painting the foam a ruby hue. As Lucifer finished reading the last comment, he looked up, seeing the 4 other brothers coated in blood and scraps of flesh. Their breaths were ragged, but satisfaction was present in their intense expressions.

While there was an external expression of contentment among them, Lucifer knew they would still hurt internally for you- just as he does. He nodded once more, leaving the waves to clean up the demon flotsam that began drifting into the water.

Surely Lotan would be fed well today.

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

“Shhh. It’s okay- Asmo’s here, Mc.” Asmodeus cooed. He sat on the edge of the bed brushing your hair as you wept. Another horrid nightmare had jolted you awake, and you were saddened to know that Lucifer was nowhere in sight. Instead, Asmo and Levi sat near the bed. Lucifer needed to ensure there were eyes on you at all times- and as much as the two brothers wanted to join in on the torture of the two demons who dared to threaten their precious human, they would much rather get to spend some time with you without the multiple demands for your attention.

“H-here Mc. I made your favorite.” Leviathan shakily set down a steaming mug of hot chocolate on the night stand. It was made with the fudge truffles from Madam Screams that you adored so much, and he took care in creating the soothing treat for you. You were too caught up in your anguish to offer your gratitude, but the subtle nod you gave him still made Levi’s heart skip a beat. He sat down in the space next to you, scooting slightly closer to provide the comfort he could.

You clutched the blanket to your chest tightly, clearly seeking some type of tactile comfort. Levi noticed your desperation as you gripped the comforter, observing your obvious longing to have Lucifer here to wrap you in his arms. After a moment of feeling sad for you, he was struck with a genius idea. Levi transformed into his demon form, unfurling his tail around you gently and snaking it through the blankets. As if it was instinctual, you grasped his tail, snuggling it close to you. Levi blushed deeply at the contact, but was relieved when your tears begun to slow. He smiled as you sighed, nuzzling into the cool scales. He swished the tip of his tal against your shoulder, causing a content sigh to breeze past your lips.

Asmo smiled, beginning to twist your hair into an elaborate braid. There had been so much noise and turmoil in the house over your recovery that he was sure quiet moments like this eased your heartache- even if just a little bit. It had been so long since you had been given full attention without the brothers arguing amongst themselves- and while he knew that you often felt burdensome when they waited on you like this, it was sure to help you relax.

Just as soon as the quiet begun however, it was quickly interrupted by the sound of the other 5 brothers bursting through the front door, chattering amongst themselves. Asmodeus and Leviathan huffed in frustration. They got to spend the least amount of time with you, so they hoped the brothers would take their time in neutralizing the threat. They shared a glance, trying to decide which one of them was in a better position to leave your side. After staring each other down, gesturing with non-verbal's so as not to disturb you, the task was taken from them.

“How is she doing?” Lucifer entered his room almost silently, his voice barely above a whisper as he approached the bed. An eyebrow raised at the way you were clutching Levi’s tail, but it quickly dissipated as he remembered how you would often cling to him like a koala after a bad dream.

Ah. Improvising.

Lucifer thanked them for their help and shooed them out of the room, much to the two brother’s dismay. He gave them reassurance that they would be welcomed back later if you felt up to it, but for now he wanted to speak to you alone. As his door creaked closed, he turned his focus back to you.

“Mc?” He purred, gently rubbing your shoulders. “Can we speak for a moment?”

You turned over to him, wiping away the stray tears on your cheek. He was taken aback by the fact that you had been crying, but if Asmo and Levi had been comforting you after a nightmare, it made sense. Your eyes sparkled in the low light of the room, making them shine a magnificent (eye color). His eyes trained down to your lips, noticing how soft and pillowy they looked as you pursed them in anticipation of what he was about to say. Lucifer felt the tingling in his loins return as he took in your features, and cursed his body for being so unruly. He shook the feeling back, caging it until he had a moment to himself later on that evening.

He took in a deep breath, trying to sound as calm as possible. “I would like to talk to you about returning to RAD tomorrow.”

You nodded, turning your gaze away from him. Your voice was shaken, as you were still trying to regain your composure from your tearful episode moments before. “What a-about it?”

“Well...are you positive that you feel ready to return to classes?” Lucifer searched your expression for a response before continuing. “I am concerned about how you will handle it, given how you've been fairing lately.”

You nod, but say nothing in response. Lucifer notices your jaw clench, an indication that you were not going to budge on your desire to return to normal. He figured you would be annoyed by him bringing the topic up again- as he had broached it with you nearly once per day during the past week.

Lucifer sighed once more, taking your hand in his. “I know the last time we spoke you were firm in your desire to go back. I just...” He paused, searching for the right words. The last thing he wanted was to upset you further. “I just don’t want you to feel like you have to do this- like you don’t have any other choice.”

You turn back to him, your voice still slightly wavering. “Lucifer...I'd be lying if I said the idea of going back to RAD didn't scare me. But I don’t really know if there will be a time where I’m not not afraid.”

Lucifer stiffened at your words, unsure how to feel about what you had said.

“But...I have to try. I don’t want you all to keep walking on eggshells around me.” You felt tears prick the corner of your eyes again, but you blinked them back. “I don’t want everyone to keep seeing me as just this pitiful broken mess.”

Lucifer was taken aback by your statement. “What? I...we don't see you that way."

"But you do." Tears begin to fall once more as you squeeze your eyes shut tightly. “I see how you all look at me...All I feel is pity from your stares. It...it feels like you’re seeing me as nothing but damaged- that I’ve lost all my w-worth and...and-”

Lucifer pulls you into a tight embrace as you completely break down in harrowing sobs. He hushes you softly, rubbing your back as you cry. You hated that you felt so fragile in this moment when you were trying to make a point about how you weren’t a broken person- but somewhere in the back of your mind, you had convinced yourself that it was true.

The negative thoughts fed off the feelings of insecurity about your strength. They were loud- louder than ever before- as you tried desperately to shut them out.

How can you call yourself strong when you can’t survive more than an hour without Lucifer next to you? You are weak. You cant eat, sleep, bath or even breathe without his help, and you expect things to “go back to normal”? You’re an idiot- plain and simple. Its a marvel Lucifer has stayed by your side this long. You should be grateful that he even spares you a passing glance.

He deserves better than you.

You clutched his shirt tighter as the thought of your inferiority enters your head. Your mind begins to spiral, all that you could think of was the possibility of him leaving you- finally recognizing how worthless you believed yourself to be. You had yet to bring up the feelings of disgust at yourself with him, and feeling as though you were no longer deserving of his love due to your virginity being stolen from you. You projected the thoughts onto him, the tone of the thoughts almost seeming to take on the sound of his voice.

You’re revolting. An embarrassment. Useless. Weak. A waste of space. Nothing but a pitiful little Whore.

Lucifer tried his best to console you, but nothing seemed to get past the wall the thoughts had built up in your mind. They seemingly surrounded you, shouting at you from all sides. You felt so much shame well up within your heart, feeling guilty for even accusing him and his brothers of seeing you so negatively when in reality, it was only how you saw yourself.

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

You picked at your food absentmindedly as the brothers chattered around you. They discussed how excited they were to have you finally return to RAD with them. Mammon was the most eager, boldly claiming that he intended to skip all of his classes in order to spend the day with you. Given Lucifer’s demeanor toward the 2nd oldest as of late, the brothers were shocked when he scolded him, and even issued a threat of punishment if he skipped any classes. He reassured his brothers of your safety,, indicating that you would have Barbatos’ escort throughout the day.

Your mind wandered away from the table, making you feel as if you weren’t really present among the brothers. Sure, you were physically there- but you couldn’t process anything being said. It all sounded like garbled muttering- almost as if you were listening to them talk from underwater.

Beelzebub stared at you intently, also contributing very little to the conversation. He had been feeling down ever since returning home from the slaughtering of Raum and Arages. While he was thankful the two demons were no longer around to cause you harm, he had the sinking feeling that this wouldn’t be the end of the threats for you. How many more demons did they have to kill until you were safe? the question loomed over him like a dark cloud. You were his family after all; he would do anything to keep you safe, but sometimes Beel wondered why you choose to stay here. Were you really happy surrounded by demons? You didn’t look very happy, even if you did enjoy the company of him and his brothers. He knew you didn't have much waiting for you in the human world, but he pondered if returning there wouldn't be better for your overall wellbeing.

Beel sighed quietly and returned his focus to his plate. His meals haven’t tasted the same since your warm presence had faded. It was starting to come back, but it often came and went in waves. He couldn’t enjoy his own meal while you were visibly upset. His mind danced around how much love he and his brothers felt for you, and how little each of them expressed it. Without thinking, Beel stood and leaned across the table. He took your hand in his, giving it a gentle, reassuring squeeze. The chatter amongst the brothers died down as they watched in confusion at Beelzebub’s action- and were even more concerned when they noticed his eyes appearing glossy with tears.

You snapped back into your body at the sudden touch, locking eyes with Beel. You opened your mouth to say something, but closed it again- not having much certainty on how to react. Had he said something? You weren’t quite sure what led up to the motion.

“I-” He started, a light blush dusting his cheeks. “I want you to know that despite all thats happened...and no matter what is to come...I...we will always love you.”

The room grew deadly silent, save for the small gasp you let out at the seemingly random assertion. After a pregnant pause, you nodded to him- your voice quiet. “I love you too. All of you.”

Lucifer felt his heart skip a beat as your demeanor seemed to uplift. A small smile twitched its way onto your lips, you began contributing to conversation, and you took small bites out of the meal that was previously just being prodded at. How Beelzebub knew exactly what to say to ground you back to reality, he will never know. But he internally reminded himself to utter his words of love for you more often- and would remind his brothers to do the same. Sure, acts of service were the way many of them had been attending to you since the assault- and you were grateful for them- but maybe you were missing some sort of reassurance that you were in fact loved and valued by everyone in the House of Lamentation.

Lucifer smiled, returning his focus to his meal. His mind was filled with ways he would continue to remind you that you were loved.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Part 19

Tags for those who requested: @kairikazu05 @siniy606 @yukariutena @raeraekubs @hobin-gnoblin @shawnmendeslmfao @hatsunemiku2025 @katesatterfield @sg-artem @theeonlyroman @wonder-alien @ryuksexlover @svnflowery @saharahsbliss @uzumakioden @infiinnityverse

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cotton-candy-in-a-thong · 3 years

Text

Noncon stories, Fantasy vs. Reality, and more. fucking. issues.

Recently, I’ve been hit with some drama as to why I’m a “bad person” by various, anonymous users in this fandom. I thought I’d try to address the claim, address my stance on fics that involve noncon, and what I think about the “Tumblr mentality” after everything I’ve seen of this place. I should also note that I’m going to use the specific words and phrases I’ve been forced to constantly repeat as explaining my stance has been very difficult for me, as I’m a person who’s apparently challenging to understand.

This is going to be a long post, with subjects that's obviously going to trigger people so here's a warning right now..

That being said, I’m going to dive into this with some shit I’ve definitely said before:

“Consensual Noncon” Kink

The Appeal of this Theme in Fanfiction:

I don't think calling fics that involve noncon "rape fics" and those who enjoy it "getting off to rape" is a very good way to put it. Many engaging and well done media pieces often involve some very dark themes. Again, Monster by Meg and Dia is a song that features the main character sexually abusing a girl he met. You COULD call this a "rape song", but acting as if the rape is the only thing that matters in this story would be pretty..naive. The story has to do with an emotionally, and physically neglected/abused boy, who grows up and becomes an attention/love starved monster who's SO starving for validation, that he believes forcing himself upon a girl he knew would "prove" to himself that he's capable of being touched and loved. Of course, the main character eventually realizes that rape is not love, that what he did was wrong, and later kills himself in his own bathtub with kerosene and a match.

However, the assault aspect of this song is still a meaningful and alluring part because it talks about how emotional and physical abuse can warp someone's perspective on reality, to the point where they think forcing someone to "stay" with them is how to create a healthy relationship. That's the same energy I have for noncon fics, especially in the slasher fandom. Many slasher fics that contain noncon often have to do with the slasher preying on the reader because of their own fucked up mind. It's intriguing because, let's be honest, pretty much none of the slashers are in a pretty good mental space lmao. Thus, noncon actually falls more in line with how slashers would go about what they believe is a "good relationship" more often than quite a bit of fans here seem to believe. Again, Michael got boners, Jason chained someone up, Fredddy smooches people against their will, Billy Lenz is a sex offender, Chromeskull makes snuff, yada yada yada, you know the drill. That being said, it's interesting to see noncon being expressed with these characters because it gives us a new perspective on how fucked up they'd likely be if the world of sex and relationships was introduced to these characters.

Now why would some people become sexually aroused by the events of the story? First of all, how does “Consensual Noncon” kink work?

u/Jumbledcode. (2015). ‘Can anyone comment on why people (someone like me) enjoy rape/non-con story lines?��. r/TwoXChromosomes.

“I'd suggest that there are several factors that make up the appeal of non-con fantasies.

Guilt/Self-image: For many people, their sexual/relationship desires don't necessarily match their image of themselves, or alternatively they feel guilt over others' perceptions of those desires. Rape fantasies allow them to mantain some illusion of denial over their desires while still indulging in the idea of them.

Responsibility/Laziness: The appeal of abdicating control isn't limited to avoiding guilt; it's very tempting to want a scenario where you have no responsibility for maintaining your lifestyle/happiness. Similarly to before, it's the appeal of being given what you secretly want without even having to choose it.

Transgressiveness: A rape scenario has overtones of danger and taboo-breaking. These can easily be exciting and can therefore be a turn-on.

Desire: Being wanted is often a huge turn-on, and the idea of someone desiring you enough to break laws and disregard everything to have you plays into this feeling.

To me, it seems that most people who fantasize about being the subject of rape do so due to some mix of these motivations I've mentioned. Of course, there are also those who have experiences which have taught them to associate non-consent with their sexuality, but that's a separate issue”.

What if the Fanfic Only Involves the Act though? Wouldn’t it Encourage Actual Rape?

Let’s differentiate fantasy and reality. Towards those with the noncon kink: it offers arousal because of the ideas listed above (the idea of the reader not having to make any moves and the character doing the “intimate work” FOR them, the excitement of such a taboo sexual encounter, and the feeling to be desired through an altered, brutish encounter). Rape is the use of sex to remove control over the victim’s mind and body. The readers DO have control over whether or not they get to “encounter” (the choice to even read) this fantasy, so right away consent is present in reality, and no actual rape is being done.

Now does this mean that the kinkers are getting off on the idea of rape? Not really.

The thing with self-inserts is that it allows you to be connected to the story. That way, even if the story has you bruised up and begging for mercy, a part of you-you (if you’re a kinker) wants to keep reading it as you find it exciting. That way, as you and story-you are connected, what you really want in such a fantasy is for it to keep going despite the brutish, possessive, however yet desired nature of the character you’re dreaming about dealing with. (repeat: the idea of the reader not having to make any moves and the character doing the “intimate work” FOR them, the excitement of such a taboo sexual encounter, and the feeling to be desired through an altered, brutish encounter). That being said, it’s still entirely possible for kinkers to have their personal space and wishes crossed, and ultimately assaulted. Us enjoying the fantasy of such a reverie sexual encounter does not spell out to real life because (in reality) we’re not horny all the time, we would still like our bodies to be respected when we find it necessary, and we still have feelings as we’re still human.

“Fantasy (including video games) leads to violence” fallacy.

It would be like assuming that shooters in games like GTA fantacise about murder, encourage it, and would do it in real life. Taking fabricated anger out on virtual bodies or NPCs is quite different from the weight of murder (the killing of another human being). One can play video games with lots of violence towards such fabricated characters, while discouraging violence towards human beings. The act of using a game controller to beat up Donkey Kong in Smash, to shoot Nazi zombies in a Black Ops game, or to kill a Geisha in Little Nightmares is incredibly, and immensely different from completely eradicating the life of a person on Earth, and to assume that everyone who plays violent video games would spill out to violence in reality would be to participate in a ridiculous fallacy. Yes, there are outliers who are feeble minded enough to let their fantasies influence their actions towards actual people, but I must repeat that there are also people who utilize these fantasies for their personal satisfaction, while understanding the weight of the real world around them (and choosing not to act so detrimentally). Therefore, it wouldn’t be fair as it would be unnecessary to blatantly say that all fantasies are horrible and should be entirely eradicated if there ARE many people who ARE aware enough to understand that some thoughts are better off staying in fiction.

Now is the time to address what’s been said:

...Firstly, I think it’s very disgusting that random users, on Tumblr of all places, are trying to manipuate random victims of sexual assault into hating something or someone just because these users FEEL like “it’s the right thing to do”.. People, victims of sexual assault aren’t your fucking dogs. They’re not carriage horses, they’re not your work mules, they’re not your guns and swords...they’re just people who normally wanna be left the fuck alone like everyone else. Plus, there ARE people who have experienced sexual assault who take joy in reading such dark storylines. What would these users have to say to them? That they’re not “real” victims? That what they’ve experienced “never happened”? That they’re “just like” their own perpetrators for using the consensual nonconsent to miraculously help them overcome their trauma? Should they really abandon their coping mechanism just because there are other victims who cope in different ways?

..If you seriously believe that all people who have gone through a traumatic event are gonna cope in the exact same fucking way, you literally don’t even know enough about PTSD to even be making a bold statement about cope.

This is the part where I finally realized that people, and especially those on Tumblr, don’t actually care about rape victims as much as they may claim. Many users on here, on this platform and in this fandom, don’t truly give a flying monkey shit about rape victims as people, nor what they have to say about the subject. Rape victims..on this place..seem to be used mainly as a means of figurative weaponry for a group’s subjective morality.

I find the similarity close to radical feminism. Radical feminists often believe that women, from near and far, have to do everything in their power to “destroy” the patriarchy. This would mean disobeying the societal expectation of women, even if there are some women who take joyment in engaging in some societal standards for their personal liking. An example would be sex work. Radical feminists acknowledge the flaws in performing sex work, but believe that NO woman should EVER partake even if the woman wants to do it out of her own free will. In demonizing and ostracizing any woman who doesn’t fall into the radical feminist agenda, radical feminists actually contradict their purpose to “let women be free”. At this point, you realize that radical feminists often don’t actually give a fuck about what any woman wants for herself. Instead, radical feminists want to utilize any woman they can find just to flip off men as a group.

In Tumblr users trying to “stand up” for rape victims for their personal “holier-than-thou” ego, they fail to care enough about the very people they defend to understand the dynamics of some of their coping mechanisms, thus begin to bully some members of the group they claim to protect because of the very narcissism, misunderstanding, and controlling nature going on behind their own “activism”. So now that some users have found something to hate, in this case being noncon stories, they attempt to manipulate victims of rape into ostraciszing and demonizing fantasies and other victims of rape just because the “activists” themsleves don’t like it. Even trying to argue that rape victims have a “duty” to agree with everything these “activists” try to do for them.

Sounds awfully familiar to the attitude democrats have towards any minority when it’s time to vote. “I care about you...but you have to agree with everything I say and believe because I want what I think is best for you. If you disagree with me, you’re ungrateful and a traitor”.

Now...a little about myself.

I’m not sure of everyone else who’s into the noncon type of story, but I use it to get away from my past. In noncon stories, I want to read what happens in the chapters. I want to imagine them for morbid curiosity and arousal I feel at the time being. In reality, my attackers didn’t care when I wasn’t in the mood, and never gave me a choice. In noncon stories, I get to choose the character I want to encounter in the fantasy and NOT have it picked FOR me. In real life, I didn’t get to choose who did some things to me. In noncon stories, I get to stop reading them and do something else whenever I’m not feeling it anymore. In reality? My attackers kept going because, in the situation, it was no longer up to me. After noncon stories, my body doesn’t walk away with bruises, bite marks, and physical reminders every time I take my clothes off or try to masturbate. In real life...that shit can mark you, disease you, and then traumatize you. With the stories, I get to delete my search history, join another fandom, and act like nothing ever happened. For reality? Your own body is a reminder of what happened because it was real. In reality, I’m NEVER gonna fucking forget what happened. I’ll be lucky if my own mind and body doesn’t haunt me for at least one day..

So seeing that someone, and probably multiple people not only tried to use victims of sexual assault for their own “go get em” dogs, but to try and phrase me as someone who loves and encourages such an assault on human beings? After the things I felt? After the things I tasted? After pathetically searching for the support of relatives, just to get shut down with “you’re lying”?..

...All the times I've been held down..threatened..clothes getting snagged off..parts being opened and touched after I've fought to just get the fuck away from certain people...

According to this anon..."she likes rape".

...I guess I just fucking LOVED EVERYTHING THEN.

You know...all my life I’ve been misunderstood by many people. It’s honestly really disappointing that even now when I’m better at explaining myself than ever, I’m STILL being phrased as a “psychopath” by random people who haven’t even taken the time to even know me. Not even from a minute-long conversation through a damn computer screen. And you wanna know the funny thing? I’m probably being laughed at as this is being read. Some of these users, these internet stalkers, are probably giggling, smiling, and saying “Haha YES we GOT the bitch!! Cry you piece of shit SLUT!!”. So maybe explaining my past experiences to help everyone understand why some people may use noncon stories to their fantasy advantage is gonna land me messages going: “You haven’t been raped you lying bitch”, “Maybe you should get raped again”, “You definitely enjoyed it”, and the overused, yet strong “Kill yourself”.

So how am I gonna end this message? With me saying that many of you, who THINK you’re doing the right thing by justifying harassment and trying to manipulate others into joining your little crusade to bully people away from the fandom (over extremely mundane fucking things)...aren’t really good people. At best, in this case...you’re fucking stupid. You will never truly speak for any of the marginalized groups you claim to know like the back of your hand. Simply, you will never. be. a hero.

If by chance, by an astrological chance..that any random user wants to come up and apologize out of the blue for talking such shit and for saying such things..I don't even wanna hear it...just get the fuck out of my face..

#slashers #slasher fandom #tw noncon #consensual noncon #fandom drama #long post #past experiences #anon ask

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lyallblacklupin · 3 years

Text

Now that all is over.

TW: Implied Sexual Assault/Nightmares.

Voldemort is killed with all aspects which is how the Second Wizarding War has ended. Fortunately, Sirius Black and Remus Lupin have survived. They have a godson to look forward to make up for the lost times, the world is serene and ill-free, and especially, they have each other. Life cannot have been any sweeter. However, one miserable night, Sirius jerks out of the worst nightmare he has ever seen in his life. He is screaming and looking anywhere for help but Remus Lupin, who has been sleeping beside him. Will Remus be able to calm him down without having to touch him, or even come close to him?

There are a lot of things Remus Lupin should be thinking right now, which included his indecisiveness for accepting the job Dumbledore has offered him again, now that the story of Voldemort had ended once and for all. Also, the fact that he needs to move out from Grimmauld Place for the sake of his-boyfriend? Fiancé? Lover? He doesn’t understands what they are, but he knows that they are certainly not teenagers anymore. They had endured wars, losses and especially, ducked down from their own deaths, together. They finally have another chance to live, and this time it is without the fear. The fear that had been looming like their shadows since they can remember. This was THE chance.

However, as Remus exchanges the bill with the cash the red-headed girl is giving him for the Oscar Wilde’s poetry—which becomes a good distraction because the girl looks timid and strongly reminds him of Lily Evans picking up poetry from the Hogwarts for him, then she would smile at him with a teasing glint in her emerald eyes when it was Wilde’s queer poetry—he is stuck with his brain flickering the image of what happened today morning at half past five when Sirius jolted out of his sleep, running away from nothing but Remus.

“Sirius, honey—“

“NOOOOO!” Sirius’ eyes were screwed shut and he was pulling his hair like a madman, squirming in the most corner of their bedroom, with his knees glued to his chest as he quivered violently. Remus didn’t know what to do because this was something that he had never experienced in their togetherness. Sirius did have the tendency of having frequent nightmares even in Hogwarts, but never once he had pulled Remus away when he had reached and took his trembling body to tuck it against his own. He didn’t even need to ask his permission which was evidently clear that Sirius could recognize his presence without even looking him. However, this time Sirius’ wide eyes were staring him and yet he was shrieking when Remus inched forward to touch him. All of this was giving Remus only one answer: The nightmare was about Remus.

“Okay, Sirius, I’m not touching you, I’m not coming to you, see…” He steps back and sits on his bed across the very scared looking Sirius sitting on the floor. He pretended that didn’t have assume the reason behind Sirius’ behavior, looking very calm, “Did you have a nightmare, love? You can tell me, I’m not going to hurt you. I promise you, Sirius—“

His words died in his throat and suddenly something very heavy settled on his chest because Sirius is shaking his head.

“Don’t lie.” Sirius whispered and Remus thought that all of his surrounding was turning upside down. He hadn’t felt so helpless before. It had never been like this. Sirius had always been too tactile with him, no matter what. He couldn’t do anything, he was running out of ideas and strategies to deal with the situation. His mind was ringing and he started feeling nauseous as if some vial is refluxing from his stomach. His fisted the bedsheet and squeezed his eyes shut. He tried to call out Sirius but he could hardly hear his own voice when a certain ringing sound is somewhere around him. He could tell nothing except the regrets and the what-ifs that were screaming in his head: What is happening to us? Are we falling again when the chance is finally here? Why now? What if Sirius had dreamt that the wolf has killed him? What if Sirius has now realized that he was bound with a monster? What if Sirius has believed that nightmare? He shouldn’t have been with me! He deserves more! Someone who is hundred times better than me! What will I do without him? And again? Weren’t those twelve years enough for us? Why isn’t the universe a little merciful on us?

And then what came out from his mouth was a sob. His body was shaking as it racked through him. He manages to breathe as he lifted up his head and there was Sirius looking at him with his tear-stained face, inching forward towards Remus’ legs by the bed. Remus wanted to throw caution to the wind and embrace him with all his strength and love, but he had to be very gentle to not make him flinch. He carefully raised his hand, not breaking his eye contact with him. Sirius nods hesitantly. It broke Remus’ heart to see the doubtful face of his lover. His fingers touched the skin of his arm, and fortunately there was no hint of discomfort in his face.

“What’s happened, Sirius? What did you see?”

Remus deliberately jerks himself out of the flashback because what Sirius explained him after that, was not failing him to shudder every time he plays that memory in his head. He realizes that he has to go to the therapist he has been seeing since a month. He likes Dr. Holly Meyer, and she knows about his relationship with Sirius. He thinks that she was the right person to talk.

His shift at the bookstore ends at quarter past two as he hurries for his appointment.

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“Does Sirius have any past trauma related to rape or any sexual assault he has experience from his loved one?”

“Umm, no, he never mentioned.” Remus replies to Holly’s question. But he highly doubts that Sirius was never sexually molested by his family because one of the days at Hogwarts, when they were dating, he saw an angry looking bruise on Sirius’ hip which jolted him to his cores. However, Sirius never talked about it and neither Remus had the audacity to ask him who did that to him.

“Remus, have you ever done something which has terrified him? Any physical gesture or…I hope you know what I am talking about. Something that might have prompted that memory out of him, which also might have influenced him through this nightmare?”

Remus felt sudden surge of heat beneath his cheeks, and he doesn’t know how to answer. They haven’t physically interacted with each other in a while. The last time he can remember is when Sirius gained health after being in comma for five weeks when Bellatrix had hit him with a very complex curse at the Department of Mysteries. They were reunited in Grimmauld Place after the healers discharged him, both of them brimming up with emotions as they tried to express their undying love for each other. After that blissful moment, they got too busy with the approaching war, that they could only spare time for quick snogging and whispering ‘I love you’s incase if they never see each other.

“No, we haven’t…I mean didn’t-we didn’t…” He was not looking at the doctor because Remus could feel her smiling at him. “But why me? Why was it me in the dream doing those horrible things to him?

“Remus, dreams can be quite deceptive, and not to mention our mind has the power to take shapes of our fears the most terrifyingly in our dreams.”

Remus is speechless, and he is feeling something ugly erupting in his chest. He is quite precise about it. It is guilt. For not taking care of Sirius’ mental health.

“Remus?” Holly calls out very softly. Remus looks up sheepishly, despite the burning sensation creeping his neck and cheeks. “The case is quite clear here. Sirius has something in his hearts of hearts that he isn’t telling you. Something that hasn’t just left him ashamed or traumatized but also he is quite uncertain if this is something he should talk about. I assume that he is not giving it the importance to discuss this with you. And at the same time, you are not giving him the attention he wants from you. You two have been through misfortunes that has left you both listless and empty. You need to fill each other with love and happiness. Any love gestures will do. Let the other know that you are here for them in every possible way.”

Remus feels like his legs are giving out, even though he is sitting on a very comfortable armchair.

“Go, get your man. He needs you. He just doesn’t have the heart to bear loneliness. He is suppressing himself for you because he think this is what you want.”

No, this is not what I want! He makes a mental note to himself. And how could I not want Sirius? Remus knows that he is lying to himself about the war being the only reason for their lack of physical contact. He knows that there has been lack of communication which has followed the current problem, landing them here.

“I shouldn’t have left him alone in that house.” Remus mumbles.

“No, Remus, you did the right thing.” Holly retorts gently, “This is what he needed. To think straight with himself and be sane. You being there would have been too suffocating for him. Clearly, you needed someone to put sense in you. Your welcome.”

She is smiling amusingly, and Remus can’t help but agree. He is leaving when Dr. Holly calls him out and he turns to her.

“Say, Remus, what flowers does your better half loves the most?”

Roses. It is an automatic reply like he doesn’t need to think for even a second. Red Roses. Very cliché Sirius Black. Remus bites back a chuckle and tells her.

“Oh boy, Remus, you have a hopeless romantic in that house sulking alone, and what you are doing to him is brutal.” She is grinning at him, and he is quite grateful of her for not scolding him because he suddenly feels that he deserves it. He was too distant while being next to Sirius. He would much rather prefer to take responsibility for all of this, and make things right between them.

He apparates in front of Grimmauld Place 12, clutching a bouquet of fresh red roses. He grimaces when the scent fills his nostrils, and the idea of being above forty and doing such gesture is making him nervous. He enters the house, and suddenly stops in his track to find that the hallway is not dark anymore, it is kindled up by so many candles and enchanted stardust floating in mid-air, taking various beautiful colors. For a second, he thinks he is somewhere else. Maybe 11 or 13 Grimmauld Place? But then Sirius emerges with a pop, wearing an apron, his hair is neatly tied in a bun. He is also wearing black robes, and he has shaved but there are dark circles under his eyes.

“Hey!” Sirius walks towards him and he is saying a lot of things with the weak smile on his face, but Remus is staring him with utter fascination. He is suddenly feeling very young to realize that Sirius can still make him fluster with nothing but looking like that. Remus cannot let out a word from his mouth, but then he is broken out of his trance of swooning when he registers those silver orbs are widening, and then glistening. Remus feels an unexpected panic rising in his stomach because now tears are streaming down Sirius’ cheeks. And before he knows it, Sirius has crashed his lips on his. Remus cannot help but kiss him back. His damp is skin rubbing his, and they both rests their forehead against each other.

“Thank you.” Sirius whispers, pressing a kiss on his nose. Remus has forgotten that he have brought roses for the love of his life until Sirius is taking them, which is when he realizes the reason for why Sirius started crying suddenly. A weak grin appears on his lips, and Remus realize that he has never felt so happy in a longest while. “You remembered that I like roses.”

“Of course, darling.” Remus says teasingly, reaching forward to capture Sirius’ lips again, but then Sirius is laughing merrily which instantly warms Remus’ heart. Even so, he leans further and kisses him a little more earnestly. Sirius laces his arms around him, and Remus takes their height difference as a benefit to scoop him up in his arms.

“Moony…”

“Yes, love?” Remus nuzzles his nose against Sirius’ cheeks, as they stumbles in the nearby drawing room.

“I’m sorry about today.”

Suddenly, the awkwardness returns.

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” Remus says, “It was a bad dream, Sirius. I know that you love me, and I love you. It’s enough and we should be forever together and we should probably get married and have a new life and live in a country or something far away from everything and all and—“

Sirius is gawking at him, dumbfounded, and Remus realizes that he is rambling. He wants to slap himself right now. He might have ruined the night he is intending to make the most opportune.

“I mean…I—Sirius…” He knows that he is still scared. No matter how much the therapist has tried convincing him, he knows that no one can convince him completely, but Sirius Black. He wants to walk past the layer of no communication, and he does.

“Sirius…I can never hurt you. I can never even imagine of hurting you that way. I certainly have hurt you emotionally in the past, and maybe I still am, and if you feel like it then please talk to me, tell me if I have hurt you. But I have never hurt you physically, Sirius. I have never. It is worrying me. Have I done anything? Don’t fear, Sirius, I promise you that I am not walking unless you order me away.”

Sirius slightly shakes his head at the end of Remus’ statement. He cups his face and places a lingering and soft kiss on his forehead.

“It is you. The real you.” He whispers against his skin, and it confuses Remus. “Remus…It was not you in the dream. It was you in front of me but this…” Sirius ran his hands on the latter body, squeezing his arms with fondness swimming in his eyes, “this feeling of you, your arms, these hands and…just you... were not in the dream. It was him. The same feeling.”

“Him?” Remus knows where this is going. He already has his suspicions.

“My father.” Sirius’ reply doesn’t fail to make his eyes instinctively wide. The thought makes him shudder and Sirius slips away from his embrace, looking miserably lost.

There is one question that is still not planning on leaving his mind and he feels he needs to ask this from Sirius, no matter what the answer, and he does.

“Why still me?”

Remus expects that he will receive a very disgusting reply from Sirius, or a glare, or maybe he has completely ruin their night and Sirius will be shutting him out for good. But—

“I came face to face with my boggart the other day in the ministry.” Sirius replies, looking straight in his eyes. Remus can recall that Sirius’ boggart was his mother when they discovered in their third year’s Defense against the Dark Arts class. However, Sirius must have read his mind when he continues, “It is not my mother anymore.”

There is a brief, tensed silence between them.

“It was you.” Remus’ heart suddenly stops. He fights to keep a poker face. “You were there looking at me with disgust and…” He can see that Sirius is struggling through his words as if they are causing him physical pain. “…you were looking at me with such hate and you said you were leaving me because you were tired of me. You…you have never looked at me like that…”

Tears are spilling from his grey eyes.

“You have always looked at me with warmth and humbleness, but that image of you is not leaving my mind. It is there and it is making me believe that it is true, Remus, because I don’t deserve you. You are so worthy of love, I am not. I was never worthy of love. I drove you mad in our relationship. I betrayed you once, and then made you believe that I can betray you twice. But you…you never did anything like that. You compromised yourself for me, in every way. You dealt with me for a very long time, and I won’t blame you if you don’t want to deal with me anymore. It would hurt. So much, because for me, it’s hard to imagine my life without you after everything we’ve been through, together.”

Remus is numbly standing, just looking at Sirius’ face flooding with tears. He feels like his heart is breaking and mending, breaking and then again mending, back and forth. He wishes internally that Sirius’ words may leave his heart mended, because he knows he cannot deal with another heartbreak, another loss, or another tragedy.

“Know this,” Sirius comes close and touches his wet cheeks, which is when he realize that the tears are also silently rolling down his own face. “…that I love you, Remus. I know you can’t hurt me. You’ve never because you have a pure heart, Moony.”

This is when Remus doesn’t take anymore. He shoves Sirius in his arms and sobs in his shoulder. He feels Sirius relaxing into his embrace because he is placing feather-light kisses on Remus’ exposed neck.

“I’m so sorry. I am so sorry, Sirius.” He doesn’t know for what he is exactly asking his forgiveness, but he knows deep down inside his heart that it is for everything that has happened in their lives.

“But no,” He pulls out to face Sirius, desperately reaches his hands to intertwine with his, “I am not leaving you, not because I can’t but because I don’t want to be away from you. I can never be tired of you, Padfoot! And I can’t be surer about that. You think I compromised my comfort for you? That was not a compromise. That was my love for you. And it still is, here. I never regretted our relationship because of you. I did once because of myself because you had to deal with me, my cursed and poverty-stricken life. I am nothing compared to you, and yet you want me. How can I not love you? How can I disgust you? Or hate you? It’s something that can never exist when it comes to you. I don’t think I loved anyone like that except for you. I still want you, only you. I love you, a little too much, please believe me.”

Sirius has his forehead pressed with his, as he murmurs against his cheek, “I believe you, Remus.”

They kiss and they kiss for Merlin knows how long. Remus is suddenly yanked back into one of his favorite memories with Sirius, when they were at Hogwarts and it was their seventh year. He remembers that those days were Christmas holidays because they were fooling around in their dorm very peacefully, with no fear of James or Peter interrupting them. The both lovebirds were the only ones who didn’t leave for their homes. The erratic breathing, the electric excitement in their bodies, the eagerness to explore each other’s mouth is something Remus can distinctly recall from that day, at this very moment because it feels just the same as if they are seventeen again.

He reaches for Sirius’ robes to unbutton them when Sirius pulls back gently.

“Wait,” For a second, Remus thinks that this is not what Sirius wants before he smiles romantically, “I hope you have guessed why I am wearing an apron?”

“You cooked?” Remus gapes at him that makes the other laugh gleefully. That laugh makes his heart flutter again like happiness was bubbling out of him. Sirius nods at him.

“I thought I should make up for disrupting your morning, and I know you must have taken a lot of stress at work because of me. So I made your favorites.”

“You didn’t have to do this, love, I know cooking is not something you like to do.”

“Wrong!” Sirius gasped dramatically, “I love to cook for you! And besides, you bought these roses for me…” He picks out the bouquet, sniffing its scent, admiring the handiwork, and smiling the entire time as he brushes his fingers around the rims of each petals of the roses. Remus just stares at him like that. He could see the pink flush appearing on Sirius’ cheeks, and he thinks to himself that this is the most scenic view to look at. He suddenly recognizes that all of his exhaustion has dissipated from his body, and he is very much looking forward to the rest of their night.

“Come on, first dinner, and then we’ll see.” Sirius winks, taking him to kitchen when Remus stops him gradually.

“Tell me you are not frightened of me, are you? Be honest with me, Sirius.”

“I was never, Remus. I was frightened of being alone. My own mind was playing tricks on me. But not you, never you.”

Remus sees his eyes are promising.

“Promise me that you will talk to me, about anything like we used to. Just like the old times.”

“Just like the old times. I promise, Moony.”

Sirius’ eyes returns the glimmer, and they are shinning like they used to before war, or Azkaban. Remus feels the contentment spreading in his heart and comes to a realization that it is all he have been yearning for.

#wolfstar #Wolfstar fanfiction #WOLFSTAR FLUFF #wolfstar angst #Sirius Black #Remus Lupin #remus x sirius #Sirius x Remus #post wizarding war #lovelycouple #mental health #boggart

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seven-oomen · 3 years

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If You Are Going Through Hell, Keep Going

These are the words that Marin Morrell – Druid, Emissary, Guidance Counselor – says to Stiles Stilinski in “Battlefield” (02x11) And I think they suit his character just perfectly, because Stiles has been going through Hell all his life.

The Teen Wolf Fandom don’t talk nearly enough about Stiles’ traumas, so I’ll try my best to do it myself *I won’t even remotely touch on the Void Stiles, Dark Stiles, Donovan and the Nogitsune trauma though, because it’s extremely complex and deserves its own Meta*

It’s Canon that Noah was an alcoholic (as Rafael pointed out to Stiles in 03x11 Alpha Pact), that he neglected and lashed out at his own child (Stiles’ memory in 02x09 Party Guessed), and that Stiles was verbally, emotionally, and physically abused by his mentally ill mother, Claudia, throughout his childhood (there’s a whole magnificently acted, heart wrenching scene about it with flashbacks and all in 05x06 Required Reading.) It’s Canon that Stiles had to take care of himself and of his father before AND after Claudia’s death. And it’s Canon that Stiles – who was only an eight years old child at the time – was at the hospital with his mother when she died, nobody else:

[Teen Wolf Season 3 Episode 11, Alpha Pact]

CHRIS: You knew… I remember meeting you once, before you were Sheriff. You questioned me about a body. You knew something was up. You just weren’t ready to believe it.

NOAH: You’re right. There was a night eight years ago… the night my wife died. I was at the end of a shift, and a call came in. There had been a pile-up, and a young woman… she was a teenager, actually. She was trapped under an overturned car. We had to wait for the paramedics. We were never getting her out, but I was able to hold her hand. She knew she was gonna die. But I just kept telling her “No, no, listen. The paramedics are on their way.” And then I remember her hand suddenly gripped mine so tightly that I literally thought she was gonna break the bones. And she looked me in the eyes, and she said “If you wanna be with her, go now.” And I knew she was talking about my wife… But then that other part of my brain — the part that looks for clues, for fingerprints, for logical connections… that part told me that there is no way that this girl could possibly know about Claudia. And so I stayed. I stayed until the paramedics pulled her out. Until her heart stopped beating and they declared her dead.

NOAH: When I finally got to the hospital, I saw Stiles sitting in the waiting room with his head in his hands… He was with Claudia when she died.

NOAH: But I wasn’t. I wasn’t with her because I didn’t believe… I just did not believe.

It’s also Canon that Derek Hale is a rape victim and that the hunters slaughtered Derek, Cora and Peter’s entire pack/family (including humans and children.) And it’s Canon that Stiles immediately sides with the Hales and openly confronts Chris about what Kate had done to the Hales in 01x12, Code Breaker:

CHRIS: Let me ask you a question, Stiles. Have you ever seen a rabid dog?

STILES: No. I could put it on my to-do list, if you just let me go.

CHRIS: Well, I have. And the only thing I’ve ever been able to compare it to is seeing a friend of mine turn on a full moon. Do you wanna know what happened?

STILES: Not really. No offense to your storytelling skills.

CHRIS: He tried to kill me, and I was forced to put a bullet in his head. The whole while that he lay there dying, he was still trying to claw his way toward me, still trying to kill me, like it was the most important thing he could do with his last breath. Can you imagine that?

STILES: No. And it sounds like you need to be a little bit more select—

CHRIS: Did Scott try to kill you on the full moon? Did you have to lock him up?

STILES: Yeah, I did. I had to handcuff him to a radiator. Why? Would you prefer I locked him in the basement and burned the whole house down around him?

CHRIS: I hate to dispel a popular rumor, Stiles, but we never did that.

STILES: Oh, right. Derek said you guys had a code. I guess no one ever breaks it.

CHRIS: Never!

STILES: What if someone does?

CHRIS: Someone like who?

STILES: Your sister.

Unlike self-proclaimed hero and ruler of Beacon Hills Scott McCall, who immediately sides with the Argents and tells Derek Hale that his family deserved to be burnt alive by the hunters in front of his comatose uncle………..

-----

I feel like there is a lot to unpack on Stiles’s trauma. And I will go over these moments one by one, why they’re damaging, what I think the context of the scene is supposed to represent ft how people might take it. And what my personal thoughts are regarding Stiles’s trauma.

First of, I would like to say that the following words are my take on this. I am a 29 year old trans man of caucasian descend who is an domestic violence and abuse survivor. I am diagnosed with ADHD since 12 and diagnosed with CPTSD since this year. I understand trauma and I understand what it does to people. But I am not a professional. I am a fan, who’s responding to the submission of another, anonymous, fan.

You are completely free to have your own takes on this matter and your own headcanons. That’s what fandom is for.

That said, I would love to have a discussion if you can have it peacefully.

Stiles is a character who was (Unwillingly) neglected, emotionally traumatized and both emotionally and verbally abused by both of his parents. There is even evidence of physical abuse by his mother.

I think it does need to be said, that neither of his parents intended for this to happen. What happened in the Stilinski family was by and large a very traumatic event for everyone involved.

Noah is an alcoholic, as Stiles also confirms in the episode that Noah never really stopped drinking. His alcoholism is a result of his own traumas and possible ND mind and an unhealthy coping mechanism.

As a result of this, Noah most likely was verbally and emotionally abusive during his drunken tirades.

I personally think that before Claudia was diagnosed and got sick Stiles had a good childhood. His parents tried their best to be good parents for him and laid a good foundation for him. This is evidenced in the bond Stiles seems to have with his father in general. He’s not afraid of his father, he’s nervous about consequences. But he never gives off a vibe to me that truly says; I fear this man and I have to stay in line to stay alive.

Unlike Isaac and his father.

This also tells me, that unlike Elias Stilinski, Noah never lashed out physically at Stiles. He was trying to break a cycle of abuse but more than likely still fell victim to it himself when he could no longer cope with trauma and his neurodivergency and started drinking.

That doesn’t mean that he’s not guilty of abusing his own son. We know Noah can be neglectful and dismissive towards Stiles (even though he tries his best not to be) and has a tendency to low key insult Stiles from time to time. Whether or not he truly means to or not is up for debate, I personally think he doesn’t mean to do it, but Stiles is clearly heartbroken every time Noah accidentally lashes out.

As evidenced by sentences: “I’ve never believed a word he said since he was born.” “Thank you, son I should have had.” (To Scott)

Stiles already has a deep founded fear that he’s not enough, that he killed his own mother, that he’s not believed by the people around him, and that people don’t want to take him seriously.

This is clear in every interaction he has with the people around him.

Which also brings me to what happened in 2x09. Now based on the context clues of that scene, I actually don’t believe Stiles saw a play-by-play memory. But rather, Stiles saw his greatest fear play out in a hallucination.

Why do I believe that?

Because in the same scene, Allison has a hallucination about becoming her own worst nightmare (a huntress like Kate) and Scott sees a hallucination of Allison and Jackson making out. (Aka, losing Allison.)

I think the scene both has fabrications and truths in it. The truth is that more than likely, Stiles saw his father getting drunk at his mother’s funeral and lashing out at people around him in his drunken stupor. (Which on one hand, one can understand if you take the pain and trauma into account, but it’s not a healthy or an okay thing to do, obviously. This is definitely where Noah fell apart.)

I also like to think one of the other adults put a stop to Noah’s behavior before he could get out of hand. But we never really see her funeral play out, so that is speculation.

The fabrication is the scene that follows. We know that Claudia was the one that actually said the words to Stiles. “You’re killing me, he’s killing me.”

And that Noah was the voice of reason in that scene. “No, he’s not. You’re sick, let’s go back inside.” (Or something along those lines. I can’t remember the exact words.)

What I think is more than likely is that Stiles’s greatest fear is that his father actually believes he killed his mother. As that is what his mother said to him before she died. And so that’s what he hallucinated under the influence of the wolfsbane.

Stiles’s greatest fear is losing both of his parents, no matter in what way that is. He also fears that he failed as a son, and failed to take care of his father. All of this is fueled by losing his mother and watching her die at a very young age.

And that is where Stiles’s trauma truly lies. He watched his mother die (at the age of 10) slowly while she lost her mind to a terrible illness.

His father couldn’t handle losing his wife and not being able to help her and the previous traumas he endured in his own childhood. And Stiles had to step up to take care of him. That changes a child and leaves a mark. A mark that Stiles can’t shake.

We know Noah neglected Stiles by not being able to care for him as he should have, we know Noah tends to think Stiles has wild conspiracy theories and tends not to believe him.

Which traumatized Stiles even though Noah didn’t intend for that to happen. That doesn’t mean that Stiles’s trauma isn’t real though. It’s very real. This is also the reason why he immediately chooses Derek’s side in 1x12.

For Stiles, not being believed is a daily reality and he doesn’t want anyone else to go through that as well. Which is why he chooses Derek’s side. Because Stiles, due to his own trauma, is hard-wired to believe the victim and tends to defend them.

Now I think a lot of people take a lot of Stiles’s scenes literal because they identify with what’s happening on screen. Because Stiles isn’t being believed by the other characters, the audience tends to take his perspective at face value. Even in situations where it’s made clear that Stiles, like other characters, is hallucinating at the time.

And there is absolutely nothing wrong with that, but I do think it’s something to consider.

Tagging a few people who might want to add a thought or two to this.

@mostly-vo1d @artemisa97 @msmischief101

#stiles stilinski #teen wolf #teen wolf meta #trauma #ptsd discussion #submission

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herkingmentality-shesunbreakable · 1 year

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Watch "Dr. John Hall - Satellite Surveillance (Project Camelot Radio) 1/11" on YouTube

youtube

#satellite surveillance #satellite terrorism #mind reading #gang stalking #mind hacking #trauma based mind control #workplace mobbing #neural rape #mental rape or influenced nightmares of rape #influenced synthetic dreams #physical body torture #rape #targeted in kentucky #military tactics #military technology #darpa #cointelpro #deiona marie muhmmad #Youtube

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kazeofthemagun · 3 years

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Kaze - Character Tropes

[A thing I compiled for fun for my portrayal of Kaze and all my headcanons. There is so much stuff on TVTropes that I may keep adding as I go. He does have a page on it but it's lackluster for my taste XD but here it is.]

[Putting all this crap under a read more cuz that is long.]

Purpose-Driven Immortality / Regenerative Immortality - as long as the prophecy holds and Chaos still exists, Kaze cannot die. When his body is killed, he comes back through regeneration, centered on the Magun.

Soul Jar - the Magun, specifically, his heart that had been transplanted into it and bound him to the Gun Dragon sealed in the Demon Weapon. The vial is warded by very potent magic - supposedly, only another Unlimited has the power to break it.

Touched by Vorlons - granted immortality by Bahamut, the Gun Dragon, upon being accepted as Magun's prophecized perfect wielder - Unlimited.

Cybernetic Mythical Beast - the Gun Dragon and how he came to be - made from the slain Bahamut's corpse and infused with tech, animated by his still-living soul. As such, all Summon Spirits that come from the Gun Dragon and his Magun are also biomechanical in nature.

Dracolich - Gun Dragon is technically undead, while also reinforced with machinery to create a "perfect Weapon". He's forged from parts of his own corpse, bones showing through such as the arms, legs, exposed spine.

Draconic Abomination - Gun Dragon.

Dragons are Divine - Gun Dragon as the Windarian God of Destruction - the title gets passed on to Kaze as his chosen and vessel. Also War God.

BFG - Magun is fucking massive.

Bling-Bling-Bang! - Magun seems to be made of gold, but is really composed of an unidentified alien metal. Shiny tho.

He Who Hunts Monsters - fanatical levels of obsession with hunting everything Chaotic. (His title of choice being literally the Hunter of Chaos, Hunter for friends.) Definitely partially a personal vendetta - his whole world was devoured and his own mind was ripped nigh to shreds - but also a purpose felt strongly through the connection with Magun/Gun Dragon, a Demon Weapon forged specifically to combat Chaos that activates only at its scent, pre-repaired verse. Almost leads to a Van Helsing Hate Crime against Ai and Yu - luckily, Kaze is not that merciless and spares the kids for wanting to live as humans and not demons. All in all, Kaze/Gun Dragon are a cosmic force that opposes Chaos till the end of time. Also Married To The Job.

Collateral Damage - piss him off and you're gonna go. Alongside everything in approximately a 5 mile radius of where you're standing. (Thankfully he learns more restraint with time, attempting to minimize casualties where possible. Still, if ending Chaos requires sacrifices.. so be it.) Probably also Inferred Holo//caust in FFU. He had blown up huge chunks of land to end his foes. Likely killed people or at least animals :/

The Stoic - His personality archetype.

Weak to Magic - Blue Elenium, a special type of water magic that corrupts Soil. As an extension, Kaze is harmed more by water magic in general, seeing as the energy messes with Soil flow.

Trauma Button - having his hand held/touched suddenly. It brings painful memories of his sister, Aura, who died holding his hand. Under Chaos' influence, it was one of the only memories Kaze still had of her, rendering the trigger particularly intense and sending him into dissociative episodes. Furthermore, a fear of Gaudian flowers - the blue phantom flowers that herald the arrival of Chaos. Suffers from visions and nightmares of a very gory nature that involve said flowers.

Shell-Shocked Veteran - of the War with Chaos.

Loners are Freaks - he is an introvert born to a society that abhors weakness as disgraceful and sinful. Has trouble connecting with people - but he also (mostly) doesn't need to. Due to the nature of his quest, accepts his fate as the one who will never fit in anymore. "I am the monster who hunts monsters so that you may sleep at night human. It is a thankless job."

Beware the Quiet Ones - his silence precedes a storm. When he speaks, his words boom as thunder - be they a roar or a whisper. This man wastes no words.

Aloof Ally - self-explanatory.

Tranquil Fury - most of the time. Also, Rage Breaking Point applies when facing Kumo mid-show. Except Kumo promptly wrecks him, without much effort involved. It is only later (After-series) that Kaze recovers most of his power and sanity, and gains equal footing to his rival.

Firing One-Handed - can only do so this way. Only has one hand 99% of the time, the other is bound to the Magun and is reformed only to fire it.

Guns vs Swords - him and Kumo - Demon Gunman vs Demon Swordsman. Gun Dragon vs Sword Dragons.

Hand Cannon - Magun, to a lesser degree Orthrus.

I call it "Vera" - with Orthrus, named after the patron shepherd dog spirit of the sun's blood-haired children.

Improbable Aiming Skills - especially with the Gun Demon sight.

Overheating - the Magun when too many summonings are performed too quickly. As an extension of it, Kaze himself. May result in a death via Spontaneous Human Combustion.

Sawed-off Shotgun - Orthrus, double barreled.

Sniper Pistol - Orthrus.

Trigger Happy - self-explanatory.

Ancestral Weapon - the Magun, passed down the line of the Windarian summoner prodigies.

Made of Indestructium - the Magun, which cannot be broken by anyone short of another Unlimited.

Living Weapon - the Magun. Also, Legendary Weapon.

Shapeshifter Weapon - the Magun, a part of Kaze's body - gauntlet, windmill, gun. Replaces his right arm.

Only the Chosen May Wield - the Magun.

They Call Him "Sword" - except, gun. Kaze views himself as more of a weapon than a person at times. Makes sense, considering he is one - his true body is the Magun, which houses his heart, binds his soul and consciousness, and serves as the core from which his regenerative immortalitysets to work.

Nemesis Weapon - Kaze's Magun to Kumo's Maken. While forged for the same purpose, they govern conflicting energies. Also, Sword vs Gun.

Weapon Wields You - the Magun to Kaze with its funky laser-guided teleportation, always going after Chaos. Oh, Chaos' signature is underneath the ocean? Too bad.

Equippable Ally - Kaze, after reducing himself to the Magun and having Kumo and Lisa wield him to bring out the Gun Dragon.

Human Weapon - Kaze, literally.

Become Your Weapon - Kaze with the Magun.

This is a Drill - the Magun's Soil engine that activates Soil through spiral motion. Combined with a wholeass windmill.

Spectacular Spinning - the Magun's windmill. Plainly put, Spin to Deflect Stuff. Also, Blow You Away applies due to the Tornado Move.

Deadly Rotary Fan - the Magun's windmill used offensively.

Swirling Dust - Soil Spiral on the winds generated by the Magun.

Transformation Is A Free Action - seems to be the case in the series. May not be the case always.

Mechanical Lifeforms - Gun Dragon and all its summons.

Badass Cape - of course.

When Things Spin, Science Happens - the Magun's spinning shenanigans empower Soil.

Stock Footage - the summonings. He is become budget, Destroyer of Chaos. Also Transformation Sequence. Guy has a routine.

Running Gag - his spontaneous appearances, seemingly from nowhere.

Emergency Transformation - soul reforged into a Soil bullet, summoning himself as the Gun Dragon.

Elemental Powers - all the summon spirits.

Soul Power - Soil.

Soul-Powered Engine - the Magun/Gun Dragon.

Merger of Souls - Kaze with all of Magun's leftover Soil, as well as Bahamut's soul that animates Gun Dragon. Also Many Spirits Inside Of One - Endless White as the confluence of all the colors.

Emphatic Weapon - the Magun has a mind of its own, considering it is a vessel for the Gun Dragon.

Shoot the Hostage Taker - with Soljashy. Goddammit, Lisa.

Theme Music Power Up - Demon Gun Dissolve and Demon Gun Shot.

Black Blood - Kaze's blood, corrupted by the Magun's smoke. His earring, made of his own red blood mixed with tree sap, is a reminder of when he was still fully human. Technically also Machine Blood - it serves as a coolant for Magun and catalyst for Soil. Furthermore, My Blood Runs Hot - whenever Magun malfunctions. May be dangerous, as already mentioned.

Important Haircut - Kaze wears his hair long specifically as a "fuck you" to Windarian folk beliefs related to the blood hair curse.

Dark-Skinned Redhead - self-explanatory.

Death Glare - his usual go-to method of communication.

Icy Blue Eyes - a cold stare.

Eyes Do Not Belong There - Gun Dragon, with four eyes on the chest and one on the belly in addition to the four already on its head, also, many other summons, such as Phoenix or Raiden.

Glowing Eyes of Doom - Kaze's special Gun Demon crosshairs eyes, for when the time comes to be particularly scary.

True Sight - Kaze is capable of seeing through most basic illusions due to an extremely sharp spirit sense. Can see certain types of ghosts. Also Supernatural Sensitivity.

Cool Shades - wears a dark lens over his left eye to minimize distraction via Orthtus' muzzle flash. Also, Sunglasses At Night.

Megane - lol.

Lean And Mean - also lol.

Jerkass - he is. Sometimes Jerk With A Heart Of Gold.

Facial Markings - the wave on his nose and the solar marks under his eye.

Power Tattoo - the Embrace (Gun Dragon's claws upon the shoulders.)

Fingerless Gloves - wears an archery glove that covers the pointing finger and thumb only.

Eccentric Artist - also outside of battle. Primarily a poet, draws sometimes.

Being Tortured Makes You Evil - by Chaos, after being possessed. Returned to being good-aligned after some time.

Brainwashed And Crazy - by Chaos, to obsessively hunt Kumo. Now recovered. Also Mind Rape.

Laser-Guided Amnesia - his memory loss and subsequent insane pursuit of Kumo mid-show.

Curse - according to his people's folklore, the unusual color of his hair.

Stress-Induced Mental Voices - happens a lot, bothin hallucinations and the Soil speaking.

Heroic Willpower - to stand strong against Chaos.

Dark and Troubled Past - everything about him. Everything. Also Born Unlucky - cursed from the start.

Sole Survivor - of Windaria's fall.

Last of His Kind - last Windarian.

Meaningful Name - Black Wind.

Rite Of Passage Name Change - from the nickname "Wolf" to his current name, as granted by his clan.

Driven to Madness - first somewhat by his pursuit of power, then more so by Chaos.

No Medication For Me - good luck getting him to medicate for his issues. Chances are it would not work anyway due to his altered nature.

There Are No Therapists - on Windaria.

Good Thing You Can Heal - gets injured or killed multiple times during his quest. Good thing he's immortal, right?

I Can Still Fight! - frequently, especially when Kumo is somehow involved.

Organ Dodge - his heart is no longer in his chest.

Wound That Will Not Heal - still feels a type of phantom pain where his heart once was - the surgery scar is the only scar that refuses to heal.

An Arm And A Leg - the Magun essentially removed his right arm below the elbow.

Arm Cannon - the Magun.

Artificial Limbs - the Magun, replacing Kaze's right arm.

Handicapped Badass - despite possessing only one hand (when Magun not thawed).

Don't You Dare Pity Me! - Kaze and most of the Wind Warriors' culture in general.

All Are Equal In Death - as Soil.

Anti-Hero - also Pragmatic Hero.

The Cynic - self-explanatory.

Badass Creed - “From the Glory of Death, for the Glory of Life.”

Battle Cry - “Soil is my power!” Also Catchphrase and Calling Your Attacks.

Pre-Asskicking One-Liner - sometimes. "What is the matter with the Magun? Why won't you use it?"

Giving Someone the Pointer Finger - “The Soil Charge Triad to use on you has been decided!”

Big Brother Instinct - around Aura.

Parental Abandonment - never knew his parents, grew up on the streets as an orphan.

Summon Magic - Soil-Adherents train in Soil summonings - the Magun allows Kaze control over all summons, except ones of Mist.

Summoning Ritual - the Soil Charge Triad.

Offscreen Teleportation - played for comedic value. Is actually Soil Spiral teleportation, though.

Forced Sleep - induced by Kumo, causing Kaze to slumber for twelve years. Sleep, bitch!

Mage Marksman - self-explanatory.

Warrior Poet - "The gilding of a blood indomitable... True Sanguine."

Religion is Magic - the Soil poetry is sacred to Windarian summoners.

Dark Messiah - as the Dark Unlimited, Hunter of Chaos.

Duelling Messiahs - him and Kumo, who fits the light end of the spectrum. But will Makenshi's purity serve him? Hmm...

In Love With Your Carnage - You can kill efficiently and potentially kick his ass? Hot. Also Power is Sexy.

Magitek - the Magun and all its summons.

Human Alien - Windarians, Kaze's species. Also Proud Warrior Race.

Martyrdom Culture - the Missionary caste Soil-martyring for the Adherents.

#[[headcanon #[[muse meme #what the fuck am I doing? I dunno

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aloisofmissouri · 3 years

Text

A Journal Entry

July 20th, 2021

11:44pm

Trigger Warning:

Sexual Assault, Self Harm,Mental Health, physical health, and occasional swears.

Dear Reader,

I’m only eighteen but I have experienced a lot, and so have many other teens I know. I know at least four of my classmates have been raped at some point in their life. And who knows what others may have been through and I never knew.

But I’m not writing to share their story, unless they decide that they want their story told. As of now, I am writing to share my story.

So, let's start with my earliest memory.

My earliest memory is watching Elmo and Little Bear from my crib in the living room when I was probably a toddler. I don’t remember much, other than enjoying the cartoons. It was happy and innocent. One of the few childhood memories I can look back on and smile.

I was really young when I was first raped. First raped, you caught that part, right? Yeah, I wasn’t raped just once, but multiple times by one man. The man I had grown up calling my father. The man on my birth certificate. I’m not exactly how old I was when it started, but if I had to guess, I was probably in the first or second grade when it went past the occasional groping and lewd comments.

Near the end of third grade, my mother decided to take me and my sibling to live with our grandmother. But that didn’t last long.

We ended up moving back in with our mother and abusive father when I was in fifth grade. I didn’t want to but my father manipulated me into doing so. He threatened to place a restraining order on my grandmother when I wanted to stay with her.

Things were miserable and the abuse continued. But luckily I was able to go back to my grandmother by sixth grade. But I still had to deal with what happened.

I believe my grandmother meant well, but she use to tell me not to let people know what had happened to me. She said that no one would want to be with someone who was raped because a lot of people view them as used or damaged goods basically.

My grandmother was a bit emotionally damaging, though I know she more than likely didn’t know that she was being so. I have reason to believe that she has dementia and possibly a personality disorder.

I remember her saying that I shouldn’t wear plaid or spotted clothing because it would make me look bigger than the broad side of a barn. She also told me to stay away from bright colors because they would have the same effect. I refused to stay away from plaid though, I kept that jacket from middle school until junior year when I could no longer zip it. But it took me a long time to wear bright colors, and it is still hard. I also have a hard time feeling comfortable in my own skin, and not just because of the occasional comment about my weight from my grandmother, but also because of the abuse I had dealt with from my father. I spent the majority of school always wearing jeans, jackets, and dark clothing. I didn’t feel comfortable wearing shorts. And I’m still getting used to wearing them.

I had to go to court in middle school. Someone had apparently turned my father in for what he had done to me (I was living with my grandmother again by then) and we still do not know who reported them. I wish I could thank whoever turned him in.

Sadly, they only gave him three years despite the evidence. And he was only going to have to serve one and a half years because of the amount of time spent in a jail cell waiting for court that kept getting rescheduled. He died of stage four lung cancer though before he was half way through his time.

My freshman year I finally realised I had anxiety and that there was something definitely wrong with me mentally. By my sophomore year, I was self harming and in counselling and diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder, PTSD, OCD, and Anxiety. By junior year I was on a lot of medication thanks to a pill happy psychiatrist. And I was miserable. But thankfully, I found a new psychiatrist who quickly helped me get cut down to just one pill. Near the end of junior year, I quit self harming. And I also finally started to get a bit of control over my mania and my depression.

I have a Google Doc somewhere that has over 150 pages of poetry, and the majority of it is about depression, trauma, and anger. And they were all written during middle school and highschool. Writing poetry helped me then. Now, I don’t really write poetry anymore. I have only written a handful of poems within the last year. And they were mostly in Shakespearean English because I thought it would be fun.

I believe I might have religious anxiety. I don’t remember the technical term though. I grew up going to Baptist Churches and had a heavy christian influence. But sadly, Christians aren’t quite as christian as they are supposed to be.

Due to being constantly worried about sinning and about being too filthy and being damned to hell, my depression and anxiety got to me from a different angle. I kept breaking up with everyone I dated if I feared we were getting too close. I would either feel like I wasn’t good enough or I would fear that we would have sex and I would be damned. I also hated myself for my sexuality, though it took me a long time to figure that out. I supported my LGBTA+ friends but when it came to myself, I couldn’t accept myself.

When I self harmed, I would do it because I felt filthy and had this urge to scratch my skin off my body because I never felt clean. I never hurt myself too severely, just scratches and shallow cuts on my wrist and my thigh. But I still found it hard to quit. It became far too easy to always turn to the blade, regardless of if I was feeling filthy or if I was dissociating or if I was having a panic attack.

Despite what had happened to me, I’m finally starting to become me. Even though I am still discovering who I am. I quite self harming, I don’t have quite as many panic attacks or nightmares, I lost my virginity, learned I am demisexual (leaning a bit towards asexuality though) Panromantic and Nonbinary. I also discovered I have some other health issues outside of my mental health. I am apparently allergic to alphagall, peanuts, and wheat. Thankfully I just get slightly sick if I eat those things though, but it is still a bit annoying when those things are basically in everything you like to eat.

I also found out that the reason my menstrual cycle has always been so irregular is because I have cysts. Originally I thought I had PCOS but now after some ultrasounds, it is looking like Endometriosis. I have cysts on my uterus and my ovaries. The doctor told me that my insurance should cover the surgery if I were to get a total hysterectomy.

I never really wanted to give birth so that part of this doesn’t bother me, my fear is that there will be issues from the surgery. And it has also spurred some identity issues. But so far, I am sticking to they/them pronouns. Even though my family still calls me she/her. But I haven’t really come out to them. They know I’m not 100% straight, but who wants to sit down and explain to their grandmother (who dropped out of school in eight grade to care for her grandma, has a flip phone, and just a few years ago decided to accept the lgbt+ part of her family) that I’m nonbinary? I barely manage to explain to my mother (highschool dropout because of pregnancy, has a touch screen phone and understand some things of the current century) that there is more than just straight, gay, and bisexual. I explained to my mother the other day what omnigender and nonbinary is. Had to explain transgender to my mother when I was a junior and introduced her to a friend of mine who was afab but went by he/him pronouns.

I suppose that despite all the shit I’ve been through, at least my mother doesn’t give two flying fucks who I like. When I told her that I thought I was pansexual in middle school, all she did was ask me what that meant. Then she just nodded her head and went with it. Same thing when I decided I was Wiccan in middle school. She even bought me a pentacle necklace and every book (mostly fantasy) that mentioned witches. I no longer identify as Wiccan, I mostly just stick to animist. But my point being, my mother didn’t throw a fit when two of her nine kids came out as gay. Even if she does identify as a Saturday Adventist, she supports us. She even listens to me ramble about mistranslated things in the Bible and my views on theology. And my rants about Supernatural. Though she did laugh when I spent about an hour crying after the Supernatural second to last episode of season 15. She did listen to me rant about Castiel and the plot lines and everything. Though I had to keep explaining some of the characters to her.

Despite the things I’ve been through, I managed to graduate high school, survive my severe depression and anxiety, and now I am thinking about possibly applying for Law school and going to college. And I now also have the confidence to do what I want and wear what I want. Though I still feel all nervous about asking out a girl I’ve been friends with for about three or more years. I’ve now made the excuse to wait and see if she mentions not being completely straight. Oh, and she now has a boyfriend too so yeah, gonna have to wait a bit.

Until next time,

Alois 🐧

#mentalhealth #metoo #abuse #journal #lgbtq #i swear #trauma #my life #moving forward #heath #depression

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emersonmanandnature · 3 years

Text

August 28, 2021

we enter the churches vestibule

we move toward a large standing

font or stoup used to perform the

sacrament of baptism, a reminder

ones parental duty to get your

babies baptized and never to

forget as you enter the holy church

to make the sign of the cross using

their blessed holy water as you walk

by and then leave the church renewing

your promises to be a good christian

in a gods eye that is blind, silent and invisible

but once let out into the polluted air

one begins again his frustration

with the hypocrisy of our priests,

our religion of accumulated wealth as

the eastern sky, a mystical revelation

of christ’s 20th coming, how predictions

give the church goers hope for their salvation

for it is better to dream of his return than live

in a reality fixed in greed and hate of others

—

our church becoming a redundancy

of words losing their mystical power,

why praise his holiness for leaving

us at the mercy of wealth and this

hypocrisy of truth, for it is twisted

to time, the elites punctuality in stealing

from the people their daily hopes

for they limit their visibility by wearing

their god fearing attire their suits of immoral,

selfish desires to rape and murder all that

stand in the way of their progress, not the

world’s needs, are you kidding where is

the fear if you share your power with the

minions of known normalcy and lost hope

---

the interior church doors open to the

nave the main room of the catholic

church where we sit in rows of pews

or use the kneeler depending on where

the priest is during his mass as we

bow our heads in prayer and then raise

our eyes to the main attraction our

jesus nailed to the cross for our salvation

—-

along the side of the church under

beautiful stained glass windows

honoring religious figures and paintings

begins christ’s journey to be crucified on

his own cross, saving our sinful nature

by dying for us and condemning us to

a priestly nightmare of greed, murder

and desecration of god’s willful, sly

abandonment of his flock of suckers

and please don’t light the candles

until you put some cash in the basket

for all must be paid for if you dream of

a heavenly mansion resting on cumulus

clouds floating above your head as

you rise up with angel wings, you need

to be put away in a place that does no

harm, for what finally came out of our

holy bible of despair was the fact

that while on earth the people must

follow the wealthy that have no faith

in our lord jesus christ but do have

faith in their own greedy power plays

there is a savageness in our holy bible

and it is reflected in our own mental

makeup for we are intelligent animals

and we look out for ourselves first

and others only if they cow down to

our opulence of greed, nothing has changed

in our history for centuries and still we

don’t see our own manipulations of

ours lives by the wealthy for we are

use to obeying powerful forces, invisible

forces that control our lives for profit, for

our lives are incidental to those that rule

this planet for they focus their lives not

in their mental makeup but in their

physical space, that through the centuries

they have learned to control and exploit

these human beings not as god’s angels

of peaceful worship but the deep seeded

existence of evil instilled in them for

centuries by their father, our lord and by their

mother, our holy mother without remorse

or caring for those that are left by the roadside

to fight amongst themselves for salvation

---

as human kind has slowly moved away

from all our fake god’s past lies, we see

in front of the parishioners an alter rail

where the congregants receive holy

communion, we feel humbled by christ

sacrificing himself or was told by his

heavenly father to get his ass down to earth

and do something constructive for a

change and preach his holy word all about

me, your kingly father and then make do

with a godly twist by dying for their sins,

---

a perfect scheme to keep the people in

awe by a bible tweaked by the bishops

with Constantine ordering them to

arrange the bible for his satisfaction

at the council of nicaea, and why the

limitations of only a selected few prophets

to be part of the biblical scam on human

nature trying to please the rulers of this

planet eliminating any change to a new

order of awareness knowing that human

beings are the new power, for the new

gods are the wealthy tricksters that

have ruled this planet in the gluttony

of selfish desires, killing at will anyone

that disregarded their status of powerful

influence on all people chosen to be the

lackeys of the rich that represent the

absolute need of the oligarchs ego power

to be worshiped as our savior but gives

to the people nothing but sorrow and

then death but heaven awaits, where,

your guess is as good as mine, the depth

of this glorious scam, a none stop fiasco of

greedy human beings taking what they can

from the people as they make-up the exact

location of our paradise on saturn or maybe

another far, far away dot in a vast sparkling

universe of devilish doubt and exploitation

---

the crucifix a means of ritual domination

a prominence in the churches sanctuary

a place to kneel and pray for your sinful

nature, you are only important when you

give to the priest his just rewards, he

---

moves to the left side of the alter, to

the pulpit, from which the gospels will

be read, the teaching of christ given

freely to the bowing heads in tears

at their nonexistent sins but yet one needs

to tell the priest that your sinful nature

is getting better, on the right side is the

lectern, from which the priest or a member

of the eternal order will read from the

epistles, or the words of the apostles,

now the priest goes to the main alter

and in the middle is the center of the

sanctuary, the priest lights the candles

and goes to the tabernacle where the

blessed sacraments are located, the

sanctuary lamp, which symbolizes

the prince of jesus and he raises the

eucharist, the flesh of god and then

drinks the wine symbolizing the last

supper where our hearts are filled

with darkness and our minds greedy

for power and money in off shore

accounts, a safety net for thieves,

and the drunk priest stumbles while

leaving the alter and the congregation

is silent as the worshipers retreat into

their own selfish lives knowing that

our god will forgive evil when we are

ready for our own eternal hell on earth

#worship #greedy hands #priest #oligarchs #road side #salvation #cjcorwinoriginal

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pastel-vampires · 3 years

Text

The Vampire Muses. Keep in mind reading the wiki was the best source of information I could get for a majority of these characters since I can’t get my hands on the games.

Ayato Sakamaki:

Age: 16

The attention whore seeker

Likes: Takoyaki and pranking people.

Hates: Water. Ghosts/Ghost stories.

In his childhood, his mother would strictly force him into studying so he could succeed as the heir to the Sakamaki line. Often threatening him or giving him deathly punishments when he didn’t meet her expectations. This would lead to his slight fear of water, as one of the punishments involved her shoving him in a lake to drown until she decided that he should have learned something from it.

The only triplet who is left handed. Would rather play sports like basketball than sit down and study. Consumes an abundant amount of Takoyaki. His hobbies involve Basketball, glorifying himself as ‘Yours Truly’, and collecting Medieval torture chamber items as decorations for his room. (the deadly parts of them removed for when he decides to sleep in them.)

Fear him on April 1st, for he WILL find a way in pranking someone. Anyone. Once he finds a way to prank someone, he WILL take the opportunity.

Other notes: He insists on referring to himself as “Yours Truly”/Ore-sama (in Japanese it basically translates to a masculine word for ‘me/I’ with the honorific meaning ‘master’)

Total rebel. Also a bit of a tsundere but not as much as Subaru. Like the rest of his siblings, he has a hard time opening up to people. He’s closest sibling is Laito. But he also has a protective nature over Kanato.

Headcanons: Possibly a Pansexual. Will trick/prank all of his siblings at least once per year.

Romances: He’ll want your full attention and admiration. He’ll want your praise and approval. He’s been made to believe that he had to be the best or he was better off cast aside and dead in a lake somewhere. He fears rejection.

Kanato Sakamaki:

Age: 16 (believe it or not)

The tantrum brat/ “hysteric”

Likes: Teddy and Sweets. (And Attention)

Hates: Bitter and Spicy things. When people hold Teddy without his permission. When people do ANYTHING without his permission.

Since childhood, he has spent most of his time all by himself with only Teddy to confide in as his only trusted ally. His mother would only give him attention when telling him to sing for her, finding his voice to “warm her up” (she really messed him up by having him sing while she had her affairs. How can a kids singing arouse her? What the heck was wrong with her? What the hay? Why did she force him to do that until his vocal cords bled? How the fudge sundae?)

Other: he’s a mix of a tsundere AND a yandere, quite a deadly combination.

Headcanon: he is asexual but because of how he was raised, thinks that one HAS to enter sex at some point. Witnessing a lot of his mothers sexual affairs led him to believing that he had to give them pleasure. One of the efforts involved combing their hair. Her mothers influence has led him to believe that all women are selfish and always desires sex. If they don’t, then he sees them as prudes or just shy. He’s been left alone for so long that he was left to the mercy of his already messed up thoughts. He has a certain belief of how his little world should be and hates it when the things around him never fit in that world.

Romances: He bites and punishes hard, but his kisses are always gentle. No matter if he’s angry or not. Never will he bite someone on the lips. Since he was left alone to play with his dolls more than his brothers, he enjoys comparing those he is fond of as dolls rather than people.

Laito Sakamaki:

Age: 16 (believe it or not he is NOT a clone of Ayato or a slightly grown up version of him)

The manwhore

Likes: fancy things. Macarons. Crossword Puzzles

Hates: bugs and creepy crawlies. (I’m going to have TOO much fun with this)

*breathes* the insufferable “pervert’, as everyone ‘knows’ him as. He often seduces women and ‘gives them pleasure’ in his own sadistic ways. As this was the only way he could express ‘love’. (seriously their mother messed all of them up. I don’t know exactly how old he was when she started going after him for an incestuous ‘love affair’. It’s gross. And he didn’t like it. But because he was the most neglected of the trio in his childhood, this was the only form of attention she ever gave to him, and he was made to believe that this was ‘good’. It’s a really messed up situation.) He’s the most social and cheerful of the Sakamakis.

Headcanons: He knows how to speak French, being known as the ‘romantic language’, he took an interest in it in an attempt to be more flirtatious. But during this journey into learning the French language, he discovered Macarons. Which became a genuine favorite of his. He believes that his pervert facade is real and will get offended if someone states it otherwise.

He’s bisexual, but due to the environment around him (andespeciallyhowhismothermessedhimup) was made to believe that people can only be attracted to the opposite sex

Romances: He’s a giver more than a receiver, but he likes being in control of what goes on. All he knows is sex, he doesn’t understand what love is other than that. (their mother truly messed them up. But he’ll put up a mask and think there’s nothing wrong. Even though he still doesn’t know why there are times where he doesn’t ALWAYS like having sex.)

Subaru Sakamaki:

Age: 16

The Tsundere badboy.

Likes: bread.

Hates: social interactions. Roses (specifically white ones. This came as a surprise since he’s always in the rose garden.)

Due to a… LOT of emotions bottling up since he was a kid, he has a tendency in lashing out and punching inanimate objects in order to process his festering anger.

He’s the only one who had even a small- or even a semblance- of a healthy bond with his mother, but she became mentally unstable and had to be locked up in a tower (Rapunzel?) there would be times where she would have ‘episodes’ and only he was able to handle them. This warped his gentle nature into a more protective self, and as time went on, into a festering wrath. This only worsened after she pleaded for him to kill her. Hence the knife that he is often seen holding. One that is able to kill vampires.

He gets irritated easily. He doesn’t have any hobbies. He spends most of his time either looking at the rose garden or hermit it up in his coffin (he sometimes adds things to make it feel more comfortable.) He’d much rather stay in a coffin than attend anything.

Notes: his mother used to sing him to sleep when he was a child. (absolutely adorable) He was the only vampire to give Yui a chance of escaping, even giving her his silver knife to defend herself. Maybe even kill him if needed.

Headcanons: He doesn’t have taste. He likes bread okay because of the texture, but his tongue can’t even recognize sour things. This might be caused by his mother having poisoned him at some point and had a lasting effect? But highly unlikely because of vampire regeneration properties.

Yet another left handed boi.

Kou Mukami

Age:17

The Two-Faced model

Likes: cats. Dancing.

Hates: pain.

This pretty boy has had... quite an unfortunate life. Thanks to the horrible events that took place in his childhood, Kou views the world as a ‘give and take’ view. And it will be quite a while before anyone can change that world view. Because of this, he will often portray a friendly, cheerful, and complimentary personality. But he will always expect something in return for his behavior and ‘gifts’. If he gives a bouquets of roses, he expects something to make up for it in return.

He has a job as a model and is often surrounded by girls at the night school he attends regularly. Which he doesn’t particularly care for. (He is literally the only one in the family with a job.)

Major Trigger warning here: He was raped as a child. Don’t tell me he wasn’t, what the crap did those people DO to him? They hurt him even when he gouged out his own eye in a desperate attempt to make himself flawed so they would leave him alone. But that didn’t work and somehow they saw that as making him more desirable? He has nightmares often because of this and will cling to whatever is around him in an attempt to hide from the horror of reaching hands. He often clings tot he things around him every night because of these reoccurring night terrors. He was given a glass eye that allows him to see people’s true intentions.

Headcanons: He has an immaculate hunger and can- and WILL- eat more than his fair share if those around him aren’t careful. Guard your food while he’s around!

Notes: another left handed boy.

Azusa Mukami:

Age: 17

The ONLY option for a Masochistic boy.

Likes: collecting knives is his hobby

Dislikes: neglect and being hated.

As a child, he wandered the street with no real purpose. Thanks to a group of children who thrived in beating him, he believed that his only self worth was to be used for pain. Hence he has grown a fascination of it. Whether it is to give or receive pain, Azusa is there for it. He’s slow in movement as well as talking. Often seen spacing out. But is probably the only sweet-heart of a vampire in the entire show. If a little pushy at times.

He names his limbs after the children who had injured them enough to leave scars, since they were killed and he was left without a purpose once again. This was before he was sent to a orphanage and met Ruki, Yuma, and Kou who became his family.

Notes: his hobby is collecting knives. (Yet another left handed boy.) He is ‘weak against heat’ (I imagine he melts into sleep like a cat when finding this out) he is able to fall asleep standing up. (that’s pretty impressive)

Headcanons: He’s a very respectable boy and often speaks mostly in respect. Albeit a little pushy at times. His brothers often worry about him and have to make sure that he eats enough at their breakfast, Lunch, and dinner, since he doesn’t do a good job in taking care of himself.

#Diabolik Lovers RP #Diabolik Lovers RP blog #{muses}

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bihansthot · 4 years

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Thanks for requesting this beautiful nightmare lovely yandere anon! So after spending all last night watching Yandere routes in dating sims and wracking my ancient, out of date anime knowledge I think I managed to figure it out. This ask is not fucking around guys, it’s not an “UwU Bi-Han’s so dark and misunderstood’ type deal, so please know that in advance. Kuai Liang’s isn’t TOO bad, but it’s very manipulative and gaslighty but Bi-Han’s is not for the feint of hear. Both contain implied kidnapping/reader being held against their will elements, but Bi-Han’s involves mentions of murder, torture, rape and a lot of physical abuse. Sensitive readers should skip this one, but if you can’t get enough of yandere head canons/fics go check out @mortalkombatyanderehcs they did a phenomenal Noob Saibot one that inspired @darkpanik to write a fantastic fic. Pleas let me know if there’s a tag or something I need to add, I’m honestly not really sure how to tag this one. Also please note just because I wrote it doesn’t mean I condone it, so if it’s not your cup of tea just skip it.

On to the Yandere goodness (badness?) and off to get ready to party I go!

Kuai Liang:

Kuai Liang is so calm and thoughtful that the thought of him being any other way never crossed your mind.

He knows absolutely everything about his S/O down to the smallest, most insignificant details, because that’s part of how he shows he cares. So, like little things like knowing how long it takes you to get ready, or how you do your hair differently some days because you slept on it funnily are things he knows and points out. Which all seem really endearing at first, but the longer you’re with him the more particular he becomes. He’ll call and text you incessantly if you’re late, of course he’s just worried and wants to know where you are, what you’re doing, why you’re late, who are you with, did something happen, do you need him to come there right away, what’s wrong. He panics easily.

Kuai Liang isn’t big on using his physical strength to control and influence his S/O, he prefers a mental approach coupled with extreme clinginess, he needs to be with you at all times, or as often as he can. If he can’t physically be there with you in person, he has no problems asking one of his students to keep an eye on you while he’s away, but he hates letting other people near you and will often berate himself about how stupid and worthless he is for not being able to be with you himself

Kuai Liang is extremely protective of his S/O too but does so in a very different way than his older brother does. He’s not a fan of unnecessary killing, so he uses his words to steer you away from people he doesn’t like. He tends to play on his S/O’s weaknesses in unassuming ways too, so if you don’t like being alone, he’ll always offer to be with you so you aren’t lonely, but he does it in a way that makes you fear being alone more. “I can go home if you want me to, but what if something happened and I’m not here to protect you? Or you slip and fall? You’re pretty clumsy sometimes you know *chuckles* You’re pretty helpless with out me, but I guess it can’t be helped, I’ll just stay over tonight. Oh no it’s no inconvenience, you’re more important anyway. *smiles*”

He apologizes to his S/O a lot too, usually over things he has no real control over, like if his S/O is hungry, he’ll apologize for not realizing it sooner, or if a store is sold out of your favorite ice cream he’ll apologize for that, and ask if you want to check another place. It’s always dumb little things that are no big deal, but they become a big deal for him because he can’t control it, he gets really upset and down on himself about it and continues to apologize for not being a better boyfriend, or how he wished he could make you as happy as you make him. Afterall he’s just like this because he wants you to be happy.

Kuai Liang is terrified something will happen to you, it’s a founded fear that you understand though, he’s lost his family, his brother, best friend, his clan, Frost, everyone he can’t lose you too.

He’ll eventually convince you to move into the temple to be closer to him, he has an escort with you at all time, and there are always guards posted outside the door, for your safety of course. Kuai Liang tends to be pretty paranoid that someone from his past, like Frost or Noob Saibot; might be lurking around any corner waiting to hurt you to get to him. He knows that’s something either of them would do, and it worries him a great deal because he cares for you so deeply that he would just die if anything happened to you.

Kuai Liang respects your consent to a much larger degree than his brother does, but he’s pushy about it “You love me so it’s ok right? Please Y/N, I don’t know what I would do without you, I’m so alone, so this is fine isn’t it? Please just let me love you. I love you so much, just let me show you…”

He won’t kill your friends and family the way Bi-Han will, Kuai Liang just makes your friends and family think that you’re dead so they stop looking for you. He goes as far as faking your funeral and showing up as the grieving boyfriend, of course he won’t tell you any of this though, he just makes you think they’ve always hated you. “See they don’t love you, I’m the only one who does. I’m the only one who cares about you, it’s always been me. It always will be me; I love you so much Y/N. I’m so sorry they were so cruel to you, but we’re together now and I’ll always love you, always…” his awkward, twisted guise of affection doesn’t even register as anything out of place or off putting to you, you’re too enthralled up by Kuai Liang’s seemingly loving words and actions to know any better.

Kuai Liang doesn’t need to break you, or physically mistreat you or do anything like that, it’s the opposite, he’s so loving, so doting, so caring that you eventually forget you ever had a life outside the Lin Kuei walls, before you met him and you’re more than content to stay by his side forever.

Bi-Han:

He is so charismatic and charming, always grinning and smirking, doing little things to show off or make you smile that you never see it coming.

In the beginning Bi-Han’s always keeping tabs on his S/O, he knows when you’re low on food, or drinks or anything like that, so when you come home from work he leaves you little notes with the groceries he leaves you. You haven’t given him a key to your place yet, but why would that be a deterrent for a master thief and professional assassin? You don’t think much of it, after all he’s so considerate to save you a trip to the store after a long day at work.

Bi-Han is extremely protective and possessive, to a terrifying degree. Once the two of you start to get serious you need to be very careful about how you talk about your coworkers, friends or family, you don’t connect the dots at first. It never even occurred to you that the day after you had complained about your manager blaming you for his mistakes and yelling at you at work had anything to do with him having a “heart attack” later that night and ending up dead. It was also really weird that the creepy guy who always tried to hit on you at work apparently ended up getting locked in a walk-in freezer and was found frozen to death just after you complained to Bi-Han about his unwelcome advances. What a weird coincidence, right?

It starts with little things though, like him squeezing your hand too hard, or using too much force to pull you away from your concerned looking friends when he wants your undivided attention. He’s so strong though, he just doesn’t realize it, that has to be it, he would never intentionally hurt you, would he? Bi-Han is a very physical man, he tells you he doesn’t want to hurt you, and what he does is for your own good, and that if you had just listened to him in the first place he wouldn’t have had to do this, it’s your fault.

Things get so much worse when you agree to move in with him, he doesn’t yell or things like that when he’s mad, he doesn’t need to, he finds other, much crueler ways to keep you in line.

This is a man that gods could not hide or protect themselves from, you don’t stand a chance if you get on his bad side, you’d be wise to do as you’re told.

If you aren’t wise or don’t take Bi-Han seriously, don’t say I didn’t warn you. Sooner or later Bi-Han will become enamored with you to the point where he doesn’t want to share you with anyone else, not your coworker, not your friends, not even your family, he’ll insist he’s all you need, after all you’re all he needs, it’s only fair you belong only to him right?

He’ll keep you in the lap of luxury, but you will be chained up and not allowed to wander around his apartment unless he’s there, but let’s say you’re really clever and manage to escape. Big mistake. He will hunt you down with so much speed and ease it’s sickening, but he won’t strike right away, that would be too easy. He’d rather play a stomach-churning game of cat and mouse instead.

What follows will become a slow, torturous nightmare of watching your friends and family members killed one by one, and it’s not quick clean kills, oh no, you’ll wake up to find frozen body parts of what you think is your best friend in your bed one morning. So, you flee to your family for help, but the police are worthless against a Lin Kuei.

He will go so far as torturing and mutilating your family in front of your eyes, he doesn’t need to tie you up to make you watch, he’ll just freeze you in place as he freezes their limbs one by one, shattering them into frozen, bloody shards. His unhinged expression and crazed laughter will be something you won’t be able to forget as long as you live. Eventually everyone you know, and love ends up dead, and it’s all your fault, Bi-Han never would have done this if you had just come back to him, you made him do this.

When you finally give in, after losing everything, he takes you back to his apartment, he doesn’t bother chaining you up this time, you got loose last time so what’s the point, he just breaks both of your legs instead, it’s not a clean break either, he shatters them. You won’t ever be able to leave him again because you’ll never be able to walk again.

There’s no such thing as consent with Bi-Han either, you belong to him and as far as he’s concerned, that’s all the consent he needs. You struggle and protest foolishly at first, going as far as to tell him he doesn’t have your permission to touch you, then you’ll feel his icy grip cutting off your air supply, as he nearly crushes your windpipe. His usually handsome face contorted into a horrifying smirk, “Can’t touch you? Oh Y/N, what makes you stupid enough to think I need permission to touch one of my possessions? You are mine.” He can and does use you whatever way he feels like and eventually you’re too far gone to care, he’s finally broken you and you finally realize everything he’s done is just how he shows he loves you. That’s all it is, it’s just that he just wants to his and only his because he loves you so, so much. “He hurts me because he cares…” You should have listened.

(Yeesh, Polar Bear WTF… I need to add in for my own sake that Bi-Han would never hurt your pets though, because we have some limits here in Tomoka Land, and hurting animals is unforgivable.)

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