#and stress is one of the many many things that can cause a flare.

[danielnelsen]

there’s so much i wanna do this week/month/etc but i’m just too sick, i have no energy, i can’t sleep, i’m constantly nauseous and headachey and on the verge of a migraine, i’m stressed and irritable and impatient and panicky…….how tf did i survive nearly 5 years of high school untreated if i can’t even manage this when i don’t have any major obligations rn

[icewindandboringhorror]

mentally ill people who for whatever reason end up wearing the same exact clothing so many days in a row that it begins to disintegrate and will still not stop wearing it until it’s literally just scraps of fabric VS. those weird shitty rich people who ‘’can’t be seen in the same outfit twice’’ human dichotomy 

[rjzimmerman]

Excerpt from this story from Mother Jones:

When a man with painful cystic acne came to dermatologist Eva Rawlings Parker for help in a Nashville clinic, she couldn’t prescribe him doxycycline or minocycline, two medications she’d typically use to treat this condition. This is because the man was a roofer, says Parker, and these medications would have impacted his ability to tolerate heat. 

Parker’s patient was far from alone. Other common medications for physical health, like beta blockers, can impact people’s ability to handle heat. Many medications for mental health do, too.

Conventional wisdom tells people with conditions that make them unusually vulnerable to the sun, like the autoimmune disorder lupus, or are on medications that lead to heat sensitivity, to avoid staying outside when the sun is at its strongest.

But for the one-third of US workers who must spend regular time outdoors, that advice bursts into flames. For some, such as farmworkers, hours and hours of heat exposure, with minimal or no reprieve, are just part of the job. Increasing heat waves and more frequent wildfires point to the need to find real solutions for outdoor workers—and highlight how labor and climate change are intertwined. 

Edward Flores, faculty director of the Community and Labor Center at the University of California, Merced, specializes in the conditions of low-wage and immigrant workers in California. He says the need for heat safety policy reform is acute. “We know that workers have been dying,” Flores says, “because of chronic conditions that accumulate through heat stress over many years and decades that lead to shorter life spans.”

Parker, the dermatologist, is acutely aware of how heat can trigger or worsen skin problems. She is co-chair of the American Academy of Dermatology’s group on climate change and environmental issues, and was an author of a 2023 review on the ways climate change can contribute to dermatological issues, including triggering flares of conditions like hidradenitis suppurativa—which causes painful lumps deep in a person’s skin—and skin cancer.

Workers do have some legal rights to breaks and water, depending on the locale. California, Oregon, and Washington are the only states that mandate those breaks. And roughly half of crop farmworkers have no legal work authorization. That lack of legal status, and the threat of deportation, gives many workers reason to fear complaining about working conditions.

In July, the Occupational Safety and Health Administration proposed a new set of rules which would help protect more than 36 million workers from heat-related illness or death. The proposed OSHA rules would require employers to monitor their workers for heat exhaustion symptoms, provide adequate water and shade, designate break areas, and provide mandatory rest breaks, among other things. 

[lou-struck]

Made With Love Part 3

OM Brothers & Datables x reader pt.3

Featuring Special parts with Satan, Asmodeus, Beelzebub, Belphegor

SERIES MASTERLIST HERE

Part 1 Here

~Now that you know how to nullify the Love Potion's effects, you wander the castle in search of your loved ones. But as you venture through these darkened halls you feel like you are being hunted.

WC: 7.1k

Warnings: Love Potion based personality changes, obsessive behaviors, mention of suggestive behavior, lots of teasing, kissing, touching, etc, Reader is implied to be smaller than Beel.

Asmodeus’ part alludes to past experiences of SA (not with the reader). If that topic makes you uncomfortable please skip it.

a/n:  sorry for the wait my friends. I know so many of you have been looking forward to this part so I hope you like it!

Intro~

The air in Solomon's lab smells both burnt and strangely damp as Luke pushes his way inside. His little heart is pounding furiously as the door shuts behind him. Bits of dried herbs from experiments past litter the ground and crunch under the angel's feet. 

Running from the palace has left him winded, and the stress from the situation makes his heart beat furiously in his chest, but he can't rest. 

How could he after what he did? 

Guiltily, he pulls out his DDD and taps on the darkened screen. It glows to life at his touch, illuminating the sweet photo of you and him working behind the counter at the RAD bake sale; one look at your kind smile sends him plunging into the deep dark sea of guilt as he is reminded once again that he is the one responsible for sending you into the lion's den to save everyone. Although he knows that none of his friends would ever hurt you, he worries that their love potion induced obsession may unintentionally cause them to act carelessly. Nervously, he checks his notifications and sees that he has no new messages from you. Which at least means that everything on your end is turning out alright. 

All he has to do is find the recipe book that Solomon used to make the mysterious Potion and somehow use the knowledge from his Devildom Alchemy 101 class to reverse engineer the antidote before his unpredictable, love-sick friends try to do something stupid. 

Seems simple enough…

But as Luke's eyes scan the cluttered countertops and bookshelves, he wonders if there is any order in this cluttered chaos. Books are everywhere, they overflow the shelves, lean precariously over the tables, and some are dangerously close to the enchanted burners. 

"How am I supposed to find the book Solomon used in this mess?" He cries aloud. The lab does not answer back and Luke is met with the last thing he needs right now; silence.

Right now, you need a hero, a guardian angel. And Luke will do whatever he has to do to save your special day and free everyone from the effects of the Love Potion.

He takes a deep breath and looks determinedly at his reflection in an old mirror that Solomon keeps around so he can see the physical effects his mystery potions have, "I got this." he says, placing his hands on his hips and striking something that Asmodeus refers to as a power pose. 

This confident posture fills him with hope as the little angel rolls up his sleeves and begins to get to work.

~

"Man, my head is killin' me." Mammon groans, tossing his white hair back onto the back of one of the banquet room's many velvet armchairs. "That damn potion gave me one helluva hangover."

Sprawled on a sofa across the room lies Lucifer, who holds a cold rag to his forehead as he flinches in annoyance at every word from his younger brother. "Silence, Mammon," He murmurs in a murderously low tone. Dark tendrils of energy flare up from around him, darkening the already dimly lit room. "If you continue to run your mouth, I promise you I will string you up till you turn purple."

Mammon's eyes widen in fear, "Right… Noise… Headache… Sorry." he gulps nervously as the dark flames die down. "I'll be quiet."

"Thank you," his brother says, rubbing his temple. "I'm glad we have reached an understanding."

Mammon sinks deeper into his seat as an uncomfortable silence befalls the room. He just can't believe that the afternoon has turned into this period. He was supposed to be having a great time with you and stealing every second of your time that he could. Now, he's confined to the banquet hall, feeling like he just got run over by a pack of HellHounds. 

His head is practically throbbing with discomfort, and all he wants to do is go home and lie down in a dark room with you in his arms. 

'Why did that damn Chihuahua have to go and ruin everything?' he thinks to himself, too worried to speak aloud after Lucifer's threat. If he hadn't eaten that damn cookie, he probably would've been able to steal you away and remind you why he is your First Demon.

He continues to wallow in his self-pity and potion-induced hangover until the door to the banquet hall opens slowly. Levi takes small steps with his squeaky shoes, leaving a puddle of pool water behind him in his wake.

Intrigued by his brother's drenched appearance, Lucifer sits up a bit in his chair, and his cold rag falls off of his forehead. "do I even want to know what happened?"

Levi's eyes widen, and a deep red blush creeps up his neck. "I don't wanna talk about it." He mumbles shyly.

"Why are ya all wet?" Mammon asks from his spot; although he's curious, he keeps his voice low so as not to invoke the Wrath of Lucifer. "Did Mc see how ya were actin' like a jerk and toss ya in?"

"No…" he mumbles, looking down at his dripping shoelaces. "I pulled them in."

Both brothers jolt upwards and look at each other in alarm.  "Oi, what do ya mean ya pulled em in? Didn't ya know humans are fragile? They can't grow gills like ya can, idiot." Mammon spews worriedly. 

Lucifer, on the other hand, has fallen murderously silent, his hands gripping the arm of his sofa until the enchanted wood begins to crack under his palms. "

"I-it's not like I wanted to do it." Levi stutters, trying to defend himself. "I-it was the potion, it made me want t-to keep them someplace only I could get to."

"And do what?" Mammon asks, rolling up his sleeves as if his fist is about to make contact with the Otaku's face. "Drown 'em?"

Levi opens his mouth, but no sound escapes him. His poor brain is too busy trying to process the whirlwind of emotions swimming around in his fandom-filled brain. Guilt, Exhaustion, Lust…Lucifer clears his throat. "Clearly, you are going to have to make it up to Mc after this whole nightmare is over." he pauses for a moment as a bit of shame flashes in his crimson gaze. His features fall as he recalls his previous behavior. "We all do."

"Not me," Mammon adds unhelpfully. This partially true statement earns him a death glare from both his brothers. 

Satan~

"Come on, come one, come on," you mumble as you hold the power button to your waterlogged DDD in vain. But the screen doesn't even humor you with a weak flicker or a hum.

"Shit," you mutter, sliding the dead weight into your still-damp pockets. "Damn it Levi."

Deep down, you know it's wrong to blame the Avatar of Envy for this. After all, it was only because of the Love Potion that compelled him to lure you into the water like some kind of demonic siren and unintentionally destroying your clothes and your device.

But every squeaky step in your still-wet shoes has you wanting to send him the bill for your replacement DDD. 

Knowing how embarrassed he felt when you broke the spell on him, he probably would give you double what you asked for.

With a shrug, you shove the destroyed tech into your soaked pocket and continue your search for the others. 

Although this wasn't the day you had planned for, you have to say this lovey-dovey scavenger hunt of yours is definitely amusing to you. Getting to see the Brothers and apparently everyone else acting completely different is nothing short of entertaining. 

But as you continue to search, your wet clothes feel uncomfortable on your body; if you are going to find everyone before the end of the day, you'll need to get changed into something else. Something dry. Something more comfortable.

As you turn the corner you realize that you have been in this part of the castle before. The familiarity of this hall comforts you as you follow the path to the spare room Diavolo had gifted you for the nights you choose to stay over. Where your dresser of your spare clothing awaits you.

You step into the room as the door shuts behind you a bit louder than you expected it to. Now alone in your safe place, you take a moment for yourself and grab a set of loungewear to throw on; the soft fabric feels much better against your skin than the wet, scratchy garments of minutes past. 

Glancing down at the pile of your wet clothes on the floor, you grimace and take them to your spacious private bathroom to dry over the tub. It only takes a moment, but when you come back into the bedroom, you notice the hallway door is open.

'That's odd,' you say aloud, "I thought that door shut when I came in."

Before fear can begin to simmer in your gut, you are ambushed from behind by a warm figure. You let out a yelp as you lose your balance and fall over onto the carefully made bed with your attacker. 

You squirm, trying to twist out of the firm grip around your waist with no success. When you feel the unnatural warmth radiating from your attacker's skin, you pause and notice the familiar blond head of hair that nuzzles into the nape of your neck. Relief crashes into you like you're a bird in a window cleaner commercial, and you stop fighting. "Satan?"

Upon hearing his name, the Demon perks up and pulls away to get a look at you. And aside from the hearts where his pupils should be, the usually intelligent avatar of Wrath appears to not have a single thought behind his eyes.

"Cutie pie." He hums, reaching up and pinching your cheek. "I missed you so much."

"You missed me?" You tease, a smile curling up on your lips in amusement. You ruffle his layered blonde hair, and he seems to lean into your touch like an eager puppy. His usual cat-like nature is completely gone, thanks to the effects of the strange love potion.

"Soooo much," he whines. "I haven't seen you in forever."

"Oh really?" you hum. "So, what have you been doing up here?" 

"Was looking for you…" hu murmurs, "But then I got lost and didn't know how to find you; I got worried I would never see you again, and I got really sad."

"It's only been four hours." You remind him gently. 

He furrows his brow and cocks his head in confusion. "Oh. How long is that again?"

"Not long at all," you say, taking your hand away from his head. When the Demon no longer feels the heavenly sensation of your touch, he looks up at you with big eyes full of hurt. You feel unbelievably guilty as you place your hand back atop his head and once again return to playing with his hair.

That lovesick smile returns to his face, and you are sure that if he was in his demon form, his tail would be wagging like crazy. His heart-shaped pups seem to come in and out of focus as he looks at you. "You're the goodest ever." he smiles.

"Guess what? You're even better," you respond.

One simple compliment seems to be what drives him over the top. His blush deepens as he tosses his head back and laughs. He giggly kicks his feet on the side of his bed as he wraps his arms around you again.

"Noooooo, you're the bestest." He says stubbornly.

All right then, you win." You relent. "Do you want to know what you win as a prize?"

"What do I get?" he says eagerly, crunching his hands into fists. As cute as he is acting, you really need to break the spell. Cute puppy love is entertaining, but you know that the real Satan would hate the way he's acting now.

Gently, you take your hand and cup his cheek. He's all smiles and adoration as you lean in to claim his lips.

The moment your lips touch his, you feel his body tense up with realization, his posture straightens, and he seems to be recovering his sense of self. 

By the time you open your eyes, the Satan you know and love is back. 

"The details of how I got here may be blurry," he says softly, gently stroking the side of your face. "But ending up here with you certainly was worth it."

Now you're the one blushing.

"How are you feeling?" You ask, taking a step backward to give the Demon his space. "What do you remember?"

"He concentrates for a minute as if he is mentally tracing his steps. When embarrassment takes over his features, you know he has figured it out. "It was the cookies, wasn't it?"

"Yep," you respond, relieved that Satan is back to his usual inquisitive self.  "Luke used a bowl from Solomon's lab, and it had some weird personality-changing love potion in it."

He grimaces, no doubt recalling his behavior. "Mc, words cannot begin to express how ashamed I am of my actions, but I'm relieved that you were the only one present to witness my behavior. If I made you feel uncomfortable in any way, please accept my sincerest apologies."

"It's all good cutie pie." You say, mimicking his lovely dovey attitude from before. 

He freezes and looks at you with a dull seriousness in his green eyes. "What do I have to do to make you forget this ever happened?"

"Hmmm, I don't know if I want to forget about this," you tease him, stepping closer to you to the point you are chest to chest. 

"What If I gave you a real kiss?" he smirks, cupping your face gently. "Nothing like that pathetic excuse for one I gave you earlier."

"Are you bribing me?" You ask, endeared amusement lacing your voice as you look up at the avatar of Wrath.

"Perhaps," he grins. "I've read that kisses are an acceptable payment between lovers."

"Well then, I guess we're doing it by the book." You say, gladly accepting his payment. He kisses you desperately. Seemingly devouring your very soul as if it were the newest edition of his favorite series. But behind the genuine passion and adoration, he moves with a certain intelligence, knowing just what he has to do to take your breath away. 

By the time you are able to breathe your own air again, you notice that Satan is beginning to feel the fatigue from the Potion's effects. His skin looks pale, and you can tell he is trying to fight off the impending headache. "Are you okay?" you ask, keeping your voice soft so as not to cause him any more discomfort as his hangover-esque symptoms begin. 

"Yes, I'm alright," he murmurs. 

"No, you're not. The others were like this too; you should go back to the banquet hall and lay down."

"But what about you?" The concern in his voice touches you, but you know you have to find the others alone. "I don't remember much about the others, but they won't be acting like themselves."

"I'll be fine," you reassure him. "From what I understand about the Potion, they won't harm me. I promise, if I need help, I will let you know."

"Okay, I believe in you." He nods but still looks worried. "But just know, if anyone attempts to cause you harm, I will burn this place to the ground and stomp on its ashes until I am satisfied."

His words send a flurry of butterflies aflutter in your stomach as he disappears around the corner, his footsteps echoing menacingly through the hallway. You have a feeling that his warning wasn't so much as given to you for reassurance rather than set aloud in the hopes that everyone else would hear it. 

Alone again, you step into your guest bathroom to splash some cold water on your face to refresh yourself. 

You definitely need it.

Asmo~ 

You feel like you're being hunted. Every single time you turn a blind corner or step past a darkened doorway, you feel like another one of your cursed loved ones is going to reach out and grab you. 

Despite a few hiccups on the road, breaking the spell on the first four of the brothers has been pretty easy so far. 

All of them have practically jumped into your arms and insisted on the Potion-breaking kiss within moments of seeing you.

Movement at the end of the hallway catches your eye, and you freeze. It's too far away to tell who it is, but you have found someone. You can tell from the way they stop in their tracks that they see you, too. 

Although you do not hate the feeling of getting pounced on and smothered in affection from the beings you love the most, today has you feeling a bit jumpier than normal. The longer you stare at what is most likely a demon at the end of the hallway, the more nervous you get. 

You don't know what to do. Should you run? Should you hide? Your brain can't decide on what to do so you brace yourself for them to lunge at you, but the embrace never comes. 

"Hello?" you call out. The nervous tremor in your voice bouncing off the walls. 

To your surprise, the person at the end of the hallway dashes away, leaving you confused and just a bit scorned. 

"Wait, please," you call, running after them and into the statue gallery. Where you are surrounded by dozens of elegantly carved statues. The darkened room full of figures should make you afraid, but you get a smug sense of satisfaction from being the one doing the chasing this time.

You stop in the center of the room under the skylight. The cool moonlight shines down on you, and you can feel a pair of eyes on you somewhere in the room. "Hey, it's okay. Please come out. I just want to talk to you." you say between huffs. 

 Through the darkness, you hear a small, shy, shuffling sound as the one you were pursuing forward into the light.

Asmodeus steps forward timidly; his steps are clumsy and off-balanced, most likely due to one of the potions' many side effects. His pretty peach-colored eyes were big and sparkling. The heart-shaped pupils and light blush on his face look so fitting on him that you just stare at him in awestruck silence, taking in his beauty.

Instead of basking in your undivided attention like he usually does, The Avatar of Lust shies away from your gaze of admiration and looks down at the floor.

"Asmo," you say gently, noting this difference in his personality. "It's just me; why do you look so nervous?" You give him your friendliest, most encouraging smile and extend your hand out to him.

Just that simple gesture of love and kindness turns his cheeks a furious red, and he takes a quick step back, nearly knocking over a black marble statue of a Demoness with hair made out of pearls.

"Holding hands with you?" he asks in a soft whisper. "I-I don't know if I am ready for that?"

What?

The Asmo you know loves PDA. 

You shake that thought out of your head; this isn't the Asmo, you know. If he's not comfortable with that, you need to make sure that he feels safe with you. Love Potion or not.

"No worries," you say with a kind smile, sitting on one of the carefully carved benches in the gallery. "How about we sit down and talk? Would you be okay with that?"

He nods his head slowly and sits down on the very edge of the bench. 

The two of you sit in silence for what seems like a decade. In that time, he doesn't meet your gaze once, but whenever you don't appear to be looking at him, his eyes are on you like he has an innocent schoolyard crush.

Finally, you decide to break the silence. "how are you feeling?"

"F-fine," he says in a small voice. He shuts his mouth quickly as if he doesn't trust his words around you.

"I'm glad to hear that you're doing well," you say, noticing the subtle change in his body language. He doesn't look like he is about to run off at any moment. "Why did you decide to run from me?"

He nervously picks at his perfectly painted nails, chipping the dual-colored polish and letting the colorful strips flutter onto the patterned stone floor. "I ran because I was nervous. The others are just so bold, and I thought you would want to be with someone more confident and sexy like Simeon."

'Simeon?' you think to yourself. "That's the second time someone mentioned the Angel's uncharacteristic behavior today." Although your curiosity is fighting to the forefront of your mind, you cannot deprive Asmodeus of the attention he craves. 

"Right now, Asmo, I want to spend time with you." you say, "I want to make sure you know how much I care about you, even if you're not as confident as you usually are right now."

His eyes widen with hope as his furious blush creeps up to the tips of his slightly pointed ears. But he is too tongue-tied to utter anything. He goes to shyly cover his face with his hands but you stop him. 

His skin is hot on contact, but you pretend not to notice. You can tell there is something he wants to say. "Asmo, you know you can tell me anything. Right?"

"I can?" he whispers softly.

"Of course you can."

He takes a deep breath and clenches his fist as if he's gathering the courage to force the words from his pretty lips. "Can I kiss you?" He spits it out so quickly that you almost miss his request.

Your smile is victorious, "Of course you can."

"C-close your eyes, please," he stutters, "It's better that way."

You oblige, letting your eyelids shut. You feel him lean in close, his nervous breaths hitting your skin as the spellbound Demon gathers the courage to kiss you.

You don't dare move; this kiss has to be done on his terms, even if it takes all day. 

His breath hitches, and he goes for it, giving you the smallest, quickest peck on the cheek. Before he slides over to the other side of the bench. A melancholy feeling blooms in your gut as you begin to wonder if that little kiss would really be enough to break the spell he is under.

But to your surprise,  Asmodeus' laughter fills the room, and when you open your eyes, you see the Demon's heavy blush and unconfident posture subsiding. 

"Asmo?"

The Avatar of Lust pounces on you, wrapping his arms around you tightly and nuzzling his face into your neck. "You are just too cute, Hon." he squeals, very much back to normal. 

One thing you noticed is that he does not look anywhere near as tired as the others did after the spell is broken. Is it his concealer or is it something else?

He notices the way you are looking at him and gives you a dazzling smile. "It will take a bit more than a silly Love Potion to bring me down." he winks. 

"You remember everything?"

"Mostly," he giggles. "I know there was something in the cookies and then I just started feeling strange. I felt like I was watching some kind of bad reality TV show. If I wanted to do something, it was like my body did the opposite." His features soften just a bit, and he looks at you with sincerity. "Still, thank you for looking out for me, Mc. Even if the real me would want to do more with you than just a cute little peck on the cheek, you waited for the cursed version of me to feel comfortable enough to initiate something, and that doesn't really happen a lot." His eyes turn glassy as he grabs your hand. "When you are as beautiful as me and used to having demons, witches, and everything else throw themselves at your feet, you find that people tend to take every inch they can get."

This time, you are the one who can't speak. The meaning behind the Demon's words causes you to hold his hand just a bit tighter as he blinks away his unfallen tears rapidly. This moment between the two of you may not need anything else right now. When words fail, you can rely on something as simple as silence.

"I should go lay down," he says at last, furrowing his brow. "You have a day to save, and I feel like I just drank a whole thing of Devil's Drink."

"Do I even want to know what that is?" you ask with a voice that seems to scream 'tell me.'

He tosses his head back in laughter. "Ohhh, you are so cute. Devil's Drink is a punch that consists of whatever types of demonus someone has on hand. It gets the party started, but afterward, you have the worst hangover ever. 

"Oh my," you shudder, realizing that you and Lucifer are probably going to need to have a talk with him about drinking responsibly later on. "You should lay down then; the others are in the Banquet hall recovering as well."

He turns and starts to walk away before pausing in the corridor and giving you a sly wink. "Don't you worry, Hon; once this whole thing is over with, I promise you I will give you a proper thank you slash makeup Valentine's Date. Kay?" He puts his fingers to his lips and blows you a kiss before leaving you alone in the statue gallery. 

"I'll hold you to it," you smile catching the kiss he blows your way as the carved figures around you send you encouraging smiles to continue your quest. 

Beelzebub

All of this walking in silence makes you feel as if you are playing some weird backroom-esque game; you feel hyper-aware of your surroundings, listening for even the smallest sound that could lead you to find another one of your cursed men. 

The bottoms of your feet feel slightly fatigued but you are spurred on by the fact you have managed to find at least half of the guys so far. At this rate, you'll probably be able to find everyone by dinner time. 

Passing by a large window, the bright moonlight blinds you momentarily. You squint and step slightly out of the light, taking a glimpse of the miles and miles of dark forest that lies beyond the glass. 

You take this moment to appreciate that so far, everyone is confined to the walls of the castle. This Love Potion has changed their demeanors so much that if they were to get out into the world, they would make quite the spectacle.

Suddenly, a cool breeze hits your skin, and you stop. The two large glass front drawers to one of the back balconies of the palace are wide open, and the sheer curtains are twisting violently in the breeze.

Knowing Barbatos would never allow this door to remain open for such a long period of time, you come to the conclusion that the door was opened fairly recently.

You begin to panic, your heart thrums wildly in your chest, and you worry that you're going to have a heart attack. You rush outside thinking that someone escaped and is out in the Devildom without their wits.

The cold air embraces you as you glance frantically around. Stepping up to the ledge of the balcony, you look down into the giant hedge maze below. It's only known to few if someone were to stumble out in there. It would take a long time to find them.

Swearing under your breath, you wonder if you are really going to have to go searching in the middle of the maze.

Before you can move to climb down the steps, a thin white flower pedal flies past your face, briefly pooping your nose. This little distraction has you turning your head, and you see a massive figure hunched over on a small-looking stone bench just on the other side of the balcony.

You are with a full sense of relief as you make your way over to them more and more flower petals seem to float to the ground. As you get closer you hear that they are mumbling to themselves.

"They love me. They love me not. They Love me. They love me not." You recognize that voice anywhere.

"Beel?" you say as the Avatar of Gluttony turns eagerly toward you and lets out the happiest little squeal of delight. You've never heard him make such an adorable sound before, and it fills your heart.

He springs from his tiny chair and lumbers over to you eagerly. His inhumanly strong arms wrap around you in a bear hunt that is so tight you can hardly breathe. 

"Can't. Breathe." You out topping his arm to get his attention. He pouts but lets you down gently; even though you're out of his arms, he still has a firm grip on your hand.

"Sorry, Mc, I just love you so much I didn't wanna let you go. I've been wanting to be held by you the entire day."

"That's all right, Beel." You spot a flower petal Stuck in his hair, and you gently take your hand up to his face to remove it. He leans into your touch and lets out a happy little giggle.

"I knew you would come for me." He says enthusiastically. "but it took you so long I thought you forgot all about me. So I started picking the flowers so they could tell me if you loved me or not."

Glancing down briefly, you see flowers he was plucking earlier. You recall from a Devildom botany class they are called eternal daisies. No matter how many one plus a pedal from it, grow back after a few seconds. For the Demon to have amassed such a large pile of petals, he must have been doing this for a while.

"And what did the flowers tell you?" You tease, ruffling his hair; his violet eyes follow your hands as if they are about to show him the world's secrets. Your simple touch makes his heart-shaped pupils grow larger by the second.

"Flowers?" He sighs dreamily, unable to think of anything else but you. Curiously, you decide to let go of the gentle giant to see what he would do if you weren't touching him for a second.

His face falls, and he looks at you like you had just told him Hell's Kitchen shut down for good. 

His kicked puppy persona hurts your heart so bad you immediately grab his hand, and the look of pure bliss returns to his features. 

"You're so cute, Mc," he murmurs softly. 

"Wanna know something? You're even cuter." 

He lets out a delighted squeal and excitedly holds you again. The unnatural warmth radiating from his body makes you realize how cold you are out here on the balcony. 

"Beel, would you like to go inside, and we can get you something to eat?" you ask, hoping to tempt him with food. But he shakes his head adamantly. 

"M' not hungry."

Woah. 

You pinch yourself just to make sure you are not dreaming of Beel denying you a chance to eat.

"Isn't it a little cold out here?" you ask teasingly, trying to take his hand and guide the larger Demon backward, but he stubbornly digs his feet into the ground and shakes his head stubbornly.

 "No, If we go back inside, the others are gonna find you and take you away from me, and I won't get to hold you anymore."

"What will it take to get you to come inside with me?" you sigh. Normally, you don't barter with demons, but you are exhausted and just want to get inside.

"Could you carry me?" he asks, his heart-shaped pupils full of hope.

"Carry you?" you repeat.

"Yeah," he nods, swaying slightly, "like a piggyback ride. I am always the one giving them it would be nice to be carried around for a bit."

"That's true," you nod, glancing back at the door; it's only a few steps. "I guess I could try."

You crouch down slightly so the much larger, much heavier Demon can climb on your back. Thankfully, he goes slow so as to not throw you off balance, but you have to reach deep inside yourself to find the strength to move the Demon made of solid muscle who clings to your back.

No amount of strength training could've prepared you for this.

Beel nuzzles his face into your neck as you take step after agonizing step toward the door. When you finally let him down on the ground, your legs feel like jelly but the look of joy on his handsome features alleviates some of your back pain. 

"That was so fun," he laughs, leaning in and kissing you eagerly as a form of payment. Although you are sore from this unexpected powerlifting session, you accept his kiss happily. It starts off tame and innocent, but he begins to lose himself. 

His gluttony breaks through the spell, and he begins to devour your lips like he hasn't eaten in days. 

When he is satisfied, you pull back and are relieved to see that he has returned to normal. "Mc, I didn't hurt you, did I?"

"What are you talking about?"

"I can't believe I made you carry me." he frowns, holding his hands together so tightly it looks painful. 

"It's okay, Beel, I'm fine," you reply, ignoring the slight pain in your back.

"Are you sure?" he asks worriedly. There is so much concern in his gaze you find yourself immediately reassuring him.

"Still, you shouldn't have to carry me. You need it, I will carry you around.-"cut off by the loud growling of his stomach. "M' hungry"

"I bet you are, "you say. His current state of hunger is overpowering the headache the others are suffering from right now. "you should go into the banquet hall; there's still lots of food left over from the party."

"Are you sure you don't wanna come with me?" He asks, "Food tastes so much much better when I'm with you."

"I wish I could, but I have to find Belphie and the others. But I promise I'll be back soon."

You can tell from the look on his face that he wishes he could carry you back to the banquet hall with him, but he leaves. As he disappears out of sight, you hope that all the cursed cookies are hidden away by the time he reaches the banquet hall so he doesn't accidentally eat any more of them.

Belphie~

There is an uncomfortable knot in your back as you walk; giving Beel a piggyback ride certainly was not what you expected you would have to do today. 

The sound of broken glass reaches your ears, causing you to flinch slightly at the noise. 

What was that sound?

Where did it come from?

Is someone hurt?

Briskly, you walk towards the corridor where you heard the sound, your head on a constant swivel for any kind of danger or lone shard of glass until you reach a small staircase.

You don't think you've ever seen it before; the dark wood looks old but well tended by the Butler's expert hand.

Taking hold of a railing, you begin your descent into the darkened room; you feel along the wall for a light switch until you land on it and flick it upwards.

You find yourself standing in the middle of a massive wine cellar with thousands of unique bottles of Demonus. Surround you and you find yourself mesmerized by all the dancing colors of glass.

In the back corner of the room, you find the source of the earlier crash. Belpheghor kneels over a broken bottle of miscellaneous liquor. Shards of glass sprinkled the pool of deep purple liquid-like islands on the sea. 

The youngest avatar of sin moves quickly, cleaning up the mess with a speed you have not seen from him before. He is so focused on the task at hand he doesn't notice you coming up behind him until you utter his name.

"Belphie, I heard the crash. Is everything all right?

His head snaps toward you, and he beams at you, his whole body seemingly abuzz with excitement as he scoops you into his arms. "Careful, there might be some glass still on the floor, I should hold you until it's safe."

"I hope that bottle wasn't too expensive," you shudder, looking at the remains of the bottle that is most likely older than your family tree.

"Nah, that one was only 500 years old. I thought you would like it since it's not too sweet," he mutters, brushing your cheek with his thumb. " I just read the tasting card and thought you would like it more than all those dusty old bottles."

"Five. Hundred. Years?" you breathe, swallowing nervously. 

"Yeah, that's nothing." he laughs. "I am so glad you're here, Mc. I am so bored. Let's do something fun together." He is overflowing with this excitable golden retriever energy, and you can't help but be infected by it.

"Oh yeah? What do you want to do?" you tease, playing along with him. Although you still have to break the spell on him, you may as well have a bit of fun with this energetic version of Belphie while you can. 

"Let's go hiking," he says at once. "It's too boring here, but someone once told me about a great spot for a hike. I have never wanted to go on it before since I would've rather been sleeping, but I think we could have a lot of fun."

"Oh, that would be fun," you smile, leaning your head against his shoulder, "Maybe we should go on a warmer day. That wind is really cold outside, and it will be hard to look at the stars with all the clouds."

His eyes fill with confusion as he looks at you with his unnerving heart-shaped pupils. "Why would I want to look at some dumb stars when you are right in front of me? You are so amazing I don't think I ever want to stop looking at you." Although he isn't going anywhere, his body can't seem to sit still. It's like he is hooked up to an IV full of Red Bull. 

Nervous laughter leaves your lips, and you reach up to play with his hair. "That's really sweet, but wouldn't you get tired?"

"No," he says plainly. "If I close my eyes, then I won't be able to look at you until I open them again."

"Oh really?" A little plan is formulated in your head. "You mean to tell me you will never close your eyes ever again?"

He smiles innocently and shakes his head. "Never again."

"Not even to blink?" you ask, looking up at him with big eyes. With your head cradled in his chest, you notice that even his heartbeat is accelerated. Is this another one of the Potion's side effects? You make a mental note to remember as much information as you can so you can tell Solomon all about this once everything is over and done with. 

"Not even to blink," he says confidently. 

"Prove it. Staring contest right now." 

The prospect of a challenge intrigues the Demon, and he gently sets you down on top of one of the cellar's many kegs. "What do I get if I win?"

"let's see," you hum, holding your chin in consideration. "if you win, we get to go on that hike right now."

"go hiking! Let's do it." he leans him close, never taking his eyes off of you for a second.

"Ready? Go!" You open your eyes wide and meet his gaze. Now that he is face-to-face with you it makes it a lot easier to steal a kiss from him.

Demon is ruptured in the competition at hand to even think that you're going in for the Bell breaking kiss until your lips are on his. And surprise and lets his eyes close, leaving you victorious.

As he comes back to his senses, Belphie relaxes greatly. His movements are lazy, as is his kiss. It's slow and comforting but perfect, nevertheless.

By the time you pull away, you see how heavy his eyelids are drooping.

"Are you tired now, Belphie?" You ask as he rests his head against your shoulder.

"Mmmmmhmmm," he groans. "How'd I get here? What happened to the party?" 

"There was a potion accidentally mixed into the cookies," you explain. "I promise you I'll tell you everything later, but for now, you should go back to the banquet hall and get some sleep; your other brothers are back there waiting for you."

"Is Beel okay?" he murmurs.

"Yes, He's fine now."

"That's good." he sighs, dragging his feet toward the door. "Thank you for helping with all this. Why do we keep dragging you into these messes?"

"To keep me on my toes, I guess." you laugh, basking in the warmth of the Demon's gaze. 

He smiles at your comment, but then a look of realization crosses his features, and he looks at you seriously. 

"Mc, please be careful," he says suddenly, his left hand rubbing his temple as his headache grows. "I don't know why, but I feel like you should really watch yourself around Simeon."

"Don't worry," you reply softly, trying your best to sound reassuring. "I promise I've got this handled. We will all be back together soon…"

~Thank you for reading!

Part 4 coming soon...

Tagging: @enchantedforest-network

@solomiracle @randomdutchgirl @dn4su @downinbedrockck @yuuvis32 @exrellian @cuddlybelphie  @yeet-skeet-nifty-neat @romaissa @littlesliceofcheese @the-panda-queen @enoe-of-noen @marvelous-maniac @irllydontcare69 @im-in-love-with-fairytales @snowthatareblack @stressed-cryptid @miracl3d @eussstasss @ishouldreallykillmyself @unixilian11032 @soupieoopieisloopie @ourfinalisation @daveyserket @fenfourks @laffytaffyspoon @wtf-why-do-i-gotta-do-this @beezgobuzzbuzz @darkflowerav @bethleeham @fangirlinindia @eternallyanxiousandstressed @the-sassiest-toaster @nanamisbigassschlong @tak3yourpill @uhnanix @anjodedesgostoeerros @orikuu @lykunsstuff

[alltheirdamn]

Killing Me Softly | (Joel x teacher!f!reader)

Chap. 7 The Past

Summary: Memories of the past suspended in time. Rating: 18+ Word Count: 6k Warnings: *THIS CONTAINS SERIES SPOILERS* Pre-Outbreak AU, mentions of past trauma, mentions of loss and grief, mild violence, language, mentions of alcohol, yearning, angst A/N: Dare I say, this is my favorite chapter yet. If you haven't connected the pieces by now, then this will answer every question you've had. There were so many signs along the way, and I encourage you to go back and find each and every one. I know this doesn't soothe the heartbreak of the cliffhanger but please know this chapter is IMPORTANT. And we can all agree that Joel is the STANDARD. * I want to thank @loonmartell for helping me navigate this idea and creating a beautiful story that is slowly coming to fruition. You are truly a mastermind, and I give you all my thanks and love*

Masterlist | Ko-fi

~Three and a half years ago~

Joel paced the waiting room, consumed with guilt and anger. He shouldn’t have let you leave that night. Bennett had called you asking to meet for dinner under the guise of wanting to give back the things he still had been holding onto. Joel should have gone with you, should have told you to stay, should have broken Bennett’s jaw. Joel couldn’t have forced you to stay; he knew you needed closure. After the downfall of your relationship with Bennett, you deserved answers.

Whatever happened between leaving his house and the accident would remain a mystery, and Joel was ready to track Bennett down to find out the truth, but right now, all that mattered was you. 

Your mom rounded the corner, followed by the doctor, both of their faces grim. Joel’s knees threatened to buckle under him, the worst possible scenarios running through his head. 

“How is she? Is she alright?” He asked, the words jumbled together and confused.

The doctor raised a hand to slow Joel’s frenzy, and your mom’s eyes stared at the floor.

“She’s awake,” the doctor started. “But there were some… complications. We just finished taking her for some tests, and we’ve determined she’s sustained a form of retrograde amnesia.”

“She can’t remember the crash?” Joel questioned. He swiped his sweaty palms over the denim of his jeans, anxiety bubbling in his chest.

“After analyzing her CT scans and running some cognitive tests, it looks like she’s lost a large chunk of her memory,” the doctor explained.

“How large are we talkin’, doc? A few months?”

Your mom stepped forward, placing a hand on Joel’s shoulder. 

“She asked for Bennett when she woke up,” she whispered. 

“What the hell does that mean?” Joel snapped. 

“She has no recollection of the last two years,” the doctor said.

Joel staggered back, dragging a hand down his face. This wasn’t happening. This wasn’t fucking happening.

“You’re tellin’ me she has no memory of me?” Joel shouted. 

“Joel, calm down,” your mom hushed, her eyes darting around the crowded waiting room. 

“Calm down?” He echoed. “Jesus, she doesn’t fuckin’ remember me! I need to see her. I need to—I need to tell her.”

The doctor stepped forward, a frown creasing his face.

“It’s imperative that we don’t disrupt her current condition. Any interference with her memory may cause more complications with the amnesia. If we force these forgotten memories on her, it’ll cause too much stress on her brain and ultimately lead to permanent damage. If we want her to regain her memory, we need to wait.”

“How long?” Joel pleaded. “How long do I need to wait?”

“We don’t know,” the doctor sighed. “With amnesia this serious, it could take weeks or even years. There’s no way to determine the timeline right now.”

Joel’s anger flared up, and he slammed his fist into the wall beside him. The pain radiating up his knuckles and hand was nothing in comparison to the pain splintering inside his chest. He was losing you, and you didn’t even realize it.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Miller,” the doctor said. “I know this isn’t easy, but it’s what’s best for her and her recovery right now.”

“But she doesn’t—.” Joel couldn’t get the words out. 

He crumpled to the ground with his head in his hands—two years' worth of memories together gone in a matter of seconds. You didn’t remember him. You didn’t know Joel loved you; you didn’t remember that you loved him. 

“Joel, sweetie,” your mom cautioned, crouching beside Joel. “You said she was with Bennett before the crash, right?”

Joel lifted his head and glared at your mom through teary eyes. He didn’t want to be reminded that Bennett had returned; he didn’t want to fathom the idea of him being in your life again.

“Don’t tell me you’re seriously thinkin’ about tellin’ him all this,” Joel said. “Y’know what he’s like with her. I can’t let her go and watch her be with him.”

“We need to contact him at least and tell him. If she thinks they’re still together…we must maintain that memory. We have to try. If it’s something Bennett wants and is willing to do, then we have to. I know you want to tell her everything, but her brain is so fragile right now. It’ll scare her, and I can’t risk losing my daughter entirely. Joel, I need you to understand what's best for her.”

“And y’all seriously think Bennett is what’s best for her?” Joel laughed bitterly.

“Of course we don’t, honey. The thought of Bennett comin’ back around kills me, but what if there’s a chance her memory will return sooner than we think? She won’t have to keep him in her life forever, but only until everything comes back to her.”

“And what if it doesn’t? Y’expect me to watch the woman of my dreams love another man? What if one day they get married? Or have kids? I’m supposed to pretend like none of this ever happened?” 

Christ, the thought of that made Joel sick. He didn’t want to see you continue the rest of your life with a man who didn’t treat you right. He couldn’t do this… He couldn’t stomach this plan. 

“Joel, listen to me,” your mom hissed, grabbing him by the collar. “We need to play the long game, okay? I’m not giving up hope on my daughter, and I know you won’t either. You love her, don’t you?”

Joel nodded helplessly, mouthing the word ‘yes.’

“Then wait for her. It won’t be easy for any of us, but we all need to want this. I’ll talk to my husband and the girls about this, and we’ll work through all the details. Lying isn’t easy, but it might be what ends up saving her memory.”

That night, Bennett showed up at the hospital. 

Joel wasn’t in his right mind when Bennett walked into the waiting room. The moment he saw his smug grin and floppy blonde hair, Joel lost it. 

“Motherfucker!” Joel yelled, sending his fist straight into Bennett’s jaw. 

Bennett reeled over, staggering back into a waiting room chair, while your dad pulled Joel away. A murmur of voices among the other bystanders dragged Joel from his vengeful haze, and he stared at Bennett unamused. He wanted to see him suffer the way he had been suffering. 

Bennett worked his jaw back and forth, glaring at Joel as he sat beside your mom. 

“This is the thanks I get for agreeing to meet with you guys?” Bennett huffed. 

“It’s your fault she’s in that fuckin’ bed,” Joel snapped. 

His body still thrummed with unbridled rage, his hands shaking at his sides. Stella, Beth, and your parents were all gathered around the waiting room, taking their respective spots in one of the chairs. Joel couldn’t sit. He didn’t want to be any part of this. 

“Joel,” your dad snapped. “Cool it.”

Joel folded his arms over his chest, staring daggers at Bennett as he made himself comfortable in his chair. Your mom leaned forward, her elbows resting on her knees. 

“Bennett, we need to know what happened before the accident,” she pleaded. “Joel said she was with you, so what happened?”

Bennett shrugged, stretching his legs out and crossing his arms. 

“I asked her to come back,” he said plainly, as if it were that simple. Joel seethed, his body twitching as he tried not to hit Bennett again. 

“Why?” Beth interjected. “You don’t even fucking like my sister. Why would you do that?”

“I do like your sister,” Bennett argued. “I told her I had made a mistake and that I wanted to try to make things work.”

Beth rolled her eyes, a scowl forming on her face. 

“You waited almost two years to make that discovery?” She cackled. “What actually happened?”

Bennett lifted a hand to his jaw, massaging the reddening skin as he quirked a brow at Joel. He was playing with fire; Joel just needed one more reason, and he’d kill Bennett on the spot.

“I told her to meet me for dinner to talk,” Bennett explained. “I still had a few of her stupid books she left behind, so I figured it was a good opportunity to meet with her. I tried to explain my side of things and why I wanted to give us another shot. She just laughed at me. She took her little books and left the restaurant without hearing any more of what I had to say.”

Joel felt a strange sense of pride knowing you had laughed in Bennett’s face, but given the circumstances, it quickly faded. A bitterness flooded his tongue at the thought of you returning to the life you had with Bennett, especially when he spoke of you with such disdain. 

“Why does any of that even matter?” Bennett questioned, looking between your parents.

Your mom cleared her throat and spoke up.

“The accident she was in caused some damage to her brain,” she began. “The doctors determined she has a form of amnesia. She doesn’t remember anything from the last two years.”

Bennett’s eyes grew wide, and he slid Joel a knowing look. 

“She thinks she’s still with me,” Bennett concluded. 

Your mom gave a solemn nod, running a hand through her hair. Joel could see the stress written all over her face, and he could see the pain in her eyes as she realized what was about to happen. 

“The doctors think it’s best not to overwhelm her with the memories she’s lost. We don’t want to do this, but it may be best if she resumes the life she thinks is still intact, which means introducing you back into her life. Is that something you’re open to, Bennett?”

Bennett didn’t say a word for several minutes. All he did was stare at his hands in silent contemplation. Beth and Stella sat unmoving, and Joel caught Stella sneaking glances ever so often. Finally, Bennett turned to Joel and studied him before speaking.

“And you’re in agreement with this?” He asked.

Joel gave a single nod, though he was reluctant to do so.

“I’m willin’ to wait for her. She needs time to regain those memories, and I don’t wanna cause any stress on her if she thinks she’s still with you. Trust me, I ain’t happy ‘bout it, but I love her.”

“And if she doesn’t get those memories back?” Bennett pressed.

“Then you better make her the happiest girl in the world and never fuck things up again,” Joel frowned. “I swear I’ll hunt you down if y’ever hurt her. I love her with my whole fuckin’ heart, and I’d do anythin’ to make sure she’s happy.”

“I love her, too, you know.”

Joel had a hard time believing Bennett, but there was a seriousness in Bennett’s eyes that made Joel’s heart ache. He was giving up the one good thing in his life to someone who didn’t deserve your love. Joel was a patient man, but that didn’t stop his heart from breaking. Who knew if you’d ever remember him again? He would have to live his life knowing you may never come back and that he’d have to carry that pain with him every single day. Hope was a fickle thing, one he would rather forego if he could just tell you the truth, but this was his only option. Joel would have to give you up. And he would do it because he loved you beyond all measure. 

Your parents took Bennett to meet with the doctors to discuss your current condition and the future it would entail. Joel stayed behind with Beth and Stella, the three of them blanketed by an insurmountable pain that couldn’t be healed. 

“What if we never see you again?” Stella asked, her eyes full of tears. 

Joel sat beside her, pulling her into his arms and letting her head rest on his shoulder. She was only fifteen, but Joel knew she was aware of the gravity of the situation. Even though she was older than Sarah, he always viewed Stella like another daughter; he had watched her grow up the last two years, and Joel adored her just as much as he did for his daughter. 

“Y’gotta stay strong for me, Stell,” Joel sighed, squeezing her shoulder. “She's gonna get those memories back one day, and I’ll be right there when she does. None of y’all will ever lose me. I swear that to you.”

Stella sniffled back tears, curling into Joel’s embrace. He glanced at Beth beside him, giving her a sad smile.

“I’m trustin’ you to look out for her, okay?” He said. “She needs you more than anyone. I know you ain’t happy ‘bout all of this, and I sure as hell ain’t either, but it’s gonna be okay.”

“I don’t agree with any of this,” she grumbled. “I hate him, Joel. I hate all of this.”

“I hate it, too, Beth,” Joel said. “But I love her more, and I’m willin’ to wait for her.”

Beth exhaled, slumping back into the chair. Joel could tell she wanted to say more, but she held her tongue. Joel knew Beth’s anger ran deep for Bennett, and he hoped she’d learn to give you grace through all this. It wasn’t your fault this decision was being made. It was what they all thought was best. 

Your mom returned an hour later to gather the girls and usher them home for the rest of the night. Joel’s head was throbbing from all of the stress, and he was on edge, knowing his time with you was running out. 

“Is she asleep?” Joel asked.

“The doctors gave her a heavy sedative to help her get through the night,” your mom explained. “In the morning, they’ll run a few more tests and figure out when it’ll be okay to discharge her.”

“Can I see her?” He pleaded. “Just so I can say goodbye?” 

The words tasted like ash on his tongue. Goodbye was a word he never wanted to associate with you. He wanted the good nights and good mornings but never a goodbye.

“Of course, sweetie,” your mom said, tears slipping down her face. 

Joel realized he wasn’t just saying goodbye to you but to your family as well. A family that had welcomed him in so quickly, a family he had spent holidays with and visited in the summer, he was losing an entire group of people he loved so dearly. 

Joel thought he was strong enough to see you, but as he opened the hospital door, he realized how wrong he was. Your face was littered with cuts and bruises, your right eye swollen shut, and your hair matted down with dried blood. It took every ounce of his energy not to collapse at the sight of you lying there, and he moved on unsteady legs to your bedside. 

He barely managed to say your name as the syllables broke out in a choked sob. He took your hand, his thumb smoothing lines over your balmy skin. Tears fell onto your fingers as he lifted your hand to his mouth, crying softly as he pressed a kiss against it.

“Oh, baby,” he cried. “I love you so fuckin’ much. I’m so fuckin’ sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m so—.”

Joel wept over your body for what felt like an eternity. He let his head hit the bed, your hand pressed against his wet cheek, inhaling the lingering scent of your perfume. Every memory with you flooded his mind: mornings spent together drinking coffee, lazy afternoons laying on the couch while you read your favorite books, weekends at the soccer fields with Sarah. 

Joel’s life had flipped upside down in the span of just a few hours, and you’d never know the decision he had to make for the sake of your health. He wasn’t the praying type, but if there were a God up there, he’d spend every night on his knees begging for you to come home to him. 

“I love you, baby,” Joel whispered. “Even if you never remember it, I’ll carry you with me forever.”

Joel leaned up to kiss your forehead, his lips lingering a second too long. He never wanted to leave this room because everything would be gone once he did. All he’d have left were the memories and an undying hope you’d wake up one day remembering his face. 

Joel spent the next two days gathering your things from his house. He piled your books into a box, along with the miscellaneous items you had littered his home with. He clung to your shirts and held them to his chest, wishing it was you in his arms. Scattered on the fridge were Polaroid pictures you had taken of Joel throughout the two years, and he slipped them away for when he was ready to relive the memories—not yet, but one day. 

Sarah came home from school and saw the boxes next to the front door, giving Joel a weary look.

“What’s happening?” She asked.

Joel crouched in front of her, taking her head in his hands. He managed to say your name without faltering and explained everything to his daughter in the simplest way he could.

“She doesn’t remember me?” Sarah murmured, her eyes welling with tears. 

Joel hadn’t realized the heartbreak Sarah would be facing, too.

“No, sweetheart,” Joel shook his head. “But one day she will, I promise. You’ll be my tough girl and help Daddy through this, alright? We’re gonna wait for her ‘cause she’s gonna come back. I promise she’ll be back one day, and she’ll be right there on the sidelines again cheerin’ you on.”

“I’m gonna miss her,” Sarah cried, crashing into Joel’s chest and wrapping him into a hug.

“I’m gonna miss her too, sweetheart.”

~ Two years ago ~

Joel’s phone rang well past midnight. Through tired eyes, he searched for it on his nightstand and prayed it was you, but an unknown number lit up the screen, and Joel’s heart stopped.

“Hello?” He answered, his voice roughened from sleep.

“I can’t do it.”

It was Bennett’s voice, frantic and shaky. Joel shot up in bed, his heart pounding out of his chest.

“What do y’mean you ‘can’t do it’?” Joel questioned.

“I—I can’t do it, man. We’re supposed to get married tomorrow, and I can’t fucking do it. She’s making me crazy. You know she says your name in her sleep? She still can’t remember shit, yet all she does is say your name when she’s sleeping. I’m losing my mind.” He was rambling through words so quickly Joel could barely keep up.

“Y’can’t just leave her like this,” Joel said. “Do y’know how much you’re gonna hurt her? You waited ‘til now to decide you didn’t wanna go through with the weddin’? Y’know how fuckin’ stupid you are?”

Bennett exhaled loudly through the receiver, his voice dropping to a whisper.

“I’m never going to make her happy, and she won’t make me happy. I’m not doing this.”

Joel scrubbed a hand over his face and stared up at the ceiling fan, turning above the bed.

“Alright, listen,” Joel started. “You get your shit together, and you leave. Find some job in another state and never come back. She doesn’t deserve this, and she definitely doesn’t deserve the heartbreak you’re ‘bout to give her. So, you take your ass and get the fuck out of town. And I swear, if you ever come back or even try to contact her again, I will kill you. Do y’understand me? I will fuckin’ kill you.”

“You’re threatening a future lawyer?” Bennett laughed. 

“I don’t give a damn what you are, Bennett. I’ll take a gun to your head the next time I see you and not even think twice ‘bout pullin’ the trigger,” Joel threatened, speaking through clenched teeth.

“She’ll never forgive you for it,” Bennett countered. “And don’t even think about coming back into her life, either. She’s better off without either one of us. God help the next guy who tries to get with her. She’s a fucking wreck.”

Joel seethed, the room going red. How dare Bennett talk about you like this? Joel should have never left you. He should have fought harder. He should have killed Bennett before he could have ever had the chance to come back. 

“I suggest you pack your shit quick, or I’ll find you ‘fore the night is over,” Joel growled. “Get the fuck out of town, you fuckin’ piece of shit.”

Joel slammed his phone shut and slumped against the headboard. Bennett would be out of your life, but at what cost? He knew this would destroy you. God, he couldn’t even fathom the heartbreak you’d face in the morning when you arrived for the wedding. Joel didn’t even let himself imagine what you’d look like, dressed in a beautiful white wedding gown. Bennett didn’t deserve you; he never did. But Joel didn’t deserve you either. You were too good for either of them. 

~ Three months ago ~ 

“Dad, I need to tell you something,” Sarah announced, walking through the front door.

She had just finished her first day of school, and Joel had gotten off work early to be home in time to hear all about it. 

The last two years had been a blur of endless work days and long nights spent drinking in the dark. He was drowning himself away in bottles of whiskey, trying to forget you and the pain that still lingered. He had considered going to you so many times to spill the truth and beg you to come back into his life. But he knew better than that. He knew you deserved a normal life without the reminder of the past. 

Joel looked up from the stove where he was cooking dinner. Sarah's face was etched with concern, and her lips trembled as she tried to speak.

“Sweetheart, what is it?” Joel panicked. 

He dropped the spatula on the counter and rushed to Sarah’s side, holding her firm by the shoulders.

“My—my teacher,” she muttered. “It’s her.”

Joel felt the world tilt on its axle, his body swaying at Sarah’s words. 

“Tell me y’didn’t say anythin’ to her,” Joel begged. 

“No, I—I didn’t. I swear. I don’t even know what I would say,” Sarah rambled. 

“Okay, alright. It’s okay. It’s okay,” Joel exhaled. He needed to sit down. 

Pulling out one of the dining chairs, Joel collapsed entirely, burying his head in his hands. Sarah rubbed a hand over his back, gently attempting to soothe him.

“Maybe this is your chance, Dad,” Sarah suggested. “It’s been enough time now. Maybe she’ll be able to handle the truth about everything.”

Joel loved Sarah’s optimism and her bright outlook on everything. Whenever Joel was ready to give up hope, Sarah was right there to guide him back. She was right, it was an opportunity to start over again, but he didn’t want to fuck it up. He wouldn’t lose you twice. 

“I’ll think ‘bout it, okay?” Joel sighed. “Let me finish cookin’ dinner, and y’can tell me all ‘bout your day.”

Joel sat across from Sarah, his food untouched the entire time she talked. He had no appetite. All he wanted to do was ask her about you: what you looked like, what your voice sounded like, what books you would teach the class. He knew poetry was your favorite. You would stay up late reading together in bed. You would always chime in with little factoids or comments about the book, and Joel would always sit there listening to every word. Shakespeare was your favorite, and Joel loved watching your face scrunch with concentration as you tried to explain the meaning behind each play. When he packed up your things three and a half years ago, he secretly kept your copy of Romeo and Juliet. Sometimes, when he was drunk enough, Joel would flip through the pages just to trace over your scribbled words and annotations, just to relive a moment kept in secret between the two of you. 

Now, his daughter would experience your passion for teaching firsthand. He was a proud son of a bitch, knowing you were following your dreams. 

“Dad,” Sarah’s voice cut through Joel’s wandering thoughts.

He glanced up from his full plate and shook his head.

“Sorry, sweetheart. What did you say?”

“I was saying there’s a father-daughter dance in a couple of weeks,” she repeated. “Maybe she’ll be there. You could see her again.”

“Yeah, maybe. I gotta see if I can get ‘round work to be there.”

Joel was all too familiar with Sarah's look of disappointment; he had seen it far too often these last couple of years. His role as a father had been lacking for a while now; he was lost in the haze of losing you, so much so that he was losing himself. Unfortunately, Sarah had been the one suffering the most because of it. 

“I’ll make it work, sweetheart,” Joel decided. “I promise.”

After Sarah went to bed, Joel sat on the couch, nursing a short glass of whiskey. He stared at the liquid as he swirled it around, the amber color shimmering under the dim light of the lamp beside him. His phone lay open on his thigh, Beth’s number sitting there waiting to be dialed. Joel had barely spoken to your sister since he last saw her at the hospital, but he knew she would be his first call. 

Dialing her number, Joel took a long sip of his drink and waited.

“Joel?” Beth exhaled, her voice groggy from sleep.

“Hey, yeah.” Joel cleared his throat. “It’s me. I, um, I have some news.”

“Did she…” Beth’s voice trailed off.

“No, no. Not yet, at least. Um, Sarah’s first day of school was today, and I found out she’s her teacher. Funny how that happens, right?” 

“Wait, my sister? Actually?” Beth sounded shocked.

“Yup,” Joel sighed. “Sarah thinks I should try and talk to her, Whatdaya think?”

Beth remained silent, and Joel cleared the contents of his glass as he waited.

“I don’t know if telling her everything right away is smart,” she said. “I mean, I haven’t talked to her a lot in the past couple of years, so maybe I’m wrong.”

“Y’all haven’t talked?” Joel questioned.

“She and I haven’t spoken since the whole wedding ordeal,” she confessed. 

“Wait, why?”

Joel sat up, one hand clutching the phone, the other smoothing over the curls sticking up on the crown of his head. He never thought you and Beth would ever be on bad terms.

“I warned her about Bennett. I tried to talk her into leaving so many times, but she was so stubborn. I don’t know what he said or did to her to make her stay, but she was always at his defense. I hated seeing her with him, Joel. It should have always been you.”

“I know, Beth. I know.”

“Have you considered maybe completely starting over?” Beth asked.

“Like in what way? Datin’?”

“Yeah. Maybe introduce yourself and see where things go. She might not regain her memory, but you’d have new memories together. She deserves to be loved the right way, and you’re the one who can give her that. Take things slow and test the water. You never know.”

Joel considered the idea for a moment. It could work, but what if it didn’t? What if he completely fucked up his second chance with you? He would have to live the rest of his life knowing he lost you twice.

“You’re suggestin’ I lie to her?” Joel scoffed.

“No,” Beth argued, her voice stern. “I’m suggesting you work your charm like you did the first time and see where it goes. She loved you once before, Joel. I think she could love you again.”

Beth’s words were enough of a push for Joel actually to consider that this might work. He knew you. He knew what you liked and didn’t like; he knew every tiny piece of you so that it wouldn’t be hard to sweep you off your feet again. The only problem he had with the plan was lying. If you ever found out the truth, it would crush you. And that terrified him. He didn’t want to break your heart; Bennett had done a good enough job of it, and Joel would never be like him. He would be better. He would prove himself. 

“Do y’think your family would agree to this?” Joel asked.

“None of us ever gave up hope, Joel,” Beth sighed. “This could be a chance for all of us to get her back—to get the old version of her back. We miss her a lot.”

“I miss her, too.”

“Go get your girl, Joel. She’s waiting for you.”

Joel spent that night wide awake in bed. The idea he could have you back in his life again set his body alight with a mixture of anxiety and fear. Beth could be right; you could love him again. There was that hope that maybe he could rewrite the past and start anew, but there was also that terrible fear you could slip away from him…permanently. You never regained your memories, and there was a good chance you never would, but not taking this risk would condemn Joel to a life full of grief. He knew grief well; he had walked side by side with it for the last three and a half years. If he could just hold you for one moment and hear you say his name one more time, that would be enough.

When Joel awoke the following day, he had made up his mind; he would keep fighting for you. 

He called Maria before school began and explained it all to her. Joel knew Maria had taken the news of your accident the hardest; you and her had always been close. She was like a mother to you here in Austin. Learning how to navigate around your memory loss had been tricky for her, but Joel knew she had done right by you. 

It was no surprise when Maria squealed with excitement over the phone, meticulously creating a master plan to bring you both together again. She promised to talk you into chaperoning the father-daughter dance and vowed to continue pushing you his way. Joel had to remind Maria that he was the one in control here; he needed to be the one to make everything work. Knowing everyone was on his side and willing to help ease his mind. 

He was going to get you back. 

~ Two Months Ago ~

Joel was running late. He had forgotten entirely about the father-daughter dance, and now he was speeding through yellow lights to make it home. He promised Sarah he’d go, but if he was being honest, the thought of seeing you again made him overwhelmingly nervous. What would he say to you? What would you think of him? What if he ruined his second chance?

Bolting through the garage, Joel called out for Sarah in a rush. She came barreling down the stairs in a blur of lavender and Joel had to stop his racing thoughts to admire his daughter.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Joel smiled. “Y’look beautiful.”

“You’re late,” she frowned. “We need to go now.”

She tugged his hand back toward the garage and into the truck. While Joel grappled with the reality that he was going to see you again, Sarah was buzzing with excitement. She saw you every day at school, but this was different. She wasn’t just seeing you… she was going to see you and Joel together in the same room since before the accident. Sarah never got to say a proper goodbye when everything happened, and Joel knew it was hard for Sarah to maintain a semblance of composure every time she sat at her school desk. The memories of you two together were embedded so deep it was hard for Sarah to ignore. Before the school year, Sarah would try to talk about you with Joel from time to time, trying to cling to the nostalgia of the past. Joel knew the suffering wasn’t just his alone; Sarah lost you that day, too. 

Joel’s hands were shaking as he put the truck in park, his eyes unsteady as he tried to focus on the school's entrance. You were somewhere inside that gymnasium; he could feel it. It was like a silent call, a tug on an invisible string, an asteroid coming into orbit. You were the pull on his gravity, just beckoning him closer. 

“Dad, c’mon!” Sarah begged, unlocking the door.

She was already skipping down the parking lot before Joel could put his keys in his back pocket. He urged her to return so they could walk inside together—maybe because he needed the moral support. He had everyone on his side for this plan, but if he fucked it up, it wouldn’t just be his loss. It would be everyone’s. 

The gymnasium was covered in twinkling lights, and the basketball court transformed into a dance floor for the evening. Joel’s eyes bounced around the room, searching for you within the crowd. Through the crowd of moving bodies, he couldn’t find you. Maybe you weren’t here; maybe it was too late. 

Joel refused to be defeated this quickly and decided to remain focused on Sarah. At the end of the day, this dance was for her. He watched as she mingled with her friends, fawning over each other's dresses and gossiping about the latest drama. Joel remained on the outer edge of the dance floor, his palms damp from sweat and his pulse racing. 

The music shifted to a slow song, and Sarah quickly found Joel and pulled him onto the dancefloor. Seeing her excitement alleviated the bundle of anxiety pulsating inside his chest. He watched as her dress floated around her with every turn, the dimples on her face appearing as he continued twirling her around. The music was slowly drifting to a close, and Joel ushered Sarah in for one last spin. He couldn’t contain the smile on his face as he watched her happiness radiate into the space around him. He maneuvered himself around her twirling body and glanced up toward the side of the gym.

Everything around him ceased to exist at that moment. Amidst the blurring bodies and the chaos of voices, the world stood still. There you were, standing quietly in the shadows, your body bathed in flickering lights, like a lighthouse in the distance of a stormy sea. Joel silently pleaded for you to look at him, even for a second.

As if you heard his thoughts, your eyes met his for a fleeting moment, and it’s as if you saw him. The room melted away, and it was just you and him for the briefest moment in time. Joel swore you looked at him as if you remembered…as if you had searched the room just to find him. The erratic beating of his heart slowed, his body recognizing the strange comfort of your presence even at a distance. Every cell, every atom, every piece of himself cried out to you. 

You saw him.

And he smiled.

[obsessive-valentine]

Yandere!Hockey-Player x GN!Reader

A peak into the darker side of out beloved ice-hockey-jock boyfriend, what he’s willing to do for his darlings happiness. TW bullying and blood from fist fight

Not to proud of this one but wanted to get something out for you guys, promise I’ll post more soon.

Even though you are now dating one of the more ‘popular’ boys in your new school, not everyone changed up their attitudes towards you. It’s been almost a month but you’re still considered ‘the new student’- trying to find your place amongst people who already know each other. And although it’s easier now with your boyfriend keeping you company most classes, when he’s not around you find it hard to fit in.

It’s one of those days where he doesn’t have many classes with you, he walks you to your class and tells you he’ll meet you outside your class for lunch. For the most part your new classmates are nice to you, you sit comfortably on a table with people who have introduced themselves and offered you a seat on the first day. And the teachers are always welcoming.

But since the start of your introduction one particular boy known for interrupting class to wreak chaos and poke fun at classmates. Recently you found yourself being the butt of most his jokes. Poking and poking waiting for a reaction. You tried to keep your head down, ignore him and let the teacher handle his childish interruptions, but it’s just seems to make the situation worse.

From behind you you felt a quick tug on a few strands of your hair demanding the test answers, you ignored him which only worsened the torment. Then you felt your chair jerk over and over, the teacher to busy to notice him kicking your chair, so you don’t make a scene. He had the gull to tug at your hair again then poke at you with a ruler harder and harder, his friend snickering beside him

After one particularly hard poke you tried to tell him off but the teacher beat you to it, sending him to the back of class after you told her about the harassment. You kept your head down refusing to see the nasty glare he was no doubt giving you.

...

Leaving class he caught your backpack stopping you in your tracks “you shouldn’t have done that” he scoffed before pulling you back further making you stumble and walking out in front of you. You didn’t dwell on the threat seeing you boyfriend at the door and walking over to him, his face looked troubled “who was that?” Having watched half the interaction “just some idiot who thinks it’s fun to annoy me”

“What’s he done?” His voice sounded unusually serious and his back straightened defensively, making you focus the sheer size of the ice hockey player and how serious he becomes before a game against opposing school team. Sometimes you forget how much of a aggressive battering ram he can be due to his golden retriever personality.

You confided in him, ranting to him about how annoying this ‘class clown’ can be as you both walked to the lunch hall. “What a jerk, I’m sorry babe, he won’t touch you again” before you can question what he means he said “you gotta tell me about stuff like this” as you both settled on a table.

...

Most days he’d drive you back home after school but today you had a training session in at the ice rink and he didn’t -so you both parted ways “call me as soon as you’re done” he smiled waving goodbye. As soon as you were out of sight he walked back towards the school waiting in the parking lot.

His pupils dilated and practically seethed through his teeth, how dare someone cause stress to such a kind hearted and innocent person, his love. You failed to see the way his hands painfully clenched into fists as you told him about the ruler and the hair tugging, how he ground his teeth and nose flared in disgust.

He now stood expectantly doing all those same things but with a deadly scowl. And there was his target walking with a small group of boys, he let them pass and walked behind them stalking them out the parking lot and to a foot path before pulling on the targets bag, spinning him around and punching him hard across his face.

“Stay out of this” he shouts as his friends come to save him, shoving one in the chest who got to close. At some point they were both on the floor, both bleeding but one much worse than the other “you touch them or even look at them one more fucking time and you’ll be dead at the bottom of a lake that same day” he growled in his year before letting go of his shirt and letting him fall to the pavement.

Satisfied he walked back to his car, his bloody hands hands smearing on the steering wheel as he let out a relived sigh. He cleaned himself up before going into his house his mother questioned the split lip and bruises, worriedly grabbing his face inspecting it “We got a bit carried away in P.E mom, I’m okay” he reassured.

He gave you a similar excuse when you FaceTimed that night, saying he and the team played a few rounds of rugby on the field after school. You didn’t question it and fell asleep on call.

...

However when he picked you up in the morning and his hands were evidently bruised you began to doubt he was telling the truth about where the came injures from. That isn’t a harmless game of rugby.

And you knew what happened when in class the boy that loves to pick on you, now sat quietly in the farthest seat from you, a violent black eye, multiple scratches and cuts. He refused to look at you, you knew why now. Seeing how bruised your boyfriends knuckles were you could only assume the damage was worse under his clothes.

You couldn’t focus all lesson, would he really do this to someone? So you asked and he apologised promising you that he went to confront him about it but you bully was the one who threw the first punch, he had to defend himself. He saw your face twist in a mix of emotions he reassuringly squeezed your hand “I’m sorry babe, I can’t stand people treating you like that I just wanted to talk -trust me please. I didn’t think it would escalate” he looked like a scolded puppy “I didn’t want to worry you with a little scuffle so I lied” he held both you hands sincerely.

You forgave him, agreeing that boys fight all the time and this wasn’t his fault. Inevitably you’d forget about the incident and choose to believe his reassurances, he doesn’t come across as someone that would start a fight (if only you knew the things he’d do to keep you happy). And once his bruises heal you don’t give it a second thought.

Your adoring boyfriend who drives you everywhere, opens the doors for you, loves his mother, cheers you on during practice and competitions, buys you flowers, falls asleep on FaceTime when he can’t be closer, who just is overall a gentleman -he couldn’t do such a thing. Your sure of it.

[jammyambition]

Hello!!! Unfortunately for everyone who might see this, I have now attempted to write Baby’s First Smut™️. You heard it here first, I’m not just hoarding fics on this blog anymore (unless this crashes and burns then I will delete it and hide in shame forever ofc) I have been inspired by so many amazing fic writers on here, and I’ll tag a couple just so I can share the love, I hope that’s okay! @pascalisbaby , @tinycozycomfort, @cupofjoel, @joelscruff thank you for your amazing and inspiring work!! Lots of love!!❤️

If people like this I could always write a continuation!! I have lots of ideas in my brain 💡

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

Old Man.

Jackson!Joel x Reader

MINORS DNI/NSFW

Warnings: No description of size/appearance/skin colour. Reader is in early to mid 20’s, has a vagina/vulva, has hair long enough to pull, Joel uses terms of endearment such as honey/sweetheart/darlin’/baby/little girl, contains fingering, finger sucking, hair pulling, face grabbing, light/moderate spanking, slightly Mean!Joel, Joel is 56 so I cannot stress this enough, there is a big age gap! 1 single use of the word Daddy, slight humiliation and finally the use of the word Sir about 2 or 3 times. I imagined game!Joel for this fic, but ofc imagine whatever iteration you like!! I am done.

word count: 3,835

You and Joel have been patrol partners for a while now, and you have taking quite a liking to him. A cocky mistake nearly costs you your life, and Joel takes drastic measures to ensure it doesn’t happen again.

The air is crisp and cool as you walk slowly up the snowy path to Joel’s front door. Your mind racing as you think back to the events of your most recent patrol with him; you, a bunch of clickers and your near devastating misplaced confidence in yourself.

You thought you could take on a group by yourself from the safety of your horse. You’d managed to get a few headshots, reaching back to get another arrow from your quiver and nicking yourself on your knife, a sharp gasp leaving your lips at the feeling of your skin being sliced open. At the sound of your gasp, the clickers whipped their heads around, causing a whimper of fear to bubble out from your lips. You urge your horse forward as quickly as possible, desperate to escape the clawing hands and gnashing teeth of the monsters, but you’re not quick enough, they’re gaining on you with alarming speed. Your heart pounds in your chest like a frightened rabbit, your breath coming in quick, wet pants as you panic. The situation seems dire, and you do the only thing you can think of that might save you from certain death.

“JOEL!!”

The clickers seem to gain even more speed at the sound of your scream, and you begin to worry that they might drag you off your horse, those gnarled claws and gaping mouths inching ever closer by the second. At the last second, just as you feel the tips of a set of claws scratching at your calf through your thick trousers, one of the clickers is thrown back by a direct shot to it’s head, a halo of gore and fungal brain matter splattering onto the ground and landing in patches on your clothes and face. Another deafening bang and another clicker thumps to the ground at the feet of your panicked horse, and after another 3 lethally calculated shots, you’re finally, blissfully safe. You feel colour and heat returning to your sweaty face, heart racing with adrenaline and relief. You look up, and he’s there. Your saviour. Of course it’s Joel, who else would it be? No one else would be that efficient, that calm under pressure, and also, you note with trembling breath, no one else would look quite that angry.

You can see the rifle clenched in his trembling fist, his nostrils flaring as he catches his breath, coming down from the panic of the last few minutes. He sets the rifle down and motions for you to ride over to join him.

Fuck.

The ride over to Joel feels somewhat like the ride to your own grave, the anger and frustration is radiating off him in palpable waves, his thick fingers twisting around the reins of his horse in a way that both frightens you and makes your mouth feel a little dry. You can’t deny that Joel is a treat to be on patrol with, between his hunting and shooting skills, his good looks and gruff, deep voice, usually you would jump at the chance to spend any amount of time with him, but right now you’d rather be on the receiving end of literally anybody else’s anger.

You turn to Joel, taking in the heavy, thunderous set of his dark brows, his usually kind brown eyes now steely with the promise of you being in for a real dressing down.

“So, you wanna tell me exactly what you were thinking back there?” Joel says, low and vaguely threatening, but tinged with genuine concern.

You swallow dryly.

“I-…I thought I could handle it Joel, I’m sorry. It was my fault.”

Your mouth feels dry and sandpapery, a fierce blush burning in your cheeks as your embarrassment grows.

He breathes in slowly, measuredly before exploding.

“You’re goddamn right it’s your fault, you couldn’t handle shit back there! What would have happened if I wasn’t there, if I hadn’t heard you call for me? I told you, I told you to stick with me and to let me handle packs of infected, and you ignored me and went off alone to try and what? Prove yourself to me? Well, I hate to tell you honey, but the only thing you’ve proven today is that I cannot trust you to follow my orders! I can’t believe you’d be so childish, so goddamn stubborn!”

He takes in another breath, this one sharp and gasping after this outburst.

You blanch, reaching another level of embarrassment you previously thought didn’t exist. He was right, you did want to prove yourself to him, you wanted to impress him, but it didn’t work, you just nearly got yourself killed. Your pride wounded and anger growing, you spit back at him in turn.

“Y-you think I want to impress you, old man? I only took on that pack of clickers because I thought YOU wouldn’t be able to handle it!”

You lie through your teeth, hating yourself even more the moment the words tumble from your freezing lips.

He looks straight ahead, over at the gates of Jackson which loom ahead of you.

“That right, sweetheart?”

He sounds as if he’s speaking through gritted teeth, and you feel your insides chill a little at the cold sound of his voice. You fucked up, bad.

You hitch your horses back at the stables, and as you walk away, desperate to go home, away from Joel and wash your day of adrenaline and crippling embarrassment off you with a hot shower, you feel his firm grasp on your upper arm, stopping you in your tracks.

He leans in close to your ear, his warm breath tickling your cold skin and making you shiver.

“I think you and I need to have a little talk about what happened today. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll have the decency to to show your face tomorrow. I expect an apology.”

Your breath catches in your throat at his words.

“Y-yeah, I’ll be there. I’ll see you tomorrow, Joel.” You stutter, your cheeks heating up even more.

He steps back from you, completely unaffected and calm.

“Good. I’ll catch you later, honey.”

He turns and walks away, over to where Tommy and Maria are beckoning him to come for a nightcap, greeting them with a familiar smile.

You rub your face with your gloved hands, squeezing your eyes shut and pressing your palms to your eyes.

“Shit!” You mutter under your breath. “Shit.”

And that is exactly why you’re hauling your sorry ass up Joel’s path, apologies and excuses dancing around your head, trying to work out just how you can get yourself out of this mess. You imagine Joel telling you that you can’t be on patrol anymore, you’re too irresponsible, too impulsive. Your stomach clenches with nerves.

Finally, you reach his front door and knock lightly a few times, willing him not to be in the house. You can come back tomorrow. You begin to turn away, making your way back down the path as you hear the latch of his front door opening.

You hear Joel’s heavy footsteps on the wooden porch and your heart sinks a little as you hear him speak.

“Don’t think you’ll get away that easy, darlin’. Get in here. Now.”

He steps aside to allow you to get past him, and you squeeze through into the living room, your shoulders brushing his lightly as you pass.

He steps back into the house and shuts the door firmly, your stomach jolting nervously at the finality of the sound. You’re trapped.

Joel moves through the living room, taking a seat on one of the large, comfortable chairs. He gets himself settled, leaning back with his arms draped casually across the back of the chair and his legs spread apart slightly. You can’t help it when your gaze flits between the exposed muscle of his bicep as the arms of his t-shirt rides up slightly, and the bulge in his blue jeans when he leans back. He adjusts himself again, pushing his hips forward. His t-shirt rides up just a little, exposing a sliver of soft, tanned stomach. You feel like you’re about to pass out as you take in the sight in front of you.

“Stop staring at him, for fucks sake!” You think, as you feel your face heat up even more.

“Come here.” Joel says sternly, pointing at a spot in front of him, about a foot away from where he’s sitting.

You walk tentatively over to where he points, coming to a halt just in front of his boots.

“That’s good, darlin’. So you can take orders, huh?” he rumbles, and you swear you hear a slight hint of amusement in his voice.

“I can take orders, old man.” You reply, tartly.

He grunts quietly, unamused.

“Now tell me, what’s with this attitude huh? You’re so polite with everyone else, so nice and sweet. Why do I get this bratty little attitude of yours?” He says, sternly, locking you in his steely gaze.

You don’t answer as you struggle to think of a reply, your mouth opening and closing over and over.

“You ain’t got nothin’ to say, sweetheart? You think I deserve this attitude of yours after I saved your life? Saved you from that cocky little stunt you pulled?” He goes on, filling the silence for you.

You feel hot and guilty as he lectures you, but your stomach twists pleasurably at the sight of him in front of you, and the deep, stern tone of his voice is making you feel hot and even a little damp in your underwear.

“J-Joel, this is…this is humiliating. I don’t need to be lectured like this, I’m not a child.” You find your voice, desperate to prove that you’re not as pathetic and bratty as he’s making you out to be.

“No? Then why do you act like such a child, out on patrol with me? Always with your bratty little comments, disobeying my direct orders, going off on your own when you think you know better!” He sounds more annoyed now, his voice taking on a sharper edge, you can tell you’re getting to him and a small part of you want to push further.

“Jesus Joel, you’re speaking to me like I’m not a grown woman, I’m in my 20’s for fucks sake! I don’t have to answer to you! I can take care of myself, I have more experience than you’ve ever given me credit for, old man.” You spit back, angry at the implications of his words and desperate to hold your own in this battle that you’re acutely aware you’re losing.

A dark look flits across his face, and he looks almost feral when he raises his eyes back to you. You a nervous tingling across the back of your neck as you realise you may have pushed it just a little too far this time.

His hand shoots out and grabs your collar tightly, pulling you down to his level, his forehead pressing against yours as his eyes bore into yours from below.

“Do you have any idea how much older I am than you, little girl? How much more experience I have than you? What I could do to a little brat like you?” He seethes, his voice low and threatening.

You feel a spike of arousal in your stomach as he grits his words out at you, his breath flickering over your face as his dark eyes search yours.

You swallow, steeling yourself against his intense gaze.

“Oh, I’d love to see what you’d do a little brat like me, old man.” You retort, smirking.

Another half-crazed look passes across his face and then suddenly he pulls you sharply by your wrist, unbalancing you and having you land directly across his knees, your ass sticking up slightly.

You’re in shock, feeling vulnerable and exposed despite the two layers of clothing protecting your modesty.

“Joel?! What the fuck?” You protest, trying to stand up, but his arm is solid and vice like around your waist.

He chuckles, clinging to your waist even tighter to ensure you can’t escape.

“Showin’ you what I do to little brats like you, sweetheart.”

Suddenly his hand comes down on your ass, taking you by surprise and making you yelp. Another sudden burst of arousal spikes through your core and you squirm in his lap slightly.

“You’re gonna spank me!? Really, Joel!?” You say, embarrassed.

“Don’t pretend you don’t like it, honey. I can see you squirmin’ from here.” He chides, bringing his hand down again, making you let out a strangled half yelp, half moan.

“F-fuck! That hurts, Joel!” You whimper.

“It’s meant to hurt sweetheart, how else is it gonna fix your little attitude problem?” He says, laughing slightly at your predicament.

You feel wetness pooling in your underwear as he strikes your ass again, and you squirm slightly again in his lap, feeling an unexpected hardness digging into your stomach.

“Don’t pretend you don’t like it, honey. I can practically feel you making a mess of your underwear, little girl.” He says coolly.

You whimper again, feeling hot and flustered from his ministrations and words. You can feel your pussy dripping with need and you worry it’s about to start making a stain on his jeans.

Joel runs a soothing, warm hand through your hair, coaxing you to look up at him.

“Cmon, darlin’. If you tell me the truth, I’ll give you what you want.” He looks searchingly into your face, big brown eyes kind and gentle.

You swallow, your throat dry with shame and your tongue thick with arousal, willing yourself to come up with a response that isn’t just incomprehensible whines and whimpers betraying your desperation for him.

“I..I…I don’t want anything, Joel. I swear!”

Your voice shakes as you lie through your teeth.

You hear Joel make a half grunt, half chuckle above you, and he draws breath before he speaks.

“You little liar.”

He sounds almost amused as he brings his hand down on your ass again, harder than before, and you accidentally let a strangled moan fall from your lips.

Your hand flies to your lips, as if you’re trying to push the sound back down your throat and your face feels impossibly hot. You can feel yourself leaking into your underwear, almost certainly soaking the fabric through entirely and you’re worried that it might start to leak out and stain his rough denim jeans.

“Oh, honey…” he says, sickly sweet and tender, and then winds a broad hand in the hair at the soft nape of your neck and pulls your head back sharply, slotting his face next to yours and pressing his lips up against your ear.

“I think you want me to fuck that little hole of yours until you remember who’s in charge here, little girl.”

You feel a gush of wetness in your underwear at his words, and an unrestrained moan leaves you against your will.

You nod your head as he begins to gently kiss and nibble at your ear slightly, making you shiver.

He leans back slightly and speaks again, his voice husky and laced with something like desire.

“Need words from you, darlin’. I ain’t doin’ shit until I know you want it. Come on, tell me what you want, honey.”

You gaze up at him, your eyes wide and probably slightly dazed looking from all the blood rushing away from your brain. You lick your dry lips and open your mouth to speak.

“N-need you to touch me Joel, please.”

He looks deep into your eyes.

“That right, baby? Need me to touch you, make you behave? Make you good for me?”

As he says this, you feel his large, warm hand sliding slowly up your thigh, stopping at your inner thigh and tracing small, teasing circles on the sensitive skin.

You can feel yourself get even wetter, and you squirm a little in his lap as his fingers move a little higher, tracing the large wet patch on your underwear.

He smirks slightly, almost condescendingly before speaking.

“All this from a little punishment, darlin’? You really this wet for me?”

He moves his fingers up to the waistband of your underwear and hooks his fingers under the elastic.

“Can I take these off, baby? You want this?”

You’re practically grinding on his thigh with frustration and your voice is small and desperate as you answer.

“Please Joel, take ‘em off, need you so bad.”

He chuckles, deep and warm as he slides your underwear down your thighs, tutting sympathetically as he sees the marks his hand left behind on your ass.

“Poor lil’ thing. Maybe I went too hard on you. Still, you look so damn good like this, honey. Is this how I should get you to mind me from now on? Put you over my knee and spank this pretty lil ass till ya’ listen?”

You moan quietly at his words, not at all opposed to the idea, which of course, Joel notices.

“I see I got a lil masochist on my hands here, ain’t that right, darlin’? You like a lil pain?”

You whimper out a response.

“Yeah, I-I like it, Joel. Now p-please, you’ve teased me enough, need you to touch me.”

He seems to take pity on you as he slowly pulls your underwear down your legs, urging your hips up to give himself room. As you lay back down in his lap you feel his hardness digging into your stomach and you whine out.

“Please Joel, I want your cock so bad, I’ll be good I promise.”

You look up at him with pleading eyes, and he brings his large hand up to your face, smushing your cheeks together so your lips push out in a pout.

“As cute as you are, darlin’, you’re not getting my cock until you can prove you can listen to me, take orders from me like a good girl. Got it, honey?”

You start to pitch up a whine, complaining slightly.

“B-but, Joel, I-I-….”

His grip on your cheeks goes tighter, and he nods your head up and down slightly, his mouth curved into a condescending grin.

“There we go, good girl. Say “Yes, Sir.” That’s it…”

He chuckles, dropping his grip on your cheeks and stroking your hair again in a soothing motion, then moving his hands back to your dripping wet core.

“Listen to me, little girl. You’re gonna lay nice and still over my knee and you’re gonna take what I have to give you, got it? Gonna show you who’s in charge around here, honey; you’re gonna mind me when we’re done.”

As he says this, he slides a thick finger into your dripping hole, and you feel yourself clench around his digit.

“O-oh, fuck!”

You whine as he starts up an unforgiving pace, and you can hear the sticky, wet noises of your own arousal echoing through the room.

“You like that honey? Huh?”

He says, as he slips another finger in, the slight stretch making you cry out in pleasure again.

“Where’s that bratty attitude now, little girl? You gonna talk back to me now you’re getting fucked over my knee? Fucked good by this old man?”

You feel yourself somehow get even wetter at his words, whines tumbling from your lips.

“N-no, Joel, I promise! I’ll b-be good, I swear! Just please don’t stop!”

He makes a thinking noise, his fingers not slowing as he moves his other hand to your lower back, holding you down.

“I don’t know honey, I’m not convinced that you’ll be a good girl for me. Show me some proper respect, and maybe I’ll think about it. Go on.”

You let out a frustrated whine, not believing that he can possibly make this situation anymore humiliating, but you think you know what he wants.

Finally you give in.

“Please, Sir! Please, don’t stop!”

You think you can feel his cock twitch slightly as it digs into your stomach from below, and you feel a slight sense of satisfaction as he speaks.

“Yeah honey, that’s a good girl. Showing me some proper respect now, huh?”

He seems pleased, and as if rewarding you for your efforts he scoops you up and sits you in his lap properly, draping your legs either side of his broad thighs.

You feel your wetness drip out of you as your core is entirely exposed to the cool air of the room.

“I think my good girl deserves a little reward now, show her I’m not all bad, right baby?”

His fingers go straight for your clit and begin to rub it in tight, calculated circles as the fingers of his other hand plunge back into your tight hole.

You moan loudly he does this, feeling yourself close to cumming already after his relentless teasing. You feel as if you can’t control the loud, desperate whines and moans leaving your lips as he continues to work your body expertly.

You hear him tut again as your moans reach a particularly loud crescendo.

“Shh, honey…damn, you really are desperate to cum, huh? You better quieten down, you wouldn’t want your lil’ friends to know you’re getting fucked so good by a man old enough to be your daddy. Ain’t that right little girl?”

As he says this, he takes his fingers out from your pussy and shoves them in your open mouth, silencing your moans.

“Yeah, that’s better. Give you something to keep you quiet while you cum, darlin’.”

You feel yourself tightening around nothing, your legs clenching and shaking as you begin to cum, Joel’s fingers in your mouth keeping you quiet.

He continues to rub your clit slowly as you come down from your high, the feeling making you shiver and spasm in his arms.

You relax back into his chest, feeling slightly dizzy from your intense orgasm, your muscles feeling jelly-like and utterly relaxed.

Joel wraps his arms around your shaking form, reclining further into the chair and allowing you to nestle into his arms.

“You okay, honey? Need anything, some water or something?”

You look up at him, his brown eyes kind and gentle again.

You giggle slightly,

“Maybe my pants back, old man…”

He raises his eyebrows in mock surprise.

“Oh, back to our old ways already are we, sweetheart?”

He says, playfully.

You laugh quietly again, resting your head on his chest.

“Yeah, something like that.”

You two stay like that for a while, until finally your legs begin to go numb due to the uncomfortable position. Joel sends you off with a kiss on the forehead and a pat on your (still slightly sore) ass, as well as a warning that you’d better listen to him next time you’re on patrol together.

You find yourself making a promise to yourself to show Joel just how much of a good girl you can be the next time you’re on patrol together.

[ed-recovery-affirmations]

Hi all! I've got lots of asks in my askbox and I appreciate the ones that have been kind messages for me. <3

I will probably take a few more days off of here, but I wanted to share something from today.

I attended the wedding of a friend of mine. It was hard to go because I feel bogged down in work and family drama, but I went, and I am so glad I did. It was so beautiful. The bride and groom were crying a lot and so were many of the friends and family members. A couple of my friends brought their children, and it was a light in the world to watch them dance and have fun.

There was a lot of food there and I struggled, I'll admit. Especially because recent stress has caused my GI issues to flare up a bit, so my stomach was a little uncomfortable no matter what I chose to eat and that can sometimes send me on a spiral of food regret and thinking I should have restricted. But I did not restrict, and I did not binge. I enjoyed a few things here and there, and took my time in returning to the food table for desserts so that I could enjoy my food throughout the day without overly focusing on it. I gave my GI system a chance to rest but still kept myself fed and allowed myself to have treats. I was able to connect with people, focus on individual beautiful moments, and enjoy the amazing event at least in some capacities.

Food-based events are really hard for me, especially crowded ones. This was tough because I was already struggling, but I did it, and I am proud of myself. I did some more self-care when I got home, including a short workout, shower, mindfulness meditation, and another light snack to keep me feeling fed without overwhelming my GI system. And now I'm writing this. I like to be able to share things about what I struggle with safely. I think we all need that. Though I luckily have friends I can talk to now, there've been times in my life that I was surrounded by people with whom I could never have shared this stuff. I am so glad to be able to help others share too.

There were a lot of moments today that made me feel like there are lights of hope in a dark world. I hope you all are able to look for these moments in your daily lives. I hope you're all able to find (and create) good ones.

EDITED TO ADD: Also the groom cut the wedding cake with a sword.

[rin-and-jade]

Accidentally Setting Off Bombs?.. : A Post on (system) Triggers

What if you're on a fine day, nothing's going wrong, only to be met with a specific phrase or experience that throws off your balance for the next few days?

Well, it seems like you got some landmines in your mental territory with it's uninviting presence--but triggers are more than just a trauma mechanism. As basically, we all (singlet and systems) operate with many, many, different types of triggers that makes us act the way we are.

This post will cover different kinds of triggers, educate the nuance of its purpose, as well as how they operate--or respond like, and how to handle the typical destructive and bad triggers! There's even bonus info. CLICK ME!!

TLDR section: gotchu covered! Scroll to most bottom.

Trigger? What trigger?

Uhhm.. Hold for a sec guys-- *googles awkwardly infront of you* Alright, found it: "to cause something to start" -Cambridge Dictionary

To cause something, you say? Okay, i see now, try bringing yourself back to past experiences for a while and observe how some responses/conversations had made you feel: sad? happy? confused? angry?

That's a general example of triggers, as they spark an emotion to you within a brief moment after you've finished registering and processing an information.

When it comes to system topics, the word "triggers" are often used to describe any informational/sensory input that caused/starts a switch between two parts. This usually takes more than sparking a fuse that will cause emotions to do that though.. here, let the chief explain some types for you:

Types of triggers.. (and as bomb names)

Internal - Dynamite Caused by: Thoughts, memories, experiences Combustion power: High

Details: Due to high sensitivity, any internal pressure can cause it to detonate and land a strong impact, giving way for strong emotional reactions to hit fast and strong, or a sudden switch to happen.

External - Landmine Caused by: Stimuli from external environments (scents, people, places) Combustion power: High

Details: Due to its ability to detect pressure on a proximity, rearing too close to one would cause a detonation, no matter how unexpected or aloof.

Physiological - Grenade Caused by: Heart rate, pain, hunger, fatigue, etc Combustion power: Moderate high

Details: Being exposed to a stimulus causes the safety pin to be pulled, which gradually causes a build up of chemicals before reaching to the shell's threshold, causing a defined space of explosion.

Psychological - Time bomb Caused by: Stress, anxiety, overwhelm, etc Combustion power: Moderate

Details: Set with a special timer, after being triggered, it has a defined length of time before it detonates, this can be from a couple of seconds to hours. Failure to diffuse, would mean the prolonged exposure and effects will inevitably, turn into an explosive mess.

Behavioral - Smoke bomb Caused by: Routine, certain repetition, engaging an activity Combustion power: Moderate

Details: They're not apparently harmful, but when deployed, it causes a fog of confusion, causing dissociation and detachment from a certain part to notice or be fully aware of the situation. Unlike other previous bombs, they may cause a more silent/subtle or temporary switch or shift.

Emotional - Firecrackers Caused by: Negative, or positive emotions Combustion power: Low to moderate

Details: Although small, they're very loud and explosive. They do not have any destructive capabilities within them, yet capable of causing a temporary reaction of emotions or myriad of things. Possibly close to a partial switch/influence. Unless strong, it could cause a switch.

Symptom - Flare gun Caused by: Presence of specific symptoms from illnesses/health Combustion power: Low

Details: They don't have any explosive or destructive qualities, rather, it's akin to an SOS signal, alerting possible parts to come by as an aid to the situation, responding and taking the wheel from the distress call, tanking discomfort/symptoms.

Meaning of terms: "Caused by" - To convey what it detects that started the trigger "Combustion power" - To convey how strong it facilitates a switch, and/or how destructive the reaction would be if it sets the fuse off

Okay, but how do they work??

Explosives devices such as dynamites, landmines, or grenades pack a lot of charged emotions or reactions that is strong enough as a signal to your brain to perform several brain modes and complete a switch that is necessary to the heat of the situation.

While less destructive ones like crackers and flares do not hold enough pressure or combustion, which explains partial alter influences, or just enough to call them into the co-conscious proximity.

--

The idea of how triggers facilitate switches is from how these inputs are taken account into brain modes as cues, and depending on the cues and learnt patterns, it will bring forth an associated alter that fits for the situation.

In short, parts have their own memory banks of experiences and triggers, which is why dangerous or stressful situations bring forth protectors or why seeing cute videos or toys bring forth littles.

Are we ever free from triggers?

No, not really--but that doesn't mean its bad!

Generally, triggers are just the mediator to initiate certain steps, actions, emotions, or learnt behaviors to navigate our life. It's what puts us into work mode, or when to joke--when to not. We're made of different sets of modes, and these triggers made sure we act and think correctly within specific situations.

The issue here is when traumatic triggers are ruining other benign types of triggers, which i will address next.

When bombs are planted with trickery:

The complexity starts here. Why? Because triggers also works in stacks and combos. Especially the traumatic ones. A trigger only can shift/affect a mood or state, but combo'd ones does a rollercoaster of reactions, where most damage is done.

They're capable of stacking or performed in combos due to how each activates another trigger, one after other, i'll give an example:

You got insulted by someone (external trigger) -> Caused you to feel sad (emotional trigger) -> Makes you remember all the other times you've disappointed people (internal trigger) -> These past experiences slowly overwhelm you and cloud your judgement (psychological trigger) -> Which causes a breakdown and perform unhealthy coping mechanisms, like isolating or substances (behavioral trigger)

Oof.... yeah no one would like that. Right? Right??..

Alright, and that's how easy it is to get caught up to a reactive state. And you'd love to know ANY. FRICKING. WAYS. to diffuse that annoying pattern.. which i do know--if not this post won't even be released if it doesn't have the advice section.

Chief, spill your CIA files on this!

I am, i am!!..

Oftentimes, these triggers hit you big and hard,, because once ya lose your cool? Thats game over. Now, here's a lil cheat sheet:

Identify the device Which is why understanding and identifying the name of the bombs is the first important step to counter the detonation. Did you snap a trigger for defensive behavior? Or the one that makes you feel lots of things?

Do not run, attempt to diffuse instead I mean, we all want to escape from potential dangers, but that doesn't stop the explosion, which may or may not hurt you or other people within the process. Once you start feeling finicky or a little panicky--immediately assert yourself to recognize your build up pressure, that'll muffle it good and helps you and control from the reactive bursts from affecting you emotionally and mentally.

Cut the wires off (get out of the negative thought loop) Take proactive steps to solve or manage your emotions. We often assume the worst would happen, and thats when.. you leave the bomb as it is. Get going and prevent the worst possible scenario. Craft a plan on how you can manage,, are there pliers? Do you have enough time to cover with a shield to avoid its impact? I don't know, smash it!

Understand consequences (additional info) When you realize that there are various ways to react after a trigger is activated, you might see which can make the situation worse, or can make the situation lighter. This buys you a little more time to reflect and choose the outcome you truly want to achieve.

For first-timers, it is hard to fight off the bombs because you never had a plan or experience to handle them, if so, this is your call to create a plan or strategy whenever triggers will topple your balance. Most importantly, self confidence and trust in managing a difficult, bomby situation would do you wonders.

If you failed to deactivate the bomb:

Salvage the situation If the damage was inevitable, then you can attempt to ground yourself back, and empathetically apologize to the people who got hurt in the process. Explain to them what just happened, and etc.

Log them in What pattern did you see? What can you implement next time to manage the situation better? This is a good moment for reflection/evaluation and planning.

Give yourself some grace (most important) You're just learning, punishing or shaming yourself won't get you anywhere far. It's okay, you can still practice to deflect another future trigger if you do failed a bunch.

Bonus Information

Triggers are also connected to the polyvagal theory, i'll share you a bit on it!

When brain modes has the job to pull out the right alters for the right situation then... who opens the gate for a switch to happen? Thats right, its your big brother: Mr. PV .

Hyper-aroused vagus:

Switches happen within the sympathetic state--which is all about action and fight/flight. Being in a sympathetic state makes certain alters with active roles be more alert, and also signals an urgency to be flexible or adapt to the situation. The threshold for triggers to feel 'moderate' emotions also lowers (means more sensitive), which also make sense why you are easier to be irritated or emotional in a heightened state.

Often times, if too many alters are co-conscious, and variated stimulus are presented, this causes multiple switches at short successions in attempt to upkeep the demand of which alter is needed within the ever-changing moment. Like when you're trying to juggle some balls with your hands, it's akin to multitasking.. but juggling alters around.

Oh right, sounds familiar huh? That's what rapid switch is.

Hypo-aroused vagus:

But, when you're too overwhelmed or had exerted alot of strain/energy, you might crash into a mental exhaustion.

This exhaustion is the dorsal vagal state, where your body attempts to conserve and hide away when active fighting doesn't work. triggers are harder to facilitate switches as it puts the threshold bar up high.. rendering normal triggers obsolete.

Felt like you've been there? Well, that's the process which made you front-stuck, which you might recognize.

-- clarification -- Rapid switch and front-stuck also involve other factors such as stress tolerance and emotional resilience, take this as a piece of pov to learn how these two mechanisms works.

Takeaway

Alright fellas.. that's all you get from the hands on education on my bomb camp. What kind of bomb do you often experience? Which one is the most annoying to you so far? Let me know!

Also.. it would be awesome if you start mentioning triggers as bomb names as they almost perfectly depict what they feel like.

AND REMEMBER. Do not attempt to intentionally trigger a bomb without a professional or a trusty friend. Doing so alone would cause unwanted effects. If you want to un-learn your triggers, contact me,, the master of bombs,,, i'll be able to curate a personalized step by step on how to tackle them!

(and... uh... i write my posts differently after final fusing, i hope you guys are okay with this forever now)

-- TLDR --

Triggers in DID they are cues (internal, external, emotional, etc.) that cause a specific reaction or switch between alters, depending on the situation.

Triggers vary in impact: some are like dynamite (internal triggers from memories), others like landmines (external stimuli), grenades (physiological states), time bombs (psychological stress), smoke bombs (behavioral patterns), firecrackers (emotional responses), or flare guns (symptom-related).

Polyvagal Theory explains rapid switching between hyperarousal (fight-or-flight state) and hypoarousal (shutdown state), contributing to feeling "stuck" or experiencing frequent switches.

Not all triggers are negative; they can play an adaptive role, bringing forward the most appropriate alter for a situation. Learn to manage and "diffuse" these triggers by identifying them, using grounding techniques, and developing strategies to mitigate their effects.

Key takeaway: Triggers are a natural part of life for everyone, but managing traumatic triggers is essential for those with DID. Understanding and handling them effectively can help maintain balance and well-being.

- chrono

[writingquestionsanswered]

Writing with Chronic Illness

strigiformthunderstorm asked: Could you advise on forming a writing routine with a chronic illness? I have several conditions that cause a lot of pain and fatigue, and working part-time takes up nearly all of my energy. I used to write daily but stopped while I was in "survival mode", and now getting in my head about the quality prevents me from writing. I've had success with creating multiple routines to accommodate my fluctuating symptoms, so instead of writing out a schedule, I'm kind of choreographing a dance. For example, right now I'm coming out of a flare up so I'm trying to think of adaptations like writing in bed, taking naps between writing sessions, and being less hard on myself about smoking for my pain while writing + just doing brain dumps if that's what I need to get into the flow of things. I'm also neurodivergent. I'm trying to get to the point I'm actually writing the book (instead of world building/planning) and am making consistent progress.

[Ask edited for length]

A few things that might help:

1 - Don't worry about writing daily or hitting specific word counts. Doing things to "move the needle" are just as important, even if that is doing brain dumps, researching, or looking for inspiration photos.

2 - Try to avoid making writing feel like a stressful activity that your brain will automatically want to avoid. The things you're doing are already on the right track, so continue to give yourself grace, give yourself positive reinforcement for anything that moves the needle, and doing what you can to make writing relaxing and rewarding.

3 - Many writers find that writing sprints are a productive way for them to get words on the page. So, for example, try setting a timer for 10 or 20 minutes (or whatever increment works for you) and write as much as you can during that time. Don't worry about quality (we'll get to that in a minute), just get the words down. Do this a few times a day, and it starts to add up quickly. You may also find that you gather momentum and are able to write more per sprint, sprint for longer periods, and/or include more sprints into your day.

4 - Focusing overly much on quality is probably a bigger obstacle for you right now than anything else. This is by far and away the biggest pitfall writers fall into. Remember: writing is a process that requires editing and revision. No one writes a perfect first draft. There's a reason we call them "rough drafts" and "zero drafts." There's a reason we self-edit and revise. There's a reason we use beta readers, critique partners, and editors. It isn't supposed to be perfect at the beginning. Imagine being a sculptor, taking out a lump of clay, squeezing it to shape it a few times, and then being livid because it isn't a beautiful sculpture. That's what you're doing when you allow your brain to be frustrated about the quality of your writing when you're writing a first draft. You're getting mad because your lump of clay didn't instantly become a beautiful sculpture. If you never let your lump of clay be a lump of clay, and something that looks more like a misshapen whatever rather than the thing you're trying to make, then you'll never get it to the point of actually becoming the beautiful sculpture. You have to let the words on the page be ugly before you can shape them into something beautiful when it's time to edit and revise. Have a look at the following posts for more:

Concentrate on Quantity at First, Not Quality Overcoming Embarrassment Over Own Writing Delaying Writing Out of Fear Worried About Writing Style

5 - As far as routine goes, you're actually already doing what I would have suggested, which is to utilize a variety of different routines that are catered to meet your needs in the moment. Doing the things you're already doing, plus what is mentioned above, will hopefully be enough to get you over this hurdle.

Sending you lots of happy thoughts and hope for progress! ♥

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

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[bbypedrito]

Rough | Joel Miller/f!Reader

Joel is a big ‘ol softie about you and your bad pain days and as much as you love his gentleness, sometimes you crave something a little more rough.

rating: explicit, minors DNI

warnings: one shot, established relationship, vaginal fingering, spanking, slight praise kink, joel calls reader a good girl, no y/n or reader descriptions besides references to experiencing reoccurring flare ups of pain. setting is purposefully vague but definitely post-outbreak.

a/n: i genuinely didn’t have ANY plans to write joel anytime soon - i was actually gonna write a marcus pike fic instead - but then the other day i was having a pain flare up and started to think about joel to cheer myself up and things got…self indulgent. i don’t know if it’ll resonate with many other people here but i thought i’d share it anyway :-) this has been my first time ever writing a reader fic, first time writing joel or any pedro character AND my first time writing hetero sex in a very long while so…please bear all of that in mind 🥲

📌 can now also be read on ao3!

“I just don’t like it,” Joel says. It’s about the third time he’s repeated the phrase since you broached the subject this evening, pacing back and forth in your tiny shared room like an agitated wild animal trapped in a cage. His footfalls are heavy, old work boots thudding rhythmically on old floorboards, and you wish the stubborn man would relax for just a second because this is getting ridiculous.

“Joel,“ you try, but he shakes his head.

“Wouldn’t feel right.”

“Joel-“

“Too much risk.”

“Joel!” You grab him by the arm to stop him in his tracks and he immediately stills, finally looking you in the eyes. “I’m asking you to fuck me rough, not perform open heart surgery on me.”

Unamused, he rolls his eyes at your joke. “Might as well be, with all the stress you’re puttin’ me through.” Noticing your face fall, he immediately softens, “I just don’t wanna cause any more hurt than necessary, sweetheart.”

It’s sweet, the way Joel is careful and so, so achingly gentle with you. He knows the pain you’ve been through - still go through - and he always goes the extra mile to make sure you’re comfortable.

You learned quickly it’s Joel’s love language - his actions speaking for him rather than words - and it’s downright romantic, in an honest, simple, Joel Miller kinda way. He trades anything he can give to make sure you have painkillers that actually work, always somehow gets his hands on fresh, clean, soft blankets just for you to burrow into when you need rest days in bed and he always seems to know when to give you either the space or the company you need depending on your mood.

And when he takes you to bed, he treats you with such tender care and gentle reverence it makes your chest hurt.

You love it, love him for it and you know it’s one of his ways to show he cares for you too but…God, you want more. You want the man Joel is clearly putting a herculean effort into holding back when he slowly and gently takes you apart. You want him to fuck you, selfishly take his pleasure from you, make you feel every single inch of him with every step you take the next day.

“You won’t hurt me,” you reassure him, “not in a way that’s bad, anyway. I want it. I want you.” You cup his face in your hands, stroking his bearded cheeks with your thumbs. Joel tilts his head just a fraction and leans into your touch with a soft exhale. “Do you trust me?”

“‘Course,” he replies, and you resist the urge to laugh fondly and kiss the frowny crease between his brows because it comes out a touch sulky. You don’t wanna risk wounding the man’s pride at this juncture — not when you feel so close to getting what you want.

“Good,” you lean in to kiss him, both hands splaying on his broad chest, “so trust me when I say,” a nip at his full bottom lip, “I want you to ruin me.”

You pull away slowly and feel victorious when you see Joel’s dark eyes looking back into yours, pupils so dilated they’re almost pitch black. Knowing you’ve just about already won this argument, you decide to stoke the flames further by nuzzling into the thick tendons of his neck and letting your teeth catch on the sensitive skin there. You feel rather than hear the soft groan this pulls from him, the way it rumbles in his chest, and your hands tighten their grip on the soft fabric of his wash-worn shirt.

“What you’re askin’ me for is…I won’t be gentle,” Joel warns.

“Is that a promise?” You tease.

Finally, finally, he starts touching you back, reaching for your hips to pull you in closer and kiss you properly. You moan into his mouth needily and that’s when Joel’s resolve snaps like the string of a bow drawn too far beyond its limits. His hands tighten on your hips before moving down to grab your ass and use it as leverage to press you against his chest and the strain of his cock against his jeans.

“I’m just givin’ you one last chance to back out, sweetheart, that’s all.” His chest is rising and falling heavily, his nostrils flaring and his eyes are darker than you’ve ever seen pointed in your direction. He looks half wild and it really shouldn’t turn you on but it does, fuck, so much that you’re delirious with it.

Maintaining eye contact, you grind yourself insistently against him and it’s the final answer Joel seems to need. He curses under his breath, muttering something about you being the death of him before guiding you backwards against the wall and kissing you with such heated fervor your head spins and your pussy pulses with need.

He brackets you in with his arms, bracing himself with hands either side of you on the wall and you gasp when he presses a thigh between your legs for you to shamelessly grind down on through your sleep shorts. The rough denim is only barely the right amount of friction you need and you whine as you grind down harder, trying to relieve the deep ache of arousal in your cunt.

“That’s it,” Joel murmurs between kisses, lips brushing yours. “I got you, baby. Use me just like that.”

You tug him back in for a needy kiss, hands running up his chest to cling to his shoulders, then up again to run through his hair, before back down again to paw uselessly at his shirt. Joel pulls away and huffs with amusement, disentangling from you to undo the buttons so you can hungrily pull it off his broad frame and discard it. Feeling confident — and perhaps a little heated and possessive in the moment — you run your nails down his bare chest, leaving little white lines that turn pink and then red in their wake. Joel inhales sharply, watching you with hooded eyes and you shiver at how nakedly hungry he looks.

He reaches for his belt to unbuckle it, but pauses for half a moment. Seemingly changing his mind, he decides to undress you instead, pulling your t-shirt up and over your head and unhooking your bra. Your head falls backwards against the peeling wallpaper with a soft thunk when Joel harshly pinches at your nipples with rough hands, rolling them between calliused fingers until they’re peaked and swollen. You squirm, sensitive, the sensations going straight to your already soaking wet cunt.

“Please, Joel. Please.” You’re not even sure what it is you’re pleading for, and you whine almost pitifully when Joel stops touching you and takes a step back.

“Turn around and brace yourself against the wall.” His voice is firm and you obey immediately. “Good girl.”

The praise makes your heart and your cunt flutter and you barely have time to catch your breath before Joel abruptly pulls down your shorts and his hand comes smacking down on your ass. You gasp at the sharp shock of it, the sting that immediately warms and blooms into hot pleasure.

Joel chuckles. “This what you wanted?”

“Yes, please, again, please,” you babble, sweaty palms slipping a little against the wall.

“Good girl.” Another smack, a little harder this time, and your hips buckle forwards, trying in vain to seek friction. Joel notices the desperate wiggling of your hips and reaches round you to cup your mound, his other hand running over your reddening ass cheek. “So wet for me already, just from gettin’ spanked like this,” he says, voice rough but hushed as if in awe of your response to him.

All you can do is nod frantically in reply and press yourself greedily against his fingers and he clicks his tongue at your eagerness. Two thick fingers sink inside of you easily and when you try to fuck yourself on them Joel uses his free hand to land another hard smack on your ass.

“Greedy,” he admonishes, “you just can’t wait, can you?” He crooks his fingers, pressing them up against the perfect spot inside of you and lands another hard smack and you moan so loud you’d be embarrassed if you didn’t feel so fucking good.

With a murmur of praise and lips pressed hotly to your ear Joel adds a third finger and the tight stretch around him burns and knocks the air out your lungs in a ragged gasp.

“Fuck, Joel,” you whimper, and it spurs him on, his fingers pumping in and out of you at a relentless pace. Your back arches, hands scrabbling for purchase and you fall forwards slightly to press your forehead against the wall, eyes screwing shut. The wet sound of your slick as Joel fucks you with his fingers and the smack of skin on skin as he spanks you in time with his thrusts fill the room and it’s so obscene your face flushes, heart pounding in your ears.

“Fuck,” Joel moans, “you gonna come for me like this? Pressed up against the wall and all over my fingers?”

“Yes,” you breathe, “please.”

Joel presses his thumb to your clit, rubbing tight, demanding circles until you buck against him uncontrollably and tighten around him with a cry. He buries his face into your shoulder as your hips shake, fingers still working in and out of you as you ride out your intense orgasm.

Boneless, you slump back against him with a sigh and Joel catches you, wrapping his free arm around your middle. Your cunt is still sporadically pulsing around the fingers still inside and you hold back a whimper when Joel eventually eases them out of you.

“How’re you feeling?” He asks you, pressing soft, fluttery kisses down the side of your neck. The brush of his moustache against your sensitive skin makes you giggle.

“Fucking sublime,” you reply, grinning. In truth, your body is aching and you can feel dull pain starting to thrum in your joints and muscles, but you’re used to that by now and you know you can handle it. Besides, it was definitely worth it. You tilt your head back to look Joel in the eye. “Thank you — for trusting me, I mean. But also the really great orgasm.”

Joel’s lips curl upwards into a fond smile and when his arms tighten affectionately around you his hard cock presses up against your ass. You start to move back against him and he groans low in his throat, but before things can get heated again he turns you around so you’re standing in front of him at arm’s length.

“Not now. Next time,” he promises, bending with a grunt to pick up your clothes and handing them to you. “I don’t wanna push you too hard tonight.”

You can’t hide your pout of disappointment, but when your body protests with twinges of pain when you move to get dressed you concede to yourself that Joel’s right, so you let him gently guide you into bed. You watch surreptitiously from under your cocoon of blankets as Joel undresses down to his boxers and when he catches you looking he rolls his eyes playfully.

“Insatiable creature,” he scolds before settling into bed next to you. You curl yourself around him, tangling your legs with his and pressing your face against his broad shoulder.

“Wake me up if you start hurtin’ any, are we clear?” Joel grumbles into the pillow.

You smile fondly against his warm skin. The rough, slightly wild Joel you got to finally experience tonight was definitely everything you’d been hoping for, but this version of him now, soft around the edges, soft bare skin, sharing a bed with you, this version of himself he’s worked so hard on rediscovering in order to take care of you will always be your favourite.

“I promise.”

[natasha-in-space]

I just saw your post about Zen with a disabled MC, now I can ask you to do the same but this time is MC who has an invisible disability, you can choose what invisible disability is that

Sure thing! I decided to go with two different options here :)

: ̗̀➛ It will take Zen some time to educate himself and fully come to terms with all the nuances of chronic pain or fatigue if you're someone who is dealing with it in their daily life. Though I don't think he is completely unaware of it either. As I'm sure I've stated before, he definitely has disabled fans with whom he has interacted before. It's pretty reasonable to assume that at least a few fans with chronic pain and/or fatigue would approach him or send him their letters of appreciation, detailing their lives to him.

But he will be upset for you.

The way you react to it is entirely up to you, but I do think he will go through a phase of accidentally smothering you with his worry for your well-being. Telling you to rest when you say you're fine, doing easy tasks for you that you can perfectly do by yourself, and constantly asking if you're experiencing a flare-up or not. He has good intentions. He really does. Zen truly does view you as such an admirable and strong-willed person, but it simply breaks his heart to think of you struggling with anything by yourself when you already have such a difficult battle to endure almost every day.

You will most definitely have to share many sincere conversations with him about the topic. Set clear boundaries and educate him on the specific needs you do have. It won't be picture-perfect from the get-go, but Zen loves you to the moon and back. If you thought he was hardworking before, wait until you see all the work and commitment he puts into your relationship.

With time, you two will work out almost everything, even the smallest of details in your routines. He understands what you require during a flare-up. He knows when to leave you alone and when you'd rather have him hold your hand and coo into your hair loving words of reassurance, placing kisses to the crown of your head. And he ensures that you always have all the medication you may need in easy access.

Zen learns to let you make all the decisions you need, and you learn to rely on him whenever you want.

: ̗̀➛ And if you have a chronic mental illness, it's not much easier. People often undermine just how much your mental health can affect every single aspect of your life. I think Zen may be a bit less knowledgeable here. You're going to have to educate him on your disability, and how it affects you specifically. But despite being a bit clueless, Zen is not disrespectful by any means.

He will listen to you to talk without interruption, his hands clutched together on his knees, and his eyes completely focused on you. Knowing how much you're struggling will make his heart ache for you. Especially hearing jusy how hard it can be get basic respect from people when your disability isn't immediately noticed by human eyes. You can count on him to place a gentle hand on your shoulder and promise to always be there for you when you need him.

It's not going to be simple. And both of you will face challenges navigating your relationship. Zen will especially struggle with communication in this instance. Much like him taking on a role of a caretaker as I wrote prior, he will end up making the same mistake here. Only this time, it'll be him neglecting his own emotional needs and being hypersensitive to your mood changes throughout the day. He simply doesn't want to worry you or to cause you any more stress... Especially when you are dealing with a depressive episode, for exactly. Communication is something you two are going to have to work at one step at a time.

But Zen is nothing but stubborn. And he's very much stubborn about his love for you. When he was considering giving up on himself, you have been there for him and believed in him like no one else did. He is determined to demonstrate the same level of dedication to you, if not even more so. No matter what hurdles you two face, he will always be there to hold you tight and remind you just how much he loves you, at the end of the day.

I also kind of think that you dealing with a chronic mental illness will increase his awareness of the topic of mental health as a whole. His fans will probably see him donating to mental health charities and research, promoting mental health awareness in Korea, and advocating for the visibility of chronic mental health disabilities.

[wolfxplush]

........u wouldnt happen to do oc x cannon would u........

because im in need of ted x emery..........

she is so not normal when it comes to ted and i cant explain

Oh you know I do!! Here you go!!!

Emery and Ted Thompson Dating Headcanons:

- Ted is drawn to Emery’s intelligence, finding her sharpness refreshing compared to the typical attention he gets. He loves the challenge of being with someone who isn't afraid to speak her mind. Plus what kind of girl would say no to him?

-Emery is. He found the jock annoying and pushy. A waste of a brain who slobbers over girls in skirts like a hound dog with a bone steak. She was pushed to the edge far too many times but the brute. His persistent courting attempts left her broken down, she eventually said yes to ONE date.

•Their conversations often turn into heated debates, and while Emery’s temper flares easily, Ted finds it amusing. Sometimes, he purposely says dumb things just to watch her get frustrated.

- After a big argument, they tend to cool off in their own ways, but it rarely takes long for one of them to send a half-hearted apology text, which leads to awkward but sincere makeup moments.

•Emery hates being around Ted’s jock friends, finding their constant jokes annoying, and she’s not afraid to snap at them. Ted finds her reactions hilarious, but sometimes he has to mediate when things get too tense.

- Ted tries to attend Emery’s study groups or more intellectual hangouts, but he often gets bored or makes an inappropriate joke, or picks on one of the other fucking lose- Nerds. Emery is quick to put him in his place with a swift and strong kick to the dull headed jocks shin to shut him up.

•Ted is possessive in a way that isn’t too overbearing, but he makes sure people know Emery is his girl. He’ll throw an arm around her shoulders or pull her into a kiss when someone talks with her, even if she’s the one brushing it off.

- Emery is prone to overthinking and can get jealous, especially when girls are openly flirting with Ted. Her snapping at him after these incidents usually leads to a tense but passionate argument, which Ted often defuses with humor.

•Ted shows up to support Emery during academic competitions or when she’s particularly stressed about exams, even if he doesn’t fully understand the importance. His presence, while sometimes irritating, oddly comforts her.

-Emery helps Ted study when his grades are slipping, but she’s not exactly patient about it. Ted thrives on her tough love, though, and finds her bossiness during study sessions oddly attractive.

•In public, they maintain a bit of a push-pull dynamic, with Emery acting exasperated by Ted’s more laid-back, carefree attitude. But when they’re alone, they’re more vulnerable with each other, though Emery still struggles to fully relax.

- Ted loves seeing the softer side of Emery that comes out only in private, like when she’s curled up reading or letting herself unwind after a particularly stressful day.

•Their arguments can sometimes get a bit toxic, with Emery’s temper causing her to say things she doesn’t mean and Ted shutting down emotionally. They both have a tendency to be stubborn and not talk things through right away.

- However, they never let fights drag on too long. Ted has a way of pulling Emery out of her spiraling thoughts, usually with humor or a simple, genuine apology. Emery, in turn, knows how to push Ted to be more honest with his feelings, even if it’s through gritted teeth.

•Ted loves surprising Emery with little acts of affection, like bringing her favorite snacks when she’s studying late or carrying her books despite her protests. She pretends to be annoyed but secretly loves it.

- Emery, despite her constant irritation, has a soft spot for Ted when he shows his vulnerable side. If he ever feels down about something, she drops her tough exterior and is surprisingly nurturing, though she always downplays it later.

(God I hate gay people /j /j get a room.)

[olivescales3]

The Forgotten Legends of Chima, Episode 1

Writer's notes at the end of the post

I thought I knew him well, after spending my entire childhood alongside him, but now, he stabbed me through the back. No… It can't be—

This can't be him… He would never do something like this. Or so I thought – he has shoved me aside and stolen the Golden Chi from my grasp.

The furious crocodile stands tall, exuding resentment through every fiber of his body, from the tense muscles to the frowning eyebrows. The shadows projected onto him by hundreds of green leaves seem to discolor his vibrant scales. They form delicate petals that flutter at the wind's command; a force so fierce enough to sway his intimidatingly torn cape.

As I lean onto a nearby tree and regain my posture, I can't help but ruminate on emotion-driven doubts lingering in mind… How could someone hurt their childhood friend? This doesn't make sense! We haven't seen each other in years, but there is no way he would do something like this out of the blue. I'm certain that he is innocent – not because we were childhood friends, but because he was one of the kindest animals I have ever met. 

I don't know who hurt him, the criminal who slaughtered his child-like innocence, and worse… I can't stop worrying about what he did to my friend's eye. It was once brimming with emotion and life, but now the only remains I see is a lifeless pearl that can't shine anymore. It was slashed with so much hatred that wrath was buried underneath its scar, which ran from his left eyebrow down to the jaw.

"Cragger… look, it's been quite some time since we last met, right? We can talk it out, solve this problem and… Maybe make things clear?", I mumble whilst my arm trembles as I try to reach out to him, "I need to know what happened. Why did you do this?"

The struggle Chima had with the Wolf Tribe put everyone under stress, and that made the demand for Chi more intense than ever. Each tribe became more wary of one another…

"I know that the conspiracies surrounding you are false. You didn't know that Wilhurt was there. We fell into an ambush… nothing that happened during this was your fault!"

They made him expect forgiveness for something out of his control. They thought that my friend caused the incident, that he was responsible for everything that happened to me.

I am not like that, and I will do anything to prove this.

One slow step at a time, I expose myself, opening my arms, at risk of any attack.

We're at the Forever Rock. Cragger and I would play here almost everyday, and yet this is where I first see him in five years… five years since he was attacked, right here.

I glance at the old, discolored blood stains that mark the dry dirt beneath our toes. Although we are surrounded by bountiful grass and near a stunning crystal-clear lake, it is impossible to distract ourselves, with the miracle of nature, from the unnecessary trauma and misunderstandings.

The crocodile backs away, his claws clutching onto the shiny, gold crystal Chi, and on the other hand, his double sided sword. A long shadow, projected by his body blocking off the sunlight, occludes the Forever Rock, gatekeeping our lovely days behind grudges.

His single eye twitches, trying to pay attention both to the crystal in his grasp and me. His nostrils flare, he clenches his big, impressive crocodilian teeth.

"Laval… Don't- don't come closer, don't even think about reaching me. This might be the end of us." He warns me, slowly pointing his sword at my direction, "We shouldn't have met each other…"

His body begins to give up on him, weighing him down on his legs, but he resists his weakness and maintains balance.

His pupils constrict, "No. I shouldn't have met you, disgraceful lion! Ever since we became friends, your tribe has changed my life for the worst.", he kicks the ground in frustration.

To my dismay, Cragger stabs the soil multiple times. Not just once, but twice, thrice— I can't count how many times he shoved his weapon deep into the ground, but he repeats this brute movement with exceeding passion.

The sword is thrown downwards, and, finally, gets stuck in between dirt's crevice. Cragger grabs the handle that's sticking out like a sore thumb. He wiggles the object in despair. 

I can't stand up, but I slowly approach my friend, wobbling short hops with my right foot.

"I… understand it now. It's all politics— my childhood was just a tool. Like my status as prince."

I couldn't even reach him…!

No… no, no! Where did I go wrong— what didn't I do right? If my words were unable to reach him, then what am I supposed to do now?

He collapses onto the floor, sobbing from between his fangs, pleading for help. Tears flood from his right eye and rain on top of the dead, soulless ground, although it's not those crocodile tears that they have been mocking ever since the incident. These are the purest of waters, able to revive even the driest of land. Even if it means to add salt to injury.

I try my best to convince him to let go of the Chi. He's still too young to use it. No one his age should ever need to become stronger; a chemical this powerful will only bring harm.

He gazes at the orb surrounded by his fingers. One misstep and it will ruin our lives. Without his sword, the only way to hurt us would be—

"You foul lions never stop telling me what to do!… My childhood's blood spilt on this very soil and you scums call it a 'sense of justice'!"

I rush to Cragger as fast as I can, with all of the strength I can muster from my legs. My lack of coordination makes me trip. He, before my eyes, propels himself, and, without giving me time to even react, bashes his head onto me.

A blunt pain spreads throughout my entire chest, almost constricting my lungs, or so what it feels like, unabeling me to breathe properly. The grass flies towards me and barely softens my fall, but the aching on my back and gut now become one and the same as a sickening and paralyzing numbness.

Within my desperate and shallow panting, I'm able to hear Cragger's voice, but I can't understand what he's talking about.

My eyes keep closing while I try to stay awake. I can't breathe nor see properly… the only thing I feel is someone grabbing me and—

Is that water entering my lungs?...

I failed.

This is our story; of Laval, the prince of the Lions, and my friends, overcoming obstacles of misery and tragedy. A story of friendship, but also war, destruction, selfishness, and, amidst it all, a sprinkle of hope and kindness that made everything here possible. A prince who overcame violence without picking up a sword. And, before that, it started right at our childhood.

These are… the Legends of Chima.

As the moon rises, it reflects its light onto the nearby lake that surrounds us, forming a perfectly circular shape, only to be distorted afterwards by the water. My tiny lion cub body appears in the picture of the reflection as I try to get closer to the reservoir. The water here is so clear, to the point that its entire ecosystem, from plants to small animals, are visible. Ironically enough, the images mirrored on the liquid block the view of what's on the bottom. I lift one of my legs and I shake it left and right to mess with the image.

Suddenly, the water starts to tremble, deforming my mirrored self and the moon near it. A dark green monster rises to the surface… is it a swamp monster?

"Caught you! I win, I win! Scaredy cat!", Cragger growls, "Don't mess with the Master of Stealth!"

Water sprinkles over my fur and drenches my blue tunic… which is terrible! My body flinches in agony by the feeling of a night breeze hitting my wet coat.

He grabs my hand and climbs over to the surface. An euphoric grin surges on his face, his slitted eyes widen. Our friend group gave him a nickname due to his amazing ability to hide around here, in addition to his long win streak on these types of games. Cragger's dark green head is able to camouflage between the plants, and his olive green torso becomes invisible amongst the algae. Not only that, he's able to climb trees and hide himself there.

I rest myself on the surface of the Forever Rock after this long session of hide and seek with my friends. I leave space for Cragger to cut another line on the stone, marking his new victory.

Unfortunately, not everyone is content with his achievement. Our youngest friend, Worriz, is fuming with rage, hopping around, making the funniest faces during his temper tantrum.

"I am serious!", he swears from the top of his lungs, "Why should I play this if Cragger can just hide himself in water?! That jerk knows we can't swim properly!"

Worriz comes from the Wolf Tribe. He inherited his great sense of smell from his father, one of the wolf elders.

Cragger marches towards the pup. Mighty stomps tremble the dirt. He stands his ground, and pushes the fluffy little guy with his chest. They exchange glares and they clench their wrists.

Worriz shoves his paw onto Cragger's torso. "Unfair! I expected better from a… modest prince!"

The crocodile flares his nostrils and raises his eyebrow. He touches his moist, torn red loincloth, then, he proceeds to giggle.

"I bet you're just jealous that you can't 'swim properly'. Fight someone your size, you pa- pathetic puppy!"

The wolf snarls and begins to swab his tongue on his snout, over and over again. It seems that standing on his toes is not enough to make him look bigger.

"Learn to speak properly before starting arguments!

Worriz' pelt sprinkled with dirt emits a nasty, sickening stench, mixed with the muggy scent of adrenaline coming from the sweat dripping between Cragger's scales, like rain on a hot summer day.

I observe Cragger's face being showered by tears as they inevitably join the sweat on his tense body. I feel his indignation – no, even worse, his pain, his wrath. Worriz always had a sharp tongue, but this childish quarrel has escalated into a disaster of targeting someone's dignity and adding salt to their injury. Cragger fought to be able to speak, he overcame his difficulties so that he could express himself–

"You, Worriz, don't know how much he bore. You do not have the right to judge someone for the way they were born.", words escape from my lips.

Before I'm able to notice, my friends are staring at me.

"Hey, hey!", I intervene, "It's… it's not like my friend is innocent anyways! He also can't judge Worriz' height!"

I snatch my best friend's cold, thin arm. I cling onto him, but he pushes me away… and, in a matter of seconds, between our mutually fleeting gaze, he faces the forest behind us and propels his olive green scaly body in the direction of the bushes. The leaves rustle with his rapid steps until he disappears between the plants. My muzzle opens wide; how could he run away like that if all I did was attempt to help him?... 

No… Did I hurt his feelings?

Worriz barks at me, puffs up his chest and repeats the words, "Ooh, my bestie ran away! What am I supposed to do?", with a mocking melodramatic tone of voice.

I glance at Worriz; I know you're trying to insult me. And this is your last straw.

I chase after my friend, going through the same bushes as he did, almost tripping over on the fallen sticks scattered around the ground. Beyond this direction are roads that cut throughout the tropical forest, leading to the entirety of the lands west.

He's already fled with his Speedor. Mine and Worriz' stone unicycles are parked near a big tree trunk.

I hop onto my vehicle and, at maximum velocity, I track down the marks left behind. The nature around me becomes blurry as I continue down the path facing left, on a precipice trail curved inwards. My surroundings change drastically from grass to dry soil. The rapid transition is nauseating—  

Whoa!

My body flings forward.

The speed of my unicycle had decreased in the blink of an eye. I had forgotten that Speedorz don't work properly on lifeless terrain.

This is the Great Divide, an arid, mountainous land. It's called home by the Eagle Tribe, and this is where their domain, the Eagle Spire, is located; it's the summit of this thin, gray block mountain. The area here is covered with sharp peaks that scatter even throughout the horizon. A few greens appear here and there, but there is not much life here because rainfalls are scarce in the Great Divide.

The road is slowly getting thinner, and it's becoming easier to notice the elevation between the ground and I. I glimpse at the road track left previously by Cragger.

Wait… it seems that—

He made a sharp turn towards The Fangs!

I follow the curve with a heavy drift. Parts of the cliff tumble down behind me– I swear I could've fallen too. 

My Speedor bumps into piles of debris. The stone unicycle rattling is unbearable. My wheel is chipping with the slightest collision. I should be more careful with my driving skills.

The sky is closing by the minute and I'm barely able to see where I'm going. How could someone be this reckless to run into the Fangs? He's risking his own life because of insults!

Everything is now black and white. The moon coats the land with light, and it bounces varying tones of gray into my eyes. Sharp, fang-like pinnacles are dispersed everywhere and form an disorganized barrier around the region. Not so far away, a slim and animalistic silhouette is leaning down near a crocodile head shaped Speedor. A silhouette so bright it could bear the appearance of a spirit.

I decelerate my Speedor and brake all of the remaining momentum by piercing my hind claws into the solid dirt, then I proceed to hop off my vehicle. I have finally found Cragger, but there is no time for relief now. My next move might put us at any risk. Of course, I still wish I could run after him. I can't leave him alone like this.

Step after step, I get closer to Cragger. He notices me, still upset from the moment before, and at this point we are at a comfortable distance away from each other.

"Cragger… None of us were expecting Worriz to act the way he did. I promise this won't happen again; I'll sort things out with him, and maybe he'll get grounded for what he said.", I murmur, "Please relax, okay?"

The crocodile hesitantly opens his mouth, and tightens his shaking hand.

He musters the courage to reply. He groans, "I'm trying to, Laval… I'm trying!

"D- do you think it's easy to let go of things like that? Or that words simply dissolve into the air like they're nothing? Tell me!" He covers his head with his hands. 

His cry launched itself from left to right, jumping off one pinnacle towards another. If someone was here, they would've certainly picked up on our presence.

"How're you able to simply 'sort out things' with him? Did– did you even understand what he said? Or what he meant? He insulted the effort of my parents– if it weren't for them, I would've been mute, or even dead!", he shouts again.

Words leaked through Cragger's lips; waves after waves of uncontrollable anger rose high until they hit the ground. I never expected anything like that to happen.

His grunts start to fade away, as my mind boils with intrusive thoughts; dead… what could this mean? Why was there a possibility of Cragger being dead, why would that even happen? What would I be without him, how would I live without his audacity distracting me from rigorous royal rules… How would his parents react to their sweet child dissolving into the air—

A petrifying chill rushes through my nerves; both of my shoulders stun by the pinch of a scaly pair of hands. In the blink of an eye, my entire body is shaken viciously. The constant brute movement mixed with the intense emotions make me dizzy. I'm unable to react properly; everything seems fuzzy, my head feels light, my body starts numbing. 

"Silly lion, when will you stop freezing like a cub and come back to reality? Toughen up a little bit!" he cackles in a sudden change of mood. Perhaps I lost the notion of time's passing.

My eyes widen and my muzzle droops into an awkward expression, though I can't stop myself from laughing too, "Haha… I don't know– do I really paralyze that often? Well, it's surprising how much you tolerate me", incomplete syllables mumble from my mouth due to my dizziness.

I sigh, "... I'm glad you aren't strict with me. My dad is already too much."

I stretch my arm onto one of the sharp pinnacles, then I firmly close my eyes.

"Just breathe, aight… You'll be fine, because I'm your friend! Friends are supposed to help each other.", says Cragger.

I've got my friend's back. Now, maybe we could travel on foot towards the Eagle Spire, get help there and go back home. Staying up late alone is not safe. Cragger stares at the moon. It's full, and nearby where we are rests the Wolf Tribe's outpost, which changes location ever so frequently. He points out that it looks quite purplish tonight; I can't see colors at night, but the moon's appearance is darker than normal. Strange.

I stick up my neck and look at the sky. Right now, it feels like a pitch-dark void is covering us. From sight alone it emits a silky, soft feeling on my paw pads. The round, allegedly purple moon stands out like a sore thumb. 

Oh—

My ears turn sideways. Screeching noises, like claws scraping on rocks, buzz inside my eardrums. The high pitch of these sounds itch throughout their way into my ear canal. 

This disjointed sound pulls the trigger of my anxiety and the adrenaline rush pumps throughout my veins.

I'm fed with these obnoxious panics of mine, but it unleashed a gut feeling I can't pinpoint properly. My body drowns with nausea; fired up aches spread inside me a bit, I sense some kind of dampness that flows from the stomach to my mouth. It's weird and uncomfortable, but I hope it won't last for long.

Argh! Hoarse cacophony vibrates all around the vast land. I… I can't keep up for long!

I move towards the sound, folding my ears to avoid hurting my eardrums. Everything's blurry again, and I'm unable to hear my surroundings. Far away, I glimpse at a shadow near a rock. Is it the same rock from the noises?

As I get closer, a strange ringing becomes stronger. The shadow's long, thin body twitches in my direction. Huh?

It dashes. Straight to me. Out of nowhere.

I let go of my ears for just a second, long enough to hear:

"Get away from my friend! Now!"

Cragger pushes me aside and I fall head first on the ground; there, I squint my eye for a last second, as I fainted, and the shadow wasn't gone.

My eyelids slowly open, my vision starts to regain strength. After a little bit of effort, I see two lions staring at me, their eyebrows raised and lips drooping down.

The lion on the right… is my dad! His shiny gray mane, meticulously separated in half into sleek bangs, is covered with expensive insect wax. I could define his expression as priceless. Though I'm barely recovering my consciousness. In fact, maybe I'm in deep trouble, as his sharp and well cared for teeth are exposed.

Besides him is my uncle; he has a blond, voluminous, messy mane, unique for a lion his age, with a mullet. His dark brown fur, tan caramel muzzle and paws make him eye-catching compared to the rest of my family. His tall and slightly muscular build stands there awkwardly as Dad's small eyes widen, placing his paws gently on my face.

Dad folds his muzzle into a big snarl. Even if I'm feeling kind of disconnected from reality, I know for sure he's ready to spill an hour long lecture. He's the King of the Lions, after all.

"Oh, thanks Mount Cavora, you're finally awake! I'm unable to believe you would get into such a mess, my son.", Dad sighs in relief, "Your arm was deeply clawed; all of that would've been avoided if you had called us. I taught you how to roar, why are you afraid of communicating with us?"

This is too much to process…

Dad continues, "Lavertus. An atrocious attack was targeted towards my son– the prince of the Lion Tribe, my heir, my future! Please, go forth and investigate the area. Search for eyewitnesses and identify this abhorrent criminal."

My uncle shrugs his shoulders, visibly confused. I imagine this is too much for him, just like it is for me. An attack… seriously? I don't remember much, but I can feel my arm numbing.

I try to get up, leaning forward. I place my left arm onto the comfy bed, but pain soon emerges and I'm forced to fall back. My dad's right, he's always right… 

Lavertus leaves the room, and now it's just Dad and I. He sits besides me, on my right side, grabs my hand and holds it fiercely. He doesn't know what happened before this accident, that I rushed after Cragger without hesitation. He's unaware that I almost fell off a cliff. I wished only time would tell, but shouldn't a prince always be honest?...

"Laval", Dad pets my forehead, "tell me what happened. I can't help you if I don't know what you went through.", he whispers.

"Cragger and I were suddenly attacked at The Fangs. A shadow scratched a rock with his nails and jumped on me…"

He itches his lion chin,

"I see. However, something doesn't feel right. How did you get to such a dangerous place, and were you near anyone besides him?"

I stutter in hesitation; how should I explain what happened? Dad's slim body is relaxed, but his eyes still leak concern. My answer was too vague, but I hope he understood what I meant. He needs context to help me.

"My friends were playing together… I was with them. It's just that Worriz insulted Cragger… and he fled to The Fangs. Oh– I almost forgot to tell you that the moon was purple that night.", I added, as my awkward voice trembles.

Dad gets off the chair, then tilts his head to the side, laying his index finger on his mouth. The balcony of my room is bright because of the sun. The sun, that's where my Dad's looking at.

He marches to the door.

His tone of voice settles down, and as he takes his leave, he takes a moment to speak, "I think I've got it. I'll talk with the Eagles, as this incident is quite peculiar and I need an outside perspective about this. They live near The Fangs, so perhaps they can help us. I'll see you at night."

The wooden carved clock, sculpted by my friend Eris, ticks a soothing rhythm each passing second. I follow one of its pointers with my eyes as it slowly circles around, passing by the time markings beneath it.

I hover my head on top of the wound; it's still fresh and shiny, even though it stopped bleeding. The bed sheet I'm laying on top of, covered with red light due to the harsh sun rays hitting my bed curtains, isn't dirty either.

Dull stone walls cover my room, with a few triangular arches carved on them. At least I'm able to view Mount Cavora from here. 

My dad really likes you, Mount Cavora. Even if you're a huge, floating mountain, you brought us life, you brought us Chi. The stone heads that bless us with Chi are what brings us all together, whether past or present, same or different species. Lions, Crocodiles, Eagles, Wolves… Ravens, Gorillas, Bears and Rhinos– we would not be what we are today if it weren't for Mount Cavora. The Great Story is a tale of old, marked by the Chi birthing a new civilization, and that's why Chima got its name– Chi knows it all; or that's at least what my dad says.

Steps reverberate all across the circular stairway up to my room. A shadow seems to emerge before the open door. My body jumps in response, dragging the curtain to hide myself and I end up squirming my injured arm.

The stranger moves towards my bed, as the light hits their body, projecting their silhouette on the bed curtains; they appear to be tall yet soft, resting their closed wings behind the back. I sigh in relief, because this animal does not look like the other shadow that attacked me. I shiver while opening the curtain. Mouth open, inhaling deeply.

I stick out my muzzle, and I am greeted by an eagle.

"Oh no! Please pardon me for startling you. That was quite rude of me.", the bird whimpered, "I'm the nurse your father entrusted to help you. My name is Ehboni."

She holds onto the curtain with her yellow scaled hands, adorned with black feathers that cover her wrist. Now that the blinds are open, I can clearly observe her appearance: her entire figure is covered by well-preened and smooth feathers, but they're quite dark, which made me mistake her for 'the' shadow. An expensive silver necklace, with sapphire jewelry, hangs by her fluffy neck. She smiles, opening her yellow beak.

Ehboni crouches near what looks like a box of medical equipment, and then opens it. 

"Come closer, Laval. I need to inspect your lesion.", she whispers while organizing her materials.

I sit down on the edge of the bed, then she holds my arm and looks at it. After that, she picks up a medicinal leaf, lays it on top of my wound and bandages it.

My ears fall down, my eyebrows frown; I won't be able to do much for some time, but Ehboni says that it won't take long for me to recover.

"Just make sure you don't put strength on your left arm, okay?", she pets my shoulder.

"Alright… but– did you discover anything about my injury? Is it serious?"

Ehboni puts away her utensils, gets up, and says, "Don't worry, sweetie! You didn't suffer any major damage. I'll let Lagravis know the rest."

She leaves before I can react.

Argh! What is this 'rest'? She barely answered my question. The cut's shape seemed suspicious, yet I'm not supposed to know what it is? I fall on my bed and close my eyes shut in frustration, though I don't pretend to sleep anytime soon. It's still daytime.

I– I don't want to stay all day inside my room because of an accident. Even if I need to, at least tell me why!

I squint my eyes to check out if there is anyone else here. The room is quite empty, especially when my toys are all back in their place. I jump out of bed and go to one of the wall's arches, ready to admire the view again. 

Someone knocks on the wall.

"Silly Laval, did you think you were going to be alone all day?", a soft voice murmurs from behind me.

I turn around, realizing that the voice comes from my friend, Eris. I'm confused on how she got here, although I don't doubt her sudden appearance is very convenient. Eagles are quite smart, so it's fair to assume that she somehow snuck into the temple.

She rests her elbow on the arch and leans her head on her wrist. Eris is a little older than my friends and I; her previously stippled bright blue feathers molted and she's starting to grow new white plumes. The sunlight irradiates her, smoothening her body into a cloud, free as the wind, going wherever she pleases. 

Her light yellow eyes shine with brilliance.

"Oh, hey, Eris… It's nice to see you today.", I fiddle with my fingers, looking at my friend with an embarrassing smile, "What a coincidence. I just saw another eagle leave my room."

"That's the reason why I came after you. I overheard the conversation your dad had with mine. Ehboni was there too.", she lets go off the balcony and pets my head.

Oh. So she knows what happened. Great. Never mind how she got inside the Lion temple; I now need to discover what's going on, and why is Dad so secretive about all of this.

"Do you remember what the conversation was about? What did my dad say?"

"Okay… so, they were discussing how to gather information about this case. Lagravis speculates that what happened might've been a targeted attack against you, and thus ordered Ehboni to inspect your injuries."

That's really a lot to digest– it kind of makes sense, and I understand that this situation is serious, but… Why would anyone attack a child? Is that the reason that I'm supposed to not leave this place?

"Eris… would you mind giving your opinion about the situation?"

She shrugs her elbows and bows her head; perhaps asking a tween to dissect a possible hate crime is too much of a stretch. 'Tis too soon to make big assumptions, although the best ye could do is not stay outside at night, she adds in a bittersweet tone.

My best bet would be to observe my surroundings and piece any clues I find. If my dad's suspicions are correct, I'll end up face to face with that shadow again. Let's go to the Fangs!

I hold Eris' arm and tiptoe downstairs.

Eris and I are driving our Speedorz on dry land. The sky darkens as the sun is shining less, but it is not nighttime yet. Pinnacles of stone remain in their place, sticking out of the earth in a pattern similar to a ribcage, more so than fangs.

"These natural structures curve inwards into a shape that facilitates the propagation of sound", Eris whispers. "If anything happens here, we'll be able to hear it clearly."

We are near the area of the incident; amplified noises of chattering and footsteps reach us, which means that my uncle, alongside lion guards, are investigating the scene. We park our Speedorz near a 'fang', and spy the animals there.

Lavertus is crouched, observing the bloodstain my injury left on the ground. A lion guard with light brown fur and long canines analyzes the claw marks of the damaged rock from before. Another lion with an orange mane is taking notes of every minor detail pointed out by his co-worker and captain. 

"Interesting. The slash left by the culprit has a distinct quirk– if we connect the scars, it forms a narrow curve", says the brown-maned feline. "The depth and position of the scratch hints that force was concentrated on the entire hand and arm, which means that they are not a lion."

My uncle replies, "I thought so, Longtooth. We put most of our pressure on our tendons to grip; my nephew's arm was hacked, and blood was drawn from him. We lions don't do that, neither do we hit arms."

Wind weaves the dust away, diffusing along the way the unnerving scent of blood– my blood. The shine no longer descends from the beyond above us, as mist starts to veil each of its rays. The shadows that hide our colors in blue are but a speck of our melancholy.

My blood's smell enters my lungs at every breath.

Each. And every. Breath. 

I take it. Inside me.

Who–

Who is that? Near the blood?

Is that Laval, crouching near the pool of blood, hiding his wound from the monstrous creature? An unrecognizable monster, shadowed by malice?

Its eyes ooze with a purple vapor. How dare it reach towards the innocent prince, with its open mouth, drooling without self control. Maybe it has self control– it has malice. Malice.

The moon blinds me with a dark orchid colored light.

Now… white. All is white. I am not dead, at least. Something yellow is a little too close… is it the sun? 

"Laval! Wake up!", that yellow thing screeches, "Wake up! Please…"

Eris? Is that you?

I latch myself onto her before falling.

It appears that a lot of time has passed– surrounded by a bunch of wolves, and Eris, I scream from the top of my lungs. 

I anxiously whip my tail behind me and I end up hitting someone.

"Ouch! You idiot, watch what you're doing! You slapped my face!", Worriz barks.

The wolves distance themselves from me.

Ahh. I feel much better now… the atmosphere, although humid, stinks no more. It freshens my insides. I let go of Eris, then I examine my surroundings.

This is the Wolf Lair; a giant truck-like vehicle, built out of metal, with a cockpit shaped like a wolf head.

I always knew that wolves didn't have a fixed home, but I underestimated how much space they lived in, and the amount of tonnage space they used.

"Pesky eagle! You came all the way here just for us to pity your friend? We don't have time for trivial incidents like this.", Worriz turns around and stares at me. "I'll tell my dad you're the one bothering me, Laval!"

A door of the Wolf Lair opens, revealing a gray elder wolf, trembling his hind paw to reach the ground. Worriz sprints at the feeble senior to hold his hand and help him gain balance.

His face is wrinkled all around his muscles. His bean eyebrows, due to old age, have loosened into a pitiful expression, accentuated by his dirty tear ducts. His white muzzle is unkempt, falling down on his chin, with long unused whiskers. Even though it's natural, the sight of the natural physical deformities that come with age is saddening. Most of the time, they're not fatal, but you can see the effort it takes to remain alive.

Their tight bond is enough to show that they're father and son. 

The wolves around us whisper, "Wakz! Wakz!"

Wakz smiles with his weak lips, while his son scowls with his teeth exposed.

"Oh Laval… are you feeling better now? Your friend brought you here, away from the scene. My people told me everything– I am deeply sorry for what happened."

I itch my eyelid a bit. A scene?... Ah, that scene. Of course, I came here to understand what happened. Maybe asking Wakz about it could help me reach a better conclusion? We aren't far away from the area of the incident, therefore it wouldn't be too much of a stretch to get information from him…

"Yup… I'm fine, feeling better right now– and, about what you said earlier… Has anyone in your tribe seen something like that? Or did something suspicious happen before that?"

He turns his head and faces the crowd before him, sulking his already gloomy face. To shun your own pack, huh… 

"Quite some time ago, there was a wolf. A big, bad wolf. Unfortunately for us, we didn't know how he became like that, nor why. He was a silent killer, taking others' lives without leaving any trace behind. However… I have yet to find any news of him in more than years.", Wakz grunts, as his voice sounds more frustrated than normal, slouching his body forwards. "I suppose this might help you. Take care, young one."

The elder returns to his base, followed by the others, in a single linear formation. I wonder if they're some kind of hive mind, given how they act like an ant colony. Though I doubt that they would call themselves a colony, and that's because they aren't one.

Eris and I stare at each other in confusion; is this a mystery worth uncovering, or is it just a dangerous dead end? We could come back to Lavertus and ask about what he found.

Weird enough… I was close to the shadow before fainting. Yet… I wasn't able to see it. It's frustrating– if I knew what trait the culprit had, I would've had at least one clue to solve this mystery. I need to find out who committed this crime against me; why would they do something like that, what happened to them? Are they the wolf Wakz mentioned?

Eris covers her beak with her delicate talons, masking her smile. What's all that giggling about? I hold her wrist with my two paws and hover it to me. She, using her unoccupied claws, points behind me, with an adorable expression on her face, almost ready to burst out laughing.

Ugh! This is no time to laugh! My life might be in danger… What are you thinking about—

My ears! Ouch!

I let go of her hand and a firm grip pushes my ears down to the ground. My thump mixes with her laugh and Worriz' barkings. The sounds spread all along the area.

The fall hurts my arm a bit, but I don't mind it, as long as I have my friends with me, seeing their mindless quarrels, funny pranks, crazy adventures...

...Friendship is truly something magical, and I believe we should try to be together as much as possible, because I don't know when it's going to end. Eris lays down on the floor next to me, chattering about the stars, her new discovery about water… She talks about gravity, and that she saw the water following along with the movement of the moon. Amazing isn't it?

I lie sideways, gazing at Eris while she continues her incessant ramblings, explaining how she likes to study, her major interests such as technology and culture of her tribe. She's truly a beacon of knowledge, and I admire her for that.

Moments of peace never last forever; Worriz groans and pushes us around like little toys.

"Oh, hey? What about me, huh? You lovebirds need to listen to others too!", he whines, "Do you guys not know who Wilhurt is, like, seriously? I mean, he hasn't been seen in ages… but if you ended up having your ass beaten by him, then, it's on you. Not my fault you ran up to that guy."

I let out a heavy growl. Why did I invite Worries to play with us in the first place? He's a bratty troublemaker. He bullied Cragger– if it wasn't for that, we wouldn't be here in the first place. Though, he's kind of right, because our fight doesn't have any correlation with… Wilhurt?

Never heard of that name before. It might be important later, though, so I'll keep that in mind.

Shaking movements alert us to three Speedorz approaching the Wolf Lair; they're Lavertus, Longtooth and the orange haired lion from before.

My uncle runs up to me and hugs me. We need to head back home now.

[NEXT]

For anyone who reads this until the end: I hope you enjoyed the first episode of TFLOC! I was struggling with how to end this episode, especially because I noticed that I was losing my momentum on the pacing.

Sorry if the formatting of this post is a little different from the first full sneak peek. It isn't possible to copy all of the paragraphs and paste them into another post, and I don't have the patience to copy each and one of them individually. :(

Please reblog to share my work :D

[that-disabled-princess]

I want to see more fic and art where Baz has chronic pain. He had a canon disability for a period of time, and I'd love to see that represented more! Even if Simon healed Baz's leg with his magic, Baz could still have chronic pain.

For example: I injured my hand two years ago. Needed two stitches because of how deep the cut was, and I still have a scar. It's more prominent some days, and on days when the injury really pains me, you can see faint outlines of where the stitches went in.

The injury fully healed two weeks after I sliced my hand open. It still flares up and causes me pain from time to time, even two years later.

There are certain things I can't do anymore because of this injury. Clapping takes a toll on my hand? I have to find a different way to clap. Oh, this means I can't high five anymore either? Gotta high five with the other hand. Shaking hands is pushing it? Too bad because that's your dominant hand. I can't put too much pressure on my palm? Guess I'm going to fail every high school gym class push up test. Extreme temperatures hurt? There goes enjoying letting hot water run over my hands in the shower.

Even if Simon did heal Baz's leg, Baz could still experience chronic pain. His leg could hurt if he ran/walked too much in a day, it could flare up if he sat in one position for too long, he could even need a cane on days when he's truly exhausted.

And what if Simon didn't heal Baz's leg? What then? Simon lost his magic less than 24 hours later. What if he didn't heal Baz's leg before he lost his magic? How would Baz's life be different? Because it would be different in so many ways.

What about the time Baz came back to school in eighth year with a canon disability? When he couldn't play football, had a limp? When stress and exhaustion and overworking himself caused his leg to flare up?

I would love to see disabled Baz explored a lot more in fanfic and fanart.

[aspd-culture]

@nora77667766786543222

Super good question, but the answer will probably be disappointing unfortunately.

Basically, anything can flare PD symptoms. It depends heavily on the person's specific trauma and how developed their attachment is, as well as how much recovery work they've done.

Assuming a baseline - someone without many specific triggers who has not does any extensive healing work yet - here are some things that commonly flare ASPD symptoms, in no particular order.

○ Drvgs and alcohol. These affect everyone differently, but in ASPD they are commonly seen to cause flares in symptoms with the exception of one that is known to be "social lubricant". I haven't done substances personally, but I have heard some people say that particular one does not increase symptoms the way others can. The other exception to this is that certain strains of w**d can sometimes help decrease symptoms.

○ Anger, frustration, jealousy, and/or perceived "slights".

○ Boredom and/or going a long time without doing something impulsive/reckless

○ Actual or misperceived abandonment

○ Actual or misperceived condescension

○ Hormonal changes commonly associated with irritation

○ Medications that list irritability as a side effect

○ Authority and/or power trips taken out on the pwASPD

○ Adrenaline

○ Emotional distress

○ Feeling "too happy" or "too safe"

○ Feeling "too close" to someone (such as immediately after revealing personal information)

○ Feeling ignored by Exceptions

○ Hunger (yes, really)

○ Actually, any of the "basic needs" section of the hierarchy of needs (the bottom two tiers) not being met

○ Unfamiliar and/or uncomfortable social situations

○ Being yelled at or mistreated

○ A reaction to abuse or neglect, or other types of mistreatment

○ Burnout

○ Emotional labor (such as comforting someone during a stressful time)

○ Flashbacks or recollection of unpleasant things

○ Ruminating on ASPD and it's symptoms

Etc etc etc. Not all of these apply to everyone, and I'm sure there are hundreds of things I could have added, but I hope this helps anyway