#interaction. dagmar

[liesthehead]

@0fmercy || Dagmar & open

Aiming at stationary targets had never been her favourite. Dagmar had always preferred the actual act of hunting to practice. Arrow after arrow across the lawn, each sinking into the target. The sound of feet on the ground behind her made her head turn. "Can I help you?" they asked tersely as they reached for another arrow.

[svnshone]

@1642hqzstarters || dagmar & open (ft the rare Mom dagmar) setting: at campfire in a camp along the way to Portugal, late in the evening

It was rare Anneliese fell asleep on her these days- it used to seem as if all the baby did was sleep, slumbering away the moment she was handed to Dagmar. Now she seemed more interested in wiggling away to crawl on the ground, or hold onto furniture, to play with whatever toy was nearby or rip out the grass if it suited her. Tonight however the growing one year old had fallen asleep listening to the crackle of the fire- head against her mother's breastbone, small fingers wrapped in tight fists around tiny handful's of Dagmar's jacket, the soft curls on the top of her head brushing against Dagmar's chin each time she glanced down. There was calm in the evening sky, stars bright above. Few still wandered around camp- the fire was near dying, but still Dagmar did not move.

When she heard footsteps behind them, one of Dagmar's hands left the sleeping princess' back, reaching for the protection they always carried with them before she even turned her head- an instinct, especially in the dark. "What do you want?"

[liesthehead]

"He's your-" They search for the word, but if one were to come to them it would not be in English. They know it, of course they do, after the woman explained it. “You have a partnership.” Kindred spirit, the Viking had called him. “That… makes sense.” A natural partnership she could understand. She had had that- she had been able to see a change in thought by the slightest twinge of a brow, had known each emotion from the sit of shoulders, had been seen for all she was. "And you feel the same of your father." As time passed Dagmar felt they understood their father less and less- as a child it had been easy. Follow him on his travels, take her lessons seriously, heed his word. Now- well now most letters arriving from him made their way into the fire before she even read them.

"I have decades of proper practice, under true tutelage." They eyed the target still, holding the bow back out to her. "There must be someone skilled in the camps who would teach you. And make sure you befriend a fletcher."

"I only meant that he is a dear friend and I felt like I knew him even before we spoke," she explained. Freyja sighed and wondered if she should say the words that crossed her mind. It all sounded so eccentric and spiritual. "I know it all sounds ethereal but I think we find our kindred spirits. Sometimes we find them without knowing them or speaking to them first. Sometimes we find them without ever meeting them. The more I learnt about my father as I grew up, the more I felt like I knew him even though he had passed." Freyja wondered if it was more than coincidence that brought the two of them together. She didn't want to come across as overbearing or eccentric so she kept the thought to herself. Silently, she watched the the royal use her bow. It seemed almost second nature to them as if the bow show have been a part of their body. If she blinked, she could have missed the ease with which they released the string. The arrow sunk almost perfect center. Freyja hope she would be that talented one day. "It works far better in your hands," she admitted.

[liesthehead]

@gxst || Dagmar + Will

Sleep did not come easy to Dagmar- so they had taken to going on a brisk walk in the middle of the night. She was returning to the Danish wing of the castle- and had not expected another to be awake. Fingers wrapped tightly on the dagger carried on her hip, pulling the blade out. It had not been too long ago one of their own was found dead- and reflexes were quicker than ever. Then the other's face showed in the dim light- "William Friseal what are you doing?" There was a sharpness to their tone. "If you're going to come and go in the middle of the night bring a light."

[15-lizards]

thinking really hard ab my clegane daughter ocs again... me nd @sshireens have created such a rich and fucked up life for them...

time to be cringe on main and force y'all to listen to me talk ab them <3 <3

Dagmar (elder daughter from the first wife) vibes tho I don't have a set in stone face claim for her yet these r her general vibes. Obviously she's not as pretty as these models she's kinda unfortunate she takes after her dad. Really deep set eyes and heavy brow bone, square jaw, wide nose, tall and stocky for her age. Kinda like Brienne if she didn't have good vibes.

Anywayssss she's so much like her uncle that Sandor sometimes wonders if he did some sort of asexual reproduction and had her. Really keeps up the tradition of Cleganes being rabid (but loyal) dogs. Super hostile and antisocial, absolutely CANNOT regulate her emotions, borderline personality disorder queen omg. Low tolerance for basically anyone and anything (except her sister) and has really huge emotional outbursts over seemingly small things. Except for when she's around Gregor cause she goes into safety mode and just shuts out all stimuli. Just super tense, constantly on-edge, and really disregulated emotions she has literally never known peace. Her cortisol levels are So High.

Why is she like this u may ask??? excellent question. Answer: nuclear threat to all women Gregor Clegane happens to be her dad. When she was like barely 2 her mother died "mysteriously" so she got to be alone in Clegane Keep with her rapist murder dad, his rapist murder buddies, and some horrified servants and a septa. Yippeeee. Obviously Gregor felt the need to establish dominance over every woman and girl, and this was only increased by her intense personality, so Dagmar is subject to all kinds of abuse as a child. She learns pretty quickly that u can't really fight back against him so she just shuts down anytime he's in her vicinity as to not pose a "threat" to him. It sorta works. Then lets out her emotions on everything else: serving boys, kennel hounds, herself, etc etc. Half of the time she's in a blind rage and the other half she's in a hopeless dissociative state :) Actively suicidal and she's not even fifteen. HOWEVER when she's like six the light of her life and reason to keep living is born...

And cue Iva (younger daughter from the second wife) and if she ever survives to adulthood (unlikely) it is Scripture to me that she looks like a young Carol Kane. Sunken cheeks, pallid skin, wide protruding bug eyes, long nose, dry and frizzy pale hair. Very very sickly because her mom gave birth a month early and then died bc of it. So all she has is her big sister :]

While Dagmar's response to most things is aggression and really reactionary over-emotional outbursts, Iva is the complete opposite. She likes to run and hide in corners every time she senses confrontation or even gets slightly uncomfortable. Very very avoidant and anxious. Gets to live in her own little mind palace most of the time bc Dagmar is there to protect her. However Dagmar protects her a little too hard and now she is overly dependent on her big sis. Pathetically helpless. Selectively mute a good bit of the time bc it all just gets to be overwhelming and she feels safer just not interacting with the outside world. Super passive like an actual human doormat (if she ever let anyone actually talk to her)

And she is the way she is for [see Gregor reasons above]. However since Dagmar was there when she was born, her big sis sees this weak little baby and feels protectiveness for the first time in her life. Iva is HER baby and Dagmar never lets her out of her sight. Not in a cute overprotective sibling way but in a really aggressive "don't do that you stupid idiot I know what's best for you don't ever leave me way" cause that's how she shows her love so Ivas like Ah this is what love must be like. Obviously Dagmar can't protect her from everything so Iva is abused in the same ways, but slightly less often because Gregor sees her as less interesting and less of a challenge because of her passiveness. So Iva's response is to make herself even smaller and ignore all her problems to live inside her own head lalalalalala

And when they're together oh these girls give a new meaning to Codependent. Dagmar sneaking into Iva's room after Gregor leaves it one night and getting so upset to the point of breaking things and grabbing Iva until she bruises her sister even more. But Iva is comforted by it because that rage means Dagmar cares ab her. Dagmar literally beating a stable boy into a vegetable state (or killing him, ur choice) for trying to grab Iva's skirts. Iva is in literal medical shock seeing a (near) dead body on the ground that got put there for HER while Dagmar is smiling with her bloody knuckles bc it felt good to hurt someone protect her sister (She actually feels horrifically guilty about it later but manages to ease the cognitive dissonance by telling herself that she was protecting Iva so it absolves her of everything bc Iva is perfect and fragile and can't be hurt). One time at a feast when the girls are in their pre/mid teens, Gregor makes an offhanded comment about marrying "the prettier one" off soon and Dagmar forgets her dad trauma for a hot second, bc her urge to keep Iva safe is that strong, and literally throws a serving plate at his head. Later when Dagmar is in her room, with three less teeth and five new giant bruises, Iva is cleaning her up and weeping and just wanting to curl up with Dagmar in bed and forget the rest of the world forever. Meanwhile Dagmar is planning out the murder-suicide she will enact if Iva does get married off. She doesn't tell her sister that just yet but Iva would be more than okay with it. Cause how can Dagmar live without her guiding light morality pet only good thing she has and how can Iva live without her only dog her only knight. YAYYYYYY

[radioregine]

WRITEBLR INTRO xx

hey, all! i’m n.k. :-)

i'm not new to tumblr (have had a few diff accounts since 2011/2012), but i'm new to interacting with writeblr proper. 

ABOUT ME

late 20s

black & queer & disabled 

lifelong writer/musician/creative (in both professional and hobbyist capacities)

finally finishing my degree in creative writing & english! 

ARTISTIC/THEMATIC INTERESTS 

literary fiction, horror, camp, kitsch, diversity, introspection, family/friend bonds (especially nontraditional ones), romance, art rock, nostalgia, technology, diy ethos 

GOALS

connect with the tumblr writing community at large! for a while i was unable to get excited about my non-work, non-fanfic related writing projects. over the past year or so, my passion’s been renewed, and i just wanna chatter with like-minded folks about my longform WIPs, my short stories, etc – and geek over other people’s work here too <3

WIPS 

Dagmar

there’s always something going down in dagmar, an insular coastal community straddling the delaware bay. pragmatic tech geek zeke omezie-fumudoh, 18, prefers to keep her head in her books and projects – deaths and disappearances were common in her parents’ home country, too, after all. when her best friend dodie dies, however, zeke has no choice but to start trying to connect the dots & face the potential supernatural forces at play. 

[this is finna be dark fantasy/horror, romance, mystery, and queer as hell! i got a lot of worldbuilding to do, but a few months ago the twist popped into my head 1st and i’ve been working backwards. i'm sooo excited abt figuring out the narrative path(s) i gotta take]

Dave & The Family Davenport

20-year-old twin musicians dorian & daria davenport are a little s club 7, a little sly stone, & a whole lotta spitfire. as the very first act signed to holliday records, 30-something producer & label founder dave levine considers it his duty to take the family davenport under his wing. they become his pet project – and eventually something more to him. 

[i’m taking this one in a literary/drama direction! thinking found family and music industry commentary vibes. idea came from revisiting big time rush and thinking ‘what would happen if you mix btr + the carpenters + prince + mtv’s making the band??’ (for the record, dave is 100% NOT meant to be a p. d*ddy analogue re: making the band, i'm mainly thinking of the aesthetics of the young artists of color featured on the show)]

Several fun essays about my personal fandom/shipping history (one is about all the diff sites i've used over 17+ years of reading/writing fanfic, another is an old-school livejournal-style ship manifesto that i plan to make into a video! etc etc)

SHORT FICTION 

blank [literary/drama, 300 wds]

fortune teller [literary/drama, 300 wds]

hothouse [horror, 500 wds]

a certain standard of care [horror-comedy/surreal/gross-out, 1k wds]

good bones (or, an exercise in letting go) [literary/dramedy, 1.3k wds]

[writing tag: scorpio the scribe]

hmu if you think we'd get along <3 i need more ppl to follow!

[ETA: i prefer to follow/be mutuals w/ ppl 18+ only, ty!]

[liesthehead]

@1910560 || Ilja (or whoever <3)

She had been writing until her eyes were near crossing, letters in different languages and scripts, letters to be sent north and south with messengers to more isolated farmsteads offering coin for any surplus from the autumn harvest, letters to home inquiring about the winter stores there, none that had yet been sent but still, the dowager queen had spent hours putting quill to paper and her legs demanded a walk and eyes a break from candlelight. They left the Danish wing of the castle, making the well worn path to the outside. The air was refreshing- crisp and cold, as if she were plunging into the ocean on a hot day rather than stepping out of a stuffy and heated fortress.

They stood in the entranceway for a moment, adjusting to the cold icy air, before setting off on their walk. It was less than rare to end up near the training camps in one of the yards- she had never been a stranger to them, and it was always best to have an idea of who the strongest fighters were. She stood to the side, watching the match in front of her, making silent notes. “Do you know who that is?” they asked, nodding to one of the fighters.

[indignantlemur]

So I am a spoiled child here. I already got guilty pleasures, but could I please have embarrassing memories or stories for the cast? Please...

I offer cat pictures in payment.

Alright, that's fair - I rarely say no to an adorable cat. Also: what's his (her?) name, and can you give them soft forehead pets for me? 😊

Dagmar: Dagmar's most embarrassing memory in Emigre's era would probably the time she woke up to Phlox's face hovering overhead and screamed at him. And threw a punch. And also a tray of instruments. In her defense, she'd never met an alien before and panicked. She apologized profusely later, but she still cringes every time she remembers it.

(In Phlox's defense, Dagmar woke up from sedation a bit sooner than she was meant to. The original plan had been to get a Human nurse in the room as a first point of contact.)

Shral: Shral doesn't have too many embarrassing memories to pull from, but probably the job interview with Dagmar would be one of them. He'd taken to personally interviewing candidates alongside Miss White (Dagmar's old boss) to determine their suitability for interacting with Andorians, after a series of minor but persistent incidences with some of the other translators and interpreters. The embarrassment in this case stems mostly from the fact that he genuinely doesn't remember a single thing Dagmar said. She walked in and his brain switched off, and every single Andorian in the embassy knew it, too.

Thelen: Thelen's most embarrassing memory is less filled with embarrassment and more filled with regret and shame. His first official duel as an adult was a mess. While he regrets the entire affair immensely now, at the time he was young and stupid and entirely too hot-headed. Someone said the wrong thing at the wrong time, and the next thing Thelen knew, blades were being drawn and an arbiter called, and then-- Well. Then it was over. For the life of him, Thelen cannot even remember what was said or why he was so incensed, but he remembers the aftermath, and it shames him. Vrath: The time her mothers found her stash of alien bodice rippers. It's not physically possible to cringe into another plane of existence, but damned if Vrath didn't try.

Thoris: Thoris' has firmly declined to share his most embarrassing memory with me at this time, which tells me it's probably a doozy.

[more-better-words]

This is a little left field but reading your Karveth and Monica while I read @indignantlemur's story about Shral and Dagmar, give me thoughts. Specifically since they both take place at similar times, I can't help but imagine the characters interacting. How would K&M react to meeting them? I also can't help imaging T'Pol trying to deal with Thoris as both are ambassadors to earth.

Feel free to ignore if this is too weird. Sorry.⁰

Not weird at all! I love it! 🥰

I can't speak for @indignantlemur, but I've found myself drawn to the ENT era because there's just so much possibility in this time period where the Federation is still new and scrappy and its success is not a given. Plus, ENT gave us BY FAR the most info/interaction with Andorians as a species and a culture, so chances are if you're going to catch the blue bug, it's going to happen there.

As for Karveth and Monica meeting Shral and Dagmar? I imagine Karveth and Shral having a drink, nodding in solidarity, and basically being all "Pinkskin girls amirite?" Meanwhile, Monica is providing a sympathetic shoulder for Dagmar to let it all out, which turns into doing shots and getting increasingly giggly while the boys get nervous.

Shral: "What are they talking about?"

Karveth: "There's a human expression for situations like this - Ignorance is bliss."

Shral: "That's a stupid saying."

Karveth: "It is. But very appropriate, under the circumstances."

(Sorry, Lemur, couldn't help myself! 😆)

And T'Pol v Thoris? Oh lordie. 😂 They'd get on like a house on fire, in both the positive and negative senses.

[pneumaticpresence]

The ‘talking cure’ has always struggled with the cognitively disabled mind. If the key to realisation lies in the dynamic verbal interaction between the subject and the analyst, what does psychoanalysis do when confronted by a non-verbal, or verbally limited, human, appearing to lack an inner life?

The cognitively disabled mind has resolutely failed to offer up the stories psychoanalysis craves. These are narratives of transition, self-realisation, cathartic insights, and intriguing reveals. Like any good detective story they take us up several blind alleys before revealing the solution to a mystery, pulling the explanatory rabbit from the mental hat of the subject’s mind.

Think of Little Hans, Dora, Rat man and Wolf man, to take the most obvious examples, the puzzling but ultimately solvable mysteries with which Freud launched a genre of psychoanalytic story telling.

The problem with cognitive disability, for the Freudians and many of their successors, was that it lacked mystique and exoticism. It was barren and unchanging, and a good story could not be extracted from a vacuum. It is for this reason, as Dagmar Herzog points out, that through to the late twentieth century psychoanalysis ‘vacillated between indifference and disdain or unthinking derogation’ for the cognitively disabled subject or, as they saw it, non-subject.

Attention turned to the parents. Surely, the psychoanalysts concluded, they could only wish for the death of such children? And surely they must mourn for the normal child they had dreamed of, who never arrived? So the idea of the parental death-wish was born, at last a compelling story that could be mined, if only by proxy, from the empty minds of the cognitively disabled.

But it was nothing new. The changeling myth had medieval origins: mischievous sprites stealing the unwatched human baby from their cot, and replacing it with a terrifying, grinning, brainless imitation of a human from the spirit world. The parents must endure guilt and grief for the child they have lost, but also suffer a life of pain and misery caring for the non-child they have acquired.

To this day, well-meaning social workers tell parents of a cognitively disabled child to grieve first for the loss of the child they hoped for, and then prepare to cope with the different sort of child they have been given. Cognitive disability is a tragedy, a living death, a blight on the lives of the cognitively typical.

Which leads us to genetic counselling. This, as Marion Schmidt’s fascinating account in this issue testifies, is a seemingly benign and helpful descendant of eugenic science offering the opportunity to anticipate and prevent birth defects. However, it holds within it the psychoanalytic idea of the death-wish against a cognitively disabled child.

A debate now rages over, for example, antenatal testing for Down syndrome – does it offer prospective parents the option to eliminate a disease, or a type of human?

A person with Down syndrome, someone with a third copy of chromosome 21, is destined to be the person they are from the moment of conception. A child without the extra chromosome hasn’t died to make way for a different child. This person was always going to be this person.

So, we must ask, has psychoanalysis simply given its own form of scientific authority to an enduring myth that demonises cognitive disability? Does the idea of the parental death wish reflect not so much the wishes of parents but, as Herzog puts it, ‘the hostile and rejecting feelings… of many psychoanalysts themselves’, repelled when confronted by a form of human they do not wish to acknowledge within the category of person?

Those within psychoanalysis who have argued that a cognitively disabled mind is a human mind warranting respect and attention have often fought, and still fight, a lonely and isolated battle, as this issue of the journal testifies. Perhaps it is time for many in the profession to gaze into the mirror, and ask themselves where the death-wish truly lies.

--Simon Jarrett (2019)

[astralestarologia]

Disenchantment Tarot Deck (part 3)

Hello again (:

Today I am posting the last cards that compose the full set of Major Arcanas.

I remember the first time I started to post the images someone asked me if I was going to use Satan or Luci as The Devil, which was a fair question because both of them fits the Archetype. At first I was going to use Satan not only because he looks like a classical devil but also ruled hell. Another reason for that it's because Luci already takes place in other Major Arcana cards and having varieties makes the deck looks richer in matter of compositions.

But just like the Empress when I was in doubt between choosing Oona and Dagmar, I still chose Luci to be The Devil because he literally pranks Satan and its powers. Nothing is more devilish than Luci, and this image shows: lots of people are attracted to him.

For The Tower I made 2 options: one of them is Bean falling out of the castle, and it's interesting because on the original Tower card there are 2 people falling from it, so Bean brings the perspective of one of them falling and also the card shows this chaotic, destructive energy just like The Tower card. For the second option, the castle itself. It's not on fire yet, but it's about to be, just like when doing a Tarot reading.

My favorite card from all of the Major Arcanas is The Star! It was a card that gave me some headache to do it and fit the frame. I used 3 of the same images to make this one and I am proud of me for that (LOL). As you can see, that's Mora's constelation.

The Moon brings the moment where Bean was watching that big bright moon not knowing if her thing with Mora was real or just a dream. The Moon plays a very unconcious but very important role on the cinematographic industry, and Disenchantment followed the same idea. It's all about dreams, fantasy, the unconscious, mistery... Bean is in the picture but I cut her out of the frame because the card looked empty with her on it, and it's not really important to show her when everyone that watched the show would recognize this moment.

And finally for the Judgement card, Herald MUST be on this card, having in mind that Judgement is a big announcement. On the original card, there are naked people getting out of their graves, a ressurection is happening. It's all about looking behind and learning with our mistakes. So the first image to me is perfect. I used another version for Herald because there is a big angel blowing a trumped that wakes everyone up on the original card. The 3rd option offers a more insightful meaning because Judgement is also about looking for ourselves and recognizing past mistakes, and Bean is not looking disrectly on the mirror because that actually take some work.

Don't worry about the quality of some of the images, I'm enchancing them all so they all look smooth in the final results.

And this completes the full set of Major Arcanas for the Disenchantment Tarot Deck! Next week I'll be posting a full set of the Minor Arcanas: one week for cups, another one for wands, then pentacles and finally swords.

I'd love to hear about what do you guys think about it. Is there a favorite card to you? What version of the cards you think it fits best? Thank you so much for the interactions, it's been lovely to read them all!

See you next week.

[liesthehead]

Oh gods he wasn't going to cry was he? Dagmar thought as she watched him wipe at his eyes. She did not want to deal with a crying man. She was rarely the one to take care of her own child when she was crying, passing her off to the nurse or the governess shortly after the baby began crying. Perhaps she should not have stopped at all, and simply allowed the man to be inevitably trampled to death. "It seems you do." Dagmar crossed their arms as they watched him attempt to stand. "My-" She does not say the word, does not wish to conjure a ghost. "I have heard that drinking a raw egg while eating jam and butter on bread helps." Try as much as she does, the image of her late husband still comes to mind- the wrinkle of his nose in disgust as he swallows raw egg, blond head resting on his hand as he chewed the bread. "Though the water might be quicker."

☆ﾟ*·ﾟLIFTING HIS HEAD, Hal looked up, meeting the eyes of a woman. It took him a moment to process what she just said. He wasn't sure what happened first, her words or the prod to his knee with what seemed like a boot. Perhaps he had drank too much. Fluttering his eyes, trying to regain some composure, the viking knew he'd had too much to drink, and knew this wasn't a good idea. But it was too late now, for he was on the ground, now most likely covered in who knows what? "That would hurt," he stated, his voice soft. He sat up, wiping his eyes. "I really need to stop drinking so much." Hal just sat there, leaning up against the wall. He swore under his breath, knowing he'd made a mistake. There was a lot more he needed to focus on. Using his hands and all of his momentum, he stood up before leaning up against the wall. "Damn. Tips on sobering up fast that don't involve dunking my head in water?"

[verona2314]

Judgment of the Damned (translation) PART XV

Link part XIV

Summary:

In the realm of Limbo, where souls deemed too good for Hell but not virtuous enough for Heaven reside, Victoria finds herself thrust into an unprecedented mission. When a notorious sinner, Sir Pentious, achieves redemption and ascends to Heaven, it sends shockwaves through all realms. Tasked with unraveling this mystery, Victoria, a minor judge of souls, is sent to the infamous Hazbin Hotel in Hell. For the first time, an emissary from Limbo steps foot into the fiery depths, tasked with observing and judging the denizens of Hell for their potential for redemption. As Victoria navigates this unfamiliar territory, she captures the unrequired attention of the enigmatic Radio Demon, Alastor. Amidst the chaos of demonic antics and the pursuit of understanding redemption, Victoria must confront her own beliefs and judgments. As she delves deeper into the secrets of the Hazbin Hotel, Victoria uncovers hidden truths about sinners, redemption, and the ultimate fate of souls caught between damnation and salvation. With each soul she encounters, Victoria's journey becomes not only a quest for answers but a personal voyage of self-discovery in the heart of darkness.

Chapter 15: Revelations

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

What's this? Two chapters in one day? That's right! One of our beloved readers is celebrating their birthday. Happy birthday Ann2314! I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. What has been your favorite chapter, scene, or dialogue?"

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

XXXXX

I had never considered sharing my thoughts on paper. Paper is part of our daily lives. It can contain beautiful drawings and phrases, it can create beautiful shapes like boats and hats, it can decorate tables and walls, it can cut a finger and cause a wound, and it can contain sentences that condemn eternally, causing unmatched damage. Paper can be a source of joy or tragedy, just like the decisions we make.

As Supreme Judges of Limbo, it is our duty to make difficult decisions to safeguard order and balance, but seeing the right hand of God brought before us by his peers, with golden chains around his neck and wrists, was much harder than any decision we have ever made. It is an image that I will never be able to erase from my memory. Before us was not a kneeling arrogant and troublesome being, but a downtrodden and extinguished angel. Someone whose eyes showed no sign of that spark that characterized him so much. Heaven wanted a trial for Lucifer, but they had already made their own verdict, turning him into a pariah.

Since the creation of Limbo, shortly after heaven, Lucifer has always seemed to me a dreamer, of noble spirit and very creative. Sometimes his dreamy head made him forget responsibilities and he didn't usually think before acting. We don't often interact with heaven. Generally, heaven doesn't get into trouble. But the times I saw Lucifer, I couldn't help but feel identified, as both of us find it difficult to fit in. Of the 7 judges, I was always the weakest due to my compassionate and empathetic nature. I was always criticized for believing that everyone had goodness inside, even the most rebellious angels. Seilmon, with his light and playful personality, downplays my sensitivities by saying that my personality and presence are as important as the other judges' and that I shouldn't change. However, Dagmar, my twin sister, is the one who tries the most to toughen my character. I can't help but believe that my twin was deliberately created as my opposite. Dagmar is one of those who first distrusts, doubts, and then asks. She has the talent to see the worst in people, and her opinions tend towards merciless punishment. While I tend towards forgiveness

With Lucifer, it was no different. Dagmar simply judged the archangel with the same severity as the other angels. For them, Lucifer and Lilith had created a monstrosity, scattered evil, and tarnished the perfect work. It didn't surprise me that my twin wanted to lock them away in a dark cell for the rest of eternity.

Myram, despite her dry way of speaking, proved to be the fairest among us. For her, there was no doubt about the responsibility of the first woman and the right hand of God, but she pointed out that both had not acted with malice, but that their naivety, especially Lucifer's, was nothing more than negligence that could not go unpunished.

Otoniel reproached heaven for the conditions under which they had brought Lucifer, as he had already been subdued by Michael after their confrontation. Then, he demanded Lilith's presence, as she also deserved a fair trial, despite being mortal. And with those words, the first woman was brought before us by the angels, her hands bound. Her eyes showed pain for the harm her decision had caused, but there was no shame in her walk. She acknowledged her mistake but accepted her responsibility without hiding her face, bearing her burden. To me, she was strength. Her mere presence was enough for Lucifer to react, and a gentle smile formed on his face filled with... love? Yes, that was love, and I couldn't help but feel a lot of happiness for them. I had never been able to see love, and now that I could witness it, I can only say that it is beautiful, and I long with all my being to experience it someday. But this desire is an absurd illusion. I am a Supreme Judge, and we cannot love.

Ehud, as always, spoke of philosophical concepts about error, passion, and lack of prudence with that drowsy voice that made my mind wander to any place.

Who surprised me the most was Deborah. I saw her whispering to one of the heavenly celestials, Zerachiel. And within minutes, the Archangel directed attention to the new abyss that had been created, Hell, suggesting its complete destruction. Why do something so extreme? Didn't they deserve to exist only because they didn't match heaven's order? How did he come up with that idea? And unintentionally, my eyes went to the kind and compassionate Deborah. Had she suggested it? What had she whispered to Zerachiel? For me, that moment was a revelation. Deborah had a sharp side.

As for me, all I did was emphasize that Lucifer and Lilith did not act with malice, that they sought to do good. I questioned the inflexible rules of heaven that prevented innovation and exploring ideas. I suggested that perhaps this lack had led Lucifer to act behind their backs because he had never been listened to or supported. I only received Dagmar's reproach and Otoniel's mockery. I could tell that many angels looked at me with disdain, belittling me. I tried to rely on Michael, but he seemed just as distraught as Lucifer and simply agreed with Myram. It was very frustrating. And at that moment, Seilmon proposed the punishment. Lucifer had to take responsibility for what his actions had created. Hell could not be left unattended, so instead of being sent to a dark cell, his prison would be that abyss, with the chance of, perhaps, achieving something positive from it. Lilith, on the other hand, was to remain alone outside of Eden.

I could understand that for Seilmon, Lilith had less responsibility as she did not have the knowledge of a celestial like Lucifer, but I could feel that the woman was brilliant and fully aware of her actions, that she was just as responsible as Lucifer. But beyond that, I could not bear the idea of them being separated. No. The love between them is real. And that's why I decided to do everything possible to have them sent together to that abyss because I know that in that way, they will have each other. It worked.

Unfortunately, no one understands my thoughts and emotions. Loneliness consumes me even though I am surrounded by my peers. Lucifer's trial deeply affected me. I am filled with feelings, doubts, and fears that I cannot share with anyone. This feeling of suffocation is what led me to turn to paper, to this diary. These pages will become the refuge of sentimental Aody, the weakest of the seven Supreme Judges.

Charlie

Tears streamed down her cheeks as she finished reading the first entry of the old diary she had received from Victoria. Her father had never spoken to her about his exile to Hell and how harsh they had been with him. Learning the details caused her heart great pain, and she could better understand the fear in his eyes when he asked for an audience with Heaven. Anything related to them surely awakened a trauma buried deep within his being.

"This feeling of suffocation is what led me to turn to paper, to this diary. These pages will become the refuge of sentimental Aody, the weakest of the seven Supreme Judges," she read aloud to herself. Charlie couldn't help but feel somewhat identified with Aody, the diary's author, as she understood all too well the feeling of being seen as naive for always seeking the good in others. But if it weren't for the compassion shown by that Supreme Judge, her parents would have ended up separated forever. Her eyes returned to the last paragraph. Aody spoke of doubts and fears. Doubts about what? What was he afraid of? Would these pages reveal more secrets? Unfortunately, reading the diary was slow and exhausting as it was in very bad condition, with faded ink letters. Added to that, the handwriting was very archaic, full of curves, embellishments, and loops that strained her eyes. "It wouldn't be a bad idea to try to transcribe it," she murmured, hiding the diary behind a painting. It was essential to keep it hidden from light and any curious eyes. She wiped her tears and then let out a sigh before regaining her usual cheerful aura. While the diary was important, she couldn't neglect the hotel. It had already been a week since Alastor's interview with the judge, and things had changed a bit.

In the first few days after the broadcast, demand at the hotel had skyrocketed. Unfortunately, several sinners had entered believing that redemption was as simple as getting a sentence from the judge, and upon realizing their mistake, they didn't hesitate to leave. Others at least attempted to engage in their activities, but finding them childish and ridiculous, they decided to leave. For various reasons, the large number of guests dwindled. It wasn't so surprising because she still couldn't reveal that redemption was a proven fact, but it was still disheartening. The silver lining was that a few had stayed. She wasn't sure if they were simply taking advantage of the hotel's facilities or if there was a genuine interest, but Charlie was determined to try. After all, they were already there, right? Perhaps a little nudge was all they needed. 

She was so lost in her thoughts that she didn't notice the judge walking briskly in her direction with her nose buried in some files. Her honor lightly collided with the shoulder of the princess of Hell, causing Charlie to lose her balance slightly. "Oh, Charlie, forgive me," Victoria hurriedly apologized without releasing the papers.

"Don't worry, we were both distracted," she responded casually, noticing the judge's haste. "Are you heading out again?"

"Yes. Today I'm meeting some sinners to play golf. But I have a feeling it's going to have a... macabre twist," the judge replied with an uncomfortable smile.

"I see you're starting to understand Hell. You've been very busy this week with all these meetings. You're hardly seen at the hotel. Not that it's a complaint," the princess hurriedly added. "I'm glad your work is progressing and you're getting to know all these great sinners. It's just that..." Charlie paused for a moment. Perhaps it wasn't appropriate to mention this to Victoria now considering she was in a hurry.

"Yes? What's on your mind?" her honor asked kindly, directing all her attention to her. This gesture was enough for Charlie to make up her mind.

"I started reading the diary and there are some doubts that arose. There are many things I would like to discuss with you at some point. But for now, I would like you to answer a question before you leave," the judge nodded, indicating to Charlie that she could continue. "The diary talks about seven Supreme Judges. I understood there were only five."

"Yes," the judge replied with a noticeable grimace of pain on her face. "As far as I know, there have been five Supreme Judges. There have always been rumors that originally there were seven."

"The author of the diary... Aody, is one of the five judges?" Charlie asked hopefully, but when Victoria bit her lip and slowly shook her head, all hope vanished. "What happened to him, judge?"

"I hope I'm wrong, but..." Victoria replied in a low voice, leaning closer to her. "but if my theory is correct, Aody is dead."

Lucifer

That day, he didn't feel like getting out of bed much. His body felt heavy, and he had barely been able to sleep. His lack of appetite only fueled the longing to lose himself in the sheets and keep on dreaming. It was tempting, but he knew it wasn't a good idea, that he would regret not doing something productive all day. With a slight groan, he sat up and rubbed his eyes. It was early, but his mind refused to give him respite. He immediately remembered all the commotion caused by the judge's appearance on the radio and that now his beloved daughter was surrounded by sinners living in her hotel. It was what Charlie had always wanted, but he couldn't help but worry. The idea of something happening to his princess terrified him, but he also didn't want to intervene directly because that would make her think he didn't trust her. He wanted to support her and take care of her, but he didn't know how. Maybe he could make some rubber ducks for her to put as decoration in the bathrooms. No, that idea was ridiculous. Sinners taking a bath with rubber ducks? Nonsense.

For now, it was better to focus on getting up, having breakfast, and... trying to be the ruler everyone expected him to be? How could he take the reins if he couldn't even be a good father to Charlie? His phone vibrated on the bedside table. The king of Hell checked the screen to see who was calling him so early. He barely saw the name and left the device on the bed.

"Ugh, that guy again," he grumbled. He got out of bed and headed to the bathroom. Taking a shower to shake off some of the tiredness wasn't a bad idea. He dropped the robe to the floor and couldn't help but see his reflection in the mirror. His white, smooth skin contrasted with his tired expression and disheveled hair. His toned body hid the fragility of his soul and his internal struggle. This was him, the king of Hell, the fallen angel. His exterior hadn't changed; it didn't represent the fatigue weighing on his shoulders. This was the body Lilith had embraced, kissed, caressed, and comforted. He really missed her a lot.

After bathing and getting dressed, he decided to look for something to eat. He was about to enter the dining room when one of his servants called him from behind.

"Sir, a member of the nobility is looking for you."

"Yes, I know," he interrupted irritably, opening the dining room door. "Tell anyone who isn't my daughter that I'm not here. Better if you tell them I went to visit another circle or whatever. I'm not in the mood to deal with any of those fancy feathers."

"Well, but you've been avoiding dealing with those fancy feathers for all these years, Your Majesty," a voice responded from inside the dining room.

Lucifer immediately directed his gaze to the visitor, coming face to face with two pairs of red eyes staring back at him. The subject in question was tall, slim, with bluish-grayish plumage. He was sitting in one of the chairs with his legs crossed and an impeccable posture. He was one of Paimon's offspring.

"Stolas! What a great surprise to see you here," Lucifer greeted nervously. "I didn't expect this visit."

"Really?" responded the Ars Goetia with a hint of suspicion and sarcasm. "I thought Your Majesty would assume I'd come to visit you after ignoring all the messages and calls I made to you all week."

"Ignore? Me? Of course not, Stolas!" replied the king of Hell with a nervous laugh, refraining from taking a seat. "I've just been very busy doing king things. You know. How is your son? Oscar? Octavio?"

"Octavia, Your Majesty," corrected Stolas with a slight expression of weariness.

"Oh! Girly name.Great!! Its cute," pointed out the king of Hell, growing increasingly uncomfortable. Why did he have to act so socially awkward sometimes?

"Yes, because my daughtER is a girl," Stolas emphasized, bringing a hand to his temple. "Majesty, I'm not here to reproach you for your lack of knowledge about current noble families or your long absence as a ruler or your insistence on hiding in the shadows of solitude. I know my predecessors tried to pull you out of your... melancholic state without success. I don't like to waste my time. However, Majesty, I fear it is of utmost urgency that you take the reins. There is chaos among the nobility."

"If it's about your fling with the imp, I'm not judging, eh. But I can't change the nobles' opinion."

"What? No! It's not that!" exclaimed Stolas, blushing.

Seeing the noble's consternation, Lucifer couldn't help but smile. Clearly, the owl was very fond of his imp. Perhaps he himself had that silly expression when he thought of Lilith. The king of Hell finally relaxed and sat down at the table. "Ah, young love. I can see you hold him dear."

"It's... complicated," replied the Ars Goetia, lowering his gaze. He seemed depressed. Lucifer wondered if he had put his foot in his mouth again.

"Ahem, well," said the king of Hell, clearing his throat. "You said you weren't here for that. What's causing such a stir among the nobles this time? An illegitimate child? Did one of them get born with a pig's tail?"

"Your Majesty, I wouldn't have come to bother you with trivialities like those," clarified Stolas. "It's because of the presence of the Limbo in Hell and the close relationship that said emissary has with your daughter."

"The judge? Charlie? Yes, they get along well, and she's staying at my daughter's hotel. But I wouldn't say they're close because of that," he pointed out as he received a cup of coffee.

"The mere fact that she is associated with the princess of Hell already makes the nobles think you're monopolizing the influences and forces of Limbo for the sole benefit of your daughter. They're much more agitated after learning about Adam's death, and many show some ambition now that they know angels aren't indestructible. I wouldn't be surprised if extremists with disastrous ideas about invading heaven started to emerge, Your Majesty."

"I will never allow that," he responded with a serious and threatening voice. "I won't bring destruction to my daughter's realm or death to those she sees as her subjects and wants to care for."

"I know, Your Majesty," replied Stolas with a certain relief in his voice. "But you can't allow the nobility to continue this spiral of chaos and speculations. Just imagine how disastrous it would be if they thought you were altering contracts thanks to the judge or manipulating nobles with a mandate. Rumors are as sharp as a sword."

"And what do you suggest I do?" he grumbled, crossing his arms. "I don't have Lilith's social skills. Much less her patience to deal with the presumptuous nobles. No offense, Stolas, but I don't dislike you."

"What a relief," replied the Ars Goetia, rolling his eyes. "Well, Your Majesty. The solution is simple. Entertainment!"

"Do I look like a clown to you?" questioned Lucifer, narrowing his eyes.

"I'd rather not answer that, Your Majesty," replied Stolas with a nervous laugh. "I don't mean you should put on a show."

"Then?" said Lucifer, tilting his head with curiosity. What could the owl be plotting?

"A ball!" exclaimed the noble enthusiastically, clasping his hands together.

Lucifer studied Stolas's excitement, not understanding why a fancy party would excite him so much. Besides, how could a simple ball solve the problem? "I'm not enthusiastic about the idea."

"Your Majesty, that way the nobles can interact with you and dispel any rumors. You'll demonstrate your power, authority, and good taste, affirming your position as a great king and leader. Plus, it's the perfect opportunity for the judge of Limbo to meet the nobles and no longer believe you're monopolizing her in favor of the princess, who definitely must be involved in the celebration. Furthermore, the ball should take place at her hotel. Good food and alcohol have always served to appease the nobles. I promise you that after that, everything will return to normal."

"Fine, but with one condition," he pointed out confidently. He didn't want to occupy his mind with the logistics of such a big event, but Stolas's arguments seemed reasonable. There was only one solution. "You take care of all the organization."

"Excuse me?" replied Stolas, perplexed.

"You want a fancy party so badly?" he responded, leaning back in his chair. "Well, I'll give it to you."

Angeldust

The past week has been fun, exhausting, and chaotic. Initially, the mass arrival of guests had been well received. Like a colorful and exciting carnival. However, not all that glitters is gold, and bad attitudes and vices had soon tarnished the party. Angel felt constantly on alert. Yes, flirting and chatting at the hotel bar was fun, but there was always a sinner who tried to overstep boundaries with him just because he was a famous porn star. Being famous, talented, and handsome had its disadvantages. In fact, on more than one occasion, he had been followed to his door room. Husk, his heroic savior, had been a great support those first few days. Not only did he scare off the most unsettling guests, but he also helped him sneak away a couple of times. In summary, the first days were like a spring cleaning, having to kick out the most problematic sinners from the hotel who were only there to cause more harm. With no real interest in redemption. They hadn't even bothered to pretend.

Surprisingly, the most enthusiastic about this task was Alastor, who not only enjoyed taking care of those sinners but also did so with a somewhat exaggerated sadism that made him question who the real villain was. On the other hand, he had also noticed that the radio host's patience in recent days seemed nonexistent. Angel assumed that the radio demon's irritability was due to the high frequency of people and therefore, the increased workload. However, as the days passed and the number of guests decreased, Mr. Smiles' mood didn't improve, he would even dare to say it had worsened.

"At this rate, there won't be anyone left in the hotel," he whispered to himself as he flipped through a magazine while lounging on the couch next to Charlie. The princess seemed a bit pensive. Perhaps the departure of the guests affected her more than she wanted to admit. He was thinking of how to cheer her up when his eyes landed on an article talking about the judge. "Hey! Look at this, Charlie. Our dear judge is mentioned in the top 100 hottest women in the city. Isn't that funny?"

"What? Really?" the princess responded enthusiastically.

"I guess her professional attitude mixed with charisma and a strong sense of justice can be considered sexy."

"Huh?" Charlie looked at him without fully understanding.

"I mean, many people find authority figures sexy," he explained, showing the magazine. "That's where a lot of fetishes come from. Surely our dear judge has unintentionally sparked many fantasies." He had barely finished speaking when the magazine in his hand began to burn with green flames. Standing next to them was Alastor. "Hey!" Angel exclaimed. "I was reading that."

Alastor simply smiled macabrely as he raised an eyebrow. In a honeyed voice, the radio announcer replied, "Were you not taught not to speak of such... mundane topics? Especially in the presence of a lady," he finished, looking at Charlie.

"Oh, Alastor, it's not that serious," the princess replied, waving her hand lightly. "Besides, it's not nice to be burning other people's magazines."

"Ah, but my dear, we shall prevent the minds of our colleagues and guests from being corrupted by such absurd trivialities," Alastor pointed out with a tone of amusement and threat.

"I hadn't finished reading it," the porn star said, crossing his arms visibly annoyed. "We were just joking. Plus, what do you care? Are you jealous because you're not on the list?" he said with malice.

"Jealous of not being on the list?" The radio demon replied, letting out a laugh that echoed throughout the room. "What a funny idea. No. No, I simply prefer that we maintain a more... elevated standard in our conversations."

"You'll have to pay me for that magazine. It was an exclusive!" he complained again as he stood up to face Alastor.

"Why don't we all relax a bit instead?" Charlie interrupted, standing between them. "It's been a stressful week for everyone. Let's take a breath and remember that we care for each other… A LOT."

"Stressed?" Angel replied, not averting his gaze from Alastor's. "Some more than others, I'd say. What's up, Smiles? Anything you want to talk about?"

"Oh, come now, as I said, I just want to keep the hotel atmosphere... professional. I doubt you'd understand with your limited perception of things," the radio announcer countered.

"Please, both of you, stop," the princess intervened again.

"It's just not fair that Mr. Smiles takes it out on me for something so ridiculous," Angel could feel there was something more to the radio announcer's reaction and his bad mood. What was he hiding? "I'm just saying he's acting weirder than usual. And that's saying a lot," he added, crossing a pair of arms and resting another pair on his hips.

"I'm sure, as I mentioned before, it's because we've had a tough week. Anyway, Alastor, I'm going to ask you to refrain from setting other people's belongings on fire," Charlie looked at them lovingly, using a sweet and conciliatory voice. "Together, we are a great team and we will overcome any challenge. That's why just…let's stop arguing." "I can try, dear," Alastor replied, narrowing his eyes.

"All right, sweetheart," Angel said, calming down a bit. He didn't want to cause more trouble for Charlie. "I can always vent to Husk or Victoria."

At that moment, Angel thought he saw Alastor gripping his cane more firmly. Realization hit him like a thunderbolt, and he gave the radio announcer a mischievous look. "Oh, I see. This is better than any magazine."

"What are you talking about, Angel?" Charlie said, looking at him without understanding.

"I know why our dear Mr. Fancy Talk Creepy Voice is in such a bad mood. I would recommend he go for a walk in the cannibal district to... clear his mind," Angel said, still looking at the radio host with a mocking smile.

"Oh! That would be amazing," the princess of hell intervened without understanding Angel's insinuation. "It would help me a lot if you went, Alastor. I wanted to deliver this thank-you card to Rosie, but I've been very busy with the hotel. Could you deliver it for me?" she asked, taking an envelope from the inner pocket of her suit.

Angel raised an eyebrow, observing the radio announcer with a smirk. The radio demon narrowed his eyes with noticeable irritation before returning to his theatrical character.

"No problem, dear Charlotte! I'll gladly carry out this errand. After all, it's about time I paid a visit to my dear friend," Alastor replied, taking the card and then leaving.

"Well, I hope that solves the problem," the porn star said, taking out a copy of the magazine he had hidden under a sofa cushion. He was used to having a replacement for his things since Valentino tended to destroy them in his fits of rage. "Well, Charlie. Do you want me to keep gossiping, or are you going to tell me why you're feeling so down?"

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

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[speedsterspouse]

About Me :3

💚 Hi I’m Dagmar! I’m 25 and I love speedsters a normal amount

💚 I have a bunch of FO’s, you can find them HERE.

💚 Proshippers do not fucking interact, fall off your horse

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@justice-society-finest - Blue Lantern OC

[queenfinehair]

Ask game 27 30 70 91 🤗

Oh hi there! Thank you for always being curious and interacting with the ask things! Okay, here we go!

27. whats your favorite halloween costume?

My favorite costume I've personally done has been The Seer (my version of) from Vikings

30. do you have siblings?

A brother. It's pretty complicated between us lmfao 🤣

70. whats your favorite ship?

Can you believe I almost answered "The Titanic". 😵‍💫

Anyways, my favorite ship of all time is probably Peter Freuchen and his wife, Dagmar. Does that count? Because they are my favorite

91. did you ever have bangs?

Oh yeah! In the day I had "scene" bangs and loved them so much!

[liesthehead]

There is something fearful about children- how delicate they are, how malleable, how bold they can be. Dagmar knows little about them- had never paid much attention when acquaintances would talk about their own, had found it boring to listen to. Even now all she knows about children is relative to her own child. "I can see that. She needs to pull the entire way back- is the draw weight too high for her?" Dagmar watched the little girl. It would be some time before their own daughter would be ready to pick up a bow- she could not yet walk unassisted, would not be able to pull the drawstring or aim an arrow.

"How old is she?" If the girl had only been learning for less than two years, it made Dagmar question how long it would be until Anneliese might learn. She had thought three or four would be old enough for her to begin learning, but she had little frame of reference for what a child of that age was capable of. Surely an education must start young- language, history, arithmetic. Things a princess needed to know.

"Thinks she knows, as she thinks she knows most things." Augustus nods, smiling a bit ruefully. "I suppose that's a bit my fault." They don't pretend not to spoil her, even if for now they're still managing to hold firm to their no blades rule. They wanted her to find something she actually enjoyed, didn't want her to just drop archery because there was something shiny and new to try out. She's too much like them for her own good, too hyperfocused on what she wants in the moment, likely to ignore all else when her attention shifts.

They nod at the question. The amount of time she's spent learning now sounds like a while, but she'd been so distractible in the beginning. Actual discipline with it had come later. "She has one, yes. It's been...perhaps a year and a half now, but she knows well enough she's not meant to practice by herself. Reinforces her mistakes." They motion to where Winnie's occasionally hitting the target itself, but mostly managing the outer rings. They have a hard time telling her no, but they don't struggle to show her when her insistence gets in her own way. "I can tell her that all day. She needs to see it for herself."