#╰ (✪∀<) ~ *:･ﾟ✧ Crying tears in isolation; the lost time; what was mine. ❈ PRISON.

[prettybabybaby]

blessing in disguise | xavier thorpe !

¡ 18+ only ! ¡ minors do not interact !

content: NONCON , kidnapping, dark!xavier, fem!reader, unprotected sex, creampie

word count: 2.5k

synopsis: one final rejection and one accident resulted in something Xavier had only dreamed of.

disclaimer: all characters in my works are at least 18. there is dark and triggering content in this, as stated above. consider what you are comfortable with reading before you continue. your media consumption is your responsibility, not mine.

¡ wednesday masterlist !

It’s not like Xavier meant to do it. It was an accident and nothing more. He simply lost control and that’s not his fault. If anything, you were to blame for this.

You just looked so pretty in your cute dress, hair just like he liked it and a face as adorable as it gets with eyes lined and lips glossy. He was sure you’d finally say yes. Why else would you dress so beautifully to meet him in the woods? Especially knowing how he feels about you. It was for him. All for him and him only. For his eager eyes and yearning thoughts. You knew what you were doing.

But as always, you rejected him. Coldly, this time. Gone were the bashful and quiet apologies as you refused to meet his eyes, staring down at your feet or glancing over your shoulder as if you were afraid someone might hear you.

No, that wasn’t the case this time. You looked him in the eye with a huff, gaze hard. Your words were sharp and firm when you spoke, “can’t you take a hint? I don’t like you, Xavier.”

He was stunned, physically reacting with his brows lifting and eyes widening the slightest bit before they dropped, filled with the same venom that clouded yours, jaw clenching. It was so unlike you — well, the version of you he had concocted in his mind — he had the right to be angry with you. You disrespected him blatantly, again. All Xavier wanted was to love you.

Not even he could stop himself as his mind blurred before it blanked as he reached for you, wrapping his arms around you, brain and body fighting the urge to run his hands along your figure, desperate to feel it underneath his fingertips now that he had you so close. He snaked a hand up your body to your mouth, muffling your screams. You thrashed in his hold as he dragged you through the woods, taking the all-too-familiar path to his isolated art shed.

You panicked as he wrestled you to the ground, pinning your arms and running his nose along the column of your throat, breathing you in. You smelled so good, even better now that he could finally dissect the myriad of scents that made up the air that blew behind you every time you walked away from him, ignored him. 

He wasn’t sure when you began to cry but your tears were already hitting the ground and soaking some of the brown strands of his hair when he kissed up your neck, savoring the taste of your skin. 

“Xavier, stop,” you whispered, “I’m sorry.” You weakly pushed against him.

There was your sweet voice again. Fragile and delicate and so incredibly arousing. He sighed, kisses coming out messier and more frantic than before as he worked his way up to your lips that pleaded to be released, for him to wait, please stop. 

Your lips touched briefly, nothing longer than a second before you turned your head, sobbing as you pushed more insistently. He was so caught up in the pillowy feel of your lips that he moaned pathetically against your cheek as he sloppily kissed the flesh of your cheek, eager for anything he could get. The salty flavor of your tears was as delectable as a delicacy.

As your legs kicked and your hips wiggled and your pants of exhaustion in his ear got shallower, he grew against your thigh, mindless jerks of his hips increasing speed as time passed. 

Xavier felt himself grow warm, a deep, scorching pink painted his cheeks in embarrassment. What are you thinking? Are you thinking about how pathetic he is? Or how desperate he is for you? Maybe you’re finally realizing how badly he’s wanted to have you like this and just how far you had pushed him. You. Your doing. This was all your doing.

He used a single hand to pin your wrists, easily overpowering you as you tried to sit up, newly freed arm on its way to collide with his face. 

“Sh,” Xavier mumbled, capturing your bottom lip between his as he slid an eager hand down your body. There was a violent throb as his touch hovered over your shoulders, so gently it seemed he was almost scared to touch what he wanted so badly.

It was quick to make its way back up when he felt a stutter come from your jaw. His hand wrapped around the base of your neck, a warning, “don’t even think about it.”

Xavier wasn’t used to being so demanding. Unfortunately this is what he had to do, it was his only option after all you had done. It pained him to make you cry — even if you looked so beautiful doing it. It hurt him to have to pin you down and take what was destined to be. You and him. 

He felt you swallow under his hand as he encased your lips properly, tasting your mouth. He was already breathless, lost in you even when you refused to kiss him back, only making noises of protest as you squirmed. 

His touch glided down your body, losing patience with you and himself for his hesitation. He’d have you again. As many times as he wanted after this. 

He groaned into your mouth, frustrated at the dress you wore. Sliding down further, he pushed up your skirt, groping the fat of your soft thighs, tickling your flesh. Your knees twitched and he took a deep breath, pulling away from your lips to nip at your ears, licking the tears that dribbled down them. 

“Xavier,” you cried softly, “please, don’t.”

A response was on the tip of his tongue but it quickly turned into a moan as his pinky came in contact with a wet patch on your panties. He laughed breathily, you didn’t mean that. Your body knew what your mind hadn’t quite grasped. You needed him. 

You jolted, fighting even harder than before, “don’t touch me.” He could feel you getting angry, the fire in your eyes from before igniting again. 

Xavier shook the hair that fallen out of his ponytail from his face to get a clearer look at your face. He wanted to watch you give in to the pleasure he would force on to you. His smallest finger ran up your slit and he watched closely as you fought the fluttering of your eyes. God. He had barely touched you and you already looked this perfect.

“Don’t,” you spat, trying to slide out from under him as you nails dug into his hand. He clenched his jaw, pursing his lips as he exhaled through his nose. Why did you have to make this so difficult?

He kicked your thighs apart with his own, settling between your legs. Your heat radiated, hot against his aching cock. He cupped your cunt, kissing your cheek as he pushed against your hole lightly to hear you hiss. 

You jerked your hips when his fingers danced along the waistband of the soft fabric. He felt himself get hotter, cheeks turning redder when he glanced down, watching his hand disappear underneath it, immediately drenched in your juices. His palm stimulated your clit as his long middle finger prodded at your hole without entering it, teasing you. Your panties shifted with his movements, the bulge of his hand and slender fingers moving swiftly under the dainty bow near the top of your underwear jumping. 

Your breath stuttered as you snapped out his name, “I said stop!” 

Your voice was muffled as all of his focus was on the feel of your slick and tight heat choking the finger he forced inside you. Xavier all but whined at the sensation, cock leaking in his pants. Your feet kicked at the ground, chest rising and falling. In pleasure or frustration he wasn’t sure but he couldn’t be bothered to stop and ask as he squeezed another finger in.

You moaned, quickly closing your mouth to stop the noise. His eyes snapped up, flickering over your face. He had never heard a sound affect him more. Not even siren song could battle the noises of your pleasure. He’d do anything you asked him to. Well, almost anything. He’d never let you go no matter how many times your sweet voice pleaded for his mercy. 

His lips crashed into yours, kissing you impatiently as he fingered you faster, trying to stretch you open enough to fill you full of his cock. You shook your head from side to side but he chased after you, swallowing your huffs and silent whines. 

A whimper sounded in your throat as he curled his fingers, trying to find the spongy area that would have you purring for him. The noise had him removing his fingers, shoving them into his mouth as he leaned in close to you, breathing you in while your juices coated his tongue. His exhale was shaky as he shut his eyes, sucking harshly at his fingers to try and get more of your slick into his mouth. 

“Xavier,” you breathed, “wait.”

His name fell so sweetly from your lips that he shoved his jeans down just enough to finally release his aching cock. He was leaking pathetically and throbbing against his hand as he pumped himself slowly, afraid he’d cum before he made it inside you. 

“Fuck,” he mumbled against your skin. He gripped his length, hauling himself up to position his pulsing dick to your hole. “Shit,” he growled, tugging aggressively at your underwear that seperated you from him. “Sorry,” he murmured, feeling instant regret for hurting you, “I’m sorry.”

You started to scream as your ass felt the bare ground, tears building in the corners of your eyes as he slapped his cock against your dripping core. “Stop it, please, Xavier.”

He ignored you, gaze flickering from your cunt to your face as he pushed inside. He groaned as his head forced it’s way into you. It already felt like too much, the way your pussy latched onto his cock, welcoming him in despite your thrashing body. 

Every inch had your screams dying, replaced with repressed moans as you opted to shut your mouth, denying him of the sounds. He couldn’t protest, concentrated on pushing back his orgasm that was too close for his liking. The last inch sent a wave of immense arousal down his body in the form of a shiver and a whimper. He stilled, focusing on his breathing and the bruised lip you tucked between your teeth.

You fit so well together, just like he knew you would. He glanced down, entranced by the way his hips were flush with yours, leaving no space for anything. You were finally one.

Your walls pulsed and it felt like they were begging him to move, to fuck you like he’d dreamed of doing too many times. He felt like all the waiting had been worth it now that you were choking his cock so deliciously. All of the times you rejected him, turned your back to him, dismissed him as if he wasn’t there, forgotten as he pulled back, watching the way your slick stuck to his hip as he retracted, keeping the two of you connected with a sticky string. 

Xavier kissed your jaw as he pushed himself back in, nibbling at the skin near your ear. He tried to keep a slow pace at first afraid the urge to ruthless pound into you would take over. Your short, high breaths flooded his ears, a prize for resisting. It sounded like you were enjoying yourself, too. But how could you not when he was fucking you so well, patiently and passionately, just like you deserved. Even after all you did to him, you still deserved to be fucked like a princess. 

Xavier smiled, pecking your neck as he rutted into you, his fingers undoubtedly leaving imprints of their shape on your waist. You found comfort in clinging to him, grasping his arms before curling your own under them, grabbing onto his shoulders. 

“No,” you would cry, followed by a satisfied, “fuck.”

You were so warm and soft. He wished he had the patience to undress you properly, to touch you more. He’d have another opportunity, he reminded himself and that thought had his mind swimming. How could he help you adjust? Would it be difficult to get a mattress inside the small shed? Is there enough space? He’d be damned if you were uncomfortable in your little safe haven. It would be a place you would grow to love, he was sure of it. You just needed to process your new environment and the new dynamics of your relationship.

The loud whine that came from you brought him back to reality, back to the sight of you falling apart under him but trying to refrain from it. Your eyebrows were drawn together, mouth parted and face hot.

“M’gonna cum,” he struggled to utter out the words. “Fuck you’re perfect. Im gonna fill you so well.”

“No!” you screeched, pounding on his back as he pounded into you, thrusting harder and faster as his orgasm crept closer. “Don’t you dare!”

You pulsed more violently than before at the change of pace, clinging to his cock. He knew you wanted it, even if you wouldn’t admit it.

It was like you felt him about to burst, nails breaking the skin of his neck seconds before he came. You dragged them down and he felt blood rush down his neck as he came. The feeling was so intoxicating that he kept thrusting until he was milked dry despite the stinging pain. He didn’t have to look down to know that his t-shit was soaking in the crimson liquid so he opted to focus on your pretty face as he came down from his high. You were sobbing now, arms limp on the ground as your chest heaved.

Xavier begrudgingly pulled out of you, watching the pearly spent dribble out of your pussy as he stood. You stared at the ceiling, unmoving as he searched the shed, wordless. He wasn’t sure of what to say. Was there anything he could say at that point? He knew you didn’t understand yet. So he stayed silent until he found the lock and chain he had been searching for.

He walked over to you, clearing his throat. “Are you okay, sweetheart?”

You blinked at him. Sitting up and fixing your skirt as you dragged yourself away. He sighed, looking around to locate the blanket he knew he had around somewhere. He spotted it almost immediately, draped over an admittedly uncomfortable chair. It would have to do for now.

He draped it over your legs, smiling softly when you looked at him. “I’ll be back soon.”

It was a mistake, Xavier told himself as he stepped away from the now locked art shed glancing behind him and around the surrounding area as his hand attempted to soothe the fresh scratches on his neck. He just lost control for a second, it’s nothing major. You were destined to be there. Why else would he have done it? He wanted to love you forever. And now he can. You’d understand soon enough. The accident was a blessing in disguise.

[delicatebarness]

cry baby | chapter twenty seven

Summary: Cry Baby reacts to Bucky's confession.

Warning: Mentions of Murder. Grief/Loss. Betrayal. Emotional Distress.

Word Count: 1349

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A/N: My heart. - Please feel free to leave feedback or let me know where and how you want the story to continue, this is just as much yours as mine. - B

Tags: @buckys0whore | @thezombieprostitute | @lanabuckybarnes | @mishkatelwarriorgoddess | @softieekayy | @noonespecial90 | @hello-therree | @randomawesomeperson102 | @whoreforbarnes | @thejutvtsupport | @somnorvos | @cjand10 | @plasticbottleholder | @birdenthusiastez | @am-3-thyst

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Bucky sat across from you, tears streaming down his face. His confession hung heavily in the air as his eyes filled with a mixture of overwhelming guilt and sorrow. Your cheeks were drenched too, his words pressed down on your chest.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I didn’t want it to go that far, but when he said those things about you… Steve lost it. We tried… we tried to stop him but couldn’t.” 

The room fell silent except for your combined ragged breaths, filled with emotion. Bucky reached out, taking your trembling hands in his. Your heart ached. 

“I could have done more,” he choked out. His eyes, red-rimmed and filled with pain, met yours. Shaking his head, he struggled to find the right words. “I, I should have done more to stop Steve.” 

He squeezed your hands tightly, shaking his head. Bucky looked up at you, desperation spread over his face, searching for absolute. Leaning in closer, you wrapped your arms around him in a tight embrace.  He clung to you, his body shaking with sobs. 

Your words were stuck in your throat as you held him tighter. The silence grew heavy as the two of you sat there, holding each other. The reality of what had happened loomed over you, a dark cloud that would not easily dissipate. 

After a long while, you find the strength to speak. “Bucky…” your voice barely above a whisper. “You didn’t kill him.”

Pulling back, his eyes searched yours for a sign of blame or anger. “I was there,” he murmured. “I let it happen. I couldn’t stop him.” 

“Steve did it,” you said softly, but with firmness. “You didn’t kill John.” 

You watched his eyes well up with fresh tears. “But if we hadn’t confronted him… if I had just kept my cool…” 

Standing up, you began to pull away from Bucky’s grasp. “I need some time… to think,” you said, trying to steady your own emotions. “To process all of this.” 

Panic flashed across his face as he reached out for you. “Please, don’t leave,” 

Your heart broke as you looked down, at the sight of his pleading eyes. “I have to go, I just… I need time, Bucky,” you whispered, your voice strained.

He tried to hold onto your hand, yet you gently pulled away, taking a step back from him. “Please,” he repeated, desperation in his voice.

Tears streamed down your cheeks again as you shook your head. “I have to leave,” you said, turning away, and walking toward the door. “I need to be alone right now.” The silence in the room was deafening as you left, you could feel the weight of his gaze on your back. Taking a deep breath, you closed the door behind you with a soft click. 

Your mind raced with everything Bucky had told you as you stepped out into the cool night air, leaving his building. 

~

Your apartment became both a sanctuary and a prison as the following days blurred together in a haze of isolation and introspection. The outside world was redacted to muted sounds of the city filtered through your windows. Every day you woke up with a heavy heart, the weight of your betrayal to Peter, and Bucky’s confession pressing down on you. 

Hoping it might help you process the whirlwind of emotions, you sought refuge in your art and preparations for your show. Pouring your feelings into canvas after canvas. Each pencil stroke seemed to each the pain and confusion you felt, the darker hues mirrored your despair. 

Intermittently, your phone buzzed, messages from friends, family, and Peter lighting up the screen. You responded with the occasional one-word reply as you couldn’t bring yourself to engage. Using your art as an excuse, you replied to the group chat, letting them know you were still there, with somewhat functioning capacity. However, Bucky’s messages remained unread, his name a painful reminder of the turmoil you tried to escape. 

Late one night, as you sat in the dim light of the apartment, surrounded by your latest creations, a knock on your door startled you. It pulled you out of your thoughts and, for a moment, you considered ignoring it. Yet, something compelled you to get up and answer it. 

Your heart pounded in your chest as you approached the door. Opening it, you found Steve standing there. Concern and exhaustion were etched on his features, looking like he hadn’t slept in days. 

“Can we talk?” he asked his voice soft as he tried to remain steady. 

The urge to close the door and retreat to your solitude caused you to hesitate. But, he was your brother, and seeing him there, vulnerable for the first time in your life, something softened inside you.

Stepping aside, you gave him a small nod and let him in. He slowly entered, as if afraid to disturb your fragile peace. You led him to the living room, the remnants of your turmoil scattered across its floor. 

Steve sat down in your armchair, the seat he usually occupied while in your home, his hands clasped tightly together. “I’ve been going crazy,” he admitted. “I didn’t know if you were okay if you–”

“I know what you did to John,” you said, cutting him off. You looked up at him, your big brother, the man who had been your protector as your words settled heavy with accusation.

His eyes widened slightly, disbelief washing over his features before he shook his head, a scoff leaving his lips. “I did it for you,” he murmured. “He hurt you, he needed to pay.” 

“You killed him, Steve!” you exclaimed, your voice breaking. “You took his life. That’s not ‘avenging’, that’s… murder.” 

 Steve’s shoulders sagged. He looked down at his hands, clasping tighter together as his fingers dug into his palms. “I didn’t mean for it to go that far,” he whispered, a strain in his voice. 

“You didn’t even try to stop yourself,” you shot back, your voice beginning to tremble. “You let your rage take over.” 

His eyes pleaded with you to understand as he looked up. “I was protecting you,” he insisted with a desperate tone. “He deserved it, after what he did to you.” 

“He deserved justice, Steve,” you retorted, tears betraying you once more as they streamed down your cheeks. “Not this.” 

The dim light of your apartment cast shadows across your brother’s face, highlighting the lines of worry etched there. There was a heavy silence in the air, grappling with the enormity of the situation.

“I can’t take it back now,” his voice hollow as he broke the silence. “I had to do something. I couldn’t stand by and watch him hurt you, over and over again.” 

Laced with disbelief, a bitter laugh escaped your lips. “Who made you judge, jury, and executioner?” you questioned, shaking your head. “What were you thinking, Steve?” 

“I wasn’t!” he admitted, his voice raising with each word. He was looking down again, unable to meet your gaze. “I just… reacted!” 

“You don’t get to decide who lives and who dies,” you said, your tone cut through the air. “That’s not your role, Steve.” 

Tears welled up in Steve’s eyes. “I thought I was doing what was right,” He struggled to meet your gaze as he spoke, his voice cracking with emotion. “I couldn’t let him hurt you anymore.” 

Your heart felt like it was being torn apart, his admission offering little solace to the storm raging within you. 

“John hurt me, yes,” you said softly. “But I never wanted this, I never wanted anyone to die because of me.” 

“I know,” he whispered. “I’m sorry.” 

Tears continued to stream down your cheeks, the room felt heavy with the weight of shattered trust. For a long while, neither of you spoke. 

Outside, the city continued its restless rhythm. The long and quiet night stretched on, you wrestled with the reality of what had transpired and you grappled with forgiveness. You sat in silence, trying to make sense of our world, your irreversibly changed world.

---

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[vaefox]

Fragments

"how did we get here?" A doll asks in the confines of the dolls shell a collection of voices reply "pain", "suffering", "time", "isolation", "reality" responds some, others silent. The doll, feels that all of the others say the truth. Then again, that doll... Rather one of the many in the doll's shell that gives it life agrees. Feeling lost, it then looks into a mirror for perspective. It sees a shell that is cracked, broken, eyes hollow and lifeless. chips across the shell. The doll then inspects it's hands, ball joints and suffering all along. on it's arm, a massive crack, it goes though the arm. the materials that make up the skeleton broken. "shall we persist?" and in that voices head "why should we?" "What's the point" "who would care" it responds to itself. others in the shell "Because, we are more then this" says one "Because you deserve more" Another chimes in "This is not how you are to end" "you are not alone" as others say in turn. one after another. A system of love, and hope. Even if it's all it can do to help one of there own then as if by some deliberate act of coordination "We are here for you, and we love you.... As you love others" The doll that caused those responses lets out a cry and scream as tears fall on it's face. A thing it once lost the ability to. "we are a system, we are hope." Said a witch. "you who is blind to what others see for you." the witch said again as it hugs it's doll "Alas, must you only see with the pain others put upon you?" the stead fast witch uttered in a shaky tone. "You who hate your self so much that you do not see how others can love you" Continues on the dolls witch "will you accept even a small amount of love and hope you give others? Even if it is just mine?" Whispers the same witch "Perhaps... Perhaps it can try." the words left the dolls shell to it's surprise as it feels tears from a witch on it's frame. As it feels others hug in the shell, those apart of it's system share in the hug and tears "Perhaps, this one can try to see things in a brighter way." a doll says with slightly more conviction "That's all that is asked" replies the witch holding it's doll, and the doll's system mates holding it inside.

[athanasius-symposium-of-writings]

The Economic Difference Between The Miner and Mine Owner's Daughter

Chapter Four

Based of this ask

Rated Explicit | Warning: period typical sexism, depression

Ao3

Taglist: @anastasiablossomlove @tfamidoingwithmylife @luopenis

Chapter Three

Golden Cave ruined your family utterly.

The explosion, the suicide pact made by your father, and ordered the workers to follow. The research on the gas that caused the madness. Then the detonation of the charges buried the cave with everyone inside.

You were left with utterly nothing.

When you woke up, the doctor of the mining site said Norton was carrying your unconscious body to the infirmary before the explosion happened. Since that accident, you have been asleep…

For a year.

There were no dreams, no sensation of being asleep for so long! Doctor Dyer even said they started fearing the worst. Not like that was your concern, it was your father and the miners.

The news given to you is beyond heartbreaking…

In a year you have lost everything your father ever owned or built himself, including your home.

Suddenly, you have fallen from the top to now sinking into the bottom.

The life you knew is gone, your mother's family had turned away from you to keep their livelihood secure (though they pay for your medical upkeep), and the families of those miners demanded your blood. It is a nightmare scenario that leaves you helpless.

It was too much for you. The sense of isolation, loneliness, and helplessness quickly takes root in your heart.

Your friend, the doctor whose name is William Dyer, visits you from time to time. Visiting as often as he can with his wife when you are transferred to a mental ward.

Your dark thoughts had led you to a dark option as you grieved.

Staying in a coma felt like a better option.

In the hospital currently, you sit alone in your room facing the window. A dark and cloudy day, no one is out in the yard because it rained yesterday. It fits your current moods, dark and gloomy. A shell of your former self these days as nightmares plague your mind, you jump at shadows when you force yourself to stay awake.

There are whispers in your mind you swear are voices of those lost in Golden Cave.

Go back. You must go back. You must find out what happened that day!

You stare at your lifeless expression in the window, there are dark bags under your eyes now.

A knock makes you slightly turn towards the door as it takes your attention for a second only for you to ignore it once more to stare outside the gloomy world.

“You have a visitor!” A nurse enters your room, “If you need anything someone will be right outside.” Leading in whoever before closing the door.

There's a second of silence, then the sound of a heel-clicking against the floor as your visitor walks towards you. He stopped only when you spoke.

“Please leave me, Doctor Dyer,” Wiping your tears, “I am afraid I am in no state to be pleasing company.” You dare not look at your friend as you look like a mess. Unkempt hair, your medical gown stained with tears, your face puffy from crying so much.

There is a deep chuckle, one that makes you confused, “Oh, how the mighty have fallen.” A voice that haunts you chills you to the bone. Nights you dreamed about him yet it always feels like a jumbled mess-- All of those dreams, however, end in a way you are shameful to admit: erotic.

Not sure why, yes you did find him attractive but such ideas never crossed your mind out of respect for him.

“Mr. Campbell?” Your voice cracking as you slowly turn around, “I…” When you look at him– Up for he towers over you– He appears different.

A haircut and dyed a lighter shade of brown hair. His skin is clean, no longer covered by the muck of dirt and coal. His attire is bright red, accented by his shoulder gold colored lined cape, with black long boots. Then there is a mask on his face, it hides the scar on his face. The hat was taken off the moment he entered as he held it in his white gloved-covered hand.

No longer does he dress like a prospector, no, he is like a dapper gentleman from some stage play. At least he appears healthy, that you are most grateful for.

“You appear well.” Smiling so gently to him genuinely happy to see his fortune changed.

“Quite,” He moves forward but stops midway when you flinch, “You mousy now? Tsk, when Dyer said you were locked up here I couldn't believe it.” A few long strides and he is beside you facing the window, “To think you would end up here.”

“If you are here to mock me,” Turning your head to look at him, “Please do not.” Begging for a bit of mercy, “It is good however to see you, Mr. Campbell. Despite everything that has happened, I am glad you are safe.”

You still are sweet as honey, you should be broken with all that happened! But you don't remember it… Heh.

“Dyer said you don't remember what happened at Golden Cave.” Ignoring what you said.

You nod then gaze forward as you start explaining what happened.

All you can remember is running into the cave to stop your father. Doctor Dyer says the gas within the cave likely causes you to hallucinate and seems to cause the gap in your memory. The coma though, he does not know what caused that.

“I want to thank you for saving me.” These are the last words to follow.

“Don't see why you should.” Turning around to lean against the hard glass of the window, “Look at the mess you're in.” Crossing his arms.

“Perhaps.” It has been… Hard to put it lightly, “It seems fortune has smiled on you these days. The gold rose pin is a little much though.”

If only you knew how he obtained this wealth. The cost of being now the one on top. If he had to make the choice again… Well, he crossed that threshold of morality the moment he had you in that cave. Taking you, listening to the dark part of himself; his life is now in a place he wants to be. In control and wealthy.

“What brings you here today?” Making conversation, “How have you been?” Curious.

A part of him wishes you would not smile at him, but the other half is excited by you smiling at him. How you have no idea how tainted you are because of him.

He turns to face you as he pulls out an envelope, sealed by ink with a crest design on it, he gives it to you.

Take it in your hand with an inquisitive expression. Why does it have the crest of your mother's family on it?

“I have a business proposal for you.” Cold and cutting to the chase, “One I'm sure you are well acquainted with.”

When you open the envelope, reading each paper, you back away with shock on your face.

“How—” In utter disbelief.

“Money is power, sweetheart. You know that. Don't worry I didn't write that, they did. Figured the best way to settle your pop's debts is to get their granddaughter–” He stopped when he noticed you tearing up but laughing humorlessly.

“Seems karma has a way of balancing out indiscriminately.” You cannot believe this, “Now I am the one owing the company store.”

Sixteen tons. What do you get? Another day older and deeper in debt— He is aware of the miner's song.

“Debt is inevitable. At least, you won't be breaking your back digging for coal.” Shrugging.

“No… Instead, I will be on my knees for you.” A deadpan expression before you sigh. 

Oh, you remember those words, huh? Cute.

“There are worse things that can happen, (Name).” 

You know that. You truly do know that. It just makes you feel bitter, being tossed to be another person's problem. Helpless as these papers basically layout: you have no choice if you want to survive.

There is a harsh reality you must face as a woman of this world: marriage is your only way to stay alive.

“When?”

“In May. A spring wedding. Everyone loves spring weddings from what I was told.”

“And you… Do you agree with this?”

“Why not? They see the advantages and they know how good it would look to marry you to a former employee. One that saved you too. Your father has no kin aside from you and the company is going belly up, I can just absorb it into my own.”

“... What happened to you in a year?”

He does not answer, he instead pulls out a ring from his pocket, “Yes or no, simple as that.” Showing you the ring held up by his thumb and index finger: Gold. An engagement band. Simple with lovely patterns on it.

You offer your left hand to him.

[razrbomb]

— LIKE MANY DAYS before it, Denji finds the time to visit Reze during her off-time from work. Ever since the first day they met, it became part of the routine to meet every day, at the same spot, under the same circumstances: He's free from his devil-hunting duties, &. he spends what little free time he has on her. Today was no different. Right now, Reze &. Denji sit side-by-side on a bench close-by from the cafe she works at, reconvening in the evening right before the sun sets. He's the one mostly doing the talking, taking charge of the conversation with any silly dumb thing that comes to his mind ( though, perhaps with a filter attached; conscious in his efforts to impress her, maybe? ); but, she listens intently, occasionally quipping with her own insights. Close, but not too personal. A performance. A play. A typical back-and-forth that belies no suspicion of her true intentions.

Something about today felt different, however. There's no particularly special reason why. But...

Conversation lands in a stand-still before it falls silent between them. She doesn't respond, &. he doesn't hound her for a reply — simply drinking in this moment with Reze. No one speaks. The hustle &. bustle of the Tokyo cityscape remain. Her gaze remains attached to sorbet-colored scene in front of them, it's natural beauty disconnecting her from the present moment, uncovering her feelings of alienation &. isolation that accompanies living in a new city, unfamiliar to its sights &. sounds. A foreign feeling. Reze laments feeling this way to begin with — over a year later, this gnawing emotion buried itself deep within her psyche, buried but not fully dead, somehow finding a way to resurrect in uglier ways.

Aquamarine eyes appear glassy, yet tears don't fall. She doesn't have the urge to cry; but, something feels lost inside her. Is this homesickness? It couldn't be. There really wasn't a place she could call home. No; what resonated within was entirely different.

"This town don't feel mine..." The words spilled from her mouth, escaping the confines of the prescribed script in her head she was supposed to follow. It could be the looming sunset beyond the horizon of an otherwise bustling metropolis, making her sentimental, yearning for... something she cannot quite put her finger on. Perhaps she was improvising; nay, she was improving on her performance as a lovesick teenage girl. Yet, with him, she tends to push her luck, their hands barely an inch apart; a degree of self-imposed separation that is gradually closing in, inch by inch. A threat to her goals. Fingertips brush, pinky-to-pinky, before she clams up &. pulls her hand away.

Close, but not too close. I'm fast to get away. &. Their brief respite disconnects.

@ledlives : be quiet &. drive (far away) - deftones // lyric starter call.

[denimbex1986]

'When you lose someone close to you, you’re left haunted not only by their sudden absence but also by what will never be. Few things nag at a person more than the things they wish they’d said, and when mortality gets involved, those unspoken conversations tend to ring even louder in your ears.

It’s hard not to let the weight of what you’ve lost hold you in place, and few films understand that better than All of Us Strangers. The Andrew Haigh-directed drama offers a decidedly non-traditional twist on a ghost story, one that prioritizes moments of profound emotional catharsis and personal reckonings. It was one of the best films to hit theaters in 2023, and now that it’s streaming on Hulu it deserves your attention.

Based on a 1987 novel by Taichi Yamada, All of Us Strangers follows Adam (Andrew Scott), a gay screenwriter whose isolated London life is upended when he decides to take an impromptu trip to his hometown. When he arrives, he discovers the ghosts of his long-dead mother and father (Claire Foy and Jamie Bell) residing in his childhood home as if nothing had ever happened to them. Adam’s inexplicable reunion with his parents prompts a series of return visits and conversations, all of which force him to grapple with the loneliness of his life.

They also give him the chance to come out to his parents, which he never got to do before they were lost in a car accident when he was 12. That detail adds a layer of thorniness that makes Adam’s interactions with his parents all the more compelling. A kitchen conversation between him and his mother, for instance, takes a rough, fascinating turn when she reacts to his coming out with responses and ideas tied to the 1980s, the decade she perished. The scene, beautifully played by Foy and Scott, makes it heartbreakingly clear how little their relationship was allowed to evolve before she was torn from his life.

A subsequent scene between Scott and Bell also seems destined to end badly when Adam doesn’t hesitate to call his father out on all the ways he failed him as a child. But then things take a sharp turn toward the cathartic when Bell’s frozen-in-time specter apologizes for ignoring and downplaying his son’s adolescent pain. This moment paves the way for Adam and his parents to start coming to terms with the time they lost.

In a later scene, Foy’s mother discreetly apologizes to her son by singing along to the Pet Shop Boys’ cover of “Always on My Mind” (Maybe I didn’t hold you / All those lonely, lonely times / And I guess I never told you / I am so happy that you’re mine). In another, she and Adam lie in bed and discuss everything they would have done together had they been given the chance, like getting into a fight while on a trip to Disneyland. “Did we make up?” Adam’s mother asks. “We didn’t need to make up. It was enough to know that we got to come home together,” he responds. If the tears hadn’t already started, they’ll be pouring by the time All of Us Strangers reaches these moments.

All of Us Strangers supplements Adam’s parents with a seemingly unrelated love story between Adam and his neighbor, Harry (Paul Mescal). For much of the film, their scenes of physical and emotional intimacy ground the movie in a kind of sensual materiality, but it isn’t long before Haigh further blurs the lines between reality and fantasy, and past and present. The film’s second half features numerous dreamlike images, like a train window reflection of a younger Adam frozen in a perpetual wail of pain, that visualize the haunting emotions he feels as he desperately tries to find a place for himself in the land of the living.

For many members of the queer community, All of Us Strangers’ story of isolation, loneliness, and eventual freedom will be all too familiar. More than anything, though, it’s the film’s emotional frankness that allows it to land with force. The greatest gift it gives Adam isn’t the chance to see his parents again, but to say everything he’s had to keep bottled up for 30 years. Everyone’s dreamed about speaking to someone they love with the same unbridled honesty that All of Us Strangers’ characters do, and there’s an intense comfort to be found in watching them slowly patch up the wounds that have been hurting them for so long.'

[hyuccubus]

@hollyannewrites offered a prompt that inspired me: "The first snow of winter always signaled a joy and a tragedy. You aren't sure which one this is supposed to be, though." __ We first met when the canvas upon which our love would be painted blanketed my forest. Boreas had blown a particularly frigid wind across the Nidže range, dressing my trees with piles of bitterly chilling powder. The last few winters had been sparse, calm, the sort that I'd expect to see further south of me, and it seemed that the bringer of winter was making up for lost time. I knew the rumors and legends of my kind that made their way down to the humans nestled in the crook of the valley below, but I had no intention of cavorting around naked while I soothed the animals in my forest, preparing for a hibernation that would have to happen earlier than normal. I drew my woven shawl tighter around myself, my breath escaping in foggy clouds. I was so preoccupied with the chill in the air that I nearly missed the prints in the snow. I could tell they'd not been made by a feral sort of beast; their shape was much like my own, even down to the size. Made by a cothurnus, from the impression it left in the powder.

I did not often see humans in this forest, least of all in weather like this. It was true that the agreeable climate had made me complacent over the last few cycles of seasons, but I was shocked I'd let myself fail to notice this. Even as I tracked the prints, there was no indication that they were made by a pack. The single trodden path seemed almost lonely, and I thought that is was especially sad for a human, so aware of its need for companionship, should be wandering my forest all alone. In fact, when I reached the end of the trail, that familiar crying that all sorts of animals let out when they are overwhelmed in their isolation was what greeted me.

The human was a woman, clearly matured enough to survive on her own but new to the idea of having to do so. I could see the glint of light off of the streaks across her red face, even in the dimness of a clouded forest. There was an axe fallen into the snow by her side, and a tree with several gouges in it. She turned to look at me, seeming no less confused.

"Are you lost?" I asked her.

She did speak her answer, she just shook her head.

"No? Do you live here, then?"

She pointed behind me, suggesting she'd taken a straight course from her dwelling to this particular spot.

"Why do you not speak? Are you frightened of me?"

She shook her head, but still said nothing. She pointed to her throat, shook her head again.

"Oh. Oh! Well, then how do you communicate with other people, there must be some…"

She shook her head, pointed to herself, then in the area around her, then shook her head.

"There are no others?"

Finally, she nodded. She seemed stricken with inspiration, and retrieved a fallen branch, scratching the language of her people into the snow, a single word I knew well: "cursed".

"Ah, so they sent you here as a way to cleanse themselves of some sort of… disfavor with the gods?"

She nodded, then sobbed a few more tears. She shivered in the cold, the adrenaline of an unexpected encounter ebbing from her slight frame.

"Well, if no one wants your company, you can have mine. I'll not let you die in my forest, at the very least."

I came closer to her, reaching out a hand, waiting for her to accept my help. She placed hers in mine with little hesitation, and I lifted her off of the snow, following her tracks back to a house that seemed to have been built in a haste. The area around it found trees that were hardly worth the time to cut down. I helped her through the door, into a single room, nearly empty with its lack of possessions. There was a straw mat with a feather-stuffed sack in the corner, and a small, rough-hewn table and a stool with uneven legs. A few tools sat on the table. A high, shuttered window was on the opposite wall, and near it in the corner were several sacks of grain. To my left was a simple fireplace, currently dark and seeming to have not been used very much.

I laid her onto her mat, covering her with the length of wool she used as a blanket. She looked at me with appreciation mingled with slight apprehension.

"I guess you were probably trying to get firewood?"

She nodded.

"I can't beleive they would leave you out here to freeze to death."

She lowered her head in sorrow, drawing the blanket around her tighter.

"Well, I won't let you. You stay warm, and I will get some for you."

It did not happen quickly. It was a subtle thing, a strange sensation that needed tending, just like that first fire I built for her. It was in the corners of her mouth when she smiled at the device I fashioned for her from the plants in the river valley, so she might write her language out to me on the discarded sack-cloth, and then on broad leaves when that ran out. It was in the way my hands seemed meant to cover hers as I helped her work the land around her home. The way our gaze seemed meant for one another when I helped to stave off the isolation around her mind. I had my own duties, and had to leave her often. But the winter time was for us, and I waited for the first snow each passing cycle, each time finding myself more impatient for it to come. She understood that I was not like her, that even as her body grew older mine stayed ever constant. I knew her fear, knew she wished to have more time together.

Deeper still, I knew what I was experiencing, and knew that I should fear it. I'd heard from my kin that falling in love with a human was folly; the heartbreak when they died long before your own demise was more than many could stand. But I could not stop my heart, and thought that there must be a solution. I had many seasons to consider it, watching her age with each passing winter. And then came that bitter frost that found its way to her, threatening her young life, far before was fair. My first resort became my only resort, and I found myself seeking an audience with the only one that could help that would also understand my plight.

"Wise, beautiful Aphrodite, I call on you in a time of greater need than any I have ever experienced."

"Speak then, Oread. With what matter could I offer assistance?"

"I have fallen in love with one unlike myself, one whose life is tragically shorter than mine, and I cannot bear the thought of knowing that I must exist for so long without them once they leave this world. I would ask that you make this creature as I am."

"I pity you, fair Oread, but I also ask; what is it that would endear you to one so fragile?"

"It is her spirit, Goddess, the way in which she was able to find her will again, the way in which she sees me. The beautiful mind that I am given witness to."

"Would you say that she is more beautiful than me?"

"There is no living creature more beautiful than you, Goddess, but it is not you that I love, for appearance is not what stirs my heart."

"Then if you were to make use of my abilities, I would demand a sacrifice. If appearance means so little, you will live with your beloved in total blindness."

I thought nothing of myself, only of her, growing frailer with each passing day. I took this deal, and felt my sight struck just as swiftly as a flame catches kindling. Flung back into my forest, I called out to my lover, searching the void for her. Then, from my hand, I felt that familiar warmth, leading me back to safety. I explained what I'd done, that now we were free to live the lifetimes that humans could only dream of. She could still offer no words of comfort, but her fingers traced her thanks across the small of my back.

The conditions of the trade are many; she had her own duties to tend to now, the sort that would see her departing just as I had. Each time, I fear that this might be our last thaw together, that she may finally grow bored of me. I cannot look to the sky for the snow, I must feel it, in the chill on the wind, the quiet of the forest. I must believe that the sting of the snowflakes on my outstretched palm will be nursed by the familiar feeling of her hand in mine.

[talesofmetalandmagic]

It’s a beautiful night in the dunes of Shurima.

Azir sits alone behind his coach, gaze lost in the stars that coat the immaculate sky. A warm cup of Koshari Shai smokes by his side, his upper body is tightly wrapped in a fine silk shawl with a border of pearls, and he almost looks at peace to one who doesn’t know his ordeal.

“A coin for your thoughts.”

Nasus smiles at him, sitting by his side upon a nearby pillow. Azir had always loved stars and astronomy. He remembers how he beamed when he lent him his spyglass the first time. Some children are so joyful when toys are put on their hands. Azir was never ordinary.

“They’re not welcoming, dearest.”

“May I help, anyhow?”

Azir shrugs, pulling the silk tighter. “My siblings.”

Nasus brings his hands to his mouth. It’s been a long, long time since this wound was last re-opened.

“It was a night like this when they were gone. I remember the stars, most of all. I’d been following the Silver Sister for a while now.”

Azir takes a sip of sugary tea. The mint is particularly abundant, lest the sweet flavor reminds him of milk and honey.

“Don’t lose your mind in thoughts of loss,” Nasus says.

Renekton could hardly speak as he told him of how all the children were lost. He remembers Jamal clinging to his leg, begging him not to let him die, Aminah and Faruq holding onto each other as they fell, Shazia falling onto the ground with her dagger still at hand.

Nothing could be done. Nothing could be saved, but the lucky one that wasn’t there.

He couldn’t even cry in front of His Imperial Majesty. Nobody could. He never liked tears. Stop sniveling, Azir. They might be watching still. Close his mouth, Renekton.

“I cannot help my mind,” Azir says. “Especially now. We both know why I wasn’t there to die, that night.”

The stars are beautiful tonight, my lord. That’s the perfect chance.

It’s going to be the greatest astral map ever drawn. Oh, Nasus will be so proud.

Be careful, you may slip. Pass me the brushes, quick.

Azir takes another sip and pours Nasus’ cup as well. What would Mr. Etiquette Saif Don’t Cry Tears Are For Peasants Omah the IV ever do about his imperial son pouring a retainer’s cup.

Nasus drinks it down. “You still… care for Xerath.”

“With a heavy heart”, Azir says. “And fear for myself. But yes.”

“After all he put you through… there’s nothing he can do to bring you joy. He’s a heartless man.”

“No, he’s not. Xerath is but what we made him into. I’ve seen his soul before he betrayed me. He loved me, once. He’s the last brother I ever had. And I rebuked his love until he had no more to give.”

Only hatred, and vengeance, and a parody of the crooked machine that tore him, one older than the Empire itself.

“They say the Sundisc itself is the product of suffering.” Ages ago, when even Nasus wasn’t around yet, a mighty beast of the galaxies was ensnared with treachery and forced into a torturous diadem, forever binding him to the same land that enslaved him.

“Is this just how we do things? We take, we exploit, we rip apart. We trample our own brothers for our advancement.”

Nasus stays dumbfounded, watching in disbelief. After all Azir has endured, after the losses and the betrayal, the violence and the isolation, there’s room for love in his heart.

“It’s a choice, my dearest” Nasus says.

Azir gazes absently into the night stars, his eyes damp and sightless. The sky is so beautiful, sometimes he wishes he could wear it into a cloak and enchant anyone who comes to him.

But that was before he touched the bottom of the pit.

“This entire land is build on pain.” Azir sighs. “And I’m still that foolish child that painted stars, because I think I can fix this on my own.”

His father made that pain look beautiful and grand, even as he cradled the dead body of his most brother child. Some weren’t even blossomed yet. There were plushes and toys on the bloodied floor.

No more. No more, land of mine.

I want to do good. I want to build a land that’s warm and gentle. I want Xerath, my brother, to come to me and for it all to be the way it was.

“If that beast could hear me… I’d tell them I’m sorry, that it’s undeserved. That I’ll do my best. I’d pry that diadem off his head myself if need be.”

“You’ve grown so much.”

Quiet bursts, so to hurt the whisperer

[sofiadragon]

Scheduled addendum I wrote after I finished crying, to talk about it in a place where people don't have to click "read more." I was absolutely traumatized by this book by the standards of the antis. As stated, I cried about this story. I cried again just writing that synopsis. A synopsis that likely has some errors due to more than twenty years of time between then and now. It's about an abused and starving child in the worst possible situation as seen through the eyes of a friend too sheltered to understand at first. It's six months of a girl moving to a new town and having her understanding of all adults as safe and good utterly obliterated in less than ten minutes in the last chapter.

You know what the effect of this book was on me? Open eyes that could see.

I lived in a tiny bit of track housing on a dead end street where the developer ran out of money between an abandoned christmas tree farm gone wild and grown four stories, a sheep field, a grain field, and actual wild pine forest. Isolated little patch of cheap split level homes. There was a boy who had always been mean to me, and suddenly I saw that he was always outside even when the weather was bad. No adults were ever home before dark even on weekends. He had had a key to his house on a necklace as long as I'd known him, and most kids in the area were younger than me. There was a five year gap in age above me for the next youngest person in the neighborhood, and about 11 kids clustered into the five years below me that made our social group. I was often the one responsible for the younger kids when something happened. With no through-roads and nowhere to go for more than a mile in any direction, we were pretty safe to just be outside in our little development three streets deep and two across.

Platinum blond and his family had more money than mine, but that didn't mean he had more than me.

I invited the fairy boy over on a rainy day when he lost his key. He wasn't sure, but two boys from the second house down were going to be there until 7 when their mom got home so it wouldn't be just girls. My sister and I played with Barbies and Barbie accessories and the boy's had GI Joe, some little green army men, and Ken. Mom made a big pot of stew out of leftovers he called dog scraps when she had me help get everything out and ready and asked for a frozen dinner like "normal people." I'd never actually eaten one of those at the time, they are expensive.

The whole experience blew his mind, and he came back every so often after that. We all sat and did our homework when my dad got home - including my dad with the newspaper - and we just asked my dad questions while he was reading and he paused to answer whatever nonsense we were on about. We were also allowed to talk to each other so long as that was about our homework. My parents disagreed about some political thing in the paper and just talked about it.

He said my family was straight off the TV. Maybe, but there was one thing about us that no sitcom would touch. Well, maybe one.

He stopped coming over for a while when his parents realized I'd never been to a church. They asked me something and I had no idea what they were talking about. Gasp horror, how can they be good people if they don't go to church? What do you mean your father believes in science and your mother is magic?

He showed back up after a while because how would they know where he'd been. He was never one of my closest friends, and between him becoming a teenager when talking to a girl meant you had to be dating and my family moving into town (half a block from the public library? Yes!) we lost touch.

All the latchkey kids knew my house was where to go if they needed an adult, and that had been true long before I read this book, but I didn't see it until the tears washed the scales from my eyes.

I’m not trying to attack you, but do you know that proshipper means someone who supports and romanticizes pedophilia, incest, and abuse? Your reblog on that post seems to read that you think antis just hate on people for having ships they don’t like. But it’s completely different than that. Just looking on the proshipper side of Tumblr and the internet and you can see people happily shipping children and adults and making nsfw content of such things.

i appreciate that you're not being outright hostile, but i have to say, that on its own put you above basically every anti i've interacted with.

i understand where antis are coming from, i really do. there are a lot of things on the internet that make me deeply uncomfortable, including the minor/adult ships that you mention. i don't want to anything to do with those kinds of ships and i would be happiest if i never saw them again. which is why i'm proship.

nine times out of ten, if i see that kind of ship brought up on my dash, it's because i was following an anti without realizing it, and they brought it up unprompted and untagged, to talk about how bad it is that they exist. they are the ones putting that kind of content in front of my face and making it harder to avoid.

the thing about people who ship those ships is that they're generally very aware that not everyone wants to see that kind of content, and so they tag it. they make sideblogs to talk about it. they don't go out of their way to shove it in people's faces. that means i, and everyone else who doesn't like it, can avoid it.

what antis want is for it to not exist at all. they want the tags to be purged and blocked, and for anyone who uses those tags to have their accounts deleted. and sure, that might get rid of some of it, but do you know what would happen to the rest? it would stop being tagged. people who don't want to see it wouldn't have the tools to avoid it. this isn't just a hypothetical, that's what's happened any time a fan space has tried to do that.

that's not even getting into the rabbit hole of what should be banned and what shouldn't. obviously any content that depicts real children or real life abuse shouldn't exist and shouldn't be allowed to be posted, but basically any platform that people use already enforces those policies, and there's not much of a slippery slope to go down there. if it involves real living breathing people being abused, it's bad. end of discussion.

but the same can't be said for fiction. ask ten antis for a specific list of all the content that should be banned, and you'll get ten different answers. what about kink? what about roleplay? what about horror and murder and anything that involves fictional characters being graphically tortured? what about people using art to process terrible things that have happened to them? what about art that uses dark themes as a horror element? if you just want to ban anything questionable to anyone, that's the line of thinking that gets any mention of lgbt existence banned. and again, this isn't just a hypothetical, this has happened before, and that's generally where it leads.

i know, from personal experience, that antis do, in fact, send harassment to people just for shipping things they don't like. i've gotten accused of absolutely vile shit for shipping two fictional characters who were both consenting adults. i've seen ship wars turn into moral battlegrounds, over ships that an average person wouldn't bat an eye at.

the thing about "romanticization" is a whole other can of worms. the anti logic goes like this: if someone sees something (even if it's very obviously fictional) in a positive light enough times, they will start thinking it's okay in real life, and go on to hurt real people. the problem with that is that it's just. blatantly untrue.

if it were true every horror movie fan would be a serial killer, every person that studies dark media would be an unhinged psychopath, and everyone who is into ddlg would be a pedophile. but they're not. they just aren't. people have directed movies just as fucked up as the darkest shit on ao3, and are still capable of being normal human beings who know right from wrong in real life.

even if someone is that impressionable, scrubbing away the existence of every piece of questionable content isn't going to solve their problem, because they're still going to be vulnerable to con men, scams, and cultists. the only thing that would actually materially help someone like that is developing their own morals and critical thinking.

children are also more impressionable, and there's a lot of content that's not suitable for them, but that doesn't mean that content shouldn't exist. it just means that they should stick to spaces designed for them (which most social media sites, tumblr included, are not) or, if they're old enough to be responsible for their experience online, they, or a trusted adult in their lives, should block and filter out things that they aren't comfortable with.

which is what everyone on the internet should be doing. it's what i do, and it's made the internet a much more pleasant place to be. and it's why i sometimes worry for antis mental health, especially teenagers, because they're being told it's right and moral to seek out content that makes them uncomfortable and to engage with the people making it. and that's just. really bad. it's not good for the creators that they're harassing obviously, but it's also really bad for them! it's not healthy to seek out things that make you feel bad, and it's a terrible internet safety lesson to teach minors that it's okay for them to seek out and engage with people making adult content.

individual harassment and crusading is never going to succeed at removing dark content from the internet. it just isn't. at best you might get a small percentage of people who create that content to stop sharing it, at worst you're just going to make people stop tagging it, and either way, you're exposing yourself to things that make you feel bad, when you don't have to.

if you want to materially change the type of content you see, you can. the block button is your friend, use it liberally. same with content filtering and tag blocking.

[gosomewherefindyourself]

Hurts (But It Goes Away)

It's been a very long time since I've graced the feed of either one of my tumblr's. It kind of feels like visiting the catacombs of my past but with the knowledge of all that I've become since I last wrote words here.

So much has happened since 2015, 2016, 2017, and 2018. I've gone through a lot more introspection, heartbreak, grief, personal development, friendships, joy, laughter, tears, etc. etc. etc.

What brings me here today is a desire to write again. A desire to put down my thoughts and feelings and record them for future Holly to check back in at another stage of her life. In the past, what drove me to write was an inexplicable need for connection and understanding. I felt so lost and misunderstood by everyone, including myself. I put my words on the page with hope that someone, somewhere, would read it, understand me, love me, and help me understand/love myself. What brings me here today is not the same intrinsic need for understanding. Instead, its me coming back to say I found me. I understand me. I love me.

As mentioned, A LOT has happened in the last few years. To attempt to sum it up, I spent a chunk of it in a deep grief morning the loss of my grandmother, the woman who I idolized, cherished, and held above all other humans in my life. My heart shattered when I lost her and a few pieces of me died right along with her. Her cancer was what brought me back early from the Peace Corps. She had stage 3 lung cancer and nothing else mattered. When I came home it became a group effort to get her better, to ensure her cancer knew how special she was to our family, to me. It seemed to work for a bit, she went into remission after a few months. She was better. I moved back to LA to jump start a career I had put on hold. The cancer didn't care. It came back and took her shortly after. I have such distinct memories of my grief before losing her. Realizing there was nothing we could do. Realizing I had lied to myself for years, telling myself over and over she would live forever. She would live long enough to see me get married, have a child, a career, and have a life she would be proud of. Have you ever been in a position where you are pleading to the universe for an outcome you know will never happen? It's desperate. It's ugly. It's raw.

I spent a decent chunk of time crying to Taylor Swift's "Soon You'll Get Better" song. It put everything into words that I experienced, the desperation and rawness of begging for an outcome you know won't come. You grieve for the pain your loved one is going through and you also selfishly mourn your impending loss. "Ooh-ah, Soon, you'll get better. Ooh-ah, Soon, you'll get better. Ooh-ah, You'll get better soon. Because you have to. And I hate to make this all about me, but who am I supposed to talk to? What am I supposed to do if there's no you?" I still feel this deep in my bones.

I spent the next two years in a depressing fog. I entered a grief support group, started seeing a therapist, and threw myself into my career. Work had always been a comfort of mine because it was something I could control. As a kid when things were rough at home, I longed for the hours spent in the classroom. Getting good grades and ultimately earning approval from the adults in my life in the only way I knew how. When I was bullied throughout middle school, I told myself it was all temporary and one day I'd make my life successful with a great career and life. Here was my chance. I lost all control I thought I had in this life. The most important person was taken from me and all I could do was hold onto the one thing that got me through my childhood. So I dove in and held nothing back.

The universe seemed to align with my plan. Enter the global pandemic more commonly known as Covid-19. Everyone was forced to isolate inside their own homes. Work, other than essential workers, was also moved to our homes. I was PREPARED for this. As a Peace Corps volunteer, I had a lot of experience isolating alone but this time I had electricity, running water, the internet, amazon, and an excuse to not socialize if I didn't want to... and let me tell you I didn't want to.

I spent my days working, reading, working, working out, working, watching tv, working, occasionally seeing friends, working, gardening, walking, oh and working. I was great at lockdown and it paid off. I moved up in my career and got the validation I spent most of my life striving for.

Post lockdown- I continued to ride that same train. Everyone else was focused on their own path and for once in my life, I wasn't focused on theirs either (the life of a CODA). I couldn't be. I was still drowning in my grief and honed in on this "successful life" I waited my whole life for. I don't know... I think I felt if I achieved "success" in my career, all of my problems would be solved. I would finally find myself, understand myself, and be whole.

Insert the biggest LOL here.

The next two years were filled with a lot of fulfillment through work. I loved my job, loved my coworkers, loved the trust and respect that came with it until I didn't anymore. It didn't happen overnight, and it definitely didn't just happen because something shifted in me... There were some external factors that showed me more about the "successful life" I thought I wanted and it ultimately turned out to be a hard and challenging life lesson. I'm not ready to lay all of that out there for public consumption. Just know that this was my second largest earth shattering heartbreak since 2019.

Fall of 2022 I went on a 3 week roadtrip to attempt to put myself back together. I was even more lost. I didn't have the one beacon I held onto my ENTIRE life anymore. Success didn't look like the success I cared to hold on to anymore, not when it came with all of the baggage I wanted no part of. Not only did I lose faith in the one thing guiding me most of my life, I lost faith in humanity. This shit has the ability to bring anyone to a point of questioning everything.

I think it's important to share here that most of my life I lived in a very black and white mindset. Do/Be good, receive good. Do/be bad, receive bad. I naturally believe the best in people and situations. If shit is rough, it just means that this is not meant for you and there's better things out there. The situation I found myself in really challenged that way of thinking. I thought I was doing good... but I was receiving bad. I attempted to right the bad and still received bad. I questioned myself a lot. Was I a terrible person?

Going back to what I mentioned at the beginning... I grew up feeling so lost, empty, and misunderstood but I ALWAYS believed that I was good... I yearned for someone else to see that goodness in me too. Now? Now I questioned that goodness. Was I ever good? Was I just lying to myself for all those years? Did I create this martyr persona but deep down I was just innately bad? As you can see, my shit was rocked. I was completely thrown off my axis.

The roadtrip helped me create space between me and the "bad" I left behind in LA. I was able to come back to myself, "coming back together, different but the same." I gave myself a rough timeline to execute a new plan to get out of LA and get out of a career driven mindset. I looked around and was so confused on how I lost my sense of adventure and how I gained a singular focus on career success. It was an absolute mindfuck. I was going to start carving out time for a personal life again. Making space for things I wanted to do because I WANTED TO DO THEM. This happened, it was great. But something else happened to... I was sucked back into the false sense of safety and growth in my career. In hindsight, this was either a test from the universe that I failed... or it was one last lesson the universe was guiding me through to show me VERY CLEARLY that a life of happiness/fulfillment is not 100% built on the foundation of a career.

This time, though, I was ready. All of the trials and tribulations I had been through in my life (and the support of an amazing therapist) had prepared me to recognize my worth and let me tell you, I was worth a hell of a lot more than the shit stick I had been handed, yet again. The day I finally realized this self worth, was the day I drove my ass to the store to get my first load of boxes to move.

I haven't yet mentioned the wonderful people in my life, which I feel incredibly blessed to be surrounded by. There are many times when I pause to reflect on my life and the fact that I've changed so much. I used to look around me and focus on the negatives... But lately what shines above it all are all of the blessings I've received. My friends, my community, my family. Do you ever just have a moment where you look back and think... "when did that happen?" I think that often about my support system. How blessed am I, to be surrounded by people who see me, love me, and support me? Who have taught me to appreciate all of the work I've done to be where I am now. People who have forced me to pause and give myself credit, even when it feels cringe to do so (I just think of that scene in Barbie where the Barbies are thanking themselves for the awards they've won because they deserve it... This is the kind of energy I am talking about here). Like I did that... I created a community for myself that I KNOW I am very blessed to have. I created a community that 10 year old Holly would never have believed was possible. A community that 4 year old Holly deserved to have. A life that 16 year old Holly would be proud of.

I think this is the kind of success that is not widely talked about. The kind of success that should be honored and appreciated far more than the dollar amount in your bank account.

I moved to Denver in November in search of a personal life I can be proud of. A life where my career is secondary to the life I am building for myself. I aim to be intentional with how I spend my time and so far I am really enjoying the ability to embrace newness. New opportunities, new adventures, new pieces of myself I get to meet and grow as I allow myself to expand beyond the boxes I've either put in place myself, or allowed others to put in place for me (more on that at another time).

Lately I've been thinking about the person I want to be known for. A person who is known for being your biggest cheerleader. Someone who who loves securely, unconditionally and freely and doesn't allow anyone in their lives to feel they only deserve love/happiness/success if they stay neatly in their "box" or how they believe they should act/behave. Someone who radiates joy, positivity, and happiness in a healthy completely realistic humanly way. I want to be someone who makes others around them feel like they are capable of anything they set their mind to.

... to be continued.

Thank you for reading this far <3

[writermuses]

aubrianna, pembe and ximena from ocs

 Aubrianna

Favorite thing about them: She faces challenges head on with grace and always has since she was a baby. She’s a fighter for the things that matter the most to her.

Least favorite thing about them: She’s going to choose work over love every time because she doesn’t put herself first. It’s a mistake her dad, Matthias, made over and over. So if she’s going to be with anyone they just have to accept her toxic trait is her desire to save lives. Like if there was an emergency Brianna would literally miss her own wedding to help another person.

Favorite line: I haven’t been writing her long enough but I do have a favorite Keats thing for all of my characters and hers would be, “I almost wish we were butterflies and liv'd but three summer days - three such days with you I could fill with more delight than fifty common years could ever contain.”

brOTP: All the Cartwright second gen. cousins!

OTP: Long boys, strong boys, king kong boys 😂 

nOTP: She’s never gonna ship with a lady. Out of all of mine she’s also the least likely to ever even kiss a girl in a drinking game or anything like that.

Random headcanon: The first time she had sex was in med school in an on call room and it was bad and she may have asked “Is it in?” and yeah... she really hasn’t had anything impressive because she hasn’t had many experiences.

Unpopular opinion: Wine over liquor, a hill she will die on 

Song I associate with them: At home by Jon Bryant (because would it be Brianna if it wasn’t beachy cozy home vibes?)

Favorite picture of them: The princess Brianna energy

Pembe

Favorite thing about them: She hums or sings quietly to herself all the time and it’s very sweet and calming.

Least favorite thing about them: She has let her one serious relationship that was arranged and toxic isolate her from letting someone in romantically. She’s got a lot of love to give but takes what that ex told her to heart and doesn’t feel worthy of being loved, largely related to her not wanting to have biological children.

Favorite line: I haven’t had a lot of threads with her for anything to jump out but she once described Kuzey as “my little prince and a thief… of snacks and hearts.” and that was just very Pem.

brOTP: Pem and Kuzey, obvs.

OTP: Babes that read to her / take her to try new things (ice skating, new countries)

nOTP: She’s never going to ship with someone with a temper. The moment that a person directs that energy at her, even if it’s warranted, she’ll shut down

Random headcanon: Pem always wanted to get married and have the storybook life, her mom took her to find a wedding dress before she lost too much vision to know what she’d look like in it.

Unpopular opinion: Park dates are better than restaurant dates

Song I associate with them: Better alone by Lykke Li 🙄 Seriously, someone show her not everyone’s toxic.

Favorite picture of them: Because I almost feel bad making someone with such pretty eyes blind... almost

Ximena

Favorite thing about them: Ximena is an unwillingly emotional crier and this has to be the funniest thing I’ve gotten to write in a while. Great orgasm? In tears. Pissed? She’s crying. Happy to see someone she cares about happy? Waterworks. It’s her least favorite thing about herself, but I find it hilarious.

Least favorite thing about them: I have quickly learned she’s a runner. She will bolt from all things that she things are a minor inconvenience or embarrassment. 

Favorite line: I know it’s not a ‘line’ but her saluting awkwardly at Ferit while mildly intoxicated and rejected will forever be a favorite Mena moment.

brOTP: Mena and whatever crazy friend let her go off with a stranger in the first place... probably Yana.

OTP: I ship Mena with whomever is willing to tame the brat and/or spoil the princess... just someone willing to grow up with her because she’s young and it shows

nOTP: She’s never going to ship with someone that hates the outdoors. While she’s no athlete, she loves being outside and needs some sunlight to be her happy self.

Random headcanon: The first time “aunt flow” came to visit Mena was at school and her mother never talked to her about that stuff. She thought she was dying and dramatically ran out of class screaming. It’s now her Tia’s favorite story to embarrass Mena with when she brings anyone home.

Unpopular opinion: Spanish is the sexiest language

Song I associate with them: 11 PM by Maluma

Favorite picture of them: Because this is it, this is my whole sexuality lol

It’s a madhouse in this brain full of ridiculous muses... like this 99.9888721% of the time:

[hanaeshi]

Verse tag test !

[writers-vlogx]

The curse of a god

OKAY ITS NOT MY FAULT THIS MAN WONT GET OUT OF MY HEAD, SO GET USE TO NAMOE CONTENT

If there is one thing namoe learned over the decades is to never become too attached, everyone died at some point and every time he got left behind, for centuries he was alone never being able to keep anyone as much as he wished to.

It was the curse of a god

You had been in this earth for a very long time, seen everyone go but you held no hatred for it, you had learned to find beauty in death.

You had been like this after pleading for a very long time, death had never scared you. But you had done wrong, you had angered the ancestors after your selfishness to save your husband and by such he was taken from you. You were comforted by the thought of meeting him in the afterlife but the gods still angered by the sacrifice you made tortured you and your immortality was granted, it was given as a lesson. it was a curse.

It was the thing that keeped you from the one you longed for.

You first meet namoe when walking through the beach late at night, you had become use to these walks they helped you calm your mind when it felt like too many moons had passed.

You saw him hiding and looking at you, you wandered to his side, he did not move or step away from you.

There was something that he could not tell, something that let him know you were not just a mortal, you were something else.

Something infinite

From there he became interested in you, many nights he came by never saying anything but staring at you, no, admiring you. He saw you as a gift, someone he would never loose, a blessing from the ancestors, mercy on his lonely heart. Something that he could keep, someone he could cherish for centuries.

One of those night you came back, expecting the same interaction of him being absolutely hypnotized by you and then disappearing into the ocean, instead a different man was revealed to you. He was sitting down in one of the tree trunks looking up at the moon, he heard when you sat down next to him.

He always knew when you were near

He turned to look at you, and for the first time he smiled at you, he spoke very softly "come sit with me" he offered and you did

His voice was beautiful, his eyes looked tired and it seemed that he did not have the strength to hold his tough persona "please" he placed his head on your shoulder "Be mine" he repeated over and over like a prayer.

A prayer you would become his, he had lost so much. He had been alone for so many centuries that he had forgotten the warmth of another, forgotten how it felt to have the loving gaze of someone on him. And oh gods did he crave it, he longed for it like a drug.

You stared into the ocean, hesitant to say yes but then you felt it. Tears running down your chest.

He was crying

"Please, I can give you everything!" he gasped for air "Don't leave me, you can't leave me, your like me!" His eyes were puffy and red, his eyes searching for an answer in yours. You hushed him and cupped his face.

And in that moment you saw the image of a god become more fragile than any mortal, all those years alone, isolated, torn finally weighing down on him.

You pulled him into your chest and let him rest, as his breath starts to slow down but his sobs are still very noticeable you start humming very softly.

You run your fingers through his hair, and rub his back, holding him. Reassuring him, you pull his face towards yours, he tries to pull away embarrassed of what you had witnessed, even so you pull him back and make him look at you "Shh I'm here, I'm not going anywhere okay?" He had lost so much and you had too.

The sun had started to come up after a night of soft and vulnerable moments in each other's grasp, he stood up and extended his hand towards you. You took it and smiled, looking back one last time.

It had been too long, you had forgotten the joy of being alive

You followed him into the water, the coolness washing all of your worries away.

As you both swam down deeper, from the above your ancestors smiled, it seems you had found your purpose after all, the true meaning of sacrifice.

[rikihasthebestsmile]

11. I’ll be your witness

!!!WRITTEN PART AFTER THIS SCREEN!!!

Warning: mentions/brief description of sexual assault, mention (1) of a kink,

Yn’s p.o.v.

I entered the cafe, San sat near the window looking at me.

“Hi, yn” he said smiling.

“San” I said when I sat in front of him.

“How are you?” He asked.

“Sat”

“Your humor is always the same ah” he said smiling.

“Yea, so, explain”

“Not here, it’s embarrassing, let’s go somewhere more private” he said standing up.

“Okay then” I followed him till a isolated part of the street.

“It’s hard to explain and I don’t know if…if you will believe me, no one does anyways” he said in a whisper, I was almost sure to have seen tears forming in his eyes.

“I will decide if I believe you or not after I hear you”

“That day I invited Hei-Ran at my apartment, that’s true, but I didn’t have any perverted intentions…she asked me if we were still together, I said that yes, we were still together but we fought almost daily and I didn’t know if I still loved you”

“Yeah, we had talked about that sometimes before…that”

“Yes” he took a deep breath “at some point I made some coffee for both of us but before I could drink mine I had the urge to go to the bathroom and when I went back she was still in the kitchen, we drank our coffe normally and we continued talking but after some minutes I started feeling dizzy so she helped me to reach my bedroom and then I fainted on the bed…”

“San…” I whispered, sensing what was about to happen.

“Next thing I knew, I was naked on my bed, she was naked too on top of me, I couldn’t move, she tied my arms and legs on the bed”

“I-I thought that it was just your kink…”

“So yeah, she…She raped me” San started crying, I hugged him rubbing his back “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, sorry yn”

“Why are you saying sorry? It wasn’t your fault”

“Y-You Believe me?”

“I saw everything but I was too shocked to give attention to the details but now that you say it everything make sense…Her face, your arms and legs tied…I should’ve done something”

“She had just finished when you came, you don’t have any fault”

“So do you”

“But I’m a man, I should’ve done something to stop her…I’m a man, that’s why no one believes me, not even my parents or my family, I recently lost my job, I came here one month ago because I was offered a job as a model for the Bang Agency, so just now I’m saving money for a lawyer”

“I work at the Bang Agency, and Minho, Felix and Seungmin too…Can I help you?”

“How? No one besides you believes me, and Ran is rich”

“I’ll be your witness, some time passed but you know that I have a photographic memory and that moment, well, I never forgot it”

“Thank you”

“Don’t worry”

<previous — masterlist — next>

A/N: well…I don’t have anything to say.

Taglist: @kiltedkit @randomness7198 @tributelovatic @xiaoloml @aishidaishi @bellagrayson-wayne @enaluvs @ddaengpotate @babygirlsuna @hopeladybug @yashirawr @jenoslov @lwoscar123 @haecube @veno-mous @ransom-drysdale-owns-my-ass @thearcher-withglasses @imtoanonymousforyou @beautifulcolorgarden @sunnibearr

[diamaker-moon]

Moving Forward - Chapter 6

Chapter Six

Realizations... (pt. 1)

—————

"I am proud of your chosen, Tikki."

Wayzz said in a calm voice. "She took in the responsibility of being a heroine exchange for her time in her civilian life, and now, she chose to carry the heavy responsibility of a Guardian even though she can refuse it and pass it to someone else, leaving everything behind."

The other kwamis nodded at the wise turtle kwami's words. Tikki looked at them and smiled.

"I'm proud of my bug. She's a worthy ladybug and had shown how worthy she is despite her flaws. She made mistakes, but she chose to fix them. And now she's healing from the toxicity she had received in that place. Sleep well, Marinette..."

— previous chapter... —

The Akuma Class was experiencing an unknown change. And they don't know the exact reason.

It's been two weeks since Marinette hasn't been coming to class.

The first day, Alya thought she was just late or have an errand to run during the morning and will come to class after lunch, but it didn't happen. After classes were done, she tried calling her, only to be redirected to her voicemail immediately. Not knowing her 'best friend' had bought a new phone and uses a new number. She was slightly sour thinking that Marinette is being stubborn in hanging out with Lila, and chose to reprimand her for letting her jealousy get in between a possible friendship with the girl.

The others didn't notice how Adrien was down during the rest of that day. They didn't notice Chloé having a slightly pained look in her eyes.

She was slightly angry that Dupain-Cheng easily gave up in exposing the liar, but it's not like she helped the girl. She had no right to be angry about how Dupain-Cheng chose to move on with life. When she saw her being surrounded by people she didn't know and was walking towards a table, she stared for a moment. Chloé hasn't heard her laugh for a while, the bubbly aura around the girl was fading when she was in Dupont.

Chloé hated to admit it, but she envied the ravenette. Dupain-Cheng having a happy family, while her own mother left them to go to New York for work when she was a child, creating a drift between their relationship. Her own father didn't hang out with her anymore due to his duties being the City's Mayor. Dupain-Cheng gained friends while she was being hated for being a bully who always annoys others and uses her triumph card when she gets in trouble.

She was staring at the raventte's table with a melancholic look. The girl was happy, and Chloé couldn't deny it. Part of her wants to convince Dupain-Cheng to go back to Dupont and defeat the vixen but she didn't want to be selfish for once.

After lunch period she came back to class and grabbed Sabrina's attention, and told her to come with her after class.

The two are in Chloé's bedroom in Le Grand Paris.

"I'm sorry..."

Sabrina was startled to hear such sincere words coming from the person she knew could be very bratty for a long time.

"I'm sorry that I treated you like a servant. And that I made you take some of the consequences from my actions. I want to justify it by letting people know that I lost a mother figure from my childhood and didn't teach me proper manners and that she is very bossy, and that I tried to fit in with her. But I know I can't... There are people around me that could've inspired me to be a better person, like Dup-Marinette..."

When Sabrina heard the name she was about to retaliate but Chloé didn't give her a chance.

"No, Sabrina. She's right. I grew up with people who lie about their backgrounds just to fit in with society. Everything can be searched on the internet Sabrina. I know your smart, use it and prove to me right now that you, defending that Liar is a good thing."

Sabrina stared at Chloé, she was growing nervous, Chloé rarely helps around class problems, and for her to defend the person she has been ridiculing for a long time is strange. So Sabrina did it, she searched.

She sat there, appalled and disappointed, after that there are no articles about a Lila Rossi aside from the girl's interviews in the Ladyblog. Chloé left her to go to her balcony and leaned on the railing. Sabrina ran up to her.

"Chloé we need to let everyone know about this! Maybe we can help Marinette expose her? Collect evidence? Contact her mother? We can help Marinette gain back her reputation and her friends! We can—" Sabrina rambled.

"It's too late, Sabrina..." Chloé said that made Sabrina stop rambling and just stared at her in confusion.

"I saw her. She moved on. Marinette was wearing a uniform from a different school. Marinette gave up, Sabrina, she gave up on trying to protect her so-called friends after being dismissed. You should've seen her, she was so happy, something we— I haven't seen for a while..."

That statement made Sabrina tearful. Staring at nothing, she started remembering glimpses of the ravenette.

She remembered the time that when she looks in Marinette's direction, she was so dull. Like a doll— a Marionette, not reacting to how her sketchbook was torn apart, how her dull bluebell eyes stare at Mlle Bustier when she is talking to her, how she doesn't react when their classmates are attacking her for bullying Lila. Sabrina finally realizes how she treated someone like that without proof. Her own father imbedded to her that 'innocent until proven guilty', yet she didn't even try to see both perspectives and just went along with the class.

Her actions are much worse than how Chloé acted.

"I'll give Marinette credit. That liar tried to break her, but she broke free and spread her wings without looking back, and saved herself."

Sabrina nodded at Chloé's statement while copying the girl's position of leaning on the balcony rails, looking out to Paris.

—————

Juleka Couffaine, the Akuma Class' resident shy goth girl.

When she first met Lila Rossi, she was skeptical, her brother is a fan of Jagged Stone, and when she heard Lila say that she saved Jagged's kitten on an airplane runway was very sketchy for Juleka.

Before she knew it, Marinette became a pariah. She often denies becoming an accomplice due to her neutrality to the problem. When Marinette didn't arrive Monday morning, she was worried. The girl who pleaded to the photographer to take another class photo with her in it, to break her 'photo curse', is absent.

She tried calling her phone, but it went straight to voicemail. She was currently sitting on her bed and her brother strumming his guitar. He notices how she was just staring at her phone in a daze.

"Hey, Luka... does Jagged had a pet cat in his life?" Juleka asks looking up to her brother.

Luka was surprised by the question, "As far as I know, he didn't have one. Due to him being allergic and the cat not being rock-and-roll enough. Why?"

Luka was shocked when Juleka started tearing up, he immediately puts his guitar down to comfort her baby sister.

"I messed up, Luka... I badly messed up..."

After calming down a little, Juleka finally explained to him why she was crying. She explained that the new girl in her class made Juleka skeptical about her, and then about Marinette's supposed 'cheating', 'stealing', and 'assault', she then talked about how Marinette kept accusing the new girl of lying but no one believing her, and that soon Marinette became a pariah in their class. Juleka told them about all the lies that Rossi has said.

Overall, Luka was disappointed in her.

"You said that Marinette tried to expose her right? Why didn't you back her up, as a friend would do? Isn't she also your friend? Why didn't you voice out your concern about this to Marinette? or to me?"

Luka sighed, before backing away from his sister. 

"You said your class hates Chloé for being a bully, but aren't they acting like a bully? Your class, isolated Marinette. I don't know how she managed it. But right now, it might be too late to act, Jules. At the very least, try and fix your mistake..." Luka said before leaving her alone for a moment, and let her think.

Meanwhile, Rose's phone suddenly pinged due to a notification. When she checked it out it was a message from Juleka.

Juleka:  Hey, uhm...

Juleka: Can you do me a favour? Please?

Rose:  Sure! What is it?

Juleka: Please trust me on this... can you ask Prince Ali about his environmental charities and if he knows a certain 'Lila Rossi'?

Rose:  Juleka? Why?

Juleka: Please... please ask him...

Rose was confused by Juleka's request, if she thought about it she was asking just like Marinette did months ago. But Rose decided to shake that thought out of her head, she knew Juleka was not a bully, like Marinette and how she bullies Lila.

Rose decided to trust Juleka and messaged him.

Rose: Hello, Ali! Can I ask a question? A friend of mine, wants to know about your environmental charities with Lila Rossi, I think it's for a project. Thank you! <3

She didn't know why but she felt nervous sending that message. She shrugged it off and put the phone down to continue her scrapbooking. She waited for a few minutes before she heard another notification sound from her phone. And when she read the message, she froze.

Prince Ali: Hello, Rose! I'm sorry, but I only do children charities since the Royal Family doesn't control the environemental ones, it is mostly done by Achu's government, and sorry to disappoint but I do not know a Lila Rossi. Is she a new friend of yours?

Rose was too frozen to not even notice that she had dropped her phone. She kept looking in her hand as if it was all just a dream. That Prince Ali did know Lila Rossi, but when she picked her phone back up and read the text once again, it said the same thing.

'This can't be happening! If this is true... then I bullied Marinette for no reason!'

Rose: Oh! I'm... sorry for my misinformation... Lila's a... classmate of mine. Sorry for the trouble...

Rose didn't notice the tears dripping from her eyes.

She was numb. She couldn't deny this information, it is a direct reply from the Prince of Achu. That he— Prince Ali, doesn't know someone named Lila Rossi. She was lied to. Lila Rossi lied to me. She thought.

And Marinette asked you to ask him months ago, didn't she? She tried to warn you... You didn't listen to her!

There was a sudden voice in the back of her mind, how she ridiculed Marinette for bullying Lila. But it was all a lie. She treated Marinette horribly for a lie...

She hurriedly opened her internet browser and searched for any of Lila's accomplishments only to see a bunch of interviews from the Ladyblog, nowhere else.

Rose: Prince Ali... doesn't do environmental charities, he only does children charities and... he doesn't know a Lila Rossi.

Juleka: ... I'm sorry, Rose.

Juleka: I only realized my mistake after talking to Luka, I'm sorry if I didn't voice out when I was skeptical about her in the beginning...

Rose: She lied... She lied!

Rose: I can't believe her! We treated her as a friend!

Juleka: Rose, please calm down! I don't want you to become an akuma! Please!

Seeing that message she tried so hard to calm down. Juleka was right, she doesn't want Shadowmoth to turn her into an Akuma! She needed to calm down.

After calming down, she messaged Marinette, but there was no reply, then she finally noticed that Marinette wasn't present during class that day. So she tried calling but was sent to voicemail immediately. She tried calling a few times before she stopped.

She'll just talk to her tomorrow, but that didn't happen... and it has been two weeks...

—————

Adrien Agreste was in denial.

He didn't want to believe that Marinette really did transfer schools. He wanted to visit her as Chat, but since he hasn't seen his kwami, he can't transform. And he's growing worried every second. No Plagg, no Akuma, and no Marinette...

His worrisome state affected his fencing classes. He was always immediately defeated by Kagami Tsurugi. She was displeased that he became a wimp in fencing.

"What made you so distracted lately? That's not like you Agreste." Kagami said.

"Nothing... I'm just worried about Marinette, she hasn't been in class lately, and it's been two weeks!" Adrien replied.

What Adrien said, made Kagami's brow shot up, in confusion. She had talked to Marinette one time, and she had shared that she transferred schools, and has been doing well. She also found out about the 'Lila situation' in Dupont and was very angry that Adrien Agreste knew but didn't say anything. It took a whole lot of Marinette's energy to stop Kagami from attacking Agreste with her sword or using her mother's sword!

"Haven't you heard?" Kagami asked.

"Heard what? You've talked to Marinette?!" Adrien asked enthusiastically.

"Yes. She had transferred schools due to unfortunate situations here in Dupont." Kagami answered before walking towards the locker rooms.

Adrien ran up towards her, held her shoulders and made her face him. "You're kidding right?! Marinette is still a student here! She'll come back here!"

Kagami stared at him in bewilderment.

"I-I gotta go... Bye Kagami..." Adrien said.

Kagami can only stare at the boy's retreating back. From Kagami's perspective, she thinks that Agreste was in denial of Marinette transferring schools. He was also oblivious to the aspiring designer's feelings. But this was different... The way he tries to convince himself that Marinette still goes to Dupont is unsettling.

It's as if, he was supposed to have control over her life. It made Kagami's instinct more unsettled.

Adrien was pacing around his room after he got home from fencing classes. He was becoming more nervous by the second.

He tried looking for her social media accounts only to find none of it exists, he swore that he followed her socials.

Even Nathalie noticed how jittery the young Agreste was, she tried finding out the reason why, but couldn't pinpoint it due to being sidetracked.

The peacock miraculous was missing from the safe, and Gabriel Agreste was furious! He already lost the Grimoire book, the previous Guardians' tablet and now the fixed peacock miraculous. They reviewed the footage from his security cameras, and found nothing!

This made him sidetracked about his supervillain duties, he ignored the past powerful emotions the brooch felt, in exchange to search the whole mansion about the missing items of his. Adrien was no help.

Gabriel calmed down for a second and felt a negative emotion to vent and try to find out if Ladybug got the peacock miraculous.

When he found one, he informed Nathalie about privacy and went to his lair. he transformed to Hawkmoth once again due to the lack of the peacock miraculous.

"Ah, the agonizing pain of experiencing a heartbreak..."

A butterfly flew and rested in his palm, while he fills it with negative power. Once he is done he opened his palm and lets the Akuma flap its wings.

"Fly away, my little Akuma, and evilize this brokenhearted woman!"

The Akuma made its way towards a crying woman near the Seine, wearing a wedding dress. It landed on her headpiece.

"Enchanttréx, I am Hawkmoth. You've been betrayed by the person your loved one, I'm giving you the power to expose any secrets that were chosen to be hidden away from the world. In return, you will bring me ladybug and Chat Noir's Miraculous. Do we have a deal?"

"Yes, Hawkmoth."

The purple substance covered the woman in a wedding dress, and when it was gone it left a woman, who has an intricate gold flower-themed headpiece, long black hair that reaches up to her mid-back, a flowy white to black gradient dress, gold strapped heels, white laced gloves that reach up to her forearm and a veil in front of her face.

"It's time to let yourself free from your secrets!" Enchanttréx exclaimed making the nearby Parisians run away in fear and alerting the heroes.

Chapter 5 — Moving Forward: Masterlist — Chapter 7 

[revirushifaa]

OK, but imagine MC dying of old age while their daughter is still super young and Lucifer doing his best as a single dad for centuries as their daughter grows from the terrible twos into the teenage rebellious streak that definitely didn't come from him (it did).

Haaah, more papa Sushifer is in order! This is already fun, so I'll give up a scenario!

Enjoy!

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Daughter of Pride:

MC is gone. His partner is gone, and now the only thing that was left of them, was their one-year-old daughter, Lucille. While Lucifer was still a little mournful over his mate's loss, he promised to them that he would be the one raising their firstborn, it was a promise that he won't break, he did his best with the raising alone, after all he had experience with raising children.

Lucille was a demon like her father so she aged differently from her human parent so it was only natural that MC died without seeing their daughter grow up, something that torment them even to the last moment of their life. Lucifer didn't wish to remember that sad day. It had to be one of the most saddest days of his long life.

Please, MC, my dearest... stay with me

Lucifer... take good care of my little girl. Tell her that I love her... I love you too, both of you...

With that last sentence and warm smile, MC stopped living. He was so devastated that he turned himself colder around everyone... but his daughter. Lucille was the only living being left from his mate, the one who he had to protect and raise. It wasn't an easy task, normally, MC was who took care of her the major part while he was absent in business with Diavolo.

But he had promised with his heart to MC, that Lucille would be cared for and raised well. Just looking his daughter, it remembered him of MC. While she had his body form and face features, her hair and her eyes were MC's, it was like seeing his beloved in their daughter, which he took as comfort. He would nuzzle Lucille at nights and snuggled her in bed, the baby half demoness had MC's calid smile and laugh, but she had also inherited that hard attitude from Lucifer. It was a mix, of hard and soft.

"You are my pride and joy, Lucille. Never forget that, daughter mine."

What he would always murmur in her small ears as he snuggled her and cradled her. With his daughter with him, he didn't become full isolated to his room, if he had lost both MC and Lucille, then Lucifer wouldn't be sane at all. At least Lucille was safe and sound with him.

"No, Lucille. You cannot have sugar all three meals."

As the little demoness grew up, she was more hard to raise or to try to discipline. She was spoiled, that was true, and sometimes she turned out bratty.

"But I wanna sugar. SUGAR NOW!!"

"Lucille—"

"SUGAR!!!"

Sometimes her temper tantrums, gave Lucifer huge migraines and constant stress. It was when he used his major authorital tone, that he made her to stop acting up. And if that didn't work, then it was taking her privileges and sometime in the corner. He never hit her as a punishment. No. He just couldn't bring himself to do that, the demoness was only three and if he did that, he would be breaking an important promise that he had made to MC. Be fair with my little girl, Lu.

So physical discipline was a no-go with him. There were other ways that worked his way. Like when he grounded her from playing with her toys for three days. She would only study and practice her writing. No dessert as well. He had glared sternly at Beel, warning him to not be lenient when his daughter was grounded.

"That's it, young demoness. No toys or dessert for THREE days."

"But, Daddy-"

"No buts, or else I'll add another day to your grounding."

That was all to shut her savage mouth in protesting. Of course seeing her sob and cry because he was too harsh in speaking to her, always made his heart hurt. He would always tone down his voice and speak more gentler to her, explaining why he did that, and then fix the situation with offering to do a compromise, if she was well-behaved and willing to it.

As she reached into adolescense, that was a huge stress to the poor prideful father. Lucille at 16 was such a pain in the butt. Demanding and rebellious, a huge picky eater and a true brat.

"I will be clear with you, young demoness. If you give me an ounce of attitude, then your D.D.D will be confiscated for a month, you won't go out during that time and will be put on chores duty for until I see an improvement in your behavior. And you will write three thousand times I will not disrespect or disobey my father. Clear?

Lucille would huff at how strict her father had turned himself into. But she hadn't known that it was all her part to have put him that way. Lucifer was fair if she was fair, it was a cycle of giving and giving back. Lucille behaved, Lucifer rewarded her. Lucille misbehaved, then Lucifer punished her.

"Father, when did you turn like an old boring grandpa? I only want to have fun! You can't keep me as your prisoner in this boring house!"

"Lucille, I demand more respect from you. This is your father, speaking to you. And I never said that I would keep you here all the time. But first things first. Do your school work and then you can go out. Do we have a compromise?"

"Fine. We have a compromise, Dad."

Lucifer would smile a bit softly, when the young demoness was reasonable.

"That's my good, little demoness." He would end it with a kiss to the top of her hair, before departing from her and going to do his own work and the demoness would go to do her own thing as promised.

Sometimes the lying habit came to Lucille and because of her, Mammon got in many trouble when it was all her buying the latest of fashion clothes.

"How do you explain this, Mammon?"

"Hey, what have you gotten into you?! I don't buy girly stuff! Maybe you should ask Lucille!"

....

"LUCILLE!!!!"

"What?"

She would come to him with a nonchalant look, as she's wearing highly expensive clothes and from that, is when Lucifer realized that it's all his daughter and not his greedy brother.

"So it was you who spent all of our money to please your nonsense..."

"Nonsense, Dad? I am a demoness in need of good clothes and looks! What if I find some good looking human in the future? They wouldn't like a normie, like how Uncle Levi dubs it!"

Lucifer's poor head throbs with absolute pain and stress. Ugh his daughter, is again causing him to go grey at just the age that he was at currently.

"Apologize to your uncle and then go to your room and write three thousand times I will not lie and blame my uncle into buying items that I don't need. Right now. March."

"But, Dad!"

"No 'but Dad'. Now, Young demoness. Or else, I will make you write it fifteen thousand times. How is it going to be?"

"I'm sorry, Uncle Mammon..."

And after her uncle acknowledged her apology, she went up to her room to do that, with a sad face, she didn't want at all to make her father disappointed today. Lucifer took notice of it, but decided to wait until she was done with the writings to talk about it.

It was several hours but she was done, and her handwriting had gotten better, it was because of the writing punishments that it got better, seeing as this was a very common punishment that her father doled out to her when she was being disobedient or a brat.

"I...I'm done..." she said in a quiet voice.

Lucifer had looked up from the papers that he was signing. He frowned softly, the demoness hadn't realized it but she had a few tears rushing down her cheeks. His firm tone from before had softened to that gentle tone, as he approached her and pulled her into his hold.

"I hope this will be enough to end your lying habit. I do not like seeing you sad, but you know I cannot let you get away with something that you have done wrong. It is okay now. You have learned and there is not reason for me to keep mad."

He had soft-spoken to her, the way that she knew that he wasn't mad or disappointed anymore. But Lucille couldn't help feeling bad either way. She in fact, never liked putting her dad mad or disappointed in her, she let the silent tears trickle down. Lucifer said nothing, his comfort was always silent and he showed it with actions rather than words. He held her in his arms, all the time that she needed.

"I'm sorry I disappointed you, Dad..."

"There's no need to apologize now, this case has been solved. Don't beat yourself too much over it, your uncle had forgiven you, I have forgotten about it. It's all okay, Lulu."

And by calling her by her special nickname that he had for her, she knew all was well. She hugged more but to show him that she actually loved him so deeply. Lucifer already knew that, he loved his daughter with all his life, it didn't matter how much trouble she was, that wouldn't change anything.

He might be cold, stern and everything else that others said of him behind his back, but the love of a father was above everything else. He loved his demoness quite so much, so that was what was important.

"I love you, Dad. And I mean it."

"I love you too, daughter mine, with all my heart."