#TW: ALL THE TRIGGERS THAT COME WITH SEX TRAFFICKING

[yoke9494]

Baby Bunny.🐇 Pt.1

Bonten mini series.

* pt. 1

*(Request) Hybrid bunny reader/ animal hybrid Bonten. First time ever writing something like this so I'm sorry if it's bad! I tried my best. Have any tips? Let me know!♥️

*Don't know how to label this chapter but the whole series will contain Angst/Smut and the fallowing TW.

*⚠️ Trigger warnings!: Sex trafficking, drug/alcohol use, stockholm syndrome, rape, (not on reader) mental and physical abuse,.. Sanzu.

_______________________________

How did you end up here?

You knew better.. You knew better than to walk home alone, especially at night.. Though you lived in a small town, covered by thick forest-- that didn't mean a predator would never find its way in..

You knew better than to stay at Molly's home for longer than you were allowed to.  But time had gotten away from you when you began to tell Molly about a date you had coming up with your boyfriend who was half lovebird. He was such a beautiful man with midnight black hair and the bluest eyes you've ever seen.

You had a feeling he was going to propose since he had been extra excited about your date together. He even told you to go out and buy a new dress, plus to get your nails and hair done also. All with his hard earned money..

She was over the moon for you! And a little jealous. Being half sheep herself, her parents only let her date her own kind. (Yes, they were stuck up and awful-- the complete opposite of your beautiful Molly. She was such a sweetheart with a soul and heart made of gold.)

Her words repeated in your head as you walked home. "I'm so happy for you Y/n! Elden is such a sweet and handsome man. Just the type of guy a shy little bunny like you needs! Eeek! Can I be your maid of honor?!"

You shook your head as you tried to rewind the memories of you day. A way to keep the fear of the darkness away.

How could you fall for such a easy trap? You replayed the event over and over in your head. Wishing you had handled it differently...

******

"Help! Oh miss.. help!"

You heard a pained voice coming from the opposite end of the road. The streetlights were always dim and didn't provide a far range of coverage.

"Help! Please! I hurt myself."

You swallowed down your fear but still couldn't move. The prey in you was too scared.

"Girl! Come help me up!"

The voice that called out to you didn't sound familiar at all. Your town was so small that you knew everyone by their voice.

Your spotted and floppy ears slightly picked itself up on instinct. Your cotton ball tail shivering as if it was dead of winter.. Something wasn't right.

Maybe you should run back to Molly's house and ask her father to walk you home. Yes you were an adult but you weren't physically strong.

Fast footsteps came your way. The person began to yell out to you again.

Your ears shot up and you began to run. Molly's house was a lot closer than your own so you decided to go there.

"Grab her! But don't hurt her! Bunnies bring in a good amount of money!"

Your heart was racing-- your skin crawled with panic and fear! You pushed yourself as hard as you could as you rounded the corner. Nearly tripping over your own feet like the idiots do in horror movies. Your poor calves felt like they were being ripped to shreds!

But there it was.. The gate to Molly's home!

You were so close! All you had to do was swing it open and run to the door and scream at the top of your lungs.

"Got you!"

No.. No. No. No. No..

Completely darkness covered your vision. You struggled against two large sweaty bodies as you tried to free yourself.-- a sour burning smell burned the little hairs in your nose. You tried to scream but your mouth was muffled, suffocating from whatever they had shoved onto your head..

"It's okay bunny-- go to sleep."

Like hell you were!

"There you go."

One of the males cooed into your ear as suddenly your body began to give up on its own. Your brain kept trying to make your arms and legs move but you began to feel like mush. Your brain became hazy and it felt like you body was a million times heavier. Your eyelids felt like they were made of led--

Voice's faded in and out..

"Took her a while-- I swear I used half the bottle."

"She's gonna be a problem... But not for us!"

*****************

Your body jerked and startled you conscious. What was going on?--

Your body felt like it was run over by a truck, your head was spinning and your could feel your body breaking out in a cold sweat.

A sudden whisper had you panicking.

"Shh. It's okay. Here drink some water."

You tried to blink the blurriness away.. Molly? Oh thank goodness it was her! You tried to speak-- to tell her about the most terrifying dream you had.

You must have fallen asleep while you both were gossiping!---

"Mol--" you couldn't get a word out. You gasped for air and it felt like you had swallowed sharp pins. Your tongue was as dry as sandpaper..

Molly whispered to you. "Shh. Don't try to talk right now. Drink-- slowly."

You felt the rim of a plastic water bottle brush against your lips.-- Expecting a flow of cool refreshing water to wet your tongue-- you gagged when a dirty taste filled your mouth. A wheeze left your throat when you wanted to ask Molly what she had given you? It tasted like nasty pool water!

"I'm sorry. It's all we have."

What was she talking about? The town had access to the cleanest well water around..

Finally your vision came to and you wanted to scream. This person wasn't your Molly!-- This person was another sheep, with the same beautiful white curls as your best friend-- but her face was different, eyes, nose, mouth and ears..

You rolled your eyes and noticed she had you on her lap. Her hand running through your hair as she wore a worried look.

Your voice was so weak. "Who are you? Where am I?"

You couldn't see anything besides her. It was so dark-- but you swore you could hear quiet whimpers and small sniffles.. Like you were surrounded by people crying?

You tried to sit up and let out another gasp. Pain ran through your body while whatever energy you just had completely disappeared..

The girl shook her head. "Please don't move yet. You still need to rest-- it'll take awhile to get whatever they used on us out of your system."

Your body was jerked again. More pain set your nerves on fire-- even the girl herself looked pained as she tried to keep herself up right.

You felt your eyes sting as you began to cry. You couldn't move, you couldn't see, you couldn't even speak! You were so scared-- you wanted to go home! You wanted you parents! You wanted your love Bird to come hold you and tell you that he'd cherish you forever.

"Rest a bit more okay? I promise you we won't hurt you-- were all scared."

What was happening?--- you needed to go home. But your body gave out once more..

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

This time your body was woken up by loud clanking noises followed by the sounds of male voices.

"holland lop bunny huh? We don't get many of those. Call our clients in Tokyo-- fuck what was his name?- Hajime. The bastard has bids on the more exotic girls.."

The voices began to fade away with retreating footsteps..

Your body shivered. It was freezing! You felt sore and still a bit weak. Your eyelids felt sticky that you had to force them open--

Metal bars? Behind that was what looked like dirty cracked concrete?

With a low groan you were able to roll your body from its side to your back.-- a wave of nausea took over..

"Hey bunny. Take it easy.. you'll hurt yourself."

Your eyes roamed over... A flat rusted metal roof, more bars . Were you in a cage?!

You silently answered your own question when you met eyes with the same sheep from before. She sat on her knees in a rusted cage in front of yours.

You gasped and covered your eyes when you noticed she was naked. She let out a weird sound that almost sounded like a pained laugh.

"Don't get shy Bunny. We're all naked here.."

What did she mean? You peeked up and used the bars to slowly help you sit up. Gritting your teeth as you did-- You bones felt stiff-- how long were you asleep?

Your eyes began to water when you got a good look at what was around you. Rows of dirty cages filled with one or more naked bodies.. Mostly women, but you swore you saw a masculine body or two.. You tried not to stare-- Completely terrified and exposed just like the rest..

"What's happening?"

The sheep was about to answer you but another voice came from the cage beside you. "They're going to sell us, Break us, and turn us into slaves.."

She was a love bird just like your Eldon... Only she had chestnut hair and large gold eyes. Her face was bruised and her body was dirtier than all the rest..

"This happened to me before--. I got away.." Her eyes began to water. "But they found me-- punished me.. and now I'm going to die here."

She began to cry. Soon the room almost filled with small whimpers-- even your own tears began to roll down your cheeks.

Sold? Slaves? Breaking?--

The sheep across from you began to panic. "Everyone shh! If we make too much noise they'll come back down here again. Do you all want what the poor skunk got--"

Her eyes traveled to the cage on the opposite end of you. And you made the mistake to follow her gaze---

You let out a scream, you really didn't mean to-- Your body scurried away, closer to the love bird. The cold metal dug into your back as you tried to get as far away from the beaten and dead girl..

The lovebird reach over and covered your mouth. You could feel her shaking against you-- "Quiet!"

And you were. Everyone was-- heavy footsteps sounded like they were so close! But then they began to fade away.

Some let out a breath they didn't know they were holding. ----

A sharp pain bloomed at the back of your head. The love bird had yanked your head back by your hair.

Her voice was low but it held Anger. "You need to shut up. They won't come down here and beat you but they'll beat us. You're worth more money than half of us combined."

You scratched at her skin and she let you go. Of course she called you a bitch but you didn't care. You just wanted away from her and the deceased girl next to you. But all you could do was curl you body into a ball as you sat right in the middle of your cramped cage.

You shook your head and looked at the sheep. She was the only one who seemed a little sane. "I don't want to be sold.. I want to go home-- I miss my boyfriend, my Molly, my family.."

The sheep gave you a sympathetic look. "You don't have a home anymore pet. .. But She's right you know. Bunnies that look like you are rare. - you have the long floppy ears and huge puffy cotton tail. Your kind is naturally obedient.. Someone with money will most likely keep you as their arm candy or trophy wife. You'll have to be okay with that life if you want to live."

"--- Or they'll breed her and sell off her children till she dies.."

Another voice-- A male cat? His body was lean with a bit of muscle and he had dark grey hair, but his ears had white stripes.. He was next to the sheep and had been curled up this entire time.

His bright green eyes locked on you. "I've heard stories about that when I was working in a night club. Your kind can have a good litter if I'm not mistaken. 5-6 if you're lucky?"

You nodded... You had so many siblings it wasn't funny. (47 brothers and sisters) "I was a part of a litter of 10 actually. My mother was very fertile.."

He shook his head. "I'm so sorry. Let's hope you aren't that lucky.. They'll kill you faster if you don't provide them many spawns.."

You gulped-- but didn't say a word as your ears picked up.. Someone was coming!

You could heard two separate steps of heavy feet. They heard you scream! They heard you and were going to take it out on everyone. They'll all hate you even more--

Two dirty looking men began to walk down a couple of concrete steps at the end of the room. "Meal time!"

Almost everyone scooted closer to the bars as you stayed huddled at the back. You could hear the bowls being thrown at everyone along with soft smacking and chewing.

You didn't notice it before but your stomach began to growl.. When was the last time you ate? It had to be the dinner you had with Molly before you were taken..

When the man reached your cage he slammed a dirty metal bowl in front of the bars. He gave you a quick look that left you feeling violated.. But his attention went over to the lovebird..

What was she doing? She had curled up into a ball-- had he gotten hurt somehow?! She didn't look like she was breathing...

"Hey! Feather bitch, meal time."

She didn't flinched..

The man walked away from your cage and you scooted to the bowl.. it had what looked like white rice and some type of brown slop on top... It didt look appetizing-- it smelt sour..

You looked at the sheep and cat as they ate. The male cat locked eyes with you and motioned to your bowl. He mouthed the words "Eat." Before reaching his hands out and getting another scoop with his fingers.

The man began to hit the lovebirds cage as you reached out to the food. The rice was cold and a bit hard-- the tan mush on top tasted horrible. Sour and it felt slimy going down your throat.. But you were so hungry, so weak..

"Bitch get up!"

You stopped trying to chew and just swallowed. It seemed like everyone was trying to mind their own business and eat--

The sheep gave a quick glance and looked worried. But she held her head down and closed her eyes. The cat swiped off any food on his fingers and covered his ears.. He looked disappointed?

You scurried back into the middle of your cage when the man yanked open the lovebirds. He reached in and--

She screamed.. She screamed and called him every dirty name in the book. Her little talons scratched into his skin as he groaned in pain..

"Son of a bitch!!"

She was yanked out by her hair and began to scream. Your eyes wide as her body hit the ground in front of your cage. It was such a loud *Thud* that you were sure you heard a crack when her head was shoved to the ground..

God help her... What do you do? What can you do?!

Nothing....

His belt hit the floor before he picked it up and began to hit her back with his metal buckle. His friend had join him in holding her down.

Your tried to look away. Closed your eyes tight as her screaming made your body shake. But you could hear everything..

You heard them speak in a language you never heard. They began to laugh as you heard the zipper of their pants being pulled down..

She was crying now. You tried to cover your ears but they were right in front of you. Tears squeezed out of your eyes as they began to use her body..

She yelled, cried, begged them to just kill her..

Your heart was breaking.. "please stop."

You tried to yell. But you were a coward, a coward who was just yelling in her mind.

"Stop! Stop! Stop! Stop!-- please stop hurting her!"

When they were done with her you were still yelling in your mind. Trying to escape as they threw her bruised and abused body back into her cage. She was no longer conscious but still slightly breathing--

"Bunny you okay?"

It was the cat-- why was he asking you that! You were far from okay! You could feel what you had just ate coming up your throat. Your mind panicked and brought you home.

Your mother in the kitchen, cooking.. And your father at the table telling her what was in the newspaper. Your warm home on the side of the largest hill in your town. Covered in while flowers and thick trees.

You found a way to escape... But you really should have payed attention, you should have opened your eyes.

If you did, you would have seen another man enter the basement-- You would have seen him point at a few cages before he pointed at yours.

You wouldn't have been frightened when your cage jerked and 4 men began to carry you out with a few others.

"What--?"

"Shhh." It was the cat!

He was being carried right in front of you. "Stay quiet, stay calm.."

You felt queasy all over again...

...................

[feyhunter78]

Personal rant about an issues I’m having with my best friend under the cut, TW mentions of past sexual trauma both fictional and IRL

Thinking about how Alicent and Rhaenyra coded my best friend and I are, (minus the gay undertones) she’s headstrong, beautiful, confident, feels like she deserves what she wants no matter what and has no fear that her father won’t be there to catch her when she falls. But it makes her ignorant to the deeper plights of others and she lacks the knowledge to look further into things, and weigh her opinions and options before she speaks. She’s so strong and confident that she refuses to accept that her thoughts and opinions can be wrong, and she never does any research.

She was like “I’ve heard Andrew Tate talk some and I think he might be right” and I was like friend???? The man is a sex trafficker who has been quoted saying that women who aren’t virgins are damaged goods, and his OWN SISTER doesn’t talk to him. And she was like “oh I didn’t really look him up or anything” like motherfucker are you serious????

Then you’ve got me, quieter, more traditional, (still beautiful, but my goodness my best friend is a different level) always trying to do what’s right, do what I was supposed to do, trying to make sure everyone is okay, that my words and actions won’t harm and if they do can I take them back or make up for them?

I’m more agreeable, people see me as soft and kind, easy to talk to, but it comes with this guilt, religious, personal, social, whatever I’m always, always watching, always considering the other side because I know what it feels like to be powerless. And I do my fucking research because you have to know the rules!!!!

We’ve argued over TG or TB and she just refuses to accept that Alicent’s actions are motivated by valid reasons, that she was a child victim and was a victim until her husband finally died. She also blows past the fact that Daemon groomed and assaulted Rhaenyra because “they’re so hot” and I just???? I could not and cannot understand how she can overlook the pain and trauma these characters went through and act like it’s absolutely nothing.

Then we got in a bit of a thing because she got into booktok smut and I tried to warn her about the trigger stuff in some of the books and she’s like “oh it’s fine, yeah he like rapes her in this one part, but he basically makes it up with his words in the end” and I’m ????

Like yeah I like my dark stuff too but not a love interest who’s a rapist💀 there is no coming back from that for me????

And the fact that she just doesn’t care, doesn’t even stop to think about how her lack of care for the atrocities committed towards female characters in literally any media affects her is just so concerning to me. It’s like because nothing like that has happened to her then it’s not real??? Or it’s just like “not that big of a deal”????

Like y’all who read Pink Pastels know I went through shit, not a full assault but something similar that I left out of the fic because it was too much and I hadn’t really accepted what had happened. And the fact that what is it one in five women have been assaulted??? Statistically speaking she knows women who have been!!!!

So it makes me sick to my stomach that she’s so blasé about this stuff. To be fair to her, I never told her about it but I have now and I haven’t gotten a response yet so I’ll hold judgment until I do. (She hasn’t seen the Snapchat yet)

I just it really frustrates me because she is such a good friend outside of this stuff but she just lives such a different life from everyone else (her family is super rich) and I feel bad because I really want reality to knock some sense into her with a baseball bat. She just doesn’t understand that people actually suffer this stuff it’s not all just fun in games and ha ha giggles oh he’s so hot!!!

Like bestie I’m here, standing in front of you, asking if you fucked Daemon in a pleasure house (if you really are going to keep reading and flaunting your love of these dark, violent, terribly written books) while I’m trapped with your old ass father who’s been assaulting me and ignoring the children he forced me to have (carrying and trying to sort out the multitude of trauma from my ex) begging you to tell me that you didn’t and you still see me as your friend (that you aren’t a horrible pick me girl who doesn’t actually care about the pain and suffering women go through just because you haven’t experienced it)

[bcolfanfic]

“some related to wyatt wanting to have sex but micah knowing he’s not ready/isn’t asking for the right reasons.” Poor Wyatt, does his trauma result in him becoming hyper sexual during this time, doesn’t understand the idea that somone doesn’t want to have sex with him, but it’s bc Micah cares for him 😢 how do you think they’re first time together after all of this would go down?

below the line <3 previous wyatt backstory sexual assault/trafficking trauma TWs apply

yeppp. you hit the nail on the head with the hypersexual thing. in the ‘side b’ universe of this he ends with someone else while him and micah are broken up and it’s a big ol toxic mess bc the guy is very blatantly taking advantage of him. and ev/helen can only do so much about it when wyatt is indeed an adult.

but anywaysss side a. yeah the fights with micah about it stem from him feeling really wired and Wrong not giving himself to micah in that way. wants that wired feeling to go away and gets upset that micah puts his foot down because even though micah is in the right, it still makes wyatt feel terrible. gets really paranoid that micah thinks he’s a freak/perv- but he doesn’t think that at all. he’s just worried about rushing things <\3.

wyatt has a really hard time with trying to process “missing” that house. gets off in the shower to make the wired feeling go away since micah doesn’t wanna do anything, and throws up after bc he was. to put it lightly not thinking about micah to ‘get there’ which makes him feel so broken and horrible.

down the line when they’ve made up and are back together and wyatt is in a considerably better place they do have sex again but. it’s still a Process with alotta trial and error. wyatt is really squicked out about topping bc it triggers those I’m A Bad GuyTM feelings but the other way around is hard too for it’s own reasons. micah is sooo sweet and gentle and patient though. lots of talking him through it and reassuring him- the verbal affirmations coming from micah who he loves helps a lot. and reminds him he’s with micah, not anyone else. needs that grounding to not get lost in his head and bad memories.

[lost-eternity]

Hunger Games Matchup -Closed-

This is a matchup trade with @dorkofclanlavellan.

Okay I actually probably need to put some trigger warnings in this one. So without further ado...

TW: Mentions of sex trafficking, trauma, implications of pedophilia, and unhealthy coping mechanisms. 

•──⋅☾FINNICK ODAIR ☽⋅──•

I won’t lie, my intentional reaction said Cinna. However, I placed that thought on the back-burner while I sifted methodically through the other characters in case I found one that I felt suited you better. And I am glad I did that, because I did find someone better. 

Finnick Odair. 

Initial characterization of Finnick exemplifies him as a careless casanova, infamous for his routine and seemingly habitual trysts every time he visits the Capitol. And for most of the book, that is all that is known of him. Flirtatious, shallow, flighty, definitely not someone I think you would keep in company of. 

However, later on it is revealed that Finnick’s womanizing, ego-centric tendencies are a defense mechanism installed to protect himself from the emotional turmoil of the role of sex worker forced upon him by President Snow to appease influential Capitol women. Mind you, he was fourteen. The horrors of his circumstances cannot be understated. 

Beneath his philandering veneer, he is someone who is deeply wounded, accustomed to being used for his body, and craves genuine human connection and conversation. He needs someone who appreciates him for him, and not just the physical pleasures he can give them. Bro literally just wants to be seen as a human being instead of a sex object for the first time in his adult life and I do not blame him. 

I believe this is where his relationship with Annie comes into play. She was someone who was deeply empathetic, intelligent, and intuitive. Someone who saw Finnick for who he really was. Possibly the only person who saw him as such. And based on your description of yourself, I believe you would fill his role beautifully. 

You see, you aren’t just smart. You are observant. While I still feel as though initial impressions of Finnick would be lacking at best and straight up antagonistic at worst, I think that with the more time you spend around him, the more you’d be able to see flickers of something deeper beneath his facade. 

And I think you’d be the only person to see and understand this. I think your skeptical nature would feed into this as well. You would refuse to accept that he is as hollow-minded and shallow as he presents himself to be. 

The way his easy-going smile falters whenever he thinks no one is looking. The mild contortion of his facial features into a brief pained expression when someone insults his promiscuity. This wincing lasting mere milliseconds before it is completely replaced by a lackadaisical smile and a casual shrug. The way his shoulders sag, as is burdened by heavy emotional weight when he thinks that no one else is around. The strained sighs he emits whenever he feels as though no one is listening- as though no one is paying attention. The way rigidity spreads into the muscles along his back and shoulders whenever President Snow’s name is so much as mentioned. 

No, there is definitely more going on here. And given your quiet, analytical, and observant nature, I think you would definitely notice. I also think that you would wish to pursue this deeper, if only because you touched on how much your value deep connection. 

Once you and Finnick start talking, I think he would be hooked. And I think he would open up to you much faster than normally would, perhaps to his own chagrin. You are so full of life and compassion. The way your eyes light up when you start to infodump on your favorite subjects. You are different. You don’t see him as an object. You aren’t cowed by his flirtations and attempts to keep you at an arm’s length. You genuinely just want to get to know him. The two of you would have such meaningful conversations, skipping over idle chatter and frivolous small talk entirely because that is just the kind of person you are. 

And just like that,  it would be over for the poor man. 

You represent every single thing he has lacked in life: genuine connection, empathy, and companionship. 

You would become his new Annie (assuming in this scenario, Annie was either killed in her games or lost herself to the point of no return).

Finnick would not be super receptive to your self-deprecating sense of humor, wishing you could see the beauty he sees in you. I think he would call you out on it and make some flirtatious comment sultry enough to make even the most stoic blush. He doesn’t know what else to do so he defaults to his usual tactics of flattery. Although, this time it’s different. This time he actually means it. He’s just genuinely trying to help. 

“My dear, if it is beauty you seek, you need not look further than a mirror.”

~

“I don’t know if anyone has ever told you this before,” Finnick would fix you with a level-gaze, his seafoam green eyes unwavering and uncharacteristically serious, “but you are very attractive.” 

You could attempt to retaliate, uttering something along the lines of “you aren’t too unattractive yourself.” To which he would merely laugh, his broad shoulders shaking under the exertion of the momentum.

He’d flash you one of those smug grins of his. “Oh. I know.” 

~

Freaking Finnick. 

Perhaps you were from District Four and met him briefly before his games, then were forced to reconcile with the stark juxtaposition to the boy he was prior to the man he ultimately became. 

Or Perhaps you were a victor from a previous Game who met him during the Quarter Quell and saw something in him no one else could, only to be wrapped up in the rebellion’s plot.

Either way, I do think it would be good news for you. 

If you were a fellow Victor rescued by the rebels, perhaps you would have a chance at saving Finnick, or maybe it would lead to you sacrificing yourself in his stead. 

If you were the “special someone back home”, the Capitol would likely kidnap and torture you for leverage over Finnick as they did Annie. Finnick would likely still perish, spending his last breath viciously attempting to rescue you.

But either way, I think this would be a huge point of contention in your relationship. Finnick absolutely would NOT accept you going with him to infiltrate the Capitol with the Mockingjay. I’ll let whether or not you end up listening to him be up to you. 

As often it goes with the Hunger Games, I believe that this story is likely to end in tragedy. Although, it is not without a small chance of hope. Maybe you can act differently, maybe you can be the person to provide Finnick with the happy ending he deserved but was ultimately denied. 

[a-concert-just-for-me]

I think besides the Five stuff, the thing that pisses me off about season 4 is Klaus’s arc (or lack thereof)

Tw: mention of sex trafficking, sexual assault, child abuse

We have:

Botched OCD arc that could have been so so so interesting to explore

No real acknowledgment of Dave when Klaus finds the dog tags

Klaus gets into drugs again because *checks notes*……he got his powers back? But then it doesn’t show him being distressed about being haunted by ghosts again (a big contributor in why he turned to drugs in the past???)

The erasure of Klaus’s queerness besides one (1) dick joke? Where’s his flamboyant gender expression? Where’s his eyeliner? His fashion?

Honestly it makes me mad how Klaus’s story after season 2 is basically just comic relief and has no satisfying character progression anymore imo

A super big one is that Klaus gets held captive and sex trafficked and it’s played as a joke??? (I get it if they wanted to add that storyline from the comics into this season but at least treat it with respect??? holy shit??????)

Klaus gets buried underground which, first of all, puts him out of commission for contributing to the main plots

Second of all, they didn’t even lean into the connection between his trauma from being trapped in the mausoleum and being trapped underground. Are we really saying that being trapped wouldn’t be a huge trigger for him???

I’m sure there’s more that will come to me later but here’s my thoughts for now

[the-thresher-shark]

Meet my fallout ocs!

This is Woliri, from vault 116. Their name is from a language I made and might share more of in the future, but anyways- their name means wealth. Woliri is the oldest of the 3 and the only one who does chems, they generally travel with John Hancock and Nick Valentine as well as a rottweiler named Radio. They are also the one who name Woliwi. Woliri is generally laid back, however when anyone (*cough cough* those cunts in the brotherhood of steel *cough cough*) says anything bad about synths and ghouls they become 110% ready to THROW HANDS. Woliri tends to help others when they can, however it's never really the constant forefront of their mind, unless they are helping ghouls and synths, they see helping those two groups as more important then devoting themselves to helping humans, as, those groups generally are the victims of (*COUGH COUGH* BROTHERHOOD OF STEEL *COUGH COUGH*) needless violence.

This is Wolixi (this name means Wish), the younger sibling of Woliri and a starry eyed hero type. They are the general of the minutemen (in my playthrough of fallout I have been absolutely LOVING the minutemen), and overall a total sweetie. They go out of their way to help anyone they can and often travel with Preston Garvey and a Chocolate Labrador Retriever named Lotus. In all honesty not a lot of writing has gone into Wolixi yet as I've been more focused on the other two, but worry not! They will get their story soon enough.

VAULT 116

Vault 116 was a vault that intended to improve the immune system of humans through selective breeding, regularly, the vault would get a new epidemic, those who recovered quickly would be most likely to be selected to be bred for the next generations, all was going as planned until an ailment spread to the crops, killing them off and leaving the vault without food. Panic set in and Woliwi's parents suggested leaving the vault, as, going to the wastelands sounded better than starving in a hole. They were promptly banished, using what stored supplies they had the vault continued, the residents getting weaker until they saw fit that they cannibalise eachother, seeing this the overseer gave in and the vault was left. Woliri and wolixi mere children, thrown from their homes to an unforgiving hell scape.

Bonus fact: there was a very high german population in the vault so all the people in the vault spoke both german and english!

And here we come to the last of the three, the weird cousin. Woliwi is the youngest of the three, being 8 years younger than Woliri and 6 years younger than Wolixi. Woliwi is only 19 in the events of fallout 4, and in the events of the fallout series they are 28, most descriptions of them will be from the time of the fallout series, but lets get into their history first.

TW, CSA, trafficking, abuse, torture (I have put a note when the trigger warning is over)

Woliwi was born in the wastelands, to vaultie parents. A target was on them from the start. At the age of 5 their parents were slaughtered and the small child was tossed into sex trafficking, or the wasteland equivalent. They escaped at the age of 8 and were taken in by a gang of drifters, at some point during this Woliwi had developed D.I.D, something they didnt realise wasn't normal. The drifters held concerns about the child talking to the people in their head, but it was overall ignored. At the age of 9, Woliwi would meet their cousins, aunt and uncle, through telling stories the group would quickly realise they were related, Woliri then named Woliwi, the name meaning wolf. Woliwi spoke a broken version of german, due to only being taught until the age of 5, so the group taught them to speak more fluently in German. When Woliwi was 11 their family parted from the drifters, offering to bring Woliwi along, which they declined. They would come to regret this. The gang of drifters was killed when they were 12, which they narrowly escaped. They wandered until they came across a church. They would spend the next 3 months being told their D.I.D was nothing more than the devil speaking to them, and they just needed to pray harder. When they acted 'out of line' they were hit and yelled at. They eventually ran away, only to be caught by a group of gunners, who heated scrap metal over a fire and burned their shoulder, the only reason this didnt continue was due to a pack of wolf-dogs and mutts getting involved and saving them. Woliwi would take to traveling alongside the hounds the most constant and loving home they had ever gotten to enjoy.

~end of trigger warning~

Woliwi tends to travel with a colourful bunch, 23 canines most often, however they have been known to travel with Cooper Howard on several occasions, they also tend to bring their doberman Indus along during these times. He puts up with them because they are very useful. When traveling with Cooper, They've grown to like others being there, namely Lucy and Dogmeat.

(Please note, Woliwi's experiences with D.I.D are very heavily based on my own struggle with having it)

Though they consider their alters also travelling partners, so in their eyes, their travelling party is usually a bit bigger.

ALSO EVERYTHING IS SUBJECT TO CHANGE AS THESE ARE BRAND NEW OCS

[sondepoch]

Gone (6/5)

Breaking the Collar

Nine months in the human trafficking circuit has destroyed every sense of normality you ever knew. For you, it's commonplace to be ordered on your knees for your owner, his clients, anyone else Childe deems necessary—and you've reached a point where you accept it this misery, just going along with the motions of life because there's nothing else to do.

Diluc and Kaeya change that.

They enter your life on a regular workday afternoon, stepping inside Childe's massive office under the pretense of sorting out a business deal, but a single hastily written message makes it clear that they're not here to hurt you: they're here to help you.

The only issue is that you have no idea how to escape Childe.

Fastened | Unlockable | Lighter | Breaking | Broken | Gone | ✔

MASTERLIST

gentle reminder that this is still dead dove: do not eat. please reread the tags and read with discretion <3

In the center of Snezhnaya’s busiest city, Childe sits on the floor of his office. The property belongs to Scaramouche, now, the deed signed off and everything, and the shorter trafficker has already made changes: namely, the removing all of Childe’s furniture with the intention of eventually replacing it all with something to suit his own aesthetic, but Childe finds that he still thinks of this place as his, despite the sudden absence of everything he placed here to make it his own. 

Childe doesn’t mind, to be honest.

With all his old decorations gone—the gaudy paintings and the fancy lamps and the fluffy carpets—this space feels almost calm. He looks around and sees nothing, for once. There are no memories of Lumine plaguing his mind, and even you, whom he’s come to associate so strongly with this place because you were the one person who finally made it bearable after Lumine died, don’t surface in his thoughts on instinct as you so often do.

“Fuck,” the man whispers, throwing his head back as he lies down on the ground, spreading his limbs out in a starfish formation.

It’s a childish, ridiculous, and pathetic pose to take, but who’s judging? 

“Fuck.”

It’s the only word he can think to say.

So much has happened in such a short span of time: it still startles him to think that his human trafficking days are over. This life had become so normal for him, and it doesn’t seem like there’s any way forward after something so drastic.

Childe sighs, rueing the fact that he doesn’t know what he’ll do next.

Actually, that's a bit of a lie. 

He has a general idea.

“Up we go,” the man mumbles to himself more than anything, forcing himself off the ground. It’s something he doesn’t really want to do, since the golden sunlight of the evening hits this side of the office at the perfect angle, and the wall-to-wall windows mean that the wooden ground is incredibly warm, almost like a blanket for his back, but Childe knows he can’t stay here forever. 

He rises gently from the floor, walking slowly around the office, fingers dragging along the windows to smudge them in his final reminder to the world that he was here, that he did something, that he lived—but then Childe is face to face with a door, and so he steps away from the windows to pull it open.

Barely twelve seconds later, he’s unlocked it, opened it, climbed up a single flight of stairs, heaved the door at the top open, and then he’s on top of his building, wind whipping through his hair as he steps forward onto one of his favorite places in the entire world, second only to Xiangling’s restaurant and, of course, being by your side.

Immediately, a wave of memories rushes through him.

He and Lumine made love up here, didn’t they? An instinctive smile spreads across the redhead’s face when he remembers how adventurous the woman had been with her sexscapades, always dragging Childe further and further out of his comfort zone until he’d become as addicted to the adrenaline high as she. 

Standing here, on top of the world, feet pressed against the roof of what used to be Childe’s forty-story tall human trafficking empire, he feels that same rush of adrenaline that used to power through his veins whenever he was with her.

And then, just like the high is impossibly high, he’s hit with a strikingly deep low as his brain is pulled away from thoughts of all the joy he shared up here with Lumine, and he’s forced to remember her lifeless eyes from when Scaramouche shot her seconds before Childe could save her.

For once, though, that thought isn’t accompanied by regret.

Childe feels oddly relaxed as he understands that Lumine’s death was what let him save you—though “save” is a funny term to use, given that the only person Childe saved you from was himself. 

Still, he’s glad he did it. He knows you’re going to be safe now, knows that you didn’t run away without a plan. Lumine, bless her heart and everything she lived for, was a smart girl, but you’ve always been smarter. He knows that you wouldn’t escape without someone to rely on, not after he so clearly showed you at Xiangling’s restaurant that you wouldn’t be able to function on your own without some intense therapy. You’ve always been Childe’s favorite not because of any actual compliance on your part but simply because of the sparkle that never left your eye. Even when he first captured you and told you what your life would be like, he could see, as you lowered your neck and forced yourself not to fight back, that you hadn’t given up hope.

Childe’s lips quirk into a smile as he realizes that this little escape of yours has likely been long-planned.

That idea hurts, since the redhead really has begun to fall for you, but he supposes that it’s what he deserves. In his brain, he knows that the soft kisses you pressed against his lips were solely meant to manipulate him, to distract him while you planned your escape, but his heart doesn’t care. Even now that you’re gone, Childe is obsessed with you in a way he’s never felt before, obsessed with your happiness and your health and the promise of a better future without him.

It’s the reason he was able to let you go, after all.

It’s a slight pity that the two of you weren’t able to go free together. Childe really wanted that. More than anything he’s ever wanted, he wanted to grow old and ugly by your side. If you’d stayed around, Childe probably would have, too—but he knows he’s gotten what he deserved.

After all, angels aren’t meant to be with humans.

And that’s what you are, aren’t you? Nine long months ago, you were the reason Childe didn’t climb to this roof and jump off after losing the love of his life. He took one look at you and saw hope, as if you were a guardian angel sent from heaven to show him that maybe, just maybe his existence would have meaning if he showed you a proper life.

He never actually got to show you that life, but your very presence in his apartment kept him around a little longer. For that, Childe is grateful. He’s ruined too many lives to be able to find any kind of peace after death, but knowing that he was able to let you go free is his one redemption. For all his shittiness, he could do one thing right.

Only one thing, though.

Childe kind of wants to stick around for that reason.

He wants to wander through Snezhnaya with the money he still has and see if he’s capable of kindness, if he can be a tiny background character in someone’s life without destroying it. Childe wants to climb down from this roof and be a normal person and wait until he hears about you somewhere on the news—because he knows he will. You’re a smart girl, bright in every way, and the only reason you’ve had such a miserable life is that Childe was stopping you from realizing that overwhelming potential.

Yeah, he was a shitty guy through and through.

But although Childe knows he can’t really remedy any of what’s already done, he prays that those he hurt will all find the same happiness he hopes you’re running off to.

The wind whips at Childe’s hair. It gets in his eyes every now and then, but the man doesn’t mind. He zips up his old jacket—your jacket, the one you discarded at the elevator because you probably didn’t want any physical reminders of him—and pulls the hood up. 

It’s a ratty old thing, so old that it looks out of place on Childe, who usually only wears luxury brand clothing, but he likes it. It reminds him of better times. It reminds him of you.

The man takes a second to appreciate the brilliance of the sunlight before pulling out his phone. He dials Scaramouche’s office number, the one the trafficker never picks up at this hour, and he waits for the ding of the beginning of a voicemail.

“Hey, Scara,” Childe says to the voicemail. The wind seems to slow down, as if it understands that Childe is recording a final message for his friend. “I, uh, just wanted to call and say thanks for everything. I know you’re probably thinking that I’m a stupid fucking idiot for doing this, and...yeah, you’re probably right. But I feel like human trafficking is the only thing I actually know how to do, and I just...really don’t want to do it anymore.”

Childe sighs. He hopes the tiredness of his voice won’t be too obvious when Scaramouche plays this voicemail.

“That, and sucking dick,” Childe tries to joke, knowing that his old friend could use some humor in his life, especially after this. “Though, uh, I’m glad I don’t have to do that anymore. For real. I never really told you how much I appreciated you letting me go free. I know you always act tough and stuff, but…”

Childe exhales softly through his nose.

“I just want you to know this isn’t your fault. I know you’ll try to blame yourself because of the deal you gave me back then, but even if I could go back in time, I’d still choose to become a human trafficker over staying one of your slaves. You...couldn’t have stopped this. And I’m glad you gave me a chance to have a life at all.”

Childe knows that he has more to say, and he lets the line hang a little longer, but he can’t quite find the words anymore. He cuts the call with a single finger, and the wind seems to pick up again.

Well, at least he’s finished everything he has to finish.

Xiangling will get a handwritten letter alongside all his financial assets in a few days. He hopes she doesn’t blame herself. Dottore and Signora already got their own voicemails, though those were significantly less personal than Scaramouche’s. And that’s...it. Those are all the friends Childe has left. 

That’s kind of sad, he thinks.

Then again, he doesn’t really mind.

Childe closes his eyes. 

He kind of wishes he had a cold beer by his side right now.

Actually, he kind of wishes he had you by his side right now.

But neither of those things are possible, so he just takes a deep breath and stares past his feet onto the ground where people walk to and fro. 

Right off the bat, he knows that of the hundreds of people he can see, a handful of them will end up back on the human trafficking circuit. Not his circuit anymore, since his empire is every bit as worthless now as the nonexistent merchandise in this building, but someone’s. 

That realization almost makes Childe feel like God, if God could be miserable and responsible for more pain than anyone deserves. It has to be something inhuman: to be this disconnected from the world, to be so high up where no one else can be seen, to have the nearest people look so small and removed and so...

Childe’s lips quirk into a small smile. 

Far.

He stares forty stories down, not at the people anymore, but at the hard concrete. 

It’s impossibly far.

Then again, so are you, probably miles away by now, running off to a life that Childe knows he can never hope to be a part of if he truly wants you to be happy. 

Childe holds his breath, bracing his palms against the building, muscles flexing as he prepares to push out, and—

He stops.

A memory of you floats through his mind: a shy smile you once gave him. It was one of the first times you’d ever mustered up enough courage to actually respond to anything he’d said—and he still remembers how his heart instinctively sped up that day at the sight of his precious angel finally beginning to shine the way she so deserved. That was right when you actually began speaking to him, when he started to forget Lumine and began getting to know you for you, and—

Pain flickers through his heart. 

How will he remember you if he isn’t here anymore?

The wind whipping through Childe’s hair also seems to stop at that, as if pondering the dilemma with him. But when it picks up again, the redhead has steadied his heart once more. 

When the sun goes down, so will he.

Until then, he wants to remember the sound of your laugh a little longer, just enough so that he can replay the melody in his head when he makes his final jump.

MASTERLIST

Word count: 2.2k

Notes: it feels incredibly surreal that i actually finished this. i started this months ago as a very general what-if scenario with no actual plans of ever posting this, but i'm really glad that i did. i am so so sorry for the terrible posting schedule, though i'm super happy that i was at least able to get this final chapter and epilogue out on time - thank you for all the likes and the comments, you guys are the reason this got finished. i hope some of you stick around to see my other stuff - i've always been terrified of writing dark content because i didn't want to get hate - but seeing as this fic had such a positive response in general, i'm hoping that i can actually start writing some of those darker pieces i have in mind. thank you and i hope this was as enjoyable for you to read as it was for me to write <3

Comment & Like

Thank you for reading <3

I do not own the rights to Genshin Impact or any of the characters within it.

[neonscandal]

9 Anime to Watch When You Want to Feel Like 👇🏾

Whether you're emotionally dead inside and just need that extra oomf to feel anything or if you just need a good cry, below are a few short series/movies to check out. Trigger warnings are included but, let's be serious, the triggers are what we're watching for, no?

A Silent Voice (movie) - this is a good reminder that we do not exist in a bubble. Our actions and the way we treat others leave a mark on them and apologies don't always remedy that.

Sub/Dub | Netflix ‼️ TW: bullying, grief/loss, suicide or self harm, anxiety

Anohana: The Flower We Saw That Day (series but I think there's a movie summary as well) - this examines the kind of grief that clings to you when you can't move on from loss. The story focuses on a group of people who continue to mourn their childhood friend years after her passing.

Sub/Dub | Funimation, Netflix ‼️ TW: major character death, grief/loss, guilt, attempted SA

Banana Fish (series) - I worry that I may only be able to watch this show once because it's so compelling but I cry about it regularly (literally, peep the blog) despite being inherently emotionally unavailable. The story follows a young gang leader who unknowingly stumbles onto a full blown conspiracy when he assumes possession of a drug given to him by a dying man. It's gritty and action packed while also being intense and vulnerable but it is not something I'd watch without taking a hard look at the trigger warnings.

Sub | Prime Video ‼️ TW: major character death(s), grief/loss, PTSD, implied CSA, implied SA, sexual harassment, military conflict, physical violence, trauma, substance abuse, gore, sex trafficking (all ages), suicide, gun & knife violence, gang violence, implied incest, incarceration, coarse language

To Your Eternity (series) - how do we interpret and explain life to something that has just blinked into existence? This series explores the journey of a newly formed immortal being as it begins to experience everything that this planet has to offer. It bears witness to the good and evil in other beings through forging clumsy connections with them as it becomes wise in the way of the world and also shows how, as we survive, we carry with us those that we've loved.

Sub/Dub | HBO Max ‼️ TW: major character death, grief/loss, physical violence

Ride Your Wave (movie) - even fated love comes to an end eventually.

Sub/Dub | HBO Max ‼️ TW: major character death, grief/loss

Clannad (series) - a story about how opening yourself up to others can bring fullness to your life and a myriad of other experiences and emotions you wouldn't have.

Sub/Dub | HiDive ‼️ TW: implied death, illness, grief/loss, substance abuse

Angel Beats (series) - no major character death warning because all of the characters are already dead! Welcome to the afterlife where young souls are fighting like hell to avoid the great beyond... beyond.

Sub/Dub | Netflix ‼️ TW: implied death, gun violence, knife violence, murder, gore, portrayal of death (repeatedly), bullying (arguably)

Kotaro Lives Alone (series) - Despite following the daily life of an overly polite 4 year old with the diction of an honorably chivalrous samurai, this show's innocuous story telling will have you ugly crying.

Sub/Dub | Netflix ‼️ TW: implied abuse (child and/or domestic), implied verbal abuse, neglect, stalking, grief/loss, implied death, implied mental illness

Terror in Resonance (series) - this is a psychological thriller and social critique on a lost generation. It follows two young boys who employ the use of widespread fear to bring focus and sympathy to their mission, one they desperately feel is worth risking their freedom and lives for. This may be the least likely to be a tear jerker on this list but worth a watch.

Sub/Dub | Funimation ‼️ TW: major character death, grief/loss, gun violence, bombing, implied murder/suicide, terrorism, child abuse

[immortalled]

o h! even though i don’t write them on tumblr, i would love to write luke (cherrybomb), bj (red riding), and nikolai (sway lake) with more people, perhaps small things on discord. they’re both somewhat trigger-heavy (particularly bj, especially bj) but i’m happy to avoid some topics for the sake of interaction. brief blurbs about each character + potential trigger warnings under the cut. [spoilers]

luke - 16. belfast, ireland. son to local addict “smiley”. luke’s elder brother and prominent drug boss, chris, allows luke and smiley to stay in his flat as long as they deal the drugs he provides. there isn’t a lot else to say about luke, but he’s very similar to nathan in terms of personality. happy to write him pre or post film.

possible luke tws - drug addiction, mentions of suicide or suicidal ideation, domestic abuse, murder (but the worst / most likely would be dealing with drug addiction, particularly to cocaine and heroin) 

wants - i’m mostly interested in writing luke escaping the hold drug dealing has over his life or, post-film, luke trying to get back on his feet after murdering crilly. however he’s punished legally, i imagine that his already shaky rep would be shattered after this, and belfast would be alive with rumors. chris would likely be arrested as well, and it would be interesting to write luke finding his own path perhaps with the help or hindrance of another muse. alternatively, i’m down for pre-film shenanigans at school or parties, or whatever. not too picky with luke. i just know i would like to try writing him.

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

barry james “bj” anderson - age uncertain, but no older than mid-twenties depending on verse. yorkshire, england. 1970s-early 1980s. trafficking survivor and male sex worker. heavy religious trauma. book!bj is most likely transgender female, but since i’m mostly film-based bc of rob and film!bj always refers to himself in the masculine, i would probably write him as genderfluid. 

personality-wise, he’s intriguing in that he sometimes almost appears to flip-flop between people: the fragile, shrinking violet (often speaks in third person; seems to come out when speaking about the past or traumatic events) and the bold, streetwise survivor (speaks in first person; seems more prominent when speaking of the present or when threatened??). he can be very loud, or almost non-verbal. shy, or shamelessly flirtatious. reckless, or terrified and over-cautious. bj’s personality and coping mechanisms are fascinating to me and i’d like to better understand that part of his character.

possible bj tws - everything you can possibly think of tbh. the red riding world is dark, unforgiving, and cruel, especially to people like bj. there are some things i can’t quite avoid (transphobia and homophobia directed toward bj, and the struggles with severe c-ptsd) but i know that his world and character would be difficult for many people, so i’m happy to gloss over whatever topics people are uncomfortable to discuss ic. just know that whether or not they’re explicitly mentioned, i will write about their effects on bj, as they’re extremely important to his character, and, i think, to red riding’s harsh criticism of police, politics, and capitalism.

wants - similarly with luke, i’m most interested in giving bj the happy ending he deserves. i love whump and angst, those are my bread and butter, but what i crave most is the healing afterward. and no one deserves that healing more than bj, who struggles with his sense of self. i want to see him find peace and happiness, friendship and love, and a sense of meaning and worth in a senseless world that has treated him like a commodity rather than a person. too, i think, i’d love for him to be free to express himself how he feels most comfortable. just... honestly ALL the good things for bj. i want him to be happy g o s h DARN IT lol.

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

nikolai - age uncertain but probably early to mid twenties. russian. thief. currently living in the usa. ex-black marketer dealing in grave robbing. a regular casanova with dreams of grandeur and a deep longing for something he can’t quite place. friendly and warm, but deeply misogynistic for someone who seems so romantic and open-minded. nikolai has a way of adopting the personalities of people he admires or wants to emulate, and frankly it’s very unhealthy and borderline obsessive... but fun to writ lol. i may write him alongside his best friend ollie sway, since ollie means so much to him, and without him, nikolai would be homeless, but if that gets in the way of plot, i can always find a way to get rid of him.

possible nikolai tws - not a lot, really. the worst that might come up besides his very dated and ridiculous views of women (lmao) would be mentions of depression and suicide (as ollie’s father committed suicide, and ollie himself canonically entertains the idea of it). nikolai is unlikely to bring that up, but it isn’t impossible. 

wants - frankly i have no ideas. i just like writing nikolai, especially when i can have him talk about his dad, or russia, or something he’s passionate about, or writing him being a big asshole. his particular brand of assholery is fun. but so is his romanticism.

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

between the three, i think i’m most interested in bj since the red riding books and their murder mysteries currently have me in their grim chokehold, and he’s quite a step away from more nathan-esque characters sheehan has played. but, like i said, i also know bj would be trigger city for many and super squicky for most due to the heavy topics it carries, so. y’know. i’m not gonna be too picky.

[cute-little-spaceboy]

Do you like dark reads? Do you like fantasy and magical worlds? Do you like the entire Victorian timeliness and all it's beautiful architecture, costumes, and aesthetic? Most importantly, do you like unique and quirky characters that are constantly being developed, drawn, written, and shipped by the author?

Look no further!

I currently have a WIP on a writing app called Quotev, and it has all of the previously mentioned things and more! If you enjoy stories with fantasy themes and sort of Dungeons and Dragons vibes to them, you will probably like this.

Quick warning, things get really dark really fast. It is one hundred percent uncensored. While there will be no explicit sex scenes or anything, there are many themes that may be triggering to some readers. (I will list the potentially triggering themes below) As well as the usual language warning and all that fun stuff.

If you would be interested in reading it, this is the link: https://www.quotev.com/story/13998972/A-Tale-of-Trapped-Ravens

I would LOVE some feedback on it seeing as it is still in production, and eventually, it will be a real book, hopefully it will even get published for real. So any feedback I can get is great. While it isn't necessarily nsfw, I would advise minors to stay away because of mass violence and mature themes.

Tw: violence, heavy blood and gore, mentions of being unfaithful and the such, kidnapping, child slavery/trafficking/rape/labor, Cult mention and mass homicide, torture, possible self harm, suicide mentions, public execution,, Stockholm syndrome, gaslighting, and of course, everything that comes with the magic world.

I will try and update the list if anything comes up, but do not come at me if you get triggered by something that I explicitly warned against. Even on the website, it's listed as mature, so be cautious when reading. If some heavy topic comes along in a chapter, I will put a trigger warning at the beginning of the chapter.

[venicebixch]

my bad I should of added trigger warnings, TW🚨 mentions of SW, s3x tr4fficking, r*p4/ SA, cp, k!dnapping, ab*se, poverty, if any of these things make u uncomfortable, please skip this post. 🚨🚨

There is no ethical SW. And no one will be able to convince me otherwise. And saying "some people enjoy it" fails to address the fact that the only SWs that have a voice are mostly wealthy women. of course the top 0.1% OF girlies are gonna say SW is enjoyable, most werent trafficked, forced into it, and aren't rAp3d daily. 89 % of SWers want to leave the industry but don't have any other options for survival. If all women had access to financial stability/education there would be next to none doing SW. SW is done for survival and money. If money is the sole motivator for consent it is not Consent, and a Study done across 9 countries shows 90% of prOst!tut3d women want to leave the industry 71% were physically @ssaulted in PrOst!tution; 63% were r*ped and 68% met criteria for PTSD. There are Childen on 🌽 websites who have been k!dn4pp3d and p**** company's are profiting off of it. || mindgeek was sued for knowingly profiting off of r*pe, cp, trafficking and other nonconsensual S3xual content, girls do p*n was sued and shut down for many nonconsenual s3xual acts, abuse, trafficking and coercion of female actresses. gdp owners, Michael Pratt and Matthew Wolfe, and male performer Andre Garcia, were charged with sex trafficking by force, fraud, or coercion. want me to go on? I can also show u the testimonies of SWers, but oh no. Some people find it enjoyable. yasssss!!!!… this isn't hate. Just saying u should really look into what women have been saying for years, this is the Oldest form of oppression ever. Yet its taken so lightly?

SA and SW discussion below

my original point was that there is ethical sex work and nonethical sex work. of course someone being coerced into it isn’t ethical, people being stripped of their power to say no isn’t ethical. but there are many people are choose to do sex work and enjoy it and are fully in control. to minimize their fully consenting and in control decision to be a sex workers is wrong and does nothing but perpetuate a stigma and when they face stigma, their power is stripped from them. their power to leave, the power to say no, the ability to come forward and be taken serious when they ARE assaulted is diminished when we stigmatize and shun sex workers as a whole.

prostitution is a whole different ball park because sex workers in other forms aren’t physically active with their clients or with people outside of a consenting and controlled environment, but i would still argue that it should be decriminalized because of my points above - decriminalizing it takes away the power of the abusers and puts in back into the hands of the sex worker.

regarding porn sites and other outlets that have potentially abusive material on it, THAT is when the law should step in and enforce regulations. and it’s the responsibility of the platform itself; pornhub for example took all videos from non verified users off a few years ago, which is a great step in the right direction. it also comes down to the individuals who consume the content to be aware and make sure what they’re watching is ethical.

and if you want to argue that people in sex work are driven by money and can’t consent because of it then you can apply that logic to every job - from factory jobs that expose you to hazardous materials to nursing that puts you at risk for back/neck/knee injuries to NFL players who get beat up and crippled on the field. if sex work is unethical because it’s driven by money, then so is every job.

[aikoeisbon]

Hi there! I was wondering if you could write a Levi x Reader fic where reader has PTSD (nightmares and/or whatever of a squad member kept making inappropriate jokes and made reader feel uncomfortable and they weren’t handling it strongly enough). Levi kind of notices their shut down behaviour or whatever? Hurt comfort? You don’t have to but the self harm u wrote was therapeutic for him and also this request is as well. No pressure tho! Most prefer not to write such triggering subjects ^^”

Of course. I suffer from a lot of these things myself, which is why I write them. It's a way I cope, so I hope my writings are therapeutic to others as well❤️

One of Those Days

Levi x Reader

TW: PTSD, Abuse/Trauma/Death

Levi had just begun to dose off when he felt your body stiffen beneath his arm, and no sooner than he had noticed that, you began to tremble as well.

"Another one of those nights.", he thought as he tightened his grip on your waist, pulling your back against his chest. As you began to whimper, he nuzzled into your neck.

"I'm here," He murmured, holding you securely against him. "I'm here." Your eyes shot open, your body jolting as your brain forced you out of a nightmare- a nightmare you once lived through. Tears leaked down your cheeks and you shudder, pulling your hands to your face to muffle quiet sobs. Levi knew what was happening. He knew what hell you had endured and was here to remind you he was there to ensure you never experienced such trauma again. He would protect you, even from yourself if need be.

"Levi... I can't- I can't do this anymore." You quivered, your voice shaking along with your violent tremors. You felt as thought you couldn't catch your breath, that suddenly Levi was too close and you needed room to breathe.

"Yes you can. You lived through it, it can't get any worse." Levi loosened his hold on you as you wiggled away, sitting up in bed and cradling yourself. "Talk through it baby." Your husband mumbled, adjusting the way he was laying to prop himself up on one arm, resting his head in one hand and reaching out for your leg with the other. He knew that touching you- even something as simple as an absentminded rubbing of your leg- helped keep you from disassociating by making you feel grounded. At first, you struggled to speak as you began to go through the motions of your trauma that had just relived itself through your nightmare. As you continued, the tears fell more freely, and your sentences became more fluid as well. Levi took note of this- you were feeling, not speaking matter-of-fact about your trauma as you usually did on nights like these. When you were finished talking, he relayed that observation to you. "I'm proud of you." He commented. "It's progress. See, you can do it."

The rough night had left it's mark on your face, your tired eyes and dark bags matching your husband's common countenance. You fidgeted with your wedding ring as you took your place among the lunch table with other cadets. Having gone through training earlier that morning, you were just now feeling the full effect of your fatigue.

"You okay there, y/n?" Eren wondered as you sat your tray down.

"Just fine. Why?" You replied with a forcibly positive tone.

"You look like you've seen a titan." Conny stated, his mouth half-full and drawing the others' attention.

"Other things as terrifying as titans exist." Mikasa stated coldly, warranting Jean's attention.

"Like Captain Levi. Conny's right, so... If it wasn't a titan, did you get into a fight with him?"

"Eren, normal people find titans to be much scarier than a short old man. Be a suicidal manic and rush towards their gaping mouths all you want, but I'd rather get beaten and strangled by the Captain daily than see one of those giant freaks ever again." Jean's words forced your blood to run cold. You had to fight to keep yourself from reacting, and your internal focus drowned out Mikasa's stifled laughter about the statement regarding your husband.

"You don't know what he's like! He's strong enough to kill dozens of titans in the blink of an eye, you think he wouldn't snap your neck like a twig?!" Eren slammed his fists on the table.

"Honestly... the only person that scares me more than Captain Levi is Squad Leader Hange... Did you hear those screams when Sannes was getting tortured?" Conny added with a wide-eyed expression. The entire table became grim, nodding in agreement.

"...On second thought, I'd prefer being kept in the cell for the rest of my life than being forced to scream like that." Eren spoke quietly.

"There are worse things than titans and the two others." Armin piped in. "Sex traffickers, organ harvesters, cannibalists, rapists-"

"You could easily kill all of those without getting squished like a titan would. What idiot would get themselves caught in a situation like that anyways?" Jean snorted. His world was flipped upside down without a moment's notice as Levi yanked him from his seat and dropped him to the ground.

Your husband had been listening in from some distance away. His cheerful, noisy wife had fallen silent, and he immediately recognized what the stiffness in your body meant the second he looked over. Only then he began paying attention to what was said from his table. He heard his name come up a few times, watched from the corner of his eye as you pushed your untouched tray of food away from you. Then, when the dark, flippant comments of traumatic topics began, Levi rose from his table among the other commanders and made his way towards you.

"You've got quite the mouth for a boy who's never lived the horrors you mock." Levi spat as he stood above the man sprawled on the ground. "And what were those comments about me?" He inquired, glaring daggers as he shot the rest of the group a sidelong glance. The expressions on all of their faces could equate to one thing: "oh shit, he heard us." In the meantime, Sasha took the opportunity to sneak food off of your tray. "Tch." Levi stepped away from Jean, allowing him to upright himself as he reached for your shoulder. A simple touch, a reminder that he was here to protect you from the memories that plagued you. Without so much as a word, you got up to follow him into another room where the two of you ate lunch in peaceful privacy. Jean rubbed the back of his head as he plopped back onto his benchseat.

"I take what I said back about Captain Levi... He's scarier than a titan."

[ignoxinia]

Life always comes first on this blog. I understand all Muns have shit that happens and cannot always be right on top of replies or icons, and aesthetics. With that being said, I do not expect you to always keep every thread or want to answer every ask of mine.

Mun is 25+ and will not RP with anyone under 18. This blog mainly consists of violence, sex, angst, death, and some taboo themes. Please do not follow if you are uncomfortable with this. I will tag upon request and add to this list. Tag: #trigger tw.

Trypophobia

Slavery

Rape

Sex trafficking

Incest/ mentioning of

Death

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My main muse is James Rosier, some info can be found under #bio until I get an actual bio up. Secondary muse for my main genre Harry Potter is Jahil Rosier; James' son. Feel free to ask me anything about my muses.

[thediamondolls]

Mobile Rules

.ABOOT..     …   written by siren, 30+, she/they, pst + 7 ( us west coast ) based. generally offline saturdays and sundays.  BIOS FOR CANON AND OC’S WILL BE UPDATED AS I GET THEM DONE BUT FOR NOW HAVE SOME OLD ONES UNIL I BECOME LESS LAZY LOL.

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sexual content may appear on this blog and will always be tagged and under a readmore.

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[sondepoch]

Breaking (4/5)

Breaking the Collar

Nine months in the human trafficking circuit has destroyed every sense of normality you ever knew. For you, it's commonplace to be ordered on your knees for your owner, his clients, anyone else Childe deems necessary—and you've reached a point where you accept it this misery, just going along with the motions of life because there's nothing else to do.

Diluc and Kaeya change that.

They enter your life on a regular workday afternoon, stepping inside Childe's massive office under the pretense of sorting out a business deal, but a single hastily written message makes it clear that they're not here to hurt you: they're here to help you.

The only issue is that you have no idea how to escape Childe.

Fastened | Unlockable | Lighter | Breaking | Broken | Gone | ✔

MASTERLIST

Childe is broken. 

That’s the only way to explain it, really.

Something in him seemed to change after his meeting with Diluc and Kaeya. The lazy smiles, playful grins, and rugged charms that Childe used to project as naturally as light off the sun have evaporated into thin air, leaving nothing but a shell of a man you once thought to be so powerful.

“Ajax,” you whisper, calling his name to wake him up. All he really needs to do is open his eyes. You know that he’s already awake, long used to how rhythmic the rise and fall of his chest is from months of sleeping by his side, but the redhead ignores you, pressing his head deeper into the crook of your neck.

“Ajax,” you repeat, frustration beginning to drip into your tone. “Ajax, you have to wake up.”

Except that he doesn’t actually have to.

The man received an onslaught of calls the day after his meeting with Diluc and Kaeya, all of which he answered with varying degrees of frustration, but ever since then, his phone has been radio silent. Where Childe used to be out of bed every day by eleven and in his office by twelve to attend to his meetings, he’s now done nothing but stay in bed all day—and the worst part is that no one seems to care, his phone completely silent save for the daily calls he’s been avoiding from Scaramouche.

Where a few days ago, you were annoyed with the fact that he forced you to do nothing with him for hours on end, not even fucking you at night the way he always used to, now, you’ve begun to grow concerned.

“Ajax, get up.”

You try to pull his head off your shoulder in hopes that you can force him to at least look you in the eye, but the way he instantly stiffens and burrows deeper into your shoulder is proof enough that he’s not going anywhere.

You sigh.

This marks the third day where he’s refused to even brush his teeth in the morning, the fourth where he’s refused to speak. If your life were anything normal, you’d have forced him up long ago—but you’re hardly in a position to pretend you have any authority over him. It’s clear that he knows that, too.

“Ajax, I really need you to get up...”

—which is a true statement, surprisingly. 

The plan you’d developed to initiate your escape, perfected over the car ride back from Childe’s meeting with Diluc and Kaeya, was simple: snag a knife from the kitchen in Childe’s apartment, sneak into his office, use said knife to tear open the briefcase you know must have your documents inside of it, and then start running to the hotel Diluc and Kaeya said they’d be in.

You spent hours perfecting this: figuring out where Childe would be most likely to store the kitchen knives, what time of day will be best for sneaking out, and even what clothing you’ll wear when running away, since you can’t exactly run through the streets of Snezhnaya in your usual birthday suit, and for once, it seemed like the stars had actually aligned for you.

Unfortunately, when you developed your plan, you hadn’t accounted for Childe’s sudden change in behavior.

“Ajax, please…”

But the man barely even shifts in response. 

Hours later, after you’ve long given up on waking him and have instead decided to join him in his slumber, you both wake up together to a voice much louder than either of yours.

“What the fuck,” Childe groans, throat hoarse from not speaking for days on end, “is that sound.”

In your opinion, it’s pretty clear what that sound is: Scaramouche’s aggressively loud shouts of “Open the fuck up!” and “Stop dodging my calls!” and “Get out of bed, asshat!” accompanied by a nonstop banging that makes you grateful no one else lives on this floor doesn’t leave much to the imagination.

Instead, all you say is a quiet ”I think that’s Scaramouche.”

Childe withdraws his head from your neck with a mocking glare as the intensity of Scaramouche’s banging increases. 

“I’m coming in, dickweed!” the man shouts from many rooms over, and that’s the only warning you and Childe get before you hear what has to be the sound of a door being kicked in.

“Did he just…”

Childe stares at you in shock.

A small smile flits onto your face, grateful that someone has finally come to snap Childe back to his senses.

Scaramouche doesn’t bother quieting his footsteps as he stomps towards the master bedroom. He throws the door open with such force that you almost fear it'll rebound straight back into his face, but Scaramouche is across the room with his hands around Childe’s neck so fast that you’ve barely blinked before your owner’s head is being bashed against the bedframe.

“What the fuck,” Scaramouche snarls. “Made you think it was a good idea to tell anyone that you were the one who lost Lumine.”

“I didn’t—” 

Your owner’s voice is cut off when Scaramouche grips Childe’s neck and wordlessly threatens to hurt him again.

“Do you know how many problems this will cause? No one wants to work with you anymore, Tartaglia.”

“I know, and—”

Scaramouche pushes Childe’s head back into the bed frame, albeit with a little less force this time.

“No one wants to work with me anymore for having worked with you. Same for Signora and Dottore.”

“There’s nothing I can—”

“And all your big clients somehow got wind of it, too. They’re trying to switch over, and they’re all going to traffickers who aren’t associated with the Fatui because you—”

“Do you think I fucking wanted people to find out?”

It’s the first proper sentence you’ve heard from Childe since he left that meeting room with Diluc and Kaeya.

“Do you think I fucking want the literal shittiest people in the world thinking that they can look down on me?” Childe shoves Scaramouche off him, blue eyes narrowing into a glare. “I’ve already lost everything, asshole, so I don’t need you here if all you’re going to do is remind me of that.”

Scaramouche’s face settles into a frown, though you do see a hint of apology in his eyes. The pain in Childe’s voice didn’t go lost on anyone in this room.

“You smell like shit,” Scaramouche says abruptly, looking away. “Take a shower. We’ll figure out how to fix this after that.”

Childe doesn’t say anything at that, merely stepping out of bed in his sweatpants and walking to the bathroom.

“Go with him,” Scaramouche tells you. “You smell even worse.”

You’re partially insulted, partially grateful when Scaramouche says that. Insulted because, well, it can hardly be considered your fault that your owner clung to you in his bed for days on end without letting you shower. Grateful because after watching Childe do nothing for so long, you’re not sure he’ll even be able to take a proper shower on his own. 

“Ajax?” you whisper softly, following him into the bathroom. “Ajax, should I—”

“Be quiet,” he whispers. Childe steps inside the shower, eyes downcast. “Please,” he adds in a softer voice.

The man doesn’t start the shower until you’ve stepped in beside him, and you’re jarred when you realize how familiar this position is. It reminds you of how, months ago, when Childe first declared you his favorite and began inviting you to spend the night with him in his apartment, he brought you with him to the shower because he couldn’t trust you to be alone for so long. It was probably his first step in his attempts to win you over, since even back then, he was always so touchy with you, always asking what your preferred shampoo scents were and insisting that you let him wash your hair.

Back then, you were the sullen one, timid to speak and hesitant to look your owner in the eye. When he washed your hair for you, it was all you could do to shut your eyes and wait for his touch to go away, but now...

“Let me,” you tell him when he reaches for a bottle of shampoo.

It’s the first time you’ve ever initiated anything like this. You hold your breath, wondering if Childe will refuse you.

Wordlessly, the man bows his head to you.

You don’t entirely know what compels you to massage shampoo into his hair with such tenderness. A part of you says that it’s because you feel guilty, since it’s obvious by now that your slip-up to Kaeya that Lumine and Childe were connected is what’s resulted in his current plight, but another part of you does it simply because it feels natural. Standing next to him, his body blocking out most of the water as you let the soapy suds rinse from his hair, feels homey. Peaceful. Pleasant, almost as if the relationship between you isn’t owner and slave, as if the two of you are actually equals and you’re simply caring for him out of the goodness of your heart.

Childe seems to sense it, too, because right after you’ve washed conditioner from his hair and have finally begun using a loofah to clean his body, he stops your arms. He holds them loosely, just enough strength in his fingertips so that you know he wants you to stop but still sufficiently little that you’d be able to keep moving if you want to, and the two of you stand there like that for much too long, naked and vulnerable, staring into each other’s eyes as warm water beats down at you.

“I…”

It’s the first time Childe is actually speaking to you in such a long time, and his eyes soften the way they always do when he looks at you and makes you feel like you’re the only thing to exist in this world.

“I think I—”

“Hurry up in there!” The sound of Scaramouche kicking the door ruins the moment, and Childe abruptly drops your wrists from his hold. He steps back quickly, almost as if realizing how close his lips had moved towards yours, and a familiar pink stains his cheeks as he glances away from you and hurriedly scrubs the rest of his body clean. 

“Sorry,” he blurts, so quick and uncomfortable that it almost reminds you of how he normally is. You’d believe it, too, if not for the slight twinge of distance in his eyes that tells you he’s still thinking about Lumine or whatever it is that has him so out of it. “Uh, thanks. I’m, uh, gonna go. Gotta talk to him, y’know? You can, uh, finish up in here.”

You almost want to laugh at how awkward Childe is as he steps out of the shower and towels off to brush his teeth, blue eyes flickering to your form only to glance away in embarrassment when he realizes that he’s being watched.

“I’ll put new clothes on the bed for you, so…”

Childe nods stiffly at you and closes the door, and it’s all you can do to blink after him. 

Ten minutes later, once you’re fully clean for the first time in much too long and you’ve worn the clothes lain out for you on the bed, you make your exit from the master bedroom and follow the sound of voices into the living room.

“Listen, I—”

“Wait.” Childe puts up a hand, gesturing for you to come over. Wordless, you do, though it surprises you when your owner lets you sit at his side instead of on his lap. “Alright, continue.”

Scaramouche rolls his eyes the slightest before going on:

“All I was saying was that your career might be salvageable if you relocate. Let’s say you drop the name Tartaglia and instead fill the role of Capitano. You’ll have to move to Sumeru, but you might be able to continue your work there. Everyone now knows that Tartaglia was responsible for losing Lumine, but as long as you don’t tell people in Sumeru that you were Tartaglia, no one should question you there.”

“I hate everything about that plan,” Childe says, crossing his arms. “I don’t even know what language they speak there. I’ll be the foreigner. Everyone will think that I came to Sumeru as a last resort because I couldn't sell my merch anywhere else. Do you know how much I made fun of those two Mondstadt pricks for trying to do business here? They didn’t even have accents either, so imagine what people will say when I—”

“You don’t exactly have the luxury of caring about what people will say behind your back.” Scaramouche glances away, sensing that it’s a low blow. “I mean, listen. No one wants to work with you anymore, and this is the only way ‘you’ can become someone else.”

But Childe remains silent.

“You can keep all your merchandise,” Scaramouche continues. “In fact, the people in Sumeru will probably like that, since it means that the girls won’t know the language and they won’t be able to escape or ask for help. Hell, you can even bring her—”

“Is that even a question?” Childe asks defensively, a hand wrapping protectively around your knee. “Listen, Scaramouche, I appreciate you trying to help me, but Sumeru isn’t—”

“Isn’t what? Isn’t ideal? You letting it slip that you’re the imbecile who lost Lumine wasn’t ideal, but look where it—”

“I didn’t say shit!” Childe hisses in response. “Do you seriously think I’m that dumb? That I’d let those two Mondstadt pricks, of all people, know something that could destroy my career? That has now destroyed my career?”

“If not you, then who, Tartaglia? The only people who know are a part of the Fatui, and it’s not like—”

Scaramouche gestures to you wildly, evidently about to say that it’s not like you could have known, except that he now remembers that he did let mention Lumine in front of you to Childe once, and you can see the moment where he connects the dots.

“You fucking bitch,” Scaramouche whispers, eyes wide with fury and shock.

“No,” Childe says, standing up abruptly. “She didn’t say it intentionally. She still doesn’t know who Lumine is.”

“But she told someone, Tartaglia. You’re literally going to be kicked out of Snezhnaya because of her, and you still want to protect her?”

Childe’s mouth forms a thin line.

Scaramouche laughs mirthlessly.

“Fucking hell. Do you think this is a joke? Your life isn’t the only one she sabotaged, Tartaglia. Everyone in the Fatui is suffering, and if you keep letting yourself get seduced by your fucking toys, you should just quit being a human trafficker before one of us shoots you.”

Tartaglia says nothing.

“You’re a disappointment. At this point, you’ve caused more trouble for us than you have good. Everything you do seems to be another international incident, and I’m fucking sick of it.”

More silence.

“It’s people like you that make me terrified to retire. The more I talk to you, the more I think that you would have been better off as a slave rather than the owner. I never should have let you move up. You were built for taking dick, not for trying to control it.”

Your eyes widen as Childe remains silent.

“And you know who takes the blame every time you fuck up? Me. It’s me. Everyone in the goddamn Fatui thinks I made a bad call now when I set you free and, I’m going to be honest, I’m beginning to think they’re ri—

Childe stiffens next to you, standing.

“That’s enough,” he says, the look in his eyes dark. “What’s done is done,” he says. “Or do you need to vent some more?”

Scaramouche crosses his hands, a look of...regret? embarrassment? pity? Flickering across his eyes. He stands up with an unreadable look on his face. 

“I’m...being serious. Consider whether or not you still want to work in the Fatui. This is the best shot you’ll have at leaving.” Scaramouche’s eyes flit over to you, where Childe’s hand is now wrapped protectively around your waist. “Though if I’m honest, I don’t think you even want to be a human trafficker anymore.”

Childe says nothing to that, merely waving casually as Scaramouche exits the apartment through the hole he made in the door. You wince when you see the damage, wanting to ask your owner how he plans on repairing it, but another question is more pressing on your mind:

“Ajax?”

“Yes?”

“Who’s Lumine?”

Your owner looks at you, brushing his thumb by your cheek as his eyes take on a nostalgic tint. 

“I’ll tell you some other time.”

Childe goes back to his bad sleeping habits as soon as Scaramouche leaves. Within seconds, your owner is shirtless and has flopped onto the bed, shooting you a pleading look to curl up next to him. Thankfully, this spell seems to last a little shorter than the previous one because although the man refuses to get out of bed, he at least entertains you with a conversation.

“What else?” you ask, a playful smile on your face as Childe continues telling you stories about Xiangling. 

“Well, there was this one time where some kid was making fun of Xiangling for being bad at art, so she and I decided that we’d bring in sandwiches for the entire class and make his extra spicy. I actually helped her with the cooking process and all, so I watched how much chili she put into the sauce she was going to use for this kid’s sandwich and it was ridiculous, like I thought she was trying to murder him or something, but anyway, we get to school and start handing out the sandwiches, and…”

You’re completely enthralled as Childe tells you the story of how he had to go to the nurse’s office because he, unfortunately, was the poor soul to eat the overly-spicy sandwich through a Xiangling-esque mix-up—and you don’t care that he’s probably making it up just to see you laugh, all that matters is that the man is smiling and talking and not staring miserably at the ceiling the way he has been for the past few days.

“You should try that the next time you’re in a business meeting with someone you don’t like,” you say, giggling. “It would be such a flex if they thought that you could eat something so spicy while they’d struggle.”

“Maybe,” Childe chuckles. “I really wanted to do something like that to those two Mondstadt pricks—and it might work, too, since they’re at least still doing business with me—but they already left the country.”

“What?” you ask in alarm, fear presenting itself as excitement through the speed with which you respond.

“Yeah,” Childe hums. “They had to go early or something. I guess it’s fine since we already agreed on the mode of transportation, but—”

“Wait, really? B-but hasn’t it been less than two weeks since your last meeting with them?”

Alarm bells begin to ring inside your mind. You remember—you swear you remember the two of them telling you that you’d have at least two weeks to get the documents before they’d leave. But could it be that they’ve forgotten about you? What if they decided you were trouble? What if they know that you’ve begun to grow close to Childe as of recent? What if they—fuck—you’ve actually begun to like the redhead, haven’t you? The fact that he’s not bringing to meetings anymore, handing your body off to be fucked like a toy before he takes you back, has made you forget that the man in front of you is a monster, hasn’t it? Could they somehow know?

A pool of dread rises in your stomach.

What you did today in the shower, willingly touching him and showing him affection he’s done nothing to deserve, was disgraceful. How can you expect Diluc and Kaeya to free you if you’re not even doing your best to be freed? What if they know about what happened today? What if they think you’re a lost cause? What if they abandoned you here because of your own naivety, and you’re cursed to a life of human trafficking for the rest of your days because of your own idiocy?

“Angel?” Childe asks, cupping your cheek. You violently flinch away from his touch, a defensive anger creeping into your eyes. “Angel, I—what? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I…”

You shut your eyes, reminding yourself of your position. He may not be using you right now, but Childe is a human trafficker. You’re nothing more than his favorite toy. Getting close to him like this will do nothing but hinder your escape.

“It’s nothing,” you say, averting your eyes. Still, you make no effort to return to Childe’s warm embrace. “Just, um, tired. I’m going to take a nap.”

Childe must know that what you’re saying is utter bullshit, primarily because these past few days have been nothing but sleep and rest and more sleep, but he doesn’t push it. “Alright,” he says, leaning forward to kiss your cheek.

You turn away from him before he can get close. 

There’s a strange sound Childe makes, then. It’s something between a sigh and whimper, dejected and hurt all at once, but you don’t turn around to check on him. He’s a monster, you tell yourself, forcing the image of Childe looking like a kicked puppy out of your mind. A fucking monster.

And the only two people in the world who are willing to get you away from this monster may have just abandoned you, so you really need to get your shit together.

Pretending to be asleep comes naturally to you after nine months of learning that sleep, even if feigned, was the only escape you could ever have from this life. Hours pass until Childe really has fallen into slumber, something you test by calling his name out quietly, and then you know that it’s time to go—or to at least go do what you can.

You’re abruptly grateful that you and Childe went to bed right after Scaramouche left because it means that you’re fully clothed, which is an unnatural state for someone like you. When you quietly climb out of bed and out of Childe’s apartment through the hole Scaramouche made in his front door, it almost makes you feel normal because even though you’re still dressed in a cutesy skirt and blouse, you’re not being accompanied by the one man who has never let you go outside alone.

When you finally take the elevator down the ground floor of Childe’s building, no one pays you a second glance as you walk out the front door.

Then, your mind is abuzz.

Don’t look at anyone, you tell yourself because you know that if you have a panic attack here, no one will be able to save you. Don’t look at anyone, just go to the hotel.

Hours of pretending to be asleep helped you sort out your thoughts: it makes sense that Childe would believe Diluc and Kaeya to be gone. After all, they don’t want your owner getting any ideas that they were the ones to free you; however, you need to make sure that they’re actually here. 

And besides, you reason to yourself as you cross the street and step towards the hotel you’ve seen so many times across Childe’s apartment. It’s best to make sure I know where they are so that I don’t get confused when I actually escape. It’s important to do this.

With your eyes locked on the ground the whole time, you enter the hotel and take the elevator to the second floor where rooms 213 and 214 will be, just as Diluc and Kaeya instructed. No one pays you any attention, as if reminding you of your insignificance, but you’re grateful for how invisible you seem to be as you exit an empty elevator and wander down a carpeted hall. 

This hotel is a considerable downgrade from the extravagant location Diluc and Kaeya were renting out as a front for their supposed trafficking, but it sets you at ease. When you finally stand in front of room 213, it looks almost...normal.

Hesitant, you raise a hand and rap your knuckles against the wood.

“E-excuse me?” you ask, tension beginning to seep in. “Is anyone—are—Diluc? Kaeya?”

Their names sound foreign off your tongue but you repeat them anyway, the intensity of your knocking increasing until you’re practically banging on the door the way Scaramouche was this morning. 

No response.

Panic begins to surface, and you quickly switch over to room 214, not bothering to start knocking quietly as you bang on the door desperately.

“Is anyone there?” you call, trying to keep your voice sufficiently low so as to not disturb other patrons of the hotel, but it’s really hard when your fears that Diluc and Kaeya really have abandoned you grow truer and truer with each passing second. “Please!” you sob, practically kicking the door in your attempts to will it into opening. “Diluc! Kaeya! You—you promised you’d—”

The door opens right as you’re about to bang your fists against it once more, and an incredibly annoyed and shirtless Diluc stands to catch both your fists right before you can hit his chest with them.

“I’m here,” he says in that familiar, deep voice of his. “Calm down. I’m here.”

“Oh,” you say, relief suddenly washing through you as you practically go boneless in front of him. You know it’s inappropriate, that the two of you share no real relationship other than the fact that he’s trying to help you escape, but you can’t help the way you instinctively throw yourself forward to embrace him. “Thank you,” you practically sob into his chest. “Thank you for being here.”

“I—” Diluc is quick to pull you back, and he levels his stare with you just as he wipes the tears from your cheeks. “Did you escape? Do you have the documents?”

The redhead glances around the hall once to confirm that no one is watching before he pulls you inside his room. You’re surprised to see a gagged and naked Venti on his bed, the boy’s eyes round in...fear? concern? You’re not sure. The gag surprises you until you remember Kaeya’s previous declaration that Venti was a masochist. He must be into BDSM, too.

“No,” you tell the man, shaking your head. “I just—Ajax told me that you and Kaeya left. S-so I wanted to check to see if you’d actually…”

It sounds stupid when you say it out loud. From the face Diluc is making, he seems to be thinking the same thing.

“Okay,” he says, effectively inviting you in as he walks back inside the room. He approaches the dresser to slip on the black and red gloves you saw from him last time, wearing them before moving to sit on the bed next to Venti, big hands cupping the boy’s slender thighs. “Okay, we’re here. And we’re not going anywhere anytime soon.”

“Okay,” you respond, trying your hardest not to look at Venti. It’s clear that you walked in on an intimate moment. “Um…”

“We were having sex.”

Your cheeks burn. “Right,” you say, nodding your head. “That’s—um—all I—just wanted to check—going to—”

“Don’t leave unless you’re sure that there’s nothing you need,” Diluc says. “We can help you, you know. Give you a lockpick or a hammer or even a gun if that’s what it’ll take to get you access to those documents.”

“No, I’m…”

A soft smile floats onto your face. Awkward as he may be, you’re sure that this is just Diluc’s stoic way of being nice. 

“I’m good. I already have a plan for the documents.” You’re about to smile and make your leave when you remember something that’s been at the forefront of your mind for ages. “But…”

Diluc lifts an eyebrow, waiting.

“Um...you don’t need to answer this, i-it’s actually not relevant, so I should—”

“What is it.”

Somehow, when Diluc says that with such a sharp gaze, it feels like less of a question and more of a demand.

You shudder, familiar with the sensation. Nine months of training makes your response automatic:

“Do you know what happened to Lumine?”

Diluc’s face changes. 

“I mean—you don’t have to tell me. I was just curious. Ajax keeps talking about her and Scaramouche kept mentioning her and I don’t understand why she’s so important, so I haven’t—”

“Lumine was the name of a human trafficking slave who escaped,” Diluc says, folding his arms. Next to him, Venti leans into him and pulls his knees in, hiding his manhood. “I don’t know any exact dates, since there was probably a gap between when she escaped and when people began finding out, but it happened sometime within the past two years.”

“O...kay?” You cock your head to the side. That...honestly doesn’t sound like a big deal at all, honestly. Slaves escape all the time: heck, Scaramouche said that Xiao disappeared just a few weeks ago, so why isn’t Zhongli facing the same loss in business that Childe’s going through?

Diluc seems to see the confusion on your face.

“The thing was, when Lumine escaped, she took important documents with her.” Oh, you think, beginning to understand why that would be a problem. “At the time, no one knew who had lost her, since that person maintained anonymity during the whole affair, but those documents were said to have definitive evidence that could be used to prosecute basically every human trafficker who had business dealings with Lumine's handler. And since that person was anonymous, it meant that every human trafficker in the world was at risk.”

“I...see.” Now you understand why people wouldn’t want to work with Childe at the revelation that he was the man who lost Lumine. “That’s unfortunate.”

“I guess.” Diluc shrugs and crosses his arms. “The incident was resolved pretty quickly, and everyone soon found out that Lumine had been killed before she could hand the documents over to anyone of importance. Still, though, for someone as prolific as Tartaglia to be the imbecile to have lost his merchandise…”

You hate how your heart immediately beats in defiance when Diluc calls Childe an imbecile. He is an imbecile, you try to tell yourself, despite the fact that you feel nothing but sorrow and pity for him now that you understand what situation you’ve put him in. An imbecile. An asshole. A monster. 

But somehow, your heart doesn’t seem to agree with your mind on those words.

“And it’s my fault everyone knows…” you mumble, more to yourself than Diluc or Venti.

Scaramouche’s words from this morning echo through your mind—Your life isn’t the only one she sabotaged, Tartaglia: everyone in the Fatui is suffering—and instantly, guilt hits you like a ton of bricks. Yes, these are human traffickers, but if you remember the utterly dejected look in Childe’s eye this morning, it feels infinitely worse to know that you’re the cause of his misery.

“Are you feeling bad for him?” Diluc asks in a whisper, but the look in his eye is dangerous. Even Venti, who had been pressed beside him up until now, begins to look fearful. “Are you seriously sympathizing with Tartaglia?”

“No, I—I’m not—”

“I hope not,” Diluc says, stony. “Because there are hundreds of other girls who want to be freed and haven’t begun to feel bad for their handlers, and Kaeya and I would much rather focus on them.”

“I’m not—”

“I hope so.”

Diluc stands abruptly, and you take that as your cue to leave.

“Th-thank you for taking the time to—”

“Yeah.”

Diluc practically pushes you out the door frame, then, his broad chest obstructing your view of the inside of the room, but your eyes fly to Venti, who kneels on the bed to make eye contact with you over the redhead's shoulder.

As Diluc begins reiterating the instructions for your return, you focus on the boy in the background.

Venti doesn’t seem to care that he’s nude. Hell, there’s not an ounce of shame on his face despite being gagged and covered in hickeys, and it would alarm you if you weren’t focused on the way he lifts his bruised arms up in an X-formation and begins shaking his head frantically. His lips appear to be forming the words to something, but you can’t understand what he’s saying through the gag.

You’re about to ask what Venti is saying when Diluc turns to see what you’re looking at.

For a second, the room seems to drop ten degrees. Venti freezes, staring at Diluc with round eyes, almost scared, and you swear you hear the redhead growl for a second.

A muffled whimper spills from Venti’s lips.

Diluc turns to you, a gentle smile that unsettles you on his face. “I think you should go,” he says. “Venti must really want my attention now if he’s trying to play games to get it.”

“O-oh, but what was he—”

“I suggest you leave now,” Diluc says, the kind-not-kind smile beginning to slip from his lips. “Because you’ve been here a while, and the last thing you should want is for Tartaglia to find you missing.”

“What about Kaeya—”

“Kaeya’s at the gym,” Diluc practically spits. “So unless you want Tartaglia tracking you there, too, I’d go straight back to your little apartment with him and pray that he didn’t notice you left.”

Despair builds in your chest at that. You were certain Childe was asleep when you left, but what if he reaches out for you while he’s sleeping? What if that wakes him up and he sees that you’re gone? What if—

“Go,” Diluc orders.

The redhead doesn’t wait for you to respond, then, simply slamming the door in your face. Immediately, you’re back in action. You dart for the elevator, knowing that you need to get home as quickly as you can if you want to minimize the chance of Childe waking up to find you gone.

Panic begins to rise. The familiar vines of anxiety begin to climb higher and higher through your stomach as the elevator begins to close with painstaking slowness. Your fingers fumble with the urge to make things move faster, and you doubt yourself for a moment, thinking that you should have taken the stairs, but it’s too late for that, now, with the doors just about to close, and—

You hear the beginnings of a scream. A high-pitched wail, something agonized and miserable and ruined.

Then, the sound cuts off with the closing of the elevator doors.

Too panicked to think, you don’t bother pondering the source of the sound as the elevator reaches the first floor and you stumble your way back to Childe’s apartment. 

This time, you’re in so much of a rush that you do attract attention as you exit. Somehow, though, the thought of Childe waking up and finding you gone manages to overpower your fear at being seen, and you stumble forward through the hotel and towards Childe’s apartment building as fast as you can. When you’re safe inside, you have to take the elevator once more: because while Kaeya and Diluc were on the second floor of their hotel, Childe has the penthouse of his apartment, a distance much too large for the stairs to be a viable option, but your nerves begin to calm as you feel the elevator shift higher and higher. 

Maybe, just maybe, you’ll get home safe and everything will be okay.

Maybe.

Hopefully.

Probably not.

The elevator opens directly in front of Childe’s front door, where the hole Scaramouche busted open this morning still remains. Ever careful, you step one foot inside, shift your weight forward, and duck inside. 

As soon as you’re completely within the apartment, the pressure and fear of having escaped dissipate. You think that you’ve made it back safely, that you snuck out and will be able to sneak back in with no consequences.

Then, you see him.

“Y-y-y-you’re—”

Childe is shaking like a leaf, looking pale and sickly. His hair is disheveled, messy in a way that lets you know that he’s been running his hands through it for as long as you've been gone, and his mouth is caught open in a mix of shock, confusion, and relief.

“You’re back,” he mumbles in disbelief, and the way his eyes glisten in the darkness of his apartment, catching what little moonlight shines in and reflecting it off, tells you that he’s on the verge of tears.

Then, he blinks, and the tears begin to fall.

“I…”

Words fail you. You don’t know what to say to justify your leave. You don’t know if Childe even wants justification. The man stumbles towards you, and while logic tells you that you should guard yourself, should protect yourself, should prepare to be hit or whipped or assaulted the way a human trafficker would normally behave when his merchandise acts out, the vulnerable look in Childe’s eye makes you think that he won't hurt you.

“I-I—I thought you left,” he blurts, reaching forward to catch your palm in his, squeezing it as if he can’t believe you’re real. “Why—why didn’t you—why are you—”

Back.

He reaches forward to clasp your other hand in his, and when he stands so close to you, holding your hands to his chest like your touch is his lifeline, everything else seems to disappear. For the first time today, the conscious thoughts that this man is a monster and he’s a human trafficker who destroyed your life and you should hate him all disappear—leaving nothing but pain for how miserable he looks at having been left, how shook he is that you decided to come back, how overwhelmed he is that, likely for the first time, someone has chosen to come back to him.

It shakes you to the core. 

Never have you seen Childe so rattled. Displays of weakness like this are ones he rarely indulges in, and never at your side. This is the first time you're seeing him openly cry, the man practically clinging to your hand like it's the only thing grounding him, and you realize that he's hurting, too. That Lumine and Diluc and Kaeya and everything else in this godforsaken world of human trafficking have fucked him up just like it's fucked you over, and what you're seeing now is the culmination of all of that.

"Relax," you whisper, letting go of all your resentment for a single moment to pull him close into a warm, loving embrace. "Ajax, relax. I’m here. I’ve got you."

They're the same words Childe used to comfort you when you had a panic attack in the middle of Xiangling's restaurant, the same words that pulled you to safety at a time when even your mind had turned traitor against your heart. 

You can't explain why you're comforting him when he's done nothing but ruin your life.

Yet, as Childe clutches your figure and chokes back a harrowing sob, thick, wet tears falling onto your shoulder as he chokes out the words “thank you” over and over again, you can’t help how your embrace instantly tightens.

MASTERLIST

Fastened | Unlockable | Lighter | Breaking | Broken | Gone | ✔

Word count: 6.6k

Notes: OKAY so you know how this was supposed to be four chapters? yeah unfortunately that would make the final super duper rushed or super duper long so there's going to be a fifth chapter! and after the fifth chapter there'll be a short epilogue-y chapter!! the fifth chapter (finale!) and epilogue will be posted together at the same time - i can promise this bc i already have the epilogue written - soo yeah :D my apologies as usual for being late, hope you enjoyed the developments in this chapter! comment thoughts and predictions <3

Comment & Like

Next Update: 7/18/21 (hopefully)

I do not own the rights to Genshin Impact or any of the characters within it.

[bxnxvids]

Not everyone can say they’ve been to the Big Apple, but  [ Robert ‘RJ’ Benavides], a [ 39 ] year-old [ cis male] has lived in [The Upper East Side, Manhattan] for [ TWO WEEKS]. This is the city of dreams and [ HE] knows it, because they came to NYC to be an [ CONTRACTOR ].. Living in the city means they meet all kinds of people, but everyone always seems to think they look like [ MANNY MONTANA]. They even got away with free cab fare once because of it! 

TW: Cartel activity, poverty, forced induction into organized crime, implied murders, implied drug trafficking, he’s a cartel member everything is triggering in this please don’t read if it will make you uncomfortable guys.

TLDR; RJ is a high ranking cartel member who fronts as an international contractor.

Name: Robert Santiago  Benavides Jr. 

Referred to as: RJ, Principe (to other cartel members), Rob 

Date of birth: 17th December

Place of birth: Morelia, Michoacan, Mexico 

Place of residence: Suite 5000 at the Mandarin Oriental 

Current occupation: Contractor 

Income level: Very High

Education: Self-educated. 

Sexuality: Yes Pansexual

Marital status: Unmarried

Religion: Catholic 

 ––––––  PHYSICAL APPEARANCE

Face claim: Manny Montana

Height: 185cm

Eye colour: Dark brown

Grooming: He’s well-kempt and very tidy.

Prominent features: His tattoos

General health: Probably not great but he’s very athletic 

Chronic conditions: N/A

––––––  DEFINING FEATURES

Languages spoken: Spanish, English

Pace of speech: Measured. 

Accent: A Mexican accent 

Finances: Managed by others, usually 

Personal vices: Drinking, smoking, gambling, sex, an eternal longing for escapism 

Hobbies: Billiards, gardening, poker, shooting, partying. 

––––––  BACKGROUND

Robert was born into his position in the Sinaloa cartel, in fact, he’s now the uncle to the future boss and happy for it. His niece is tactical, sharp as a whip, and takes no shit, unlike her father, Robert’s brother Ernesto. The current leader of the family’s slice of the cartel, Los Templarios, is a weak man who would have been overthrown by RJ himself if he hadn’t been sent to The United States nearly twenty years ago to oversee all cartel operations along the Mexican gulf, and then later to act as head of the cartel’s operations in Miami. 

 He’s just been moved to New York, the weight of fixing the mess of cartel operations in the big apple falling directly on his shoulders. It’s difficult, New York is one of the biggest markets for illegal activity in the entire world, but the unlimited access to the over 250 billion dollars the Cartel generates in revenue every year is a nice enough perk to keep him complacent. 

It wasn’t always like this, though if RJ had it his way there wouldn’t be a single person in the world who knew anything more about him than the cars he liked to drive and the tequila he liked to drink. 

Once, a long time ago, his father had been forced into the cartel by marriage in order to protect the people who lived in the deeply corrupt state in Mexico he lived. That force turned into a paramilitary force by the time Ernesto was six months and by the time RJ could walk he was being introduced into cartel activity, sitting on his father’s lap during meetings. By the time he was six he was learning to shoot with the other cartel members. 

So his life has been messy, messy and full of blood and the stench of death that seems to follow wherever he goes. He tries to do things more diplomatically now but violence is inevitable for a man like him, with a life like his. He drowns himself in alcohol, drugs, and sex to cope with what he’s experienced but at the end of the day family comes first, and Los Templarios is his family.