#heartless and cruel can a country be

[ellieslaces]

CAN’T CATCH ME NOW. (prologue)

presenting: Umbrella’s Hunger Games

featuring: leon kennedy x fem!reader

synopsis: the Hunger Games, an annual show of brutal control the Capitol has over each of the twelve Districts. the Games’ number one sponsor: Umbrella Corporation, the creator of the Games’ most horrific torture strategies and nightmare inducing deaths. these games have always been cautionary, always a far away but constant threat — until you find yourself Reaped and thrown into an area full of your worst fears with 23 other Tributes, all out for blood.

content warnings (future): harsh language; heavy violence; gore; torture; heavy themes of murder; infanticide; social injustice; class discrimination; brief mention of suicidal thoughts; angst; character death; eventual smut; enemies to lovers

notes: this is inspired by the Hunger Games (no 1) and takes place in the universe; if topics such as violence murder infanticide etc trigger you, skip this series; the reader is said to be a Career Tribute

Chloe talks: posting a my prologue for my new Leon Hunger Games series before the next strike tomorrow! please enjoy, I’m convinced this will be my magnum opus :)

word count: 768 (it’s a prologue, so it’s short)

now playing: can’t catch me now ; olivia rodrigo

how you can help Palestine! 🇵🇸

Images of dark alleys, of scorching hot deserts, of raging icy tundras, of sickly beautiful yet dangerous forests haunted each child’s dreams. Not for any reason in particular other than the fact that the images were fed to them since birth. Spoon fed into their heads — the showings of each years annual Hunger Games.

Decades upon decades ago, the ocean swallowed nearly half the continent in a devastating and unprecedented tsunami. States and even smaller countries were lost to the depths of the sea, leaving the remaining forty percent of the country overflowed with a surplus of population.

Women, men, and children with nowhere to go, now crowded the north part of what once was the United States. Now twenty of the fifty states remained, thousands upon thousands of casualties, leaving too many for the forty percent of the country to support.

The government handled it with the worst of ideas, their support was lost, their lack of understanding and empathy led to an inevitable uprising. People stormed the gates of the White House, threatened to kill — and did kill — senators, and representatives, and judges, and even their families.

This uprising nearly destroyed the country as a whole. Thousands were slaughtered, bloodlines were destroyed, families killed by the rebels. Until a group of unknown power that had been hiding behind the scenes for decades stepped forward, taking control of the people. This led to a bloodbath of violence, political control, and the people finally were forced to accept their defeat.

From then, the country was divided into thirteen Districts, each with its own purpose of serving the new country’s Capitol. This new country — Panem — was run with a ruthless government, a controlling President with no mercy and a clever mind. He was cruel, and heartless, and as dangerous as he was calm.

No one dared to object him, no one dared to take his power for fear of the consequences. So, for decades, President Ozwell E. Spencer ran the country. His company — one he started long before he was elected as President — Umbrella was the sole sponsor and creator of the annual Hunger Games.

Where each spring, twenty four children between the ages of twelve and nineteen were picked at random by pairs to represent their District in a fight to the death.

One boy, one girl from each District, chosen by random to be plucked, and bathed, and painted, and paraded, and eventually murdered for the sake of entertainment. Once, these Games were a reminder of what revolution could do, how it could crumble a nation. But that notion was long gone, all that now remained was the entertainment value of their deaths. Deaths none of them deserved. Deaths you never imagined you’d actually witness, much less cause yourself.

The intricacies of these Games were lost upon you, all you knew was to survive. Despite being a so called ‘Career’ and had as close to luxury as you could for someone from one of the Districts, you hardly had the stomach to commit things such as murder. Much less upon other children, people your age.

District One, luxury items, riches, and favor of the Capitol itself. Careers, the title of the Tributes that were put into the Games each year. These Tributes were raised with advantage, raised with early training available to them. Available to you.

For the majority of your life, since you were able to understand what the Games meant, you’d been trained by Victors, the Redfield siblings. Chris and his sister, Claire, were once Tributes themselves, in consecutive years.

Chris Redfield won at nineteen with pure brutality, physical strength and power, partaking in the bloodbath and taking out a good majority of the other Tributes in the beginning. Chris’s Games lasted a mere week.

While Claire Redfield managed to outsmart each and every other Tribute in her arena, successfully becoming the Victor by simply waiting for them all to die by natural causes, or killing themselves with their own stupidity. Her Games lasted three, the ending of said Games pushed quickly to be brought to a conclusion. Leading the girl to become Victor at a mere thirteen.

So, despite the fact that you weren’t technically supposed to be trained by Mentors unless Reaped, the Redfield siblings trained you behind the curtain. They prepared you for the possibility of you being Reaped, of being subjected to the horrors they’d seen. To the murder they had to commit to stay alive. They wanted you to win, to have a chance of survival.

But, maybe they should have just let you die. Maybe they shouldn’t have taken you under their wing when they found you shivering in the rain after a school bully had taken your pack and shoes and jacket.

Maybe they should have just let you be killed. Then you wouldn’t have to live with the memory of him.

[whitedarkmoonflower]

Power

Pairing: Masema x reader (female)

Authors note: it is a very belated birthday present to @lady-targaryens-world Thank you so much for your request and I'm so sorry it took me so long to write it. I changed a bit the setting, but I still hope you will enjoy it. It appeared that writing Masema is not so easy for me, but I truly loved it. A big thank you to lovely @the-irish-girl for helping me with brainstorming, ideas and dialogues! It was so inspiring to work together with you! The idea of the other world and the stones is borrowed from the books.

Warnings: SMUT 18+, oral (f receiving), p in v sex

Word Count: 5,6 K

I have tagged people who enjoy my Sihtric fics - if you don't want to be tagged in Masema fics - please let me know

You shifted in your saddle trying to find a more comfortable position, but to no avail. Your whole body was aching and sore, your muscles feeling like they were filled with lead. The shadows were getting longer, as the sun slowly rolled behind the horizon. The evening was approaching and you longed for nothing more than to rest, to get off the horseback and curl under your blanket. With the last remnants of your strength you spurred your horse to a slight gallop, trying to align with Lord Ingtar, riding at the front of the group.  

“Aren’t we stopping for the night?” you tried to sound casual, not to betray your tiredness. 

"There, behind that hill, is a perfect spot for our camp,"  Lord Ingtar's response filled you with hope as he pointed towards the next hillock. Unconsciously, you sighed in relief. It wouldn't have surprised you if they intended to ride through the night; there was no sign of weariness on the stern faces of the Shienaran warriors following their leader. It seemed they could maintain this relentless pursuit indefinitely. 

With a knowing smirk, he added, "The horses need a rest."

Yeah, horses, you nodded inwardly and allowed your own steed to gradually slow down again.

You had to pick the lesser of two evils, as the need to escape the city had grown urgent. Fal Moran was no longer a safe haven for you, not since it had become overrun with Aes Sedai. It was only a matter of time before they discovered your well-kept secret, and you would be forced to follow them to the White Tower. You were not like them and you didn't want to be anything like them. Arrogant, cold-blooded, and heartless, they were driven by their might and a belief in their own omniscience. These cruel beings wielded too much power for their own good.

You had made up your mind to join the first party leaving the city, even if it meant travelling across the country in pursuit of the Horn of Valere. You were aware that they wouldn't readily accept you as a companion if you simply asked, but the Shienarans were known for their unwavering commitment to helping and protecting those in need. That was their way. Thus, you departed ahead of the group and waited along the road—an abandoned high-born lady, seeking assistance. A damsel in distress, to put it plainly.

Once again, you felt the unsettling sensation of someone's eyes fixated on you. Slowly and discreetly, you turned your head to meet his gaze. His stern eyes bore into you with mistrust and suspicion, tinged with a hint of resentment for reasons unknown to you.

"Have I done something wrong?" you asked, turning to face Lord Ingtar as you settled beside him near the fire.

"What do you mean, lady?" The surprise in his voice was evident.

"I have a feeling I may have upset or offended the young warrior with those peculiar mismatched eyes. I believe his name is Masema," you continued hesitantly. "I just wanted to know if I may have overstepped or said something unacceptable. I'm not accustomed to your ways, and I want to offer my apologies if..."

"Lady, you need not worry," Lord Ingtar interrupted gently. "I'm sorry to say this, but there's probably nothing you can do about it. You... I'm not quite sure how to explain it... you bear a striking resemblance to an Aiel to us. Not all of us have fought against them, but Masema has."

The awkwardness of the conversation and the embarrassment in Lord Ingtar’s voice were impossible to ignore. "Lady, you are not to blame for your appearance. Please, tell me if Masema has been rude to you or insulted you in any way. Trust me, I'll ensure a proper punishment is meted out."

"Oh, not that. He's simply avoiding me completely, and he refuses to speak to me even when I address him. Please, don't say anything to him. You've been so kind to pick me up on the road and offer your protection after my bodyguard abandoned me unfairly. I don't want to cause any inconvenience," you said, trying to mask your relief with gratitude. You were thankful that your initial fear, the creeping worry that Masema might have somehow discovered your deeply buried secret, was unfounded.

Unable to resist, you stole a furtive glance at Masema. He'd set up his blanket near one of the towering stones encircling the camp. It was an eerie sight; the magnificent stones, arranged as if by a giant hand, stood in a perfect circle. You had never seen anything like it before. Was it some kind of sacred place? Perhaps remnants of a forgotten temple? The strange ornaments engraved in the middle, just within reach, sparked a sense of familiarity you couldn't grasp. The whole setting gave you a weird feeling you couldn't quite place.

The warmth of the hot brew shared around the fireplace enveloped you, soothing your aching joints and beckoning for rest. You spread your blanket on the opposite side of the camp, as far as possible from the grim warrior that apparently hated you for just being you.

It wasn't surprising; you were accustomed to it. People had feared and hated you for as long as you could remember. You recalled being just a small girl when it first happened, playing with the other kids of the village at the foot of the nearby hill.

It was the noise that first caught your attention—a scratchy, unpleasant sound of something rubbing against itself. Then, you saw it—a large stone slowly starting to shake and then loosening from its perch at the top. You remember screaming, shouting for everyone to run, but one of the boys stumbled and fell. Time seemed to stand still for a moment; you acted on instinct, reaching out with your hand in a stupid and desperate wish to stop the stone from crashing onto your friend. And miraculously, it stopped. It remained suspended in mid-air, just above the fallen boy, as if held by a magic hand.

He scrambled to his feet and ran, and they all followed suit, casting fearful glances back at you as you lowered your hand and the stone crashed to the ground with a deafening thud. Even now, when recalling that day, you could still feel the absolute terror in their eyes. Not because they had just escaped death, no, they were terrified of you. 

That night, the elders of the village came to your parents, and by the same nightfall, they hurriedly packed all their belongings, and you left. You left your home, your village, your friends—everything. And ever since then, you've been running. There was something within you, a power you didn’t understand and never wanted to possess. It was only much later, as you became a grown woman, that you found out there were others like you - the Aes Sedai. But the way people spoke about them, the tales they told, and the fear they instilled just reinforced your conviction that your power had to remain secret, hidden until you took it with you to the grave.

You sank down onto your blanket, wrapping another around you, leaning your back against the stone behind you. Your eyes unconsciously wandered again to the stern warrior on the other side of the camp.

Why? By the light, why me? were your last conscious thoughts before sleep took over.

You were in that sweet spot between asleep and awake, still wrapped in the cosy embrace of dreams when the sounds of the outside world started creeping in, signalling the start of a new day. You kept your eyes shut, not quite ready to let go of that blissful moment just yet.

“Where are we?” came a voice, dripping with anger. It sounded oddly familiar, but you couldn't quite place it.

Masema. The name jolted through your mind, instantly dispelling the dreamy fog. You snapped awake, finding Masema towering over you. You scrambled to a sitting position, taking in your surroundings with a mix of awe and confusion.

“I-I don't know,” you stammered, just as confused as he was, if not more so.

Moments ago, you had been lying on the ground with all your companions, and now you were... wherever this place was. It was unlike anything you had ever seen before.

You were still seated among the magnificent stones, where the camp had been, but that was where the similarities ended. The place bore no resemblance to where you had fallen asleep. You vividly recalled the stones positioned in a clearing near the woods, surrounded by untouched, lush grass and the scent of nameless wildflowers lingering in the air. Now, as far as your eyes could see, there was nothing but barren, cracked soil, with withered trees sporadically dotting the landscape. The hot air and dust burned your lungs as you struggled to take a deep breath.

“This is all your fault!” Masema's words snapped you back to reality, his eyes dark with anger. “You brought us here, now bring us back!” he demanded.

“And, why would it be my fault? You’re here, too! You might be the one responsible for this, you know?” you spat at him, your words filled with venom to match his.

It was only then that the absurdity of the situation began to sink in, and panic slowly crept over you. What had happened? Where were you? And of all the people you could have ended up with, why did it have to be Masema, the Shienaran warrior who clearly despised you, stranded with you in this desolate wasteland?

"I knew from the very first sight of you that you couldn't be trusted," Masema's voice, cold and calm, sent shivers down your spine, more chilling than any insult he could hurl in anger.

“What did I do, for you to hate me so much?” you knew it was not the right time nor place for this question, there were much more pressing issues to be cleared, but you couldn’t just leave it. 

“You look just like them! You speak like them! You walk like them! Everything you do makes you look a little more like them! And sooner or later you’ll show who you really are, you cannot fool me,” he snorted.

"Like who? The Aiel? You flatter me. I would give much to be like them, to possess their strength, their ability to defend themselves against prejudice-driven fools who judge solely based on appearance," anger simmered within you.

“You don’t know me!” you finally shouted. “You did not even give me a chance to prove my worth, you just judge me straight away because you think you are better than anyone else, you think you know better than anyone else. But you know nothing about me.” The last words were punctuated by a pointed index finger jabbing into his chest, your eyebrows furrowed with anger.

Finally, you took one more step forward until you were face to face, sharing the same air. You stared him straight in the eyes, letting him see the pain his words inflicted.

“I don't deserve your hatred! You don’t know me, so stop pretending like you do!”

Without waiting for a response, you swiftly began to pack your blankets into your saddlebag.

"You know what? I'm done with all of this! We're parting ways! You go one direction, and I'll go the other! Good luck!" you hissed in frustration. The overwhelming need to escape from this place, to evade the stern, judgmental gaze of those peculiar eyes, left no room for any other thought. You didn’t give him a chance to reply; you didn’t even want one. With that, you turned your back on him, slung your saddlebag over your shoulder, and strode away, devoid of any plan or destination.

You had no idea how long you had aimlessly wandered before spotting a small stream, a mirage of life amidst the ash-grey desolation. Hastily, you uncapped your leather flask, filling it with the precious, life-giving water.

Leaving Masema behind had undoubtedly been a mistake, but there was no turning back now. You couldn't simply reappear before him and offer apologies. You couldn’t admit he was actually right.

It must have been you. There was no other explanation, no other possibility. Even though you had no inkling of what triggered this or how you managed it. Lost in your thoughts, you watched the stream bubble, abruptly pulled from your reverie by an angry roar nearby.

Your head snapped up, pupils dilating in terror at the sight of the creature looming closer. Not even your worst nightmares could conjure something like this. Towering on massive, muscular hind legs, its leonine body was covered in mottled, algae-green scales, with a broad, frog-like head boasting bulging, lidless eyes gleaming with eerie intelligence and a ring of sharp, serrated teeth.

Your hand instinctively sought the small knife hidden in your clothes, fingers clenching around its shaft until your knuckles whitened. Being intended as this creature's next meal wasn't the destiny you envisioned, but you were resolved to make your life as costly as possible.

In a heartbeat, a strong arm gripped yours, yanking you aside with incredible force as the creature lunged. Your bewildered gaze fell on Masema, wielding his sword with determined precision. It was an uneven fight, the creature dwarfing the agile warrior and its scales seemingly impenetrable to his blade.

"The eyes, they're unprotected! Aim for its eyes!" you shouted and the beast's attention momentarily  turned towards you. In that very same moment Masema seized the chance, leaping and aiming for the creature's head. The blade sliced through its left eye, eliciting a deafening howl that pierced the air.

Your chest heaved with horror as you witnessed the creature falter, collapsing onto its front paws before slumping to the ground. Unstoppable sobs wracked your body as you sank to your knees, horror consuming you, and strong arms encircled your shoulders, preventing you from collapsing to the ground.

"I'm sorry," you muttered, arms wrapped around your legs as you sat on your blanket spread by the fire Masema had made in the middle of the stone circle. "You're probably right. It's my fault we're stuck here, don't know where."

A furrowed eyebrow was the only indication that Masema was paying attention, engrossed in sharpening his sword, seemingly oblivious to your presence.

"It's not the first time strange things have happened to me," you continued, feeling like there was nothing left to lose. You knew he hated you—could he hate you even more? Did it even matter? The landscape stretched before you, empty and dusty. Having the glorious choice between death from hunger or the claws of that creature—definitely not the last of its kind—you preferred the more swift one, or better yet, the quick, soothing death by Masema’s sword seemed actually the most appealing choice. 

"There's something inside me, and it frightens me," you confessed. "It's like I have access to a pool of unlimited power, but every time I try to grasp it, it slips away. And then, sometimes, when I least expect it, I can feel it in my fingertips. It's so tangible, I could almost touch it."

"What kind of strange things?" Masema inquired nonchalantly, as if asking about your breakfast.

"I've made rocks freeze in the air, ignited things, moved objects without touching them," you said, trying to keep your voice casual, but unable to hide the tremor of anxiety. You had never spoken to anyone about it, and now you were revealing your deepest secret to someone who was almost an enemy. Yes, he had saved your life, but it hadn't seemed to change his attitude toward you.

"I never wanted it, never asked for it! It's a curse," you admitted, resting your head on your knees. Your body shivered, not from the cold, but from the anger and despair boiling within you. "And now I've cursed you too."

Lost in your thoughts, you didn't even notice Masema approaching until his hand landed on your shoulder, startling you as he sat down beside you.

"I knew you were trouble from the first moment I saw you," there was a new, unexpected tone in his voice that made you raise your head. Something in Masema's eyes caused a chill to run down your back and the flickering red light from the fire only intensified the hypnotic effect of his stern gaze.

"I didn’t mean any harm to anybody. I’m so sorry. You have every right to hate me," tears welled up in your eyes.

"Hush," Masema's rough fingers gently cupped your chin, his thumb brushing away the tears gathered in the corners of your eyes. "There is such a fire within you. I can feel it. I could see it in your eyes as you faced that creature. A spirit so daring, so brave, captured in such a small and fragile frame."

A soft gasp of surprise escaped your chest as Masema's lips pressed against yours, his palms cradling your face and drawing you close. Your mind raced, torn between eagerness and bewilderment. You placed your palm on his chest, as if to push him away, but instead, your fingers hooked into Masema's leather armour, pulling him closer.

Wasn’t this what you had yearned for all this time, tormented by his inexplicable rejection? Hadn't you dreamed of feeling these strong arms wrap around you, pulling you close? Or was it the desperation of this hopeless situation that made you cling to his broad chest, seeking the warmth of his body as confirmation that you were still alive? You didn’t care. Thrill and arousal running through your veins, you could only moan against his lips, slowly parting yours to welcome him into your mouth.

"I've been craving this since the moment I laid eyes on you. Whatever power brought us here, away from everybody, I'm grateful for it," Masema's husky voice enveloped you, sending shivers down your spine. His hand found its way to the back of your neck, holding you in place as his mouth trailed down to your neck, leaving hot, stinging marks on your sensitive skin.

You whimpered at the stirring sensation, your longing for his touch growing into a burning need, overpowering all your other senses. In the next moment, you found yourself pressed onto your back, the thick, soft blanket barely enough to shield you from the hard ground, Masema looming over you.

"You resemble the fiercest enemy I've ever faced, yet you make my blood boil with desire," your breath caught in your throat as Masema's rough fingers wrapped around your wrists, pinning your hands above your head. There was something threatening, something inexplicably alluring in the sinister darkness of his lust-drunk eyes as they locked with yours. You met his gaze head-on, your eyes wide open, chest heaving, and teeth grazing along your lower lip in anticipation of his next move.

Masema leaned in, his lips hovering over yours, “Say it, say that you want me,” his eyes scanned you intently. 

“By the light, I want you,” you breathed, rolling your hips against him like a slut and the throaty groan that left his lips upon your words, made you shiver. His mouth found yours and your breath was swept away from the sheer fury of his kiss while his hands let go of your wrists and began to work on your clothes, freeing your breasts from the confines of your corset, squeezing and kneading them, his rough fingers digging deep into your flesh. 

Your eyes were rolling back into your head from his heated touch and you arched your back against the unforgiving hard ground as Masema’s lips closed around your hardened nipples.  The small rocks beneath the blanket were digging into your shoulders and hips, but you didn’t even feel the sting, everything around you slowly fading until there was nothing apart from deep hunger for more, burning you from within.

“You think you have power? You are under my power, sweet little thing, you could be the Dragon himself, but you could do nothing against my power and I will use it to make you forget everything as you scream my name in pleasure,” the raw force, permeating Masema’s words, although whispered in hushed tones, made all the tiny hair on your skin stand on end. His hands were on your hips, pushing up your dress and pulling down your undergarments with hasty, rough movements. You drew a sharp breath, feeling the cool air on your bare dripping cunt just before Masemas hot tongue dived in between your folds, his lips closing around your pulsing clit, hands pinning your hips to the ground. 

“Light help me,” you wined, burying your fingers into the soft and plush fabric beneath you in a desperate attempt to ground yourself, but to no avail as Masema’s lips and tongue kept driving you closer to madness, lewd moans rolling over your lips.

“It can’t help you. Nothing can help you now, you’re mine and only mine,” Masema grinned against your centre, voice husky and deep, dripping with dark possessiveness that only added to the sinful sensation pulsing through your veins and bringing you closer to the edge, and you gasped loudly as he forced two fingers into you. You felt as if you were flying or maybe falling, you couldn’t tell, too lost in the feeling of your climax approaching, each lap of his tongue, each movement of his fingers amplifying the pleasure and pushing you further into oblivion.

“Say it, to whom do you belong?” Masema groaned, speeding up his movements. 

Was this what had attracted you to the stern and silent warrior from the very first day? His whole presence spoke of strength and assertiveness, of power and ownership, of being someone to take what’s his and never letting go of it, defending it with his life if needed. Tired of loneliness you craved for the soothing feeling of belonging to someone. It was intoxicating, almost addicting – that feeling of having found someone ready to claim you, to possess you, to protect you. You wanted to be his, you were his. 

“Yours, Masema, I’m yours. By the light I’m yours,” you moaned, and Masema’s satisfied growl vibrated against your centre, adding the last touch that brought you over the edge. You came on his fingers, whimpering his name, forgetting where you were or who you were as your body convulsed under the waves of pure bliss running through your veins. 

“Such a good girl, my powerful, secret Aes Sedai, my dragon,” Masema grinned, observing you carefully, as he kept fucking you with his fingers through your orgasm, “so beautiful, so tight around my fingers. I can already imagine how good you will feel around my cock.” 

Head spinning from the intensity of your orgasm, you breathed heavily, chest rising high with each inhale.  Eyes half lid you watched Masema pulling off his leathers and undoing his breeches. You had always noted Masema's well-built physique, his muscular arms hinted at beneath his armour. However, the sight of his perfectly sculpted upper body, revealed before your eyes, made you swallow hard. Even more so as your eyes landed on his thick, fully hard cock ready to claim you. You yelped as Masema grabbed you by your hips and flipped over on your stomach in one quick motion.

“I’m not done with you yet, my sweet little dragon,” he whispered into your ear, pushing your dress up your ass and pulling you to your knees. You whimpered as his large, rough palms landed on your buttock, spreading your cheeks.

“Perfect, so perfect,” Masema grunted, teasing your entrance with his finger. You moaned and pushed back into his touch. “Patience, beautiful,” he chuckled, “trust me, I know exactly what you need, and I’ll give it to you.” 

A muffled cry escaped your lips as Masema’s hand reached out, grabbing your hair, and pulled you up back flush against his chest. His left hand fingers wrapped around your throat, squeezing it slightly, just enough to pull a soft whine from you.

“I’ll give it to you, if you’ll ask me nicely,” Masema’s breath hot against your neck made shivers go down your spine or were it his words and hoarse, lust drunken voice? You couldn’t tell, you didn’t care, you were unable to think straight your mind swept clear from any other thought apart from the need to have him finally inside you, to feel him use you, to fuck you into madness.

“Please,” you gasped, your breath getting more ragged with each passing moment.

“Please, what?” Masema whispered, his left hand still around your throat, the other squeezing your breast, fingers rubbing your hardened nipple.

“Please, fuck me. Take me,” a deep moan rolled over your lips as Masema pressed you down and pushed his hard length into your tightness with a loud groan. He paused for a moment, savouring the feeling of your walls squeezing around him and taking him in.

“So sweet, so bold and dearing and yet so obedient, and so fucking tight, you are a gift of the Creator himself,” Masema hummed, as he pulled out and slammed back into you, making you moan and gasp as his pace was picking up. He was not gentle, not in the way his fingers dug into your flesh, to keep you in place, not in the way his hips snapped against you, as he forced himself deeper and deeper into you with each thrust, not in the way his hand found its way to you hair again, jerking you up against his chest, making you cry out both in pain and pleasure simultaneously. 

Your eyes were rolling back into your head, breath catching in your chest, as Masema fucked you relentlessly, mercilessly, his groans filling your ears, and your body responded to his every touch, every rough thrust. Nobody had ever desired you so carnally, so intensively, his hold on you so primal and possessive, determined to bring you to the highs of pleasure you had never experienced before, driving you mad and pushing you higher and higher.

“More, by the light, Masema, I need more,” you mewled and the wild growl that ripped through Masema left you grinning as he pushed you back down to the blanket, seized your hips in an iron grip, you were sure to leave bruises and marks in your soft flesh, and fastened his pace.

You tried to muffle your moans with your hand, but Masema was quick to grab it and pull your arm behind your back.

“Don’t be shy, my sweet dragon, there is nobody who could hear you in this cursed world you’ve brought us to,” he chuckled, “I want to hear you, I want to hear how much you enjoy my cock.”

You didn’t answer, unable to make any coherent word, your voice trapped in the depths of your throat, but the wanton sounds rolling over your lips were the only response he needed as he kept pounding into you, fucking you breathless. 

You could feel Masema’s movements getting sloppier, his heavy breathing turning into hoarse, rugged panting, and you clawed your fingernails forcefully in the blanket, closing your eyes as Masema let go of your arm and reached between your thighs, his fingers rubbing your pulsing clit, giving you the last push you needed to fall again into oblivion. The climax shot through your body with the force of a lightning, your limbs trembling as you screamed Masemas name into the black void around you. You would have collapsed from the intensity of your orgasm washing over you, if not for Masema’s hands holding your hips tightly as he kept fucking you through your peak, loud groans leaving his lips as he came just moments later, his cock twitching inside you and filling you with his warm seed. 

You slumped down onto the blanket the moment Masema’s hands let go of you and he followed you crushing down beside you, both panting hard. You didn’t expect that, but Masema’s arms wrapped around you, pulling you flush to his chest as his lips planted tender kisses on the top of your head.

"You didn't believe me," you whispered between panting breaths. 

"Oh, I believe you. More importantly, I believe in you. You brought us here, and you'll bring us back. I have no doubts about it, my little dragon," he whispered, nuzzling against your hair.

“Wake up,” Masema rattled your shoulder, tearing you away from the sweet world of dreams.

“Just one last moment,” you muttered without opening your eyes, your arms reaching out, seeking the warmth of his body.

“There's no time. Wake up! They're approaching,” the urgency in Masema's voice jolted you from your slumber.

“Who's approaching?” you asked, your eyes fluttering wide open.

“I would rather ask what is approaching,” Masema chuckled. “Can't you hear it?”

The wild roar that tore through the air made you jump to your feet.

“What was that?” you asked, fear etched on your face.

“I think it might be some friends of our yesterday's acquaintance,” Masema chuckled, “And they are coming in company. Sweetie, it's time to go home,” his gaze slid expectantly over you.

“What? But I can’t. Masema, I have no idea how,” you sobbed.

“Listen to me. I've been thinking about what you told me. Do you know what the locals call these stones?”

“No,” you shivered, listening to the sounds of wild roars and feeling the earth trembling beneath your feet.

“Obanda stones. Obanda means 'door' in the old tongue. This must be how you got us here—through the stones. And this is how you can bring us back.”

“Masema, it's insane. I have no idea how to do that,” desperation laced your voice.

Masema's fingers brushed against your cheeks, and he cupped your chin to raise your head.

“I'm here to protect you. Whatever comes. I don't care who you are. I don't care what power you wield. I will protect you, always,” the certainty in his voice, devoid of doubt or hesitation,  sent a shiver down your spine.

"Look at me," he commanded, and as if drawn by an irresistible force, you raised your gaze to meet his eyes.

"Give me your hand," he continued, and you complied, raising your arm. You flinched as Masema's large, rough palm wrapped around your fingers, squeezing them painfully. "I'm here with you. Hold on to me. I believe in you. You brought us here, you’ll bring us back. You can do it," he reassured, his other arm wrapping around your waist as he pulled you tightly against his muscular body.

"Now, I want you to put your hand on the stone," he breathed against your ear. The calmness and certainty in his voice were hypnotising, leaving no room for doubt. The howling and growling around you grew closer as the beasts encircled you. Your heart raced in your chest, as panic and fear enveloped you. 

"I can’t do it! Masema, I’m so sorry. It’s all my fault. I never learned to use it properly. I don’t know how to do it," words tumbled from your lips in an unstoppable rush, your body shaking uncontrollably. You had brought this doom upon both of you. Your ignorance, your unwillingness to embrace the power bestowed upon you had led you here, and it would be the death of you both. "I can’t do it. I’m so sorry, Masema," tears rolled down your cheeks.

There was no point in trying, all you wanted was to turn around, to gaze into his mismatched eyes, to melt into his embrace, bury your nose into his chest, and breathe in his scent for the one last time. But Masema’s firm grip on your waist prevented you from doing so.

“I can’t,” you sobbed, leaning heavily against him as your knees grew weak and wobbly, “I just can’t do it.”

“Raise your hand,” Masema ordered, squeezing your fingers again. The pain jolted through your body, sharpening your hazy mind. There was something in his voice that brooked no disobedience. Despite your reluctance, despite having already given up and resigned yourself to the approaching death, you obeyed. You raised your quivering hand, reaching out almost to touch the cold surface. A piercing howl echoed just behind you, and you froze, your palm mere millimetres from the stone.

"Don’t look back. Close your eyes and listen to me," Masema's voice remained steady, unwavering. It washed over your senses like a waterfall—soft, low, and slightly husky, yet remarkably calm and soothing. Even his breath maintained a steady rhythm, as if he were engaged in a casual conversation over breakfast rather than standing with you in the midst of nowhere, surrounded by hungry, bloodthirsty creatures, his only hope of escape hanging by the fragile thread of a scared girl, unsure of how to wield the power she possessed.

Masema's presence enveloped you like a soft cloud, calming the tempest of your swirling thoughts. His steady heartbeat seemed to set a new, measured rhythm for your own racing heart. The world around you faded away, leaving only his firm, commanding yet gentle voice echoing in your mind.

"Touch the stone," Masema whispered into your ear, pressing you tightly against his chest. "Don’t think. Feel. I trust you."

You couldn’t recall giving your hand the command to move forward, but it did so the very moment Masema’s words left his lips. The stone felt unforgivingly cold, its polished surface so smooth that you could feel each and every cut and line of the ancient runes engraved in it. Closing your eyes, you pressed your palm more firmly against it, with Masema’s hot breath on your neck serving as the only reminder of the world around you, the sole connection grounding you as you reached out for the source of light within you and it answered your call, pulsing and growing within you.

You trembled, the power scorching through you, burning from within, seeping into every cell of your body, every corner of your mind, its radiance swallowing you. So many times had you tried to reach for that power, you knew dwelling inside you. You could sense it, an unending pool of light and warmth, retreating each time you consciously called upon it. And now it was suddenly there, flickering around your fingertips, permeating in your breath, wafting around you with the strength of a tempest, flowing in a ceaseless current, begging to be tamed and channelled. 

Now it was you, squeezing Masemas hand with all the strength you had, seeking refuge in his unwavering confidence, in his steady breath on your neck, in his rhythmic heartbeat, as with a loud cry you channelled your power into the stone.

Suddenly, it was quiet around you. No howling, no growls, no sounds of approaching paws causing the earth to tremble beneath your feet. Slowly, you opened your eyes. You were still standing in the same place, your palm pressed against the stone, Masema’s muscular arm around your waist, his other hand squeezing your left hand. You breathed in the fresh air, smelling of grass and rain. Rain! The realisation hit you like lightning.

“I did it!” a cry of triumph vibrated through your body. “Masema, I did it! We're back.”

In the next moment, you were turned around as light as a feather and pressed against the stone, with Masema towering over you.

“My little dragon, my powerful girl,” was all he said as his lips crushed against yours.

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[aleksanderscult]

Here's the text. I couldn't send it in a reply to your message. After re-reading this scene, Zoya's attitude is even worse than I remembered

Thank you for bringing it to my attention!

So this passage is from chapter 6 of "King of Scars" and Nikolai just showed Zoya a small picture of his true biological father, Magnus Opjer.

Right you are, Nikolai.

Alina is not the best to expect comfort from, that's true. But Zoya is the last on the list of "people that would show empathy towards you"

And then how Zoya reacted? She immediately grabbed the picture from his hands and threw it into the flames.

Is empathy in the room with us, guys??

What happened to the old fashioned words of comfort and a hug?

You hear that, Nikolai?? You must become as heartless as her! Why do you still have feelings like a normal person?? Jeez...

(friendly reminder: they are considered an amazing ship too!)

Yeah.... And if the Darkling had also said: "What is a mortal king to another king who can summon shadows?" while he was under the service of so many countless Kings his head would be sent flying.

Apparently we have forgotten the fact that Nikolai is the absolute power and sovereign in this country and Zoya just a subordinate.

Under normal circumstances, no one would dare to throw into the fire a prized and important possession of the King but in this universe Zoya can do as she pleases with no repercussions. Her words are treated as wisdom from the narrative and her actions an attempt to "protect" him.

In this case, the reader feels no sense of power from Nikolai since Zoya is treated almost the same way from everyone in that palace.

I'm pretty sure you did not according to the law but okay, beautiful, whatever helps you, characters, sleep better at night. 🤷

You are also sworn to obey him, to remember your place and to do nothing without his command but what do I know? I'm not Zoya.

And people call the Darkling cruel lmao

Thank you for making him feel increasingly better, Zoya.

My brother in Christ, you have been perpetually forgiving towards at least 6-7 characters ever since you were introduced to us. Stop threating through words and be active for once in your stupid character arc!

Thank you again, friend, for bringing this instance to my asks. It's just confirmation that whatever Zoya does has no consequences, she's insensitive and spoiled and once again Nikolai remains inactive.

Hope I never hear any of you guys from now on say that it was only the Darkling that "lost his humanity".

[mariacallous]

This morning, about 300,000 children woke upin households affected by the benefit cap. Lots of these children – enough to fill more than 1,000 primary schools – will be living in cold and damp homes, with food cupboards near empty; in deep poverty that leaves normal childhood activities, such as after-school clubs, swimming lessons and family days out, far out of reach.

Since 2020, I’ve been working with colleagues at the universities of York and Oxford and the London School of Economics to investigate the impact of the benefit cap and the two-child limit (commonly referred to as the two-child benefit cap) on families with three or more children.

In our research with families affected by the benefit cap, we have spoken to parents such as Lucy, who pays £1,375 a month to rent a mould-ridden, rat-infested property. At times, the cap has left her family with as little as £65 a week to survive on once the rent and some of the bills are paid. £65. For five of them. It is simply not possible to get by on that.

We spoke to Lucy four times over four years, and she was always doing all she could to move out of that property. But as our analysis of Zoopla listings shows, the housing just isn’t there. Finding cheaper rents would enable people to escape the cap, because this would reduce their need for financial support with their housing and would bring them under the level of the cap. But there is a complete absence of affordable housing in many areas.

Despite the cap causing real and lasting harm, it garners little attention from politicians or the media. Much more focus is paid to its sister policy, the two-child limit, which denies means-tested financial support of up to £3,455 per child to third and subsequent children born on or after 6 April 2017.

The two-child limit is incredibly punitive; withdrawing support for children purely on the basis of the number of siblings they have. It applies to households in and out of work, and every day that it remains in place, the number affected grows. But the benefit cap, which places an absolute limit on the income that a household can receive in social security benefits, should also demand our attention.

Statistics released today reveal that 123,000 households in England, Scotland and Wales were affected by the benefit cap in May 2024, a rise of about 46,000 in just three months according to government figures. Introduced by George Osborne in 2013, the cap means the most a family without regular work can claim is £25,323 in London and £22,020 in the rest of the country.

A totemic policy of the coalition years, and of the obsession with creating simplistic divisions between “strivers” and “skivers”, the cap is now, absurdly, lower than the original limit that was set in 2013 (when it was £26,000 across the UK). The past decade has seen a rapid rise in the cost of living, driven not just by high inflation, but increased energy costs and unaffordable private rents, squeezing the poorest families only harder still.

Both the benefit cap and the two-child limit sever a foundational principle within our welfare state that people should be entitled to support based on what they need. The architects of these policies were driven by ideology and made a heartless, unforgivable calculation that a “tough” approach to benefits – accompanied by a stigmatising rhetoric on “welfare” – would boost their poll ratings. They were, it seems, prepared to pay the price for this in children and families left without enough to get by. Some families are even hit by both policies at the same time, and both are key drivers of the shameful levels of child poverty in the UK.

Lucy told us how the mould and rats in her expensive rented home affect her and her children, and how the struggle to make ends meet frays her mental health and leaves her almost entirely dependent on food banks and kindness from local churches and charities. The cap punishes Lucy’s family for paying high rent on a property so dilapidated it harms their health. Lucy explained how mould, unchecked by the landlord for months, caused her and one of her twins to get asthma – a potentially lifelong condition.

With no options to escape the cap, families are left living in Victorian-era conditions. Last year, Zauna, who has four children, told us that her children would cry: “Mum, it’s so cold.” She added: “I don’t know what to do … we need to live.”

And yet, all of this is completely avoidable. Rachel Reeves may talk of the need for fiscal prudence, but just £300m could bring an end to the benefit cap. That is the same amount the last government spent on supporting sports clubs hit by Covid lockdowns.

Lifting the benefit cap would provide immediate relief to hundreds of thousands of families such as Lucy’s and Zauna’s, who are currently facing a long, cold winter. What better way, after all, to start investing in our future than by ensuring children’s basic needs are met?

[burningtheroots]

Something that shows how cruel and heartless men can actually be is their treatment of women during and after war times, and society as a whole enables them.

Women and children are the primary targets in military conflicts — they‘re seen as property, and both the enemy countries AND the home counties of these women and children view them as livestock and objects they can claim & use however they please.

Whilst men fail to acknowledge that men cause wars and that rich men take advantage of poorer men during these times, they love to complain about how women are "privileged" during war. However, when we take a closer look, the whole picture changes: rape of the enemy‘s women is one of the most prevalent war crimes, and women make up the majority of death victims in post-war times (combat deaths only make up a small percentage of war deaths in total, most deaths are civilians).

Women are "claimed" and therefore abused by soldiers who see them as their enemy‘s property, and not only that — the men from these women‘s home countries commit rape as well, and force pregnancy & childbirth upon them to make up for the losses during military conflicts.

Women are also the ones who keep their home countries going, and have been the ones who re-built them in the past (see Germany after WW2). Just because men believe that women are "inferior" (hence banned them from combat, and the women in the military are often raped by their male peers!) and think that torturing them in their homes instead is a "privilege" doesn’t mean it‘s true.

And societies, whether during or post war, whether part of the conflict or not, usually uphold the belief that women‘s suffering is meaningless, collateral damage if anything, and even put blame on the women for being in the conditions men put them in.

With the Ukrainian/Russian war nowadays, we see once again how the women are victims of war crimes, yet get belittled and harassed for it. For example, you‘ll see how people shame these women for getting pregnant during such times whilst completely disregarding that they don’t have the options to prevent it in the majority of cases. I‘m not saying that every single pregnancy in these times stems from rape, but a massive number of them do. And even those who don’t still happen during a time where these women have no access to appropriate healthcare and protections.

In short …

Woman: *gets reduced to property and livestock, gets abused, raped, forced into pregnancy and childbirth, struggles for survival*

Society: How does she dare to be this irresponsible?!?!!!???? and Look at all those poor men instead, they‘d love to have these privileges!!!!!!!!

That‘s what it basically comes down to.

[myovergrowngarden]

The Right Time (a poem by Stephanie Rose Hold)

Sometimes I wish I’d been born in 1990 Not because I was born in the wrong generation Not because I particularly care about the 90s But because I wish my life was one decade closer to its conclusion Because I want so badly to be stepping outside of  The vulnerability that comes with youth To not be looking ahead at oblivion and realizing that I’ll have to live through it all That I have extra decades ahead of me to watch this country collapse  That it is my obligation to survive as long as possible To ramble about how miserable it is to be trans in what will inevitably become A Republican controlled America again Whether it’s this election cycle Or the one following When promises are unfulfilled To hope and pray and scream for my salvation, and for the salvation of every other person Damned to live through an unhealthy chunk of this century 

Maybe I wish I was born in 1980 instead Not because I think the 80s were cool, To be honest, I’ve never once had that thought And certainly not because I think the 80s were easy To grow up under Ronald Reagan must have been its own special hell But because, by now, that time would be over I would be looking at it in the hindsight of my early 40s With the same lack of steady insurance  With the same gap in my last doctor’s visit And I would know that I’d probably be dead  By the end of my 50s So I only had to squirm for a little while longer Until the reaper came to free me 

Perhaps, then, 1970 Born just before Watergate With an extra decade under my belt Maybe then it would be quick Maybe then it would be easy But my mom was born then And she’s still alive and well Working harder than I ever have Making sure I can live Until I manage to get my first job Late to life Late to dance With the red robed figure Who crashed my party I certainly wish for her to live a long life And I wish for all of this to go differently  Than I know it will  So that she isn’t doomed To four more decades God willing Of misery and death Just to hop off the train  Before things get good

1960 Things were worse The world was bad And improvement Was on the horizon If it was ever coming I don’t want that It would be cruel to say I did Thoughtless and heartless  To anyone who had to be there

Maybe there’s no good time to be alive Maybe there’s no right point to be born Maybe this was all a big mistake And I should just keep my mouth shut And wait for the next decade

[lionlena]

Why I think Fireflies are DUMB and Marlene is cruel

I re-watched episode 9 and this scene caught my attention

Okay, I know Marlene said the patrol didn't know them, but their behavior is still stupid to me. They didn't know it was Joel... Yes, that JOEL (damn dangerous dude). What did they see? The girl and probably her dad in the open space and yet they decided to waste the stun grenade launcher.

I'm assuming this isn't something you can buy on ebay in post-apocalyptic times. So? What should they do? They have the upper hand, they're obscured, they've got guns, and these two can't see them. In addition, Joel is not holding a gun in his hands, but has it slung over his shoulder. It would be enough to fire a warning shot in the air and shout: "Stop! You are surrounded! Put your hands up! Tell me who you are and what you are looking for!"

Is it really that hard? I'm under the impression that it is because fireflies are untrained and unorganized. I saw a similar situation in episode 7. Seriously, didn't any of the fireflies (with more than two brain cells) say, "Hey, this young girl with no experience is supposed to guard the warehouse by herself? Maybe someone older and more experienced should be with her? You know, so she doesn't do anything stupid. Like she don't go to quarantine zone and go get friend? I'm just saying"

I know FEDRA is evil anyway, but the fireflies will never defeat them. Why? Because FEDRA has a structure, a hierarchy and they are organized.

And now Marlene... She is surprised that Joel made it to their base. “We lost half our crew crossing the country. I had five men whose only job was to protect me. I still nearly died. How did you do that?"

My assumptions are that Marlene may have assumed Ellie was already dead. How long has it been since she last saw her? Four months? Half a year? She couldn't be 100% sure that Joel wouldn't abandon Ellie. Don't get me wrong. I love Joel. I love what a great father he is to Ellie, but Marlene didn't know that. To her, Joel was a smuggler who was supposed to smuggle Ellie in exchange for a reward. Any other smuggler would have decided after a week that all the hard work wasn't worth it. So what am I aiming for? I don't think Marlene was prepared for Ellie's arrival. The fireflies and the doctors weren't prepared either. The entire laboratory facilities were probably not prepared (assuming there were any at all some laboratory). And yet Marlene decided to kill Ellie. She didn't want to spend even one day with her friend's daughter. Why? Because she is cruel and blindly believes in something that has no logical or scientific basis. She stubbornly wants to save a world that no longer exists and that will never exist again.

And she's also cruel to Joel. She says, "I owe you a favor. We all are." And yet she denies him the most basic thing, which is goodbye. Anyone who, like me, has lost a loved one without being able to say goodbye to them knows how painful it is.

And she's also cruel to Anna. She promised her that she would take care of the baby, and what she did... 1/ She gave Ellie to FEDRA 2/ She gave Ellie to Joel Again, I love Joel, but to Marlene Joel  is a cruel, brutal, heartless smuggler. 3/ She gave Ellie to a doctor who shouldn't even be called a doctor (Hippocratic Oath says something to someone? "Primum non nocere") Probably this doctor could have been blind, deaf, and paralyzed in his right arm, and Marlene would have agreed to the operation anyway.

She says: Our doctor thinks... Thinks? what the fuck? He should be sure. IN 100%. Because if it's true and Ellie is the only chance to create a cure, then you can't assume anything... YOU HAVE TO BE SURE OF IT

But the peak of her cruelty for me are these words: I do understand. I am the only one who understands...

How dare you? How fucking dare you say that! You don't understand anything!!! You didn't lose your baby. For twenty years you haven't had the same nightmare that one day became true again. You don't know what it's like to be a parent again. You don't know what Ellie's been through. You didn't see her fear, her tears, her laughter. You weren't with her the first time she drove the car, the first time she slept in the woods, the first time she saw a giraffe.

you know nothing jon snow

Ok, and back to fireflies and their stupidity again.

If Ellie was so important. Why was the operating room so poorly protected? At least three soldiers should stand by the doctor and not move even when they hears shots.

But again they showed their disorganization. Why? Perhaps the biggest mistake is not having the right leader. Imagine if someone like Joel was their leader. Someone who always expects the worst. Someone who thinks first and then acts.

That's why fireflies are stupid to me. Because first they act (throw a grenade, carry out an operation... they hand over the children to a smuggler) and only then... wait... No, they don't think. They only act.

And what do they get in return? Angry Joel in killer mode :D So seriously. It wasn't even Joel's fault. The fireflies asked for it.

[nogenderbee]

OMG I JSUT HAD AN IDEA HELPL

OKAY OKAY HEAR ME OUT PAHLEEEESE

So there is a contest that decides whos the best potion maker and you and Rui are tied and you both become stubborn during this challenge so you 2 kind of hate each other and trying to beat the other at everything passive-aggressively but one day Rui is stranded in a rainy forest and is lost for the entire night and we find him the next morning drenched and reaching for an apple in your tree and since we aren't heartless we give him a few apples in a basket and give him a map and send him off and everytime up until this point and after that he starts secretly putting little trinkets on your doorstep and you guys decide to have a truce and work together to become the best potion makers

(SORRY IF THIS IS LONG I TRIED TO SIMPLIFY IT AS MUCH AS I CAN IM FINE WITH LITERALLY ANYTHING HC, STORY ANYTHING I JUST NEED SIMEONE TO HEAR ME OUT)

Omg, my dear anon, believe me when I say I absolutely adore your idea! And don't worry about long request because I have a feeling this fic is a little longer than I expected... but anyway I hope you enjoy it <3

Enemies to Lovers with Alchemist!Rui

You were one of the best potion makers in your country if not on the whole world! But title 'one of the best' isn't a mistake since there's someone who matches with your talent, and that person's name is Rui Kamishiro, someone who's just as good at you at potion cresting and your biggest enemy. Last tournament you've been to, you were against him and both of you had a tie! No matter how many additional rounds you do and how much effort you put into surpassing him, you two always ended on a tie.

Today you were going back to those memories from tournament while working on your new potion that world hasn't seen yet! But the fact that you were pissed at certain purple-haired alchemist certainly didn't helped.

When you were done mixing, you just had to wait couple of minutes and potion would be done with your win! So you decided to spend some time looking at nature. You looked outside and saw that it still was raining like crazy but you also saw your biggest enemy reaching for one of your golden apples! So naturally you quickly rushed outside before he could do anything, after all he could've just wanted to poison them to make your life harder!

"Hey! You there! What do you think you're do-?!"

You were in middle of scolding him when you saw how cold he was. He was trembling like crazy and his eyes were watery, and barely could say a word to you.

Sure he may be your enemy but you're not heartless so you decide to help him out somehow. Luckily your golden apples had ability to warm up anyone who eats it I don't care if they don't, shhhh just pretend so you decided to give him a full basket of them, just in case, after all they will grow back and he needed them more than you right now. You also gave him some of your bonus maps you had since it would definitely explain to him better where to go than you.

"Thank you very much. I... really can't thank you enough!"

You could see that he was surprised and you couldn't blame him, if your biggest enemy was nice to you all of the sudden, you'd be surprised and suspicious as well. So with simple 'goodbye's and 'thanks', he walked away.

Time Skip here ~

Since that day you helped your enemy, you started to receive some small gifts. Be it some resources you could've used for your potions and that weren't so easy to find, some snacks, simple jewelery or many many other stuff! For a while you thought that it may be from your rival and he's trying to sabotage you but the more you received, the more you were sure the presents weren't there to sabotage you, suite the opposite actually!

One day tho, your curiosity won and you decided to spill trapping potion over front of your yard to catch the one who was after it. Sure it may sound cruel but it's completely safe and you just wanted to know who it was.

So once you heard the familiar sound that meant someone was catched, you went out to check it hoping that it wasn't another animal that happened to pass by, and luckily for you it wasn't! You finally could've know who this generous person was and it was... Rui...?

"Oh my, so obvious trap and yet I didn't noticed it... Well, you catched me, darling!"

He raised his hands in defence once you broke the effect of the potion.

"To be honest I had my assumptions but... why? I'm your probably biggest enemy and you helped me by giving me rare resources!"

"Well... how do I put it... that night you helped me, made me understand that you're very special and I don't want you to think of me as a enemy, more of a... friend for example!"

"But... competition between us is unavoidable, we're matching abilities so of course we have to decide who's better...!"

"Or we can be partners if you'd like! After all, if we truly are the strongest potion makers in the country, if not in the whole world then if we put our strength together we can be unstoppable!"

You saw a bit of crazyness painted over his face but that didn't surprised you. After all you were waaayyy too familiar with that expression of his. But he did have a point... if you were to work together, you might truly accomplish something amazing, and he doesn't seem as a bad partner neither.

"You're right... well then, if you're alright with that then I'd love to work together with you!"

"Amazing! I absolutely can't wait for the world to see how amazing we are together! So I wish us both a pleasant cooperation~"

❉⊱•═•⊰❉⊱•═•⊰❉⊱•═•⊰❉⊱•═•⊰❉⊱•═•⊰❉⊱•═•⊰❉

[transwolvie]

sooooo like is Egypt ever gonna face any like.................repurcussions or consequences for doing the very on-its-face-evil thing of raising costs exorbitantly for people to escape literal fucking bombings? cuz every time I think about how much the fee for escaping Gaza has gone up during this genocide I get so fucking mad I can barely see and yet it seems like all the governments in the world are just fucking fine with letting it slide. what the fuck are we even supposed to do at that point. will Egypt just never be held accountable for this heartless decision, in the same way nothing will be done about Israel choosing to commit genocide and the US choosing to fund it? I'm so disgusted and angry and at the same time I feel so small and useless. What can I possibly do to hold entire countries and imperialist nations accountable for these ongoing and horrific crimes against humanity? What option is there but to give money and hope people can pay their way through these cruel immigration fees? It's maddening.

[mastomysowner]

Why Doflamingo is my favorite character

Okay, I wanna get it off my chest.

He speaks in a sarcastic tone. This 別に expresses indifference, like, “oh well, I was okay with it anyway“.

He had the means to do so, and yet he didn’t.

Indeed, Doflamingo was bent on having Dressrosa perceived by the people as a normal country, and totally not some kind of arms smuggling base. But while Arlong, like Wapol, collected tribute from his "subjects", Kaidou and Orochi used Wano's citizens as factory slaves (that’s why they didn’t starve to death in those 20 years), Doflamingo had no use for Dressrosa’s population. All they did was create problems, such as the need for curfews and toy laws and the issuing of propaganda, not to mention spending money from the arms trade on freeing them from want.

Doflamingo got off scot free after taking the Heavenly Tribute hostage, the government wouldn’t care what he does to the people of some banana monarchy. For example, Mariejois is synonymous with slavery in the OP world, and no slave owner in their right mind would allow slaves to ruin this place’s appearance. The slaves were kept where they were supposed to be, and they did what they were supposed to do. Like Kaidou said, it’s easy to get more slaves.

In his speech, Riku talked about manipulating the citizens of Dressrosa into not accidentally learning the truth, as if Doflamingo was benefiting and/or enjoying it. It's worth saying it’s technically and thematically wrong that Doflamingo is shown outside the Birdcage. He didn’t call his own technique like this for nothing.

During his reign, he looked more like he was trying to train his inner Buddha.

国民共がうるせェな. // Those citizens sure are noisy.

うるさい has both noisy and annoying among its meanings. Doflamingo used the suffix 共/domo, which is deprecating when said toward others. Even if he didn’t, his attitude towards them would still be clear; just look at his face.

He could’ve spoken to the citizens and reassured them by telling that everything was under control and announcing the arrival of CP-0, but it seems for him this idea was like bathing in manure. Just imagine something like Hancock in a country full of men.

From my standpoint, the next two scenes are strikingly similar, except it would be unthinkable for Doflamingo to cry in front of an enemy.

お前らには計り知れねえさ......!!! // For you it’s unfathomable!!!

墜ちた 天竜人に!! 人間達が何をするか!!! 想像できるか...!!? 人間は皆 残虐だ // What humans can do to a fallen Celestial Dragon!!! Can you even imagine it?! All humans are cruel.

何言ってんだ!! ...ニセミンゴ!!! // What are you talking about?! ...Fake Mingo!!!

They both don’t want to name these things.

There’s a little difference between 残虐 (zangyaku) and 残酷 (zankoku), both meaning cruelty. Zankoku emphasizes heartlessness and mercilessness, while  zangyaku is used when talking about brutal acts. 虐 in zangyaku stands for “to abuse; to torment”. That’s why sadism is 嗜虐(性) - shigyaku(sei) (嗜 is ”liking for”, 性 is “personality”).

人間にはな ...どんな人格者にも血を見て興奮する”残虐性”が眠ってる!! // In every human... Even in the best of them sleeps cruelty that gets excited at the sight of blood!!!

残虐(性) is again mentioned. Also, 人格者 isn't one acting civilized, it’s “a man of character/integrity”, one possessing a great personality.

If it was Doflamingo who wanted to see blood and death, he could’ve flushed his toilet with the tears of the Dressrosa people, but he tried to satisfy their appetites. Even the gladiators themselves were all for it.

The spectators, like Doflamingo before, wasn't just talking about slicing/attacking foes, but about 斬る - killing using a blade. In ancient Rome, it was common custom for spectators to decide whether or not to spare the losing gladiator; with these guys it wouldn't be necessary, as the result would always be the same.

Yes, of course, not all gladiators were like Spartan, who won the monthly fighting tournament 51 times and participated in who knows how many times. There were also unwilling ones, as in historical Rome.

Crazy thought: if they’re against the World Government and Sabo later freed them, could they be connected to the RA?

It's ironic that a little later in the same arc (the peak irony is that it was in Doflamingo's flashback) it was revealed just how evil with a capital E WG truly is. The idea that one can get on the literal Nazis’ good side is absurd. You can obey them all you want, and it will only affect how you wanna be sent off: with famine, with war, or with a government conspiracy involving the trade of poisonous goods?

Alright, it’s obvious that Doflamingo’s Dressrosa was meant to be similar to Franco's Spain, but I don't think it's worth comparing it to real countries and even other OP countries; it existed under very specific realities. It was more of a secret transshipment base than a country, on the brink of a world war, when the World Government was ready to trade with its enemies or, when all else fails, to unleash everything that was at its disposal.

The WG sentenced Doflamingo to death for the knowledge of their secrets, but he made himself an irreplaceable cog for them, as Iceburg had done. And for decades, he carefully implemented his plans to get his hands on the National Treasure of Mariejois and overthrow the rulers of the world.

Your honor, he’s not just a mass murderer, he’s a mass murderer with a vision. His actions when he got real power show that he had genuine good intentions for the world.

Geralt of Rivia once said: “Lesser, greater, middling, it's all the same. Proportions are negotiated, boundaries blurred. I'm not a pious hermit, I haven't done only good in my life. But if I'm to choose between one evil and another, then I prefer not to choose at all.”

And then later in the same story, Renfri tells him: “Only Evil and Greater Evil exist and beyond them, in the shadows, lurks True Evil. True Evil, Geralt, is something you can barely imagine, even if you believe nothing can still surprise you. And sometimes True Evil grabs you by the throat and says: “Choose, mate, either me, or the one that is just a little smaller!”

[iimpius]

impius ; without reverence or respect for God, one’s parents, or one’s country; irreverent, ungodly, undutiful, unpatriotic; abandoned, wicked, impious.

known identity ; great earl of hell, raum

given name ; sebastian michaelis

age ; ( unknown ) several centuries years old, appears to be in his early 30s

gender ; male

species ; demon

physical appearance ; ( 186cm or 6'1’’ ), tall, dark, and handsome with black hair and bangs that cover his face, quite a deep tenor English accent voice. ( as a demon his true appearance is much more terrifying, being able to hover above ground and shape-shift immediately. )

clothes ; crisp, clean butler uniform made in the Victorian-Edwardian Era. Black tie. Albert silver pocket watch. And the Phanthomhive badge that marked him as the senior head butler. Shiny black leather shoes. White gloves. Otherwise, a very traditional dress for a Senior Head Butler.

demonic presence ; his powers & abilities vary, his demonic presence can cause NIGHTMARES, anxiety & fear. able to consume his surroundings & able to shroud it with pitch black darkness. ( his shadow may and can “grow” arms, physically able to manipulate the shadow to do his doings for him. ) demonic form ; to be written.

personality ; four words, ( cruel ), heartless, malicious & sadistic.

[bleue-flora]

Read your discussion with elmhat and I have to add that c!Quackity was basically canonically abused by c!Schlatt. Like, on-screen. He gets threatened, insulted, sexually harassed, and even physically beaten into obedience at least once. It's a huge thing and it's taken as seriously as anything involving Schlatt can be.

It's not an excuse for Q later being abusive himself, but Schlatt mistreating him is a HUGE part of his motivations later, so I needed to correct/add that

I mean… ok that’s fair. I apologize. And I mean that. :) Let’s make sure the facts are straight for sure. So yeah you’re right that did happen but just not to the like extremes that some people portray I guess is what I was more referring to (as far as I remember). Though I am always down for some clips if you have any that come to mind. But I see what you are getting at… though as you said it doesn’t justify it really, but it is still important for making the audience sympathetic and understanding towards a character. (And perhaps take this with a grain of salt because I haven’t been in a real actual like romantic/sexual relationship… though I guess to be fair I do have experience with pretty severe sexual harassment and manipulation (minus the beating)..…but that’s really besides the point) I think in the scale of the dsmp it’s just kinda…. Meh….(don’t apply this to irl btw) for me perhaps the biggest thing is that it was ultimately his own fault and no one forced him to stay and he was already ruthless before c!Schlatt. And it may have been cruel and terrible and screwed him up but ultimately it never really changed his motivations and actions that much… like he ran in an election before c!Schlatt, he serves as an influential government official and forms countries after c!Schlatt. I mean the whole bet thing with c!Schlatt about getting the book ultimately could be taken out of lore and it wouldn’t change much… I don’t know. In the skewed world of the dsmp, abuse is a standard afternoon so it’s hardly that consequential in my opinion of course. That may make me sound cold hearted but… egh like in the same case as c!Tommy for exile. They faced the consequences of their own actions, consequences that on the scale of cruelty on the dsmp are just not on the same scale as what is considered note worthy abuse in the real world. And if we are saying that counts as his traumatic backstory that is both supposed to somewhat make the audience feel for him and make him understandable then it just… isn’t enough? Isn’t substantial?… I don’t know. Maybe that makes me heartless but I’m not saying c!c!Quackity is a one dimensional heartless, control freak, sadistic villain, he’s still a person however flawed and broken and misguided. But I don’t think we can blame c!Quackity’s behavior and cruel delusion as being from c!Schlatt nor do I think he did things because he has a deep care for other people… but then again maybe that says more about me then him, that perhaps my views are scuffed…I don’t know….

[thelongforgottenrealm]

RODERICK VARMONT, EMPEROR OF THE VARMONT EMPIRE / JUDE LAW

♛ Age: (49) ♛ Relationships: Amira Varmont, Marian Varmont (wives), Arthur Varmont, Sebastian Varmont, Edmund Varmont (sons), Guinevere Varmont, Cassandra Varmont (daughters), Alaric Varmont (brother), Bartholomew Varmot (uncle/hand/unknown rival), Ciara Varmont, Eoin Varmont (cousins), Godfrey Calainon, Tristan Calainon (brothers-in-law), Eilionora Stafford (hostage/intended fourth wife), Aria Stafford (hostage), Aleksander Royce (priest)

roderick was never supposed to be king – he had an older brother, whom his father loved and adored

roderick, in comparison, never lived up and his father never let him forget this fact and he often reminded his son how grateful he was that roderick had not been born first

when roderick was seventeen years old, he went in secret, to marry his childhood love – despite his own father having arranged another match for him. but roderick knew his own heart and married the girl he loved – even if she was the third daughter of a disgraced family – her own father had been executed for treason

he planned to run away with her, but he never got the chance – for both his father and brother succumbed to the plague that would ravage the land the following spring

as soon as roderick was crowned, he set his sights on the countries across the sea – he was determined to build himself an empire and prove to everyone that he would be a king, a conqueror, and an emperor

he remained very much in love with his first wife, but on his travels he met amira calainon who turned his head

falling under her charms, he was determined to have her, but she said she would only go to his bed as his wife

roderick saw no reason why he couldn’t adopt the old ways and have as many wives as he pleased – besides, he desired a son and heir of his own and so far was childless

he hastily married again, a year later, when he still had no children to speak of, despite having two healthy wives – this time taking a young lady who had come from a large family, herself, to wife hoping she would be the one to give him children

in the end, his first wife gave him his first child – a baby girl who they named guin; marian gave birth to a son, some months later and in the years that followed gave him two more children; amira gave him one son

it has never been clear who he means to leave his own throne to – guin is the eldest, arthur is the eldest boy, and edmund is the eldest boy born of his second wife (what no one really knows is that sebastian is the eldest trueborn son he has – arthur having been sired by marian’s secret lover .... and roderick's own uncle)

can be heartless and cruel, but there’s more to him than that – he was certainly once a much softer man, but his life has not been an easy one and his obsession for power has blinded him to his other priorities

his first wife eventually died – the doctors could not tell him why, but roderick knows it was because of a broken heart – she never stopped loving him and when he chose to take on other wives, he hurt her beyond repair

roderick has recently conquered astaira, which is the largest and most profitable kingdom thus far. to secure it, he means to take queen elinora as his wife but she is less than ready to give in to him and, in the meantime, he has both her and her youngest sister under house arrest

he does not believe in this place’s old religion and means to snuff out an already dying flame …. little does roderick know, that there is much more truth to the old tales than he gives them credit for, and that the true danger is now less than a world away ….

TAKEN BY KATE AA.

[blorbosexterminator]

I ask this question in good faith. I have seen those say that it is a moral responsibility to watch the destruction in Gaza. I have seen those say it is heartless and disgusting to prioritize one's mental state over the destruction in Gaza. But how does traumatizing people improve the situation? What about those who have never seen this level of senseless violence and sadistic disregard for life, how does it benefit anyone to inflict these images on others? When we have all just been needlessly traumatized from a global pandemic that took so many lives, when so many of us are survivors of domestic violence and sexual trauma? Why are those traumas warned for so others can stay away, but to avoid the current situation is unacceptable? Do I have an obligation to show my 17 year old brother, who has never seen a dead body before, pictures of mutilated children? Do I have an obligation to show my 62 year old mother, who fled violence in her home country, more horrific stories just like the ones she lived through in her youth? My suicidal best friend has stayed alive hoping for a better world, is he obligated to demolish his single hope? I hear that money and donations not getting to Gaza but there has to be another option that avoids inflicting these atrocities on others. I have never seen a person say "I was gang raped on camera as a child, so people must subject themselves to videos of my rape to render justice" but with Gaza, the moral stance is that we are cruel and selfish for not wanting to be overwhelmed by horror and grief.

Let's say you are writing this in good faith and it's not a guilt-tripping manifesto for anyone who dares to say please don't avert your gaze from what's happening. Let's say you just happen to have the most fragile family and circle in existence, no one is saying you should consume photographs of the mutilated bodies of Palestinians for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. No one is saying to completely overwhelm yourself and stick your eyes to the dead bodies of Gaza 24/7. Though you shouldn't make it a point to completely avoid the horror, the sentiment I've seen around is to generally pay attention to Gaza.

90% of what I've posted and reblogged were news, written posts, etc and generally non-graphic content, and still, I lost a major number of followers. Many people I'm following, who also aren't mainly reblogging any graphic content, also lost major number of followers. Like, come on, anon, we're not idiots, this isn’t about a picture of a dead Palestinian somehow traumatizing you, a ridiculous sentiment in the first place. What's happening in Palestine is traumatizing the Palestinians and the Palestinians around the world who're watching their homes and families perish through the news. This is about getting validation for not paying any attention to Gaza just so that you can go about your day undisturbed without getting called selfish. But lol, it is selfish. Palestinians are going through one of the worst, if not the worst, atrocities of the 21st century and you don't want to feel bad about anything. But feeling profoundly disturbed and sad and angry are what should be happening here. Not everything is about you feeling fine and good and happy.

And saying it's pointless is genuinely naive. You think the insane amount of protestors in nearly every major city of the world would have happened 30 years ago when people couldn't see with their own eyes what was actually happening in Palestine? The footage of Mohammad Al-Dura hiding crouching behind his father and later dying singlehandedly did more for the Palestinian cause than the collective works of all activists, intellectuals, essays, and speeches. The Imaginary image of 40 beheaded babies planted by Israel is responsible for even a majority of the progressive left suddenly forgetting everything they knew about Palestine and giving the greenlight to Israel to do whatever the fuck it wants. Images ARE powerful. I don't know what's your point mentioning your 17 yo brother because that's not a little baby, but showing your brother footage from the ground--that journalists and their families are getting killed for providing us with-- might be the one thing that will make him stop and think a couple of years from now when his college friends think it's a good idea to go to a rave in Israel. It might be the one thing that will stop him from being a major idiot who goes on Twitter and saying the resistance's attack was unprovoked.

If I had been repeatedly raped by the same group of people since I was a child who cry "I'm a victim!!' the moment I push them back and then everyone goes "well, nothing could have prompted that!" I'd actually ask everyone to watch the footage of me getting repeatedly raped by them especially that it's still happening and major world leaders are going "ah well, the only source telling us she's getting raped that severely is her so we have no reason to believe that" it would actually matter a lot that as many people as possible watch the rape live to combat the disgusting falsehoods.

At the end of the day, no one is forcing you to do anything. You can completely avoid Palestine, you can block the tags, you can avoid the news, you and your best friend can just go one pretending you live in a world that you don't live in, and you'll be able to do that because you're not in Gaza and you have that option. And the only ones you'll be benefiting are the ones actively making the world we live in a worse place than it has to be. You can do whatever the hell you want, but you won't get a validation for it from me. It IS selfish to prioritize yourself to that extent actually. It IS selfish to be this self-involved.

[collectingsparechangemadeeasy1]

Diary Entries of Ozpin Valiant

So I wanted to do these little “interlude” type things, just snippets into the thoughts and feeling and past of Oz! Hope you enjoy!

To begin, my name is Ozpin Valiant. I am writing in this diary for my sake and my sake alone. My friend Glynda has told me to write in this and to be honest. I trust her, she is a good person. Took a heartless wretch like me in. Now let’s see… where to start?

I was born in Vacuo, December 24, 1989. Today's date is April 12, 2015 and I live in the city and country of Vale. I am currently 28 years of age and I have a 1 year old son named Oscar.

Well he’s not MY son. He’s the son of my sister, my best friend a very good friend. They died last year. I miss her. I can’t say the name yet. Or even look at it. It’s… too raw. Sorry Glynda, you’ll have to forgive me for that. Maybe one day but… not yet. Gods… She was so young, Oscar was barely a month old when she died… How unfair is that? A decent person like her should die, but some horrible old sack oh shit like me lives? How cruel destiny can be…

Anyways!

I am living with my friend Glynda! She and I were very close as children, but when I started trying dust… she and I got into a huge fight. I regret it now, regret trying those blasted drugs, regret screaming at her, leaving my mother… She’s dead now. My mother is dead and I didn’t even know. How horrible is that? That she and I used to be so close, she was my best friend, I was her world and… I didn’t even go to her funeral. I didn’t even know there was a funeral! 

Glynda said she’d take me to the grave another time. I don’t know if I’m ready. I broke that woman's heart when I left her home. I feel so awful… she deserved a better son than me. One who would have been by her side, held her hand as she left this world… Maybe I’ll see her ghost! That’s not uncommon and she was a pretty strong magic user! They usually have ghosts!

~

Journal Entry #2 Ozpin Valiant

Date December 25, 2015

I really gave this up quickly. Of course things have been a bit… Well, no. They haven’t been hectic, I just didn’t want to write. Honesty and all that, right? Well, things have changed a bit! I’m helping Glynda in her shop more! Potions aren’t my strong suit, but she lets me help with the simple stuff, and I’m very good at finding ingredients! Living on a farm will do that!

I wonder how my brothers are, and my fathers. It’s been so long since I’ve seen them. I suppose I should put their names down for posterity's sake. Heh, have you ever noticed how close that word is to posterior?  Posterity, posterior? Ha! I am such a child… Anywhosles!

My brothers are as follows. The oldest Ozma Valiant, he is 2 years older than me and should be 31! Ha! He’s old. 

I miss him.

The other brother is the second oldest! Which yes. Means I’m the baby. If you couldn’t tell already. His name is Ozmund Valiant, but everyone calls him Diggs! It’s a childhood nickname, since he used to be obsessed with digging holes when we were little. He should be 30 now. Actually that reminds me!

I’m officially 29 years old as of yesterday! Happy belated birthday! I didn’t really do anything, I haven’t really celebrated my birthday in a long time. But it was nice spending the day with Glynda and Oscar. Oscar is growing so much everyday it’s incredible! He took his first steps a week ago! I’m so proud of him! He was trying to walk to me for a hug and I will admit, I cried. A lot. Glynda teased me for being a crybaby, but I saw her eyes! They were misty!

But back to the topic at hand! My fathers! Ozymandias and Ambrosius Valiant!

Dad, aka Mandy, as he usually prefers to be called, is 40 years older than me, which makes me 69 this year. Nice. I’m sure Papa loves teasing him about that, he always had the silliest sense of humor.

Papa, aka Amby, as he hates being referred to so we do it all the time, is 37 years older than me, which would make him 66 years old by now! Bet he doesn’t look it though, that man doesn’t age I swear. I’ve known him since the day I was born and I swear he hasn’t gotten a single gray hair or wrinkle in all that time! Not one!

I haven’t seen them in years. I didn’t realize how much I missed them. I tried not to think about them after I ran away, I was so dumb back then, but I was only 17…

Maybe I should talk to them again…

[ya-boi-coral]

Today I randomly remembered a man I met a couple years ago, during the pandemic, when I was seventeen and about to start testosterone. He was a Turkish man that stayed in a room in our house we rented on Airbnb, he was there to write a book about Colombian post-conflict, had a wife and two children waiting for him in turkey and missed them a lot.

As a trans teen he was one of the only adults who respected my gender identity and we quickly became friends, we used to go on walks at night and drink, he was a heavy drinker so I never tried to keep up. Imagine the terror that came over my mom when she realized I was taking nightly walks with a drunk 30 year old man I barely knew, she rightly scolded me and we kept the drinking inside the house and the walks during the day.

He also had me try raki and taught me how to play tavla, I talked with him about Colombian history and taught him about local typical foods, we talked about the communist music of our countries and I tried to teach him how to dance merengue.

He was a turkish ex-military with PTSD and I was a Colombian trans teenager with social anxiety, the only things we had in common was OCD, leftist political views and English as a second language. But, besides from my own dad (who coincidentally left for his mistress a week after he arrived) he's the only man I would have trusted back then, when trauma still had a tight grip on me and the insecurities characteristic of a pre-t trans guy made me feel out of place.

My early teenage years taught me that men can be horribly cruel and manipulative and the six months I spent in his company taught me that men can also be kind, that masculine men don't have to be heartless dicks or stoic walls. He was my masculine role model and I thank him for that, I don't know what kind of person I would have become if it wasn't for his friendship.

Sometimes I wonder what he would say if he saw me today, back then I was an anxious insecure thing, boyish in a girly way and so very fragile, I wanted to take up as little space and make as little noice as I could. Nowadays I'm still queer as fuck, but I stand proud on both my masculinity and my femininity. I'm phisically stronger but I'm still as flexible and agile as ever, I'm louder and more outgoing but I'm still very sensible and a great listener. I'm even dating a man right now, even though I had never felt comfortable enough to be with one before. I'm not a masculine guy but I'm a happy one and I think that alone would make him proud.

Sorry for the long text and I doubt anyone will find this, let alone read it all, but with pride month nearing it's end I can't help but hope someone resonates with this. If not, I'm still happy to have this somewhere I can find it later.