#nobody there so they must be seeing things

[zephyrchama]

MC chipping their tooth in the Devildom.

At first there's panic, because nobody wants to see their favorite human in pain. MC expects them to go crazy over the injury and braces for a whole ordeal. Though, once they see what it is, the demons are weirdly calm about it.

"It must have shocked you, happening so suddenly like that," Satan says.

Belphegor says, "Beel chips a tooth at least once every couple of weeks." Beelzebub nods.

"You'll have to smile with your mouth shut for a few days," Asmodeus sighs.

You hold your jaw and try to deal with the pain as Leviathan passes you a napkin out of pity. Lucifer pats you on the back. You're trying to remember how ice magic is conjured to get some relief.

You can't understand why they're acting so nonchalant until Mammon pipes up. "You'll get a pretty new tooth in no time. Put the old one under a pillow an' maybe it'll bring ya some cash!"

"I don't have baby teeth anymore," you groan through the tissue in your mouth. "My teeth don't grow back."

Perhaps the words are muffled and hard to understand. Perhaps your statement is the first time they've heard such a thing. The demons take a moment to process it. Lucifer's comfort slows as realization dawns on everybody. Human teeth, and any injuries sustained to them, are permanent.

That's when all hell breaks loose.

[pfaugh]

From "They Thought They Were Free" by Milton Mayer (1966)

A chemical engineer by profession, he was a man of whom, before I knew him, I had been told, “He is one of those rare birds among Germans—a European.” One day, when we had become very friendly, I said to him, “Tell me now—how was the world lost?”

“That,” he said, “is easy to tell, much easier than you may suppose. The world was lost one day in 1935, here in Germany. It was I who lost it, and I will tell you how.

“I was employed in a defense plant (a war plant, of course, but they were always called defense plants). That was the year of the National Defense Law, the law of ‘total conscription.’ Under the law I was required to take the oath of fidelity. I said I would not; I opposed it in conscience. I was given twenty-four hours to ‘think it over.’ In those twenty-four hours I lost the world.”

“Yes?” I said.

“You see, refusal would have meant the loss of my job, of course, not prison or anything like that. (Later on, the penalty was worse, but this was only 1935.) But losing my job would have meant that I could not get another. Wherever I went I should be asked why I left the job I had, and, when I said why, I should certainly have been refused employment. Nobody would hire a ‘Bolshevik.’ Of course I was not a Bolshevik, but you understand what I mean.”

“Yes,” I said.

“I tried not to think of myself or my family. We might have got out of the country, in any case, and I could have got a job in industry or education somewhere else.

“What I tried to think of was the people to whom I might be of some help later on, if things got worse (as I believed they would). I had a wide friendship in scientific and academic circles, including many Jews, and ‘Aryans,’ too, who might be in trouble. If I took the oath and held my job, I might be of help, somehow, as things went on. If I refused to take the oath, I would certainly be useless to my friends, even if I remained in the country. I myself would be in their situation.

“The next day, after ‘thinking it over,’ I said I would take the oath with the mental reservation that, by the words with which the oath began, ‘Ich schwöre bei Gott, I swear by God,’ I understood that no human being and no government had the right to override my conscience. My mental reservations did not interest the official who administered the oath. He said, ‘Do you take the oath?’ and I took it. That day the world was lost, and it was I who lost it”

That feels like a good, self-contained thing. But if I haven't lost you yet, there's some more afterwards that I think is about as relevant.

“Do I understand,” I said, “that you think that you should not have taken the oath?”

“Yes.”

“But,” I said, “you did save many lives later on. You were of greater use to your friends than you ever dreamed you might be.” (My friend’s apartment was, until his arrest and imprisonment in 1943, a hideout for fugitives.

...

“Of course I must explain. First of all, there is the problem of the lesser evil. Taking the oath was not so evil as being unable to help my friends later on would have been. But the evil of the oath was certain and immediate, and the helping of my friends was in the future and therefore uncertain. I had to commit a positive evil, there and then, in the hope of a possible good later on. The good outweighed the evil; but the good was only a hope, the evil a fact.”

“But,” I said, “the hope was realized. You were able to help your friends.”

“Yes,” he said, “but you must concede that the hope might not have been realized—either for reasons beyond my control or because I became afraid later on or even because I was afraid all the time and was simply fooling myself when I took the oath in the first place.

...

Shall we say, just to be safe, that three million innocent people were killed all together?”

I nodded.

“And how many innocent lives would you like to say I saved?”

“You would know better than I,” I said.

“Well,” said he, “perhaps five, or ten, one doesn’t know. But shall we say a hundred, or a thousand, just to be safe?”

I nodded.

“And it would be better to have saved all three million, instead of only a hundred, or a thousand?” “Of course.” “There, then, is my point. If I had refused to take the oath of fidelity, I would have saved all three million.”

..

“I don’t understand.”

“You are an American,” he said again, smiling. “I will explain. There I was, in 1935, a perfect example of the kind of person who, with all his advantages in birth, in education, and in position, rules (or might easily rule) in any country. If I had refused to take the oath in 1935, it would have meant that thousands and thousands like me, all over Germany, were refusing to take it. Their refusal would have heartened millions. Thus the regime would have been overthrown, or, indeed, would never have come to power in the first place. The fact that I was not prepared to resist, in 1935, meant that all the thousands, hundreds of thousands, like me in Germany were also unprepared, and each one of these hundreds of thousands was, like me, a man of great influence or of great potential influence. Thus the world was lost.”

[ddreamywitch]

Chapter Seven - Take Me to Church

knight!benjicot x princess!reader

Word count: 3.5k

Song: Take Me to Church - Hozier

a/n: Benji pov fans (me) RISE UPP!!

Benji's mind is spinning in circles like never before.

What has he done?

Why has he done it?

He looks at you, your cheeks an intense shade of cherry-red and he wants to throw up a little bit.

How could he do this to you? How could he have done this to you?

You are so soft and innocent, you are to be wed, you are the king's daughter. 

His uncle must be right. He is a man barely in charge of his instincts. 

"Would you stop looking at me like that," you say.

He clears his throat and steps back. "Apologies," he mumbles. Then he takes another, precautionary step back, because he feels the closeness is only making things worse. 

There is an arm's length distance between the two of you now and you are looking at him very confused. 

Maybe he should jump off the tower. 

You hum an unsure sound, a question of what to do now. 

Benji clears his throat again. "Apologies, princess, I should not have been so..."

"So un-knightly?" you offer to finish his sentence. 

He nods. Now you look a bit hurt and he wishes he could turn back time. 

Ser Benjicot of House Blackwood was certainly no stranger to a woman's touch but this is certainly new territory to him. This is a woman far above him. He had never had affiliations with somebody like this. In all honesty, he had never even spoken to a noble woman that outranked him for longer than a fleeting moment before he had met her. 

None of this would have happened if he hadn't threatened to kill the entirety of the Bracken clan during their meetings to make peace. 

A statement he still feels is justified given how those depraved heathens act. 

"Benji, would you please say anything," you plead.

"Hmm, can't." It comes out sounding as though he's swallowing his own bile, which is also what is happening. Oh god in heaven above, what had he done. 

You pick up the discarded tiara and per instinct he averts his eyes, as if his tongue hadn't just been stuck in your throat mere minutes ago. 

They were going to execute him for this. And you would be shunned.

Who even is ‘they’? Nobody knows. 

"Nobody can ever find out," he says.

You snort as you sort your ridiculous feathered monstrosity of a tiara out on your head. "I wasn't about to tell the town-crier, Benjicot, I am not slow."

No, that is right you are not. Why had you even kissed him? Or had he kissed you?

"My god, all those stories about you impaling people and yet you stand before a woman quivering."

He meets your eyes and it feels like a punch to his stomach, right where he is the most vulnerable, but he doesn't understand why he feels that way.

"I'm sorry."

You seem mad. "I will go to my chambers now. Will Ser Corrigan take the night's watch?"

Ser Corrigan? What an odd face to think about at this moment. A weathered, old man, such a harsh contrast to whom he is looking at now, with your soft edges and your softer lips and those eyes that are looking at him with much intensity. 

"I believe yes." 

You nod and lift your dress, decidedly making your way down the stairs again. 

He remains where he is, incapable of moving even as he listens to your steps get quieter. 

Why, why, why can he never ever think before he acts? 

His feet drag across the floor, heavy with the weight of his decisions as he follows you down into the heart of the castle. 

He catches up with you just as you're about to slam the door into his face. 

Per instinct his hand shoots out, just for it to be squashed. 

You gasp in horror, which is so tooth-achingly sweet that it makes his veins burn. 

Ser Corrigan is standing by the door and glances back and forth between the two of you.

"My god, Ser Benjicot," you scold and open the door a little wider. 

There's a twitch in your fingertips and he'd like to think that it's because you want to reach for him, even if it's only to see if he's injured.

Which he isn't. "It's fine, I will just bruise."

You pout, in that angry way you tend to, clearly not satisfied with his answer. 

"Step inside, I wish to have a word for you."

Ser Corriggan harrumphs. You both look at him confused. In fact you look a little bit like you are realising just now that he is also present for this exchange. 

"Princess, I am certain that the Lord of the house will soon arrive to question your early departure from dinner," he reminds you. 

Benji wishes that ugly toad would fall down a flight of stairs. The Cathcart toad. He doesn't have an issue with Corrigan. Except, perhaps, for the fact that he is here and talking when he feels the very deep-rooted need to explain himself to you. 

You sigh. "Would you please send him away when he comes? I am in no mood to be infantilized by an overgrown boy."

Ser Corrigan nods. but there is doubt etched into the lines of his face. 

Benji wants to say something to him but he has no time to, your fingers are forceful in the leather plates on his forearm. 

Tamsyn looks terrified. 

Benji is painfully aware that she is terrified of him. He misses Marion. Not that he knew her well, but she didn't look like she may hurl the moment he laid eyes on her, the way that this girl is.

"You are excused," you tell her and he's glad but yet there is an inkling of nervosity in his chest, scratching at the walls of his insides. 

You grab his hand, twist and turn it. He tries to not let it bother him. "It doesn't hurt," he says.

One thumb presses into the back of it. "Does this hurt?"

The wince is stopped in his throat but he can't hide his facial expression betrays him.

"Why in the world would you do that? The door cannot be locked anyway," you scold and drop his hand.

You cross the room, a glimmering green flurry of layers. 

He stands there, like some sort of unwanted fixture until you return from your vanity with a tiny vial and a long white piece of fabric, the function of which he cannot identify until it is ripped by your wrathful hand. 

"Is that your veil?", he asks. You don't answer.

Instead you grab his hand and leave a generous trail of your oil across his knuckles. "It's arnica, lavender and rosemary. This is supposed to be your good hand, you cannot ruin yourself so carelessly."

"You are being theatrical," he tells you and regrets it when your face goes sour like spoiled milk.

"Am I? Am I being dramatic? The only reason you are still here is your ability to kill quicker than you think." 

It hurts him where you want it to hurt him. "Why are you so enraged?"

With a poking finger you guide him to the bed. "Sit," you order. If he wasn't already on thin ice, he'd make a joke about how commandeering you can be.

It reminds him of when you had set his nose, except then you had cowered down to be at eye level with him. You don't do that now and with a lot less gentleness you wrap up his hand. 

Entirely unnecessary, but he feels he should let you or else you might actually break a finger of his. Or two. 

"You know what I meant." It becomes a question as it rolls off his tongue. 

"You didn't even say anything to be misunderstood, Lord Benjicot Blackwood." 

His name is an insult, by the way it drips with venom. 

"I must have, because why else would you be trying to strangle my wrist."

Your touch loosens in an instant. 

"Well, if you must know, I would have hoped for something more than watching you nearly throw up into the courtyard right after shoving your tongue into places where into places where it isn't supposed to be."

It is hard to not grin but social complexities aren't entirely lost on him. 

"My apologies."

"Not accepted," you mumble through gritted teeth and finish up the bandages. "Find some herbs for me and I might consider accepting."

He nods as he looks up at you, praying that you don't notice that you're still holding his hand.

Your face is stern, a look so unnatural on you, he wants to wipe it off. 

"I will find herbs," he promises and unthinkingly, maybe unknowingly, he isn't certain, his thumb swipes a circle across your knuckles.

Knuckles that have never hurt, knuckles free of scars, softer than his hands have ever been.

You wince and pull your hand out of his grasp and he thinks he's overstayed his welcome but you sit down next to him. 

"Benji."

"Witch."

You scoff. Fingertips begin twisting the rings on your fingers. 

"You know I cannot be careless about this. I cannot go forth and pretend it didn't happen."

He wraps his hand around yours again. "I know."

"Now you must tell me what your intentions are."

Benji halts and looks at you confused. You roll your eyes. 

"That is how one courts a lady," you explain further. 

"Ahh." Now he cannot hide the grin. "I cannot court you, you know this."

"You can court me in secret."

He chuckles, a low rumble in his chest. "My intentions are pure-hearted little witch."

"I highly doubt it. You are a rake. And also you are nicknamed 'Bloody Ben' which is just ridiculous if you ask me. And even further you constantly look like you've just buried a body, to the point that even Marion feared you." You throw your free hand up in exasperation. "Marion!"

His hand is beginning to hurt now that the adrenaline has ebbed down a bit. "I'm not so bad, you know. I didn't rat you out. I didn't even complain when you drooled onto my pants the other night."

Every single time he sees you flush his heart grows so far he swears his ribs are digging into it. 

Suddenly, he can't remember why he was so terrified earlier. 

"I promise I will try to not be careless. And I will attempt to look less...bloody?"

You shake your head. "I don't want you to change. You're alright as you are. I am more so concerned with your ability to handle secrecy."

"I am an excellent keeper of secrets."

"You don't wear a mask." 

He frowns at you. "What? Are we at a masquerade ball?"

"No, I mean you wear your emotions on your face. It's your greatest flaw. I don't know how this can be, I don't imagine you do this when you fight people."

Benji had never thought about this. But then again, there are many things he hadn't thought about before he met you. There's a lot of things he never thought about before today. 

There's a weird thing between the two of you now. It looms over you as you squeeze his hand and when you drop your head against his shoulder. He isn't courting you.

You are to be married. 

He's kissed you, feverishly, with all-consuming passion and he can't go back and he doesn't want to but he can't go ahead either. 

He's stuck. Once again. Though it is starting to feel less like he's stuck as your knight. 

Quite an easy duty, with a princess like this. 

There's a bang on the door and the two of you jolt apart in an instant. He misses your hair tickling his jaw instantly. 

"Your highness," Lord Cathcart sneers through the door. 

"Wanker," Benji mumbles beneath his breath. 

"What?" You yell out.

"Come out. I wish to speak with you."

You get up but Benji is faster once more, cracking open the door the tiniest bit. "The princess has retired for the night. You may speak with her on the morrow, my good Lord."

The slimy man pries his hands into the small opening. Fortunately he has no real strength compared to Benjicot, who stops the thing from moving as far as an inch. "You forget yourself, bloody Ben. This is my castle."

At this, Benji opens the door far enough to push himself through and Erik away. The fool stumbles. 

He can't say it's not amusing to him. 

"And these are the chambers of a woman. You have no right to them. Only the king does."

He pauses and does a dramatic look around the hallway. 

"And as far as I am able to tell he is not here."

Eric sputters and reddens. Not like you do, but in an angry entirely off-putting manner, that almost makes Benji want to giggle. 

"You rest assured Blackwood boy, your days as a knight are counted."

Benji shrugs. "The Brackens will surely be happy to have me as their neighbour once more."

Lord Cathcart scoffs. "You'll be lucky to get out alive." 

And as if he hadn't heard a word just spoken he heads to the door, where you are standing. 

You look a bit dishevelled and Benji is a bit proud but he can't think on it too long, as Erik towers over you with the last shred of authority he can conjure up. "You will be my wife. I offered to go about this smoothly, but you went ahead and disrespected me. You will be my wife and then you will have no choice but to obey. I shall see to that."

Benji doesn't need to say anything this time. Ser Corrigan steps between your figures and clears his throat. "The princess is not to be spoken to in such a manner. I think it best we all rest tonight and tomorrow there will be a new day to set things right."

Erik Cathcart is not one bit pleased but he realises he has not much choice and so he yields and scurries off like the little weasel that he is. 

The sight of him makes Benji want to ram his head into a wall. 

The king is a fool for sending his daughter into the arms of this man, for removing her from the castle, for running the entire kingdom into the ground like nobody in his ancestry before him had ever managed.

One could only hope that a fallen woman like Lady Cathcart is worth this much trouble. 

Hell, Benji wouldn't ever care about the societal standing of a woman but he has never let last night's fuck influence today's mood in his life.

He looks to you and then back at Ser Corrigan, who has become very hawk-eyed all the sudden. 

"I think it's for the best if I retire to my bed as well," he says and you nod in acceptance, though he can't help but notice the smidge of disappointment in your eyes. 

His feet guide him to the yard and then the stables where a young man bows to him in panic. 

He remembers that this is Bracken affiliated ground. God knows what cruel tales have been told of his fights. They all likely think him to be a man with no honour. 

Benji wants to and saddle a horse, desperate to clear his mind, when his gaze flickers out the door and falls on the church. 

He hesitates for a moment, debating his choices, when he decides that it can’t hurt to pay the confessional a visit. 

It’s a small church, not very decorated. The one at the capital has huge stained windows and your dresses tend to look quite…pretty in that lighting. That is also about the only thing he could fathom to like about being inside that place.

He’s never been religious, nowhere near as much as he likely should be. 

The thought of a god looming over his head has never made him anything but uncomfortable. 

He finds it unsettling that he might be judged by an omniscient creature. He also finds that religious people are often liars. 

And yet, there he stands, in the hallway, staring at the altar. 

He’s not even sure how confessions even work anymore. 

The priest floats into the room at the other end of it, the same one as from the dinner. He’s such an odd looking person. 

“Ah. I thought you might appear here, son,” he says, his voice echoing. 

Benji scrunches his nose a little. “Did you now, father?” He takes a few tentative steps forward. “I’d like to confess something.”

The priest nods and points towards the confessional. For a third time, he contemplates his choices but he decides that he’s no coward and takes a seat on his side of the booth. 

“In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.”

There’s a beat of silence until Benji remembers what to do. “Amen,” he says after clearing his throat. “Bless me Father for I have sinned, it has been…I don’t remember, since my last confession.” 

Here goes. What’s there to lose? Maybe his mind, Benji thinks to himself. 

“I have corrupted somebody.”

The priest doesn’t speak. 

Benji clears his throat again. This feels violently tense. He’s not sure it should be. 

“I suppose my sin is cardinal. Sin of Lust.”

The priest’s gown makes a ruffling sound. “Ah. It is a common one.”

“This one has pretty high stakes involved, I assure you, father.” He is fairly certain that being sarcastic with a clergyman in a confessional booth is not something you’re supposed to do. But what’s it matter? He doubts a quick trip here could save his soul anyway. 

“Perhaps I should go.”

“No. Stay. Tell me what troubles you, son. Only God can help through all.”

Benji sighs and rakes a hand through his hair. “Well, I have kissed a girl. She is promised to another and I have put her virtue at risk.”

He glances over, through the barred hole in the wall and distantly makes out the side profile of the priest. “Did you force her hand?”

“No. I have killed men but I do have some dignity.”

“Well, then the girl is also guilty of a sin. But it is normal. God has made us flawed creatures. It is the way our lives go. You made the good choice, coming here. Pray the litany of Mary Magdalene three times, son.” 

He doesn’t enjoy the fact that the priest keeps calling him son. That should be reserved for one person only. He wipes his hands clean on his pants, clean of nothing in particular. He gets up to leave.

“Wait,” the priest commands. “I must warn you.”

Benji frowns. “Of what?”

The priest’s voice drops to a whisper. “There is treachery afoot in the house of Cathcart. Other houses too. I do not know the extent of it.” The priest’s gown rustles. “You must worry. You must watch yourself.” There’s a pause. “And you must write to the heir to the throne.”

Benjicot stares at him now. “What?”

“You think the Lord to be a fool and in many ways he is. But he is part of a grand scheme. I cannot tell you more.”

Benji hurries out of the booth around to the other side. “What the fuck are you blabbing about?”

“This is a house of God,” the priest reprimands at his cursing. “And I will not. I mustn’t endanger you. You need to be alive and well to serve the princess, do you not?”

“Is that a threat, old man?” 

The priest shakes his head. “I am helping you. Write to the prince. Tell him to tread carefully.” 

He points towards the entry. “This betrothal is a curse.”

He has to suppress the urge to point the dagger in his pocket against the man’s neck and get more out of him. But he remembers you and your words. He does not know how to handle the web of conspiracies that are spun around the nobility. He does not know how to solve them without laying hands and even then that would rarely diminish the problem. 

Benji steps back and considers the priest. “Well, then. Three litanies.”

With that he hurries out of the church. On the morrow he shall tell you. For now, he falls into his bed, mind continuously spinning around your kiss. When sleep comes for him, you leave with his thoughts and enter again through his dreams. 

taglist:

@dancingbaek

@jhepolie 

@knight-of-flowerss

@majoso12

@rebeccawinters 

@poppyflower-22

@nixtape-foryou

@accidentpronedork

@xlittlefiend

@vqmpyrecult

@chainsawsangel

@esposadomd

@juhdoche 

[genderqueerdykes]

Do you have any thoughts on the idea of lesbian supremacy in the queer community? I really feel like it's a thing but also feel I will get attacked if I talk about it. The lesbian label is treated as so much better than every other label. There is more acknowledgement for lesbian history and community and expression, lesbianism is prioritised and centred. It's highly linked to biphobia/monosexism and radical feminism in my opinion.

in spaces dominated by rad fems and people parroting their beliefs, yes, i have noticed it. theres a lot of people on here, tiktok and twitter that are exhibiting this behavior where only cis lesbians are the ones you should listen to no matter what and that anyone else is somehow dangerous or queerphobic or an issue or a threat in some way. it's not across the entire community, but there's a disturbing number of pockets of people who believe that lesbians deserve the most attention for one reason for another and it's really weird to say it's a competition like that.

this type of behavior is paired with people who believe that (Cis) lesbians are the only ones who know what's going on, and that cis gay men are somehow dangerous, as well as trans men, transfems, trans women, genderqueer people, bisexual women... most other queers in general. they only want to associate with other cis lesbians but they also want to speak for the entirety of the queer community. they want to speak for all of us. it's really bizarre behavior. it's just tyrant behavior is what it is. nobody else believes this should be a thing.

if anyone behaves like this, which i see a lot of, they're a rad fem. this is just rad feminism yet again. it has affected so much of our community and unfortunately we must remove it like a diseased organ. it's not doing us any favors. it IS happening, in certain spots, and it's alarming. it's not something that we should encourage. hope that helps. take care!

[arias-archive]

i need more Lyrason content! Can you do a fic where Graysons confronting eve and Lyras there too (bc why not) PLEASEEEEEE

a/n: IM SO SO SO SO SO SORRY ABOUT HOW LONG THIS TOOK. IT WAS SUCH A HARD FIC TO DRAW UP IDEAS FOR BUT I HOPE U ENJOY THE FINAL PRODUCT

warnings: the grandest games spoilers

description: the clock is racing, and they must find gigi. but grayson has a pretty good idea on where his sister may be

tig masterlist | masterlist

wherever you go, I’ll follow (a graysonlyra fic)

Nothing. 

Not a single trace.

It seemed impossible. Hawthorne Island itself was tiny and completely surrounded by water, the chances of getting onto the island without detection was impossible. Yet, Gigi Grayson was just gone, vanished into thin air.

Nobody noticed at first, too busy devising up plans and strategies or resting before the second phase of the game began. It was Grayson who became aware of his concussed sister’s disappearance. He went to go check on her but she wasn’t in her room, and after asking the other contestants for her whereabouts he realised she wasn’t anywhere. 

The last three people to see Gigi after her concussion were Nash, Brady and Xander. All of whom had left her in her room. Xander did mention that one of the last things Gigi asked him before he left the room was if they ‘had until noon’, but Xander didn’t question further.

That enraged Grayson. He couldn’t believe Xander hadn’t pressed the matter, but that might’ve been his fears for Gigi talking. They searched everywhere, twice, before bringing it to the gamemaker’s attention.

With help of the gamemakers and their cameras, they managed to scrape up the blurriest footage of Gigi standing on the edge of a cliff, her profile only visible from the side. She was facing the ocean, clutching a neck in one hand while speaking. The camera only picked up bits of the distorted speech but it was hard to clarify, so Xander took it upon himself to try and clear the words. 

Nash, Grayson, Jameson, Xander, Avery and Lyra were all crowded into the control base, watching on-screen Gigi launch the necklace into the frothy waves angrily. The wind whipped her chin-length waves around her face as she seemed to just wait. The rest of the room seemed to just pause too, waiting to see her next movements. As the brunette turned, something lunged from behind her, pressing something against her mouth. 

The entire room collectively gasped as Gigi fought back and was dragged off camera. Nash skimmed through the other security feeds hastily but they appeared on no other screens. Gone.

Lyra brought her eyes up to Grayson, her heart stuttering at the fury and fear etched onto his tense face. She laid a hand on his shoulder but he barely seemed to acknowledge it. Jameson definitely noticed it though, shooting a quick questioning glance to Avery before returning to help Xander with the audio. 

Lyra shook Jameson’s glance off with a shrug. Whatever. They had more pressing matters on their hands at the moment.

They all decided it would be best to split up. Avery and Jameson stayed behind on the island to watch over the rest of the players and continue to search the island, while the rest of them flew back to the mainland, hoping to find something there.

Lyra had never flown in a helicopter before. She knew she should be focused on more urgent issues, like finding Gigi, but she couldn’t help her awe.

She’d read about helicopters and flying in her novels, but nothing could beat the real feeling of soaring through the air, heavy winds whipping her face. She could freak out about this later. 

 The rest of the Hawthorne brothers were deep in concentration, but Grayson looked extremely frustrated. She laid a tentative hand on his arm, hoping to provide her silent comfort. She shouldn’t even be here, on this helicopter, searching with them. She should’ve been back on the island, with the rest of the players who were under lockdown, but Grayson had simply said that she could stay, and that was that.

Grayson didn’t even look at her, still deep in thought. He clearly noticed because she felt him tense up, beneath his vintage suit. After a few moments, he brought her hand down, intertwining it with his own.

Lyra almost startled at action, eyes widening. She didn’t expect him to do that. She couldn’t help the small upturning of the corners of her lips though. They hadn’t discussed their position with each other after that kiss in the woods. She didn’t think they were just teammates though.

 Lyra could still feel it, the sinful press of his full lips to hers, devouring it skilfully. She never had time for proper relationships before. It wasn’t like she had never kissed anyone before, of course she had, but not like this. It never meant anything before. 

She gave Grayson a small, almost hopeful smile, as she squeezed his hand. She wanted him to be calm, to be every inch the Hawthorne she knew he was. They would find Gigi, and they would bring her back. 

Nash and Xander had clearly noticed their entwined hands because Xander looked ready to combust. It was Nash’s warning glare that kept Xander contained. Lyra ignored them too. Weird. 

———————————-

Once they touched down into Texas, they split up once again. Lyra was pretty sure Xander and Nash drove back to their mansion. Lyra was supposed to be going back and searching with them, much to Grayson’s demands, but Nash levelled him with a look that reminded her that he was still the oldest brother. He told Lyra to stay with Grayson and that they’ll go back.

She didn’t know what it was. As soon as they stepped foot on the ground, it was like Grayson had been punched in the gut. His whole body tensed up and he just gestured for Lyra to follow him.

Lyra looked around at his brothers for an explanation but they just shrugged, and Xander was still wearing that stupid grin. When Lyra turned back around to accompany Grayson, he had already walked about a hundred steps.

His back was turned, his suit blazed rustling in the wind, and he had his phone pressed to his ear. Whoever it was he was speaking too, it didn’t seem like a friendly conversation. 

But in the next ten minutes, Grayson and Lyra were seated in a beautiful car, speeding to who knows where. Lyra had been silent up until then, but she really needed to know what was going on. 

She turned her gaze away from the road to face the blonde Hawthorne driving the car. His face gave nothing away, no hint of the underlying frustration or fear he might’ve been feeling.

Lyra cleared her throat before asking “So… where are we going?” 

It was silent for a few moments and she was convinced he was just flat-out ignoring her. But he took a breath before replying, “I have an assumption about where she could be.” His grip on the steering wheel tightened. “I just hope I’m incorrect”

The way he issued that statement, meant that, no, he was not wrong and he knew that this was exactly where she was. Lyra only nodded before turning back away again. 

She had more questions, hundreds of them, but she knew she had to give him some space. The man was looking for his missing sister. 

But Lyra didn’t have to ask him because a few minutes later, he told her, about Eve, about her relation to his adopted uncle Toby, about the Blake family, about running into her in Arizona. She had a feeling he was keeping quiet on certain details but that didn’t matter. Her head was spinning. What? Just… what?

She didn’t even know how to respond. But she suddenly understood why Grayson might assume that Eve was holding Gigi captive. The only thing Lyra was unsure about was if Gigi really was there. She could still be on the island, or the mainland surrounding it. Their perpetrator, someone called Mattias Slate, only had an hour’s advantage against them, so he very well could’ve brought Gigi here, but did he?

The Blake ranch was near the Texas/Oklahoma border, sprawling for miles. 

As soon as they stepped foot out of the car, they were instantly surrounded by guards. Lyra froze, turning to face Grayson who was issuing very pointed threats. The stupid soldiers wouldn’t budge. That was until a voice broke through the crowd. 

“Let him through.”

The soldiers parted to reveal a smirking girl, her amber hair fluttering in the breeze. Eve. 

As soon as Eve caught sight of Grayson, her lip curled up. She looked like a cat closing in on its prey. “Hello Grayson,” she said, her voice quiet but melodic. Then her gaze caught onto Lyra’s and her eyes narrowed, igniting with something that Lyra thought looked pretty close to jealousy. She hummed in thought before turning around, strolling towards the ranch. “Hawthorne comes through,” she called and Lyra could practically hear the thrill in her voice. “Not the girl.”

Instantly, the guards were on her, grabbing her arm to lead her away. She wrenched her arm away from their grasp, cursing. 

“Get your hands off her.” Grayson’s voice was low and dangerous as his arm curved around Lyra’s waist. He practically shoved them off her before turning back to face Eve, malice in his gaze. 

“We both come through.” 

Eve raised a haughtily brow, and Lyra thought she would tell security to remove them both from the premises. But she didn’t. She just shrugged, unable to tear her gaze from Lyra. “Fine.”

————————————

The room they were led to was cold, the sofa stiff beneath them. They were still dressed in their stupid masquerade outfits from the ball, as if the were antique dolls plopped into the wrong setting. 

“Where is she?” Grayson cut right to the chase, his body rigid. If looks could kill, there was a very high chance Eve would be dead right now. Remembering what Grayson told her about his involvement with Eve, and the look on Eve's face when she seen them together, she intertwined their hands, squeezing some of her strength into his. 

She felt a manically giggle claw at her throat at the flash in Eve’s eyes. Lyra had to give her credit for not lunging across the table yet, staying elegantly settled on the seat across from them. 

“Where is who?” Eve asked curtly, giving a small shrug. That only made Grayson angrier. 

“Don’t play games,” Lyra spat suddenly, her unflinching stare baring into Eve. This wasn’t her territory. This wasn’t her battle. She was supposed to come as silent support, but she just couldn’t.

 Lyra had to wonder what Grayson saw when he looked at the girl whom he might’ve once loved. Lyra had to wonder what Eve thought when she looked at him. Maybe in another life, Lyra should’ve felt jealous about what the two had once shared. But she didn’t. Lyra wasn’t even sure what her and Grayson were but she knew that no matter what, she was going to help him find Gigi. The same way he promised to find answers about her father. 

“And you are?” Eve trailed her eyes up and down Lyra’s body, making a show of judging her. Lyra felt plenty of sharp retorts rise to the surface but she had to bite down her tongue because Grayson answered first. 

“None of your damn business,” he seethed, suddenly standing up and inching towards her. Lyra stayed seated, watching the scene play out. “I’m not here to answer questions based on your petty jealousy. So where is Juliet?” 

Eve looked up at him, and for a second Lyra swore her gaze softened ever so slightly. “Why would she be here?” 

“You want to hurt me, and my family.” Grayson shot back, arms folded stiffly. 

“Not everything is about you Hawthornes,” Eve snorted, picking at her nails. She also stood up, coming face to face with Grayson. “I have no idea where your sister is Grayson.” 

“I’ll destroy everything you have,” Grayson swore, his anger palpable between them. “I’ll take everything-“

“Do it.” Eve’s voice was sharp and unsettling, her face twisted into a disgusted scowl. “There’s nothing left for your family to take.”

Grayson took a step back, as if afraid his control was slipping from his grasp. “Do not blame my family for the choices you made.” 

Eve only advanced towards him, placing a gentle hand on his arm. Lyra felt sick just watching. “But I didn’t deserve to be left alone. I have nothing that is mine”

Lyra could see Eve just thinking about her grandfather’s legacy, how Grayson’s adopted uncle saw the Hawthorne heiress more as a daughter than his own biological daughter. She knew Eve would love dangling this leverage over him, to make him play puppet. Because Grayson would do anything for his sisters. 

“What is it that you want?” Grayson’s voice was quiet, a hint of pleading in his tone. Lyra was shocked. She’d never heard the Hawthorne boy exude anything but power. “In return for Juliet?”

Now Lyra stood, crossing over the room to stand beside Grayson, reminding him that she was here, in his corner. She would fight with him. He wasn’t alone anymore. 

Eve withdrew her hand sharply, cradling it as if it had been burned. 

She took a few steps back, tilting her head to assess the pair. Her face lit up with an evil grin as she barked for security. 

“What do I want…” she sighed, tapping a finger onto her pointy chin as if deep in thought. “Oh I know.” With that, both Lyra and Grayson froze up, their hearts beating wildly because whatever look Eve had on her face was unmerciful.

“Admit to the world exactly what Avery Kylie Grambs and her team did to Gigi’s father.”

[darcytaylor]

My problem with the “they look so happy” comments

I want to start this off by saying that I’ve had a stressful week, and I’m feeling very annoyed with everything and everybody right now. So I probably shouldn’t be making this post, but here we are.

One thing that’s really bothering me lately is when people look at pictures or videos of someone (anybody) they don’t know (and sometimes people that they do know) and say, “She/he looks so happy!” I know it’s a seemingly harmless comment, but honestly, it drives me up the fucking wall.

Here’s the thing: nobody truly knows what’s going on in someone else’s life. A smile in a picture or a laugh caught on video doesn’t mean someone is happy. It’s a snapshot of a moment, not a full story. Nobody knows what someone might be dealing with behind the scenes. Nobody knows anything for sure.

I’ll admit, this hits a nerve with me because of my own unhealed stuff, and that’s on me. But it feels especially grating when people use “They look so happy” as if it’s some kind of undeniable truth. It’s dismissive and oversimplified, and it often gets used to push narratives.

For example, “She/he looks so happy, so they must be in a relationship,” or, “Look at that smile - they’re living their best life.” I’ve heard and have read so many comments like this, and it drives me crazy. A picture doesn’t prove anything, and it’s frustrating to see people treat it like it does.

If you’ve ever experienced a time where your outside didn’t match your inside - when you smiled through something hard - you’ll get why this bothers me. I’ve lived through situations where everything looked fine to the outside world, but it wasn’t. So when people make assumptions based on pictures or video, it feels shallow and dismissive of the complexity of real life.

I know my reaction is tied to my own experiences, but it doesn’t make these comments any less irritating. So please, if you’re trying to convince me of something - don’t give me, “They look so happy.” It’s not the convincing point you think it is.

I’m not saying we shouldn’t appreciate when people look happy. It’s great to celebrate joy when it’s there. But let’s not act like a smile or a moment in a video tells the whole story.

The next time you feel like saying, “They look so happy,” maybe take a moment to pause and think. Are you really seeing the full picture? Do you even know the full picture?

[lustrousims]

Save File Progress - San Myshuno

haven't posted any save file progress pics in a while, so hello everyone, here we are once again!

The Jacobsens

Lara moved to the city chasing her dream of becoming a model. Despite her talent, she faced constant rejection due to her skin condition. After deciding to leave the modeling world behind, she found a new path when she met her now-husband, Markus, who helped her see her true beauty beyond the industry's standards.

2. The Lowe Family

Why are Gretel and Alonzo even living here? San Myshuno is a place for successful young folk, not middle-agers. Gretel was big in her 20s, but years without another acting gig has made her think nobody remembers her anymore.

3. Alt Lovers

Alicia and Micah have been sweethearts for 6 years, and when Alicia came out as bisexual to Micah, they had a conversation about what it could mean for their relationship. Alicia didn't want to break things off, but she was curious in exploring her sexuality. They decided that it would be best for them to add another woman into their relationship, and thus Roma came in. The three have been together for 10 months and they all adore each other. This was truly the best decision for this couple.

4. Boys r Us

Meet Lynn: the fearless mom of four wild sons [and husband], whose life is a never-ending game of Whack-a-Mess. She’s a ninja at dodging flying Nerf darts, a referee for daily WWE-style living room matches, and a reluctant connoisseur of memes so dumb they make her eye twitch. When she’s not rescuing socks from the vacuum or untangling someone from a blanket fort disaster, she’s probably sighing at yet another “hilarious” SimTok her kids insist she must see. Her superpower? Adoring her perfect family.

5. The Conway Family

Quirky Kari was adopted when she was 5 years old by her fathers Isaac and Leonard. When she was 8, her father Leonard decided that taking care of her was a 'full-time job' because she has a disability. Leonard separated from Isaac on the spot and now lives in the Landgraab Apartments. Kari was too young to understand why her father left and Isaac is too afraid to break it to her. Isaac has been heartbroken since Leo left, but he knows its better this way…Even if he doesnt pay any child support.

6. Leonard Conway

Leonard was previously married to Isaac Conway and fathered his now-teenage daughter Kari until she was 8. He knew he couldnt properly care for Kari, who he deemed was a super high maintenance child, so he got up and left one morning. He misses his ex-husband sometimes, but he genuinely believes he made the right decision for himself. He belongs to nobody and is meant to be alone. He is a successful travel writer who travels for months at a time; he should've never committed to having a family.

[cookingwithroxy]

The more I see of it, the more it seems like feminist philosophy regarding male sexuality is just petty bickering. Call me dismissive if you wish, but when I hear phrases like 'sexual objectification', 'male gaze', 'porn addiction' 'entitled incels', or 'sexualized female characters', it all just sounds like "How dare men be attracted to her instead of me!" or "How dare this nobody man look at me, I'm so attractive and out of his league!"

Is this just me being a hammer and only seeing nails everywhere? Probably.

It is but also it isn't? There's very little 'instead of me' but very much 'how dare people be attracted to women!'

It extremely is that, because they very VERY much treat women the same way as men if they show attraction to attractive women.

Maybe it's better stated as 'how dare they like what I don't like, it must not be personal taste!' even as they actively tell eachother NOT to like what everyone else likes.

It's a bunch of nonsense built from being counter-cultural without understanding why the culture is what it is because they made up their own reasons?

it's complicated. And the closest thing I can do to explaining it all is the frustrated refrain of 'We can have a history of patriarchal societies without it being a conspiracy hatched by men in pre-history.'

[sebadztian]

Yet another proof of Sebastian's character growth. And I will not shut up about this subject because that demon went through so much character development in the span of 8-9 months.

The demon went from this...

To this...

I've been wanting to talk about this for a while.

In the curry arc, as you can see above, Sebastian talked about how nobody would serve another without a reward. His very contract with Ciel is the example of this. At the end of the contract, he will be rewarded with Ciel's soul. He wouldn't have served Ciel so faithfully without that.

But in Green Witch arc, he got down to his knees and offered his service to Sieglinde. What was his reward?

Ciel's recovery.

Now, when Ciel was reduced to that state, Sebastian wasn't obligated to continue to serve him. I'm not a demon, but even I could see the gaping loophole in the size of black hole that he could've taken advantage of. He could've taken Ciel's soul right there and right then.

But what has stopped him?

2 things:

1. His aesthetics

2. His growing care for both Ciel and his role.

What would he get from offering his service to Sieglinde? Nothing!

Not for himself, anyway...

He didn't offer his service for free. But for once, the reward is not his own. He offered his service in exchange for Ciel's well-being.

This is the very panel that goes against those who said that Sebastian hated Ciel and only saw him as a meal.

If Ciel was just a meal for him, why would he lower himself to serve another without gaining anything for himself? Why would he make a deal with Sieglinde? Even a three years old knows that nobody would enter a deal with another without a reward.

But this time, he's not doing it for himself. He did it for his young master. So, for those who said that Sebastian was a selfish bastard, you're right.

He's still selfish. That's his nature. Selfishness and arrogance are Sebastian's greatest character flaws. He liked this game so much, he wanted to keep playing butler, which is kinda weird, but hey, I won't judge. Ciel's calf and the sex must be worth it.

However, you're also wrong to say that he's still the same self-serving bastard who made a contract with Ciel three years ago. He's gone from thinking only about himself to willing to lower himself for his young master's sake.

[atangledfate]

A Problem? She doubted they were ever a problem, at least not today, at least not now. She'd proved herself to be the greatest gear mechanic in all of babel. She surpassed the best years ago, and pushed boundaries every day. They don't like her, they may even detest that a woman had surpassed them, but none of them would ever deny her genius. She was on a different level, hell even Eggman and miles were copying her designs. yet she never got complacent and always pushed her designs further. let those old bastards rot for all she cares, she'd already made her point.

" Don't worry i don't let there bigotry get to me. The best way to deal with them was just to prove myself better. They probably still hate me... and i hate them but i can handle myself... besides, i wouldn't want you to waste your energy and power on nobodies like that "

She did find it cute though, and somewhat flattering that Sohna was willing to go to those links for her. She must have really liked her, and she'd lie if she didn't find that flattering.

" Isn't that what makes us mortals? Our flaws i mean. No one is perfect no matter how much Jet might brag about it. I just try to acknowledge my flaws... so i'm not blind sided by them "

She didn't like to think of Eggman or what he was capable of. She'd seen him warp good things, and people to horrific ends. Hell he even turned there sacred sport into some joke of a tournament. He used them countless times and even tried to use ancient babylon tech. More like abuse it, but she could still worry about Sohna even if she didn't seem worried about him. He felt like Eggman would find a way...but as always the babylons sought to avoid him and let Sonic and his flunkies deal with him.

" Well i can't say i'm not interested. New Technology, pushing the boundaries it's what keeps me going. As for Eggman, i'm just worried he'd try to do something to you is all. I can't say if he'd be successful or not... i just know he's always seeking an edge... He's nearly ruined our world more then once. "

She sighed and rubbed the back of her neck

" Normally we Babylons leave him well enough alone, But lately its getting harder to ignore. His whole war and then the Virus... it really changed the dynamic. Still i'd rather not have to deal with it... if i can avoid it... i suppose it makes me selfish...so i'd rather not use the core for War. I'd just like to see if it could make my gears faster... im not interested in building weapons or, devices of war. "

The image in her head of Sohna popping in and looming over the council of Babel! A booming voice echoing through the halls, as she tried to make those idiots realize women were valid and not just for breeding! Lord the image in her head, made her snort and smile, as the thought alone was enough to lighten her mood several octaves. It was a hilarious image! and yet she had a feeling those old birds would claim tradition, or some such nonsense.

" As funny as that is in my head, i have this feeling they'd brush even you off... or, try and use TRADITION as an excuse... they are a stubborn lot... but i don't much care what they think anymore. I did once, but now? I just want to be the best for myself... who cares what old men think anyway... I've always been fonder of women... "

She pondered about her own ego a moment just letting herself sink in. It wasn't that she liked admitting she was inferior but, and if it was a battle of raw intelligence she might even be angry about it and lash out. She could even be petty at times like she did when it came to tails and her own rivalry. But there was a stark contrast between shrimpy and Sohna. One of them was a runt who she could always improve and catch up to---the other was just beyond her in every way imaginable.

" I can admit when i meet someone who is far beyond me sure--- But i don't like losing to anyone. When it comes to those who challenge my own mind, my skills as a mechanic... i'll be honest i can be kind of petty... i just hate losing i guess... But, there are some battles you can't win... i wish Jet had the sense to do that now and again "

" Don't underestimate Eggman... He's tangled with god like beings before. Knowing him he'd try to suck your power away or, some bullshit... The less he knows about you the better, as intelligent as i am, i can't deny his genius. Infinite was a good example of that--- but he's also very short sighted. "

she crossed her arms and sighed looking up as she remembered all the chaos from the war.

" Honestly after the Zombot Virus... i'm starting to think he's to dangerous to ignore. Before i was content to let those would be heroes deal with it. But watching the world burn isn't nearly as fun as it sounds... call me pragmatic, but i live there and i kind of want to continue living there..."

[hxneylavendxr]

obsessed with my mother's preschool students arguing over whether im a boy or a girl

[nostalgia-tblr]

i nearly anon'd the thorki non-con fic out of SHAME but in two weeks it's become my third most clicked-on fic of the year, behind only a multichapter fic and a bit of angsty sifki porn lololol

[thevioletcaptain]

if you as a fic reader ever become possessed by the urge to do a popularity bracket with the fics other people wrote and shared for fun and for free, consider:

don't ❤️ 

[scrumptiousstuffs]

P’Jojo eloquent and pointed answer to this misguided Twitter user (I chose to crop the user name so that we won’t spread any more hate here…)👇🏽

So, this all started with many K-BL lovers praising LITBC, which is fine but they started shading and insulting Thai-BL at the same time (basically saying Thai BL is shitty, poor quality and essentially just porn with no substance)

Not surprisingly, Thai BL watchers got upset (inc. this user above), where then another K-BL lover sarcastically answered?

The gist of it y’ all - P’Jojo is upset and rightfully so. He went on a tirade, and it was beautiful to see.

24/10/2024

[jrueships]

guess whos not going in at all this week, actually

[arrowheadedbitch]

Ezekiel ain't nobody's favorite but at least he's god's favorite