#she could not give me a straight answer beyond like i don’t want to make a mistake again

[lilgynt]

girl texting me is showing signs of how her abuse affected her or why she got abused bc why did she listen to me about blocking a normal dude when i thought she was talking about her ex. no push back no questions just okay. girl that is not normal!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Three for One 6

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, cheating, customer service abuse, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: As a customer service associate, you’re used to work with a wide variety of characters. Your efforts to go above and beyond draw the attention of a certain set of customers who want more than what’s on the shelf.

Character: Andy Barber, Lloyd Hansen, Ransom Drysdale

Note: I'm so tireddddd

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me 💞

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

The keypad beeps and Lloyd quickly flicks the handle, kicking open the door so it hits something solid. You hear a grunt as the man on the other side stumbles back. It all happens so fast you don't get a glimpse of the code. Not much use if they lock you inside.

“What the fuck?” Ransom grabs the door and swings it open, “she got away–”

“Right here, peachy keen,” Lloyd sneers as pressure pinpoints on either side of your neck. You whine and try to loosen his hand, “she got you good, huh?”

“She’s sneaky,” Ransom mutters, “whatever. She can’t get out.”

“But she locked you in,” he snorts.

A growl ripples through the air. You’re turned back to face Ernie as he stands at the end of the hall. His head goes low as his jowls bunch up and he bares his teeth. He snarls as he slowly walks closer.

“Oh fuck,” Ransom puts the door between him and the hall, peeking around it.

“This fucking thing,” the other man utters, “tell it to stop.”

“Ah, ah,” you squeak as Ernie gets closer. “I– you’re hurting me. It’s making him mad.”

“I’m about to hurt him,” Lloyd threatens.

“Ernie,” you yipe and put a hand out, “Ern, please, I’m–” you choke, “okay.”

His thunderous warning grows louder. You reach with your fingers and he touches them with his nose. You caress the rough ridge and hush him, “please, sit. Please.”

His teeth gleam dangerously but he puts his rear down and hides his canines again. His chagrin nestles just above his usually doleful eyes and he looks between the two men; the one hiding behind the door and the one latched onto you.

“We need a fucking cage for that thing,” Ransom comments.

“And here I was thinking we need one for the girl,” Lloyd scoffs.

“Or you know, you could let us both go,” you suggest, writhing on your toes.

“Smart,” Lloyd sneers. “I can’t wait to train that mouth.” You turn your head and show your teeth, snapping them shut. His brows arch at the gesture and he gives an emphatic shiver, “I’m starting to like the feisty thing.”

“You’ve never been picky,” Ransom lets the door fall open, “get her in here.”

“Here,” Lloyd spins and flings you at the other man, “I’ll keep watch, make sure you don’t get locked in again.”

“Shut up,” Ransom grabs your arm and drags you away. He shoves you so you hit the foot of the bed. “Listen, you little bitch,” he keeps his voice low, “don’t fucking embarrass me again, got it?”

You flip your head back and gape at him. What are you supposed to do?

“And dont give me that fucking look,” he points in your face.

Or what? You swallow the words and stand straight. You face him and shrug. He’s not half as scary as the man outside the door, but both together are insurmountable.

You try to wipe away your irritation. You want this night to end. You want to go home. You don’t know how much more you can handle as your anger gives way to something more potent. Fear.

He slowly turns to the open wardrobe, peeking back at you as you cross your arms. You nibble your lip and avert your eyes. Your adrenaline dissolves and fatigue tugs at your muscles. You’re not giving up, you’re only biding your time. It might just take a little longer than you like.

“This,” Ransom tosses a furry white sweater on the bed, “this.”

You consider the outfit. The sweater is cropped and there’s a gold sequin heart on the front. The skirt is almost as short with ruffled tiers. It’s not really your taste but it hardly matters.

He slams the doors of the wardrobe and tosses down a pair of sheer stockings with ribbons wove through the top. These are just a few pieces of a full collection. How long have they been planning this? Had they followed you long or were you just in the wrong place at the wrong time?

You lift your eyes as he stares at you. You frown. He lowers his chin, “well?”

“Well, uh, can I get some privacy?”

He blinks slowly.

“Come on, pussy cat, show us some peach,” Lloyd taunts from the doorway as he peers through.

You gulp. This is getting too real. The only thing keeping you from full panic is the fact of your futility. Freaking out would only play into their game.

“Right, I get it,” you turn to the bed, “you can’t trust me. I ran. I ran and I got pretty far. So I don’t blame you for being paranoid.”

“Paranoid?” Ransom scoffs.

“You didn’t get that far,” Lloyd intones.

You ignore him and pull the clothes to the end of the bed. You put your back to Lloyd but can’t avoid Ransom. You look down at your jacket and slowly unzip it. Your scalp is itchy with sweat as you let the heat out from under the downy layer.

You drop your coat on the bed and bend to unlace your boots. You focus on the little things first. Boots, socks, your favourite red sweater with the white hearts. You lay each piece down deliberately, closer and closer to the inevitable.

You peel off the camisole you wore under the wool layer and take the furry sweater from the bed. There’s clucking from the door. You stiffen and clutch the fluffy fabric.

“Everything,” Lloyd orders. 

You put the sweater back down and shudder. You hear Ransom’s breath catch as you reach behind you to unhook your bra. His eyes bore into you as the floor creaks. You sense the other man breaks the threshold.

“Little help?” The call from down the hall makes you flinch and a hum escapes Ransom. You look at him as his eyes linger on your chest.

“Shit,” Lloyd huffs, “don’t tell him.”

He leaves you alone with the other man. You take a breath and let your bra fall down your arms. You quickly swipe up the furry sweater and pull it on, but not without causing your tits to jiggle one last time.

“Those almost make it worth it,” he snickers.

You undo your pants as you keep to task. It’s so surreal but undeniable. It’s entirely clear what this is. Their intent is written in every glance, every comment. You roll down your jeans and stand in your undies and the fluffy sweater. Your thumbs hook in the elastic of your underwear as you pivot, trying to hide yourself as best you can as you strip the cotton away.

You just as swiftly step into the skirt, pulling it up to cling snugly around your waist. Ransom gets closer, petting the sleeve of your sweater as he does. His breath grits in his throat.

“Wanna close that door again,” he purrs.

You take the stockings, ignoring the proposition. Shit. You bend and roll the first one up to your thigh, the lace speckled with the little hearts. You slip on the other and stand straight.

He looms over you and shifts slowly towards you. His sole drags on the floor. He’s stopped only by a low drone from the doorway.

Ernie stands watching, glaring at that man. Your heart leaps and you do too. You flit forward to the dog and rub his ears.

“Shh, boy, it’s okay,” you glance back at Ransom, “I won’t let him hurt you.”

His eyes narrow. His shoulders drop slightly, the disappointment of your evasion clear. The close call sears down your back.

He trails you down the hall as Ernie walks beside you. You keep your hand in his fur, clinging to him for strength. It’s not about you, it’s about keeping him safe. 

You enter the front room and find Lloyd scowling at a string of lights as Andy kneels in front of a box. It’s a weird scene to come upon. These two villains in such a wholesome position. Their sinister intentions could almost be mistaken.

Andy looks up and pauses as he holds a large red ornament. His lips part as he sees you. Fire blazes across your cheeks at the way his eyes dilate. He clears his throat and holds up the oblong decoration.

“You gonna come help, honey?”

You nod and let go of Ernie. He stays at your heels as you go to the other side of the box. You bend your knees and reach in, plucking out a clear ball with fake snow inside. You feel the eyes on you, waiting for a hint of something more.

Ernie paces behind you, a wall of fur roving back and forth. You want him to calm down, his energy fueling your own. You pause and turn to pet his broad back.

“Ern, it’s okay, boy, relax,” you twine your fingers into the thick strands and scratch him, “lay down… please.”

You nudge him slightly. He resists. His head moves from side to side as he looks at each man. He huffs and flops down, thumping onto the floor beside you.

“That’s cute. He takes care of you,” Andy says, “sweet girl like you, who wouldn’t?”

You make yourself smile. It’s not very difficult. You have extensive training in faking it. You step around the box and take the ornament to the tree. Lloyd is there, trying to wrap lights around the branches. He sidles closer as you reach to hang the decoration.

“Little higher,” he leans back, looking behind you. You don’t know why you listen but you do. 

You stand on your toes and hook the ball over the upper tier. You feel cool air tickle the bottom of your ass, you’re not the only one to notice. Lloyd groans, Ransom chokes, and Andy exhales sharply. You feel like you’re on display, the tree is just secondary.

You put your arms down and tug at the sides of the skirt, cautiously going back to the box. You reach down, bending in your legs not your waist. Your eyes meet Andy’s as you reach for another ornament. His lashes flick hotly.

“Did I tell you how good you look, honey?” He growls.

Lloyd chuckles and Ransom joins in. You’re not sure what’s so funny or how to react. You look around and toy with the decoration in your hand. You stand on the sides of your feet, swaying nervously.

“Lawyers, man. They’ll never say what they want outright,” Lloyd remarks.

“Shut up,” Andy hisses, “I’m being nice.”

“You’re being a fucking simp,” Ransom sniffs.

“Don’t listen to them,” he says to you directly, “I mean it, you look really… pretty.”

“Well, every time she moves, her ass falls out, so I’d say she’s not too bad on the eyes,” Lloyd chortles. “How do you think she is on the dick? That sweater looks soft, let her keep it on, maybe put her in my lap–”

“Hey,” Andy tosses an ornament at him as you back away, mortified. “Don’t be disgusting.”

“Don’t act like you don’t want to get disgusting all over her. What’sa matter? The wife doesn’t put it in her mouth anymore and you can’t get past half-chub–”

“You’re both fucking pathetic,” Ransom comes forward to reach into the box, retracting as Ernie pops his head up and growls. You quiet the dog as the man drops several ornaments onto the floor in his fright.

“Pot, kettle, black as our souls,” Lloyd says.

“Let’s get the tree decorated,” Andy insists, “it’ll be Christmas soon enough…” he plants his foot, straining as he stands, “we’ve wasted enough time.”

He rounds the box, brushing by you. You don’t fail to noise how his fingertips tickle your upper thigh, along with the other men’s gazes as they note the same thing. You turn to trail after Andy and hang your decoration next to his. Another cool flow wafts up your skirt, eliciting another communal hum from the other men.

“Who’s gonna trim my tree?” Lloyd jokes crudely.

He gets only a growl from Andy as you refuse to acknowledge the comment. Ransom hovers at the edge of the room as Ernie stares him down. The large dog doesn’t get up but remains alert. You feel awful to bring him into this. He must be so confused, even more than you are.

🎀

Once the tree is decorated, your energy is completely spent. Your vigilance drains away what’s left and you lower yourself to the floor to sit with Ernie. He lets you lean on him and puts his head on your knee.

“Tired?” Andy asks.

You can only nod.

It’s a strange, almost numb hollowness. That sort of surrender that comes with just not having anything left in you. There’s that voice that tells you not to give up but it can’t drown out the blaring fatigue.

“You should lay down,” he suggests.

“With who?” Lloyd asks as he stretches his neck side to side.

“That’s not the deal,” Andy girds.

“Fucking chill. I’m kidding. Don’t worry,” he shows his palms, “I won’t open my Christmas present early.”

“Can I?” You ask as you drag a hand down Ernie’s side.

“Yeah, come on,” Andy offers his hand.

You should refuse. You should get up on your own but you’re not sure you even can. Before you can reach for the helpful hand, you’re scooped up from behind. You yelp and Ernie barks as he jumps to his feet.

“Woah, woah,” Lloyd dodges him as he holds you in his arms, “tell the mutt to cool it. I’m helping.”

“Ernie,” you eke out, hanging a hand down for him.

“Oh, pussy cat, you’re gettin’ sleepy,” he teases as he carries you past Andy, a defiant look shot in his direction, “let daddy put you to bed.”

Andy follows, Ernie too. Ransom keeps a cautious eye on the latter.

You don’t protest as you’re carried down the hall. He turns into the bedroom and takes you to the bed. As he puts you down, his hand shamelessly stops on your ass and spreads wide.

“Oops,” he feigns embarrassment, “must’ve slipped.”

“Hey,” Andy charges in and rips his arm back, “enough. She needs to sleep.”

“Look, she can sleep and I can do my thing. Multitasking–”

“We agreed–”

“Actually, you just talk at us and assume we do,” Lloyd counters sourly.

“I’m tired,” you mope.

“Yeah, well, who’s fault is that?” Lloyd snaps.

You frown and roll your eyes. You look past him as you pet the bed. Ernie bounds over and hops up, nearly knocking over Lloyd as he leaps onto the bed. He lays down beside you, his fluffy tail stretching past the end. You lay back and pet his head.

“Come on,” Andy inserts himself between the other man and the bed, “we all do our part, we all follow the plan.”

There’s silence. You peek over at the men as they stare each other down. You don’t say a word as you hug Ernie’s large head.

“I had a better one,” Lloyd hisses.

“We agreed,” Andy repeats. “We let her sleep. It’s her first night.”A sigh. Lloyd backs up and Andy looks over his shoulder at you. He gives a small smile and you nestle down into the bed. You close your eyes as your heart pounds in your ribcage. First night? Of how many?

[feroshgirlsims]

Chapter 7.4 - You Can't Go Home

Mortals always ran.

Fear driving them forward.

Even as they forgot to look around.

Fuckin’ idiots.

“I-I can get the money. I just need more time!” the sim pleads once he’s cornered. “Tell Jacques I got a deal that can’t fail!”

It can fail. It probably already has. But Akira isn’t worried about the sim who was stupid enough to borrow from the Devil.

He's worried about the pack of goblins watching the whole exchange with hunger in their eyes. 

As they close in, he speeds over to cut them off. “This one ain’t for eating, in case you was getting ideas.”

“We could share, elf-friend,” one of them offers. “Broken bones and fresh meat, a delicacy.”

Hunger curls in his stomach. If sims knew even half the things the fae considered delicacies they would stop making TV shows depicting them as bloodless aristocrats. “Get your dinner somewhere else," he warns.

It’s not the answer the goblins want. They lunge, and he draws a sword from a liminal pocket he usually hides with his glamour. 

When he’s done slicing through them, he hefts it over his shoulder and calls out to JJ. “We done here?”

“Yeah,” the wolf holds up a stack of bloody simoleons, “Santiago’s coming to make sure he gets home. Can’t collect payments from a dead man. You wanna hit up Elixirs and Brews?”

Akira was in no mood for Glimmerbrook. With the Moon Revelry coming, Elves would be out in full force cavorting with witches and he really didn’t need the dirty looks or snide comments. 

Plus, he had other plans.

“I got something to do," he glances back at the goblins. A few slices of the sword wasn't enough to put them down. "Don’t let Santiago leave until those motherfuckers find their way out the park.” 

"Sure thing," JJ waggles his brows, “And I would pick Cora over drinks with me, too. Tell her I said hi."

Akira arrives at the Straud Family Compound in seconds. He’s in enemy territory, but if he doesn’t want to be seen, he won’t be. 

The Strauds were an anomaly in the world of organized crime. Julia didn’t move in territory beyond her own, and even though it’s clear her cannabis was the best in Sim Nation West, she doesn’t deal with anyone outside of local sims. Even Jacques has to get his supply from her secondhand. 

No, the Strauds weren't ambitious but they protected their home with viciousness of raptors, hence the stupidity of hiding out in it.

Not that the stupidity was stopping him. He didn't lie when he told Jacques he'd be crazy to get close to Vlad's family of maniacs. Akira felt crazy.

Earlier, he'd watched Vlad struggle to feed a batch of chickens and an enchanted rooster, though it was clear Vlad didn't know it was enchanted since he tried to take it on with a hatchet.

His whole family gathered to watch the fight; his grandmother even took bets.

Vladislaus got his ass kicked. Trained killer he may be, but no one could best an enchanted rooster, and certainly not one straight from the netherworld. 

Akira was still laughing and feeling a little wistful.

Changelings weren't rare. It's why fae were born with their glamour firmly in place. The hard part was figuring out how to drop the cover and reveal your true features.

And to be a changeling was to live by trial and error. He still remembered the first time he thanked a classmate and wound up bound to their will for half the school year. 

Since then, Akira had carefully ordered his life. Friendships never got too deep. Relationships didn't either.

But Alice and Vlad feel like home.

She’s all sunshine and fire with curls Akira wants to tug and lips he wants to bite. And Vlad is compelling but dangerous. Fae-like. Even bruised with a black eye he’s so unnaturally pretty that his features seem to be arranged wrong. The temptation is...visceral, almost binding.

Before he can give into it, Akira pulls his magic close and lets it vibrate near the center of his chest.

In an instant, he’s gone.

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(Part 4 of 4)

[augustvandyne]

Lucy Chen x reader

Lucy loves Valentine’s Day and the reader doesn’t care for it but Lucy’s excitement and love for the holiday change the readers view

-

lucy has my heart!

valentine’s day

You’d made your dislike for Valentine’s day known on your second date, so you really couldn’t really answer anyone as to why you were letting Lucy take you all around Los Angeles on a scavenger hunt.

She left a handwritten letter on the bed this morning.

You loved handwritten letters, so that might be the whole reason you’re doing this. Or it could be because you love her. Or even just that you are interested in seeing where this goes.

The letters held multiple riddles.

The first letter lead you to the station, where she asked you out on a date in front of the building. Although you had to go inside for the next letter.

After chatting with Nolan for a few minutes, he gave you your next clue, which lead you to your first date spot, along with a rose.

“You’re lucky I love you,” You chuckled to yourself.

You place the rose safely onto the passenger seat, watching over it every few seconds. Just how you cherish any and everything Lucy gives you.

The second date location was under the Hollywood sign, where the two of you had spent the night looking at stars, and even caught sight of a shooting star.

You two fell asleep under the sign, which resulted in the two of you taking the next day off due to your stiff necks.

There was no gift here, as someone may have stolen it, but then why even leave a note?

Anyways, by then it was lunchtime, and you were grateful your girlfriend was a planner, because it took you straight towards your guys’ lunch spot.

“How is it going?” Lucy smiles sweetly.

You purse your lips and sigh.

“I know you don’t like Valentine’s day, and it’s fine that you don’t, but I want this one to be different for you,” She tilts her head. “It’s our first one, and I love this day, so at least try. For me?”

“Fine, but only because I love you,” You point your finger towards her.

“Yay!” Lucy clapped happily like a child, and you can’t help but fall even more in love with her.

“But first, lunch.”

The two of you ate, and you commented on how well thought out this was. You questioned her about what would be at the end, but she just kept her mouth shut.

“Wow. Lucy? Keeping a secret? You must be really proud of what’s at the end,” You say as you finish up lunch.

“I am,” Lucy rests her head in her hands. “I’m super excited, so please just follow through.”

“I will. In fact, I’ll start back up right now,” You pull the neatly written note out of your bag and make your way to your next destination.

“Amazing!”

You laugh and shake your head as you get back into your car.

She took you all over town until it was later in the night. You figured as much, as she needed the time to get off work, shower, and set up whatever needed to be set up.

You never knew your girl was this sentimental.

I mean, she led you to all your guys’ firsts, all your favorite places, anywhere you guys have went, the list goes on.

And not only was it the places, she’d left gifts for you, too! Candies, more roses, even a teddy bear.

She leads you back to your guys’ shared apartment, but to the roof.

You change before heading up, that way you’ll be appropriately dressed for your date, and not in the gross clothes your were running around in all day.

The roof was flat, and most of the time there were teens hanging out smoking up there, so how Lucy claimed it for the night, is beyond you.

Knowing her, she probably bribed them.

You were breathless when you saw what she’d set up for the two of you.

There was a makeshift bed in the middle of the roof, many, many blankets and pillows covering what you hoped was a blow up mattress.

There was also a small candlelight table with food ready to eat off the side, which was where Lucy was sitting.

And then there was a screen and projector set up so the two of you could watch your favorite movies. It was a dream come true.

“You did all this?” You sat across from her at the table.

“Yeah,” She bit her lip. “Well, not all on my own. I got Tim, Aaron and John to help me.”

“It’s beautiful,” You sip on some wine.

“Not as beautiful as you,” Lucy looks you up and down. “I see you changed.”

“I didn’t want to be underdressed. And I had to out dress you,” You gesture to your outfit.

“Oh, of course.”

She—or someone—had made your favorite guys’ food, to which the two of you ate in a comforting manner.

When she was done, you saw her begin to get nervous, which you think is adorable, but you can’t help but wonder why.

You look away for a second to look at the beautiful starry sky, and next thing you know, Lucy is on her knee beside you, holding out a beautiful ring.

“Y/n, I love you. The whole purpose of this today was so I could keep you distracted long enough to decide what I was going to say. And even then, I don’t know what to say. Because now that you’re here, and beautiful than ever, I’m at a loss for words. I want to change this day for you, and I feel like this is a great way to do so,” Lucy pauses to take a breath. “Don’t think of this day as Valentine’s day, think of it as the day we got engaged. That is, if you say yes. So, Y/n Y/m/n Y/l/n, will you marry me?”

“Yes, yes, of course I will,” You wipe a tear that had made its way onto your cheek.

Lucy puts the ring on your finger and stands up with you, kissing the life out of you, then pulling you into a bone crushing hug.

“I’m glad you said yes, because then it would’ve been awkward watching movies with you.”

“That’s really what you’re thinking of right now?”

“No, I’m thinking of how beautiful my fiancé is,” Lucy pulls back to look at you.

The two of you spend the rest of the night on the roof, not even caring about the mess you had to clean up tomorrow morning.

This was the best Valentine’s day ever, and it was now your favorite holiday.

[cellarspider]

29/30 Quit while he's a head

(Previous) | (Index) | (Next)

⛬

We return to a movie that does not know when to stop when it’s behind, Prometheus. Content warning for a random last bit of metaphorically kicking David’s head around like a football.

So, we last left Shaw lying on the ground, fully in the I Can’t mood, which I was actually feeling sympathy for. Let’s see how long that lasts, because David is about to give her a call.

“Dr. Shaw… can you hear me?” “Yes. Yes, I can hear you.” “I was afraid you were dead.” “You have no idea what afraid is.”

Is this just the lashing out of someone who’s emotionally overwhelmed at the moment? Could be! We’ll check back in on that in a minute.

David informs Shaw that they can escape, because there’s more ships. I’m not sure whether this is intended to be a plot twist, because the movie already showed us that there were identical buildings all lined up in this canyon. But nobody ever mentioned them or thought to check them out, so maybe Shaw literally did not ever think of that.

Next thing we know, Shaw has found David, and demands to know where her cross is. “Even after all this,” says David, “you still believe, don’t you?”

Shaw says nothing, because this movie does not appear to have any idea what her faith might mean beyond “believes a thing, cross good, God made Engineers.”

I’m not a religious or spiritual person, and I’m annoyed at how shallow this turned out to be. This movie has an explicitly christian worldview, and yet it doesn’t engage with actual christianity at all. This is bonkers.

David is also of the opinion that Shaw’s plans are similarly inexplicable–David assumes they want to go to Earth.

You know what would’ve made a tense, relatively cheap sequel to this? Have them head towards Earth. Have Shaw repair David, and then realize he plans to use the black goo on humanity. Too late to keep him from gaining control of the ship, you wouldn’t even need a critter to hunt Shaw or whatever, it could be kept as a straight thriller, where she has to figure out a way to stop David.

But no, Shaw wants to go to where the Engineers came from. 

“May I ask what you hope to achieve by going there?”  “They created us. Then they tried to kill us. They changed their minds. I deserve to know why.”  “The answer is irrelevant.”

Oh, no it is not, David. The answer is very relevant. It’s absolutely maddening, but I will GET to that next time.

In the meantime, Shaw completes her undermining of my brief moment of sympathy for her.

“Does it matter why they changed their minds?” “Yes. Yes, it does.” “I don't understand.” “Well…”

You can stop right there, Shaw.

“I guess that's because I'm a human being… and you're a robot.”

That is the face of a man who has just added another entry to The List.

What the hell kind of line is that. I really, truly do not understand that. In alternate versions of this scene she called him a fucking robot instead, so they were really committed to this idea that she’d deny the personhood of David right here. He's behaved horribly toward others, but basically in the way a child behaves horribly when they feel slighted. He has been mistreated and he didn't like it, so he did what he felt would make it stop. That's a very immature, very human reaction.

Is the movie unaware of this, or is Shaw unaware of this, and making a mistake?

Holloway was positioned as an unlikable character, partly on the weight of using real-world racist language toward David. What does this mean for Shaw? Does this confirm that she’s not supposed to be a likable or moral protagonist? Because she starts doing a “This is Ellen Ripley Elizabeth Shaw” message in a bottle end monologue, as they sail away to David murdering her between now and Alien: Covenant. This is her last living act, as far as her on-screen participation in the series is concerned.

This is just ambiguous enough to make me confused, and not because I’m conflicted about her character–I thought she was a wingnut from early on, and she contributed to a whole lot of destruction and deaths the movie didn’t sell me on as being inevitable. I’m confused because I cannot tell if this movie has a protagonist-centric morality or not.

As stated before, films do not need to follow any sort of moral code or consistency. But when they do, there are two broad ways to go about it: Either a moral code stands on its own, and characters are tested against it regardless of who they are, or morality is exemplified by the protagonist(s), defining the moral framework of the movie through their actions.

Neither of these are inherently bad. They can lead to what we once called “flamewars” on Ye Olde Internet, because this distinction is not explicitly announced by the story, or any story really. If one person thinks a story’s morals are protagonist-centric, or perhaps all stories are protagonist-centric, then a story with a real bastard of a main character can create a very angry response.

As I said previously, Ridley Scott has directed movies where the protagonist is not the moral center of the universe. But big spectacle action movies tend to lean in that direction, and the writer for this movie wrote and produced for both the JJ Abrams Star Trek movies.

You see my problem here.

I’m still thinking that Shaw isn’t meant to be taken as morally correct here. I’m just confused as well, because her ending message is hopeful. That she’s going off to a home planet of the Engineers, because “It is New Years Day, the year of our Lord, 2094," and she’s “still searching” for answers.

I hope that her hope is meant to be read as foreboding. Delusional. I don’t know. What is she expecting, showing up in what they now know is a bioweapon bomber? Why not spend some time trying to figure out how to not bring an apocalypse’s worth of ordinance to wherever she wants to go? “I come in peace” isn’t going to be very convincing when you can–and David certainly will–kill everything that moves.

What a weird way to end the movie. If its characterization wasn’t so often flimsy, I might like it. Instead, I’m just left spinning my wheels as we fade out.

Oh, sorry, we haven’t ended it yet, we need a non-human chestburster to go reee at the camera, like how Alien versus Predator ended.

Great. Good job. That didn’t cheapen the movie at all.

What a mess. What a mess of a movie that didn’t know itself.

But we are not done. Because traditionally, as the credits are rolling, I tell my friends about an interview Ridley Scott gave after Prometheus came out. One where he talks about the Engineers and their motivations.

I have heard the screams of my friends as I told them, and I have laughed. You’re next!

⛬

(Previous) | (Index) | (Next)

⛬

Citations for alt-text rambles

https://media.tenor.com/mweqSDA_s_gAAAAC/game-of-thrones-got.gif 

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Offspring_(Star_Trek:_The_Next_Generation)

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pharyngeal_jaw 

http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-gQYNl0DEC7w/UYhmdkvmOVI/AAAAAAAACA4/HYWxCBYccHM/s1600/Sandworms.jpg

https://bogleech.tumblr.com/post/745405355995037696/i-forgot-people-dont-generally-know-what-these

[scullysexual]

We'll Meet Beyond The Shore.

Somewhere beyond the sea, she’s there watching for me, and if I could fly like a bird on high, then straight into her arms I’d go sailing.

Tags and Warnings: Major character death, enemies to friends (to lovers), doomed lovers.

ao3

Chapter Three: The Training Centre.

Four is always dressed similarly each year, usually it is fish themed. They receive a bit of noise when their chariot rides out but it’s not much to put a dent in anything, that will fall to them in the interviews after training, and Skinner when he hunts for sponsors. He says as much when they climb down from the chariots. Mulder holds out his hand to help Dana but she ignores it.

She’s still annoyed at him.

That night they retire to their new prison- the training centre which is to be their home for the next 5 days. Like the train, Dana stays out of the way. In the morning, Monica knocks on her door and tells her breakfast is ready.

“Don’t neglect the survival stations,” Skinner tells them as they board the elevator and ride down towards the basement. “They’re just as useful as the combat stations.”

Dana nods, Mulder lets out a “We’ll remember to head there first.”

The elevator doors open. Another closed door lies ahead of them.

“I’m not allowed in,” Skinner tells them. “I’ll see you at dinner.�� Before the elevator doors can close he says one final thing. “Stick together.”

Dana is about to protest.

“I mean it. Stick together.” And then he is gone, the elevator shooting upwards at a rapid speed.

Dana groans. Where has Skinner got the notion that they’re a pair from?

There’s a tap against her shoulder and Dana looks towards Mulder. He holds his hand out to her.

“Let’s call a truce,” he says. “We don’t have to be friends but we can be friendly.”

Without much choice, Dana shakes his hand. It lasts no longer than 5 seconds before she is pulling away.

The training room is a gymnasium filled 24+ stations sporting different needs to suit a person. It had barely just turned 10am yet everyone seemed to be here. Districts One and Two were already standing together. Alliances will be decided by most of them later but it is almost custom for One and Two to align automatically. Later they’ll choose their third district to join them and Dana hopes it isn’t her.

The TV on the train didn’t do their sizes much justice. Even One, the wealthiest district, Tom Colton and Phoebe Green both tower over her. They have nothing on Mulder, however, who appears to be the tallest here.

The head trainer explains the different stations, explains the rules of the training room specifying that we are not to fight one another- “Save that for the arena,” she says earning the approval of the careers and then she sends them on their way.

“Where do you want to go first?” Mulder asks her but Dana doesn’t answer. Her eyes land on the small crafting station and she wanders over to that, Mulder following like an obedient puppy.

Rope sits on the side and Dana grabs it immediately. She gets to work on tying knots, creating a net. Mulder watches her.

“For catching fish?” he asks.

“And people.” She gives a little glance towards the careers who take it in turns practicing with the steel weapons. Mulder looks towards them too.

“You could trap them,” he says and Dana nods. “Guess I’ll have to watch my step.” He grins at her and Dana can’t help but grin back.

She sets the nets aside. She picks up the remainder of rope and some bark. With time, and if she’s unable to get her hands on steel, she could make her fishhooks with this stuff.

She feels eyes on her and looks over to find Tom watching her and Mulder.

“You need to do something,” she says to Mulder.

“Like what? I don’t know how to make the stuff you’re making.” He picks up her discarded net, showing it to her.

“You have to have other skills. Throw an axe or throw a weight. They’re watching.”

She lets Mulder decide what he’s going to do, focusing her attention on how to make the rope wrap securely around the bark.

Mulder is gone when she looks up, headed in the direction of the careers. Dana watches, as do the careers, as Mulder picks up the last long-axe. He holds it like it weighs no heavier than a stick. Colton pulls Spender away from the dummy and Mulder resets it. They all give him space, watching as the dummy charges towards him. Mulder swings the axe, the blade slicing halfway through the dummy’s side. He drags the dummy forward then kicks it in it’s stomach, wrenching his axe free and sending the dummy flying where it lies limply on the floor.

Dana finds herself impressed, as far the careers but their attention hasn’t wavered yet.

“Just gonna grab these,” Mulder says reaching up above Diana Fowley’s head. He walks back over to where Dana is.

“How was that?” Mulder asks. His face says he is unsure. How could one be unsure of what?

“Pretty good,” Dana tells him honestly. “I’ll remember to stay away from you and your axe.” She smiles at him, recalling his joke from earlier. He smiles back.

“I think it’s your turn,” he says.

“My fishhooks aren’t ready.”

Mulder holds out two large steel fishhooks in both hands.

“Grabbed these for you.”

Dana stares at them and then takes one. She threads the rope through the eye and tightens it. Confident it wasn’t about to fly loose she stands up and wanders over to the same station Mulder and the careers were just using. She presses the reset button and the dummy, rebuilt from it’s tumble with Mulder, stands before her. Just like with Mulder, it charges towards her. She spins the fishhook around, letting physics allow it to gather as much force behind it before she’s slamming it through the air where the arrow pierces the side of the dummy’s head. She pulls the dummy towards her and yanks out the hook.

She ignores the careers and walks back towards Mulder who lets out an astonished “Wow…”

“Yeah well, I’ll only be able to accomplish that if they have the steel ones in the arena.”

“They’re in here, they might. You know, I also saw a trident over there.”

Dana stops. No, they wouldn’t put a trident in the arena. Maybe Skinner can get one sponsored but that’s unlikely. But what if…Technically there’s only two people who would be able to use it. Do the Gamemakers want her to use it? She looks back at the careers. They’ve stopped staring at them now and instead the two girls are messing around with said trident. She looks up at the room, where the Gamemakers have been watching them from above, to find them staring directly at her.

“No,” she says to Mulder. “I’ll save it for the private session.”

.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.

No person has ever scared him like Dana Scully.

She works on crafting her nets and her fishhooks, practises swinging both the bark and steel ones around. Dummies are mutilated by each one. She doesn’t practice her traps, however, that would give too much away.

Mulder builds a fire, swims in the pool off to the side, lifts some weights. He is useless in comparison. He doesn’t think he’s going to last a single day in the arena.

He and Scully are taking it in turns on some plant identification game when Tom Colton from District One starts making some noise. He pushes Seven’s boy to the floor, ranting and raving about stealing his dagger. A sliver of light hits his eye and he finds the 12 year old from Eight hanging from the ceiling, a smirk across her face and a dagger in her hands.

He nudges Scully.

“Look,” he says pointing up towards the little girl.

They both watch as she swings like a monkey across the ceiling and quietly places the dagger back on the weapons rack before scurrying off to hide once more.

“It’s on the rack, you idiot,” says Phoebe pointing to the dagger.

Tom shakes his head confused. “I swear it was on me…”

Once the training day is over they join Skinner and Reyes on floor four for dinner.

“Any thoughts on who you’re allying with?” Skinner asks.

“It’s obvious, isn’t it?” says Mulder. “The careers. They’re our best chance at survival.”

“This again…” Scully mutters to herself.

“They were impressed by us on day 1. I think we have a good chance.”

Skinner looks at Scully. “Scully?”

Scully sighs. “Emily. The little girl from District Eight.” Mulder scoffs and Scully scowls at him. “What? She’s better than either of us thought.”

“So she stole Colton’s knife and can shoot at stuff with a slingshot? What good is that gonna be to anyone out in the arena? You need to ally with someone who can look after themselves.”

“What if it was Samantha?” Scully says so quietly he almost misses it.

“What?” he asks because he knows she didn’t just ask what he thought she asked.

“I said what if it was Samantha. Wouldn’t you have wanted someone like me to protect her? Maybe then she wouldn’t have died straight away.”

He goes cold. There’s a buzzing in his ears and gooseflesh is prickling his arm even as his palms grow clammy.

Skinner and Reyes have both gone quiet. Even Scully is looking at him with a hint of remorse.

“This is how this is gonna work,” he says slowly, his voice low and dangerous. “No one brings up Samantha. Ever. Is that clear?” Scully nods, her eyes downcast. He looks to Skinner and Reyes and repeats, “Is that clear?”

“It’s clear,” says Skinner. Reyes nods.

“Good.” He stands, pushing his near full plate of food away. “I’ll ally with the careers.” He looks down at Scully darkly. “She can take the girl.” With that, he leaves.

.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.

Maybe she should apologise but Dana can’t apologise for what she’s not sorry for. She was right. What if it was Samantha. She can give Emily a chance, not let her get slaughtered two seconds in.

The door to the roof opens and it’s Skinner.

“You found the roof?” he asks even though the answer is clear. He leans next to her but far enough away to allow her space.

“You think I’m making the wrong decision allying with Emily,” Dana says.

“I think Mulder has a point.”

She goes to argue but Skinner interrupts her.

“And so do you.”

She closes her mouth.

“It’s normal for tributes of the same district not to get along. It’s normal for them to not ally together. Most do but you get some who don’t. I say, let Mulder win his way with the careers and you ally with whoever you want.”

Dana looks down at the lights below, the buzzing city, people the size of ants, cars beeping even though it was almost 11pm.

“They’ll come after me first,” she says quietly.

“You don’t know that. From what I hear you’re pretty strong. They’ll go for the weaklings first.”

“But I’m competition.”

Skinner exhales. “Yes, you are.”

“I’ll get an average score tomorrow,” she says, a plan formalising in her mind. “If I’m neither a threat nor weak, they might leave me alone for a bit.”

“I think that is an excellent plan,” Skinner agrees.

“Tell Mulder to do is axe thing. I think the Gamemakers will really like that.”

She slips away then, back inside, a plan formed.

.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.

He hasn’t spoken a word to her since last night. He can’t. He shimmers with anger at her words still. They sit next to each other, waiting to be called, but neither say a word.

“Fox Mulder,” an assistant calls.

Mulder stands, he almost speaks to Scully, a quick “Wish me luck” before he remembers they’re not on speaking terms.

He enters the room. There’s no panel waiting like he was expecting. Instead there’s just a small woman in the corner and the Gamemakers are up in their booth. They’re not even watching.

Whatever, Mulder thinks reaching for his axe. Let’s get this over with.

He takes his anger out on the poor dummy. Anger towards Scully, anger towards his parents, anger towards the Capitol. The dummy ends with a missing arm, a bashed in leg, a half decapitated head. He picks up the 200kg weight and launches it across the room, a scream following. It hits the rack, weapons clattering to the ground. That felt good. He wants to do it again.

He leaves, closing the door behind him. He locks eyes with Scully and doesn’t say a word.

.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.

It’s her turn.

Dana follows the assistant into the room. Whatever she was expecting it wasn’t this. Where’s the panel?

She sees what remains of Mulder’s dummy, a weight atop of the rack. She looks up at the booth and they’re not even watching. How can they judge something if they’re not even looking?

Whatever, focus.

Dana picks up her fishhooks from under the weight. Bastard Mulder and his bastard weights, she curses. The rope is stuck under it and the weight is too heavy to move on her own. She looks at the woman in the corner but she makes no effort to come and help.

Fantastic. Mulder has sabotaged her.

She leaves her fishhooks stuck and retrieves her net instead. She ties one end of the rope to a hook in the wall and sets up her triggers. She resets the dummy and lets it wander over her net where the trap is triggered and the dummy gets tangled up in the net.

With Tom’s dagger, she stabs the dummy in its foot, incapacitating it, before finally ending its fake misery with a pierce to the throat with the middle tip of the trident. When she looks up at the booth still none of them are paying any attention to her.

She should leave but she’s just done all that and no one was watching.

“Hey!” she yells up at them and all conversations cease. All of them look at her for the first time as if just realising she’s been in the room this entire time.

“You’re welcome.”

And then she leaves, slamming the door behind her.

Later that night, the four of them sit in the lounge as the results are televised. One by one they flash a photo of the tribute and then the score. Colton, Phoebe, Spender, Diana score between 8 and 10 as expected. Mulder scrapes an 8 which earns him a well done by Skinner. Dana waits for her score. Hopefully it’s a 7 at best, an 8 at worst.

Her pictures flashes and then her score.

11.

They gave her an 11.

“But they weren’t even watching,” says Dana shocked. “I had to shout at them.”

“Someone must have been,” says Mulder breaking his vow of silence.

The other tributes’ scores appear. Most get 5, a boy from 10 also gets an 8. Little Emily scores a 7 but at the end it is clear that Dana got the highest score.

11. She was sure to make herself a target now.

[everybodyknows-everybodydies]

! hunter + hallie!

the hunter: surefootedness, predestination

Sitting at the funny bug table (she’s not supposed to call it that; it’s—artisanal, and shaped like it would be so hard to move house with) with a ridged cup in her hands, wedged between neat stacks of books and soul gems and spiralling metal tools she’s not yet gotten the names of, Haldryn feels a bit like a project herself. It’s hard not to, under the scrutinizing appraisal of the woman sitting across the table.

Straight-backed and proud despite the gnarling of her hands, the spider-line creases of her face, Mistress Dratha sets down her own cup and says, “I fear, child, that my age is catching up to me at long last, because you could not have said what it sounded very much like you said.”

“You told me you’d support me as the Nerevarine.” Haldryn is tired, mostly, she realizes. It’s all so much talking to people, and the rules change everywhere she goes. “This is what’s being asked of me for them to acknowledge me too.” It’s easier when people say what they mean. She does, as much as possible; she likes that Mistress Dratha does too.

Neht is silently stationed where he always is, when she comes to Tel Mora: by the door, arms crossed and eyes fixed somewhere in the distance, as if he can see outside still. She almost can’t make out the texture of the wall on the other side of him. He’s looked less like a ghost since—since. She squeezes her hands around the cup: her hands, hers, the right shape and size and colored all with life (her life), the only marks the same old faint scars on her palms where she scraped them up falling in the street years ago. They’re as faded as they ever will be, now.

Mistress Dratha barks a laugh, incredulous. “I understand very well what they’re asking of you. Set an impossible task before you to ensure you fail, and if you happen to be killed for the audacity of the question—well, let it never be said that it was I who deterred you from the path you’re on.” She narrows her eyes, her shrewd mouth thinning, and leans to refill Haldryn’s cup from the (artisanal) teapot, the shape uneven but elegant in her steady hands. Steam thick as spiderweb billows up past both their faces. “You understand, I have very little patience for the sort of games this Zainab is poorly imitating. You’re too young to have learned this the long way, so I will tell you now: when people want something of you, it is not helping them to comply. It is obeying them.”

Her long fingers lace together before her on the table as she arches a brow, and Haldryn blinks steam from her eyes. Her eyelashes are damp with it. “I think—it can be helping sometimes,” she says, slow. “It doesn’t matter what they do with the help I give. It matters I give it.”

An angry kind of pity flits across the line of Mistress Dratha’s mouth. “They will eat you alive, child. The only thing you are teaching these people is that you can be manipulated. You will extend an open hand and a smile to your own demise.” She holds up a hand before Haldryn can do more than draw a breath to protest, and asks lowly, “Is he here now?”

Neht turns his head slightly, but doesn’t shift his gaze from somewhere beyond the walls. Haldryn can’t stop her eyes flicking from Mistress Dratha to him and back. “Um—do you mean…?”

It seems all the answer she needs. Raising her voice but not turning around, Mistress Dratha says, “Listen to me, Indoril Nerevar. Whether you are with her by chance or destiny, you find a way to reciprocate what this young woman does for you, tenfold. I expect to hear of ghostly suffering in unprecedented magnitude.”

He says nothing she would have to relay—his voice still stays caged in her head alone, though she can almost tell the color of his eyes some days—but Neht does turn to look, the corner of his mouth twitching.

“I don’t want anyone to suffer,” Haldryn says, flushed. She wets her lips (her tongue doesn’t fill her whole mouth, doesn’t choke her; her mouth moves the way she wants it to, not numb). The cup to her lips: the tea is hot, bitter. “You—you really don’t know anybody?”

“I did not say that. Suffering does not care what any of us want.” With a wry little smile, Mistress Dratha stands. She always feels taller than she is, her presence like a pillar of stone; straight as she holds herself amid all her projects and pursuits, it feels like a surprise every time to wind up looking down at her. Haldryn tugs at the end of her scarf absently as she makes to stand too, unsure if she ought to keep herself lower for longer. “Except for me, because I am older than it is. Come back in three days’ time; I will have you an answer worthy of a hortator to take the Zainab. They want the Nerevarine to unite the Ashlanders and the Great Houses—then they ought to think very carefully what they ask.”

[pilesofpillows]

Bound in Pleasure || Okoye x Attuma One-Shot

Read it here on AO3

Warnings: Smut (18+), NSFW, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Light Bondage, PWP, Breeding Kink, Excessive Use of the Word ‘Baby’ (But it’s in Mayan😅)

A/N: First of all, IDK how I got here… this is just filth. I’m working on other stuff too, but for now you’re getting p0rn

Word Count: 1.8k

“Bast, fuck…”

Okoye choked out a strangled groan as Attuma harshly thrust into her.

“No, ko’oj. Your god has no part in this.”

He plowed into her at a punishing pace, fucking her into the sheets. She screwed her eyes shut at the feeling of his dick stretching her. It felt like she was going to split in half. Clenching her fists around the headboard slats, she arched back further.

“That’s it, sweet girl. Stick it out for me,” Attuma said, palming the cheeks of her supple ass.

He spread her open, plunging deeper and deeper. Okoye groaned, low and long. She swore she could feel him in her stomach.

“You look so pretty like this… wrapped around my dick. You're squeezing me so tight, ko’oj.”

Okoye clenched around him, and Attuma groaned, cursing in his native tongue. He squeezed her ass, watching as her pussy stretched around him, taking him in with ease. His eyes traced the curves and dips of her figure, admiring the stunning picture she made.

Smooth brown skin was covered in a light sheen of sweat, pooling in the divots of her spine and the dimples of her back. Her wrists were bound above her head in silk ties, secured to the headboard, keeping her at his mercy. There was nothing more beautiful, above the surface or below.

“I should keep you like this. Tied up and open… just for me. Only for me. Would you like that, in K‘iino’?”

Okoye moaned helplessly, twisting her wrists in the silk restraints. Her mind was in a haze clouded by lust and desire. Attuma delivered a stinging slap to her ass, drawing a sharp cry from her.

“Answer me, Okoye.”

Okoye couldn’t. Forming words was beyond her. She could only moan, her voice pitching an octave as she felt him reaching around to rub her clit in quick circles.

“You’re soaked, sweet girl... Your slutty little pussy is gushing around me,” Attuma hummed. “Do you hear it, ko’oj? You sound so pretty.”

Theirs was a depraved melody, sinful and debauched, but so, so right. Okoye could feel the wetness dripping down her thighs, and her face burned at the thought of the puddle forming beneath her.

“You’re making a mess, pretty girl,” Attuma rasped, enchanted by the way her sex drenched him. He wanted more. Pressing firmly on her bundle of nerves, Attuma rubbed harder and faster, relishing in Okoye’s cries.

Okoye keened, delirious with pleasure. “Ah-tuma, I-I’m gonna cum!”

“No, you’re not. Not without asking, right, ko’oj?” He asked, taunting her. He was strumming her clit while shoving every inch of his cock into her relentlessly.

“Pl-please! I-Oh-I need to- Attuma please!”

Attuma thrust harder, refusing to give her any quarter. She knew what he expected. “That didn���t sound like a question. Try again, sweet girl.” The sweetness of his tone directly contradicted the brutal mess he was making of her insides.

Okoye choked on a scream, gasping out the question she prayed would grant her sweet release.

“‘Tu-ma, please… can I- m-may I cum?”

Attuma continued plunging in and out of her slick heat, flicking her clit in time with his strokes. “So polite for such a greedy slut.”

His words sent a bolt of pleasure straight to her clit, and her pussy throbbed. She keened at the harsh slap he delivered to her ass and let out a swift string of profanities.

She was so close.

“Please!” Okoye was desperate; tears leaked from her eyes as she fought to keep her orgasm at bay. Her muscles tensed and tightened as she neared the precipice, and then-

“No.”

Attuma withdrew from her completely, leaving her bereft.

“I don’t think you’ve earned it yet.”

Okoye sobbed, sagging down, pulling at her restraints. Hot tears ran down her cheeks, staining the pillow below her. Her pussy throbbed painfully, clenching around nothing.

“Attuma, sithandwa, nceda.” Her voice was a broken whine.

He didn’t answer but instead leaned forward to undo the knots securing her to the bed. His cock, still wet with their combined juices, rubbed against her ass, and Okoye ground back into him with abandon, desperate for any sort of sensation.

Attuma pulled his hips away, chuckling darkly. “No, Ki’in. It’ll take more than that if you want to come tonight.”

He turned her over and brought her arms down, settling his weight between her thighs, kissing and caressing her skin. Okoye whimpered at his tenderness, still reeling from the abrupt denial of her climax. Attuma kissed his way up her neck, sandwiching her arms between them. She twisted her hands in the bindings, stroking the tip of his dick.

“Behave,” Attuma growled, nipping her chin in warning.

Okoye ignored him, gripping tighter, running her thumb along his weeping slit. He hissed, cursing softly. Attuma’s head bowed forward, bringing his lips closer than they’d been all night. She darted forward, tilting her head to capture his lips in a heated kiss.

Attuma groaned, caught off guard. His hand shot up from her waist to grasp her jaw, taking control of the kiss. He squeezed, forcing her to open her mouth as he devoured her. She mewled and released him as he sucked on her bottom lip harshly, sharp teeth cutting into the ripe flesh. He drew back, admiring her tear-stained face, swollen lips, and dazed expression.

“Attuma,” Okoye whined, drawing out the sound of his name. She was pouting adorably.

“Do you want it, Ki’in?” Attuma asked, already knowing the answer.

“Yes! Pleasepleasepleasepl-“

He kissed her again, silencing her begging. He could feel her fists clenching, desperate to cling to him. With enough effort, Attuma knew she could free herself. But she wouldn’t.

Not tonight.

Tonight, she was going to be his good girl and take his cock every which way until she was all fucked out.

“Needy little thing, aren’t you? You gonna be good for me?” He murmured, moving his hand down her neck, squeezing her throat briefly.

Okoye nodded frantically. “Uh-huh.”

“Good girl.”

Attuma trailed his hand down her body, deftly rolling them over. He laid back, running his hands over the smooth skin of her thighs as she sat astride him. Okoye began rocking back and forth on his length, breathing heavily as her chest heaved. She was a temptress; her sweet sighs more alluring than any siren song he could sing.

Wrapping an arm around her waist, Attuma lifted her and placed the tip of his dick at her entrance. Okoye moaned, high and breathy, as she sank down on him. The silken heat of her pussy enveloped him, and he groaned at the feeling of her walls fluttering around him.

Attuma’s hands gripped her hips, moving her up and down until she was rolling them on her own. “Come on, sweet girl. If you want it, you’re going to have to work for it.”

Okoye’s head was thrown back, mouth open in a silent gasp. Attuma smacked her ass, and she cried out, twisting her wrists, placing her palms flat on his chest. She bore down, using him as leverage, and began working her hips, just as he’d commanded.

Her hips rose and fell in a slow rhythm, grinding down each time she met the base of his cock. She felt deliciously full, the pleasure bordering on painful. Okoye felt her climax building quickly, her body too worked up from his earlier attentions, and she rode him harder, chasing after the high she’d been cruelly denied earlier. Attuma began thrusting up into her, meeting her stroke for stroke. Her moans intermingled with Attuma’s grunts as the carnal sound of their flesh meeting echoed in the room.

Attuma squeezed her ass, delivering hard, swift strokes that made her eyes roll back. His hand came to play with her clit again, and she gasped his name.

“You close, ko’oj?”

She nodded, her nails digging into his chest.

“Beg me for it, pretty girl,” he commanded, his voice clouded with lust.

“Attuma! Fuck! Attuma, I’m gonna- Please let me… May I, please?”

His grip was iron, holding her in place as he drove into her. Okoye babbled an incomprehensible jumble of words, pleading with him for her release. Every muscle in her body was tense and taut, on the brink of ecstasy.

“Cum for me, Okoye.”

Okoye wailed, a deep, guttural sound of heady pleasure ripping through her as she toppled over the edge into delirium. She convulsed on top of him, her pussy clamping down on his dick with such intensity, Attuma nearly came undone. He held off, determined to wring another orgasm from her body before he filled her with his seed.

He plowed into her mercilessly. “Fuck! Just like that! Cum for me, ko’oj, cum on my dick… make a mess for me, pretty girl.”

Okoye yelped as his thumb rubbed fast, sloppy circles around her slippery clit. Her body was quaking, overcome with sensation. It was all too much, too hard, too fast.

“Gonna cum for me again?”

Okoye couldn’t answer even if she wanted to. All she could feel was electrifying pleasure as his hips snapped into hers.

“Yeah, you are… I can feel you squeezing me, ko’oj… Cum for me again so I can fill you up.”

“Attuma!”

The strangled scream of his name on her lips as she came was divine. Her body shuddered, her walls spasming around him. Pulling his fingers away from her sensitive, straining bud, Attuma untied her wrists and brought her hands to his shoulders. Her nails cut into him as he fucked her through her climax, the sweet clench of her cunt making him lose control.

“Gonna cum inside you, sweet girl… you want it?”

Okoye mewled, overwrought with pleasure. “Please…”

“Yeah? You want me to stuff you full of it, huh? Maybe fuck a baby into you?”

Her cunt spasmed wildly at his words, a fresh wave of arousal washing over her. Okoye’s eyes shot open, meeting his lustful gaze, and she bit her lip.

“I want it…” she said breathlessly, “I want it, ‘Tuma… put a baby in me.”

Attuma moaned at her request, redoubling his efforts. Okoye leaned forward, crashing their lips together in a sloppy kiss. She pulled back only to whisper filthily to him, pleading with him to stuff her with cum. Attuma’s hips stuttered, his rhythm faltering as she begged for him. He growled out a litany of curses as she ground down, squeezing him into her silken walls.

“Okoye… fuck! Fuckfuckfuckfuckfu- ah!”

Attuma roared as he came, flooding every inch of her with warmth. Spurred on by the intensity of his climax, Okoye felt herself cumming right along with him.

She slumped on top of him, trembling through the aftershocks. Attuma cupped her cheeks, placing soft kisses on her lips and face, but didn’t move to pull out of her.

“Mmm, are we going to get up?” Okoye asked, languorous and lax in his arms.

“Yeah, in a little bit,” Attuma replied, running a hand along her back. “Wanna make sure it takes…”

[she-posts-nerdy-stuff]

Daughter of the Rain and Snow

Concept: Around ten years after the events of Crooked Kingdom, 25-year-old Captain Inej Ghafa frees Maya Olsen from a pleasure house in Ketterdam. Maya is looking for revenge against the man who put her in her position, a man who she knows nothing about except his name: Kaz Brekker.

Tags: @wraith--2 @lunarthecorvus @just2bubbly @real-fragments7 @ethereal-maia @cartoon-clifford @origami-butterfly

Content Warnings: in more general terms I want to remind people to be aware of the nature of Kaz and Inej's experiences and relationship since even if I'm not directly addressing these things they tend to be implicit in any writing about them, but specifically to this chapter there's ptsd references, discussion about drowning, threats, violence, and there isn’t any child death taking place but it is talked about so I wanted to mention that just to make sure I’m being clear

Chapter 15 - Kaz

“What are the chances of being arrested if I murder a member of the Merchant Council in broad daylight?” Kaz snarled as he limped into the Crow Club.

He was finally going to give Ethan this Saints-forsaken financial record. Part of him was hoping the boy was guilty after all, so he’d have an excuse to kill someone. Annika looked up from her table and snorted a short laugh.

“For anyone else pretty high. For you? Depends on the Council member,”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning it depends on whether Jesper would shoot you before the Stadwatch got there,”

“Like Jesper could take me,”

She laughed again. Kaz didn’t have time for that. He flung two bags of coins into her lap and marched on past as he said:

“One for you. One for Rotty. Keep the tables busy,”

Annika’s mock salute was the last thing he saw from the corner of his eye as he headed straight for the back room.

Ethan sat, alone, behind his desk, head half buried in the books until Kaz hit his cane against the doorframe to summon some attention. Ethan flinched and threw his head up, and upon seeing Kaz found himself somewhere between relieved and even more anxious. He closed the book in front of him with slightly trembling fingers.

“Kaz, you - I don’t-”

Kaz dropped the record into front of Ethan, open on the Olsen transaction. He took in Ethan’s twitchy manner and dishevelled appearance with a slow study if the boy, who was now leaning over and blinking several times to read the words.

“When did you last sleep?”

“Wh- I don’t- I was waiting for you,”

Ghezen, the kid hadn’t left the room since Kaz told him he’d be back with the ledger.

“It’s been 30 hours,”

“You said you didn’t know how long you’d be,”

“Well you’re useless to me like this. Go back to the Slat and get some sleep, we’ll talk about this tomorrow,”

Ethan left in a haze and Kaz shook his head as he took a chair and pulled the most recent books towards him. Something was telling him the last 2 days of adding were going to need redoing, and besides it gave him a good opportunity to read through the recent ledgers for any discrepancies. This wasn’t as good a distraction as talking to Ethan would have been, but it was something. Kaz thought of Inej pulling away from him in their little house, dark eyes burning like a fire half- hidden by the black silhouette of the moon. He flexed his fingers in his gloves.

“What was the alternative?”

“Me!”

She was right, in a way, he thought. What would their little piece of the world look like if he had taken the energy he gave to the Dregs and put it into them? A marriage that didn’t rely on letters left from the beyond, safety, security, maybe family. And where would that leave him? Following Inej around Ravka, replacing the fear of the ship with the fear of her falling from the swings? Watching her teach their children the high wire whilst he imagined them falling, saw their little bodies splayed across the concrete? Or would he still be left waiting for her ship to return, tucking the children in every night whilst they asked when their mother would come home and he had no answer to give them? Always passive, always outside, watching her life through a lens whilst he couldn’t find where he fit into it.

She would have her ship, and he would have his city.

Even now that had to be the way it was. He had watched her try to be part of his world for years and known she wasn’t happy, he couldn’t ask her to sacrifice that again. But he didn’t know if he had the strength to sacrifice his world for hers instead.

And now this.

Kaz didn’t want to blame Inej for being angry with him, but she’d read the Saintsforsaken ledger hadn’t she? She knew he’d done nothing to this girl or her father that justified her placing blame on him. Something itched at him in the corners of his mind her shut out. You didn’t want to blame Jordie. Of course he didn’t. But it seemed all a more clean cut affair with Maya’s father, didn’t it?

No matter how Maya felt though, surely Inej could see?

She reminds me of you.

Kaz had no hope of focusing on these stupid ledgers. The numbers swam from line to line, like they were taunting him with the one thing he was supposed to be able to do. This, at least he was supposed to still be good at. A glance, an acknowledgment, and the numbers should have been stored in his mind. The filing cabinets in there scrolling over a decade of records that he could call upon at will. But now he was straining to concentrate, and his mind was filled with nothing but Inej and her dark, burning eyes. Flinching away from his touch. Drowning in the harbour. Thirty hours. When had he last slept? He didn’t want to. The dream came too fresh, too often. That oil black hair spilling around her, floating in the water. Limbs drooping, borne aloft by the waves, fingers in his turning to taut and bloated flesh. He couldn’t touch her. Couldn’t reach her. He was falling from the wire without a net.

He shoved the books away and hurried out, ignoring Pim trying to get his attention as they passed each other near the stairs. He went into his office and slammed the door shut, feeling the shake of his gloved fingers on the lock. He was stronger than this. This wasn’t supposed to happen anymore.

And if it did? He wasn’t supposed to be alone.

He slid down the door and sat on the floor in cold, shivering silence, his bad leg stretched out in front of him. He had to get her, had to explain to her, had to - what? What did he even want to say?

He would move the earth for her. He would kill, had killed, for her. He would die for her. And it didn’t mean anything, because even now he didn’t show it. Because even now, he refused to torture himself with the idea of their future. Their happiness, together. In Kerch, in Ravka, they could move to the permafrost in Fjerda for all he cared. He would carve a life for her in the face of a mountain, if that was what she wanted. But it felt like an infection. It was worming its way through him, and if he didn’t quash it there was every change it might destroy him. Destroy them both. All he was so desperate to give her was impossible to say, because saying it out loud made it real. It made it something that could be lost.

Kaz didn’t know how long he’d sat there before he managed to slowly pull himself back up, weight first in the door handle and then against his cane. There were no lights on in the room. He let the door swing on its hinges as he left, to walk back to the Slat. To force himself to sleep; to let the dream wash over him so he could fight it like he’d fought everyone and everything else.

And so it was as the door swung and the lights remained off, as Kaz limped away in stoic silence and the street lamps began to glow, that no-one noticed the hand reach up from beneath the desk and leave a neat, sealed letter next to the inkwell.

[abwatt]

Diviners: what are you reading

Fortune tellers, diviners, tarotists, astrologers, geomancers, bones-throwers, rune-readers... what are you reading??

I’ve heard tell, recently, of someone who got a reading from a Tarot card reader. The client came in with questions about their business.... and the Tarot card reader answered with advice about the gods and spirits, and connecting with the ancestors.  They talked in numbers of disks and singular swords, and emperors and Devils.

Umm.

My friend was bewildered. And angry to be out $45.  And lacked advice — actionable advice — about how to manage a deteriorating relationship with a business partner.

OK, I get it — I myself have shelves that are bending and sloping under the weight of tarot card decks and books about astrology.  I have piles of workbooks and guides to being a better astrologer. And I’m certainly interested in gods and myths and legends of spirits, and how to do magic to make them help you get what you want.  If you’re anything like me, THAT’s on your bookshelves, too.

BUT.

I read eight to ten books about business — about sales, about administration, about marketing and advertising, about business design — every year.  I read two or three biographies of historical persons (partly to pick them apart for astrological purposes, partly because real people are interesting).  I read five to six books about magic, because you have to keep your skills and techniques up-to-date, and know whether or not you’re doing stuff right.  I read three or four books about history (ancient and modern) to have examples to draw on in consultations with clients.  I read four or five how-to books (and devour YouTube educational content) on sewing, embroidery, woodworking, and more, every year.  As my parents (and I) age, I’m reading more books about health and medicine, too.

And because I’m cis-, and white, and straight, and male, I read books by and about and for women, queer people, women of color, men of color.  I read books by non-Americans, too, and try to get a sense of the world beyond my state and nation: geopolitics, the economics of South America, the logistics routes that make T-shirts and jeans in the US possible.  

In ancient times, the laws of the city of Delphi, home of the most famous oracle in the Mediterranean, simply required that only a woman could sit on the tripod in the adyton and prophesy.  By the Classical era, it was required that she be a married woman with children, in her fourth decade — someone who knew something of the world, and knew its pitfalls and challenges, as well as its opportunities. 

Please don’t get me wrong — if you’re nineteen, or fifteen, and starting to learn a form of fortune-telling or divination, that’s fine.  You don’t have to be married and in your forties to start.  You don’t even have to wait for someone to give you a tarot deck or a pack of runes.  

But PLEASE —widen the horizon of what’s valuable knowledge for a diviner. It’s not just the official meanings of the cards in the little white book.  It’s ALL the other reading and information you’re carrying around in your brain: the things you learned in summer camp about making Friendship Bracelets and the class about computer programming; the obsessive binge-watching of every documentary about China you could find; the map you drew in your journal in math class of who was kissing whom; the lemonade stand you ran with your cousin during the family reunion; the book you borrowed from the library about how to write a novel.   Fortune-telling, divination, is a weird method for deciding what information you carry around in your head is relevant to a given conversation with a client or a friend.  But feed that head.  Locked up inside that head is a treasure-house of experiences, and the more you put in there, the more that you will be able to unfold to a client in the course of a consultation.

[megamindsecretlair]

Ugh. I needed this story today! And you delivered, as usual. I was just gonna comment but it was too long. Comments are definitely out of order like I was taking notes on each page as I turned the book 🫶🏽… sorry!

Nicky is my new favorite side character!

I am feeling like Joya is personal… who is the inspo?

“if nothing else, he could hustle a dollar from a beggar.” My favorite line 😂😂😂 I’d be so upset to be described like this 😩 What a backhanded compliment 😂😂

Also, I be robbing Peter to pay Paul…. How you get to Paul first?! Spill it!

“I’m her toy for the evening” EXCUSE ME, SIR! 🫠

“Ya’ll ready or not, damn!” The DJ asked. Not this Funk Master Flex ass DJ… or is he one of them Jamaican ones in Brooklyn… hmm, can’t decide. Still, RUDE! 😂 Very accurate though.

Who is the face claim inspo for Lord AK 🤨 I am trying to see if he’s finer than Terry (probably not 😂)

He bypassed your lips to bring his closer to your ear. “I don’t take advantage of drunk women,” he whispered. He licked your neck and you moaned, shivering as if someone dumped a bucket of ice water down your veins. “I like my women sober when they’re riding me.”

WHEW! Just died.

Not the biggest fucking loser on the planet. GIRL, he ain’t say no…. he just said…. like my women sober! STAND UP. DUST YOURSELF. try again…. 🤭

So good.

- xoxo, your east coast stan

PLEAAAAAAAASE I love this. I wish I could send you a cookie (or preferred sweet equivalent)

Im so tickled by this, thank you 🥹 I rarely get asks about the fics. 🤣 never apologize, 😗 I'm beyond thrilled you loved the fic. Seriously, making my whole fn day, night, weekend, next 3 years 🤣🤣🤣 okay, I'll stop being weird. 💃🏽

Please don't gas me up 🤣 like a novel 🫠😗 you deserve all the forehead kisses 😗😗

Joya is me. I am Joya. I'm less organized than she is, but whewwww. I never wanna meet Aaron. Or any celebrity really. I don't need them mfs knowing I exist 💀💀💀🥲 because my anxiety is so bad, id die. Like I'd straight up pass out. And the problem with loving someone like Aaron? He'd be overly sweet about it to. And that'd fn send me beyond the grave fr 🫠 like please juss tell me to fuck off and move on 🥲 (he won't but yeahhhh, I don't want to meet him irl 🫠)

Thats one of my fave lines too 🤣

This is Lord AK. Ik ik. Not as fine as Aaron, but that's my baby fr 😩 Lord AK is from Issa Rae's show called Rap Sh!t. I was so excited to see him on there, so fn sweet. And yeah. Well. Im not gonna spoil it chuz I choked when I saw it and damn near cried even though it was all fictional. His character in the show was based on a real singer that hurt himself.

The fic wouldve crossed the 10k mark if I went into why she felt like a loser lol. But I figured, she is still a person behind the persona. Everyone thinks she's cool, confident, and can get any man she want. She needed liquid courage to even give him a lap dance. That was her version of shooting her shot 🤣 chuz its not like she can join a dating app or hook up with anyone in the industry chuz baby girl wants something real. So she takes that shot only for him to curve her. (Chuz she didnt use her big girl words) So she took the easy way out. And it only reinforced how alone she is.

I had so much fun answering this, thank you 🤣🤣🤣🤣

[isshua]

Messianic Aureation

Chapter 9: A Clash of Ice and Fire, A Dance Between Life and Death

Summary: Faced with a bloodthirsty Diluc, Cara has no choice but to put her training to the test and take him on in a fight. Will Albedo's teachings and her own allies be enough to save her from his purging flames, or will the hounds finally seize and kill their prey?

9th chapter is up! Things get intense! Enjoy the chapter! :)

Chapter 10 is here

“Diluc,” Cara breathed, terror instantly consuming her as she stared at the man in front of her. “Wait, please. I can explain-”

Diluc didn’t give her a chance to finish. He lunged, his claymore swinging straight for her neck. Cara used her sword to block the blow. There was a metallic shriek when both blades connected, and she found herself struggling with all of her might to prevent the claymore from cleaving her head right off of her shoulders. Diluc’s strength was unlike anything she had ever faced. Fatigue rapidly set in as her arms shook from the strain of the larger weapon’s weight.

“Explain?” Diluc hissed. “Explain? You have nothing to explain to me, heretic. I have no intention of making conversation with you. I’m here to kill you, and nothing else.”

A blast of wind struck them both. Diluc winced when the mountain air cut into his cheeks, but it flowed around her like water. Cara silently thanked Teyvat for the distraction, summoned every ounce of muscle she had, and pushed him back. The greatsword tipped. He staggered from the momentary weight imbalance, and she took the opportunity to dart away and make for the path that would bring her back to Albedo’s camp. If Diluc didn’t want to talk to her, then fine, she wouldn’t try. She could already tell he was beyond reason. The unnatural red of his eyes proved that he was lost in the fog of the Madness, and it wasn’t going to lift anytime soon.

She felt something lash around her ankle and force her feet to slip when it was given a harsh pull. Cara yelped when she went crashing down, her sword escaping her grasp and skidding away from her as she did. When she looked back, she saw there was a chain holding her captive, and on the other end was Diluc, who held it tightly in both hands with the tail wrapped around his wrist. Oh yeah, she remembered. He can use chains. And then she screamed when Diluc yanked it back and dragged her away from her only outlet to freedom and towards her inevitable doom.

“You're done running,” Diluc said seethingly. “We have spent a month searching for you, a month with no success until now. It ends today.” He positioned the blade of the Serpent Spine claymore over her chest, right where her heart was frantically beating. “Goodbye, imposter.”

Cara watched as the greatsword came rushing down, ready to pierce through her flesh and shatter the force of life within her. She shrieked out a desperate protest. “Diluc, please, wait!” But he didn’t wait. He didn’t twitch, didn’t falter. There was only steely resolve as he went to deliver the killing blow.

There was a flash, the glint of a blade, and Cara waited for the Serpent Spine to find its place within her chest. But it never happened, because someone new suddenly appeared right in front of her with a burst of light. A sword deflected the claymore.

 No, not someone new.

 It was Kaeya.

The cavalry captain stood in front of her and brought his Black Sword down upon Diluc’s chain. It shattered, giving her release. Cara couldn’t believe her eyes. Was he actually here? Was this happening? “Kaeya?” she said incredulously.

“Your Grace, please, get yourself to safety,” he ordered her. “You need to leave, now.”

Diluc dropped the broken chain and let the hand holding his claymore go slack. “Kaeya,” he said, a strange surprise in his voice.

Kaeya didn’t let his sword lower. “Diluc.”

The other man stared, his eyes narrowed and scrutinizing, yet holding confusion too. “Why are you here? Why are you protecting her? Don’t you realize who this is?”

“Yes,” Kaeya answered. “She is the Almother of Teyvat. You and the entirety of Monstadt have been tricked. I need you to understand that you are fighting for the wrong Caratrice right now.”

“What? You can’t be serious. You're taking the imposter’s side? Are you mad?”

“Quite the opposite. I believe I’m one of the few Vessels in Monstadt who’s lucky enough to still be sane. Don’t do this, Diluc. I need you to fight whatever voice inside your head is telling you to kill Her Grace.”

Confliction danced across Diluc’s features. He grunted and squeezed his eyes shut. Cara noticed him stagger slightly, his frame swaying while he unexpectedly began to pant, seemingly in pain. Then his eyes shot open and he thundered with hatred dripping from his words. “You are a coward and a traitor, Kaeya! I should have known that you of all people would turn his back on Monstadt and Teyvat! If you wish for things to be this way, then fine! You can die here at the side of the imposter!”

“Kaeya.” Cara was growing increasingly agitated. “His eyes, Kaeya, they’re too red. He’s being consumed by the Madness!”

“Diluc, you need to calm down!” Kaeya yelled. “I know you can feel the Madness within you! It’s a disease that you need to purge! Just please, for once in your life, listen to me and trust me!”

But Diluc wasn’t doing either of those things. With a bloodthirsty scream, he swung his claymore at Kaeya, who quickly managed to block it. “Run!” he urged Cara, and then he unleashed a blast of Cryo straight into Diluc’s face. The other man stumbled back; Kaeya teleported behind him to grab the back of his cloak and throw him away.

The snowstorm raged, its high winds whipping with so much force, Cara thought it was going to rip the skin right off of her bones. A relentless battering of snow rained down from the sky and began to obscure Diluc and Kaeya while they fought. She simply stood there and watched blasts of fire and ice hit each other again and again. The sound of their blades meeting created a symphony of battle. Am I really going to leave them here to kill each other? she thought. Am I really going to run?

Diluc was going to kill Kaeya. She realized it the moment the fight began. With the Madness fueling him, his anger was unquenchable, and only when she was dead would he possibly be freed from it. With the extra power boost such anger gave him, Kaeya would eventually be overwhelmed. Am I going to let him die? Am I really going to run away with my life while he loses his?

No. She couldn’t. She wasn’t going to leave him here. She was done running. Now it was time for her to fight.

She grabbed her fallen sword and pelted into the fray. Purposely letting out a yell, she swung the Prototype Rancour at Diluc’s back. He noticed and abandoned his attack on Kaeya to block her-exactly what she wanted him to do, but now she was the center of his attention. “Bad move, heretic,” he sneered. “You should have run when you had the chance.”

Shards of Cryo slammed into Diluc. Coupled with the wind and the snow, he was lost in the cold and forced to fall back. “What are you still doing here?” Kaeya shouted at Cara. “You shouldn’t be here right now! He wants to kill you, don’t you realize that?”

“No shit he wants to kill me! But if I run, you die in my place!” Cara shouted back. “We can get out of this together! Two is better than one!”

Kaeya huffed. “Two against one means nothing when battling Diluc. Both of us are likely to get killed no matter how hard we fight.”

There was a loud thrum of fire, followed by Diluc shouting “Burn!” Out of the Pyromantic flames the phoenix appeared, and it rocketed towards the two of them at an even faster speed than it had before, unperturbed by Teyvat’s slashing winds. Cara grabbed Kaeya, held him close, and let her instincts take over. Her nerves sang, alive with her inner power; a burst of golden light lit up the entire world. The phoenix was vaporized by the rays of pure energy, and then the light retreated back into Cara as quickly as it had arrived.

Kaeya stared at her dumbfoundedly. “Did…did Albedo teach you how to do that?” he asked.

“It, uh, kind of just happens sometimes?” she admitted. “I don’t know how to control it yet.”

“Impressive,” Diluc said breathlessly. “But still too weak.” With his sword still covered in flames, he braced himself, then launched into the air. Somersaulting forward in a cycling glory of whooshing red, he slammed his claymore down in front of him when he landed. The impact sent flames shooting everywhere, but Kaeya managed to react before they were burnt to a crisp. He pointed his sword at them and sent forth a chilling blast. Cryo met Pyro; the ice and flames canceled out with a hissing fizzle. But then, out of the mist created by the two elements making contact, Diluc burst forth with his greatsword aimed right for his brother. He had expertly used the concealing vapor to hide his attack.

“Kaeya, watch out!” Cara cried. She shoved him out of the way just in the knick of time. The action was instinctual; she saw how close he was to meeting his death and prevented it. Kaeya fell into the snow, safe from harm. But now, she was in his place. And Diluc had her right where he wanted her.

She hardly registered it when the Serpent Spine slashed directly through her right eye.

She did register how she was thrown back from the sheer impact of being hit with such a heavy weapon. She fell onto her side with pain blossoming through her entire body. Her right eye’s sight immediately vanished under a heavy flow of blood surfacing from the wound. It dripped down her cheek, splattering against the snow, gold against white. Her right hand, abandoning her Prototype Rancour, pressed gently over the injury. When she lowered it, she saw her palm completely painted over with her blood.

Kaeya screamed her name. To her, he sounded muffled and distant. Sharp ringing and her own heavy breathing were all she could really hear. It hurts. It burns. I can’t see. I can’t fucking see. All she could focus on was the sight of her blood on her hand. She couldn’t talk. She couldn’t even think.

She looked numbly up at the looming form of Diluc walking menacingly towards her. With his claymore still on fire and his features partially hidden by the snow, he looked like a monster straight out of the Abyss. She didn’t move when he prepared to take her life like he did before Kaeya rescued her. She was rendered immobile by the shock of what had just happened.

Diluc raised his claymore. As he looked at her, he hesitated, a small moment of clarity appearing when he observed what he had done. He grimaced and shook his head like he was attempting to rid himself of a voice whispering commands into his ear. But whatever was possessing him prevailed; all hesitation was quickly abandoned, and with a guttural yell, he brought the greatsword down.

Before the blade could end her life, a sudden blast of purple energy leapt over Cara’s head and slammed into him. There was a distinctly wolf-like howl as the entity sent him flying backwards into a giant pile of snow. A figure emerged from the crackling light, and their clawed fist punched Diluc square in the jaw. He went limp, finally knocked out and defeated.

Two cold hands gently turned her face away from the boy standing over Diluc’s collapsed body. Kaeya hissed a curse through his teeth when he saw the condition of her face. He looked absolutely horror-stricken. “Fuck, Cara, your eye. I can’t even see it, it’s-it’s-” His thumb strayed across her right cheek. Pain followed the tender gesture, and she whimpered out a small “Don’t.” Kaeya drew back as if he had been burned. “We need to get you to Albedo. Let me help you stand.”

“Kaeya,” she peeped, voice thin and weak. “Kaeya, my eye. I can’t see out of my eye.”

“Shh, I know.” Kaeya took her arm and draped it over his shoulders. Carefully, slowly, treating her as if she were a fragile doll, he pulled her up. Her legs wobbled and she was forced to lean against him to keep upright. “Stay with me for a little longer, okay? Razor and Bennett are here to help too.”

“Razor?” she echoed. “Bennett?” Her good eye strayed to the two boys observing Diluc. Both of them turned to look at her; indeed, she was met with the sight of the wolf boy and the young adventurer.

“Cara!” both boys exclaimed. Bennett visibly paled when he saw the condition of her face. “Oh my gods. Diluc, he-he-!”

“Help me get Cara back to Albedo’s camp,” Kaeya told them. “Don’t talk about it.” His tone was haunted and quavering. Cara was idly reminded of the fact that he knew exactly what she was going through right now. “Quickly now, she’s losing a lot of blood.”

“How did you guys know I was here?” Cara murmured to Bennett. They started to make the slow descent down the hill from whence she came. “Albedo…did he tell you?”

“No,” Bennett replied. “You called for us. We felt you crying for our help. Our Vessel powers activated and immediately took Razor and me here to protect you. Kaeya was called here first, probably because he’s the strongest out of all of us and had the better chance of defeating Diluc.”

“Vessel powers…activated?” Cara murmured. “Oh. It’s like when I switch between the characters in my party when I play. Makes sense, I guess.” Her head hung forward. “I-I think I’m going to throw up.”

“Just hang on for a little longer,” Kaeya urged. “We’re almost-”

An arrow whizzed by his face and missed his cheek by an inch. All four of them turned to look back. Standing at the top of the hill was Amber with her bow drawn and a flaming arrow pointed right at them. She was shouting something to the other two figures who were struggling to get Diluc up on his feet. Though her good eye was going fuzzy, Cara vaguely recognized them as Mona and Rosaria. However, anything the three women were saying was lost over the wind. The blizzard had peaked, and everything around them was blocked out by white except for the path before them. It seemed that Teyvat was aiding their escape in its own supernatural way.

Razor growled and shook his fist at the other three Vision users. Kaeya grabbed his wrist before he could go back and pick a fight. “Keep going,” he said. “We’re going to lose them through the snowstorm. Focus on what matters right now. Cara, are you still with us?”

Cara couldn’t answer. By then, she had already passed out.

 Where is she?

Albedo had long since abandoned his experiments on Cara’s blood. For about ten minutes now, he had been simply staring outside and watching the snowstorm grow deadlier and deadlier. She would have returned the moment she noticed the blizzard arriving. Did she get lost? Or could she still be training?

No. Cara was diligent and dedicated, but not stubborn. He knew she would have returned to the camp immediately upon seeing the weather worsen. It wouldn’t be the first time a lesson of hers would have been cut short by Dragonspine’s cruel environment. So where could she possibly be?

“Mr. Albedo, what should we do?” Sucrose asked him. She had arrived only two minutes ago upon a request he sent her yesterday to help him unlock the true connection between Cara’s powers and her blood. “Should we go out and look for her? What if she’s trapped in a snowbank? What if she’s-she’s-?”

“Dead?” Albedo finished the sentence for her bluntly. “No, she is not dead. If she were, we would have felt it. As for if she is lost…I don’t think Teyvat would allow that to happen. I already have evidence that the world will manipulate itself to protect her.”

“So if she’s not lost, and she’s not dead, then…”

“Something-or someone -found her.” Just saying it made his artificial heart beat quicker. Albedo recognized the erratic pulse as a symptom of fear. As a self-proclaimed pursuer of the truth-to understand human life and what makes it integral to this world’s very existence-he had performed studies on his feelings and emotions. Rhinedottir created him with the intent to bring forth human life, and she had succeeded. Albedo’s birth was not natural. He was a product of science and alchemy. But he knew he was undeniably human. And he knew that these emotions he felt when he saw, heard, or even thought about Cara were human too. The idea of losing her…of watching her die…it was an idea he couldn’t handle. For years he had known himself to be a dedicated follower of Her Grace. He had dreamed of the day when he would meet the true Caratrice in person. And now that she was here with him, after getting to know the mortal side of her so well…if the brainwashed Vessels of Monstadt were to take such a kind soul from him, from everyone, he didn’t think he would be able to contain his rage. Because despite being a god, Cara was, on both a surface and deeper level, human. She didn’t think like a god, didn’t judge like one, and didn’t even fight like one. She did not want to hurt those who were sent to kill her. She just wanted to live. There was something so undeniably human about that.

“I could go out and find her,” Klee offered. His little sister was not her usual bubbly self; young children were typically immune to such dismal concerns like the worry of death or the idea of never seeing someone again. But the anxious atmosphere had managed to infect even her. “I can melt away the snow. We’ll find her super quickly if we use fire!”

“It is far too dangerous for you to venture out of the camp in this weather,” Albedo said. “Even with a Pyro Vision and winter clothes on, either of you could easily get lost and end up freezing to death. The only one who can do it is me.” Temperature did not affect him as it would to a normal human being. His synthetic nature allowed him to withstand extreme climate conditions for a longer period of time. But even he would eventually succumb to the blizzard. That wouldn’t stop him from rescuing Cara, though.

“I’m going out.” He stood up and drew his hood over his head. “Do not follow me. Someone needs to be here in case she finds her way back on her own. I’ll find her, I promise.”

“Um, Mr. Albedo?” Sucrose pointed outside. “There…seems to be someone running towards us.”

Albedo turned around. Surely enough, she was correct: through the thickening snow, there was a figure. “Cara?” he called out, relief and hope crashing upon one another at once.

The person flung themselves into the shelter of the camp and started dog-shaking snow off of themselves. It was not Cara; the white hair and brown cloak gave it away. 

“Razor!” Klee cried, delighted. “What are you doing here?”

“No time to talk! Must act!” Razor grabbed Albedo’s arm and shook it. The young wolf boy was absolutely panic-stricken. “Cara hurt bad, big cut on her face! Bleeding everywhere! Come help, quickly!”

Albedo felt his heart sink. His fear returned tenfold. “Sucrose, prepare the medical supplies,” he ordered. “Klee, grab some fresh cloth and fabrics.” He grabbed Razor’s shoulders and looked him in the eye. “Take me to her.”

Razor wasted no time. Grasping his arm to guide him through the storm, they started off.

Only a few seconds later, they nearly crashed into three other people. Albedo recognized Kaeya and Bennett immediately. When he saw the limp form of Cara being carried by the both of them, he thought his heart was going to freeze over. “This way!” he screamed over the howling of the wind. With Razor’s help, they found their way back to the camp.

Albedo could not tell if Cara was breathing.

“Lay her on the cot,” he ordered. “Take off her cloak and loosen her clothing. How long were you out in the snowstorm?”

“Not long,” Bennett answered. “Maybe for…two or three minutes?”

“It takes hypothermia at least ten minutes to develop in the Dragonspine climate. The four of you should be fine in that outlet.” He leaned over Cara and started to search for the cut Razor mentioned. It wasn’t hard to find, though he could tell that this was no simple cut. This was a laceration, a wound. It ran across her right frontalis muscle through her eyebrow and ended over her cheekbone. Her eye was completely caked over with golden blood. He could barely see the actual wound beneath the amount of aureate ichor. He felt like crying.

His hand went to her neck and felt for her jugular vein. It was pulsing, not at its full strength, but not too weakly either. “She’s unconscious, most likely due to pain and shock. But she’s alive, and she’ll be alright. Sucrose, hand me the gauze and cleaning pads.”

Sucrose obeyed. Kaeya, Bennett, Razor, and Klee crowded in to watch anxiously as he began to clean her wound. He worked diligently and carefully, all of his focus set on saving his god.

At last, the exposed blood was wiped away, and Albedo could see the point of contact. The horrid gash cut directly through her closed eye; he was expecting the damage to be worse, but miraculously, the skin already seemed be stitching itself together. “Thank Celestia for your immortality, Your Grace,” he murmured. “If not for that, you would certainly be blind in this eye for the rest of your life.”

With Sucrose’s aid, the wound was bandaged and wrapped. Albedo gathered the bloody cleaning pads and disposed of them. “Her condition is stable for now. There are no symptoms of hypovolemic shock, hyperthermia, or sickness in any way. If you hadn’t gotten here when you did, however, she most definitely would have fallen into a state of extreme distress.”

“So she’ll be okay?” Bennett asked, hopeful.

“Physically, yes. Mentally…I don’t know.” He tried to keep his voice even, but the hidden anger roiling within his gut had grown stronger and stronger. “Who did this to her?”

Bennett and Razor exchanged glances. A beat of nervous silence went through the camp. It was Kaeya who eventually spoke up. “Diluc,” he said with bitter disappointment. “I tried to stop him after I was summoned to protect Her Grace by the Creator’s Call. But the Madness is ingrained in him, and it…it didn’t matter how hard Cara and I fought. In the end, he overpowered us both.”

“It wasn’t your fault, Kaeya,” Bennett sadly said.

Kaeya didn’t answer. He looked away.

Sensing no one else was going to offer some words, Albedo spoke up. “We are all upset about this. But let’s put our emotions to the side for now. All that matters right now is that Cara heals and we stay out of the way of danger. I’m going to have to ask you all to remain here for the night. I doubt the hounds will be in Dragonspine for long with this blizzard still going, but regardless, it will be safer for you to keep out of sight.”

Klee, always wanting to lighten the mood, smiled. “Yay, a sleepover!”

“Klee, not now!” Sucrose hushed.

“It’s alright,” Albedo assured. He smiled back. “Keeping a positive attitude matters a lot right now. Do not see this as a time to grieve. Cara will wake up again.”

He looked at her face. The sight of her mangled, burnt skin was etched into his mind. Multiple emotions were within him: guilt, anger, sadness. He took one of Cara’s limp hands and gently squeezed. There was no reaction.

I care more about you than you will ever know. Without you, we all will perish, whether it be beneath the claws of Armageddon or under the tyranny of the false Creator. So if you can hear me, I beg of you, please heal, Your Grace. Please don’t leave us.

Please wake up.

[givemeanaccountalready]

Prev

So while that happens, the entirety of the Hidden Leaf are freaking tf out. Not only did they just lose the first (publicly known) Wood Release user since Lord First immediately after they got her, but they also lost the jinchuuriki too. Anyone who is not in Root has no clue who Sai is or where he came from (hint: inside the walls). It is a disaster.

Sai and Sakura had their little bout of fisticuffs in the Academy schoolyard. Sasuke saw the Wood Release and is like, that might be useful, I need to learn that. He leaves to try and find out where they could have gone. Unlike the adults who are rightfully going wtf, Sasuke is like, sick jutsu bro. He finds Sakura’s little hideout and her diary with all her notes inside. Any pretense of not caring beyond learning a rad new jutsu flies out the treehouse as he sees various mentions of this “Keigo” guy (Sakura named Sai Keigo because he called her Ugly in an attempt to give her a friendly nickname and she cried (no self-esteem), forcing him to explain what the hell he was thinking. Since he told her to give him a name since he didn’t have one and kept being rude, she named him “Polite Speech” as a middle finger) and Naruto is the son of the Nine Tails (that was her best theory, cut her some slack, she was 11 when she came up with it). Sasuke firmly believes that this Keigo guy is an enemy nin who is using his classmates, and decides, yeah I can rescue them because he’s 12 and never not been able to figure shit out. How hard could a rescue op be?

Very hard is the answer. He is able to leave a shadow clone behind to get his classmates (you know, all the clan heirs that you don’t want to lose) to leave the village with him to “find Naruto and Sakura” (really, it’s to throw the searchers off and cause a distraction so he can solve the issue and leverage them for answers about Naruto’s relationship to the Nine Tails). Sasuke is also stuck with this old guy who claims he’s Jiraiya of the Sannin, but really, he’s just a dirty, old man who keeps chasing skirts at every rest stop they’re at. It’s annoying, but the guy might die if Sasuke leaves him alone because if he keeps calling himself a Sannin, people are going to try and kill him. Sasuke still can’t quite believe that Jiraiya is Jiraiya of the Sannin, even after he meets Tsunade. He’s not entirely convinced Tsunade is Tsunade Senju either, and feels for Shizune. Shizune is trying her very best not to laugh at Jiraiya and Tsunade when Sasuke is like, yeah, sure you’re a Sannin, and I have a loving, living family, now chop, chop, put the vices down, we got idiots to hunt down.

These are the shitpost meme esque vibes I got going on:

Jiraiya: “Dear God, whoever took them must be a master of evasion.”

Cut to the three idiots arguing over whether moss only grows on the north side of trees. They personify the song “Lost” from the Percy Jackson musical

Sai: “This would be so much easier if we still had a map.”

Sakura: “It was an accident! You make dinner next time!”

Sai: 100% earnest “Sure, I like eating things with flavor.”

Sakura: “Why you little-” Homer Simpson chokes him

Naruto: holding up the charred remains of their map “Hold on guys, I think we might be near this little, not burnt bit.”

Sai: “No, we’re not. We passed that point two days ago.”

Naruto: “Maybe we went in a circle?”

Sakura: “FUCK!”

Sasuke: goes up to the sleeping Jiraiya “WAKEY WAKEY” immediately uses a water jutsu to drown him awake

Jiraiya: “AAAAAAH!!” Coughs up water “I taught you that jutsu so you could put out any fires started by your Fire Release practice on your own.”

Sasuke: “I’d say a dumpster fire counts.”

Danzo: looks up from his desk “Why do I hear boss music?”

A wild Itachi appears

Tsunade: “Let me get this straight. The Hidden Leaf lost two Academy students who not only were they the worst in their physical training scores, but they also have the potential to be some of the biggest powerhouses in this generation. And you two are their only hope at finding them because the Leaf doesn’t want to alert the other villages to what they lost by sending out an actual search party?”

Sasuke: “Yup.”

Jiraiya: “That pretty much covers it. So? Will you help us?”

Tsunade: starts cackling

[gale-gentlepenguin]

ML What if:

(What if Felix never existed?)

As a result of the poll, I decided to make an AU about Felix. So no Felix.

-For the most part,the first two seasons don’t change at all.

-So how does the episode Felix Play out without Felix?

-The intro is the same, with Gabriel about to tell Adrien only for him to say the thing about Nathalie, throwing Gabriel off.

-With no Felix, the only person visiting is Amelie. Who asks about the rings but doesn’t get much farther than that.

-Adrien’s friends make the video, and without Felix doing the impersonation. Adrien gets to see all the videos. Including Marinette’s.

-With Amelie there, Gabriel is still a bit on guard but nothing really changes. No akumatization because Felix didn’t meddle.

-Amelie leaves saying she will see them another time.

-Adrien goes and sees his friends, thanking him for the video.

-Now the key difference here is, Adrien did see Marinette’s confession. And we know that Fate usually intervenes to prevent Marinette from confessing. But this time, there is no intervention.

-After puppeteer 2.0 and the statue scene we know Adrien started wondering about Marinette (according to Season 5 episode Determination) which means Marinette’s confession may shake things up more.

-That being said, Adrien probably wouldn’t know how to respond to her feelings, since he also has his crush on ladybug and Kagami also in pursuit.

-So Adrien asks to talk with Marinette. He explains that he saw her video and he is glad she thinks so much of him. And as for her feelings, he needs to sort out his own feelings. And he appologizes he can’t give her a straight answer right now.

-Marinette would be a bit sad by this, but it’s not a no. She mumbles a response that she understands and won’t put him on the spot. Something He appreciates. As Kagami is doing the opposite.

-This leads into Loveater/ heart Hunter.

-Which has Marinette now a bit more emotional and uncertain, since she did put her feelings out to Adrien

-She still had to help with the catering and Luka gives her a lift.

-Kagami, Adrien and Marinette shenanigans ensues but this time with a bit more tension, as Kagami and Marinette have expressed interest in Adrien.

-Adrien is now very split, and is unsure of which way to lean. Go for Kagami or Marinette. But they still have fun like in canon.

-Andre senses the tension and does not help at all.

-Leading to Kagami being assertive and putting Adrien on the spot. Having him decide the ice cream. Instead of deferring to Marinette.

-Adrien unsure of what to say. Marinette noticed he was uncomfortable and simply says she needs to head back and to enjoy the ice cream without her.

-Kagami doesn’t go after Marinette, because she sees that Marinette was making the choice. She did feel bad… and then realized Adrien went after her.

-Kagami told Andre that she would be back and left to go check.

-Adrien says that they can come help her. But Marinette says she doesn’t need the help. Adrien insists.

-Marinette says that she wants him to be happy with the girl he loves, like the one he mentioned. That it’s okay. But Adrien says that girl isn’t Kagami.

-“She doesn’t love me back.”

-That was a surprise, Adrien confesses that the girl he talked about, she didn’t feel the same way and that she made it clear. That… that he’s okay with it. He wasn’t at first, but he realized that he grew beyond those feelings.

-Marinette asks who the girl was that turned him down.

-“You wouldn’t know her… I’m not even sure I know her.”

-Kagami had stopped and overheard what he was saying. And it was heartbreaking.

-Kagami runs off heading back to that party.

-Only for her to get caught by Loveater.

-Marinette sees the sorrow on Adrien’s face, he could see that right now, Adrien needed more time to process his feelings.

-“You don’t need to reciprocate feelings if you aren’t ready to deal with them. I don’t think I or Kagami would want you to move forward if you aren’t ready to. Your feelings matter.”

-That plucked something for Adrien. Hearing Marinette say that did help shake something loose. But the moment couldn’t be capitalized on since heart Hunter showed up!

-Marinette and Adrien barely escape and transform.

-Not as emotionally devastated as she was in canon. But still not thinking as clearly.

-Marinette summons her lucky charm and she realizes she needs help from Fu.

- Marinette forgot to detransform.

-But, Ladybug did pick Chloe for back up, since Ladybug’s mine was in a different set.

-Fu still got captured by Hawkmoth and Mayura.

-Hawkmoth realizes he knows none of the kwami names and thus can’t command them. And since he doesn’t have Chloe to exploit, since she was picked by Ladybug, Hawkmoth needed a new plan.

(Part 1)

[ciaossu-imagines]

So, while I got a couple of fun surprise box and match-ups on the personalization day of the event, nobody requested from the prompts! However, I really did want to make use of all the prompts, so I did both up for some tumblr uses I feel relatively friendly and close with, so you'll find those among the unrequested prompt posts, including this one! I hope at least the person it's for will enjoy it, and if these kind of things bore you as a reader, I apologize and hope you'll enjoy tomorrow's post!

Personalization Prompt #2 – C

BLACK: what face claim from an anime, comic book or cartoon do I associate with you?

If I had to pick, I guess the one my mind first comes up strongly with is Mirai Kuriyama from Beyond the Boundary? I don’t know, the colouring feels right plus she looks cute and young, and I just imagine you very youthful and adorable.

WHITE: what flame type and box weapon do I think you’d have in the khr!verse?

I do very much see you as a Mist Flame, which means, of course, that like most Mist Flame users in KHR, I do see you as an illusionist! I like picturing you use your creativity to really bring about these illusions, hiding lies within truth, truth within lies to really protect your ‘family’, those characters, and people you love. It’s funny, because outside of fighting, you’re a straight shooter and your creativity is shown in other ways, but that’s the flame and fighting style I picture for you within KHR! I also think your box weapon would a Mist blue jay…for those unfamiliar, it’s a type of bird. I’m going with the positive meanings of the bird as a spirit animal, when I chose it for you, which are intuition, strength of character, loyalty, and the ability to adapt and be resourceful in difficult situations.

RED: what aesthetics do I associate with you?

Blank word documents quickly filling up with text. Bright, sunlit warm days in lush green parks. Hoodies, nice, warm, and fluffy on the inside. The fae. Cracking a book open for the first time, the new book smell and unblemished pages. Happy smiles that crinkle the eyes and hint at laughter. Chocolate.

BLUE: what are three songs I’d put on a playlist for you?

I actually stick pretty strongly for the three I did over here for you already 😊

YELLOW: what fictional world out of all my fandoms would I picture you in?

I can pretty easily picture you in any of my fandoms because we do know each other pretty well. I picture you most often in K Project, obviously, because that’s the fandom that brought you to this blog, but also in KHR and Servamp!

GREEN: who would I pair you with out of all my fandoms?

Oh, I kind of answered this elsewhere for you, haha, but I stick with all those answers 😊

PURPLE: what gif reminds me of you?

PINK: if you were an AU, what type of AU would you be?

Ohhh, definitely a soulmate type of AU, just because romance is something you write a lot of, it’s a lot of what we talk about when we talk about our OC’s and such. So the AU has to have romantic overtones…I think the soulmate AU would probably be one of those ‘you’re cursed in some sense until you meet your soulmate. Once you do, your soulmate breaks your curse and gives you your ‘happy ever after’.

RAINBOW: if i were to write a khr sequel, following Tsuna’s demise, and could only use my reader’s as characters, who would you be?

Definitely see you as part of the Vongola, that’s for sure. While I don’t know if you’d be a Guardian, I definitely see you being a part of the inner circle, not only taking care of the individual family members but probably using your Mist Flames to cloak and protect the family’s stronghold.

[thetimelordbatgirl]

Why does Lily hate victims of abuse, and people recovering from trauma so much? It’s okay if you don’t know the answer to that. I just wanted to discuss that question with you and hear your thoughts on it, because this particular trait of Lily has bothered me on whole deeper level than her regular nonsense bothers. I can’t tell you why though because I don’t truly know myself.

Honestly, I don't know why Lily does. Given she puts on an act in her videos of caring about victims of abuse and such, you'd think that is her real self, but no, you look at her tumblr and she's straight up getting mad at Hunter in Owl House, saying he isn't getting over his abuse and trauma from Belos fast enough for her liking, even celebrating when his abuser seemingly kills him and getting upset when Hunter is revealed to be alive and in the S2 finale, saying seeing dead Golden Guards, killed by their abuser...made her happy. And that's just Hunter, let's not ignore how she treats Luz lately for actually trying to address her trauma and cope with it versus Lily's demands that Luz just get over it so she can go back to being the happy-go character Lily loves her being.

And then there's Lily's Poke MadHouse Fic where Lily hypes her comic-self's Gardevoir as a powerful Pokemon that can handle anything...but as soon as a victim of abuse (Diantha) came to comic-Lily for help, Lily because of a prior threat from the abuser (Diantha's Gardevoir), just willingly revealed the victims location to the abuser and put the victim right back into danger. Which you know, bit disturbingly ironic Comic Lily would willingly do that, when you look at real life Lily and her takes on real life victims of abuse, where she...just straight up advocates to isolate and cut a victim of abuse off if they don't instantly leave the relationship, even when the victim could potentially be in danger of getting killed by their abuser. Yeah sure, she words it as telling the victim to only contact when they ready to leave, but how the fuck you isolating and cutting off a victim WHILE ALSO telling them you'll be there when they ready to leave??? Even though I'm pretty sure Lily has never watched horror really, she ironically gives me vibes of the disturbing messaging in the Saw films where an abuse victim got put in a trap with her abuser....just cause she committed the crime of not standing up for herself and only survived the trap cause she pushed her abuser down into the trap to die, meaning she got almost killed by a trap just cause which-ever Saw it was at the time, deemed her not standing up for herself in an abusive relationship a crime despite it being something that isn't that easy to leave despite what people like Lily believe.

It's just beyond disturbing how Lily can put on an act on youtube of telling victims she cares about them and how its okay to be angry when people are telling you to just forgive and move on and such, but then you look at her tumblr and realize no, she doesn't truly care about victims of abuse, not unless it makes her look good, otherwise she's all for cutting of victims of abuse if they don't just leave like she says to because human empathy seems to be something Lily lacks a-lot.