ausaplenty

[ausaplenty]

[ausaplenty]

[ausaplenty]

[ausaplenty]

sometimes i wonder if every part of my personality these days is a glowing beacon that shrieks to the world "this woman has a tumblr account!" and i start to get legitimately concerned about it except then i remember that all the people best equipped to recognize the signs in the wild are also on this website so. devil's sacrament, etc. the fact that the phrase "devil's sacrament" came so readily to my mind just then is probably a point in favor of an affirmative answer to that first question isn't it

[ausaplenty]

[ausaplenty]

[ausaplenty]

Safe Haven

Reed Scuro. Tabitha Scuro. Felix the Satyr. Demigod AU

“Sweetheart, please come out.” His mother lifted the bed skirt slightly to peer beneath the bed, scanning the space until she saw the five-year-old boy laying flat on his stomach, chin resting on his folded arms. “I know you’re upset, honey, but –“

“I don’t want you to marry him!” Reed protested, curling away from his mother’s outstretched hand. “He doesn’t like me!”

“Reed! Where did you get that idea?” The blonde woman paused, concern evident in her brown eyes. “Did something happen?”

The child’s lower lip stuck out, quivering slightly. “I just know.”

His mother frowned but stopped trying to pull him out from his safe haven. Just in case, Reed scooted back as far as he could, twisting so his back was against the wall. “I don’t need a daddy, mama, please –“

“I know you don’t, Reed, but this … this isn’t about you. I – I need –“ She closed her eyes, staving off the tears that threatened to escape. “I need to tell you something, but I can only tell you if you promise to keep it our secret.”

Reed lifted his head out of curiosity, inching closer to his mother. “What is it?”

She held out her hand, all her fingers curled except for the littlest one. “Promise me, Reed.”

Hesitating for a moment, he extended his pinkie toward her, curling it around her finger.

“You’re going to have a baby brother … or sister,” she explained carefully as she met his eyes. “I’ve waited a long time for somebody like Quinton, and I know you’ve only just met him recently, but I need to do this, before its too late.”

She squeezed his finger gently. “If he’s done anything unkind toward you, or if you don’t feel safe, you can tell me and we’ll leave right now. I promise.”

The child’s lip quivered slightly as he crawled out from under the bed, his mother sitting up to give him more space to clear the edge. He sat in her lap, resting his head against her chest as her arms enveloped him. “I’m fine, Mommy, I promise.”

She kissed the top of his head.

“I promise you, sweetheart, this is for the best. For all of us.”

~*~

Reed cowered under the bed, pressed as far back against the wall as he could manage as he stared at the narrow band of light between the floor and the bed skirt.

“Come out little one, it’s safe,” his mother’s voice called, the dulcet tone laced with comfort.

At the foot of the bed, he could see his mother’s unmoving lips and unblinking eyes staring at him. The floorboards creaked beneath the heavy cloven hooves, the wood splintering slightly from the pressure, as the monster stepped over his mother’s mangled corpse.

“It’s safe, darling, the monster is gone,” the creature soothed.

His body shook and he fought to still himself as he realized the bed was trembling above him, his frame slightly too large for the childish hiding spot. He silently begged for somebody to help, even if it was just Quinton.

The 11-year-old’s hand flew to his mouth to muffle the frightened yelp as a whiplike tail lashed out, fracturing the bed in the middle. A small squeak escaped when the wooden frame above him pitched downward, trapping him, but it was lost in the midst of hooves crashing close to his head.

A badger-like head peered at him from above, its lipless mouth stretched into a boney grin.

“There you are, Reed,” his mother’s voice crooned.

Reed scrabbled to escape, his nails clawing at the floorboards while he tried to claw his way out of the wreckage. The monster reared again, its feet pawing the air for a second before it adjusted to descend close to the boy’s shoulders.

He needed to get out, he needed to flee, he needed to –

He screamed as the room disappeared around him, instantly becoming pitch black. He could still the monster, its mouth snapping horridly on nothingness.

The creature cackled with frustration. Its tail thrashed, destroying the remnants of the frame, and its hind legs kicked, crashing through the nightstand.

The boy stayed perfectly still, paralyzed and terrified at the darkness that seemed to protect him. Something inside his head whispered soothing promises of safety and secret but his ears heard nothing. He waited for what felt like hours as the monster prowled outside, tearing apart the room as it sought its quarry.

Its mouth twisted at the corners as it snarled, its black gaze darting around the room one last time before it stalked out of the room.

Eventually, the darkness surrendered him, shrinking away as he crawled out of the wreckage. He rushed to Mom’s side, pushing the debris of the furniture off her broken body. He swallowed a sob when his gaze landed on her. Her blonde hair was mottled with blood and brain where the creature’s hooves had struck her skull.

A wave of nausea twisted his stomach. He turned away, retching violently.

The sound masked the noise of hooves on the floorboard until a stunned gasp in front of him rattled him.

“You’re alive?!”

Reed scurried backward, looking up at the goat-man who’d invaded his home. His hand struck out, latching onto a splintered piece of wood and he launched it at the being.

“No, no – I’m here for your safety!” The intruder promised, shielding his head from the onslaught. “I saw the damage and I feared the worst.”

Reed’s hand stilled.

“Who are – what are you?” He demanded.

The creature straightened, running a hand along his curled horn.

“My name is Felix, a satyr. I was sent to bring you to a safe haven, before …” his voice trailed off as he winced, averting his eyes from the body. “I’ll explain on the way, but the fact that you’re still alive, well, it’s a miracle.”

The 11-year-old bit back a snarl at the disregard with which the satyr stepped over his mother’s body, his hand outstretched for Reed to take.

“Why should I?”

A small furrow appeared between Felix’s brows. “I suppose there’s no way to put this delicately in this situation, so forgive my bluntness, but you’re a demigod and whatever danger you were in before is going to pale in comparison to when a monster actually finds you.”

Reed’s mouth opened to retort but something nagged at the back of his mind, warning him away from telling the satyr that it had found him, that something had saved him.

He took a deep breath.

“What about my mom?” he questioned, anger lacing his words. “I can’t just –“

“Reed Scuro, whatever attacked your mother is sure to come back to finish its task – to kill you,” Felix snapped, his hands dropping to his sides as he stepped closer to the 11-year-old. “The Mist typically protects a mortal from our realm’s dangers, but for one to have gone so far as to kill a human without a demigod near … We should not be nearby when it returns. We can mourn your mother later, in the safety of Camp Halfblood.”

Reed clenched his jaw, glaring at the satyr.

Felix sighed, his face softening slightly. “Please, I may not have known her, but I’m sure your mother would have wanted you to be safe.”

#Reed Scuro #Tabitha Scuro #Demigod au #Felix the Satyr #cw: blood #cw: gore #tw: death #cw: dead body

[ausaplenty]

Another little interaction study with Aziracrow 💛

#good omens

[ausaplenty]

[ausaplenty]

They’re not allowed to get interviewed anymore

[ausaplenty]

why is no one talking about the fact that nex benedict is indigenous?

they are choctaw.

native women and two-spirits are at the highest risk of sexual assault and domestic violence of any group. natives as a whole are at the highest risk for suicide. natives are also tied with Black americans for risk of being killed, both by police and by others.

it's critical to note that more than 90% of violence done against natives is committed by non-natives. this is a colonial issue, it's a genocide issue, it's an anti-indigenous issue.

when it comes to indians, our intersectional identities are often erased in favor of more visible or mainstream marginalizations like sex and gender.

this same thing happened when ezra miller kidnapped an indigenous teen. it happened when a nurse assaulted a native coma patient and she became pregnant and gave birth in her hospital bed. our indigenous identity is barely mentioned, despite this being a multinational crisis.

please learn more about the Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women (MMIW) movement here, here, and here

and please spread the word about this

don't let native people disappear in this conversation. nex's death is national news and they should be remembered for all that they are.

[ausaplenty]

#Shakespeare was required material in every basic english class #I think the only ones I didn't read entirely in high school were Merchant of Venice and King Lear

[ausaplenty]

Grand design spiral galaxy Messier 99 looks majestic on a truly cosmic scale. This recently processed full galaxy portrait stretches over 70,000 light-years across M99. The sharp view is a combination of ultraviolet, visible, and infrared image data from the Hubble Space Telescope. About 50 million light-years distant toward the well-groomed constellation Coma Bernices, the face-on spiral is a member of the nearby Virgo Galaxy Cluster. Also cataloged as NGC 4254, a close encounter with another Virgo cluster member has likely influenced the shape of its well-defined, blue spiral arms.

Image Credit: NASA, ESA, Hubble, Janice Lee; Processing & Copyright: Leo Shatz

[ausaplenty]

A quiet ruse

Reed Scuro. Kiara Scuro. Chiron. Felix the Satyr. Demigod AU

Reed let a hint of surprise slip through his mask as he stepped into the infirmary and saw the preteen curled on the cot. Twigs and grass littered her blonde hair and her body was decorated with scratches and bruises that Asclepius’ daughter hadn’t healed yet. His gaze jerked to Chiron and Felix, the satyr who had escorted him – and now his sister – to camp.

“She’s -” He fought against the lump in his throat, forcing it down quickly. “You found her?”

Chiron met his eyes – blue-gray irises that he knew matched Kiara’s.

“There was an attack in Philadelphia, a manticore wreaking havoc near Independence Hall, but she wasn’t there when Felix arrived,” the centaur explained, clasping his hands behind his back as his front hooves pawed the ground.

The satyr nodded, scratching an itch at the base of his curled horn at his right ear. “Took me a bit, but I found her at the museum.”

Reed didn’t know if it was shame or guilt that made Chiron look away.

“As you know, the occurrence of two full sibling demigods is rare,” the camp director reminded him. “If we had known, she would have been joined you sooner.”

Reed rapped his knuckles against the door frame, breaking the camp director’s focus from his book.

“Ah, Reed, how unexpected,” the centaur commented, sliding a leather bookmark between the pages and setting the tome back on the shelf. He circled over to his desk, gesturing to the chair on the opposite side. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

The demigod did as instructed, though the tension never left his body. “I think my sister might be in trouble, sir.”

Chiron frowned, pulling open a desk drawer and shifting through the contents until he found a file. Reed kept the pride from his face as he noted his name and how meager its contents were.

“Your half-sister?” the centaur confirmed, lifting his eyes from the paper to verify with the camper.

“I think …” he hesitated for a moment and then sighed, raking his shaking hand through his hair. It was more nerves than he usually showed, but the action drew attention to the faint circles under his eyes. “I’ve been having dreams, sir, where she’s running from something – something mythical.”

There was a twinge of pity on Chiron’s face and Reed wanted to bear his teeth at the sympathy, but it was what he needed. “I don’t think she’s my half-sister.”  

Reed looked down at the 11-year-old, seeing the smudges of dirt and faint traces of neglect that he saw too often in the halfbloods who were kicked out by their mortal parents.

“Does she know?” he asked, dragging a chair to the side of the cot and sitting down on it, his long legs bent slightly awkwardly.

“I told her about demigods and promised she was safe here at the camp, but she fell asleep soon after that,” Felix answered. “She said she was coming to New York City, had an old letter from you.”

A let – He caught sight of a backpack at the head of the cot and his fingers itched to search the contents, to see what other treasures his sister brought and what he could glean from them, but he was careful to not let Felix or Chiron see.

He leaned forward to brush Kiara’s choppy bangs from her face and regretted it almost instantly when his stomach twisted achingly. The features they shared were obvious, but he hadn’t time the last time they’d seen each other to dwell on their differences.

He favored their father, with his dark hair, stubborn jaw and more angled features. He hadn’t brought any pictures of her to camp, because he hadn’t had time in the scramble to escape with Felix, but he was grateful for that, because he can’t say he would have allowed any memento to survive the threat of somebody realizing how little resemblance he bore to her. But Kiara ...

The jaw they shared, even if Kiara’s was still slightly rounded from youth, and the eyes, but almost every other feature on her face was an echo of their mother.

He fought the urge to yank his hand away as the 11-year-old sighed in her sleep, her face turning slightly to chase his touch. She uncurled her body, her knees no longer hugging her chest, and rolled onto her back.

“I’ll tell her, when she wakes up,” Reed promised. He pulled the blanket at the foot of the bed over his sister, tucking her in like he remembered Mom doing for him years ago. He forced himself to ignore the sleepy mumble that escaped Kiara’s lips.

Chiron nodded, reaching down to squeeze Reed’s shoulder reassuringly, “Bring her to me when she is ready.”

The centaur and the satyr walked away, talking quietly to each other. The teen’s ears pricked up as he heard Felix mutter “...explains why the boy’s scent was so strong back then ... two demigods born to the same mortal ...”

He waited until he could no longer hear their hooves on the wooden floor before he scooped up Kiara’s backpack and carefully started picking through its meager contents. A hoodie. Some extra socks. A few poptarts and granola bars. A notebook and pencils, worn to various lengths.

He started paging through the notebook, feeling a hint of pride when he realized the drawings that filled the lined pages were Kiara’s and were more than childish doodles like those that had decorated his schoolwork. In a few of them, he could see resemblances to the images that had decorated temple walls and pottery.

An envelope slipped from between the pages and into his lap. He could hear the horn bellow outside, calling campers to lunch and the adolescent voices that drifted through the infirmary as the demigods answered, but he ignored it as he stared at the faded red postal emblem stamped on the front, the only hint of where it’d been sent from.

He unfolded the letter, scanning the contents with a faint familiarity – he’d crept away from camp in the dead of night to send it when he realized that there was a chance she’d share his future, offering a rendezvous point for when she needed it. His hands itched to tear the paper to pieces and destroy the evidence of premeditation, but that would be hasty. He didn’t know how his little sister would react to the invasion of her privacy, but he knew he would never trust somebody who had.

With a strained exhale, he tucked Kiara’s treasures back into her bag and shoved it under the cot.

A thrill of satisfaction raced along his spine as he crossed his legs and waited. It had worked.

The pieces had begun to fall into place months ago, when Kiara’s birthday had passed. He had plotted and schemed, carefully orchestrating the chessboard to his liking. He’d laid out the trail for his sister to find and she’d done so beautifully.

He polished his sword as he sat by the campfire, the trees looming over him. His ears and his body were primed for the slightest noise. The barrier between realms close enough for him to flee if he needed to, but he wanted this reunion to happen as far away from camp as possible.

It was a nightly routine for him. Wait for hours until the embers flickered out and he could douse the remnants with water and bury evidence of his presence. But tonight was different.

The forest thrummed with the shadows’ excited whispers as the darkness parted and Kiara emerged. Her eyes were wide as they met his and he stood, the sword held loosely at his side.

 “Reed?” A sob tore from her throat as she launched herself at him, wrapping her arms around his waist. Her body shook while she cried into his chest. For a moment, he froze, unused to this … contact.

The sword dropped to the ground and he awkwardly returned her embrace, his chin resting on the top of her head. “Hey Kiara.”

She smiled up at him, her eyes wet with tears of happiness and relief.

Kiara sighed as her eyes fluttered open, confusion clouding her features for a moment before she recognized Reed. She bolted upright, head swiveling to take in everything. “Is this –“

“Welcome to Camp Halfblood, sis. We did it.”

#reed scuro #kiara scuro #demigod au

[ausaplenty]

Composition

Kiara's drawings of Lilian are usually done spur of the moment, from memory or in private, hidden away out of necessity.

Not this one.

Demon LiLi x Angel Kiara. Ineffable AU.

Kiarascuro was, first and foremost, an angel – stationed on Earth for millennia and a celestial being for eons before that.

But if she were to choose to be anything else, she would be an artist.

A brush felt more comfortable in her hands than a sword, though she had been crafted to wield a blade. She had healed many battle scars and wounds in her existence, but she kept the callouses that cushioned chisels.

And just as familiar to her as the tools of her trade were the lines of Lilian’s forms - could they be called lines? The term implied a certain hardness and rigidity, but those were not the words Kiara would use to describe the sinewy forms and movements that shaped her adversary.

Did Lilian know that she had been translated to every medium Kiara had ever practiced? Did she know that if archeologist dug far enough, they’d be baffled by cave drawings far more sophisticated than those crafted by their ancestors, painted by someone who could create paper and ink with a snap of her fingers but who itched to learn this bit of human ingenuity? Did she know that scholars would be confounded by the marble reliefs of Medusa’s twin, who lacked the serpentine tendrils but gazed haughtily at her audience with a single snake curled around her wrist?

Lilian had an inkling, though her estimate would be far off because it only counted the times she’d caught Kiara surreptitiously capturing the shapes of her pose – it would be low, because she didn’t know how long ago the angel had memorized the map of her face; the all-knowing gaze, the curl of her smirk, the jut of her chin.

Kiara had gotten bolder in the two years since Armageddon, no longer hiding the twitch of her hand when it itched for a pencil. Her art had gotten better, now that she was no longer forced to rely on memory to immortalize the gleam in Lilian’s sapphire eyes or the myriad of red threading through the demon’s hair.

Her fingers twitched now, caught in LiLi’s hand as they strode toward the Bentley and Kiara realized that for all her hidden works, none of them included the demon’s most prized possession. “Oh,” she breathed quietly, the potential forming easily in her mind.

“Forget something, angel?” her adversary teased, stopping alongside the blonde.

“More like trying to remember something,” the angel said as she pulled away to study the Bentley from another angle. “I’ve never drawn your car before.”

There was something … public about a drawing of the demon and her chariot, an openness that they had been denied for decades. It was outside, for all to see, no hiding behind the gallery’s four walls.

LiLi smirked. “Should I be jealous that my car is going to replace me as your muse?”

Kiara caressed the car, running her hand over the grill as if to commit the chrome texture to memory.

“Hmmmm? Oh, no, don’t be ridiculous, my dear – I’d include you in the painting as well,” she assured her before muttering under her breath. “Though how I’d pose you … Maybe with the door open, standing in the crux? No, no, too much focus on the Bentley.  I believe, thinking about it, maybe leaning against the hood -”

She demonstrated, frowning slightly as she imagined the perspective.

“I can demonstrate,” Lilian suggested as the tether of their hands pulled apart.

The offer broke through the blonde’s concentration, her gray eyes wide. “My dear, no need to inconvenience yourself – I have plenty of practice, I can do it from imagination.”

The demon tutted, closing the distance between herself and the Bentley so she could perch where she imagined Kiara had envisioned. Her body bent, one leg outstretched as she positioned the other so her boot heel pressed against the fender and her torso slanted forward, her palms resting on the hood.

“Like this?” she asked.

The blonde’s lips parted slightly in rapt attention, her heart racing at the ease of Lilian’s pose.

“Could you – if you wouldn’t mind – put your hands in your pockets? But not fully, my dear, I can imagine you can’t fit them in entirely, with how tight those trousers are,” she coached, her hand flitting out to guide Lilian’s before she caught herself and the touch dropped away. “May I?”

The demon arched a brow in amusement. “You don’t even have to ask, angel.”

Kiara could feel her face flush at the easy assurance, an intimate phrase from a being so guarded. She lost herself in the process, her body tingling at their nearness.

(The final design was one of her favorites, Lilian’s fond and trusting gaze captured as she peered at Kiara over her glasses.)

#kiara scuro #lilian moros #Ineffable AU

[ausaplenty]

Breakneck speed

Cricket storms off after an argument with her mother.

Whumptober Day 22 – “They never saw us coming, till they hit the floor.” | Glass shard | Vehicular accident | “Watch out!”

Content warning: Car accident

“Cricket Jane Croft, this conversation isn’t over,” Mom snapped as Cricket turned her back on her. “Do not go storming off –“

The command rang in Cricket’s ears, her gut clenching with rage and bitterness.

“Why shouldn’t I?” the teenager snarled, whirling back around. “Because you’d let Balin and Inali do it, if you were yelling at them – which you NEVER do!”

She threw her arms out, the expansive gesture encompassing the dark room, lit only by candles, and the heavy curtains over the window.

“But I don’t get to – because I’m not a fucking shadow walker!” Cricket spat. She slammed her fist down on the island, the quartz countertop quivering with the weight of her blow. “You treat me like I’m not worth your attention because I’m weaker than them, because I can’t do the shit they can, well newsflash, Mom …”

She felt the shadows reach out to her – their hisses egging her on, pushing for her to do more. With a snarl, she ignored the layer of resistance from her mother’s orders for them and shoved them away.

Her feet were heavy as she stomped to the door and threw it open, standing illuminated in the frame. She scowled. “… I’m not the one beaten by a fucking lightbulb.”

She slammed the door behind her, her eyes shining from furious tears that she would not let Mom see.

Her convertible was parked outside, in a prime parking space because Mom and none of her siblings had use for it and Dad had caved immediately when she asked.

She could feel Mom watching her from the window, but she refused to even look in her direction as she threw the car in reverse and peeled out of the driveway. Her tires shrieked as she turned. With an angry snarl, Cricket wiped the tears from her eyes. She navigated the twists and turns of the road, her foot pressed against the gas as she ignored the climbing speedometer needle.

Her phone rang, buzzing in her pocket. She twisted in her seat, angling her hip so her right hand could reach it.

A picture of her and Aunt LiLi lounging on the beach filled the screen and Cricket jammed it into the phone holder and answered.

“Hi Sunshine,” her godmother greeted, the nickname a soothing balm on Cricket’s raw nerves.

Sunshine was good, invigorating, treasured, when it came from Aunt LiLi.

“Can – can I use the emergency card? For a hotel room?” she asked, holding back a frustrated sob. “I can’t deal with Mom right now and I know she won’t give a shit about barging in at your apartment.”

Lilian sighed. “If you think she won’t be pounding on your hotel room in a day or two … But sure. Meet me at the Astoria – you’re too young to book a hotel room on your own.”

“Thanks, Aunt LiLi. I’ll be there in about an – Fuck!”

She jerked the steering wheel as the deer bounded into the road, right in her path if she didn’t swerve. Instead, her avoidance sent her car crashing through the guide rail with a sickening crunch. She screamed as the vehicle flew over the embankment, rolling down the small cliff. Her hands flew off the wheel as the airbag deployed, it’s white billowing canvas expanding around Cricket.

Something pierced her leg as the car rolled and her body strained against the seatbelt as the force sent her crashing against the band. She felt something hit her head in the process, her mouth suddenly tasting like copper, metallic and strange on their tomb.

“Cricket?!” Aunt LiLi shouted through the screen, the word barely audible over the crunch of metal and plastic. “Cricket!”

The teenager winced as the car came to a stop, not remembering how many times it had rolled through the forest. She opened her mouth to speak and was met with the taste of copper.

“= Cricket – hold on, I’m calling an ambulance, honey, just wait,” Aunt LiLi assured her.

Cricket struggled to focus on the blurry image, darkness creeping into the side of her vision. Her ears were filled with demands that she stay awake.

But try as she might, she couldn’t stave off the void of oblivion.

#whumptober 2023 #Cricket Croft #Kiara Croft #Lilian Moros

[ausaplenty]

I can handle it

Whumptober 2023 Day 21 – “See the chains around my feet.” | Vows | Restraints | “Don’t Move.”

Lilian questions why Kiara so stubbornly refuses to let her die.

Content: Suicide attempt reference, suicidal ideation

“Why.” LiLi groaned from where she was curled up on the bed.

The sheets were brand new, purchased on the trip home from the hospital, and the mattress had been scrubbed, no sign of the pool of blood Kiara had found Lilian in, her wrists slit.

Kiara was sitting criss-cross at the end of the bed, watching her friend like a hawk, as if she would disappear if the blonde blinked.

Valid fear, the voice inside her head whispered, and she flinched when she saw LiLi curl further in into a fetal position.

“Why can’t you just let me die,” LiLi asked.

It wasn’t the first time Kiara had heard the question – she’d heard it through sobs, through screams of rage, through fervent pleas – but it was the absence of those emotions that shattered her heart and made her want to scream.

LiLi wasn’t made to be so hollow.

“That’s all I am, Kiara,” the telepath answered, forcing herself to sit up. The stark white bandages wrapped around her wrists shone in contrast to the sapphire-hued sheets Kiara had finally settled on after holding up almost every option in the aisle.

“What about these?” – “This set has this same pattern but in a violet backdrop.” – “C’mon, LiLi, just pick one and we can go home.”

“I’m a shell. A hollow vessel to fill with whatever somebody else is feeling, because the miniscule bit that is me – truly me – is guilt and self-loathing,” LiLi told her, blandly.

Kiara thought about how she’d felt each time. Every suicidal discovery and interruption. The shock of finding LiLi there - bleeding, vomiting, drowning, holding a gun, unsteadily climbing the balcony rail – fading to be replaced with the emotions Lili was running from.

How had she missed the signs?

What if she wasn’t fast enough next time?

Would she notice, next time?

LiLi laughed bitterly – a sound Kiara would normally be so goddamn ecstatic to hear but was instead only cruel and painful. She wanted emotion, but this?

“This is all I have left, Kiara,” she promised.

The blonde leaned forward, grabbing LiLi’s hand and squeezing, too hard, too painful, because she was pouring her determination and strength into the pressure.

“I can handle it,” Kiara vowed.

#whumptober 2023 #Kiara croft #Lilian moros #cw: suicide reference #cw: suicidal ideation