decriminalizing drugs and being opposed to forced rehab is important as a leftist but what a lot of leftists i meet seem to be unable to grasp is that you need to also be ok with people doing drugs for the rest of their lives. of course healing the environment that causes people to become addicts and making mental health services available and making drug use safer via needle exchanges is important, but you also need to know that even if all addicts are given all of those resources some of them will still continue to use drugs and you need to be ok with that. you need to view that as neutral. you cannot proclaim yourself a leftist while trying to dictate what people do with their own bodies even if you think you have good intentions or that its in the best interest of an addict. you need to accept this if you have truly destigmatized drug use in your mind like a lot of yall claim you have but dont actually reflect that in your words and actions when you call for forced rehab. help should always be available and encouraged, but the option to still use drugs despite that should be too. zero criticism will be considered on this post cause i know yall that disagree with this and merely cosplay as leftists online have never actually had an addiction or known someone with an addiction. have a nice day.
Are you accepting requests? If so, how about Lara coming home after a long expedition (thankfully unharmed) to Reader who's crying for her in her sleep? Idk some sort of hurt/comfort fluff stuff? Don't ask me how my brain works I'm sorry 😭
- 🔗
Warnings: mentions of injuries. Little to no hurt, mostly comfort
Notes: Hurt/Comfort >>> everything else
The halls of the manor were dark and quiet, the only source of light being the few lit candles and the shine of the moon coming in through the large windows. Her bedroom however, was a different story.
It was far from quiet; your favorite show was playing on the TV, but low enough to where it was a soft whisper. Lara could make out your body under the mountain of covers and she couldn’t help but smile at your sleeping form.
When she moved to take off her shoes, she paused when she took a closer look at your face. Lara could see the marks of dried up tears and the puffiness of your eyes.
She carefully crawled into bed next to you, raising her hand to softly caress your cheek. You squirmed at the feeling of her touch, always being a light sleeper, and opened your bleary eyes to the sight of Lara staring at you worriedly.
”When did you get home?” You asked, voice thick with sleep.
”A second ago,” she answered. “Why were you crying, my love?”
You were quiet at first but you knew Lara wouldn’t rest unless you talked to her. “Just…stressed, really. I got so overwhelmed at the clinic today, and my boss kept snapping at me for little shit—I just couldn’t handle it.”
Lara moved to press her lips on the crease between your brows. “You know, I could buy you your own building. That way you won’t have to deal with him anymore.”
You released a soft laugh. “I know, but I do enjoy working there. Today, everything just came crashing down. It doesn’t help that I haven’t heard from you in two weeks.”
Lara had the decency to look guilty. “Yeah, the Arctic doesn’t have the best reception, I’m sorry. But, I’m here now, my love.”
“Not completely unscathed,” you pointed out. Your finger lightly skimmed over a cut over her eyebrow; healed but still slightly red. “Any other injuries I should know about?”
”Nothing else I promise.” She caught your hand to press a light kiss to the back of it. Lara cuddled in closer to you, maneuvering until her chest was pressed against your back. “Go back to sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up.”
Over the last six weeks, you’ve gotten used to sleeping alone. But with the feeling of Lara’s arms wrapped tightly around you, you felt more at peace than ever.
Karma thought, hoped she will perish in a great battle, the most famous shootout of the old Western era. Death accompanied her since childhood, her parents dying when she was 10, her uncle when she was 20. The legendary marksman has never missed her target; she was a Black Mamba: one bite, sure death. The only remaining family member was her horse, Villám, a cross breed between Lipizzan & Akhal Teke. The gang she was hunting realized how deep her bond ran with Villám, wrestled the horse into the furthest stall from the exit and set the stall on fire. Karma had a choice, continue her hunt with vengeance and leaving Villám to die alone, afraid or face her greatest fear, the fire and try to rescue her.
She marched into the flames. By the time she reached and freed her, she knew it was too late for them to get out. Her revolver only had one bullet in the cylinder, she couldn’t leave Villám, nor she had the strength to end her. Instead Karma told her to breathe. Breathe in the thick clouds of smoke before the fire could reach them. They collapsed and died together, shielding each other from the approaching flames. The most feared gunslinger died in 1895, her grave unmarked, her legend slowly suffocating along with her.
The first change she noticed in Hell that the chambers of her revolvers, Salvation and Damnation were full. The next was Villám standing next to her, her mane and tail billowing like smoke, her fur a darker shade of black and her eyes were acid green fire. As Karma was hugging the only one remaining and even following her to death, her hair fell into her face; instead of the sun lightened dark blonde, porcelain white strands.
As she took a small step realized that the exact spot she’s been standing has started deteriorating. Death following her like a shadow in life has finally caught up with her. When Karma learned about the yearly cleanse, she decided to test her newfound powers, pressing her hand to the border of the ring until was eaten away and she could escape with Villám.
She wandered through rings until she reached Wrath, the scenery, the inhabitants a strong reminder of her life, therefore she decided to settle in that ring.
Side verse / delayed death: Humbled by her death, Karma treated her afterlife as a second chance. She lived in almost complete soltitute, near exile mostly due to her powers as she didn't want to harm anyone nor the infrastructure and her actual need to enjoy the quiet, dangerous desert with her horse by her side. She took on various jobs, hunting, weapon maintenance, locating lost or missing children and killing those who took them; a humble life which didn't require her to be known by society other than a wraith passing by. Until a day and a challenge, a threat came.
Main: As decades passed, the ivory haired woman and her midnight wonder of a horse wasn't too much of a secret. The current local demon lord had his eyes on the strange mare and challenged the rider to a race, if he wins he takes Villám. Karma agreed, her faith in her horse's speed unwavering, plus it...offered a thrill from her old life. Despite her victory, Villám was about to be taken she realized there was only one way out of the situation. After the showdown Karma realized she was destined to kill, no matter how she tried to run from it. With now shadows oozing from her back, she continued with her old job, a bounty hunter clouded by murky mist and an aura of decay.
Demonic features:
At first glance Karma appears relatively humanlike. Bone white hair, poison green sclera, bright, glowing acid green irises along with the glowing outline of her crosshair scar. Her right pupil merged together with the scar, but causes no problems in vision.
Her skin is sickly pale, as if she’s a ghost, it turns to black starting from her fingers while shooting. Her crosshair scar also glows when taking aim.
As a souvenir from her human life, her Black Mamba alias carried over into the afterlife in the form of the entire interior of her mouth being ink black along with a slightly lighter black forked tongue. She also has two extra hidden fangs on the top of her mouth which she can flick down briefly. However she's not venomous, but the sight is usually deterring enough to keep the facade.
There are two long ashen gashes on her back, always oozing shadows: the slits feel like they are missing something; also they are the main source of the eerie fog/shadows accompanying her.
Karma doesn’t bleed. When she’s wounded, black mist with tints of green seep out of the wound, both weaving it close and eroding everything else it touches. Her heart is also silent, been since her death but overwhelming emotions are capable of making it beat for a few seconds, which is both physically painful and an emotional trauma in one.
Demonic transformation: Karma is quite short with her 5'9 frame, but that can change quite drastically between 10 feet up to even 20. Her whole body is overtaken by a substance similar to smoke; black, poison & seafoam green swirling together. Her state is between solid and gaseous, gaining speed unable to be followed by naked eye. Her left eye striking white, her crosshair scar glowing a vicious acid green while the rest of her face stays hidden in the shadows.
Abilities:
Revolvers: her bullets are the essence of souls she has killed both when alive and dead; combined with her powers. Stronger the person/entity was, greater the bullet’s damage will be to the point of destroying holy beings. Her bullet supply is near unlimited, but if she misses one shot, she will lose all collected souls, reaving only one bullet when she died.
Aura of decay: Karma can’t stay in one place for too long. The smoke accompanies her every step, causing the environment to die, most beings to age if spent too much time in her presence. So far only one is immune to it. When transformed, instead of this phenomenon being passive, she can unleash it as a devastating offense, the swirling black and acid green tendrils leaving only brittle bones.
Shadow manipulation: She can control shadows in her vicinity, short distance travel through them, engulf smaller areas in complete darkness. In shadows she can move faster than sound, agile and her body is not solid while doing so.
Sensing life forms: Mostly with her left eye, she can sense life nearby, although can’t pinpoint the exact location unless she’s really close. But she knows someone, something is there.
This blog is to help cope with the romantic side of it all as all of my feelings are often intense. These posts will and can get dark and sometimes NSFW, all posts will be tagged properly.
I reclaim the words "yandere" and "yangire"
You cannot and should not interact if you think König or Ghost from Call of Duty are in love with you / you call yourself their spouse or partner / you love them. I'm literally psychotic about them - delusional in the actual way and not the tiktok way. This is a genuine warning. Stay the hell away from me.
v This edit by @mydarlingedits (one of my wonderful partners.)
ABOUT ME, lola, adult, she/he/they, korean-pakistani, leo, intj, pansexual, f1 whore, fan of all things aesthetic, and a fucking train wreck, previously known as @i0veless, alt account for @starsanova.
─ OTHER FLOWERS TO BE PICKED
─ @starsanova, main writing
─ @crowtterdam, other writing
─ @almoxndblossxm, nsfw
─ @sxllfportrait, personal
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Call me Quazar! I’m just a little hummingbirb that draws a lot! I also overthink and hyperfixate a lot over small details which sometimes suck but also sometimes makes for good theories-
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