woman on the edge

they say there’s a mad woman in the ruins. she shows kindness in this world openly…. she must be insane! 

10

Notable Female Lead Action Movie Heroines.

“I think in the world today we’ve had plenty enough of male-driven everything and it’s finally time to see how wonderful the world can be with beautiful, strong intelligent women kicking some major ass.” - Chris Pine on Wonder Woman (2017)

Honorable Mentions: Yuki Kashima in Lady Snowblood (1973), Coffy from Coffy (1973), Fox in Wanted (2008), Alice from The Resident Evil Series (2002), Selene in Underworld (2003), China O Brien from China O Brien (1990), Xiao Mei in House of Flying Daggers (2004), Cheng Tai-Nan from My Young Auntie (1981), Azumi in Azumi (2003), Chang Hsuan-yen from Come Drink with Me (1966) and Harley Quinn in Suicide Squad (2016).

She was the first woman to...

…travel around the world in a damned Zeppelin.

Originally posted by lego-stories

Lady Hay Drummond-Hay (September 12, 1895—February 12, 1946) was a star journalist who became the first woman to circumnavigate the globe, and she did it in a damned Zeppelin. She went on to report from war zones like Abyssinia (now Ethiopia) and Manchuria (now part of China), fell into a tumultuous romance with a fellow reporter, and was eventually captured by the Japanese during WWII.

…swim the English Channel.

Originally posted by hero-generator

Gertrude Ederle (October 23, 1905 – November 30, 2003) was a competitive swimmer, Olympic champion, and at one time held five world records. If there was a world record for coolest nickname she would’ve held six, because hers was “Queen of the Waves.” When Ederle set out to become the first woman to swim the English channel, she used motorcycle goggles and sealed the edges with wax to keep the salt water out of her eyes. Due to unfavorable and violent wind conditions twelve hours into her 14 hour and 34 minute journey, her trainer shouted at her to get out of the water and into his boat. She reportedly popped her head up from the water to simply ask “what for?” 

travel around the world in less than 80 days.

Originally posted by meedean

Nellie Bly (May 5, 1864—January 27, 1922) asked her editor at the New York World if she could take a stab at turning the story Around the World in 80 Days from fiction to fact. Using railways and steamships, Bly chuggah-chuggahed and toot-tooted the nearly 25,000 mile trip in just 72 days, meeting Jules Verne and buying a monkey along the way. If her name sounds familiar but these stories don’t, it’s probably because you’ve heard about how she once faked a mental illness so she could write an exposé on psychiatric asylums. Or maybe it’s because of her famed coverage of the Woman Suffrage Parade of 1913. Or maybe it’s because you’re a big fan of farming and industrialist patents and heard she invented a novel milk can and a stacking garbage can. Nellie Bly did a lot in her short 57 years. 

Follow these Tumblrs for more Women’s History:

  • Stuff You Missed in History Class (@missedinhistory) is not exclusively about women, but hoo boy, it turns out most history classes aren’t great at teaching us about women’s history. You’ll learn a lot here. 
  • The New-York Historical Society (@nyhistory) has been pulling articles, artifacts, and documents deep from the Patricia D. Klingenstein Library this Women’s History Month. 
medium.com
The Most Overlooked & Underrated Characters in ‘Get Out’ Are Black Women
By B. Willis

[U]nlike Logan and Walter, who apparently needed a camera’s flash to “wake up,” Georgina was the only one whose black consciousness broke through without an external trigger. She also seemed to have the greatest internal struggle when she was in close proximity to Chris. Which means she was fighting the hardest but it wasn’t even for herself. That is what’s heartbreaking.

I’m not sure that Peele did this intentionally, but Georgina is the embodiment of the two-edged sword that is the “strong black woman” stereotype. It’s this idea that Black women can’t be broken, that we don’t crack under pressure, that we make the best of our circumstances, or that we don’t need support. While this stereotype is founded in some truth (black women are some of the most magical and persevering beings I know), it also builds up a myth about black women and our ability to maneuver through life. We can be broken. We do crack under pressure. Sometimes, our circumstances get the best of us. And no matter how stable we are, we ALWAYS need support.

What MRA’s think will happen at the Women-Only Wonder Woman Screenings

We at the Alamo Drafthouse would like to officially apologize for our role in the end of mankind as we knew it, and the ascendant Gynocracy that followed. We didn’t know our women-only screening of Wonder Woman would result in the overthrow of all world governments and the total subjugation of men, but in hindsight we probably should have seen it coming.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Your greek mythology fics are absolutely beautiful, I'm speechless. Your writing captures the like dark/horror-esque tone of old fairytales and then blends in something more modern? It's brilliant and incredible and I love it. If you have the time/inspiration, could you write another? Preferably with lesbians and/or Artemis but literally anything at all is totally cool I just want so many more of these

Artemis is born first. She’s a babe for only moments, springing into gangly-limbed childhood between one breath and the next.

Her mother is red faced and sobbing, prostrate on the ground and reaching for her. “He’s too big,” she sobs, “He won’t come out – I’ve failed! Hera has won and I have failed!”

There’s blood, too much blood, blood that she herself is still slick with. “No,” she says firmly, kneeling in between her mother’s legs, “We have not failed.”

It takes too long, too much blood and screaming, but hours later Leto sleeps, exhausted and pained but alive.

Her brother does not grow as she did, and she cleans him and swaddles him and hold him against her chest. There is too much intelligence for a freshly born-babe in his eyes. She pets the soft golden curls on top of his head.

She looks to Leto, bloody and torn and nearly forced to die with her son inside of her, and decides that her mother’s fate will never be her own.

The only man she’ll ever love is the one currently in her arms.

~

Apollo grows, faster than he should but slower than her until they match, until they are not-quite adults, beautiful adolescents in a godly package.

Her brother worries her; sometimes he reminds her too much of their father and she fears for him. She’s never afraid of him, her golden twin brother, but in that regard she thinks she may be alone. He’s too smart and not careful and feels as if every beautiful thing is his to possess.

The first time he forces himself on a mortal woman, she shoots a silver arrow through his shoulder. It bleeds, an arrow shot by her, more than it would if any other goddess had done it. “They are mine,” she declares, standing in front of the scared girl with her torn clothes, “You will not touch what is mine.”

Apollo says, “Very well, sister,” slick with blood, and she wants to go to him, to heal him and take care of him as she has their whole lives, but she stands her ground. In this she will not be moved.

He leaves, and when she turns to comfort the girl she’s already gone.

~

Her brother doesn’t touch any other unwilling women after that, although there are still plenty of willing women. And why shouldn’t there be? Apollo is gorgeous and strong, brave and just when he forgets to be selfish and petty.

There are men, however, whom are not always so willing. Nothing so harsh as that first time with that girl, nothing that dramatic – but enough that it pains her to see the callous way her brother treats them. Artemis stays silent on that. She is not the patron god of all of humanity, and she can’t hoard them all.

Her brother is a warrior and a poet and harnesses his chariot to the sun so that he may bring light to all the world. She loves him, but sometimes – sometimes she hates him. She is a huntress and a midwife, a bringer of life and a taker of it, and there is something terrible in her power. She thinks this is what Persephone must feel like, as the goddess of spring and queen of the underworld. It’s intoxicating. But it is a quiet sort of power, a harder one.

He is the sun and she is the moon, and there are times she fears that is all she is – a reflection of her younger brother’s brightness, cursed to be nothing more than a poor imitation.

~

She’s fully grown the first time it happens, older than many cities and twice as beautiful as her brother’s sunrises.

She’s sweat soaked and blood covered, but the mother and her sons sleep soundly and safely after the difficult birth. If she were to tell the other gods this they would not believe her, but being the goddess of childbirth is her hardest job by far.

“Come,” the sister of the mother says, a pretty young thing with large eyes and a wide mouth, “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

Artemis could clean herself up just fine, but allows the young woman to lead her to her room, to remove her blood stained clothes and run a warm cloth over limbs that are sticky with dried sweat. The woman goes to her knees before Artemis, running the cloth over her legs, and then the woman touches a place no one has ever touched.

Artemis jerks with surprise, looking down, her mouth agape. “My lady goddess,” the woman murmurs, parting her wide mouth and licking her lips, “I would thank you for aiding my sister, if you be willing.”

There’s a low curling heat in the pit of her stomach and something fluttering high in her chest. It’s something she hasn’t experienced before. “I am to remain a virgin,” she says, blank, because many men have looked at her like this woman and she was revolted by all of them. She’s not revolted now.

“Virginity is a man’s invention and a man’s concern, my lady,” the woman says dismissively, beginning to move her hands in way that makes Artemis flush all over, “There are no men here.”

That’s the last bit of talking they do until morning.

~

Artemis has many more eager women coming to her, offering to worship her. She accepts, again and again, and there’s never anything more than temporary sparks of desire, yet she enjoys all the women who seek her out, is delighted by them and seeks to delight them in return.

She is bathing in a lake one evening, golden hair having grown longer than she usually keeps it and brushing past her shoulders. She’ll have to cut it soon. She ducks beneath the serene, smooth lake, and when she pops her head up there’s the sound of rustling and footsteps, then clothing being shed.  

There’s a man dipping his toes into the lake, and Artemis rises, ready to kill him for his insolence.

Then she meets his scared eyes, and she’s done nothing to provoke his fear, not yet. Then she has to look again, eyes raking over his naked body, and this person certainly looks like a man. Yet –

“Who are you?” she demands, hands on her hips.

“Sipriotes, miss,” the person says, and bends to pick up the discarded clothes. “Apologies, I did not expect anyone to be here. I’ll go.”

“Why?” Artemis asks, taking a guess, “There’s plenty of water for two women to share.”

She knows she’s guessed right when Sipriotes’s mouth parts in surprise, and then widens in a pleased grin. “Thank you, lady,” she says, dropping her dress back at the lake’s edge and stepping into the water.

“Your hair is a mess,” she observes, looking at the tangled bun on top of Sipriotes’s head, “Let me help you with that.”

“It’s okay, miss,” she says politely.

Somehow this woman hasn’t figured out she’s a goddess yet. Artemis is in no rush to tell her – she’s scared enough of her as it is. “I insist,” she says, swimming over and twisting Sipriotes around so her back is to Artemis. The woman’s muscles are tense, and Artemis runs light fingers over the pale, criss crossed lashing scares. Artemis is smart, so she doesn’t ask the obvious, stupid question and undoes the woman’s bun. Her tangled long black hair tumbles down to her hips. “What a mess,” she says quietly, not explaining whether she talking about her hair or her back.

Sipriotes relaxes, tilting her head forward as Artemis gently untangles her hair until it lies smooth.

~

Artemis tries, but she can’t get the woman from the lake out of her head. She lives alone at the edge of the village, doesn’t bathe with the other women because they don’t welcome her. They don’t shun her, but they don’t wash her hair or her back and it makes Artemis’s blood boil.

She expects better from those she has claimed as her own.

The sun’s just setting when her brother appears at her side, watching her watch Sipriotes gather water from the well. “He’s not your usual type, is he?” he asks, leaning against her and tangling his fingers in hers.

“Yes,” Artemis says, “she is.”

~

For the first time in her life Artemis feels uncertain, but kicks at the door anyway.

It opens. The wariness on Sipriotes’s face is replaced by confusion. “Hi,” Artemis says, “Do you like bear?”

The creature is slung over her shoulders. She’d just killed it, and it occurs to her too late that a normal woman wouldn’t be able to casually hold a bear across her back. “I like you,” Sipriotes says, stepping aside to let her in, “you can bring the bear if you like.”

She offers Artemis warm wine and insists she sit as she skins the bear, sticking chunks of it on a spit and salting the rest of it. This time she keeps up a steady stream of conversation, eyes warm and smile soft, and Artemis wishes she could blame the wine for the heat on her cheeks.

“I like your shoulders,” Artemis says, watching her finish up preparing the bear meat.

Sipriotes pauses and turns to Artemis, eyebrow raised. Her dress is stained red with the bear’s blood and her silky black hair is braided to the side. Artemis wants to run her fingers through it. “You do?”

She stands, moves slowly in case this isn’t what Sipriotes wants, and presses her hands to her back the same way she had in the lake. “Yes, they’re broad. Strong. Like mine.”

Sipriotes turns, and Artemis trails her hands from her shoulders to her face, pressing her thumb against Sipriotes’s bottom lip. “The bear will burn,” she says, eyes dark.

“I’ll bring you another one,” Artemis says, walking her backward until they reach the bed, until Sipriotes’s knees hit the edge of it and she falls back, until Artemis can climb on top of her and straddle her waist.

Sipriotes holds up a hand, and Artemis captures it in her own and turns it so she can leave a butterfly kiss on each knuckle. “I know who you are, Artemis,” she whispers, “Are you – are you sure? No man can touch you.”

Artemis leans down, pressing more kisses across Sipriotes’s collar bone, and says, “There are no men here.”

That’s the last bit of talking they do until morning.


gods and monsters series, part v

Corner of the Coffee Shop

Prompt: ‘Soulmate’ for @just-some-drabbles ‘s writing challenge! (no summary because the prompt says it all)

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 2073 words

Warnings: fluff, hardly any angst. 

Notes: Thank you so much to my love @untimelyideasforstories for helping me come up with ideas for this story, you saved my ass <3 I also didn’t proofread this, it’s 10:40pm and I have a French test tomorrow argh

Originally posted by marvel-dirtbag

Soulmates, true love, first kisses, those are all things you were told to believe. The first one was real enough, as everyone in the world was born with a permanently inked mark, somewhere on their body. Yours was plainly put into sight, right on the inside of your left wrist. From person to person, their mark differed in handwriting, but it always read the same thing; the date of your soulmate’s birth. Your soulmark was scrawled in a delicate yet slightly messy script, which didn’t really bother you. Your friend could barely read her one, it was that chaotic. But it was the actual words that bothered you, which made you lose faith in having a soulmate that was actually alive.

‘10th of March, 1917.’

Keep reading

hail Dionysus, patron of trans, nonbinary, bigender, trigender, multigender, genderfluid, agender, and intersex people

hail Dionysus, man of curves and woman of sharp edges; hail Dionysus, ever-changing Liberator of all like us, all like Dionysus… rebel Prince and Princess with the long, wine-dark curls and the sweet, feline grin

hail Dionysus, god of gender euphoria and dispeller of body dysphoria, great Lord and Lady and Protector of us all. may You protect us this month of pride, and bring even those who do not follow You home to warm beds and happier bodies.

dissonance [4]

summary: James apologizes. || hades!bucky x persephone!reader

warnings: none? 

note: Feedback is always appreciated! I hope you guys like this!

Keep reading

4

Dear lord, please bless this poor woman with some edges, please grant her with some proper extensions so that her scalp doesn’t look like Chewbacca’s coochie or a chewed on barbie doll head, bless her poor, poor seaweed looking scalp lord, send her to a proper (black) hairdresser who can get them bracket shaped edges properly laid so one day, maybe they can be on fleek. Curse the person who did that to her and convinced her that she looked good. Guide her towards the light, and away from this bald eagle-looking darkness. In Jesus name we pray, Amen.

Originally posted by seriouslyfunnygifs

holy fuck arya literally has like 4 different people in the running to adopt her and that number grows by the day??? who is she even gonna pick

is it a. a murderous yet damaged monster of a man, b. a giant but honorable armoured woman, c. a gentle and loyal ex-smuggler, or d. her sullen emo edge-lord brother

cast your votes today

“Protect You” Lucifer x Reader

Word Count: 2,559

Lucifer x Reader, Crowley x Reader

Request from @perseusandmedusa : Can I request a Lucifer x Reader story? You’ve watched the last episode where we saw Lucifer in a cage in Hell with Crowley, right? Let’s imagine Crowley found Lucifer’s soulmate & brings her in the room. The reader being a simple woman, she doesn’t understand what’s going on. Luci feels a connection the second she enters the room but decides to ignore it, so Crowley will kinda torture her to get a reaction from the Devil. 

Warnings: Alcohol, mentions of torture, angst, a few swear words, fluff


Originally posted by totallysupernaturaloneshots

“Need a drink?” Crowley sat down next to the woman at the bar, sliding a wink at her.

She looks over at him, unsure if he is being serious or not. People don’t typically approach her at bars, but if they do, it usually never turns out well. With her past history of creeps trying to drug her or losers trying to get in her pants, she normally just kept a straight, ‘don’t talk to me’ face while she drank.

“I’m good.” She raises her glass, indicating that she already had.

“What’s your name?” Crowley asked, swirling his chair so he is facing towards her.

She tells him a fake name, while giving off a quite bitchy attitude, hoping that he will leave her alone. Crowley knows she’s lying, making him raise his eyebrows. He knows her name. Actually, he knows a lot about her.

When he had captured Lucifer a few weeks ago, he tried everything he could do to torture him. All the techniques that Lucifer had once used on him, and everything that he had picked up on his own. He was quite skilled in torture, being the king of hell and all. But nothing seemed to break him. He continued to be his normal, regular, horrible self. It was driving Crowley mad knowing that he couldn’t get Lucifer to break. He wanted him to break just as Lucifer had broken him all those years ago.

The only other thing he could think of was something he didn’t think was possible. He had deemed it an impossible mission when he had called his mother, Rowena, and asked for help. He had figured she would say that his plan was a bust, that she couldn’t find anything.

But she did.

That plan of his was to find his soulmate. That’s the only thing in the world that no one can resist. Soulmates are something on another level that even God can’t mess with. Everyone is born with one, even angels- even Lucifer. When Crowley called Rowena, asking if she could possibly find his soulmate, he thought it was a long shot. There was too many possibilities- he or she could have already died, not even been born yet, or might not even be human. They could have been another angel.

But of course, Rowena came through. She always did. Crowley couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Lucifer did have one- a woman named Y/N. And she was very much alive.

He tracked her down, and here he was. Offering to buy her a drink, planning on getting her drunk so he could easily take her back to Lucifer. He needed her to get done what needed done.

“Now now, don’t lie about your name.” Crowley frowned, flagging down the bartender. “Scotch, please. And another one for the lady.” He orders her a drink despite her protests to him buying her one earlier.

“And how is it you know that isn’t my real name?” She was the one raising her eyebrows this time.

“Because, love, I know everything.”

“Uh huh.” Y/N had to stop herself from rolling her eyes. In her eyes, she just thought this was some random old guy trying to hit on her, and not really doing a good job.

“Take the drink?” Crowley passes over one of the glasses that the bartender brought him.

“I told you I was good.” She slides the glass back over to him.

Crowley was growing impatient and frustrated. She was stubborn. No wonder she was Lucifer’s soulmate. He decided to go a different route and just wait her out until she left. Crowley excused himself from the bar and goes outside, waiting patiently until she comes out.

Y/N finishes up her drink, relief flooding through her chest as the man next to her finally left. He gave off a dark vibe, one she couldn’t quite explain. If she believed in the supernatural, she’d describe it as the feeling of death. The feeling that everywhere he goes, darkness follows.

She frowns, thinking she’s overthinking things and being paranoid. She picks up her purse and pays the tab, thanking the bartender for his service. She ignores the wolf whistles coming from the men in the bar as she makes her way out, grabbing her car keys as she opens the door.

She’s about to open the door to her car as she sees the reflection of the man in the car window, making her jump and drop her keys.

“Did I scare you, Y/N?” Crowley smirks. She doesn’t even have the time to process the fact that he knew her name before she finds herself in a totally different place.

She looks around, the man that was once with her in the parking lot now holding on to her wrist as he drags her through the dark corridors. She looks around in fear and starts hyperventilating, her mind running a million miles an hour.

Crowley tightens his grip on her wrist as he drags her towards the room, not caring how much she is resisting. He doesn’t care that she’s scared. The only thing that he cares about is the look on Lucifer’s face when he sees her, and how he will react to knowing he’s got his soulmate as captive.

“Luci, we’ve got company.” Crowley says in a singsong voice, throwing Y/N into the room.

Lucifer looks up from behind the bars, unsure of what Crowley is talking about. He sees him throw the woman into the room; she looks terrified, and immediately Lucifer feels bad for the woman.

He becomes confused as to why he felt badly for the woman he didn’t even know- he doesn’t feel bad for anyone. He doesn’t give a shit about anything except himself. But the helpless, scared look on her face was enough to make to make even his heart melt. He didn’t even know he had a heart until he saw her.

“Aha, gotta love company.” Lucifer smiles his signature smile.

“Who are you? Why am I here?” Y/N’s voice came out quiet and weak. She was standing in the middle of the room, Crowley standing in the doorway to her left and Lucifer behind the bars to her right.

“Oh, sweetie, I apologize for him. He’s always been a bit rude to houseguests.” Lucifer says condescendingly, hoping to get underneath Crowley’s skin. He’s not going to let anyone break him, not even this mysterious woman in front of him.

“I’m Crowley. King of Hell.” Crowley closes the door, stepping into the room and going to sit on his chair. Ah, his signature chair. He loves sitting in that chair, it makes him feel powerful. Especially when he can sit there and see Lucifer caged up right next to him, helpless. “And that over there, well, that’s the Devil.”

Y/N thought she was going to pass out. First, she’d kidnapped from a bar by a strange man, who claims to be the King of Hell? And now she’s locked up in a room with not only him, but someone he is introducing as the Devil? This was too much for her. She starts pacing the room, pinching herself in several spots on her body. This must be a dream.

“The Devil is a bit of a harsh name, if you ask me.” Lucifer pipes up. “But, I second her question, Crowley- what is the poor woman doing here?”

“You didn’t feel it yourself?” Crowley feels himself pause. Lucifer should have felt the instant connection the moment she stepped into the room. Angel can sense their soulmates much more acutely than humans. Crowley clenches his jaw, thinking he might have messed up and grabbed the wrong girl, before he notices the change in Lucifer’s face. It was only a split second, but it was enough for Crowley to know. He felt it.

Lucifer’s face dropped the minute Crowley said that. He had felt it, he knew. He knew why she was here, and he knew why Crowley was acting so smug. That woman standing there, that was his soulmate. He could feel the connection between them, his immediate liking to her.

“Oh, Crowley,” Lucifer laughs. “You really thought a girl could get under my skin? You’re dumber than you look, and that’s saying a lot.”

“Now, Lucifer, you of all people know the power of soulmates. Don’t try and act like this woman isn’t affecting you, dog.”

Y/N was seriously on the edge of passing out. Soulmates? To her, soulmates aren’t even a real thing. It’s just a fairytale, the things that moms always tell their little girls about.

“What am I doing here?” She repeats again. No one responds to her.

“She means nothing to me.” Lucifer insists.

“No?” Crowley asks in an unbelieving tone. He grabs Y/N, pulling her back into his chest and placing his knife across her neck. She starts to choke back tears, terrified that he was going to kill her. She tries to go and speak, but with a snap of Crowley’s fingers, her voice was gone.

“So you wouldn’t mind if I sliced her neck?” He dragged the knife slowly across her neck, not putting enough pressure to cut her, but that could easily be changed.

Lucifer wanted to get out of that cage that moment and turn that knife around, stabbing it into Crowley’s neck instead. Or, if he had his power, just simply snap his fingers and snap his neck. Anything would do at this moment. Seeing her standing there with a knife to her neck, terrified and crying, was not a sight Lucifer wanted to see.

But his pride gets in his way, and he refuses to let Crowley see how this bothers him.

“Do you realize who I am?” Lucifer seethes his teeth from behind the bars. “Nothing and no one can get to me. I’m the one who people run away to their mommies for. I’m the big, bad monster. A measly woman is not going to do shit for me.”

Crowley calls his bluff and presses the blade slightly deeper into Y/N’s neck, making blood start to flow out of the wound. He allows her voice to come back so Lucifer can hear her screams.

“Stop it!” Lucifer screams, not being able to take it any longer. His eyes start to glow red from the anger inside of him. “Stop fucking touching her!”

Crowley smirks, pulling the knife away from her as he allows her to drop to the floor.

“Bingo.” Crowley says. He’s about to say something else before his phone rings, earning a groan in response. “Sam and Dean. Always needing something.” And with a snap of his fingers, he’s gone.

“Y/N, come here.” Lucifer calls out from the cell.

“No, don’t come anywhere near me.” She’s scared, and holding her neck to keep pressure on the wound. It’s not very deep, but it’s enough to make blood drip down onto her shirt.

“I want to make sure you’re okay.” Lucifer sighs. Y/N is hesitant, but crawls over to where he is. He looks at her neck, placing his fingers on it, earning a wince from her.

“Didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“Who are you?” Her voice comes out shaky.

“I thought that was made clear.”

“You’re-“

“Lucifer?” He asks. “Yes.”

“But how can you… How?”

“There is a lot you don’t know, Y/N. This world, it’s not what you think.”

“Uh huh…” She wasn’t sure how to respond. This was a lot to take in. “And… soulmates?”

“Everyone has someone.” Is all he responded.

“And you’re my someone?”

“Seems so.”

“Okay.” She tried to pinch herself again.

Lucifer didn’t know what to do. He has never felt compassion or anything or anyone in his life until this girl. He’s not sure how to act around her. All he knew was that he wanted to help her. She can’t handle this.

“Y/N, I need you to do something for me.”

“Okay.”

“I want you to grab that key that’s on the desk right there. Open that door and get out of here. There isn’t any demons standing guard. You can find your way out. When you get out, I need you to do something else for me. I have followers, people who well help you. Pray to Abraham, tell him that I sent you. Tell him to wipe your memory.”

“I don’t-“

“Just do it!” Lucifer yelled. He felt the overwhelming sense to protect her, to keep her safe. If she knew about any of this, remembered this, she’ll think she’d gone crazy. Any normal human would.

“O-okay.” She stuttered, fear rising inside of her from him yelling. She walked over to the table, grabbing the keys and opening the door.

“How are you going to escape?” She asked him, pity in her eyes. He was helping her and she didn’t want to leave him.

“I can handle myself. Leave, now.”

Y/N closes the door behind her. She runs through the hallways, barely able to see from the lack of lighting. Eventually she finds a door that leads to the outside, and she sighs in relief, happy to be out of there.

“Abraham?” She says oddly. A part of her feels like this was just some big joke someone was playing on her. She felt extremely ridiculous praying to an angel. “Lucifer sent me.”

She stood there for a few minutes before shaking her head, thinking that she was going insane. She was about to walk away, run and find a road before a man appeared in front of her.

“You prayed to me. Lucifer sent you?” The man, presumably Abraham, asks her.

“Yeah,” She could barely believe your eyes. This night was getting crazier by the moment. “He, uh, he wanted you to wipe my memory. Something about being his soulmate, saying he wanted to protect me.”

“You’re her?” His eyes widened, and he immediately rushed over to her side. “What exactly were his orders, miss?”

“He wanted you to wipe my memories of the night.”

“Where were you before this?”

“A bar. Thaxton’s.”

-

Y/N stands in front of her car, confused as to why she is just staring at the window and not opening her car door. She looks down, noticing her car keys are dropped on the ground. She frowns and picks them up.

The time on her phone said it was almost eleven at night, making Y/N’s eyes widen. ‘Had I really been in there that long? I’ve got a test tomorrow!’ She thought to herself, not knowing where the time went.

“I’ve had too much to drink.” She mumbles to herself.

And just like that, she gets into her car and drives away, not remembering a thing.