#because a hero isn’t just someone who kills monsters!!

[save-the-villainous-cat]

hero x villaim but hit them with the "with everybody watching us, our every move, we each have reputation" (NOT A WRITING REQ UNLESS U WANNA DO IT !!!! just a silly thought I'd share bc . theyre so doomed) :3 -🐏

“You’re upset with me.” The villain chose their words carefully. In a situation like this, it wouldn’t be smart to let their emotional side win over.

“I am. I am very upset with you,” the hero said. They still looked terrible from the fight. Scratches and bruises covered their face as if the hero was the night sky and their wounds the stars. Even though the villain knew not to rush into things, they only wished to tend to the hero’s wounds.

“You know I couldn’t let you die.”

“I begged you to save those people instead of me,” the hero argued.

“It sounds horrible but I didn’t care about these people. My decision was made in an instant. I decided to save you, I decided to reach for you without even considering.” The villain wanted to explain it, wanted to make sure the hero understood. It had been an easy decision. It was cruel but it was the truth.

And now, the hero was starting to cry.

“I asked you to save these innocent people. These ten innocent people that had lives and families and jobs. These people who were important, who were someone’s entire world. Ten of them!” they choked out between sobs.

“You will save more people in the future than all of them would have combined,” the villain tried to argue but they knew, deep down they knew, how their weakness of logic and reason got in their way. They couldn’t help but see the world as patterns and effects. With explanations and conclusions weaving around them — a big terrible net of information.

They knew it wasn’t what the hero wanted nor what they needed to hear but the villain couldn’t give them what they deserved, they couldn’t find the comforting words.

They couldn’t even find a solution this time.

“That’s not the point. People aren’t numbers. People aren’t data,” the hero said. By now, tears streamed down their face and the villain wondered if they’d let them brush those tears away for them. Probably not. “I wanted you to save them. I wanted you to do the right thing.”

“The right thing was saving you. I’d do it all over again.”

“I thought you could change.”

“I thought you’d understand.” The hero shook their head and wiped their tears away with a bruised and swollen hand. A mission going south. Partly because the villain had been present. It wasn’t easy to take the blame but the villain supposed this was the least they could do if finding the right words was impossible already.

“People are chess pieces to you. You move them around how you want and you don’t care. You truly don’t care what happens to any of them,” the hero said. The villain could see their red ears and their shaking hands. And in this very moment, the villain saw themselves as the monster that they were, as the horrible human being the hero saw them as.

“I care about you, isn’t that clear enough?” they asked. The villain’s voice was shaking.

The hero took in a deep breath. The villain wanted to hug them. They wished their hero could understand. They wished they’d stop crying.

It hurt that the hero hated them in this moment.

“You’re supposed to care about others, too. You’re — you’re supposed to use your intelligence for the greater good. For other people, for humanity. I thought you understood me.”

“I do,” the villain said. “I do understand you. But in that moment, deciding between you and those people was easy. I’m sorry.”

The hero stared at them, speechless.

“You will always be my priority,” the villain said. “Even if you hate me. Even if you kill me eventually. I won’t put up a fight.”

“Do you like being hated?”

“I like you more than I care about being liked,” the villain said. They weren’t sure if they’d ever see the hero again after this.

“And I loathe you for that. I loathe you for the person that you are.”

They didn’t see each other for a long time after that conversation.

#man idk lab was asss today #hope you still like it 😭 #writing snippet #heroxvillain prompt #heroxvillain snippet #heroes and villains #villain #hero #heroxvillain #hero x villain #an answer for an ask #request #angst

[flickerintwilights]

okay yes you’re being very normal BUT. “what makes you think he was a hero?” “because he kills monsters.” “what makes you think that she was a monster?”

“not everyone who looks like a hero is a hero, and not everyone who looks like a monster is a monster”

“…and against all odds, he managed to find his way to a happy ending”

#pjo #i was mouthing the words in absolute glee #like YES thats the good shit i am Eating #the luke foreshadowing. the everything #the THEMES #because a hero isn’t just someone who kills monsters!! #percy jackson #percy jackson and the olympians

[sassydefendorflower]

I’m glad Maes Hughes died.

He’s a fan favorite character and I enjoy him a lot too, but I think fundamentally he’s a character who has to die. His role in the narrative is to haunt it.

I might be even more of a weirdo because I enjoy his manga characterization over his Brotherhood or ‘03 portrayal, but I love the idea of Hughes being someone the Elric brothers barely know - someone we, the audience, barely see.

Until he dies.

Because suddenly he’s everywhere. He was Roy’s friend and Armstrong’s superior officer and Winry’s acquaintance and Elicia’s father - and he was the soldier both Ed and Al knew, but didn’t actually know, that got killed because of them anyway.

In the manga Winry stays at Hughes’ place, but Ed and Al enter his house for the first time after they found out he died. For them, it’s not about losing a friend (though I am sure they liked him just fine) because that story is already Roy’s - for them it’s about realizing that this plot they’ve involved themselves in kills people that aren’t actually directly involved at all to begin with. It makes sense for their allies and friends and loved-ones to be targeted by the antagonists - but a soldier who mostly joined in because he was at the right (or wrong) place at the right (wrong) time? That’s not supposed to happen. And that’s what makes Hughes’ death so hard on them.

(and poor Elicia - abandoned children without their fathers were always a weakness of Ed’s)

But Roy? Yeah... he suffers. From the moment of Hughes’ dead on, Roy is haunted by it. By him. His best friend follows him everywhere. We see it in the way Roy only involves himself in the plot because Hughes figured something out and Roy is desperate for answers. He hunts down the homunculi to save this country, sure, but mostly so he can burn his best friend’s murderer to the ground. When Riza talks about winning against the Führer and their military dictatorship, she talks about all of them, not a hint of revenge coloring her vision - but Roy? It is telling that it isn’t a greater ideal that makes him torture Envy, but the agony of his best friend’s death.

The thing that almost breaks Roy is Maes.

No.

It’s Maes’ memory haunting the narrative.

And isn’t that beautiful?

The tragedy of it all, the horror, and the realization that Roy Mustang never really recovered from the War, that his friends are the only think keeping him in one piece, the fact that Roy Mustang is a Hero and a Monster and a fallible human capable of love.

Maes Hughes has to die to remind all of us of what Roy Mustang is capable of: love, loyalty, devotion.... and the slaughter and torture of numerous people.

His ghost is haunting the narrative - and for that I love him.

#fma #fmab #roy mustang #maes hughes #fullmetal alchemist brotherhood #fullmetal alchemist meta #maes is also a war criminal #just want to point that out #and in contrast to Roy not even one with a whole lot of morals #just fyi #but this post is about roy and his love for maes and how much i love that he died in canon

[skyloftian-nutcase]

TotK DLC idea!

The screen is black. You don’t hear anything for a long time. Then, faintly, in the distance, you can hear it.

Link. Link. Open your eyes.

While the line echoes familiarity, the voice does not.

Or. Well. It does. Because while it isn’t Zelda, it’s a familiar man’s voice speaking gently, so gently you almost don’t recognize it because there’s no way he ever spoke like this in the main game.

But he is now. And instead of a golden light being the first image you see before the screen shows Link awakening… you see gloom floating in the air. The image cuts to a Hylian waking up who… doesn’t look like Link from TotK?? He’s different, still small in stature, with slightly tanner skin, platinum light blonde hair, and red eyes. But… something’s wrong with his forehead. There’s a weird line on it.

This new character you apparently are gonna be playing in the DLC blearily blinks his eyes open, clearly groggy and too weak to really move. But then that line on his forehead moves a hair, it splits apart, and you realize it’s a freaking eye, red and yellow and it’s like the ones on gloom hands and oh gosh what the hell is it doing on his forehead—

Link realizes something is off and his eyes blow wide, his hands reach for his forehead and he screams in agony and terror, only for someone to scoop him into a hug to soothe him.

And suddenly you realize why that voice was eerily familiar.

It’s Ganondorf. He resurrected you from the era of the Imprisoning War. You, who have a history with him and his family. You, who he wants to protect, who he views as his kid, who he calls a prince and says he’ll keep you safe by controlling your body with his dark magic if he has to.

Welcome to Tears of the Kingdom: Hero’s Shadow.

You have to play a long gone Hero who was resurrected. Ganondorf, who is still recovering his strength in preparation for killing the current Hero, tasks you with finding your betrothed, his daughter, as well as his wife. They’re buried somewhere in the Depths like you were. He wants you to find their burial sites so he can use his secret stone to resurrect them like he did you, and control them as well. Which is doubly bad when you realize his wife was the original Sage of Lightning. He gives you free reign to wander once you go through a tutorial (he tests you to see if you’ve recovered enough strength), because he knows you love wandering and collecting things. Your own personal objective, however, is trying to help Hyrule from the Depths, to break free from Ganondorf’s control, because Link would rather set himself on fire than let Ganondorf resurrect and control the love of his life and his mother-in-law. Your best hope is to find shards of the shattered Master Sword to try and stab the eye on Dark Link’s forehead and break the control Ganondorf has on you. Until you can, though, the monsters are your allies, you can teleport across the Depths by manifesting out of the gloom created by gloom hands (just like what Phantom Ganon does), and the world below is your oyster. If you get too close to sword shards when gloom hands are nearby, Ganondorf can see your attempt and immediately takes control of your body, and no matter what button you press Link just walks back to Ganondorf’s location and stays there until you get a chance to try again.

You start with three hearts, all empty looking like when gloom hurts you, and if you get injured they just shatter. Whenever they all shatter, you respawn at Ganondorf’s location because his gloom hands came and rescued you from dying. The only way you can get more hearts is by collecting poes and offering them to the statues in the Depths. You can communicate with the spirits of soldiers, who may give you combat tips or info about the area. If you gain enough of Ganondorf’s trust, he’ll let you command monsters, and he might even let you wander the Surface (under his supervision) during a blood moon.

You learn of Link’s and Ganondorf’s history through discovering ancient relics/texts that trigger memories. This connection between you and Ganondorf stems back to time before the war, well over ten thousand years ago. Link was engaged to Ganondorf’s daughter, but during the Imprisoning War the family fought against the demon king. Ganondorf did love his family, but he loved power more. Link sacrificed himself, letting himself get mortally wounded to save Rauru from a killing blow. Gan held him as he died, and it allowed Link to both beg him to stop and stab him in the heart with a light shard. The shard didn’t kill him, but it was what Rauru connected with when he hit him in the chest, allowing him to seal Ganondorf away. Ganondorf still wants the world, but his love for his family is still present, though now twisted, so he thinks he can control Link and everyone else with his dark magic in order to keep them safe and in line. Once the threat of the current Hero is eliminated, the world will be his, and his family will be safe. As such, he treats you, Link, the player, like a stubborn child, reeling you in, but does so in a horrific way, torturing Link by controlling him.

You have to break free of this and stop him, and the only hope you have is the distant call of a sword spirit…

#tears of the kingdom #totk #I think it would be pretty neat to play someone who is “allies” with the bad guy #but you still have the objective of stopping evil #But you have to manipulate Ganondorf and work around his watch #So you get to play double agent #And possibly see a more complex Ganondorf #Like the dude is still being evil; he’s using his love for Link as an excuse to control him #He does care about him but he’s expressing it in the worst way #and he wants to do the same to his wife and daughter #So still a bad guy but a far more interesting one #One day you’re on the Surface with him and you see the Light Dragon and you’re not sure who it is #Because Link died before Zelda ate the secret stone #But Link can kind of guess #And Ganondorf almost noticed her so Link has to hug him or say something to get his attention #You have to manipulate Gan as best you can #idk how it would end #Like once you break free what do you do #But the idea tickled my mind so I wanted to write it down #Yes I’m just playing with my Imprisoning War blorbos #no I don’t care #legend of zelda #skye time travels through the queue #hero of shadow

[anthurak]

Hey, so we all understand that ANY serious RWBY theory that has Jaune getting some kind of cool powerup or weapon or a badass fight scene or killing one of the big bads like Cinder or Salem or literally any other fantasy-hero/power-fantasy staple is effectively dead on arrival, right?

Because it runs counter to one of the fundamental qualities of Jaune’s character: that he is a massive SUBVERSION of the whole ‘fantasy hero protagonist’ archetype. That a CORE aspect of Jaune’s character arc across the show has been all about abandoning any desire to be some idealized ‘Fantasy Hero’ who’s super special and always saving the day and defeating evil, and instead growing in an ‘Every-Man Hero’. Someone who isn’t all that special or strong but is nonetheless committed to helping those in need.

I mean just compare Jaune in Atlas during Volume 7/8 to Jaune in the Ever After during Volume 9: During their time in Atlas, we see Jaune not trying to be ‘The Hero’, instead he’s part of a group, following someone else’s lead and focusing on helping and supporting his friends and anyone else he can. While his friends are off slaying monsters and fighting the bad guys, Jaune is escorting kids to school or evacuating civilians or just carrying a friend or three. And it’s clear that in this role, Jaune flourishes. Emotionally and psychologically, Jaune is the best he’s been in the entire show! To the point where even in the depths of Salem’s ominous Grimm Whale of Doom, Ren’s empathic senses see Jaune as a pure, bright spot of positivity.

Then Volume 9 let Jaune try to be a cool, badass legendary hero in the form of The Rusted Knight. A single, solitary hero at the center of everything who fights monsters and helps everyone.

And it utterly DESTROYED HIM.

At this point I think the show has made it pretty clear where Jaune’s character is going, and just as clear where it ISN’T going.

If anything, rather than Jaune getting some kind of powerup, I think it’s far more likely we’ll see the opposite.

You know the theories that Jaune will wind up being integral to any plans to revive Penny? That Pietro will reveal/confirm that he doesn’t have enough aura to reactivate Penny, or is prepared to sacrifice his life in order to bring is daughter back one more time; only for Jaune to step in and volunteer his aura as the catalyst to bring Penny back.

Well consider how (re)activating Penny permanently stunted Pietro’s aura. I think it’s pretty easy to imagine much the same happening to Jaune.

Specifically, what if reviving Penny costs Jaune his uniquely strong and quick-regenerating aura reserves? As in, the very things that have helped him to be a capable fighter? To the point where Jaune’s aura might now be not much stronger than that of a normal, untrained civilian.

Basically, what if Jaune doesn’t sacrifice his life to bring Penny back as Pietro might have done, but rather sacrifices his strength and even ability to be a HUNTSMAN?

Honestly, I think this would be the perfect conclusion to Jaune’s character arc; the idea that things like martial strength and the ability to slay monsters and fight bad guys are actually so unnecessary and even counter to who he really is as a person that Jaune can just give up those things without issue whatsoever (remember that he would STILL have his semblance that allows him to empower others).

Perhaps even to the point of admitting that he never really needed to BE a huntsman in the first place.

#rwby #rwby theory #rwby analysis #jaune arc #character analysis #Penny Polendina #pietro polendina #rwby volume 7 #rwby volume 8 #rwby volume 9 #trope subversion #archetype subversion #jaune is NOT a knight or a warrior or a fighter or anything else that could be a power fantasy #if your theory has jaune as ANY kind of power fantasy then it is dead on arrival

[good-beans]

My brief takeaways from Deep Cover because I looooved it >:3

The project isn’t a mystery to solve, it’s giving up extra context to humanize the characters with each video. While Harrow gave us a ton of info on her crime and details, this video focused way more on her motivations/thoughts, which is just as important to her case.

She was at law school, already a pretty intense person, and started following the case of the redhead kidnapper. She tracks him down, planning on beating him up and saving the girl. When she’s actually there, seeing it, she’s overcome by emotion (and there may be personal trauma related, but we can’t tell that yet.) She loses control while beating him up, and he ends up dead. 

The realization of what she’s done hits her hard. She never meant for him to die. She thought he was the worst of the worst, and probably deserved it, but she was not emotionally prepared to take a life. That’s what that terrified look in her eyes is. The little girl runs up to thank her, and she clings to the child because she’s clinging to her as justification. There was a reason she killed him, right? This girl is the reason… right? Being a hero is the reason. She’s struggling so much with the guilt of becoming a murderer, she frantically latches on to this – she must now make herself entirely into a hero if she’s even going to justify this murder. She looks for her next target, please give her the next target, because without that, she’s just some kid who killed someone.

Deep Cover shows that Kotoko is trying desperately to separate herself from a real killer. Well, her idea of a real killer – she sees them as an abstract concept, not as humans. They are villains. Monsters. (Chess pieces to be broken, not people).  She’s so scared and ashamed of being one, she’s doing everything possible to be different from them. She's above them. She's in a different league from them. She doesn’t want to be a role model to the little girl (and rejects her harshly in that one scene on the street) because she’s so horrified by her own actions and doesn’t think she deserves it.

There’s so much good stuff going on in this video !!! It's an incredible look into her head and the animation is absolutely gorgeous waahh ;---;

#milgram #kotoko yuzuriha #you dont have to forgive her but i hope people are viewing her with the same balance as the other prisoners 👍 #i hope this all makes sense ;--; #i really enjoyed it ahhh !!! #yonah ties into this a lot but im too tired to make a super long post #rose posts

[spacebarbarianweird]

I Want to See the Sea of Fallen Stars

Summary: The events of the game through the eyes of Tiriel and Astarion

Pairing: Astarion x OC (Tiriel)

Thanks @themadlu for beta-reading!

Read on AO3

Masterlist

Headcanons

It hurts.

It always does.

His wrists are chained to the wall. Astarion’s bones are broken, and his flesh is flayed. From the little he can see through the piercing pain, there is no skin left on his body. 

Slowly, it starts regenerating—if he were allowed to feed, it would have happened much sooner, but the master has decided to make Astarion dance on the verge of madness. Whenever the blissful insanity is ready to take away his reason and mind, Cazador gives his favorite spawn a droplet of blood squeezed from a flea. 

It’s never going to end, is it?

Two centuries. Astarion counted. It’s 1492 DR. The world has changed within those years but nothing ever changes in the vampiric mansion. It’s always the same.

Always.

There was a time when Astarion prayed. He prayed to the elven gods, the powerful Seladrine. He prayed to the human gods, merciful and accepting.

Gods never hear. They especially don't hear the undead. Once Astarion was put into his grave, the gods forgot about him.

There was a time when Astarion hoped a savior would come. Faerun is the land of adventurers and heroes! How come none of them wants to challenge a vampire lord? 

There was a time when Astarion hoped there was a hero to get him out of this. Whatever his sins were, he paid for them fully. Why does he keep being tortured, raped, humiliated, beaten? 

He can’t even find peace in his sleep like other spawns! He is doomed to get into reverie and relive these tortures.

Over and over again.

Cazador orders Gaudey to unchain Astarion and he falls onto the dirty stone floor, shivering and weeping.

Cazador laughs and Astarion wishes for a final death.

**

“More ale!” Tiriel the Barbarian bellows. The people in the tavern cheer—and her pain sinks to the bottom of the mug.

By the time the tavern closes, Tiriel the Barbarian is completely wasted.

Well, such is her life. And it will always be, until she meets a monster who will finish her.

She just doesn’t belong.

She isn't human. Her family tried to kill her and she hopes they all die of some fever. She isn’t an elf—she learned it the hard way by encountering hostility from the Tel’Quessira. The groups of adventurers see her only as a means to an end. Someone who can do the dirty and dangerous job,the one who rushes first into a fight. 

People like her waste their money on prostitutes, paying for the bits of warmth they are deprived of. But the very thought of undressing in front of a stranger makes her sick.

Thirty-six-year-old, Tiriel bitterly thinks. No home. No friends. No purpose. It’s probably her fault because she has never let anyone close—the last man who approached her ended up with a broken skull.

She never fits in. And she never will.

Tiriel needs more ale to numb those thoughts.

And she needs another job.

Her innate wanderlust calls upon her, making the very idea of staying in a comfy inn sickening.

The notice board is pathetically empty. Seems like other adventurers have taken everything decent.

“Looking for a job?” a halfling waitress calls her out. 

“Yes. Do you have any?”

“My asshole of a cousin needs a fighter to accompany his caravan to Westgate. If you aren’t afraid of spending half a year on the road, he will pay you decently.”

“Is it on the shores of the Sea of Fallen Stars?” Tiriel asks to draw a map in her mind. It’s indeed far away from that wretched town—but gods! She will finally see the sea! Not a lake, not a river! The sea!

“Indeed. So, do you agree or not?”

“Yes! Of course, I agree! This ax is hungry for blood! When are we leaving?”

“In the morning. Well, I have something more for you—and if I were you, I would choose this,” the halfling leans on the bar table. “I have a friend in Baldur’s Gate,he owns a ship that traverses along the Sword Coast. It will take you three weeks to get there—just tell him I sent you, and he will hire you. Trust me, woman, six months in the company of my asshead of a cousin aren’t worth it. And adventurers can make a fortune in Baldur’s Gate.”

“And what if your friend doesn’t hire me? Or there is no friend?”

“Then you will have another rewarding job in the blink of an eye. And you can always return here and trash my tavern. Anyway the choice is yours.”

Tiriel grins.

“Well, the night is young! Bring me more ale!”

**

The mindflayer pod lets Astarion go and he collapses on a floor that resembles living flesh.

The master will torment him for his disappearance. He must get back, he must return!

Astarion presses his legs to the chest.

Is it a fucking spelljammer he is inside? The astral ships from the Wildspace? Aren't they just a story? A work of fiction?

He manages to stand up. He sees people locked in the capsules being slowly turned into disgusting mindflayers. 

He needs to get out of here. Now!

Astarion looks out - he can't be the only one to be “not transformed”. There must be others. 

“FUCK!”

A loud female voice echoes through the ship. 

“FUCK! I KNEW I SHOULD HAVE GONE TO WESTGATE! BUT NO, I NEEDED TO GO TO THAT WRETCHED CITY!”

Astarion carefully looks behind the corner. He doesn’t want to show himself yet.

It’s a half-elven woman with a two-handed ax. She holds it with a very clear message on her face, “I will turn you inside out if you dare to approach me.”

She is beautiful.

This thought invades Astarion’s thoughts. He never paid too much attention to the people he wanted to seduce. And he is sure he slept with much more gorgeous females.

But this one…

This one is a vision.

**

Tiriel could have easily gotten up from the ground but, for some reason, she doesn’t want to. The man who holds a dagger at her is weirdly handsome and she is sure she’s never met anyone like him.

Astarion.

Such a beautiful name.

And he doesn't resemble those elves she’s met before. There is sadness in his eyes, fear, desperation. He looks like a person who has been imprisoned for years and forgotten anything but how to survive.

And these curls of his.They must be so soft.

Tiriel has never felt anything like this—but she thinks she is in love.

**

Astarion feels like a bloody fool.

All his thoughts are occupied with Tiriel. How she laughs, how she talks. Whenever he closes his eyes he relives that night in the clearance,her skin, her warmth, her freckles, her moans. He’s had thousands of victims and he performed the same things over and over again

But he never felt so good, so blissful. He didn't even leave her side when she fell asleep.

She isn’t afraid of him. She doesn’t make him feel weak.

Her name sounds like a prayer.

Tiriel.

Tiriel.

Her name howls with the winds of Tunlan and jingles like fey bells. There is something delicate in it and something wild at the same time. He rolls her name on his tongue and jumps on his feet any time Tiriel wants to talk to him

She always talks to him first. She always listens. He…

He wants to be hers.

**

Tiriel is angry. Gods, she knows the cruelties of this world. She has heard of horrors that might happen…

But this…

This is different.

This is terrible.

This is unfair.

Astarion sits beside her, his torso naked. The symbols in Infernal carved in his skin make him look vulnerable and Tiriel has to suppress the desire to hug him from behind.

Now she understands why he is so bitter, so cruel, so distant. He’s been a slave for two hundred years and the world is hardly the same it was when he was alive. 

“I will help you deal with your master,” Tiriel says. 

Astarion squints his eyes. He is looking for a catch, she understands. The reward she wants.

“I will help you,” she repeats. “I promise”

**

Astarion doesn’t understand what he feels. 

Sadness? Anger? Pity? 

Tiriel lies on her back, pressing a bandage to a fresh bite mark. She lets him feed on her almost daily even though it affects her battle skills. 

He was abused as an adult and he suspects he wasn’t a good person back when he was mortal, but Tiriel was beaten and neglected as a child.

Astarion bends over and looks at Tiriel’s right ear—there is a thin line of a scar left by her drunk stepfather, a pathetic chieftain who never forgave his wife’s unfaithfulness and lashed it all on his “bastard daughter”.

“Astarion.”

“Hm?”

“Could you stay with me tonight?”

Her voice is weak, she is already half-asleep. His body reacts faster than his mind—to stay with her, with the warmth of her body! It sounds like heaven.

But what if she wants something in return?

What if? Hells, he can think about it tomorrow.

He curls at her side, putting his head on her chest.

Thump-thump-thump

Her heart is close; he can mistake its beats for his own.

**

Tiriel has to make an effort not to laugh. Did he really think he managed to fool her? Did he really think she didn’t know what he was doing? And he thinks she’s going to be angry?

Gods, and she thought he was smart!

“I care about you,” she finally says. “Deeply.”

“Really?”

This is the voice of a condemned person who has been pardoned.

**

Astarion is numb. There is a hollow emptiness inside him. He thought he would rejoice once his master was dead. He thought it would compensate for all those years of horror and misery.

But there is nothing but darkness.

Astarion hears steps. Tiriel approaches but doesn’t touch him. Years later, he will be grateful for that.

She limps a bit—her face is covered in blood and bruises. Tiriel is exhausted and visibly wounded. He isn’t sure, but it appears she was in rage for the whole fight and it completely drained her.

Tiriel approaches the vampire lord’s body and contemplates for a bit.

And then smashed his ribcage with her boot. The disgusting sound of broken bones echoes through the chambers.

Tiriel spits on Cazador’s face and then picks up Astarion’s shirt from the floor.

Without saying anything, she helps him dress. Then she takes his hand and doesn't let him go till they reach the inn.

There, he collapses on the bed and curls in a fetal position. 

“I am going to be downstairs,” Tiriel says, covering him with a blanket. “Rest.”

“Tiriel.”

“What is it, love?”

“Thank you,” he barely manages to spell it out.

But for what? For saving him in the dungeons? For believing in him? 

For loving him?

Astarion doesn’t know.

Tiriel kisses his forehead as if he were a little child and leaves him alone with his thoughts.

**

Tiriel is scared.

It’s been too much. She was never fit to fight cultists, monsters, and dragons… and yet now she has to fight the mindflayers.

A kick in the stomach and she falls on the surface of the brain. She feels pain even through the armor and she knows there is an acid burn on her skin. The tadpole suppresses it, but it still hurts.

“Don’t you dare die!” Astarion helps her to stand up. “We will win this fight, you hear me?!”

She nods. She can barely hear anything because of the pain. Her ears ring, her throat burns—her rage… She can’t do it anymore. She is too exhausted. Whatever the source of her abilities is, it's been drained.

“Tiriel!” Astarion still holds her. “Tiriel, you’ve promised. We are going to see the Sea of Fallen Stars together. Remember?”

The Sea of Fallen Stars… yes… that faraway western waters known for pirates and treasures… and ancient cities… and forgotten islands…

“Yes… we are going to see the Sea of Fallen stars.”

***

The last rays of the sun wash the ground and then the world is taken by darkness. The distant lights of Westgate shine to the east.

The sea looks like a night sky reflecting stars and living up to its name.

Tiriel submerges herself in the salt water. Before she would never dare to swim naked—even though she is capable of protecting herself without armor and weapons, she still never felt safe enough.

Astarion approaches the water's edge but doesn’t dare to proceed.

“Come on! Those aren't running waters! They can’t harm you!”

He hesitates but Tiriel already makes him get into the water despite his protests. Then she jumps on him, wrapping her hands and legs around his torso and forcing him to put his palms under her bottom.

It’s been one year and a half since she woke up in that pod. One year and a half since she met him—her star-crossed love Tiriel is sure she was intended to meet.

She kisses him and Astarion answers with the same tenderness and love.

“I love you,” he mutters and kisses her neck.

“I love you, too, my heart,” Tiriel caresses his curls and smiles.

--

Tag list

@tugoslovenka @marcynomercy @wintersire @vixstarria @not-so-lost-after-all @ashiro20 @theearthsfinalconfession @herstxrgirl @starlight-ipomoea @micropoe10 @astarion-imagine-archive @veillsar @elora-the-slutty-songstress @fayeriess @lumienyx @tallymonster @caitlincat-95 @tragedybunny @valeprati @lynnlovesthestars @marina-and-the-memes @waking-electric @ayselluna @connorsui @asterordinary @darkarchangel96 @locallegume @brainfullofhotsauce @coffeeanddonutscafe @my-queen-rhaenyra-targaryen @queenofthespacesquids

#astarion #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 astarion #astarion romance #bg3 #astarion bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #astarion x tav #named tav #baldur's gate tav #baldur's gate iii #astarion established relationship #barbarian tav #half elf tav #hurt/comfort #tiriel of the sunset mountains #tiriel the barbarian #astarion x tiriel #oc tav: tiriel #astarion ancunin #astarion baldurs gate #astarion baldurs gate 3 #astarion brainrot #astarion fanfic #astarion fic #astarion fluff #astarion fanfiction #astarion imagine #baldurs gate 3 astarion #astarion fics

[casanovawrites]

random sentence prompts  ━ from various tv shows, part 6

you saw me as someone worth saving.

i didn’t want what happened to change the way you saw me.

we’re gonna get through this. we kind of have to.

sometimes our mistakes follow us.

in fact, i did not start out a bad person.

glory’s fine. revenge is more fun.

as usual, i make the wrong decision.

i was scared. i’m just tired of being scared. 

all that rage is bad for your complexion. 

you are so sweet and naive and dumb.

curious. how many more rock bottoms are you going to have to hit before you start taking care of yourself?

i used to think a lot of shit matters.

talking makes things real. and real things end.

i wanted to be a part of your world. but i didn’t know your world was like this. 

i’m so sick of people telling me who i am.

the guilt of it all. what are we supposed to do with that? 

i don’t want to be afraid anymore.

it’s like i always used to need someone else to make me feel whole. 

you didn’t let me down.

you’re this fiery, passionate person.

we’re working to stop the monsters and to stop people from turning into monsters.

it’s important to have an exit plan that’s more than just an exit.

maybe it’s not so bad when you’re the one holding the knife.

at least i know who i am.

i’m nobody’s guiding light.

i don't belong to anybody.

i was alone. surrounded by people, but still alone.

rise and shine, we’re in hell. 

this is the worst it’s been. that feeling in the pit of my stomach.

you’re going dark on me again.

if you’re bullshitting me, i don’t care.

i never wanted to be the bad guy.

why did anyone ever do shit for me when all i ever did was let them down?

look at you, always standing in my fucking way.

your memory is like… lethally selective.

what if we end up making each other freaking miserable?

what if i hurt you? i’ve hurt people before. very badly.

for what it’s worth, i’m proud of you.

you’re the future, kid. never forget that. 

i guess i just want it to make some kind of sense.

however this plays out, i’m seeing it through with you.

you’ve done a lot, no question. but there is always more.

you believed in me when i didn’t.

this may shock you, but not everyone here likes you.

this place makes you face your demons or something, and turns out, your demons are really fucking ugly.

maybe in the end it’ll be me and you trying together. 

maybe it makes me selfish. i don’t think it makes me wrong.

there’s a whole world out there for you. go. fight for it. be brave.

i'm talking the greater good. doesn't always have to be what's best for everybody.

it doesn’t matter how shitty they are. it still fucks you up when they’re gone.

sometimes, someone comes into your life at just the right moment, you know?

stop being mad at me for wanting a different future.

you’re not like the others. but you know that, don’t you?

this isn’t pressure. it’s winning. 

i want a life where we can just… be. 

the worst has already fucking happened. i don’t think i’ve got it in me to be that scared about something that could be good.

we can’t save anyone until we save ourselves.

if you’re with me, i need you to say it.

what gives you the right to choose who lives and who dies?

i don’t know how this is going to end or what happens to me, but for whatever it’s worth, i am with you. 

why am i always doing bad things in your dreams?

you don’t trust anybody else to take care of things.

enough people have died. 

tell me you didn’t kill anyone. if you say it, i’ll believe you.

thank you for believing in me. 

i don’t wanna die.

i was just following your lead the whole time. we all were.

i’m not a hero. i’m just helping a friend.

i don’t think this is goodbye. 

you need someone to help get you there, and you have to get there.

i’m sorry you met me, but i’m glad i got to know you. i’ll never forget you.

can’t i just blame everything on my mother and be done with it?

the whole world’s haunted.

i did monstrous things. 

you’re happy. which you’re allowed to be, in case you didn’t know.

just because someone saved your life doesn’t mean you have to live the rest of it for them.

it is not up to you to carry everyone else.

put your trust in other people. in me.

sometimes, helping hurts like hell.

i just wish sometimes i had a map to figure you out.

it’s a crazy world out here, full of people who sometimes disappoint us, but it’s damn beautiful.

i’m sorry. small words for something so big.

what do you live for? living takes effort now, it takes everything. those still alive have their reasons.

the world is nothing without hope.

think about what you want. what you truly want.

the bad things we do must be done. we carry that burden so the others don’t have to.

i’m gonna screw with your life just like the way you did with mine.

this place, it’s safe. it’s good for everybody.

we take what we got, and we make it work.

they changed the game, so we change how we play.

oh my god, you killed him.

#* #sentence prompts #ask memes #rp ask meme #rp sentence prompts #one liner starters #ask meme #meme

[geekishfangirl]

I can’t view Batman/Bruce as a real hero

So I’ve gotten into DC recently, or more specifically I’ve gotten into the Batfam, and the more I learn about Bruce Wayne the harder it is for me to look to him as a hero.

I’ll preface all this by saying I have consumed very little DC content, so if something I say is not actually canon pls let me know.

It started when I learned that this man seemingly has an absolute no kill rule. Not a “I try to avoid killing and only do it when absolutely necessary” rule, but a “I refuse to kill anyone no matter the circumstances” rule. I honestly hate this because it’s not effective in any way. Take the Joker for example, Batman has to fight him over and over again because they simply cannot seem to keep that man in prison and Batman won’t kill him or let anyone else do it. I think this is because he wants to believe that anyone can change, and they can, but just because they CAN doesn’t mean that they WILL. People have to choose to change and the Joker has had like 30 chances to do so, yet he continues to kill innocent people. How many innocents have to die before someone acknowledges that the Joker will never choose to be a better person and finally decide to do what’s necessary to protect everyone? They either need to find a way to keep him in jail or just take him out.

This got worse when I learned about Jason Todd. Here you have a poor boy taken in by Bruce, who idealizes him and views him as a father, and when he gets kidnapped, tortured, and murdered by the Joker he dies alone. When he is brought back to life, he’s mad at Bruce, not because Bruce didn’t save him, but Bruce didn’t kill the Joker to avenge him. Because Bruce didn’t love him more than he loved Justice. Hell, even on his grave, “A good soldier”. I’ve seen ppl say that maybe he didn’t say son because he didn’t want to erase their family ties and the kids never took his last name and sure, I get that. But putting a good soldier instead? He didn’t have to do that. Jason wasn’t a soldier, he was a little boy. It seems like Bruce forgets that about the Robins sometimes. (None of this is even getting into my feelings about Bruce taking in multiple children and having them fight crime, literally risking their lives every night but then this rant would be even longer)

And apparently Bruce fucking decks Dick because Dick was asking him why he let him become Robin before he was ready? Bro cannot take any criticism for his actions I swear. I mean, even if he never officially adopts them (I’m very confused on that tbh) he does still view them as his kids. He still helped raise them. After all, they were all underage when he met them and took them in. So to straight up deck your eldest and tell him to get out literally right after your other kid was murdered solely because he questioned you is actually wild.

Then you have the whole batarang incident, which just makes me question his morals more because he’s got the whole “no killing whatsoever” thing going on but then decides, “I won’t kill the man who murdered my son and countless other innocents, but I can and will slit my son’s throat and leave him for dead.” Like, HUH??? Also, didn’t Dick accidentally kill the Joker once and Bruce went out of his way to REVIVE HIM? Honestly feels like Bruce has some weird relationship with the Joker cause he seems to care about him more than anything. LET THAT MONSTER DIE!

I saw someone say that they thought the “no killing” thing wasn’t effective but was accurate to Bruce’s character because his vigilanteism isn’t actually mainly about helping but about punishing himself for what happened to his parents. And if you kill the villains when you need to, you can’t keep punishing yourself through fighting them. Like a self-sabotage thing. I thought that was super interesting but it would also just go along with him not being a truly effective hero, cause he won’t make the hard calls that are sometimes needed.

In conclusion, while I am sure Bruce has done good for people, it’s hard to see him as a truly effective hero (or a good person/father for that matter) when he does stuff like this.

#batman #bruce wayne #jason todd #the red hood #red hood #dc robin #dick grayson #night wing #richard grayson #the joker #dc joker #batfam #batfamily #dc comics #dcu #dc universe #ao3 #archive of our own #fanfic #fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #bruce wayne is a bad father #might get hate for this but this is how I see it #Justice for Jason Todd #jason todd deserves better #Dick Grayson deserves better #all the Robins deserve better tbh #rant post #rant

[thecuriousquest]

It’s Too Fucking Hot in Here

Yandere Dabi x Reader

Tag List: @issamomma (If you want to be part of the tag list, just let me know)

Warnings: Yandere themes, sadism, violence, edging, virginity loss, slight non con, orgasms, sexual punishment, sexual interrogation, spanking, fire use (it’s Dabi)

Summary: You’re a new hero who has been caught by Dabi, and now, you’re being interrogated.

Checkout my Master List here.

—————————————————————————

You are on patrol, a new hero assigned to an agency that really believes you have something to offer. You’re young, fresh blood, a pretty image to splash across billboards to bring hope to the new generation.

Stalking across rooftops, looking for prey in your black, skin-tight costume, you see a man with a hand covering his face waltz into a bar with a girl following behind him. She looks so young. You can’t help but find the whole thing off putting. Maybe this is your chance to shine, to bring in someone for letting kids in a bar.

You sneak closer from roof top to roof top. Making sure the coast is clear, you find your way to the ground by sliding down a gutter pipe. The door stands in your way. You need to at least poke your head in, but that’s probably a horrible idea. You shift around, looking for a window that you could peak through. It’s less compromising, and it’s also your only option. Looking around for a window isn’t exactly easy. There’s one high up, but it probably won’t lead you to looking directly into the bar.

You sigh as you heft yourself up onto a ledge. PARKOUR!

Looking in, you see it’s so dark. Your visual prowess is great at night because part of your quirk is night vision. That is until you spot something truly horrifying. The utter deformity of these monsters, there’s no other word for it. You’ve seen them on the news, reeking havoc, inspiring fear in civilians and heroes. Nomu.

You scramble off the ledge, falling on your back. It knocks the wind out of you. Sputtering a cough, you wince as you sit up. That is until a boot is pushing you back down on the ground. You grasp at the sole, but the person is putting almost all of their weight on the side of your face.

“Look at what I caught.” He removes his boot from your cheek.

You immediately start rubbing at the sore muscles and flesh. Managing a glance at him, you’re just as horrified by what’s standing in front of you. His burnt purple flesh held together by staples. His eyes cut into you like the first sip of cyanide.

Is that the grim reaper? Oh, God, am I close to death?!

You cry out, fear overcoming your entire body. “I don’t wanna die! I’m not ready to die. Please, I’m not ready to go with you! I’m too young for this!”

Meanwhile, this stranger has no idea what you’re rambling on about. He crouches down in front of you, placing a hand on your jaw to force you to look at him. “Doll Face, I’m not gonna kill you. Well, I won’t if you comply. We need to get you somewhere else first.”

Lip wobbling, eyelashes damp, bladder nearly exploding from trepidation, you find your voice weak and whispering, “Where are we going?”

“That’s for me to know,” he stands up, “and for you to find out.” The boot comes back on your head, but there’s a force behind it that leaves you falling against the pavement. You see white spots of light as your eyes close before darkness consumes you.

———

When you wake up, you feel horrible. Your head aches so badly you want to vomit. Holy shit, you find that even your neck is in pain. Groaning, you try to roll your shoulders, stretch your neck, pull your head from side to side.

The second thing you notice is that when you try to rub your cheek, you can’t move your hands. They’re tied behind your back. Sighing out of disappointment, you bide your time by taking in your surroundings.

You’re in a bedroom, a dirty bedroom for that matter. There are clothes on the floor, paint chipping off the walls, a bed that you wouldn’t want to sleep on from the looks of it, and the chair that you’re helplessly bound to.

Combing through your brain for a strategy in your groggy state is like trying to catch an owl in a small jar. You might as well take this time to rest.

Then, there’s a whistle slicing through the air. “Wow, you look like shit.”

You scoff. “Feel like it too,” you mumble, trying to sit up a little more.

“I gave you a nice little gift last night. Wanna see it?”

He doesn’t give you the chance to reject his offer as he shows you your reflection through his phone. It’s a nice shiner running all the way from your temple to your cheek, right where he kicked you with the toe of his boot last night.

You glare up at him, angry that he had left such a disgusting bruise on you, angry that you weren’t able to even fight him. “What do you want from me?”

“Answers,” he states matter-of-factly as he sits down on the bed. “The name’s Dabi. I already know who you are Onyx Fury, or should I say Y/N.”

“How…how do you know my name?”

“Wasn’t that hard to figure out, sweets. Do you always ask this many questions?”

“Only when I’ve been kidnapped,” you spit at him. Kidnap is new to you but banter isn’t. You could go on for a long while before running out of something to say.

Dabi leans forward, elbows resting comfortably against his knees. His black hair brushing against his eyes while he stares into your soul.

God, he’s creepy.

“Here’s the deal. You tell me everything you saw or heard, and I’ll think about not killing you. You’ll get bonus points if it involves another hero.”

You chew on your lip. “Why should I tell you shit? You’ll probably just kill me anyway.”

“Aw, come on, Doll. I can be a nice guy. Could make you feel real good too.” He stands up, walking forward with purpose. He settles right next to you placing a hand on the back of your neck. It takes everything in you not to shiver under his grip.

“Or maybe, I’ll let myself feel good buried in between those legs of yours, and you can beg for me to let you come.” His sneer is like a punch to your gut.

You can’t help the tremor coursing up your spine. Dabi pinches your neck, feeling the vibrations coming off of your body.

Leaning down, the villain whispers in your ear, “Are you scared? You look like you’re about to piss yourself.”

You puff your chest out and suck in a breath of defiance. “Go f-fuck yourself!” It was an accomplishment getting that sentence out, only tripping on one word.

“Oh, I will, and I’ll come all over that pretty face of yours.” He slaps your cheek playfully.

———

Released from the chair, you’re stripped naked and pressed up against the wall to the point where your nipples are crying for relief. His teeth come down in a searing pain against your shoulder. His hand making a mockery of a gentle lover’s smooth touches as he grips your thighs and breasts with brute strength.

Dabi overwhelms you with needless jabs, tearing at your character, your pride. “I thought you were supposed to be some big hero. You look so fucking weak and pathetic. Come on, Doll, put up more of a fight for me. Make things interesting. What? You wanna tap out already? Too bad. I’m just getting started. Nowhere near done with that tight little cunt.”

What point is there? How are you supposed to fight him when your hands are pinned behind your back and feet spread so far apart that the bones in your hips ache for a normal posture.

“Yeah, keep crying for me. I like that shit.”

Your tears don’t even register until you feel him wiping them up with his fingers and shoving them down your throat. You gag as his nails graze the inside of your mouth. He pulls his hand away before slapping your velvet folds.

“Don’t you fucking touch me there!” You hope you sound scary, you hope he takes your words to heart.

Oh, you poor idiot. Dabi laughs in your ear with lascivious intent. His fingers tracing the outline of your pussy before working their way inwards towards your clit. His wet hand rubbing at you with primal lust.

“I’ll get you to fuckin’ talk, bitch. Don’t worry. Let good ol’ Dabi take care of you first.”

With your cunt clenching around his fingers, you find yourself in a daze when he removes his hand and enters you with a shockingly hard force. His cock jabs into you. You’re not sure if the sound that just exited your mouth was a gasp or a moan of pleasure. Either way, he’s the one making the real ruckus behind you.

“Oh, fuck, you’re so tight! Goddamnit! Fuck, you a virgin? Who am I kidding. Not with that fucking outfit you just had on.”

His words cut deep. You like your costume. You never assumed anything sexual about it before. It’s great for combat, climbing, jumping, doing whatever activities you need to at night. You start to wonder if other people think the same thing he’s thinking.

“Fucking slut. You probably take as much cock as you can get.” He lets out an animalistic grunt of satisfaction. “Probably can’t go a few hours without- AH -begging for some dick. Oh fuck, gonna pound that slutty pussy good.”

You can’t help clenching around him. You can’t help the dirty sounds your slicked up cunt makes. It’s out of your control. The warm buzzing in your womb that started out low is now electrifying in your core. You rut your hips back into him, trying to chase that feeling of release. It builds, it builds up so much, the pressure is too much for you to hold onto any longer.

As soon as you feel like you’re going to reach your climax, Dabi’s cock pulls out of you, and you’re thrown onto the bed. Your head bounces against the mattress twice. Trying to wrap your brain around what’s going on, you feel the bed dip beneath the fully grown man’s weight. He crawls in between your legs, nestling there, waiting for you.

You sniffle. You aren’t quite sure what he wants. You didn’t feel him come in you or on you. Surely, he isn’t done. He sure as fuck doesn’t look done.

Your hand travels down to your tingling juices, trying to find relief from the built up pressure that’s still hanging around. Dabi forces you to lie back on the mattress, and with one hand, he has your wrists trapped above your head.

He’s not talking. He’s chuckling darkly as he waits you out. You feel something slip away from you. That feeling you wanted so badly to chase down and grab onto is gone. You don’t understand what that was.

“What…what just happened? What was that?”

And then his laugh becomes more than a dark chuckle. It becomes something that a bully would shove in your face paired with taunting words.

“Oh shit, you really were a virgin.”

Not wanting to admit it before but too curious for your own good now, you nod.

“You wanted to come, and I took that away from you.”

“Well, can you give it back?”

Your phrasing is awkward, it’s the phrase only an inexperienced soul would ask.

“Sure, babe, I can give it back. You just need to tell me what I wanna know.”

You don’t want to give him anything. You need to hold out. You have to hold out. You can’t break in the face of this villain. It would be nice to come as Dabi put it, but you need to be a hero first. Your needs have to come second, literally.

Dabi sees the fight in your eyes, conflict brewing like a storm. He coos at you. You look so sweet for him, all spread out. Just like before, he fucks you hard again, ramming into you with a force to be reckoned with. His cock is teasing your cervix with a pleasant pain until he’s rubbing against that same sweet spot he found earlier.

A thin sheet of sweat coats your body, causing your breasts to glisten in the dim yellow light of the room. You watch him palm your breasts, getting off to the squelching sound your wet pussy makes every time he pumps you.

Sweat from his brow drips onto your chest. He mutters a curse before whispering in your ear. “Fucking try anything, and I’ll light your ass on fire.” With that said, he gives your wrists a rest as he stands up, pulling his long sleeve shirt off.

Oh God, he really is a burn victim, you think as you take in his burnt flesh. The staples shine under the light, and you notice you’ve been staring too long.

“Like what you see or just scared? Doesn’t matter either way,” Dabi states as he shucks the rest of his clothes off. He starts pawing at you again as he climbs back on top of you. He’s nipping at your neck, sucking your sensitive skin as he resumes the rough fucking from earlier.

Just as you’re built up to that same pressure as before, Dabi quickly pulls it away from you. Leaving you unable to finish, he lets his white seed spurt all over your chest and face. You flinch when the warm liquid comes into contact with your skin. How degrading. With this game he’s playing, it’s going to be a long night.

———

As he bottoms out once again, his balls slapping your cunt from behind, he palms the meat of your ass. The villain delivers a stinging slap with something burning hot backing it up. You look over your shoulder and see that his hand is ON FUCKING FIRE! Blue flames swarm his palm, and you’re scared half to death. You didn’t know that’s what his quirk was. You had no idea when he made that threat earlier.

You scream in pain with every forceful spank, your head sinking into the mattress below you. You place your hands on the back of your head, gripping at your hair, doing whatever you can to cope with the pain. You’ll be dealing with a sore bottom for days. You’re sure of it.

“Stop! Please, fuck! Dabi!” Snot leaks out of your nose. “It hurts!”

“Yeah? No shit.” He doesn’t sound the least bit sorry. He continues going to town on your ass, searing the flesh with his fiery palm. He even has the audacity to laugh at you while you’re in such a vulnerable state: head down, rear end up just for him to play with.

You’re depleted of energy. He’s really putting you through the wringer with all of this. He tortured you for the fifth time by not letting you come, and now, he’s degrading you with such a childish punishment.

Out of nowhere, he’s tearing you away from the bed, forcing you to bend at the waist as he presses himself against you from behind. You lose your footing as he hooks your leg around his waist, creating an angle for more depth.

It doesn’t take long for him to get hard or for your orgasm to slip away from you once again. The sudden realization hits you as you feel Dabi nest his cock right at the entrance between your thighs. No, not again. You can’t go through this again!

“Please, Dabi!”

“Please, Dabi,” he mocks, making his voice high pitched. “Please, Dabi what? What do you want, Doll Face?” Long gone is the high pitch as he resumes his regular tone. Once again, he’s barreling into you, his cock prouder than it’s ever been. “Want me to go faster?” He presses into you. “Want me to go harder?” You feel the tip of his dick pushing further inside of you.

You croak out a moan, you want to kick your feet, but you can’t. Fuck it feels so good as he pushes into you further and further, not even rocking his hips back a little. You pound your fists against the bed in frustration from how good it feels.

“Wanna come!” Is all you manage to tell him, beg him.

“Aw, you wanna come? I don’t think you deserve to come. You haven’t given me anything I want yet.”

This is a nightmare. Your pussy is throbbing from how much action it has suffered. You can’t possibly go another round with him. Even if you pass out, fall into a coma, you know you’ll wake up at some point after your body has healed, and you know you’ll just end up right back in the arms of this flame thrower.

“Nomu! I saw the Nomu!” You sob into your arms.

Dabi pauses. Nobody is supposed to know about the Nomu room. How the hell did you manage to find out about them? Dabi didn’t know you saw them when he found you on your ass in the alleyway since he didn’t see you fall. He assumed you saw or heard something you shouldn’t have at the bar, took off, and then tripped on your way out. This is a big revelation.

Grumbling a curse, he ruts into you, picking up his pace. Friction is the name of the game, and you love it. You love the juices running down your thighs, you love the feeling of his cock buried inside of you.

Just a simple thrust is all it takes to send you over the edge. You can’t believe how good an orgasm feels. It leaves you convulsing a few times before your body settles. Dabi drops your leg, and you yelp as you fall against the floor. Pushing yourself up isn’t easy. You pull yourself forward, using the mattress as leverage. The same mattress that you eyed earlier that you said you’d never want to touch, well here you are, falling asleep on it.

Dabi leans over you, still naked. You’re both still completely nude. He brushes stray locks from your face before flicking the bruise on your cheek.

You wake up, startled by the sudden pain in your face. Looking at him for answers, he gives them to you.

“It looks like I can’t let you go after all since you saw something you shouldn’t have. It’s alright, though. I’ll take care of that pretty pussy whenever you need me to.”

#my hero acedamia #boku no hero academia #triggering content #triggering themes #yandere #yandere x you #yandere x reader #yandere x y/n #yandere x darling #yandere x resisting reader #mha dabi #dabi my hero academia #yandere dabi #yandere dabi x reader

[whump-in-the-closet]

Motivations for Whumpee-turned-Whumper/ Hero-turned-Villain

Revenge. Anger burns away at them. There’s no rest, no sleep at night. They hate the world and the world hates them. It’s their own personal hell and the only way out will be paved in their enemy’s blood. Time to sharpen that blade, polish those knives. Someone is going to pay.

“Divine” Justice. Closely related to Revenge, but this time they think their enemies deserve the punishment. They see themselves as being entirely in the right. Justice is blind, isn’t it? Well, their enemies will never see the light of day again. It’s only fair, to take what their enemies took from them.

No Choice. There’s the cold, detached metal of gun to their head. The creeping intimacy of knife to their throat. Free will? How about a hissed, “Do as I say”? They make others suffer and in return the pressure at their throat relents. It’s a kill or be killed world after all.

Convinced. Should they? Should they not? The pros and cons are weighed and found wanting. The Villain is starting to make a lot of sense— and really, what is morality but the following of one’s conscience? Morality is biased. It doesn’t make sense. Maybe they’ve been on the wrong side all along.

The End Justifies the Means. Sure, it’s wrong but just wait. Pulling out this person’s teeth will give us the information we need. If that doesn’t work, we will flog them. But in the end, it’ll be okay, because we will have the information. What’s one life compared to many?

You Created a Monster. Their name, once one their friends called down the hall, is now a threat half-whispered. That name is a hallmark of fear and terror. Everyone knows who they are and what they’ve done. They disappeared for a while, but they returned dripping with scars and someone else’s blood. Who knows— if someone had held them while they screamed— if their friends had lived— maybe they wouldn’t be who they are now.

#am i working on this instead of the cyoa #indeed i am #work and exams are killing me #so here i am #writing whump prompts #whump prompts #whump writing #whump #whumpblr #whump community #whump ideas #whumper turner whumpee #hero turned villain #cw mentioned mouth gore #cw mentioned flogging #cw torture

[bestworstcase]

I have a question about some of your Salem thoughts

If Salem is 110% certain that she can take down the Gods (assuming that's her goal since we don't actually know), why wouldn't she communicate her plan to Oz? Especially if she truly doesn't want anyone to die like you say. Oz would jump at the bit if Salem said "Hey I want to stop fighting" since that would mean their shadow war would stop. I really don't think Oz likes the Gods either, and even if he's afraid of them, if *Salem* is that confident she can stop them (she's far from an idiot), I'm sure he'd at least hear her out (which would tell Salem a LOT).

If she's that confident and truly doesn't want to fight, why wouldn't she tell Oz her new plan? And why would she kickstart her plan by attacking the kingdoms/Academies? Surely she could find a way to steal the Relics without flat out attacking them (like sending in double agents to take the Maiden powers)? Like... she would've known she'd get people killed, including children and innocent people. Even if she did damage control (which I think is just strategic, why bother going after people if she's focusing on the Relics? She's not gonna waste precious time and resources), she surely knew people would get caught in the crossfire.

Don't get me wrong, I like what you bring to the table!! Your posts are thought provoking and unique. But I can't see Salem being somehow secretly good. I don't think the show is setting her up that way, and I think she's a fantastic villain, so from my own perspective, doing that kind of twist would be a disservice to her character. I don't think she's inhuman or a complete and total monster who should go, but she's definitely not a good person especially if she can't communicate that she supposedly doesn't want people dead. She seems to be an "the ends justify the means" kind of person, and the show I think has stated that that isn't a good mindset i.e. Ironwood.

Sorry, I rambled and completely strayed from my point 😅 I don't mean to be mean if I come across that way. I hope my ask is interesting or thought provoking though :P

my position is that salem is right, not that she’s secretly good—that is an important distinction. i think she sees the gods clearly for what they are, thinks the divine ultimatum repulsive and unjust, wants remnant to be free, and believes that humanity is transcendent over their creators; she also, quite plainly, does not have any compunction about doing whatever it takes to achieve her ends and while i do think she is still fully capable of and driven by love, she is so TERRIFIED of being hurt again and so CERTAIN that no one could ever care for her that when she does care for someone else it comes out in very, very twisted and often cruel ways. she’s not good, she’s not nice, she’s just right.

equally the heroes are good but not right, because they have yet to really grapple with the premise of the divine mandate (that humanity as it exists right now does not deserve to exist) or their own role in upholding it (their immediate goal is survival, but when they envision the ending of this war they imagine salem driven back and the relics squirreled away again in hope of at best everlasting stalemate). the point of structuring the narrative this way is that neither side can get to the proverbial good ending alone; they need to work together, salem’s ends with the heroes’ means.

like. she’s evil. lol. that’s not in question and i think it goes without saying that she is doing evil things so i don’t feel the need to make a “but she’s still evil though” disclaimer every time i try to tease out what’s going on in her head. notice how my reaction to salem razing vale was OH GLINDA LAYS SIEGE TO THE EMERALD CITY, WE’RE REALLY IN IT NOW and not, like, shock or dismay that salem would do such a terrible thing. brgdfjs

(i DO think she has mostly been trying to avoid ozma and not reciprocating the shadow crusade against her prior to about fourteen years ago and that she isn’t about wanton destruction or killing for the sake of it; and in that sense i think she’s not as bad as the general fanon reading. but that comes with the territory of thinking she has actual reasons for doing what she does as opposed to being, like, a genocidal lunatic.)

anyway. to your questions. the short answer is she’s just as scared of oz as he is of her.

“but he’s the good one!”—think about this from her perspective for a minute. set aside your opinion of her and oz, presuppose for the moment that i’m correct on her motivations, and consider what everything ozma’s done in the last few thousand years looks like to her.

she knows that the gods were monsters. she witnessed them slaughtering the whole world and she saw how little it mattered to them after. she was alone for millions of years, and then hated and feared for thousands of years because she didn’t look human. all that suffering because the gods are punishing her for praying to them. yes?

then ozma returns to her, somehow. he doesn’t explain how or why—maybe he tells her he just doesn’t know—but that’s alright. what matters is that he’s here. he asks what happened to her, and she tells him the truth: the gods ended the world. cursed her. killed everyone. she was alone for so long. (maybe not the whole truth: there are things she’s afraid to say, because the gods did it all to punish her, and it’s her fault, and she’s so scared that he’d despise her if he knew everything. the only reason for her to fear ozma would reject her is if she blamed herself. you don’t hide things out of shame if you don’t feel ashamed of them.)

they learn each other again. fall in love all over again. things are finally okay. they fix up her house. they’re happy together. one day ozma tells her that he’s worried about how divided people are. she wants so badly to make him happy; she would move mountains for him. salem herself has no interest in ruling over people as a god—if she did, she wouldn’t have been living alone in a rotting shack in the middle of nowhere—all that enthusiasm is for him. to support what he wants.

they build a following, found a prosperous kingdom, start a family. four children! how long do you think they were married—ten years? twenty? and the whole time, the whole time, ozma was keeping these secrets from her. that the god of light, who’d condemned her to eternal suffering for praying to his brother, who’d shown utter indifference to the deaths of millions, had sent him back to redeem humanity FROM HER SINS, from what SALEM did. that the point of all this is cleansing humankind of her defiance and inviting THAT MONSTER to remnant to judge whether this world deserved to be subjugated under the brothers’ tyranny again or else be put to death.

imagine how she must have felt when ozma finally told her the truth, knowing that the first thing she told him was that the gods ended the last one. imagine the sickening realization that their whole marriage is built on a lie, because she would never, ever, ever have agreed to help him unite the world if she had known what he sought to unite them for, and ozma knew she never would. that he deceived her! manipulated her into serving the will of a god she knows to be a monster!

and even then—even to the very end—she loved him enough to try. she was willing to forgive all of that and figure out a way to move past it together, and the only thing she asked was that he walk away from his task of submitting this world to the judgment of THAT MONSTER. and he wouldn’t do it.

there’s a gap we don’t get to see, in between ozma backing away from her and salem catching him leaving with the girls, but we can infer that ozma walked out of that room and salem didn’t. imagine how she felt. ten years, twenty years, however long it was, and he was lying to her through it all, and he left her with hardly a moment’s hesitation when she refused to help him enact THAT MONSTER’S retribution against herself. because that is, ultimately, what this is all about; humanity is found guilty by association with her.

imagine how she felt. used. worthless. duped. like a fool for ever trusting him. did he ever love her at all, or was that a lie, too?

when she caught him in the hallway later that night, they both attack each other in the same instant. ozma remembers her attacking him first, but their volleys meet in perfect symmetry and right before salem throws her first bolt of magic, her eyes flicker down in surprise as she tracks the motion of his staff (which we see in the previous shot)—salem remembers him attacking her first.

because they were both so tense and scared and angry at each other that they snapped in exactly the same moment.

their battle is so intense they blow up the castle, and when the smoke clears, salem is a pile of ash. ash! he incinerated her! imagine how enraged you have to be to burn someone to ash. that level of fury, of absolute hatred of her, is literally burnt into her memory as the last thing he did to her before she managed to kill him, inextricably twisted around the guilt and unbearable grief she feels for her children.

he’s dedicated all but a handful of his lives since then to getting rid of her. finding a way to destroy her. (how far is he willing to go? what would happen if salem tried to move on, find community and solace somewhere far away from him? would he come after her? would he follow his god’s example and go after the people she cared about to punish her? is she willing to risk that he might?)

do you think salem understands why ozma did any of this? she doesn’t. she doesn’t get the luxury we do of jinn narrating his side of the story and showing us the anguish he felt, wanting so desperately to be with salem but eaten alive by terror of dooming the world for his happiness. she doesn’t know.

all she knows is how he treated her: the secrets, the deception, the manipulation, the immediate and absolute rejection when she told him no, the explosively violent anger at the end, then centuries upon centuries systematically erasing her from history and enforcing her exile whilst searching for the relics he needs to summon his god for the final judgment. which she knows will inevitably end in the annihilation of the whole world and yet more torture for her with no hope of reprieve, because if all of this was not enough to satisfy the god of light’s grudge against her for, again, just praying to his brother, nothing ever will.

salem feels about ozma now the way blake felt about adam. why did he lie to her, why did he use her, why does he keep coming back, why won’t he just LEAVE HER ALONE, hasn’t she suffered enough, hasn’t she been punished enough, when will it be enough—and intertwined with that, she is being EATEN ALIVE by the conviction that no one could ever truly care about her or feel for her or want to help her or think that she deserves help or even just see her as a person, because if ozma—ozma, the one who saved her from her father’s tower, who knew her and loved her before all of this happened—if ozma thought her so worthless that he would rather serve a god who ended the last world and promises to condemn this one too than suffer her to exist at all in this world, why the fuck would anyone else be any different?

thousands of years later, she still flies off the handle when anyone lies to her. (except cinder. but cinder is always the exception, to every rule.) there’s a reason she recruits the kind of people she does—desperate, broken, angry people starving for something she can promise to give them if they make themselves useful to her—and it’s because she does not believe that she can get anything better than strictly transactional relationships with people who have literally nothing and nowhere else to turn. and when she actually cares about someone? she fights herself tooth and claw over it because she desperately doesn’t want to open herself up to more heartbreak. look at how erratic and cruel she is with cinder.

it’s not rational. salem is smart and very, very tactically shrewd but she is making all of her plans and all of her choices from the assumption that she is and will always be alone in this, because she is unlovable, because she is worthless, because she is the reason this world is damned. and she’s terrified of ozma because to her everything he does suggests that his conviction and dedication to the god of light has never wavered. she cannot see his doubt. she cannot see his misery. she cannot see how much he misses her and desperately wants to make amends. all she can see is that he’s zealously guarding the relics and spreading his god’s word and training children to fight and die in the name of keeping her exiled.

why doesn’t ozma just go to her and tell her he wants to make amends? because he’s terrified she’ll never forgive him and terrified that he’ll damn the world to annihilation if he follows his heart. they’re the same. they’re exactly the same.

but this is also what makes it so possible—even easy—for salem to undergo a villain-to-hero arc, because the only thing that needs to happen is a spark of real hope. that someone, anyone, could really care about her. like. the things she says in her soliloquies about the transformative power of hope? “even the smallest spark of hope is enough to ignite change,” and “it’s true that a simple spark can ignite hope, breathe fire into the hearts of the weary…”—that’s her. one small reason to hope. that is all she needs to change.

she doesn’t want to be razing kingdoms to the ground or cutting a bloody path through children to get those relics. she is willing to do it because she truly, genuinely, from the depths of her soul believes that it’s the only way to free herself from the torture she’s been subjected to for millions of years. she’s driven to this by desperation. she won’t keep doing it if she’s given a reason to feel less desperate.

but she does need to be given a reason, first. she’s hemorrhaging. this is why the winnowing of her inner circle and the split between everyone else in vacuo versus salem + cinder + summer in vale is important; Those Two are the ones she cares about—technically we don’t know for sure regarding summer yet, but the level of trust she has for the lieutenant holding beacon is suggestive—and that being reciprocated is what ignites her hope.

#she IS a fantastic villain #but what makes her so compelling as a villain is all the contradiction and tension in her character #how deeply she loves vs her deep conviction of being unlovable. not wanting to hurt people vs believing it’s the only way to free herself. #everything she does is so intensely personal and so circumscribed by the fear of rejection #these opposing forces drive change because they are pushing and shoving against each other inside her mind and the moment of culmination #occurs when one triumphs over the other. and then she changes in what i expect will be a startlingly dramatic fashion #(that doubles as writing advice btw if you want to write dynamic character arcs put unreconcilable contradictions in your characters)

[moodymisty]

Hi! Anon that wrote the huge ask about the yandere Night Lord (and implied yandere Salamander) scenario (the one with the in between pink coloured words), Ive been having thoughts about it again. And you know, the whole Knight fighting a Dragon dynamic becomes really funny when you think about how narrative-wise, all space marines are dragons.

A space marines, just like dragons. Are big huge monstercreatures who (in most cases) randomly arrive into a settlement of innocent people and wreak havoc all over the place (destroying cities, killing innocents, probably stealing some stuff if its a xenos settlement, and so on and so forth). They’re powerful, clever, and very hard to kill. You must kill them nonetheless. But the only difference between them and dragons is that space marines are, theoretically, on your side. They’re humanised enough for you to overlook the atrocities they commit. They’re doing this because it will help out humanity in the long term, they’re doing this because their primarch said so, they’re doing this because they think its right. But in the end it all boils down to how they have no other option, or a better way of phrasing it: its all that they can do. They’re made to kill. They’ve been irreparably transformed into something horrible and theres no going back from that, and its not like they had any choice in the matter either. You could even say that this mirrors the trope of someone’s greed and ego being the cause of a dragon to appear in a story (that someone in question being The Emperor)

So i find it kind of funny that in this scenario the Salamander sees himself as a knight. Like babe! You’re no different from any other space marine!! The fact that his legion interacts with people more doesn’t change who he is. He has just convinced himself that what he is, is noble. Like he’s some sort of symbol of hope and strength instead of being a walking talking murder weapon. He’s a dragon thats been brought up to think his scales are chainmail and that his claws are swords, that he’s totally not like his traitorous cousins, that he’s humanity’s loyal house dog instead of a fire breathing beast chained to a leash.

Yes he is fighting to save you, yes he loves you more than words could ever express. But to an outsiders perspective this isn’t a brave hero battling a monster to save his beloved, its two serpents fighting over the most sparkling jewel in a treasure hoard

I vehemently adore all of this. Particularly the part about how they think of themselves; As from their view of the story, they're the hero, but another might view them as the villain. Forgive my unfiltered, unrevised ramblings.

It reminds me of a moment from (I believe it was Unremembered Empire? forgive me if I'm wrong) where the Night Lords are waging war on Macragge and the civilians are seeing other Astartes besides the Ultramarines in action for the first time and realizing that, holy shit, these guys are actually horrifying. And looking at their 'protectors' in a whole new light. The Ultramarines proclaim they're different because they choose to be, but we've seen before that even the friendliest of space marines can change their tune when they feel it appropriate.

But back on topic. Salamanders.

Something relevant would be that even their beloved might possibly view them as that brave hero, at first. But as time goes on, they might see cracks in that visage and realize that the man guarding them is more beast than man, holding back a near animalistic desire for carnage. We know that even the most loving of Salamander is more than capable of being an emotionless killer when he desires it. Hell, you could even say it's a core part of them; It's not like you can muzzle a dragon. You can at best point them in the direction you want them to go.

Your Salamander might spare you some of the goriest of details, or the darkest parts of him, but you can see the tail wrapped around you, and how you're kept so close not only because of your safety, but also because he sees you as his. You're the treasure he's found, you're the jewel that rests on top of a pile of gold, and you're not going anywhere. He always looks at you(his treasure) fondly, but there's a possessiveness in his eyes that only gets worse over time.

Other Salamanders are seen as threats and thieves if they get too close. He's the hero of this story, duty bound to protect you even if he has to get his hands bloody. It's all for a purpose, therefor he's leagues different than the Night Lords that act as his chapter's opposite.

If you ever have to do your job or duty, and interact with other Salamanders or other members of humanity he's always right there; Guarding his treasure. And while he might technically be on a leash, it's extremely taught.

#Misty's book club #can you tell i really like the symbolism of Astartes being referred to as animals? #being beasts bred for a purpose with little outside of it? free will having been taken? even while free their minds changed irreparably? #even if they're angels and above humanity you can't deny that their creation makes them only useful for one purpose and denies them a life #outside of it. even if they manage to break the leash the collar still stays with them forever #space marine x reader #warhammer 40k x reader #the yandere salamander saga

[specialagentartemis]

Cut for discussion of rape in Greek mythology

People on this website often push back on the idolization/popularity of Odysseus as a character in Greek mythology compared to other kings and heroes of the Trojan War by saying “he did war crimes, too, he did objectively worse things than Agamemnon but he’s more charismatic.” I think the objectivity is questionable—you can argue he did worse things in Agamemnon, false surrender and killing civilians are war crimes now, but who did worse things I don’t think it’s objective—but aside from the general cultural popularity of the Odyssey, a pretty episodic story about a magic journey full of weird magic events and monsters that is appealing to casual Greek mythology enjoyers in a way that the Iliad isn’t— Odysseus does not have a specific rape story associated with him. And I do think that is pretty important for his modern day popularity.

Like the Iliad starts out with an argument between Agamemnon and Achilles over their slaves that they were very explicitly having sex with, Chryesis and Briesis. Agamemnon later takes Cassandra as a concubine/sex slave after the war. Neoptolemus takes Andromache as a concubine/sex slave similarly. Ajax rapes Cassandra in Athena’s temple. Odysseus’s slave prize at the end of the war was Hecuba, and the way I have seen it portrayed has never been sexual—like, it’s because misogyny, Hecuba is an older woman and has had lots of children and so she’s not a sexy virgin, but like, I’ve never seen that portrayed as sexual.

I’m not trying to excuse Odysseus or say it’s okay to make someone your slave as long as you don’t have sex with them—just making an observation that, I am almost positive this is one of the big reasons why Odysseus is so popular. He has a lot of stories about him, and none of them are about raping somebody. (You can definitely draw inferences from some of his mentions, like a line about the women of Ismarus, but like, the Iliad really starts with an argument over ownership of women that Agamemnon and Achilles have been raping.) In fact, he seems to tend to get sympathy for being a victim of rape himself.

When rape is one of the central organizing factors of discussing the morality of various Greek mythological figures—which, especially in a fandomy space like this, it undeniably is—there’s not then hypocrisy here!

(Why people like Achilles so much, though, that I don’t know. I’m biased though I don’t care about him.)

[lliminall]

fear will change us

[yandere!feitan x reader]

word count: 2.7k

tags: she/her reader, yandere, violent character death (not reader), kidnapping, feitan fucks shit up for you

You suppose it was only a matter of time before Feitan’s reputation bled into and infected your own life.

Well. Beyond what it had done to you already. You were hoping the first time you stepped out of his home in months would be under much different circumstances. Maybe you would finally outsmart him, or maybe some brave hero would come and scoop you up out of his hold, like one of those Hunters you hear about.

Feitan had reminded you more than once that your luck just wasn’t enough for wishful thinking like that.

The night is hot, sticky. Your thin nightclothes cling to your skin as you try fretfully to sleep, with little success. You had only just started to drift off when the sound of a heavy boot splintering the front door rips you from your sleep. Bolting upright in your bed, skin prickling despite the heat, you listen as those heavy boots and more make their way to your room and throw open your door as well, shining lights in your face, pinning your arms behind your back, asking you in a grating voice what a bitch like you is doing with a monster like him.

Feitan is not home. He was supposed to be, sometime tonight, but there are men in your room with hands fisted around your wrists who Feitan would not have hesitated to kill, and the fact that they are standing means that you’re alone in this. It’s a cruel testament to your horrible, horrible luck that the one time you want him he is nowhere to be found.

The man holding your wrists pulls you to your feet in front of him and pushes you out of your room, through the house where there’s another man waiting in the hallway, another by the hole where the front door used to be, and another waiting in a car outside. Four in total. They shove you into the waiting car and the locks click into place behind you, leaving you alone with the man behind the wheel. In the rearview mirror, your eyes meet his, and they do not quite have the same cold edge that Feitan’s have. You think that they’ve underestimated him. You think that, if he were here, he would have all of their heads. But he isn’t, and you’re locked in a strange car, and the other three men outside are deliberating over something while you shake in the backseat.

It occurs to you then that they didn’t come for Feitan at all. They had come for you. It makes sense, you suppose. You must be one of the only constants in the man’s life, soft and weak and easily broken. For someone as powerful as him, as intimidating to approach, it would be a fruitless endeavor to even try to cause him harm.

To hurt you instead must be the next best thing.

The passenger door swings open and one of the men slides into the seat.

“Chris wants to check the basement,” he says to the other. “See if there’s anything left from Ash.” The man in the driver’s seat scoffs.

“Like that prick would bother to keep anything from his victims. You know how many people these guys kill?”

The passenger raises a hand in surrender. “Chris’s vendetta, not mine. And besides, the spider won’t be back for another few days. I’ve had my guy keeping tabs on him.”

At that, your breathe hitches. Days until Feitan gets back? Are they wrong? Did Feitan lie to you about his return date? It wouldn’t be the first time. You think of all the things these men could do to you in that time, the distance they could take you, further from Feitan, further from your own only hope. Wet heat prickles behind your eyes and you bite your cheek to keep it from spilling over.

“Tell him to hurry up at least,” the driver grumbles. “I don’t want to be here any longer than we have to be.”

And maybe your luck isn’t so terrible after all, because the moment the man closes his mouth, he and his partner are sitting bolt straight in their seats, eyes trained on the house, sensing something you can’t see, as if they’ve felt a shift in the energy around them. Whatever is there, they don’t like it, and the enemy of your enemy is probably your friend, right?

“Is that Chris?” the driver asks.

“Fuck no, I know his aura.”

“Then it’s Rick?”

“There’s two signatures and I only recognize one of them.” Panic has begun to bleed into the men’s voices, the driver’s hands tightening around the wheel.

“I thought you said you had tabs on the spider?!”

A window shatters, the sloppy figure of a man scrambling through. His focus is locked on something inside, and you watch as he rips a gun from the holster on his hip and unloads it into the house. Faster than your eyes can track, something small and dark flies through window and connects with the man’s hand, and he drops the gun with a shout as blood sprays.

He leaps away from the window, moving faster than any normal human should be capable of, and plants his bleeding palm on the ground. The earth around him shifts and breaks, and your breathe seizes as you watch three dark shapes claw out of the dirt, inky black and snarling with sharp teeth. They look like dogs, you think, and at an order from their master they growl like them, too.

Through the splintered front entrance, another figure emerges, stalking through with the nonchalance of a predator whose victory is ensured. You recognize the bandana around his neck, the eyes with the steel-cold edge your captors lack, and your heart races with hope. You’ve never been happier to see him. You’ve never been happy to see him at all, until now.

He steps into the glow of the headlights. There is blood on hands.

The car lurches. The men in front of you who’ve made no movement or sound are finally driven to action, driven by their fear, and your gut twists with nerves again as the car reverses down the driveway at reckless speed. Feitan’s gaze flicks to yours, and you plead with him, beg him with your eyes to please, please help me.

The dogs lunge at him and the car swerves onto the road. Feitan disappears behind the tree line. You are alone again.

“What the fuck are you doing!” the passenger cries. The driver’s hands are white-knuckled on the wheel. He doesn’t respond.

“I said what do you think you’re doing?! Turn around!”

“Like you were jumping out to fight him?!” the driver responds. “They’re dead, Sean, I’m not getting murdered for some other guy’s revenge scheme!”

“So you’re leaving him to fight that guy alone? We agreed to do all this together.”

“If you’re so eager to get your head chopped off, why don’t you jump out and run back to him?” the driver spits. Sean bristles, and his mouth snaps shut. His eyes betray his every thought as he considers it, considers running back to his friend who is certainly in a losing fight, and risking his own life for it. You watch the guilt settle in as he realizes he isn’t going to do it.

The drive is quiet for miles, save only for the rumble of the car flying down the dirt roads, and you are trembling with fear. Will Feitan find you? Are you even worth the effort to him? If your captors believe their friends are dead, how much more reason will they have to take all of their grief out on you? That prickling heat from before begins to build in your eyes again, but you don’t dare make a sound. If you sob, they will hear you, and if they hear you they’ll remember that you’re there, waiting for them to exact their retribution on.

The glow of the headlights casts a road sign into view ahead. TWENTY MILES TO SAVANNAH, it reads. It’s the first you’ve heard of the town. Feitan had never allowed you even the slightest idea of where he’d taken you. Now you know that he’d hidden you in the middle of nowhere, in the thick of the darkest woods, and it still had not been enough to keep you there. You had always assumed it was more to keep you from getting out than to keep anyone else from coming in.

You are halfway across the distance to the town when the silence is broken.

“Pull over,” Sean says.

“You’re joking. You want to go back now?”

“I can’t stop thinking about it,” Sean says, his voice beginning to waver. “God, we just left them there. We’re fucking nen users and we ran like pussies. Pull over.”

“I’m not turning around just to die with the rest of them,” the driver growls.

“I said pull over!” Sean reaches for the steering wheel and the car swerves as they grapple for control. The driver slams the breaks, grinding the car to a halt in the middle of the road, your arms flying out in front of you to brace against the front seat.

“You’re a fucking idiot if you think you can take that guy!”

“We all agreed to this, we all knew the risk going in! That was your friend and you don’t care that you left him?!”

“I care that I’m alive and not strapped down in that motherfucker’s basement, and I’m not about to let that change!”

The arguing continues, and not once does either man glance back at you. You wonder if you could leave now. Throw the door open, take off running, make it to that town 10 miles down the pitch black road. You think again of the man who pulled dogs out of the dirt, of the way the men in front of you sensed Feitan before you could see or hear him, and you think that you would never stand a chance against them. A single bad move could be the tipping point that convinces them you’re not worth the trouble of being kept alive.

As if sensing your thoughts, Sean’s eyes flick to yours. They are frantic with adrenaline, and your blood chills as you freeze in your seat.

“Fine, stay here,” he growls. “I’m going back for that prick and I’m bringing this bitch with me. We’ll see how much he cares about her when I cut her fucking throat in front of-“

The words die on his tongue, and both men whip their heads to the driver’s window for only a second before something collides with the driver’s door, crashing into the car with enough force to send it rocking onto its side wheels. The door dents under the pressure before it’s ripped off the hinges altogether.

There is no time to react. A hand slices through the dark, plunging through the drivers neck with a sickening wet noise, crunching through bone and tendons. Behind the dying body, your eyes meet the gaze of his killer, piercing straight through you above the hem of his bandana. They are wild, frenzied, spattered with blood. It drips from his head, soaking through his clothes, the remnants of the man in front of you and his two dead friends. You don’t dare move.

The passenger seat collapses back and Sean lunges for you, catching you by the arm and yanking you into his chest as he dives into the back seat. The sharp edge of a blade presses into your neck.

“I’ll kill her,” he says, and his voice shakes. “I swear to god, I kill her right here. Just get out and don’t move, or I’ll-“

Before you even register him moving, Feitan is on top of you, fingers curled around the blade at your throat, his other hand disappearing behind your head as that sick crunching noise comes again, this time from directly behind you. As soon as you’ve heard it, liquid heat pours no down your back, soaking through your clothes and dripping down your spine. You gasp and press yourself into Feitan, away from the bloody spray, but you’re met with more blood as your face meets the soaked fabric of his shirt. The smell is sharp and metallic. His chest heaves under your cheek.

You look up at him, and his eyes are fixed firmly on yours. They’re wild still, and his breathing is ragged and heavy. There is no other car outside. You realize, with no small amount of wonder, that he ran to you.

The knife clatters to the floor, and you catch sight of thin red lines along his fingers before he grips your chin between them and turns your head from side to side, eyes trailing over your cheeks, your neck, every inch of you. Inspecting you.

“They-they didn’t hurt me,” you say in a wavering voice.

His eyes have locked onto your lap, and you glance down to see what’s caught his attention. Bruises on your wrists. The men had dragged you out of the house.

You begin to cover them up, hands rubbing over them and feeling the ache you hadn’t noticed before. Feitan nudges them away, fingers ghosting over the purpling marks. He leaves bloody smears behind, traces from the cuts in his hand where he blocked the blade threatening your life. You let out a shaky breathe.

When he’s satisfied that you’ve sustained no other injuries, he nods towards the other end of the seats. You crawl past him obediently, not once turning to look at the body slumped against the window behind you.

You hear the door open and the thud of something solid hitting the ground, and the noise repeats on the driver’s side in front of you. When he’s cleared the bodies out, Feitan comes to stand in front of your window. You sit on your heels as he opens the door and move to get out, swinging your legs over the edge of the seat, but he doesn’t step aside to let you pass. Your face is level with his chest again. His eyes are calmer now, meeting yours with the dull hint of something you can’t quite recognize. Fatigue? Frustration? No.

…Relief?

Mindlessly, you collapse forward into his chest again. You realize you have not stopped trembling. Your breathing is too shallow, your legs too boneless to stand. His fingers card through your hair, and your mind blanks as you realize that he’s petting you. Comforting you.

Tears sting at your eyes for the third time that night, and your hands come up to fist in his shirt. This time, you don’t bother to stifle them down. You sob, openly, into his chest, feeling his sticky fingers catch and stumble through your hair. He’s getting you dirty. There’s blood drying down your spine, soaking into your clothes that cling uncomfortably to your skin. You don’t care. You cry and he doesn’t mock you for it.

His hand comes to rest on your back and you take that as your cue to pull yourself together. You sniffle one last time and take deep breathes into the metallic scent of his clothes.

“Can-can we go home now?” you ask quietly. He nods above you and moves to let you out. You don’t stop to think that the home you’re asking for is the locked box you’ve been praying for escape from.

Home, not prison. Home, not hell.

You climb into the passenger seat, the only one not soaked with blood, and Feitan slides in next to you. His phone is in his hand, and you see the name Shizuku at the top of his messages before he shuts it off. He turns around, starts back in the direction of his house, away from that town waiting miles away, and away from the bodies behind you. You look back at them then.

They are piled in the ditch by the road. He hasn’t bothered to hide them, and you wonder how he can be so confident that they won’t be found and investigated. Your thoughts are cut short when you notice the bloody stumps of their arms in the grass.

Your hands grip the marks on your wrists again, reigniting that dull ache.

Their hands have been severed. Lying several feet away from their bodies are the hands that touched you, hurt you, took you.

You turn back around in your seat and say nothing. The ride home will be quiet. Feitan will not look at you, and when you get home, neither of you will mention the bodies or their missing hands.

You’ll both be happy to leave certain things unsaid.

#I wrote this whole thing in like one long feverish haze I was possessed #sometimes u are a horrible man who stabs people for fun until your girlfriend gets snatched #and then you become a horrible man who stabs people for /necessity/ and that is ok #simp feitan is still in the works I just had to get this out of my brain #feitan.ll #hxh.ll #feitan #hxh #feitan x reader #yandere feitan #my works.ll

[princess-of-the-corner]

Amnesia!Dabi

K, I’m still not done with the Togas TV interview And class 1-A.

like. Just. 

Pick a 1-A kid. Literally any of them that isn’t Shouto, or maybe Katsuki.

You’ve been through some shit recently. Your training camp got attacked. One of your classmates got kidnapped. By some pretty notorious villains. Another group of your classmates went to rescue them. Any of them could have DIED, including you. So there’s that.

Then you find out two of those villains, pretty memorable ones, turned themselves in. To your SCHOOL. Where you LIVE. And instead of instantly turning them over to the Hero Commission or something, your school takes them into custody. People who have attacked you.

You get the rushed, “not all villains are inherently evil”, but wow. You’ve been through some shit. You are probably having nightmares. You just want to feel SAFE. You trust your teachers, but you know they aren’t invincible.

Then Shouto comes in after a weekend. He looks so pale. He’s dazed, just wandering idly through the day. Someone tentatively asks if he’s alright. And Shouto, who has trouble filtering his thoughts at the best of times, tells you that one of those villains that attacked you is actually Pro-Hero Phoenix. Pro-Hero Phoenix, aka Touya Todoroki, his brother. His brother, that Shouto thought was DEAD. His brother, who’s going by Dabi, and has no memory of being anyone else. Who, apparently, turned himself in because he remembered Shouto. Who is finally coming home next weekend. And bringing with him the vampire girl who tried to stab Uraraka.

You sit, and you stare, and think “well fuck”, cause what are you even supposed to say? What kind of action movie nonsense is this? You sit there, and make hopefully comforting noises, cause your potential trauma isnt going to get in the way of Shouto possibly getting his BROTHER back. But you’re not … on board. You’re skeptical. You have to be.

And Shouto keeps talking about them. Tells you how Dabi can’t remember anyone’s birthday, but did remember that Fuyumi likes two sugars in her tea. Or that Dabi refuses to go in the old training room, but remembers where everything is. Or how he, Dabi and Natsuo went through Dabi’s massive binder full of his conspiracy theories on himself, and wow, they really are related. And in the background of a lot of these stories is Himiko. And-

Dabi used to be Touya. Used to be Phoenix. However you feel about him, there are public records, and videos, and anecdotes of Touya Todoroki being a hero. Of saving people. Interviews where he talks about his family. It gets easier to stop seeing Dabi, Villain Who Tried To Kill Us, and easier to see Touya, Guy Who Was A Hero, A Brother, A Victim. But Himiko doesn’t have that. Himiko Toga doesnt have a public record of being a hero, a family member, a person who loved someone. You don’t know anything about her. She tried to stab some of you and LAUGHED about it. She comes up in Shouto’s stories, and you almost don’t believe they’re the same person. Toga, Who Tried To Drink Our Blood, seems like someone else entirely from, Himiko, Girl Who Keeps Doing Shouto’s Hair. It’s such a disconnect. You can’t reconcile them in your head. Is she lying? Is she insane? Will she hurt someone again? You don’t know, but these two extreme versions don’t make sense. One of them has to be false. You nod along, and keep your mouth shut, but you wonder. You worry. You don’t know how to feel.

And this goes on for months. Months, of this awkward disconnect. Until one morning, someone turns the TV on, and there are two people. A man and a woman, who look kind of familiar. And you see their names on the screen, Toga, and you feel confused, and then they start talking and-

All you feel is sick.

because Himiko’s parents are on NATIONAL TELEVISION, talking about how their daughter is a MONSTER. How she’s sick. A deviant. How they tried so hard to make her be ‘normal’ by making her stop her 'satanic’ behaviour. How her Quirk 'ruined’ their perfect little girl, and turned her into a 'freak’. They talk about making sure she never had any blood, about how obsessed she is with it. Himiko’s parents are on national television talking about how they STARVED her for TWELVE YEARS, as if this is something to be praised. They LAUGH at the idea that Himiko might have needed to drink blood to survive. To be healthy. They talk about her attacking a classmate as if she did it on purpose, they talk about ‘disciplining’ her for it, and all you want to do is throw up.

So, no, you don’t know how to feel about Himiko.

But you know EXACTLY how you feel about her parents.

-

YEAH THEY”RE READY TO THROW HANDS

#submission #amnesia!dabi