#and about how he tries to kill the thing that's harming them but if he can't kill it then *giving himself is enough*

[fizzybin]

Let go

Warnings: mention's of self harm and suicide, not being able to handle emotions, hypnosis, vox is a slight asshole (what's new?), fantasy of being an a mere object as an escape

Angst??

Wc: 1.3k

Inspired by @hazbinfallinginaspiral Be a doll au

a/n: I really love this AU it's honestly one of my favorites, and the creator of this AU is a wonderful writer so please check him out! (ʰᵒᵖᶦⁿᵍ ᵗʰᶦˢ ᵈᵒᵉˢⁿ'ᵗ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵐʸ ᵃⁿᵒⁿ ᶜᵃᵘˢᵉ ᶦ'ˡˡ ᵇᵉ ᵉᵐᵇᵃʳʳᵃˢˢᵉᵈ)

slightly proof read</3

Exhaustion seeped into your bones, leaving you drained and weary. You were so done, done with the constant turmoil of your emotions, done with the self-inflicted pain that seemed to be a never-ending cycle. You were done with feeling everything so intensely, wishing for just a moment of emptiness. Your friends would come to you, complaining about feeling numb and empty, and you would nod along, offering supportive words and trying to cheer them up. But deep down, all you could think was how much you wished you were like them, free from the overwhelming weight of emotions. It felt as if a dark fog had settled over your mind and heart, making it hard to see through the haze.

Living with constant and overwhelming emotions was a never-ending battle. Every day, every hour, every moment was filled with intense feelings that you couldn't control. When sadness overtook you, it felt like you wanted to end your life. And when anger consumed you, it felt like you could do anything, even kill someone. The anxiety was crippling, making every breath feel like a struggle. And when happiness did manage to break through, it was so intense that it almost scared you. It was exhausting, and god forbid your emotions mixed together.

This place was supposed to be hell, but it didn't feel like the fire and brimstone you had imagined. It was a different kind of hell, one that seemed almost bearable yet still suffocating. Was this punishment truly deserved by anyone? The question echoed in my mind as you tried to make sense of things.

You were abruptly pulled out of your thoughts by the loud slam of Vox's office door. His heavy footsteps echoed through the monitor room as he made his way to his desk, shooting you an irritable glance as he sat down. You remained silent and stayed on the couch where you had been sitting. The sound of his keyboard clicking filled the tense silence, punctuated by occasional frustrated sighs and mutters.

You went back into your thought’s noticing he didn’t need or want anything from you. You were trying to think of a way you didn’t have to feel anything, but you couldn’t think of anything.

“Doll?” Vox's voice broke through your thoughts once again. Your eyes widened as a light bulb seemed to go off above your head. That was it - a doll. Dolls don't feel emotions, they simply exist and are content with being used whenever their owner decides to play with them. And Vox, with his hypnotic powers, could easily give you what you were searching for. After all, he already owned your soul and treated you like a prized possession. Surely, he wouldn't mind having you as his own living doll.

Vox snapped his fingers trying to get you to listen to him “are you even listing to me?? I just asked you to go get me coffee damnit.” he sounded more annoyed but you were still sitting on the couch thinking of your idea of just being a doll

You blinked, momentarily taken aback by the sharpness in Vox's voice. Slowly, you rose from the couch, your mind still swirling with thoughts of becoming his doll. As you made your way to the door, a plan began to form in your mind. If you could convince Vox to use his powers on you, perhaps you could finally find the peace you had been yearning for.

Returning with a steaming mug of coffee, you handed it to Vox and watched as he took a sip, his gaze fixed on the computer screen. This was your chance. Taking a deep breath, you spoke up.

As you approached Vox's desk. He was hunched over his work, completely engrossed in whatever task he was focused on. you cleared your throat and spoke his name, the words tumbling out a bit louder than you intended. He snapped his head up, dark eyes narrowing slightly as he stared at you over the rim of his mug. "What?" he snapped back, taking another sip of his coffee before setting it down with a thud on the table.

“i- well I've been thinking…” You said slowly hoping to say what you were thinking of clearly “I…well you always tell me I'm too emotional and stuff…and I know I am-” vox cut you off before you could continue

“…if this is another apology just shut up already I dont want to hear it, Im busy so if your not preposing something be quiet and make yourself useful.”

You paused, feeling a surge of frustration at Vox's dismissive attitude. Gathering your thoughts, you straightened your posture and locked eyes with him, determination shining through the depths of your gaze. "No, this isn't an apology," you stated firmly, your voice unwavering. "I'm proposing something. I want you to use your powers on me." Vox raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued by your unexpected request. "Explain," he commanded, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest. Taking a deep breath “I dont want to feel my emotions anymore…do you think you could use your hypnosis and take them away…? make me like a doll almost? Just like I already do what you want…I just dont want the emotion’s that come with it”

Vox just looked at you, you couldn’t tell what he was thinking, he sighed “so let me get this right…you want to be a mindless doll? no emotions, no thoughts. Just completely obedient?” you nodded “yes..”

“I can work with that”

He stood up, the chair scraping against the floor as he moved. He walked towards you, standing right in front of you, and you couldn't help but notice his intense gaze. It was as if he was analyzing every aspect of your being, trying to understand your motive.

"Are you sure about this?" he finally asked, his voice low and authoritative.

You nodded again, your eyes steady as you met his. "I'm sure," you replied, your voice barely audible.

He drew in a deep breath, his chest rising and falling with determination. You couldn't help but notice the fire in his eyes, the unyielding confidence that radiated from them. As he reached out to grip your chin, you felt a shiver run down your spine. He commanded your attention, silently communicating through the tap of his finger on the left side of his screen. His gaze locked onto yours, intense and unwavering. The once familiar red in his eyes had transformed into a mesmerizing swirl of black, drawing you under his command

"You will become nothing more than a lifeless puppet, devoid of all emotion and thought. Your existence will revolve solely around my every command. You are utterly powerless without me, and every command I give is your entire purpose for existence."

Your mind began to blur, the world around you becoming hazy and indistinct. Vox's words echoed in your ears, sinking deep into the core of your being. It felt as though a heavy fog was descending upon your consciousness, shrouding your thoughts and emotions in a thick veil of nothingness. The last remnants of your turbulent feelings slipped away, leaving behind a vast emptiness that seemed to stretch into eternity.

As Vox continued to exert his hypnotic power over you, a sense of calm washed over your once tumultuous soul. It was a strange sensation, this newfound peace that settled within you. You could no longer feel the weight of your emotions bearing down on you, nor the constant turmoil that had plagued your every waking moment. Instead, there was only stillness, a profound silence that wrapped around you like a comforting blanket.

You stood there before Vox, a blank canvas awaiting his every brushstroke. Your eyes reflected nothing but obedience, your mind devoid of any resistance.

“Good Doll, Just let go”

#vox #vox x reader #vox hazbin hotel #vox smut #hazbin hotel #be a doll au #the vees #hazbin vox

[rottenpumpkin13]

Serious ask: how do AGSZCL act when they feel guilty?

This calls for a dip into canon

Sephiroth: The events that trigger Genesis' degradation replay in his mind over and over, like a movie he can't turn off, and the guilt eats him alive. He blames himself, replaying moments that he could've done things differently, because then everything would be different. Genesis wouldn't get hurt, and he would still be here. Angeal would still be alive. He's long learned to numb his guilt and make peace with his duty as Shinra's weapon, even if it means killing the innocent and participating in Shinra's violent pursuit of power. But it's different when the source of the guilt has to do with the people he cares about. By hurting them, it's as if he's hurting himself, and the wound is constantly reopened no matter how much he stitches over it with reason.

Genesis: He's not one to openly admit he's wrong, not even to himself; in fact, he's the first to voice how he enjoys being right, which is why guilt feels so vile when it finally settles in the pit of his stomach, demanding his attention. He ignores it initially, stroking his own ego with twisted reason. But reality hits ten times harder when you don't make peace with it, which is when Genesis finds himself inconsolable, manic as he realizes the extent of what he's done and how there's no going back. Ever again. They're all dead; Angeal, Sephiroth, Zack, dead, dead, dead.

Zack: He hates guilt; it digs beneath his skin, it feels gross, it constantly demands his attention despite his attempts to push it away. So he reluctantly confronts it, aiming to rectify his mistakes and take responsibility for his actions by reasoning with himself in the events that the person is dead. Once he addresses and makes peace with it, it allows him to return to a semblance of normalcy. But the residue of guilt lingers like a bitter aftertaste, a constant reminder of his mistake. It resurfaces over and over again. Like a ghost. Because that's what Angeal became.

Lazard: He's quick to own up to mistakes, a trait developed during childhood where he often shouldered blame even for things beyond his control, stemming from a sense of feeling like a mistake himself. He handles guilt with what he perceives as maturity in his adult life, pushing it aside temporarily during moments where he knows guilt will be inevitable if he fails. And then he tries to counteract his guilt by taking action to reverse situations, often putting himself in harm's way to protect others. In his dying moments, Lazard comes to the realization that his existence was never a mistake in the first place. He finds peace with his guilt.

Cloud: Guilt becomes such an ugly thing for Cloud in his adult life, and he's so blissfully unaware of it as a little boy, guilty for accidentally breaking his mother's favorite mug. He feels it everywhere, as fresh and raw as the first time. He feels guilt when he looks at the buster sword. He's guilty when he looks at the ribbon on his arm. He's guilty when he's staring at the bottom of an empty liquor glass. He's guilty when he stands in Aerith's church. He's guilty when events replay in his mind, things he shouldn't have done, things he shouldn't have said. But he's realistic. He knows he can't go back and change things, so he learns to live with the guilt. It becomes an extension of himself, and he learns to ignore the sickness gripping him. Peace will come to him eventually, but by then he's already learned to live with guilt.

Angeal: His first encounter with true guilt comes with the passing of his father—a natural additional to grief. That type of guilt encompasses regrets of missed goodbyes, words both unspoken and words he regrets, and moments he wish he could've shared with him during his father's lifetime. This guilt becomes a constant presence, shaping his approach to handling subsequent feelings of remorse as an adult. He draws back into silence when he's guilty, despite his efforts to make amends with whatever the cause of it is. As a SOLDIER, guilt is natural. 'It comes with the job' is what he tells himself—whether it's from being too demanding on his trainees or moments preceding drastic actions. But some actions are as unavoidable as the guilt they evoke, or so he thinks.

#ff7 #ffvii #final fantasy 7 #sephiroth #final fantasy vii #ffvii crisis core #genesis rhapsodos #ff7 crisis core #angeal hewley #zack fair #cloud strife #lazard deusericus #headcanons

[resident-idiot-simp]

Wendigo drabble

Non Feeding Your God AU Wendigo drabble please enjoy (Inspired by @cthulhusstepmom and this post

Roach had grown up deep in the Appalachian mountains with stories of horrors hidden in the trees. He had heard his name called by his mother's voice even when he knew she was at the house. He was part native had grown up with the stories from the local people.

He respected the mountains and the things within them immensely. When he went out and joined the military he brought the stories along with him wishing to pass on the tales as the others had to him.

Over the years he had traveled around the world seeing many sites meeting lots of people. He was superstitious everyone know sometimes they made fun of him for it other times they asked him for advice. He's inclined to believe that he was more aware of the things in the wild then most. When he was recruited into the 141 The only thing that was different was him.

It was a situation that he did not wish to recall and especially didn't like to talk about. He had almost died in fact it was the mission that got him the moniker Roach. For all accounts he should have died and no one knew how he didn't. But Roach knew he had turned into one of the things he's so respected in the trees. He turned into one of the things that would whisper your name to call you in to eat you If you didn't know better.

He told no one his parents didn't need to know what he had become he felt guilt about it but he couldn't change it now. So he would hide it.

The 141 treated him like family ignoring his oddities and quirks. They ignored how he would almost constantly be eating while putting on no weight. They ignored his affinity for dark and the wilderness. They ignored his aversion to fire assuming it was because of something that had happened to him in the past… They weren't completely wrong.

They ignored everything and for that he was thankful he didn't know if he could explain it to them. He doesn't know if you could take their rejection.

He continue telling stories now sprinkling in his own tendencies. Nothing changed but

everything had. When the 141 were sent on a mission like any other he was surprised it just how quickly it had backfired. Betrayal and treachery to a degree he had not yet experienced.

He was worried for them his family. They were his and he couldn't let harm come to what was his his instincts wouldn't allow it and neither would he. When Graves had turned and shot Soap he couldn't stop himself.

Before he could blink he was lunging snapping snarling. He wanted to drag him into the trees string him up and eat him alive. The bullets did nothing as they sunk and his flesh. They wouldn't kill him nothing could nothing but fire, but fire was something Graves didn't have.

He took the attention away from the others allowing Ghost to get the upper hand. And for Alejandro to find his way out of their hold. He joined the fray soon after not wanting to be left out of the fun as his instinct screamed to hunt them hunt the ones that had tried to hurt what was his.

It was laughably easy as the shadows fell leaving just Graves still breathing looking scared.

Good

"W-what are you!?" Graves demanded. Roach just laughed his voice raspy from disuse. "Don't you know I recognize the accent. Don't you know the stories of the things in the trees? Of the monsters that will call your name in a voice of someone you love? The things that will drag you into their domain and eat you alive?"

Graves eyes went wide as Roach slowly removed his neck gator and goggles revealing his pale sunken complexion.

"Don't you recognize old monsters when you see them. Monsters that have hunted on the land You call home since the first people arrived from the ice age?"

Graves faught helplessly under the creature.

"I'm something that's hungry Graves and you dare touch what's mine."

Graves scream was cut off as Roach tore out his jugular.

He was so hungry…

When he came back to himself half of Graves was gone and he realized what took him out of the trance was his name being called. "Roach." Ghost was calling him. One of his oldest friends a man who had been through more with him than any other.

He turned dreading what he would see he couldn't take the disgust It might finally kill him. But Ghost didn't look disgusted unnerved sure, but not disgusted. Not fearful. It was all he could hope for.

"What's going on bug?" Ghost asked tensely and Roach moved off Graves despite how much his instincts screamed that he needed to feed that he would never be full.

"I-I fuck. Yo-you weren't supposed to find out no one was supposed to find out…. They'll kill me and they'll be better off for it." The last part was whispered in fear as reality crashed in.

"It doesn't matter what's going on. We can talk about it later but for now we need to get out of here." Ghost ordered and as much as Roach was something else he was still a soldier and his lieutenants orders would always be first priority unless he was lost to his mind.

So he grabbed Graves corpse unable to part with the only fresh source of food he had had in…days.. and followed behind Ghost as a apprehensive Alejandro let them to the safe house.

Later they would learn the truth of what he was and they wouldn't care. Later he would be allowed to be more of himself with them. Later Laswell would bring him food of people they wanted gone.

But that was later.

Now he walked.

(I posted this on Ao3)

#call of duty modern warfare #cod modern warfare #john soap mactavish #wendigo #Wendigo Roach #Wendi!Roach #gary sanderson #gary roach sanderson #simon ghost riley #phillip graves #alejandro vargas #ao3

[kozzax]

thinking about c!foolish.... the god of the sea and of the sky. a totem of undying forged millennia ago. an ancient friend of eret's, from before their memory loss. the totem of death.

son of captain puffy, a mortal pirate.

father of foolish jr. and finley.

sacrifice to the egg.

do you ever think about how this ancient deity, capable of striking lighting in broad daylight and wielding the skies and the seas as his personal weapons-- do you ever think about how normal he was? about how he stood amongst mortals and thrived? about his friends, his father, his sons? do you ever think about how puffy must have been born within his lifetime, and how he will long outlive her?

do you ever think about how he called himself a totem of death?

do you ever wonder why he wants such a simple life?

#me vibing #c!foolish #dsmp #GODDDD foolish #i love c!foolish i love c!foolish i love c!foolish #i didn't watch much of any dsmp after the red banquet full disclosure . i dont have much las nevadas context #but i know he was there. i know foolish was in there. #and i know foolish is canonically a god. and i just. i have so many emotions about him #about him and his family and the fact that he found joy and comfort in a simple life #and about him and eret and how he stands by eret when she needs him to #and about how he gave himself to the egg . #about how he is a totem of undying. about how he stands in front of eret and says not this time. #and about how he tries to kill the thing that's harming them but if he can't kill it then *giving himself is enough* #and . aaaurrghghghghghghhhhhh

[neverendingford]

.

#tag talk #watching/listening to criminal minds while patching a pair of jeans. #and idk. I really hate sounding like a quirky special not like other girls snowflake lock tumbler #but like. idk when you've learned to hide all the weird things about you that unsettle other people it's weird to see them called out #learning what parts of yourself to hide to appear normal. learning how to create your mask to blend in with society. #idk. having a not-unintelligent someone tell me recently I sound like a sociopath and that they're a little worried about being around me? #that kind of fucks me up. having my roommate tell me he locks his door at night because he's afraid of me at night. #idk. I'm on new mood stabilizers and I do feel the chemical restraint part of it. the suppression of a part of myself. #it's just that the part it's suppressing is a part I've tried to kill for a very long time. #the harm isn't about pain it's about suppressing energy. it's about shutting down the uncontrollable part #idk we'll see how the meds pan out long term. Hopefully I feel more normal on it. #I don't feel like the suppression is shutting down something that is myself. I feel like it's shutting down an intrusive parasite. #this isn't a part of me I've ever wanted to be. I hate being the clown. I hate being the goof. the quirky idiot #I feel better when I'm more calm. I'm more controlled. I can control the part of me that feels compelled to do weird shit. #idk. I don't like being a freak. I don't like being a nutjob. I can handle having a part of me being cold as long as it's controlled. #we'll see.

[t4tpumpkinduo]

calling cdream morally gray because he "wants to keep the server together" instantly unravels when you remember he's the one who tore it apart

#yeah he really saved the server when he escalated a mass slaughter and drove a kid to almost suicide for months cackling the whole time #not only is his 'ooo he just wants to keep everyone united 🥺' more of a shaky informed attribute (perpetuated by him AND his fans) #but even with that reasoning . how would that make him less of a villian lol #morally grey doesn't mean evil but maybe sad about it. morally gray means the webbing between hero and villain: bad actions for good of not #understandble reasons #and this is your good reason? that's where you throw your hands up and go well. i'd understand? #because idk how to tell you he paved the way for every single bad thing that happened to him and Not on purpose #he didnt expect sap+george to leave even after he kept trampling and abandoning them #and what goal was there with exile specifically? people Don't Know what happened there by his own fucking choice. #'yes i beat and abused and killed a kid and tried to condition him to be a Plaything for me' #'and i laughed the whole time and hid it from everyone so no one knows what i did and i wont talk about it either' #'but wasnt my reason so noble?' shut up BOY you guys sound RIDICULOUS #wheres the moral grayness in that?? where's the well actually??? wheres the 'performance' cdream apologists swear exists? #it's cuz there isnt 😭 hes just Actually like that and he likes doing it #having more than surface level thoughts and feelings abt situations doesnt make you morally gray it makes you a person #and it doesnt and Wouldnt detract from the harm he keeps choosing to cause #huri.txt #cometdontlook

[caemthe]

𝐈𝐍 𝐁𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄  [ … ]   𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄

bold what applies - italicize sometimes - repost,  don’t reblog.

fights honorably / fights dirty

prefers close - quarters / prefers range 

chats during / goes silent

low pain tolerance / high pain tolerance

attacks in bursts / attacks steadily

goes for the kill / aims to disarm / fights defensively /strikes first

is provoked easily / provokes their opponent / teases

gets visibly frustrated / shouts while attacking

uses strategy / focuses on the battle / experiences conflicting thoughts during battle

rushes in recklessly / tries to read their opponent before engaging

fights wildly / fights calmly / fights apathetically / fights with anger / fights with excitement

fights because they have to / fights because they want to

fights without regard to wounds / runs away when wounded / hides wounds / takes a blow to protect another

prefers a blade /  prefers a gun / prefers hand to hand combat / prefers a bow / prefers a shield / prefers a personalized weapon / prefers magic, alchemy or spells

their greatest weakness is physical / their greatest weakness is mental / their greatest weakness is emotional

transforms for battle / fights as they appear

relies on strength / doubts their strength / relies on speed

uses everything they have / proceeds with caution / hides their full potential

exhausts quickly / has high stamina

behaves arrogantly / brags after landing a hit / belittles their abilities

uses psychological tactics / uses brute strength

avoids civilians / strikes down civilians

damages surroundings / avoids damaging surroundings

signature fighting style / makes it up as they go

mastered skill - set / learning their skill - set

fancy footwork / sloppy footwork

messy fighter / elegant fighter

accepts defeat / refuses defeat / begs for mercy

compliments their opponent / insults their opponent

uses unnecessary movements / moves efficiently / barely moves

prefers to dodge / prefers to block

defends their blindside / has no blindside / leaves blindsides vulnerable

uses all available advantages / strictly uses one main method

plays around / holds back / fights ruthlessly / shows mercy

waits for an opponent to be ready / strikes when opponent isn’t ready

fears death / fears pain / fears killing

has ptsd / avoids fighting

has lost a fight / has won a fight

has killed / refuses to kill

wants to die standing / would succumb slowly

tagged by: @corrchoigilt ty skelly!! tagging: @castelleve @inheroic @corvusdei @soulcrux @ardenssolis @revivisaere @resolutepath @stovthearted @nulltune @dunscaiith @tenkoseiensei @hhemeraa​ @hellguarded​

#tagged. ° ( thank you! ) #ferdia. ° ( saber. ) #/ alright so something to keep in mind about ferdiad is that he has skin that no (non-break invincible) weapon can harm #/ so he focuses solely on striking down his enemy. the moment an enemy tries (and fails) to pull a sneak attack on him or land a hit on him- #/ he either grabs them and crushes them or cuts them down with his falcata. all in all ferdiad is an 'unfair' opponent because he's strong- #/ trying to strike him down with a non-break invincible weapon is impossible and he never seems to get tired. he'll just continue #/ striking his opponent at a steady pace looking unbothered by how many times they've failed to stab or hit him #/ anyone that tries to interrupt or stop the fight gets cut down as well. even if his opponent fights dirty and tries to pick a hostage #/ he's not cruel and derives no joy or satisfaction from hurting/killing but he shows no mercy nor empathy either #/ he's just a really efficient and intimidating warrior 99% of the time. the other 1% is when he had to fight cú in specific in the táin #/ i mean he still was the equivalent of a impenetrable fortress that never seems to run out of armies and ammo during their fight #/ but he also was downright nasty with cú. he said a lot of hurtful things with the intention of making cú suffer and lose his resolve #/ which is something he wouldn't have done against any other enemy. that 'hurt loved ones when you're hurt' attitude is really something #/ well at least now you know that when things get personal ferdiad is VICIOUS. which is something i'll always find very 👀👀👀 #/ but on a brighter note please imagine ferdiad as a maxed out g.enshin noelle going 'steady as stone!'

[thenerdcommander]

My family is so fucking exhausting I'm so fucking sick of it

#mom was complaining about noise at night so I made a joke about her sucking it up and sleeping in her bedroom with dad (he snores) #and just collect on life insurance #they all pretended I made a threat/serious suggestion despite THEM making ACTUALLY suspicious jokes all the time (about murdering people/ #using racial slurs/doling out general hate speech and laughing at it as though it's funny) #and they tried to gaslight me into believing they DON'T say worse shit every time they open their mouths #“We've NEVER heard a joke like that!!! That's messed up!!!” lies. You “joke” about killing/enslaving black and trans people all the time #and you make no effort to make it come off as a joke (because it's not and you mean it) but when *I* make an OBVIOUSLY NOT SERIOUS #comment it's suddenly horrible and I belong in a psych ward??? just because the delivery wasn't to suit you???? #then they turned around and cried racist because I called them out on their bullshit because apparently pointing out that the things THEY #say and do they're going to eventually do in front of the wrong person and they will get attacked for it (esp using racial slurs #openly and with the mentality that “Only white people get mad at them!!!” like no I'm sorry that's just not the case) is??? Racist??? #POC (black and otherwise) have been telling white people not to use those words for a VERY FUCKING LONG TIME you shitstains #and me saying you're going to get retaliated against has nothing to do with whatever skin color you attributed to that statement. Another #white person would attack you for using those words just as likely as the people you're oppressing. So how about you don't??? Use them??? #but nah that makes me racist apparently #racism according to repubs: telling them not to use racial slurs #they seriously cannot fucking grasp that what I said does no harm but what they say ALL THE TIME causes a LOT for a lot of people #but *I'm* the bad guy??? Ok. #my humor and yours aren't comparable but sure. Keep projecting

[hecksupremechips]

Shinjiro Aragaki 🤝 Rebecca Gales

Mom friends who constantly try telling others how they should live their lives and believe they know what’s best for everyone else who would explode and die if anyone did the same to them

#the klock keeps ticking #theres always a damn pattern with my faves somewhere AAGHHHH #theyre just like me and i hate it #that was another thing i really liked about the shinji social episodes in reload was that bit where hes telling minato to always keep his #promises and minato is like ‘but you arent keeping your own promises???’ its like lol get his ass #and yeah just rebecca and shinji are characters who i firmly believe to have ocd and its my hill to die on #like with rebecca shes just very obsessive over her relationships like particularly with ashton she clings to a version of him she built in #her head and she gets very angry and depressed when he doesnt fit that mold and she just tries to organize her life around her obsession #and shinji i love to imagine castor being like a metaphor for intrusive thoughts like shinji is terrified of losing control #and terrified that he is dangerous and that hes capable of seriously hurting the people he loves #so much so that he isolates himself from everyone as a way of protecting them and he takes suppression drugs to kill the intrusive thoughts #but much like what happens when you try to repress intrusive thoughts this doesnt go well and it harms him even further #but he believes its the right thing to do because at least he wont be dangerous anymore and its what he deserves #and you know isolation and desperately trying to drown away your intrusive thoughts only leads to worse obsession #im so normal about him and his relationship with his persona #this man has so much ocd my god and so does rebecca and im not TRYING TO PROJECT OKAY IT JUST KEEPS HAPPENING #theyre my faves for a reason 😩 #anyways i think these two would be iconic besties and also possibly horrible together cuz theyd both be trying to tell the other how to fix #themselves and neither of them would listen but i mean theyd bond over cooking rebecca could infodump and shinji would listen #rebecca would see how shinji lives and shed be like ABSOLUTELY FUCKING NOT and insist on getting him in a safe environment #which who knows whod win shinji is awfully stubborn but rebecca is very scary and will whack a bitch with a book #shinji would see her thing with ashton and be like giving her some wise but harsh reality check which is really funny to imagine #like rebecca just gets this life lesson from some emo 18 year old shed be like ‘what do you know’ and then cry in the bathroom #i think theyd have such a big soft spot for each other though and they would be very powerful together and kick many asses

[sistertotheknowitall]

“But to the BatFam? That is just Some Guy. A random dude - if you will.”

“Don’t worry about it, I’m missing my spleen.”

“Oh cool, yeah, missing organs suck. I’m missing a kidney and part of my liver. Oh! And my gallbladder but that was more of a necessary evil, it was like, poisoning me or something.” Danny was so focused on applying pressure to his wound (and maybe being a bit too light headed) that he didn’t notice how silent his friend had gotten. Like-wise the comms had gone equally quiet as Gotham’s vigilante family realized that they knew very little about this kid.

It was concerning how quickly they all started to see him as a friend considering it was them as vigilantes he interacted with the most. Tim was the only one who saw him frequently when out of the suit because he was a regular at Danny’s day job. (He worked as a barista in the coffee shop Tim favored.) The others saw him occasionally but more often than not it was just in passing. Steph, Duke, and Dick had to stop themselves from approaching him on the street.

It was odd, one day he had just moved to Gotham, seeming to appear out of nowhere, and then the next he was a constant presence in their lives. Usually armed and ready with a concerning or odd quip, it had started with him being another victim of the city’s petty criminals and had snowballed from there.

Now it wasn’t like the bats saw Danny everyday, but it was expected that he would cross paths with at least three of them before the end of the week. They ran into him more often than any other Gothamite, including the criminals and rouges they fought.

At first the constant meetings by “coincidence” was suspicious. If he wasn’t the one being saved from a mugging, kidnapping, or city wide villain assault, then he was near by and trying to help.

(“Trying to help” usually meant drawing attention to himself so the original victim could escape. Once it had meant Danny armed with a baseball bat against four grown men. Bruce and Dick have tried to talk to him about putting himself in harms way but the kid is surprisingly elusive when he wants to be. Yet, even when avoiding Batman and his eldest, Danny could be found on the patrol route of another family member.)

But honestly? The guy seemed just as exhausted as they were of seeing each other. By the twelfth time in a month, Danny had accused them of stalking him.

The background check Bruce and Tim had run came back clean and he never seemed to be involved in the various criminal activities. He was just there, a weirdly unlucky bystander. So as far as Dick and the others could see, Danny was a completely normal dude. He just said strange things and wasn’t intimidated by them, he actually made it a point to be unhelpful sometimes. When trying to learn his name he gave them the run around for two months. (“I know about stranger danger. I don’t care how often you say you’re the ‘good guys.’ I’m not falling for it.”)

On one memorable occasion Danny had disappeared for a week and a half. When they started to assume the worse, he popped back up behind the counter at work. Tim had relaxed significantly when he entered the shop to Danny organizing pastries in the display case. Once he’d placed his order, the young CEO asked Danny if he’d been on vacation. To which Danny had just sighed and told Tim “I wish, but no I was called to court to handle some affairs I couldn’t get out of.” (After a check to see if Danny had gotten charged with something and coming back empty, Tim had concluded that it was an odd way to say he had had jury duty.)

Thinking about it now, outside a stray comment or two, Danny didn’t talk about himself or his life. They knew he didn’t have a good relationship with his parents, “they were much more goal oriented than that joke of a kidnapper, but I think drugs do that to a person.” (It was still unclear if he meant his parents were kidnappers themselves or on drugs.) They knew he had an older sister who would “kill me again if she finds out I was in another bank robbery.” They also knew he was, possibly, depressed after last week’s comment of “is it considered murder if you’re already dead but, like, still alive?” (Damian had saved him from a drug ring but after another “baby ninja” comment the young Robin had threatened to give Danny back to his would-be murderers.)

Dick knew Danny was a weird guy who never wanted to elaborate on the things he said. (Jason was still confused on what he meant by “rotted milk soul.”) That didn’t mean the comments themselves didn’t say a lot about him. And tonight’s comment, accompanied by the prominent and jagged autopsy scars, said more than Danny was probably willing to share.

#Basically the other side of Danny is just Some Guy. #batman #batfamily #jason todd #batboys #batman fandom #batman wayne family adventures #dick grayson #danny phantom #dp x dc #dpxdc #dc x dp prompt #dc x dp crossover #dp dc crossover #dp x dc crossover #dp x dc prompt #dc x dp #damian wayne #Tim drake #dcxdp #I didn’t actually mean to write this #but? like? enjoy I guess

[aashi-heartfilia]

The hypocrisy of Jinshi and MaoMao

*light novel spoilers*

I just love how hypocritical MaoMao's nature is. She yells at Jinshi for being a 'Masochist' and yet we see that she's no different. Now, by definition Masochist is a person who drives sexual gratification from their own pain and humiliation, plus it relates to Jinshi's tendency to do self harm (like burning his skin with a brand)

And what is MaoMao's most favourite thing in this world?

POISON

She literally takes pleasure in consuming it and no one can convince me otherwise. Plus she uses dangerous plants and animals and snakes whatnot in the name of her so-called experiments. Her dad may call her a 'mad Scientist' but that is a direct indication of self harm.

And she calls Jinshi a Masochist.

I mean, think about it! The amount of anxiety she gives to Jinshi! She came prepared with a vomit inducing medicine but even she had no idea whether it would work or not. She was just hoping it would work in the salt chapter.

And the same goes for her hand, on which she has conducted countless experiments. One flower even burned her skin and its marks never left her skin. She said it was all for her hobby. What kind of weird hobby is that? Maybe, our little adorable mad scientist is just like that.

One brands his own skin, while the other takes heavenly pleasure in consuming poison.

So my point is, Jinshi and MaoMao are not that different as one might think they are and that's why their dynamic works so well.

Let's look at the excerpts from volume 5:

She didn’t know how long they sat that way. All she knew was that Jinshi was looking down at her with a faintly triumphant expression, as if he saw that the breath had reached every corner of her body now. He wiped away the tears that had sprung to her eyes as she struggled to breathe. It was then that Maomao felt a flash of intense anger. “I said that if you were going to kill me, you should do it with poison,” she told him. “I refuse to let you poison yourself,” Jinshi said, his fingers tracing her lips. “You can’t pretend you didn’t know that you were one of the candidates. As much as I’m sure you’d like to.” He wasn’t done, either: “Who was that man, anyway? I’m sure you’re not a dancer.” So he had been watching them! “I was just paying for my drink,” Maomao said. “It didn’t cost much.” She tried to look away, but with his hand on her head, she really couldn’t.

Jinshi just choked her and yet he refuses to let MaoMao poison herself. A lot of people misinterpret this scene, and don't like it all that much, saying it was just fanservice stuff but this is how I see it: Jinshi wasn't trying to kill MaoMao, he was just trying to make MaoMao submit to him for once (even if the way he did it was very wrong, but guess he's kinky like that). MaoMao is actively trying to harm herself and Jinshi loves MaoMao a lot, he cannot just let her kill herself.

It was more about him trying to exert his dominance in their weirdish - complicated relationship and that also backfires on him as we see in the next volume that MaoMao escapes Jinshi's grasps using Pairin's techniques.

And then they both continue to avoid each other in the entire next volume! Because they both realised that they have crossed boundaries.

They both are hypocrites.

And they both refuse to accept their feelings.

In one of the later volumes, she gives Jinshi a piece of her mind on how he should tell her everything clearly, unequivocally, what he feels, and he literally declares that "he will make her his wife", which is nice and all but look at the wording MaoMao used here....

Excerpts from LN Vol 7, chapter 19 called "A man and a woman play the game"

"You’re forever telling me I need to use my words, Master Jinshi, but are you in any position to criticize? Everything you say to me, everything you do, it’s like it’s calculated to save you from ever having to actually say what you mean! To make me figure it all out! You know, you remind me of someone. You act exactly like a man who used to come by our brothel all the time. He was in love with one of the girls, but he would never just come out and say it. He thought it should be obvious from the way he acted. He was so sure he had a good thing going with this woman that he never sent her so much as a letter. I remember how forlorn he looked when someone else swooped in and snatched her away! He kept coming to the brothel after that—to get drunk and whine to the ladies. Well, in my opinion, he could have avoided all that heartbreak if he’d told the woman how he felt. Clearly, unequivocally, so that she knew where they stood. It was the least he could have done!”

Everything came out in a torrent. She felt like she’d said it all in one breath. It was strange, she thought, to hear so many words come out of her own mouth. She was mystified. Jinshi was no less startled, but the shock soon left his face, replaced by something else. He got up off the bed and stared down at Maomao.

Shit. Now I’ve done it. She’d given him a piece of her mind, and he was about to give her one back.

“So I should be clear, should I? Unequivocal? I should say what I mean? If I did, would you actually listen to me? Is that what you’re telling me? I’m going to hold you to that! Right this minute. I’ll say it all. Don’t plug your ears—listen to me!” He grabbed her hands as she was in the process of trying to put her fingers in her ears. He took a breath. He was looking at Maomao, but somehow he seemed almost embarrassed. Finally he managed, “Now listen to me, y—I mean, Maomao! Listen close! I am going to make you my wife!”

It's one heck of a chapter and I suggest you give it a go! The title of the chapter says "A man and a woman play the game" as if to emphasize the very fact that both Jinshi and MaoMao are playing the game.

Jinshi has never confessed his true feelings before this chapter and only implied that he wanted to make MaoMao his wife.

The implications were heavy though on Jinshi's part, and as smart as MaoMao is, anyone would have guessed that MaoMao was one of the candidates for Jinshi's consort. Even the clothes she received (the ones she wore to the banquet) were also provided by Jinshi along with the hairpin. It is never stated outright but seeing as the hairpin was from Jinshi, the clothes are also implied to be the same.

More or less she's always deliberately ignoring the possibility of having anything to do with him, that is more than professional. Some may call it denial, I call it dense. Maybe, to some extent, she herself is not aware of her feelings because she never lets herself feel anything.

Even Suiren pointed it out pretty early in the manga, that maybe it's MaoMao's way of being reserved. We need to keep in mind that MaoMao is an unreliable narrator and it's more of what she does, rather than what she says that makes a difference.

Even in the chapter that I have quoted above, she had every reason to leave Jinshi, she wasn't working for him after all. But she stayed to make tea for him, even after the fact that she had a long day too. She was almost just as exhausted as Jinshi and yet she was there preparing medicinal tea, so that he could get a better sleep.

Maybe she herself is yet to realise just how deep her feelings run. Till vol 12 she seems to have accepted them, but she still is yet to acknowledge their depth. Maybe it's because of her childhood.

It's not a traumatic backstory but MaoMao had a sad childhood nonetheless....

She was raised by her grand uncle and her real father was eccentric, who scared her. Her mother must also appear to be kind of demonic to her, since she was desperate enough to cut MaoMao's Pinky finger and send it to Lahan. So it's safe to say that MaoMao never received proper parental affection. And adding to the fact that, a brothel is not exactly an ideal place for raising a child.... especially when the birth of MaoMao was the one thing that brought the brothel to its knees...even if being born wasn't her choice.

Plus MaoMao stated it herself that when she was a baby, no one would come to sooth her until their work was finished, implying that even if MaoMao and her brothel sisters are close, they are not that close. A mother's love is different and she never received it. No one can love you more than your mother and MaoMao was deprived of that. She soon realised that no one was coming. Life is hard and she has no choice but to face it!

So, she got interested in poison.

Maybe she doesn't love herself or her life as much as she says / pretends she does. She's always like "yeah, I would very much like my head to be with my body" and "if I stay low profile maybe I can survive here" etc but maybe deep down that's not the case. Maybe that's why she loves poison so much. The implications are crazy.

And to break MaoMao's shell, Jinshi has no choice but to be a bit more forceful at times? At least that's how I interpret that choking scene. Jinshi was angry at MaoMao because she deliberately suggested him to marry consort Rishu and danced with Rikuson.

Even if Jinshi never said it outright, he was giving hints the entire time.

But well the tables turned and MaoMao topped him instead, lol (vol 7) and later we even see that our little stray cat has accepted Jinshi and she's ready to be in a relationship with him (vol 12).

Plus she is intrigued by the process of birth (she wants to eat her baby's placenta, it's kind of uggghhh.... but anyways, that MaoMao we're talking about, she's just weird that way)

Maybe not after too long she'll realise that if she has to give birth, she can only have it with Jinshi and no one else.

~Sunshine

#maomao #kusuriya no hitorigoto #kusuriya no hitorigoto manga #jinshi #jinshi x maomao #maomao x jinshi #the apothecary diaries #the Apothecary Diaries manga #tad manga #kusuriya no hitorigoto spoilers #manga #anime #spoilers #kusuriya no hitorigoto light novel #kusuriya no hitorigoto LN #the apothecary diaries anime #shoujo #shoujo couples #seinen #aashi animetalks #aashi heartfilia #mao mao #mao mao x jinshi #mao mao x reader #mao mao tad #maomao kusuriya no hitorigoto #light novel #kusuriya anime #shoujo anime #shoujo anime couples

[bunny-yan]

so for the yandere king, will he ever get married to someone who isn’t reader?

He’ll hold it off for as long as he can, but don’t expect him not to take it out on you if he complains about it and you don’t give him the reaction he was expecting.  TW: mentions violence, domestic abuse, mentions somnophilia, power imbalance, minors DNI

—

You’d gotten your hopes up. 

It’d been such a long time since you felt anything like it, but with whispers around every corner speaking of the king’s possible marriage,  you couldn’t help but entertain thoughts of freedom, of a life without the tyrant you called a king. 

He had to produce an heir. It was an unavoidable duty his position demanded. The kingdom needed to be left with a future should anything unfortunate happen to their oh, so beloved king. 

Sometimes, you wished that his misfortune would happen by your hands. If only to give him a taste of what you had to endure, but you shoved such thoughts away. It was harder to keep your composure when you entertained ideas you’d never be allowed to act upon. Or if you tried would cause more harm than good.

Others looked smug as you passed them in the long hallways, claiming you’d be thrown away by the king as soon as he married, and you prayed to the goddess that they were right. That he’d marry someone he could love and obsess over. That his violent affection would be directed at someone else for a change. Did it make you cruel, wishing that someone else would take your place? A part of you lacked the ability to care. If they were so desperate to tear you down, not realizing the hell disguised as paradise, you would be more than willing to let them have a taste of it. 

The king’s marriage. 

When the two of you were younger, he promised to hold the grandest wedding the kingdom had ever seen. He’d spare no expense and it would be remembered as the happiest days of your lives. Remembered as the day of your union, the day you would promise to spend eternity together. You supposed that after killing all of your family members and gaining ownership of you, it didn’t really matter one way or the other how it happened, but you felt a small sense of relief that the monstrous event had been delayed.

The talk you had to endure was bad enough, but you could only imagine what the nobles would have to say if the King were to make your union official. You wouldn’t be the one who achieved every servant’s fairytale, no. You would be the peasant living above their station. The whore who sunk their claws into their sweet prince. The tramp who didn’t know their place.

You would dread every display of affection he would shower you with in public, knowing that despite his insistence of you remaining by his side, others too afraid to show their disdain in front of the King, there would undoubtedly be a moment where they would find you alone and without your shield you were vulnerable to their contempt.

But the idea of him living out that fantasy with another shifted something in you. You felt a slight upturn of your lips at the thought of him standing at the altar with a faceless figure as you packed what little things you truly owned and ran and ran and ran as far as your legs could carry you. The dull ache you’d become familiar with would burst, and you’d cry freely, laugh hysterically, and smile as if you had never forgotten how. That was what paradise sounded like. 

Doors slamming open, the strange emotions fled from your body, replaced with instant unease at the sight of the king’s furious face. 

You stood quickly to bow and greet the head of your kingdom. 

“Leave us,” he said. Two words dismissing everyone from your chambers, holding so much power you feared they didn’t know what monster they were abandoning you to face alone. As you’d always had. 

He sat on the plush couch with a heavy sigh, unbuttoning his shirt as he gave the order, “Pour me a drink.”

You didn’t hesitate to meet his demands. You got two glasses, knowing that he’d push you to join him, along with the liquor your Kingdom was famous for and he favored on particularly stressful days. Setting them down on the table, you tried to ignore the set eyes watching you as you filled one glass and left the other, hoping that he wouldn’t notice or at least be too preoccupied to comment on your lack of a desire to drink at this hour. 

He said nothing. 

You picked up the glass, careful not to spill it as you handed it to your king. He took it from your hands, but his other snatched your wrist as you retreated back, making you tense. The king threw the full glass back as if you poured a shot before slamming the glass on the table. He wiped the dribble of alcohol that escaped from his lips as he pulled you to sit on his lap. 

This was dangerous. He was sober now, but you weren’t sure how long that would last after drinking enough to keep him wasted for the rest of the day. How long would it take to kick in? You’d pour him the cup, believing he’d sip it as usual while entangling you in a verbal joust. He would ask impossibly complex questions disguised as basic pleasantries, and you would struggle to find the right thing to say. Because there was always a right thing to say. Something he wanted to hear to stroke the fragile ego drowning in his fear. You had waves of carefully hidden bruises as proof. 

“Pour me another,” he demanded, the harsh tone making your hair stand on end. He really must’ve heard something he didn’t like. 

“My King,” you began, timidly, as you turned to face him. It wouldn’t bode well for you if he was too drunk to remember what he had done the next day. His memory was truth, and if he didn’t remember putting his hands on you, if he didn’t remember the violence he wrought night after night, it didn’t happen. “May I pour you some water instead?”

The hand on your waist was stroking your side casually. His motions didn’t falter. 

Hopefully, he didn’t take offense. 

You were clear on your station. You were to serve his every whim and desire. An outright refusal wasn’t wise. Resting a hand on his arm, you knew to keep your gaze down. Keeping contact, unchallenging, all things he preferred in moments like these. 

“How considerate,” he said, your body sagging in relief at the concession. 

You were almost too eager to pull away from his grip, but he let you go without a word, watching you retrieve the pitcher and another glass before you came to pour him a glass. 

You handed it to him and much like before, you were pulled into his lap as he sipped on the small offering you were grateful he accepted. You were afraid to hope that his temperament would be manageable.

Before you learned of the engagement, you wondered if you’d unintentionally done something to make Idris angry. 

It was little things at first. 

Snapping at you for getting up from dinner without his express permission, grabbing you harshly if you pulled away from any form of affection he so generously offered. When he’d wake you up, it was usually in the form of violent affections, his touch lacking any tenderness or care that he often liked to pretend still existed between the two of you. 

He only realized that he was treating you differently when you found the courage to ask him if you’d done something to gain his ire. You couldn’t think of anything you may have done to make him upset. It’d been a while since your last escape attempt. Knowing there was nothing and no one waiting outside of the palace for you, you didn’t really have a desire to escape. Better to remain with the person who’d travel to the ends of the earth to trap you by their side, right? 

Regardless, he looked surprised by your question and you discovered he didn’t even realize how harshly he’d been treating you. Projecting his anger on you because you reminded him of the Duke’s daughter and how their intended engagement would ruin everything he planned to build with you. 

“I assume you’ve heard by now,” he said carefully, the glass of water resting on his lips as he watched you. 

You didn’t know whether to play dumb or openly admit you learned of his vassal’s plan to marry him to someone with a legitimate background. He was obviously unhappy about it, so if you mentioned that you had learned, he might shift the conversation to ask instead why you remained silent. To ask about your feelings on the matter and when you didn’t show the same amount of disdain, he’d mistake your feelings for what they were. 

Hope. 

A newfound hope that you had found a way to escape from underneath his grip, even if it was temporary. You could only imagine the anger he’d display then. 

If you pretended you didn’t know what he was talking about, he’d give a knowing smile as he narrowed his eyes. Calling you his clueless lover, the hand at your waist would squeeze into your side, his fingernails threatening to pierce your skin as he buried his head in your neck. Harsh laughter would brush across your skin and your body would be so tense, waiting for the moment that skin would be met with teeth. Met with pain. 

Thankfully, you didn’t have to say anything. He always did love hearing himself speak. 

“Have you seen the Duke at the balls I’ve hosted? He’s hoping to gain an alliance with the imperial family by forcing me to marry his daughter in exchange for his backing and the steel his family mines in order to make weapons.”

His fingers drummed against your side as he took a sip of his water. 

You felt inclined to say something to break this silence, to give a show of how upset or angry or disappointed or sad or whatever the hell you were supposed to be feeling so he felt as if you were torn up about this situation and not hoping the Duke would move faster with the marriage arrangements. 

“How arrogant,” you said simply. 

He smiled, setting down his glass as he wrapped his arms around your waist. “Those were my thoughts exactly. I managed to push it off, but I can’t see the Duke giving up any time soon.” He sighed, leaning into your touch when you began to scratch the back of his neck. You were listening. You cared about what he was saying. You sympathized with his plight and offered the reprieve you could. To say you could do more was putting it lightly, but you would get away with doing the bare minimum for as long as you could. 

“It makes me think of how unfair this is to you.”

You wanted to laugh. 

Unfair was forcing you into the position of his concubine in the first place. Unfair was ignoring your consistent refusals and forcing you to remain by his side. Unfair was the treatment you endured in the position you never asked to be in, the abuse you suffered, the constant torment you faced, the aching loneliness at being able to talk honestly with no one, the grief at the loss of your family—unfair was putting it lightly. 

It was hard to hear coming from the culprit. 

“It got me thinking that if I’m eventually forced to go through with this wedding despite my lack of enthusiasm, why not have a wedding I’d enjoy first?”

Dread pinched your stomach. 

“Do you remember the promise we made when we were younger?”

No.

No, no, no, no, no. 

Not another shackle. Yet another excuse to be stuck in this place with no way out. 

“Your Highness-”

“I promised you that we’d have the grandest wedding the kingdom had ever seen. That you would walk upon a path of flowers that would lead you to my side, and one of the knights can walk you down the aisle since-.”

You felt nauseous. 

“Anyways, I think I’ve been putting it off for too long and it’s the perfect event to put my vassals in their place.” 

This couldn’t be happening. You shook your head, not wanting to imagine what life would be like after you became… what? What did he intend on calling you if you were no longer his concubine? What did it matter if your treatment would remain spiteful regardless of how many escorts he replaced by your side. Any hope you had about escaping would be snatched away and your every move would be reported back to the King. You supposed he didn’t botherbefore because there really was nowhere for you to go where people didn’t know who you were, but with this new title, this new position, he would shorten your leash to show just how much of a loving couple the two of you were. 

“What’s wrong, my love?” he asked, a warning in his voice. “You don’t look happy.”

“No,” you said, swallowing the lump in your throat. It brought tears to your eyes when the impediment remained, threatening to choke you as you struggled to hold them back. “I’m overjoyed.” you said, burying your head in his shoulder so he couldn’t see that these weren’t happy tears. That you weren’t crying at what you would gain from marrying the King, the most sought after “bachelor” in your kingdom. You were crying at everything that you would lose, that would continue to be taken away from you. Demanded of you. Your peace, your love, happiness, and the joy you were so desperate to convince him you felt in this moment. 

Not that he really cared in the first place. 

#yandere #yandere oc #yandere x you #male yandere #yandere x gn reader #yandere x darling #yandere x reader #ask #yandere male #gn reader #yan!idris #yandere king

[callmerainman]

Alastor with a pure hearted s/o

a/n I'm fully aware that Alastor is aroace. My scenarios are meant to be interpreted as a deep, unconditional love, not necessarily romantic. I'm not aroace but I'm all for educating myself, so please if something's off let me (gently) know. Hope you enjoy :)

TW! canon typical violence

being a twisted person is not a requirement to reincarnate in Hell. Sins depend on religion, culture, societal norms. You were more of a victim, in fact.

you never got used to being in Hell. Surviving not only the Extermination but also the inhabitants becomes harder and harder every year.

it's kill or be killed, but you just can't bring yourself to do any harm to anyone, even if it means risking your own life.

as soon as you hear about princess Charlie Morningstar's new hotel for souls who want a second chance, your bags are PACKED

it's not like you really need redemption, you are pure hearted already. it's more a matter of understanding the reasons why you ended in Hell and coming to terms with them. maybe then the gates of Heaven would open for you. it's also a safer place for you to be.

Charlie welcomes you excitedly; Angel Dust, Husk and Vaggie aren't that friendly at first since your personalities don't match, but they eventually grow fond of you

and then there's, well...the Radio Demon.

you never met an Overlord before, and Alastor was supposed to be gone for years. But his presence wasn't frightening. A big smile spread across his face, he welcomed you like a gentleman.

you heard stories about his lifestyle and even previous murderous acts as a human, but for some reason you just can't bring yourself to fear him.

at first you were kinda pathetic to him. so naive, out of touch with the evils of Hell. he didn't dislike you. just thought your life was so easy to throw away in a society like that and that you wouldn't last long.

it seems like you two don't have much to share. he just wanders in his den, while you spend time in your room. you greet each other and have small talks, but nothing more than that. that's until he hears jazz music play behind your door.

he mentions it during dinner, and you start talking about your interest in 30s jazz music, especially the one of the Roaring 20s. you come from a later era, but you're very much cultured about jazz and its forms and that's enough for Alastor to develop an interest in you.

he has so many jazz artists recommendations, and you share some of your favourite pieces with him through your gramophone.

without even noticing, Alastor starts spending hours in your room just listening to music. some time even practicing swing dancing. and talking about jazz culture all around the world, and entertainment in general. he has many fun facts about the history of radio too!

the others at the hotel notice your growing bond and low-key support it, in their own, weird way. Angel Dust is especially convinced that you two are hooking up, as Husk not-so-kindly explains that it's more likely for Alastor to ascend to Heaven than express interest in sex.

you would start to open yourself up a bit to the Radio Demon. he doesn't understand why, since it didn't ask or never showed much empathy. but he just can't bring himself to tell you to stop. he wants to listen.

you manage to make him talk about some glimpses of his own life and thoughts. you knew that he was the complete opposite of you. incline to Evil, an enjoyer of all things that made your stomach clench. but he's still the one person who spends hours with you just listening to both jazz and your fears.

one day, Alastor decided that in no way you are walking around the city without him. it's just too dangerous for you. he tries to teach you how to use weapons and demonic powers to defend yourself but he doesn't feel like you can make it into Hell by yourself.

you like strolling through the streets with him, arms intertwined, chatting and laughing even if demons around you are shitting their pants just by seeing the Overlord walking around.

but one day, Alastor can't find you.

you're not in your room, or in the Hotel hall. No one saw you that morning. He starts to feel something he never felt in his life: fear.

he darts out the Hotel, trying to find you. that's when he sees you just a few streets away.

a group of animal-like demons is encircling you. you are on your knees, arms over your head to protect yourself. A lion-demon is holding a knife over you and your arms are covered in cuts. you hold something close to your stomach.

that's when Alastor realized that he had feelings for you.

when he threw himself between you and the demons attacking you.

it's the first time you see Alastor without a smile. his teeth are gritted, face full of unprecedented violence and will to kill, breathing heavily in and out in a sort of animalistic way, but there's no trace of his characteristic smile you love.

his body starts to morph into his full demon form. his horns grow exponentially, his body too as it hovers menacingly on top of your aggressors as they start to feel a pure fear they never felt before.

in a matter of a second, they are gone. Alastor has always been a calculated, elegant killer, but this time he only felt a raw, ferocious instinct to kill.

as he's done, he turns around towards you. he doesn't want to, but he snaps.

"W̶̞̐H̷̻͒Y̷̰̅ ̶̠͛D̸͕́I̸͔̍D̴̿͜ ̷̯̇Y̶̭͌Ỏ̴̬U̵̖̍ ̷̛͎Ģ̷̕O̸̩͑ ̷̹̈́O̶̮͆U̸͍̇T̴̙͆ ̷̧̀W̴͓̅I̷̞͑T̸̗͒H̴̹͒O̴̺̓Ṷ̵̂T̵̺̚ ̵̢́M̴̜̅E̶̬̋?̸̻͋!̸̦͂"

you flinch, you never saw Alastor lose his composure. he was always so calm and collected. his voice was static, choppy.

the tears that were cornering your eyes start streaming down your face "I-I..."

"Ţ̶̈Ḧ̴͙́Ė̵̩Ỳ̷̳ ̷̳̒Ã̸̡L̷̛͚M̶͇̚O̸͈̔S̴̜̎T̸͚̊ ̷̤͝K̷͊͜I̵̺͝L̵͚̎L̴̤̆Ẽ̴͖D̶͍̈́ ̵̻͝Y̵̰̑O̸̜͘Ù̶͍!̵̻͝ ̸͓̾D̴̯͒O̶̅͜Ṉ̶̌'̷̹͒T̵͎͋ ̶̺́Y̴̹͂O̶͍̅U̴̘͌ ̵̘̾Û̷̪N̸̩̊D̵͎̋Ȅ̴͜R̵̮͂S̸̰̄T̸̝̅A̵͓͘N̷̩͂Ḏ̴̀?̵̗̍!̸̭̎"

suddenly, your bleeding arms fall from your head. you expose what you've been protecting all along.

a vinyl, a really old record from Alastor's favourite jazz artist. a rare find.

"I-I know but...tomorrow it's your death anniversary and I wanted to give this to you...as a surprise. I'm sorry"

Alastor's face immediately softens. Eyebrows raised, smile still not seen. He's just surprised and...moved.

He doesn't say anything, he just picks you up in his arms and takes you back to the Hotel where he bandages your arms.

Feeling guilty for putting yourself in danger, you ask Alastor to come to your room in order to apologize to him.

As he closes the door behind him, he says that there's no need to apologize.

"I'm...glad that you are still in your room. Listening to jazz, alive"

words didn't come easy, but he did feel the need to say it. you smile at him.

you propose to put his gift on the gramophone and so you do. music starts to flow between the small space you shared with the Radio Demon.

that's when you and Alastor start slow dancing. his arms around your waist, yours encircling his neck. his smile is back, but soft and...almost loving.

with his silent agreement, you reach for his cheek and graze it.

"Thank you for saving me, Alastor. Even if you are everything I distance myself from in this life...I'm glad you are the person that you are with me. In my next life, I'll make sure to be a sinner again if it means dancing with you like this"

Alastor now understands his feelings. It's something deeper than care. It's love. But not the same love you reserve to a friend and not even romantic. It's something deeper, more visceral.

He doesn't answer, just closes his eyes and leans in to press his forehead against yours.

you later fall asleep on your bed to the quiet sound of the gramophone playing, hands intertwined on Alastor's chest.

#alastor #alastor the radio demon #radio demon #hazbin hotel #vivziepop #alastor x reader #alastor x reader headcanons #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor fanfiction #writers on tumblr #headcanons #hazbin hotel fanfiction

[natalievoncatte]

Lena squared herself up after she stepped from the elevator.

This has taken considerable work. She’d had to arrange for her absence from boarding school to go unnoticed, or at least, unremarked upon. If Lillian got wind of her running away, she’d have been skinned alive. Perhaps literally. Since her adoptive father’s death, she’d actually looked forward to school, and to being away from Lillian’s abuse. Lex was now the only thing keeping her from Lena, and Lex was preoccupied with his project.

Her brother had been away for school for some time, but they had summers off together at least. When Lex took over the company when he turned 21, he grew distant and aloof, spending more time with his friend Clark or at work than with family.

With his absence came Lillian.

Still, she had managed to build a support network. Frank, her bodyguard-slash-driver was Lex’s man, but he was useful. Lena had spent months buttering him up to participate in her plan: she needed wheels.

In the meantime she’d acquired blackmail material. The head master at the school gave her a broad latitude after she implied that she might expose certain proclivities of his. That gave her the time away she needed. She’d carefully negotiated a higher allowance from Lex in exchange for accelerating her studies in anticipation of beginning her undergraduate studies at sixteen, which was a triviality for her anyway.

Lena walked down the hall, heart pounding against the backpack clutched to her chest. Each step felt heavy, alive with portent.

She could turn back now. She could turn her back now.

What if she was wrong? Paranoid, addled, as crazy as her mother, just like Lillian said? What if she was about to not only blow up her whole life, but slander her brother. If this went sideways, she didn’t know what exactly would happened to her, but Lillian had once, while tipsy on whisky from Lionel’s stash, told Lena that if not for Lex, she’d have Lena garroted with piano wire and buried on the estate, and like any bag of trash, no one would notice she’d been disposed of.

When she told Lex, her hands shook like leaves. He looked at her for a long cold moment and she worried that he’d slap her or scream or throw her out of the house, but he simply said, “I’ll talk to her about it.”

He did. She never made another threat.

He also brought her a wooden box, ornate and polished. Lex sat next to Lena and opened the box, showing her the contents, lying on red velvet. A five shot snub nose revolver and two speedloaders.

“I’ll teach you how to use this,” Lex said, grimly. “I know you’re smart enough to know if you need to. If anyone tries to harm you, kill them. I’ll clean it up.”

Lena had been terrified of it for months, even as she enjoyed the shooting lessons from Lex, given in a remote part of the estate near a burbling creek, the shots cracking the morning peace and shaking dew from leaves.

She had the gun in her backpack, and her hands were shaking.

The other contents of her bag were a weapon far more devastating. She was about to fire it and she’d have to accept the consequences.

Finally, she stood outside the door. Apartment 18B. The name on the lease was Lois Lane, but according to Lena’s reconnaissance, Clark Kent had been living with her virtually full time for the last six months, not long after something changed in his relationship with Lena’s brother.

Lena’s hand hung before the door for a good minute before she knocked, weekly. She hadn’t considered what might happen if they were simply not home. Her legs felt watery and her eyes burned. She knocked again. She was committed now.

The door swung open and Lois Lane stood before her. She was beautiful in an understated way, obscured by limp hair in a chaotic bun, rumpled clothes, and the stink of coffee on her breath.

“Who- what? Kid, what do you want?”

“I need to see Clark Kent. Is he here?”

“Who’s asking?”

“Lena Luthor.”

There was a gust of wind behind her, and Kent stepped into view.

“Lena?” said Clark. “Lex’s little sister? What are you doing here?”

Lena’s throat went tight. She swallowed hard, and as she anticipated, his demeanor changed. He softened. He craned forward slightly, studying her intently, and his brows shot up when looked at her bag.

He was checking her vital signs and he’d spotted the gun. In the bag.

“He knows you’re Superman,” Lena choked out, “and he’s going to kill you.”

Lois glanced at Clark with a stunned, stunned wide expression. Then, she grabbed Lena and yanked her inside, slamming the door. Lena squeaked.

“How do you know that? Lex knows? Did he tell you? What do you mean he wants to kill Clark?”

“Hey,” Clark said, crouching beside Lena to bring himself to her level, resting a comforting hand on her slight shoulder. “Take a breath, Lena. You’re safe here.”

In Lena’s plan, she was going to begin explaining, starting with how she deduced his identity and lay out what she discovered in his files. That was her plan, but no plan survived first contact with the enemy.

Lena began to sob.

Superman knelt beside her and removed his glasses, and enveloped Lena Luthor in a warm, protective hug. She sobbed harder, burying her face in his shoulder.

“Jesus Christ,” Lois whispered.

She drew the gun out of the bag and checked it with professional, practiced familiarity, dumping the shells into her hand.

“I think she’s telling the truth.”

Clark nodded.

Over the next hour, Lena was swept to Lois’s big couch and sat in the middle while the pair sat on either side of her. When she was hungry, Clark went out to get her favorite guilty pleasure meal, a big greasy burger and fries, and a milkshake too. Between bites, she explained everything, telling them about her brother’s insane plan to turn the sun red.

They believed it all. Lena had receipts.

Eventually, Lena was exhausted, everything had been said, and she sat with dull shock on the couch and stared at the black mirror of a blank television set, marveling at how small and helpless she looked, like a drowned rat.

“Why don’t you lay down for a while?” Lois said, gently. “Here, I’ll put something on the TV for you.”

Lena didn’t make it ten minutes in before she was asleep, curled tightly on one end of the couch with a pillow under her head.

She woke sometime later. It was dark now and she heard voices on the far side of the apartment.

“I called Bruce. He said he’s in, and he’s bringing reinforcements. I’m going to try to get a Green Lantern on board. We have to move fast. Nevermind me, if Lex does this, millions of innocent people will die. We’ll have to move fast.”

“What about the girl?” said Lois. “She can’t go home now. We have to get her somewhere safe.”

“I have to get you both somewhere safe. I should probably come up with a reason to get the building evacuated. One Lex realizes he’s been caught out, he’ll come after both of you.”

“You’re right.”

“I want you to go out,” said Clark. “Make it look like you’re heading out to a convenience store. Bruce is sending Alfred to pick you up, he should be here in an hour. I have somewhere else in mind for Lena.”

“Where?”

“It’s better if I don’t tell you, just in case.”

When he emerged from the back bedroom, Clark Kent was resplendent, clothed in the persona of Superman.

“Lena?” he said, gently. “We have to go. I’ll take you somewhere safe, where your brother won’t find you.”

Lois joined him. “You’re going to put on some of my clothes, and I’m going to check your hair. You can’t take anything with you. Lex Luthor might have been tracking you the entire time.”

Lena’s stomach dropped. What if she was right? That might be a move Lex would play, tracking Lena so that he could use her against his enemy. Lex had become cold, single minded. Lena was wondering how long it would be until she was disposable.

“Okay,” said Lena.

“I’m going to have to fly you.”

Lena did as she was told. She put on an outfit that belonged to Lois, a hilariously oversized Gotham U sweatshirt and leggings. When it was time, Superman bundled her up in his cape.

“I’m scared of heights.”

“I would never drop you,” he said.

Lena screamed when he took off. She was glad for the cape, glad she couldn’t see the ground. She curled up around him and pressed her eyes tightly closed, wondering exactly how fast they were going.

The landing came surprisingly fast. He’d alighted on the grassy lawn of a lovely beach house. Lena smelled something baking and heard voices inside. Clark knocked on the door.

A girl, a little older than Lena, opened the door. Golden curls spilled over her muscular shoulders, and she wore an oversized pair of glasses that did nothing to dull the endless depths of her blue eyes. There was something profoundly sad behind the curiosity in those eyes. She looked at Lena with mild confusion.

Lena stared back. There was a wild stirring in her stomach, and she shifted uneasily on her feet.

Then, the girl addressed Clark in a rapid, clipped, and utterly strange sounding language.

It hit Lena like a shockwave.

They were speaking Kryptonian.

“Lena,” said Superman, turning to her. “This is Kara Zor-El, my cousin. The last daughter of Krypton.”

#supercorp #supergirl fanfiction #supergirl #supercorp fanfic #lena luthor #kara danvers #kara x lena #karlena #supergirl fanfic #ficlet #runaway Lena #my headcanon is that Kara is older #teen supercorp romance #Lillian Luthor is a rancid bitch #teen Lena was adorkable #Kara has jock tendencies but is only jock adjacent #You can have a little butch Kara as a treat

[rosiethedragongeek]

I can't stop thinking about how Hiccup and Toothless' relationship is built on trust and has been built on trust the whole time. But more than that, it was built on trust from their very first scene.

Hiccup holds Toothless' life in his hands and he chooses to let him go, even though Toothless could very well (and might) kill him.

Toothless then has the power and he could easily kill Hiccup. He probably considers it just like Hiccup did, but he responds to Hiccup's kindness with kindness of his own, and he lets him live.

So when Hiccup goes down into the cove, there is already a tentative understanding between them that neither means to bring the other any harm. You have spared me, I have spared you, we are equal.

But both are still wary.

So Hiccup makes a decision to trust Toothless with his life again when he throws the knife into the lake. Not that the knife would have protected him much from Toothless, but it is presumably the same weapon that Hiccup would have taken his life with to begin with, and it's more about what it represents. So Hiccup gives the power in the situation over to Toothless when he throws the knife away. Now that Toothless doesn't see Hiccup as a threat to him, he calms down.

Toothless trusts Hiccup when he eats the fish Hiccup brought with him the first time, and the basket of fish the next time. Eventually, both of them are relaxed. Hiccup can just sit on a stump and draw in the dirt, Toothless can nap, there is no worry that one will kill the other. There is mutual trust.

They bond, Toothless shares his fish, Hiccup smiles (which Toothless clearly understands to some extent bc he smiles back), Toothless draws, Hiccup plays along w Toothless' game, until finally Hiccup decides to reach out to touch him.

He tried before, when Toothless was resting in the sun, but that didn't go very far, bc Toothless didn't trust him. But NOW, things have changed. They have spent enough time together that Toothless is less wary. But not entirely.

Hiccup sees this, that he is asking for trust from Toothless, so he puts his trust in Toothless first. He closes his eyes and turns away, and just like that, Hiccup once again shifts the power from himself to Toothless. (Cutting the ropes, throwing the knife). And so Toothless trusts him.

#i've been thinking about them TOO MUCH #apparently #hiccup and toothless #toothles and hiccup #hiccup & toothless #toothless & hiccup #hicctooth #hiccup horrendous haddock iii #hiccup haddock #hiccup #toothless #toothless httyd #how to train your dragon #httyd #rosie's httyd brainrot

[normspellsman]

She Is Mine

part one | part two

pairing: neteyam x fem!omatikaya!reader

genre: violence, bit of angst + fluff, & comfort

word count: 2.7k+

warning(s): death threats, mentions of death + injuries + blood, reader thinking she’s going to die + accepts it, neteyam going apeshit on an avatar soldier, reader being stabbed, mentions of brutal killings / violence, reader crying, & a bit of dark!neteyam

taglist: @aonungsmate @dearstell @optimisticblazetrash @thatonegirlwiththebeanie367 @liyahsocorro @amortencjja @universal-s1ut @goodiesinthecloset21 @chshshhshshshshshshshs @minkyungseokie

word bank: mawey — calm; calm down, eywa / the great mother — goddess deity that the na’vi believe in, ikran — winged creature used for flying + hunting, yawne — beloved, & yawntutsyip — darling; little darling

note: literally wrote this within two to three hours so it might not be that great, so bare with me. hope you guys liked it & let me know if i should do something similar to this with lo’ak <3

It was stupid really.

When you think back on it, it was definitely stupid to agree to tag along with Lo’ak and the rest to wherever the hell they were planning on going. But you could not say no to Tuk when she asked you to come with them. She was your weakness and used it to her advantage.

You’d been silently weaving a new armband for your boyfriend, Neteyam, when his youngest sister had approached you, hands interlocked behind her back and the all too familiar ‘innocent’ look plastered on her face. You knew that whatever she was thinking of saying or asking you would end up in you ultimately agreeing to it, most likely getting you in trouble with your lover.

“Join me and Kiri to the mountains with Lo’ak. Pretty please?” She had asked, pouting and widening her amber eyes up at you as she gently swayed from side to side.

You gave in immediately.

It was sad how fast the youngest Sully got you to cave in so quickly. You had restraint with the others, even Neteyam, but had none whatsoever when it came to Tuktirey. You had such a soft spot for her and Tuk took advantage of it every time.

Should’ve never said yes, you grumble to yourself inside your head, head shaking to yourself as you struggled against the restraints the RDA soldiers had put you in upon catching you all when you attempted to leave the scene you weren’t supposed to be at.

Jake instilled it into you guys so many times to never get close to the abandoned shack. You needed asked why. It was something that Jake wasn’t going to argue about and made it very clear after his youngest son tried to pry the answer out of him the first time he mentioned it. Should’ve listened to Jake.

Everything went by so fast, you had barely had time to process what was going on before you were shackled in handcuffs and essentially held prisoner by RDA Avatars.

“Who is she?” A deep voice asked, pulling you out of your seething thoughts.

Quaritch had a good estimate on who was who in the little rag tag group he caught. The five fingered teens one-hundred-percent belonged to Jake Sully while the human boy was a result of the Corporals past. So, that left you and Tuk. He would give it a fifty-fifty chance that the both of you were also Jake’s kids. Man, he and the Missus sure was busy, he thinks to himself, smirking at the thought.

By the only Na’vi boys reaction, Quaritch could tell that you were something else to the kid. A girlfriend perhaps?, he thinks, best friend?.

Lo’ak knew he was fucked the minute Tuk managed to convince you to join in on their little ‘adventure’. Neteyam continuously told him to look out for you whenever he left to go hunt or do whatever their parents told him to do, threatening bodily harm and death if he didn’t obey. He had a bad feeling about the whole thing but regardless of it, still continued on with his plan. Neteyam was so going to kill him.

“Our sister,” Lo’ak muttered, the soldier behind him still had a tight grip on his queue, tightening it before he answered.

Everyone on the scene could tell that Lo’ak was lying. It was evident. The boy's ears were pinned back, mostly in pain, and his tail fell limp beside him as it gently curled in on itself.

Bingo, Quaritch thought to himself, more leverage.

“Hmm, I think you’re lying, boy,” the Corporal starts, inching closer to Lo’ak, “And do you know what I do to liars?” he asked.

You gulped at the man’s words. You could only assume his following answer would entail torture or death. You all were totally fucked either way.

Lo’ak refused to answer the man’s question, making Quaritch smirk even more.

“I punish them,” he answered, a sick and disturbing glint in his eyes as he stared down Jake Sully’s second son.

Anxiety spiked in all of our systems, making you struggle further in the soldier's grasp.

“Don’t hurt him,” you and Kiri pleaded, the soldiers behind you yanking back on your braided queue, making you cry out in pain.

Quaritch tsked at your response, turning towards you as he stalked towards your figure. “I’m not going to hurt him, sweetheart. Just you,” he finalized, pulling out a knife that was sheathed in its carrier on his hip.

You and everyone else began to protest at his words.

“(Y/N)! No!” Lo’ak cried out, trying to inch closer towards you to protect you but was pulled back by a soldier, hissing out in pain and frustration.

Tuk began to cry as she saw the knife inch towards your face before it dipped down to your neck.

“You fucking asshole!” Spider yelled out, struggling in the grips of the two Avatar soldiers holding him, surprisingly making them struggle to keep him in their grasps in return.

Kiri could only close her eyes in response, not wanting to see you get hurt in front of her.

You stopped at the contact the cold knife made with your warm skin, the temperature of it making you lightly flinch back at it. Your heartbeat rose increasingly within the confines of your chest, hammering against the bone. Holy shit, you thought, this is how I’m going to die.

As you looked around and saw your friends' reactions, you accepted your fate. You accepted that you were going to be murdered in front of them. You could only hope that your death would help the Sullys and Spider escape from the soldiers and Quaritch safely and unharmed. You also hoped that it was going to be a quick death. You didn’t want them to see you suffer.

It’s okay, be calm. Don’t fight back, it’ll only make it worse. Mawey. Eywa, please ensure the safe return of the Sully’s and Spider. And make sure that Neteyam finds only happiness after this, you prayed.

Quaritch had taken your queue from the soldiers grasp behind you, granting you momentary relief from the tight hold only to be replaced with an even harsher grip. You hissed out at the returning pain.

“Now, listen here boy,” he starts, pointing the clean knife at Lo’ak, making him look at him, “I want ‘ya to contact your Father and tell him that if he isn’t here after the sun sets, girly over here,” he gestures to you with the knife in hand, “Is going to be gutted and strung up on the tree line as a little surprise for your Daddy. Am I clear?”.

His words makes Tuk cry even harder, making the soldier behind her give up on her hold on the girls queue and instead hold her up by her arms.

Lo’ak reluctantly nodded at his words, swallowing down the gathering spit in his mouth. His eyes jumped from Spider to Quaritch to you, then to Kiri and Tuk. He was dreading the moment his parents and Neteyam arrived, knowing that regardless of how much they cooperate, Quaritch is going to do whatever he wants to even if that includes staying true to his words of harming you.

———

The three were close to nearing the old abandoned shack when Lo’ak called in again, the line going static for a second before he spoke up.

“Quaritch is giving you until after sunset to arrive,” he shakingly starts, anxiety clearly evident in his tone as he speaks, “Or…or he’ll gut (Y/N) and string her up as a welcome gift for you.”.

Neteyam nearly crashes into a tree when he hears his brother's words.

Quaritch was threatening the life of you, his mate, in hopes of riling up Jake. Well, it was working, except it was Neteyam who was riled up and not his Father.

All the boy could see was red as the three of them silently continued their flight towards your destination after Jake told Lo’ak that they were on their way and that the message was clearly received.

Rage boiled up inside of Neteyam’s body, causing him to slightly shake from the emotion atop his ikran. He was going to kill every single one of the soldiers there once he arrived. He’d do anything to get you back. Anything.

———

Everything ached.

From your queue, to your scalp, to your neck, and to the fresh new wound Quaritch left after he decided Lo’ak was taking too long to relay his message to his Father. He had sliced your thigh and stabbed the wound in response, jamming it into the flesh/plush of your thigh. You cried out to the brutal attack, growling out in pain as a handful of tears fell down your cheeks. Quaritch only smirked at your reaction, throwing you down onto the ground as the rest of the soldiers followed suit in discarding their prisoners, herding them into a circle.

Kiri helped you up, allowing you to lean into her. She quickly assessed your wound and deemed that you were going to be fine, as long as no one pulled the knife out from your leg.

Lo’ak held your head in the palms of his hands as he looked for any other slices Quaritch managed to make before stabbing you. He didn’t find any and sighed out in relief from that.

Spider had gathered Tuk in his arms and tried to silence her crying before any of the soldiers got inspiration from Quaritch and decided to punish the child for crying.

“Fucking son of a bitch,” you whispered between grinded teeth after the attack, trying your best to not yank out the foreign object in your thigh. You began to think that maybe you will end up dying out here after all, amongst the beautiful greenery of Pandora. Albeit it not being the way you wanted to go out, it still wouldn’t be the most gruesomest death you imagined happening. You just wished that you were able to kiss Neteyam goodbye one last time.

———

Furious wouldn’t even begin to describe the type of emotion he was feeling at the moment. There probably was no word equivalent to the emotion he currently felt.

Neteyam had ended up disobeying his Fathers orders of him staying with the ikrans, saying that he was ‘too emotionally invested’ and that his anger was too risky for what he was about to face. He thought it was utter bullshit that he wasn’t allowed to aid his parents in rescuing his siblings and his lover from Quaritch. If anything, it gave him more of a reason to focus and get everyone out of there safely.

He had managed to take down two Avatar soldiers in his search for you. He decided that they weren’t worthy of wasting his arrows on, slicing and stabbing them until their throats were practically open wide in exposure or had any time to process the pain. He’d been quick and brutal in his attacks. The more bodies he left behind, the more closer he was to having you in his arms.

His Mother had already released her arrow by the time he arrived on the scene, causing the other soldiers to shoot out into the trees and pull you all up in response. He was forced to hid behind a tree, eyes desperately searching for your familiar figure amongst the Avatar bodies and his siblings.

Neteyam’s eyes finally found your body, still in a soldiers grasp as they tried to pull you away towards where the others were gathering.

His gaze narrowed at the soldiers tight grip on you, robotically notching an arrow and drawing his bowstring back, almost immediately letting it go just as quick as his initial drawing of the arrow.

The arrow lodged itself in between the eyes of the soldier, it’s body slumping backwards as it’s grip loosened on your body, allowing you to follow its descent to the ground.

You groaned out in pain when your body made contact with the forest floor. You were too tired to move out of the way once you realized the soldier that had you in its arms had died, accepting your fall to the floor as gracefully as you could. The knife was still in your thigh, shooting electric hot pain up your leg upon being disturbed from the short fall.

You felt another pair of hands grab you and roughly pull you upwards, you screaming and kicking in retaliation. But just as quickly as their arms grabbed you, they let you go, a loud grunt and hiss following as their body was thrown to the side.

Neteyam had quickly made his way to you once he spotted another Avatar pull you up. He had unsheathed his knife and jumped on the soldier, causing the two of them to roll around on the floor before Neteyam brutally and repeatedly drove his weapon into the Avatar’s body, not stopping until he was certain that he caused enough damage to the fake Na’vi.

Stay away from her, he thought after every stab he inflicted, it’s not her time.

You had looked up when Neteyam delivered the final blow, slitting the insignificant soldier's throat.

You had never seen your mate this angry. Sure there were times where he lashed out at you after an argument or got so angry he hissed and growled at his brother for his ridiculous antics. But never, never have you ever seen him so vengeful. You didn’t even know if vengeful was the right word to describe how Neteyam looked like at the moment. But nothing else came to mind.

“Yawne,” you whispered out, desperate to catch your boyfriend's attention, wanting to get out of the line of fire as quickly as possible.

The teen whipped his head towards you, eyes dilated to the point where they looked like slits in his pupils. His chest was heaving up and down heavily, lungs taking big gulps of air as he did so. A few braids fell in front of his face, masking some of it as he looked at you.

His whole expression softened once he laid eyes on you. He could tell that you wanted to get as far away from the scene as you quickly could, that sad and traumatic look in your eyes at you pleaded with him.

Neteyam quickly shook out of his stupor and gathered you in his arms, being weary of the knife in your leg that he just noticed. Another thing that made him want to kill Quaritch himself.

“It’s okay, I got you yawntutsyip,” he whispered back, dodging all of the flying bullets and arrows he could as he weaved into the heavy forest foliage. His grip on you never faltered as he jumped over logs and ducked under stray branches to get you to safety. His whole body was on autopilot as he ran around, solely focused on getting you out of there alive.

Once Neteyam had decided he was far out enough to not be chased or caught by any more Avatar soldiers, he gently laid you down onto the soft grass, eyes quickly assessing your figure for any other injuries he should be aware about. He let out a sigh of relief when he came to the conclusion that you had no other wounds that needed tending to, softly bringing you into his arms for a warm embrace.

You immediately broke down into the hug, burrowing your face into the crook of Neteyam’s neck and wrapping your arms around his back to bring him in closer. Your sobs were a telltale sign of how distraught you were from the events that just occurred, brain still racing to process it all.

Neteyam softly shushed you as he put one hand on the back of your head and the other on the lower portion of your back, softly rubbing the skin in attempts to comfort you.

“You’re safe now, my love,” he whispered, kissing your hair, “I got you. You’re safe.”.

You relaxed into your lovers arms as he comforted you, feeling safe in his hold.

Neteyam had never gotten that blood thirsty before and that frightened him a little. If he acted like this when you were in trouble, can you imagine how’d he act if you actually died as a result of tonight’s events? He didn’t know the answer to that. All he knew was that you’re his and he’d do anything to ensure that it is not your time yet.

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