#but that kind of guilt and hurt in her eyes gives away that she clearly doesn't Really think that about supergirl

[girlgenius1111]

you talk of the pain like it's all alright

well i was too into this to not write part 2 right away, so here! the downside is i have not proofread oops.

warnings: nightmare, kind of a panic attack... worries of self harm, but no actual self harm. angst but more fluff :)

The drive to Alexia's apartment was uncomfortably quiet. You could tell that she was trying not to push you, which was not the norm. It made sense though; your actions this evening had really worried her, and she was at a loss for how to help you.

"Does your hand hurt?" She asked, breaking the silence, but keeping her eyes fixed on the road.

"Only a little," you replied, lying through your teeth. You'd rejected any meds from the physios, and your hand ached, pain pulsing from various areas of your knuckles, highlighting the multiple fractures.

"I'll give you something for it when we get home," she told you.

"No, really, it's fine." You mumbled. Your hand hurt because of your own actions, because you'd been stupid and impulsive. It should hurt. In the back of your mind, you realized how unhealthy this thinking was, but you pushed that thought away.

"If you're in pain, you should take something. Just because you did something dumb doesn't mean you deserve to be in pain," Alexia told you, very gently. You tried to hide your surprise at how accurate she was, completely taken aback by her perceptiveness.

Instead of responding, you turned to face out the window, watching the city pass by. Alexia sighed when you didn't say anything; you were really getting tired of that sigh. It sounded like it was full of disappointment in you, even if that wasn't the intention.

-----

You received what felt like the millionth sigh from Alexia when you walked into her apartment. She asked if you wanted to talk, obviously trying to be casual, but you shook your head, telling her you were tired.

"You can't avoid this forever, y/n."

"I'm just tired, Ale, I'm not trying to avoid anything." If she wasn't so worried, she would have laughed at the blatant lie.

"Fine. We'll talk tomorrow," she said, and you nodded, not yet sure how you were going to get out of that one. She was clearly frustrated with you, and you hated it. You already felt bad that you'd made her worried enough to make you stay with her, and the guilt you felt for not being honest was quickly replacing your resolve to keep everything to yourself.

Alexia pointed you towards the guest room, before disappearing to get you something to sleep in. You sat on the bed, running your hands over the soft comforter. Carefully, you took of your brace, wincing at the sight of your hand. It was swelling, already bruised. You were so frustrated, so defeated. You took a shaky breath, trying to stave off the tears that were rapidly gathering in your eyes.

"Okay, these might be kind of big on you, but they... should work..." Alexia returned, voice growing quieter as she looked at you. You were staring at the ground, eyes welled with tears, cradling your hand to your chest. Your lower lip was trembling, and you were blinking rapidly, trying to pull yourself back together. She hadn't seen you look so vulnerable in a really long time, and she wasn't sure how much you'd allow her to comfort you.

The Catalan placed the pajamas on the bed, before carefully walking over to where you were seated. You sucked in a big breath, prepared for another speech, but none came. Instead, Alexia was pulling you into her, arms wrapping around your shoulders, pressing your head into her stomach. Her thumbs moved rhythmically in circles against your shirt. Abandoning your resolve momentarily, you wrapped your arms around her, pressing your face into her. You clutched at her shirt desperately with your good hand, and she held you tighter.

She ran a hand through your hair, speaking quietly to you. "Everything is going be okay, pequeña, I promise. We're gonna figure it out, whatever it is."

She felt you nod almost imperceptibly against her, and took the small victory. She pecked the top of your head, before pulling back.

"Sleep now, you must be exhausted. And wake me up if you need me." She paired her words with a reassuring smile, waiting for you to nod again, before leaving the room.

You changed, wiping all traces of your small breakdown off your face, before climbing into the bed. You were exhausted, too exhausted to try to stay awake. You hoped you were tired enough to not have any nightmares, but luck hadn't really been on your side recently.

-----

Sure enough, you'd only been asleep for a few hours when your dreams soured. It was a familiar nightmare, one that you had frequently. It consisted of you missing a goal, a game winning goal. The fans screamed at you, your opponents mocked you. Worst of all, your teammates were angry too, your captains and Jona yelling at you for not doing better, for not being better.

In the other room, Alexia woke from a light sleep to the sound of you whimpering. She was out of bed in a second, almost falling in her haste to get to you. Entering the room, she saw you rolling around, tears leaking from your eyes. You were talking through your cries, but she couldn't understand what you were saying.

Crossing the room, she sat on the edge of the bed, placing her hands on your shoulders and shaking. You sat straight up, gasping for air. Your wild eyes found Alexia, and before you knew it, you were throwing yourself into her arms, letting out loud, unrestrained sobs.

"Alright, you're okay. It was just a dream. Slow your breathing down, you're safe, I've got you." You barely registered Alexia's words, just so grateful that it was a dream, that she wasn't really mad at you.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," You cried. You weren't really sure what you were apologizing for, but you couldn't seem to stop.

"Shh, y/n, it's okay. You don't need to be sorry," she told you. She was holding you tightly against her, rocking you back and forth; she wasn't sure why, but it felt right, and it seemed to work. You were calming down.

And as the panic faded, embarrassment took it's place. You pulled yourself out of Alexia's arms, a horrified look on your place.

"No, y/n, it's okay, really, don't-" You cut her off, leaping from the bed and all but sprinting into the bathroom, shutting and locking the door behind you. You sat against the wall, burying your face in your hands. You could hear Alexia knocking on the door, her panicked voice calling to you, but none of it registered. You were so distraught, so upset that she'd seen you like that. How could you let this happen?

"Y/n, please, please open the door. You don't need to be embarrassed, I'm not mad or upset. I just need to know that you're okay." Alexia was begging, not hearing any response.

Her mind was racing, thinking a million things at once. Whether she could break down the door, what was in there that you could hurt yourself with. She tried everything she could think of to get you to open the door, from pleading to using her stern captain voice, to soothing tones, back to pleading. It had been minutes, and you still hadn't answered. She could hear your ragged breathing, which was some comfort.

She didn't know what to do, how to fix this. Hands shaking, she grabbed her phone, calling the only other person she knew you trusted.

-----

Mapi hadn't expected today to turn out how it had. Not your red card, not your impulsive actions, your total disregard for yourself. She didn't expect the frantic call from Alexia in the middle of the night; Alexia was almost crying, a sign to Mapi that what was going on was bad. More than anything though, she didn't expect Ingrid to take charge the way she did, throwing shoes at her and rushing her to the car.

Ingrid drove fast, hands clenching the steering wheel. Mapi knew Ingrid was an empathetic person, a kind person, but she hadn't expected the Norwegian to join her in this, with this intensity. As Ingrid led her inside Alexia's apartment, determined, Mapi couldn't help but be so incredibly glad that her girlfriend was so perfect.

-----

Noise had faded for you, and all you could hear was the blood rushing in your ears. You needed to breath, you knew that. You also knew you needed to tell Alexia that you were okay, that you weren't going to do anything stupid. You were completely frozen though, all your energy focused on gasping little amounts of oxygen into your body, just enough to keep you conscious.

-----

Alexia was sat against the bathroom door, saying pretty much anything that came into her mind. The sound of you struggling was too painful for her to listen to, and she couldn't allow herself to do nothing. She only felt relief at the sight of Ingrid and Mapi. The three of them, together, could fix this, she was confident.

"What happened?" Mapi asked, flinching at the sound of your desperate breaths through the door. Alexia had been barely comprehensible when she called, and Mapi only really understood that something had happened, and you'd locked yourself in Ale's bathroom. Her and Ingrid took seats against the hallway wall near the door as Alexia responded.

"I think she had a nightmare. I went to wake her up and she was so upset, crying so hard. And I calmed her down but then she was pulling away and running out of the room. The look on her face. God she was so horrified that I'd seen her like that." Alexia's voice cracked as she spoke. "I've been trying to get her to open the door but she either can't hear me or she won't open it."

Mapi clenched her fists, before asking the question they were all thinking. "What's in there?"

Not 6 hours ago, you broken your hand punching a wall. They still weren't sure what your intention was with that, and the thoughts of what you could be doing, a locked door in between you, were terrorizing your friends.

Alexia just shook her head. "I don't know, I can't remember. I thought about breaking down the door, but... I don't want to freak her out any more."

Ingrid looked between her the other girls, the solution clear to her. "Did you try to pick the lock?" She asked. Alexia looked at her blankly.

"I don't know how to do that?" Alexia responded, sounding confused.

"Get me a bobby pin." Ingrid instructed, and Alexia scrambled off to her bedroom, uncharacteristically frantic.

"You... you know how to pick a lock?" Mapi asked, completely surprised. Ingrid seemed like the last person she knew that would have that knowledge. Ingrid was a rule follower.

Ingrid looked at her, fighting the urge to roll her eyes. "Yes, Maria. Doesn't everyone?" She remarked.

Mapi looked even more confused. "No?" She said, her response sounding like a question rather than an answer to one. Alexia returned then, thrusting about 8 bobby pins into Ingrid's hands. Again, Ingrid almost rolled her eyes, wondering what kind of fun the teens had in Spain that they didn't learn how to pick locks. She dropped all but one of the bobby pins, turning towards the door.

Alexia and Mapi exchanged looks, and in the time that took, Ingrid had the door clicking open. They all looked in, distressed, letting out simultaneous sighs of relief at the sight of you. You weren't okay by any means, hunched into a ball, hands pressed tight over your eyes. You weren't hurt though, and that's really all that they were concerned about.

The girls paused, unsure what to do now. It hadn't seemed like you'd noticed them enter the bathroom, and they weren't sure what they could do to without startling you. Ingrid, full of surprises today, took the lead, moving to sit next to you, careful not to touch you. The other girls sat too, albeit a little farther away.

You were so in your head, so not aware of anything around you. You knew someone was speaking to you, closer than they were before, but that was it.

"Hey, y/n, can you hear me?" Ingrid said, voice hushed. You gave no indication that you could. "I'm gonna put my hand right next to you. If you can hear me, I want you to touch my hand." Her voice was so soothing, it broke through the fog in your mind.

After a minute, you pulled your good hand away from your face, and shakily reached for her hand. Ingrid kept her's open, palm facing up, until you wrapped your hand around, gripping tightly.

"Good, that's really good, elskling. Can you move your other hand? It looks like it's hurting, honey." You realized Ingrid was right, and unclenched your broken hand, pulling it away from your face with a whimper. They could see your face now, cheeks flushed and eyes puffy. You avoided looking at the other girls, keeping your eyes trained on the ground even as you stretched your legs out, bringing your hand to your chest. You were still holding Ingrid's hand though, which she took to be a good sign.

"I'm gonna get you some ice, pequeña, is that okay?" Alexia asked, voice softer than you'd ever heard it. You nodded mechanically, because your hand really did hurt. Alexia stepped out of the bathroom, and Mapi spoke this time.

"Can you look at me, y/n? Please?" You'd never heard Mapi like that, desperation clear in her voice. You gave in, lifting your head to meet her eyes. Briefly, you wondered when the hell Mapi and Ingrid had arrived, but Mapi spoke before you could ask.

"You don't need to be embarrassed. You didn't do anything wrong, we're not mad at you, not even a little bit. We just want to help, cariño, can you let us do that?" There wasn't much reason to resist anymore, nothing really left to hide.

"Okay." You said quietly, voice raspy from crying. Alexia returned in time to hear your answer, and this time she was sighing out of relief. It was a nice change.

She sat beside you, gently taking your mangled hand in her own, and wrapping it carefully in an ice pack. You grimaced, squeezing Ingrid's hand a little tighter. In response, she moved her thumb up and down the back of your hand. Alexia held the ice pack in place, not really sure what to do now.

"When did you guys get here?" You asked finally, looking towards the couple.

"A bit ago. Ale called us, she wasn't sure how to get you to open the door." You nodded, feeling guilty for worrying them.

"How did you get in?" You wondered.

"Ingrid must have a criminal background she'd hiding from us, because she picked the lock in 2 seconds flat," Alexia responded, voice jokingly exasperated. You looked at Ingrid, shocked.

"Who doesn't know how to pick a lock!" Ingrid said again, looking between the three of you.

"Most people, I'd say. It's okay, amor, I think it's hot that you used to break in places." Mapi joked.

Ingrid glared at her, her response dying in her mouth when you pulled your hand from her grasp and shuffled closer to Alexia, leaning into her. The girls looked at each other, never really having seen you seek comfort out like this. Alexia wrapped an arm around you taking in your exhausted expression.

"How about we go to bed? We can talk in the morning, when you're feeling better." She suggested, and you agreed.

"I promise I'll talk to you guys." You said quietly. Your friends smiled at you. You really didn't want Ingrid and Mapi to leave, but you weren't really sure how to ask for that. Luckily Alexia's mind reading powers seemed to have returned full force.

"You guys wanna crash in the extra bedroom?" She asked. The couple nodded, and you looked confused. Where were you supposed to sleep?

Alexia pulled you to your feet, holding part of your weight up as you were unsteady on your legs. "Cmon, I'm not letting you out of my sight." She said, leading you into her room. The couple peeled off into the extra bedroom, wishing you a goodnight. Alexia pulled you towards her bed. You were so passed arguing, you let her guide you onto the bed, scooting under the covers. She climbed in next to you letting you wriggle into her. She wasn't sure if you were being snuggly because you were exhausted, or emotional, but she didn't care.

For the first time in weeks, she felt like she had an idea of what was going on in your head, and if you needed physical comfort, she was more than happy to provide it.

You felt safe, comforted, even if anxiety still fluttered in your chest at the thought of talking to your friends in the morning. You passed out almost instantly, regardless, and Alexia followed soon after.

-----

part 3 probably tomorrow because i'm obsessed with this

#woso imagine #woso x reader #woso #barcelona femeni x reader #mapi leon #ingrid engen #alexia putellas

[runningfrom2am]

cold nights // part ten

summary: may the odds be ever in your favour.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 3.3k

masterlists / nav / requests

tags/warnings: tribute!reader and mentor!coriolanus, r is very sweet (too kind for this world. literally.), sunshine x grumpy trope kinda, he falls first, violence typical for the source material, r is very smart (as she should), district twelve!reader.

a/n: playlist coming v soon!!

series masterlist // playlist

Coriolanus lets out a scream of anger as he pulls the weight of the cement block down on the boy again, dishing out every last bit of rage he had over the inconvenience he had caused. He had to. He was sure the tribute was already dead, but one more hit couldn't hurt- not when he needed to make sure he was really done; not when it felt so powerful the first time.

He's breathing heavily, staring down at the body in front of him with his curls falling in his face, preventing him from seeing reality. Shielding him from seeing you.

You open your mouth to speak, but you can't. To ask if he's okay, but clearly he is- that final blow was too late to be a hit out of desperation, panic, or pain. It was pure, unnecessary retaliation. It went against everything you stood for. Everything you said.

Coriolanus was Coriolanus indeed; you could see it in the darkness that suddenly appeared behind his eyes. It was like he had done it for fun.

He looks up only when you take a step back, shoe crunching over the rubble underneath your sole and alerting him to your presence.

"Y/N-"

You look between the boy you thought you knew and the battered body on the ground. You take another hasty step back.

The power he thought he felt was replaced instantly by guilt when he saw the look on your face. He wasn't sure your kind features were even capable of showing an emotion so abrasive as disgust- but that was all he could think of to describe what he had to guess was going on behind your eyes. Betrayal, maybe. Horror, even, at something he had done. He moves to take a step toward you, dropping the metal rod in his hand so maybe you'd give him the chance to explain but you were taking off like a bird in the street threatened by a moving car the second he moved a muscle. He freezes, hand extended toward you despite you being too far to reach.

You were scared. Of him.

He very quickly had more pressing matters than your understanding or coping with the idea that you had run from him since he was now hearing the war cry of Coral and her pack as they ran from the tunnels toward the exit he was standing under.

He was grateful you had fled before that, hoping they didn't see you before you hid away again. He hops back over the gate, grabbing Sejanus and forcing him through the front entrance just in time.

"For Coriolanus, when I am gone."

He reads over the words on the outside of the intricately folded note over and over again, sitting at his desk and trying to ignore the stitches pulling at his back. Sejanus had given the note to him when he was discharged from the hospital. A note from you. It was a goodbye, he knew it. Something about your delicate handwriting on the outside felt so sacred to him.

"My Dearest Corio,

For once, I cannot express with words what I need to say to you. Regrettably, Sejanus is waiting so I must find something to say soon. I'll begin with thank you. You told me not to thank you until you had done something for me, but what you didn't understand was that you already had. Having a friend at the end has meant the world to me. I wish I could tell my family about you. When I can't sleep at night, I think of how much they would love you, and how we could sit together in the field at night and look at the stars. I hope one day you get to see them.

I apologize that I have to ask one more thing of you. I admit, I do not know how your mentorship works, but I hope with all my heart that I have done enough for you to win your prize. I regret that I will never know. I'm sorry that you ended up with me, you deserved better. I feel like you weren't given a choice, though I know you would never admit that. I digress. All I ask is that you do not forget me. You don't have to feel guilt, or think of me all the time, I just hope you read Romeo and Juliet one day and guess which parts were my favourite. Or that if you're out on cold nights when the breeze chills your skin, you'll think of us. I also hope that is not too much to ask of you. I suppose, again, I will never know.

If I can take your position for a moment and mentor you; I have some advice I would like to offer. Be whatever you want to be, do what you want to do. Don't let anything or anyone stop you from being good. Your kindness, Corio, was not lost on me while I had the pleasure of knowing you. I've seen who you are, and I will never forget.

I must tell you posthumously that you are the closest thing to my own Romeo Montague I have been lucky enough to have in my life, but our story is different. You get to grow up, change, have a life, and fall in love. Please do. See the beauty in everything and do not let the cruelties of the world change the goodness in your soul.

"Alas, that love, so gentle in his view, Should be so tyrannous and rough in proof!"

With love and not nearly enough time,

Y/N

He couldn't resist unfolding the page in his hands and reading it. Every inch of the page was covered in your scrawled print, urgent from not wanting to keep Sejanus waiting for too long. You were still very much alive, but he was probably dead to you and he saw that in your eyes as you looked at him with nothing short of fear. He was supposed to be your Romeo, or at least you thought so when you wrote it. And he wanted that for you. He regrets so deeply that he took that perspective from you. It was a mistake- but maybe, if you won, you would see that for what it was and forgive him.

He wanted to crush up the note and throw it against the wall, tear it to shreds and light it on fire and burn away the fact he had ever met you, but he knew he didn't want to. It was all he would have left of you. He couldn't lose it, even if he hated himself for ruining what you could have had.

Instead, he folded it back up and put it on the shelf where his mother's compact once was before crawling into bed and crying until he finally passed out.

"You can explain it to her, Coryo. I know she will be reasonable." Tigris smiles sadly at him, helping him once again with his blazer following yet another back injury.

He hadn't said anything to trigger her sympathies this morning besides having puffy eyes in her presence. Though, the wall that separates their bedrooms is thin- it was likely that despite the muffling of his sheets, she had heard his cries. He had told her everything, he always did.

"Would you like me to come with you today? I can miss just one day of work, no harm will be done." His cousin offers. He wants to decline, her income is all they had, but if Coryo was being honest with himself, he needed someone in his corner.

"Okay." He agrees quietly and she smiles, patting the front of his uniform.

"I'll grab my things, can you wait a few moments?" She asks, already heading for her room.

"Of course." He nods. In another moment of self-honesty, he realizes he doesn't even want to go. But he had to be there. For you. If you had even survived the night.

When you decided there was enough daylight, you crawled back deeper into the vents. Seemingly you were safe there, if you had to guess it was almost noon and no one had bothered you. You were on your way to check on Jessup- that was a better use of your time than dwelling on what you witnessed last night and slipping deeper and deeper into a downward spiral.

You approach the grate in the vent you entered through, peeking in to see if he was still there. "Jessup?" You whisper, unable to see him. Worried when you get no response, you slide the cover off and hang your head out of it to look around. He was curled up against the wall across the room, and he looked distressed. Shaking, crying, skin ashen.

"Jessup?" You call toward him again, beginning to climb down to go check on him.

He's not responsive to you, not as you take a few hesitant steps closer. "Are you okay?"

His head snaps up to look at you. "Y/N?"

You smile a little, surprised he even remembered your name in his state. "Hi." You crouch down in front of him. "What do you need? Are you holding up okay?"

Again, no response.

"I'll get you some supplies." You whisper to him, knowing that if the microphones pick it up, Coryo would likely send you nothing when you emerge into the open area. He was very clear that you shouldn't share, but Jessup clearly needed help. He'd been down here for over a day without food or water, but now, you didn't know that you had anyone to help. You had Coryo and Sejanus, but now Sejanus hated you and Coryo was never who you thought he was. It had haunted you all night.

"I'll be back soon, okay?" You smile at Jessup reassuringly, standing and untying the scarf so you can get back up into the vents.

Coryo hadn't heard what you said to the boy, but when you reemerged from the vents after checking it was mostly clear, he knew what you were there for. It was decently safe, spare for Reaper who had collected and covered several bodies with a torn flag while you were gone. Making eye contact with him startles you, but you don't move. Neither does he. You give him a nod of understanding as he kneels next to the aboveground grave, which he returns. Lamina wasn't on her beam anymore, and that makes your heart clench. It took you a long time to get from one place to the next using the vents- anything could have happened in the time you weren't watching.

Now that you've established that you're safe, you look to the nearest camera with hopeful and tired eyes. Coryo knows you want to bring whatever he would send back down to Jessup.

He chews his lip, looking between you and the small screen in front of him. He shouldn't enable you to help another tribute, but it did look fruitless. Jessup was not well, not at all, and it would be a waste to even bother feeding him. At the same time, after what he had done last night, after what you witnessed, he would have to buy back your trust. Allowing you to help your friend is his only way to do that, at the moment. So he selects the water and sends it, followed by some bread.

You receive it, giving a weak, almost hesitant smile to the camera with the food and water tucked against your chest. "Thank you." He can only read your lips before you disappear again.

Climbing back out of the vent, this time with a water bottle and some bread in hand as you drop to the ground, you startle your friend. "Hey, Jessup." You say, raising your free hand to calm him. "I brought you something to eat."

You approach him carefully as he stares at you. You hold the items out to him, but he doesn't take them. "Do you want some help?" You offer, kneeling down in front of him. "Here," You tear off some of the bread and try to hand it to him. After not eating enough for so long, smaller pieces would probably be easier. "It may be a little dusty from the vent, but it's still good. You need to eat."

Then, without warning, he slaps the items out of your hand and shoves you back. "What did you do to it?!" He shouts as you fall back on your butt, quickly shuffling yourself back away from him.

"Nothing! Nothing, Jessup, shh, we gotta be quiet down here..." You try and calm him, still backing away.

"You're trying to kill me!" He yells, ignoring your pleas for him to be quiet, reaching for the now empty and broken water bottle that spilled out over the floor.

"I would never, I just want to help!" You try and assure him, standing up and backing away. Clearly, he doesn't want to talk as he's jumping at you, now with a weapon in hand.

You have to run. There's no time to get back into the vent, making a run for the door and throwing yourself through the hole at the bottom.

"Why would you do this?!" He shouts after you as you run down the halls of the tunnel, still trying to stay as quiet as possible through your heavy breathing. "What have you done?!"

"Lyssie- what is he doing?" Coryo asks his classmate next to him, thankful now that you are apparently such a fast runner.

"I- I don't know. He wouldn't betray her like this." She replies with a slight shake of her head, eyes glued to the screen.

"She's fast enough, but she can't get back in the vents while she's being chased." Coryo says, as if either of them could do anything, but he was as helpless as you were.

You slide to a halt in the long, rounded hallway when you see Coral round the corner in front of you. Jessup was sick, he wasn't fast, but you couldn't turn back. You were cornered, and there was nowhere to go but up. You look up, scanning the overhead vent system for a grate but see none. Turning quickly, you look along the ceiling toward Jessup as he makes his way toward you with the broken water bottle. You'd rather try your odds with him than Coral and the others.

Your eyes land on a grate just ahead of you as you hear footsteps and shouting closing in on you from both directions. With shaking hands you scramble to untie the scarf as you run back toward Jessup, throwing it back over the pipe and using all your strength to pull yourself up into the ceiling, hitting in the grate and pulling yourself inside. "Jessup, Jessup! Run! Hurry!" You try and urge him, but it's like he doesn't hear you, jumping to jab at you with the bottle. He misses, luckily, but Coral never does.

Coryo watches with bated breath while you struggle to pull yourself up, abandoning your friend to his fate. He cringes as he watches Jessup fall, the inflicted wounds being just hidden by Tanner's form and the buzzer goes off.

"Oh, and that's the end for Jessup as his district partner climbs into the ceiling!" Lucky's voice sounds distant to him. "Lysistrata, get out of here and Coriolanus, you may want to start packing your things as well."

He wouldn't budge. He's not packing a single thing until you're done taking your final breaths. Lyssie sighs and shakes her head, tears in her eyes as she pats Coryo's shoulder. "If this is it for her, I'm so sorry..." She apologizes before taking her leave.

Your heart is beating out of your chest as you pull yourself almost fully into the vent. You don't make it smoothly, though, crying out in pain as you feel the prongs of Coral's trident plunging into your calf. Your blood drips down your leg and on top of the other tributes as you finally make your way all the way in. You don't have time to feel any pain as you quickly crawl away. They know where you are, she could stab up into the vent just below you and catch you again- you had to find a way up farther.

"Y/N! We know where you've been hiding now, you're not safe in there!" Coral calls after you, and you have to ignore it as you slide through the metal tube, feeling it get slick from the blood pooling underneath you with every movement.

You don't hear them following you, though, so when you finally make it to where you can climb up to the next level, you feel a lot safer. Your chest is heaving as you sit up on the edge of the drop-down to the tunnels, just given enough room in the T intersection of the vents to take a breath and look at your leg.

You hiss as you lift your leg, assessing the puncture wounds. They wouldn't be fatal if you stopped the bleeding. You exhale shakily, pressing down on the flesh with your palms, pain shooting up your leg and into your back. You don't have anything to use to help besides the scarf, but it was Coryo's. You don't want to ruin it.

You didn't have a choice. You grab the material that you had dragged along with you, wrapping it tightly around the skin. "I'm sorry... I'm sorry,.." You cry, knowing he can't see or hear you.

Coryo is already panicking. Just like Highbottom had said, you could be dead in there and he wouldn't know. The panic only escalates when the cameras follow Coral, Treech, Tanner, and Mizzen as they go back up to the main floor, and Treech and Tanner go for the two main vent entrances, all of them too focused on you to even notice or care that Reaper was sat in the same clearing.

You don't hear it for a few minutes. The bleeding in your leg had mostly stopped, soaking the silk material by the time you heard the familiar clang of shifting metal. Someone else was in the vents.

You look behind you, trying to discern which direction they were coming from, but it was nearly impossible to tell with the echo. You had to move, but you could be crawling right into your fate. Maybe you should just stay and wait and let it happen.

As the noises got closer from both sides, accompanied by coughing from the dust, you knew you couldn't just wait. You'd made it this far, and as far as you knew, no one else knew the vents nearly as well. That was an advantage you had sought from the very beginning, and now was the time to use it.

You gently lower yourself down to slide back the way you came, hitting the bottom level with a bang before ducking out of sight and around a corner. It couldn't have been Coral up there, she would be taunting you by now, but she wasn't. It was quiet until you heard whispers up from where you just were.

"There's blood on this side. She must have gone back down." You recognize Treech's voice when you hear it, and you hold your breath as you fiddle with the compact in your pocket. Stroking your thumb over the carved metal over and over again, trying to stay quiet. "Look, there's a trail going that way."

"Down we go, then." Tanner replies, making your heart stop. You couldn't fight them off, you knew that, and there was a trail of your own blood that would lead them straight to you. You couldn't hide.

You slowly pull the compact from your pocket, turning it over in your palm. You swore you wouldn't participate in the games. You wouldn't harm anyone. But maybe, if you 'accidentally' spilled its contents in the vent before you had to move on, they would stop following you.

Before you can think too much about it, you're holding your breath and opening the small clasp. It just looked like salt. Yeah. It's salt. You already believe it as you gently tip the container, making a thin line of the substance across the bottom of the vent. Salt is for protection. The salt will keep me safe.

You pocket the compact again and quietly crawl away.

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okay suddenly tumblr isn't letting me tag more people than this so i just made some cuts unfortunately :') i just left the max amount of people i could whose users i recognized and see in my notifs all the time :) if you're not on here and you should be i'm so sorry! hopefully for part eleven it'll be business as usual!

also this taglist is closed now!! if you’d like to get a notification when i update, turn on my post notifications!! i promise i won’t spam y'all :,)

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[misc-obeyme]

Solomon Alone

Okay I am having some health issues, but I've been feeling pretty good today. And since I have some energy, I'm also kind of on a roll with writing tonight. I don't think I've ever posted two things in one day, but hey I'm just gonna go with it.

It's another Solomon story because I'm obsessed with him. This is a pretty short one about how he might be feeling after Lesson 12. This is assuming he doesn't have ulterior motives or anything.

It's a bit different from my usual fluff... I would say this one is all angst, but listen I don't question my muse when that slacker finally shows up.

Solomon x GN!MC

Warnings: Hurt/angst and SPOILERS for Lesson 12 of Nightbringer

Solomon watched as you lost consciousness. He heard himself asking Thirteen what to do, heard her say she couldn't help. He heard the brothers crying out your name, hoping you would somehow wake up. He saw the look of anguish on Lucifer's face, even as he held the grimoire that you had handed over to him.

Through a fog, Solomon helped the demons bring you out of the reaper's cave. When they were prepared to bring you back to Cocytus Hall, he told them to take you to the House of Lamentation instead. He convinced them that you would be most comfortable in the spare room there.

And Solomon went back to Cocytus Hall alone. He walked through it in a daze, not at all registering the environment around him. His mind was fully occupied by the sight of you falling to the ground, struck by the magic of the fountain.

When Satan came to talk to him about researching curses, Solomon listened. He agreed to help Satan look through all of the books they could find on the subject. It was a welcome distraction. It slowly pulled him out of the fog that had clouded his mind. He spent hours and hours reading through those books. All day and all night, he tried to find the answer to what had happened to you.

Because now that he was thinking a little more clearly… wasn't all of this his fault?

Solomon was the one who brought you to Thirteen's cave, to the Fountain of Knowledge. If he hadn't done that, if you hadn't been there when you made that promise, then you would still be awake right now.

That guilt was something he couldn't afford to think about too much. He threw himself into the research to prevent it from crushing him entirely. Not now, not while you still needed him.

He could face the shame of what he had done when you were awake again. He knew he would have to. He wouldn't be able to look into your eyes or see your brilliant smile without also feeling the heaviness of knowing he had caused your suffering.

It was easier with you resting at the House of Lamentation. He must have known that subconsciously when he convinced the brothers to take you there. He knew each of them would be spending time by your side, taking care of you. It allowed him to stay away so he could focus on fixing the mess he'd made.

It was only one of the many reasons he had sent you with them, though. The fact was, there were seven of them and only one of him. He couldn't take care of you the way they could. He could try to give you everything he had, give you all of his love, all of his knowledge, every part of him. And still they would always be able to give you more.

Solomon was sure you'd have an opinion on his thoughts if you were here to express them. Even so he felt himself reverting back to being nothing more than your teacher. You were his adorable apprentice and he would always be proud of you. He would do all he could to make sure you knew the magic you needed to survive and thrive in the Devildom and the human world.

He would teach you all he could no matter what, but he knew he couldn't hold onto you forever.

Solomon sat alone in his room at Cocytus Hall. A room you had poked your head into to ask him about this or that. A place where you sometimes looked for him to talk to him about your day or ask him questions about things that were on your mind.

It seemed like anywhere he went in the hall, there you were. The ghostly memory of you, standing in the kitchen making breakfast or sitting in an overstuffed chair in the library, reading. He saw you everywhere and the reality of your absence pulsed through his bones, settling into a dull ache. He was so good at ignoring this pain while he worked, it was days before he admitted to himself just how much he missed you.

And while working and researching was the only thing that was keeping him from falling into that pain, there was a little voice of doubt in the back of his mind. He couldn't help having the suspicion that your curse would break without him. That it didn't matter how much time he spent going through piles of books, that in the end it would be your tie to the brothers that would wake you up.

That once again, he would only be able to stand by and watch as magic beyond his control altered you and your life.

More than anything, Solomon was afraid that he couldn't save you.

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#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me nightbringer #obey me nightbringer spoilers #obey me nightbringer lesson 12 #obey me solomon #obey me mc #obey me solomon x mc #obey me solomon x reader #solomon x mc #solomon x reader #obey me x reader #obey me angst #obey me fanfic #misc writes

[deanbrainrotwritings]

— WHOLE LOTTA LOVE

SUMMARY : beau finds a way repays the reader after taking care of him when he’s injured, but also to apologise for worrying her. but most importantly, to prove he was okay.

PAIRING : beau arlen x fem!reader

CHARACTERS : none

WARNINGS/TAGS : nsfw (18+), smut, mostly fluff, PAIN (but physical)

WORD COUNT : 2.5k

A/N : title from led zeppelin’s song. I love beau, he’s so boyfriend-shaped, I wanna squish him. it was so worth staying up late every Wednesday just to see him. anyway, what an ending, right? LMAO XX

Bright light from the bathroom door shone on Y/N’s face when Beau stepped out after his shower, despite being quick to turn the light off, Y/N woke up. Groggy, vision blurry, and voice filled with sleep she murmured Beau’s name as he made his way to her in the darkness.

She sleepily turned to her side to face him when he chuckled softly, a lazy smile on her lips at the sound. “Sorry, didn’t mean to wake ya,” he murmured. The bed dipped under his weight and he hissed softly as he got comfortable in the bed. Worried, she rubbed her eyes and squinted her eyes to try to see his silhouette with only the light from the moon that seeped through the big window of their room.

“You okay?” She sat up, twisting her body to turn the lamp on. The white light illuminated the room, allowed her to see him with his eyes closed and his face exhausted. Her expression softened, from worried to compassionate, she reached out to touch his face and he opened his eyes slowly. His thick lashes fluttered against his cheeks, his green eyes heavy with sleep, only lulled faster by the gentle brush of her fingertips along his cheek and bearded jawline.

“I’m okay, go to sleep, sweetheart,” he reassured her. His thick fingers wrapped around hers and he brought her hand to his lips, kissing her knuckles softly. His dry lips gently pushed against her soft skin, tickling her a little with his beard.

She bit her lip, her eyes moved down his body, the sweatshirt he was swearing had ridden up, exposing his hip bone and waist where there was a giant bruise coloured his skin like a dark purple blotch of paint on a canvas. She felt her stomach drop and she inhaled sharply, felt queasy just imagining the pain, her heart skipped a few beats and he looked down to where she was looking.

“That’s nothing,” he reassured her, reaching to lower the sweatshirt so it went over his sweatpants. “I swear, I'm fine, okay?” He sounded a little irritated and she frowned, one part of her feeling hurt by his tone and the other part of her still concerned with the strong urge to help him.

“I… I was just gonna…” she stuttered and paused to push down the hurt she was feeling to focus on what she wanted to say. “I have something for it, Beau. You don’t have to be in unnecessary pain,” she said more confidently.

Guilt from both the hurt on her face and her kindness despite it made him give in and nod, allowing her to take care of him. He looked away at first, eyes cast to the side out of shame before he looked up at her pouty lips and her sad eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he apologised earnestly, rubbing a hand down his sleepy face, “I had a bad day. I shouldn’t take it out on you. You’re just being sweet. Go ahead and fetch it, darlin’.” He groaned when he started to sit up, her body instantly twisting up inside at the pain he must clearly be feeling, a wince on both their faces as he settled against the headboard. He chuckled when he looked at her and he grabbed her hand, tugging her forwards so she’d come closer before she left. “I love you, Y/N,” he murmured, a weary smile on his lips, waiting a few seconds while her eyes scanned over his face.

“I love you, too, Beau.” The crease between her brows disappeared and her lips were no longer downturned, a relaxed expression now in place of it. She leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to his forehead, nuzzling her nose against his hairline, she could easily smell his shampoo. “I’ll be right back.”

He nodded, watched her get out of the fluffy bed to walk into the bathroom. He let his head rest against the wall, his hands going to the hem of his sweatshirt to lift it up, taking it off all the way. He made it into a ball and put it between their pillows.

Looking down while biting his lip, he inspected the large bruise. He was lucky he didn’t break a rib. He was only happy Y/N wasn’t scolding him the way she usually did, and since Jenny already did that, he didn’t think it was necessary to be told again that he needs to be more careful.

He just couldn’t let the guy get away, so he went all in instead of waiting. He didn’t want to take the chance that the man would continue to hurt people. He made a hard call and really it went well, he caught the bad guy, got him locked up and now everyone was safe again to continue their lives.

He was definitely not doing that again though. The bruise covered most of his side and it was ugly, with dark purple splatter-like colour surrounding the main bruise. It was painful as hell and he probably should have had it checked out, but he was too stubborn to admit it was something a little more serious than he let on.

Y/N came back with a tube of cream and a pill bottle after a while of him listening to clutter in the bathroom. She must have been on her toes, body stretched out to reach the objects in the medicine cabinet. She was so cute. He smiled at her, matched her good mood because he was home now. This was his safe space, his happy place was with her. When he had bad moods and tough days, he could just be here and all of that evaporated.

She returned to his side, frowned and bit her lip in concentration as she also inspected the bruise. She shook her head in disapproval, but didn’t say anything when she popped the cap off and applied the white cream to her fingers, hesitating slightly when she came close enough to feel the heat emanating from his body.

“It’s okay, I can handle it,” he reassured her, reaching out to squeeze her thigh. She exhaled and nodded, then very gently she smeared the cream on his bruise. He tensed up, pressed his lips together in pain when she moved her fingers along the purple skin, trying to ignore the way she couldn’t breathe knowing he was in pain.

She was gentle with him and he eventually got used to the pain, his stomach was still tense and he squeezed the pillow in his hand, but knew it would feel better after she was done. His skin tingled under her fingertips, eyes tracing the circles she drew on his body trying to evenly spread out the layer of cream that would relieve the pain and heal his bruise.

“There,” she huffed out a breath and wiped her fingers on the flimsy shirt she was wearing.

“Thanks,” he murmured, staring down at the bruise that now has a light layer of white over it like melted frosting on a cinnabon. He relaxed too, his body deflating now that that was over.

“No problem.” He watched her reach over to the water bottle she had beside her on the bedside table and then heard the pills rattle when she handed them to him. “Take two,” she instructed.

“Yes, ma’am.” He took both, carefully opening the pill bottle he tipped it over and let the pills spill over his hand, returning the rest so only two remained. He put both in his mouth and drank water to swallow easier, drinking some more just to remove the thirst he started to feel.

He placed both bottles on his side, wiping his mouth to clear water droplets. He turned to face her, worry still knitting her brows together despite the little smile on her lips. She couldn’t hide it from him, even if she wanted to. Even the fact that he knew her brain was working like a whole factory of chaos and future possibilities was clear in the way her eyes scanned the rest of his body for any other injuries.

“Hey,” he called softly. She finally looked at him, actually focused on him when he started to shift so he was now facing her while sitting back on his legs. “I’m alright, okay? I promise, I won’t do anything reckless.” The word again hung in the air, but neither of them addressed it. He tucked her hair behind her ear, his knuckles gently brushing along her cheek, warm and soft.

“Okay,” she conceded, closing her eyes at his touch.

She opened her eyes when he started to thread his fingers through her hair, holding the back of her head with his eyes glued on her lips. When she whispered his name for no reason other than being flustered, he looked up at her. She closed her eyes instinctively and he started to move forward, his beautiful lashes resting on his cheeks when he closed his eyes and tilted his head to kiss her properly.

The kiss was soft and loving, he pulled away just a centimetre to peck her lips over and over. Only stopping to nibble on her lower lip when she smiled, her hands finding his wrists to keep herself grounded. Clouds of love and adoration filled her head so she could only focus on everything about him, leaving her light and puddle-y as he gently parted her lips with his tongue.

The minty taste was enhanced by their tongues sweeping past each other, slow and soft making them both moan into the kiss. He was pushing against her slightly, eventually pulling away from the kiss breathlessly so she’d fall onto her back with her legs still crossed. Her back arched for her comfort and he hummed softly, his hand going underneath her shirt to slide his hand along the arch. Her chest started to rise and fall faster, her skin flushed with excitement, a reaction following the speed of her heart from his kiss.

He pushed her shirt up, little by little, and first revealed her underwear to him. The black cotton covering what he wanted from her at that moment just to prove he was okay and that he loved her so much for how she took care of him. The higher he went the more he was able to see, until she shivered and the shirt bunched up above her breasts, her nipples tight and erect.

“You’re so beautiful, darlin’,” he whispered, slipping back into his Texas accent. He leaned over her carefully, trailed his lips up starting from the waistband of her underwear, slowly moving between her ribcage to her breasts. She carefully straightened her legs out on the bed, let him straddle her hips when he wrapped his lips around her nipple, his tongue flicking the bud.

“Fuck, Beau,” she moaned. The tingly sensation between her legs multiplied, followed by heat that spread with arousal when he sneaked his hand down to her underwear, and teasingly moved his fingers along waistband. His breath tickled her skin, his beard was scratchy but felt so good against her skin, and his teeth gently tugged when he slowly started to drag her underwear down her legs.

He hummed softly against her. One of her hands began tugging at his hair and the other moved to tease her other nipple. She panted when he pulled away from her, sitting back on his legs again to bend her knees, slowly slipping her underwear off her legs. He let her legs relax on the bed, feet flat, and flicked her underwear to the side, letting them hang at the edge of the bed without even looking.

“You’re always looking out for me, huh?” Beau asked, grinning down at her to see her smile again. “Take the shirt off, yeah?” He carefully moved off the bed and pulled his sweatpants and boxers down at once, watching her naked body, now that she discarded the last article of clothes on her body. “You really are so lovely, honey,” he murmured, climbing onto the bed again with his hand jerking his cock slowly.

“Beau, are you sure?” She asked suddenly, her eyes drifting away from his busy hand to the bruise on his hip. He knew what she was talking about, but he chose to play dumb, moaning louder than normal when he swiped over the leaking head of his cock and stood between her legs. She got flustered, her eyes snapping back up to his adorable face.

“Yeah, darlin’,” he nodded, grabbing her ankle, “you’re so sweet, so carin’, and a million other perfect things.” She raised a brow at his words, blushing, but otherwise confused when he placed her ankle on his shoulder, and lifted her hips up. “Don’t give me that look. ‘Course I’m sure that you’re lovely.” He had the cutest, stupidest smile on his face and she simply rolled her eyes at him, shaking her head slightly. She was still mindful of his bruise when he placed her close enough to him that his cock was rubbing through her wet folds.

“That’s not what I meant,” she whispered, letting him press the back of her other thigh against his with her knee bent over the unbruised side of his hip. Beau bit his lip, his cheeks red with a blush, and didn’t respond when he pulled back slightly, the head of his cock gliding through her slick warmth until he was pushing against her entrance.

“Sweetheart, I want this, okay?” He reassured her, slowly, breathlessly pushing every inch of himself into her fluttering walls. “Don’t… fuck, don’t worry. I’ll be careful.” He bottomed out inside her, moaning softly at the feeling of her around him, his stomach clenching with excitement.

He pulled his hips back slightly, the light of the lamp pouring over her body, allowing him to watch himself pull out of her, slowly so that they could both feel every inch of each other. A pleased sigh rolled past her lips, her excitement clear in the way her pussy quivered around the tip of his dick. His hair fell in front of his eyes, messy and slowly drying from his shower.

Beau pushed himself back into her, teasing her first before picking up the pace. He rolled his hips carefully, hissed softly when his efforts began to make the sting in his hip worsen. He ignored it, played it off like the sound coming out of him was due to pleasure, which it partially was, but the faster he thrusted into her the more it hurt. The sting spread across his side, but he could already feel his orgasm building up as he watched her take every inch of him.

He leaned over her, hoping to ease the pain on his side, and allowing him deeper into her cunt. She moaned softly, holding his face to kiss him, soft and loving she pressed kisses across his cheeks and his jaw too, lazy pecks scattered across the freckles that covered his skin. Deep and gentle thrusts slowly built up their orgasm, breaths heavy, muscles tight with each movement, pressure building up until they both came with whispered praises and soft grunts.

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[asexual-abomination]

How platonic yandere Overwatch characters react to you having a significant other Pt. 2

Hey sorry for the long wait, I tried to write Yan!Brother Hanzo and just couldn’t do it. I felt like I couldn’t move on without it, so this whole thing sat unworked on for ages. I realise I need to just get something out there, so I hope you enjoy what I did manage to put together :).

YanMother!Widowmaker

Is this... disrespect?

She is, reasonably, pretty damn worried about you being outside

To keep up a facade of being the emotionless sniper Talon trained her to be, she has to keep her precious child under lock and key, lest they find you and use you against her

But her paranoia goes deeper than most

Absolutely ANY move that gives you any kind of presence in the outside world is unacceptable

Even just regular friends are off the table, you think you're getting away with a significant other?

Not under the spider's eyes

She takes it as disrespect to her abilities that you think you can sneak around behind her back, and disrespect to her authority as your mother that you would so stupidly disobey her rules

She's the kind to just... wait

If you've snuck out of the house, she'll linger around corners, giving you a death glare before disappearing the second you notice her

If you chase her, you'll find that she seems to disappear into thin air

Both you and your significant other will be convinced that you're going crazy, and eventually you'll hurry home thinking you might still not be caught

She'll be perched in her armchair, legs elegantly crossed, eyes focused on you with a frown

Depending on the time of day, she'll have a glass of red wine to swill around menacingly, both to alleviate her stress and assert her control

Before she even says anything, you feel the urge to hand over your phone to avoid her wrath

Quick and sharp, she tells you to go to your room, and you can't help but rush to it

There's the horrible click of your door being locked shut from the outside, as she sighs and tells you this is all your fault

Clearly giving you the run of the house was too much freedom for your little brain, she won't make that mistake again

She won't say anything else, and stalks off for a drink

You don't need to know that she killed your date the second you separated from them

Later that night, she'll return to you, coming into your room with your favourite food and a sad look

As much as Amelie can't stand the idea of you disobeying, she can't stand you being upset with her even more

"I'm so sorry, dear, but you must understand why I do what I do. Here, you're still grounded, but I just can't let you sit in here all sad. Just remember, mother knows best."

YanMum!Junkerqueen

Ohh, ohohoho! OHOHOHO

You wanna date THE child of THE Junkerqueen?

You've certainly got guts!

She's the kind to slap your date on the back and pretend it's friendly, but fully intends on sending them to the floor

You're her BABY! Her Heir!

If anyone wants to do anything with you, they have to get through her

Another who can't stand the idea of you being upset with her, but unlike Amelie, she doesn't even have the spine to keep you under lock and key

She will always crumble to puppy eyes

Almost

But don't go thinking you're free to do whatever you please

Instead, she'll crack down on anyone she considers a threat

Junkertown is a lawless place... unless you're the queen herself

She can make up any crime she wants, and just send her loyal followers after them

In this way, she gets to be the hero who saved you from a horrible criminal who might have hurt you, but also completely absolved of any personal guilt in the situation

And she gets to comfort you about the loss! Win-Win!

Whatever you want on a silver platter, kid! Just forget ALL about any ideas of dating anyone at all!

(She takes any excuse to spoil to you, and what's better than some mother-child bonding time after a breakup?)

And if you see your old date, running around in the depths of Junkertown, doing odd and dangerous tasks with a scared look in their eye, then just ignore it sweety! They're doing... community service, y'know?

"Hey, whaddya think you're doing with MY kid? Ohh, you're daaating, huh? Well, you're gonna have to get through me!"

YanSis!Junkerqueen

Sure, but don't you dare leave Junkertown!

As a sister, she's more protective than possesive

So long as you stay within the walls of Junkertown, where she knows everything that goes on at all times, you can do whatever you want

She pays attention to everything that happens to you, but doesn't interfere as much as her motherly version would

It's all in the service of keeping you safe and happy, just as she always wanted

A significant other who makes you happy is just fine in her book

When you're happy, (and she can see it) she's happy

But the MOMENT your partner slips up in any way, she explodes

If they in any way imply that you might leave Junkertown, or just in general try to hide from her all-encompassing watch

She will pursue a traitor to the full extent of law

What's that line from that one weird old book she once read for you?

Off with their heads!

You can go and do whatever want with the protection of your Queen, but the mere implication of you actually LEAVING?

Unacceptable

But you won't suffer any consequences, that would go against everything she stands for

Instead, your partner faces the full brunt of her anger

She'll unintentionally guilt trip you about it as she tries to explain her side of it

"What don't you get? It's dangerous out there! And if they're gonna try and take you outside, where I can't protect you, then I'm gonna fucking kill 'em!"

YanFather!Hanzo

It's not even a question of whether or not he'll accept it, it's a question of how far your new partner can run until they get an arrow in the back of their skull

There's no veil of tolerance or kindness, he will literally shoot them right in front of you when he realises what's going on

Unlike many of the others, he doesn't really care about you being happy at the end of it all

He thinks you should understand his reasoning without any explanation

Why can't you see that no one is worthy of you?

He'll kill your significant other in front of you and then send you to your room for complaining

You won’t get sympathy from him

When you break his rules, there are punishments and consequences

This is the natural order of things in his mind

How you could even get a significant other under his strict containment is beyond me tbh but it’s really never worth it

The second he finds out, they’re dead

It’s not even a matter of jealousy or protectiveness on his end

He’s a busy man, you probably don’t spend much time by his side anyway

It’s simply a matter of you obeying the rules

He was raised under incredibly harsh rules as the scion of the clan; he thinks he’s being very lenient with you

Death is no matter to him - and he’s willing for you to hate him

There’s no winning this for you or your poor partner

“Haven’t I already told you? There are consequences for your actions. Tch. If you don’t want to look at the body, you can go and mope in your room, ungrateful brat.”

—//—

Hope you enjoyed!

#autsitic reader #platonic yandere #overwatch x reader #yandere overwatch #yandere widowmaker #yandere junker queen #yandere hanzo #yandere

[unclewaynemunson]

Just to be clear: this post is entirely platonic. It’s about finding understanding through shared feelings of loss and guilt and the depth of platonic connections, so please don’t reblog with any romantic tags.

'Eddie, what's this?' Nancy asked when she walked into the hospital room to find Eddie upright in his bed, with a pile of paper on his nightstand and surrounded by origami boats.

'Hi, Wheeler,' he said with a smile that wasn't quite as broad as the one he would regularly flash at her in the school hallways before their Week From Hell.

He looked better than the last time she'd visited, though: he had more color on his cheeks and his hair had clearly been washed and brushed. Apart from the scratches on his arms and the stitches in his cheek, he almost looked normal.

'You ever heard of ghost ships?' he asked Nancy as she went to sit down in the plastic chair at his bedside.

'Ghost ships?' she repeated. She tried to remember a term like that from Mike's D&D games, but came up empty.

'They're like, versions of yourself that you'll never get to be,' Eddie explained, picking up one of the paper boats around him and holding it loosely in his hands. 'Like the version of me who'd graduate high school.' He picked up another of his creations. 'Or the version of me who could walk without a cane.'

'You might,' Nancy reminded him.

'See, that's the whole point of ghost ships, Nance,' Eddie said with a smile like he was making some kind of grand revelation. The sparkle still didn't quite reach his eyes, though. 'You hold onto them, because you can't let go. Until you finally set them free, send 'em out onto the ocean. Watch them disappear on the horizon.' He shoved one of the boats off his bed in a somewhat cat-like movement; Nancy followed the falling boat with her eyes until it gracefully landed on the linoleum.

She thought about her own ghost ships. There were plenty of them, as if she had unknowingly opened a whole ghost port back in 1983. The version of her that lived in the peaceful bliss of not knowing how to shoot a gun. The version of her that would grow old with Steve, or with Jonathan. The version of her that loved to dance. The version of her that cared about which grade she'd get on her chemistry test.

The version of her that had a best friend called Barb.

'What if you don't want to let them go?'

Eddie looked up from the boats surrounding him, into her eyes.

'Then they'll always keep haunting you.'

Nancy thought about that for a minute.

'Which one's haunting you most, right now?' she finally asked.

Eddie's fingers started roaming over his sheets, until he picked up one of his boats, cradling it in his hands like it was made of glass.

'The version of me that didn't kill Chrissy.' He said it so softly that Nancy almost couldn't hear him. His eyes, wide as always and suddenly glazed with tears, kept staring at the boat in his hands like he was expecting it to start talking back at him.

'The version of me that saw she was hurting and didn't – didn't use that to his advantage. The version of me who didn't sell her fucking drugs but actually tried to help her.' He took a deep, shaky breath. 'The version of me that didn't run away and left her when she started floating.'

This was probably the point where Nancy should remind him that what happened to Chrissy was in no way his fault; but she knew exactly how he felt. She knew exactly how empty those words would be.

'Did I ever tell you about my friend Barb?' she asked him instead.

Her heart ached at the mere mention of Barb's name; she had never talked about her with anyone, ever. Not really. Steve had tried to be there for her, that first year after it happened, by visiting Barb's parents with her and holding her when she woke from a nightmare; but talking about it wasn't something he had been able to give her. And neither had Jonathan, or even Mike, or anyone else who knew about... everything.

But Nancy now realized that Eddie might understand, more than anyone else.

He looked up from his paper boat, a questioning look in his eyes when his gaze found hers.

'I mean, I know what happened to her...' he said, hesitant.

Almost subconsciously, Nancy reached out to one of the boats on Eddie's bed and took it in her own hands.

'She died because of me.'

It was the first time she said those words out loud – or the first time since that one awful party that she couldn't even remember.

'She died because I didn't care enough about how miserable she was feeling. She died because I wasn't there for her.' She tried to swallow the lump in her throat away. 'Vecna, he – he showed me what happened, you know. How she screamed my name, and how I didn't hear her. How I wasn't there.'

She blinked, her eyes focused on the boat in her hands.

'I don't think I can ever let go of that.'

'Do you blame Steve, too?' Eddie asked, his voice uncharacteristically quiet. 'He was there with you, wasn't he?'

Nancy hesitated. 'I used to,' she finally admitted. 'But I don't anymore.'

Eddie nodded.

'So you can also forgive yourself,' he pointed out. 'Sure, it might take a bit longer. You can keep that ship docked in your port for a while. But that doesn't mean it has to stay there forever.'

And somehow, that was a comforting thought. Maybe being the owner of a haunted ship wasn't all bad. Maybe the fact that it would be staying for a while meant nothing less than that she had loved someone deeply.

'So do you have any ghost ships you want to hold onto?' Nancy asked Eddie.

He stayed silent for a while, looking pensive.

'I think I’m not quite ready to give up on Eddie the high school graduate,' he finally said.

'Yeah?'

'Yeah.' He nodded, looking increasingly more certain of his words. '87, baby. 'S gonna be my year.' He paused, the fake smile dropping from his face just as sudden as it had appeared.

'And I wanna hold onto Chrissy. Can't change a thing about that one anymore; but I'm not ready to let go just yet.'

Nancy nodded. 'That makes sense,' she said. 'Maybe you can anchor it next to Barb's one. They might like the company.'

#tw death #took me fucking months to finish this one #i wanted it to end in a hopeful way and not be depressing af because the concept of ghost ships is actually v comforting to me #but ngl that was HARD #don't mind me rambling about stranger things #nancy wheeler #eddie munson #platonic edancy #barbara holland #chrissy cunningham #stranger things #fruity ficlet

[rose-tea-and-strawberries]

I'm not sure if you ever stated but, where would adult Simba and Nala lie in ship war? I mean it would align well for them to ship Yuu with Leona. But it also wouldn't be a stretch that shipping the human(ish) counterpart of your evil uncle with your new friend is kind of weird so possibly someone else.

So Simba and Nala ship Leona with Yuu. Eventually.

You see, Simba had his reservations when it comes to the younger lion that appeared to be a carbon copy of his nefarious uncle, what with his laziness and the way he'd use his cunning to manipulate and harm others to get his way to the top - all down to the scar over his eyes.

I mean, when he finds out that he was responsible for other students getting hurt and that he was planning to overthrow Malleus similarly to the way his uncle successfully overthrew his father and caused a lot of pain and suffering to his mother, he's not exactly the happiest camper. His protective dad instincts are just telling him to keep Yuu as far away from him as possible. Plus, he doesn't really trust Ruggie - hyenas bring back bad memories and he doesn't trust them at all.

(Listen, Lion King 2 showed that Simba had a lot of PTSD from the childhood trauma Scar inflicted on him, which causes him to act more on emotion than logic at times due to his overprotective nature. Not gonna lie though, dad Simba is adorable and one of my favourite scenes is at the end where he chases after her at the waterfall similarly to how Mufasa tried to rescue him. Like his face was just screaming 'I need to protect my little girl' even though she is a literal grown huntress)

Yuu would have to explain to Simba how Leona is one of her close friends now and he's atoned for what he's done. She's forgiven him so bygones are bygones. And it does take him a while but he sees him interact with Cheka and even though he looks disinterested, there's never any harmful intent and he's clearly just being a grump instead of holding actual resentment or bitter hatred for the young cub. Plus it's clear that he does care about his brother and sister-in-law and that he dislikes what the throne represents instead of the actual king and queen themselves. He sees how gently and kindly Yuu speaks to him and how clearly he cares for her and how he's much softer when he's with her than with anyone else and our Lion King realises that Leona is still young and because of Yuu he won't grow up with hatred and resentment the way Scar did. Unlike his father's murderer, Leona sees his faults and he feels genuine guilt. He does care for others and is an actual good leader who is incredibly respected by his dorm and the spelldrive team he captains. And yeah, he is lazy and he does dump his work onto others whilst he does the bare minimum but when he gives it his all when the time does call for it. He went on the wrong path so did Simba, and like Simba did after Rafiki hit him on the head he's making an effort to fix himself (and Yuu didn't even need a stick).

Plus, he sees the way he behaves when Yuu is around - the way his tail sways in happiness the second he detects her presence or how it would curl against her arm as if to stop her from leaving or how his ears would flatten when he gets flustered or perk up when her footsetps draw near or how he'd softly purr when Yuu threads her fingers through his mane (yes, in my world, lion beastmen refer to their hair as manes) (also, yes, I know lions don't purr but please let me have this). Sorry, Leona but you're not the only predator around here and he gets the feeling that your elevated heartrate has nothing to do with exercise. And if anyone knows a thing or two about a lion in love, he does. For me, his big lightbulb moment of realising that Leona has a thing for Yuu is that he's taking advantage of Yuu's obliviousness to just do lion courting rituals. Like sometimes he'd rub his head against hers or he'd cuddle with her during naps so that his scent is on her or he'd just give her gifts at random times of the day or how he's much more territorial and protective of her. And since he's warmed up to him already, he's going to ship Leona and Yuu with all he can.

Simba: When you go swimming, you should drag her into the water

Leona: Why on earth would I do that?

Nala's just there for a good time. Watching these two silly lions trying to figure out how to court Yuu is prime entertainment. Plus, she can tell that Leona greatly respects her and treats her with high regard by always being polite and courteous in her presence. She likes hearing about the lionesses in his pride and about his sister-in-law.

I've said it before but most of the heroes that fight The Great Seven ship Yuu with the NRC boys at first mainly because they're from their story, which gives them a lot of bragging rights (I swear some of them are just kids). Yes, at first all of them were incredibly skeptical seeing their beloved Yuu with villains when she's so sweet and kind and 'Disney Princess like' but then they see how Yuu stopped them from going down a dark path and because of her, those boys won't become like the villains from their stories. Yeah, they're still a bit twisted but they're also so horribly down bad for her, even the blind can see that they would never allow any harm to come to her.

#house of mouse au #asks #fem yuu #twst yuu #twisted wonderland #twst

[leggerefiore]

Suspicions

cw: Irida pov, suspicion about reader, pregnancy implication,

Pairing: Ingo/Reader

~~~

Irida was worried about the strange man her clan had taken in. She was usually in general, as he clearly was not from Hisui in appearance or speaking manner. But, for a while, she felt he had settled in. His duties as Sneasler's Warden kept him occupied and served as an easy way to teach him about the culture of the Pearl Clan and Hisui. His improvements and developments made her happy to see. Much had he changed from the weak, confused man who fell from the portal in the sky to the strong, sturdy Warden that served her people well. The blonde would even admit she admired his pure dedication to his duties, reminding her dearly of Palina.

So, after the Warden suddenly appeared to be going through a spell of weakness and exhaustion, she grew concerned. Before, he could easily trek through the highlands with a reasonable number of breaks per whichever length he had decided to travel. Now, however, he required much more for a normal amount of walking required by his duties. He had heavier dark circles than he previously did and whined about his hip hurting occasionally. What could have happened to him? Stress? Fears? Maybe Melli of the Diamond Clan had been tormenting him too much.

Irida thought long and hard about what change had entered his life before these symptoms became common. It struck her like lightning when she caught you, the Galaxy member who sought to quell the Nobles, strolling languidly at Ingo's side in Jubilife. Your hand held his as you leaned onto his shoulder. When had you two become so close? She had recalled an intense hurt in Ingo's eyes when she informed her clan about your banishment from Team Galaxy, but she had assumed it was simply a reaction of concern from someone in a similar situation to their own. It was obvious there was something else happening between you both.

Could you…

Could you be poisoning Ingo?

She swallowed at the thought of you slipping something toxic into a seemingly lovingly made dinner that would be served to her Warden. Slowly, this would weaken him to a point where he was unable to preform even the most basic of his duties. Ingo was nothing if not a fighter, however. She admired his strength and capable nature despite your attempts on his life. The blonde needed to observe this further before she dared make such an accusation. Why would you do such a thing to Ingo, after all? You were both clearly bonding over the similarities of your situations.

Maybe you were jealous of the kindness he had received from her clan in comparison to the harsh treatment that Team Galaxy had provided to you. She pondered many reasons that you would dare to engage in such an activity. Eventually, the leader had convinced herself of your guilt after Ingo passed out while assisting Jubilife with some pokemon training exercises. Her rage fumed as she watched you sit at his bedside in the infirmary of the Galaxy Headquarters. You appeared so innocent as you laughed about something. Your fingers combed through Ingo's hair while a blush decorated his cheeks. Irida immediately asked medic if there was anything odd about his condition.

“Him… Oh, he seemed awfully exhausted. He does not seem to be getting enough sleep, specifically,” the pink-haired woman tapped her lip, “Would you be willing to give him the day off? I do believe that would be most beneficial to his health.”

She did.

Yet, he seemed worse after his break.

Enough was enough, she decided. No longer would she bear to watch this poor man weather away in front of her without intervening. A leader protects those under them, after all. Irida wanted to be a wonderful leader for her clan, so this would a perfect time to act.

Knocking on your door, she stood confidently. The light was on inside, warm candlelight pouring out through the blinds of the small home of an architecture that was unfamiliar to her. It was early in the morning, so there was no chance that you were out doing things around the village yet. A few moments passed, and she had a rare moment of losing her patience, a terrible side effect that had arisen after being around that Diamond Clan leader. A sound of someone retching inside made her fully snap. The door was opened without permission, completely expecting to see you standing above Ingo as he vomiting with a terrible smile on your face.

Instead, she saw Ingo rubbing your back as you threw up into a waste container. She stood frozen. Silver eyes gazed at her in momentary shock and confusion. You were a bit too occupied to shift your attention. “Ah… Lady Irida,” he gave an awkward acknowledgment, “I do apologise for not answering the door sooner, but as you can observe plainly, I am a bit busy.”

“… Did you poison them?” she asked in a confused stupor.

“I would never do such a thing,” Ingo seemed dearly offended by that.

“They were poisoning you!” she shook her head and remembered the plot, “You've been terribly exhausted since you begun being with them and clearly unwell.”

“… Not at all,” he shook his head, “We've been – Erm - How do I say this politely? Oh dear, the words just seem to evade me in Hisuian tongue…”

You, finally managing a respite from up-ending whatever you ate that morning, turned to Irida, “I'm vomiting for one specific reason.”

Her face turned bright red from your words. Ingo staying with you all the time… Ingo being exhausted so much… You vomiting early in the morning…

Oh.

Oh, she had never even thought to consider that.

“I'm extremely sorry to you both!” she bowed in apology and turned to march out the door, “Congratulations!”

You both were left dumbfounded, before falling in laughter.

#ingo x reader #ingo/reader #pokemon x reader

[oncewhenalongtimeago]

Castoff full

Pairing: Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III x Fem!Villain!Reader

Words: 10,288

The gentle brush of fingertips as they slip apart, the pounding of blood as his heart falls out of your grasp. Those are feelings you are familiar with. Your relationship is one made up of meanings searched for where they are not, a deep care uprooted by a raging current and a single, meaningful mistake.

Tags: Angst, fem!reader, heartbreak, villain reader, unresolved insecurity, anger, canon divergent, first part?, suggestive content, RTTE, Httyd 2, Compiles parts 1, 2, 3, 4

<Previous

You saw the look in his eyes, you watched them treat each other so familiarly, watched the others close in around them, perhaps looking to share in the joyful atmosphere, knowing that should you step into the light, the moment would be ruined.

You stepped away from the half open door, back into the darkness of the cabin, wondering how they could be so happy together even after the raid, a skirmish so tough and violent- you’d had a fight with some new dragon hunters from outside the area, and they’d been unlike any of the ones you’d dealt with before. 

He knew before she did. You knew just as long as him. It wasn’t the kind of thing you or anyone else talked about, really, not to anyone but your parents and your true meant-to-be. But it was there. And you knew for the longest time that they were meant for each other.

You hadn’t known for sure that it would ever have ended. Yet somehow, supposedly, it did. You still felt like an outlier, though. Your heart was his for so long that to see them together felt like a betrayal, and to be with him now felt like a betrayal of that.

There was true love, romantic love and meant-to-be love.

For the longest time, you didn’t have a love, true or meant-to-be. Well, you had a love that was certain to be true, but wrong in that it was made for someone who’d already given his heart to another. A heart that he’d, supposedly, taken back.

Now, you wondered what sort of love he held for you with brown armor, red shirt, green eyes. Hands held gently, preciously out for your own.  

You made to reach out, but instead you turned away, missing the look of hurt you knew you would be there; the hurt in his eyes, the loose brows, the slightly disappointed tilt of his lips.  You couldn’t, not with any of the others around. 

You didn’t miss the hushed conversation, carried on just the same as it had earlier but in lower tones, the small looks shared between them, the unsaid thought that maybe you just weren’t right for each other. That you were a bad pair.

You furrowed your brows. You let him down again. 

But it didn’t feel right, to love and share love, especially with her so closely there, with the ghost of them ever so present. It filled you with shame.

There was no bitterness held, only guilt born from many nights spent awake condemning yourself for your yearning. It was something you’d long since accepted was meant only for the dark of night, when no one else was awake enough to hear your tears or your heart flutter.

You still felt as if he was hers, that you were encroaching on something you weren’t supposed to have. It was a messy situation. They ended amicably, yet you’d been feeling terribly for a long, long time. 

You wondered if the feeling, the bone-deep hate for yourself, would ever go away, like you’d dreamed.

For the nth time that day, you had to stop and wonder when Hiccup the Useless became Hiccup and Useless. 

You buried your head into your knees, tired of staring out over the windy clifftop. No number of waves or gusts of wind could brush away your troubles.

You didn’t even miss Berk. You didn’t have a reason to go, nor one to stay. You were just a floater, tethered only just so by the tattered, frayed strings of your own heart.

He was sitting next to you, a silent question on his lips, left unsaid but just as clearly heard.

Something tense was in the air between the two of you. You refused to give it a name, though you knew what it was just as well. It felt like the end. It felt like a new, terrible beginning. It felt like the heaviness in your gut and the slight burning of your eyes caused by thin sea spray.

 Your touching fingertips became more as you clutched his hand, squeezing it.

You’d always been the confidant. To have your positions switched was odd, unfamiliar. Hiccup was gawky and unsure in your boots. To have your troubles laid out between the two of you, of which there were many, disturbed you. The idea felt like a violation. 

So, without the words to speak them, you worked around. You found words you could speak, parts of some that were difficult and some that weren’t and strung them together like the split stems of flowers into a very nearly presentable crown.

You turned to your right and looked at him pleadingly though you weren’t sure what you were pleading for- Nothing, everything at once? To not leave you behind, not to make you stay.

“Hiccup,” You stared hoarsely, hesitantly. It was silly and it was stupid, just the act of speaking aloud. He wouldn’t, he couldn’t. He never would. 

Truly, you had only one question.

“Do you love me?” You asked. He looked confused, startled.

You leaned closer. You couldn’t tell which way he moved, if he moved at all. You imagined he moved away. He waited.

He looked at you expectantly. Unsurely. Why weren’t you moving even closer? 

You didn’t know what to do. You didn’t know if you could.

You’d never loved or been loved in any sort of way which mattered. The fact that you hadn’t had felt like a burden, somehow just another reason as to why you weren’t deserving. An onerous boon that you just wanted to be rid of.

Yet, he knew what was supposed to happen next. He’d experienced it; done it and had it done many times over. You hadn’t.

You two hadn’t been that close yet, not at all, not physically. This was not a boundary the two of you had crossed. You shared nothing more than a few mumbled words into the neck, a few nearly soft words in your nook, a tight embrace and hands held loosely in the quiet darkness of the night. Promises, dedications. No actions.

The others knew about it, though. They heard the declaration, quiet and uttered as if it was just a casual thing. For him it was. 

You said nothing. How could you?

You hesitated, waiting for an answer. Your lips twitched. Your eyes burned, stronger then. You shook your head and dropped his hand which he let fall to the wayside. Using your hands and the floor, you pushed away.

As always, you couldn’t bear it. He waited for you, just as you didn’t want to be someone to wait for. You wanted to already have it. 

You wanted back the years you spent wasting away, you coveted back the years you spent watching him give what you desperately needed so casually to another.

It was a surprise when the two of you came together. No one had expected it. It seemed off, out of place. You weren’t sure Hiccup himself had, drifting in the spaces left between after he and her had split paths. 

You stood, then.

You turned. You held your elbows and hunched your shoulders, turning your back to him and pushing against the wind, which though was light, and felt all of the sudden as if it was way too much.

You weren’t sure he meant it- Meant this. You didn't know whether or not this was real or something he’d just fallen into as per convenience.

 You did. You meant it. He was your true, he was your romantic.

What kind of love do you hold for me?

You knew the answer, plain and simple.

None. None at all.

You stood in the darkness of your cabin. Your windows were blocked, though you didn’t need the light. You’d been in for a while, you were used to it.

You’d exhausted your usual time-taking avenues, left with nothing but maintenance; folding, organizing, sorting. 

It was awkward. Since the clifftop, the two of you were distant. You didn’t avoid each other, but you also didn’t speak. It was a miracle that nothing had happened yet to force the two of you together and not necessarily in the pleasant sense.

You were beginning to believe that was the end of your relationship. You were having a hard time accepting it, though the feeling was creeping into your heart slowly and you were beginning to feel empty.

You didn’t flinch as the door to your cabin opened, creaking, though you winced as you turned back towards the light, started as he came up, pressing you gently against the wall.

Your lips met. 

It was not rough, more ‘just so.’ It unbalanced you all the same.

He was unsure, nervous. Clumsy. But he had done it on purpose. But it was meaningful, maybe. You could tell he meant it. 

You molded into his shape just as he molded into yours. Hesitantly, unsurely, you responded. He was soft enough to guide you.

Once again, you asked, though not so much in words as actions; Do you love me?

And this time, he responded. Not violently, not roughly, just so, enough for a shining pink petal to crest green sepal. Your heart bloomed.

Yes. Yes, I do love you.

You were light, you were fervent, you were free. You believed him.

The same hunters from before. The lot of you had gotten captured. You were too distressed to remember if it had been your fault. There were rocks sharpened to a point below you, gray skies and windy, stormy seas rushing tumultuously below.

You were far from the Edge. In unfamiliar territory, any and all allies unaware and absent, the dragons trapped in cages long behind you.

Off over the sea, the hunters were sailing away.

 It was a victory, however it was also one that came with a terrible price. Something had been set off, violently at that, throwing you off the edge of the cliff face, destabilizing the cage held by a chain pinned to the rock above by a thin steel nail.

“Hiccup,” You pleaded, breathlessly as your body struggled to keep up with your weight, with the rope and chains tied around your ankle,  “H-elp.”

I need you.

“Just- hold on, the others-” He crouched, glancing frantically between you and the rest. trapped in a hanging cage still stuck off the larger cliff’s side. Their chains were thin and yours were thicker, though both were just as equally dangerous.

Please, I need you now.

You jerked back as another rope snapped. Unheard by his ears, drowned out by the raucous waves below and by the rattling of empty cages, pushed around in the air. Unseen as his eyes trained on the others. 

And of course Hiccup didn’t realize, his focus trained elsewhere. There was no time to waste. After all, if he helped you up, in the time that took, they might fall. They would fall.

“Hiccup!” Astrid shouted. Snotlout shouted. 

You remembered how they looked before you’re been knocked off, Fishlegs panicking, mumbling to himself zealously, distress projected clearly for all to see and Ruffnut and Tuffnut yelling mindlessly into the air, a waning battlecry as the island deteriorated around you

Somehow, in between terror, in between the pain of your ankle as it threatened to snap and the taut muscle of your arms, a grim doom began to worm and thrash and coil in your gut.

“I’m not- I’m not going to make it,” You said desperately, voice crackling, face scrunching as tears began to spill over edges, shoulders straining, holding on just barely. 

 “Please, there’s-Just, cut me loose-” You prayed to whichever god was out there that he still had his knife. That he had something sharp. You were going to die.

You could tell he was stressed, overwhelmed, just as panicked. He shifted restlessly, stiffly, perhaps a million times in the last minute. 

Noise built up in his throat as he spoke but you were unable to hear it clearly as your ears filled with buzzing. 

You tried to speak, but you couldn’t hear your own voice, too breathless and strained to make a sound.

You watched his eyes flicker, you saw the soot on his face and each strand of his hair as it waved in great detail, your world slowing down to a halt.

He stopped. You caught his eyes briefly and you saw as an idea formed, as his resolve hardened and as he made his choice. You knew it would not be one he made for you.

“Hold on!” Hiccup shouted, as the other’s cries grew more intense, ears deaf to your pleas. He pushed away towards the other side of the cliff, running towards the others as their cage dipped once again.

There was a sharp pain in your chest, as if the nails you dug in with so despairingly were instead gripping your lungs, sharp and unforgiving.

Do you love me?

You were going to die.

 You blinked away tears and snot and all the little, tiny shards of your heart that had gotten stuck in your eyes on their way out.

You just had to hold on. You just had to hold on until Hiccup got back.

You shouted something wild, something animal as your fingers gave, numb with cold and sliding loose even as you commanded them to grip tight. You had no way to fight, no thing in which to fight with as your hold weakened on the slippery rock.

Your nails hurt as they worked against mainstay and loose dirt, fragile roots and falling stones. Your fingers pained as they worked furiously against themselves.

Hiccup left you. He wasn’t going to come back. You were going to die before he got back.

It was like a stake had been shoved into your gut.

Hiccup left you.

You were going to die.

Your vision whited out.

You were going to die.

You couldn't hold on any longer.

You fell.

A knife, if not useful, was novel. It was decorated and polished and mounted. Sheep meant wool and warmth, and when there was nothing else left, they were meat. Comfort, love, desire; those were all good currencies for exchange.

You blinked awake, choking out water, suffocating as your throat closed up on you, your windpipes flexing and expelling water violently from your lungs.

It burned. Your throat burned, ripped to shreds by your rough coughing. Your nose burned, dripping mucus and salty seawater.

Time, resources, space; It was all simply a matter of measure.

Your head felt heavy, like a keg had been placed up your nose, to the point where the pressure was unbearable. You could feel the blood reddening your face, pounding through your veins, though nothing pounded quite as hard or as desperately as your heart.

He let you go.

Your shoulders were hunched, the pads of your fingers digging painfully into splintered wood as you turned over, overcome with vertigo as you coughed and coughed over and over until there was no more water left to cough up. 

He let you go.

  -And yet you still kept going, choking and gagging on air. You didn’t stop, not until your throat was just still and sore and scratchy.

You turned your face up again, shivering and blinking against the sun and the biting wind. It was cold, and you could feel the chill all the way down your spine.

Slowly, you became aware of the bodies around you, heavy boots beating against a hollow ship’s body like marching demons and the slow rocking of the ground, which perhaps hadn’t just been a consequence of your addled mind.

Your ears rang as you took them in, noting branded arms and sliced ears. You prayed you were wrong, though you were afraid your rescuers were not the kind hearted stranger type. You wondered what it meant to be who you were, and what the difference between rescue and captive mean on this barge.

 Dread curled in your gut. Though you knew little, you were afraid you’d fallen into a caged pit and the water was rushing in too fast for you to catch a grip.

 “What do we have here, boys?” A body blocked out the light, then, dark and blurry against everything else. 

His shoulders were set under beige furs, a blurry, sardonic smirk pasted to his face above a blue-striped chin. a hand was shoved forward, towards you, clear against the sea and wood. 

You blinked, popping your ears in an attempt to discern some of the rowdy murmuring you could hear in the background.

You wondered if he noticed, when you’d fallen.

Hesitantly, you reached out your hand, shaking and dry from the salt and lack of nourishment, grasping at the palm with your weak fingertips. You were quickly tugged to your feet, and you stood, shaking, sopping wet, sand ran through your hair and stuck in the folds of your clothes. 

Everything had a use. But what use would you have to them?

What was the point of looking for something you had no use for?

He grabbed you by the shoulder, stopping you in your tracks. You wondered if he would let you keep walking, let you break away if you wanted, to hide mournfully between the barrels a little while longer.

You’d been there for enough time to figure you’d been dragged out by a Scauldron, perhaps, or some other seafaring beast. There were plenty back in cages on the island, most of which you’d had a hand in freeing with measurable success. There was no other way you could have gotten so far out so quickly.

The captain pushed with enough force to your shoulder to turn you, though not enough to make you stumble. No, that would be saved for later. You were sure of it.

Despite your efforts, in the moment, you couldn’t help meeting your eyes.

The emblems burned into the trappers and on the rails of your vessel already had you on edge, worst of all when you’d realized that you’d recognized the insignia.

Somehow, you had landed yourself on the barge sent to help transport trapped cargo, a vessel just the same as the kind you’d helped hoodwink a while prior. 

You hid around corners as the two vessels communed, sharing their experience with the dragon fraternizes. You couldn’t play two sides. Not at once.

There was no hiding who you were any longer. You heard, hidden around a corner with your hands frozen as if bolted to your elbows, back hunched and pressed to the uneven wood at your back. 

You were the ‘meek’ one. It was obvious. You ground your teeth bitterly.

You’d realized with rising panic that you’d freed the dragons. If there were any here, they were hard to access, hidden so deeply and with restraints so tight that you hadn’t heard a peep.

Back home, back on berk, back on the Edge, you could wear the facade of someone who was sure, someone who was familiar, but here, out on uneven ground and a million lengths away from everything you had grown to know, you were unstable. Vulnerable. Peeled absolutely raw.

You stared at him head-on, barely able to stop your lip from wobbling. You felt as if your very bones would begin to shake as like met like. 

The look in his eyes reminded you of a Terror you’d seen once, strung to a washing line like a man to his own execution, vicious and proud but relieved to be freed suddenly by the magnanimous snap of thin rope. It was a temporary thing.

 You had been vaguely familiar with what it was like before, toeing the line between use and dead weight. You were certain you knew the feeling now. 

Maybe he was, in part, relieved to have someone else take the center stage. There was something just as dangerous about being in the spotlight as there was in being stuck in the sidelines, like you had been shoved up onto the bow with the raging sea to your front and a spear to your back.

 Now, Your hands were tied, the sea was rising and it was getting harder and harder to see through the chilling, misty spray. Even just standing there, under the sturdy wooden overhang with a grim, threatening hand tightening around your shoulder, you could hear the phantom laughs of demons through the fog and storm.

Though it hadn’t happened quite yet, you knew that already you were as good as a dead man. You’d known that as soon as you had been dropped off the side of a cliff like yesterday’s rotten meal. This would be much, much worse.

Your fate had already been sealed.

You held the knife up, hands shaking, shivering as if it were a metal pole that had just been struck.

Your eyes pounded, swollen nearly shut. This wasn’t a place for the soft-hearted.

The rest of the crew crowded around you, laughing and crowing to each other, each vocalization mocking you in ways that bounced off and back toward your blistering skin like buzzing flies. Your eyes burned.

Their taunting voices meshed together with old words, ones from years past which strung together to form phrases that bit, though not nearly as rough as fists and the thin cuts of knives, jeering at you like you were a caged animal, strung on a wire, waiting to see what you might do next.

Even on Berk, when the Vikings there had been the most vicious dragon slayers across all of Midgard, you’d never had the guts or the finesse to do it. But, on Berk, your life hadn’t been so tightly tied to the line. Just you worth, of which you were certain there was none left, if there ever had been any at all.

Large yellow eyes stared up at you, pleading behind a rigid metal muzzle. The dragon, chained and bound, jerked against its restraints, but they were done too tight.

It was the same look you were sure was reflected in your own eyes.

Why are you upset? You hated it. 

Maybe it wasn’t a matter of what you didn’t have. Maybe it was, instead, a matter of what you did. 

You thought, mockingly, of the version of yourself who might have wished you were as brave as Hiccup, to be able to throw the knife away. To be able to exchange your life for its own. 

You weren’t. You were a coward. 

You hated it with all the desperation of someone who knew you were both going to die anyway, hated how it got to cry and suffer so fervently when you did not. 

How did it get to wail, even trapped as it was, with such feverish abandon while you were stuck, here, as you would be, forever? You were certain.

The sharp weight of eyes ground into the space between your shoulder blades from all angles, ready to snap like the large polished traps mounted on the ship’s walls.

You wanted it. You wanted it deeply, though you knew you couldn't have it. You couldn’t have any of it. The only thing you had was… the dragon. 

And so you decided. There were no other actions to take.

This would be your suffering.

Your hand shook still, but with more eagerness this time. The eagerness to bite, to carve and hack at yourself, to slice away the parts that you hated. To stab as if you could cut out all the parts you found both unworthy and unwanting.

You closed your eyes, face contorting perniciously as you felt time trickle past, a grain of sand drifting to the bottom of a polished glass, life ceasing motion even as it remained invisible to you behind blightful eyelids.

And everything was all the worse for it

May you be welcomed to Valhalla.

You’d made a mistake.

You choked down a whining sob as you stared down at bloodied hands, still-wet ichor fresh and liquid. Your vision blurred around the edges as you sat with your back pressed against the wall, knees up to your chin. 

They didn’t care to keep track, sure that the sniveling, cowering form of you wouldn’t be hard to subdue given the opportunity. You were an animal trapped in the hunt and they were the hunters, careless and yet exceptionally dangerous.

It was slippery. It was clumsy and you’d come at it from the wrong angle. It was a poor slice, and you could remember clearly how the knife dragged, catching and jerking through solid tendons like you were slicing through tight venison.

Your inexperience showed. You were sure, at first, that you had cut in the wrong spot, but then again, you weren’t sure you knew which spot was right in the first place.

You brought your hands over your ears, as if to cover up the phantom sounds of heavy gurgling and high-pitched, barely-there whines. Screeching and crowing, voice both stuck and gurgling as it bled out through its raspy, buckling throat.

You felt the clotted blood smear off around your ears and you fought the urge to gag.

It was a long and messy death. You had to stab more than once, watch as big yellow eyes bulged and strained painfully, making your own eyes hurt in turn.

You wondered if dragons were edible, what it would be like to bite into it, jaw gnashing like an animal. You saw a dragon do that to a person once, pulling their arm off their body with the flick of a jaw. You’d never tried. 

You always imagined it would be tasteless. You knew there were Berserkers who did it, who tore into dragonflesh like it was their last meal, too immersed in zealous battlelust to taste anything but blood and the thrill of the hunt.

Heavy boots beat against wood and through it as a group of men walking by your hiding place around the bend. They hadn’t seen you. They probably didn’t care, too busy laughing and cheering amongst themselves.

Even with their voices muffled and your hands covering your ears to the best of your ability, you could still hear them loud and clear.

They were going to kill you.

You eyed the knife by your feet, dull and bloody, lungs clenching as you struggled to breathe.

Knives needed to be sharpened after every battle with a dragon. Something about their thick skin and wicked hide dulled the blade. You remembered that much for all your life spent under the thumb of warring Vikings.

The Vikings on Berk used to skin the dragons they killed. It was a chore of yours to help tan the pelts and to either sew them into tunics or prepare them to be mounted as a trophy of their victory.

Uneven, clawed fingernails dug into your arms as you struggled for purchase. 

Hiccup hadn’t had the misfortune to experience it. Not a lot of the other Riders probably had. It was your job. It always made you nauseous, so it wasn’t something you talked about much.

Stoick the Vast did it. He had his own tunic made. He still wore it, draped securely across his torso. Most people mistook it for chainmail, but you knew. You helped make it.

You felt sick.

The boat rocked back and forth, sturdy hull ripping through waves in time with the rapid beating of your heart.

There was a deadline. 

You shut your eyes tight, blocking out the tears that threatened to push through. You weren’t like the others, built and skilled in the art of making daring escapes. You weren’t. You were soft words and small touches and you were just as good as dead. There would be no one to come to your rescue. You weren’t sure there ever was one.

Dragon scales were sturdy. You hoped the same could be said about skin. You knew you were wrong.

You felt not yourself as you stood over the man, boat rocking back and forth hypnotically. 

You clenched your still crusted fists, leaning into it.

It reminded you of a time from when you were a child. Wandering around the hall, with a younger version of Hiccup… Old Johannes.

Depending on his mood and how you asked, whichever story he chose to tell would go on forever and ever. 

You eyed the ropes to his hammock, frayed and gray, thick enough to burn should you remove the furs from his bed. Unaware, the other trappers slept and snoring around you.

 Half the hammocks were empty, the rest of the men above deck caring for the ship in their own shifts.

You would slit his throat. 

It was easier this time, because this time you could picture someone else in his place.

You thought of Hiccup. You thought of what they would do to you, once they found out. You thought of the building pit on your stomach, the clawing, desperate scream you wanted to let out and that you didn’t, and the part of you that didn’t quite feel like yourself as you stared down malignantly at the mass below you.

If this was how you were going to die, you did not forgive him.

There was no silence down in the hull, not for long, stale air filled with the angry, mournful, tragic, sulfurous breathing of dragons.

You curled in your cell, a square wooden thing with open, vertical bars caging you in at one end of the room. The rest it was filled with the violent sound of clanging metal and the hissing of beasts, a steady mix between a barely contained violence and mournful quiet.

Your hair was matted and clothes dirtied, your body pressed up against the cold ship walls as cages filled besides you. 

Your face was overshadowed by your unlit cell, all the nicer amenities including fire spent on places where the non-prisoner folk roamed. 

The wood felt like ice through your boots.

 Your stomach complained silently to you, burning a hole through your torso only you could feel. 

You heard the rabble of the crew above in the silence between words, rushed feet stomping viciously against the wood floors as their muffled shouting and the clash of metal on metal filled your ears. You’d spent so long out at sea that you’d lost track of time. 

You wondered if a dragon above had broken loose. You hoped it did and killed them all. You knew it was a lost cause.

You watched a dark brownish gray set of boots across the way, shifting against charred wood, clenching your fists and digging dry, blood-caked fingernails into cut palms.

You listened to the rattling of chains below, the heavy breathing of dragons coming together to make one loud synchronized voice. At times it made you feel as if the very wood of the ship was expanding and contracting with it. 

It couldn’t have been any more than a week, maybe two. 

Your arms were braced at either side of you, your back pressed up to the corner of your small, dank cell as the rocking of the ship became more intense.

You glowered at the stockily-built trapper in front of you, as if he might dissolve if you put enough malice into it. 

You hated Eret, Son of Eret, who stood with bravado between two stark cages containing a pair of chained and muzzled dragons. A Nightmare, like the many lining the edges of this packed room you were stuck in, and a Scauldron.

He glared back, arms crossed over tans furs, a plaintive grimace marring his stone features as the rabble from above grew more intense.

“You cost us dragons.” He said, finally, his voice heavy with malice.

“You’re hunting them back,” You croaked, voice bordering a hiss just as sharp and jagged as the rest of the monsters around you. Because your life was ruined and you were trapped, lumped in with the mongrels, the violent souls the unknowing Riders failed to save.

“You have to tell me,” He quieted down, speaking with controlled, exaggerated breaths.

The stomping from above grew just loud enough to finally draw his attention, breaking his facade for only just a moment. He shot a glance up the narrow stairwell towards the deck, then glanced back.

He was still incensed from your earlier argument. He wasn’t the rageful type, but you found that you had quite the penchant for making him mad.

“No,” It was so cold. You pushed down a wave of irritation, hugging your arms irritatedly in an effort to quell your shivers, and the chattering of your teeth.

The two of you stared at each other in silence as the ship rocked violently, men storming around above. You were at a verbal impasse.

“Either way, I’m trapped.” You broke it. You felt sometimes as if you were still in shock, because you felt no such thing, though you’d never heard of a shock lasting so long. 

“I can’t help you, then.” Eret looked down on you, waving his hands angrily before dropping them onto his thighs.

“You were never goi-” You started, as the trapdoor covering the top of the stairs leading down burst open.

Slowly, steadily a large, scruffed man made his way down, each step dropping heavily against steep wooden staircases, taller than they were wide.

He was one of the thicker men, with a large reddish brown bear that was now stained ever darker by the blood running down his temple. He hunched in on himself, arm on his side, exchanging a meaningful look with Eret who faced him fully.

“The- the masked- The dragons,” The man groaned angrily, blood dripping down from a large cut on the top of his head, just as a scream rang out from above.

“It’s- This early?” Eret’s head flipped towards you and back. He decided quickly that it was time for him to go, though his eyes promised that this wouldn’t be the end of it. You weren’t surprised. There never was an end.

He didn’t wait for an answer, moving forwards, face exposing his astonishment and determination, running up the stairs to the top, forcing the other man to stumble up with him.

You remembered the way flesh felt on the other end of your knife, living, breathing and human. It terrified you just as you cursed the lot of them with it.

You watched him go unblinkingly, listening to the happenings from above with apathy. Once again, you entertained the mild pipe dream that come what may, they would all be dead by the morning. 

Your hands shook with grief. 

The trapdoor fell to the ground with the loud, hollow slam of wood on wood, just as Eret’s foot disappeared up the hatch.

You listened to the dripping water, the sound of stomping as it traveled through the wood from directly above, the rustling of leathery skin and the storming water outside to your back. 

You listened to the sound of buzzing in your ears, closed your eyes as they unfocused and immersed yourself in the sounds of fighting as the clash and the thump of fist against metal and metal against bone became obvious.

You ignored the splinters digging into your palms -a few out of many- and the blisters that grew there like fungi, a result of your constant grip on the hard surface and the friction brought on by the rough seas.

The rumbling of dragons grew louder as something hummed through the wood above, the sluggish, lazy, weighted sounds of leather dropping softly onto the deck and the delicate scratching of claws kindly resting against flooring, tapping against the metal detailing of the even larger, covered trapdoor that allowed the trappers to settle dragons into their prisons.

You listened to loud shouts demanding recompense, then even louder, panicked shouting to move.

It was like listening to the world’s worst shanty, all of that mindless noise come to a violent and discordant crescendo.

Your face burned angrily.

One of the dragons must’ve escaped. 

You sighed with bitterness, jealousy heating up your breath, causing you to expel air much like a dragon expelled fire.

You tensed your arms, released your nails from your palms and shook out your shoulder, anticipation and dread building in your gut.

The room grew hotter with such sudden ferocity that you were caught off guard, unaware until you yourself were nearly baking in it, the sudden onslaught of heat causing the dragons below to rear up, to grumble and crackle zealously as sweat boiled against your temples.

You searched for the source, eyes jumping erratically from side to side. 

The wood above you blackened, your eyes focusing on it with immediate clarity. It was the sound of your breath, louder to your ears than any other, that had covered the breath of another. 

You startled as the metal embedded into your roof began to glow, simmering a bright, passionate orange before distorting, melting onto the wooden floor just outside your cell.

You listened to the crackling hiss of fire, with the dying hope that it was the Riders, come after you, finally, but you knew that wasn’t their modus operandi.

A hot jet of fire ripped through the wood floor with sudden ferocity, wood frames snapping viciously as it burst through to your floor.

You tried to jump back, forgetting that you were already pressed flushed to the corner of your cell.

It brought your skin to unbearable degrees, infusing the air with smoke and ash and filling every one of your nerves with the urge to writhe away. 

You blinked away the smoke with shaky, waving hands and stinging, watery eyes.

You shook, squinting up towards the misty deck from where you were crumpled. 

You could vaguely make out that a hole had been burnt into the roof of the small jail, melting through varnish and fireproofing, a new dragon half-crawling through it, slitted eyes taking in your surroundings with vigorous abandon.

Your breath caught. And a dragon, with a great, large crown of thick red spines and a flat, viciously-toothed face. It glared down into the hole with slitted eyes and you pressed yourself back, praying it had not yet seen you.

It brought you back to your days on Berk before the peace, where everything you knew was ravaged and you could do nothing but hide and wait, ignorant to the flashing world around you, except instead of your world being awash with a series of bright reds and the screams and shouts of Vikings in fiery battle, it was silent. 

This one was a world marked by muffled shouting and pounding of flesh on wood and something much less forgiving. The sounds of battle were not as loud as they should have been,  too many a distant shout cut off suddenly and without abandon, always by the root.

You weren’t sure what was more frightening; Hearing the rest of the crew crumple and fail or being left to the silence, knowing deep down that you were next.

The catch and release of a bola reverberated over the emptiness, a deep hollow flinging sound filling your ears before fading off into the distance. A disgruntled scream, one made by the beast, came much too late, leaving its mouth only after it had tumbled off and writhed out of view.

As it fell, it revealed something, someone…. And for a moment, you had hope.

Overshadowed in your cell, you peered outwards.

They work a mask, their face covered by a heavily spined wooden slab, their body wrapped tightly in leather. They stood with their shoulders braced, stance confident and body lithe. 

You couldn’t make out much detail- The whole thing rendered them rather mysterious, but it was someone.

You didn’t know there were any Riders besides the ones on Berk. You weren’t sure if they were a Rider. 

You kept your head down, pushed up into the corner of your cage, deliberating over whether or not you should move. You knew if you didn’t, it would be your doom. You didn’t know if you could break the trance you found yourself in.

They peered into the hole, before a sharp, ragged dragon call drew them away, lean legs bringing them quickly out of view and rendering them invisible in the mist.

You shivered and you waited. 

And waited, counting the seconds in slow motion, listening to your breathing, experiencing every second, watching the way ousted pieces of wood fell to the ground and shifted as the ship moved, watching as small embers shifted and puttered out, as the metal marking the front of your jail slowly, slowly cooled off, leaving a large, neary person-sized hole.

You could run.

Your breathing quickened. You should have spoken up, but…

Now you could run.

You stared at your knife, hilted on a mount just by the staircase. 

You stared at the melted metal cage and stumbled to your feet, nearly falling as you made your way over, trying to keep with the rocking of the boat and the dizziness clouding your thoughts and vision.

You stopped in front of it, hands on your knees, before you turned to the side, lifting your leg up ever so carefully and dropping it onto the other side, mindful of the metal that had just cooled itself still.

You felt your foot drop to the other side and you let out a breath of relief before catching it, leaning forwards hard in order to make up for the sudden jolt of the boat, hissing as you grazed the red end of a bar with your arm.

You felt the skin there sting as it threatened to blister. You knew it would, later.

You came out the other end hopping on one foot, falling against one of the cages on the other side, grabbing the handle of the bar, gritting your teeth as hot metal burned your hands and pushing roughly away towards the stairs, nearly landing on your knees. 

You looked back at the few dragons who hadn’t managed to escape, trapped and locked down in their cages, pressing close to the far corner.

A Nightmare, chained down but no less ferocious, blew smoke through the small allowance in its muzzle. 

It glared at you rebelliously just as you had Eret a while prior. Condemning, knowing.

You wondered if you had a right to free it, if you were just as bad as the ones who strapped it down, cut the points of its claws to nubs, let it burn itself to near death as the others laughed and jeered.

You couldn’t help but to reel back at the look in its eye, briefly imposed by the image of another.

You wondered if setting it free might give you brownie points with your masked hero. If they were here to play hero, that was. 

You had a choice to make.

You slipped between the cages.

 You were much slimmer than most of the trappers on board. Slim enough to slip to the other side and grab ahold of one of the huge locks keeping another set of dragons trapped.

They were built to be hardy, enough to keep the dragons locked in, but delicate enough for a person to undo on their own.

You wedged your knife into the lock, messing with the latch and cylinder until you heard that telltale loud release-click. You had become very familiar with that particular sound over the past few weeks.

You slipped to the side, fabric of your furs getting trapped on a sharp untrimmed end of the cage as a pillar of fire burst past, blowing a hole into the next cage over. 

You pushed open the cage door, though not before the dragons had freed themselves, running from the hole and slithering up towards the top.

You weren’t sure if you could muster anything besides bitterness for them.

You scowled, shaking your head and scanning the empty room, “Beasts.”

You decided to move, running up fast before crashing up through the trapdoor, causing whatever freed dragons there were to jump away, your arms shaking as you ran across the deck, both invisible and vulnerable in equal measure.

Through the misty fog, you spotted the masked person in the middle of a fierce confrontation against two large men, which they ended by knocking one of them into the other and allowing their dragon, who had since recovered from the bola, to throw them offboard.

You hid around one of the crates, eyes darting around erratically, looking for a way off the ship, smelling something like freedom.

You ran and ran, hoping to maybe find a dragon to hitch a ride off, or at least a raft which you could use to continue to float aimlessly across the sea until you either found land or drowned. You failed on all accounts.

Finally, you reached the edge of the ship, skidding to a stop, heart pounding as you then made eye contact with a figure standing tall at the bow, the same person as before, one food on the side of the ship, the other planted firmly on the ship’s deck and they stood tall above you.

You had pushed open the cages, freed the dragons. You had helped. 

“Take me with you,” You pleaded, glancing back at the freed dragons back in the mist, fighting off trappers and making off for more open skies. 

You couldn’t tell anything about them besides their eyes, green and hard, the rest of their features hidden behind leather and rags. You thought you might look pathetic the way you were then in your worn, holed furs, torn to the thinness of rags.

Eerily, it reminded you of the moment you spent dangling off the edge of a cliff, looking into the eyes of someone with a very much similar build.

You wondered if they knew how a moment so inconsequential, a moment so small,  could become so holy to you. It was your poetry. It was your Pantheon. 

You stared at them, stuck in a moment of hesitation, which caused hope to well up like blood cut from your still beating heart. You pleaded with your eyes, shoulders, body language, let the knife in your hand loose. 

You imagined their face -whatever lay under that mask- and Hiccup’s, moving in the same way, though you prayed the outcome would not end up the same.

There was a time when you would have rather been in Hel alone than in Valhalla without him.

Eventually, after a long moment of silence and clear deliberation, the masked warrior shook their head ‘no.’

They turned, hooked staff shivering, bone parts wrapped to the staff with twine rattling, conveying a command you could not decipher in full. 

The dragon got ready to take off. You tried to grab on to their coattails, the fins of their dragon, anything at all as they left, but you were too late.

You choked back a sob as you fell back down hard against the deck, your surroundings misty, separated by a curtain from the rest of the world, listening to the steady approach of footsteps from behind. 

You bared your teeth, knife at the ready, and swung.

You felt the blade drag and you were certain that you’d caught someone in the eye, you were sure of it- It must have been at least somewhere under the brow. 

After which, you were quickly kicked to the hard ship’s floor, your insides immediately on fire.

Sopping wet and screaming, you struggled against the men who worked to hold you down.

Your eyelids fluttered as you struggled to stay awake, back in the hull, crusted blood marking a worn trail down your forehead.

You hoped he went blind.

You had your knife still, which you clutched close to your middle at all times. You were sure they could wrench it from your hands if they really wanted.

Maybe it was pity that kept them from taking it from you or the fact that they remembered how difficult it was to get you here in the first place, lashing out like an animal, kicking and clawing as they threw you back into the cage. Maybe it was because they hadn’t scant time nor regard for anything else but their eager need to nurse their own wounds. It meant very little, trapped back in the hull as you were.

You lived that moment over and over in your mind, how you carried the burden of guilt on your shoulders, you wanted to beg and plead like you were kneeled before the altar of a broken God. How you were ready to repent, and in that moment the smoke smelt like nothing more than forgiveness. How at that time, you weren’t the one holding the knife. 

That time, you were the beast at the sharp end of a masked figure’s staff. You were the one who begged and pleaded and writhed. 

You thought of how even before the mask figure could move, you knew the answer they would give, just as you knew the way flesh felt under knife.

As a soft soul, you’d vowed albeit unconsciously to never draw a lick of blood.

Even the Vikings on Berk held honor, none willing to take a slave, none willing to turn away an unwillful hand, none dishonorable enough to slay a man, none cowardly enough not to own up to it.

You stared at the slowly shifting body of a small terror, chained and beaten and scarred so bad it could barely move, laid still and sad in its own waste.

It had driven you mad, its constant whining and hacking filling the hours you should have spent sleeping with strife and restless shifting. Your neck ached from the hard floor even now, and you’d not a moment of respite to show for it.

You weren’t the dragon with the large yellow eyes. You weren’t the trapper, fallen to the knife.

You hated it; just as it was bound, so were you. You seemed to reflect each other, two sides of the same coin, neither the wielder, both the bearers of the sharp end of the knife, slaves to a much crueler fate.

It was a mockery.

And as a child, you’d kept a bird, wings torn and chest kicked in, picked up from the road and stowed away in a wooden box filled with hay. You had been too young to recognize that it had been long since past the point of no return and so you took to it with the passion of a child bound to be disappointed.

You watched it all night by the fire as its chest rose and fell gently, alone.

You fell asleep to an empty hearth and woke to a cold, still body.

When your friend, a small Hiccup, had come to you with his own bird and had shown it to you, cradled and swaddled with all the fine cloth the son of a Chief could afford, you listened to his stories.

You watched with a bitten tongue and a held breath as he cared for it, wrought with a sympathy and a grief you’d never voice. You hadn’t anything but sadness, then, and, in a way, a measure of happiness. You were happy for his success yet bitter that he had found it where you had not, bitter at the fact that his hands healed when yours couldn’t.

You had wondered for so many nights what you had done wrong.

You thought that made him greater.

You imagined his bird, dead, small and fluffy and smushed, run over by the wheel of a wagon.

You imagined it had perhaps been begging for scraps yet had only found the hard hearts and shoulders of Vikings in return, the un-sympathies of Vikings who had better things to do than entertain the whims of a child, unfamiliar to the cold world, the only life it had known being wrapped warm as a fire and soft as fur.

You dreamed of the day it would be lost to the cruel grip of nature.

You glared at the man before you. 

You wanted to tell him to shovel his eyes out, to cut open his chest, to suffocate on his own spit and blood. You held your tongue.

Was there something cruel in that, too-? Leaving something so weak and frail to live when it begged for nothing but reprieve? To leave it breathing, choking on its own spit and filth, driving you mad with such anguish and irritation and then rage, until you had wanted nothing more than to have seen it tossed overboard?

Was that what everyone else had seen, back on that wretched island, when they looked at you with those eyes and blocked you off with sturdy shoulders, filled with unease and love and companionship, laid just outside your reach?

Eret grit his jaw.

You blinked away the heavy weights of sleep and though you had the urge, you did not rub your lids. Instead, you laid still, turned away from the entrance. The light.

It smelt terribly.

As the hold once again filled with dragons, they kept to the far side of their cages, away from the small terror- the lizard, that was slowly but surely beginning to rot, torn apart by the desperate, fearful midnight scrabblings of a rat, starving just as you were, but freer than anything above or below deck.

By the sound of it, you knew exactly who’d come. 

Eret wasn’t your only visitor. No, you got others. This one, he sounded like one of the kinder ones, the one who brought you your meals. Who kept you from starving. The others, they visited with nothing but sharp, metal-toed boots and fists burning with all the rage of a man trapped, ready and willing to rip and tear.

You were under no illusion that he had done it of his own free will, and yet he carried a sort of hope during the exchanges you shared, the passing of food between the bars and into your small jail, waiting as you turned your back, sighing with loaded emotion and moving with heavy steps.

You were a worthy outlet.

You kept your breathing slow and shallow, rocking with the rest of the boat, rain and water pounding against wood as the ship was tossed around. It would soon get too violent for you to stay still, violent enough to make you sick.

He probably had a family back home. A wife and a child. Or a brother, maybe; a family, something to hold him in the delusion that what he was doing was right, that motivated him to try and rise above the others, that allowed him the belief he had the right to turn the other cheek as both dragons and Vikings alike were beaten and bruised and tortured by his hand. That he wasn’t nor would ever be as bad as the rest of them, which, in your eyes, ultimately made him worse.

It made him selfish, more than anyone else on this vessel, who took and beat and robbed as they pleased.

He had a very unique helmet, one most of the others on this ship did not; something that covered most of his face the same way Dagur’s helmet did, with horns curly enough to match any Jorgenson.

“It’s not like you have a due date, do you?” You coughed viciously, teeth violently catching on the tip of your tongue, causing you to wince.

“How we operate is no business of yours,” Eret grit his jaw, arms crossed, legs crossed as he leaned back. A line of sweat ran down the side of his face.

“You won’t be able to keep this expedition going forever,” You mumbled, voice raspier than ever before, “You need my help.”

“Tell me what you know.”

You laughed at him mockingly, though your stomach sank.

Maybe it was boredom, maybe it was desperation. Maybe you were tired of listening to the crew members above deck, maybe you had a death wish.

You gave in.

You started small.

“Rub it under the chin,” You looked up at him, a sharp, tense grimace on your face, “The spot where the jawbone turns to soft meat, scratch it with your fingernails.”

“You didn’t come up with that,” Eret glared.

“No, I didn’t,” You rasped. The rough uncured leather hide of your muzzle dug into your jaw, the flesh there searing and surely wet with puss after you’d made a very passionate effort to bite one of the crewmates in another escape attempt.

You didn’t need to say anything fancy; it didn’t take much convincing. It wouldn’t.

It made it very difficult to speak, keeping your jaw nearly stuck in place, “But I know it, and that makes me better than you. Just try it.”

You dared him with your eyes, both embodying the hypnotic gaze of a snake and speaking the vying notes of a charmer.

Would you succumb just as the Terror had, or would you rise above it?

You taunted, “You’re not still behind, are you?”

“We’ve gotten... Farther, with your help,” Eret conceded. 

Behind him, a green Thunderdrum struggled, mouth bolted shut by a muzzle made of leather and metal not unlike your own, a set of chains binding its wings in the upwards position. 

There were three men on its back and two more on each size, wrestling it down as it struggled, trying and failing to scream.

They had no trouble with all the room they needed to swarm the beast and pin it down, a large pull-down metal door opened to reveal another, larger chamber.

“Is it enough?” 

“It has to be.”

“Are you willing to take that risk?” You learned to live with it; the stuffiness, the rattling, the pain, and as the nights grew colder and as the hold filled once again with the scraping and screaming of beasts, you slept sounder. 

Eret was silent.

“There's grass,” You started, picking at your fingernails, short and bloody, with your knife, “It grows plentifully deep in the islands on the southern end of the archipelago. It should be around here, wherever we are, too.”

“The dragons like it?” Eret asked stiffly.

Like picking bits and pieces off a corpse, like a scavenger picking over carrion, you took old phrases and sullied comforts and wove them together to make a convincing argument. You tempted and you beckoned.

Hiccup would say it was all about trust. You said the same, once upon a time. But you knew better now.

“Well enough to bow,” You smiled.

“Unshackle me.”

“What if I chained you up and dropped you in with the beasts?” Eret shot back, “Everything you have, I fought for. You’re still alive by my good graces and mine only.”

You were the smaller animal, but the frustration and the raw injustice of it all drove you mad. Once again, you wanted to gouge his eyes out.

You wanted to fight and struggle and scream, but you held off.

You hesitated, and looked away, a tenuous expression kept neural only through sheer force of will, the broiling in your gut and the foul words resting on your tongue making you want to do nothing but spit fire.

He would regret that.

“A Whispering Death,” You croaked, trying to suppress the vicious wrinkle of your nose, something wicked and gleeful writhing in your stomach, “Pull it’s top spine, press just under the point, really dig your fingers in.”

“Where are we now?” You asked.

“Someone is dead,” Eret ground out, fists shaking, “A man is dead because of you.”

He threw something on the floor, which clattered loudly in front of your dim cage.

 A helmet. You recognized it.

“And?” You let out a short laugh.

“And? And?!”

“Let me out.”

“You don’t deserve that,” He spat.

“Don’t I?” The irony of it all was not lost on you. And so you laughed again, but much louder this time, with force enough to make your clutch at your stomach, to pull taut your loosening muzzle.

You felt at your wrists, newly freed, and shook out your legs, donning a new pair of boots. Your clothing was still torn, ragged, stained, though you were certain you would be able to fix that soon.

You wore a helmet, weighty but fitting on your head, long and covering, secure, with large curly horns. It was patched and in parts covered in blood, thick and dried and congealing where there were dents. 

You knew now that what you once called kindness had just been a veil, a sweet lie to cover what everyone else already knew.

You were a cruel, evil person.

A liar, to hold things with delicate hands and whisper hopeful words when there was only one result, to follow teachings and old sayings that would never work for you again. And the sweetest lie was the one you had told yourself for so many years, the one that kept you from the truth and told you that you weren’t.

There was no forgiveness here. Not for you. 

Only condemnation.

You stretched your mouth open wide, worked your jaw where your muzzle had left a heavy mark, ignoring the desperate scrabbling and screeching of a dragon and the men behind you pulling, dragging it with fist and chain across splintered wood into a new cage.

You breathed in the fresh sea air, taking in the light of day for the first time in a long while.

And you reveled in it.

#httyd #how to train your dragon #x reader #fanfiction #hiccup haddock #hiccup x reader #httyd imagine #fem reader #female reader #villain reader

[demonslayedher]

Things that popped into my head while rewatching this episode:

--Recalling Gotouge's journey in developing the world and story and how Tanjiro and Nezuko were originally going to be side characters until the editor heard about them and swooped in to save the series by making Tanjiro the main character. (According to interview in Fanbook #1)

--Recalling how the art direction team, in order to produce this episode, made a trip out to the mountains of Tochigi Prefecture (which would have more snow than Mt. Kumotori typically gets nowadays) and experienced stomping around in the deep snow and feeling it pack under their feet, and feeling the exhaustion and early lack of sunlight. (According to interview in booklet handed at out at early Mugen Ressha showings)

--Giving Takeo, Hanako, Shigeru, and Rokuta red eyes like Tanjiro is such a choice and it was made. --I believe Saburo the umbrella craftsman lost his family to demons. --I love that we got to see Grandma Kamado. Tanjiro was so little. --Tanjiro really is just everybody's favorite person, isn't he???? Look at him, Tanjiro-ing all over the town.

--I've heard it said how Tanjiro must so bitterly regret telling Hanako and Shigeru to stay home that day.

--Did Nezuko imply that Rokuta's sticking to Tanjiro because he looks so much like Dad??? That loss really is so recent in their hearts, as is the encounter with the bear, as it's the first possibility Tanjiro thinks of when he sees the attack. But, we see their worldview so clearly in how Tanjiro muses on the fickleness of life like the changing weather of the sky, and he knows from the get-go that happiness is fleeting. But also, we see how he appreciates what he has so much. ;__;

--Kokushibo took three days to become a demon and wondered how long it might take Kaigaku to become one, as strong ones may take longer. Nezuko's body was left out there in daylight for many hours, and probably many night hours too as Muzan wouldn't risk being so far from cover so close to dawn. It was still daytime when Giyuu got to them, albeit covered with clouds, but Nezuko might had taken 8-16 hours. A lot of time seems to have passed between Tanjiro's discovery of the family in sunny conditions and then being partway down the mountain with her in overcast conditions; perhaps Tanjiro didn't hurry at first under the assumption that they were all hopeless and was in the process of preparing their bodies for burial, and he didn't notice the hope for Nezuko right away. Imagine his panic into action once he did. --When first following this series, I had read Giyuu's entrance into this scene as heartless and distant and jaded, which made his change to yelling at him and then hoping he'll do something (even before being impressed by Nezuko) felt strange, but now I read every line as full of kindness and sympathy from the get-go. ;___; Giyuu was hurting for Tanjiro the instant he knew what happened. --Might I say how much I love Nezuko's slow stare at Tanjiro lying on the ground after Giyuu hit him? She's still not making sense of everything going on around her, but there's this pause when she's having to compute that the person (brother???) whom she... doesn't want hurt (cares about???) is... not moving... oh, hurt??? HURT!! HE'S HURT AND THIS GUY DID IT!!!! DEFEND, DEFEND!!! GRRRR!!!!

--The drop of Nezuko's piano theme music as Giyuu comes running, no sound effects to his upcoming violence, I love the juxtaposition

--I have no clue how long Giyuu waited around for Tanjiro to wake up. Probably not terribly long since it's still daytime hours, but long enough to have neatly dressed a demon and fitted her with a muzzle.

--Curious if Giyuu had any knowledge or recollection of Kanae's wish to befriend demons, though the person he thought of who insisted on a demon not harming someone seems to have said that right before being proved wrong, and Giyuu seems to carry guilt for not having prevented their death

--My gosh, Tanjiro is still so little and powerless. He struggled so much while carrying Nezuko, noting how his lungs hurt breathing that frigid air. He has so, so much ahead of him.

#KnY Rewatch #my art #kamado tanjiro #kamado tanjirou #kamado nezuko

[a-dauntless-daffodil]

The thing about Vitani from Lion King 2 is

she’s

Detached.

Like, in the spider's web of love and vows of vengeance that drive both Lion King movies along, pushing characters to do all sorts of things, Vitani... sits somewhere outside of it.

If she has personal motivation for any of the things she does, it must be VERY personal, because it sure as hell isn't tied to anyone else.

As in, not even her own family changes what she does.

She’s protective and supportive of Kovu as their future king, sure…

...up until he turns traitor on the Outlanders, at which point Vitani has zero hesitation reporting this to Zira, confirming it, being part of a frame-up for him, knocking him out of a fight, and watching her mother scar and drive her little brother away.

When Kovu is furthering the goals of the Outlanders, Vitani helps him. When he fails in his mission to win back the Pridelands, she instantly turns against him.

Until Kiara comes back with Kovu in tow, with a new plan that would let the Outlanders rejoin the pride at Pride Rock. Then Vianti goes to stand by Kovu again- supporting him for supporting Kiara and Kiara’s offer of peace.

But Kovu on his own? Standing between the two prides, crouching down, ready to fight to protect Kiara and Simba?

That gets exactly no reaction from his big sister.

None.

And suddenly all the support and protectiveness she showed for him earlier seems very pragmatic, very empty.

She was a fan of Chosen One Kovu, not the lion that decided he didn't want to do murder.

Then Nuka- Vitani’s attitude towards Nuka is more easily understood as affectionate, for all her eye-rolling, since Nuka, unlike Kovu, isn’t expected to contribute much to the Outlander’s goals. He isn’t the chosen one.

So when Nuka leaves Kovu alone and Vitani warns him their mother will be mad, the focus is on what will happen to Nuka rather than what kind of danger Kovu might get into.

Similarly, despite Nuka being a typical teasing older brother and messing with Vitani several times as cubs, she still takes charge of him while they light the fire trap for Kiara and physically drags him away at the end of it. When Nuka dies later on, Vitani joins her mother in mourning him.

But the fact that Nuka died while trying to kill Simba, and that Simba’s weight on the logs caused them to fall, crushing her older brother, isn’t brought up during the fight between the Outlanders and the Pridelanders.

Her only confrontation is with Nala, centering on taunting Nala about Kiara’s absence form the battle.

At no point does Nuka’s death or any idea of blame or vengeance give Vitani pause when she decides to give up on murdering Simba and help end the war.

Even though she clearly cared for him and took his death badly, she still goes to stand with the lions that her own mother blames for Nuka’s death. Her feelings for him don't stop her. They don't even get mentioned.

Maybe she’s just more willing to accept Nuka’s death as an accident. Maybe she feels it’s sad but fair, considering they were trying to kill Simba at the time. Maybe she holds her mother partly responsible for what happened but doesn’t feel that’s worth jeopardizing all their years of planning and the future of the Outlander lions.

Nuka's death had no tangible impact on her.

It enraged Zira, pushing her to attack the pride lands right then, while Simba was weak, so the it would be that last time she was hurt by him.

The guilt of being even vaguely involved in his brother's death, and then having Zira blame him for it, is so terrible that Kovu pulls a Simba and runs from his family and home.

And Vitani?

Despite Zira throwing out a paw as if to stop Vitani chasing after Kovu, Vitani made no move to do so. Her reaction to all this is the same as all the other Outlander lionesses, aside from the fact that she gets to look sadly down at her brother's body and softy say his name.

But her following actions never reflect or reference his death. Not once.

Wait what about when she says "No, mother" and "Enough"? Couldn't she have been thinking of Nuka and his death then???

Sure, I suppose.

Except that the lion she mentions in that moment isn't Nuka. It's Kiara.

"No, mother... Kiara's right. Enough."

That doesn't sound like someone thinking about her dead brother. It's vague and broad, could mean enough fighting in general or enough with the personal vendettas, and it only relies on Kiara as support for it's argument of stopping the battle.

So while you can certainly choose to fit Nuka between the words of her little declaration, he isn't, text-wise, there in the script. He's not, at any time, cited as a reason for what Vitani is doing.

Then there's fact is she IS the first lion to completely understand and accept Kiara’s idea.

Even Kovu was more interested in being with Kiara than stopping the war.

He was happy with the thought of them running away and starting their own pride. Kiara's amused explanation that they have to go back gets a literal "you're kidding" from him.

And even though he does follow her back, he’s own words at the battle show he’s there just to protect Kiara and Simba, not to build a peace or help the Outlanders. He says nothing to his family or former pride other than warn them they'll have to go though him first.

(i don't blame him. Kiara and Simba are the first lions in his life who were kind to him without wanting something from him in return)

But Vitani, who has no personal connection to Kiara and plenty of reasons not to listen to her, Vitani is the one to step between the two prides and tell her mother “Enough”.

Why?

This is after an ENTIRE MOVIE spent showing how loyal and dependable Vitani is to her mother and her cause!

Ah, but that's the thing isn't it.

It wasn't blind loyalty to her mother. It wasn't even loyalty to her mother's motivations.

It was for the cause.

While Nuka spends the song “My Lullaby” trying to ingratiate himself to Zira and slipping in little insults to Kovu, Vitani earnestly cheers for Kovu, affirms the plan, and protects Kovu from Nuka’s pestering.

Nuka, desperate for Zira's attention, mimes Simba dying in that song.

Vitani only unwillingly plays the part of Kiara squirming in someone's claws. Her only parts are to boost Kovu, their best chance, and the only time she sings back to her mother is in answer to "The thrill of Kovu's mighty roar!"

Nuka shouts back "The joy of vengeance!" mirroring his mother.

Vitani's answer is a perfectly enthusiastic and bland "Testify!", basically just saying 'heck yeah!' right before her little chant of "Kovu, what a guy!"

Thing is, later on, as noted above, she pretty clearly isn't that interested or loyal to Kovu himself.

So it seems it was what he represented in that song that she cheered for- life outside of the outlands. The comfort and safety of the pride lands.

She was never loyal to any of her family. Not even Zira.

And Zira had no idea.

When Vitani’s the one sent to make the fire trap for Kiara- with Nuka tagging along- and the one sent to spy on Pride Rock, the one who brings back news of his betrayal- even though Zira roars in fury at hearing it and needs to have Vitani confirm her report, this is played as shock and anger aimed at Kovu, not doubt in Vitani’s words.

Zira, a clever and calculating lioness, trusted Vitani completely.

And like Vitani, when this lion she trusted turned against her, she didn’t hesitate to cut all ties with them.

She’s as quick to threaten Vitani with death as Vitani was to report Kovu’s betrayal to Zira herself. In fact, Zira only shows real distress when the OTHER lionesses follow Vitani's lead and also abandon her. She's upset when she loses her soldiers. But Vitani’s betrayal? Gets no reaction at all. Except a bloodthirsty grin.

And that's why.

That's how Vitani could be the first to abandon the old plan, the old hatred, and listen to Kiara.

Vitani and Zira are very similar in how they view and interact with the world. Both set a goal and pursue it unwaveringly, letting nothing and no one shake them from their chosen path.

Between them, the only real difference is what goal they were after.

Revenge, in Zira’s case.

A better life, in Vitani’s.

So when getting the Outlanders out of the dry, empty, land of starvation meant joining up with the very lions she’d been told sent them there in the first place, Vitani had no issue doing so. When given a chance to escape the outlands without more loss of life, she took it, her own personal hypothetical pride or losses be damned.  

And when getting revenge on Simba meant disowning her remaining son and preparing to murder her daughter, Zira showed herself more than happy to accept that.

Revenge on Simba. Revenge for Scar.

These are all motivations connected to her feelings towards other characters.

So I would say that Vitani is even MORE detached than Zira.

Zira at least had her loss and her thirst for revenge, a whole song of how she wants to hurt the lion she holds responsible for her own pain, and destroy everything and everyone he loves.

Whereas Vitani…

Vitani is shown with no such personal links driving her actions.

You might think, well she must at least care about the other Outlander lionesses very much, she must be doing all this for them-

But there’s never one moment to base that on.

For their own part the Outlanders might care about Vitani. They abandon Zira after the threat against Vitani, after all.

True, it might just have been disgust that Zira would be ready to kill her own daughter. Or maybe it had something to do with how their expressions of anger changed to shock and confusion when Kiara spoke of Pridelanders and Outlanders being one.

Equally possible is the first idea- that Vitani’s real loyalty has been to them this whole time, perhaps while Zira was off giving Kovu special training, while Kovu was with her getting trained, and Nuka was busy chasing desperately after his mother’s tail. That might have left Vitani as the one taking up the lead of the Outlander lionesses on a daily basis. She might have the one that the lionesses knew best and relied on most, more so even than Zira herself, in the end.

That, however, is nothing more than an idea. And it still wouldn’t show any hint of Vitani having personal feelings for the Outlanders herself.

She is, of all the characters in the movie, the only one who’s actions are not linked to any personal relationship at all.

Vitani is practical. She is reasonable.

She has no problem with ambush or murder or lies or deceit, chucking and grinning evilly right along with Zira and Nuka as they chase down an isolated and outnumbered Simba.

And yet there is nothing personal in her delight for violence. There is no motivation of spite, jealousy, revenge, or even just rage.

And she wants peace.

What a strange character they ended up making, in Lion King 2.

I’m sure she was just put in to add more female characters and moments when two lionesses were talking to each other, since there would be almost no such scenes at all if it wasn’t for her.

Honestly, everything she does, all her actions are ones either Nuka, Kovu, or Zira could have filled in for instead- Nuka lighting the fire trap, Nuka telling on Kovu’s betrayal, Zira fighting with Nala, Kovu telling his mother “enough” and the Outlander’s being disgusted because scarring and yelling at your son is one this but threatening to kill him…

...all of these substitutions would have worked plot-wise and made sense for the characters.

But Vitani gets them instead.

She's stretched out across plot points and character moments like a piece of yarn, not enough in herself to have much of a pattern, but still making an interesting if very minimal shape.

And she must have been a rushed or half hearted addition, considering her adult design has some of the worst consistency in the movie and no one remembered or felt bothered to show even one frame of her in the final epilogue scenes of the movie. I’ve stared at the group shot of the lionesses all sitting together, not one of them looks like her. Her head tuft, likely given specifically to make her noticeable, is nowhere in sight.  

So it really does seem Vitani was created and shoved into the movie because it would be a bit strange to have a girl main character and yet little to no other girls with speaking roles outside of the villain. 

Intentional or not, the result of Vitani existing is she’s a very unusual character.

Her lack of depth circles around somehow to become full of implications, most ironic of all being that SHE is the most ruthless and uncaring lion in the movies.

Even Scar had his murderous jealousy over his brother and his twisted glee at telling his nephew the truth of how Mufasa died, just to hurt him more.

But Vitani? She doesn’t even have a negative personal bond tying her to anyone.

Well. Unless you want to call her and Nala's odd little spat a 'personal bond'. At the very least it proves Nala knows Vitani's name...

(so have they had an off-screen feud this whole time or did Nala know her from before the Outlander's were exiled and somehow developed a grudge against this one tiny cub in particular?)

(yes I know the fan theories about her and cub Vitani. Ignoring them though, it's just all very weird)

(tama and tojo were vitani's parents and nala took her in fight me)

... but the animation in that scene wasn't even updated to match Vitani's final name, so, clearly, it wasn't a very important moment to the makers of the movie.

It's safer to assume they just needed to show Nala fight someone, and Vitani existed, and had already been characterized as a bit snide and sneering. Bam, perfect fit. Nala gets to fight a named character and Vitani talks to another girl again.

Anyway.

Outside of vast and world-building speculation, Vitani just... doesn't have meaningful emotions towards anyone.

Even her desire for peace can be read as completely devoid of emotion. The outlands suck. There’s hardly anything to eat or drink. Moving back to the pride lands by whatever means possible has clear and immediate benefits to Vitani, like not starving constantly.

And a rouge lion striking out on their own is vulnerable. Kovu is proof of how easily they can be kicked out.

Meanwhile, a lion with a pride of other lions at their back has power, and the more lions in that pride, the more power they all have, no matter where they go.

Taking the peaceful way out could simply be the easiest way to safeguard Vitani’s own future.

OR,

you can read her as being the only one out of her family to really CARE about the welfare of the Outlanders themselves, instead of ignoring them (Nuka), abandoning them (Kovu), or only seeing them as tool for revenge (Zira).

So does your version of Vitani heed Kiara's wisdom because she cares about others a lot?

Or is she able to listen because she cares so little she has no bitterness at all?

Or is your idea of her somewhere in the middle??

It’s fun to think about.

She's a good example of why, sometimes, a character who didn’t Need to be in a story at all can still be a wonderful addition to it.

and if they’re also are part of baby gay me’s slow walk towards realizing Girls are Hot, well, that’s fine too

#Lion King 2 #Vitani #Kovu #Kiara #Zira #Nuka #speculation #character thoughts #vitani i don't understand you and that's cool #just like your little mane tuft~

[alicedopey]

In your eyes

( gif credits to @honestsycrets​ )

Fandom: Vikings

Genre: Modern AU, angst, tiny bit of fluff

Pairing: Hvitserk X  Reader

Warnings: none

Words: 2232 (definitely not a drabble this one...gosh, I really suck at this)

A/N: It is another request for 500 followers celebration. This one is from @maggiescarborough​ Enjoy, honey !

Hvitserk immediately understood he had fucked up and hurt you in the worst possible way. He could see it. It was not in the way you clenched your fists, or the way your jaw tightened and your lower lip trembled, or how cold your voice sounded when the words “It was a dare?! I was a dare?!” fell from your lips. No, it wasn’t all of that.

It was in your eyes, your beautiful eyes that usually depicted love, understanding, tenderness and a little bit of mischief and in which he could only read pain, disappointment and anger right now.

He wanted to say something, anything but no sound came out of his mouth. Truth be told, Hvitserk was aware there was nothing he could say that would make the situation better. So, he just kept staring into your eyes where he could almost see your heart break.

That’s the moment he heard it. A snicker. He turned his eyes away from you and spotted Oleg, a mocking smirk on his lips. Hviterk felt his blood boiling in anger. He did not think twice and pounced on him with a growl. He wanted to hurt him, he had to, so he punched and kicked restlessly. He did not hear Ivar cheering and Sigurd shouting at his brother that he was an idiot, he did not hear his mother screaming him to stop, he did not even feel Ubbe trying to break the fight nor when he finally managed to do it, slammed him against the nearest wall and ordered him to calm down. The only thing he noticed though was that the chair you were sitting down was empty and you were nowhere to be seen.

“Stay still!”

Hvitserk hissed and flinched away from his mother as she was puttingsome ice on his swollen eye.

“It hurts!” He whined liked a child.

Aslaug sighed, irritated. “I hope it hurts! I thought you were done with this kind of behavior after you graduated from high school. You are not seventeen anymore, young man.” She pushed the washcloth full of ice harshly against his bruised face. Hvitserk winced but did not protest. “Treating our guest like that…”

“He deserved it.” Her son cut her off sharply and snarled. “He hurt Y/N.”

“He hurt Y/N?” Aslaugh let out another sigh but this time, she seemed quite upset. “Oh Hvitserk, I never thought I would say that of you but you are clearly your father’s son.” Her eyes watered. “I wish he would have passed on something else than his poor way to treat women.”

Hvitserk’s rage was soon replaced by guilt. “Mother…”

The sound of Ivar’s crutch on the floor made him stop talking. Aslaug just sighed sadly once again and instructed Hvitserk to hold the washcloth against his eye. “I’ll leave you boys alone…”

She stood up gracefully and left the room, not without stroking Ivar’s cheek before. The youngest Ragnarsson glared at his brother.

“I hope you are happy. You just hurt Mother’s feelings.”

“Yeah, yeah, I hurt Mother, I hurt Y/N.” He replied harshly. “It seems like I’ve been hurting everyone lately.”

Ivar let himself fall in the chair opposite Hvitserk. “I’m glad you finally acknowledged your mistakes. About damn time!”

Seeing his brother’s jaw tick, Ivar groaned but tried to soften his tone. “Listen, you screwed up. All you have to do is apologize and make up for it. Buy some flowers or some shit like that. I mean, the girl has been infatuated with you since day one, she will forgive you eventually.”

“Of course, Ivar. Act like you have some experience in that area.”

It was Ivar’s jaw that ticked this time. Hvitserk knew it was unfair to attack him that way when he was clearly just trying to help but his little brother had no right to give some advice after the whole Freydis debacle. He was also aware Ivar would beat the shit out of him after what he said but it’s not like Hvitserk could not suffer one or two more blows in the face.

Against all odds, he just heard him take a few deep calming breaths before addressing him again.

“I have enough experience to know you can trust her and that you are in deep shit if you lose this woman. Y/N has been your anchor since you’ve met. As a matter of fact, I’m pretty sure you’ve been in love with her since day one as well but were too oblivious and obsessed with all those bimbos around you to notice it.”

It pained Hvitserk to admit it but Ivar was right. You changed his life the moment you came into it. At first, he had acknowledged your love…or his, for that matter. There was a high possibility he was not ready for a deep meaningful love story in high school but he wanted you to be a part of his life so he opted for friendship…and everything was just fine the way it was until that fucker came along.

“Your little friend ruined everything. Should have killed him.” Hvitserk replied bitterly.

Ivar rolled his eyes. “First of all, he is not a friend but a future business partner and you might have ruined any collaboration. Second of all…” he added in a higher tone when he saw his brother was about to intervene. “Oleg is an ass but you chose to fall into his trap and to pursue her the way you did. Nobody forced you, Hvitserk. You hurt her, nobody else otherwise, she would still be here to tend to your bruises.”

Hvitserk looked away and scoffed, too proud to admit his little brother was right once again. Ivar stood up with a groan. “Beg on your knees with those puppy eyes of yours or whatever must be done to win her back. Should be a piece of cake for you, huh?”

Piece of cake. Easier said than done. For a week, he tried to reach you but you blocked his number, his email and even his different accounts on social networks. Then, he went to your place and when you finally agreed to open the door, Hvitserk wished you did not.

You looked so tired and defeated, your eyes were red and puffy from crying and probably the lack of sleep. The thing that broke his heart though was your own heartbreak he could still read in your Y/E/C orbs he loved to watch so much. There was so much pain and knowing he was the one who had inflicted it upon you was unbearable.

“I…I can’t see you right now, Hvitserk.” You voice was so small, his heart clenched in his chest and he did everything he could to prevent himself from hugging you fiercely. “I need to process some things but I’ll get back to you when I am ready, okay?”

Your voice was firm this time. Hvitserk just nodded and left.

It lasted a month. A month during which he suffered Ivar’s sneers, his mother’s scolding and above all, your silence. But he waited patiently because he knew you would come, you promised and you always kept your promises. In the meantime, he could brood in his bedroom like a grounded teenage boy.

“Hvitserk, you have a visit.”

His mother’s tone sounded lighter somehow so he turned his eyes away from his computer screen with hope in his heart.

He was not disappointed. Here you were, standing next to this smiling mother. You seemed still tired but determined and he gulped, almost scared when his mother closed the door and left the two of you alone. He had rehearsed the words a thousand times in his head but now, it felt like they were refusing to get out. What if you refused to believe him? What if you just came to break up with him?  What if…?

“I’ve always loved you.” You said softly.

Hvitserk tried to reply or to move but his feet felt as frozen as his tongue. Besides, he sensed you wanted to let some things out of your chest so he let you. He owed you that, at least.

“I saw you and it just…clicked. Never thought love at first sight could happen but here I was, fifteen years old and it struck me. I also realized very quickly that it was some unrequited love but truth be told, I did not care as long as I could be with you. So, I took what you would give me: friendship. I trusted you and you trusted me, we really bonded and I loved it. I felt so powerful, above them all, those pretty girls who got your attention because I knew we shared something special, something…they would never get. They would share your bed and be gone but I…you would always keep me around. You treated me differently, you never lied to me, never mistreated me just like you could do with them. I really thought I was as special to you as you were to me.”

“You were, you are special to me!” Hvitserk intervened almost desperately. He could not let you say such things, he had to explain how wrong you were but the look you gave him made him stop.

“No, I’m not. Our relationship is based on a dare, Hvitserk and you treated me just like you treated all of them and that’s what hurts the most. I have never been special or important to you but you…you are my world.”

Tears welled up in your eyes and it broke his heart even more.

“You’ve always been important to me.” He tried to come closer but stopped when you urgently stepped back and leaned on the door.

Confused, he furiously ran his hands though his hair, trying to find the right words to explain what went through his head when he made that decision. “I…I just…that bastard assumed he could get you and make you forget about everyone else. When he saw how mad I was, he dared me to seduce you before him and I accepted because I couldn’t stand that idea of him near you even if it was just to talk.”

Hvitserk throat tightened and his own eyes filled with tears. “I’m not saying it was the right choice but it was the only one I could consider on the moment.

“That was the worst choice, if you ask me.” Tears were rolling downs your cheeks by now and you furiously wiped them away with the sleeve of your sweater. “It’s obvious he was just messing with you and even if he truly wanted to do it, you could have just told me like a real good friend who doesn’t want to see his friend get hurt would. But you chose your pride instead. You wanted to prove him you were better than him, never mind that our friendship of ten years got ruined in the process.”

“I did it because I love you.” Hvitserk shouted and you were so surprised at his outburst that you didn’t see he had taken a few steps towards you.

“I…I love you.” He repeated gently as he stared at you. “In fact, I believe I always have. I fell in love with you instantly but I was too scared and maybe too young to admit my feelings for you. I know you probably don’t believe me right now but I valued our friendship just as much as I value our relationship right now. It’s just that I…I took you for granted, I screwed up. I hurt you, not that bastard, I did and because of that, I’m probably going to lose you.”

A single tear rolled down his cheek and he suddenly looked away, ashamed and heartbroken. He inhaled sharply when he heard you come near me and the moment he felt your soft hands on his face, he let out a shaky breath.

“You’re not going to lose me. I did not come here to break up with you. I wanted to give you a chance to explain yourself but also telling you how I felt after what I happened. But I love you, ‘Serk.” Hearing you using his nickname made his heart beat a little bit faster but he still refused to look up so you cupped his head and gently made your eyes meet.

“You hurt me though. A lot. And I think we will need some time to go back to what we were.”

“Everything you want.” He grabbed your hands to kiss them fervently. “Ask me anything and I’ll do it.”

“Just don’t hurt me again.” You almost begged.

Hvitserk drew you even closer. “I won’t. I swear I won’t. You’re so important to me. You are my world too, you know. I love you.”

“I love you too, ‘Serk.”

Your eyes met again and Hvitserk knew. There was no doubt he had hurt you and he would have to prove himself to you again to win your trust back. But he had some hope your couple would make it somehow. He could see it. It was not in your shy smile or the way you let him kiss you and kissed him back. No, he knew there was still some hope in that little gleam of light in your eyes and that was the only thing he needed to feel alive again.  

Tagging (feel free to ask to get added or removed): @naaladareia​ @gearhead66​ @maggiescarborough​ @therealcalicali​ @peaceisadirtyword​ @mblaqgi​ @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie​ @flowers-in-your-hayr​ @ivarswickedqueen​ @captstefanbrandt​

#vikings #fanfic #hvitserk x reader #Hvitserk Ragnarsson #angst #alice's 500 followers celebration #drabble request #in your eyes

[truths33k3r4]

( TW for blood )

CHAPTER 12 - Trying

Leo stared into the eyes of his victim patient.

Her body still trembled as her eyes remained fixed onto Leo’s, begging to be freed from the pain.

With one blink Leo’s mind flashed.

The turtle who was once Lotus in front of him now blurred and distorted into another one of his brothers. 

A dark crimson streak was sliced into the skin over their right eye.

They were crying.

Pain was written all over their face as they clung both hands over the wound.

‘ IT’S MY FAULT. ‘

Leo blinked again, returning to the present.

‘ What am I supposed to tell her? How am I not gonna freak her out again?..’

The implant was out.

But now he needed to stitch the wound.

‘ What the heck am I gonna do to help with the pain if the Lidocaine WEARS OFF AGAIN??? Maybe if I go as fast as I can it will last long enough to stitch the wound.. It’s small! I think It’ll only need two or three stitches.. That shouldn’t take me long to do if I keep my head on straight… ‘

Leo didn’t want a re-run of what happened earlier with Lotus passing out, but he highly doubted she would rather get stitches feeling every prick and pull of the needle and thread instead of getting numbed..

.. And there was NO way he would inflict so much pain on her... again.

Leo’s words echoed and taunted him. 

‘ “ I promise. You won’t feel a thing. “ ‘

Shame and guilt welcomed themselves into his heart, remembering every twist and turn to the door from years of residence.

‘ You are a freakin’ idiot. ‘

Leo placed the tweezers down onto the rolling table beside him, and reached to open one of the drawers in the cabinet. As his hand reached it’s target he froze.

‘ Don’t scare her.. Be gentle. ’

He kept his hand inside the rim of the cabinet drawer, just out of Lotus’ sight.

He channeled every fiber of his ‘ good big brother voice ‘ to help calm her down.

“ Ok, Lotus.. I’m going to stitch the wound now. It will only take maybe two minutes. Three or four stitches max. “

Leo reassuringly patted Lotus’ knee to ensure her that the worst is over. Hopefully.

Lotus kept her focus on Leo’s eyes.

Any time a new doctor or nurse came into her cell, ( It certainly wasn’t a bedroom ), she learned that by studying the eyes of the person - how they moved, what they focused on, if they EVER made eye contact with her -  she could sense if they were being honest or if they were lying through their teeth.

This technique helped her gauge if procedures actually would " sting a little ", or if she needed to brace herself and ready her mind and body for something more.. agonizing.

Leo’s eyes shone with care and gentleness. 

But his lack of eye contact, as well as how his pupils stayed constricted and tight, told her there was something he wasn’t telling her.

“.. The thing is.. “ 

‘  THERE IT IS. ‘ Lotus thought.

“.. in order for you to not feel it, I’ll need to numb the area.. again. “

Lotus inched away from Leo, propping herself up with her elbows on the surgical table.

“ Your medicine doesn’t work. “ Lotus bluntly stated with her voice lowering in volume nearly to a whisper. “ It still hurt. Is still HURTS. “ She winced as she accidentally moved her left leg.

Leo paused.

She was right. 

It didn’t work.

The numbing wore off.

Shame and guilt slithered around his heart tempting him to give up.

‘ “ Clearly you’re not meant to have this kind of responsibility. “ ‘ They whispered. ‘ “ You’re just a scared child who has no idea what they’re doing. “ ‘

‘ “ You’re weak. “ ‘

‘ “ You’re not wise enough. “ ‘

‘ “ HER PAIN IS YOUR FAULT.

 JUST LIKE RAPHAEL. “ ‘

Leo shook his head and blinked away tears as he tried his very best to keep his insecurities at bay.

“ Lotus.. I’m.. I’m sorry I hurt you..”  Leo’s hand pulled away from the drawer, letting go of the package of syringes, and rose to his face to wipe away his tears. His voice broke with every word, nearly choking on the last. “ .. I’m sorry I didn’t do this right..”

Lotus cocked her head the slightest bit, studying every minute detail of Leo’s face. Her eyes softened, and her tenseness diminished as she lowered her shoulders and went back to being flat on the surgical table.

‘ He’s telling the truth.. ‘

She decided, against her better judgment, to try to help calm Leo down.

She gave Don’s technique a shot.

“ You’re new at this aren’t you? “ Lotus asked.

She didn’t mean to have it come out so..heartless, but she was doing the best she could.

Leo turned his wet face away from Lotus, and nodded his closed fist up and down in answer.

( ASL for “ Yes.” )

Lotus scoured her brain for anything else she could use in the situation. Her clear lack of experience in comforting someone didn’t help the slightest bit. 

‘ Ok… that didn’t work.. He’s still upset.. Ok uhhh let’s try this..’

“ Ok. You’re not experienced. Big whoop. “

‘- “BIG WHOOP”- WHAT THE HECK WAS THAT?!?!? OK TRY AGAIN-'

“.. I- I mean- um.. Uhh I can um.. I can see you’re trying your best..? “

‘ YEAH- THAT’S IT- TRY TO COMPLIMENT WITH A QUESTION MARK AT THE END GREAT WORK- ‘

Leo turned his face back to Lotus, wet smears beginning to dry on his cheeks.

He smiled a little.

“ Thanks, Lotus.. “ He dryly whispered.

“ I think you broke your voice. “ Lotus said, IMMEDIATELY regretting her bluntness and lack of understanding of how comforting works. She turned her face away, internally screaming at the top of her lungs.

‘ THIS ISN’T WORKINGGG!!!! WHY AM I SO BAD AT THISSSS..”

Leo simply chuckled, finding it funny of how similar Lotus was to Raphael when he was her age.

Then he realized another obvious question he should've asked her.

“ Lotus, “ Leo spoke up, trying very hard not to have a voice crack that would compete against any during his younger teen years,

“ .. How old are you? If you don’t mind me asking? “

Lotus paused, both in surprise and in contemplation.

She kept her face turned away from Leo’s.

“... I.. don’t know. “

Leo’s mouth dropped, but he closed it as soon as he felt the smallest bit of saliva pooling on his lip.

“ The doctors didn’t tell me.. And… there was no window in my cell. “

Lotus didn’t realize until this point how embarrassing it was to not know her own age; Another part of herself that was a complete mystery.

Leo leaned over and carefully placed his hand on her shoulder. She flinched at first, then relaxed her muscles.

Now that Leo was in contact with her, he could sense the vibrations of her body shaking again. But the root of this wasn't due to any physical pain.

“ I’m guessing you didn’t celebrate birthdays at the lab, did you?.. “

Lotus slowly nodded her head back and forth.

“ That’s ok. I bet Don could figure it out! He’s really smart, and I’m sure he could help. “

Lotus turned her head back to Leo with tears filling her eye lids to the brim.

“ Really? “ She spoke in a whispered tone, with the tears now being let free to flow down her face.

Leo nodded as a tiny smile grew on his face.

 But then he jolted as the sensation of warm blood splashed onto one of his feet. 

That's it for this chapter! :)

Leo's been having a really rough day.. But luckily, Lotus' attempt at comforting him made him smile. :) We'll call that a win.

Does anyone have any funny stories ( or sweet stories ) about needing to comfort a friend or family member? Would you say you're gifted at the art of comforting someone? ;) Or do you fail in nearly every conceivable way like Lotus? ;)

Hope you enjoyed!

To God be the glory!

Masterpost <- PRIOR CHAPTER NEXT CHAPTER ->

#tmnt #my version of tmnt!! #surgery #the strength in weakness #hurt/comfort #Leo's having a rough day #but it will get better!

[dilfwaynes]

yandere!talia al ghul alphabet

⚢ pairings; dark!talia al ghul x fem!reader

✗ warnings; dark and controlling themes, media consumed with your own consent.

a/n: hope u like it anon.

attachment : how do they become obsessed?

talia doesn’t easily become obsessed with just anyone, if anything she could be with someone for years or harbor feelings for and she still won’t nudge to obsession for them. possession regarding her partners? yes, but obsession is only hold for barely a few, and when she does become obsessed it’s extreme and depth. her obsession is blazing.

blood : how messy are they willing to get for their darling?

she’s fully one  hundred percent in to do anything for you, as well as to get you. someone’s mean to you and made you cry? she’ll easily end them without batting an eye. if you had a boyfriend or girlfriend she’ll have to kill them as they’re only getting in the way of you belonging to her, though she’ll make sure to kill them without you being around or having to witness it so you can avoid the pain, or she might just make them disappear without the police ever finding them.

cruelty : how would they treat their darling when they kidnap them?

cold and stoic with delicate and gentle undertones, explaining feelings towards you and why she simply can’t have you roaming around carelessly and risking someone hurting you, as well as someone else claiming you other than her. she’ll be patient but once you start being what she deems as a brat, that all goes out of the window and she gets annoyed fast.

delusion : how delusional are they when it comes to their darling?

very. it doesn’t matter if you hate her now for taking you away from your life and meaningless people before her, you’ll start seeing her point of view and her love for you and soon return it.

erratic : how unpredictable are they?

rarely is she unpredictable, she’s  consistent with promises rather if it’s promises of punishments or the promise of her giving you the entire world, you know her and her pattern.

fight : how would they react if their darling fought back?

amused some at you thinking you can honestly fight her and make an escape, but it’s watered down under rage that you wanna leave her, as well as hurt that you want to leave her. she gives you everything she possibly can in the world’s reach with luxury, same with her affections and efforts to court you.

guilt : what would it take for them to feel guilty about their actions?

not a lot would make her feel guilty, certainly not her taking you away from those ungrateful friends, and definitely not from a grimy boyfriend or girlfriend who clearly didn’t deserve you in her eyes. the only thing that’ll make her feel guilty is maybe post punishment or if you feel fearful/scared of her, guilt would swell her some but also some relief if that means you’ll stop trying to leave her

hell : what would be their darlings worst experience with them?

if you were to hurl out hurtful things at her, or if you ever told her you’ll never love her or call her a monster, it’ll set off her usually cold and unamused façade and would leave you with your hair wrapped in her fingers tightly.

“is that so? you don’t love me beloved? couldn’t love me? i’m a cruel monster?“

she’ll show you how mean she can actually be and throw you into a stone cell and isolate you for some weeks or a month without any contact other than the steps of guards that give you food/water. she’ll do this so you can open up your eyes and see what you take for granted.

ideals : what kind of future do they have in mind with their darling?

romantic and loyal, very intimate too. she’ll want you to want to be hers as well as her to be yours. she wants the small regular things in relationships to be accomplished with you as simple as sharing a room and sleeping together, intertwining your belongings with hers and having a touch of your things together.

jealous : what makes them the most jealous?

ex partners. she cannot stand the idea or remembrance of someone that use to have you, it quite literally makes her skin crawl and sets her teeth in a gritting anger.

kidnap : how would they go about kidnapping their darling?

after watching and studying you for some time to analyze your daily routine, she’ll finally make her move in the dead of your night to receive you back with her. quick and swift with no trace of you anymore.

love letters : how would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

she’s understanding that it’ll take time for you to return her affections and go slow with trying to court you. your constant rejects does deeply hurt her but she continues. she’ll buy you everything you can ask for, as well as things she thinks you’ll like. she’ll give you vintage gifts, even going to buying you past princesses’ crowns she thinks will look gorgeous on you. when she sees you starting to open up some more and beam at some gifts she’ll become more confident as well as start buying lingerie that she wants you to wear for her

mask : are their true colours drastically different from how they acted before?

usually she’ll remain her composure in front of you and try to show a softer side of herself that she does not show to others, to you. but after your first almost success of escape, her true colors come slamming down. she can also be very manipulative and once she senses how lonely and in need of human contact you are, she preys on it. she’s an extreme gaslighter at times if it means you’ll start giving yourself to her fully.

naughty : how would they punish their darling?

mentioned earlier she would isolate you for a while so you can learn your lesson, it’s also a manipulative tactic so when your punishment is finally over you can be incredibly desperate for her and her contact, codependency too.

outrage : what makes them furious

a few things. claiming you could never love her sends her into an emotional and hurt fury, same as mentioned before trying to escape and leave her, or if you gain a connection with one of her assistants that guards you.

patience : how patient are they with their darling?

50/50. it depends on different areas of what you’re doing.

quit : if their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?

nope. if you died it would take her years and years before she even thinks about moving on. if you successfully escape, she’ll never stop searching the ends of the world until she finds you.

rage : how do they act when they are angry?

she’s a calm and cold angry, which is more  frightening if she were to actively show how angry she is. short replies and sometimes a grasp of your throat/hair if you said something that  particularly got her mad enough.

self-indulgent : how possessive are they?

insanely possessive. she doesn’t want you talking to anyone but her, or having a bond/closeness to anyone but her, minus maybe damian but thats it. this also goes for her siblings. she hates the thought of anyone being near you but her

tears : how do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry and/or isolate themselves?

she would hate it, she doesn’t want to punish you but you force her hand. she hates to see you cry and comforts you with wiping your tears away and tucking back your hair, she also understands your  frustration of being taken away from everything you know somewhat, but she doesn’t regret it and sees it as she saved you from worthless people

unique : would they do anything different from the classic yandere?

giving you your own space and room to breathe when she can tell you needed it, she isn’t overbearing.

vicious : how vicious can they get?

she’ll go to depths for you and will gladly kill for you, she was raised to be an assassin after all.

weakness : what weaknesses can their darling exploit in order to escape?

affection, once you start initiating it and allowing her to love you she’ll start trusting you and let her  guard down a bit

xenodochia : how quickly would their darling cut them off after their escape?

immediately, you know you can’t leave an ounce of trace about your whereabouts whatsoever because she’ll pick up on it right away. you know there’s barely a chance she won’t find you if you quite literally disappear like a ghost, let alone otherwise

yearn : how long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

a long time, it’ll take quite a large amount of time for her to snap, probably years.

zero tolerance : what is the one thing that always makes her snap?

any mention of past ex’s or boosting about them. she’ll fume with jealousy and anger.

#talia al ghul #talia al ghul x reader #dark talia #talia al ghul hc #talia al ghul headcannon #dark talia al ghul

[theblogofdavyjones]

Fix you

Pairing: Davy Jones x reader

Warnings: None

Request for: @mxmxnt0m0ri

Request:

Hi again! I also thought another idea for Davy Jones (I don’t really see much people posting about him), how about 42 and 22 from your prompts list? In which Davy have feelings for reader and wants her to stay with him, so he makes her go into missions (like searching or looking for his heart or anything) and when she finishes, he doesn’t have anything to request so he gets kind of desperate bc thinks that she’s gonna go away? But reader actually has fallen for him too and is not really planning on leaving him?

***

If you wanted to know the truth, the truth was you were unaware of Davy Jones having feelings for you and that you were unaware of the fact that you were the only crew mate he deeply cared about above all.

In the beginning, Davy didn’t know how to react to these feelings or how to really accept them for that matter. He hasn’t felt this way for anyone since the disaster made with Calypso when she crushed him. A lot of the time, Davy kept his eyes on you while having to deal with the difficult task of accepting these feelings. Davy was on edge of the fact of not knowing at all how you felt about him, in any way in the making.

Quite a number of times did Davy Jones caught himself wondering how he could get you close to him and that’s when he started taking you on missions with him in search of his heart, getting there to it before anyone else can get there hands on it. During that time, you had discovered your own feelings for Davy, but you kept silent for the same reasons. How you ended up on the Dutchman was an answer anyone could guess, but if they really did want to know, it starts as having you used to be on Jack Sparrow’s crew while living on the Black Pearl.

You weren’t dead, you were still human and that’s what confused the crew. As said before, you used to be a part of Jack’s crew before Jack Sparrow sent you off and sold you out as a trade for a debt free life through Davy Jones. The trade has hurt you lot, thinking that Jack Sparrow was your friend and you could trust him, going through all of that just to prove where you are wrong. Surprisingly, you didn’t have to endure the inhuman punishments Davy settled on his crew who clearly don’t deserve any of that. No one does for that matter, but Davy Jones wouldn’t give it a second thought to be more fair in using a different method than anything like you’ve seen happen every day on that ship. While not having to endure any of the same sufferings, you were fine with that. However, you felt guilty to be the only one spared from that pain. The best way to describe the way you were feeling was it being almost like survivors guilt. Others haven’t just been as lucky as you.

On the Dutchman, date was kinder to you much to your surprise. When you started going on missions with Davy, it was around three years now since your trade. As you rise out of the salty waters the island in sight, you caught onto the sight of two men witnessing as they scurry off with the chest. With Davy still unable to step on land, he sent you off with the rest of them as he stood behind with Maccus, waiting until you had returned. Which you do return with the chest under your arm while climbing back onboard the Dutchman, and Maccus was the one who pointed you out since Davy had his back turn towards you. The second Davy sees what you have, you hand it over to him as he approaches you. Davy Jones doesn’t say anything while taking it, you watch as he sets it down before going to wake the kraken shortly after sailing past the Black Pearl.

Davy was still thirsty for a war, a war he very much wanted to win. After everything had gone down, Davy demands for the chest to be opened. They open the chest, only to find it empty with nothing inside, Davy’s heard was in the hands of someone else. To see that it was no longer there, Davy was eager now to find out what happened and who took it, it couldn’t be Jack Sparrow. It couldn’t be Will Turner. Ever since discovering the heart was missing, Davy had not been doing so well the next few days and you hated seeing him like this. So you go and try to find him, even know trying to talk through it could lead into a not so friendly conversation. Of course, he tries to deny you entry, to shoo you away and shut you out, but you were being stubborn and won this round. Davy lets you in and you both talk about it, trying to get useful ideas that could really help to solve this case.

“We’ll find it again,” you say trying to encourage him not to give up.

Though this didn’t seem to help at all, Davy couldn’t understand you at times and this was one of those times.

“How can you be so uplifting?” Davy growls, causing you to nearly laugh a little.

“We need to stay positive about the situation, I’ll help you through this, you’re not alone I can promise you that. Staying positive is the only way we’re going to get through this.”

Davy Jones wasn’t going to try and push you away this time, instead, he kept you close to his side. Being as close to Davy as you are now only made your feelings for him stronger.

Being this close to him made you feel safe and secure, and you haven’t been so sure about anyone else in your life. It was easy to tell Davy Jones has yet to fully warm up to you. He has been warming up little by little, but not yet completely. The following days, you couldn’t stand seeing Davy this way, with you wanting to help locate his heart, you went back to where the chest still sits, making sure Davy wasn’t in sight. Thinking you’re home free, you go ahead and open it while hoping you could find a clue or two of some kind. However, when you open it, you don’t only see that it was empty, but it contained letters you had missed seeing the first opening. While you still believed Davy wasn’t around, that’s where you’re wrong, he just remained silent while think he was going to lose you to those old letters. Davy feared that if you read those letters, you were going to walk away from him and give him another heartbreak. Just after opening the first letter, you immediately see that this letter was for Calypso from Davy. It was a letter that was meant to be sent but never had been after these years.

As he continued to fear of you leaving, he doesn’t understand that all it would take for you to walk away from him was if he didn’t have anything to request. One way or the other, you really never planned on leaving him or the crew. It was the only life you known now, and you didn’t want to start fresh all over again. You weren’t going anywhere, he wasn’t going to lose you over an old letter that had never been sent.

When Davy Jones realizes this, he really couldn’t be happier. Thoughts scrambled all over in mind, but there was one thought that was nagging him, and that thought was he shouldn’t even have because to you, that’s not what Davy is.

“Maybe for once, I’m not the bad guy here.”

Davy Jones may be cruel now, but you helped yourself into believing he wasn’t always like this, that he was once human as well. Because of this, there is still a good chance that he could change at will.

In the end, you had got the missing heart and in that point in time, Davy Jones gives you his heart, no longer did it belong to Calypso. Calypso, the woman who crushed him and betrayed him without a care in the world it seemed so. Now that things between you both were finally starting to come together, you both had each other.

What more could you ask for?

***

@theblogofdavyjones

Requests: open

Tags: @royisrandom @always-on-hiatus @marsswann @personlovinganime @princessofthornsandroses @justafairytailofinnocence @mypookiebeardavyjones @imalittleoutthere

#davy jones #davy jones fanfic #davy jones headcanons #davy jones reblogs #davy jones imagine #davy jones x reader #request #reblogger #reblogging #reblogs

[prcphesieslie]

“Just take the pain away.” // chrissy & eddie

the last time she’d made a similar request, they’d reconnected in the woods for the first time since middle school. the whole purpose of their meeting had been to sell her drugs, but he’d left knowing they had an unbreakable bond forming already. he wasn’t even embarrassed to bring her back to his place that night because he knew she wouldn’t judge him. she wasn’t the stuck up popular girl he’d feared she would to be, she’d been… perfect.

but not for the reasons everyone always called her perfect.

she’d been perfect just by being herself. her smile, her laugh, her sense of humor. her kindness…

but then vecna had gotten to her and there had been nothing he could do to stop it. the bond he’d felt forming did have a breaking point it seemed. 

“ ‘til death do us part, chrissy. ”

the thought had been bitter when it had first come to him. while he was hiding in the boat under that damned tarp. he’d had plenty of time to think while he was stuck there… for the guilt to build up and to grieve. his own life hadn’t even been the first thing on his mind in those dark moments, late at night.

part of him had wondered if he actually did deserve whatever fate the town would bestow upon him if they found him… 

but hearing her now? knowing what she’d gone through in the end had been far worse than anything she’d been going through the first time she’d made that request? 

his heart broke. 

the lopsided smile he always wore around her dropping, his eyes making him look almost like a kicked puppy dog. how could an angel like her ever deserve what that monster had done to her? and all he’d done was scream and run…

having her come over to his apartment earlier that day had clearly been a good idea, knowing neither of them were in a headspace to be on there own after everything they’d been through. but Eddie had hoped that being together would make things better? that maybe he’d be able to take her mind off of things and make her smile. 

but he should have known he wouldn’t be enough. 

he never was. he knew that. so many people in his life had shown him that already. it didn’t come as a surprise anymore. not that Eddie ‘the freak’ Munson usually cared what anyone thought of him. but with chrissy? 

he felt almost as useless as he had when she’d been attacked. but he didn’t want to give her anything strong, not this time. he knew what he was doing, sure. but anything could go wrong and if he lost her again…

“c’mere…” his voice was a soft mumble as he leaned over, scooping her up around her thighs so she could cling to him as he held her close. one of his arms moved to wrap around her waist as he hugged her tightly, the other staying underneath her for support. he hadn’t been able to protect her the first time, but he’d be damned if he let anything ever hurt her again. even if It was memories. he buried his face in her neck once he was sure they were steady, tears already starting to escape his eyes. but didn’t want her to see, he didn’t want to make things worse. “I’m so sorry, chrissy… I’m so sorry.” 

@virtuousouls​

#( eddie | responds ) #( eddie | starter ) #( talking with | chrissy ) #@ beth @