#and all because he will suffer an excruciatingly painful death that you will not be able to prevent

[noknowshame]

why is religious Christmas imagery all so joyful and pleasant? where is the inherent horror of the birth of Christ? A mother is handed her newborn child, wailing and innocent. Her hands come away sticky. Red. Simply by giving her son life she has already killed him. He is doomed from the beginning. Her love will not save him from suffering. Because the thing cradled in her arms is not a baby, it is a sacrifice: born amongst the other bleating animals whose blood will one day be spilled in the name of what demands it. the night is silent with anticipation. Mary, did you know? That your womb was also a grave?

[mel-ixa]

The Mishanks agenda is not letting me go so here’s a brain worm:

After the Warlord system was abolished, high ranking marines are after Mihawk

Mihawk handles them with relative ease but days of constant fighting does take a toll and for one of the fight he lets his guard down slightly only because he’s so goddamn tired

And that’s how he got nicked just a little by a hidden blade of the attacking vice-admiral(?)

Mihawk didn’t think much of the nick until he realised mid-fight that his vision was getting blurry and his exhaustion sets in tenfold

His attacker saw him stumble and smirks and Mihawk knew something was up

The attacker revealed that the blade was laced with a rare poison that kills someone in 24 hours and the pain just excruciatingly worse until death is a kinder way out

There’s either no antidote or it takes longer than 24 hours to brew so it’s basically a death sentence unless someone has it on hand

Mihawk takes down the whole fleet of maybe 20+ ships in a ‘if I’m going down, I’m taking you down with me’ way and goes all out because why not if it’ll be his last fight

This creates major disturbances to the sea and of course Shanks senses this

Shanks sails towards the unease and sees the complete destruction of the aftermath

The sky is split open, wood pieces scattered across the sea and littered with bodies. The sea was tainted red.

Amidst all these, the Hitsugibune floats with a broken mast and a splintered seat, with only one candle left flickering (collateral damage as Mihawk realised there’s no point holding back to protect his ship if he’s gg to die anyway)

Mihawk is curled up on his ship with harboured breathe and barely senses Shanks

Shanks is shocked and confused but rushes to Mihawk side to see him unscathed except for the tiny nick, yet Mihawk’s eyes are unfocused and he’s clearly in pain

Shanks tries to bring Mihawk onto his ship but Mihawk refuses and they bicker until a sharp pain hits Mihawk and he shuts up and tries not to curl up even tighter but is visibly shaking

Shanks is just scared at this point and somehow manhandles Mihawk onto his ship. Mihawk acts like he’s ok until he closes the door to Shank’s cabin and he collapses

Shanks is worried shitless. His ship doctor can’t figure out what’s wrong so could only provide pain killers which helps a lot

Mihawk eventually reveals that he was poisoned and has less than 24 hours to live

Shanks freezes and goes through the 8 stages of grief in a minute. But no way he’s losing Mihawk to a poison NO THATS NOT HAPPENING the world’s greatest swordsman cannot be defeated by this he refuses to allow it to happen

But this is beyond his ship doctor’s help, but he manages to find a way to prolonge 24h to 48h although the pain will only get worse from here

The painkillers stop working at one point and Mihawk pleads Shanks to end his suffering but Shanks apologises and have to sedate or knock him out cold just so he won’t feel the pain

There’s so much angst here - shanks is watching his crush slowly die and there’s nothing he can do. What’s the point of being a yonko if he can’t even save a friend. He is desperate.

Idk if there’s any healing DF cause I’m only at EP430 but I assume there is one and Shanks seeks them out

It’s not always you have a Yonko on his knees begging you to save someone so the healer obliges but at a cost (I can’t think of the trade off yet but I’m thinking somewhere along the lines that takes advantage of Shanks. Shanks doesn’t care.)

I’ll continue the rest later when I can think of an ending

[farfromstrange]

Total Eclipse Of The Heart | Matt Murdock

Pairing: Matt Murdock x f!vampire!Reader

Masterlist ° Parts 1 , 2 , 3

PART 4 - New evidence appears and the situation seems to grow more dire for the coven by the minute, and the uncertainty is frustrating enough as it is. To add to that, Matt Murdock just had to go out of his way and not leave it be, and she has to rush to save his glorious ass.

Warnings: Description of vampirism, blood, death (vampire death, to be exact), some plot, suggestive language, cussing, dark themes!

Word Count: 3.3k

A/n: After an eternity, I have finally finished editing this chapter. This series has been pretty much neglected by me and I am so sorry to those of you who have been waiting. Will we be having smut soon? Who knows. Not today, at least ;) Maybe next time. I should start making a Masterlist for this series atp.

18+ MINORS DNI!

His scent lingered in the walls of the church and every fiber of her being. She breathed in, something she had taught herself to do to appear human and it eventually stuck, and whenever her nostrils flared, she could smell him. He was long gone, his heartbeat disappeared, but he was everywhere still. It drove her crazy that she let him go like that. A display of weakness, someone she once knew and adored would have said. It was dangerous to inform a human of her existence and then let him go without a contract, without turning or killing him. Foolish was another word you could have used. 

She wasn’t foolish. She knew the risks, and yet she did it anyway. She didn’t know why she wanted to touch and corrupt him so desperately but couldn’t find it in herself to do so. She pondered that, but she came up with nothing. There was no explanation for what she did. Their residency in Hell’s Kitchen was already fragile. If someone found out that there were vampires in the city, living in plain sight, they would have to move, and they had barely started making a home there. 

The hands on her body were warm, the blue veins under the rosy skin pulsating with blood. They brushed over her bare breasts, squeezing them with gentle intensity, and her nipples responded to the stimulation. The temperature in the room was at an all-time high. The air was humid, thick with the smell of sweat and the sweet essence of human arousal mixed with her own. It was far too hot for her ice-cold skin, but the fire that spread through every dead nerve was exactly what she needed to forget the ache that was blooming in her chest, reaching around her barely beating, dead heart with claws that dragged her into the abyss. She hated her life because it wasn’t a life, it was barely existence. She wasn’t supposed to exist, yet she did and she had to suffer the curse of eternity. Who had she hurt to deserve this, and what was this excruciatingly numb pain that kept her mind reeling? 

Her skin burned brightly, but it wasn’t enough. It didn’t suffice to shut off the horrible thoughts passing through the synapses in her brain. The warm hand squeezed her breast again before it traveled lover to caress her stomach. A pair of needy lips found her collarbone and the neck that connected to it, pressing kisses to every inch of skin they could find. Still, her eyes remained focused on the ceiling above. She was waiting for the delicious fire to turn her vision red so she could surrender to the feeling of the stranger’s wandering hands on her naked body, but whenever she looked down to see the head of red hair and the pale skin that stretched over a skinny body - and he was beautiful, she couldn’t deny that - she realized he wasn’t him. He could never be him. No matter how good he smelled, nothing could match up to the man she truly craved. But she didn’t just crave him out of the almost human urge for pleasure, she craved him in ways that made the claws tighten around her heart and her blacked-out soul, and it was starting to melt the ice that she claimed possessed her entire being. 

She had to forget him. The sole reason she went out to a club that night was to forget, to have her mind shut off just for one night and simply forget. That was all she wanted, to forget. Though the more she thought about forgetting, the more forced it felt and the less it worked. She couldn’t stop thinking about how the stranger’s hands weren’t the ones she wanted on her body, and it made the experience feel more like means to an end than an activity to enjoy. Sex was supposed to feel good, but the encounter was far from it. She wasn’t entirely heartless, she felt bad for the unknowing man in her bed. If only he knew she was expecting someone else in his place just to get herself going enough to allow him to touch her, he would have run. Or maybe he wouldn’t have; he wasn’t just in it for her gloriously naked body, he was in it for his pleasure as well, and he would get it soon enough. He would get high and she could come out of this a little less starving than she was when she met him. 

Tearing her eyes away from the ceiling, she wrapped her arm around the man’s shoulder and rolled over. She swung her leg over his hip and he whimpered; she loved it when men did that, but even the sound mattered less to her coming from the stranger whose name she had long forgotten. He was one of those pleasure chasers - he came with her just for the thrill of being used as a blood bank, and she usually hated treating herself to such a person, but when the need arose, she had to follow her most primal instincts. She was a monster, after all. It was time to live by it. 

He smelled nowhere near as good as him. Him. Him. Him. His name sounded like an alarm in her head, and she hated every second of it. When she opened her mouth and sunk her fangs into the pulsating pale skin underneath her, she bit harder than she intended. The poor man gasped, writhing in her grip shortly before he melted into her touch and let it happen. He came to suffer and she would make him do so as hard as she saw fit. She didn’t care anymore, she had a hunger to still and a name to forget. 

Damned be Matthew Michael Murdock, she wasn’t supposed to let anyone in her heart again. Centuries ago, that might have been possible, but she couldn’t allow herself to fall for a human again. It was foolish, stupid even, and she had to get him out of her system before he would be the one to eat her alive. The Devil knew he was reaching a point at which he could do so, and she would gladly let him. 

“There’s been another case,” the group stood in the main room as Talon declared the terrifying truth, “but this time,” he said, “it was an entire group of teenagers. They all… they ate away at their friend. Reminds me of a scene from a zombie film.”

Her nostrils flared. “When was this?” 

“While you were busy sucking the life out of that poor redhead,” Eli mumbled. 

“He asked for it,” she sneered. “Besides, you don’t get to judge me. You’re the one in this house that’s got a revolving door, not me.”

“Oh, yeah? What about the human I smelled last night? Wasn’t he one of yours, too?”

Her eyes darkened and she flashed her teeth. “He’s none of your concern, now have some fucking respect and shut your mouth so Talon can answer my question!” 

At the sight of her veiny eyesockets and the death that danced in her irises, Eli stepped back with raised arms, apologizing silently and returning to submission. 

Talon swallowed, scrambling for the right words to say. “Technically, Eli’s right,” he said. “It was a couple of hours ago.”

“Where?”

“A famous party ground here in Hell’s Kitchen.”

“Close to the docks?”

“I believe so, yes.”

She hummed. “I don’t know about you guys, but that looks like a pattern to me. They only operate close to the Hudson,” she said. “That can’t be a coincidence, can it?”

“It does sound suspicious,” William agreed. 

“That’s because it is, but we can’t exactly cover the entire fucking Hudson,” Adam didn’t speak often, and not in such a tone, but it had long been established that he didn’t give a fuck about anything but himself. 

Huddled over the map of New York City, Hell’s Kitchen circled with a red marker, the group shared a look before settling on their leader, but for the first time, she didn’t know what to say because she simply didn’t understand what was happening. She had her suspicions, but none of them could be proven either true or false. It was messy. 

Helen placed a hand on her shoulder. “Have you considered calling the New York Council for a meeting?” she said. Ever the woman who wanted nothing more than peace, she once again overlooked the obvious. It was an honorable attribute, her desire to find help anywhere she could and then take it, too, but in that case, it was a bad idea. 

She lifted her head, meeting the expectant eyes of her family. They all seemed to agree with the suggestion – she loathed it. 

“If I start calling all New York covens and tell them about this, it will spread panic,” she argued, and it was a valid argument, “and once there is panic, whoever is doing this will get what they want. It’s our truce with the humans that’s at risk, and with all covens in defensive mode, the next thing to happen would be a war, and we don’t want the hunters out there to catch onto what’s happening, now do we?”

She received a few hesitant and broken no’s. 

“The Council’s out of the question until I have solid proof that there is a coven in our territory that is purposely turning kids into vampires for the sake of spilling blood and spreading panic among humans. Only then will I call the council and only then will I take action. If we go at this with a half-assed plan, we’re fucked.”

“We’re fucked already,” said Adam. 

“Better be fucked once than twice,” she said. “In this context, at least, so stop bitching and start putting in some investigative work. We’re not just here to have sex and drink blood. We’re here to do whatever it takes to keep this coven alive, so put some effort into doing that, not just sticking your fangs and other body parts into helpless human beings. Are we clear?”

Everyone she looked at nodded or gave a small sound of agreement until she landed on Adam himself. “Adam,” she tipped her chin, “are we clear?”

He rolled his eyes. “We’re clear,” he sounded mocking, “Boss.”

“Good.” Her eyes remained dark for the duration that he looked into them. Eventually, he turned away and she didn’t miss the small glint of regret in his own eyes. 

The night was chilly. She loved the way it felt on her heated skin and brushed through her hair like a comforting ghost. The Hudson rushed in the distance and the couple that walked Central Park giggled drunkenly as they made their way home. She could smell the alcohol on their lips even from miles away. Heartbeats blurred together as did conversations, the scent of blood thick in the air like every night. She could hear and feel the crime that polluted the city and left broken people in alleyways. She couldn’t possibly consume so much blood at once. 

She tried though. The first rapist lost his entire jugular because he deserved every last bit of what he got. She wasn’t God’s disciple, but she cared about whether people were assholes or not. Every criminal she ran into got what they deserved. She didn’t kill innocents, only those who deserved it, and their blood often tasted dirty in more ways than once. She had gotten used to the almost acidic tang in their blood. 

Her fangs hovered just above the man’s throat, he was whimpering helplessly in her arms and she thrived off of it. She couldn’t wait to make him see the Devil to receive his judgment in front of the highest jury. 

She never got to it. Through the several heartbeats, she could make out in the distance, he was the loudest, and the second the familiar smell of pure death and mischief hit her nose, she dropped the mugger to the asphalt. 

What have you gotten yourself into this time?

In a second, she was gone out of the alley and sped toward the industrial neighborhood close to the Hudson and Hell’s Kitchen’s borders. Her kind had a distinctive smell that sent goosebumps down her spine in acknowledgment, and freshly turned vampires smelled even stronger of death and spilled blood. They didn’t know how to properly eat yet, they always made a mess and it stuck to their skin; the smell was toxic, and she hated how it tickled the hairs in her nose. It was his heartbeat that activated the fear center in her brain, sending the worry straight through her veins like a lightning bolt bringing her back to life. 

His skin was hot even through the leather of his suit, she could feel it beneath her fingers as she rushed in front of him at a speed too fast to have been human and pushed him against the wall of the building he was hiding behind. 

He opened his mouth. How he recognized her, she wasn’t sure, but he seemed to visibly stiffen when she appeared. “What are you doing?” he hissed.

“Saving your life,” she retorted. 

Young vampires often underestimated their speed. Newborns were stupid but their senses were a lot sharper than those of the undead who have been this way for centuries. They could smell a human from miles away and following their instincts, they usually found their target fairly easy. Once they did, there was no escaping. They would tear their victim to shreds. 

Matt was the innocent fish and he was lured right into a dangerous trap. He was on the hook now. She had to intervene. 

He opened his mouth again to protest, but as fast as she had touched him, she was gone again. The win blew over his wet lips, her scent lingering on his tongue and he could have sworn he tasted cinnamon in the way she smelled. 

The sounds were new, weird almost. Her speed sounded like the wind that blew through a waving flag, and the slow thudding of her quiet heart appeared in several spots at once. He concentrated to judge what was happening. Something cracked, he suspected it was a piece of wood, and then the night filled with hisses and gasps, then groans and silent screams as the wood pierced flesh deafeningly loud. Dead flesh, cold flesh, flesh that barely bled. He smelled scorned flesh in the hair, then a body thudded, and soon enough, the other followed. 

Her boot collided with a skull. The wood left the first body, then entered the next, and once again the dead flesh squished as the teenage boy choked. His last sound was a hiss before the commotion stopped and Matt was met with silence. 

She was back in front of him, hand pressed to his chest, and perhaps her face contorted in disappointment, he wasn’t quite sure. “What the hell were you thinking?” she asked, her voice now louder than before. 

“What did you do?” he asked instead, his voice breathless. 

He could barely contain his thoughts around her. Her scent was intoxicating and the sound of her voice lured him in once again. If it was the night or the lack of sleep on his end, he wasn’t sure, he only knew that the woman was playing with his head and he hated that he was nowhere near afraid of her. 

“You walked straight into the arms of two newborn vampires. They could have torn you to shreds. Are you out of your fucking mind?”

He frowned. “I was following the intel of some of my sources I turned to,” he gave his answer through gritted teeth, struggling against her stronghold; against his expectations, she eased up and let him move freely. “I need to get behind what’s happening. I didn’t know that they… they were… I didn’t know!”

If she had been alive, her heart would have beat up to her chest. Turning away, she clenched her jaw. He was going to be the (second) death of her. She hated how her worry for one single human made her let the mugger get away with what he had done to the elderly lady she almost failed to save, and she hated even more that she missed out on a meal to save him. Her obsession was quite frankly unhealthy. 

“What did you do to them?” Matt asked. 

“Stake through the heart,” she stated, “kills every vampire instantly. I told you as much when you came to visit me. I thought my words meant at least something to you, but you really thought ‘fuck it!’ and got yourself in danger, again. I’ve always tried to defend your human intelligence, but some of you are really just plain stupid, and you now belong to them, congratulations!”

“You saved my life.” He couldn’t believe it. “You saved my life,” he said again. “Why would you do that? Why don’t you- why don’t you just kill me?”

“Because I’m not that heartless, Matthew.”

“You saved my life. I owe you.”

“Nonsense, I just didn’t want your blood on my hands.”

“You don’t seem to have a problem with blood,” Matt retorted. 

Her features darkened. “I'm a fucking vampire,” she said. “Of course, I don’t have a problem with blood. I just couldn’t let your stupid ass die.”

Silence settled in for a moment before he let out a long breath. “I can smell it on you, you know?”

“The blood?”

“Yes.”

“Do you expect me to apologize for making sure I don’t starve?”

He hesitated, then answered, “No.”

“Good,” she said, “Glad you’re not that much of an idiot.”

“I’m sorry.”

She waved him off. “Just make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

Just as she was about to leave, much to her surprise, he piped up. His voice filled her eyes and she shivered. “You promised me tea,” he said. “If you’re not a liar as you said, you keep your promise. Offer me a cup of tea, talk, make sure I pay my debt with you for- for tonight, I mean.”

Matt had certain ways of surprising her. It never got boring with him, but his words came as the least expected. But it was worse for him because he couldn’t let her go, physically and mentally, and her pull only seemed to grow stronger when she turned her back on him. 

He hated how weak she made him feel, how dependent, how terribly insane– God, he was so foolish. He hadn’t prayed in a while, he should have been praying every day, he should have cursed her to hell, but he was still there and she was there and he couldn’t let her go.

She looked over her shoulders, eyebrows furrowing at him. He was so close to her and he didn’t even flinch when she turned around. “What?” she asked.

“I want to take you up on that tea,” he told her, “because I want to understand.”

She had him right where she wanted him, but it felt wrong now. Hesitantly, she reached out to touch his cheek. It was the devil talking. He was compelling her to do this. She dropped her hand halfway, closing her eyes at the loss of a touch she hadn’t even given him. 

Instead, she cleared her throat and said, “You know where to find me,” and she disappeared into the night, leaving Matt confused and aching for more. 

Tagging: @gpenguin666 @lina-mar @mcugeekposts @itwasthereaminuteago @mattkinsella @norestfortheshelbywicked @yarrystyleeza @etanordoesbullsh1t

[hoppipolla]

Khatha or the well of sadness

Thanapob Leeratanakachorn... We barely know anything about Khatha but Tor puts up such a brilliant and emotional performance that you feel for Khatha before understanding the very depths of his being.

Tor shows a full understanding of his character and his emotive and subtle acting makes my heart ache for Khatha.

When Khatha describes death, he describes it as "simply painful and excruciatingly torturing". It doesn't matter how many times he has "died" because nothing will ever compare to the agony he is living now. Khatha is the embodiment of resolute despair. He knows he cannot escape it and so he suffers silently. The silence he chose as an answer to Triphop's grand-father's question — "So why don't you stop?" — emphasises the fact that he has accepted his fate. He seems to be haunted by guilt and so he accepts the agonising truth of his life because, deep down, he thinks he deserves it. (cf. the way he doesn't meet Dome's eyes when Dome asks him if he has done something wrong).

His weariness can be seen through the way he lets his tears fall on his cheeks. His tears are as silent as his stifled pain. Khatha often looks on the verge of tears which makes me think that we've only seen a glimpse of the despair he must feel. It just hurts so much... seeing him show restraint although the emotions he strives to hide are overwhelming.

He doesn't want to show he cares for Dome nor does he want anyone to see how devastated he feels when another life is ruined in front of his eyes.

This expression is that of someone who's seen death more than life, who's been powerless too many times, who knows the bitterness and cruelty of the universe.

Khatha is an intimidating character and yet the people around him see the cracks in his shell. That's why Dome talks back to him so easily although he sometimes looks at him with a mix of wonder and worry. The same goes for June and Triphop who always listen to him but usually still tell him what they're thinking. Khatha is scary because of the depths of his despair. The way Triphop seems so loyal to him no matter his recklessness is because he knows his immortality made him go through things a simple mortal would have never endured. And yet Khatha was a simple mortal at some point too.

June was right to call Khatha's immortality a curse because that is precisely how Khatha sees it himself. He feels like he is all alone and that's why he desperatly wants to protect Dome. Because Dome seems to embody the very light which could bring the sun back to the never-ending night that is his life. But June doesn't agree with that and she might be right. Perhaps only Khatha can break his curse but I believe that Dome will be the one who'll give him the strength he needs to do so. I hope for Dome to become someone Khatha can lean on when his weariness and suffering are too heavy a burden to carry alone.

What kills me is how resigned he looks in this scene. A part of him still wants to fight and that's why he's been watching Dome so closely because Dome's presence by his side embodies the kind of hope he's been secretly wishing to find, but another part of him seems to believe that everything is worthless. And yet he still manages the Midnight Museum. He still keeps a close watch on the cursed items his museum displays. Half of him hopes fiercely while the other half wonders how he is able to keep on fighting like that.

Khatha is a character so full of sadness that I don't even need to know his backstory to feel emotionally invested. I'm just so impressed by Tor's brilliant acting.

[jade-muffins]

Uhhhh fnaf fic I slap this here now:

Basically William Afton's UCN hell and what happens when he gets caught or in game terms "jumpscared"

I wrote this at 1 AM so it's like not the greatest but I felt kinda violent and decided why not let's slap it on here and leave

TW: Blood, gore, torture/extreme violence

One single mishap can cost someone their life. Or....in the case of William Afton, who is already in his own special hell, another case of agony.

The agony can be quick, or excruciatingly slow. It depends on who you're caught by, really. Some of the most vicious, Afton concluded, were the Nightmares. That wasn't exactly a surprise, considering their sinister appearance served as a warning to their violent nature. Unfortunately for Afton, the ones he managed to get caught by this time were not one, but two vicious creatures. One of them being Nightmare Fredbear and the other being Nightmare himself.

Afton clenched his jaw, teeth almost grinding together, attempting to keep the screams of pain in as Fredbear had his giant claw slowly dig into Afton's shoulder as he held him there, unable to do any damage or even dream of breaking free. Nightmare stood near Fredbear's side, both of the gigantic death bear animatronics so big compared to William who was so tiny in comparison.

"Do you see us, Afton?" The nightmarish black bear monster asked, tilting it's head.

"How could I not?" Afton spat with a sneering laugh.

"We're here because of your wickedness....I am a manifestation of your wickedness...of your sick and twisted mind...obsessed with your work and yourself, nothing more..." Nightmare snarled.

"Do you even remember them?" Nightmare Fredbear asked, looking Afton right in the eyes with his own glowing, piercing mechanical ones. "Do you remember what you did? How much suffering you have caused?"

William stared for a moment before the corners of his mouth began to twitch upward. It started off small, but he soon began to cackle. "I could NEVER forget! I remember every single one. Every. Single. One." His face contorted into a wide, wicked sort of grin. "I remember their hopeful faces. The innocence. The realization. The screams. The blood. Their bodies stuffed in those animatronic husks... I remember every grisly detail!" William yelled, staring at Fedbear with his own crazed eyes with that horrid grin. "I definitely remember...I remember all of you..." The animatronic just twitched.

William's smile faltered when Fredbear raised his other clawed hand and latched right onto William's right arm. Digging the claws in made him grunt in pain, but that's when Fredbear began to pull. The thumb claw of his other hand dug right into William's right shoulder. "Agh-! Wh-What- What are you doing??"

"I want to see how many times you can be pulled apart," he said coldly, those animatronic eyes wide and menacing enough to send a chill down anyone's spine.

"W-Wait, WAIT!!" Fredbear did not heed William's pleading as he began to pull slowly but forcefully. Thumb claws helped to rip flesh, muscle and tendons. William began to shriek, screaming in agony as his arm tore from his body. Crack. Snap. Rip. He gave a shrill wail that turned into a pained sob as the last strip was torn away. The searing, horrible pain that plagued him afterward caused him to let out a choking whimper, his body wracked with a feeling of traumatizing shock. Tears, while they were present through this whole process fell faster and harder as he saw the exposed skin and bone and the flowing blood. His skin and bone. His blood. He turned his terrified, burning eyes back to Fredbear, who now seemed even more intimidating, holding the arm he ripped away from Afton. He almost vomited at the sight of it, realizing Fredbear ripped away most of his shoulder as well. Fredbear opened up the mouth on his stomach with rows of menacing teeth and threw the arm inside. It bit down hard and blood splattered outward, crushing the arm and snapping the bone.

Afton shivered, each heavy breath accompanied by a pained groan. He tried to gain composure, but having your arm and shoulder forcefully torn off took a second to recover from. The spring locks were excruciating, they pierced his body all over, trapping him in an animatronic prison. The spring locks, however, came relatively quick. Having a limb ripped off in this manner was quite slow, and he had not felt true pain in so long. He shuddered, trying not to show any fear. He closed his mouth and swallowed. He then started to....smile again.... William let out a shaky breath, the smile widening. He realized something....

"You're....angry....!" He grinned, voice still shaking. "Hah...HaHAHAHAH!!" His laughing became hysterical. "I'm making you angry, aren't I?? After all these years I can still get to them, to you! This is a special hell made for me, and I can still get to you???" He kicked his legs and laughed, throwing his head against the wall in mania. "Just KILL me already! Kill me and throw me back in!" He shouted to Fredbear. As soon as the bear raised another clawed hand...

"Don't let him get to you..." A deeper voice began. Nightmare came forward and looked at Fredbear. "He is begging to die. He wants to die...at least right now...keep the torture brutal and slow. Drag it out for as long as a mere human body can take it. Then throw him back into repeated hell. He deserves that and more for being a twisted, wicked man..." he snarled slowly turning to Afton. Afton's smile dropped. "Rip off his other arm. His legs. Gut him. Make him scream, make him cry, make him beg for it to end. Claw out those cruel eyes so he has nothing to shed tears with. Cut his deceptive throat so he has nothing to scream with...take apart as much of him as you can... Make him watch his own mutilation."

"Wait....no...NO! KILL ME!!" Afton screamed as Fredbear took hold of one of his legs. "KILL ME!! KILL ME NOW, PLEASE!" He shrieked.

"Do you smell the rust, Afton? Do you smell the blood? I'm sure you're familiar with it. Get used to it again. It'll be the last thing you register in these final moments before you're thrown back in to rot. Again," Nightmare growled, red eyes glowing with a searing hatred before he nodded to Fredbear.

All the animatronics present could hear the shrieks, sobs, and wails of the man coming from his office. The begging, the sound of breaking bones and the tearing of flesh.

And when it finally ended:

Afton woke up again. He shot up, sweating and breathing heavily. He held himself, making sure both arms were there and looked down, trying to assure himself he still had his legs. He swallowed, and looked to his abdomen, making sure that there was no painful slit in his throat or that he wasn't basically stabbed and gutted, making him choke on his own blood. He opened and closed his mouth to make sure he still had a jaw. Even though he could still see, it was hard to believe his eyes were perfectly fine after having needle-like claws slowly pressed into them.

His heaving breaths slowed as he looked around. He was...in the office. Again. Of course. Just like Nightmare said. "Ah...hah...Hah...HAHA!! HAHAHAHAHA!" William cackled as the pressure collected behind his eyes and burned. Not too long after, the gates opened and tears began to roll down his face. He ran a hand through his hair and kept a chunk of it in a tight fist. The grin contorted into a face plagued with exhaustion and anguish as he slowly lowered himself to his elbows on his desk. His laughing turned into pathetic, stifled sobs. He seemed so small. Yet he still ended up smiling.

This really was hell.

[neithrain]

i’m not sure why it took so long for this to hit me, but i just realized earlier how devastating and tragic it is that both dorian and fenris had their families torn apart because of the tevinter imperium.

dorian’s father wanted to get rid of his homosexuality somehow with a blood magic ritual and have him stuck in a loveless marriage with a woman to carry on the bloodline and their family’s legacy. dorian is a mage, part of the most powerful caste of people in tevinter, and yet he still suffers because of the politics and culture there. on top of that, his father also gets assassinated for (i believe) political reasons later on, leaving no room for any sort of reconciliation or closure for his trauma.

fenris, of course, got an even worse bargain. what really struck me while i made this realization was that for fenris to fight to the death and get his markings to secure his mom and sister’s freedom, he must have loved them. either he would die in that competition, or he would undergo mutilation so excruciatingly painful it causes amnesia only to still go into slavery afterwards. there was absolutely no good result either way, but he still did it for his family.

what’s even worse? when he finds out his sister sold him out to his former slavemaster so she could become a magister, he forgets he nearly did something very similar to hawke for the same exact kind of power. if you take him into the fade with you, he will be offered power equal to that of the very magisters that abused him, and he will readily betray your entire party for it, almost parallel to how his sister betrayed him.

these two siblings, who clearly loved each other in the past, who had no one else anymore but each other, were both driven to betraying their loved ones out of the sheer powerlessness and desperation they were forced to live under in the imperium. the same sister fenris fought to the death for, the same one he gave up his freedom for, ends up either dead at his hands or forever cut out of his life. it’s fucking heartbreaking.

the tevinter imperium has canonically caused the characters who originated from it so much suffering, and has driven both of their families into ruin. the fact that it’s the main setting for the next dragon age game is almost worrying now that this has all clicked for me.

[woman-child91]

I just finished watching (OG) Naruto for the third time in my life. And I’ve got a question for the following characters: Chōji, Gaara, Kankuro, Kiba, Neji, Rock Lee, Sasuke, Shikamaru and Shino.

The question is… Are ALL OF YOU possessive of Naruto? Do you all get jealous easily if you see someone show even the slightest bit of romantic interest in him?

Chōji: It depends, really.

Gaara: *starts changing back to his evil self* NARUTO IS MINE!!! I’LL KILL WHOEVER WANTS TO STEAL HIM AWAY FROM HIM! I’LL KILL THEM!

Kankuro: Heh, I want to see them try to make a move on him. I’ll use my crow and black ant on them.

Kiba: Psh! Like, I’d get jealous of something like that. I don’t even like Naruto! *mutters* Maybe I should imprint on him or something to let everyone know he’s mine.

Neji: Hmmm, are you implying someone is interested in my- I mean, on Naruto? Because, I would simply let them know that they can’t have him. Because, it was predestined for us to be together.

Rock Lee: I will not let anyone take Naruto away from me! He and I are boyfriends and I can not allow this to happen!

Sasuke: Hahahahahahahahahaha! *goes into a crazy laughing moment* If anyone ever even leers at him? I’ll make them suffer a slow, agonizing and excruciatingly painful death!

Shikamaru: *glares* Why are you asking? Do you know someone who’s interested in Naruto? *starts coming up with a strategy to keep that person away from Naruto*

Shino: … Yes.

[noroi1000]

No matter in which life (Yandere Gojo x reader)

Chapter 1

This is a one shot story, consisting of three chapters. The third is NSFW.

The whole story is full of descriptions of pain, injury and violence, suicide attempts, heavy agnst.

If you are uncomfortable with it, don't read it.

About story: This is one shot of Yandere Satoru Gojo x reader. You are in the same class as him. You have been in a good relationship since you can remember. You love him. You are together. But he is changing. He likes to watch you suffer. He likes to hurt you. Not enough for you to die. Because he likes to nurture and heal you later. He likes your scream. But he loves you. But some views of what your death may mean frighten him. Therefore, you may feel as if he has left you.

But that's not true. He loves you.

"Why don't you just let me die? "

"Because as much as I love you, I love to hurt you."

"S-Satoru…"

"…Yeah?"

"P-Please s-stop. It– It hur– Hurts!" you cried out suddenly as he sprained your broken leg. 

"Come on. It doesn't hurt that much. Besides, your legs look beautiful anyway, even twisted. But… They have to heal someday, right?" laughed coldly.

"A-Aah!!" you screamed coldly as you choked on your sob. He twisted your other leg to adjust the bones so that they would fit together well. 

"I'm done. It's not bad, is it?"

"S-S-Shoko said… She said we weren't supposed to do anything about it until– until she arrived…"

"Hmmm… Right. But it will be more fun this way, right? It hurts more now, but you will recover faster. And you will be able to go on a mission with me again. You are not happy?"

"…I'm tired…" 

"Me too, honey." he said as he thrust his chin into your bruised belly causing more moans of pain. 

The missions you were injured on were more and more frequent. There wasn't actually a single one you weren't injured on. Cuts, broken bones. You were with the Gojo on each of them. And he wasn't helping you. He just watched you suffer. 

Your every scream of pain made him shiver with excitement. The blood on your body added to the beauty of his sight. 

He loved you. He loved for everything. But he liked to see you suffer. Of course, he was afraid you might die. He didn't want you to die. But he couldn't help but hurt you. Just a beautiful sight. Something that was horrible to others, was quite the opposite for him. 

Satoru Gojo loved seeing you covered in blood. And even though he didn't like it when someone else hurts you, not as much as he does, it still looks beautiful. 

He loved you. But that also amounted to hate.

Because he hated to love you. He loved your life and everything about you. He hated it when it was okay with you. 

So he found a way.

He hurt you. Not until death. But he was causing you as much pain as he needed. He satisfied his needs. He didn't have to hate you. He didn't even want to. 

And that's why you never fully recover, there will always be something wrong.

"If you're tired, why are you awake?" he asked suddenly. 

It wasn't possible. That hurts. So. He stuck his chin in the stomach. Into your excruciatingly aching stomach. Damaged internal organs and broken bones. These were reminders of your last mission from Satoru. He overcame his curse and left the weaker one to you. Like always. Except you, you've been abused and thrown against walls. walls hit. No cut wounds. One leg bent over a broken bone. The second was similarly painful. Belly, legs and arms were the worst. By protecting your chest and head, your belly was going through hell. And he just sat there and watched. Coughing up blood and vomiting was every now and then. He saved you while you were already unconscious. After all, he didn't want you dead. 

Serious internal damage which could lead to death if left unattended. Shoko wasn't there. But there was a Gojo. He healed you. But not gently. His ways were painful. He set your bones up without anesthesia. He was putting his energy into your belly for healing as he pressed so hard there. And it left damage that hurt but didn't hurt. When Shoko came back, he said he took care of it. And she believed him looking at your condition. The worst he has healed. He was able to take care of you.

That's why you ended this way. Not the first and not the last time. 

Nobody ever expected you to enter the sea with your poor swimming skills. But hugging a Gojo was nice. He held you above the water before he dived with you, holding you below the surface until you ran out of air. And even longer. Nobody thought you would have water in your lungs that they would have to drink water to get rid of it. The wounds healed. But the fear remained in the water. Under that water it was even good with him. He continued to hug you and kiss you. I wish you were unconscious then. He just pulled you out of there and carried you to Shoko. And there were no questions about what happened. She just fixed everything in order. Everything that was wrong with your body. 

So far you have problems with lung pain. And it's only a matter of time before you are forbidden to learn Jujutsu sorcerer. You can't fight like you did before. Not any more. 

"It hurts. I can not fall asleep…" you told him in a hoarse voice.

He lifted his head from your belly and began to look at your face. Pale skin along with a few drops of sweat and tears. Swollen eyes, dry lips. 

"Help you fall asleep?" he asked raising one hand.

You looked at the hand fearfully.

"…How…?"

"Do not be afraid. Only a moment will hurt. Later you'll wake up as if from a normal dream."

"But–"

"You trust me?"

"…Yes…" You groaned.

"You can always trust me. You will not die." he said before straddling you, taking care not to press against your stomach, and wrapped his big hand gently around your neck. 

Your hand found his other, and he laced his fingers with you. You tightened your hand on him and your other hand on the pillow. Your breathing quickened with fear. 

"Do not be afraid. Just a little pain." he ran his thumb down your neck, along the artery. "You will not die. Don't be afraid of this. You're just going to fall asleep. Calm your breathing."

Listening to his voice, you managed to control yourself a little. You trusted him. You always trusted.  

Even as his grip tightened around your neck, tightening the air supply. Your trachea's closed. The lack of oxygen hit you like a train. Pain in the whole head and tears flowing freely down the face. I couldn't hear what he was saying due to loud noises in my ears. But you felt his fingers clench around your hand. It was so tender and nice. But you could tell me the same about the burning pain in your neck. When your eyes closed, he did the same to the gap between you two. He connected your lips. He knew you wouldn't kiss him back now. You sailed away for the next hours.

"I love you. Sweet Dreams." he said with a smile as he took his hand away from your neck, and made sure you still had a pulse, then reconnected your lips and breathed air into your lungs. It stopped when your breath came back. He was calm. As if you really fell asleep. 

He was glad you trusted him. That's why he never let go of your hand. 

"I love you." he muttered again bringing your inert body closer to his.

He loved you. He hurt you. 

But you trusted him.

You trusted Satoru Gojo. No matter what he did to you, you couldn't hate him.

Because you love Satoru Gojo.

Chapter 2

[embyrinitalics]

I lost another chicken on Monday ☹️

She'd been acting a LITTLE funny for a couple days, like not roosting at night or acting a little antisocial in the yard, but I didn't see those as big warning signs and I feel super guilty about it, because her death was excruciatingly painful and horrific and I feel like it was my responsibility to look out for her health and I really let her down.

I need to just let it out and this might get graphic so feel free to skip

So on Monday night I notice she isn't roosting and is laying on the floor in a weird spot so I pick her up and set her on her feet hoping she'll take the hint and hop up herself, and instead she just flopped over unable to stand. So I call my husband over since something is obviously wrong. And when I pick her up to examine her she has vent prolapse and flystrike.

If you don't know what that is I encourage you to not google it. Chickens have a complicated digestive and reproductive system and a lot of things could go wrong. And they did. And then they got much worse.

We tried helping her at home for a couple hours but the flystrike was behind the prolapse so it was definitely beyond our ability to solve. The nearest emergency vet that would see chickens and was open at 11pm on July 4th was an hour away. So we put her in a crate and drove out there.

Meanwhile I am having a full on panic attack for the whole two hours and the drive. It was so disgusting and she was in so much pain. I did not keep my cool. I was dizzy and nauseous and my heart was racing and I felt like I was going to pass out. And I felt bad about that too, like she needed me and I couldn't pull myself together. (Meanwhile my amazing hubby is in there trying to clean up something I literally can't even bear to look at it's so awful and just thinking about it makes me want to cry auuugwwaahhh T_T)

Anyway we get to the vet, they take her down, and we stay in the car so they can call us with a prognosis. The call came pretty quick, the vet said she was in excruciating pain (they gave her drugs before they called us) and likely going septic, and strongly recommended euthanasia. They asked if we wanted to see her one more time. I was ready to pass but my husband wanted to say goodbye and asked for a couple feathers before she was cremated.

She was soooo drugged lol, I've never seen a drugged chicken before so that was kind of funny. She was high as a kite. So we said goodbye, they took her down, and came back up a little later with a couple clipped feathers for us to keep.

My panic attack immediately stopped once we got the word to euthanize. Like once it was over and we shed a few tears I was fine. But it was exhausting and I still feel guilty (for the flystrike to be that bad the prolapse had to have been happening for a few days at least and I didn't notice, AND I usually clean the coop at least once a week but it had been two weeks and was pretty dirty, which made the likelihood of flystrike jump significantly).

Anyway, I know she isn't suffering anymore and we did try to help (I mean they told us over the phone the vet trip fee was $215 dollars before they even did anything, and my husband didn't even blink, because he is fantastic), but. Still. I wish she had just been eaten by a fox or something instead. She would've suffered less.

And then I haven't been able to recover from the sleep deprivation, I've been up at 5:30 every day for no reason and am just so so tired. And my appetite has been bad so I haven't really eaten much at all.

And then this morning my dog caught one of the baby bunnies in our yard asflkfjfkfkfjjjjj T_T (I caught him by the scruff and he dropped it and it hopped away so it's probably fine BUT I'M EMOTIONALLY FRAGILE RIGHT NOW OK)

All this to say that this is my first time even being on my computer all week and I haven't written a thing and don't even have the energy to feel bad about it LOL

She was a good girl 💙

[ask-dgs-221bbakerstreet]

Balmung stares at Barok, as his mouth goes slack. “You wish to let Klimt possess you so he can continue on working again?” Balmung plops off of the couch he was lounging on to pace around the room. “Possess you? You really would let him?” He continues to pace. “He possessed you once before and that didn’t go well. You didn’t enjoy being your brother’s puppet. Mr. Naruhodo didn’t enjoy being possessed either.” He shakes his head. “Barok possession isn’t something you can play around with. It’s quite dangerous. Besides do you really think it’s a good idea to put Klimt back in that environment? The only reason he entered back into court was to save Susato’s life.” He sighs. “Yes he does miss prosecuting but just because you miss something doesn’t mean you want to or would go back to it. For example I’m sure you miss your childhood days, but you aren’t going to go climbing trees pretending to be a vampire, or hiding under tables to play hide-n-seek anymore. “ He pauses. “I understand why you want to help him, I want to help him too. I don’t think it’s a good idea to let him possess you, however I can’t make choices for you or for Klimt. Though you should talk to him about this, and see what insights he has into this matter. Maybe you can find some other way to help him get back into law.” Balmung responds to Barok’s last statement. “He wouldn’t have done well without me. That much I know to be true. The short time he spent as a ghost all alone before I finally passed on was excruciatingly difficult for him. It was difficult for me as well and even after I passed it took awhile for us to find each other. When we did find each other we clinged onto each other for hours sobbing when we realized we wouldn’t be alone anymore. Before our deaths we both suffered from abaonment and separation anxiety. Greyhounds tend to suffer from separation anxiety if their owner leaves them alone for too long. Since I’m a greyhound I naturally struggled with this a lot when I was alive. Klimt struggled with abandonment issues ever since his parents died. It got worse when the Professor killings started. He always feared what you and Laura would do if you found out. These problems didn’t just go away when we died. In fact they got much worse. Unable to be seen by the living, we started to spiral out of control. Klimt and I couldn’t leave each other’s presence without panicking about being isolated and abandoned. It didn’t matter if we were in the room next door, if we couldn’t see each other we couldn’t remain calm. Humans are social creatures and they’ll go insane if they are kept in isolation. It didn’t help that at this time neither of us would sleep. You would think ghosts would need to sleep, since we can’t get tired but we do. We just don’t need to sleep as much as humans do. Every now and then we should sleep in order to help our emotional control and memory. A lack of sleep can cause insanity in people you know. Both of us were afraid of sleeping for fear of waking up alone again. We decided to take turns sleeping while the other watched. And as time went on we got better at being apart from each other. Though we still have trouble sleeping without the other watching us. We still fear we’ll wake up one day and be alone again, without each other.” He says. “You shouldn’t thank me for being there for Klimt. I was happy to be there for him. Just as he was happy to be there for me.”

---

We disliked it because we had no choice in the matter. There is a difference. But it was only one suggestion. There are certainly other ways he could return to the profession.

I could always use a fresh set of eyes on cases, certainly.

I can only hope the pain of being alone will continue to ease, now that we have been able to return to being a family.

...it has eased for me as well.

[gr33nbull]

This sport is testing me. I mean severely testing me.

I honestly don’t know a single driver that hasn’t complained about the porpoising. Even the redbull drivers are complaining, these guys have the best fucking car on the grid, and during the side by side take with George’s car, it was obvious they were still bouncing with the best car in terms of porpoising. What is it gonna take for the FIA to sort this crap out? This is so dangerous. I cannot stress this enough. This is dangerous. To name a few instances…

…Checo literally asked George if he could feel his feet after the race today. That’s a tell tale sign of your nerves going crazy and possibly some sort of damage.

Kevin’s physio is concerned, yeah, concerned for Kevin’s well being. Early in the season he was having shoulder and neck problems and it’s very evidently getting worse. Does nobody who runs this sport realise how fucking dangerous that is?! I’m talking like race 2 here. We’re on race 8 and nothing has been done to rectify this issue! Not by Haas and especially not by the FIA. It’s disgusting!

Daniel was literally disorientated after the race, and like he said, they haven’t got it nowhere near as bad as Mercedes. So let that sink in. If these guys, who have a much better car in terms of porpoising are struggling. Imagine Mercedes. Imagine speaking of which…

…George has apparently got bruising on his back??? I mean how vicious is that car behaving, particularly on the straights to cause the man to have bruising on his fucking back like that?! He’s complained about this very early on and is clearly struggling with it. Yet somehow being so consistent in probably one of the shittiest cars on the grid. His tenacity is insane. But it’s disgusting he’s having to show such tenacity in such a dangerous car.

Lewis, I mean, we all saw him today, do I really need to go any further? This man is probably the physically fittest man on this entire grid. One look at him will tell you that. He’s had problems with the car from day dot. He’s struggled so much with his back. Back pain is not funny either. It’s one of the worst pains to get. Today was the worst he’s ever been. He could barely get out of the car and you could tell by how he limped away his back was excruciatingly bad. I should know I’ve fucking been there. After everything that man has been through? Mercedes are a piece of shit and I’m seriously losing faith in this team! They’ve done fuck all the entire season to rectify this issue. All they’ve done is sacrifice their drivers health and potentially put the one on the sidelines for next week because of how fucking dangerous the car is!

Toto, the car is not just undriveable. It’s so much more than that. The car is a death trap waiting to happen.

I’m sorry but that Merc shouldn’t even be allowed on the track. Lewis was literally shitting his pants the entire weekend thinking he was gonna crash?!In what world is that okay? Seriously!? The car shouldn’t be racing at all. It’s way too dangerous.

These drivers are risking permanent damage to their bodies for the sake of this sport. I don’t care if they get paid millions. It isn’t fucking worth risking your life for this shit. I’m so fucking done with this sport.

I think it’s getting to the point where the drivers, and teams for that matter need to hold a strike and simply not race until something is done. It’s not on that they’re all suffering. It’s wrong, disgusting and makes the sport look an utter disgrace.

I say go on strike. Do a 2005, do a formation lap and pull into the pits. Let anyone who wants to race go. I can guarantee you there won’t be many.

Bring back the 2021 car. There was nothing wrong with them cars! They were faster, they were so much better. The racing hasn’t even fucking changed this year like they said it would anyway! You’ve just swapped out Mercedes for Ferrari! that’s it.

I apologise for my rant. But something needs to seriously change. They bang on about safety, yet risk the drivers causing permanent nerve damage or even worse having a major accident and ending up in hospital. Nobody wants that, no matter who you support, Nobody wants anyone of these guys getting hurt by this. It’s extremely upsetting to watch and makes me scared to tune in and watch them race for fearing something terrible.

There’s a reason why this original concept ended up being scrapped in the 70’s! Bringing it back was the worst decision they ever made. The cars need to change back.

[streets-in-paradise]

For Honor and Love - Helen x Paris.

Troy (2004) Oneshot. 

( this images are captures from the gifs of my lovely mutual @hell0friend-dat ) 

Requested by @taurielthepirateking. ( Hope you will enjoy it, dear mutual

Word Count + 2.200

Characters: Helen, Paris, Hector (mentioned) 

Warnings: Grief and excruciating angst (but there is also comfort fluff) 

Summary:  Sick of witnessing how Paris falls apart from grief after the death of Hector while refusing to accept any consolations out of guilt, Helen attempts to comfort him. 

Tags: @mysticaldeanvoidhorse ( tagging you just in case you wanna check this because i know you enjoy my Troy content.)

  @spideyanakin @spideyanakin-interacts​ ( tagging you late, sorry. I’m adding you to a permanent taglist for the Paris content) 

Helen woke up in the middle of the night to find herself in an empty bed. It didn't surprise her, since it was becoming more common given what Paris was going through. She was also living the grief over the loss of a best friend, but her friend was his brother. Hector left his mark on everyone who knew him, he was loved by everyone on so many different levels, but the crushing pain of his passing was particularly strong for Paris. They used to have the tightest sibling bond, vincule that the war only strengthened, reason why he was full of guilt. Unexpectedly, the mixing of grief and guilt was manifesting in very atypical ways. 

Anger, blind rage comparable with the outburst of Achilles as he dragged Hector's body in the way to the ships. The desire for vengeance was consuming him and he was displaying unrecognizable attitudes, the most obvious being a certain cruelty towards his recently arrived cousin. Briseis saw herself forced to tell him part of her truth because Paris was full of anger while assuming that she lost her position as priestess of Apollo after being raped by Achilles. For him it was hitting rock bottom and he was ready to get himself killed trying to hunt him down and make him pay. 

The truth destroyed him even more. It wouldn't matter how many times Helen would try to help him understand, to make him come to reason, reminding him of their own love story and how it was the indirect cause for the horrible situation in which Briseis found herself trapped with no one to trust. He felt backstabbed, too full of pain to see the actions of his cousin as anything else but blatant treason. He wasn't going to divulge it, but his subtle harshness towards her was a warning letting her know that he wasn't going to forgive her easily.

The royal family was falling apart and the incredible change of its merriest member was an evident sign of that. Paris, who used to be the one who was always there to provide the comforting company of a naive optimist, became the grimmest presence of the palace. Helen was feeling her own pain duplicated with his, seeing the man she loved so devastated was killing her as excruciatingly as the loss itself. Many times over the days without him she revisited in her mind the memory of that night, ríght at the beginning of the war, when Hector stopped her from handling herself back to Menelaus. 

His sweet reassurance made her desist and that reminder would make her wonder why didn't she follow that very same instinct at the moment of their last goodbye. 

She could have ran after him, gotten herself in the way and offered Achilles the head of the snake. For Patroclus, for Ajax and for all the other dead companions in that war. It would have been about giving herself as an expiation sacrifice, saving Hector's life and offering a compensation to the rageful myrmidon.  Instead of his body, he could have taken her head as a prize and matter of cheer for everyone in the camp. 

That didn't happen, because it was her fate to keep suffering. Dying would have been easier than surviving to witness the falling of her dearest friend and the emotional downfall of everyone she ever loved. 

A quick look confirmed to her that Paris was in the yard paralel to their bedchamber engaging in an obsessive archery practice, the scene repeated itself every night since that day. Far behind them were the nights where they would be each other's shelter, Paris seeked to self isolate and she began to wonder if he was going to start hating her as well. ' This is about power, not love', Hector would have corrected her, but he wasn't there to do it and it was hard to tell where the situation would lead them. 

The best way of dealing with the guilt, she found out thanks to him, was being for other people the kind of support that he used to be for her. It used to be her coping mechanism until she made it her form of honoring his memory, hoping to make him proud by assuming for others the role he had in her life. All the family accepted her comfort in different ways, The only one who didn't seek any consolations was precisely her husband and she couldn't stand it anymore. Abandoning their talamus with diligence, Helen approached him with the usual loveful ways she always had for him.

" My love, it's getting late. Please, come back to bed. " She sweetly begged him, not finding any immediate response. He was too focused on the target as he prepared to shoot another arrow. 

She waited until he accomplished it to try again. 

" You knew him better than me... Do you sincerely think that this is what he would have wanted?" She confronted him, a slight change of approach made out of desperation. " Briseis begged Achilles in every possible way not to do exactly what you are doing ríght now, but that stubborn prick wouldn't listen to her. Apparently, i'm now as powerless as her. Is that what you want, Paris? To become one with your enemy?" 

" I have no choice. I owe this to my brother. He saved my life and ended up having to give his for me later. '' Was the concise reply she finally obtained from him. 

Paris remained still, not plucking out any more arrows to continue his practice but refusing to look at her directly. Helen was able to read him very well, he was waiting for her words.  

He wouldn't ask for comfort that time, but he secretly craved it. 

" Think carefully about your brother then. '' Helen prepared her counterargument. " Hector lost Tecton on the very same day the war started and that man was like a brother to him. Best friends of many years, literal brothers in arms who survived countless battles together. The death that Achilles gave him, a spear thrown at him from an impossible distance that was pure meaningless bragging, didn't even give him the chance of fighting back one last time before falling. The most honorable way to die in battle is the one on one combat and Tecton was denied from that, you may guess how hurtful this was for Hector. " 

" ... He described the same scene for weeks, I must have heard the whole story at least four times. " 

" Do you remember then what was your brother's reaction. " Helen continued, guiding him through the tread of her narration. " Anything but this. He lost his friend in the morning and by night he was here being the support of us all, not locking himself in destructive dreams of vengeance. I could have been for him what Briseis is for you now, he would have had all the ríght of blame it on the betrayal that brought me here. I once wanted to assume the responsibility, but Hector stopped me from going back to the ships and getting myself killed out of guilt. " 

The impulsive confession was something that she wouldn't have wished to spit like that, but she was running out of resources. Speaking from the bottom of her heart, she appealed to her most sacred memory of Hector and the revelation made Paris drop the bow out of shock. 

" Can't you see then why I need to be strong?" He replied, his voice tone indicating that he was about to break. 

" This isn't strength. What stands giving his back to me is a broken man who confuses pain with rage and thinks that vengeance is going to bring him peace. " She corrected him in the same way she imagined Hector would, keeping him alive with them through her exhortations. " Real strength is what Hector taught me that night. His heart carried the pain of the falling of Tecton and even afterwards he kept losing every single day, feeling the death of every trojan with an intensity we couldn't match because we didn't fight alongside them. Hector, more than anyone else here, had all the ríght to abandon himself to destructive feelings and he didn't do that because he knew that it would have been the doom of the city. Doing exactly what your brother fought so hard to avoid would get you nothing, only allowing the rage of Achilles to win as you carry it in your heart. Don't carry your enemy with you, keep the love of your brother alive in you and let Hector be the guide of your actions."

Paris turned back to face her as she was finishing to speak. The combination of her heartfelt speech and the sight of her overwhelmed him, making the repressed emotions come to the surface. Falling down to his knees in front of her, he cried embracing her hips and hidding his face on her lap like a helpless child. Helen contained her own flow of tears and silently caressed his hair, allowing him to release his pain properly. 

That was her Paris. He was acting as himself again, ignoring for once the pressure he had put on himself about living his grief in a way he would consider proper of a stronger man. 

" I failed him!" He began to vent. " He is gone because of me, i got my brother killed." 

" No, please, don't. " She softly cutted him off. " I know it's hard not to think you did. It also happens to me, but when those thoughts cross my mind I try to remember what he said to me... If he wouldn't blame any of us, why must we blame ourselves? Stop thinking on that: he didn't die blaming you. I promise you, he didn't. " 

He raised his head for an instant in order to look at her. 

" I can't carry on without him, I feel like if half of me was ripped apart and everytime i think of him i feel myself dying a little more." He explained. " No one understands it, he meant so much to me and i'm not sure if he knew it. " 

" He did, love, and the whole city got proof of what you meant to him. You, Hector and me, we knew the truth that some citizens of Troy refuse to see out of hate. He performed the most dishonest act in his life to save yours and to set me free. Your brother loved us, maybe that's why some god that loves Agamemnon got him killed to avenge Menelaus. I guess Achilles became a tool of my old brother in law after all, despite how much he would protest against him. " 

" There is no fate on this world that could punish Achilles fittingly for what he has done to my brother." Paris followed her, deviating his glance to keep crying. " The body of the lad remained intact for the funerals and so did Menelaus's, because Hector was ten times the man that souless bastard will never be!" 

" That's the man you have to be. Follow his example, make him proud. " She concluded for him as she helped him to stand up to later cup his cheeks in order to clean his tears. " Talk with your father.. and with Briseis. They can tell you some details about the suffering of Achilles. His choices have isolated him and now he has to go throught the same pain you are facing, but being completely alone." 

For the first time in days, Paris smiled again and Helen ended up dragging him for a kiss that felt like an insuflation of life for him. 

" I don't know what I would do without you. " He said to her afterwards. " Your love is the brightest light of my life. " 

" Yours brought me back to life. " She replicated. " With you i began to live again and i'm sorry that it had to happen on the expense of so many other lives. However, if i'm still standing, it has to be a purpose. "

" Making Hector proud and keep loving you are my purposes." He affirmed, with determination. " Maybe i should speak with Briseis, I must congrat her if she is making his killer suffer. If living without her is as hard for Achilles as living without you would be for me, then my revenge has just began and she unleashed it." 

" He has lost everything what makes you strong. " Helen followed him on the way of expressing a personal opinion that she thought could also be comforting for him. " Patroclus died caring for his people, he died as a defender and such actions seem proper of a noble heart. That lad had the selflessness of Hector, I can assure you that the brutality displayed in his name wouldn't have make him proud. Achilles insulted the memory of his cousin, who died with the same righteous spirit of your brother in his heart. He can no longer claim to have honored him with his actions and he lost the woman he loves in the process. For honor and love, my darling, you have lifefull purposes while he has nothing left. " 

No more words were needed. Paris picked his things and held her hand to go back to their talamus, where he layed with her allowing himself to be held in her arms in hopes of loosing himself on her love for the rest of the night.

[salparadiselost]

android!tim au with #4 ?

Okay... I know I said this was going to hurt/comfort, but this just turned into pain.

For #4: "You didn't do anything wrong. There's nothing to apologize for." in the Android AU

Tim stared. He couldn’t do anything but stare.

He couldn’t move. He couldn’t change anything. He couldn’t stop the screech of metal against metal as a Copy fought for the last painful bits of its life.

He had been pushed off a building during one of their fights. Nobody else had cared, but Tim had watched the Copy fall down to his death. He had heard the sickening smack and crunch as the robot hit the corner of a dumpster on his way down.

His chest had been punched in, bent inwards and dented. The false skin and the carbon-fiber skeleton had been ripped away by the sharp corner of the dumpster and it reveal the final struggles of his internal mechanisms.

The man was crying, false salty tears leaking from the corner of his eyes.

Tim felt the same false salty tears wanting to spring up on his face.

He didn’t know what it would be like to die there. Ripped to pieces and alone as people looked at you like you weren’t a person.

“I’m sorry,” he said finally, slowly forcing his feet to move.

The man seemed like he tried to speak, but his chest couldn’t stimulate breathing anymore and it only came out as a wretched metal hiss.

“I’m sorry,” Tim repeated, the pulse pound of his artificial heart roaring in his ears. This could have been him. If things had slightly been different, this could have been him.

The Copy shuddered, pain etched into every inch of his body.

“Please… end…” he managed to creak out, his voice wobbling as his systems failed. But it was slow. Maddeningly and excruciatingly slow because all Copies were under strict directives to preserve their own lives as much as they were able to. It helped focus their systems into healing when it was needed but… it also meant a very slow system failure when things were hopeless.

“A-alright,” Tim stammered out as he drew a knife from his Robin uniform. “Alright, I can do that. I’m sorry. It never should have… I should have tried—”

“Robin,” Dick said from almost directly above Tim. Tim yelped, fumbling the knife and sending it clattering on the floor. Dick laughed and jumped gracefully down from the fire escape.

“Why are you saying sorry?” he asked, toeing the suffering Copy with the tip of his boot. “They don’t feel anything. You didn't do anything wrong. There's nothing to apologize for.”

Dick smiled at him and grabbed Tim’s elbow, practically hauling him away from the dying Copy. The robot made an aborted screech and his fingers clawed uselessly at the concrete underneath him.

“Come on, Robin. Batgirl is waiting for us.”

“But… I…” Tim let himself be led away, unwilling to break out of Dick’s grip.

He didn’t look back at the robot that would be slowly dying for at least the next hour.

~Kay

[pretty-face-breaker]

A Bath

c.w. dubcon touching (nonsexual but creepy), creepy whumper, partial nudity, whumpee being given a bath, painkillers used, hurting a wound, abusive relationship

after this

—

“You want to what?” 

Having brought a glass and pill with him, Nick set it down onto the nightstand with an imposing thump, letting the wood shake under the force. Then, he slid both forwards with a smile, caring to be gentle with the powdered pill. “I’ll give you a bath.” He laughed deep, in a way he had rarely done before. “You look like you need it.” 

“I look fine,” Hayko said, reaching forwards. 

Moreso, he wished he could lie as convincingly to himself now as he did in court. Fine maybe wasn’t the choice adjective. His curls, typically neat and gentle were matted to his scalp as he threw back the pill and downed it within the second. Back to back days in bed with dull pain pulsing from the hole in his midriff were even worse for his skin. His whole body crawled with exertion. 

Hayko sighed in relief that the meds were done with. 

“I-I’ll get up today and clean myself up,” he mumbled, easing down into his pillow fort and the only position that didn’t nauseate him with discomfort. Can’t get up, can’t sleep, what the fuck good is this if I’m focussed on the pain every second-  He breathed in sharply as the mattress dipped, Nick’s hand finding his shoulder and turning him. 

“See, funny you’ve been saying that for two days now.” 

Hayko inadvertently tightened his arms around the pillow closest to him. He wouldn’t be strong enough to throw his arms up in defense if Nick were to drag him out of bed and throw him headfirst into the bathroom. Not entirely dismissing the thought, he suppressed a shudder.

“And personally,” Nick added with a dangerous smile, “I’m getting tired of you hiding away.” 

Hayko laughed through his mild terror. “Listen, I got shot.” 

“For which I’m very sorry,” he crooned, lifting the corner of Hayko’s shirt and tracing his fingers down his slim side until he reached the white cotton patch. Beneath, the slightest hint of redness shone through his warm, sandy skin. As Nick idly played with the securing tape, it struck Hayko just how easily he could tear it off of him. 

“I mean, look at you. It’s a wonder you’ve been able to sleep like this.” 

I haven’t but thanks. Hayko fished for the edge of the shirt and covered his waist with nervous tugs down. “I don’t-... want you to. I-I can clean up today. It’s been getting easier to stand anyway so I’ll get around to it.” 

Nick shifted the shirt back up again, pushing his hand back. “Easier but not enough for you to stand now? Come on now, love, don’t prolong your suffering in grime.”

Had he more energy, Hayko would have huffed an offended laugh but now more than ever, he wanted to just crawl back to the heap of pillows that had been his only real comfort for the past week besides the pain pills and as much as he hated to admit, Nick’s silent but near-constant presence. 

His face said that the insistence wouldn’t stop until he got what he wanted.

Hayko eventually pushed himself to sitting when his nerves reached their peak in realization that he hadn’t left yet. He dared to glance up to Nick, who was playing with the rim of the glass as he steadily stared back. Particularly, at his hair. 

“Okay,” Hayko breathed at last. Didn’t have to look much longer than the grin lasted for his face to darken, self-conscious of his defeat. “Now?” 

Nick didn’t laugh but there was arrogance behind the “Obviously” he gave. When he got up and stretched, he seemed to be taking his time until Hayko wrenched himself up and recovered from the painful blow of darkness to his vision. He hissed and teetered, “Fuck.” 

As the room cleared up again, the bathroom lights were on and the rush of water was going. Hayko then realized that he hadn’t agreed to a hair-wash but a bath. Though his thoughts swam with the effects of the pill, he steadied himself and limped after Nick with his hand tapping and brushing against the wall. 

Support. An outlet for tension. No difference. 

Nick turned from fixing the bath to him in the doorway. He flashed him an encouraging smile. “Go ahead then.” 

Hayko reached for his shirt with a trembling hand and pulled it over his head with a wince when he stretched an inch too far. Dropping it, then went for the rest of his clothing and undressed clinically, an already humiliated mind wandering elsewhere until it was done. Nearly, because it didn’t matter whether Nick threatened him with another gunshot wound - he wasn’t taking off his underwear. 

He seemed satisfied enough though and turned the tap off with an approving nod. “Can you walk?” 

“Walked here, didn’t I?” Hayko mumbled as he quickly slipped into the tub and nestled down, back facing Nick. The warmth of the water was almost overwhelming as it sank into him and his muscles, gently hugging the scars across his back. The light burning from the water could be ignored as it faded with the rest of the world. It blissfully unwound him within moments. He didn’t notice the sigh he let slip until a chuckle came from behind. 

Nick seemed to have noticed his bliss and so waited a while longer until he had fully relaxed into the water. His hand then snaked to Hayko’s hair, pulling him back and pushing him down. “Down you go.” 

The water rose, and with it, a stab of panic as he fished for the edge of the tub and tried to push himself up against the grip before his head could be submerged. “Wait, wait-” he said, voice breaking all of a sudden. The terror of what was about to happen close to paralyzed him before he noticed that Nick wasn’t pushing him anymore. 

“Relax,” Nick said with a light laugh before he ruffled his hair. “Needa get your hair wet.” 

Hayko breathed out, pretending he hadn’t been ready to plead for him not to drown him. He slowly dunked his head underwater and threaded his fingers through the tangled curls, trying to pry them far enough apart for Nick to work with them. Given that he knew how to handle what he now realized was a disaster.

Nick took on the task regardless. Squeezing some product into his palm, he began shampooing his curls, massaging his scalp rough enough to force through the week-long mess until it became slick enough to card his fingers through. He worked from the base of his scalp through the remainder of the curls. “You have such beautiful hair,” he murmured. 

“Hmm,” Hayko responded, sounding sleepy. His eyelashes fluttered in dimly-registered pleasure at the hands kneading his scalp, the lavender fragrance of shampoo, and buzz of the warm water, reassuring his senses. He hadn’t relaxed like this in what felt like ages. It had likely been months since he had taken time like this for himself and though this wasn’t exactly by himself, it could work. 

“Enjoying yourself?” Nick wound a curl around his pinky and pulled back, teasing but not enough to hurt. He scratched behind his ear, scrubbing at the base of his hair. “Me too, love. Should let me do this more often.”

Hayko’s head lolled and he breathed deep, sloshing around the water. “S’long as you’re always nice like this.”  

Another chuckle and after some time, he pushed Hayko’s head underwater again. This time there was no struggle and he could tell his boy was holding his breath patiently, letting him wash out the shampoo to leave gentle, thinner curls that swept and rolled over his shoulders when he came up for air. 

Hayko took scattered strands in his palm and looked over the brown shimmer that had reappeared, allowing himself a soft smile. His scalp felt clean and the awful sensation of matting hair had seeped out of him, as well as other tensions that had been building for the past fews weeks. He had almost forgotten about the wound that was tormenting him.

Until he felt nails plucking at the bandage again. 

Nick nestled his chin in the crook of Hayko’s neck, appearing absentminded as he scratched away the tape, peeling the corner from his skin slowly, slowly. He inched it up until he reached the bandage and then that, too, began to lift excruciatingly slowly and the water barely shifted as he did. Hayko hadn’t recalled ever letting his hand snake that low. 

“As much as I would… prefer you around the house than in your bed, I have to admit that you did look nice, writhing in your own blood.” He turned his nose to breathe in the newly settled fragrance in his hair. “I mean, how much pain were you in? Haven’t seen you gasping like that since-” 

“A l-lot,” Hayko responded after thinking back to it. It hurt to but after the shock had worn off, he could hardly remember anything anybody said to him with the sharpness of the agony, terror of death. The knowledge that he could have died that night. “I was in a lot of pain. What do you think?” 

Nick buried his face in the hair, uncaring if his shirt got wet. “Hm, suppose that’s a bit vague. Give me details.” His finger suddenly bit into the wound and Hayko started in shock. 

“Stop it.” His hand shot to Nick’s, clear-headed and desperate to stop the pain. He hissed as he dug his nail further into the inflamed edges. “Stop, please,” he tried in a softer register. “I can’t remember, hon-... honestly.” He felt the smile broadening into his shoulder and a lazy hum sound against him. 

“It would be best if you remembered, then,” Nick muttered but yielded and slipped the bandage back. 

Only teasing.

He pulled his hand out of the water but it snaked up his navel first. Always seemed to find a way to make even these moments a source of terror, Hayko thought as he took stock of the pain, newly focussed just as he’d forgotten it. 

Though it should have been expected by now. His sadism was neither new nor ceasing, as long as Hayko would be here. Even in the middle of a bath. As Nick drained the tub, the hug of the water’s warmth leaving him to breath in the steam and straighten up, humiliation resurfaced. To be touched, undressed and looked at, to be cleaned and all of this willingly. 

A towel draped over his back. A hand ruffled his hair again. “So good for me, baby.”  

He was grateful to be clean again. Though as he got out of the tub, it wasn’t the pain this time that made him want to crawl back into bed and plunge into a forgetting sleep. 

Maybe he could slip deeper into it with the tension gone. 

-

Tagging @doveotions @heathenville @thewhumpstuff @thatsthewhump @adamantem-rose @lonesome--hunter @whumpsorbetism @whumpasaurus101 @lektricfergus @downrivergirl914 @burtlederp 

[wesimpforxiao]

Say My Name and I’ll Be There: 4.2

"You've soaked through your clothes," Zhongli stated the obvious and rose from his seat.  "Allow me to brew you a cup of tea."

"Thanks," you sat down.  Aether quickly brought you a towel and blanket, while Xiao gave him a subtle side eye.  They sat on either side of you.

"So when Childe said he had business in the harbor, he really meant he was leaving for Quince Village," Paimon practically growled with anger.  "I knew we couldn't trust him!"

"He was told not to fight us," Aether theorized.  "Think about it.  If he had it his way, he would have fought to get to you and Xiao.  Surely he must have taken orders from Signora or something?"

"What does it matter?"  You couldn't help but shiver in your sopping clothes.  "It's my fault he got to Granny in the first place.  I had talked about her with Bennett.  He must have heard about her then."

"That's where you're wrong.  We came to you at your Granny's home all those months ago.  He must have remembered she would be a good source of information.  So really, it's our fault," he hung his head low.

"No one here is at fault," Zhongli returned and placed a cup of hot tea in your freezing hands.  He returned to his seat across from you.

"Wait, did you know about this too, Aether?"  You were referring to Childe's scheming.

"No.  Zhongli informed us once we left you alone."

"I see."  You stared at the cup in your hands.  "So...What are we going to do now?"

"We will pretend we are unaware of his plans," Zhongli answered.  "We cannot underestimate Childe's capabilities."

"We can beat him again!" Paimon shouted.  "Aether can kick his butt anytime!"

"I'm afraid it would not be wise to do so at the moment.  Defeating Childe now may invite more Harbingers to finish the job for him."

"I'm with Paimon."  You took a quick sip of tea before placing the cup on the table.  "If he's willing to mess with innocents' lives, then we need to take him down."

"Woah, wait.  You're misunderstanding his character," Aether looked between you and his floating companion.  "He doesn't tend to do that."

"Are you defending him?!  Did you not see what his minions did today?  Did you not see the gravestone?"

"He would only involve innocents if he has to or is desperate to get what he wants--"

"Oh, so he's desperate but not that bad of a person?"  

"Let him speak," Xiao ordered.

"Tch."  You slouched in your chair and crossed your arms, glaring at your tea in the process.

Aether glanced at Zhongli before continuing.  "Childe is a family person.  He respects those who value family and those who desire to grow stronger.  He wouldn't kill a bystander, especially if they're weaker than him. He didn't kill your grandmother either."

"Oh, but he's totally fine with taking possessions to get what he wants.  Did I get that right?"  You rolled your eyes and stood up.  "I'm going to bed."

"I'm just saying he follows a moral code."

"Tsk, yeah.  Some moral code he has, if it involves betraying those he calls comrades.  Don't bother waking me up tomorrow."

"Wait!"  

"Let her go, Traveler," Zhongli watched you leave and slam the door.  "It is just a form of grief.  She will return with a level head tomorrow."

Or so he thought.  You had grabbed your bag and left the building immediately, set on finding Childe before he reaches the harbor.  It was dark and the rain hadn't let up yet.  The drops pelted your already drenched body, but you didn't care one bit.  You knew it was a stupid impulsive decision to leave the group on your own, and an even dumber one to leave at night.

All you cared about now was to enact your revenge against that damned Harbinger.

"What do you think you're doing?"  A sudden voice nearly made you jump out of your skin.  You had left the village at least half an hour ago and thought you were alone on the road.

"Gah! Get away!" You unsheathed your sword and started wailing it around with your eyes clenched shut.

"I knew you were human, but I never took you for one of the stupid ones."  Xiao came into view, and you slowly sheathed your weapon.  "I'll ask again.  What do you think you're doing?"

"I..." You trailed off.

Xiao sighed as if he knew your plans.  "Come."  He placed a raincoat over the top of your head.  

"T-thanks."

He walked ahead of you even though the light of your lantern didn't reach the ground beneath his feet.  He led you to a large tree off the side of the road that had a thick enough canopy to shield the two of you from the rain.  "Sit."

You did as you were told and he followed suite.  "Why did you follow me?"

"Humans like you need protection."

"'Like me?'"

"The stupid ones."

"Eh?!"  You blinked in shock.  Did Xiao just make a joke?  The small grin on his face proved you weren't hearing things.  "You're smiling," you mumbled happily.  What a rare sight to behold.

"There is truth to what I say," his smile disappeared as quickly as it had appeared, and he looked you dead in the eyes.  "You're going to get yourself killed."

"Death shouldn't concern you," you bit back.

Xiao blinked, then faced forward with his head against the tree trunk.  "Yours does," he whispered.

"What?"

"You want to die because you feel that you're alone now that your family has died out."  You swallowed hard.  "I cannot say I'm foreign to those feelings."  He stared off into a distant past.  "Yet I am still here.  Do you know why?"

"...No."

"I am fulfilling my contract to protect Liyue.  It is all I can do to make up for the sins I've committed.  All I know is death and destruction, but you?  You've known what humans call kindness and love.  I do not understand those concepts anymore, but do you not think it would be a tragedy for this world to lose one of your stature?  There is no turning back for me, but you have the choice not to become a slave to your own thoughts.  Once you cross that line with the Harbinger, there will be no going back.  If you fail, and you will, death awaits.  If you succeed, you become like me."

"You're right," you admitted aloud, your anger temporarily quelling.

The two of you returned to the place the team was staying.  Everyone had gone to bed; the dining room was now empty.  "Take these," Xiao found you a pair of fresh clothes and led you to an empty bedroom.  "Goodnight."

"Thank you--"  Your fingertips brushed against his for the briefest of moments and an icy chill ran up your spine.

An image of a lone adeptus stood over a realm of destruction.  His enemies slain, his allies murdered.  The scent of blood hung heavy in the air.

"Finally," another adeptus approached the first, "it's over.  Maybe we can rest now."  His voice leaked exhaustion, and his eyes were full of sorrow.

"Bosacius," the first adeptus peered over his shoulder.  His gaze was devoid of emotion, and his face was painted with blood that did not belong to him.  Every distinguishing feature was a fog.

You yanked your hand away from Xiao's and fell on your butt.  "W-what was that?"  You examined your hand before returning your gaze to Xiao.

"You--" Xiao's eyes widened when you stared up at him.  Her eyes are glowing?  Not just glowing, but they had changed to a completely different color.  His eye color.

"You're...?"  Memories that were not your own flashed through your mind.  "Wha--What the? Ngh!"  A splitting headache emerged out of nowhere.  You locked eyes with Xiao and pressed your hand to your temple, eyes squinting in pain.  

"What's wrong?"

"...Alatus?"  His eyes narrowed slightly at the word, and he took a half-step backwards.

"Where did you hear that name?"

"I--"

"Hey, what's happening? I heard a thud--"  Aether ran into the hallway and was greeted by the sight of a clearly-agitated or disturbed Xiao.  "Hey, are you okay?"  He stood at the yaksha's side and looked down at you.

"Ugh.." Was it just you, or was the whole room spinning and swaying?  The light at the end of the hallway was excruciatingly bright too.  Your stomach shuddered uncomfortably and a cold sweat began to cling to your back.

"What's going on in here?"  Zhongli appeared at the end of the hallway and made his way toward the group.  His presence seemed to worsen your headache.

"Gah!"  Pain shot through your right eye, and you pressed your hand against it.

The God of Rock approached you slowly.  You were on your knees, surrounded with spears of boulders.  Was this the end for you?  You hung your head low in defeat.  The footsteps stopped before you.

"Your master is dead," his authoritative voice rung through the air.  He knelt in front of you, and lifted your chin.  "You are free."

"I can never be free. Just kill me here."

The god carefully looked you over.  "What is your name?"

"Alatus."

"Why would I kill thou who has endured much suffering?"  You looked up at this.  "'Xiao.'  Go forth with this name and bring peace to Liyue, who has been plagued with daemons."

"Ah!"  Zhongli and Xiao had you pinned against the wall for your own safety.  "It hurts!" You cried out.

"Open your eyes," Zhongli calmly ordered, and you did as you were told.  "I see.  And this just happened now?"

"It burns," you whimpered.

"Yes," Xiao answered Zhongli's questions.  "She..." knows my name.

"Aether, bring her to the bed.  Xiao and I will grab water and towels."

That was the last you heard before your vision dimmed and the voices faded.

[drxwsyni]

How would Yandere Shinsou, Aizawa, and Hawks react to a kidnapped S/O who just questions “why me? I’m fucking useless” and they have horrid self esteem issues, and don’t understand how they can “love” them? Totally not projecting bere

ngl i’d do the same thing, this scenario is def hittin different. ik u sent this in yesterday anon and i usually complete them in order but i couldn’t wait. thx for the request bby i hope you're doing okay, please take care of urself.

_____

Headcanons for yandere Shinsou Hitoshi, Shouta Aizawa/Eraserhead and Keigo Takami/Hawks with a captive s/o with bad self esteem

_____

Shinsou Hitoshi:

Hearing his darling say that would naturally shock him, but he’d end up taking it extremely hard.

It would send his mind racing into a slew of thoughts, trying to discern why they’d be so critical of themselves. Did someone make them feel that way? Who did he need to get his hands on for making them despise their own existence?

There would be a moment where neither would talk after his darling says that, but the look on his face is more than enough to show his boiling anger over the prospect.

Shinsou would not take the realization lightly. “Don’t fucking say that. Who the hell said you were useless?”

He would demand his darling tell him why they feel that way. If they refused, he’d use his quirk to make them. He didn’t like the idea of it―forcing them to tell him something so personal―but he could deal with that after he’d taken care of the scum who’d planted these thoughts in his darling’s head. Whoever was responsible would be met with a slow, excruciatingly painful death―and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

If he finds out that his darling genuinely believes they’re worthless, like if they’re not just a little self-critical, it’d make things so much worse. He’d hate himself for not picking up on it sooner, and moving forward he’d be almost aggressive with affirmations of how important they are to him, being invaluable in every standard.

He knows his darling would likely despise him for using his quirk like that, but Shinsou wouldn’t care. Eventually they’d have to forgive him, or at least forget about the ordeal, because he wouldn’t give them the room to continue thinking the same things after. There would be no space for believing otherwise―they’d become all too familiar of just how capable they are of having someone love them.

He would force them into self-care. It would be frustrating on both ends, especially if his darling puts up a fight, but he would never relent even after he’s convinced his darling finally thinks the same as him.

_____

Shouta Aizawa/Eraserhead:

He’s a stern and calculating man over the matter. Shouta would control his emotions when he’s with his darling. “You’re not useless, why are you being so critical of yourself?”

The exchange would be handled calmly on his end. He’d prefer if his darling would explain why they thought such things, but he wouldn’t push them if they couldn’t handle it. Instead, he’d resolve to figure out the cause himself.

Shouta would take whatever information he had and work tirelessly, not stopping until he pinpointed whoever was responsible for hurting his love.

Once he found the individual(s) in question he’d waste no time dispatching them. Not that he didn’t want to see them suffer, but the sooner he took care of it the faster he’d be able to return to his darling. He’d never tell his darling what happened to them either, it was more important that they forgot about it completely.

Shouta wouldn’t bring the exchange up after that for fear that reminding his darling would only cause more harmful internalization. Rather he’d subtly show more attention over bettering their self-worth.

He’d hold them closer, constantly praising them for anything they did or just telling them how much he loved them. Normally he’s not a man of many words, but his darling would be the exception―they deserved anything and everything in his mind and they’d end up being more than aware of that.

Intimately, he’d practically worship whatever part of his darling’s body that their self-esteem seemed to reject. He thinks of it as exposure therapy―by demonstrating his own admiration for them, eventually the feeling would transfer. And he had no problem repeating the action until that sunk in.

Moving forward Shouta would be very strict if he thought even for a second his darling was still having these thoughts. While he’d be gentle with them, he’d still enforce positive behaviour to help their self esteem.

_____

Keigo Takami/Hawks:

This man would be devastated if he heard his darling say something like that.

Queue panic mode―whatever he was doing prior is dropped until they tell him why they thought that. “Listen baby, I don’t know how you could possibly believe that, but you’re not leaving this spot until you tell me why.”

He’d be true to his word―his darling wouldn't be allowed to move from the subject until they told him every last detail. Keigo would be painfully patient, and in that moment no protests could stop him from finding out the truth.

They wouldn’t be left alone until he was sure they’d told him every last detail. After all, he needed to know exactly who should be held responsible, and what the best way of dealing with them was.

Once he’s got the information he needs he’d be gone in an instant. The man is known for being fast―now would be no exception. He’d track the individual(s) down with ease, a smile on his face as he inflicted whatever punishment he deemed necessary.

If he was smothering before, that would only be amplified tenfold. Once he returns from his little excursion he would go into full on cuddle mode. He’d shower his darling in praise, not letting go of them until they admitted to themselves how worthy of love they are.

It would become a daily routine―making his darling look at themselves in the mirror, him hugging them from behind as they repeated positive affirmations. Whatever they were insecure about―literally anything―would get so much attention.

He never thought anything about his darling was anything less than perfect, Keigo would take their insecurities and demolish them with unrelenting affection.