#and you can paint me as the villain if you want but the situation is more complicated than that

[helvegen-s]

Rage, rage | four

prologue | one | two | three | four

Pairing: Azriel x Hybern!Princess!OC

Summary: Nimue was a gift for the King of Hybern. His shining jewel, the perfect heir. However, she is clear about who the villain of the story is. When she saves her father's enemies from a tragic end, she realizes that now it's the Cauldron who has a gift for her: a mate.

Warnings: blood, bad language, talking about trauma, bad familiar relationships (King of hybern father of the year)

Sitting in that chair, Nimue did nothing but absorb everything she saw around her: the paintings hanging on the walls, the rugs covering the floor, every detail placed on the shelves, the books arranged alphabetically...

It was all perfect. She had never imagined what the physical representation of the word "home" would be like, yet she felt it should be like this. In every carefully placed thing, she saw the affection behind it.

She stopped daydreaming and returned to the most pressing matter: the fact that, for some reason, she was tied to that chair.

Bound, but without seeing the ropes. It was an invisible force that pushed her against the wood of the armrests and the cushion of the backrest. She tried to suppress a laugh with little success because she knew effortlessly she could free herself from those ties. But well, if it made them feel safer, so be it.

She looked up, first to that male: Azriel, as she had heard others call him.

She still felt that sensation pulsing right in the middle of her being, making her gaze involuntarily go to him even in that room full of people.

Azriel felt like he was going to explode. He stood, leaning against the back of one of the sofas in the living room, positioned between Rhysand and Amren. With his arms crossed over his chest, he tried to control his breathing, counting to ten and releasing the air, counting again.

His wings trembled upon hearing the small laugh that escaped from the lips of that stranger. "What the hell are you laughing at? Do you find the situation funny?" he barked at the girl. She seemed surprised as her expression changed abruptly.

"No," she replied, furrowing her brow. She could feel the man's anger through that invisible thread connecting her to him. She tried to clear her mind. "It's just amusing that you have me tied up here. I can free myself at any moment, and if I don't, it's because I know you're afraid of me."

Rhysand's face must have been a sight. Afraid of her? He reinforced even more the restraints binding the girl to the chair, and with a sly smile, he took a step forward. "Dare to let yourself go, and you'll see what happens."

Was that some kind of sarcasm? Nimue didn't understand, she was just used to people speaking to her clearly, if only to avoid being in her presence more than necessary.

So she stood up, crossing the restraints of the High Lord like someone walking against a gentle breeze. Everyone jumped in their seats, reaching for their weapons or preparing to defend themselves.

But Nimue simply stood there, scanning from one to another: from the High Lord to Azriel, from the petite woman to Cassian, as she had heard Rhysand call him.

"I know you don't understand what I am or who I am right now, but it's okay. I'll explain it calmly, but you have to be willing to listen to me. You need me more than I need you."

Cassian let out a mocking laugh, "And why did you help us if you say you don't need us?"

And then silence fell.

Why had she helped them?

She had acted without thinking, that's for sure. She had never contradicted her father, and for the first time it was under such circumstances that something didn't fit deep within her conscience. She could excuse it with those memories that weren't hers: seeing those two humans in the Cauldron had awakened in her those memories from twenty years ago. But it wasn't just that.

Yes, she knew that within her, that idea of killing her father, ending him, stopping that plan he wanted to carry out and doing good had always been germinating. But in between there was always that rotten and unconditional love she felt for the King of Hybern, which was written in every cell of her being from the day she emerged.

"I needed an excuse," she said aloud. All the attention of those present was on her, and she kept talking. "I always knew my father was never the good one. I'm missing pieces of the story, I only know what he told me through filters. I know there are people in Prythian, I know there's going to be a war, I know everything revolves around the Cauldron. But I don't know much more."

My father.

When the girl uttered those words, Azriel felt a surge rising from the depths of his throat. How could a monster like the King of Hybern have sired such a beautiful creature?

Yes, beautiful. She is beautiful.

He stopped his thoughts abruptly, trying to ignore his own shadow's whispers. He was hallucinating, again.

"I also know that my father expected me to fight for him in this war, to incinerate Prythian's forces. He counted on an easy victory, however now..." Nimue's hands couldn't stop playing with the fabric of the dress she was wearing. It was then that she realized the pristine white fabric of her skirt was stained with blood, the blood of the Illyrians. She took a deep breath and continued speaking, "He's not going to take it very well that I've done this. That I've... betrayed him.”

"Well, don't tell me."

Nimue looked up at Azriel. Was that irony again?

Rhysand gave the Shadowsinger a stern look, and everyone fell silent again, waiting for the girl to speak.

But she didn't know where to continue. What should she tell them about herself? Should she tell them what she was?

And in the midst of the prolonged silence, the High Lord spoke up, "No one knew of the existence of a princess of Hybern. If you claim to be so powerful, why did your father never boast about you?"

There was something that didn't add up in all of this and had Rhysand uneasy. He felt the presence of the female, a pale, pulsating white light in the middle of the room. It was a strange magic, something he couldn't quite categorize within the fae magic that flowed through his veins. His gaze shifted to Amren, hoping she could shed some light on the situation, but to his surprise, she looked just as bewildered as he did.

"My father never wanted my existence to be known. I..." Nimue bit her lip, weighing how much revealing everything to this group of strangers would be a good idea. "I've never left Hybern. In fact, I've never left the castle."

"How old are you, girl? Have you been locked up in there your whole life?" Amren asked.

"It's hard to say how old I am. In this body, I've lived twenty years of yours. Before that... my memories are clouded."

"In this body? Before that?" Azriel inquired. He felt like he was going crazy, wanting to pull his hair out and scream. What was happening? Of all the outcomes he had predicted for today, this was certainly one he wouldn't have even dreamed of. "Tell us the truth, or I swear I'll slit your throat."

Nimue smiled, a poisonous smile she had learned from her father.

"I doubt it. If I have to kick your ass again like I did out there, I will," she held Azriel's gaze. And added, "And with pleasure."

Azriel snorted, baring his teeth in an aggressive gesture and reaching for his dagger. Nimue simply smiled, holding his gaze without flinching.

With that mask she had learned to wear.

Rhysand rolled his eyes and brought his hands to his face, trying to process everything that was happening.

They hadn't obtained the Cauldron, they had learned of Tamlin's betrayal, they had transformed his mate's sisters, and now this. It had been a very eventful day, to say the least.

"So you're trying to tell us that you've been in this world for twenty years, but before that, you were somewhere else, right? Do you remember where?"

"Yes," said Nimue. She tried to hold back another laugh at the absurdity of the situation. "In the Cauldron."

And they fell silent again.

The expressions on everyone's faces were like something out of a painting, and Nimue let out a quiet laugh.

She had never had to explain who or what she was; everyone where she came from knew. They all knew her.

"Well," she began calmly, "we all know my father, the King of Hybern. The fanatic, lunatic and power-hungry one."

"Yes, unfortunately."

"He impregnated one of his royal concubines, and in the midst of that madness, he decided to put her in the Cauldron. I don't know if it was under coercion from the Cauldron itself, if it was a demand my father made, or what. But the woman died instantly, and in exchange for her life, I came out of the Cauldron."

"So, you're telling me that the Cauldron not only has the power to turn humans into fae, as we've seen with Feyre's sisters. You're telling me," Rhysand took a deep breath, trying to organize his thoughts, "that the Cauldron granted the King a daughter in exchange for a sacrifice, no more, no less."

"Yes, but it's not something that will happen again. The Cauldron created me as its own whim, just as it has done with those two humans you mentioned. Feyre’s sisters…"

“Elain and Nesta.”

"Yes," said Nimue. "What it has done with them won't happen again. Not for a long time, at least. The Cauldron only responds to its own impulses, and I don't even understand them myself. Our fae minds aren't made to understand what the Cauldron is or how it acts. Not even the mind of that creature."

Nimue pointed at Amren, who crossed her arms with a sly smile.

"Well, on that you're right. Not even this creature," she said, pointing to herself, "is capable of understanding under what desires that pot acts."

And they all fell silent again, weighing the situation and assimilating what the girl had said.

Azriel was simply angry, furious. He couldn't feel anything else at that moment. He didn't care much about the Cauldron's affairs, nor did he lose sleep over trying to understand how it worked.

He just wanted to know why he had the misfortune of finding out that his mate, whom he had been waiting to meet since he was a child, had to be the damn daughter of the King of Hybern.

"And regarding your problem," Nimue continued, this time addressing only Azriel, "well, our problem. I never knew what a mate was, as you called it. I knew that the Cauldron forged the souls of people to be incomplete, so that if they were lucky, they would find the other half they were missing during their life. But when I saw you, when I felt it, I was able to understand. I'm sorry if it's been a disappointment, but it is what it is."

Azriel frowned, his arms crossed and the hair on his arms bristling. He felt like he was trembling with rage.

"I didn't ask for this, princess."

Nimue didn't want to admit it, but the pull of disdain she felt on the other side of the bond made her heart shrink.

"Great, neither did I."

Taglist:

@lilah-asteria @agentsofsheilds @leptitlu @just-here-reading @glitterypirateduck @saltedcoffeescotch @donttellthecats @annblvd

[funnywormz]

I think this shitshow with Toshiro stems from the trend of people INSISTING that interpersonal conflict must be a moral failing. Like I think there's something to be said about how people afford so much less patience to people who are autistic in the "wrong" ways, but also Laios and Toshiro just clash on a fundamental level that has nothing to do with that. Hell, you could read Toshiro as autistic as well. People related to Laios' side of the argument but instead of getting any nuance out of it they started projecting their experiences with ableist people onto Toshiro.

AGREE AGREE AGREE. i think that Fandom Brain gets people very used to thinking of conflicts in terms of "who is the bad guy and who is the good guy", so when they encounter a more nuanced conflict they don't really know what to do. i don't think toshiro is a bad person at all, in his conflict with laios he's just exhausted and starving and has been pushed to the limit and from his perspective, laios doesn't even seem that emotionally affected by the situation. i don't think what he said was right and it was pretty cruel, but i don't think he's a villain or deserves to be permanently hated as a character just bc he fucked up this time lol

also yeah you could definitely read him as autistic, and i think that highlights an issue in the autistic community in general bc like....... a lot of autistic people have conflicting needs which can lead to conflict between them/make them unable to stand being around each other. and it's not because either of them are neurotypical or bad people, they're just incompatible. like autistic people who loudly stim vocally and autistic people who meltdown when they have to be around loud noises, for example. it doesn't mean either of them is bad or not autistic, just that they have conflicting needs

i 100% agree with the last part too. i disliked toshiro at first myself bc i had been (and still do ngl) projecting onto laios hard and the conflict they had reminded me of times when people have been mean or angry at me irl for social blunders i've made unintentionally, or when someone i thought liked me/was my friend turned out to actually hate me. it's a common experience for autistic people and that scene resonates with that! but i think it also helps to take a step back from projecting our own traumatic experiences onto the scene and just look at it objectively. laios isn't perfect either and he's the one who actually starts the physical fight by slapping toshiro (i feel like i don't see many people mention this lol). i feel super bad for him in that scene but he's not a perfect victim and has done things wrong himself too

as an autistic person i've also been in situations where i can relate to toshiro too lol, like where someone is overly physically and emotionally familiar with me when we don't know each other well and i've wanted them to back off but haven't been sure how to say it without hurting their feelings. this kind of conflict is far from just being a "neurotypical vs neurodivergent" thing as a lot of people portray it in the fandom

idk i just wish people would think a little more deeply about the scene and put their own emotions and experiences aside to instead consider the conflict with the added context of the individual characters and their respective cultures + the situation they're in. people don't have to like toshiro but i wish they wouldn't paint him as a villain or make up awful shit about him just to justify their feelings when he isn't even that bad of a dude in canon yknow 😑. also we literally see him at rock bottom struggling and freaking out and i think that's important to remember. in a different context i doubt he would have ever said those things to laios

[pondscummy]

real burn that bridge when we come to it hours tonight

[buckleydiazmp4]

wow i just saw. a Take

[mockerycrow]

Talk About Sensitivity In The COD Fandom **Important.**

THIS IS NOT A DEBATE POST. DO NOT BOTHER.

Hey, everyone. After the reveal of Makarov in the trailer (as well as general concern), I think a chat about sensitivity is important. Since the trailer’s release, I have seen a major increase in simping for Makarov posts as well as genuine romanticization of Russia and/or Russian Soldiers. First, I want to talk about the romanticization of Russia and/or Russian soldiers because it’s seriously getting out of hand. I need you guys to realize that Russia is an ultranationalist country and yes, maybe not everyone who lives there believes what their government does, but it’s important to know a big portion of their population does. I have seen multiple posts and edits of this man right here (pictures below).

THIS GUY IS NOT SOMEONE YOU SHOULD LIKE, AND PEOPLE NEED TO UNDERSTAND THAT HE DOES NOT LIKE YOU. This is one of the most popular Russian Soldiers amongst the internet due to the way he wears a mask, gear, has an accent, and is buff. He makes videos teaching soldiers how to kill people—innocent people in Ukraine who are just trying to survive. I have seen people straight up ignore when someone tells them what this man has done, so let me put it this way—he does not like you. He wants you dead. He is racist, a homophobe, transphobe, antisemitic, etc. He absolutely hates The West, and he does not like you unless you are a cis, straight, white 100% Russian. Even if you’re a woman, he DOES NOT LIKE YOU. If you American, HE DOES NOT WANT YOU ALIVE.

[This part is not targeted; just a general statement.] Second; there is a serious problem with how you guys address Makarov as a character. There is absolutely no problem enjoying him as a villain because I do too, but you guys have to realize that Makarov is an ultranationalist—which is exactly what Russia is right now, an ultranationalist terrorist state. “But he’s fictional, it doesn’t matter! it’s not that deep!” It actually is that deep. I keep seeing content for Makarov and I can’t force anyone to stop making “fluffy fics”, but I need y’all to have some fucking decency towards victims and people affected by the war. I know people who are affected by the war who feel ill seeing posts painting Makarov in a good light. If you are going to write Makarov, do NOT romanticize him as a character—do NOT paint him a decent or good light, because you can’t. Write him like the bastard he is. And no, this isn’t a “let people write what they wanna write” situation. You can do that, but please be expected to be judged and blocked by me and many others. Makarov is quite literally the characterization of everything that is wrong with Russia, and what HAS been wrong with Russia. Makarov is not a bad boy, a rebel, etc, he’s a fucking terrorist. Please be for real. “But the military in general is bad, so why does it matter specifically around Makarov?” Please see above my previous reasons. Thanks.

The overall message of this point is to be fucking respectful. There are actual people dying and slaughtered for no reason other than ruined pride and a lot of Ukrainian folk seek comfort and distractions in the internet and their fandoms. This ruins it for them and quite frankly, sometimes how Makarov is being written? It’s completely insensitive. Anyway, below are a few links where you can directly support the efforts and the people of Ukraine. Peace and love, and please write with critical thinking.

[delaware-lemme-smash]

Hii! May i request some headcanons were mt. lady, sir night eye, present mic, eraser and all might react to their s/o wearing their clothes after sex? Like if they didn’t have any clothes with them what weren’t… dirty so they stole some! Sorry if this is boring but I thought it was kinda cute :)

Hope you enjoy these, lovely!

Characters: Takeyama Yuu/Mount Lady, Sasaki Mirai/Sir Nighteye, Yamada Hizashi/Present Mic, Aizawa Shouta/Eraserhead, Yagi Toshinori/All Might

Contents: gn!reader, mild nsfw

Takeyama Yuu/Mount Lady

Perhaps it was an impromptu tryst, because you’re at Mount Lady’s apartment and your only clothes are dirty. Perhaps your stuff got torn up in a fight with a villain and now you’ve come back to hers to ‘celebrate’, you find yourself left with nothing but your underwear. Perhaps not even that. 

You could sleep naked, but it’s not the most comfortable situation to be in. So you wander over to Yuu’s wardrobe (really a walk-in closet). She might only be a debut hero, but she’s very popular and spends a lot of time in the limelight. This translates to making absolute bank, and she spends a lot of it on beautiful clothes. Obviously, you’re not going to wear a gala dress to bed, so you grab a t-shirt that looks pretty old, and maybe a pair of yoga pants. 

Depending on your size compared to her, they might be fine, or they might be a tight fit. When she comes back into the bedroom, her skin gleaming from her nightly skincare routine, she stops in the doorway and pouts at you.

“If you stretch those out, you’re going to have to replace them.”

“...says the woman who turns into a titan?” The irony is too much for you.

“Only my hero costume stretches with me, duh.” A pause. “Your butt does look good in those yoga pants, though.”

Sasaki Mirai/Sir Nighteye

It would seem that if you’re dating Sir Nighteye, you’ve at least got some sense of planning and responsibility. But you’re only human, and sometimes you’re going to find yourself caught short. Short on clothes, in this case. Even if your clothes are clean, you couldn’t fathom sleeping in your work clothes.

You wait until Sir Nighteye is in the bathroom, brushing his teeth, before sneaking open one of his drawers and grabbing something at random. You end up with…

A pair of boxers and a vintage All Might t-shirt.

It’s hardly the sexiest of nightwear, but you make it work. He leans back into the doorway to tell you to borrow some clothing, and you’re lounging on his bed, all “Paint me like one of your French girls”. 

“I’ve been waiting for you~” you purr.

He nearly spits out his mouthwash, and disappears back into the bathroom to gather himself. You distinctly hear him chuckle under his breath, then clear his throat.

“If you want to entice me, darling, don’t wear the face of my former boss on your torso.”

Yamada Hizashi/Present Mic

Hizashi’s always trying to get you to wear his clothes, anyway! He drapes his little moto jacket (the casual one, not the studded one he wears as part of his costume) over your shoulders a lot and tells you how great you look. 

Seeing his partner wear his clothes just gives him this little kick and makes him feel all warm and fuzzy inside. 

You’ve got a variety of options in Mic’s wardrobe. In the t-shirt section, you’ve got a lot of band t-shirts, weird, bright coloured ones covered in fruit or English slogans, a few rare Eraserhead merch t-shirts he got done to piss off Aizawa, and if you want to borrow some boxers, you’ll be hard pressed to find some that don’t have a loud, zany pattern on them. 

If you want to be (moderately) sexy, grab a vintage band t-shirt and a pair of his black boxer briefs. If you want to make him laugh, grab the stupidest t-shirt you can find and pair it with an eye watering set of boxer shorts, especially if they have bananas on them. 

Hizashi grins wide enough to split his face in half at the sight of you in his clothes. It doesn’t matter if you went for sexy or stupid, really, because he’ll just try to get you out of them again, if you know what I mean~

Aizawa Shouta/Eraserhead

This is one of those things that Aizawa doesn’t know he likes until he sees it for the first time. He’s probably dragged himself out of your post-coital snooze to get you both some water or feed the stray cat on his balcony, leaving you to ponder your clothing situation. 

When you open Aizawa’s wardrobe, it’s 75% loose black shirts and pants, with a few non-black items crammed at one end, including those infamous pink sweatpants. 

It seems he’s not totally averse to colour, just not when he’s working. He has a few t-shirts (gifts from Hizashi) covered in cats (as opposed to just covered in cat hair, like the rest). 

If you’ve cuddled him at all, which you have, thoroughly, you know that all his clothes are surprisingly soft and comfortable. He tends to end up with raggedy cuffs on his sleeves, but even so, the shirt has that soft texture clothing gets when it’s been washed many times. You dig out some random black shorts he has, though you’ve never seen him expose his pasty legs in public, so they must be old.

Shouta shuffles back into the room to find you asleep, curled up in your borrowed finery. There’s something about the sight of you lying in his bed, wearing his clothes, looking so warm and comfortable. It’s like a little gut punch of domesticity. 

“You’re meant to ask, you brat,” he says fondly, flopping onto the bed next to you. 

Still, he reflects, as he pulls you closer, that shirt’s gonna smell like you now. Maybe he should make you wear it every time you sleep over.

Yagi Toshinori/All Might

All Might’s still pretty nervous about being in a relationship so he’s not 100% sure of the protocol, especially when you’re at his place and you don’t have any clean clothes to wear to bed. He gets flustered and goes to see if he can quickly wash your clothes, forgetting the entire wardrobe of clean clothes right there.

All Might or Small Might, his clothes are going to absolutely drown you no matter what size you are. Toshi’s a titan. Any t-shirt you try to borrow is basically a giant nightshirt. 

Toshinori splutters a little at the sight of you swimming in the fabric of one of his shirts. Once he’s done coughing into his elbow, he offers you a toothy grin, his eyes crinkled up.

“That…might be a little big on you,” he says, tugging playfully on all the excess fabric. “Are you sure it’s going to be comfortable?”

You tell him that you like the feeling of the soft, loose fabric, and the fact that it smells a little like his cologne, even after being washed. He’s chuckles at that, wrapping his large hands around your waist, the fabric cinching in against you.

“Well, never thought one of my old shirts could look so adorable.”

[showtoonzfan]

Now that the episode is out officially, here’s my rant review of Oops!

PROS:

- Fizz and Ozzie were adorable and I honestly love them. Despite the sex jokes, you can tell they love each other for who they are OUTSIDE of sex. While I did wish we would have seen more, (like how Ozzie took him in and fell in love) they’re still adorable to watch. They’re the better version of Stolitz, can the show be about them instead?

- Brandon’s voice acting holy shit, he really knows how to sound like he’s in tears or is broken. As much as I hate the character and feel no sympathy, he displayed genuine and broken emotion very well.

- Alex Brightman Alex Brightman

Okay that’s it. Moving on to the Cons. Bear with me, it’s a lot and I go back and forth a bit. 😭

CONS:

So for a quick short summary, this episode:

- Once again puts more focus on the filler plot rather than actually focusing on the relationships between the characters, so all we're left with is a 10 second clip of Fizz being burned while the rest of the episode is surrounded on sex jokes/petty bickering and Stolas and Ozzie sitting around.

- Completely erases what made Blitz and Fizz's dynamic interesting in the first place because it retcons it with a dumb miscommunication trope about how Fizz actually wanted to see Blitz and Blitz tried reaching out to him. Not only does this feel like a cheap attempt to make Blitz out to be sweet/sympathetic and NOT the one in the wrong so Fizz can suck up to him, but this also makes no sense within the narrative.

- Has Fizz forgive Blitz despite him being the last person anyone would think would forgive him. (So honestly ruins Fizz himself because it turned him into a soft boy who's forgiving compared to the asshole he was in Ozzie's) All because Viv would sell her whole soul before she even remotely considers painting characters like Blitz and Stolas out to be the one's in the wrong.

- Takes Stolas out of the hospital completely, erasing all the drama/tension Western Energy had and proves that that episode was utterly pointless.

- Turns Striker from an interesting complex villain to a Saturday morning cartoon goon.

- Proves to us that Crimson is just a flat tool and gives us more prove that the world building rules Viv set up in season 1 legit don't matter.

-Ruins Blitz/Barbie's feud now because now you're making Barbie look like the one in the wrong since the fire was an accident. God forbid a female characters emotions in this show are justified.

But if you want my more in depth rants, it’s under the cut! (There’s a lot so bear with me lol)

- As usual WAAY too many sex jokes and swearing. It gets annoying and repetitive at times and some of them distract from the main plot. There’s a long and I mean LONNG dragged out joke of Fizz talking about Ozzie’s dick, then later saying he’s hard when Striker has a gun to his head, as well as Blitz making a joke about him and Fizz making out once they hug. Again, Viv can’t be serious for 2 seconds without an unfunny shitty gag. I genuinely wonder if Hazbin is ganna be like this, where a character is in a life threatening situation or a deep dark serious scene happens only for the next scene to be sex related.

- This is one of those “shit happens because the plot demands it” and it shows. Crimson and Striker COINCIDENTLY meet up with each other, and Fizz and Blitz just so HAPPEN to be in the same exact area they are. Viv wonders why we call her shit a fanfic and this is what we mean, when she creates wild wacky plots and focuses more on THAT rather than the actual character writing. This entire episode hinges on a useless poorly last minute planned kidnapping plot that didn’t need to happen. Also way to once again make the characters idiots so the plot can happen, cause Fizz KNOWS Ozzie worries for him and that the Greed Ring is dangerous, yet purposefully puts the spotlight on him.

- Stolas did NOT need to be in this episode. The plot completely ignores the fact that he was in the hospital the last time we saw him, and he’s only here for Stolitz banter. You’d think that a character admitting they have feelings for someone would be a big deal but he just flat out says it and it’s so underwhelming and feels half assed with no weight to it. Fan comics have made more dedication to this than Viv has. We're supposed to believe him too despite the show failing to actually SHOW us this. Same for Blitz ranting about how “nice” Stolas has been to him, laughing at his jokes and liking his posts…hey Viv, can we actually SEE that on screen so it’s more believable? Or are you only determined to show them sexually flirting? 😑

- Once again Viv felt the need to shove a B plot into this episode and this one sucks because it’s just two characters sitting and doing fucking nothing. It felt like Viv had no idea what to do with Stolas and Ozzie, and I refuse to believe that Ozzie just sat there knowing Fizz was in danger. If anything he would have said “fuck the paperwork” and went to save Fizz himself. Way to show that gif of Ozzie getting mad as a sneak peak to get fans excited, only to see that Ozzie spends the rest of the episode sitting in a dark room LMAO what a let down.

- Ozzie is weirdly chill and cool with Stolas and it’s something I don’t get. While he did say that Stolas had the real “spirit of Lust” in S1E7, it still gave you the impression that he was also more poking fun at Stolas rather than respecting him. The whole point of House of Asmodeous was that Ozzie outs him and publicly embarrassed him. Stolas literally was intimidated just by Asmodeous’s mere name, and hid his face around him. It seemed like Stolas certainly didn’t want someone like Ozzie to know about his private life especially since they’re both part of the Ars Goetia. Now here Ozzie is just cool with him and it feels like a missed opportunity for their dynamic.

- Stolas confessing his feelings about Blitz also makes…no sense narrative wise. I thought the whole point of The Circus and the ending to Western Energy was that he was realizing that Blitz didn’t like him that way and was finally waking up. I thought that’s why he was doing this whole crystal deal in the first place, so he can let Blitz go, yet the show keeps flip flopping and insisting that these two love each other and are good for each other. It’s really making you realize how this season and the previous stuff set up is becoming nonsense because the writers retcon EVERY damn episode. Also….why the hell is Stolas telling Ozzie his feelings for Blitz? Out of all people, why is it Ozzie, the person who outed Stolas and embarrassed him. Why is Stolas even respectful of Ozzie? He has no reason to, and he’s not under the impression that he’s dating Fizz either. I get that he needs the crystal but mentioning his love for Blitz makes no sense.

- Striker and Crimson teaming up to kidnap Blitz and Fizz was such an ass puller last minute decision. It feels overwhelming and underwhelming at the same time, more because it feels like Viv has no idea what to do with these two villain characters other than give them something evil to do to start the plot. Also…why…are they working together? It feels so random.

- Striker’s character especially is all over the place. First he’s working for Stella, then he’s painted as the best assassin in hell, and now he’s…looking for more work I guess and working for Crimson? Why? Does this guy even have a motive anymore? It feels like his character is just dangling around until Viv wants to use him for another wattpad kidnap plot and it ESPECIALLY shows when Striker escapes for the THIRD fucking time. Can this character/storyline actually GO somewhere or are you just going to keep introducing him and have him run away. 🤦🏽‍♀️

— How did Crimson not know who Striker is despite him being labeled as “the most popular assassin in hell”, and how the hell does Crimson know Ozzie and know all the information about him being in a relationship with Fizz?? Oh right because we needed the plot to happen somehow. Still, even if Crimson did know that Ozzie was the "weakest" and loved Fizz, (which….what about Beezlebub?)) he still should have known he was playing with fire. I get that he's supposed to be evil and intimidating but how could he have predicted that Ozzie would actually stand down and fill out the paperwork? He could have immediately came there and killed Crimson for all he knew. It's just distracting how..not planned this shit was.

- Fuck this episode for calling Striker a supremacist. It makes no sense?? Viv is trying SO hard to villainize him despite him being the one in the right and it pisses me off. He has every right to be mad at the upper class, he’s part of the lower class that we’re said Hell takes advantage of, but god forbid we call out Rich and powerful Stolas because that would mean he’s a b-bad person and we can’t have that complex morality! This is so not a “eat the rich” story and it shows bc Vivzie is rich as hell. Striker as a character deserves so much better man. Congrats writers, you had an interesting character and motive set up for him, now he’s nothing but a silly goon that you might as well kill off already cause you clearly don’t care about him. Crimson meanwhile is just a piece of paper, a boring plot device I could give less of a shit about. I thought his motive was to go after Moxxie, now he’s just doing fuck whatever because this show desperately wants a bad guy for their filler fanfic plots.

- We get more world building issues, Ozzie and Fizz are so determined to hide their relationship for obvious reasons, but then at the end of the episode just say “fuck it, no one would dare tell anyway”. So now they’re being open about their relationship and lmao I told y’all the newspaper scene of Ozzie being called out for being a hypocrite wouldn’t go anywhere. Even if Ozzie did threaten his workers to not tell, they can’t be so sure that someone wouldn’t see or snitch, it’s kinda a retcon too cause they were pretty lovey dovey in Ozzie’s. Still, it makes the characters look dumb and it makes the rules Viv set up for Hell once again not mean anything.

- We finally get to see Fizz’s backstory in action and it’s executed in the most underwhelming way possible. It’s literally a fucking 10 second clip of what went down, and rather than experiencing the event for ourselves, it’s in flashback mode but with Fizz’s voice talking over it. That’s it. I’ve seen fan comics/fanart that built this shit up better than Viv did, that actually took the slow time and dedication it needed, and here it feels like such an afterthought, like Viv could care less. Maybe if this actually was a character driven show like Viv claims, Stolas, Striker, and Crimson would be taken out of the picture and then that would leave us with PLENTY time to actually explore and develop Blitz/Fizz, bc most of this episode is just them pettily bickering and Stolas and Ozzie sitting around. But nah, we gatta have our fanfic kidnapping plot. Same goes for the reveal of Blitzo’s mom dying in the same fire. Glad to know that she got the same treatment Moxxie’s mom did, where we don’t even know her and yet we’re supposed to feel moved and care about her death. You nailed that one Viv. 👍

- I predicted that this episode would victimize Blitz and have the fire incident be an accident, (because Viv is a pussy writer and can’t make her characters actually do bad things like god forbid) but I never thought they’d actually have the balls to have Fizz forgive Blitz immediately in the same episode and pull the “actually turns out that horrible thing you did to me helped me in a way”- trope. Biggest flaw of the episode, fuck you Viv. I was actually going to applaud Blitz for taking accountability, but then the dialogue reminds you that an abuser wrote this, and he shifts his apology to “okay but I lost something too see so it’s not all about you” as if he’s fucking dismissing Fizz’s trauma and making it about himself. “I love flawed characters” my fucking ass. I would have smacked a bitch if I was Fizz because Blitzo loosing his mother in the fire too isn’t an excuse?? Fizz lost his fucking ARMS AND LEGS, and at the end of the day Blitzo STILL KNEW HE WAS HELPLESS IN THE FIRE BUT LEFT HIM BEHIND. He could have gotten help and came back, but didn’t. If this were a good show Fizz would have threw that apology back in Blitzo’s face and said “I don’t care if it was an accident or not, you still left me there and then proceeded to loathe me for years”. This is why Helluva will never be Bojack cause at least characters in that show who got treated horribly by him knew when to say “no, fuck you.”

- The episode retcons again, this time they make it out to be that Blitz TRIED contacting Fizz the years they were apart but no one would let him see him. Then they say that Fizz actually WANTED to see Blitz but assumed he didn’t want to, so their entire feud was solely because of miscommunication?? Number one, show don’t fucking tell omg. And number two, that makes ZERO sense. Blitz talked badly about Fizz in Loo Loo Land, and when they finally reunited in Ozzie’s, it was clear they fucking loathed each other. You got the impression that Blitz was petty and jealous just because Fizz was more popular, and Fizz not only loathed him for the accident, but liked to rub in his face about how much of a big shot he was. They literally do that in this episode too, so the episode is literally contradicting itself. Blitz and Fizz had multiple chances to meet up with each other, you can’t just say “oh they couldn’t because no one would let them”- So which is it? Did they hate each other because of bad blood, petty drama, or that they thought the other didn’t want to see them? Pick ONE Viv and stick to it, but she never does. Their feud was interesting and now you ruined it just to have some sweet happy ending. “Adult mature show” my ass lol.

-Bottom line is Fizz shouldn’t have forgave Blitz so easily, or forgave him period. I find it funny how he says “it’s hard to just forgive you” and then he literally does lol. I feel so bad for Fizz fans, him and Blitz’s feud was honestly interesting, so to see all of this go down in a half-assed piss poor way as if this was Care Bears is….wow. The fan interpretations had more thought and care put into this storyline but what else is new lol.

- I’m really tired of these shitty annoying songs. If you’re going to get Broadway actors, please put effort into your songwriting and actually have them sing something good, not something that’s literally nonsense. This Fizz song sounds like it took less than a minute to write and Sam Haft was just thinking of anything he could think of at the top of his head. Also Why the fuck are Striker and Crimson just STANDING there while Fizz sings. They look like idiots, just SHOOT them omg. If this were a funny show, Fizz would have started his first note and Crimson just rolls his eyes and pulls his gun out.

- Fizz and Ozzie kill the lawyer but not…Crimson? Despite Fizz knowing what ring he’s in and even Ozzie knowing what he looks like? Same for Blitz, he doesn’t try to make sure Striker is dead. I get that the plot demands for these two to still be around, but there’s a way to keep them alive without making the main characters look like fucking idiots. Also Stolas just leaves without doing or contributing anything to the plot yay.

- Fizz: “Let him have it, you could say he’s earned it”— Uhm….Nope. Blitz did NOT earn shit. He didn’t even earn Fizz’s forgiveness. Last time I checked, the moment Blitz cried and said it was an accident, Fizz forgave him, knowing he didn’t mean it. What effort did Blitz do to “earn” that as well as the crystal? Because he saved Fizz and didn’t leave him behind for the SECOND time near the end?? Cause if so than the bar is extremely low. That’s the bare minimum, just because Blitz cried and felt bad about it doesn’t mean he should be let off the hook Viv. I hate this so much, what a shitty conclusion, it feels forced just so Blitz can have the crystal and just so the writers can once again paint him as the one in the right. It’s almost insulting that they make it seem like Fizz was in the wrong for assuming Blitz starting the fire too, same for Barbie.

God what a shitty day it is to be a Fizz fan, I’m sorry. The episode did NOT do him justice. Fizzarolli deserved better than that half assed gaslighting apology for someone who lost their arms and legs man, and I’m tired of the show letting every character suck up to Blitz and Stolas for their horrible treatment just because they feel bad. Not only that but the episode (as most recent HB episodes) was a huge time waster. Everyone was really hoping for an in depth walkthrough of his character/backstory but again, when he’s not with Ozzie, the rest/most of his screen time is dedicated to him being helpless and pointlessly arguing with Blitz, plus a long dragged out nonsense song that didn’t need to happen. It felt like SO much time was wasted when we could have used the runtime we have to dive deeper and see more, like….again it would have been nice to see Fizz’s life AFTER the accident and how he became well known as well as how he fell in love with Ozzie, but his backstory is briefly scratched upon in a single scene and that’s it, all because Viv wanted this filler plot and wanted to dedicate more time to THAT rather than actual character expansion/development, something we could have got had you took out Stolas and Ozzie’s B plot and Striker and Crimson.

Viv is so on her way to murder/ruin every character that isn’t Blitz and Stolas and I won’t be here to watch further. I’ll check out the Mammon music video thing but that’s it man, this show is going off the rails, Adding Fizz to the character adoption list!

[jacks347]

So I was relistening to Sam for the billionth time and once again came across David lecturing Darlin for being dumb.

Now, this episode gives me...mixed feelings. It always has. And the point I'm about to make was actually one of the first I ever made on the Discord but y'all know me, never missing a chance to restate and overexplain.

I'm most definitely not the first person to point this out but Darlin's first interactions with Sam that get them chewed out are extremely similar to Milo's first interactions with Sweetheart. They both meet somewhere where the listener shouldn't be, they come to a tentative agreement, then fight something that gets them fucked up and was kind of stupid. The difference is, as far as we know, David never finds out about Milo's stupid mistake. And, if you ask me, a shade is far more dangerous than a couple of vampires.

Can you imagine that pack meeting? Darlin getting read the riot act, Milo sitting there knowing he did something just the same but got away with it. Do you think he called them out? Or do you think he stayed quiet, knowing he had no room to talk?

And more so, how do you think Darlin reacted when they found out the story of how Milo and Sweetheart first met? The indignant rage of knowing what he did and got away with, the memory of the burning shame they had to sit there and endure, the humiliation they felt getting lectured like a child. He did the same thing and got none of that. I always imagined that when Sweetheart told them that they had to go take a walk for a few minutes in order to keep a cool head and not explode and then refused to talk to Milo for three weeks so that the rage would calm down and they wouldn't have to suppress the urge to break his jaw whenever they spoke to him.

The point I first made was "Do you think Darlin holds a grudge against Milo for not getting the same lecturing that they did?" Maybe it's not a strong one, but it's there.

It's interesting how the same event characterizes people differently. In Darlin's case, we see them as reckless and stubborn, someone acting out without a plan. In Milo's case, we see him as strong and protective, wanting to help keep someone safe. How can the same even paint one character as a hero and one as a villain when they did the same thing?

Because of connotation, my friends.

Milo has been painted as the smart-mouthed but fiercely loyal and protective friend, so we (including the rest of the pack) want to see his actions in the same light. Darlin has been painted as a brooding, emotional outcast, someone who acts rashly but with good intentions, so we see their actions similarly. But that's not fair. It's not fair to Darlin, who just wanted to protect their friends, and it’s not fair to Milo, who needs to be reminded that him throwing himself in the problem headfirst in life or death situations isn't the solution.

In conclusion, Milo deserves to have his little excursion with Sweetheart revealed and be reprimanded out of respect for Darlin cause that shit ain't right and it bothers me.

(Also, one more thing. In Sam's first healing audio after the double vampire fight he asks why Darlin wouldn't just tell a healer to shut up and heal them when they started asking questions. But in reality, the healer that Darlin would've gone to while running on instincts probably would've been Marie and yeahhhh I'd like to see anyone tell that woman to shut up and do something. Don't fuck with Mama Greer.)

[haru-natsuka]

Second Male Leads Are all Yanderes but I Won't Rest Until I Win My Love Back (Female Reader x OCs)

CHAPTER 1

Story will start from below synopsis

Every second male lead who appeared in this world had a hidden yandere side that can emerge at any moment and turn them into a twisted and obsessive villain.

As someone with a severe case of the "second male lead syndrome", you are determined to pursue your love for the second male lead, leaving the original male lead to become the second.

While you were busy chasing after the second male lead, the original male lead kept on bothering you and trying to get you to choose him instead.

"Don't you dare to come any closer!" You snap at the original male lead, your tone sharp and firm.

"Oh, and who's going to stop me? You?" The yandere stares at you, a menacing look in their eyes, as their body slowly moves closer.

"Too close! Step back!"

"Your words mean nothing to me. You can't control me. I will come as close as I please, you can't stop me."

As if a yandere was not enough, when you chose to ignore the original male lead, another second male lead suddenly entered your life, further complicating the situation.

The yandere and the upcoming second male lead both seem determined to have you for themselves, and they were both very possessive and pushy in their approaches to you.

You just wanted to be happy with your true love. Yandere or not, you would stick with your crush!

CHAPTER 1: THE CONFESSION

How would you determine for a man to be the first or second male lead? From behind a bush, you secretly watched a famous young knight professed his love to the most esteemed lady at the academy.

Confessions of love are a natural thing, it was everyone's right to develop such a feeling. However, how could you confess when you were hanging out with your best friend who had a crush on the same girl? We should talk about the timing there! 

There was a clear idiot word displayed on the knight's forehead in your eyes. His look also looks a bit stupid with a dump grin as he passionately confessing his love, forgetting his bestfriend altogether. Self-centeredness and idiocy were not a nice combination.

The girl appeared shyly glancing at him while softly playing with her eyelashes, deeply engrossed in the moment. Their surroundings were filled with a colorful display of flowers, bathed in the gentle rays of sunlight. What a truly perfect match.

'Hey, Liesel and Cyrus! My man over there, yeah, the one who is being ignored and neglected by you guys is having a moment of deep sadness and heartbreak right now. If you could please be the best friends that you're supposed to be and show some compassion and support, that would be greatly appreciated.'

You sighed with disappointment as both of them cannot hear your thoughts. It appeared that you were the one who must take action to save your man. Your crush hung his head low, using his glistening silver hair to shield his face from the painful scene unfolding before him. Hiding behind this wall of silvery locks, you could witness him hiding his tears. 

That was the difference between the male lead and the second male lead. One was a courageous figure, while the other merely existed in service of the female protagonist, loving and watching her from the sideline. As if she deserved such a title.

Despite the apparent contrast between the male lead and the second male lead, you found your true interest in the latter. You preferred him who was not as bold or confident, but who was always considerate of others' feelings. Even though all his paintings related to that famous girl, you still would like to declare that,

'My man finally is officially available!'

You made your way to your man, his head still bowed, tears still streaming down his face. You reached out a reassuring hand and quickly pulled him away from the scene. He appeared confused, and you flashed a triumphant glance in his direction, a bright smile upon your face.

"It's alright Adrian. My love is only for you"

>> CHAPTER 2

[ahhhwomen]

Mom, I'm tired.

Vampire Empire

Part 2

Pairing: DarkVamp!Wanda Maximoff x DarkVamp!Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

A/N: Alright, so this writing style is not what I am used to, so feedback is definitely welcome. Due to me being unsure of this style I wanted to take a little longer to write part 2, but since yall liked part 1 so much I decided a shorter chapter was in order, I am already working on part 3, but yall gotta tell me how you feel about this one. Oh... and don't hate me for what i am about to do...

Disclaimer: English is not my first language. All mistakes are my own.

AU Warnings: Human pets, abuse, violence, possessiveness, probably incorrect vampire lore, angst, panic attacks, hurt/comfort, kitten play (?), also this is not a Carol positive fic (I have nothing against her, but I needed a villain), death Minors DNI 18+

Summary: You just want to rest.

Word Count: 1.4k

You don’t know what is happening, why- you try to pull in a desperate breath, but still, nothing. Why- why was this happening? What is happening?

Why can’t you move?!

The lesser scary of the two redheads secures herself tighter against you, now supporting your full weight. She has to shift from a crouched-down position to sitting completely in your little enclosure. Her ankle awkwardly bends beneath her thigh. The rough ground fraying her expensive dress pants.

There is a sensation like concrete pouring through your veins, you can hear your heartbeat slow, and immense pressure start building behind your eyes, but you are desperate for control over something, anything. So, as much as it pains you, you tiredly let your eyes roam around the room while trying to avoid the blank stare from the taller redhead.

Your vision takes in the scenery that has unfolded in your space, you drape your eyes over the walls, the horror of your evening with Master painted like a masterpiece, you then take a risk and slowly run your eyes over the lower half of the woman in front of you.

Wanda is standing like a woman in power, her feet spaced apart hip to hip, spreading her weight perfectly between the pair of high, amber, heels. There was a slight scuff to one of them, a chip in the plastic, whatever fell earlier must have fallen on that heel, you doubt she would walk around with an imperfect pair if not. You swirl your eyes to the ground beside her, a tusk of brown hair having caught your attention.

That’s when you see it. Staring right back at you are the lifeless eyes of the seller. Or at least that is the only name you have for him.

It’s at that moment that the reality of the situation finally sets in.

 

You go to let out a high-pitched whine, but no sound is made, and for the first time in a long time, you have this desperate need to cry.

You can’t even do that.

You don’t want to die.

Not like this.

You want to smell the fresh air in the cold mornings, you want to feel the sand beneath your toes, you want to taste the richness of vanilla inside a simple frozen dish, and you want to live. If only for a moment longer.

But-

There is nothing you can do.

Your body loses all will to fight, and you give up.

Wanda keeps track of your vitals while under her control, she doesn't want to hurt you, but you are out of line, and frankly, your behavior unsettles the redhead.

When she can see the fight drain from your eyes, she releases you.

She sighs as the strain in her muscles loosens, and she moves her neck from left to right, removing the remaining tenseness. A prickle in her spine begs her to stretch out her entire body, but this was neither the time nor place, though she does put a pin in it, maybe she should order a massage sometime soon.

As for you, there is no sign that you are back in control except for the desperate gasping for air.

You don’t know what to do with this newfound freedom, Romanoff´s hands are keeping you close to her, her heartbeat steady beneath your ear, but suddenly it’s all too much. The only thing you can do is let your ribcage expand and contract at a rapid pace, the pain grounds you as your bruised ribs sting you.

You no longer fight against Natasha’s grip, and there is no chance that you will either.

You are scared, they can both feel it, but it’s not like it was a moment ago. A moment ago you were fighting to stay alive, fighting because it is your instinct to do so, now, you have given up on even that.

Now, you are just scared, plain and simple.

Natasha rubs her hands up and down your back slowly, the fabric of her silken shirt bunches up with her elbows, and the roll of textile slides against your skin rhythmically. Your body tenses and relaxes at strange intervals, there is a mistrust between her motive and your tender flesh, yet you still crave comfort.

That is until you see Wanda shift from one foot to the other and Natasha’s hands move too close to your collar, you strain your body away from her palms.

Natasha huffs in slight annoyance and shifts her attention to her wife, “What was that?”.

She tries to keep her voice quiet enough to not startle you, but it’s a futile attempt and shortly after she has opened her mouth you are crawling out of her arms and back into your corner.

She can tell it pains you to move, the bruises along your arms and legs making it difficult to crawl in a fluid motion, and she sees you struggle your way under the lamp, but you manage. In the end, you swiftly slump back into the position you laid in when they first got here, the only difference being that you are too tired to move the rag back over your body.

Wanda merely shrugs, her perfectly fitted suit ruffling with the movement, “She was becoming aggressive.” To be truthful, your sudden outburst had taken Wanda by surprise, she didn’t even know what she was saying until it was too late.

Natasha sighs before standing and walking up to her wife, her pants now scuffed and dirtied. She brushed herself down, but the filth of this place wasn’t one easily removed. She gets a hold of her bearings and stands straight before she bothers with a disappointed reply.

“She was just scared, “ she shakes her head disapprovingly. They have lived long enough to see all types of people. And Natasha knows you're type, scared, abused, and skittish. A dog in the fighting ring, or a cat in this case.

Anything can make you snap and bare your teeth.

However, she also knows that taking your right to do so away, will only worsen your behavior in the long run. It never helps to use fear against someone who is already terrified.

Again, Wanda does nothing but shrugs and lifts her jacket to glance at her watch.

Playtime is over, they have places to be, and it saddens Wanda, but she knows they won’t be leaving here with a pretty girl like she had hoped.

It´s best for Natasha that she rips the band-aid off fast.

Wanda points over at your shaking body, “It’s clear Carol has her eyes on her. You know we can’t keep her.”

Wanda slumps in on herself while saying it, her shoulders lower and her back bows unnaturally, the seams of her suit stretching and pulling against the tight movement. After the words have been put out there, Natasha's face shifts and morphs until she settles for a relatively neutral, but rather grim expression. The right side of her lip lifted into a slight sneer; this was an unfortunate situation.

Natasha looks down at her hands, hands she had just held you in, there are specs of dried blood and dirt covering the expanse of her palms, she tightens her fist and takes a slow breath.

Carol is already enough of a handful. Taking her punching bag away from her will only make matters worse.

Leased pet or not, Carol owns you.

So, Natasha nods curtly, the back of her shirt rubbing uneasily against the nape of her neck.

“Well, let’s go then.” With no regard to the body at her heels she steps over the man and continues to strut down the hall with her wife following shortly behind. Someone will be by to clean him up and replace him with another pawn, it’s the way these places work.

And if she took a moment to listen in on your heartbeat one last time before they left, it wouldn’t hurt anyone that she kept that to herself.

It sounded wrong.

Whatever sympathy Natasha felt for you was quickly squashed down and ignored as she and Wanda returned to business as usual.

It’s for the best, a pet would only make them weak.

After the two mysterious women leave, you curl into yourself and a sob breaks through you before you can stop it.

Mom, I'm tired.

[lvpislvzuli]

If you are an Avatar fan then you’ve probably been rather bewildered by the unaccountable animosity that has developed toward Spider. What’s obvious is that the brains of some moviegoers are rather blank slates.

Here’s the thing—Spider Socorro’s arc in the film requires some reflection and analytical thinking on the part of the audience. Automatically labeling him a traitor or a Terrible Person demonstrates a lack of effort to understand this complex character.

Of course, it is natural that we may find ourselves frustrated with Spider for seemingly going along with the RDA/Recoms and for saving Quaritch’s life. After all, those are the bad guys! But if you take the time to analyze some of the plot points and Spider’s own personality and history, you can better understand his motivations.

Here are a few key takeaways to help you empathize with Spider’s choices. I think most Avatar fans will have already picked up on these.

One: Early in the film, Spider is kidnapped and interrogated by the RDA. An interrogation that borders on physical and mental torture. This is a sixteen-year-old kid who has never been in that kind of terrifying situation, so of course he’s going to take the first opportunity he has to escape, even if it’s with the Recoms on their mission to hunt down the Sullys. Anything to not be handed back to the lab coats, right? But even then he is still being held hostage by Quaritch, who places a tracker inside his Exopack to keep tabs on him. Spider is smart—he knows he has no choice but to tag along with the Recoms.

Two: It’s important to recognize that despite having spent his whole life on Pandora growing up in the forest among the Omatikaya People—befriending the Sully kids, painting blue stripes on himself, and speaking their language—Spider knows he is still just a human. And even though he has a confident personality, it is reasonable to assume that there are times when he feels different or inadequate. Sort of an “I need them, but they don’t necessarily need me” kind of situation that many of us can relate to.

But now Spider finds himself surrounded by a group of foreigners from Earth, who it turns out appreciates that he is Pandoran. Appreciates that he operates with the knowledge and physical capability of the Na’vi. Here he can prove his worth and skill, and it’s obvious that Spider gets caught up in the feeling of being useful (and of being smarter than the Recoms, because let’s admit it, Spider can be a bit cocky 😆).

However, this is only the case until he witnesses the violent potential of Quaritch and the Recoms in those heartbreaking scenes where they destroy Metkayina villages and murder Ilus. Spider has a wake-up call at this point in the film, and it’s here that he actually stops “helping” the RDA.

Three: Saving Quaritch from drowning. Spider’s decision to rescue Quaritch at the end of the film boils down to two inconvenient but very realistic and credible reasons.

A – Quaritch is his father. We cannot try to claim that a son choosing to save his father from death is an evil or traitorous act, even if the father himself is evil. Especially a father who potentially just saved his son’s own life, because I don’t think Neytiri was bluffing during that standoff. So yes, he’s clearly not happy about it, but at that moment Spider accepts that Quaritch may have saved his life, so in return he saves him from drowning.

And B – the simple fact that Spider is a good person.

In addition, I think some people have overlooked that at the end of the film, Spider ditches Quaritch and returns to the Sullys without hesitation. That speaks for itself to the resolution of his arc in this film.

So there you have it. I wanted to contribute this to the discourse in the hope that it might sway a few minds. Spider is a fascinating character, particularly because of his intrinsic relationships with both the heroes and villains of this story. Saving Quaritch’s life has put him in a really tough spot, and I don’t think this character is finished being caught in the middle. I’m very excited to see where Spider’s story goes.

Amazing writing James Cameron and amazing acting Jack Champion!

💙

[poorlittleyaoyao]

one of my very least favorite "jokes" is people making fin of qin su for "not knowing her husband is gay" or the array of fics where he's zero eprcent interested in her from the jump. Like way to take out all the tragedy in service of biphobia

GODDDDDD, I saw that in the same set of post notes that set me off yesterday--"durr hurr, poor girl got tricked into marrying this gay guy." Like, HOW? The Jin clan are by far the wealthiest and most powerful sect, and the Qin clan is one of their bannermen, and QCY and JGS are buddies. If JGY were a mustache-twirling villain trying to boost his status with an advantageous marriage and/or a gay man desperate for a beard, he has better options than a clan of middling wealth and significance that is already under Lanling's sphere of influence.

And they both had to fight for this marriage to happen! "QS was tricked into marrying him" is wild to me, because IIRC it says RIGHT THERE that she took the initiative in this relationship! A relationship that neither her father nor his was super enthused about! JGY was out here bothering JGS for this! JGY, the guy who famously does atrocities if daddy says jump, worked with QS to make sure this marriage happened! After all, while QS has the most to lose if the pregnancy plan goes south, JGY's not totally off the hook either; JGS could've very well punished him to appease QCY. Why the hell would he go through ANY of that if he didn't love her?

Like... you could maybe make a case for him not being attracted to her in CQL, where it's implied that he didn't sleep with her until their wedding night and he hates every second of it a choice that haunts me every day because what the fuck what the FUCK. But even there, he states that he pushed for the marriage, and feared to call it off in part because he'd "spent so much effort, went through such lengths to ask Qin Cangye for permission to marry his daughter... I had finally satisfied both Qin Cangye and Jin Guangshan." So even here he'd worked for it! Potentially antagonizing two noblemen, one of whom is his father the Chief Cultivator, is not worth the potential material benefits here! Even here, the only explanation that makes sense is that he loves her!

Which, you know, he says himself that he does. He says that he loves her to Lan Xichen's face, even, so like... pretty weird lie for a gay guy to tell his boyfriend. And if JGY were lying about everything... wouldn't he think of something better? He could throw QS under the bus and say she forced him. He could say the marriage was his father's idea and JGS directly ordered him to marry her. Both of these options are more readily understandable (and paint him as truly without recourse) than "I felt trapped by the potential ramifications of defying social expectations."

Now, people can write what they want when it comes to fic; if you're writing a canon divergence fix-it, then yeah, an easy way to avoid the incest is to have him simply not into women at all. You can even make a compelling case for comphet that he doesn't recognize for what it is until it's too late if you try hard enough. But in terms of broader trends rather than individual fic, and given the fandom trends of erasing WWX's attraction to women across all canons, or ignoring WQ's whole situation with JC in CQL canon to make her a Mean Lesbian(TM)... are you sure there's not biphobia at play? Are you really sure?

[ae-neon]

Nesta Vs ACOSF, a rambling rant

TW: mentions of sexual assault and abuse

Besides the "love" story that read like a quiet descent into domestic horror, ACOSF has one element that keeps me from being able to pick it up even just to sift through for Nesta gems: sex.

Here me out, I'm not a prude and I think we could have gotten a smutty romance but...

At her core, Nesta has always been a proud and modest person.

To be clear, with pride, I mean that her sense of self - her famous steel spine - has kept her together and unbroken even during harrowing circumstances. It's vital to her. It's so ingrained in her that - given we have no other explanation - we can assume it's what shields her mind from literal magic. However, like any trait, her pride can also be a thing that comes off as negative in the wrong situations.

With modesty, she was raised to keep a certain ideology that based her value on sex, beauty, marriage etc but it's important to understand that Nesta applied those standards inwards, at herself. (Eg In acotar, she brings up Feyre and Isaac in defence of her and Tomas, in acomaf, she is mostly upset about not hearing from Feyre or being notified that Feyre has switched courts - not about Feyre sleeping with Tamlin and then Rhys)

Now, I don't think Nesta's modesty makes her better than Feyre, in fact I was happy to get the representation of two different types of views on sex

But what I didn't consider at the time was that SJM was painting this out to be a negative trait.

In retrospect it seems obvious even though Nesta has defied her narrative destiny and become a sort of icon, at the end of the day she was still supposed to be written in a negative contrast to Feyre.

It seems funny but imagine you consumed the book the way Sarah intended, the way so many in the fandom have. The old Sarah Says rule, for my long time mutuals.

For example:

The dinner in acomaf - it's obvious Nesta is upset that she hasn't heard from Feyre only to have her come through not only as a whole Fae but bringing others and endangering their entire family.

But imagine it as a one dimensional reading and suddenly the "I fuck" dialogue is a girlboss moment of feminism giving a fuck you to the strict patriarchy of the "mortal lands" let's ignore how the Fae are actually more patriarchal and the Illyrians even more so than that

So understand that Nesta's modesty is being directly contrasted with Feyre's sexual freedom. The reader - at least from sjm's perspective - is supposed to agree with Feyre and disagree with Nesta in a sort of win/lose, yes/no, black/white dichotomy.

And because sjm is consistent and boring and a self-inset author, this dynamic doesn't change even when the protagonist does.

Only now sjm and her feminism has changed from fuck-whoever-I-want girlboss to kinky-but-only-with-my-husband tradwife

So Nesta can't be prudish and cut off because 1) it's not as conducive to the breakdown of self and buildup of a dependent and abusive relationship and 2) it's not in direct contrast with Feyre's current monogamous, traditional family values character.

So Nesta starts drinking and sleeping around and it's not because we're going to explore the unraveling of the pride and modesty at the core of the character as part of her transformation or as a result of her trauma

But because it's supposed to be a bad look, degrading, it shows she's failed, it makes her a loser

All of that is already insane. And even more so when taken with the context of her assault by Tomas and the sex centred relationship she has with Cassian

Now add to that the fact that in the book, Nesta is an object of desire for 2 villains and undergoes assault and drowning AGAIN

Sjm literally gives less than 2 fucks about SA, that much is obvious even from the way she inflicts and then disregards the experience of both Feyre and Rhysand respectively. It's a tool for her, a quirky story element

But to have Nesta experience such a similar thing - especially when the experience of being Made can be read as a sort of rape allegory on its own - and all for the sake of "romance" fantasy??

Even Nesta's reading habits are sexualised, to be clear I don't think there's anything wrong with reading smut, but the scope of her intellect and reading is narrowed down when we're suddenly made to believe most of the books she reads are smut.

This is someone who likely taught herself economics and investment within months in order to not just pay off the debt, upgrade her whole family's way of life but also rebuild the family fortune. Someone who, having stopped schooling at around 14/15, did the math needed to calculate the feasibility of the evacuation of a small country.

Someone who's verbally stated life goal was to see what a woman could make of herself in the world.

Even her love of reading is used as a stepping stone for how horny she is, instead of it being a result of her deeply ingrained need for escapism

She reads smut because the only thing she has in common with Cassian and the IC is sex. Because sjm thought one of the core elements of a friendship between 2 SA survivors and a disabled woman from a culture that mutilated her for being born a woman would be their desire to fantasise about men.

All the while the male love interest treats her like garbage.

We could have had a smutty book filled with sex where each scene could have been the growth of Nesta's trust and love of Cassian through intimacy. It could have been a sexual relationship that involved and explored kink - which explored vulnerability and the negative impact of how Nesta's pride became a source of stress and strain.

It could have been an exploration about the complicated relationship with desire and oppressors that many survivors have. But it isn't.

It's hahaha horny, so RELATABLE

Even when it comes to the abusive situation Nesta grew up in, it's just hung up like decoration on the character. Not explored, let alone healed. I don't wanna hear that sjm explained or explored Nesta's abuse when we don't even get her mother or her grandmother's names

We don't get

The complexity of being a trapped and abused woman who came from a trapped and abused woman who came from a trapped and abused woman

Or the complexity of a dysfunctional family

Or even the journey of recovery from addiction and self-harming behaviour

Now, not every aspect of Nesta or any survivors lives have to boil down to how it relates to their experiences but SJM is praised for her "recovery" and so much of this book is about sex and abuse but has no depth

It could have been a less-deep, fun experience of sex and desire and kink. But no

Nesta has sex with many faceless men because sjm is condemning her as a failure. Sex is her punishment, it makes her dirty and unworthy and cheap.

Then, through her "healing", she becomes a sex doll for the right guy. Sex is her reward, it makes her hot and useful and appealing.

Sjm writes not just like a man but like a particularly talented misogynist so it's the way sex is used that really puts me off

Edit: ultimately I think the sex and romance should have interacted with and evolved her pride, modesty and past experiences, rather than those things being demolished to turn her into a sex doll

[coralinnii]

being reincarnated into a new world as the bad guy pt. 3

feat. Vil, Idia, Malleus

note: no pronouns used for reader, reader is different for each character, I might write blurbs cuz I like the villain/ess genre

part 1 part 2 part 3

series masterlist

For heroes to succeed, a villain must fall. Novels, films, and games taught generations to never pity the wicked who stands in the heroine’s way, but you couldn’t bring yourself to follow these sentiments. Your heart goes out to the villains and villainesses who drowned in their grief, trapped in a heartless situation, and abandoned by their beloved. Why is it their fault they fell in love with someone who doesn’t love them back? Could their lives be different if given the choice?

“Why couldn’t they be loved too?” You had your final thoughts as you drifted to sleep, only to wake in a startling new yet familiar reality.

Where is this and why do they keep calling you by the villain’s name?

Someone pinch you, you must be dreaming, right? Not only were you in your favourite romance manga, but you were also the partner of the Vil Schoenheit, your absolute bias! Yes, he was technically the antagonist of the series and you were his indifferent partner, but you were on cloud 9.

The story was that your husband was envious of the admiration the male lead, Neige and his love interest seem to so easily gain in the social circle. Eventually, his envy drove him to poison his rival and scar the beloved hero, only to inevitably be caught and ostracized. The plot painted your husband to be a vain noble that couldn’t handle competition, but you knew how hard he worked and his genuine efforts to earn his title as the perfect noble.

You raked your brain trying to figure out how to save your beloved from his frankly unfair fate, but Vil and Neige are bound to meet frequently due to their titles as the most sought-after nobles in the kingdom. Your only hope was to stop your husband’s plot to poison the count’s son and save his image.

You reincarnated before this expected event and not wanting to ask your husband to not poison someone (no matter how handsome he’d be, that is not a look you want to see), you waited for that impending day in hopes to foil it.

But who said you couldn't find some enjoyment? Afterall, you had the luxury of being in the same household as your favourite character. If you weren’t at the mansion helping as much as you can to ease the burden on your husband, you spent your time singing praises for your beautiful beloved to anyone who was willing to hear. Your consistent praise has been said to rival the famous count and Vil’s closest knight, Rook.

“He’s so amazingly patient with me, teaching me my duties as part of the Schoenheit family!” “He’s the image of grace and elegance! His cool eyes leave me in tears! Of happiness, of course!”

Vil was not blind to the change in his partner, but he doesn’t really question it as all he wanted from you was a partner that would not disgrace the family name. He ignored the feelings of warmth when you smiled at him every time you two passed by each other at home, as though he was the center of your whole world. He did ponder for a moment how strange it was that the innocent energy that Neige exude irks him was almost endearing when it was you. Speaking of which, why were you so close to that man?

Even if Vil is your favourite, you were a fan of Neige as well. He was as sweet as the story wrote and you learned that he admired your husband as well (the hours of appreciating Vil were frequent). Plus, being as close as you could give you a higher chance to stop the poisoning attempt. Unfortunately, high society was hungry for gossip, and you became their favourite treat.

“Have you heard, Schoenheit’s newest partner has been seen around the adorable count heir” “Like a moth, always attracted to the prettiest things~”

Vil knew not to take rumours seriously, but the whispers were fuel to the budding anxiety towards the beloved heir of the count. He saw how well-matched you were with the sweet raven-haired boy. He knew Neige would give you the time and care you deserved unlike himself who had to push you aside for the sake of his duties. He believed that you would be happier if you were separated from him for the obviously kinder man. He wanted you to be happy, he truly did.

But he still offered the poisoned glass of champagne to that wretched man.

Your face pale in dread. Your husband has never offered anyone a drink, much less his rival. He was pulled away by an acquaintance and now you were left with a heavy feeling in the pit of your stomach. The situation was too tricky to maneuver as all eyes were on the three of you. Knocking the glass is too inconspicuous and if left out too long, the drink would darken and be investigated, and your beloved will be the prime suspect.

You had to think fast. You had to work quick.

“Sir Neige, could I try your drink?” You smiled as sweetly as you could, hiding the nervous shake of your hands. “My drink is a bit strong for me”

Kind as he was, Neige exchanged your glasses without your husband’s notice. It only took a sip of this poison to take effect and the rest of the content would be tested and traced to the Schoenheit business. It presented as an allergic reaction when consumed but it was categorized as poison when investigated in pure liquid form. You had to do it.

Steeling yourself, you downed the drink to its last drop and stood back with a smile. It’s useless to run now so you’d have to stand there and be ready to act surprised.

You turned to see your husband, who locked his eyes with yours. You smiled in reflex, but tears were starting to fill your eyes as a burning sensation took over your throat. Before long, you felt unable to breathe freely. You cough erratically, dropping to your knees as you claw at your throat as a desperate attempt to ease the fiery pain you feel. The guards rushed to you as Neige panicked beside you, unsure of what’s happening. As your vision blurred and your conscious mind slipping away from you, you thought you heard a familiar voice scream out your name.

It had been a while since you reincarnated into this strange world. Were it not for the existence of magic and unbelievable creatures, you would alternatively think you went back in time instead.

You were “born” and raised in a family known for their strength. Members of your families have grown up to be either knights or battle strategists. You and your siblings were training rigorously as your kingdom was expecting an attack from an ambitious rival kingdom.

While your family were confident in your skills, you knew your family were worried over unpredictable obstacles, namely the vicious beasts hiding in the forest surrounding your kingdom. The royal family commanded the collaboration between your family and the Shroud family, famous for technological inventions beyond their time. That’s when you met their sons.

To say they’re different from most nobles you’ve met was somewhat of an understatement. Idia was fidgeting in his seat in front of you and your siblings, somewhat unbecoming of the heir but the most interesting is his brother who wore articles of what looked like metal coverings on his limbs and most notably the lower half of his face. You kept your mouth shut so as not to disrespect the brothers. Your siblings, mainly your tactless brother, was not as delicate.

“What is with your lazy posture?! And the small one, what is that crazy costume you have on??!” Your brother loudly exclaimed at the Shroud brothers which earned a sharp jab in the ribs by both you and your older sister. “What??”

As your sister dragged your brother out into the hallways, you took the chance to bow your head towards the Shroud brothers, apologizing for your brother’s rather brutish tone.

That surprised Idia, not the sudden exclamation of your brother but for you and your sister’s scolding over his actions. He’s used to people spewing insults towards him and his brother’s odd appearance but rarely do people apologize, especially families with such high status.

You stayed with the brothers, mainly chatting with the more talkative brother, Ortho until your family started their carriage ride home. Still, even when their mansion was out of sight, your thoughts drifted to the Shroud family, mainly the brothers. Their features were so unique and almost a work of magical art themselves, you weren’t sure if they caught you being mesmerized by their flowing blue flames of hair.

You couldn’t speak for your family, but you particularly enjoyed your visits to the Shroud family. You heard that Idia was inventing an aura radar that could help soldiers to detect the presence of magical beasts and you were impressed. But you were even more in awe when you found out he was creating a sort of battle simulation “game” using magic to project visual avatars and reviewing past battle strategies that you were happy to share with him.

“You never fail to amaze and captivate me, Idia. You are seriously incredible.”

“WH-WHAT?! You muscleheads seriously have no subtlety, suddenly saying all that!”

Idia’s mind almost becomes a disarray whenever you are here. Your forward nature leaves him a flustered mess with your honest heart and cavalier attitude towards personal space (though you do back away when asked, to his dismay relief). But he does appreciate that you seem fond of Ortho as he is to you. The younger Shroud gets excited when you offer to walk around with you, even though the both of you keep insisting the older brother to join. You were someone that is easy to love but he kept himself from falling for you because of your differences. No two people could be more opposite than you two, convincing himself that you can never be.

He was sure he could hold his feelings back, until he and his brother were invited to the send-off party by the royal family for the soldiers.

“Eeekk!! How horrid!” A noble’s daughter didn’t hide her disgust when she saw the younger Shroud brother. He typically kept his mouth guard, but he was too tempted to try the mouth-watering pastries at the party. He thought he was away from prying eyes, but he was unfortunately wrong.

“Oh my, those scars...how disturbing” More nobles gawked at Ortho while he tried to wear his mouth guard, but his frazzled mind couldn’t bring his fingers to hold still. His scars were remnants from the beast attack he barely escaped from, but high society was not sympathetic and he was pushed to hide his face and limbs.

More reactions were shared throughout the crowd, either faces of disgust or sneers. Idia who was lost in his own anxiety didn’t realize what the commotion was about until he was too late, and the crowd kept growing which kept him too far to reach his brother.

RRRIIIPPPP

A loud sound tearing cloth caught the onlookers’ attention and looked to the source of the harsh noise. You stood with your sleeve ripped from your once pristine uniform and your arm, littered with both old and new scars of various sizes.

“Do you have a problem with scars?” You almost growled your words as your gaze pierced through the attendees who looked away in fear, many physically backing away from the heat of your glare. “You all have the audacity to point at a child then call yourself of noble class?”

A few foolish souls attempted to speak back but your older siblings came to stand beside the youngest kin. Your brother sneered at them, purposefully making a show of reaching his sword and your sister, though silent, stared down at them letting be known that she won’t be stopping what may come next.

Idia was close to tears. He felt such a disconnect towards this entire kingdom for the longest time and his brother was his only light in his world. However, a different light came to him as he saw you wrapping your arms around his brother and escort him somewhere safer.

He fell hard and he can’t bring himself to hate it.

You failed to change anything. You were publicly ridiculed and your engagement with the crown prince was officially annulled. You tried so hard to protect your friendship with your betrothed so that you would hope that he could at least spare you and your family the humiliation.

Accusations were falsely proclaimed that you attempted to harm his true love and that your family wanted to usurp the current royal family. None of it was true but all of the most powerful and influential figures in the kingdom would rather believe the words of the mysterious transfer student than you. Afterall, she was the main protagonist.

Apparently in his highness’ “kindness”, your family will be ostracized from nobility and to renounce their valuables. You held your tears in the ballroom, but you couldn’t stop once you reached the empty garden, away from spiteful eyes. All of your careful steps and efforts to avoid the bad route in this accursed dating game was for naught as you still end up as the ill-fated rival for the protagonist to beat.

Once you calmed down, you finally realized a pair striking green eyes looking your way. You saw a tall fellow standing a few feet from you. It was your mysterious friend you met some time ago at this very garden. His tall stature and striking features were unmistakable. The garden was sparsely lit but he still glowed in his own way, almost otherworldly in a way.

“Dear human”

Years ago, your betrothed held a birthday party and you snuck away to be away from the judgmental stares and whispers of the nobles who idolized the prince but despised you. You walked aimlessly through the maze when a deep timber brought you out from your daze.

“I didn’t realize someone else was here” his deep voice startled you.

“I-I’m sorry I didn’t notice you there either. What brings you here?” You asked but the long-haired man didn’t reply, still observing you. You then had a thought. “Oh! Are you lost?”

You remembered how you kept getting lost in the royal garden and you imagine that this new noble was too embarrassed to say it. You put on an understanding smile and held out your hand. “Please, let me help you”

His eyes widened for a small moment before chuckling before accepting your hand. As you two weaved out from the maze of a garden, you pointed out the flora of the garden that the gardener taught to you and even the mysterious nobleman added his own factoids, especially on certain statues and gargoyles. Everyone you met either had greedy intentions or quietly berated you as the fiancé of the prince, so you laughed at the refreshing conversation.

After everything that day, you were grateful for this moment of sweet peace. You reach the entrance of the garden and while a little reluctant, you retract your hand away from the new man. Afterall, you were engaged and you could ruin this man if rumours were to come of this.

“Ah I never told you my name!” You realized a little late, introducing yourself before waiting for him to do the same.

“You may call me as you please” he surprised you again. Was he ashamed of his background?

You appraised his features, pondering on a name befitting this man who was beautiful but with a demeanor that was sharp and almost dangerous.

“How about Belle Amour? Like the flower” you said which managed a slight change in his expression as his eyebrows noticeably shot up before chuckling at your choice.

“I never knew humans like you could be so charming”

Since you two have been exchanging letters. Still as mysterious as ever, he instructed you to send your letters to the home of Duke Vanrouge and he or his son would deliver his. However, you chose not to question his methods as you worried his situation was a sensitive topic.

And now, you meet again in the same garden. You smiled at him through your glassy eyes, but he didn’t return the gesture.

“I didn’t know you were coming”

“I was invited, which was surprising”

“Ah, the crown prince must have invited everyone to announce his true love and how despicable I was” you let out a heartbreaking laugh at the harsh fate of the brokenhearted. Your dark-haired friend said nothing as he saw your shaking figure and your efforts to hold back tears from returning. You didn’t deserve this, he thought.

Your escort knight found you and urged you to return so you could discuss your family’s future. You let out a sad sigh and told him to ready the carriage and you’ll meet him at the castle’s entrance.

“Well, I’m happy at least. I got to see you for the last time” you forced a smile. You assumed that once you were a commoner there was no way a noble like him would ever contact you again. “Goodbye, Mr. Belle Amour”

He kept his eyes on you and you were tempted to wait if he wanted to speak more with you. When he stayed silent, you felt a little disappointed but left with a dignified bow, turning to make your way out of the garden, to your fate according to the world’s happy ending.

Once you were out of sight, a figure akin to a young man emerged from the other side of the maze and a few steps behind the taller man.

“Such misfortune to fall on that poor child.”

“Lilia” the emerald-eyed man turned to him. “Have the men check the preparations once more. Tonight is the night”

When you reach the doors of your home, you barely register the figure of your parents as they immediately rush to your side. Their panicked and confused expressions hinted to you that they were informed of the family’s fate. As your parents asked you what happened at the party, you broke down into tears once more as you held onto your mother for support.

“Mother, I’m so sorry! The family is ruined because of me!” You cried into the older woman’s shoulders, begging for forgiveness.

Gently, your mother gently pulled you to face her. “What are you talking about? I was talking about the proposal”

Now you were the one confused. Your parents gestured you to the mountains of the gifts piled nearly from wall to wall near the entrance of your home. From the brightest of gems to the most extravagant of designer clothing were almost too much for your servants to handle as they tried to organize the seemingly endless presents.

“Duke Vanrouge’s son and his colleagues came with carriages of gifts, saying they were gifts for the family, asking for permission to court you in hopes of marriage on behalf of their master” your father explained as you surveyed each item. Your eyes landed at the large arrangement of flowers, a beautiful bloom of pink Belle Amour roses.

“Be careful!” One of your maids warned you. “Those roses have thorns!”

Despite her warnings, you reached out to find a small piece of parchment tied delicately to the stem of one of the roses. Carefully, you untied the letter from the flower and unfurled it to read:

My dear human, I will come to take you away soon.

    From your Belle Amour, Malleus Draconia

Well shoot. You’ve just captured the hidden character and popular capture target of the game, the powerful Dragon King.

[ghostsy]

A Spotted Mind

WARNINGS: yandere, abuse of power, possessiveness, nsfw, smut, non-consensual implications, implied kidnapping

A/N: i'm not sure how i feel about this, but it took me longer than it should've, so i'm posting it. ^^

read at your own discretion.

yandere ! SHINSO HITOSHI X READER

“I don’t understand.”

“Look, I know it isn’t exactly fair, but–”

“No. I mean, I don’t understand.” Calloused hands ran through purple locks, pulling, tugging, anything to alleviate the building frustration. 

“Years. Years risking my life, years saving lives, years doing everything a hero is supposed to fucking do.” There was a humourless laugh cutting through the words.

This couldn’t be fucking happening. He started pacing, hands unsure, clenching and unclenching their fists, rubbing down his face.

“And where does that get me? Back in elementary school apparently, where everyone’s scared of the freak with the villain’s quirk.” His eyes hardened, flashing with memories he thought he’d long buried, fears he had long killed. 

“Stop.” His former mentor’s voice, monotonous as ever, made him pause; he turned to meet his eyes–well eye and eye patch. “Those are the terms, like it or not. And while I, personally, err on the side of not, that won’t get us anywhere.”

“So what? I don’t have any choice? Let the Hero Commission fuck about with my life all they want, or give up my hero license? You can’t be serious.”

The black haired man sighed, “Things are a little different than in my day, kid. Even underground heroes have to appeal to the public now–”

He scoffed, “I’d hardly say I’m the most unlikeable hero. Or did they happen to forget the guy who explodes buildings and yells at reporters like it’s a sport? Oh, but he’s number two, and makes tween girls wet, so fuck me, I guess.”

“You can sit here throwing a pity party for yourself, if that’s what you want. But you have a choice to make: give up the dream you’ve worked so hard to achieve, the dream you’ve bled for, the dream people have died for…” Uncrossing his arms, his mentor pushed off the wall.

“Or,” He headed for the door, hand catching on the frame, “Go to therapy.” 

He paused, turning; a sly smile played at his lips, “Who knows, you might actually like it.”

. ♡ .

“Nice to meet you! No…Nice to meet you! Ugh, that’s worse. I feel like I’m going to throw up.”

She huffed out a sigh, smoothing over her pencil skirt in the floor length mirror, and shook the nerves from her body. She squared her face into a serious expression, reaching a hand towards her reflection.

“Nice to meet you, Mr…” Her hand hung mid air, eyes searching the ceiling for an answer before she groaned, smacking a hand over her face. “What am I even supposed to call him? His hero name? Or…is that too impersonal?” 

She started pacing, “No. You don’t know him, you aren’t friends.” Her hands rubbed at her face, “But this is supposed to be a comfortable environment.” 

She didn’t hear the knock at her door as she muttered to herself, “Hero name or real name. Hero name or real name…eenie meenie–”

“Uhh, am I interrupting something?”

She yelped, jumping a bit in her skin, before scrambling to contain herself.

“Ah! Hello!” She cleared her throat in an attempt to rid herself of the squeakiness, “Hello, it’s nice to meet you, Mr–” She tripped over the plush chair in front of her on her way to greet him, only to be caught by toned arms instead of old leather.

He helped her up as she dusted herself off, flustered, and embarrassed. Looking into lilac eyes, she found indifference and annoyance. How should she deal with this?

“Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry. That was incredibly unprofessional.” She sighed, introducing herself, “How would you like me to address you?”

He gave her his name, “I’m not exactly a working hero right now, anyway.” His face twisted in irritation, and she made a mental note, painting a pleasant smile on her lips.

“The Hero Commission informed me of your situation. I promise, spend the next six months with me, and I’ll send you home with a stamp of approval, and then you can get right back to saving lives.” She giggled a bit, reaching a hand to her face like a schoolgirl sharing a secret, “But, between you and me, I think this is complete bullshit.”

His eyes widened a fraction in surprise, softening a bit, and she fist pumped in her mind. Nailed it!

“In any case, we should get started. Sit, please.” She gestured to the couch across from them, and he took a seat. She cleared her throat as she sat herself in her chair, “I assume you know why you’re here with me today?”

He rolled his eyes, “Yeah.”

A beat. Nope, okay, that’s all she was getting right now. Time to change tactics.

“You know, since we’re going to be spending a lot of time together these next few months, it might be best to get to know each other a bit before diving in head first. Is there anything you’d like to ask me?”

His eyes scanned her, analyzing, sizing her up, “You look a little young to be a therapist.”

Internally she sighed, she was expecting that one, “I’m twenty-four, so you’re technically correct. However, I assure you, I am more than qualified.”

He scoffed a bit, “What, am I your first client or something?”

“As someone who has worked as a hero since age fifteen, I’m sure you understand that there is no age requirement to start helping people.” She supposed it was her fault for opening this door in the first place.

He huffed, rolling his eyes, “Whatever you say, doc.”

Well, that was annoying. She sighed, No, she could do this.

“Do you know why the Hero Commission sent you to me?”

“Like I said, I–”

“No.” She kept the pleasant smile on her face. No time like the present, she supposed, “I mean, why they sent you to me.”

He was growing agitated, she could tell, “No.”

“Well, I may know a thing or two about having a villainous quirk.”

. ♡ .

So she could read minds. Big deal. He kicked a stray rock along the sidewalk as he walked home. He huffed, shoving his hands in his pockets. That was hardly villainous. It’s not like she could do anything with that. He could mind control, for fuck’s sake.

But, he paused, he supposed he could see her point. He’d spent a good part of their hour and a half session on edge, wondering if she had looked into his mind, violated his privacy.

She had given him a sheepish smile, and assured him she wouldn’t use her quirk without his permission. To which he became even more suspicious. If she wasn’t reading his mind, how did she know what he was thinking?

“How do I know what you’re thinking if I’m not reading your mind, right?” She’d giggled. He had had half a mind to walk out right there.

“Believe it or not, you’re an incredibly easy person to read. Your emotions are written all over your face.”

Well, fuck you too, then. No one on the planet had ever told him that. In fact, he took pride in the monotonous, uncaring mask he’d perfected over the years.

“Oh, please don’t take offense,” She fiddled with her fingers before looking back up at him, “it’s…a side effect. Of my quirk. I can’t really turn that part off–the…understanding people part.”

She was an endearing little thing, he’d give her that. “S’fine.” He’d avoided her gaze in part embarrassment, and part annoyance. No. He wasn’t supposed to like her. This whole thing was happening against his will.

He huffed out a sigh, eyes following the setting sun. Six months. Six months, and he’d be free. He could do that. But he’d be damned if he enjoyed it.

. ♡ .

“Bullshit.”

She laughed, almost doubling over when she met his dull eyes, “I’m serious!”

“You’re just trying to one up me right now; there’s no way you got expelled for using your quirk,” He scoffed.

“I did!” She stifled her laughter to explain, “Granted, I’d read the teacher’s mind to get answers to a test, so it wasn’t completely unwarranted.”

He quirked an eyebrow, and she knew she was being judged, “In my defense, I was like twelve, and terrible at algebra.”

He remained unimpressed, “So you cheated,” he crossed his arms, “How did they even know you used it?”

“Well, I have to make eye contact, you know,” He nodded as she explained, “So, it’s not exactly discreet, but–”

“Okay, but if you’re in someone’s mind, how would they know that?”

“Let me finish! So, I’m flipping through Mrs. Kamakura’s mind, and–”

“Flipping?”

“Mhmm! People’s minds are like…storybooks. You get little flashes of images as you–sort of think of it as–as you’re flipping the page,” She paused, “Wait, you don’t get that?”

“What the fuck? No, IMAX, I don’t get that. It’s like…” He trailed off, eyes searching for the explanation, “It’s like once I’ve got them, I’m holding a leash, and wherever I guide, they follow. There’s no image, just a feeling of…control.”

She blinked, and he nearly cursed himself for freaking her out, only to be met with the sound of laughter, “Wait, wait, so–oh my god–that’s like, you gotta know that sounds kinky as fuck, right?”

He felt his face heat, and while he knew he should be disgusted, he let his mind flash with an image: he had to admit, she’d look good like that, at his feet, eyes wide, thighs pressed together in anticipation of what he’d make her do next—thank god she was too much of a goody two shoes to look inside. 

He squared his face back to neutral, “I could have your license revoked for that, you know.”

She settled, a warm smile at her lips as she shrugged, “You’re more than welcome to take your complaints up with the Hero Commission, but I can’t guarantee your next therapist will be nearly as fun as me.”

He rolled his eyes, fighting back a smile, “You’re hardly a therapist.”

“Oh my god,” She gasped mockingly, “You are so rude! No wonder you got stuck with me.”

He laughed, and as he caught sight of the twinkle in her eyes, a feeling he couldn’t quite place bubbled in his chest.

. ♡ .

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Look, I know it’s not exactly a pleasant memory, but–”

“I said, I don’t want to talk about it.” He crossed his arms, avoiding her gaze.

She sighed out his name, “You’ve been coming to see me for a few weeks now, and we have yet to even talk about the reason you’re here in the first place.” She really did like talking casually with him, but she had a job to do, never mind how he huffed at her like a petulant child.

“You’re the one who said that reason is bullshit, so I don’t know why you’re pressing the issue.” 

Yep. She knew that would come back to bite her. 

“Just because it’s bullshit doesn’t mean it has no consequences,” She was trying so hard to stay the good guy; she finally felt like he’d started to trust her, “I understand what it’s like to–”

“You don’t understand anything. So you got kicked out of school when you were twelve for cheating on a test,” He scoffed, “Do you have any idea what it’s like to have the people you’re trying to help look at you like you’re a—like you’re a fucking monster?”

She opened her mouth to respond, but he cut her off.

“No, you don’t,” His eyebrows knit together in frustration, “I’m out there trying to save the lives of people who hate me while you’re in here making small talk with whoever’s unlucky enough to pass through your door. It’s not the same thing.”

There was a beat of silence, and something twisted in his chest when he caught a glimpse of the kicked puppy look that crossed her face. Before he could apologize she began speaking. 

She rolled her lip between her teeth, sighing, “You know, you’re the first hero client I’ve ever had.” He opened his mouth to respond, but she wasn’t finished, “I mean, technically, you were right, I haven’t really had clients before, either.”

His brow furrowed in confusion, “Then, what–”

“I told you I was expelled from school when I was twelve, but I never told you that that was the last school I ever went to,” A melancholy look glazed over her eyes, “Somewhere along the line, don’t ask me how, the Hero Commission was informed of my quirk–apparently mind reading is rarer than you think.”

She started to fiddle and pull at her fingers as she avoided his gaze, “I spent the next six years in special schooling, before interrogating captured villains for the Hero Commission,” A humourous laugh left her, “my parents were just so excited at the prospect of their little girl being some type of hero.”

“But, you know,” Her voice started to shake, “When you’re invading someone’s mind, stealing their thoughts, no matter how many bad things they’ve done, no matter how villainous they claim to be,” she swallowed the unshed tears, eyes hardening, “When they fight, and claw, and beg for you to just please, get out of their head, you don’t feel like anyone’s hero.”

He knew the feeling well, and as he listened, he found a sort of familiarity in her words. Had anyone been able to put his thoughts into words before?

She smiled a bitter smile, “So, yeah, I know what it’s like to be looked at like a…fucking monster.”

He swallowed, hating the break in her voice. “I didn’t know that.”

She cleared her throat, “As the years went by, I wasn’t just interrogating villains, I was talking to them, helping them,” Her eyes shifted, “They’re people too, you know. They deserve a chance just like the rest of us–to change.”

That bubbling feeling in his chest started to boil. He decided he kind of liked it. The warmth of it. Of her.

She huffed out another laugh, “So imagine my surprise when the Hero Commission came to me with a new challenge. Not a villain. But a hero. A hero to help.” She finally met his gaze, “You.”

. ♡ .

She tossed a few newspaper articles on the glass table in between them, gesturing for him to sort through them. He rolled his eyes, reluctantly obliging.

“Well?” She asked earnestly.

He quirked a brow, lifting his gaze to meet hers, “Well?”

“How do those articles make you feel?”

He scoffed, “Oh, fuck off.”

She laughed lightly, “I’m serious. Come on, tell me. How do they make you feel?”

“You know, for a fake therapist, you’re awfully stereotypical.”

“Now you fuck off, I’m not a fake therapist,” Her lips pulled into a crooked grin, “You know, if you don’t wanna talk about it, I could always take a peek? Would just take a second.” Her smile turned mischievous.

He hated the way his chest warmed, a smile pulling at his lips, “What, you spill your deep dark secrets to me, and it only takes two months to start threatening me?”

“I’m not threatening you.” 

The singsong in her voice made him want to take her over his knee. Brat. Wait. Fuck–he really needed to stop thinking of her like that. But he couldn’t help the way his cheeks heated as he imagined it.

Ass on full display, glowing red. Hands numb as he trapped them in one of his own while she cried. Her hair sticking to her face with the wetness, begging for his forgiveness. He’d give it to her, of course he would. But, he’d tell her, stroking the dome of his canvas, she needed to earn it first.

He shook himself from his thoughts and rolled his eyes playfully, turning back to the articles.

‘UNDERGROUND HEROES: ARE THEY REALLY HERE TO PROTECT YOU?’

and another few with his hero name plastered at the top,

‘MIND CONTROL HERO USES QUIRK ON UNSUSPECTING CIVILIANS’

and

‘HERO OR VILLAIN IN DISGUISE? THE TRUTH ABOUT AN UNDERGROUND HERO.’ 

“I feel like these are complete bullshit.”

She looked unimpressed, “Bullshit is not a feeling.”

He searched her eyes for mercy, and found none, “Fine,” he groaned, “I feel angry. I feel like no matter what I do, I just can’t fucking win; I’m always the bad guy, like this one–”

He pulled up the second article, “Unsuspecting civilians?” He scoffed, “I was responding to a domestic violence call, sue me for telling a guy to stop beating his wife.”

“And this one,” He pulled out another, “What, villain in disguise? Just cause the paparazzi got a picture of me half awake at four in the goddamn morning, and I had the audacity to look annoyed?”

He went on, listing the problems with each and every one, before sighing. “I just don’t understand. Tabloids print stupid rumours about heroes all the time, but because of my quirk, everyone thinks they somehow must be true?” 

He was getting heated, hands becoming animated as he spoke, “What? I make one real mistake, and I’m suddenly like some burnt out celebrity who gets sent to rehab, so that they can get back in society’s good graces. It’s…bullshit.”

“You know,” He laughed a bit in disbelief, “I don’t give a shit if you’re a fake therapist or not, I’m telling you this in confidence, okay?” He looked up at her.

Startled a bit at the abrupt pause, her eyebrows raised, but she nodded quickly in affirmation, gesturing for him to continue.

“It’s almost like they want me to be a villain,” he huffed, hands pulling at his hair, “And…and sometimes…sometimes I feel like…maybe I’d be better off as one.”

His eyes shifted, “No,” searching desperately for the words, “That’s not true,” he sighed, hands rubbing at his face.

“For once,” he lifted his gaze, “Just for once, I’d like to be someone’s hero,” his eyes seemed to burn so intensely into hers that she had to remind herself to breathe.

“I want someone to look at me and think, that’s my hero.”

. ♡ .

She fiddled with her fingers as she stood in front of the boardroom, willing herself not to rock back and forth on her heels. Her eyes scanned the room, searching the faces for any discernible shifts in emotion.

“And you’re positive?” One of the men finally spoke, “It’s only been four months–the agreement was six.”

She opened her mouth to respond, but was cut off by another, scratchier voice.

“You’re kidding, right?” He scoffed, “four months of chitchat, and you’re ready to send him back into the field?”

Someone else cleared their throat, “I’m inclined to agree–the severity of the situation demands more promising results than simply your word.”

She nodded, and, at the ensuing silence, realized that was her cue, “Ah! Yes, well. I really do think we’ve made progress. Of course, I’m willing to wait two more months, but–”

“But he has some of the best capture numbers on the Hero Billboard,” The man at the head of the table interrupted, “It’s in our best interest to get him back to work as soon as possible. If you’re sure we can assure the public of the anomaly of the matter–”

“She hasn’t even used her quirk,” The man with the scratchy voice interrupted, “At least give us that assurance,” He scoffed, “The man publicly dismembered a villain on national television.”

“With all do respect, sir, he didn’t dismember anyone,” She interjected, letting her annoyance get the better of her for a moment before containing herself, “While I agree the reaction was extreme–”

“And the fact that children watched as a man ripped his own limbs off.” Another scoffed.

She cleared her throat, “Yes, well,” Her eyes shifted, searching for the answer, “Had he done nothing, none of those children would have lived to see another day–lest we forget the damage those limbs were capable of–he’s a hero, at the end of the day,” She was getting heated again, “He did his job; we should all be grateful.”

There was a beat of silence as the words were absorbed, and the man at the head of the table finally spoke, “I trust your judgment,” Her eyes nearly lit up, but then, “But, I also see the appeal of assurance we can give the public. Look into his mind–the knowledge that this won’t happen again, that he isn’t a threat, will ensure we don’t end up right back here in a few months time.”

She deflated, but regained her composure, swallowing the unease building in her chest, “Yes, sir.”

. ♡ .

“No fucking way.”

“Oh, come on! I just wanna know what it feels like. You’re the only person I’ve met with a quirk even similar to mine–”

“I said, No.”

“How ‘bout we make a deal?” She stamped down the building feelings of guilt–this was the only way to help him, really help him.

He turned the words over in his mind, “What deal?”

Stop it. This is for the best. “You use your quirk on me, just like I asked.”

His eyes dulled, “I’m not seeing the deal part of this arrangement.”

“Hear me out,” There was a thrumming of anxiety in her chest, “You use your quirk on me, and to make it fair, I use mine on you. That way we’re both equally culpable.”

There was a beat of silence before he snorted, “Never knew you were such a pervert, doc.”

Her face heated, and she tripped over her words, “That’s not what I mean!” She huffed, collecting herself, “You don’t want to use your quirk on me, and I don’t want to use my quirk on you–this way, we both have to do something we don’t want.”

“Who says I want you in my mind, pervert?” His eyes narrowed playfully.

“Stop calling me that, or I swear I’ll make sure you’re stuck with me ‘till you die.”

“Would that be so terrible?” He surprised himself with the words, but the way her cheeks heated soothed his own embarrassment. Fine, he figured, he’d give her a bone. “Alright, alright, don’t blow a gasket, deal.”

“Really?” She nearly sighed from relief, but then he continued.

“But” He told her, “You better stay surface level, I don’t need you seeing all that dark shit in my brain.”

It was her turn to narrow her eyes, scanning him for a moment, before deciding, “...Do you look at foot fetish por–”

“Okay!” He interrupted, flustered, “ Deal’s off.”

“Nooo!” She whined, “I take it back, I was kidding, please.”

She paused a moment, “You know, you shouldn’t be ashamed, everyone has their own ki–”

“I swear to God, I’ll use my quirk on you just to get you to shut the fuck up.”

She hummed, content, “Lovely,” She gestured for him to continue, “take it away.”

He rolled his eyes, “I have to ask you a question, what are you, stupid?”

“Hey–!” And she was gone.

He found himself staring into blank pupils, and missing the color. Though, he couldn’t help the giddiness that bubbled in his chest of having her under his control. Fuck. He knew he shouldn’t have done this. She was wrong–he enjoyed the fantasy of this moment far too much–it was her fault for pressing the issue in the first place.

He shook himself from his thoughts, opting to scan across her body. How easy it would be. He thought. She wouldn’t even remember. He could be buried balls deep inside her, ruin her, and she’d be none the wiser. But, he sighed, he’d really rather her a conscious participant.

He glanced down at the table where a glass of water sat in front of her. She’d be so pissed. But, he’d be able to see her tits through her ruined white blouse without committing a felony. Yeah, that would do just fine.

“Pick up that glass of water.” She obeyed. “Pour it over yourself.” She did. Well, fuck. He knew he’d enjoy the view, but felt embarrassed at the growing tightness in his pants.

I mean, he hadn’t let her go just yet–he could alleviate himself–No. He told himself. He promised he’d behave. He waited a little while for the bulge in his pants to die down before releasing her.

“Wha–” She groaned, but it fell to a whine when she felt the wetness on her chest, “Are you kidding me? You are such an asshole!” 

He huffed out a laugh as she lamented the ruined shirt, “Hey, you made your bed–I told you I didn’t want to do it.”

“Fuck you,” she said, stamping, and twisting at the shirt with her hands, “You owe me a new shirt.”

He shrugged, “Your turn, doc,” He paused, would she see those dirty thoughts of his? “Surface level, okay? Surface level.”

She nodded, smiling a bit when he handed her his jacket–-only for her to use it as a towel, wiping at her shirt. He really couldn’t win, could he?

“It’ll be easier to do that if you relax,” She adjusted herself in her seat, meeting his eyes, “That way, no stray thoughts pop up in your brain that you don’t want me to see. Otherwise, I won’t be able to control what I find.”

He wondered if she was aware of his thoughts already, but a look in her eyes, and he found nothing but earnest innocence, trust. He sighed internally, the shit he’d do for her. 

“Fire away, doc.”

It was always a bit strange at first. Storybook analogy aside, everyone’s mind formulated its thoughts a bit differently, and each time she’d have to navigate a different type of maze. She made a point to look only for what she came for, no matter how curious she became. But, as she sorted through his mind, she couldn’t find any truly villainous thoughts.

She sighed internally; she was right. The Hero Commission was wrong. And now, she could give him what he’s wanted these past few months, and send him on his way. Though, she found herself a bit disappointed she wouldn’t be seeing him around anymore. No, she shook herself from her thoughts, Don’t be selfish.

Nothing out of the ordinary; she should leave before things became more complicated, and as if the universe could read her mind, she was met with a flood of thoughts.

He watched as she sat across from him, eyes boring into his, mind elsewhere–well mind inside his. Think normal thoughts, he repeated, think normal thoughts. His eyes caught sight of the sheer fabric sticking to her skin, and he felt himself slip.

There was a flash of him bent over a woman on a desk, her desk–was that her? Her wrists caught in a deadlock by his hand as he rammed into her. She was crying out for him, back arched, ass pressing into the hips that slammed against her. Fuck me. His other hand wound around her hair, yanking her head up to look at him. Fuck me! Kissing up her neck, his teeth left bruises in their wake. 

Love me. Sweat dripped down from his brow, and he licked up her cheek, biting at her earlobe. Love me! He took her jaw in his fingers, turning her face to kiss her–she was sure that was her now. Spit glossed their lips as he pulled back, rutting into her in a way that had pornographic whines forced from her throat, drool coating her chin, and staining the desk below them. Her face heated, and she scrambled to leave his mind before finding something newer, something more disturbing. 

Oh my god, she thought. Was he walking her on a fucking leash? No. Don’t kinkshame. That’s fine–

Yes, Master. The woman, this abomination that was her, purred. Whatever you want, Master. 

He watched her face as she knelt below him. Fingers running down between her tresses and pulling, letting her whine, and squeal, choking as he guided her bloated lips up and down and up and down his cock. Come on, He told her, Beg me, a sharp smile, canines dripping, Beg me to let you breathe. Her tears wet the purple tuft at his v-line, lips stained with precum, eyes shiny and wide, looking up at him as she tried not to spasm from the bulge shoved halfway down her throat. Searching for approval.

It’s just a thought he can’t–

They were on a bed. She was crying–his hands around her throat, fingers curled into the collar secured tightly around her neck–as he fucked into her. Her eyes crossed, tongue hanging from her mouth as her tits rocked from the force. Sweat dripped from his abs to where her legs were spread by his hips. He mouthed at her tits, pulling a nipple between his teeth while he took the other breast in his hand, kneading, squeezing. She was squealing. Please, sir. That didn’t sound like her. Can I cum?

Her hands reached up to tug at his locks, but he forced them into the mattress, fingers intertwining with her own. He snorted, You cum when I say you can, pet. She whined as his hips sped their motions, moaning, and turning, trying and failing to pull her hands from beneath his grip.

Please, Master, can I cum Master? I’ll be good. I promise I’ll be good, Master. That god forsaken collar tethered her to the bed like a glorified sex doll–little bell jingling each time he thrust into her. He laughed, and she couldn’t help the chill in her bones. Who do you belong to, huh? His breath ragged from exertion, Tell your Master who you belong to.

What the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck.

She forced herself out of his mind, heart threatening to break out of her chest.

He looked startled as she came to, and she willed her breathing to slow, swallowing the nerves screaming at her inside her mind. She couldn’t read the emotion that crossed his face, but his eyebrows raised as he waited for her to say something.

She let out a shaky breath, forcing out a laugh, “So,” She swallowed, “Kind of disappointed I didn’t find that foot fet–”

He snorted, “Fuck off,” She followed, but the smile didn’t quite reach her eyes.

. ♡ .

“So, that’s it?”

“There’s already a message out to the press,” His mentor told him, “You’re off the hook as soon as it airs.”

“But it’s only been four months?” This didn’t make sense, “What happened?”

“Must have made quite the impression on your therapist,” The older man snorted, “She went right to the Hero Commission, gave them a full clean bill of mental health.”

He knew he should be happy, but there was a nagging feeling in the back of his mind. “Can I talk to her?”

The man shrugged, “Don’t see why not, though,” A yawn cut through the words, “heard the Commission’s transferring her–something about the branch in America.”

His heart fell through his chest. She was leaving him without so much as a goodbye? Scratch that. She was leaving him.

“I at least owe her my thanks,” He sighed, eyes hardening in determination, “Let me meet with the Commission."

. ♡ .

She was dodging his calls. A part of her felt badly for her trepidation; he was attracted to her, so what? He was an attractive man. Even she had the stray thought now and then. She’d seen so much worse in the minds of villains, some things that still gave her nightmares. He’s a guy; of course he’s gonna be thinking about sex.

But there was a nagging feeling in the back of her head. She’d been in so many minds, his wasn’t any different. Except it was. 

“It’s like once I’ve got them, I’m holding a leash, and wherever I guide, they follow. There’s no image, just a feeling of…control.”

Control.

That was it. He’d enjoyed it in his thoughts. She knew it. A palpable feeling in the atmosphere of his mind, drunk on the idea of controlling her. 

She’d joked about his kinks, about sex. Maybe a bit unprofessional, in retrospect. But she was trying to lighten the mood. He was her patient, and she was there to help him, to get him to open up. Sue her for trying to be personable.

But it wasn’t just controlling her in the bedroom, where he imagined her beneath him, kneeling at his feet in reverence, like he was–

Like he was her hero. She realized. 

“I want someone to look at me and think, that’s my hero.”

That’s what he had said. She thought it endearing at first, convinced he had more than earned his freedom, but…the way he looked at her,

“You better stay surface level, I don’t need you seeing all that dark shit in my brain.”

There was something darker. Something lurking under the surface. She couldn’t quite place it, losing herself in her thoughts. As she racked her brain for the answer, she didn’t hear the knock at the door.

“Am I interrupting something?”

She jumped, yelping as she turned to catch sight of the purple haired man standing too casually, too comfortably, in her doorway.

“Ah! Oh my god,” She cleared her throat of its squeakiness. She didn’t want to seem vulnerable. “You scared me.”

She stood, not so much to greet him, but in an effort to feel more secure. “Can I ask how you got my address?” She forced a laugh to lighten the atmosphere, “What, you stalking me or something?”

He shrugged, pushing the door closed as he made his way over to her, “Perks of being a working hero,” He paused as he neared her, “Thanks to you.”

Yeah. Way to go. She really tried not to back away as a hand came to brush at her hair, but her feet moved on their own. A look of hurt passed lilac eyes before settling on annoyance. Wow. You nailed it. Shut up.

He cleared his throat, “Heard you were leaving,” He studied her as her fingers started pulling at each other. Not a question. Good. Wait–why was she thinking about that?

“Yeah,” She thought she might rip off one of her fingers with the tension, “They’re opening a new rehabilitation program in–”

“You didn’t say goodbye.” He stepped closer. You know him. Stop freaking out.

“Yes, well, I’m s–” She stepped backward. 

“You know,” His eyes flickered to where her hands fidgeted, “You do that when you’re nervous.” A step forward.

“I’m not–” Another step backward.

He sighed, “I told you to stay surface level.” His eyes shifted, and he huffed, “If you’d just stayed surface level,” Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

She forced a laugh, “I don’t know what you’re–”

“Cut that out.”

She sighed, “I’m sorry,” Maybe he was just angry at her for violating his privacy. That must be it. “That was wrong of me. I understand if–”

“Honestly, did me a favor,” He huffed out a laugh. What. “Don’t know if I’d ever have had the guts in the first place,” Oh. Was this a confession?

She breathed out his name, “Everyone has feelings,” This was fine. Deescalation. This would work. “And you can’t control all your thoughts. Maybe we should start over.”

He looked at her a moment, eyes widening a fraction before softening. “I was hoping you’d say that.” Almost out of the woods. “Would’ve hated for it to go the other way.” The other way?

“The other way?” It tumbled from her mouth before she could stop it.

He shook his head, “Nevermind,” He looked around, “I’ll help you unpack.” What?

“Unpack?” She felt like a goddamn parrot at this point.

“Well, yeah,” He said it as if it were obvious, “Can’t start over if you’re halfway across the world.”

He was being purposely obtuse, right? This was a joke?

She laughed, but his face remained neutral. She cleared her throat, Professional. Be Professional. “While I appreciate the humour, there are people who need my help in Am–”

“You know, The Hero Commission are fucking terrified of me,” he said, eyes hardening, as if gathering resolve. Where was this going?

“Should’ve realized sooner,” His eyes were cutting into hers, “They’d do just about anything to keep up their image.” He stepped forward again.

“Do anything to keep from another incident,” Her back hit the wall. This was wrong. Everything was wrong.

“You said it yourself, I’m not a villain,” Something shifted, and she saw a glimpse of the kind man she’d come to know these past months. He was gone the next second, “I’d really hate it if you made me a villain.”

“Listen, I’m not sure what–”

“Let’s make a deal,” He smirked, “You use your quirk on me, and to make it fair, I use mine on you. That way we’re both equally culpable.”

“I don’t want to–”

“You don’t want to use your quirk on me, and I don’t want to use my quirk on you–this way, we both have to do something we don’t want.”

He was using her own goddamn words against her.

“You go first,” He brought his face to her level, hand pressed to the wall above her, “C’mon, fire away, doc.” She whimpered, She tried to rationalize the situation in her mind. She knew this man. Didn’t she? 

Stall, and you’ll figure a way out. Maybe she could find something useful in his mind.

She nodded, swallowing. She shook her nerves, feeling drowned by the lilac eyes in front of her. It wasn’t like the last time she’d been inside. Everything he’d been keeping under the surface bubbled up, overwhelming all her senses. It was suffocating. It was fucking terrifying.

She didn’t like this. She didn’t understand this. What the fuck was she seeing?

“Hey,” His other hand took her jaw between his fingers, eyes inside his mind, but ears open, “How does it feel, huh?” His lips were brushing hers.

“How does it feel to be able to see every single thing I’m gonna do to you, and not be able to do a damn thing about it?”

[boyfhee]

⌕ TAKE TWO ━━ 13 : unauthorized investigation

PRECIS. while riki constantly assured you that him being an idol under a different label wouldn't be an issue in your relationship, you start getting second thoughts when fans start shipping him with his co-mc at music bank.

w. angst, miya ( bbg deserves her own warning )

wc. 1.23k

“i didn’t expect you to actually come,” miya chuckles, a menacing grin dancing on her lips with unclear intentions masking her eyes. there’s not much you can decipher about her, except that she’s here for nothing more than your boyfriend. “do you not trust your boyfriend? do you think he’s actually hiding something from you?” 

you watch her skim through the menu as if this is supposed to be some friends’ day out, her characteristic smile never leaving her face even for a second. perhaps, it’s the smile that has people wrapped around her, or maybe more. you’re here to fight for what belongs to you in the first place, but one look at miya, and you’re thinking of all the reasons you could lose from her. you aren’t the type to think of the worst possible scenarios before trying, but something about her has you counting your other options. 

what if she actually succeeds in whatever she’s planning? 

what if riki loves her and not you?

what if. . . and what ifs are all that have been plaguing your mind ever since you received her text. her presence isn’t one to stand out but her words weigh down your shoulders. the truth about riki, you might never know. maybe, it’s part of a bigger plan, maybe she’s simply messing with you. you don’t know, you would never. miya, in herself, is sort of a mystery, and you hate how she makes you question everything you’ve been confident about. 

“no, i’m just here to see how pathetic you can get,” but you have a dignity to maintain, a look to deliver that you aren’t half bothered by her silly tricks, even if it’s a white lie. 

“you’ve really painted me as the villain in your eyes, haven’t you?” you wonder if she’s trying to incite you, to make you lose your cool. her words are of less importance, almost none, for she’s asking questions she already knows the answers too. she tried to break up your relationship with riki, took every opportunity to ruin things between the two of you and create doubts. so yes, if you consider these things, a villain is not even close to how you see her. 

“i don’t want someone who doesn’t want me, but if there’s even a little chance that he does, i’m not backing off,” it’s an apology and a challenge in the same sentence. as if, she’s sorry that you’re about to lose your relationship, but riki is worth fighting and so, she’s not going to apologise for being the reason why your relationship is falling apart. “besides, i can’t control who i fall for, now, can i?” 

“of course,” you reach the conclusion that she’s trying to buy time, to annoy you enough that it leaves you with few options, one of them being giving up. it’s smart, you would say, because throwing around the blame and playing the victim card, if done correctly, tends to turn situations in your favour. her eyes still travel back and forth between you and the menu— it doesn’t seem like she’s planning on ordering anything. and in the end, there’s no truth, all lies, and one benefit of doubt.   

“yn, i’m not an enemy,” her voice goes soft, eyes looking at you as if you’re supposed to be on her team. “i’m your friend. i’m just another person in love, just like you. i’m really hoping you’d understand,” and there’s a certain tone in her voice; pride, pity— desire.   

it’s a shame how you failed to recognise it at once. 

“understand what, that it’s okay to ruin someone’s relationship? or that, everything is fair as long as you get what you want, even if it means ruining someone’s career?” there are a thousand reasons why riki could choose her over you, and a million reasons why he wouldn’t. one could be so blindly in love to even forget what’s good and bad, or right and wrong, but god, not riki, not him. you’ve known him for over ten years, dated for three, and there’s only one thing about him that you’re sure of— music. you would find yourself wondering how life would’ve been if you had never chosen this field, but not him. riki has one dream, to make music, and his second, you, or so you believe.  

“now, when did i do that?” and miya goes again, pretending to be the innocent one in his unauthorised interrogation. you know she’s in the wrong, but the look in her eyes and the confidence dancing on the tips of her fingers push you towards fear. she isn’t half as astute as you, but she came prepared. as if she had played this conversation in her head weeks ago before fixing her target and sharpening her moves. 

“oh, i know you paid the media to post pictures of you and riki to provoke us. even his instagram, it was impossible to track it and find the pictures since it’s a private account that has been inactive for years,” you say as a matter of fact, “you think you’re the smart one here but it really doesn’t take a scientist to catch up to your cheap moves,” 

at first, you thought of it as a coincidence— the media finding riki’s account, an article about dating while referring to a picture taken months ago— but the more you think about it, the less it comes off as just a coincidence. in fact, things fell into place better when you imagined miya behind every single thing that has happened lately. it would make more sense to claim that she tipped off journalists to post articles about her and riki everytime the rumours seemed to disappear, just to make sure the fans stayed interested in whatever hypothesis she was trying to prove. she planned it out, has been doing so for months probably, and you would give her the credit of being incredibly clever and impossibly crazy; the more intelligent, the less sane. 

“oh, okay, i did that,” she shrugs nonchalantly, as if her actions don’t concern her anymore. the lack of remorse and the abundance of everything else on her face is making your palms sweat, afraid that the next moment, your boyfriend would be slipping through the cracks of your hands and you wouldn’t be able to hold him. “but yn, do you really think i’m the only one who wants this?” 

“what do you mean?” there’s a stern look in her eyes. her words are firm, she sounds a little too certain for your comfort. maybe, she’s just a really good liar, maybe you’re reading too much into her actions. maybe, it’s something you’ve created inside your head and it will go away when you wake up. just maybe, those are the words you decide to hold onto. 

“you’ve been doubting me since day one, convinced that i’m trying to steal your boyfriend, but what if it’s the other way round?” she leans on the table, you’re hoping her words won’t gesture towards what you’ve been fearing the most. “what if riki made the first move?” and miya knows it’s a blatant lie, but no amount of apologies from riki could bury her words deep enough to never unravel. 

after all, she just had to sow the seeds of doubt and let them do their job. 

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