#female villain aesthetic

[scarsofcatharsis]

Male monsters tend to be created through the acts of the men themselves - often through a combination of hubris and scientific error - while female monsters tend to commit acts of violence out of revenge for earlier abuse. (source)

The Take, On Female Body Horror.

[magpie-misfortunes]

chaotic academia is learning latin on duolingo

[namedvesta]

[𝑇𝑜 𝑚𝑦 𝒽𝑜𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑒𝑠𝑡 𝑓𝑖𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑎𝑙 𝑐𝑟𝑢𝑠ℎ: 𝐶𝑙𝑎𝑢𝑑𝑒 𝐹𝑟𝑜𝑙𝑙𝑜]

“𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘯𝘰𝘵? 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘥; 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘥, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘶𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘰𝘯 𝘦𝘯𝘷𝘦𝘭𝘰𝘱𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶; 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘵𝘰𝘮 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘭, 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘵 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘦𝘮𝘱𝘵𝘺 𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵, 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘐 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘶𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘰𝘯 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘦; 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳, 𝘪𝘤𝘦, 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘳; 𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘺 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘭.”

“𝘖𝘩!” 𝘴𝘢𝘪𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴𝘵, “𝘠𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘨 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭, 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘱𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘶𝘱𝘰𝘯 𝘮𝘦! 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘶𝘯𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘺; 𝘢𝘭𝘢𝘴! 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘶𝘯𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘪𝘴. 𝘖𝘩! 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘢 𝘸𝘰𝘮𝘢𝘯! 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘢 𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴𝘵! 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥! 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘶𝘳𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘰𝘯𝘦’𝘴 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘭; 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘴, 𝘰𝘯𝘦’𝘴 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘥, 𝘰𝘯𝘦’𝘴 𝘷𝘪𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘴, 𝘰𝘯𝘦’𝘴 𝘧𝘢𝘮𝘦, 𝘰𝘯𝘦’𝘴 𝘴𝘢𝘭𝘷𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘰𝘯𝘦’𝘴 𝘪𝘮𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘦𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘵𝘺, 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳; 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘢 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘦𝘮𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘰𝘳, 𝘢𝘳𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘭, 𝘎𝘰𝘥, 𝘪𝘯 𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘢 𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘭𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘵; 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘱 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘥𝘢𝘺 𝘪𝘯 𝘰𝘯𝘦’𝘴 𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘯𝘦’𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘴, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘰𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘢 𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴𝘵’𝘴 𝘥𝘪𝘳𝘵𝘺 𝘤𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘰𝘤𝘬, 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘩 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘳𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘧𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘨𝘶𝘴𝘵! 𝘛𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘰𝘯𝘦’𝘴 𝘫𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘯𝘦’𝘴 𝘳𝘢𝘨𝘦, 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘯 𝘢 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦, 𝘣𝘭𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘭𝘦, 𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘺!  𝘛𝘰 𝘣𝘦𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺 𝘸𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘮 𝘣𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘣𝘰𝘴𝘰𝘮 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘩 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘴 𝘴𝘰 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘵𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴, 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘧𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘩 𝘱𝘢𝘭𝘱𝘪𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘣𝘭𝘶𝘴𝘩 𝘣𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘬𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳! 𝘖𝘩 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘯! 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘰𝘰𝘵, 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘳𝘮, 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘦𝘳, 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘭𝘶𝘦 𝘷𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘴, 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘯, 𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘭 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘸𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘦 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘴 𝘵𝘰𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘰𝘯𝘦’𝘴 𝘤𝘦𝘭𝘭, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘩 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘧, 𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦! 𝘛𝘰 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘤𝘤𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘪𝘯 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘶𝘱𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘦𝘥! 𝘖𝘩! 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘳𝘴, 𝘳𝘦𝘥𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘭. 𝘖𝘩! 𝘣𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘢𝘸𝘯 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘸𝘰 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘬𝘴, 𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘯 𝘪𝘯 𝘱𝘪𝘦𝘤𝘦𝘴 𝘣𝘺 𝘧𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘰���𝘴𝘦𝘴! 𝘋𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘴, 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘩 𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘶𝘱𝘰𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘴 𝘣𝘺 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴, 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵, 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥, 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘵𝘦𝘦𝘵𝘩-𝘬𝘯𝘢𝘸𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴; 𝘮𝘢𝘥 𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘩 𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺, 𝘢𝘴 𝘶𝘱𝘰𝘯 𝘢 𝘳𝘦𝘥-𝘩𝘰𝘵 𝘨𝘳𝘪𝘥𝘪𝘳𝘰𝘯, 𝘵𝘰 𝘢 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦, 𝘰𝘧 𝘫𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘺, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘳! 𝘠𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘨 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭, 𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘤𝘺! 𝘢 𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘤𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢 𝘮𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵! 𝘢 𝘧𝘦𝘸 𝘢𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘢𝘭𝘴! 𝘞𝘪𝘱𝘦 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺, 𝘐 𝘣𝘦𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘤𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘩 𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘭𝘦𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵 𝘥𝘳𝘰𝘱𝘴 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘮𝘺 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘸! 𝘊𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘥! 𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘮𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘮𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳! 𝘏𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘱𝘪𝘵𝘺, 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘨 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭! 𝘏𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘱𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘶𝘱𝘰𝘯 𝘮𝘦! 𝘐𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘐 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘨𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶. 𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘦𝘯𝘥. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘳𝘦, 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘦; 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘎𝘰𝘥! 𝘖𝘩! 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘬! 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘦?” 𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘳𝘶𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢 𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘭𝘢𝘶𝘨𝘩. “𝘓𝘰𝘰𝘬, 𝘧𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘰𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘴!”

Victor Hugo, Notre-Dame de Paris (𝟣𝟪𝟥𝟣)

[ilovehimstill]

Do you remember it for when it turned bitter?

Or do you romanticize the sweet?

Do you remember in September you showed me your favourite field -

Do you remember in November all the secrets we revealed?

Because I remember you in your kitchen making me half-coffee, half-tea,

I remember learning you played the piano and that you cared for me.

I remember you for your good

Because that won't fade like the bruises and the cuts.

I think it was the cold of January that pulled you from me;

I think the heat of mid july forced us to say goodbye;

But I remember September, November.

Half coffee, half tea, how do you think of me?

You played piano, do you still though?

Laughing on the bus, who makes your new us?

Do you remember the good?

How are your bruises and your cuts?

[espeiderman]

Since I saw Helga was liked, I drew her yesterday. Enjoy!

[accidentalslayer]

[capricorndoll]

[luciferslilith7]

As i see my mother,

I decide,

I'm never going to have children, This generational curse of loneliness should end with me.

Excerpts from the book, I'll never write.

@luciferslilith7

[redispoetic]

[scarsofcatharsis]

there’s something so profoundly cathartic about returning to the place where you were traumatized, but entirely unrecognizable. anyway.

[utilitycaster]

Poska is the Otohan of EXU Prime do not @ me unless it's to argue that Myr'atta is the Otohan of EXU Prime

[wickedxvixen]

How To Embody Your Dark Feminine Energy (Part 1) :

Stop apologizing for how you feel !! Don"t suppress any feelings. Whether it's anger, sadness, or pain - ALWAYS allow yourself to feel each emotion through.

Embrace your shadow self and make shadow work a priority. This will help to heal the inner child in you and get rid of any feelings of shame, guilt, and negative thoughts !!

Feel confident in who you are and every aspect of yourself. Realize that there is only ONE you.

Change your mindset. Get rid of self limiting beliefs and tell yourself that the world is ALWAYS working in your favor and you can have anything you want.

[troubledontlastalways1999]

perfect blue (1997) dir. satoshi kon // s.r. knox // euphoria (2019-present) // joker (2019) dir. todd phillips // the world of kanako (2014) dir. tetsuya nakashima // control by halsey // gone girl (2014) dir. david fincher // the vvitch (2015) dir. robert eggers // pearl (2022) dir. ti west // brutus by the buttress

[ilovehimstill]

My Long-Distance Love

I hate finding it's a two way street,

That love is also grief.

Time and its unholy trinity:

Future, past and me.

But sometimes, I get to agree

Eden isn't some long gone reverie.

It's stitched into your sheets,

And my memories.

And I try, I do, I swear, to be there.

But I'm here, and then I go,

Catch the bus that takes me

Away from home.

So I'm sleeping in your jumper,

The one with traces of your cologne.

But sometimes, somehow,

It makes me more alone.

[dragongirlpoet]

Eterna

Hero x villain original story (Sci-fi, horror)

Witch x human | Word count: 2K

Themes: Betrayal, love, revenge | TW: Violence

Wrote this for a friend. She’s a badass, just like all you girlies here :)

Winter - present day

“I could never love you,” the words wailed through her like a death knell. She remembered the quiet loathing in his eyes, as if she were nothing more than dust fragments on an old window sill.

It was a cold night. Smoke radiated off the exhaust of her blacked-out motorbike, casting more fog in the already murky street. The impending storm started to pelter frigid rain on her leather overcoat, chilling the metal of her revolver. Maybe the Gods too, could feel her grief, and sent the torrent to stand in unity with her disposition. Or had she summoned it?

As frost bit into her, she conjured coils of heat and sent them thundering through every neural-pathway in her body. A witch like her could never get cold. A witch like her could defy nature. A witch…

Summer

Yes, a witch. For years, she had been living in the shadows, far away from prying human eyes. Some days she was lucky. She could tread through the city of Pungothia undetected, her Mark of the Halfling — black outlines etched into her right forearm — entirely obscured by the long leather tunic she was so used to wearing. She had foraged enough Demusker, a potion used to mask the scent of her true identity — a hybrid human witch.

If she was fortunate, she was the only one, for Halflings were spat on in this city. They were seen as nothing more than abominations, a sorry product of weak humans mating monsters. They were a contamination, a plague to be exterminated.

Yet the only plague she had known was Hefix. Nobody knew who ran the pseudo-pharmaceutical organisation, and so for decades the building sat nondescript between towering skyscapers — an incalculable tempest amongst the drizzle.

Humans, if there were any good ones, remained oblivious to the sinister dwellings that happened beyond the concrete walls. Halflings shackled to grills. Halflings drained of their power. Halflings a shell of their former self.

Humans can be so blind.

It had been just over a week that she had rescued the last Halfling from that heinous hell — a young girl of barely 16 — skin pallid and eyes empty. There was no thrum of power in those veins — she could sense nothing there. As the young Halfling choked in her last breath, the older witch sobbed. 53 Halflings, she counted, and only five had survived. If only she had been stronger, more powerful…

“Are you okay?”

Had it not been for the shadow that loomed over her, she would have been certain she was hallucinating. Through tear-soaked lashes, she glanced at the man that stood before her.

Human.

“Get away from me,” she seethed.

“Please, let me help y…”

The human was sent crashing into a wall, shattering glass capsules of preserved hearts in the process. He lay bleeding on the ground, his chest a frantic cacophony of ups and downs. She was about to leave when guilt gnawed at her. There had been one too many deaths. If she had left him there to die, was she so different from the humans who killed her kind?

Fall

“Do you remember how we met?”

“You mean the one where I threw you into a wall? How can I forget?” she had smirked, her dark eyes bright as stars. It had been a long time since she felt so at peace, since she had been in love.

“You’re always deep in thought. You ought to stop that, you know? I’m right here,” the human soothed. His voice jolted her back to the present, to him.

“It’s…nothing. I’m just so lucky to have you, Arnedass. You wanting to save the Halflings, speaking up for them when no one would…You see me for who I am.” She never spoke truer words, for she never felt safe enough to be vulnerable, with a human no less. She caught her own relection in his obsidian-framed spectacles, her Mark of the Halfling on full display. No more hiding.

As they lay tangled in the bedsheets, she allowed herself respite from years of feeling alone and expending her power for others. It was time she did something for herself. And so, in that comfort, she drifted into a dreamless sleep with her lover’s arm wrapped around her.

Winter - present day

The heat raged through her like a relentless beast. Her raven hair was sodden with rain water, spilling streams of it onto a silver necklace she held in her hand. That thing was the reason she hadn’t felt the desire to use her powers. That thing was a conduit that had drained her powers. That thing was a gift from Arnedass.

Tears stung her eyes until all she could make out were fuzzy shapes and lines. “This is the last time I’ll cry for you,” she made a silent vow to herself.

She recalled the day she found out — one minute she had been cooking up a storm for his birthday, the next she was gasping for air, phantom hands choking her, willing her to give in to her last breath. There, lying utterly helpless, she tried conjuring a spell to counter whatever forces were against her.

The necklace Arnedass had given her burnt molten against her skin. Standing outside the main door, Arnedass was a frightening vision of the man she loved. The whites of his eyes enveloped his pupils as tendrils of smoke and power emanated from him, towards her.

“What..are you…do…ing?” she managed in between gasps.

“Frankly I thought you were smarter than this. You were so desperate to be accepted that you failed to realise I’d been siphoning your powers. You’re the last Halfling of the Carugy bloodline, the most powerful lineage of heretic witches.

Why do you think you were never captured by Hefix? Because I willed it!” his shouts turned into something ear-splitting, guttural, infinitely more sinister.

“I had to save the best for last, didn’t I? All that power I drained from your wretched race, they were nothing compared to the power you hold inside you. Yet here you are — weak, defenseless and begging for mercy.”

If dying rendered one immobile, the pool of tears that shrouded her vision proved otherwise. Still, she managed to sputter, “I d…don’t believe y…you…p…please, Arnedass…”

“You must be a fool to think I would ever love somebody like you.”

Between struggling for air and trying her utmost to summon her power, she felt something break inside. No, it wasn’t the feel of her ribs crushing against her, nor was it her neck bent at an inhuman angle. It was the sound of her heart shattering — shards of it cut into her like a poison blade, paralysing every vessel, extinguishing every hope.

She forced the memory shut. As if in silent command, the silver necklace curdled up in flames, the red specks of fury quickly defused by the stinging showers. The rain had reached her ankle now, and she withdrew her gun, walking in uncanny defiance towards the empty street.

Empty — save for a silhouette of a man thrashing about in the distance. Ahead, Hefix stood dilapidated and drab, devoid of any colour or life. In fact, every building along the street looked like it had the life sucked out of them. They remained stoic, decrepit — a graveyard.

All could be heard was the sound of her onyx boots against the waterlogged asphalt. As she got closer to the human, the face of the man she once loved came into view. Arnedass was lashing out at nothing — grasping at invisible assaults, clamouring at spectral voices. His face was cadaverous.

“How do you like this little fortress I’ve built for you?” her question was calm, taunting.

Arnedass spun around to his ex-lover, his expression nothing short of incredulity.

“What have you done? Let me out and get these things away from me!”

“Poor human. All that power you siphoned must have made you delirious. There is nothing or no one here. Just you and your decaying mind,” her words came out more composed than she warranted.

“I could’ve created a new race of sub humans. A puritan state, all doing my bidding. I would’ve offered you the choice, had you not been such a killjoy. You just had to be the hero, the saviour to your cesspool of Halflings. You…”

She watched, indifferent, as the skin on his lips started to tear — each section of skin slowly fusing together until they were glued shut. His eyes flew open, torn between trying to keep his face intact and ripping the epidermis apart.

“It’d hurt less if you stop struggling, though I assure you if you try undoing the spell, you would rip more than just your face.”

Arnedass was livid. Never before had he been challenged, bested, as he had now. He did not come this far to be humbled by the same race he sought to eliminate.

Unwilling to submit, he tried, though meekly, to invoke whatever remnants of power he had straight at her. She ducked the shots as quickly as they came, effortless as a leopard evading capture. They landed instead, at buildings and street lamps, subsequently setting off a chain of explosions.

As the night transpired into a dark void plummeting rubble, rain and rage, lightning soon joined the deathly dance between hero and villain. Wrath quickly consumed the formidable witch, and she aimed the barrel of her revolver at Arnedass, pulled the trigger, and fired.

The shot rattled him, but she missed her target on purpose. She fired once more, twice, thrice, the bullet each time barely missing him.

“I could kill you right now, end your miserable little existence, but death is too gracious a sentence for you,” she hissed.

“I let you in, let you see all the broken parts of me, loved you with whatever fragments of tenderness I had…” her voice faded into a rasp at that last word. “And you lied to me, about everything.”

Arnedass remained unmoved, shooting orbs of light at her, the look in his eyes nothing but aversion. It was as if all of autumn spent in his warm embrace accounted for nothing. To him, she was all but a blight — a stranger he’d met in passing, a chance he’d never take, a bygone he’d never keep.

“Kneel,” almost instantly, her command compelled him to drop to his knees. Another stretch of her hand sent torrents of power — this one more merciless than the last — and he writhed in pain. Veins of ashen green became more pronounced on his body as the human convulsed in agony, tormented by an impalpable affliction.

She watched as the body she once called home contort at odd angles, tortured splayed all over his face. Guilt had far left her, for she knew this was a small price he had to pay for obliterating her kind.

“Tomorrow, and every other day, the sun will rise and the birds will sing. Humans will go about their lives, and you will watch them laugh, learn and love. But all you’ll feel is the creeping death that awaits you in this eternal hell. You’ll never get out, you’ll never escape the penance of your sins and you will never possess power.”

And with that, she sealed shut the alternate dimension she had locked him in, along with apparitions and screams of all the Halflings he had brutally murdered. The street would be as it was — full of life, and not a single soul would know of his existence.

The last Halfling of the Carugy witches revved the engine of her motorbike and rode off into a new hope. Behind her, the last dust fragments of forgotten nightmares disappeared into the dusk.

[witchthewriter]

hii! would you be willing to write for Skade too? she's a wlw icon to me lmao and she deserves more fanfics just like tlk itself <33

Oh my god yes! I would 100% write for Skade. She was actually terrifying and I loved her so much.