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justanerdy-gal · 9 months ago

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“Our Sinful Desires” (Astarion x Tav)

-> pairing: Astarion x Tav -> content: sexual tension/seduction, sfw (stops just before it gets nsfw) -> summary: Tav asks for a lesson in the rapier through a game of fencing. Astarion uses this opportunity to finally bridge the gap between him and Tav that he’d been building up to for weeks. Timed a few weeks after Tav first lets him bite her.

-> notes: wrote this from a prompt from @thefreak0fhawkinshigh about a romantically charged fencing session between Astarion and Tav hehe. I love reading sexual tension but I’ve never WRITTEN it before, I probably agonized too much about this one shot and I still don’t know if I like it but I hope you enjoy 🥹 The vision is that Astarion isn’t totally manipulating her here, he is actually interested her as well (which I HC Astarion was always a little interested even when manipulating her into a “tactical alliance” in the game, if you have high approval with him). But Tav is stubborn, and tries to fight a losing battle 😁

—————

Why was he doing this? he wondered.

Except he knows exactly why. The menace of a woman in front of him had seen him messing around with his rapier in camp, and had begged him to teach her a few concepts through a game of “fencing”.

He vaguely remembers the dull sport from his days as a magistrate in Baldur’s Gate, but he was rare to partake in it himself. His talents were more suited as a means to an end, rather than an enjoyment in and of itself.

However, Astarion found it exhaustingly hard to say no to Tav’s puppy eyes whenever she asked him for a favour.

No matter. He’d use this opportunity to his advantage.

In fact, this is the opportunity he’d been waiting weeks for. An opportunity he’d been building up to for weeks now, ever since Tav had allowed him to sup from her blood.

“So darling, ready to begin?”

“Born ready,” Tav said, as she adjusted the mesh armor she was wearing. He insisted on the two wearing chain mesh armor, and he had procured wood-fashioned rapiers for the two of them - they had surprisingly the same hand-feel as the real thing, but would help prevent any … accidental dangers.

He smirked. “I’d be careful, darling. I may make it look easy, but there’s a lot more… finesse to this sword than you might think.”

Tav pouted. “Think I can’t handle it?”

“Not at all,” he purred. Tav eyes widened for a second, but quickly composed herself, which earned a smirk from Astarion. “I just wouldn’t want you to hurt that pretty little head of yours.”

Tav’s pout began to turn into a frown. “Let’s just get to it, then,” Tav grumbled, and Astarion chuckled. She was right where he wanted her.

“Tsk tsk. First, you must bow,” Astarion wagged his finger at Tav.

“… You’re kidding me?” Tav questioned, as she got visibly more frustrated.

“It’s a part of the art, my dear” he stated, as if it was obvious. “I didn’t make the rules,” he shrugged.

Actually, the rule was to salute, but she didn’t need to know that.

Tav grumbled to herself, something about why she thought this was even a good idea, he thinks he heard. Astarion chuckled to himself. They both bow to each other, at the hip, holding the position for a moment.

As they bow, Astarion looked down towards her, as her head was tilted downwards. He thought about how he rather liked her in that position.

Tav happened to glance upward, and saw Astarion looking down at her through her lashes. She blushed as she saw Astarion’s stare on her, earning a smirk from him.

She stood up with an irritable look on her face, and Astarion chuckled yet again.

“Alright darling, show me what you got,” he said, facing his rapier upward.

Tav had a general understanding of how fencing worked - she had been the one to suggest it, after all. The trick was using the finesse of the weapon to hit the opponent, without giving them on opportunity to feint out of the way. A feat in Dexterity, one that Astarion did not lack.

Astarion settled in a stance, one that Tav tried to mimic. Astarion smiled at that. He knew he had the upper hand here, but Tav was doing her best to make a show of her own dexterity.

Tav attempted to make her first jab at Astarion, but he easily feinted out of the way. Astarion took his chance while she was off her balance to strike, his sword grazing her mesh armor lightly, as to not actually hit her.

“I guess that’s a point for me, love,” Astarion said with a smug look on his face.

“Lucky strike,” she muttered, as she settled herself back in her stance.

Astarion laughed. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, darling,” he said as he settled into his stance again, opting to wait for Tav to strike again. He knew she would, not being the patient type.

And strike again she did. A frustrated huff escaped her as she missed once again, by quite a margin. Astarion barely had to parry away to avoid her blade.

“I see why you wanted the lesson, darling,” Astarion taunted. “You’re going to need to do much better than that …” he said, as he took a step closer into her range.

Tav hesitated as he did, becoming acutely aware of how much closer they were getting without her awareness. Her gaze narrowed, but there was a tenseness as she seemed to get lost in his gaze. In her moment of hesitation, Astarion grinned, taking his chance.

Astarion lunged, the blade of his sword grazing hers, a clash echoing in the air. As their swords met, he used the momentum to pull himself in to her until they were standing right in front of each other. Not anticipating this, Tav did not have the chance to pull away, and she found herself staring up into his crimson eyes, a look akin to a deer in headlights.

“My, my, darling, I had expected a little more skill from you than this,” Astarion purred, as he watched Tav’s eyes adjust to the closeness of Astarion’s body to hers, only to attempt to face away.

“How am I supposed to when you’re not playing fair?” Tav grumbled, averting her eyes downward, refusing to look him in the face.

Astarion chuckled darkly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, as if matter-of-factly. “I am just playing the sport.” He quirked his head, as if examining her, a knowing smile on his face. “Perhaps you can tell me where your mind is wandering to then …. if we’re throwing accusations around.”

He slightly adjusted his stance, just enough so that his lower body pulled closer to Tav, and his hand lightly rests on Tav’s waist. He heard a light intake of breath that Tav obviously tries to hide. Astarion watched as Tav eyes shifted, her mind at war with her logical side, vs. the side that felt an incessant need to melt into Astarion’s stare. To add to the agony, he caressed her hip with his thumb, small circles meant to soothe and lower her guard.

Tav’s eyebrows furrowed.

“And why would you think my mind is elsewhere?” Tav said, attempting to maintain composure, but there is a slight rasp to her voice as she spat out the words.

“Mm,” Astarion hummed, in a low whisper, leaning ever closer towards her, until his breath fanned her face. “Well, I’m a pretty good reader of body language. I can see when a person’s eyes dilate, when they lose focus. I can feel the quickening of their heartbeat, when they hold their breath, the little tremors when they’re held close. And darling…you have all the tells.”

Tav did not move, trying not think about how close they were, considering her response. “And let’s say your judgement is actually right…. what would you say about it?”

Astarion pretended to consider, raising the hand that was on her hip, to brush against her cheek, earning a jolt from Tav. “I would say that…. perhaps it’s time to let your guard down, for once.”

Tav was surprised. That was not what she was expecting to come from his lips. “What?” she said, slightly affronted.

“I’ve watched you, you know,” Astarion said. “ You help people as if it does not mean a thing in the world, but you remain closed off - to your own needs, your own wants… your own desires.”

Tav scoffed. “What importance do my desires have with everything that’s going on?”

“On the contrary, darling, I happen to think one’s desires are very important. It’s not a sin to give in to your desires sometimes… no matter how sinful those desires may be,” Astarion smiled smugly. “How is one to remain sane amongst the chaos?”

“Hah,” Tav muttered, trying to remain indignant but with not much bite left to her words. “I’m sure your desires are always sinful…”

Astarion lips twitched upward at that remark. He held the silence between them for a moment longer, considering, the tension like a taut string.

Astarion finally smiles. “But, perhaps I am wrong after all. Tell me, then…” he tilted his head as he inched towards her lips. “Would you stop me … if I did this?” he whispered against her, before he finally closed the distance.

As their lips met, Astarion entwined his hand in her own, releasing both their grips on their swords. They clattered onto the floor, but neither of them paid attention to the sound - both entranced by feeling of their lips against each others��.

Tav was the first to pull away, eyes wide at the realization of what just happened, and that she had let it happen. Astarion’s eyes, on the other hand, were hooded, and had darkened in a way that had a shiver running through Tav. He doesn’t let go of her hand.

“Well, my dear, tell me … have I read you right?”

As Astarion looked into her eyes, he knew he had her.

“Fuck you,” Tav answered. But she held fast onto his hand.

Astarion grinned. Jackpot. “Oh my darling, I’d love to.”

——————

Should I make a part 2???

My AO3 and Twitter 🙂

MASTERLIST

#baldurs gate 3 fanfiction #baldurs gate 3 #astarion fic #astarion fanfic #astarion #astarion x tav #tav fanfic #baldur’s gate tav #astarion romance #baldurs gate 3 fic #baldurs gate 3 fanfic #bg3 fanfic idea #bg3 fanfiction #bg3

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the-hilda-librarians-wife · 11 months ago

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Fireflies Over The Wall - Chapter 12

Relationship: The Bell Keeper & Meiri (Original character)

Summary: "The troll brought with herself, every night without a fault, a baby.

Every night, she placed it upon the grass, and pointed upwards, showing her baby the stars and constellations. Showing her baby the fireflies.

Holding it tight. Cuddling with it. Making sure it saw the beauty the world had to offer. He had never considered himself a sentimental man. Yet this image, for some reason, never failed to make him return home feeling something gaping and void inside of himself.

Every one of his former coworkers must have returned to their families.

Who would Edmund return to when he could work no more?

What would give him a reason to get out of bed when the fireflies were no longer enough?"

An OC's origin story as well as a Bell Keeper character study, because this character is much more fascinating than I'd been giving him credit for.

Notes: Title from 'Enchanted' by Taylor Swift

Omg I can't believe we've reached the last chapter of this fic!! For everyone that has made it so far I'd like to give my biggest and most sincere THANK YOU!!!! I was very insecure coming into this because I adore Meiri but I wasn't sure I'd be able to write a story good enough to captivate people when centering it around an OC, especially since I don't do a lot of art for her and I feel like that's generally what makes people grow fond of original characters. But anyway, Thank you so much for giving me (and her!) a chance. I hope this has been fun to read, because I sure loved writing it <3

Oh and for everyone who not only read but also commented/left tags I'd like to offer my entire soul. It's yours now. You don't want it? Too bad. Not my problem anymore.

Chapter title: This was the very first page

Read it on ao3

Edmund didn’t know how to handle children. That was a fact. Most parents also did not know how to handle children. That was also a fact. Yet a good deal of adults seemed to grow up without any major upbringing-related trauma. At least those raised by people who actively tried to not be manipulative and bigoted assholes; Edmund wouldn’t know anything about that, either. That train of thought had been circling around in his mind for the majority of his waking time since the last Meiri-related incident (the other part of the time it was filled with an annoying jingle he was cursed to listen every time he turned on the radio), yet it never led him to any conclusion. Edmund didn’t have the first clue if he had done something wrong, what it had been, and if he’d continue bringing the girl distress should she come back in the near future.

But certainly, he hadn’t been doing so bad that she wouldn’t show up ever again, had he? It wasn’t like she showed up every day religiously during normal times, but the fact that it had been almost a week since she showed up in his house lashing out and clearly hurt and he hadn’t seen hair nor hide of her since made him uneasy. Like too much had been left unresolved and unsaid and if that was the last he’d ever see of her, she’d always carry a thread of his being around, and he’d live every day with that empty feeling of something missing, something tied elsewhere.

Therefore, for all the thinking he had been doing on the matter, it should not have startled him so when he heard her voice behind himself while he was putting up clothes on his clothesline.

“Have you ever seen a bleeding tooth?” She asked, making him jump in surprise and turn around without even registering the movement, fully expecting to see her hurt with blood coming out of her mouth and ready to rush to whatever help he could provide.

Which would mostly consist of picking her up and running to the hospital, so it was very relieving to find her looking perfectly normal, if a little uncomfortable.

“Damn, kid, you startled me.” He said, as everyone does when a moment of fright’s worth of adrenaline stops them from forming any other sentence and doing anything else besides bringing their hand to their racing heart. “What are you doing here?”

He didn’t mean it like a complaint, but he had to admit the wording was a little careless when she shifted her weight from her right foot to her left one and stopped trying to even look in his general vicinity. Great.

“Have you ever seen a bleeding tooth?” She repeated, this time adding context. “It’s a mushroom.”

Of course it was. Edmund rolled up his sleeves, a nervous habit of his own; they felt tight around his arms every now and then.

“Can’t say I have.”

“I found some nearby.” She gripped her backpack’s straps; she wasn’t wearing her school uniform, though, which struck him as odd. “Probably because it rained. Well, you know, they were already there, but because it was wet the mycelia must have soaked up all that moisture and made it actually look like a bleeding tooth. Wanna see?”

Mouth already open, Edmund’s answer changed before he even realized, as good sense overrode his instinct. He couldn’t say who was more surprised by his ‘no’, himself or the girl, but he could tell he had to do something immediately because he was quite certain it was tears he was seeing gathering in her eyes.

“You can show it to me later.” He added quickly, trying to convey that he wasn’t mad and nor had he stopped caring. That seemed to appease her some. “First I want ya to tell me if you’re okay.”

Meiri shrugged; she was looking at the general direction of his face now, which was good.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”

Very rarely did she crumble first when they were both standing their ground, but his crossed arms and single raised eyebrow were more efficient that day than they had been known to be, and a few seconds of it had her sighing and slumping her little shoulders.

“I’m sorry, okay?” She said, like she was desperate for it but dreaded having to do it at the same time. “I was rude, and shouldn’t have acted like that. Alright?”

She stared up at him defiantly, but so tense that the insecurity seemed to drip off of her like water when one was caught in a bout of rain. Her lip was wobbling; she wasn’t daring him to go back on what he’d said. The challenge she was proposing was much scarier – keep your stance and let me stay.

“That’s not what I asked.” He said unhelpfully much to the little girl’s annoyance. She huffed, not understanding why he couldn’t just take the apology and go back to normal. She’d already offered everything she had, the least he could do was spare her his weird meandering logic. They both knew they'd have to get to the apology, anyway, so why not cut straight to the point?

“I’m fine.” She crossed her arms, not only because at some point she’d taken to mimicking his stances but also to shield herself from the cool, damp air. He was an idiot to leave laundry out to dry when the weather was like this.

He was an idiot, period. And a particularly frustrating one when he did nothing but stare at her skeptically.

“Meiri.” He said, and she knew it was serious because he probably wouldn’t have used her name if it wasn’t. Her stomach sank and it was anyone’s guess if the feeling came from the cold or from her nerves. “We aren’t going anywhere unless you’re honest, kid. Are you doing okay?”

Meiri let her head drop back with a grunt. “I’m not! I feel awful, are you happy?”

“Of course I’m not happy.” She was going to murder him. She was actually going to murder him because what did this man even want from her? “I never want you to feel bad. But is there something I can do?”

“Well, obviously!” She snapped without any real heat behind it. “I wouldn’t have come here if there wasn’t.”

He didn’t bulge. “So…?”

“So I’m sorry!” She sounded pleading now, and was fully aware of it. “I was mean when I shouldn’t have been. Can we just do something else now?”

Edmund sighed, deciding to put down the basket of clothing pegs since this was probably something he would want to give his complete attention to. Not like he was going to continue hanging up clothes, anyway.

“We can, but I don’t think we should.”

“I think we should. Let’s go see the mushrooms.”

One look from him made it clear she wasn’t going to have it the easy way, and she shut up most unwillingly.

Edmund kneeled in front of her, making it harder for her to discreetly look away now that they were on the same level. His pants would be tainted with wet dirt, but he couldn’t care less. There was a reason why he insisted on sturdy clothing.

“I know you are sorry.” He said, half of his brain circling back to the earlier thought of I Don’t Know How To Children, and the other half having enough sense to figure that it was probably like dealing with a grown person, except you could scar them for life. No biggie. “And I’m glad you came to tell me this. But I want to understand what happened.”

“You know what happened. I screamed at you.”

Edmund sighed. “I know-”

“I know you know. That’s what I just said.”

Ignoring the interruption after a pointed look at her (though seeing how nervous the kid looked despite her efforts to sound exasperated didn’t help him), he continued.

“I know what happened after you arrived, but I also know you’re a very good kid.” Meiri grumbled something unintelligible, and he could sense the self-deprecation in it even though he couldn’t catch a single word. “That’s what I’m asking. If you’re okay. Because I figured it can’t have been nice if it upset you that much.”

Meiri kicked some dirt half heartedly; since it was moist not a lot was achieved beside making a small concavity in the soil. When she spoke, it was with a quiet voice, not looking at him. The sound of the wind on tree leaves and birds leaving their nests to hunt graced the air around them.

“It was silly.” She muttered, lacking her usual self-assurance. “Someone said something at school and I got angry. You don’t have to be worried about it.”

His hum of acknowledgement was loaded with skepticism; the bell keeper didn’t think she’d believe it if he said that nothing that hurt her should be considered silly. Nor did he miss the way she carefully avoided giving any details about it.

“But you just said you’ve been feeling awful.” He pointed out, choosing to not pry any further into what exactly, had happened. If she ever wanted to talk about it, it should be on her own time. That didn’t mean he couldn’t push her to stand up for herself if the situation called for it. “If I can’t do anything to help, isn’t there anything you could? People don’t get to just treat you however they want, kid.”

The suggestion had the not truly surprising effect of making her huff annoyedly.

“I don’t care about it. Not anymore. I was angry then but I can handle it.”

You shouldn’t need to, he thought to himself, you shouldn’t have had to learn how.

“But–”

“I feel awful because of you.” She interrupted him, knowing it was going to be his next question. When he froze, breath caught in his throat, she lifted her eyes at him and blinked as she realized what that must have sounded like.

“Not like that!” She remedied pleadingly. “Ugh, I’m sorry. I’m so bad at this. I feel bad because I was mean to you. You didn’t do anything wrong–”

Her lips were curled; She might have been making an effort not to cry, but it was equally likely that the girl might be holding back a sneer at herself.

“I messed up anyway. And it made me feel… bad for it?”

Edmund nodded, breathing again after his worst fear of having been the cause of her distress had been nearly confirmed and then fallen flat once more.

“Guilty?” He suggested gently, and Meiri nodded.

“Guilty.”

Neither of them seemed to know what to say next. Edmund remembered a conversation they’d had, a long time ago, when she’d said she’d only ever apologized to people when someone forced her to. How many times had she already apologized since then, without anyone, not even him, ever asking it of her?

The girl seemed to remember the reason why she’d come all the way here with a backpack, and put it down on the ground in front of her, caring about it getting dirty about as much as Edmund had cared about his pants. At least it gave her something to do with her hands.

It was the only way she’d been able to think of to prove she was being honest.

The metal zipper of it was a bit rusted and got stuck in some places, but she was used to it and managed to get it open. Meiri felt her face warm up as she reached inside, feeling stupid and not knowing how her peace offering would be received. She knew he wouldn’t laugh at her. She was afraid of it anyway.

The girl took out the safest gift first, making the bell keeper raise both eyebrows in surprise when he was presented with a cucumber sandwich wrapped in plastic film. She didn’t dare lock her gaze with his, knowing the temptation to snap at him would be too big. Opening herself up always made a weird and unpleasant feeling settle on her belly. It made it harder to think when all she wanted was to hide.

Next came something she thought at length about whether she should have brought or not, and even now she considered keeping it hidden. It was stupid. But maybe stupid would be what it took to show she really was sorry. Edmund frowned, confused, when she offered him a woff plush that looked very clearly handsewn, the eyes asymmetrical and the tail floppy.

“What… are these?”

“They’re things you like.” She stated, resisting the urge to add an uncertain ‘right?’ at the end of her answer. She knew he liked those things. That was why she’d brought them. If he refused them, it wouldn’t be because they weren’t his jam. It would be because he was refusing her. “I made them for you.”

He took the woff in his free hand. The stuffing inside was bumpy, and there wasn’t nearly enough of it to keep the tissue from creasing. The stitches holding the facial details together all had different lengths. Edmund hadn’t really cried since he’d been a teenager. Yet he felt the sting of tears in his eyes now.

“Why?”

Meiri gulped, and bit her lip. She seemed to be waging an internal battle when she looked at him pointedly and said with a choked up voice.

“Because you’re always doing nice things for me.” The immeasurable effort she was making to force herself to be still and look at him while very deliberately stating that was palpable. He wanted to tell her she didn’t need to, that he understood, but she had clearly practiced that. It was something she wanted to say, even if she’d avoided getting to that point. “You’re always letting me talk about the things I enjoy and… you teach me many interesting things too. You’re a good person. You are… the best person I know. And you talk to someone no one else wants to just because you’re kind. And I wanted to thank you for it. And to say that I’m sorry.”

Those last words were rung out of her throat hand in hand with a sob, and when she bowed her head down so he wouldn’t see it so plainly, Edmund was left no choice but to lean forward and hug her. It didn’t take half a second for her arms to be around him as well, grip impressively strong for someone so tiny.

He supposed all that climbing must have been worth something.

“It’s okay.” He cooed, rubbing her back as the Meiri allowed the tears to run freely, clinging to him like she was afraid he’d run away if she let go. “Firefly, it’s okay. I forgive you. I know we say things we don’t mean when we’re angry.”

She would have to learn how to not lash out, that was true. But at such a young age she was already holding herself accountable, maybe even more rigidly than she should, so forgive him if he wasn’t about to point out any of the things she could work on at that moment. Meiri whined into his shoulder.

“I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean what I said then. I mean it now.”

“I know.” He began swaying them back and forth gently. “I know.”

They stayed like that until her crying subsided, until he realized the sun’s stronger rays were winning over the barrier of clouds and their own early-morning shyness, casting a silver glow over the treetops.

“If that happened again.” Meiri began, still reluctant to let go of his torso. “If that happened again, do you think you could still forgive me?”

It should have been a given, Edmund thought morosely. She shouldn’t have felt like she had to ask.

“I meant what I said. What you say when you're upset won’t stop me from caring about you. I promise.”

He heard her sniffle before drawing back slightly, just enough to look at his face properly.

“Then I think I can do it.”

Edmund blinked at the statement, put so boldly with her little shoulders set like she was bravely heading into battle.

“Do what?”

“Choose you.” His heart skipped a beat. He would have wondered if he was misinterpreting her, but for all she was doing to keep a cool facade she looked just as nervous as he felt. “If you’d still choose me.”

He would. For all the fear he felt, all the uncertainty, all the bumps he was sure there would be in this road, he found that he’d still choose her any time.

And he told her as much.

#please look up ‘bleeding tooth mushroom’ I swear it’s the coolest thing ever #meiridom #fic: fotw #my fic #hilda oc #the bell keeper hilda #meiri #meiri (oc)#the bell keeper fanfic #hilda the series fanfic

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creatureshrieks · 1 year ago

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I don't have a bio page up for Frank yet because I'm so, so lazy so I'll write up some headcanons I have for him here in the meantime.

Though I have read the comic, most of my interpretation does not actively follow the comic's canon and is instead inspired by it. The rest of my interpretation is my own ideas plus my discussions with Storm due to them basically being my canon Julie.

Frank, despite what he may say, does not see himself as equal to the rest of the Legion but, instead, their leader. In the comics they have each member pick what they want to do for the night, though in the original DBD lore it states Frank is the one that goaded them into performing their nightly chaos. I go with the original DBD lore. Frank is older than them all by at least a year and has always had the desire for control. He has never had control over his life, so he enacts control in other ways. Such as controlling his friends, manipulating them, and pushing them further and further down a path of his making. It's Frank who really decides what they do and where they go, even if he pretends it's someone else's idea.

Frank always had violent tendencies and these only worsened throughout his life, though this was not entirely the Entity's doing. Frank didn't need much to go down darker and darker paths and murder was, partially, on his mind. Especially when he was put into especially bad foster homes. Frank jumping from assault to murder was always going to happen at some point, Frank was just rewarded for it. Due to this and due to Frank being the 'leader' of the Legion and the one constantly pushing his friends to do more and more violent acts, Frank shares the highest 'affinity' with the Entity within his group. Julie is second.

Frank loves Julie, but this is obviously not a healthy love. It's possessive, jealous, controlling, and toxic. He sees parts of himself in Julie and he also opened up to Julie. Let her in and gave her his heart. He truly fell in love with Julie, but she, too, is not spared any of his violet outbursts. He's never hurt Julie, but he'll yell and have a fit if he thinks she's gone against him. He's also incredibly jealous, even going out of his way to hack up survivors if he thinks they're getting just a little too close to Julie. This is also why he so readily stabbed a guy - Julie is his and you won't harm her.

Despite Frank's love for Julie and his genuine care for his friends, he also isn't entirely above killing them if need be. They're a team, they're in this together. So they need to stay together. If you pull too hard, try to break away, drag your feet, Frank will push you to keep going. If you can't, he doesn't need someone that can drag the rest of them down. If you're not part of the Legion, you're not part of the Legion. However, Frank is also incredibly protective of his friends. Fuck with them, you fuck with all of them. He'll kill anyone that tries to touch his friends.

Frank had some really shitty and occasionally abusive foster homes. He had some good ones, too, but they often didn't keep him long due to him lashing out. However, the DBD lore states that: “No matter how many times he'd lashed out, threw tantrums and got into fights, they'd kept moving him to new, unfamiliar houses.” Frank was one of those kids that struggles with his emotions, especially his anger. He had no control, no safety, so he tried to enact any amount of control in his life he could. But Frank really just wanted to actually feel as if he was loved, he wanted a place that would love him unconditionally and actually want him around. However, the constant moves only made him understand that love is conditional. It can be taken away. And it was constantly taken from him.

Frank is bisexual. This is not deep it's just that all my muses are gay/bisexual because I say so, lol. ( Likewise, I am not single ship on any of my muses. Even Frank is available if you really wanna deal with this guy. )

Frank likes art and canonically designed the tattoo on his neck. Him and Julie often draw on each other and make temporary 'couple's tattoos' with each other a lot.

Frank is very good at bringing people up. He likes to be admired, likes to be looked up to, he likes to feel and seem cool. He also knows what to say to make people listen to him, want to listen to him. He knows how to make people want his attention and knows how to make them want to do what he says. He builds you up, but he can bring you down just as hard. Frank likes to make it so when he takes his attention away, you'll do whatever you can to get it back.

#FRANK || headcanons #evil bastard teenager. kill him

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cottoncandyjester · 2 years ago

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plz do a Yandere axis x reader alphabet

Did a basic yandere alphabet but if y’all want a nsfw alphabet let me knowww

Warning this contains: talk of blackmail, yandere behavior, a sprinkle of incest and self harm

Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?

Axis has a smothering type of love, it is sickening. He has to be around his darling as much as possible, always kissing and hugging them and get absolutely paranoid if they aren’t close

Blood: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?

Axis is often getting messy since any person he deems a threat to him or his darling they will become art supplies which involves alot of cutting up and skinning.

Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them?

They treat their darling like a god they are his entire world

Darling: Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will?

From stealing their darling’s clothes to drugging their food when they become difficult to even waking them up with kisses and sometimes even oral without their direct consent.

Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?

He is completely open with his darling feeling like he can trust them with his entire heart unless they give him a reason not to. From the start he wants to spoil his darling since the money he gets for his paintings and sculptures seems useless to him all he ask in return is to be spoiled with love and affection

Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back?

Heartbroken, devastated and utterly betrayed! He would cry and beg at first hoping his tears and sobs would convince them to stay but if not he can use emotional manipulation claiming that if they leave he will die and it will be their fault even hurting himself to prove his point giving them one last chance either stay with them or be the person sent to prison or even death for murdering a popular and beloved artist

Game: Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?

The thought of their daring escaping breaks them! He can’t handle it at all! Just having his darling be in a separate room makes him whine and whimper, he can’t work if he isn’t near his darling he can’t sleep he can’t eat! He can’t function, this is very serious to him

Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them?

Having to deal with his clingy behavior or even his gaslighting when they resist from stabbing or cutting himself to punching himself in rage, and sorrow wailing about how if they leave he’ll die and they will have his blood on their hands

Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?

He wants to marry his darling and for them to one day have kids and just live like a happy family, to be together forever and ever

Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?

He gets jealous very easily, he’s weaker both emotionally and physically than other people so he is very insecure often sniffling about how it’s not fair that other people can see his darling and he can’t. If someone were to flirt with his darling infront of him he will hug his darling close using his blindness to try and coax his darling to pay attention to him claiming he needs their help. If his darling gets flirted with too much he will lose his mind doing whatever it takes to stop that even if it means forcing his darling to wear a mask or “fixing” their face.

Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling?

Absolutely ravenous for affection from kissing and cuddling them every second to having them in his lap(or him In theirs he’s not picky) he doesn’t care whose watching he is absolutely clinging to his darling wanting praise from them while he worships them like a deity

Love letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

The moment they fell for their darling he’s painting what he thinks they look like he’ll send said painting to their house with a letter confessing his intense love while questioning if he got their appearance right? From there he’s leaving various pieces of artwork at their house from paintings,sculptures,handmade pottery. They will just appear in his darling’s house as if they were there all along along with that would be countless love letters shoved in their mailbox to the point where it would be full within a day.

Mask: Are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else?

He’s sweet with others but not as clingy while he will remain friendly but he doesn’t handicap himself for symphony like he does with his darling if anything he gets annoyed and angry if someone else besides his darling were to baby or coddle him in the slightest

Naughty: How would they punish their darling?

He doesn’t like punishing his darling he will cry and keep apologizing for having to be mean while punishing them. His punishments are extreme because he wants his darling to feel his betrayal, so his punishments range from being whipped, having hot nails pressed on their skin, being branded and more

Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling?

At first he will allow his darling all the freedom in the world as long as they stay at his side but if they resist he will take away every single right they have because of the utter betrayal he feels he will chain his darling down to a bed until he feels like he can fully trust them again

Patience: How patient are they with their darling?

It depends if his darling has his whole trust they are willing to bend him and manipulate him to break a few rules without him losing it. If his darling is more rebellious he isn’t a patient person in the slightest.

Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?

He will lose his mind, unless he meets someone who looks exactly like his darling he won’t survive long the most being a week before he is killing himself in the most tragic and dramatic way to show how heart broken he feels.

Regret: Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go?

Never! Axis is delusional he thinks he’s helping his darling after all his darling if they behave would have endless money to spend, a loving husband, and a life where they will be spoiled to bits. In his eyes he saved them from a life of loneliness

Stigma: What brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)?

He was very much spoiled by his mother who was twisted and treated him more like a precious pet but the person he really wanted to love him, his older brother showed him nothing but hate even blinding him with bleach when he was young. Despite this axis still loved his brother relishing the small affection he did get and his version of love became twisted he sees the people he love as deities something to be worshipped and praised.

Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?

He would be broken! He can’t stand to be alone, he hates when the people he loves are upset with him. He would drop to his knees begging for them to just tell him what it will take to make it all better depending on how well they behaved before this he is willing to bend some rules

Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic yandere?

In the worst case scenario he would have his darling locked away in prison or given the death penalty as a form of a final punishment for rejecting the life he was trying to give them.

Vice: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?

He can be easily manipulated if his darling play their cards right, he could either be a sweet and loving puppy ready to do anything for the sweet words their darling gives them even if it means bending the rules or he could become a paranoid masochist

Wit’s end: Would they ever hurt their darling?

He doesn’t want to but during punishments he has to hurt his darling. He would much prefer not to hurt his darling but if he has to he is always apologizing with tears

Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over?

Axis worships the ground his darling walks on and the air they breathe, his heart and soul belongs to them. He would do anything for his darling to get them to stay at his side, he will happily be their personal slave. He will make so many works for his darling as a way to show his love

Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

He immediately goes crazy when he sees his darling struck by an intense love and lust so it doesn’t take him long maybe about a week before he has to kidnaps his darling

Zenith: Would they ever break their darling?

He would but he wouldn’t mean to, he is so desperate for love and affection that if his darling keeps denying him he will lose it and relentlessly punish his darling over and over both physically and emotionally, if his darling is broken to the point where they resemble a vegetable he will put them out of their misery along with himself.

#axis #yandere ocs #yandere

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exist101 · 2 years ago

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SOME SYMBIOTE POPTROPICA AU LET'S GOOOOOOOOOOOO

Headcanons under the cut.

Credits to @thehyperrequiem for making me lose my shit for this concept.

The symbiotes were on the ship that became known as Atlantis

All of the villains met there symbiotes fairly young, that's why Zeus had to be so careful with extracting them

Mordreds symbiote, Error, loved their new host almost immediately, and Mordred was never one to shy away from a new experience, making them an instant duo

Error would tell baby Mordred about all the things they've seen, including technology

Mordred was already a bright young lad, and with the stories from Error, he was inspired to build things to make his and his towns life better. Think Varian from Rapunzel the series

As far as anyone in the kingdom knew, Mordred was always a strange child (they didn't know what autism was) but then one day he became a good deal stranger

When the crash happened, Error tried their best to keep Mordred alive, and when the aliens came to investigate the sudden crash on the moon Error lashed out and attacked them

Since Bard doesn't have a lot of his old body back, Error tends to hang out on their head instead

Captain Crawfish and his symbiote Kraken have a mutual respect and trust for each other every step of the way

When Kraken first bonded with Crawfish, they hated each other but knew that they could die without being bonded

Eventually those negative feelings went away

When Crawfish lost his leg, instead of having a peg-leg Kraken would form a leg to make up for it

Crawfish can't really control the leg and has to hope Kraken isn't going to make them trip in front of everyone

When in fights Kraken watches Crawfishes back

After getting separated from Kraken Crawfish had to get used to a peg-leg

Black Widow and her symbiote Invidia had a pretty healthy relationship

At first Invidia was planning to manipulate Widow, but they slowly found themselves caring for her

While they were at art school Invidia would try their best to get Widow to sleep, even if it means knocking her out

Invidia would sometimes pick pockets (learned it from Widow) when money was short during those times too

Invidia hated it when the other young artists where mean to Widow and offered to kill them more than once

Sometimes they grab a hot chocolate after casing a joint

Dr Hare's symbiote, Savagery, found themself in a problem

He's one of the only people on 24 Carrot who wouldn't die within a month but he also has a hard time taking care of himself

Savagery had a hard time making sure Harvey wouldn't get himself too hurt, or that he ate anything other than some popcorn, stuff like that

Savagery got really scared when the mutation happened, they didn't know what would happen to either of them or really even what was going on

Dr Hare has improved senses, but that also means he gets overwhelmed easily, so Savagery tends to block out things that are too loud or too bright

Dr Hare was the only one out of the group who realized that the symbiotes needed the happy chemical (0 clue what it's called I'm not a science major) Crawfish thinks that the symbiotes just eat brains, Bard and Error have a good relationship, and Widow lets the symbiote have chocolate when they need it

They all panicked when they first woke up without their respective symbiotes, learning that they were shortly in the posssesion of an angry god and then dumped into they ocean didn't help

The fight between the hero and Zeus looks a little different, instead of breaking the totems they had to use loud bells to get the symbiotes off of him

None of them had ever met someone else who had a symbiote like the four, and swapped stories and tricks they had learned

Dr Hare and Binary Bard are closer because both had met the others symbiote

They've asked Gretchen Grimlock for help, she's a cryptzoologist and a millionaire who has eyes everywhere

Meanwhile the symbiotes are hopping from person to person, sometimes having to share the same body

Overall everyone wants things to go back to normal again

#okay I'm done #jesus christ this is long #poptropica #poptropica au #symbiote!au #binary bard #captain crawfish #black widow #dr hare

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handlr · 2 months ago

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The Handler blinks, momentarily surprised at the sudden, drastic shift in topic and tone from Number Four — honestly, after the way he'd puffed himself up just a moment or two earlier, she had assumed he would grow angry over the possibility of negotiation and lash out at her, perhaps even attack her in her own office, but she supposes she should have known better (Number Five did call Klaus his least combative brother, once) and she's never been happier to be wrong. The most harebrained Hargreeves sibling is proving to be a very promising variable in his own right, a regular wildcard, and it would be disappointing if she had to say goodbye too soon.

Speaking of disappointing, his manipulation tactics would have a lesser woman rolling her eyes right about now. For God's sake, hasn't anyone ever taught him the power of subtlety? The way he tries to tug at her heartstrings one moment, only to provoke her in the next, is positively amateurish. There's no finesse to his efforts at all — just a poor, desperate man, throwing everything at the wall, and hoping something sticks.

Perhaps, if she was younger, less familiar with the inner workings of the Commission, less experienced in the clever complexity of power and control, less calloused to the suffering of the masses, his attempts could have paid off. Perhaps then, the vulnerability in his voice would have been too much for her, compassion and empathy blinding her to the bigger picture, and she would have willingly bent the rules for him. Or perhaps she would have been overcome with fury instead, enraged at his accusations, and she would have played too much of her hand, said something in the heat of the moment she could never take back.

(Because she has been in love before. Of course she has been in love before — no matter how powerful she is now, no matter how powerful she has managed to make herself, she was a young girl once upon a time. Fourteen years old and absolutely smitten, swept off her feet in a magical romance, stubbornly believing the best of a boy who only wanted to break her.

But he taught her a very valuable lesson in the breaking: it's not love if it doesn't hurt like hell.)

Anyway, she's far too intimately acquainted with the delicate art of good old-fashioned psychological fuckery, so she doesn't feel even the faintest flicker of sympathy or anger. She simply waits until he's talked himself out, and then says, her tone perfectly calm and even, "If I were you, sweetheart, I would leave the mind games to the professionals."

And then she moves onto the heart of the matter, as quickly and easily as if his little tirade had never happened at all. "Look, even if I handed you a briefcase right now and told you to go have fun in Vietnam, the higher-ups would never allow it. They'd have a pack of agents after you faster than you could give that boy of yours a smack on the lips. Sending you back to the past is out of the question. But," she adds, before he can start up another ill-conceived diatribe about his perception of her romantic affairs just because he didn't immediately get what he wanted with no strings attached, "here's what I can do for you instead — there is an alternate timeline where Dave Katz survived his wounds, and returned home on honorary discharge. Now, I can give you a briefcase that will bring you to the year 1968 in that universe, and it won't affect the other timelines at all."

She generously allows him a long minute to consider the offer before she adds her stipulation, the one sticking point where everything might just come undone if she doesn't play her cards precisely right. "But, in return, you'll need to give me a little something, too. I've been trying to get in touch with that brother of yours — the cute one, I mean," she adds, when she remembers he has five brothers (it's so easy to forget that, so easy to forget everyone except the one who matters most to her). "In the tight little schoolboy shorts. Number Five." She holds the name in her mouth for a long, delicious moment, letting it melt on her tongue like candy, and the corners of her crimson mouth curve up in a smile all on their own. "Lately, he's taken to avoiding me. One of his little rebellious phases — well, I'm sure I don't need to explain that to you." She huffs out a soft laugh, waving it off with a flick of her hand. "Just bring him to me, I'll take care of the rest, and then we can call it even. That sounds fair, doesn't it?"

"Oh, sweetheart, don't be so modest!" The Handler waves off his denials with an airy flick of the hand, red nails glinting in the blue-white fluorescent lights buzzing overhead — truth be told, she can come up with quite a few ways that Klaus Hargreeves could potentially prove useful to her, and the Commission as a whole, just off the top of her head, but she knows better than to bring up any of that too soon. Better to pull him in slowly than scare him off completely. "You've got plenty to offer, Klaus — far more than you think, I'd wager — so why don't you sit down, make yourself comfortable, and we'll hammer out the details together, hm? I just want a fair deal for the both of us."

And then Number Four apparently decides to turn this perfectly civil meeting into an entirely unnecessary standoff, with all his puffed-up threats and paper-thin swagger, and her own mood sours a bit. Perhaps she should have known better — nothing is ever simple when it comes to the Hargreeves siblings — but the disappointment still tastes terribly bitter in her mouth.

"Raise the dead?" she repeats, raising her eyebrows and sitting back in her seat to look around the whole room like she thinks she might see a ghost drifting around the place right this second — which, of course, she knows very well she won't. The gift of necromancy is one that she herself does not possess. "Well, then, if you can do all of that, what do you even need a briefcase for? I mean, why can't you just call up the ghost of that boy of yours — Dave, wasn't it? — instead of risking irreparable damage to the timelines like this? Why go to all this trouble if you can speak to him whenever you want?" she props her chin on her knuckles and gives him that poison-in-honey smile that usually leaves lesser men trembling where they stand. She's got the feeling it won't work on the one in front of her, which would be rather refreshing if only it wasn't so frustrating — the only other man who's ever had the nerve to challenge her outright, in her own office no less, was—

Wait.

Suddenly, an entirely new strategy solidifies itself in her mind, and a very different sort of smile tugs at the corners of her lips. Ever since she laid eyes on Klaus Hargreeves, she's been thinking solely about the betterment of the Commission, but this is a far better prize — a prize she would do nearly anything to secure.

"But you do have something you can give me," she says, very quietly, almost to herself, as the full gravity of the possibility hits her. "Something just as valuable as one of our briefcases. And I doubt you'd even miss it." She leans toward him over the desk, feels the hard wooden edge pressing lightly into her abdomen, but she doesn't back down. "Have a seat, Klaus. Let's talk."

#theseancekid #the handler playing 5d chess against herself is my new favorite thing to write LMAO

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aggravatetheaxe · 3 years ago

Note

Hey! Saw your post and saw you said you were upsettie spaghetti so I wanted to cheer you up!

Slashers who stop everything they’re doing because their “My S/O needs me” senses are tingling and go to their rescue to comfort their angry s/o?

I was hoping to come up with A way for you to get your emotions out through your writing- 😅

Hope you feel better! 🖤

I've never done a post in this style before so hopefully I do okay! I think I covered pretty much all the slashers I write for so far (I didn't do Billy Lenz because I still need to read the novelization). I may have gone way overboard, so if I do these in the future, I'll probably just pick a few instead of doing the whole roster 😅 (or you can pick for me). But doing this much work did distract me!

Above the cut:

Bo Sinclair

Vincent Sinclair

Lester Sinclair

Included below the cut:

Michael Myers (OG)

Jason Voorhees

Leslie Vernon

Thomas Hewitt

Bubba Sawyer

Brahms Heelshire

Erik ("The Phantom")

Deacon Billings (OC Ghostface)

Courtney Dwayne Delmont (OC slasher)

Kathleen Montgomery (OC slasher)

Masterlist

***

Bo Sinclair

Despite being autistic, Bo is very in tune with peoples auras and body language. He has to be to manipulate and deceive people with any modicum of success. He's trained himself when it comes to these things; even besides masking or manipulation, he needed to be keenly aware of when his parents were in Bad Moods so he could either avoid them or prepare himself.

The mood he's probably best at when it comes to this, for those reasons, is anger. He can smell anger a mile away. So if you're fuming, you better believe he notices.

At first he's annoyed and will demand to know what your problem is. He's not a very tolerant person, and he can be a bit of a hypocrite. He's allowed to have big, messy feelings, but when it comes to others having big, messy feelings ... he's not so comfortable with that. He gets overwhelmed.

Once he realizes that this is more than an attitude problem, he'll take it much more seriously. And assuming you're not mad at him, he'll want the rundown on the whole situation from beginning to end. He wants all the dirt.

He'll let you rant, and honestly, he'd think you being this angry (when it's not directed at him, but even still sometimes) is kind of sexy. And don't expect him to shut his mouth, either; he'll be ranting right along with you, affirming you and insulting whomever/whatever you're angry about.

He doesn't wanna cuddle. He genuinely thinks you can't cuddle anger away. He'll put on some loud-ass music and let you vent your frustration however you prefer. Maybe suggest a long drive down to the lake or into town or just ... picking a direction and going. He has fantasies of running away from his anger sometimes. He knows how it is.

Depending on what you're angry about, it could definitely get to the point where he's angrier about the situation than you are. And if it really hurt you, he will not let it go as long as he lives. The best he will ever do is maintain a grudging neutrality or distance from the person/situation that made you angry.

He's very protective. If you're angry at someone you need to maintain a relationship with, you're going to have to keep an eye on Bo to make sure he doesn't deliver revenge for you behind your back. If it's something he can solve, he'll do it, so if you don't want him running his mouth, watch him.

Vincent Sinclair

Vincent is in the same boat as Bo when it comes to sensing auras, though his handle on body language and facial expressions is not as keenly honed. While Vincent was not physically abused as brutally or as often as Bo, this wasn't because of some sterling quality he had that Bo lacked. He was always The Good One because he saw what his parents did to The Bad One and knew he needed to protect himself. He tried not to do anything that might provoke his parents.

You can feel anger before a fight like you smell ozone before a storm. Vincent is attuned to the feeling not just because of his parents but because of Bo's temper, too. Because of this, like Bo, he can very accurately sense anger in particular.

His initial reaction is to observe you, gauging if you need time to cool off. If you need space, Vincent is the Sinclair for you. He's used to being quiet and deflecting and riding out anger.

However, once he realizes that your anger is not directed at him or isn't explosive enough to become a problem for him, he's concerned. Rather than asking what happened, he will ask if you're okay, and leave it up to you whether you'll tell him about it or not.

If you vent, he'll sit and listen patiently, maybe even thoughtfully working on a sculpture while you rant. He's not judgemental and he can be very emotional himself, so you could say the most ridiculous, dramatic things and he wouldn't even bat an eye. Let out all your messy, destructive thoughts and feelings. Just try not to throw or punch anything; that's when he shuts down.

If you decide you just want comfort, or decide you need comfort after ranting, art is his first suggestion. It may seem cold to you at first, that his instinct isn't to hold you or kiss you but rather to redirect you to a project - once you got to know him, however, you'd know that's his most genuine way to show he cares. Redirecting to something creative calms him down more than platitudes ever could, and he wants that for you. He's nonjudgmental about the art you create as well, even if it's objectively terrible. It's not about the quality.

He won't turn you down if you need physical affection, however. His twin is extremely tactile, so it wouldn't be the first time he held someone after a breakdown. He prefers to do this if he's certain you won't lash out physically, but if you were in a really bad way and needed to be touched, he'd do it regardless.

Lester Sinclair

Lester witnessed his parents' anger, but it was usually indirectly; if Bo was the Bad One and Vincent was the Good One, he was the Overlooked One. He's not a perfect person, probably not even a good person, but of the three brothers, he's the most normally socialized. He isn't trained to be tuned into everyone's every shifting mood in order to survive.

It takes Lester a little longer to pick up on your anger than his brothers, but not too much longer. It takes him a couple tries at trying to talk to you or get your attention before he realizes something is really wrong.

His first reaction is to get upset. He soaks up emotions like a little sponge, so he's suddenly cranky, too. He also jumps to conclusions and assumes that you're angry with him, and he does not take rejection well. He might be bitter and passive aggressive. You being angry just makes him want to go in another room and not be around you, and yet at the same time, he wants your reassurances. It's messy and sad.

Once he realizes - either through observing you or through you communicating with him - that you're mad at another person or situation, then he'll feel comfortable enough to approach you and ask you about it. You'll definitely need to reassure him that you're not mad at him though.

If you wanna rant, he'll take you on a long drive and let you vent your heart out to him. He won't be quite as aggressive as Bo, but he'll be on your side, frowning with disapproval, telling you "Ya can't fix stupid." If you want only comfort or need comfort after venting, he feels much more equipped for that. He'll put something relaxing in the VHS or let you play his old Super Nintendo, get you a beer, just let you chill out. And he'll let you win at Doctor Mario.

If the situation is something really serious, you best believe he'll be talking to his brothers about it the second he gets a chance. He may be a sweet guy, but he can be real nasty, and he doesn't fuck around when it comes to you. You might have to keep an eye out to make sure he doesn't tell someone off or punch out someone's lights.

Michael Myers (OG)

In 1978, Michael is not very in tune with any emotions besides fear, and even then he only really understands it in an abstract way, as his condition and upbringing haven't really been conducive to him learning about emotions. Unless you're screaming in terror, have tears running down your face, or are shouting angrily, he really can't read your moods. Without any obvious change to how you normally act or look, there's a huge chance he might just not notice if you're angry. He spends a lot of time in his own little world.

In 2018, even though he's spent over 50 years institutionalized, Michael has had time to take in the world, and he's seen a lot more. He understands fear much more than he did when he was 21, but what he understands most of all is anger. His anger fuels him. He would pick up on yours right away and be curious, though he wouldn't verbalize it.

If you tell him how you feel, he'll take note of it. If he witnesses you doing something destructive because of your anger, he'll simply observe. He would be fascinated with this thing you're doing, because it's not something you normally do, and though he might not notice emotions, he certainly notices routine and pattern. Either way, you'll have to tell him how you feel, because he'll simply watch you otherwise.

One thing that can be said for Michael is that he's a good listener. He may not internalize everything you say, but he will remember what he thinks is important. You may be surprised; he may remember tiny little details that seem inconsequential to you but loom large in his mind.

Unless you were caused serious physical or mental harm, he would not be angry on your behalf. He would, however, do nothing to assuage your anger. He thinks it would be kinda neat and interesting to see you snap. He's not 100% sure why you don't just do it.

In 1978, he won't be much help beyond listening to you, but he would be curious to see what you do to vent your anger. You may find him by your side more often, observing you. He may also want to find and observe the object of your anger, especially if it's a person. In 2018, he would, in his own way, suggest you solve the problem by murdering someone/something. He's insatiable, but killing is the closest he's ever come to satisfaction. You should try it.

Jason Voorhees

Out of all of the slashers, Jason is the most likely to actually literally sense your anger, especially if you're psychically sensitive/powerful like Tina Shepard. I'm talkin'—assuming you have a pre-established relationship—he'll be doing something else and just get this itch that tells him you're out there somewhere, pissed off.

Obviously this is untenable. As long as he's not super busy or Pamela has other plans, Jason will stomp his way through the woods to get back to you, regardless of the urgency of your anger. If Pamela doesn't approve, well, he'll let a little anger go and assume you're okay. If he suspects you may be in danger, though, he's sprinting regardless of what Mom says. There's time for both things, Ma!

The first thing he'll do when he returns to you is scan your dwelling, then you, making sure nothing is broken. At that point, you'd probably be able to sense his confusion even without him signing. Jason doesn't experience emotions quite like a human anymore, and he's quite tactile besides, so a lack of tangible or visible clues as to why you're upset would trip him up for a second.

He doesn't want to comfort you at first, he wants to know what's wrong. He'll listen to you vent only long enough to understand the situation and identify his target. His immediate next move would be to eliminate the problem. You'll definitely have to hold him back, and it may take a bit of convincing. Earthly consequences don't really apply to him.

Before comfort comes blowing off steam, for you and for him. His first choices would be mangling some trees (you can pretend it's for firewood) or skipping/throwing stones into the lake. You're welcome to join him if those things calm you down; watching him get his stone to skip like 11 times on Crystal Lake may make you feel better, at least.

You might hang out there for hours before he suddenly decides it's time to go home. He'll do what he can to make your comfortable or stay out of your way while you make yourself comfortable, then comfort you as you please. His go-to choice is always foot or hand massages.

Leslie Vernon

Leslie is extremely observant and surprisingly analytical given how silly he is in the day to day. His intuition makes it pretty easy for him to read people, but especially you, since you two are so close. Especially-especially if you're his Survivor Girl (gender neutral term of course). You two are in sync, so he knows if something's up. Maybe even before you fully figure it out.

God, you're so hot when you're angry, you really are. He almost wants to let you scream and holler and go nuts. But he prefers you only get angry like that at him, especially if you're his Survivor Girl, so his first move is to comfort you or talk you down to a place where you can be comforted. He'll speak to you calmly and rationally, reassuring you and touching you if you wanna be touched—on your upper arms or shoulders or face, or with one arm around your back.

He doesn't just want to comfort you, though, he wants to calm you down enough that you can tell him what happened. Even if you claim you don't want to talk about it, he will coax it out of you eventually. He's gotta know what got you so upset. It's his business to know everything about you!

Assuming you're angry at someone/something that isn't him, he'll talk it through with you. If you're upset about an argument with someone, he has the capacity to see it from the other side, but ultimately, he's there for you. He'll let you bitch as much as you want, still touching you, and he'll be disgusted and/or disappointed with the situation.

Above all, though, what he wants is to see you smile again. The only worries on your mind should be the ones he comes up with, and man, he's not even halfway done grooming the next batch of unlucky teenagers. He'd pat your face or touch your hair and tell you to cheer up, and probably defuse the situation with a stupid quip or joke. Take you out somewhere fun, maybe.

Once you were cheered up, he'd humbly suggest you solve your problem with a little murder. "I mean, I know killing's not really your thing—you're really good at it, though, a talent! You know that..." Pause, considering you. "You want me to do it? 'Cause I can clear my schedule for the rest of the night." If you decline, he'd be like "Suit yourself" but may or may not still murder whoever upset you. If you agree, he'd be super excited to make a romantic night of it. His mind would be going a million miles an hour planning everything out.

Thomas Hewitt

Tommy knows anger when he sees it. Not only does he have loads of internalized anger, he's been on the receiving end of it plenty. He's far too large to be scared of anyone in a physical sense anymore, but he's been shouted at countless times. To know when to shut up and do as he's told versus arguing back, he's learned to gauge intensity and direction of anger, and he well knows that anger can be redirected to him.

So, he instantly recognizes your mood, but it might be a while before he approaches you. When he does approach, he'll let you decide what to do, whether that's throwing your arms around him or banging your fists on his chest to vent your anger. You won't hurt him.

Eventually, once you're all hugged or cried or screamed out, he'll wrap his arms around you and give you a reassuring squeeze. There's no need to tell Tommy what's wrong—he won't ask unless you're obviously in serious distress or injured—but if you decide to speak, he'll listen, brows drawn tightly the whole time. He's thoughtful about the situation.

If you're mad at someone in his family, there isn't much he can do for you besides comfort you and assure you that whoever upset you—Hoyt, probably—didn't mean what they said. If you were hurt physically, it would be another story, but his family gets in shouting matches all the time.

Rather than offering help, he'd wait for you to request it of him. Whatever you ask, shy of hurting his family, he will do. Murder someone? No problem. Make you some food? You got it. Bring you a blanket? Sure. Give you some quiet alone time? That's fine, too.

If you need to vent, he's got plenty of ways to get out your frustration. Plenty of farm work to do, or you could work on something around the house with him. He might suggest knitting or sewing or some other handicraft you enjoy. It always makes him feel better to buckle down and use his hands for something.

If you're still preoccupied/upset by the time you two bed down, or heaven forbid the next morning, then he starts taking it more seriously. Something that disturbs you for that long is bad news. He'll watch you carefully the next couple days to see how you're doing, waiting for you to need him for something.

Bubba Sawyer

Like Tommy, Bubba has been on the receiving end of anger many, many times, so he's familiar with what it looks and feels like. Despite his size, he's still susceptible to physical violence at the hands of his loved ones, so he's very wary of anger.

However, he doesn't have a female presence in his life like Luda Mae, who expresses her anger through passive aggression—so, he's more used to shouting and screaming. If you aren't prone to screaming and shouting, it might take a little bit for him to realize you're not just sad or upset, you're angry.

Bubba will be over you. He'd give anyone else their space because he'd be afraid of retaliation, but you're his special person, and he's pretty sure you're not going to hurt him. He'll touch your hair, your arms, your wrists; he'll babble as he tries to figure out what's wrong. He just wants to comfort you and let you know everything is all right.

If it's too much or you're overwhelmed and you snap at him, he'll ease back. He'll blubber like a kicked puppy, but he won't give up. He'll still try to comfort you, just in other ways, such as getting you a comfort item or article of clothing, or maybe some food. And boy will he helicopter.

There's no need to tell Bubba what's wrong. In fact, it might be better if you didn't; if it's something he can't fix, it would do nothing but majorly stress him out. If it was one of his family members who upset you, as with Tommy, he wouldn't be able to do much. Even if you were hurt, he's just not in a position to stand up for you. That fact would absolutely kill him, though. He'd end up getting even more upset than you.

He doesn't know what help to offer you beyond comfort, but like Tommy, if you requested something specific, he'd try to carry out your wishes. He'll also try to cheer you up with some music and dancing, or just being silly like you like.

Need to blow off steam? He's got plenty of coping mechanisms! Bubba's idea of a perfect de-stress session is turning up the radio and getting lost in crafts. He's got lots of supplies, mostly to create clothing and accessories, and you're special, so you can have your pick. A drive and the radio might be nice, too. If neither of those appeal to you, he'll try cooking or baking with you. He loves sharing the kitchen with someone.

If none of that works and you're still upset, be prepared, because he's gonna be an anxious mess until you're better.

Brahms Heelshire

Brahms is somewhat familiar with other people's anger. He certainly has a whole fountain of internalized anger brewing just beneath the surface, but that's different. He knows that when Mummy is angry, she yells and cries, and when Daddy is angry, he seethes and stews. The former would be obvious to him, but the latter would take him a few minutes to be quite sure about. You're not acting how you usually do. Are you being stern or are you angry? Are you cross with him?

He does not have a lot of empathy for other people, so if your anger gets in the way of his routine or the attention he wants, he'll be irked, cranky, sad. Not necessarily at you—though that is possible—but the situation in which you find yourselves.

Much like Bo, he's allowed to have big, messy feelings, but it makes him uncomfortable and scared when other people have those feelings. He might even hide from you for a while, especially if you screamed and cried.

Once he realizes something is really wrong and you're not mad at him, however, he'll start thinking of ways to cheer you up so things can go back to normal. He hates having his routine interrupted; he's very particular. And he cares for you, so seeing you in distress is very scary and uncomfortable for him.

He'll start by fetching you something you like—something manageable for him like your favorite juice or a sandwich, or if you have a special item or article of clothing, that. He's quite shy, though, and like I said, he'll probably be hiding, so he'll leave it somewhere he knows you'll find it (on the bed, outside your door, on your desk, etc.)

If that doesn't calm you down and your anger is really getting in the way of his routine, or otherwise making him uncomfortable, he'll finally make an appearance. Very bashful and timid at first, using his little boy voice. "What's wrong, Y/N? Did something bad happen?"

If it's something that can't be helped, he'll suggest you do something together to take your mind off it (most likely something he likes to do). He may even be coaxed into taking a walk around the grounds, though he doesn't like to leave the manor at all, so you'd have to convince him. He prefers quiet playtime, maybe some coloring books or loud music to vent your emotions. It would intrigue him to see someone else use his toys to calm down. As long as you recognized he was being very nice, sharing them.

If it was an argument you had with someone, he would want more information. Are they likely to leave you alone, or will they come to the manor? Will he have to deal with them? Because it's scary, but he'll do it for you.

If, for some reason, none of those things work, he may cry or throw a fit. Either way, he'll be frustrated. Adult Brahms may make an appearance and try to help you in more Adult ways.

Erik

Though he lives five cellars beneath an opera house now, Erik hasn't always been entirely reclusive. Even these days, when he can stomach it, he sometimes goes out to see the world. As a younger man, he observed people's lives and moods with a hungry fascination (that has now mostly been replaced by melancholy and longing and bitter anger). Like several of the other slashers here, he's had to train himself to sense fury to protect himself. He's also incredibly wrathful, so you could call him an expert!

He has a very keenly honed sense when it comes to you specifically, since he's watched you so much. He notices the change in your demeanor immediately.

If you know him as the "Angel of Music," his voice will appear to you once you're alone, asking you what's wrong and assuring you you can confide in him—he will insist you tell him, though. "There are to be no secrets between us, Y/N." He will listen without interjection as you vent your heart out, and when you're done, soothe you. Don't let his calming voice deceive you, though; behind that mirror, he's seething, planning to take matters into his own hands.

If you know him as Erik, he will go to you the second he recognizes the shift in your mood and take you from what you're doing, regardless of your wishes. He'll sit you down, kneeling before you with your hands in his, and gaze into your eyes, imploring you to tell him what's wrong. He'll absolutely allow you physical comfort, but he will also absolutely insist you tell. He'll need reassurance that you're not angry at him, because that thought would break his heart.

He will let you vent however you wish. You could have the most dramatic breakdown ever—throwing things, beating your fists on his chest, wailing—and he wouldn't judge you. He would be awfully concerned, though.

Will be 110% on your side. You are his poor little meow meow. "My poor love, my poor Y/N!" He is beside himself with sympathy for you and you only, and is very offended on your behalf.

He will always suggest music as an outlet for your anger, but he will have taken note of your other hobbies and interests as well. He'll fetch your things for you without being asked, as long as it won't separate him from you for very long. If you'd rather just have comfort, that's fine, too. He could hold your hand and caress your face for hours on end under normal circumstances, so no problem there. He may also suggest a little time on the surface, if you normally live in his home. Fresh air will do you both good, he reasons, and he enjoys spending time with you where others can witness it. It fills him with pride and love.

Otherwise, he's at your service for any other soothing activities you need. A calming bath, some sweets, shopping, anything. Perhaps avoid asking for any sexual contact, however. First of all, being asked directly makes him very skittish and nervous; second of all, his method of love-making (when you can coax him) is very intimate and tender, which may be tedious if you're in an angry mood.

Unless the situation is extremely serious or dire, his first priority is making sure you're soothed. Once that duty is fulfilled, however, he is absolutely angrier about it than you are. If it's not that serious, he won't skip straight to killing, if only because he knows it upsets you. He will definitely be writing an extremely strongly worded letter, however. If someone slighted you seriously, they're getting threatened. If someone hurt you physically, they're meeting the Punjab lasso.

Deacon Billings (OC Ghostface)

Deacon definitely knows when people are angry. His step-mom was a passive-aggressive laundry-folder and his dad was a storming out of the house kinda guy; when the two of them were together, they were all hushed but heated arguments at night when they thought he couldn't hear them, or else extremely embarrassing passive-aggressive arguments in public. Growing up, he found himself around a lot of angry people. And there's no shortage of anger in him, either.

So yeah, Deacon knows when people are pissed, and he knows when people are pissed at him. The thing is, he just thinks it's fucking hilarious. He was that kid that would goad peers and teachers just to be an asshole and had virtually no friends as a result. He's a menace on the internet, too: a horrible troll for no reason, stirring the pot even when he doesn't have a stake in the argument. He's trained himself to find people's weak spots so he can strike at them. He does it to make himself feel more in control of his life and his own anger.

So when you're ticked off, he's gonna notice the change immediately. If you made a vent post on social media, he probably knows you're angry before you even see him. He follows all your social media (even if you don't realize it) and checks it constantly. He'd call you out of curiosity to ask what happened. He's open about his stalking tendencies: "I saw your post, babe, who do I need to stab?"

If you otherwise come home angry, he'll be up on his feet, following you around the house and pestering you, trying to get you to tell him what's wrong. If you try to hug him, he won't push you away, but he'll be distracted, trying to needle answers out of you the whole time.

There's no question in his mind as to whether or not you're angry at him. He just assumes you're not; he has a pretty good handle on how you act when you're angry at him specifically.

He'll let you rant all day if you want. You could talk about the shit that's pissed you off for hours and he'd still listen. Outwardly, he might poke you a bit and play devil's advocate for the other side of the argument, if there is one. This is purely for the purposes of being a little shit.

Internally, he's already going down his pre-murder checklist. If it was someone at work, they're dead. Someone in the neighborhood, dead. Online? It'll take a couple days, but they're dead. Even if you're not angry at anyone in particular, just a situation, he'll find someone to menace. He'd walk through fire for your approval.

He's not good with soft, emotional comfort, so instead he'll try to think of something to help you let off steam. His go-to is something competitive, especially if it involves you chasing each other. A Nerf or water gun war, a PVP game with you on opposite sides. He'll put up a good fight, but you always kick his ass.

Once the immediate situation is addressed and you've ranted your heart out to him, he can't keep his hands off you. "Seeing you all pissed off drives me crazyyyyyy." He's grinning, brown eyes sparkling. "Come onnnnn ... I'll get it off your mind!"

Courtney Dwayne Delmont (OC)

Courtney is a hunter of all manner of game, so he's used to interpreting non-verbal cues and body language—when an animal is in distress, when an animal is about to attack, etc. His grandfather was a very angry man, as well, in a simmering sort of way. He would seethe about something before suddenly delivering one decisive strike. Courtney himself is not a particularly angry man, unless some prey is really giving him a hard time, but he can read your body.

If you come home angry, he'll stop in the middle of what he's doing and watch you, still and quiet, just confirming his suspicions. If you leave the room he's in to go collapse on the sofa or something, he'll follow you, looming over you and waiting for you to tell him what's wrong. He's patient.

If you want to vent, he'll sit and listen thoughtfully, doing something with his hands while you speak—probably cleaning his gun or some other weapon. He doesn't look at you. He wouldn't demand greater context to the situation but he would ask "Why?" and "Who?" until he understood Enough.

If you want comfort, he'll sprawl on the couch and let you lay on top of him. He'll probably pull a blanket on top of you to try and encourage a nap. If the nap doesn't make you feel better, he's feeding you protein. Do you like homemade jerky?

Sex is also on the table (not literally ... unless). He's found it's a great way to blow off steam, and he's more than happy to make all worries, troubles, and other thoughts go away for a little bit. Expect that to be the rest of your night, though, because he doesn't do quickies.

Generally, he trusts you to handle your own shit, so he would be more focused on you than whatever made you feel the way you do. However, if days passed and you were still angry/upset/sad, or if it plunged you into a breakdown or was an otherwise extremely serious situation ... just give him a target. It's up to you, but if you tell him to take the shot, it'll be quick and clean. If you're unable to make the decision, he'll decide for you without hesitation.

Kathleen Montgomery (OC)

I'm still developing her so this one won't be as in-depth and is subject to change.

Kath makes it her business to know everything about you. Chances are she's seen you explode screaming while stalking you ... chances are, if you've been in a relationship for a while, she's made you explode screaming. She knows what you look like when you're angry. Besides, she's strong for her size, but she often has to take down people who are much bigger and stronger than her; she uses manipulation and trickery to help ease that divide, so she's good at reading people.

Like Deacon, she also monitors all your social media, so if you made a vent post, she already knows you're in a shitty mood before you come home. Unlike Deacon, she doesn't tell you how she knows, so you're left to assume she's just all knowing. Considering her god complex, that works for her.

She'd probably text you to come home, and she expects you to answer. If you're unable to come home, she'll call you to ask what's wrong.

Once you're together, she wants to know everything about the situation. Even as you're speaking, she's already on her phone or laptop, looking up the people involved. Instead of getting mad on your behalf, she laughs. She's a fan of emphasizing how pathetic or weak the opposition is.

She takes your feelings on the subject seriously, but everyone else in the situation? Insects. Not even worthy of your time or concern, let alone hers. You're obviously in the right here (even if you're not). She'll tell you as much, and say some pretty intense, over-the-line things about whomever/whatever you're angry at.

Overall, however, she's calm and collected about the situation. Your bout of anger is a chance to get you to be reckless with her. She'll do your hair and makeup and dress you up nice, then take you out. Fast driving, drinking, baiting people at bars, menacing neighborhoods ... maybe a little killing, if you'd like.

***

Masterlist

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stxleslyds · 3 years ago

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Red Hood and the lost art of telling Joker to shup up.

Okay, I know that I talked about Jason and Joker in a recent post but this is something different, I promise.

I really want to talk about how different Jason has been written since UtRH when it comes to him confronting Joker. Jason hasn’t been put in that position a lot but the times that he has, he lets Joker talk for far too long and actually pays attention to whatever he has to say.

The Jason vs Joker thing is basic in on itself and letting Joker talk isn’t exactly the problem here, the real problem is Jason letting Joker’s thoughts shape his future thoughts and decisions, I do understand that that’s exactly what writers want though, they want to build the problematic of: “Jason is just like Joker and the fact that he uses the name Red Hood only proves that Joker made who Jason is now”.

But the thing is that THAT problem is overdone at this point and the only time it worked was the first time it was brought up and it worked because Jason shut the Joker down.

Let’s see all the times (that I remember) the Joker and Jason have had a little chat and/or the times Joker’s words actually influence Jason’s thinking and decision making.

Under the Red Hood – Batman (1940) #649

This is the first real confrontation we get to see between Jason and Joker after Jason’s death and it is beautiful. It's absolutely amazingly written, Joker goes on and on forever about how he killed Jason about how Jason is just as bad as him but that he is also just like Batman because he hasn’t killed him yet.

“You let me live after everything I did, you couldn’t pop my balloon. You just couldn’t. The apple doesn’t tumble too far from the paterfamilias. You are just like daddy-kins”

Jason lets him talk, yes. But he absolutely destroys Joker with what he tells him next.

“You couldn’t be more wrong about me. If right were a country on earth you’d be circling on the edge of the milky way. Yeah, I let you live but like always, every damned minute of your addled, posturing, psychopathic life, you think this is about you. You’re a worm. I’ve pitched you on a hook and dropped you into the brine. And I will beat the hell out of you Pagliacci because it was too much fun not to.”

“Listen to me Joker, I’m not you. I´m nothing like you. I know what I do and I know why I do it. You, you are, clinically speaking, a whack-job. But I know a secret, a good one.”

“You are not nearly as crazy as you would like us all to believe or even as crazy as you would like to believe. It just makes it easier to justify every sick monstrous thing you’ve ever done when you play the part of the mad clown. You are crazy, bubba, but you ain’t that crazy. Look at that. I wiped a smile off of Joker’s face. I have been waiting a long time for that.”

Everything about this is perfect, Jason gives Joker no room to mess with him. Whatever the Joker had planned on saying he had to eat because Jason wasn’t playing games and he was ready for any kind of lie the Joker had ready to tell. This is Jason Todd. He won’t let the Joker get under his skin because he knows the Joker and he, also, knows better.

Red Hood and the Outlaws (2011) #15

Here Jason comes across Joker during the “Death of the Family” event. In this issue the Joker has information about all of the members of the “Batfamily” and he uses that to mess around with each one of them, in Jason’s case he insinuates that he was present in very specific moments of his life when Jason’s father got shot, when his mother overdosed and when he was on his own before joining Batman.

Jason doesn’t quite believe that Joker was there but as the reader, we can see this sort of sense of doubt in Jason. He hesitates a few times before resolving that the Joker is playing with him.

But as far as this issue goes let’s just say that what the Joker says doesn’t get to Jason, this changes though in the issue that follows up this story.

Teen Titans (2011) #16

This is where that story continues and where Jason starts to buy the story that Joker is selling.

Joker convinces Jason that he has his father and Tim’s father and that the only way for Jason (or Tim) to save their dads is by killing the other (Jason or Tim). Tim doesn’t believe it but Jason is ready to shoot Tim almost immediately.

However, Jason changes his mind about killing Tim just as Tim comes up with a plan for them to not actually have to kill each other. Here is where Lobdell’s writing shows all of its flaws, Lobdell is so desperate to show that Jason and Tim are besties that he forgets that Jason had no reason to stop trying to kill Tim to save his shit father because it is later revealed that Jason truly believed that Joker had found his father and had him captive. It wasn’t until Tim explained his thought process as to why those men weren’t their dads that Jason just goes “you realize, of course, the only reason I didn’t kill you right off is that I knew your big brain will figure out some way out of this” HA, nice save Lobdell but I see right through your bullshit.

Jason bought what the Joker was selling and that is the beginning of Jason’s downgrade when it comes to not playing Joker’s games.

Red Hood and the Outlaws (2011) #17

Well, in this issue Lobdell goes back to Jason kinda not believing what Joker told him, and Jason asks Bruce of all people if he thinks the Joker truly “made him or not”. Bruce says that he doesn’t believe that and that he didn’t have anything to do with the man that Jason has become either. For some reason, Jason is actually happy with what Bruce said and for a couple of moments, Jason goes back to being sure that the Joker knows nothing and that he is his own man.

It doesn’t last long though. At the very end of the issue, the trap that Joker had set up in Jason’s helmet triggers and Jason gets his face fucked up with acid or something.

But that’s not all because a hologram of Joker has something to say: “you were supposed to be my masterpiece from start to finish. But you were too stubborn to stay dead. So here is what we are going to do… You’re so determined to be your own man? Fine, let’s start with a clean slate”.

Basically, the Joker insinuates once more that he had something to do with who Jason was supposed to become and that Jason isn’t truly “his own man”, This is all a setup for a very dense storyline that will be continued in this run later.

Red Hood and the Outlaws (2011) #18

In this issue, Jason is in a coma after he is dosed with that gas in the previous issue. The Joker isn’t really present in this issue but he does make an appearance as part of Jason’s “nightmare” while he is unconscious.

That’s not all though, Jason has an illusion of Ducra (someone that he appreciates a lot), telling him that “after you left the All-Castle after you went back to the world you continued to let your life be defined by the actions of that man. You became a killer, lashing out at people who may or may not have deserved it. Eventually, you will hurt all those you have cared for. In that way, how are you any different from the Joker?”.

In this statement, there is a lot of wrongs that can come from two places, either bad writing on Lobdell’s part or just Ducra telling lies as a plot point.

“Let your life be defined by the actions of that man” is a sentence that horribly simplifies Jason’s thinking during the events of UtRH, because while he did resent the Joker, his real problem was with Bruce who had not avenged his death by killing the Joker himself. Also, Jason was doing other things back then, like being a pain in the ass for Black Mask and disrupting the drug trade in Gotham as well as trying to control the drug dealing to children. So that little sentence is just a gross misinterpretation of the true events which means that Ducra was wrong, and “she” continues to be wrong when she says that there might be no difference between Jason and Joker.

Luckily Jason thinks the same because he tells “Ducra”: “…don’t you dare compare me to that monster Ducra. I am nothing like the Joker! Nothing!”

Once again please don’t be fooled by Jason’s thinking because in the next issue it turns around really fast and really bad.

Red Hood and the Outlaws (2011) #19

Just a heads up this issue has a change of writer, Lobdell isn’t writing this arc, the writer that gives us this hellish story arc is James Tynion IV.

All that talk about Jason not being affected or not believing what the Joker told him is yeeted out of the window and it’s not a fun ride.

In this issue, Roy and Kory find a Jason that doesn’t know who they are or who he, himself, is. This is because S’aru that little floaty little shit took his memories away after Jason asked him to do so, well Jason asked S’aru to erase every memory that darkness has touched (Joker) and he does that. But him doing that is apparently erasing everything which, holy shit, how messed up is that?

But let’s take a look at what Jason says before he gets his memories taken away: “Not only did the Joker almost take my face, but he tells me he might have manipulated my entire life from the beginning! Even the good is tainted by him now. I can’t do it anymore. I can’t have that kind of doubt. If you take it away, I can go on living. I can keep fighting”. So, yeah that was a pretty emo speech. But the thing here is that if Jason is asking this dude to erase every memory that has been tainted by the Joker and he erases all of them then we might be facing one of two situations, either Joker has been messing up with Jason’s life from the beginning or S’aru is just a little bitch.

We will later find out in #20 that S’aru and Ducra planned the whole thing, meaning that they took all of his memories for ulterior motives not because the Joker had actually tainted all of them.

For many issues Jason has no memories and now that I am revisiting these issues, I now remember the twisted and completely insane plot they came up with for the “League of Assassins” and Jason being the “Chosen One”, everything was happening in this run, my god, it's like they wanted Jason to be the center of every single trope in writing history.

It’s in issue #26 that Jason asks for his memories back but the Joker having tainted his memories or not isn’t important anymore to anyone, including the writer (because he is too focused on telling this messy story), Jason (because he has enough problems at the moment) and the reader (because this book makes zero sense and it changes the story and motivations every single issue).

But there is another truth to be revealed in the next issue.

Red Hood and the Outlaws (2011) #27

Jason has planned along Ducra and S’aru to give up all of his memories to be cleansed so he could defeat Ra’s Al Ghul. But (there is always a but) Ducra says this: “Your greatest enemy returned and nearly took your face away from you. And in the process, shook your sense of identity to the core” “The final battle here will take place in the Well of Sins, and with all the doubt and fear clouding your mind, it would eat you whole”.

So yeah, now we have confirmation from Ducra that Jason had indeed let what the Joker told him cloud his sense of self and made him doubt who he was and if he really was in control.

All that back and forth for these many issues just to say, yes, Jason let Joker’s words affect him.

So here it is, let Joker get in Jason’s head to build the plot of a story, fantastic, the story was a mess because it had so much information, the mischaracterizations of Roy and Kory were at their maximum potential, and in this particular story arc not only are the events of Red Hood: The Lost Days officially erased from Jason’s canon but something quite out there is added to Jason’s canon from before he was even Robin (that’s a whole different story that I won’t be talking about here).

What an insane ride this arc was. Definitely not the kind of story I enjoy in a Red Hood book but that’s just my preference.

*This whole arc was written by James Tynion IV.

Red Hood/Arsenal #11

Joker is dead during the events of this run but the person who has something to say to Jason about how the Joker made the person that he is now is Duela Dent (“Joker’s daughter”, she isn’t his daughter she just found Joker’s face somewhere and she puts it on and “becomes” crazy, she is an incredibly weird character).

She says this, “You’re a lot like dad in that way” to which Jason says “He is not my father. He’s not even your father” but Duela continues by saying. “You’re kidding yourself if you genuinely believe that. Yeah, he took your life but look what you got in its place, you ingrate. You got your freedom. You were reborn.”

Jason doesn’t fall for it or anything of the sort but once again writers are bringing up the Joker as the maker of the Red Hood and “suggesting” that what Jason has been doing and who he has become is all thanks to Joker. The idea of Jason having no free will is still present in this narrative, even when Jason doesn’t believe it.

Red Hood/Arsenal #12

I talked too soon because in this issue Jason is having some weird thoughts.

“Funny, isn’t it, so easy to call Duela “crazy” because she wears a dead man’s face. Because isn’t that what I’m doing? Before he was the Joker, he was the Red Hood. So maybe the line between men and the Joker’s daughter is a lot thinner than I’d like to admit.”

Here he is comparing himself to Duela and to the Joker to an extent, writers often bring up the fact that Jason uses the code name that his killer once had and they have people or Jason himself questioning why he uses that name.

Personally, I don’t think there is much to build from it (at least not from the perspective of Lost Days and UtRH), it was just a joke, a morbid one if you will. He wears the mantle of the person that destroys Gotham and fills its people with fear while he is trying to control the city’s drug trade and trying to keep the people safe in his own way. And the way he wanted to do it is almost the complete opposite of the way that Batman does things.

I just think that he is being ironic and acidic about the whole thing. He has obviously moved on from the fact that Joker killed him but he has issues with the fact that Batman has yet another child working with him while the Joker is still alive. And Jason really wanted to make Bruce suffer, so him taking the name and a similar appearance to how the joker used to look is also done to get a reaction from Bruce.

I really don’t think there is any sort of connection to make between Jason and Joker beyond that, much like there is no connection between the name Nightwing and the Court of Owls. Even though Lincoln March tried to convince Dick Grayson that he chose the name Nightwing because Owls fly at night and that meant that he was supposed to become a Talon and all that Dick still didn’t believe it because he knew why he chose that name and no one can twist his reason.

Red Hood and the Outlaws (2016) #10

Finally, I can stop re-reading New 52 books, I don’t enjoy it but I have to do it if I want to talk/complain about stuff.

This one is a little different because while Jason does talk with the Joker, the Joker isn’t really there he is just part of Jason’s imagination just like the Robin Jason that he is also seeing.

In this story, Jason is helping Artemis discover who she is but he gets captured in Qurac, yup that place, and worst of all from where he is being held, he can see the place where he died. All of that is helping Jason have some very vivid memories/illusions. He does actively hold a conversation with the imaginary Joker and Robin Jason though, and he is also having a lot of thoughts that let us know how the Joker affects Jason.

“This is why it was stupid of me to come back to Qurac. Even to help Artemis, even if I thought I could handle it. Physically, I am alone, but in my head? I’m drowning in memories of the worst day of what was my very short life. The day I was murdered.”

That’s what Jason is thinking but what I write next is what Jason’s saying as he talks to the imaginary Joker.

“Not interested in replaying this over again, like I have every night of my life since it happened Joker”

So, we are told that Jason thinks about that day very often, the Joker might not be involved much in Jason’s books but he definitely has a bigger role inside of Jason’s head. They chat for a bit up until Jason decides to “kill” the Joker, he knows, of course, that it is not real but it does give him satisfaction. (If only they would have let Jason actually kill the clown for real, or at the very least chase him just to show the reader that Jason does actually want to finish the job since the Bat won’t do it himself).

Having said all that, Joker’s imaginary death doesn’t last long because Jason is trapped in his mind and the Joker is basically functioning on a loop inside of it.

That is where the problem lies in this issue because Jason is letting us know that he is still heavily influenced by what happened that day and that he hasn’t been able to walk away from it. But once more that’s not the worst thing, because all of these thoughts have led Jason to think that he (in the present and as a fifteen-year-old) is the one to blame for having ended up dead. Yeah, it is messed up.

This is what Jason says to imaginary Robin Jason, “He is never going to die, Jason. Not here. Not in my mind, not if at some point I don’t stand up and walk away from my memories. From you.”

This is a major downgrade, from the Jason that we had in UtRH because that Jason had moved on from the fact that he had been killed what he was looking for was for Batman to avenge his death. He had other things in mind as well, like I said before in this post Jason had a lot of things going on, killing Joker wasn’t his only plan.

And this situation (written by Lobdell) is also very different from what was going on in New 52 where Jason being influenced by the Joker was used to build a plot. This is just a writer letting us know that this “new version” of Jason hasn’t worked out his problems when it comes to his death and his killer. That means that we are going backward.

After he realizes that he was unconscious all that time and that he was being tortured he does get his shit together in order to get out of captivity and go help Artemis.

The Joker and that whole thing that happened in his mind aren’t mentioned again, it was just for the reader to know that Rebirth Jason has unsolved issues with his death.

Batman: Three Jokers #1

Oh yes, here we are, we have arrived to that dreaded book, awful writing gorgeous art. In this book, the “Joker made Jason as he is now” trope is at its full potential; Johns drives this hellish truck of a book at full speed into our homes and then ends it by giving us one of the worst takes on Jason Todd’s characterization ever.

But first, let’s talk about the Joker and Jason interaction in the first issue. As Jason and Barbara are left alone with the Joker that they came across moments ago the Joker begins talking because that’s what he does.

He says this, “I’m the loop-de-loop, the hamster-wheel-of-doom. The cycle of pain each one of you is trapped in. Take “Red Hood” here, for example. Have you ever wondered why he uses my former moniker? Who in their right mind would take on the identity of their killer? Am I right?”

He is obviously being a little shit on purpose and is waiting to see if somebody will take the bait. Jason is the first to talk and he says this: “I took it because I’m owning what you did to me. You made me into this. I will be your destruction”.

Congratulations Jason, you took the bait, and now Barbara will fight with you over it.

Jason raises his gun to “break the cycle” and Barbara is like “please don’t do it” and boy is Joker having the time of his life! Both of these idiots are playing his game, Johns really did both Jason and Barbara dirty with this.

Here is where THE problem with letting the Joker talk is. This Joker got under Jason’s skin in seconds and Barbara did nothing while it happened.

This is what the Joker had to say. “Let’s look at the facts here bat-people. I bashed this boy’s skull in. I killed this Robin” to which Jason says “You didn’t kill me, you only made me stronger” which is weird because the Joker did kill him so I don’t know what kinda comeback that was supposed to be but Joker wasn’t done because he continues by saying “Yes, you crawled from the shallow grave I left you in. You lived on to fight another day. Hurrah! You survived because of your tenacity! Or maybe… maybe I beat you to a bloody mess… I took you right to the edge… because I wanted to leave you alive.”

Great that’s where the clown is going, just fantastic, more of the “I made you” but that’s not all because the Joker tells Jason that him having hurt Jason wasn’t because he didn’t like Jason, it was all about Batman, Jason doesn’t matter.

But that’s not the worse thing that was written in this awful book, Geoff Johns seems to have felt that the trauma that Jason went through in the original “Death in the Family” story wasn’t enough because he decided to add something new.

That’s why the Joker says this next, “Do you recall what you said to me while I was breaking your head in with that crowbar? As your blood streamed into your eyes and your skull cracked? Because I cherish those words. I’ll always cherish them. ‘Please stop! Please! If you let me live, I’ll do anything you say. I’ll be your Robin’” “And look at you now my little “Red Hood” shooting up people and making Batman’s life miserable! You are my Robin!”

What a nightmare Johns decided to put Jason and Jason Nation through huh? I hate this, this is the worst thing that has ever been written in a Jason Todd story (although I can say that about many things that were written in this three-issue book).

Jason kills the Joker after he says all that, Barbara does (for some reason) try to stop him from doing it but luckily, she can’t stop Jason.

But here is the thing, Jason killing the Joker doesn’t make me feel as satisfied as I would have liked, and it doesn’t feel that way because Jason let Joker talk for far too long and what Joker said ended up getting in Jason’s head and messing with him.

Batman: Three Jokers #2

Yeah, there is no rest for us, Jason Nation, in this issue Jason goes looking for another Joker to kill and he finds one but he gets captured. Johns really had to get Jason naked for Joker to torture him mentally and physically? Johns is, himself, a major red flag but that’s not what I am here to talk about.

In this issue the Joker that captures Jason has the same things to say as the other one, DC writers really have no imagination when it comes to building conflict between Joker and Jason, huh?

Anyway, Joker says this, “tell me something. Why would you put on that helmet and call yourself Red Hood after what we did?” Jason of course replies “Come on, is every one of you copycats gonna ask me the same thing? It’s a joke” the answer isn’t enough for Joker (the two of them that are here with Jason) so he continues talking. “A joke? We left you with brain damage and permanent nerve pain. Physical and emotional trauma so severe that the only relief you ever find is when you inflict pain on others. You and me, boy, we’re more alike than you’d care to admit. But you know that already. You nearly died and you blame the Batman. You hate him for it. Me too. You hate him most of all don’t you?”

Now, here is the thing, that whole thing is bullshit, none of it makes sense. From Jason having permanent nerve pain to Jason hating Batman the most, everything is a lie. And my confusion here is that I don’t know if I have to feel like Joker is doing it on purpose to be a little bitch or if Geoff Johns was on crack when he wrote this and he had actually never heard of Jason Todd in his life before.

The whole thing is a mess, it feels like he is writing Jason from an origin and story that we never read. I don’t know how to explain it, but the whole thing feels cheap, it’s a cheap trope and it’s a cheap take on who Jason Todd is, was, and will be.

The nightmare doesn’t end Jason Nation because these two Jokers have something else in mind, you see, if they said that they made the Red Hood when they killed Jason the first time, maybe if they kill him this time then he could possibly come back as the Joker. Yeah, this book did nothing for Jason.

Let’s make something clear, Jason does NOT hate Batman/Bruce for not being able to save him, he hates the fact that Batman/Bruce didn’t kill the Joker to avenge him. That simple thing doesn’t exist in Three Jokers and that’s why things like the ones that happen next are allowed to happen in this story.

Bruce and Barbara find Jason and when Bruce asks if he is okay Jason just goes berserk, he says: “Am I all right? What do you think Bruce?! You did this to me. You put me on this path. And I do hate you for it. For leaving me in the dirt. Replacing me one Robin after another without a thought.”

This, everybody is what you get when you mix bad writing with Jason being mentally manipulated by the Joker.

It's a shame that Jason is being treated this way at this point in time, in a book that came out in 2020 when Jason was able to shut the clown up with a knife and a couple of words back in 2005. What a downgrade.

At the end of this issue, Jason is safe and recovering but he still is in the same mindset, he says, “What the Joker said about how I’ve been on the path to being like them for years… they are not wrong. I don’t want to be like them though. I really don’t.”

It’s like a never-ending wheel of pain with this book. Jason is talking to Barbara when he says that and he is trying to look for comfort in her. And here is where the Jason/Barbara subplot begins and I only bring this up because something that happens in the next issue is based on the kiss that Barbara gave Jason but then was like “that doesn’t mean anything, I was just trying to comfort you”. Johns shouldn’t be allowed to write Barbara and Jason ever again.

Batman: Three Jokers #3

It’s in this issue that we find out the big subplot that Johns has prepared for Jason, are you ready for it? Yup, Jason should stop being the Red Hood because if he keeps it up, he will eventually become the Joker.

I know, I know! Jason would never stop being Red Hood, he is not on a path to become the Joker, that’s crazy! Jason’s Red Hood is a character on its own and he is amazing and just because he has different morals from Batman doesn’t mean that he is a bad guy! Right?...

“I’ll give up being Red Hood for us. I can be something else. Or I can be just Jason.”

To this day I cannot believe that those words supposedly were written by Jason Todd to Barbara Gordon after Barbara rejected him three times. The level of “what the fuck is this” is incredibly high with this one…

This whole book was a mess and I am so glad that it didn’t last longer.

Anyway, that’s it. In conclusion, Jason didn’t let the Joker get under his skin the first time they interacted after he came back from the dead but later when DC decided that UtRH was just too good of a book they came up with stories where Joker does get under Jason’s skin and Jason becomes convinced that he has no free will (or at the very least he doubts his free will) when it comes to him becoming his own man.

As I have said before, that for Jason Todd is a major downgrade. And it's one of the many things that hurts Jason’s characterization in current comics.

#jason todd #Jason Todd #red hood #Red Hood #red hood and the outlaws #red hood outlaw #three jokers #batman under the red hood #dc comics

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llycaons · 2 years ago

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okay SO modern au the first chapter was about wwx moving back to his hometown after leaving the LP company and it was all fine and normal and I skimmed it and hit the second chapter, which was just an author's summary of everything that happened afterwards, but where it got really good was the end notes. I bolded some lines for emphasis

if you are a Jiang Cheng fan, SKIP THE END NOTES. i personally don't like him, not at all, and I rly hate how the fandom has painted him out to be this sweet tsundere who "actually really cares deep down inside". imo, and after reading through the entire novel and watching cql, the donghua, and reading the manhua again, every version just seems to really validate my thought that Jiang Cheng is actually a really terrible person.

[fic summary]

im gonna expand on my thoughts on Jiang Cheng. every fic I come across in Fanon, every art work, paints Jiang Cheng out to be this adorable, hurting, sad ball of fluff. wtf in canon, he's literally the opposite of this. he lashes out at people randomly, and even if that is his own way of showing affection, he's 35-40 years old. he's an adult. he should have realized, long ago that being angry and bitter and taking it out on people like lwj and wwx is behavior that he could have excused when he was a child, but as soon as he crossed the threshold into 18-20 years old he should have GOTTEN HIS SHIT TOGETHER. I rly rly hate how everyone blames everything on madam yu abusing him, or Jiang Yanli's death. and people really seem to love pushing the blame onto wwx. ??? let wwx be angry at Jiang Cheng. im not saying its not valid to like characters you like. but I think Jiang Cheng getting painted out to be gentle and kind and loving hidden under a shell of loneliness is such BS. I think that its not only wwx and Jin Ling who suffered from Jiang Cheng's harsh words. to a certain extent, if you look at the way jyl behaves around him, he hurt her too. she was always so careful to be gentle with her brothers because she loved them, she loved them so much and she just wanted them to be happy, and she always held their family together through everything, and Jiang Cheng always brushed off her efforts or took it as granted. the only time he ever really shows genuine concern for her health was when he was using it against wwx and telling wwx it was his fault. now I think at the end of the book, he might be moving slowly towards change. I like how at the end he's starting to finally realize that he can also be at fault for some things, instead of pushing the blame onto wwx always. and Jiang Cheng does love wwx. I know that. he does show it, when he led the soldiers away. I think that was a great thing for him to do, but its really one of the only times in canon when he ever does something that sacrifices himself for someone else. it's not his duty to sacrifice himself to help wwx like wwx does for him, and he certainly doesn't have to, and it's not very healthy to think that way, but it's also really the only instance that he ever puts someone else before himself. every other time he's yelling at wwx that its his fault. in cql it kinda gets dumbed down a lot. I like cql jc much more than I like novel jc, bc novel jc makes himself seem the victim. I don't think its intentional, but it kind of comes off as incredibly manipulative, in the same way Jin Guangyao does it. while jgy was intentional in his manipulation, I think jc is just much more like his parents than he should be. jc's breakdown at guanyin temple is sort of proof. he reveals that he's always thought of himself as the victim bc "what was I supposed to do, you left me, I needed you and you left me to fuck off to burial mounds, they're not your family im your family" this only serves to further gaslight wwx, because he knows. he knows wwx blames himself. what in the fresh fuck would saying all this accomplish except for the sole purpose of making wwx feel worse about himself? why did he never once stand up for wwx? it makes me so mad? it seems like before wwx died, in the last year or so before his death jc really tried his best to be the biggest asshole. wwx was practically invincible. if he'd supported his brother, they would've been stronger in the eyes of the sects, not weaker. he always preaches to wwx about how family is more important than the wens, but not once did he stick up for his family. even when jzx was rude to jyl, he didn't defend her, and even if he agreed with wwx when wwx insulted jzx he still had to go and yell at him for it. im not saying wwx was innocent or that it was fully jc's fault, btw.

I don't even rly care abt it bc that's just character design and that's just how it is. why I had to write all this and seem like a petty hater is because the way Fanon portrays him-it's like they get rid of all his bad parts. they place him on a pedestal and say "he's hurting, poor little jc needs a hug" that makes me kind of angry. no one ever acknowledges or calls him out on it, but I see plenty of people make jl and jc mad at wwx for "not supporting him enough" when wwx literally never ever did anything to hurt Jiang Cheng, and Jiang Cheng has done NOTHING but try to intentionally hurt wwx with his words. he literally psychologically abuses him with the dogs and no one acknowledges it and it makes me so sad for wwx.

what a breath of fresh air to read this, no joke. their point about jyl is super interesting too

Just read a weird one where the structure was all over the place but in the author notes they wrote a whole essay about much they dislike jc and how annoyed they are at the way the fandom treats him and I gotta copy it out bc I'm sitting in the corner cheering lmao like 99% of fic authors are like 'ohhh poor baby jc he just needs a hug he had it worse than anyone else wwx can ONLY be happy with him and everything he did was justified 🥺' but its just not the case... when I get to a computer. you all will see

#ficblogging

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alastaircarstairsdefenselawyer · 3 years ago

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all gone, all gone, all gone

part 3: it will not be at all or any better

CW: kidnapping, suicidal thoughts, manipulation, descriptions of bullying, child abuse, and toxic relationship

as a disclaimer (and acknowledgement), some of the dialogue is from what I remember of the book, and some of it is based on takes i've seen on tumblr that I agreed with!

Part 1 | Part 2 | AO3 | Masterlist

Thomas never made it to the Devil Tavern that night. His throat burned when he woke, a mixture of dehydration and whatever drug had been used to incapacitate him.

“There you are,” a familiar voice drawled. “Finally. I was worried I’d perhaps gotten the dosage incorrect and killed you.”

Alastair. “You were worried about me?”

“Ha, I suppose not. Would have been a lot more work if you’d died, though. Belial surely wouldn’t’ve been happy if I killed you before he got his hands on you.” He approached Thomas with a glass of water. “Drink,” he ordered.

Thomas wanted to refuse, but he was so thirsty that he could not stop to worry about whatever Alastair may have snuck into the drink. When Alastair finally took the glass away, he attempted to regain his composure. “What do you want from me?”

Alastair shrugged. “I’m sure Belial has his uses for you. Until then… I am to get as much information from you as I can.” He picked up a knife from a table and spun it around with a flourish. “Whilst leaving you in one piece.”

“Why are you doing this?” He hadn’t entirely intended to ask the question out loud, but it hung in the air anyways.

Alastair rolled his eyes. “What, you expect me to hold some sort of loyalty to you? What’ve you ever done to earn it? You truly expect the world to be handed to you, still? You despise me, Thomas. You send me rude letters and threaten me at large gatherings. Give me one reason why I should ever choose your side instead of Belial’s.”

A wave of guilt crashed over Thomas. He knew he’d made mistakes. He was simply angry. He was never trying to hurt Alastair. Thomas wondered whether he would have treated him differently if he’d known what he was hiding. “Cordelia. What about your sister?”

He shook his head. “Before, I had all of these ideas about what I owed her and the world and what I deserved myself. I felt it sensible to give all of myself to others, to give endless compassion and protection and patience to the people I cared about and accept when they gave me nothing in return. Belial helped me to see clearly.”

“What did he do to you?”

Alastair flung the knife, it soaring right past Thomas’ head. He braced himself but never felt an impact. The blade splinted the wood behind him. “Belial made me strong,” Alastair said coolly. Thomas could tell his outburst was not out of anger; he was making a play at intimidation. Thomas would not show him just how terrified he truly was.

“You were already strong.” Thomas’ heart ached for the boy beneath this creature that Belial had created. Though that wasn’t entirely true, was it? It had not just been Belial, it had been Elias, it had been every cut and lash that had led Alastair to the bridge that night. Perhaps some inflicted by Thomas himself.

“I was weak. Love is weakness. Perhaps it is not for everyone, but in my family? In my family, the cost of love is hopelessness. All of us are destined to love those who will never truly care for us.” Thomas thought of Cordelia. Did he know the marriage had been false?

“What did you think I couldn’t see how deeply my sister felt for James? How he disregarded her over and over again for Grace Blackthorn? I understand now that the situation was more complex, but my sister did not marry him thinking that he did not love her back because of a bracelet, she believed he did not love her at all. Such seems to be our curse. So when Belial came to me, when he offered me our deal, I thought, wouldn’t it be nice to not care, too?”

“Love makes us human, Alastair.”

“Good thing, then, that you and your friends already thought me a heartless monster.”

Thomas bit at the inside of his cheek. It was true. He’d spent months, years convincing himself that Alastair was cruel and uncaring. He wanted desperately to know how he could have confused hurting for heartlessness. A thought creeped into his mind, one that had been pestering him ever since he learned of Cordelia’s letter. Had Thomas been one of those people? One of the ones Alastair gave himself to and received nothing in return? He studied his expression, but could read nothing. “It was you, wasn’t it? The person who was following me when I went out at night? You- You were protecting me.”

Alastair didn’t waver. “Perhaps I was.”

“But… why?” He was correct, Thomas had treated him more than poorly the past few months. Why would he risk his life to protect him? Why would he do it all in secret, not even leaving behind a trace of his true intentions in his letter to his sister? In fact, he was fairly certain that if Alastair had been killed, if it were not immediately apparent that he had been following Thomas, he would have assumed that Alastair had some completely separate business that he was taking care of, and they merely happened to be in similar places at the same time. Why would he do that? Perhaps he did not want to risk exposing what Thomas was doing? Or… perhaps he wanted to save him from the guilt?

Alastair approached him non-threateningly, but he could not forget the dagger in his hand. “Because you have shown me kindness in the past, and there are not many people in this world who have done so. I thought it would be most unfortunate for you to die alone, recklessly trying to repair your guilt over not saving your sister.”

“I- I wasn’t- I was just trying to find the killer. So that no one else would get hurt. I had to go alone; going in pairs or groups… it’s too obvious. He would hear you coming.”

“Is that what you told your friends?”

Admittedly, his friends hadn’t asked very many questions about his whereabouts and his actions, so he hadn’t explained it to them. He didn’t answer.

“There may be an element of truth to that, but you and I both know that’s not the whole of it. You couldn’t save your sister. The killer may not have been responsible for her death, but it didn’t matter. Evil is evil, whatever form it takes. You went alone because you knew the risk you were taking, you knew the danger you were putting yourself in, and you didn’t want anyone going down with you.”

“How- How do you know that?”

He rolled his eyes. “You’re not the only one who can be observant, Thomas.”

“I- I don’t understand.”

“Just another piece of evidence, proving human weakness. You were never going to save Barbara. You’re guilty over nothing. You risked your life for nothing.”

Thomas felt his anger rising again. “That’s not- If we had-”

“Did you think it was a coincidence that her and Oliver both got so much sicker so much faster than the others? That they were simply unlucky? There was nothing unintentional about her death. Oliver was unlucky, certainly. Unlucky to have loved her, perhaps. But your sister was dead the moment Belial marked her.”

“The welcome ball,” Thomas realized. “But why?”

“Tatiana,” Alastair answered without hesitation. “She has quite the grudge against your father. You’re the icing on the cake, of course. When your family learns of your death, when your father finally realizes why… The guilt will consume him. He will never forgive himself. Tatiana will finally have her revenge.”

“You- you said you weren’t going to kill me.”

“I’m not going to kill you, no, but only time will tell what Belial plans on doing with you.”

Thomas could find no words, only stare at him in fear and shock. That was what he wanted wasn’t it? Alastair placed his fingers against his cheek, and he flinched away. After a long pause, Alastair sighed. “Do you want to know what my favorite memory from Paris was?”

“No.”

“It was you.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“Why is that? I would never tell you lies, Thomas.”

Thomas swallowed hard. Alastair’s voice was soft, filled with longing. It’s not real, he told himself. “All you have done is tell me lies! From the very beginning. I know you were in Paris with Charles Fairchild, anyways. I’ve seen the ways you look at each other. When we were together, your eyes lit up every time you mentioned him.”

Alastair hesitated for the briefest moment at the mention of Charles. Thomas cursed himself for still feeling the slightest pang of jealousy. “Pathetic, isn’t it? But no. My favorite memory,” his voice softened again, a sickly sweet melody in Thomas’ ears, “was taking you to see that film. I’d fallen in love with moving pictures during my stay in Paris. I’d fretted all night over it, worried that you would find it silly, or worse, you would mock me for it. But I wanted so desperately for someone to share it with. Charles never had an appreciation for art, not that he would have ever dared to go somewhere that public with me anyways. Afterwards, looking into your eyes, I thought… in another life... in another life, I could have been here with him.”

Thomas hated how his heart ached in his chest. He hated Alastair, even before this whole deal with Belial. That’s what he told himself, anyways. In another life… These are lies. He’s using you. “No chance we could go now then? I hear it’s beautiful during the holidays.”

Alastair smirked. He ran the cool blade lightly against the skin of Thomas’ throat. “Don’t you feel guilty, Thomas? You couldn’t have saved your sister, but you could have saved me.”

He hoped Alastair could not feel how hard his heart was beating. “No- no, that’s not true. There’s no saving someone like you.” He knew they were lies.

“No, not someone like me. Someone like him.” Alastair leaned forward so that Thomas could feel the breath on his neck as Alastair hissed, “He loved you. He would have died for you, in secret, even knowing how openly you disdained him. You gave him hope last summer. You helped him realize he deserved more than a lover who lied every time he claimed to love him, who never cared for him more than a Clave meeting and always left before the sun rose.” He frowned. “You could have saved him, if you wanted to. But you didn’t think he was worth it.”

“I- That’s not- I-” Thomas tugged at his bindings, suddenly filled with rage. “Shut up! I hate you! You now and you before! You’re cruel and callous! You never cared for anyone but yourself! Why were you even so mean to us at school? We never gave you any reason for it! Your family is friends with the Herondales; you could have at least been kinder to James.”

Alastair looked away wistfully. Thomas loathed it, how easily he replicated emotions. He felt none of them. “If you wanted an apology, Thomas, you should have asked for it two weeks ago.”

“Just explain it to me. You wish for me to feel something for the person you once were? Explain it.”

“When I arrived at school, talk about my family preceded me. The rumors about my father’s drinking, the speculation about why we moved so much. The fact that my family couldn’t afford tutors for us. I looked different than them; talked different than them. Shadowhunters like to pretend that such prejudices don’t touch them, but it’s only to make themselves feel better. I had no friends; I knew no one when I arrived. Who better to beat up than the Persian boy whose father would never show up when he was injured?”

“So you were jealous, that day after the prank. I thought you might-”

“No. I wasn’t jealous. I was angry. I was put in the infirmary for two weeks, I nearly died, would have were I a mundane, and all my father did was lecture me when I came home for the holidays about how I needed to be more careful and how much of a burden I was to him. You, James, your friends, you had everything. You had pretty homes with nice parents, parents who loved you, who cared for you. You arrived at the Academy expecting the world to embrace you, as it never had me.”

“So, what? You needed to even the scores?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. There are no scores, and if there were, I would never be able to even them. It had to be someone. It was the only way to keep them from hurting me. I had nothing, no one, but I had my tongue, and when I cut some poor student down to size, the other boys were so amused that they forgot about ever hurting me. I never hit anyone, never got my hands dirty, but it didn’t matter, did it? I was one of them. It had to be someone, so I chose you. I chose James.” He paused. “So, what about now?”

“What?” Thomas’ throat ached from holding back tears.

“Do you think I could have been saved?”

“I don’t know.” His voice was just above a whisper, more of an echo. It was the truth. He understood what Alastair was telling him. The decision he’d come to was not a rash, impulsive decision. It was one that was built up over many, many years. And with that was the knowledge that time after time, year after year, someone, anyone, could have helped, could have saved him, like Thomas’ own father had been saved when breaking free of his father, but no one did. No one noticed, and the ones that did didn’t care. “You deserved better.” A still silence fell on them. “You’re stalling.”

“How do you figure?”

“You’re meant to torture me, but you can’t do it. You never physically hurt anyone at school, and you can’t now. Maybe it’s morals, maybe your mind is still caught in your past, maybe some part of you still cares for me. It doesn’t matter; you can’t do it.”

“That’s quite the gamble.”

It was. There was no telling whether his speculation was correct or whether Alastair was about to place him on a skewer. He was simply trusting his intuition. “Prove me wrong. Hurt me or let me go.”

Alastair moved closer to him, essentially on top of him, but Thomas kept his eyes locked with his, not showing a flicker of fear. When Alastair’s arms dug in, however, he felt no stab of pain. His wrists came free. He watched as he slashed the binds at his ankles. Alastair kept his eyes on him as he left, his expression never swaying. I’ll free you next, Thomas thought.

* * *

"You let the Lightwood go?"

"He esc-"

"Don't lie to me! What, do you think you're special now? Do you fancy yourself human? Redeemable? You think yourself better, more moral, than I? You would betray me for them? You are exactly what I make you. If you wish to be sentimental so badly, you need only ask." With that Belial disappeared. The doors to the room slammed shut and Alastair nearly stumbled to ground. It felt like he couldn't breathe. It felt like- It felt like heartache.

He ran first to the doors, but he knew they wouldn't budge. There were no windows to this room and only one vent that would not move no matter how hard he tried to pry it open.

He gasped for breath, knowing there was no escape. Belial would not let him go free. Not after Thomas. He’d had a lapse in judgement, and he would not make the same one again. Alastair was trapped here, alone. Alone with nothing but the feeling of the world crumbling around him, of his guilt crushing his chest. Finally, he was all the things other people believed him to be: evil and heartless and cruel. Finally, he was all the things his father and Charles had called him: pathetic and weak and useless. Finally, he was the monster he’d always feared becoming.

There was no redemption for him, not anymore. Not after Belial. Not after betraying Cordelia. Not after kidnapping Thomas.

He looked to his blades laid out on the table. He could not leave the warehouse physically, but… He lifted one, and it felt oddly heavy in his hands. His grasp shook and he sunk to his knees. He gripped it tighter and he realized that Belial would never let him.

He had not let him die the first time, and he would not now. Belial wanted this, he wanted him to give up. It made him much easier to control. Belial wanted him to have no motivations, no loyalties, no reason to betray him. If he wanted him dead, he would be dead. Belial still had uses for him, and the only thing Alastair knew was that he could not let him win.

thanks for reading! we're almost done actually! taglist (lmk to be +/-): @jem-nasium @littlx-songbxrd @fortheloveofthecarstairs @cant-think-of-anything @vampireeugenia-deactivated20210

Part 4

#alastair carstairs #thomas lightwood #thomastair #tlh #the last hours #fanfic #fanfiction #all gone fic #cw suicide #cw kidnapping #cw manipulation

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dear-yandere · 5 years ago

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☽ darling, don’t leave me.

yandere! jojos + dio. general headcanons. tw: mentions of physical abuse, gaslighting, confinement, and noncon (dio’s part).

art credits: rosuto, ぴの, wW 武 Ww, unknown, suan, tumbleweed.

Jonathan Joestar is obsessive.

A true gentleman, Jonathan knows better than to let his feelings stray from his control. Still, he’s never been one to pursue love, so these feelings are entirely new. He courts his darling like any other self-respecting man of his time, allowing them the space to choose whether or not they desire him too. He doesn’t take being turned down personally as he’s perfectly content with merely being by his darling’s side. Even seeing them fall for another man is something he cannot force himself to intervene in; every smile and laugh not directed at him hurts far worse than any punch he’s ever received, but Jonathan thrives in seeing his darling happy and carefree.

Clingy as he may be, he isn’t above taking a few of darling’s possessions should the opportunity present itself. A head band or hair tie here or there, perhaps a pair of gloves or a hat his darling is sure to not miss — Jonathan is surprisingly adept and subtle at stealing and keeping these little trinkets. Darling may notice a few missing possessions, but it’s nothing Jonathan can’t laugh off as a misplaced item and easily replace with something new and extravagant. Money isn’t a problem, especially when it comes to his sweetheart. If it means they’ll stay by his side — or even look his way as more than a friend or confidant — he’ll give his darling the world.

Overbearing and well-meaning as he is, even gentleman aren’t without their flaws.

“You don’t have to feel the same. All I ask is that you don’t leave me.”

Joseph Joestar is protective with a hint of possessiveness.

Acting much more like an older brother rather than a lover — similar to his grandfather Jonathan — Joseph is hyper-aware of anyone that might hurt his sweetheart. He’s not sure how it came to be this way, really; it’s a first for him to not know even his own feelings. His darling is easy enough to read, and perhaps that’s what got him into this situation, where even the slightest brush of skin against his or the mere sound of them saying his name sends his nerves on edge. He likes the attention they give him when he acts like a brotherly figure; there’s no need to worry about unwanted feelings developing between the pair. At least, darling doesn’t have to worry, because Joseph falls in love despite his precautions. It isn’t until a competent rival appears that Joseph becomes rather intensely possessive and competitive — a rival like Caesar.

He hates losing, especially when he had his eyes set on the goal first. The moment a suave man like Caesar sets their sights on Joseph’s darling, he’ll turn snarky, snappy with even his darling. It’s a brutally stark contrast to the playful, chipper demeanor he usually bears, but it’s easy for darling to play it off as him having a bad day — until he doesn’t relent. His grip is harsher these days, his tone more grating and condescending whenever darling shows interest in his rival. At some point, he’ll lash out whenever they show interest in any man other than him.

If his insecurities and one-sided love are kept unchecked, he has no qualms with cutting his darling’s connection to anyone he deems a threat.

“Of course I’m jealous! You’re mine! You need me!”

Jotaro Kujo is manipulative with a hint of sadism and lucidity.

With a cool and collected exterior, it’s easy to convince his darling that everything they believe is wrong. Even a lionhearted lover will doubt themselves; or rather, Jotaro would seek an individual like this out. He’s used to women and men swooning over his good looks and alluring physique, though he doesn’t care much for the attention. Even when he degrades and admonishes his admirers, they fawn and swoon over him — it’s nothing short of disgusting, really.

His ideal darling — the only type of person he’d seek out, rather than let come to him — is someone with a steel heart, someone hellbent on rejecting his words as law, someone who puts up a fight. Degrading and humiliating them will be a treat, a fun little challenge to come home to. He doesn’t want them to enjoy this in the slightest; he wants them to slowly break, to slowly doubt every piece of information they hear unless it comes from his mouth. Even the death of a loved one will seem surreal, exaggerated, fake unless he says so himself, and even then he won’t allow his darling that sort of luxury.

Once he’s tied his darling down (with a ring, and with ropes), they won’t see very much of him. As he pursues his career in Marine Biology, he’s often away on business trips, his only excuse for long periods of absence being “it’s too dangerous”, or some slew of insults thrown his darling’s way. He isn’t fond of divulging much of his personal life with them even if they are the love of his life; to him, secrets come hand-in-hand with relationships. Darling’s life is in danger simply by association; it’s best to act as if they don’t exist. Still, that doesn’t mean he’ll let them slip through his fingers. When he wants something, he’ll get it even if it’s eventual.

Darling was doomed the moment he found an inkling of interest in taming them.

“Don’t look so scared when I’m around. I shouldn’t have to repeat myself.”

Josuke Higashikata is protective with a hint of delusion.

Sweet and compassionate as he may be, Josuke isn’t immune to feelings of inadequacy, jealousy, and obsession. He rationalizes these feelings as merely being protective of a good friend of his, but it’s not until his friends point out that what he’s feeling is love that he truly understands why his heart pitters and patters like raindrops when his darling’s around. He completely understands if darling doesn’t return his feelings — these things take time, he’ll say — but he doesn’t take kindly to jealousy of any sort. A mere mention of liking someone else will have him moping and distancing himself, but he’ll stay around just enough to ensure his beloved’s protection.

Josuke wouldn’t fare well with a darling who’s familiar with getting under his skin. Even an insult or two to his hair isn’t enough for Josuke to give up on his one-sided love; if anything, it’s an opportunity. Crazy Diamond has the power to heal after all, and when Josuke’s emotions run away from him, his darling may end up with more than a few cuts and bruises. Bones will be shattered, blood will be spilled, and apologies will fumble past trembling lips as darling’s abuser fixes them up — as if nothing ever happened. The only trace of evidence are the tears in Josuke’s eyes and the excuses on his lips — this easily becomes the norm. Both he and his darling will constantly tread along eggshells, the former worrying that his actions destroyed any chance of a relationship and the latter worrying the next time they step out of line, they’ll die.

But Josuke wouldn’t let his sweetheart die, no. He can heal whatever wounds they may receive, even its its from him. He’s a platonic yandere, at worst, and an overbearingly violent one at best.

“Please don’t scream. People will think I did something terrible to you.”

Giorno Giovanna is manipulative with a hint of protectiveness and lucidity.

This soldato is cunning and intuitive, a natural-born leader with charisma rivaling his true father’s. He turns heads wherever he goes, inspires everyone he meets — it’s almost laughable how easy it is to twine people around his fingers. As a mere Passione soldato, he isn’t much threat to his darling, but as don, any hope of escaping his suffocating love is slashed. His control reaches farther than his darling can ever tread, and although he understands why his little coccinella would go so far as to run away, the thought of being without them is inconceivable. How can he protect them if they’re not at his side? Without him, darling could fall in love with the wrong person, someone who wears a mask and will hurt them once they’ve settled down together; without him, darling could fall in love with a monster. His step-father was like that, and he’d made Giorno’s childhood a living hell. So how could he let his darling tread that same path?

With a well-behaved darling, the don is a fairly normal lover... once they get past all the bodyguards and paranoia-filled lifestyle. Unlike his father, Giorno is not sadistic in the slightest; rather, seeing his darling in physical or emotional turmoil hurts him. He’s more apt to manipulate them in subtle, gentler ways rather than through brute force or threats. After giving them a new identity, he’ll keep them someplace safe, a private island off the coasts of Italy, somewhere heavily guarded and devoid of life except for his beloved and their bodyguards. It’ll be lonely, he’s sure, so he’s certain to visit whenever he has an ounce of free time. But even he can’t replace one’s need to feel social, safe, normal. That’s just the price his lover has to pay as the future spouse of a mafioso.

If he lived a different life, there’d be no need for all of this. Giorno’s love is bittersweet at best, but that realization isn’t enough to let his darling go. They need him, perhaps just as much as he needs them.

“I really can’t take it when you cry like that… smile for me, alright? You’re so pretty when you smile.”

DIO is sadistic, manipulative, and possessive.

Love has never done much for him, not in the way feeling powerful has. He prefers ruling over others rather than giving someone the ability to rule with or over him. His darling is nothing more than a plaything, at best — something to pass the time, something to sate his curiosity. Just how far can he push them before they crumble between his fingers and shatter like a precious gemstone? He takes pleasure in testing these boundaries, humiliating his darling as if that will help him understand this odd feeling humans call love. It’s possible for him to truly fall in love with his darling, but they will never take priority over his desire to end the Joestar bloodline. Perhaps, once he accomplishes this goal, his darling will be something nice to come back to, something stagnant and forever his.

He’ll go to lengths to break his darling, over and over again, see how much torture they can withstand before they realize that crying out or begging gets them nowhere. Will they hide their defiance under a facade of obedience, or will they truly break? It’s all an experiment to Dio, but either way, he’ll force them to be his little sex slave — sometimes, if they’ve behaved particularly nasty, darling will be the sex slave of his devoted followers, a little reward for being such wonderful subordinates.

Apart from sexual torture, he’s keen on testing his darling on tidbits of information from the books he reads — completely mundane and often vague questions designed to make his little slave fail. It’s just a precursor, really, because he likes seeing them shine with determination only for it to shatter before their eyes. Punishments always follow, usually humiliation or sexual assault of some sort; though if he’s in a particularly bad mood, he won’t shy away from physically hurting his darling. All the better to break them with.

It’s a miracle if darling survives this little game of his, but if they do, he’s certain to keep them around for far longer than he originally anticipated. Being immortal can get so boring, you see, and what’s the fun of bottomless money and endless casual sex if he can’t keep an entertaining and worthy slave here or there?

“Tell me you love me as I fuck you into the mattress.”

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yandere-daydreams · 4 years ago

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Scaredy cat darling. Like sure their Yan just kidnapped them, but they can’t stand the monotony of the windowless, unlit basement even more. They swear they can see ghosts and hear screams if they’re stuck in there too long, so they just cling to their Yan whenever they can and probably beg to sleep in the same bed as them bc its too scary in the basement and they heard a creak downstairs so they’re like “you said you love me so pls don’t make me sleep in a different room alone 🥺😭”.

I thought I’d use this blog’s resident Protective for this one, if only because he’s got so much practice ignoring his Darlings’ feelings in favor of pushing his own, weird thought pattern. It’s an art, honestly, even for Bakugo.

TW: Kidnapping, Scotophobia, Mentions of Injury and Implied Emotional Manipulation.

The light-switch was on the other side of the basement door.

It was a thought that haunted you, mocked you, called to you day and night, although it was louder in the latter than the former. You’d had three months to measure every statistic of your misery, from the six centimeters of solid wood that separated you from the ground floor to the fourteen steps you had to climb to get there to the arm’s length you’d have to reach to get to that little, infernal panel, as tall as your hand and painted in the same washed-out white as the rest of Katsuki’s home. Your collar only let you get halfway up the staircase before the shocks started, but you could make it to the top before the pain knocked you out. You’d have a couple bruises when you woke up in the morning, if you were lucky, and a new fracture if you weren’t. You usually weren’t.

When Katsuki found out, he’d threaten to increase the voltage. He always did, but he never would.

He knew you’d do it again, and you never failed to disappoint.

Even now, he was still scowling as he wrapped fresh gauze around your ankle, the skin discolored and sore to the touch. It might’ve been broken, but Katsuki didn’t seem to have any investment in seeing the wound fully healed, not when he was more than happy to smirk and gloat and watch you try to find a way to get around without asking for his help. You wondered if he enjoyed it, watching you hurt yourself, knowing he could guiltlessly claim to be blameless. It wasn’t out of the realm of possibilities. From the way he glared, you’d guess he hated you. He tried to deny it, but he was never very convincing. Or, you knew him too well to be convinced, at least.

His thumb pushed against the base of your ankle, pushing against one of the worst spots. You cringed, and Katsuki chuckled, still grinning as he leaned forward to kiss your knee apologetically.

Yeah, he hated you. You didn’t know why you’d ever thought otherwise.

He sighed as he pushed himself to his feet, wiping his hands on his tank-top like you were some infectious, contagious disease he was too high and mighty to catch. Like you’d crawled into his basement willingly, and needed to be treated like an unwanted pest before you’d leave. “You’re going to bed,” He announced, unprompted. “It’s late, and brats don’t get to stay up. I don’t want to hear you whine about it, tonight.”

You narrowed your eyes, dropping your focus to the ground. “If you didn’t want to hear me whine, you wouldn’t keep me in a crawlspace. I’m going to complain until I can get a real room.” You paused, your eyes widening, faux-surprise spreading across your expression. “Or better yet, you could let me go! You’ll never have to hear my whining again.”

“Or better yet, you could shut the fuck up,” He growled, the words forced through grit teeth. His fists were balled at his sides, now, his back straightened, bringing Katsuki to his full height, letting his tower over you like the all-powerful guardian he thought he was. “You’ve got everything you need, down here. I could’ve stuck you with a cot and called it a day, but I was nice enough to give you all the shit I’d want - hell, I drag down every other fuckin’ thing you ask for. ‘Real rooms’ are for people who know when to stop tryin’ to break their own necks.”

“I don’t want to hurt myself.” You hate how you sound, childish and immature, like you were the one who needed to be reasoned with. You lock your jaw into place as you go on, thin sheets soon balled in your hands, your anger manifesting before your frustration could. “If you just left the lights on, I wouldn’t--”

“It’s bad for you,” Katsuki interrupted, cutting you off without hesitation. “Messes with your head. I’m not leaving ‘em on.” He paused, tilting his head to the side. His tone softened, but the change was almost unnoticeable. You doubted anyone else would notice. “You scared of the dark, angel?”

You tried to speak, to deny it, but your voice hitched in your throat. You were, you knew you were, but that didn’t get rid of the heat quickly rising to your cheeks, or the nagging, persisting feeling that you were getting smaller, that everything else was getting too big to comprehend. It was a phobia more fit for a child, a kid. An adult shouldn’t get shake when the sun goes down, or dread the moment their captor leaves more than when he comes back brandishing a new ‘necessary precaution’. It’d just give Katsuki another reason to degrade you. That’s all it ever did. “I’m not,” You mumbled, half-heartedly. “I don’t like it. That’s all.”

Katsuki hummed in affirmation, accepting your answer without an argument. He turned on his heel without warning, starting towards the stairs, the basement’s door, the light-switch you couldn’t reach and never would. He’d barely taken a step before you were no longer in a well-lit, furnished room, no, god no. Suddenly, you were scared and alone, balled up in the closest corner and trying desperately not to look at the room around you, not to acknowledge the consuming nothingness around you. That’s what it was, really, nothingness. Emptiness. A space where no one was around and everyone was watching you. A state you’d be stuck in until Katsuki decided you deserved to come out. The kind that would bleed at the corners and make you think of awful things, terrible things, worse than Katsuki could ever inflict. You’d be trapped in that cold, suffocating captivity until someone came to let you out, and even then, you’d barely have half the day before you were thrown back into it, tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after that and always, if you couldn’t find your way out. It was torture.

It was hell.

Pure, utter hell.

You didn’t think, lashing out and grabbing Katsuki’s wrist, clinging to it as he glanced over his shoulder. You didn’t waste time, swallowing your pride and focusing on his bicep as you spoke. “You can leave them off. I just… I can’t - Let me sleep in your room. Please, Bakugo, I can’t stand another night…” You trailed off, gesturing vaguely to the room around you. “I can’t stand another night like this. You said you cared about me, so don’t put me through it.”

He didn’t respond. Instead, he jerked you off your bed, letting you cry out and try to catch yourself before he leaned down, wrapping an arm under your thighs and pulling you into his chest, letting you settle into the dip of his shoulder. His free hand came up, fussing with the sleek, metallic collar around your neck, but you didn’t struggle, didn’t fight. You didn’t want to, now, not as the door to that fucking room closed behind you. Hopefully, it’d be a long, long time before you had to open it again. The thought made you smile, an optimistic, irrational eagerness coming over you. Bright and giddy, even when you knew it was only a small victory.

You were so wrapped up in the feeling, you didn’t even notice the small smile beginning to pull at Katsuki’s lips, as repressed as your own, but not nearly as hopeful. Not cruel, either, simply proud.

As if he was watching the plan he’d spent so much time executing come to fruition.

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sealpointselkie · 3 years ago

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The Story of THE TREE and it's GUARDIANS - Ampithere AU

Art by: @sealpointselkie

Long ago, before humans came to this land, there was THE TREE. It stood upon the highest peak in the area and dominated the landscape; so tall, it towered over the rest of the trees of the rainforest, and even above the clouds themselves. But it was not to last. Clever people moved across the land bridge and started migrating their way down the new continents until they made the area around THE TREE their home. This wasn’t a problem in itself, the humans learned how to make the rain forest their home and slowly began exploring the surrounding area. They eventually found the mountain and the fruits of THE TREE at the summit: the golden yellow and purple black apples created many miracles. The Golden Apples could increase the fertility of the people and land, wine made with the fruit would bestow wisdom upon the drinkers and was offered every time there was an alliance, important marriage or peace talks. The Dark fruits had opposite effects, it could be used in various potions to poison the land and water, make women infertile and poison the minds of those who drank it leaving them open to manipulation. However, the mountain THE TREE topped was very steep and it’s natural hazards meant that far more humans attempted the climb than could make it to the top, and so everything was as it should be.

Then the invaders came, humans with pale skin and evil hearts ripped into the land and the people there until, finally, they too discovered THE TREE. With their technology scaling the mountain wasn’t as difficult and the fruits were taken on mass, preserved and scattered across the world.

This was an affront to the natural order of things so therefore, the Great Spirits above us decided these event must stop and, with a heavy heart, they threw lightning and fire from the heavens and shook the ground beneath the mountain until it broke in two and the tree tumbled from it’s mighty perch, leaving just a broken stump and large roots to remind others of it’s passing. Strangely, the invaders forgot THE TREE and it’s fruits, we are unsure if the information was repressed somehow or if the Great Spirits blighted their minds.

Take heart reader, this isn’t the end of the story! From the corpse of the tree emerged the two GUARDIANS who shepherded the last of THE TREE’s fruit and took them to their respective summits for safe keeping. The GUARDIANS are a beautiful mix of bird and serpent, their wings soft and glorious but their bodies lithe and warning you of their danger. Their faces are human, but if all the flesh had melted away. Sometimes on a clear day you can see them flying, frolicking with one another. The way of the mountain changed, if you wished for one of THE TREE’s no only did you have to scale one of TWO mountains, you had to treat with the GAURDIANS and convince them that you are worthy.

And this is how it went for a few hundred years; the invaders never left, however, only the locals knew the story about THE TREE and somehow they were the only ones who could see it, protecting it from the invaders interest.

The GUARDIANS were quite different from one another: one Golden and Positive the other Dark and Negative. In that way the locals named them DREAM and NIGHTMARE, gods of GOOD and EVIL, of POSITIVITY and NEGATIVITY. And although they were opposites, they strangely got a long very well, calling each other “brother” and could often be seen playing together or sleeping together in the vines that crossed their two peaks and bound them together.

It was obvious that DREAM received more supplicants than NIGHTMARE. DREAM was much more approachable and gracious than NIGHTMARE, also his fruits helped people instead of hurting them. Sometime hurt was necessary, however many locals’ minds turned to survival before attempting the climb. It didn’t go unnoticed by NIGHTMARE that his supplicants were fewer, his gifts cheaper and their demands more often unworthy of one of his fruits. This depressed NIGHTMARE and he cursed his fate as GUARDIAN of these cursed, evil fruits. DREAM’s supply of fruits were steadily dwindling, soon he’d be FREE and, although he assured NIGHTMARE that he would stay until they both discharged their duty, NIGHTMARE didn’t want to be the reason that DREAM couldn’t finally leave this place to explore the world beyond.

Then NIGHTMARE had an idea, if there were no more of his fruits, their problem would be solved! He couldn’t, in good conscience, just scatter them for innocent people to find, he knew how much damage a single one of his fruits could cause. There was no other option: NIGHTMARE would have to consume the fruits himself.

NIGHTMARE didn’t fear death by the fruits, his nature as the GUARDIAN protected him from their most heinous effects. However as he consumed more and more, he realized something was terribly wrong. He breath turned from lightning into spewing a cloud of dark, poisonous gas, his scales and bones darkened to an inky darkness and four tentacles erupted from his back, he was in such pain that he clawed one of his eyes from his sockets. The poison also seeped into his mind and he felt his frustration, shame, rage and envy bubble forth clouding his mind.

When DREAM realized what was happening he rushed to his brother’s side and tried to comfort him through his agony, however he couldn’t know the changes that here happening in NIGHTMARE’s mind. For the first time, the brothers fought. NIGHTMARE lashed out screaming about the unfairness of the GREAT SPIRITS and how his brother was favoured by everyone over him; DREAM, for his part, could do nothing but defend himself from injury at this point while NIGHTMARE’s fury damaged their home. Eventually they fought to a stand-still, NIGHTMARE retreating to his cave and declaring if DREAM came close there would be blows. DREAM left for his side of the once whole mountain and fell to despair.

He did nothing as NIGHTMARE sneered at him saying that: now that there were no fruits to guard he was free to leave, and did nothing to prevent his departure. NIGHTMARE deserved his freedom, DREAM decided as he watched him go, protecting the few fruits he had left, NIGHTMARE had paid a great price for it.

Eventually DREAM too ran out of fruits to guard, however, he couldn’t bring himself to leave his mountain. What if his brother came back? He’d have no way of finding him again, because, deep down, DREAM still longed to see his brother again.

And eventually he did! NIGHTMARE returned to their mountains with an entourage of Harpys. He told his brother DREAM that he found the world horrible and destructive beyond even his worst nightmares and decided to protect what’s his the best he can: and the safest place he could think of was home. DREAM welcomed him, and his friends (ENTOURAGE) back and although everything was NOT forgiven between the brothers, they began to rebuild their relationship. They’d take turns, exploring the world, meeting other ampithere gods and bringing home any harpys they found back home, building a bustling community far away from the predations of man.

But what of the Harpys? What did they think of their “saviours”? And the other gods?, What were they like? All stories for another time.

The End?

Dream and Nightmare Sans created by @jokublog

Ampithere Dream and Ampithere Nightmare created by @sealpointselkie

#ampitheretale #undertale au #dream sans #nightmare sans #nightmare!sans #dream!Sans #ampithere au #prologue

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keichanz · 4 years ago

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Neighbors | ch. 3

AO3

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

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Inuyasha walked into his apartment a lot later than what he’d originally planned and he hoped Kagome wouldn’t be too upset that he’d left her alone for nearly four hours. To make it up to her, he’d bought them both some lunch at his favorite ramen shop and swung by a Starbucks to get one of those frothy, sweet drinks that women tend to favor.

Kicking the door shut, he set the diabetes in a cup, their lunch, and a white paper bag onto the counter before shrugging off his jacket and hanging it on the back of the door. He glanced toward the couch and his eyebrows rose at the sight that greeted him. Despite himself, the felt the corner of his lips flicker with the beginnings of an amused grin and unbeknownst to him, his eyes softened with fond admiration.

Ponytail askew on her head and one half of her face red, Kagome blinked blearily at him for a moment before a wide yawn escaped her mouth. She stretched, raising her arms above her head as she arched her back and it was obvious she’d just woken up from a nap.

God, but she looked cute and Inuyasha’s gut tightened with the beginnings of…something he wasn’t yet ready to acknowledge. So he didn’t and shook his head, turning to grab their lunch and the paper bag before striding over to her.

“Hi,” Kagome greeted, her voice pleasantly raspy as she rubbed her eyes.

“Nice nap?” he asked and swapped out the empty dishes on the coffee table for their lunch and her drink.

“Mm.” Kagome settled back against the armrest and stretched out her legs, wincing slightly when her angle twinged. “Didn’t mean to fall asleep. Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Inuyasha frowned, eyed her ankle, then left to dump the dirty dishes into the sink to worry about later. He grabbed a soda for himself and came back to find Kagome had taken possession of the Starbucks monstrosity with an impish grin and he snorted, rolling his eyes.

“It’s yours,” he supplied, a little needlessly as she’d already started sipping from the straw. “Sorry I was gone for so long. Had to stop by work and got caught up there before making a few more stops. Figured I’d make up for it with lunch and that diabetes in a cup.”

“Tasty diabetes in a cup,” Kagome cheerfully corrected as Inuyasha nudged her legs, a silent hint to let him sit. She wrinkled her nose but obliged, slowly swinging her legs down so he could plop down beside her with a grunt. She wasn’t expecting him to lean back and then gesture for her stretch them out again and with a happy grin Kagome did, propping her feet onto his lap. It was amazing how comfortable she already felt around him given that she’d only known him a short time.

She wasn’t about to question it though; she’d left behind her old life, her old friends, and having Inuyasha as a friend? Well, she definitely wasn’t about to complain. Thankfully he didn’t seem to be too bothered by it either, calm as you please as he handed her some chopsticks and ramen before digging into his own with relish. Granted, he probably just wanted to make sure her ankle was being elevated, but still…

It was nice, knowing that she wasn’t alone.

With a secret smile, Kagome dug in, hiding her red face behind her takeout ramen as she quietly slurped her noodles. She could get used to this.

I could get used to this, Inuyasha mused, casting a sidelong glance at the woman at his side.

Maybe he was being a bit too forward and nonchalant given that they’d just officially met the night before, but thankfully – and a little surprisingly – Kagome didn’t seem to mind. She was acting like they’d been friends for years, and if Inuyasha were being honest, it felt like he had known her for just as long. He couldn’t explain it, and in fact didn’t even want to, but there was something about this woman that just…put him at ease.

It was like she exuded a quiet peacefulness that soothed him in such a way that, with no effort at all, she was able to sneak past his defenses and catch glimpses of the real him. The one that didn’t hide behind a tough façade, the one that didn’t use biting insults and crude comments to disguise his true emotions.

Somehow this little slip of a woman with dark eyes, a fear of needles, and an infectious smile had managed to accomplish a feat that no one but his mother had been able to do in the entire thirty-two years he’d been alive. Even more astonishing, she’d done it in just a little over fifteen hours, and that should have had alarm bells ringing. That should make him want to back off, to put some space between them so he could breathe properly without her intoxicating scent wreaking havoc on his mind and clouding his judgement.

Curiously, however – or maybe a more accurate term would be frighteningly – as Kagome turned her head and caught him staring sat her, he realized that he wanted to do the complete opposite. Her soft blush made him want to say things to see if he could make her blush harder. Her bemused smile as she tilted her head had his fingers twitching with the urge to tangle in her hair and taste that smile, steal it for his own.

And the way his name sounded rolling off her tongue, the gentle lilt to the single word hinting at curious concern, made him want to drop to his knees and swear his fealty, his protection, his very soul if it meant she would always look at him like that.

Ah…fuck, Inuyasha inwardly lamented as Kagome took advantage of his distraction to reach over and snag a shrimp from his ramen takeout container.

“Earth to Inuyashaaaa.” Kagome waved her chopsticks in front of his face, stolen piece of shrimp sandwiched between the ends. “You in there? Are you—hey!”

Releasing Kagome’s wrist, Inuyasha chewed the shrimp that he’d just stolen right back from her chopsticks. She pouted at him and he snorted, unaffected.

“Wave food in my face and suffer the consequences.”

“No fair, yours has more shrimp than mine!”

“Not my problem.”

Kagome pouted again, fluttering her lashes for extra effect. It was embarrassing how quick Inuyasha gave in after that.

“Manipulative wench,” Inuyasha muttered but his glare lacked any real censure.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Kagome chirped and then sighed in bliss as she popped another (pilfered) shrimp into her mouth.

“My ass.”

Kagome stuck her tongue out at him and gave a cheeky grin. Shaking his head, Inuyasha sighed then carefully removed her legs from his lap, frowning when Kagome hissed as he set them back on the couch.

“How’s your hand, by the way?” he asked and went to retrieve the paper bag still sitting on the counter.

“Hurts,” Kagome answered honestly, shrugging, and flexed the hand in question. “Right now it’s doing kind of a…burning throb? But it’s tolerable so I should be good until I can get those prescriptions—what’s this?”

Blinking down at the white paper bag Inuyasha had just wordlessly dropped into her lap, Kagome set aside her lunch and peered inside. Her mouth parted on a soft gasp and her eyes widened as a soft, pleased flush stole across her cheeks. She looked up as Inuyasha sat onto the coffee table before her and gingerly took her bandaged hand into his own to inspect it himself.

“You picked up my medicine for me?” Kagome asked, her soft tone reflecting her awe and her eyes bright with barely concealed pleasure.

“I’ll change this tomorrow,” he said, deliberately ignoring her question because who else could have gotten her meds. “Doc said to leave it on for at least twenty-four hours before changing it and you’ll probably be asleep by the time I get home tonight.”

Inuyasha got up to throw away their empty takeout boxes but then paused, his brow knitting as a thought occurred to him.

“You work tomorrow?”

Narrowing her eyes at him to silently telegraph that his evading her question did not go unnoticed, Kagome sighed when he merely raised his brows at her and shook her head.

“No,” she replied. “I mean, yes I work, but I work from home and I have the rest of the week off to finish unpacking and get settled.”

Inuyasha nodded, appeased. Good, now he wouldn’t be distracted worrying about her at work tomorrow since he had a morning shift. He could just imagine her doing something foolish and breaking her damn ankle instead of merely spraining it.

Checking the time on his phone while Kagome idly sipped her Starbucks and openly stared at him, Inuyasha reluctantly decided that he needed to stop procrastinating and leave for the shop soon. Miroku was only working half a day today and he didn’t trust the runt to be there by himself since the old man wasn’t in today, either.

Grumbling under his breath, Inuyasha crossed the room to shrug into his jacket and jam his ball cap back onto his head before grabbing his keys. Kagome, gathering that he was getting ready to leave for work, set down her drink – she was sucking up nothing but whipped cream now anyway – and pushed to her feet, favoring her ankle. Before she could take a single step, however, Inuyasha was there and he lifted her up into his arms with no warning.

At her blushingly surprised look, Inuyasha rolled his eyes and remarked, “You didn’t actually think I was gonna make you walk up those stairs, did you?”

Her sheepish smile was answer enough. Inuyasha snorted quietly before leaving his apartment with her in his arms, her bag of meds resting on her stomach.

“I could have scooted again,” Kagome murmured, slightly indignant, but Inuyasha merely snorted again and started up the stairs. “What? It’s a perfectly acceptable mode of transportation.”

“Yeah, for toddlers and—”

“Don’t you dare say it.”

Inuyasha smirked but remained silent. He got a swat to the chest for his troubles anyway and had to swallow the snicker that welled up.

He had Kagome open the door for him when he reached the second floor, carrying her into the living room and setting her on the giant L-shaped sectional couch. There was no way in hell she carried that up here by herself so it must have been left over from the previous tenant. He briefly left her to retrieve the crutches he’d bought and came back to prop them against the couch, conveniently ignoring her jaw-dropped expression.

“Where the hell—”

“Use ‘em,” he said, cutting her off. “And stay off your feet. Understood?”

She blinked. “But—”

Inuyasha crossed his arms with a no-nonsense glare and Kagome huffed, wrinkling her nose.

“Yes, Mom,” she muttered, folding her own arms across her chest and looking every bit the petulant child as she sunk back against the cushions.

His lips twitched at how cute she looked pouting like that.

“You want it to heal or don’t you?” he asked, arching a brow, and he took Kagome’s defeated sigh as his answer. “Two weeks. You’ll live, I promise.”

“Says you,” Kagome murmured, making a face, and Inuyasha had grin that time.

“Take your meds,” he said, nodding to the paper bag beside her. He hesitated a little before adding on, “Text me if anything happens. I’ll do my best to swing by.”

Kagome’s face positively lit up and she smiled at him. “Really? You’ll leave work just to check on me?”

His face grew warm and he mentally cursed.

“Obviously. You’re like a child. Can’t leave you unsupervised for long or you’ll burn the house down.”

Kagome’s smile abruptly vanished and she scowled at him.

“Jerk. Get out of my apartment. Shoo.”

Bestowing upon her a very fangy smirk, Inuyasha’s amber eyes glinted with mischievous delight as he fired off a two-fingered salute, spun on his heal, and headed for the front door. Before he disappeared out of sight, however, he stopped, half-turned, and pinned her with a hard stare.

“And for the love of god, woman, lock your fucking door, will ya?”

That said, he ducked out of view. Seconds later Kagome heard the sound of her apartment door closing with a soft click and then heavy footsteps descending the stairs.

“‘Lock your fucking door,’” Kagome mocked him under her breath but nevertheless got up to do as he bade.

She adjusted the crutches to a desirable height and awkwardly shuffled her way into the kitchen. It had been years since the last time she’d used these things – if she recalled correctly, when she’d dislocated her knee in middle school – and it would take some time getting used to them again. She also remembered they were torture on the pits, so she made a mental note to grab some rubber bands and dish towels for extra cushion.

Kagome had to admit, however, that as much as she despised the things, she was also eternally grateful that Inuyasha had actually taken the time to buy her some. Her expression softened as she hobbled over to the counter where her phone still sat. Part of her still couldn’t believe he’d actually purchased a pair of crutches or her on top of retrieving her medicine as well, and abruptly all irritation toward the half-demon vanished. Would she ever stop being grateful for that man?

Sighing, Kagome leaned against the counter and allowed a fond smile to curl her lips upward as she swiped her finger across the dark screen. Nothing happened, and she wrinkled her nose. It must have died while she was downstairs. Ah, well. Her only charger was in her bedroom at the moment so she’d just plug it in and check it later.

She tucked the device into her bra since her leggings didn’t have pockets, slowly limped her way to her bedroom, and plugged it into charge before retreating to the kitchen. She deliberated for a moment on how to do this without falling or dropping everything and she ended up shoving the very cold soda can into her bra – yelping as the chilled aluminum made contact with her skin – and carrying a bag of chips in her mouth as she gimped back into the living room.

Hey, if she was being banished to her couch all day because of a bum ankle, she needed snacks, dammit.

Then, reclining back into the couch and kicking up the footrest, Kagome settled in for a relaxing day of Netflix and a whole lot of nothing else.

Oh joy.

When Inuyasha walked through the apartment house’s front door a little after 10 pm, instead of going straight to his door he turned and climbed the stairs instead. He hadn’t received any texts from her, SOS related or otherwise, and the one he’d sent her to check in had gone unanswered so he was just a little on edge as he stalked to her front door. He realized her phone might be on vibrate or something and she hadn’t heard it, or was in another room, or countless other possibilities, but still, he’d feel better knowing she was alright and knew he wouldn’t be able to get to sleep without making sure.

He turned the knob and a colorful string of curses left his mouth. Unlocked. Because of course.

“Goddammit, woman,” he hissed and opened the door, peeking inside. It was dark, save for the glow of the television from the other room. Heaving a sigh, he walked in and headed toward the living room, unsurprised to find her sprawled out on the couch, fast asleep.

He shook his head, crossing the room and kneeling by the couch where she slept. Her mouth was open as little snores escaped past her lips and a trail of drool was leaking from the corner of her mouth. Inuyasha snorted quietly but had to grin, unthinkingly reaching forward to gently wipe it away with his thumb.

Kagome stirred and emitted a soft sigh. His ears flicked at the sound and he watched as blearily brown eyes cracked open just a smidge, blinking rapidly.

“N’yasha?” she breathed and sighed, eyes falling closed once again.

His heart clenched and he swallowed hard. Instead of answering, he wordlessly slipped his hands beneath her and lifted her up into his arms. Kagome curled against him and his stomach did that swooping sensation again as he headed down the hallway to put her to bed.

“Wench,” he murmured, carefully depositing her onto her bed and covering her with a blanket. “You’re more trouble than you’re worth. You know that?”

Kagome murmured something unintelligible in her sleep and then stilled, her breaths even and deep. Watching her, Inuyasha had the random thought that her eyelashes were thick and dark resting against the gentle swell of her cheeks. His eyes dropped to her mouth and he recalled how earlier, right before he’d left to run errands, the urge to kiss her had slammed into him so hard he’d had to walk away before he gave in and kissed her senseless.

Now the urge was back and Inuyasha growled to himself, shaking his head. Goddammit, what was wrong with him? He’d never been affected by a woman this much before, let alone one he barely even knew. True, he felt comfortable with her more than anyone he’d ever met, could easily admit that he was attracted to her physically, but none of that explained any of the other, more instinctive urges that were sweeping over him. Like protect her, provide for her, take care of her on a level that was way more than just platonic.

Staring down at her now as she slept, Inuyasha was hit with a strong sense of déjà vu and he barely refrained from groaning aloud as he dragged a hand down his face. Were all his nights with her living above him going to end like this?

Kagome grunted, made a soft noise in the back of her throat, and then emitted a loud, unattractive snore as she flopped onto her back.

Inuyasha covered his mouth to muffle his rumbling laugh, abruptly deciding that…yeah.

He could definitely live with that.

“Goodnight, Kagome,” he whispered and brushed some hair away from her face before quietly leaving her bedroom. He turned off her TV and made sure her door was locked before closing it behind him, wondering at the mild ache he felt in his chest as he descended the stairs to get some shuteye in his own apartment.

#neighbors #chapter 3 #inukag #inuyasha #inukag fanfiction #inuyasha fanfiction #keizfanfiction

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