#but human free will is evil or whatever
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gxlden-angels · 1 year ago
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I know we all hate bitch ass Calvin and his pre-determination, but I just learned the term Arminian and think we should show homeboys Jacobus Arminius and John Wesley some hate too <3
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toytanks · 4 months ago
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also anyone who thinks that humans are selfish or evil or literally anything by nature are automatically cringe
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chalkscrub · 4 months ago
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i love doing stupid thoughtless sketches and then having to actually clean them up and figure them out....i love it (manifesting)
finally drawing els for the first time in ages!! the last time i drew her it came out too well and i got too scared to draw her again because it wouldn't be as good. little glimpse into the constant mental gymnastics going on in my head
anyway it's hard to tell but i gave her defined nipples this time THUMBS UP. bare nipples are the funniest thing an animal can have and especially the funniest thing a werewolf can have...cover those thangs UP
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whywoulditho · 8 months ago
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not saying the holocaust wasn't bad. but i need people to understand that it wasn't the only genocide that happened in the same period of world history. not because i want you to pay less attention to holocaust but because i need you to ask why it's the only one we ever talk about. it wasn't the longest occured massacre of a marginalized group, it wasn't the most gruesome, it wasn't the one with the most casualties, it wasn't the first and it wasn't the last one. i need people to think about why we didn't pay much attention to all the other holocausts after WWII that happened simultaniously and were just as horrible. it says so much about media, the news we are fed, and that our empathy is BOUGHT by the same people that keep funding genocides all over the world.
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sciderman · 1 year ago
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How do you feel about the increase in really weird NSFW ads on here (advertising panels that look like sexual encounters, and AI art apps that pride themselves on porn) but will take down NSFW posts from their users, even if it isn't technically sexual.
i hate all social media and it's consistent prioritising the advertisers over the users and the internet simply was a better place before capitalism sunk its hooks into it
#i could write essays about how capitalism ruined the internet.#i was actually talking to someone earlier today about how youtube was kind of effectively ruined by monetisation.#and they were raised in the soviet union and we had a bit of a talk about how art was better because it wasn't for profit.#the people who made art made it because they wanted to do it and because they loved it.#she said that communism was terrible for every aspect of life for her. people's lives under communism wasn't pretty.#but the art was better. and i feel like it's true for the internet – it was better when it was a free-for-all.#the companies didn't know how to exploit it yet and turn it into a neverending profit-driven hellscape.#people created content because they wanted to. because they wanted to make something silly to make people laugh.#not for profit. not for gain. not for numbers. not to further their career.#i miss the days of newgrounds and youtube before monetisation.#capitalism has soiled everything that's joyful and good in this world.#people should be able to share whatever they want.#people should be able to tell any story they want without the fear of being silenced by advertisers.#that's what made the internet so beautiful before. anyone could do anything and we all had equal footing.#but now we're victims of the algorithm. and it makes me sick.#i'm quitting my job in social media. i'm quitting it. it makes me too depressed. i have an existential crisis every freaking day.#every day i wake up and say "ah. this is the fucking hell we live in#i'm so sorry i feel so passionate about this.#social media is a black hole and it is actively destroying humanity. forget ai. social media is what's doing it.#i miss how beautiful the internet used to be. it should've been a tool for good. but it's corrupt and evil now.#sci speaks
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randomnameless · 5 months ago
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I just realized something‚ and don't know if you talked about this already. Why doesn't Thales just nuke everyone in the second Gronder battle (Houses)? I guess arrogance that whatever happens will be to your advantage‚ or maybe he was not close enough to launch them‚ or not desperate enough to use them? Because there's no Rhea to stop them and Hubert can't track them if he's dead (if they know he can do that). Maybe they're afraid of Jeritza retaliating? (Is it their favourite picnic spot?/j)
I don't think I've written about this point specifically but...
Bar using the Doylist "the writers are asses and don't know how to write a plot" + "tfw no continuity guy", we can only come up with theories and headcanons fanfictions to explain why it didn't happen as you described.
Maybe the nukes are fueled by lizard blood and they needed Flayn's or Rhea's (in the non CF routes - but then it implies she wasn't partying in her 5 stars Enbarr resort and we can't have that!) blood to fuel them/make them work or whatever -
Or Thales still wanted to harvest Nabateans (Billy included since they know they're more or less Sothis thus have her crest stone somehow), and maybe the missiles destroy them or make them, idk, polluted so they can't be harvested anymore - when he uses those missiles on Rhea in SS/VW it's his last ditch effort!
TBH anon, idk.
IMO, it's just a plothole, like the "why wasn't Nemesis thawed earlier and lent to Flamey to act as her lackey" or something like this, or worse, when Flamey decided to rekt Cornelia in CF, the Agarthans could have used Nemesis and his zombified Dudes as a retaliation or a way to kill her after Tailtean (where Rhea lost her barbarian allies!) but it's just, we don't know, and we will never know.
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wisteriasymphony · 5 months ago
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frothing at the mouth i need to write more of tikki being manipulative and abusive towards previous holders i NEED to have her giggle at the way her next chosen victim trembles at the sight of her, i NEED her to lead them astray with promises of everything they've ever wanted so long as they put on the earrings.
i need her to coach a small child into piercing their ears with a wavering needle—"it won't hurt", she lies. "i need you to do this", she lies. the earrings are magic, they don't need piercing! but she makes the youngest ones do it anyways—and to gently comfort them as they hesitate to do it, until her comforts turn to cold commands.
i need her sweetness to be a facade, i need her to treat her holders like little dolls. the order was just the most recent little game she'd gotten attached to, really. they were foolish to think they held power over gods, but she found that foolishness amusing. ...still, she hopes to find another naive little farmhand to plague with visions again. the innocent are the best to feed off of.
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t4tharuspex · 1 year ago
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if a person can become a demon why can a person not become an angel what do u think humans are inherently evil do u think that given free will man will universally tend toward selfishness and malice oh my godddd you’re so wrong and boring oh my goddddd
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rubysparx · 1 year ago
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Ok fine fine fine I’ll share my takes with the class.
FIRST OF ALL THO. Jrwi art dump coming soon MAYBE.
Okay anyway I see everyone saying butch Arthur Bennet which is fucking awesome, I love that, but I have to inform the masses that while listening on my own time I decided he’s transhet and I am attached to this concept now sory </3 I’ve also seen everyone talking abt Emizel and Soda and idk what’s going on behind the scenes with that so I will just believe you, yeah he’s gay. I thought about saying he’s bi but as it happens I was once again projecting.. also I think he’s nonbinary but not yet. Like he’s having what happened to Jonathan Archives. The horrors occur and you die but don’t really die but there are more horrors so you never really have time to process the feeling of being not a man as in not human and also just literally not a man. Ok last one forgive me for my insanity I think Prince Shilo is cis and sucks abt it. I think gender roles are baked into him but he also thinks they don’t apply to him or apply differently bc he is royalty . Heteronormativity isn’t real with vampires tho in fact I’d even bet on homonormativity. Yeah he’s gay, he’s flirty with his guards, yeah.
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death-himself · 2 years ago
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being emo is so hard, because how can i say "i like dark horrific shit because the darkness was there to comfort me and hold me when the light wasn't" and not sound like a 13 year old edgelord
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itsahotminuteinbetween · 1 year ago
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You mentioned you were from the middle east so i am going to start terrorizing your askbox /aff
(I don't want to accidentally disrespect the culture genies originate from)
ehehehe
yep, 2nd generation immigrant here! Grew up in a middle eastern household, so I know a lil bit! feel free to ask whatever you like :) I put some general info in the tags if you wanna look into that
#asks#ehehehe#dude I'm so excited for this au#you have no idea I'm literally SHAKING#okay so the terms genie stems from the arabic word 'jinn'#which is essentially a word for a creature born from fire#they're a bit like humans in the manner that they have free will (unlike angels) and can be good or bad#(and yes jinns are an islamic religious aspect but I'm kinda more agnostic so I'm goin with story part here)#thing is they're more tied in with nature and the elements#they are hidden from the human eye (religious part here is that they can either watch over humans like angels)#(or side with the devil and whisper in the ears of man)#(kinda like how genies do in stories!)#they're kinda seen as inferior to man? (religiously they were the 'failed' creation of god and that's why humans were made)#(well sort of)#in stories (ex: one thousand and one nights which is actually a pretty interesting read) they do interact with humans#in said interactions they're known to be clever#but are also pretty easy to trick#which is pretty handy considering most stories with jinn portray them as evil#even though a lot of them are actually just lil guys doin whatever#they do have funky powers of shapeshifting#they're also really strong!#some people think they can possess humans#not too sure abt that one tho#also if you were wondering abt clothing it kinda depends on the setting#cuz if you're doing this in like the heart of the middle east their outfits are gonna be a bit less revealing#but in places like persia and turkey it's abt accurate (albeit more sleeve and shoulder coverings cuz culture and religion of the time)#richer people wore brighter colors#and satin or silks were seen as a sign of luxury#while poorer people wore duller simpler clothing
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woonderfullie · 1 year ago
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Quasi-Kuro related ramblings about the demons under the cut
(most of it is in the tags)
Demons as catalysts for change and upheaval, or at least ardent advocates for it, using their presence to tip the scales
Could demons be summoned with less for less, through sacrifices that don't involve bloodshed but still have the power to drastically alter the course of one's life?
#woonderfull rambling#not canon in the slightest#psa vis a vis the tags: i was very sleepy and going /through/ it when i wrote these and it shows 乁⁠ ⁠˘⁠ ⁠o⁠ ⁠˘⁠ ⁠ㄏ#kuroshitsuji#The cultists make no true sacrifices tied to their own identities. They offer nothing of value. They'd return to their lives unchanged!#Its just set dressing and debauchery for the sake of debauchery#In contrast O!Ciel's existence has been irreversibly transformed.#the vibes of supernatural elements acting as facilitators for the evil acts of humanity (initially well-intentioned or otherwise)#“There is no will in the angels but something higher than the will”#forget the dichotomy between good and evil; I'm talking law vs chaos#law embodies the divine. demons cannot completely shed the vestiges of heaven manifesting in the form of rules and contracts#“He alone could discern light and darkness Who also could foreknow before they fell those who would fall.”#Imagine being confined within the boundaries of your predetermined destiny only able to subtle subvert your purpose(⚆ᗝ⚆) truly a vibe kille#Humanity: the beings that have the capability for true chaos and 'evil'. Vessels for rebellion#*shakes Christianity* You can fit so many headcanons in here ⊂(・ω・*⊂)#This was ghost written by Thomas Aquinas#Oh my papa hasn't given me the capability for true free will? It's a shame left all these humans about...#I mean back to canon-relevant things: the Reapers as an organisation (arguably an antagonist to Sebastian ) pretty much embody order.#Not to imply they're angels but you know??#Let's not acknowledge whatever the undertaker is doing right now - he's single-handedly going to shoot holes in this post with a gatling gu#but then again I don't entirely subscribe to the school of thought that all devils = fallen angels so 😬😮‍💨#the tags got away from me admittedly ಠ⁠﹏⁠ಠ
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...I always interpreted this as Cas seeing, and falling in love with, Dean's demon form first. So
1- Cas has known What Dean Is(tm) the whole time and has never not loved ALL of Dean's weird, demihuman/monstrous, "what if I punched God in the face", undefinable riftwalker hot boyMILF ass.
2- Cas raising Dean from Hell was (at least to start) less the dramatic bridal carry we all envision and more like someone trying to rescue a very angry stray cat that does not know its being rescued so it has to be wrapped in a towel until it stops trying to claw its rescuer's face off.
i think a lot of people don’t realise that cas pulling dean out of hell in lazarus rising wasn’t cas pulling dean off the rack, it was cas pulling dean AWAY FROM the rack, away from the people he was torturing
the first time cas touched dean he saw the pain dean was inflicting on other people, saw the way he enjoyed it, and it didn’t change how pure dean was to him, it didn’t make him any less good
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nightingale-prompts · 15 days ago
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You are not Special- DC X DP Prompt
Interdimensional God-like beings are not known for their patience, however it looked like they had gotten lucky.
This being that had been summoned against its will to their universe was actually quite calm. They sat back on a makeshift throne made by the cultists that had brought them here. Its body was the form of a young man draped in silk. He paid little mind to the cult bowing and scraping at his feet as he absentmindedly examined his nails for anything under them. They were as pristine as his marble-like form.
"You know cults get a bad reputation in these modern times." He said not looking up at the heroes who had invaded his sanctuary intent on sealing him away. "Not without cause of course. But not every cult is evil. As oxymoronic as that sounds. But it used to mean a group of people devoted to their god of choice, no different than any other religion except they lived solely to dedicate their lives to it. No tricks or schemes, just beliefs. None of that sacrifice or blood here though. I like cleanliness and a good batch of dessert for my alters."
"We aren't here to give your offerings." Batman said simply.
The teen stretched lazily and shrugged.
"You are free to just pray, take a rest, eat, or do whatever you want."
"You don't belong here. You must return to your own realm." Superman said fimly but cordially.
The cultists panicked as they looked between their god and the heroes. Some had disdain etched on their faces others had sadness.
"Don't belong? I do what I want. Who are you people to tell ME what to do? Do you own this planet? This universe?" The god challenged.
"We are the protectors of this planet. Surely you understand that we can't let you stay here using humans like servants." Superman retorted.
Constantine had a bad feeling about what came next as he got between everyone to speak.
"Sorry, forgive him. We don't want to offend. It's just that our universe has had enough beings like you causing issues in the past. We are a bit exhausted because every major event seems to hit our planet. We are a bit defensive."
The teens's lip curled.
"Do you think you are the only planet with such woes? How conceited. What you believe that your little planet is so special that it is the only one subject to the powers of beings you can't control? As we speak there a thousands of beings influencing this world that have a bigger effect than what I'm currently doing. Are you tired of being the playthings of the universe? Bah! The universe doesn't care one bit what goes on on this little planet over the billions of planets in this universe. You are no more special than a bit of algae on a frozen world." The teen sneered.
"But that doesn't change the fact that we would like one less threat to deal with," Batman said as Constantine tried to shut him up. "Even if you do not care about humans, we care what you can do to us."
"A good point but I never said I didn't care. I'm actually fond of humans but no more fond of them than any other lifeforms. There are billions of aliens in this universe alone. But not one is special because all life is special. Not one is better. But any damage I could possibly do to you could easily be done by the many unseen gods of this realm. These beings have built this world from those that actively created it, ignore it, and those that don't even realize it exists. Could you believe that your own creator doesn't know you are there? It's actually very common."
"You're dodging the question and talking in circles. We just want you to leave." Batman sighed irritably.
"You keep telling me to leave. I have just arrived but I've also always been here. Is this how you greet me?" The teen crossed his arms.
"Are you a god of this world?" Wonder Woman stepped forward this time. "You dress like that of a Roman god."
"Do you like it? I got it from Rome a few thousand years ago."
Well, he never failed to turn something into a compliment, that's for sure.
"But that's a complicated question. If you're asking if I made your universe then, no. If your asking if it exists because of me then, yes. It exists because I do. It's my nature. So I'm not a god. I'm a law of nature." The boy leaned back and kicked his feet childishly.
"You look like a kid." Clark blurted.
"Well... you're right. But you didn't have to point it out." He pouted.
"I mean, you just look...like a person. Not a force of nature." Clark quickly corrected.
"I look like what you can perceive me as. Can't ask a two-dimensional creature to understand three dimensions. Think of me as an anthropomorphic personification of a concept." The teen stood up finally and walked around his bowing worshippers.
"And what are you?" Batman said stiffly as the boy reached him.
"I am the Void. The absence of force or untethered space and infinite possibilities. A place of raw unprocessed energy. So if I exist then a tethered space with one string of possibilities exists. Think string theory." The boy laughed.
"Wait, I know what you are. You're an Ancient, an Endless. I thought I'd get a break from your lot after Morphosis." Constantine said.
The group turned to Constantine in surprise, not surprised that he knew what the kid was but that he had done this before.
"Look, kid. Your lot don't show themselves often. Especially not in front of so many people. You'd usually lay low among mortals." Constantine said suspicious of the young Endless. "Do the others know you are playing around?"
The teen presses his lips together. He glares like someone has ruined his game.
"Should I try summoning them and ask." Constantine smirked, he knew he found his in.
"You wouldn't." He frowned.
"I would." Constantine said "Unless you want to go home on your own."
The boy tried to protest but a portal opened on its own and a hand reached out grabbing the boy by the ear.
"What are you doing in the mortal realm this time?! I told you to focus on fixing the timelines not playing god like a child!" The voice boomed.
"But Clockwork-" The teen whined as he was dragged through the portal "I was just pulling a prank. I swear!"
The boy's voice was muffled and distant as he got to the other side. Then the prtal closed and it was over.
The room went silent.
"He was right. There is nothing special about any life form over another. But that also means he is no different than a human child and held to the same standards." Constantine said lighting a cigarette before leaving the ruins. "You can handle the rest right?"
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heavysighing-dreamyeyes · 2 months ago
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Blood Bag
DC vs. Vampires AU, but The Vampire King won. ~3.2k words
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There's no warning, no notice for an apocalypse. There wasn't any preamble, when vampires established a new order to the world.
Jason, your Jason, had only whispered the basics as he held you to his chest. Had only told you he has to try and stop their leader, that if you knew anymore, it would be dangerous.
You knew being Red Hood was risky, but you had hoped, as you watched him leave your apartment, that he would be safe. That his family would protect him where you couldn't.
You waited for him to come back to you. To come back with the world saved and him unharmed.
He doesn't.
The world ends. It was quick, bloody, and ruthless. The world ends, and something new rose from the gore and destruction left in its wake. A new world begins, one led by The Vampire King, who reigns over it with sharpened claws and even sharper fangs.
The lucky ones got to continue with their lives, struggle to adapt to the new normal, their new rulers. The really lucky ones, the ones who were already powerful and godly, got changed into something unkillable.
The unlucky ones, you, got chosen for a far worse fate. Blood Bag. Vampires and humans alike spit it like a slur, like you're something less all because the bite marks that litter your skin. As if any one of you were given a choice.
You hadn't asked to be taken to the castle fortress that the Vampire nobility called home.
You had been in your apartment, watching the world fall apart from the safety of your home. Watching in a dazed horror as Dick Grayson's signature smile, now adorned with pearly fangs, flashed across the news, when he just appeared in front of you.
You'd said his name, jumped to your feet to touch him– to hug him, grateful he was safe and alive.
But he'd stopped you. Said he wasn't Jason anymore. Said he was just Red Hood now. It didn't make sense at the time.
Jason was Red Hood, and Red Hood was Jason. You didn't realize how wrong you were until you ended up kneeling alongside other humans in front of The Vampire King.
He had given a lavish speech about your new place in the world. That the humans staring up at him in fear and awe were special. Chosen to serve in his court. That being a Blood Bag was an honor and a privilege.
You might have believed it if they hadn't dragged you to the dungeons after.
You were left there, cold, confused, and hungry for almost a week. Your cell mates come and go, but the ones that return always come back with their skin covered in deep, telltale puncture wounds.
They whisper stories of the grand parties, the growing crowds of spawns, the brutality of The Vampire King, and his court.
You wait for your turn, and wonder if maybe when you are chosen, you'll be one of the prisoners that don't come back.
You don't get any warning, when it's your time. Two spawns with sunken eyes drag you from your sleep, hauling you from the dungeon and across marble floors.
They taunt you, proclaiming that you're a gift for The General. That you'll make a fine pet, a good blood bag, if he manages not to kill you tonight.
A part of you wants to scream. To cry. To beg. To hope as you have every night since Jason brought you here, that he'd come back for you. But your hope runs out as they force you into a lavish bedroom.
Two new spawns take over from the guards, they wash you, dress you, and soon enough, you almost look like you haven't spent a week in a cell. They leave you sitting on the soft bed and an order to not disappoint.
A part of you wants to use the moment, to seize the opportunity to escape. But you're so tired. So hungry. So thirsty. And the bed is so comfortable. But whatever comes next for you could be worse than that cell.
The door swings open, and you jolt from your thoughts. You're expecting someone fearsome. Someone terrible and evil and threatening. But it's Jason.
You think he's going to free you, save you. You believe it wholeheartedly. Until you see the glint of his fangs.
He steps towards you, eyes focused and dark, and you realize who The General is. You realize what he's going to do.
The first time Red Hood feeds from you, you feel nothing but pain. It's agonizing, to feel your life being dragged out of you and drank down by someone who could so easily kill you.
There's no ceremony. He sinks his fangs into your throat and leaves you exhausted and dazed on the bed while crimson drips haphazardly down his chin.
The second time isn't any easier, he only takes what he needs. His fingers don't brush over your skin to soothe you. He doesn't speak a word of comfort. He only presses gauze to the bite wound before leaving you to recover alone.
The third time is different. He lingers when he's done. You might be crying. You're too tired and dizzy to be sure.
But you're not so far gone that you don't notice the way he presses a kiss to the puncture marks. Like it's a twisted apology.
His hand traces lines over your back. He holds you close, even after he's done draining the blood from your veins.
The way he feeds from you changes after that. He treats you like you're precious. He presses kisses to your skin before he bites.
He licks away the trails of blood and tears. He presses his face to your pulse and doesn't move until your heart finds a steady pace.
He still doesn't speak. He hasn't since he told you he's not Jason anymore, but he hovers when he's done. He brushes his fingers along your jaw, watches you as you fall asleep.
It's not until you're brave enough to leave the room that you learn your status as Red Hood's Blood Bag has privileges.
It turns out the bedroom you've constantly been left alone in is yours. You can wander most of the castle and its gardens freely. No one else tries to feed from you.
But it doesn't stop the taunts and jeers. Doesn't stop the spawns or the high-ranking nobles or human servants alike from spitting curses at you.
But no one touches you. No one seems to want to earn Red Hoods, and in turn, The Kings, ire.
You hadn't realized the protection that his marks had offered you.
Not until you started to hear the whispers that followed you, the murmurs that warned of sinking their teeth into the only Blood Bag Red Hood seems interested in. How any bites or scratches not his would be a death sentence.
The months of faded scars that mark your skin serve as a warning to them. But to you, they're a stark reminder of the new world you're forced to navigate.
They become memories, in a way, of the mistakes you've made.
The bite on your palm marks the day you spoke to another Blood Bag out of turn. You can't forget the panic that sparked in their eyes as a spawn dragged them away. (You haven't seen them since)
The bite on your shoulder marks the night you tried to run. You had barely made it to the garden walls when Red Hood had lazily appeared at your side. It didn't take words to know he'd been aware of the moment you left your room.
Mistake after mistake, bite after bite, create a sick patchwork of art over your skin.
You try to cover the ones you can see, for your own piece of mind, but the extravagant outfit you're wearing now? The one that's been picked out for tonight's ball? Does little to hide exactly what you are.
It's rare for you to make an appearance at any of the Vampire Kings events, and the times you have gone have been incredibly short and spent entirely at Red Hood's side.
But the chatter that floats about you in the ballroom suggests The Vampire King had expected your presence. Each snide smile and quiet laugh sends a chill down your spine.
You'd expected this night at court to be like any other, one or two dances, and then a quick return to your room.
You're proven wrong when Red Hood is pulled from your side at the request of The King.
You're not completely sure how long you've been left waiting at the edge of the grand dance floor, but it's been long enough that your feet ache, and your shoulders feel tight.
Long enough that you don't think twice to slip out of the loud, music filled room and into the darker, quieter halls.
It's another mistake.
A spawn, drunk on blood and his own immortality saunters into your path. "A pest," he drawls, eyes eerily fixed on the juncture of your neck, "a pretty pest, but a pest nonetheless."
You offer a customary nod, safe under the illusion of safety the marks scattered over your body brings.
The spawn shatters the illusion when he snatches your hand with supernatural grace, "Be still, pest, I thirst."
"You can't," You protest quickly, the words spilling before you can think on them.
He pauses, head tilting in a mockery of interest, "and why ever not?"
"I'm–," You start, then pause, saying it aloud feels too real. "I'm Red Hood's," You finish, voice weaker than you mean it to be.
The spawn drags his claw over the palm of your hand, laughing as the drops of blood begin to form in a line of ruby dots, "You? Pretty pest. Not even the lowest of us would want to keep a Blood Bag that's been shared by so many."
"I haven't been–" You breathe out, but his claws only dig deeper into your skin, turning your words into a wince.
You don't tear up, don't cry or beg. It hurts. It always does. Even the idea of being fed on hurts. But your next thought keeps you quiet.
Maybe this spawn will lose control. Maybe, in a way, you can finally be free. The thought makes your heart rate spike, and you're not sure if it's in fear or anticipation. You're not sure if death is something you're ready to face.
He doesn't give you a moment more to think on it. The spawn pulls your palm to his mouth, fangs glinting as he prepares to bite down.
He doesn't get the chance.
A flash of red catches your eyes, and suddenly, your wrist is no longer restrained.
Your mind can't quite keep up with what just happened, and by the time you've even registered his presence, Red Hood has his claws buried in the spawns chest.
If the sight of blood wasn't something so common in The Vampire Kings court, you would be sick. It's messy, loud, when Red Hood rips the spawns unbeating heart from his chest.
You stumble to lean against the wall, when Jason tears the spawns head from his body and crushes it beneath his boot. You don't get a good look at what's left before Jason is in front of you, blocking your view.
He grabs your wrist and presses you flush to the wall. He offers you no warning before his tongue traces the line of blood on your skin.
It's something you should be used to, but you still make a noise of surprise, still instinctively try to pull away.
Jason only shoves a leg between your thighs, trapping you between his body and the wall behind you. His grip on your wrist tightens, and his head bends down again. His gaze doesn't stray from yours, almost like he wants you to watch.
Jason slowly licks at the cut again, then drags his fangs down your hand and to your wrist. He never blinks as he bites into your skin, adding another mark among the many others that cover your skin.
He drops your wrist and steps back once he's had his fill, "You were letting him feed from you. No one else feeds on you. Haven't I made that more than clear?"
"It's not my fault," You protest weakly, "He didn't believe me when I said I was–"
"That you were what," he asks, voice low and almost threatening. You find that entirely unfair, considering you're the only that almost had their life drained.
"That they're yours," a happy voice supplies with a chirp, "Maybe it's time you did something to show that, don't you think, Little Wing?"
You immediately drop your head at the sight of the Vampire King leaning against the wall. You can't help but think, by the cocky grin growing on his face, that he witnessed the entire thing.
Red Hood scoffs, like the idea is ridiculous, "They're covered in my bites. What else could they need? That idiot should have known–"
"But they didn't," The King supplies with a smile and walks over to you to lift your chin with a sigh, "and your little pet could have died for it."
Red Hood stiffens, and you can feel the tension growing in the corridor. He shoots a glance towards the decapitated spawn, as if he's considering removing the rest of their bones piece by bloody piece. "So what do you suggest," he finally asks, voice low and measured.
If you didn't know better, you'd think he was on the verge of ripping you away from the Vampire Kings clutches.
The King only shrugs in return, "You should have shown them off more. Taken them to court. Feed from them during parties."
Red Hood goes to speak, but The King continues to talk as he tilts your chin back and forth, "Blood Bags are symbols, after all. Power. But you've always kept the things you like tucked close to your chest. Haven't you, Little Wing?"
"I don't– I don't like them. I just don't want some spawn watching me eat," Red Hood counters, and neither you nor Dick miss the way his fingers twitch towards you.
The Vampire King nods sagely, "Then I suppose you won't be interested in keeping them."
Red Hoods head snaps up in the same instant the Vampire King spins you around, his fangs catching the skin above your pulse, "And if you're not interested in a Blood Bag," he drawls, voice low and lazily as he trails off, leaving the implications of his threat in the air.
It leaves you wide eyed and frozen. The Vampire King presses closer to your back, drawing you by your hips as his free hand curls around your neck. His fangs don't quite break your skin, but the cold promise of them doesn't waver.
The ball hadn't scared you in this way. The spawn hadn't left you with tears filling your eyes, terror tightening your throat. Not even the dungeons had made dread fill every cell of your body.
Jason drops to his knees, any facade, any lie he had been trying to maintain disappears, "I want them. I want them. Please–"
The Vampire King laughs, and his fangs leave your throat. He shoves you, and you stumble to the ground into Jason's waiting arms. He keeps you caged tightly to his chest, his hand cradling the back of your head.
"I was only teasing, general, truly, you're the only member of my court who's proven time and time again you're deserving of your status," The King drawls.
You can't see him as Jason keeps your face pressed to his shoulder, but you can hear the sick glee building in his voice.
Jason tenses as Dick continues, satisfaction dripping from his tone, "The resistance camp you personally slaughtered? The leader's head left on spikes? I couldn't have done it better myself."
"I'm– I'm honored to have impressed you," Jason says steadily, fingers digging into your skin. You think if he still had a heart, it would be beating just as fast as yours.
The Vampire King hums in response, as if he's suddenly grown bored, "Go enjoy the gala, Little Wing. Remind the raff who you are. And what that makes them."
Jason doesn't argue, just hauls you towards your feet and drags you towards the ball. You keep your gaze lowered, but you can still see him checking over his shoulder, as if he's worried the Vampire King will change his mind.
"What he said– about a resistance–" You begin to ask, desperate for knowledge, but more desperate to finally hear his voice again.
"Don't. They won't win," he answers sharply, not giving you a chance to ask more questions as he pulls you into the ballroom, and drags you to the dance floor.
He doesn't let you find your footing before he's spinning you around the dance floor, arm hooked firmly around your waist.
You try to ignore the remnants of blood, his boots leave on the sparking floor.
Every cell in your body screams at you to talk again, to demand answers. To know how he ended up like this. To know why all he seems to leave you with now are questions and scars.
You open your mouth to ask, throwing whatever decorum you should have in front of The Vampire Kings court to the wind, when Jason drops you into a dip.
Your breath hitches, and his lips find your pulse.
The sounds of the ball seem to fade around you as you stare up at the decorative ceiling lined with mirrors and gold.
He kisses down your throat, curls his hand tighter into your back and all you can think about is how odd it is, to know the room is so full and yet there's nearly no reflections in the mirrors above.
Jason runs the tip of his nose back up your neck, following the veins under your skin.
"You've always smelled so good," he murmurs. It's the only warning he gets before he sinks his teeth into your throat, drinking you down in the center of the ballroom for everyone to see.
It draws a whimper from your lips, and it only seems to encourage him to hold you tighter, to lick every trail of blood that spills from the marks on your neck.
He kisses the punctures his fangs left when he's done. It feels less like an apology this time, and more of a claim.
When he finally lifts you from the dip, when you're finally able to steady your vision even as it threatens to swim, he shows you his teeth, and his lips are dyed in the color of your blood.
"Brava," the distinctive voice of The Vampire King breaks through your hazy mind. Your eyes never leave Jason's, even as clapping begins to sound throughout the ballroom.
You're not sure what it means. You're not sure if The Vampire Kings' interest in you is just some passing folly.
But Jason's eyes are dark, intense, and they flicker with the weight of knowing. But there's more to it than knowing. It's clear in the way his eyes never yours either. There's a desire, a want, a need to keep.
To make it an unshakable truth, that whatever role you're meant to play in The Vampire Kings world, you're going to do it at Jason's side.
His eyes hold a promise, and he seals it with a bloody kiss to your pounding pulse.
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ozzgin · 10 months ago
Note
“Do you mean it in the sense that Reader goes through monster boyfriends and is quick to dump them for the next catch”
Yep. Just a vile reader who’s breaking hearts left and right. I think you’ll write it beautifully if you channel your evil side like when you play the sims! ☺️
-👘
Yandere! Monsters x Heartbreaker! Reader
You've always been a free spirit, unable to settle on a single partner. Even after being abruptly transported into a different dimension where you are the only human surrounded by monsters, this habit of yours has persisted. Except monsters, as you will see, are harder to discard than humans. They aren't as willing to accept rejection.
Content: female reader, reader is a player, monster smut
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Ah, how troublesome. He won't stop calling. You lazily pick up the phone and look for the options to block the number, clicking your tongue in irritation. You'd specifically told him you're not interested in anything serious. "Who's calling?" The man shuffles under the sheets, still half-asleep. "No one." You respond curtly, glaring at the intruder. "It's morning already, by the way. When are you leaving?"
You slam the door shut before the overnight guest can bring up the classic "Will I see you again", and exhale theatrically in relief. Finally alone again. You look up and shake your fist menacingly, as if whichever entity governing this world is responsible for your bad luck. You've always been utterly indifferent towards committed relationships, and yet most fuck buddies end up head over heels for you, dragging themselves at your feet like pitiful beggars. Pathetic and a pain in the ass to deal with.
Well, someone must be up there, because your situation feels too much like a sassy answer to your complaint. You've just rushed out of your apartment a moment ago and last time you checked, the concierge office wasn't on a rocky hill covered in deep cracks erupting with lava, stretching out into the seemingly unending horizon. Where the hell are you? You turn on your heels, reaching for the door, only to find out - who would've expected? - that it's gone. Great. Your immediate explanation is that the guy you've mistakenly brought home last night must've slipped something in your drinks. All this for a sloppy, clumsy eating out.
The worry of being drugged vanishes quickly once the first creatures of the realm appear. Hard to believe anything on the market could cause such detailed hallucinations that can sniff and touch you: Some alligator-looking minions with eyes popping out of their backs slid out of a nearby crevice to investigate the newcomer. Ironically enough, they seem to be the ones shocked by your appearance. Once they've hesitantly assessed your presence, they scurry aside to discuss their findings. "What could it be?" You hear one mumble, completely baffled. For whatever reason you can understand their language, so you decide to speed up their detective work. "Ever heard of human?" You shout, with a hint of sarcasm in your voice. The beasts gasp in unison. "Nonsense! Straight out of a children's tale!"
Eventually, after a lot of confusion and pointed fingers, you manage to figure out your predicament. You've somehow landed in a world of monsters, where humans are more of a fictional, mythical existence. Thankfully they don't seem to consider your potential as food, though you're not sure if the sudden, massive ambush of creatures is any better. The alligator-like quadrupeds brought you to the nearest settlement and had to form a barrier to stop the curious beasts from almost trampling you in their frenzy to see "the human". You've garnered ridiculous amounts of attention, yet such reaction is to be expected; how often would an earthling wander into their world? It could very well be a lifetime singularity for many.
As the days pass and you become more accustomed to your fate, you begin to feel that familiar calling. It doesn't look like you'll be going home anytime soon and a lady has her needs. Additionally, whatever popularity you had back in the human world is a minuscule fraction of what you're currently experiencing here. In the eyes of the monsters, you're an exotic treat that cannot be refused. It shouldn't be too hard to find yourself a partner, or two. Or three. Who keeps count nowadays?
You remember stumbling upon a postcard print of "The Dream of the Fisherman's Wife" at some museum shop. You immediately picked up the thick cardboard, eyeing the artwork in amusement. A woman enveloped in the limbs of two octopuses and very obviously enjoying herself. Who even came up with the pairing, you wondered at the time. Whatever the artist was thinking, you can certainly see his point now. The first one to receive your indecent proposal was an eldritch creature of sorts, something straight out of Lovecraft's lucid dreams. Dark, long tendrils sprawling out of an amorphous core - which you assume is its head based on the bulging, glistening orbs hungrily staring at you. Your whole body is throbbing under the tight hold of the slippery tentacles, wrapping around you in masterful intricacy. You could see the result featured in a bondage magazine, though you don't...can't ponder much on it given the fact you're, well, stuffed with monstrous appendages. You doubt any genital variation back home could compare. The monster is even polite enough to occasionally wipe away the continuous stream of drool spilling out of your whining mouth. Towards the end you barely have a voice anymore, throat sore from the loud moans and merciless constriction. Your muscles contract all at once, overwhelmed by the sensations. Whatever sensitive areas you might have are presently aching under the needy fondling of the creature.
Mind-blowing. The memory is enough to have you wet and squirming with desire. Even more so when you consider the other varieties of monsters ready to fuck you senseless. Soon enough you're surveying the neighborhood for the ideal suitors and thankfully you don't have to worry about making wrong choices, as there's always a next target. Thus the following weeks fill you with a particular kind of nostalgia (among other things and fluids), reminding you of the bed-hopping in the human realm. From werewolves drowning out your whimpers with their desperate howling, to hooved legs of hybrids violently thrusting into you until you're a dripping mess. "Look at me" is what one of the beasts demanded in a low growl, turning you on with its ragged voice and clawed hand encircling your frail neck. Although you had to ask it where exactly to look, given it was covered entirely in eyes.
You yawn and stare at the ceiling, reminiscing about the depraved fuckfest you're currently recovering from. You might've overdone it with the last one. Alas, you came enough times to make up for it. Just as you turn around to readjust the ice pack, you hear a loud thud coming from the entrance. You (carefully) sit up and rub your eyes, trying to focus on the shadow figure approaching your bed. It's one of the lizard monsters, swiftly slithering across the wall and landing over you with an angered expression. "Where the fuck is that dog?" it inquires with a hiss. "What? Who're you talking about?" you mumble, wildly confused. "The one that dared to touch you."
Oh, not this crap again. You almost roll your eyes. "You never said anything about us being together." Is your annoyed reply. "What? I thought it'd be obvious you belong to me!" You're about to question the strange logic, but your couple's quarrel is interrupted by the sound of shattered glass. The many-eyed monster crawls its way in with fluid, uncanny movements, releasing a deafening screech once it notices the lizard in your bed. "Off! Get off my human now!" is what it finally manages to verbalize in its fury. Okay, it seems to be the common belief. To clear off any shred of doubt remaining, the ceiling gives in and crumbles like putty under the weight of an enormous tentacle. You scream and cover your face from the bits of rubble flying everywhere, but you're quickly sheltered by another thick appendage looping itself around you, against the wrathful protests of the lizard. You did not anticipate the eldritch creature could expand to this gargantuan size.
For the first time since arriving here, you feel homesick. At least back home you could get rid of your annoying admirers with the slide of a button. Is there a larger scale alternative for cosmic blasphemies? You shake your fist (up? down? you can't tell in the darkness of the tentacle shield) towards the entity once more. Damn it, you've learned your lesson. Several steps must’ve been skipped before reaching a pack of angry, possessive monsters fighting over your ownership.
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