#heroic stories.

[atrumvox]

Who Was Camilla? The Warrior Queen Who Defied the Trojans

A newborn thrown across a river and consecrated to the gods: this is how a legend was born. Who was Camilla?

Who was Camilla? In this video, we explore the extraordinary life of the warrior queen of the Volsci, a legendary figure in Roman mythology who dared to defy the Trojans and earned an eternal place in history. We will uncover how Camilla, consecrated to the goddess Diana from birth, grew up in the wilderness to become an unparalleled warrior. We’ll analyze her incredible successes on the battlefield, her loyalty to her people, and her tragic fate, marked by betrayal. But her story doesn’t end there: Diana’s divine vengeance left an indelible mark on mythology. Camilla represents a symbol of strength and independence, an icon of feminine courage in antiquity. We will explore how her figure fits into Roman mythology and why she continues to fascinate scholars and enthusiasts of legends. At the end of the video, you’ll discover why Camilla is still a source of inspiration today, an example of courage, sacrifice, and loyalty that resonates through the centuries.

[lotus-pear]

rewatched madoka magica again today bc i fucking hate myself and to absolutely no one’s surprise i went through all five stages of grief in a single evening

[chaotic-orphan]

Helo helo, just asking...r u planning to update heroic betrayal? 👁👁 NO RUSH THOUGH IT'S JUST REALLY GOOD AND I CAN'T WAIT SJSJHSHSH

GOOD DAY!!

Heroic Betrayal (X)

Read part one // Continued from here

This part is dedicated to everyone who commented under the last part, that made me cackle like a maniac, and everyone who asked for a continuation of this series that warmed my heart— I’m so sorry it took so long, and I hope you enjoy <3

*~*~*~*~*

The concrete cut into her cheeks like a sharp edge, her shoulders hitting the walls and her feet tumbling over her head until she crashed and bashed every point in her body on the way down. She ended up on her stomach, blood dripping from the side of her head. She tried to push herself up, but a hand grabbed the back of her neck and dragged her stumbling to her feet.

She felt like she was going to be sick, stuck in a twister of Supervillain’s strong sharp movements that she couldn’t anticipate with her pounding headache raging.

“Now, here we are,” Supervillain said and he shoved Hero forward again. Hero tripped over her feet, her ankle rolling as they tried to stop her momentum in vain. An edge of something metal caught her around the hips and she fell forward, her torso folding with an oomph. A click and the room flooded with light. Hero squeezed her eyes shut, the light burning compared to the pitch black it was not a moment ago.

Hero squinted taking a quick survey of the room, searching for an escape, but no, no, no, no. There would be escape from this room that was just a concrete square of torture devices. Hero’s heart jumped into her throat as she glanced down at the metal bench below her hands. It was a table. A surgical table. Her stomach bottomed out as she gasped involuntary, stepping back and right into a solid chest.

Her blood ran cold and she couldn’t stop the tremors of fear tearing through her. Two strong hands settled on her shoulders and she flinched despite herself, her entire body trembling, her eyes and brain disoriented from the fall and the lack of oxygen and her fucking pounding headache. And she was really starting to wish she didn’t open her mouth.

Hero let out a sharp breath, a claw of panic grabbing at her chest as her eyes scanned the room searching for a window or anything that would tell her she wasn’t underground right now. She couldn’t… couldn’t breathe, oh fuck, there were no windows, there was a window in the cells, she gasped, pushing back against the chest shaking her head.

“Oh that’s right,” Supervillain cooed behind her, his voice painted with sick delight as his fingers tightened on her shoulders. “Villain told me you were claustrophobic. Does being underground trigger it, Hero?”

Hero drove her elbow back wildly hitting her mark, but Supervillain didn’t flinch or even grunt. Instead he grabbed her wrist, twisted her arm up and around her back, the other going to the back of her neck and slammed her down against the table.

“You really have no manners, Hero, do you know that?”

“F—fff— fuck you,” she said between fretful breaths. Every action, every movement was lessening and lessening, she only had a little bit of oxygen left in her lungs that was stuttering out. The walls pulsing closer, shrinking and she squeezed her eyes shut. At least the metal of the table was cool under her cheek.

Supervillain pushed her wrist further up her back until Hero was crying out, trying to kick back at Supervillain to get him to stop but the lack of oxygen in her lungs was dizzying as she scrambled. Her brain was fried, and she couldn’t remember any of her combat training as panic seized her throat.

She splayed her fingers, mind reaching, the invisible pull of her blades familiar as they rushed back to her hands. If she could just— two clangs against the door upstairs and Supervillain straightened, letting up some pressure. Hero pulled and pulled, trying to rip the daggers through the obstacle but Supervillain grabbed her splayed fingers and pushed them back down into a fist, smothering her connection to her daggers.

“No!” Hero wailed, struggling furiously under him, kicking back, trying to do anything, get anywhere away away away away from the danger, be able to breathe again properly. Her tears hit the metal table with wet, metallic drops, like a leaky tap dripping into the sink.

“What did I tell you about using your powers, Hero, hmm?”

“Let go of me, you fucking psychopath!” Hero cried, anger flooding her veins. With Supervillain’s hand off her neck, Hero threw herself back with a roar of adrenaline mixed with fury. Supervillain’s grip tightened on her wrist, about to push it up but Hero wedged a knee up between the table and shoved until the pair went stumbling.

Hero slipped free of Supervillain’s hold in his stunned state, but he recovered quickly, grabbing at her hoodie but Hero was too quick, and she was ascending the stairs, her breaths getting heavier but her breathing becoming even the closer she got to the surface.

She got to the door and grabbed the handle and shoved it open.

Only.

It didn’t open.

Hero stared. No. No. No, no, no, nonononono!

NO!

Hero slammed an open palm on the metal, screaming. “FLYNN! FLYNN I’M SORRY PLEASE! Please!”

Footsteps on the staircase. Hero slid down the door, banging weakly against it and crying out for Flynn to save her as Supervillain advanced again.

“Did you really think I’d leave a handle on the way out of this room, Hero?”

Hero swallowed the lump in her throat, focusing all her energy into the glare she shot at him, hoping he would melt right on the spot. Which he didn’t.

“You can come down and your punishment will be less severe than if I have to drag you down.”

“Fuck you,” she said, her voice cracking halfway through. She splayed her fingers again and wished, hoped, prayed that somehow they would get through the thick metal door she was trapped behind.

Fuck! Fuck! FUCK! What was she going to do? There was only one option for her right now and that was down, down into a tight, underground nightmare that was threatening to kill her. She needed— she needed to be able to breathe to think clearly, but even thinking was difficult at the thought of being dragged back down to Supervillain’s torture chamber.

Supervillain sighed, a few steps away from her. “Okay, Hero. Have it your way.”

He reached down and grabbed her ankle and turned to walk down the stairs. Hero kicked at him, landing a few solid ones on his arm and back before he was dragging her down and Hero’s head smacked off the concrete steps. She didn’t even have time to scream or groan or whine, small gasps at every bounce fogged her vision until she was back on solid ground.

Supervillain appeared above her, grabbing her, one arm under her shoulders, the other her knees as he bent over and scooped her up. She protested weakly, her brain rattled and her reaction time non-existent. Supervillain placed her on something cool under her skin, but she could feel something wet on the back of her head.

She reached a hand up to find the source of the wetness, but Supervillain grabbed her wrist before she could investigate and strapped it down to table in leather. He pulled the cuff tight around Hero’s wrist, so tight she couldn’t move it left or right, just up and down. She whined when he took her other wrist and restrained it the same way by her side. Then he moved onto her ankles and soon Hero couldn’t move an inch, her eyes glazed over and staring blankly above her.

Supervillain grabbed Hero’s cheek, appearing in her scope of vision, but there was two of him now, a shadow or a clone. He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth.

“Hmph, you spoiled some of my fun, Hero. I was hoping to teach you this lesson to remember, but, oh well. I guess I’ll just have to leave a reminder for you when you’re more conscious, won’t I? Something you can’t ignore.”

Hero blinked at him, the entire world moved like cotton and she was completely out of it, Supervillain’s words echoing around her head. On loop over and over again, but still seemingly so far away.

“Lemme go,” she pleaded weakly, pulling at her restraints.

Supervillain smiled a wicked smile down at her. “I’m thinking something like a three strike system, Hero. Like tally marks or something to that effect. Something easy to understand, strike one was your insolence at dinner which will not be tolerated. What to do,” Supervillain mused stepped away from the metal table and out of sight.

Hero pulled against her restraints, trying to loosen them as hot tears ran down her cheeks. Flynn… she thought hopelessly. Please, please, rescue me. Please.

Supervillain returned to the table, a hunting knife in hand. “Wait, no, please.” Hero didn’t even know what she was protesting, but the words fell from her mouth anyways as Supervillain grabbed her right hand.

“Three strikes, Hero. While I know I could cuff you in power dampeners and leave you down here to hyperventilate all night I think this will be far more effective.”

“Tell me Hero,” Supervillain began as he started undoing the cuff of her right wrist. “Is it all knives you can summon with your ability?”

“Yes,” she replied. “Any will do.”

“Fascinating. And do they all sharpen your senses when you feel them in your hand?” Hero glared at him as he free her wrist and turned it so the back of her hand was positioned above the metal table. Hero didn’t bother asking him how he knew that, because she knew the answer he would be all too happy to supply. The reason Supervillain knew everything about her; Flynn told me.

“It depends on the knife,” Hero answered, the pained fog of her mind ebbing and flowing allowing some coherent thoughts to pass through her brain. “None are as good as my blades, but that’s because I made them myself.”

“I will never cease to be awed by adepts and their crafts,” Supervillain said fondly, tracing the tip of the hunting knife up Hero’s elbow and forearm before pinching it down slightly on Hero’s wrist. Hero didn’t dare struggle or move, afraid if she did the knife would slip and she would be dead. “But now that you’re more conscious, I’ll repeat your punishment.”

“We will do a three strike system, this is strike one. With every strike I will leave a wound on you, a scar that will remind you not to make another mistake again, okay?”

Hero shivered at how easy he explained his punishment system for her, as if he was telling her that her car needed an service or one day it would just stop. “Three strikes, and I will drag you along to watch Sidekick being murdered and you’ll know it was all your fault. Okay?”

“You’re a fucking—”

“Wonderful.”

In one quick movement, Supervillain slid Hero’s right hand over the rim of the table and plunged the hunting knife in all the way through her palm. A howling, banshee’s scream tore through Hero’s throat as she bucked against her restraints, howling and screaming: please, please, stop! Stop!

Tears and snot clogged her senses as she shook her head, her arm violently trembling against the trauma and Supervillain’s tight hold. Hero splayed her fingers on her left hand, trying to summon the knife out of her hand, but Supervillain’s grip was too strong, or Hero’s pull was too weak, and he twisted the knife in her hand instead, pulling more shrieking screams of pain from Hero.

“There, now. The first two strikes will be in your palms, Hero. To remind you that even if you try to fight back, with your knives or your words or otherwise, you,” he said, stressing the final words, “will fail.”

Hero sobbed as her fingers tried to curl around the blade but could barely move more than a flinch in any direction. Hero wouldn’t be able to summon her blade for this hand for a while, until the wound healed and even then? Would she get physio for the muscles and tendons Supervillain just cut through with a terrifying amount of strength?

Supervillain put a hand on Hero’s hair, brushing the strands from her face like a parent would a child who’s eating an ice cream and threatening to get their hair stuck in it, chiding but fond.

“This doesn’t have to happen again, Hero. We can be civil with each other. You and Flynn, I know you have a special connection. A bond. You can have a nice life here, free from the burdens of being a hero in this city, of always fighting uphill battles hmm? Doesn’t that sound nice?”

Hero was shivering, staring up at Supervillain and she knew she probably looked sickly pale and ashen as she felt the blood harden around the blade in her palm, dripping down to the floor on the other side. She knew it would leave a scar, the reminder that Supervillain wanted her to know in her gut and it made her sick.

“So Hero,” Supervillain beamed, smiling down at her. “Will you behave?”

Hero’s bottom lip trembled as she nodded, warm tears flooding her cheeks as she sniffled. Supervillain’s smile turned softer, comforting, like a concerned parent. “Use your words, Hero.”

Hero sniffed. “Y-yes,” she croaked.

“Yes, what?”

Hero sucked in a breath. “I’ll… I’ll behave.”

Supervillain smiled. “Good. Good. Excellent. Now, let’s get you cleaned up, hmm?”

Supervillain removed her restraints and sat her up on the metal table, and said he’d be a minute getting the things he needed around the room.

Hero sat upright shaking violently and trying to hold her hand steady by supporting it with her free hand at the wrist. She stared blankly ahead, both staring at nothing and staring resolutely at one white painted brick, where the groove was a faded, paler white, less glaring at her while Supervillain gathered supplies.

Before too long Supervillain was in front of her, setting bandages and gauze and rubbing alcohol down on the tray beside the bed. Along with other stuff Hero wouldn’t think was necessary like a ruler and Q-tips and other supplies. He was wearing surgical gloves as well, and despite herself Hero was thinking about what he did for a living.

“Are you a doctor?” She asked, her voice hollow.

Supervillain smiled a secretive smile at the question, as if he just found her out. “Ah. You’ve noticed, have you?”

Every once in a while Hero forgot that Supervillain was her nemesis of the last year, the Moriarty to her Sherlock Holmes, the Joker to her batman, although really more like the Riddler with how elusive he was. When she considered Supervillain’s job back before she knew him, she suspected it would be something as cerebral, like a lawyer, or a judge, or a doctor. She didn’t feel good that she was right.

“Yes, I’ve been a doctor since medschool. Long hours, overworked conditions, but I won’t bore you with hospital tales, snd luckily for you I happen to be an acute trauma surgeon,” he told her, smiling up at her through his lashes. “So your hand won’t have too much lasting damage. I didn’t hit any of the important muscles or tendons.”

Hero gasped, which sounded more like a bewildered laugh, “thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

She hissed as Supervillain pressed down on the wound. He smiled. “Sorry, I just have to make sure I didn’t hit anything important. Okay, yes.”

He took a Q-tip from the table and said, “okay, Hero. I need you to remain as still as possible while I do this. Try not to move too suddenly.”

Hero let out a sharp gasp of pain aa Sueprvillain inserted the Q-tip through Hero’s wound until it almost poked out the other side. “You’re doing great Hero.”

But she wasn’t. She was going to be sick as he pulled it out and she saw the blood. The smell had never annoyed her before, but now the metallic kiss hung on the air like a factory that had to suddenly cease operations, a promise of something to come.

He set the Q-tip on the table and measured the blood stain against the ruler. Hero stared down at it, her vision blurring slightly as her mind went woozy and she closed her eyes. When she opened them again, Supervillain was standing over her hands on her shoulders sitting her back up again. Hero blinked, bile climbing up her throat.

“Here,” Supervillain said and shoved a bar of chocolate into Hero’s hand, the wrapper already opened. Hero blinked at it dumbly, and Supervillain gently guided it to her mouth. Hero took a small bite of the sweet, velvet chocolate. “You fainted. You’re okay. It’s normal with this kind of injury, but I would like you conscious while I tend to it.”

Hero blinked at him and when he was certain she wasn’t going to faint again he released her shoulders and Hero remained upright.

“If you’re a doctor…” Hero said, her head spinning, but she was determined to get this out of her head. “Didn’t you take an oath to do no harm?”

“Ah,” Supervillain smiled. “Yes. The hippocratic oath. I did.”

“Then how can you justify this?” Hero asked, nodding to her hand. Supervillain was silent for a moment, dabbing at the bleeding of the wound, staunching the blood and cleaning around it. His movements were so methodical, so clean and purposeful, Hero found their eyes drawn to it as she took another bite of chocolate.

“Where I stabbed you, Hero, is a very delicate place to be stabbed. There is a flurry of activity in the centre of your palm.” Supervillain squeezed just below the wound and Hero squirmed with a groan. “Here is your carpal ligament that controls the movement of your thumb, index and middle finger.”

He squeezed Hero’s thumb and said: “and here are all the muscles for full use of your thumb. If I went too far to the right I could risk damaging the ligaments that connect to your other two fingers, or hitting a clump of nerves.”

Supervillain dropped Hero’s hand and held up his own, pinching the spot the dagger went through Hero’s palm. “Here, there is a hole in your hand. No bone, no muscle, no nerves or ligaments. Minimal damage and less time for recovery. No need for more than standard hand physio and six weeks recovery at most.”

Supervillain smiled at Hero. “The Hippocratic Oath is an oath all doctors must take to do no harm. However, all doctors must accept that in order to make something better, there must first be pain. To treat the sick they must make the sick endure the pain, and fight infection, the body must fight.”

“Your defiance, in the long run, will make you worse than if I curb it now. So I am doing no harm, by ensuring that you quit fighting me unnecessarily. The same way I am trying to stop this city from running straight to ruin.”

“I must do no harm,” his smile was warm, “as a doctor. But as a civilian I can’t stand by and watch this city burn. Does that answer your question?”

Hero stared. Then shrugged with their good shoulder. “Not really, but I’m kinda woozy from blood loss right now.”

Supervillain laughed. “Mmm, let’s do something about it.”

Supervillain worked fast, careful to only press too hard when Hero gave him a snarky reply, and later on she would wonder how she got so comfortable with the man bandaging her up being the same man that stabbed her in the first place. She would attribute it to blood loss and Supervillain would bandage her head and help her up the stairs he threw her down before, and when they got into the kitchen he gave her painkillers and water.

Flynn rushed through the doors, his heart racing when he saw Hero. Her head bandaged and her hand bound so tight and thick that Hero couldn’t close her fingers even if she wanted to.

“H-Hero?” He asked, breathless. Hero smiled at him when he came in and waved. Flynn was by her side in a second, while Supervillain stopped chatting to her about the reason they chose to replace the black and white tiles for the floor in the kitchen. “Are you okay? Hero, oh—”

“She’s fine,” Supervillain said lightly. “We’ve cleared the air, haven’t we Hero?”

Hero nodded, smiling at Flynn. Something she’d attribute to her concussion later because everything was just a little too smiley, a little too comfortable, a little too easy, and she wasn’t entirely convinced that Supervillain didn’t give her the floating, high end painkillers.

“I’m fine.”

“I heard the screaming,” Flynn said, his hands going to Hero’s cheeks, checking her over and looking for any sign that she was lying to him. Other than her too large pupils she seemed okay. “I— your daggers— you—”

Hero grabbed Flynn’s hand with her unbandaged one and interlaced their fingers. “I’m okay. I’m sorry for worrying you.”

Tears brimmed on top of Flynn’s bottom eyelids as he looked at Hero, his Hero, acting so unlike herself. So compliant and soft. It made him ill, the fact that he was the reason Hero was injured in the first place. That she was being subjected to the whims of his family.

God, he didn’t think Dad would do this…

“Will you stay with me tonight?” Hero asked with wide eyes.

Flynn ran a thumb over her bruised cheek, his touch featherlight. “Of course. Will you give out to me tomorrow about it?”

She shrugged happily. “Probably.”

Flynn laughed, and leaned in and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I’d love to.”

Flynn helped her stand, and wrapped his fingers around hers keeping her close. “Be sure she doesn’t sleep for the next hour or two.”

“We can watch a movie!” Hero said, her voice light and chirpy, so like it was when she’d get excited before that it made Flynn’s heart ache.

“Yeah,” he said, swallowing the lump in his throat as he guided her out of the kitchen, away from his father and up the stairs to her room, terrified that if he dropped her hand for even a second he would lose her forever. “We can watch a movie.”

*~*~*~*~*

Orphanage roll-call: (lmk if you wanna be added or removed): @xenlust @books-are-everything @micechomper @shywhumpauthor @aarika-merrill @0eggdealer @watermelonrandom @tippytappytyping @swift-perseides @gloriousqueen101 @isnortkoolaidpowderteehee @jumpywhumpywriter @bitter-space @lumpofsand

@xxgalgurlxx @silentpotat0 @ladygwennn @memepsychowhowantsuperpower-blog

[marvelstars]

When I see fans going like"Why is Padme attracted to Anakin when Obi-Wan is right there" I am like well first off Padme isn´t you.

Second, Obi-Wan is a good Jedi and friend for Padme, who, like her, is skilled at discourse and a little bit at manipulation but he is also a judgemental sarcastic little gremlin who calls people and children he has yet to meet but have managed to annoy him a little bit "pathetic lifeforms" and uses his mental powers to manipulate minds when he feels indisposed to deal with them and who believed romantic love was a weakness him and Anakin had to outgrown.

Anakin at 9, risked his life to give Padme the tools to go to Coruscant and try to save her planet despite the fact he was a slave and in need of help himself, then he went to war rightalongside her and singlehandely defeated the army that was trying to conquer her planet, then grew up, became very handsome and started telling her how he could not breathe if she didn´t love him, then agreed with her to stay away if that´s what SHE wanted and Padme used to deal with skilled politicians and manipulators 24/07 found his honestly resfreshing.

This isn´t truly so complicated people.

[buqbite]

Halo

[rodatirhaalo]

Thinkin' about how Samantha Béart said "karlach would've liked to open a tavern if she got the chance", and how The Gang uses the true resurrection scroll on Karlach 0.01 seconds after the credits roll (because OF COURSE THEY FUCKING DO), and how she would totally open that tavern with her Hero Money, and how she'd definitely have potato wedges you could order named "Mama K's Taters".

[sometimesmaybespoof]

When she Half on my Life till I 2

[choccy-zefirka]

A woman of some renown

[amaltheas-garden]

people still shocked that in the year of our lord 2024 some of us don't want to see Dany get her 'happy ending' by becoming the white savior who was promised

[sakitenyoyo]

A Kieran and Pecharunt outfit design for Pokemon Masters that I drew back in December/January! THEY ARE MADE FOR EACH OTHER!!

I do think that it looks much more like a summer holiday alt outfit instead of a Sygna Suit... But I was just very inspired by the tale of Momotaros so I wanted to make my Kieran x Pecharunt fit have a samurai look!

I did redesign the outfit about a month later just to give it more detail and pecharunt shape language. Me and my indecisiveness go brrr. At least I like the new version a lot more in terms of design (so when am i gonna draw the new design digitally? probably NEVER lmao)

[hawkogurl]

[angy-grrr]

SJ's internal changes (I recall it was the editor in chief, someone really influential) happening JUST at the same time it was announced the epilogue would be 5 chapters (same week) + the ending not bringing up huge plot points (where the other villains are, why theres no actual Himiko corpse and instead we got Ochako's grief over that assumption, what happened to Dabi, what was the All Might vestige, why the bkdk handhold was off screen when its a big deal for them, who is Deku's dad, etc), letting them linger in the air while trying to make an okay ending + that strange two week break because of "schedule conflicts" + choosing to end BNHA under even more pressure even tho its one of the most important manga in SJ + Horikoshi talking about the ending days after the official release and bringing up how grateful he is for being able to work in SJ, as in past tense (like he is grateful he worked here, but isnt happening again; I say this bc I expected him to say something around the lines of "I hope im able to create something good here again soon!", considering we already know he has another manga project, if I remember correctly)

Thinking about it.

Thinking about how he could let it as it is, or try to pick it up and confirm the things that do matter to his story.

Btw, im not talking about the handhold as a shipper -it was genuinely important for them, as it symbolizes both their new mutual understanding and an acceptance as the new All Might duo thanks to their respective heroisms. It wouldn't be weird to add it in the epilogue, especially considering so many characters hold hands in non romanitc ways, so to choose not to when its arguably the most important one... Idk, it felt really weird as it was the only thing I was sure would get sooner or later.

[luckyblackcatxiii]

I'm hoping to participate in Art Fight more this year than last year allowed me, and I added Allessandro over there...only to realize I didn't have a colored ref for him! It's been a year since I last drew him so I figured: no better time than now to give him a new fullbody pic!

Fun update: after a month spent searching for his mentor and ending up in Barovia because of it, Saverio finally 'heard' from him a couple sessions ago...only for the message to be vague, short and offer no real answers. Needless to say: Allessandro is still full of mysteries and Saverio is pretty irked at essentially being ghosted by his not-father figure.

(You can find me on AF here!)

[chaotic-orphan]

a villain saving a hero from being mind controlled

Villain stepped cautiously into the old boxing gym. Hero was in the ring, fists flying against an instructor that was more clear and distinct than even Hero themselves. And he wasn’t going easy on Hero.

Hero, a younger version of them, was covered in a thick sheen of sweat like oil clinging to their skin. Villain could tell they’d been here for hours, maybe doing the same drills, maybe others. He watched, hands in trouser pockets as Hero’s right hook hit the pad weaker than it should’ve.

Instructor moved lightning fast and suddenly Hero was on the floor. Villain jerked forward, prepared to step in before Hero grunted with effort and he paused. Villain knew that sound all too well and it froze him in his movements. A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he saw Hero throw their weight backwards, tumbling feet over head in one fluid motion and stood gracefully again, ready to fight.

Villain had seen that move too many times, heard that infuriating heroic grunt that conceded a little exertion but it didn’t mean Hero was finished. They were just conceding a point to their opponent and the next round was about to begin, a reset button.

When Instructor spoke it was murky as the scene swirled around them and Villain made sure not to hit off any of the furniture or items in the new setting which looked like a… museum, or a library.

Hero was tucked away in a corner, hunched over a desk, a little older now, hair falling over their face as they read from one of the many books scattered around them. Villain smiled at Hero’s reading glasses that were wide as saucers. They looked like such a little nerd. Nobody would think they were looking at a hero, nevermind the Hero themself. Their lean physique was hidden under layers of clothes, a turtleneck and a chunky cardigan that made them look softer, their edges more round.

Their eyes a little more hollow.

“Hero.”

Hero’s head snapped up, violet eyes meeting Villain’s. Hero swallowed, their gaze darting around the room before they settled on Villain again.

“You… you can’t be here,” Hero whispered, fear lacing every word.

Villain walked in further and took the seat opposite Hero, sliding into it and resting a hand on the table. “And yet, here I am,” Villain said at a conversational volume.

“If Superhero finds out—”

“What can he do? Hmm?” Villain asked, tilting his head. This close Hero looked worse than Villain feared. Fuck. Even for Superhero this was fucked up. To keep Hero locked in a trance like this, scared of disrupting any memory they were forced to relive over and over.

The dark circles around Hero’s eyes glowed a dim purple like a bruise, but Villain recognised it as Nokio’s ability, shutting down the mind, trapping the consciousness within so Hero’s body could be puppeted without resistance; forced to obey commands they weren’t even aware of.

“Some of us need to study, Villain,” Hero snapped, the purple veins flashing a bright— bright purple colour. “I can’t fail this exam—”

“You don’t need to study, Hero.”

“Just because you’re a genius—”

“You’ve already sat your exam, Hero.”

Hero froze. Blinked. Stuttered. They tilted their head at Villain. “Are you— is this some kind of psyching me out kind of trick? Because it won’t work.”

“We have already sat these exams, Hero. You know it. Deep down, somewhere inside you knows I’m right.”

“Villain—”

“We both passed and got our Hero licence. You were obviously second best,” Villain said with a grin like a knife. “But we can’t all be geniuses, as you say.”

“This is a weird joke,” Hero said eventually with a scoff and looked down at their book again. Villain glanced down too. He couldn’t see any words on the pages. Just lines of black writing.

“Fine,” Villain shrugged leaning in. “What exam are you studying for?”

“The Hero licence fin—”

“I know. Which exam?” Villain asked, cutting Hero off. He pulled his chair in until his torso was flush with the wood, clasping his fingers together in front of him and tilted his head to the side.

“The—” Hero said, trailing off. Their eyes wandered and a troubled look crossed their features. Their eyes burned purple. “The…” then they shook their head and let out a breath of a laugh. “God, I can’t remember. I must have been studying too long.”

“Okay,” Villain shrugged. “Just read what’s on the page you’re reading then.”

Hero’s eyes narrowed at the challenge. “Fine!” They said with a scoff as they looked down again. “The… uh— the…”

Villain watched with an eagerness as Hero’s features pinched on their face, a crease forming between their brilliant brows and a furrow forming over their forehead. Hero’s grip tightened on the book, their hands began to shake.

“Villain…” they said after a moment, looking up with wide petrified eyes. “Why am I calling you Villain? That’s not your name. Your hero name was other hero. I remember. We picked it out together. And when you changed it to Villain, god I—”

Villain smiled and sat back. Hero’s physique morphed again, older again, but at least now they looked like the Hero Villain knew from the present. Comfortable clothes, a hoodie and a pair of sweatpants with a white tee, that made it easy for fighting and going for groceries.

The library changed around them again, bleeding away to a black, voided emptiness.

“Villain, what’s going on?”

Villain sighed. “Finally. That took longer than it should have, Hero.”

“Why are you— what’s—”

“Superhero hired Nokio to subdue you and make you work for him, hide you away in your mind so you would be an obedient little—” before Villain could finish he gasped, cutting himself off. His air felt breathy, unreal as a spike of purple coiled rope erupted from his chest.

“VILLAIN!”

Villain fell to his knees. “You just couldn’t leave well enough alone, could you Villain?” Nokio’s voice boomed around them, echoing off nothing. High pitched and grating, so the same as Villain remembered. Villain reached out to grab the spike.

It’s not real, it’s not real, it’s not—

Twin coils of rope wound around Villain’s wrists, thorns like the ones you’d find on a rosebush stuck into Villain’s skin, knotting itself like barbed wire around him.

“Villain!” Hero gasped, dropping to their knees in front of Villain. Villain smiled, blood dripping from the corners of his mouth. “What do I do? WhatdoIdo? How do I help? Villain?!”

The tears in Hero’s eyes pulled at Villain’s heartstrings. God. He forgot he still had those. “Fight, Hero,” Villain gasped. “I can’t help you. But fight, Nokio is nothing compared to—”

A shrill scream and Villain was torn from Hero’s mind and back into their body. The force of the expulsion shot them back across the room and Villain gasped, spluttering, grabbing at the phantom spike in his chest.

He grinned. All he had to do was wait. Hero would free themself, and then Superhero would have something to really worry about.

[amoritasart]

No one talks about how much more disturbing the Wittebros story would be if Philip was the older brother.

[stop-breaking-my-heart-dragonage]

So I went searching for special dialogue for a romanced Alistair, who stayed with the wardens, about a HoF who made the ultimate sacrifice. Specifically for what he says in DAI. For reasons.

I know what he says about her when she's alive in DAI, so I was curious if he'd saying anything about her if she's dead, like Leliana and Morrigan do. After reading through all sorts of forms and reddit posts where most of the answers were "huh I dunno what he says in DAI, I've never done that route," I eventually found out what he says.

Nothing.

Romanced Alistair says nothing about a dead HoF in DAI. At first I thought this was odd? Surely there's something referencing the fact that he and the warden were in love? even if just for fanservice like in DA2? Some of the comments on these posts blame it on Bioware doing bad writing again but it's hard to tell if they actually mean that, or if they're conflating "I don't like this" with bad writing because honestly? I disagree.

Intentionally or not, Alistair not saying anything about his dead lover is completely in character for him. He doesn't know the Inquisitor. Why should he tell them anything about the love of his life that he lost ten years ago? He's not as open about that stuff like Leliana or Morrigan.

You know what's actually out of character? Alistair giving a random stranger he met for two seconds an item that belonged to his dead lover because "she doesn't need it anymore."

Wasn't it enough to ruin his face, DA2? Did you really need to throw in some botched fanservice as well?

Wait a minute, Varric's telling this story...

Alright, new headcanon: Varric is, as per usual, full of shit. Alistair did give Hawke an item because he felt bad that he couldn't help them with the qunari except it wasn't anything special. But that's not interesting enough, so Varric lied and said Alistair gave Hawke an item that belongs to THE Hero of Fereldan for the sake of showing how super special Hawke is.