#sacrifice tw

[ihadtried]

I saw another person talking about something similar and need to know how common it was.

My example under the cut

When I was in highschool we had a lock in weekend themed around persecution. One night we did a game of manhunt but instead of neutral teams it was “hunters” and “Christians”. Yes it was exactly what you think. The Christians ran and hid while the hunters dragged them back to “jail”. One boy was given a Bible and he was the “Preacher”. If one of the “Christians” found him, they could either choose to stay with him and be safe, or go back out to find more Christians and bring them to safety too. But they weren’t safe if they left him. The Christians won if they found and all saved each other, and the hunters won if they found the huddle of Christians. (I believe some of the Christians tried to convert the hunters and got dragged away for it. But we had been taught that sometimes missionaries died so it was a risk they understood. In fact I also remember a separate conversation being asked if I was willing to be the first missionary that died to make way for the next who would “save” the lost people)

Honestly we got wayyyyy to into it. The kids who were the hunters were a group of boys on the fringe of the youth group: I remember them changing into dark clothes and tying bandanas around their faces (we did a regular version of manhunt every year so sometimes people would bring darker clothes).

I remember running but being caught, sobbing as they dragged me back to the building and asking if I would betray the other Christians. The game ended early because kids were getting hurt/scratched from trying to get away or literally being dragged. That wasn’t an exaggeration.

[bingerzone]

BTW after he told me that I spent the next few hours doing a doodle page of the concept while he watched.

[hawksights]

@themxtleycrew asked: 🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤

Song Associations | Currently Accepting.

1. Zombie by The Cranberries

Another head hangs lowly Child is slowly taken And the violence caused such silence Who are we, mistaken?

This one refers to the Ishvalan War. The first verse in particular pairs well with how the war started: the child Envy killed to start the war in the first place. Riza would consider herself the zombie in this instance: the mindless killer who followed orders and continued the violence.

2. jealousy, jealousy by Olivia Rodrigo

And I see everyone gettin' all the things I want I'm happy for them, but then again, I'm not

Underneath all the dry wit and stoicism is a person who compares herself to others a lot. She is frequently jealous of others, especially femme-presenting people: that they can be comfortable in their bodies, date, be in relationships, and so on. Because of the tattoo, she does not feel comfortable in her body, which leads her to be uncomfortable in many social situations. Dating is off the table due to that and her job. But, does she acknowledge this part of her brain? Not a chance.

3. Hit Me With Your Best Shot by ADONA

Before I put another notch in my lipstick case You better make sure you put me in my place

While I love the original by Pat Benatar, this cover fits Riza more. It's slower, lining up with the time it takes for a sniper to set up their shot and fire. It also has some excellent percussion, emphasizing the quickness Riza has when it comes to shooting her sidearms. Truly, this is one of my "Riza Hawkeye is a badass" songs.

4. Abraham's Daughter by Arcade Fire

Then the angel asked her what her Name was she said "I have none" Then he asked how can this be My father never gave me one

This song has been on my Riza playlist for a long time, so I might as well ramble about it because it is layered (like many of Arcade Fire's songs). It was written specifically for The Hunger Games, and it was the first track. With this song in particular, it talks of the Biblical story of Abraham and Isaac. The story of Isaac in the Bible is that God commands Abraham to sacrifice Isaac, his son. Before Abraham kills his son, an angel stops him. A ram appears, which is slaughtered in Isaac's place, and Abraham is commended for his obedience.

Obviously, the song connects it to The Hunger Games and the characters. However, I connect it to Riza and her story. The entire song paints a vivid telling of her story as I see it: the father who didn't see or care much for her, but saw a potential heir in Roy (who he effectively doomed), and the defiant child. Then, there's another layer as she got older: the Homunculi. She saw them gathering sacrifices, and she did everything in her power to try and stop them. She raised her weapons, and she said, "No."

All in all, The Hunger Games soundtracks slap. I highly recommend them.

5. Fireflies by Binky

I just wanna be stronger I won't last any longer Temptress is my hunger Show me to the light

Another song that's sat in my Riza playlist for eons. It tells Riza's entire story: her relationship with both parents, her resilience despite her rough upbringing and the war, her relationship with Roy, and how she finds her freedom in her calling to better the country. She is a character of resilience through and through, and that is one thing I love about her.

[coreofgold]

@vcndetta: ♫+48 (aloth and gale)

Song: Super Soaker (feat. Daniela Lalita) by Ashnikko

"Runes in the dirt, blood on the earth. . ." Aloth mused, bending down to get a good look without moving anything. "Not enough to be a sacrifice."

[nyf-archive]

@never-surrender asked | [SACRIFICE]: the sender cups the receiver's face tenderly to distract them, right before shoving them out of the way (to safety) and facing an attack alone in order to buy the receiver enough time to escape.

Her skin has split over her brow, blood has trickled into her eye and all down the left side of her face. A few bones have most certainly been broken. It was getting harder to breathe. This was her Father's doing. The man had shifted into a Nightwalker before their eyes, a huge and twisted creature. Was this what he was doing all those years while she was passed around like an heirloom? Making deals with whatever he could manage. He looked now like this hideous creature, and he was set on killing her and all of her companions now. The woman made for her violin, but saw that it was broken into thousands of tiny little pieces.

There was still magic left in her. She could feel it coursing through her body, was ready to take the man who did this to her, to finally be free of the nightmare that he was. He is that incarnate, now. His shadowy form looms over her, and for a moment, she is paralyzed with fear. She can feel the blade in her collar, can feel the blood seeping out and oozing down her arm that fateful night. Before he decided to sell her like some common livestock. The stench of blood fills her senses, and unbeknownst to her, tears cascade in rivers down her cheeks. Nox is stunned, the creature's hand pointed at her as if ready to attack in the next moment.

But it never came. She could see the purple radiance of Gale's magic lingering in the sky, dissipating the beam of magic that was intended for her. Pulled only briefly from her fear, can she see Halsin is now in front of her. His hand is warm upon her cheek. Pale lashes flutter in recognition of his healing seeping into her bones. His words fall upon deaf ears. All Nox knows is that the tears fall faster now. Has she doomed them all? He said he would protect her, but she didn't want that to be until death do they part. There is a choked sound as she grasps desperately onto his hand, head shaking as she realizes what he's doing, but it is a moment too late.

His other hand has taken her by the waist, and before she can stop him, he's tossed her to Karlach who holds her fiercely in her arms.

"HALSIN! HALSIN PLEASE! NO!" Her voice cries out for him, immediately her hands trying to pry the tiefling's arms from around her, she watches as the elf begins to glow, the radiance of his light and of nature around him swirling to life. She's half carried, half dragged away from the scene as the earth begins to crumble away at their feet, plates shifting and splitting the earth between them and what fate would have awaited them. She screams his name over and over again, doing anything she can to get out of the hold. No. She didn't want to lose anyone else! She couldn't!

"HALSIN!" Her voice cracks, she begs to be released, but Karlach is finally able to get a hold of her, hugging her tightly as they run, whispering apologies to her as she hugs her close. The changeling cannot contain her emotions as she clings to the barbarian. This was agony. This was torture.

This was worse than death itself.

[askthemysterkids]

Who would be willing to sacrifice themselves if it ever comes down to it?

I believe Coraline would. I can see lots of arguing in the moment but I believe that she would be willing to sacrifice herself.

I can also see Raz or Lili being willing to. Raz would lead to a slap from Lili before (potentially) a hug. Raz would try to stop Lili but end up giving a "I love you."

Anyways, cue the others trying to stop the sacrifice from needing to be made.

[fishcop]

If I had a nickel for every time Scott sacrificed himself for pearl… that would be three, actually!

[pidgydraws]

🩸 And Nothing Else Matters 🩸

part 2 - part 3

[bamsara]

i have so many dream/nightmare related comic scenes I havent posted. anyway hold this real quick

[tsuutarr]

The hero didn’t really think much of you when he first saw you. After all, you're just a pretty little saint that grew up with praise inside the gleaming walls of a church, never knowing any suffering. He doubts you’ll be able to keep up with him during his journey to save the world.

All of his initial disdain for you disappears when he begins his journey with you. You’re funny, you’re kind, you’re generous. Your healing ability from the gods isn’t the only thing that seems to heal him – just your presence, just your laugh, just you. You make life – his journey – a little more bearable.

So how – how could they? You’re his light, you’re his everything, and yet… They want to sacrifice you? That’s why you were chosen to be his partner for his trip? And you’re just standing there, unwilling to fight your fate.

“I’m okay with disappearing,” you murmur, wiping his tears away with hands that are turning to stone. “If I can save your life with my own, then I’m satisfied.”

But he’s not. He’s not satisfied, not when you’re not by his side. When he sees you turn to stone, your skin replaced with beautiful white marble, he vows to do anything to bring you back to his side. 

Using the power of the gods, he turns back time again and again and again so he can save you – so he can be with you.

But you meet the same fate over and over and over again. Again and again and again.

…Then who cares? Who cares about this shitty world when it’s without you?

The next time you return to consciousness, the world is in disarray, covered in murky fog and the smell of blood. The next thing you know, you’re being pulled into a warm embrace.

“You’re alive…” the hero says, hugging you close. His warmth is suffocating. “Yes… I should’ve done this from the start instead of turning back time…���

“W… what’s happening?” you ask, heart feeling too heavy, like stone, in your chest. “What did you do…?”

“Nothing, everything, anything.” He nuzzles your neck, savoring your warmth. It sends chills down your spine. “Anything to have you by my side. Even if it means destroying the world.”

[the-star-rigel]

pjo/hoo/toa + the cycle

The Lightning Thief / Growing Sideways, Noah Kahan / Ivan the Terrible and His Son Ivan, Ilya Repin + Saturn Devouring His Son, Goya + Saturn, Rubens / The Blood of Olympus / The Family Jewels, MARINA / The Last Olympian / The Sea of Monsters / The Family Jewels / Orestes Pursued by the Furies, Bouguereau / The Hidden Oracle / Apollo and Marsyas, Manfredi / In The Blood, John Mayer / The Sea of Monsters / The Combat of Ares and Athena, Jacques Louis David / The Family Jewels / Mark of Athena / The Combat of Ares and Athena / The Lightning Thief / Family Line, Conan Gray / Cronos and Rhea, Schinkel / The Lightning Thief / The Blood of Olympus / In The Blood / The Last Olympian / Chronos and His Child, Romanelli / Desireé Dellagiacomo / The Lightning Thief / Family Line / The Fallen Angel, Alexandre Cabanel + The Last Day of Pompeii, Bryullov / The Blood of Olympus / The Outcast, Botticelli / Glass, Irony and God, Anna Carson / House of Hades / Family Line / The Last Olympian / The Lament for Icarus, Herbert Draper + Sacrifice of Iphigenia, Roman School + Minerva and Arachne, Houasse + Venus Induces Helen to Fall in Love with Paris, Kauffmann / The Last Olympian / Hadestown / The Lightning Thief / apple, Charli xcx / The Last Olympian / I Would Leave Me If I Could, Halsey / The Sea of Monsters / ? / LET YOUR DAD DIE ENERGY DRINK, Lavery and Corrigan / The Last Olympian / Eat Your Young, Hozier / The Last Olympian / Orpheus and the Bacchantes, Lazzarini / The Blood of Olympus / Susan Smith, wych elm / Orpheus and the Bacchantes / The Burning Maze / ? / The Tyrant’s Tomb / Perseus Freeing Andromeda, Veronese / Abduction of Psyche, Bouguereau + Bacchus and Ariadne, Van Loo / The Tower of Nero / The Tower of Nero / The Tower of Nero

[lotussart]

Sacred

[voltaical-art]

whatever it takes

[im-totally-not-an-alien-2]

"Why?"

That one word sent a shock through Danny's system, like he was back in the portal being electrocuted all over again. Still, he knew what was at stake, so even though that look on Tim's face made him want to fall to his knees and explain everything, he knew he couldn't.

Instead, he raised his gun as the portals filling the sky multipled and merged together as the ghost zone tried to absorb their reality. Channeling his inner Dan, he gave Tim a mocking smirk, What? You didn't think all that was real, did you?"

"You...you're lying!"

Danny tilted his head at an angle he knew would look as smug and condescending as possible, and judging by the burst of rage he felt coming from Nightwing a few rooftops over, it worked. "Tim, you know better." He said in Bruce's voice, It was the exact thing Bruce had told them when they were starting thier relationship.

Everyone had disapproved when he had brought his new boyfriend home a few months after meeting at the skatepark. Bruce hated Danny from the get-go, more suspicious of him than he had been with any of the batkids' previous partners.

Danny opened his mouth to mock him more but was quickly cut off by a punch to the face, not by Nightwing, or by Robin, who was still racing towards him at seemingly Mach speeds. Nope. It was Hood, who looked madder than Danny had ever seen him, surprising both Tim and Danny alike.

"You did all of this just to steal our souls and trap us in some weird afterlife dimension as your slaves?!"

Danny had no idea where the slaves thing came from, but it sounds villainous, so Danny's gonna go with it, "Of course!"

[aventurineswife]

HEYYYYYYY if I can may I ask for Aventurine, Sunday and Dan Hang protecting reader when they get badly injured protecting them please ( I’ve been desperate for some angst and comfort recently with them 😭😭 )

“If I Fall, Let It Be for You”

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Sunday x Reader, Dan Heng x Reader, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Protectiveness, Sacrifice, Vulnerability, Emotional Conflict, Guilt, Platonic or Romantic Love, Selflessness, Inner Struggles.

Warnings: Graphic injury, Blood, Violence, Desperation, Guilt, Emotional distress, Death-related themes.

A/N: Hope you like this!! 🫣

The battlefield stretched before you, a blur of smoke and chaos. You had acted on instinct—throwing yourself in front of Dan Heng to block a strike meant for him. The blade tore through your side, pain radiating through your body as you stumbled.

“[Name]!” Dan Heng’s voice, usually so calm and composed, cracked as he caught you in his arms. His eyes widened, a rare display of emotion breaking through his stoic mask.

You gave him a weak smile, your hand clutching the bleeding wound. “You’re safe. That’s all that matters.”

His jaw tightened, and his grip on you was firm yet trembling. “You should never have done that.” There was an edge to his voice, sharp and laden with guilt.

You tried to speak, but the pain was overwhelming. Darkness crept at the edges of your vision, and you felt yourself fading.

“Stay with me,” Dan Heng ordered, his voice softer now but no less desperate. He cradled you closer, his usually steady hands pressing against your wound to stem the bleeding. “You can’t leave me. Not like this.”

He carried you swiftly to a safe spot behind the ruins, shielding you from the chaos. His spear, Cloud-Piercer, stood guard nearby, its sharp tip still dripping with the blood of your enemies. Dan Heng tore a strip of fabric from his coat, fashioning a makeshift bandage to stop the bleeding.

“Why?” he asked quietly, his gaze fixed on your pale face. “Why would you put yourself in harm’s way for me?”

You managed a weak chuckle despite the pain. “Because I care about you, Dan Heng. Even if you keep pushing people away, I won’t stop protecting you.”

His breath hitched, and for a moment, his usual reserve cracked. “I don’t deserve it. Not after everything I’ve done… everything I’ve failed to prevent.”

“You’re wrong,” you whispered, your hand reaching up to brush against his cheek. “You’re worth it to me.”

Dan Heng’s eyes softened, guilt and sorrow mingling with something deeper—something he had tried so hard to suppress. He didn’t speak, but his actions spoke volumes. He leaned into your touch, his fingers brushing your hair as if trying to commit every detail of you to memory.

“I won’t let anything happen to you,” he promised, his voice low but resolute. “Not again.”

Dan Heng stayed by your side, his spear within reach, ready to defend you from any further threat. The battle raged on around you, but his focus never wavered. He wasn’t just protecting you now—he was protecting the fragile hope you had given him, the chance for something beyond the weight of his past.

And in his quiet way, Dan Heng vowed to repay the trust you had shown him, no matter the cost.

The echoes of the gunfire still reverberated in the empty corridors, a cruel reminder of the chaos that had just unfolded. Aventurine stood frozen for a moment, the world around him slowing to a crawl. The usually confident smirk plastered on his face had vanished, replaced by a rare expression of raw, unfiltered fear.

You lay crumpled on the ground, your blood pooling beneath you. You had thrown yourself in front of him, a human shield against the sniper's bullet that had been meant for his chest.

“Why?” Aventurine whispered, his voice trembling as he knelt beside you, his gloved hands hesitating before pressing against your wound. His pristine, gold-adorned sleeves soaked in crimson as he tried to stem the bleeding. "You absolute fool. What were you thinking?"

Your eyes fluttered open, a weak smile playing on your lips despite the pain. "Because I knew you'd never let yourself be hit," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. "You're too important... too smart to take risks like that."

Aventurine let out a bitter laugh, one that sounded more like a sob. "And yet here you are, bleeding out because of me," he muttered, his tone laced with guilt and frustration. "You're supposed to stay out of the crossfire, not throw yourself into it like some kind of martyr."

The mask he wore so effortlessly in high-stakes games and political negotiations shattered in that moment. He was no longer the composed strategist, the man who always had a plan. He was just Kakavasha—terrified, helpless, and desperate to keep you alive.

“Stay with me,” he commanded, his voice shaking as he pulled out his communicator and barked orders for immediate medical assistance. “You don’t get to leave like this. Not here, not now.”

Your hand weakly reached up, brushing against his cheek. "I trust you, Aventurine," you whispered, your voice faltering. "You'll fix this... you always do."

His eyes shimmered with unshed tears as he pressed his forehead against yours. "I’m a gambler, not a miracle worker," he admitted softly, his usual bravado nowhere to be found. "But if there’s one thing I never bet against... it’s you."

The minutes felt like hours as he stayed by your side, murmuring reassurances that neither of you believed. His mind raced, calculating odds and outcomes, but none of his usual strategies could guarantee your survival. For the first time in years, Aventurine felt powerless.

When the medics finally arrived, he refused to leave your side, riding with you to the emergency unit despite their protests. As the doors closed behind them and the sterile lights flickered above, Aventurine made a silent vow.

No matter the cost, he would ensure you lived to see another gamble, another day by his side. Because without you, even victory would feel like defeat.

The clash of blades and the sound of explosions filled the air, but Sunday’s focus was solely on you. The two of you had been ambushed, and though he had held his ground, one stray attacker had slipped through his defenses, aiming for his unprotected flank.

You hadn’t hesitated. You’d stepped in without thinking, intercepting the blow meant for him. Now, you lay slumped against a ruined wall, clutching your side as blood seeped through your fingers.

“Why... why would you do that?” Sunday asked, his voice trembling as he knelt beside you. His eyes, usually so calm and composed, were wide with panic. He pressed his hands over yours, trying to stop the bleeding. The glow of his halo seemed dimmer, as if it mirrored the dread coursing through him.

“You needed protecting,” you gasped, a weak smile crossing your lips. “That’s what friends do, right?”

“Foolish,” Sunday whispered, his tone a mixture of frustration and anguish. "I am the one who should be protecting you." He gently brushed a strand of hair from your face, his gloved hands trembling. “You shouldn’t have to suffer because of me.”

Your hand reached for his, squeezing weakly. "You’re worth it."

Sunday’s breath hitched, and for a moment, his dignified mask crumbled. "No one is worth losing you," he admitted, his voice barely audible. “Not even me.”

The world around the two of you seemed to fade away as Sunday focused solely on keeping you conscious. He whispered soft reassurances, his usually formal tone replaced with a raw, desperate plea. “Stay with me,” he urged. “I’ll fix this. I swear it.”

Using his limited healing abilities, Sunday poured his energy into stabilizing you. The effort left him visibly drained, his face pale and his breaths labored, but he refused to stop. "I’ve seen too much suffering," he murmured, more to himself than to you. "I won’t allow it to claim you."

As reinforcements arrived and medical aid was administered, Sunday stood by your side, his presence a steady anchor amidst the chaos. When you were finally safe, he let out a shaky breath, brushing his thumb across your knuckles.

"You risked yourself for me," he said quietly, his eyes softening. “But know this: I will never allow you to come to harm again. You are too precious to lose.”

In that moment, you saw a side of Sunday he rarely revealed—a man burdened by the weight of his ideals, yet willing to fight against them for the sake of someone he cherished.

[ozzgin]

content: gender neutral reader, noncon!, gore!, mutilation!, captivity

Yandere!Artist is not quite an artist by profession. His skill of trade can be immediately guessed in the way he so masterfully handles a scalpel. He hacks, and cleaves, and stitches right back up.

He's saved many souls, and his competency as a surgeon has never been doubted. One could say he's had a lot of practice with the less fortunate...patients.

It started with anatomical drawings; idly tracing over his used textbooks, untangling the thick vessels connecting the liver tissue. This can't be all, he thought at the time. It looked bland, it looked fake. He needed a different kind of muse.

Oh, he's gained a lot of experience since. It took many bodies to perfect his artistry, but now he can finally return home, sit back, and admire his work adorning every wall.

Then he found you.

A different kind of fascination enthralled his soul. He wanted to learn all there is to you, know you better than anyone else. Special little thing, too innocent and naïve for this world. Worry not, you could never be in better hands than his.

"Oh, it's an ugly one."

Your lips are curved into a pout, soft sobs spilling out of your mouth in hiccups. Through tears, you can discern what's left of your leg. Right above the knee, the flesh is torn, sliced choppily and exposing the bone, with clusters of fat glistening among the pooled blood.

He glances at the axe that tarnished your skin.

"You left me with no choice. How many times must I explain myself to you?"

He tucks a few hair strands behind your ear.

"Do you truly believe that the world out there is any better than here? I'm saying this out of love and concern. If you wished to have a walk, or go somewhere, I would've accompanied you.

If you're going to be sneaky, I have no choice but to discipline you."

You nod, in a daze, ears ringing from the shock. Upon reflection, it might have been a poor idea to try and escape. All the way to your hip, there's a prickly numbness, a wet warmth. You stare at his slender hands as he tucks a thin strip of cloth into your gash.

Before reaching for his surgery kit, he eyes the scenery once more: the steady streams of blood branching across the tile, the femoral artery gushing and spasming against the improvised bandage. Your face is pale, and your gaze hollow. He must confess, you're particularly beautiful in this moment, resting against the wall, your damp lashes reminding him of a Madonna painting.

"Perhaps...might you give me a moment?"

He quickly hops on his stool, and twirls a brush between his fingers.

"Don't worry, I'll be quick. Just the sketch, I promise."

He gently dabs the canvas, observing you in raw adoration. Every detail must be considered. Every stroke must be calculated.

"Afterwards, I'll patch your precious leg back. You'll be as good as new in a few days.

And hopefully wiser, if you want to avoid it in the future. I can't do miracles. This will leave an ugly scar."

Lesson learned. Your nose wrinkles with a sniff, yet you obediently straighten your back.

"Is this alright," you ask meekly, referring to your rather poor attempt at posing.

"Perfect."