“You Told Me That My Parents Trusted You To Take Care Of Me."

My Babies

They go to a school called Redcreste Academy, a speciality school for children who struggle to control their powers. Not a school for aspiring heroes, a school for children who have been deemed threats.

Brooke Rovin, Power: Voice Compulsion

Penelope Melpolia, Power: Shadow manipulation

Erin Conleth, Power: Dimensional Storage

Callum Veredis, Power: Reality Distortion

i want a picture of nahida being her warm and friendly self going “hi i’m nahida! and these are my three helpers!” and it’s alhaitham, cyno and wanderer standing behind her all looking intimidating and unapproachable as fuck

Prompts about a superhero who finds out their parent is a villain?

“You’re evil!”Their parent sighed. “Morality is a subjective concept, I’ve taught you that. You break the law every time you go out in that cape.”“I’m a hero, it’s different!”“Name one quantifiably ‘evil’ thing I’ve done.”The teen hero opened their mouth, full of righteous fury. Then closed it. They were sure their parent had been caught doing something evil, yet they couldn’t think of anything. Not a single dastardly crime.

—

“You are not my mother.”The villainess smiled, ever in control, ever amused by their shuddering rage. “You can deny it all you want, little hero. You were born from me; my blood runs in your veins. My powers are your powers.”“Your morals,” they spat, “are not my morals.”Her smile widened. “Not. Yet.”

—

“It’s not that I’m trying to control you,” their parent said, a comforting hand on their shoulder, “but I have to keep you safe. You know that right?”“By any means necessary,” they repeated dully, thoughts whirling too fast to spare any inflection.Their parent squeezed their shoulder. “So becoming the city’s most feared supervillain isn’t that outrageous, right? Definitely no worse than Kiera’s mum baking 800 cupcakes for the PTA bake sale.”

—

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Prompt #1490

“It’s not that I’m trying to control you,” their parent said, a comforting hand on their shoulder, “but I have to keep you safe. You know that right?”

“By any means necessary,” they repeated dully, thoughts whirling too fast to spare any inflection.

Their parent squeezed their shoulder. “So becoming the city’s most feared supervillain isn’t that outrageous, right? Definitely no worse than Kiera’s mum baking 800 cupcakes for the PTA bake sale.”

Andrius felt useless

1000 years he had kept his vigil as Mondstadt’s North Wind and for 500 he had felt no connection to the Archon he’d pledged himself to over 2000 years ago. Where had Barbatos gone, had he sacrificed himself for the Eastern Wind and if so why did the dragon refuse show itself? Had he not needed to keep watch over Wolvendom he might’ve gone searching yet there was none available to keep his vigil lest outsiders attempt to take advantage of his absen-

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"You're a child." Villain spat out, horrified as they stared into the wide eyes of their clearly underage rival.

"Wh-no I'm not!" Hero yelped, then winced as the higher pitch gave them away further. They hunched into themselves, subconsciously trying to appear even smaller.

"Where are your parents?!" Villain demanded, storming forward to grab Hero by the shoulders, "do they know you're fu-freaking doing this?!" Angry as they were, Villain tried not to swear - kids didn't need to hear that kind of language, after all.

"..."

Hero averted their watering eyes, trembling as Villain stared them down. They'd never seen the other so furious.

"I don't..." they licked dry lips nervously, "I don't have parents."

Villain's mind went black for a moment, vision filling with the shivering form of the literal child they'd been fighting.

"...you're an Orphan," it wasn't a question, but instead a surprisingly bland statement, "of course you are."

Something in Villain's tone made Hero look up, made them gaze into the unwavering form of their adversary, where they found a glint of determination in the other's eyes.

"Screw it-" they scooped Hero into their arms, ignoring the spluttering and struggling, "you need someone to keep an eye on you, and I've always wanted kids."

"I'm your parent now Hero"

Learning to Love (Part 3 of Prompt #191)

I certianly can! @mrcentipede and @chaoticgoodandi

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The most terrifying thing about all of this was how clear their mind was. Whatever drugs [Villain] was dosing them with rendered their body completely limp and unresponsive, but their mind was as clear as day.

They desperately tried to struggle as [Villain] held them close and stroked a hand lovingly through their hair. They tried to fight back as [Villain] fed them. They tried to cry out as [Villain] gave them another syringe full of that infernal drug.

“I know you don’t like it,” [Villain] hummed as they cuddled close to the unresponsive [Hero] in their arms, “But this is all necessary for now.”

“Why?” [Hero] thought, “What could this possibly achieve?” they screamed in their mind.

“Right now, you don’t understand what’s good for you. Your mind is confused and fighting back against me.” They slowly caressed [Hero]’s spine, “But eventually you’ll learn to be safe and happy in my arms, my love.”

[Hero] wanted to scream, but all they could muster was to swallow as [Villain] pressed a tender kiss against their forehead.

I will say, while I do enjoy enough of Percy Jackson books… I think I prefer the fanfictions that take that world and lean into the darker parts of it.

I really enjoy fanfics I find that have the gods be more… godly I guess. The gods in PJO just feel too much like regular people. Like just annoying people. Also they just suck in general… Luke was an asshole but I kinda get why he was doing it you know? They are fucking gods. They can’t like make sure they’re kids don’t have to struggle and fight just to fucking exist??

I will say, I live for fanfiction where Percy ascends even if he didn’t choose to. Beautiful and tragic and honestly with the shit Percy does thats all I can see happening.

Another thing i enjoy in PJO fanfiction is when it becomes critical of certain characters (if you like Annabeth Chase and Percabeth please leave) and of camp half-blood and camp Jupiter. I cannot stress this enough, those camps are cults making child soldiers. They are not a safe space. They are cults training children to willingly sacrifice themselves for their parents who don’t give a flying shit about them. Chiron literally looked over the fact Percy could have died in that capture the flag game. Camp Halfblood sent out a kid with the like 0 training to go on a death quest just because his father got accused of a damn crime, and they sent him with the girl who nearly gor him fucking killed (Im so sorry I don’t like Annabeth). Camp Jupiter is so much worse because Im sorry??? There are adults??? Why are the children the military??? Thats not even mentioning the fact that so many of these kids are year rounders. They don’t have an actual home to go back to. Thats terrifying, they are stuck in these fucking death camps. Once again, no wonder there are kids who joined Kronos’ army. Not a good thing but I kinda fucking get it.

Also oh my god Percabeth. I love Annabeth bashing fics. Those feed my soul. I don’t care much for Annabeth Chase. She’s interesting but she’s also fucking shit. She beats Percy everytime she gets and is praised for every shitty thing she does and I hate that so fucking much. Im actually so scared for Leah because when people start putting together how shit Annabeth is as PJO get adapted into shows Im so scared she’ll get the brunt of all the problems when it was just how her character was horribly written. Fandom made Percabeth cuter and healthier then they actually are in canon (she didn’t know his Achilles curse was gone yet judo flipped him. Percy. Could. Have. Died.)

Anyway… anyone have recommendations for any fics that lean into the more fucked up side of these books? I’d love to hear it

the writing challenge, day two

                                                           II

The human shuffled through the third drawer, still no sight of anything helpful, anything sharp, anything heavy. Surely the villain must keep something of these sorts? Yet all they managed to find were a few heavier books, the rest useless. 

There had to be a way. They were so close. 

Helplessly, the hero plonked themselves down on the sofa. The pain shot through their spine, reminding them of the bruises the villain marked on their body. With a hiss, they turned over to their back. For a few minutes they stared at the magnolias. Still fresh, somehow. The light breaking through the water, its reflection-

Oh.

The hero touched the vase delicately, scared of their last hope disappearing in the shadows. The cold surface brushed their fingertips. Glass. 

                                                          ~

The hero traced the glass wall. It seemed thin enough. They clutched the vase in their hand and took a few steps back. 

Bang.

No. No, no, no. The hero watched the barely scratched wall in disbelief. 

They picked up the biggest piece and swung again, using all strength left in their body. 

A scratch, maybe two. 

They took the biggest piece of glass and clung onto the glass wall, hitting it over and over again, until they felt like puking and tears were running down their face and the hand holding the glass was now the hand dripping with blood. 

Still, the glass didn’t shatter. 

Their forehead touched the cold surface when someone’s arms wrapped around their waist and yanked them backward. 

“Oh, darling. You’ve made quite a mess.” 

The hero let out a cry. The villain couldn’t be here. He was out, he- the car was missing, no way he could get here- 

The villain turned them around, his fingers gently brushing over the hero’s red eyes and cheeks before he considered their hand. The hero clenched it but the trembling of their body was becoming visible. 

The villain’s gaze pierced them, his pupils growing barely noticeably. 

The hero gaze dropped on the floor.“Please, don’t- I won’t do that again, I pro-”

The villain pressed his fingers to their throat, forcing them to look up. 

“It’ll only be worse if you try to resist.” 

The hero stumbled, their knees weak. The last thing they did before the spell started working was to put the small glass fragment in their pocket. They couldn’t not look now and even if they could, they wouldn’t. 

“Come here,” the villain said, and the hero fell into his arms. 

After, when their hand had been bandaged and their head rested on the villain’s chest they tried to remember what they did today but the images were blurry and the more they thought about it, the bigger the headache grew. They let the villain play with their hair as the numbness washed over their body.

Hey there! Do you mind writing a snippet about a captured hero in a I-have-you-now-my-pretty situation by a dominating seductive villain? And can you make it very dark please? Thank you so much and I absolutely love your writing!

"There now, isn't this much better?" the villain murmured, stroking their fingers through the hero's damp hair. "You're so pretty beneath all the grime and the blood."

"I prefer the grime and the blood."

"I might also prefer you nice and quiet. Consider that."

"Oh," the hero's eyes darkened, "no doubt. What's more attractive than your prey being forced docile, unable to fight back?"

The villain raised a brow, in the reflection of the mirror. "You. Trying to fight me. Failing."

The hero felt bile claw up their throat at that. They resisted the urge to swallow, to tense; it wouldn't do them any good, and it would probably only serve to delight the creep.

The villain seemed to catch it anyway, because they smiled.

"I do like your spirit," the villain mused. They continued to stroke through the hero's hair, carefully and diligently untangling every knots and snarl. "You're beautiful when you're angry. Defiant. You get this fiery, helpless look in your eyes. The blush is also very becoming. So, you see...it wouldn't be half as fun if you didn't try to fight back."

The hero studied them, trying to decide if that was reverse psychology. They might have preferred it if it was reverse psychology.

The villain laughed, softly, at whatever expression they saw on the hero's face.

The hero jerked their head away. It felt good for all of three seconds before the villain reeled them back in with a much harder yank, making the hero's breath catch. They pulled the hero's head back against the chair, baring their throat.

Perhaps as punishment for moving, or perhaps simply because they could, the villain leaned down over their shoulder to press a kiss to the hero's throat. It looked positively vampiric in the glass. The hero half expected teeth. They hated that they shivered. They hated that they couldn't look away, in the spirit of car crashes, natural disasters and other terrible fascinating things.

The villain's smile edged a fraction sharper, a fraction smugger. They held the hero's eyes as they trailed more kisses along the hero's neck, across their racing pulse, until the hero was taut.

"Go on," the villain whispered. "Tell me not to touch you again. Dealer's choice on if you try a threat, command or plea."

"I think I might prefer me nice and quiet."

"Mm." The villain straightened. They turned their attention to the hero's appearance again, considering. "I knew you liked me too."

"That's not - I don't -"

The villain's smile turned positively wolfish.

The hero snarled; too frustrated for words, too...well. Too many things. Frustrated was the best pick. Better than fear, sinking and entirely too helpless.

The annoying thing was that it did feel better to be clean, with their wounds tended. It simply didn't feel better to have had the villain force them into a bath and out of their own clothes. It was like having their identity, their resistance, scrubbed away alongside the dirt. Dressed in the villain's clothes, with the villain's scent clinging to their skin, it was impossible to forget where they were for even a moment.

It was impossible to forget who the villain thought they belonged to.

There were times when the villain could be charming, seductive. When they first met the hero had even been flattered. The problem was that, after the seduction and shiny polish of it all had worn off, it was perfectly obvious that the villain didn't actually care if the hero was seduced or not. It was a preference - not a requirement. The villain would do as they pleased regardless.

Hopefully, the hero's friends would get there soon.

(They had to get there soon, right?)

"So pretty," the villain murmured once more. "And all mine. Let's go show you off, shall we?"

"I'm not yours." The hero had to say it. Even when they knew it was a trap, even when their voice came out hoarse, they had to say.

The villain laughed again, and swivelled the chair around so that they were facing each other. They smoothed their hands down the hero's trembling thighs. Then, their expression turned cold, as absolute as an old black-and-white fairytale, as unstoppable a death. They leaned in.

"Oh, darling. By the time I'm done with you tonight, you will be."