#asthehero

[ SNIFFS THE AIR. IS THIS DREAMWIDTH ]

meme from a long time ago sorry pax xoxo

          Leaving the Bandit King speechless is a near impossible task to pull off. Vaas is witty and he always has something to say, be it positive or negative. It’s fair to say there’s only one fucking person who can steal every single word from his tongue, and that person is the one cupping his face right now and wiping the blood from his cheeks. Vaas doesn’t kill for other people, no, he kills for himself only. When he killed for his sister all those years ago, it fucked him up. It left him grasping at his last bits of sanity. He was left in a tornado storm, and she was left in paradise. He refused to kill for someone else ever again, and yet, here he was. Blood stained his hands, and it wasn’t the blood of his enemies. It was the blood of Jack’s enemies. A pack of vault hunters, as the usual. Vaas has never given a shit about vault hunters. He’s killed some, he’s let some go, he’s befriended some, and just a few minutes ago, he’d torn four of them apart with nothing but his hands and machete. They’d been tough to take down, of course. It was four against one, but even so, he tore through them. He knows he has a few bullet shots in him somewhere, but he’s too hyped up on adrenaline and admiration to focus on the pain. Instead, he tilts his cheek into Jack’s touch and lets Jack smear the crimson on his face. It feels like a baptism to him, Jack’s hands drenched with holiness and his lips promising words of a new life, of the chance to become something better. 

it makes you a dopplebanger W INK S

selfcest is best put yourself to the test

It takes him a moment to remember where he is, dizzy and disoriented and the rush of blood pounding in his head. There’s smoke hanging thick and heavy in the air between them, the darkness of the room makes the atmosphere feel downright poisonous and it sits in his lungs, coating his insides in it’s haze. He can hear muffled sounds, thumping and rhythmic like music, and he vaguely remembers putting it on-- putting on a show. A show for himself.

     “This-- really isn’t in any way healthy, is it.” It’s a rhetorical question. His vision swims and the blood pours down his mask that much faster. The concept itself was unprecedented-- traveling between universes had never been done before, not to his knowledge anyway. There was no telling what kind of side effects could result from prolonged exposure. But god, is it hard to stay away from that face.