#( this job is so physically demanding it’s ridiculous)

[lostxtosunlight]

The urge to write is strong but the body is weak.

[flangore]

❥ scarlet plumes

feat.: Valentino/f!reader

warnings: nsfw content, noncon, physical + psychological abuse, unhealthy relationships, violence, drugging, rough sex, choking, punishments, manipulation, Valentino is his own warning

You were not the type to get into trouble.

Being confrontational, at least attempting to have things go your way through protests and complaints, had never seemed worth it; not when the one you were up against was Valentino, who always got what he wanted in the end, one way or another.

All too often, you had seen the way he punished disobedient whores; all too often, you had watched the way they were still limping days after, bruises blooming on skin if they had been lucky, bullet wounds trying to heal, oozing blood, if they had been less so.

There was no reason to willingly go through the struggle of disobeying when simply giving in, caving to Val's wishes and orders, was so much easier.

When Valentino told you to bend over, you did so readily, spreading your thighs apart in offering; when Valentino ordered you down onto your knees, you went obediently, lips dropping open, praying he wasn't in a bad mood, unpredictable as his sudden bursts of anger often made him.

You were not the type to get into trouble, and yet you currently found yourself on the floor, crumpled in front of Valentino's boots, cheek warm and stinging.

“Now, why don't you tell me what happened, baby?” His tone was a low coo, almost gentle enough to soothe your sobs. “You've never acted out like this before. What happened to my well-behaved girl, hm?”

In your defense, it really hadn't been your fault — you hadn't meant to do it.

Your night shift had been supposed to be a simple session for a well-known client, consisting of some lap dancing and a blow job; that was what he had paid for, at least. Your surprise when he had begun ripping your skimpy panties off you, forcing your legs apart, hands greedy, mouth drooling, high on some drug, was therefore understandable in your eyes; as was the way you, in your shock, had lashed out, claws scratching at his chest in order to push him off you. A split second later, the side of your face had ached with pain, his flat palm having met your cheek before he had stormed out of the room, screaming and spitting.

Valentino had been with you after barely any time at all.

“I didn't—”, you choked out, voice trembling, “I didn't mean to do it, sir, I swear, he just startled me, and, I mean, he didn't pay for more, he wanted to —, he wanted to—”

One hand of his cupped your cheek, golden claw gently tracing over your jaw. Even with him crouched down in front of you, he seemed ridiculously tall. “Hey—, relax, sweetheart.” At an exhale, red smoke coiled around you, assaulting your senses. Instinctively, your raised shoulders fell as tension bled from your muscles. “I get it. I understand.”

With how utterly merciless Valentino was known to be, it took a few moments for you to actually understand the meaning of his words. Even then, you barely dared to let go of the dreadful fear curled in your stomach. “You do?”

“Of course I do”, he said, eyes half-lidded behind heart-shaped glasses. His voice was soft enough to cause more tears, now of relief, to drip down your cheeks. “You know, I was really surprised when that patron came up to me, demanding to have you fired, if not killed for your disobedience. You're usually such an obedient girl — I was wondering what actually happened. Good job for being honest with me.”

Hope bloomed in your chest, your eyes widening. Streaks of mascara and eyeshadow, black and colourful, ran down your wet cheeks. “So you're not upset with me?”

“Upset with you? Of course not, amorcito. You were scared, that's alright. It happens, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Your breath hitched in a stifled sob, lips, the gloss now smudged, curling up into a pitiful mockery of a smile. “Yeah. Thank you, Val.”

This could have gone much worse. Your hands were still shaking, anxiety thrumming underneath your skin, and yet Valentino didn't even seem particularly upset. Some higher being — whether that was Lucifer or God, you didn't really care — must have blessed you, somehow.

“Of course, baby.” The moment Valentino stood once more, he towered over you, his shadow swallowing you up. “Now, follow me, yeah?”

Your legs struggled to support your weight, knees feeling weak as you trailed behind him through corridors you didn't recognise. Your steps were unsure, the heels, ridiculously high, only adding to your troubles. You have half a mind to stop yourself from asking where you're going.

It's entirely unnecessary, either way.

You arrive but a moment later, the noise of a heavy door falling shut causing you to flinch; where Valentino was in front of you just a second ago, he was now behind you, a looming presence at your back.

It was a studio; not the fancy kind actual stars like Angel Dust filmed in, but a smaller one, the light bulb flickering, the sheets on the bed stained. Voxtech cameras were pointed at the mattress.

“Val—?”

“Bend over, baby.”

“You said you're not angry with me.” The words tumbled out of your mouth without your permission, a panicked high-pitched tone. “You said you're not—”

“And I'm not, as long as you hurry the fuck up and do what I tell you to.” His voice was sharp. Instinctively, you obeyed, bending over the edge of the bed, nausea churning in your stomach. “See, that guy you were a bitch to was a regular. Good money. I gotta show him you're sorry, sweetheart. You understand that, right?”

For a moment, you didn't get a word out, throat tight as tears spilled past your lashes. Eventually, you managed a shaky; “Yes, Valentino.”

“There we go. Knew you'd get why I have to do this.”

Large hands settled on your thighs, the touch making you flinch; his claws, all too sharp, teased at your skin, leaving faint scratch marks, before they prodded at your folds.

This, by now, should have been routine. It was; and yet, the idea of this being a punishment had you tensing, muscles locking up while Valentino thrust one claw into you, only to grunt, irritated.

“Ungrateful bitch”, he spat, one hand settling on your lower back, pinning you to the bed while another fumbled with his belt, metal clinking. “That's what I get for tryin' to be nice and preparing you — tightest cunt I've ever seen. Loosen the fuck up or deal with it.”

“I'm sorry.” Your voice shook, though the threat of violence, of pain, didn't help with relaxing in the slightest. Instead, you instinctively clenched around the digit, only to whimper when he yanked it back out.

“Sure doesn't seem like it.”

The fat head of his cock, pierced, the metal cold, pressed against you, then pushed inside; you were unable to stop yourself from letting out a pitiful noise, sounding more like a wounded animal than a practiced porn star.

Valentino didn't seem to mind it one bit.

Your vision blackened out for a moment when he bottomed out inside of you, the pain agonising. For a moment, you were certain he was tearing you from the inside out. His hips slapped against your plush ones, building up a steady rhythm; one set of his hands grabbed onto your hips, claws digging into your skin, using his grip for leverage to pull you back against him

“Some wetness would help us out here, y'know”, Valentino mumbled, complaining, bitching, like this was your fault. It probably was.

The only response you were able to come up with was a choked out sob, a dull ache steadily present in your abdomen, only interrupted by sharp stabbing pain whenever Valentino's tip hit an impossibly deep spot inside of you.

This couldn't have possibly gotten worse — or so you thought, tears dripping down your face, your claws ripping the sheets as you scrambled for purchase, only for it to get so much more agonising when, all of a sudden, his hand closed around your throat, squeezing.

You weren't able to breathe.

Instinctively, you clenched around him, thighs shaking. If he wasn't still holding you up, you would have collapsed.

“Fuck, you're so damn tight.” Valentino groaned, low and raspy. His tongue lapped at your neck, leaving trails of pink saliva to drip down your shoulders, your chest. “We could've had such a pleasant time together, baby, if only you hadn't been such a disobedient slut. Hate that you're making me do this.”

His pace was unforgiving, the metal of his belt buckle hitting your hip with every other thrust, surely leaving bruises. Not that it mattered — Valentino did provide you with full coverage makeup, after all.

Out of the corner of your eye, you focused on the red dots of the many cameras, blinking, recording. By now, numbness spread through you, a small blessing. You weren't certain just how long it went on; only that, eventually, Valentino came with a groan, filling you up, making you whimper.

When his grip on your throat loosened for a split second, allowing you to suck a burning breath into your lungs, it felt like Heaven.

“Use your words, baby. Talk to me.”

“Val, 'm sorry—”

“Yeah?”

“I'm sorry”, you repeated, the words barely audible through sobs, “I'm sorry, Val, I'm sorry—”

Suddenly, his hand, still on your throat, yanked your head up, his lips clashing against yours; the very moment you opened your mouth, pliant with submission, with exhaustion, smoke flooded it, you choking on it.

Your mind felt muddled, mouth dry even as saliva trickled out of your lips, jaw slack.

Faintly, you were able to feel his cum drip out of your cunt and down your thighs, sticky.

“Now”, Valentino said, voice a sultry purr, “Why don't you wait here, I'll send you your client and you apologise properly to him?”

Mind filled with scarlet plumes, you barely knew what you were agreeing to, nodding mindlessly. “Yes, Valentino.”

“That's what I like to hear. Good girl.”

When multiple pairs of footsteps echoed through the room, you, even in your hazy state, had the bad feeling that you were going to be having a long night.

i won't lie i didn't proofread this yet.. tomorrow... ALSO FIRST POST YIPPEEE

[running-with-kn1ves]

Can you make something for a yandere masochist? Smut please

A/N: Working on all the reqs in my inbox, I just don't have much time to write! No pressure but donations always help if yall want your requests written faster!

CW: Noncon/Dubcon, yandere themes, kidnapping, threats, Sub! Masochistic yandere, aggressive-ish reader, NSFW

Synopsis: You find yourself kidnapped by your shy boyfriend who claims he's going to "take care of you."

Word Count: 3000 -- Tags ^^: @moonlight-melanin

If someone had told you that your meek nerd of a boyfriend would be the one to ever kidnap you, you probably would have laughed in their face. Your boyfriend who trips over every sidewalk crack? Your boyfriend who needs your help opening a water bottle? Your boyfriend, who begs for you to wrap your hand around his neck and worships the ground you walk on, no matter how hard you protest?

 No way in hell. 

Except, the utter blasphemy that was such an idea, was true. It was only a few nights ago that you found yourself bound by your hands and feet to a familiar bed. Your boyfriend, Rex, vaguely explained that he was "protecting you", and "keeping you away from bad people!” 

You came to the conclusion that the harm that he was supposedly protecting you from, was most likely your overly friendly coworkers and demanding job. Who knew a 9 to 5 could be so dangerous? Clearly your boyfriend. However, his ridiculous behavior didn’t falter no matter how many times you tried to convince him, no matter how many threats or bribes you threw his way. 

Sometimes he’d be nearly swayed, but something in his mind always snapped back, telling you that its alright if you despise him, if you follow out with your threats; as long, as he got to keep you safe. 

For how obedient and eager to please he was, you never realized how stubborn he could be. But unfortunately for what he had in stubbornness, he lacked in wit and authority. He always fell into your hands when it came to you offering physical affection as a secretive ploy to try and escape; not to mention, he wasn’t very good at keeping his hostages tied up.

By the third night of your capture, you managed to slip your moist hands out of the loose, steel handcuffs. Digging an old pen into the large hole of the chain cuff wrapped around your ankle, you wiggled it around to find that sweet spot that would release you. You were grateful for being able to reach the bedside drawer, finding a multitude of tools within it that helped you including the pen that was once yours, and some lotion that made your palms slick enough to slip out of the handcuffs. While you were grateful for their presence nearby, you didn’t want to know why they were close to the bed in the first place. 

You continued to roughly wiggle the pen, not hearing any clicks or cracks within the lock that would signify your release. The chain around your ankle wouldn't budge at all. At some point along the way with all your jamming of it into the lock’s hole, the pen got stuck. 

“No no no,” You whispered, trying to tug the pen out. You pulled as hard as you could, to no avail as ink began to stain your fingers. 

Well, your kidnapper would certainly notice that. 

You looked around, feeling incredibly anxious now that you were only halfway free, aware that it'd be unlikely that you got to keep this little escape trial to yourself. Though, the freedom of your hands made you feel more powerful than you had in days.

But the quick and excited footsteps outside of the bedroom door made your stomach sink. They drew closer, only stopping to fill the silence with a rapid knock to the door. Beads of sweat rolled down your neck as your dry mouth swallowed; with shaking fingers, you covered up your hands and feet under the bed comforter. 

‘Just keep them under the blanket, and he won’t notice…’

The door opened shortly after the knock, not waiting for you to respond. In came your Rex, your boyfriend-slash-kidnapper. He clammed up with a tenseness as you scowled. You brought back your signature glare that you looked at him with during the days of your capture; he seemed to shrink into himself as you didn't break eye contact. 

"Did… you like dinner? He asked, looking at your plate on the bedside table. Eyeing the plate with a frown, Rex shut the door behind him. He walked closer to your place on the bed, inspecting the plate. 

"You've hardly eaten anything since…"

"Since you kidnapped me?"

He went silent. Avoiding your judgemental stare.

"You know I'm just trying to keep you safe…" He said meekly, not fond of your cold behavior. 

"I don't want to talk, Rex. Just leave." You snarl.

 Folding your arms you turn away and focus your attention on the setting sun outside the window, reminding you that once again you'll be here for another night… another day here when you wake up. 

Rex sits down on the bed next to you, his mop of curly black hair covering his desperate face. He wouldn't be able to take it if you played the silent treatment with him-- even when you were angry like this, he'd rather suffer your wrath than hear the empty silence of his endless thoughts, keeping your sweet lips shut so tightly. 

"Please," he gripped the blankets atop your legs, trying to find a place to touch you. "I'm just doing what a boyfriend should do, don’t you get that? Why can't you understand me?"

You continued to stay silent, hearing Rex gulp as he realized you were serious in keeping your mouth shut. 

He began to grow antsy… there was a feeling of isolation in how he couldn't see all of your face as you kept your gaze to the window, how he couldn't even hold your hand or see your body beneath the mass of blanket. 

"Come on, don’t be like that…” 

Rex rolled his tongue over his teeth, gripping harder onto the sheets. His hand shakes as it reaches for yours, desperately hoping you wouldn’t tug away. 

Once he feels your arm go limp, he wastes no time in bringing it up to his cheek, hoping to feel some sort of warmth from you. Rex presses his cheek into your fingers, finding a sliver of relief in how warm and tender you feel against him. He’s hardly had the luxury of such affection since you were huddled up in his apartment. 

You don’t dare to look at the man, debating whether interrupting him or continuing to let him nuzzle would alert him faster on the fact that your handcuffs were gone. 

You didn’t have much time to think when you suddenly felt him go still, a newfound grip on your hand. He squeezed with thick fingers, the lovelust gone from his touch.

You turn to look at Rex, finding that you could not see his eyes beneath his hair and shadowed glasses. He shifted from crushing your fingers to choking your wrist, panic setting into your body. 

Rex looked up, far more quiet than you were expecting. You began to twist your arm, trying to pull it away as he bore into you. You knew the guy was odd when you first started dating, and was clearly deranged after this kidnapping fiasco-- but you never saw it clearer until now. His eyes seemed to sink into his skin as his face drained of all color. He looked almost sick, like someone hungry to hurt without any remorse. Rex’s blunt nails dug into your skin as you started to tug away roughly; his hunched body was like a feral animal ready to strike. 

Seeing as he already found out about your escape attempt, you decided it wasn’t worth wasting this chance. Maybe you could knock him down a few before he managed to get you chained up again, giving you more time before he did who knows what. 

“These arms are awfully bare.” His monotonous voice uttered. 

Rex pressed on the bruises on your wrist of where the handcuffs dug into, his eyes glazing over as you grunted in pain. Still, you fought. You brought your other arm to try and pull off his fingers, only for Rex to shift on the bed and force himself upon you. His sharp knees dug into the sides of your thighs, pulling your other arm off of him as he laid them both beside your head, against the pillows. For being quite frail and shy, he had far more strength in his desperation than you expected. You could see that he was giving his all, only tearing up momentarily when your fingers scratch him or your elbow rams into his nose. 

Within the tussle Rex managed to find the handcuffs, of which you only hid underneath the blankets beside you. Every time you tried to heighten your knees to push him off, Rex pressed deeper, bruising your skin and making you bite your lip in frustration and pain. His loose clothes and your mess of blankets made it hard to find a grip in pushing him off.

Rex pulled the cuffs up, shakily and forcefully wrapping them upon your wrists. Pulling them over the bedpost, he watched as you struggled to get out of them. But he didn’t look down at you with a smirk or a sadistic grin-- Instead, it appeared to be relief. 

Your boyfriend lowered himself to your chest as he went limp, his previous expression void of emotion except for stunned shock, shifted to a tired, nervous frown. 

“I-I don’t do this because I want to, you know.” You burn holes into him with your glare, straining to pull the cuff chain over the bedpost as Rex sat on your torso. “You don’t give me a choice!”

His loose shirt showed the front of his collarbones and the elongated muscles in his neck, the male gulping as he looked guiltily down at your chest. You were sweating from the fear and strain against the tightened metal binds. 

“Fuck off.” You grunt, continuing to tug and pull away from your tethers. 

Rex seemed to get antsy at watching you try to struggle and claw at him. His hips twitched as he moved to sit on your legs, trying to keep you from kicking him off. 

“But…If you keep pulling like that, your bruises will only get worse.” 

“I don’t give a shit.” You snapped, hardly letting him finish. Spitting towards him you continued to fight; that only seemed to spur Rex on. 

He wiggled against your hips, looking down away from you in embarrassment. the male beginning to hold your knees down, his legs wrapped around your left thigh. 

“I’m just trying to do what’s best for us…” He huffed, laying his head down on your chest, and holding onto you. 

“Rex!” You shout angrily at his innaction, trying to knee him as you pushed away from the headboard. 

“I know, I know!” You could feel the hardness inbetween his legs press against your thigh. “You can hate me if you want, can hurt me if it makes you feel better,” He meekly bit his lip with a little grunt, hesitating for a moment before he pushed his hips against your thigh. “But I can’t let you leave.”

Seeing as your struggle didn’t impede his movements, Rex slowly rocked himself against you to apply pressure. He relished in how your knee came up to grace his crotch in a stinging pleasure. You may have done it in an attempt to push him off, but all it managed to do was further Rex’s desire for your brashness, and you.

“I’m yours…” He huffed, pushing his face into the warmth of your chest. His crotch aligned with your hip, adding a new sensation as he humped like a touch-starved, horny animal. “Im yours, I’m yours I’m yours I’m yours I’m--ngh--” 

 Rex bit the collar of your shirt to stop from crying out, his moan muffled into your body as he rocked at a rhythm. In a mix of huffs he lifted his head to search for your eyes and lips. He reached up to collide his lips with yours, pressing his knee between your legs, spreading them just gently. His hands traveled down your chest slowly, hesitantly. He was always waiting for your next move, always soaking in every touch and taste of you that he could. 

You pushed against his lips, turning and ripping your mouth away. 

“I know you want to leave, but maybe I can change your mind,” He looked at you with lovestruck eyes, a growing pleasure within them. “Maybe make you feel good. I’m atleast good at that, right?” He shyly palmed at your crotch, determined and eager to make you cry out in the same desire he was swelling in. 

He just wanted your eyes to be on him. 

Rex continued to grind himself deeper into your upper thigh, wrapping his legs around your side. He released a little pant while traveling cold fingers down your chest, pulling up your shirt to expose your stomach. Reaching between your legs, he licked his lips in anticipation, cupping your sex with his hand ever so gently. 

Shutting his lips he tried to suppress his evident moans, pushing his lips against yours as he begged for an ounce of affection. You in turn, bit his bottom lip in retaliation, pressing up against to get a good clench on his mouth. You hoped it’d be enough to get him off of you, but instead Rex pressed harder, grunting in pained pleasure as he welcomed the ache. The taste of blood was left in your mouth, Rex still leaving sloppy kisses along your nipping lips, drooling as he pushed his slick tongue in your mouth, rubbing it against yours. His glasses seemed to shift downward, making him look even more of a mess.

Even as you pulled at his hair from your restraint position, Rex let out a surprised yelping groan, humping harder into your leg at the newfound pain. 

“Please, I promise to be good…” He begs between wet, one-sided kisses. “ I’ll do whatever you w…want…!” Rex hieghtened his voice with a desperate groan, showing he was close to his climax. 

His frenzied pleas showed the familiar side of the boyfriend you remembered before he kidnapped you: quiet, clingy, and too infatuated for his own good.

You could feel a wet spot of leaked pre-cum on your thigh, Rex’s hand delving under your now unbuttoned pants. 

He was quick to palm your crotch from beneath your underwear, gripping and massaging as he chased his own high, fixated on your scrunched up expression. 

His slightly open mouth drooled against your shirt as he looked up at you, desperate for you to reciprocate some kind of affection or attention. 

Rex’s expression showed he was completely enamored in the moment, with glazed over eyes and a eagerness in his thrusts as his mind solely focused on the pleasure between his weak thighs and getting something-- anything, from you. 

“You’re disgusting.” You say bitterly, grabbing Rex’s hair in another attempt to get him off of you and ruin his high. However, that did neither. 

Rex looked even more turned on, letting out painful moans at feeling you tug multiple times.

“Yes.. hah, please-- use me, do what you want--” You bit down on his shoulder as he pressed the rest of his weight down on you, leaning up to the feeling of your fingers tug. “I love you, ‘love you so much..” 

You demand him to look at you with a tug of his black curls, a small line of blood staining your lips from the hard bite you gave. 

Rex obeyed with pleasure-drunken fervor, drawing the end of his high as he witnessed his blood in your mouth. 

A part of him would always be inside you.

Rex buried his head into your neck as he orgasmed, thrusting hard up against your leg like a rabbit during mating season. Letting out a continuation of unabashed moans, his teeth bit your T-shirt as cum spilled from his release. 

In the moment, Rex had sped up his movements in pleasuring you, digging beneath your underwear to feel the heat of your sex against his hand, leaving you quite dazed yourself, You managed to hid your reaction quite well as Rex was too focused to notice, but now that seemed to shift as he began to relax. 

Rex’s pulsing touch on your crotch slowled as his breathing regulated. Though it became more difficult for you to keep your mouth shut and your face straight as he repeatedly put his thumb against the right set of nerves. 

Your boyfriend’s breath steadied as he watched you release a hitched sigh from your mouth, enjoying the way you looked at him with a dazed glare. Covered in sweat and cum, he was beginning to come down from the high he ached to feel once again. 

“Oh…I’m sorry,” He panted, face flushed and glasses falling to the tip of his nose. “ Was s’pposed to be convincing you, but I got ahead of myself…”

Rex swallowed, adjusting his glasses with the tips of his finger. The male began to quickly fondle beneath your jeans once again, ignoring how you still pushed against the headboard and cried out in frustration. He was slow at first, trying to regain the rhythm; it didn’t take long for him to find that tempo that made your knees weak. 

You felt a numbed pleasure stir between your thighs against your will, trying to toss and turn to make it go away. 

But Rex held you still, planting his weight down on your chest and stroking your heat with skill. He had touched himself so many times to pictures and thoughts of you, but he never imagined this. Even as you scrunched up your face in frustration and annoyance, he saw your teeth scrape at your lip, your hips twitching and your groans drawing out longer than before. 

You desperately clawed at your restraints, avoiding Rex’s hot and heavy stare, of which was so entranced in watching your sweet face change every time a wave of pleasure overcame you. You felt so defeated in the fact that he could tell you were feeling the effects of his touch, how you weren’t completely focused on the idea of escape anymore. 

“M’gonna make you feel so good,” Rex grinned, hazed with the afterglow of his pleasureful release and soaking up the look of undesired arousal in your eyes. 

“Just promise not to give your pleasure, your pain, to anyone else…”

[bruhnze]

Can you write something about Lucy dealing with adhd, or somthing with Ona too

Eres incorregible - Lucy Bronze x Ona Battle

summary: fictional story about Lucy Bronze and having adhd, this is written because multiple people had the request of such a fic.

wordcount: 2554, a little one🥺

warnings: none

Eres incorregible

Lucy Bronze had always thrived on a fast-paced, high-energy lifestyle.

As a professional footballer, her life was a whirlwind of training sessions, matches and constant travel. She had enough new incentives every day to keep her from being bored, her job was perfect for her. Like how she got the opportunity to live in France for two years.

But when the COVID-19 pandemic struck, the world suddenly stopped and so did Lucy’s rhythm. Without the daily demands that usually kept her grounded, Lucy found herself struggling with an unsettling stillness.

In the early days of lockdown, Lucy’s restlessness took over. With no challenging workouts or team meetings to attend, she threw herself into home projects with the same intensity she brought to the pitch. She redid the entire house interior, tackled every little task she had put off while living in Lyon, and when that was done she even repainted the outdoor fence. But once everything in and around the house was in perfect order, Lucy found herself with too much time on her hands and too little to do.

With no more home improvements to make, her energy turned inward. She obsessively watched her football matches, replaying them over and over again. She studied the games, analyzing every move, every strategy, until the matches blurred together.

Desperation for new challenges led her to learn to breakdance, following how tutorials on how to stand on her head and do the worm, skills she even convinced her girlfriend at the time, Keira, to learn with her. The two of them spent hours mastering these ridiculous feats, laughing until their sides hurt, but the laughter wasn’t enough to fill the void.

Lucy tried to keep herself occupied with online campaigns and challenges, including the Nike Living Room Challenge. She worked out in the garden for hours on end, sometimes pushing herself through five-hour sessions just to stave off the boredom.

Despite all this, the days felt endless. Her usual six hours of sleep dwindled to four or five, the quiet nights stretching out. The days getting more and more repettative.

The constant boredom began to take its toll. Little irritations flared up between her and Keira. The tension simmered under the surface, small arguments breaking out over nothing, the kind of friction that only arises when two people are confined together with no escape.

During one of her weekly online meetings with her psychologist, Lucy was asked a question that she hadn’t expected: “Have you ever thought about whether you might have adhd?”.

The suggestion caught Lucy a little off guard. She had always been a bundle of energy, but she had never considered that there might be a reason behind it. The psychologist referred her to a psychiatrist, who conducted a thorough evaluation. After a few sessions, some alone, some with her parents or with Keira, the diagnosis was confirmed.

Initially, the diagnosis didn’t change much for Lucy. She didn’t feel different, but with tips and tricks the specialist offered her to manage her energy and focus, she actually delt a lot better with all of the access energy she had and got less stuck in her head.

Lucy and Keira even attended some therapy sessions together, learning how to navigate their relationship now that they had a better understanding of that side of Lucy.

Without her usual outlet of intense physical exercise, Lucy took up some new hobbies like cooking, baking, painting and even building LEGO sets. These activities helped, providing her with some sense of structure and accomplishment throughout the days.

When life began to return to normal, Lucy noticed how much daily exercise had been essential for clearing her head. With her regular training back in place, she found it easier to focus on other responsibilities, like answering emails and managing her personal life. The physical exertion also improved the quality of her sleep, and for a while, everything seemed to be falling into place.

..

However, years later, the challenges resurfaced when Lucy underwent knee surgery. Now playing for FC Barcelona in Spain, she hadn't really thought back on the quarantine period for a while, until it all started to feel a little familiar again.

Forced to take a break from football, Lucy found herself once again trapped between the walls of her home, an apartment without a garden this time, unable to channel her energy into the sport she loved.

Her girlfriend, noticed the change immediately. She and Ona had ofcourse spoken about the fact that she had adhd, but she had explained that she managed really good because she had sports as an outlet for her energy.

Ona observed Lucy climbing the walls, more restless than ever, biting her nails until they were raw. The living room had become a makeshift football dome, with Lucy watching game after game, analyzing the performances of herself and other great defenders. She even started studying the stories of up-and-coming male footballers, determined to use this downtime to improve her own game, even with her dodgy knees.

But the obsession took its toll. Lucy started skipping entire nights of sleep, her mind too wired to rest. She spent every waking hour thinking about football, neglecting everything else.

When she and Ona had dinner, Ona couldn’t help but notice that while Lucy was still physically present, her mind was elsewhere, consumed by her own thoughts. Ona didn’t mind picking up the slack around the house, doing all the choirs as Lucy was recovering, but she couldn’t ignore the growing distance between them.

One evening, Ona finally voiced her concerns. “Lucy, have you thought about talking to a professional? I’m worried about you.”

Lucy was taken aback by the suggestion, but Ona’s sincerity struck a chord. Realizing the strain her behavior was putting on their relationship, Lucy scheduled an appointment with her psychologist, who advised her to talk to the psychiatrist again. During their session, the psychiatrist suggested trying medication to help manage her adhd, explaining her behavoir was coming from the fact she wasn’t physically challenged anymore.

Lucy was hesitant. She didn’t want to take anything that might be considered a performance-enhancing drug, like Ritalin or Adderall, which could be seen as a form of doping. After discussing her options, Lucy was prescribed Atomoxetine, a non-stimulant medication.

At first, the change was remarkable.

Lucy began helping with household chores again, her day-night schedule normalized and she was more engaged in conversations with Ona. She even started going out with friends again and attending training sessions to watch and connect with the team again. It seemed like things were finally looking up.

But as the weeks went by, Ona noticed some troubling things. Like that Lucy had stopped eating breakfast, brushing it off by saying she just didn’t feel hungry in the mornings anymore. Ona felt like her once vibrant spark seemed to dim and while she no longer bit her nails, Ona missed the little sign that Lucy was feeling stressed or excited, even though she always told Lucy to stop it. Lucy had become a shadow of her former self - calm and composed, but emotionally distant.

Their physical relationship also suffered. It had been a while since they had been intimate and while Ona didn’t want to push Lucy, she couldn’t ignore the growing gap between them.

Even when Lucy had been recovering from her knee surgery, she had found ways to make their relationship work. But now, Lucy seemed uninterested, as if the medication had dulled not just her restlessness but her passion as well.

One night, as they lay in bed, Ona decided to confront the issue.

“Are you happy?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Lucy, already half-asleep, blinked in confusion. “Hm? I don’t know, yes… why?”

“You just seem a little distant,” Ona replied, turning on the bedside lamp to see Lucy’s face.

Lucy sighed, pulling Ona closer as if to shield herself from the truth.

“I don’t really feel like myself,” she admitted after a long pause. “But everything is going so much better now. I’m functioning better. Isn’t that what matters?”.

Ona sat up, her expression full of concern. “For who, Lucy? For me? Because I’d rather have you back - the real you - even if it means things aren’t perfect all the time.”

Lucy’s heart ached at Ona’s words. “I’ve been a bad girlfriend,” she said softly. “But I’m trying to do better. I can do the chores now, I’m not obsessing over football as much… I’m trying.”

“But you’re not you, Lucy,” Ona said gently. “Your emotions are dulled. I miss the happy Lucy who danced while making breakfast, the silly Lucy who made me laugh every day and kissed me. I’d rather have that Lucy back, even if it means you’re a little more chaotic.”

A tear rolled down Lucy’s cheek. “Have I not been kissing you?” she asked, her voice tinged with sorrow. “I love you, Ona. I don’t want to lose you.”

Ona leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to Lucy’s cheek. “You’re not losing me, I know you love me. And I love you too—every part of you, even the messy bits. Maybe it’s time to talk to the specialist again, see if there’s another way. I don’t care if you’re a little crazy sometimes. I just want you to be happy.”

Lucy nodded, her heart heavy but hopeful. “I’ll talk to her again. Maybe a lower dose, or… something’’.

“We’ll figure it out together, okay? You don’t have to go through this alone,” Ona reassured her, holding Lucy close, ‘’if it were up to me we ask her if you can stop taking the meds’’.

In the following weeks, Lucy worked closely with her psychiatrist to adjust her medication. She got a schedule she followed to gradually reduce the dose so that she will have the most chance to not get any symptoms from quitting.

She started dancing in the kitchen again, even if her knee wasn’t fully recovered. She found joy in the little things, cooking breakfast with or for Ona, walking their dogs Coco and Narla, and yes, even obsessing over football. But now, there was a healthy balance. She still had her intense focus, but it was tempered by the love and support of the people around her. Mostly Ona. And now, even though she’d stopped taking the medication, she seemed to be in a better headspace then before, she talked a lot with Ona, giving her a insight into all the things she found difficult, so that they could tackle them together.

Ona was really sweet and caring, she knew it was hard for Lucy to not be able to practice the thing she loved the most in the hole world and tried to be as much of a supporting factor to her girlfriend as possible.

..

One night Ona came back home, Lucy had been at the hospital today, a final check for her knee, if it was cleared Lucy could start training with the team again on Monday. She hoped Lucy had gotten good news, she had texted her about how it had been, but she hadn’t gotten a reply even though the appointment had been in the morning. A little hesitant she opened the door, afraid Lucy might’ve had bad news.

She was met with the sight of a house way cleaner than she knew she had left it. She heared soft music playing in the kitchen.

‘’Luce?’’ she kicked her shoes off and dropped her bags.

Ona stepped in to the appartment and a lovely smell of dinner that was being prepared entered her nose. She walked to the kitchen and saw Lucy stirring up some vegetables.

She smiled as she observed her for a few minutes, a happy Lucy was the best Lucy, she always loved the English defender, but on moments like these she felt her heart beating a little faster. The casually swaying her hips, the humming with the music and the fact that Lucy had been so sweet to clean the house and prepare dinner, it was perfect.

Ona walked to Lucy and wrapped herself around the taller woman from behind, her unanounced touch made Lucy jump slightly, a soft chuckle escaping her lips. “Hey, baby, you’re home,” Lucy said, her voice tender.

‘’Mhm’’ Ona hummed against the muscular shoulders, ‘’you are my home’’.

Lucy put the fire a little lower and took Ona’s hands to give her a little space to turn around, ‘’hello’’ Lucy smiled, with a loving gaze she leaned in, her lips meeting Ona’s in a gentle, affectionate kiss.

It was a kiss that spoke volumes, soft and lingering, a silent promise of comfort and togetherness. The tender pressure of their lips was complemented by the gentle brush of Lucy’s fingers against Ona’s cheek, a subtle yet profound gesture of the love and care they shared. For a moment, the outside world faded away, leaving only the warmth of their embrace and the sweetness of their kiss, which reassured them both that things were good between them.

Lucy felt a renewed sense of determination. No matter what challenges laid ahead, she knew she would face them with Ona by her side. After all, she was Lucia Tough Bronze, unstoppable both on and off the field.

With a playful glint in her eyes, Lucy pulled back slightly, looking at Ona with a mischievous smile. “Did you know I’ve won everything in life?” she asked.

Ona, catching the sparkle in Lucy’s gaze, tilted her head with a knowing smile. She had seen this look before, the blend of Lucy’s playful charm and genuine affection. “Oh? what makes you say that?” she chuckled, ready for another of Lucy’s cheesy lines.

Lucy’s smile widened as she took Ona’s hands in hers, holding them gently. “Because I have you,” she said, her voice filled with sincerity and emotion. “Honestly, I feel like the luckiest woman in the world. With you by my side, everything just feels perfect.”

Ona’s smile deepened, touched by Lucy’s words. “I love you too Lucy.”

Lucy’s expression softened as she gently cupped Ona’s face in her hands and pressed a tender kiss to her lips. “No, I mean it. You’re perfect,” she said quietly. “I love that you’ve been so patient with me, that you see and care about the real me.”

Ona leaned in and kissed the taller woman gently. “Ofcourse, speaking of caring about you, I assume things went well with the doctor?”.

Lucy’s expression clouded for a moment. “I texted you, right? Everything went well,” she said with a bright smile. “I’m back to training with the team again.”

Ona raised an eyebrow and chuckled. “Actually, no, you didn’t text me. But I’m glad to hear it was good news,” she said, giving Lucy another affectionate kiss. “I almost started missing your silly distractions.”

“Hey!” Lucy protested playfully. “They’re not silly, they make people laugh.” She pulled out her phone and began scrolling. “I swear I sent you a message.”

After a few moments, she chuckled. “Oh, I sent it to my mom instead. Oops.”

Ona shook her head with an amused smile and gently took Lucy's arms, pulling her into an embrace. She nestled her head against Lucy’s shoulder, savoring the closeness. ‘’ets incorregible’’ she chuckled.

[oozedninjas]

RED NIGHT

Summary: Their encounter is brief, but it leaves an indelible mark on him. What begins as a fascination with kindness and beauty takes a haunting turn.

WARNINGS: NSFW / Dark content / +18 / Stalker!Raph /masturbation/descriptions of blowjob (male receiving) / Xenobiology (descriptive) / light dirty talking/belly bulging (one mention) / suggestions of kidnapping / set from five-seven years after out of the shadows so he's in his mid or late twenties

The image is a beautiful piece of art, courtesy of @thejudiciousneurotic 🖤 go check it out!

It was stupid to think he could be seen as anything more than a monster, especially through the hateful eyes of humankind: Judging, ungrateful, suspicious, casting glances bolted with a sick tone of curiosity, and some twisted kind of surprise. Despite whatever acceptance they enjoyed at the beginning, some Police officers still cling to their reservations. And those are the ones that hang heavier over Raph's shoulders. 

The staring is the worst. It produces an eerie sensation, one that simmers in his veins like a boiling toxin, equally choking as electrifying, and Raphael knows, deep in the marrow of his bones, that he has to draw a breath or risk losing control.

Heroes don’t lash out, Raph reminds himself as he climbs up the ladder out of the lair. They smile, protect, comfort. All things that physically squeeze his guts. Especially because he has to force himself to be nice after their prying eyes. It’s beyond sickening and yet, he understood. After all, in or out of the shadows, hero or vigilante, a mutant’s still a mutant. 

He spots you first before standing under the streetlight and signaling. The light is scratchy some nights more than the looks themselves, but wrapped in Halloween’s safety, he figured it wouldn’t matter if you see him. 

Raph watches as you take off your helmet, powering off the colorful motorbike. Then, as he stands before you, you bestow upon him the sweetest, most beautiful of smiles. Your visage radiates warmth, and your demeanor tranquility.

"Wow, dude you look great!" you gush in a friendly tone.

It takes him by surprise, so much he runs out of words briefly.

"Uh... Thanks," he mutters, chastising himself inwardly.

Cringing at his own awkwardness, Raph accepts the pizza box, offering the money with his free hand. You place your hand atop his, gently pushing the money back with a smirk.

"Hot guys don’t pay tonight."

His heart pounds within his chest, tummy twisting in a pleasant way. The outlines of a smirk peek through his face, his gaze gleaming with his usual bravado.

You smile. Raphael grins back. The radio on the bike snarls your name, Where are you? You're 15 minutes late for the next delivery!

"Well, duty calls," you remark, securing your helmet in place. "See you around, big guy!"

You strike a chord in him, awakening something so strong it's frightening, and from that moment on, Raphael is unable to shake you from his mind. Soon, thinking of you becomes a part of his everyday life. What things do you like? What would you think if someone like him were to flirt with you?

Repulsion.

A terribly cruel part whispers within him. Disgust, aversion, disdain when you find he wears no costume. Yet, you were kind the first time you met him. But it is your job to be, he reminds himself. That's why Raphael decides to spare himself the heartbreak by simply following you from the shadows. This way, he can see you, spend time with you, and, most importantly, he can protect you.

It takes him one or two days to discover how careless you are, forgetting to close windows, take out the trash, and get home before the area gangs demand payment for safe passage down your street. Ridiculous. He takes care of them in the blink of an eye. Perhaps being a little rougher than necessary, just to be sure.

Sometimes, he would stay watching from the neighboring roof - because you are careless enough not to close the curtains - as you get ready for bed. The memory of the softness of your touch on his hand hits him with bull force as you slide the shirt off. The skin on your torso looks impossibly smooth. But the way your underwear molds perfectly to your ass makes him almost unable to resist getting closer. To wait for you to fall asleep and take a direct look inside, letting your scent intoxicate him.

It wouldn’t harm anyone, would it? The question lingers as he contemplates entering your house while you're away. The idea flits through his mind for a couple of nights until one day, he convinces himself that it wouldn't disturb anyone if, while you're at work, he takes a peek.

—---

Your room is cramped for him, but not so much that he can't move. Upon entering, he heads straight to your room. With each advancing step, his gaze broadens, his smile widens, and the butterflies in his stomach grow wilder, craving to slide inside your space, to bask in the warmth of your bed. He pants, his crotch pulsing with the thought of breathing your scent directly from your sheets.

You weren't exactly neat, but he couldn't say you were as messy as he was either. A couple of shirts lay scattered on the bed, a few clothes strewn across the floor. He smiled affectionately, letting his eyes wander, as if he'd just uncovered a whole new chapter in his mental book about you; and he knew he'd have a hard time leaving. 

The dressers with your clothes were open, and then he saw it: the place where you keep your underwear. His uncertainty lingers briefly, a startled exhale escaping his lips. Then, unapologetically, he raises a pair of panties to his nose and breathes in. A low, guttural groan slips from his throat as he savors your scent.

An exquisite tickle runs from his chest to his lower belly, spreading hot weaves of craving through his veins. His dick twitches. If you were there, if for just a moment you could see him as something other than a monster, Raphael is certain you would smirk deviously, gaze stuck on him, starving for him. His breathing trembles as he presses one hand over his pants, pressing his cock gently. 

You’d place your hands over his plastron dragging them down slowly as your nails graced the surface of his pectoral area, trailing down to his abdomen. You bend down, never tearing your gaze off his face while urgently unzipping his pants to fist him.

A breathy gasp spurs from his mouth. He grips the base of his shaft stroking it just a bit to ease up the building need to fuck his fist. 

“What a pretty cock,” you’d say, rubbing his length gently, “bet I can make it come fucking hard.” 

You lick a stripe from the base to the tip, not even minding about the alien-looking of it:  huge by every human means, with two bulges growing from the base and attached to his shaft. You mouth him deliciously, trailing your tongue through the seminal ridges near his tip, which surely look to you like mobile skin folds. And you embrace it with your hot wet mouth like it’s luscious.

His hand is soaking with a hot slippery-transparent liquid seeping from his tip down into his dick, pooling into his hand as he uses it to lube himself more. He quickens the pace of his hand as he pictures you bobbing your head up and down, your pretty mouth around him velvety soft. 

His breaths quiver.  

“So fucking tasty. Wanna drink you down, babe. Give me everything,” you sound drunk-like, and he can’t help the loud moan. 

Fuck— agh, fuck…

Raphael pants as he slowly comes down from his peak, enjoying the last bits of blissful spasms inside his lower belly. His cock yet throbbing in his closed fist. 

—--

After meticulously erasing all traces of his presence and stashing the ruined underwear somewhere within his attire, Raph slips out of your apartment quietly, feeling so empty it wrecks him, but It's better this way. It's better to indulge in the fantasy that you’d want him than to face the harsh, cold reality where you'd scream at the realization that his skin isn't just a costume.

However, the first drawback of fantasies is that they can be addictive. The second is that they can lead you to do things you wouldn't do in your right mind, like keeping some of your stuff for himself. It’s really not that bad, is it? He’s not stealing from you, it’s more like a long term loan. 

It is way more comfortable to envision yourself from the comfort of his bed, spacious enough to snugly fit him. So, what harm could it do if he takes along some things with your scent? A couple of pillows, a bit of perfume, some shampoo, and a few bedclothes here and there; so that when he takes a deep breath from them, it's easier to see you there, stuffed with his cum as he keeps thrusting inside you, your belly bulging from fitting his size as your squirm, moaning for him, dripping on him, deliciously begging for more. 

When he returns to your apartment, the window is closed. Bolted shut with a small metal bar. How odd. You never do that, and you don’t have to; he's always in the neighborhood, guarding to ensure no harm comes to you. Do you have something to fear?

—---

You start drawing the curtains, coming home earlier, adopting a less predictable routine that he struggles to follow. It's annoying. Very annoying. And then it happens: some stupid ass gang attacks you. At least, that's what he can hear through the wall as you narrate the incident to someone over the phone.

You walked down a dark alley, far from the area Raph had cleared for you, as lately, you've felt like someone's been watching you on your way home.

He feels a stab in his stomach after hearing that, but nothing as paralyzing as seeing you bleed from your temple. It is a clean, swift wound, maybe from a knife. You cry: raw, desperate, so nerve-wracking it’s unbearable.  

Raphael leaps from rooftop to rooftop, seeing nothing but red. When the frenzy of rage and bloodlust finally subsides, there's nothing left but a bunch of guys with torn jackets sprawled all over the place. They're not dead, but they won't feel alive for a very, very long time.

He stands there silently recognizing he'll have to deal with the consequences of his outburst as Leo would know, because of course he would, he'll jump to that conclusion. And sure, Donnie would back him up. He can't afford such indulgences when he's supposed to be there for you, when everything could culminate in his brothers forbidding him to do so.

He wishes he could keep you away from where your erratic behavior might harm you; he wishes he could just take you with him—  Raphael gasps. That's it! He'd take you with him; if he explained the situation, you'd surely understand. You'd be safer at the lair.

With a grin on his face, he heads back to your apartment. The rain that lashed the city that night helped him wash away most of the bloodstains on his skin. He reaches your apartment in a blink of an eye. He peeks through the living room window. The silhouette of your figure on the floor tells him you're in the bedroom.

He taps the window to get your attention. You seem troubled, and he knows that if you see him hanging like a Sewer monster outside your window, you won't let him in. So Raphael hides once more, circling around to reach your bedroom window from the back, and he waits, his eyes on the sky and his bicep against the window. The rain pours heavily. He waits. Then, a lightning bolt streaks across the sky. Next, the thunder, and as it crashes, Raphael rams the window, masking the sound of the latch snapping open.

The lights go out. The floor creaks under his weight. The sound freezes you. You seem to shrink further into yourself as you tremble. His heavy steps echo in the room. The emergency light kicks in at that moment: dim and red, just enough to cast his reflection on the glass before you. You bring your hands to your mouth, stifling a scream. Your tear-filled eyes stare at him through the glass, paralyzed, utterly terrified. 

Shh, no, you don’t have to be afraid, silly. Don't you know he's here to protect you?

[risuola]

RUTHLESS LOVER — F. READER x FUSHIGURO TOJI

Karma is a bitch. That's what they say and yours will be spectacular for the stunt you pulled off. Was it wise to get in the way of the most dangerous contract killer there is? No. Will Toji get his revenge on you? Most likely.

cw: smut, age gap (Toji is about 30 years old, reader is in her twenties), both reader and Toji are contract killers, tiny bit angsty if you squint, violence and blood mentioned, physical abuse on the reader is described briefly (Toji’s angry, okay?), death threats, lovers to enemies and back to lovers kinda situation, unprotected sex, oral (f. receiving), pet names, reader discretion is advised — 4k words

PROMPTS: 59. Karma is a bitch. 66. I hate trying to put my desire into words when my body knows exactly what to say. Let’s go home. 71. Drop the attitude.

a/n: this piece was requested; I had so much fun writing it! it's long, as usual, because I just love to have some plot in here, hope you don't mind it. enjoy! : D

Being a part of a world of contract killers is something you inherited from your clan. You were given no choice, but to train your strength and skill, build endurance and get rid of most of the human emotions only to become effective as paid murderer. At first, the thought terrified you, even though you were exposed to blood and death from the age as young as five, but seeing it and being responsible for it are two different things. Taking someone’s life was something you couldn’t imagine yourself doing, but you had to – with shaking hands, you shot a man in the head, missing with the first bullet and wasting another one. You were only fourteen, but your hands already were stained red.

Almost a decade later, death doesn’t phase you anymore. Pushing through the trauma, you became one of the very best in the area, almost hundred percent effective, quick and efficient, and what comes with that, very highly demanded and paid. When you turned eighteen, you left your clan and not knowing what to do with your life further, you sticked to one thing you were good at – killing, and you worked on your own from that time on.

"Shit," you mutter under your breath, pressing your back against the cold, rough wall. Your fingers grip the gun tightly and you quickly try to think of a way out. This was supposed to be one of those missions that you were most likely going to fail, and you didn't care as long as you got out alive.

"You were so brave back then and now you're hiding?" male voice bounces off the empty corners of the mansion, echoing in such a way that you're not sure where it's coming from. You can't hear his footsteps, but you know he's on the move. "That's disappointing, are you that frightened?"

"Why would I be frightened, huh?" you ask, checking the nearest hallway and making your way through it, slowly and quietly, careful not to make any unnecessary noise.

Situations like this are usually a complication – when two assassins are assigned the same target by two unrelated parties, it often makes things more difficult, but you're used to dealing with that. You're just faster, better at your job, and you can easily take down a grown man in a hand-to-hand encounter, but not this man. Toji Fushiguro is not a man you can take down, no matter how much force you put into it. He's definitely the most wanted criminal of the present time, infamous with high demands and no limits. He's perfect for the job – ridiculously strong, with a body hard and muscular, but insanely fast at the same time. He's bulletproof, he's unbeatable. The definition of a one-man army, he's said to have succeeded in all but one of his missions. A few years ago, it was the biggest assassination of the century in the history of Japan, a group of important politicians made as the target. With an idiotic amount of money thrown into the job, Toji was easily the most logical choice when it came to who to hire. The spectacular failure had almost cost him his reputation and his job, he was absent from the scene for over a year and it was over a year and it was you who was responsible for the unfortunate ending for him.

You were young at the time, in need to make a living after escaping your clan's clutches, and you took small jobs here and there, trying to make a name for yourself in a world full of respectable assassins. Unknown at the time, you wrapped few people around your finger and found out about the ordered assassination of the politicians. This was it; this was your chance not only to earn some real money, but also to secure your position. The job was long-term, it required a lot of research and observation, but you were well aware of Fushiguro, who was chosen to do it in the first place, so instead of racing with him and risking your life by getting in his way, you stripped yourself of all hitman traits and deliberately crossed paths with him. You became lovers. You made him drop his guard, used your charms to get your name off his list of suspects, which cleared the way for you to learn his work plan and everything he had researched. For a few months you've been with him, spending endless nights beneath his powerful body, and when everything was ready, you just ate the cherry off the top of the cake. You made a few crucial alterations to his notes, as subtle as changing the time by a few minutes, but those few minutes gave you an open door to complete his mission. You killed those politicians with clear, long-range shots to the head, took the money for it and planned to leave after that, but Toji had seen you.

"I don't know, you tell me," his deep voice reaches your ears again and you look back nervously, seeing nothing but empty spaces. You hate the echo in this place and you hate how easily Toji's appearance makes you lose your calm. It doesn't happen often, you're usually very composed, you're a cold thinker and emotions never get the better of you, but you're smart. You know when to act with confidence and when to back off, and this situation is definitely the one to back off from. In a close confrontation, you're no match for Fushiguro. "Oh, you must be scared to death as you're tippy-toeing through these corridors, clutching your little gun like it's going to save you."

"Aren't you a little cocky?" you try to keep your voice steady, but the accuracy with which he described you makes you feel uneasy. You look around once more, pushing your senses to their limits to catch anything in the surroundings that might indicate the direction from which his voice came.

"Oh, hardly. I'm just having fun. I've waited so long to finally meet you again. I must admit, the stunt you pulled on me was quite impressive, I did not see it coming," you can hear the amused tone in his voice, it sounds almost sadistic and you can easily imagine his lips curling into a smirk.

When Toji realized that his little girl, the one he thought would one day become his wife, was the person behind his failure, his blood boiled. He allowed himself to be a pawn in your hands and you took almost everything from him, so he promised revenge and researched you for months. The more he learned, the more it made sense, but it also impressed him in a way. Remembering how easy it is to snap and bend your body to his liking, he couldn't help but be in awe of the fact that you were capable of taking down a gang all by yourself or pull off dangerous missions completely alone. His attraction to you grew the more he got to know about you, and if it weren't for the mistake you made when planning your little mischief, he'd probably propose right away.

"I could have dropped a building on your head and you wouldn't have noticed," you snapped with a little too much courage even for your own liking, and the laughter that followed your little statement only reassured you of how screwed you were.

"A lil' mouthy, aren't we?" He laughs, and once again you turn around at the faint rustle behind you.

"Would you prefer me to shut up?"

"Oh no, speak while you still can," his voice rumbles against the walls again and you are sick of the game. Your own senses betray you and you move forward, almost running, while clutching the weapon he has already pointed out to be useless against him.

"Is the threat to crush my throat on the table, or do you mean my death in general?"

"There are so many delightfully horrible things I could do to you, I am not sure which one to choose."

God, how much you hate this. Pictures of many terrifying, spine-chilling punishments run through your mind, and at this point you give up the job completely.

"To be perfectly honest, I thought you had retired from the field," you tell him, calculating the possibility of outrunning him. "After the most spectacular failure in the history of failures, I assumed you wouldn't be showing up again."

"I wouldn't worry about that, sweetheart. If I were you, I would worry about myself."

"You're just a talker, Fushiguro. I'm not afraid of an old fart like you."

"Drop the attitude."

The split second you had before receiving the hardest blow to the stomach you'd ever experienced was nowhere near enough to react. It sent you flying many meters away, and the impact ripped a hole in the thin wall you hit with your back. Your vision goes blurry as you land on the marble floor, surrounded by luxuriously wallpapered debris, and for a moment you think this is it. Everything hurts, you feel as if all your insides were broken by that one blow. The metallic taste of blood fills your mouth and you cough, turning your body to the side, you feel like throwing up, but only red comes out of your throat.

"Did it hurt?" the man steps through the hole and it's the first time you've seen him since the day you took his job years ago. He looks even taller than you remember, the black short-sleeved shirt clinging to his bulging muscles as he makes his way towards you, and as if your limbs were unconsciously moving, you try to slide away from him. "Poor little thing, not so brave now, are you?" he taunts and you remain silent, aware of how every word can be used against you. "Cat got your tongue?"

You move away, but he grabs your ankle and pulls you in. His long fingers claw at your cheeks as he reaches up and looks at you with amusement, pulling your face in front of his own. "See, sweetheart, karma is a bitch, and yours will be just as spectacular as the stunt you pulled on me."

Helplessly, you grip his thick forearm, hoping to force the dead grip on your face to loosen, but to no avail. His strength is unparalleled and you are damned. You put everything you've got into the kick that lands cleanly on his chest and he lets go of you, unimpressed by the attack. He doesn't even flinch, but with the freedom you've earned, you just run away, desperately trying to put as much distance between you and him as humanly possible. Maybe if you could somehow get to the airport and fly to the other side of the world, you'd be safe for a while?

"Do you really think I'm going to let you run away again?" he grows in front of you out of nowhere and you barely manage to stop yourself before running straight into his chest. With how ripped he is, that alone would probably break a nose. "No, there's no way out for you, princess," his lips are curled into a grin so cold it could freeze the blood in your veins, and before you can turn around, his big hand is wrapped around your neck. He pushes you against the wall, this time it's concrete, but it still cracks from the force he's used. It's getting harder to breathe, you feel like your throat is going to be crushed any second. "You should just say you're sorry and I might consider not strangling you to death."

"I'm sorry," you choke out almost too fast, too desperate, and he laughs out loud.

"You'd do anything I told you to save yourself, wouldn't you?" he mocks, but the hold on your neck loosens just enough to allow the slightest flow of air through your windpipe. "If I told you to suck my dick, would you get down on your knees?"

You don't reply, you don't even know how to reply. The answer is obvious, you would definitely give him a head if it would convince him to spare your life, but you know it wouldn't be a deal breaker. It would just be a power move before he threatens you some more and you don't want to give him the satisfaction of using you if his plan is to torture you further.

"No," you finally mutter, digging your nails into his forearm, but instead of letting go, he tightens his grip around your neck, making you whimper and squint. "T-toji-"

"Look what you've done, that's going to leave a bruise for sure," he chuckles, throwing you to the side like a rag doll. Your weight is nothing to him, but you feel it when it hits the ground.

"Fuck..." you exhale and pull yourself up as fast as you can, both ashamed and angry at how helpless you are against him. Two decades of training, hundreds of men you've taken down with nothing but your bare hands, and now you can't do a goddamn thing. Pathetic.

Fed up with your own behavior, you decide to try and fight. If there's no way he's going to let you out alive, you might as well cause him some trouble. Any trouble. And so, you engage him in hand-to-hand combat, making sure to dodge each of his blows and land yours cleanly. Your fists and kicks hit his body but do no damage. It's as if he's allowing your punches to connect with his form, as if he's having so much fun and it's getting on your nerves. You use everything in your path – dishes fly, doors slam, glass shatters and chairs are thrown, but when the wooden stool breaks, easily stopped by Toji's forearm, you're lost.

Once again you find yourself against the wall, only this time his body is pressed against yours without any additional hurt being inflicted. He keeps you pinned down and you can hear his heartbeat, feel the bulging erection resting on your stomach and you look up to see his face. His black hair hangs loosely over his dark green eyes, his gaze jumping from your eyes to your parted lips as you pant shallowly.

"To be honest, I don't give a fuck about what you did," he finally admits, lowering his head enough to plant a kiss on the corner of your lips. "I want you back. Is that something you'd want, too?"

"Does my life depend on how I answer?" you ask quietly, your hands landing on his sides. You feel the hard muscle that seems to surround his entire body, it's almost too impressive to be real.

"No. I'm not going to kill you. I've already taught you a lesson, you won't mess with me again."

"I won't," you agree, feeling your body deflate. The tension that kept you stiff and afraid almost painfully, leaves your form and you lean into him. "Then I want you back, too."

"Great." Toji's lips fall upon yours and you give in instantly, a soft moan rumbling in your chest as his skilled mouth molds to yours, as if he was created to kiss you. One of your hands cups his face while the other runs through his raven locks, soft as silk, and you grab a handful of them, pulling him away before you get too lost in the feeling. He groans in discontent, looking down at you with the expression of a child whose toy has been taken away. With your thumb, you wipe away the red residue of your blood that remains on his lower lip.

"We should get out of here," you tell him, and he rolls his eyes, but agrees. "And then you'll tell me how much you've missed me."

"I hate trying to put my desire into words when my body knows exactly what to say," he chuckles, scooping you up in his arms as if you're nothing but air. "Let's go home."

The ride home is quick, too quick in fact, not giving you enough time for the pain in your stomach to subside, but you can't focus on that too much when he's all over you as soon as the doors to his apartment close. Toji's hands push your clothes away, pulling and tugging at the many layers of fabric you have on, and you can hear loose buttons bouncing off the wooden floor as he leads you toward the bedroom. You know the place, it's the same one you spent many long months in before you ran away from him.

"Toji," you whisper as he slides his hand down your unbuttoned pants, right into your underwear, and the sudden pressure he deftly applies over your clit makes your body shudder from the unexpected wave of euphoric impulses. He knows your buttons, he knows how to push them to rid you of any composure, and he uses that knowledge to the fullest.

"Yes, sweetheart?" he responds to his name, his lips brushing your ear as you cling to his enormous bicep for dear life. "Talk to me, does it feel good?"

"Oh yes," you mutter, determined not to be the only one stuttering, so you lower your hand, your fingers slipping easily under the waistband of his gray pants and through the fabric of his boxers you feel the shape of his cock. It's rock hard, struggling to find enough room in the trap of his underwear, and as you stroke it with your warm palm, a low growl escapes his mouth. Taking it a step further, you push the cotton down and your breath hitches at the sight of his erection springing free, the sheer heaviness of the girth making it impossible for him to fully stand up.

"Like what you see?" he teases, sliding one of his long fingers through your folds and into your hole, curling it so perfectly that you moan against his muscular chest. With ease, Toji lays you down on the dark sheets on his bed, not stopping his handy work for a split second before hovering over you, his lips glued to the soft skin above your neck. Quickly it's clear that the marks will last for days, but that is the last thing you can worry about when his fingers are stretching you so lovely.

You push your pants down, desperate to give him more space, and he gets the hint, pulling them along with your panties off with a sharp tug of his free hand. Pleased with how eagerly you spread your legs for him, he hums against the dip of your shoulder, a grin painting his expression in amusement as he adds two more fingers. They slip right in, your slick covering them right away, and you whimper, digging your fingernails into his strong arms. All your mind can focus on is the irresistible want to have his dick inside you, you need it and everything that comes with it – the burning pain, the roughness, the bites and bruises. Toji Fushiguro is a ruthless lover, he's able to set all your nerves ablaze, to make your mind blank, make you forget your own name.

The warmth piles up in your stomach, you slowly fall into a trance as he abuses the sweet spot inside you and you don't even notice how he moves down your body. The realization hits you when his tongue flicks against your clit and your whole body shudders at the new layer of pleasure. The satisfied smile never leaves his face as he looks up at your worn-out self while he's working on the nerve bud. His fingers move and twist inside you as he sucks, licks and kisses simultaneously, taking away your breath and any last shred of composure. He's savoring the sweetness, the taste driving him wild and he knows how close you are, the muscles of your insides squeezing his fingers in waves, your thighs trembling against his broad shoulders and your fingers clawing at the sheets with crashing force.

His name rolls off your tongue in a breathy way and he hums against your clit, the vibration sending you over and pulling you under the ocean of endorphins. You come onto his mouth, his fingers covered in white and all you can see is stars. Short pants and broken breaths leave your parted mouth as he presses his own against them in a sloppy, messy kiss. Toji kicks off his own pants and gives himself a few pumps before sliding the head of his cock along your folds.

You whimper into the kiss, slipping your hands under the black t-shirt, desperate to feel his body. With a brief pause, he breaks the connection between your mouths to remove the rest of clothes and you give in, taking the moment to catch your breath.

"Fuck," you cry out, your back arching, your head falling back at the feeling of burning stretch as he pushes his size into you. It hurts, but the pain is delicious, it makes you want more and he gives you just that. He grunts low and gravelly as he collapses onto one of his elbows, overwhelmed by the tight squeeze of your warm hole and as he bottoms out, he takes a second to collect himself. It would be unacceptable if you milk him so quickly, just with the mind-blowing sensation of your cunt.

"So tight," he purrs against your neck, pulling one of your thighs over his hip. Your lips collide again and he rolls his hips for the first time, teasingly pulling all the way out only to push back in one swift motion. He does this several times before finally setting a pace that has you holding onto his shoulders just to steady yourself. With the strength of his body, his thrusts are ruthless, almost violent, but it's the roughness that makes him such a great lover. The intensity of his fat cock almost tearing you in half is what gives you the highest highs and he knows exactly how to use his girth to fuck you stupid.

You're whimpering into his lips, your body shaking beneath him as he rolls his pelvis, angling his hips so he can kiss every sensitive spot inside you with every thrust. The power of his pistons increases. Drinking in your reactions, he feels himself growing, his cock twitching and flexing in your warm embrace, a white coating forming at the base of his cock and he feels lightheaded.

Grabbing both your knees, Toji presses them almost to your ears, your calves hook over his shoulders and as he rams his length into you, you feel like you're going to pass out from the sheer amount of stimulation. With each stroke, his body bounces off your clit, the sound of skin slapping fills the bedroom and you feel yourself squirming as your legs tremble and your breath stutters. You're close and he knows it, the smirk on his lips giving it away as he takes in the sight of you losing every last bit of connection to the real world.

It only takes a few more unforgivable, deep slams of his cock against your sweet spot to have you shaking violently. It's too much, the feeling of him stretching you to the very brink and the heat surges through your veins, setting your body alight as pleasure erupts. The overwhelming wave of euphoria makes drown in the blissful haze as you feel the orgasm unfolding and he thrusts his hips through it, chasing his own release.

As Toji cums inside you, pumping his warm load into you, you come once more, much weaker, but for your overstimulated body it feels like an explosion all over again. A mixture of broken pants fills the room as the wet, sex sounds fade away. Toji pulls out and flips you both over so that you can lie on top of his body instead of him collapsing upon yours, possibly crushing you with his weight.

His demeanor changes completely, with aftercare he's gentle, his hands soft on your skin as he caresses you. “I missed you,” he whispers against your hair, planting soft kisses on the top of your head and you smile.

“I missed you too, Toji.”

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

the shroud family curse and its implications for intimacy

I was thinking about what the Shroud parents must look like under their helmets and then I started wondering how they met and fell in love 🤔 While wondering about that, I came to the realization that Mr. and Mrs. Shroud's romance must have been a complicated one.

***Spoilers for books 6 and 7 of the main story below the cut!!***

Idia’s grandmother, Aidne, was the previous director of STYX. She was succeeded by her son (Idia’s father), which implies that the Shroud blood and the curse that comes with it are from the paternal side of the family. Idia’s mom, then, is the one who married into the family. (It’s not clear at this point if those that marry into the Shroud family are also magically afflicted with the same condition, but for the purposes of this post whether it is or not isn’t relevant as my point will still stand either way.)

The Shroud curse quickly burns away any blot the individual has in their body without the typical means of recovery (ie rest and self-care). If there is no blot to incinerate then the curse will turn to consuming the magical energy of the individual themselves, which could pose a threat to their wellbeing and even their life. Because of this condition, ancestors to the Shroud family threw themselves into research on blot in STYX. This would ensure that Shroud members were always around blot that could be burned in the place of their own energy, and provided a sense of false hope for them. They believed that if they worked hard enough, they may be able to find a cure for their curse--but over time, that belief waned, and instead it seems they are all now resigned to their fate and don't try to defy it. We see this is true of the latest generation of Shrouds, as Idia was groomed to become the next director of STYX from a young age even when he disliked the idea and how his responsibilities restricted his freedom. In fact, the Shrouds in general are described as being gloomy people, and this is possibly the result of the hopeless feelings they have about their curse.

A secondary consequence of the curse is that it socially isolates members of the Shroud family from society. Idia is somewhat of a special case since we also have to consider the mental and emotional anguish he experienced following his involvement in Ortho's death. However, even disregarding this horrific tragedy, it can be inferred that the Shrouds are forced into positions which make them more alone than others. For one, their jobs seem to be very demanding and literally physically keeps them away from others (besides colleagues) since the headquarters are located in bottom of the sea. In Idia's post-OB flashback, we get dialogue which implies that he is not allowed outside very often--something which we can attribute to his being the heir to STYX. This may imply that previous Shrouds experienced similar childhoods, and this is just a continuation of the cycle. (I do want to point out here that Idia says his family used to go out to various places together when Ortho was still alive, so it's not a strict requirement that the Shrouds have zero outside interaction. They obviously do go outside the lab, but we cannot say for sure how frequently.)

More importantly, there is also an emotional and psychological component to isolation. You do not need to actually be alone in a room to be considered "isolated" from others. You could, in fact, be in a room full of people and still feel "isolated" because you haven't made any meaningful connection with them. This is what I think it must feel like to be a Shroud out in the world. You may technically be considered a part of the population, but you still don't quite fit in. For example, Idia has previously expressed worries that people will stare at his hair and recognize him as a Shroud, then ridicule his appearance and attitude. Indeed, the gloomy presence that the Shrouds give off seems to be a major deterrent for others to interact with THEM. All that time spent in physical isolation must have also had an impact on the Shrouds' ability to socialize. Idia is a strong example of this; he is an avid gamer and feels comfortable with taunting people via a screen. His face-to-face manner of speaking, meanwhile, can be incendiary and often rubs his classmates the wrong way. His father is not the exact same as him, but Mr. Shroud seems to have his own issues communicating affection and tends to describe things in a serious manner or in terms of work. Thinking about the way the curse is constructed too, there is a built-in fear that the Shrouds can never truly form long-lasting relationships with others, nor completely reveal their true selves to friends. Idia exposits as much in book 6. When Ortho tries to get his big brother to be friends with the OB boys, Idia dismisses the idea and says it won't matter in the end because they will be "sent down the river" and have their memories of those fun times completely purged. This illustrates a defeatist mindset which may be pervasive in all or most of the Shroud family: if this is going to be the fate of my loved ones, why bother getting close to anyone at all? It will just be more painful for us in the end.

SO LIKE. What was Mr. Shroud probably going through when he was seeing his then-girlfriend????? ??? ??? ??? ? ? ??? ? ?? He was probably so frustrated that he couldn't tell her anything about who he really was, and probably even more frightened that if he did ever tell the truth, he might lose her forever (via River Lethe memory wipe). And even if she still accepts him for it, then what??? Then she has to join the Shroud family, and that's basically damning her to the same mopey life he has, researching blot in the middle of nowhere until they're nothing but bones. Imagine how intense that guilt must be, knowing that you (yes, YOU) are responsible for "dragging down" your beloved into the same miserable circumstances that you're in. Not only that, but surely then you'd also have to tell your S/O that any children you conceive together will have the exact same destiny in STYX. It's not just Mr. Shroud either, it must be generations of Shrouds going through this same thing.

But, but, but!! In spite of his fear, Mrs. Shroud must have said yes because she truly loves him with all her heart… Their relationship must be built on such a strong foundation of trust and loyalty 😭 (From here, this is all speculation/headcanon/me rotting about the Hades-and-Persephone-esque romance I picture Idia's parents having. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.) I don't think that Mr. Shroud would be the one to initiate or to be affectionate. At most, maybe he had a shy sort of crush on her. More likely it was Mrs. Shroud that first expressed a romantic interest and passionately pursued him. And then maybe over time his feelings blossomed but he was still too afraid to put this massive burden on her shoulders, knowing the responsibility he bears as the future director of STYX... BUT HE HAS ALSO BECOME TOO ATTACHED TO HER TO CUT HER OUT OF HIS LIFE COMEPLETELY... Her very presence is screwing with his usual sense of cool, calculated logic 💀

AND WHAT ABOUT "THE TALK" THEY'D HAVE TO HAVE TO FULLY DISCLOSE EVERYTHING???? HOW MUCH MR. SHROUD MUST'VE BEEN SWEATING WAITING FOR HER ANSWER????? ?? ?? ? ? ? Oh, Sevens. Now I've done it. Here comes the moment where he gets dumped and his mom sends in a whole squadron of men to kidnap his girlfriend and clean her brain up. But NO 😭 Instead Mrs. Shroud just clasps his hands and insists that they should get married so he'll never have to wallow in those miserable thoughts all alone... He's confused and keeps begging her to reconsider, because this decision will inevitably throw her entire life off course.

"Are you sure about this? If you say yes to me, your fate will be sealed. You can never turn back. Your life will be sworn to the Isle of Woe." "Yup, I've never been more sure of anything in my whole life! Let's burn in the Underworld together, darling <3"

She provides a response that’s so easy and devil-may-care that he doesn’t know what to say back, so he just quietly laughs… and slowly those quiet laughs morph into quiet sobs… (like how flashback!Idia transitioned from laughing to crying when he was bragging about how indestructible the “new” Ortho is 😈 LIKE FATHER, LIKE SON—)

Idia drops this line during his extended post-OB flashback: "So it's romantic when a hero rescues his ladylove from the Underworld, but when I do the same for my brother it's wrong?" WHAT IF THAT WAS TRUE, BUT WITH THE GENDER ROLES REVERSED, FOR HIS PARENTS???? ?? ? ?? ? ? ? ? ? ? ?? Mrs. Shroud willing to literally throw herself into the Underworld to "save" Mr. Shroud... like how Persephone was willing to stay there with Hades... 🙃 I'LL EAT THAT SHIT UP, JUST DROP THE "HOW I MET YOUR MOTHER" UPDATE OF TWST, DEVS..... . . . .. ..... . . .. . .. . . . . . . .. .... . . .. . . .... . . .. . . . .

Okay, I'm done screaming and sobbing at the wall for now--.

[opbackgrounds]

With all respect, you sound weirdly over the top with this one Nami side-plot and demand way more coherency of it than anything else in the manga. You treat Sanji's love-heart gags way more seriously than Nami's abuse gags (or Luffy's eating ones or Chopper's infoptency ones), too. It sounds like a really bad-faith reading tbh. [For example, the dress line fits with Nami's fashion obsession which has legit reasons and her being used to being taken advantage of is literally her origin story, but you pretend like those readings don't exists?]

Well, firstly, this is my reading of the manga. I'm not going to go out of my way to think of how other people might interpret a scene, because that's not what I'm doing here.

Secondly, I've been very vocal about other storylines I don't like, including Chopper being incompetent, but the subplot with Absalom has been the most sustained bit of bad writing in the manga. It's going to get more attention, because there's more of it. There will be more negativity in the future when I get to other things I don't like. Fans of Punk Hazard, you have been warned.

Thirdly, if I've given the Absalom-Sanji-Nami story a bad-faith reading, you've given a bad faith reading of my analysis. My issue isn't and never has been Sanji's love-sick chivalry--I wouldn't have defended his fight against Kalifa during Enies Lobby otherwise--it is the tonal dissonance between the subject matter being displayed and the character's reaction to it. I even praised the parts of his fight with Absalom that highlight his self-sacrificial nature, even if it makes him act ridiculous such as taking a stab wound to avoid getting blood on Nami's wedding dress. That's silly, but it's the sort of exaggeration that suits the series, and fits in the same category as Nami hitting the boys when she's annoyed with them.

Like Hogback, Absalom's actions are coded with the language of male obsession and objectification, sexual assault, and rape. Both characters only only care for the objects of their obsessions because of their victim's physical attractiveness. The implication is Hogback gave Cindry a post-mortem boob job. Nami literally gets attacked while she's bathing. They're very similar characters, so I think it's fair to ask why they're treated so differently by the narrative.

I also said that I believe the marriage subplot could have been written in a way that's more innocent and lighthearted, but Oda merrily skipped over the line once he included the imagery of sexual assault. That is my line in the sand, and it is absolutely a black mark on both Sanji and the series as the whole that Oda decided to highlight the similarities between he and Absalom instead of their differences. It moves the character from chivalrous dweeb to sex pest, and it's a decision he's doubled down on many times as the series progresses.

Nami being okay with being forcibly changed into a wedding dress after being drugged into unconsciousness by someone who tried to attack her because she "is fashion obsessed" is patently absurd, as is her being "used to it" because of her past. What I was trying to express is that it would have been nice if Nami had gotten as angry at what Absalom did to her as she did when Lola was attacked. Perhaps I didn't express myself well in that regard, but all in all I stand by my criticisms.

[physalian]

Bringing Characters Back from the Dead Without Pissing Off Your Audience

I don’t know if there’s an emotional rollercoaster out there quite shaped like an audience bawling their eyes out over the death of a beloved character and the livid and bitter turnaround that comes when that character comes back to life in the most ridiculous and lore-breaking way possible.

So, TLDR, some suggestions, not rules, depending on your genre and tone armor and not all for a single story, cherry pick as you please. If this is a kids show or a comedy where “death” is a nebulous concept anyway, ignore this. This is more for dramas.

The point of a good character death and revivial boils down to this, imo: Does doing so serve the character, the story, and the themes? Killing a character should be as big of a moment as un-killing a character, as long of a road as it took to get there should be as long or longer as it takes to get out. Otherwise, you just did it for shock value and everyone noticed.

DO:

Establish that revival is even on the table at some point well before this character dies. The smaller the gap between “hey death is optional” and “oh look, it’s the fan favorite in peril”, the less likely your audience is going to feel all the intended gut-wrenching emotions.

Have the dying character completely unaware that this might not be a one-way trip, even if the audience does. The entire cast might not have any clue, but the audience knows because Character Who Knew Too Much revealed it before they died. There is a time and a place for “I’m going on a suicide mission but I secretly have a contingency plan to cheat death” and it’s very hard to do it well.

Demand some cost, either from the dead character or the person/thing/deity that saved them. It should not come without consequence. Either they’re permanently emotionally scarred, physically scarred, are only back for a limited time, or somebody else died to take their place, etc. If revival has no cost, then death has no meaning.

USE IT SPARINGLY GODDAMN

Let the character be as shocked and horrified that they’re not dead anymore as the audience is ugly crying at their return. If the narrative shrugs it off, it’s going to feel cheap.

Let the characters doing the reviving be unsure if it'll even work. If both the characters and the narrative believe bringing them back is a foregone conclusion, you lose out on a lot of tension on if it's all for moot.

DON’T:

Keep killing and reviving the same characters with the same sad music and the same funerals and day-drinking and expect the audience to really believe it’s for realsies this time, CW.

Keep pretending to kill off characters but they’re actually fine

Pull it out of nowhere and try to bend the plot in post as if this is actually a good thing and not manipulative writing

Controversial but: warn the entire audience ahead of time, for many, many books, that somebody’s gonna die and it’s gonna hurt, and then say “nah just kidding” at the end.

Revive them too quickly. Death is a powerful, dramatic event for the dead character and all those who survive them. Unless it’s like a drowning situation where the character takes a few more seconds to gasp awake, let the story stew in the aftermath properly, otherwise—why kill them in the first place?

Some examples:

Gandalf—This one’s a funny one because it doesn’t establish that death is optional. Gandalf “dies” and then Boromir dies maybe 45 minutes apart. Thing is, though, that Gandalf is a 3000 year old wizard and Boromir is just a dude. Two Towers also begins by replaying Gandalf’s fall with added context so you’re already primed with “well that must be important, his character is still relevant”. The movies certainly have their share of fakeouts, but characters who are meant to die (Boromir, Theoden, Theodred, Denethor) stay dead. Gollum is just made of silly string I guess and invulnerable to high falls, unless they’re into lava. Gandalf isn't the hero, either, his job isn't to save the world, it's to make sure that everyone else saves the world. If Aragorn fell fighting the Balrog and showed up out of nowhere in Two Towers, it would cheapen the whole victory when the gods can just say "nope you're not dead, cancel, undo button" but not smite the orcs for them.

Jon Snow—oh look I’m actually praising GoT for once. He dies in season 5 and comes back at the end of episode 2 of season 6 after a whole campaign of seemingly futile magic and the heroes giving up hope. This series is full of graphic and pointless deaths. The hero getting stabbed seven times in the chest in a mutiny isn’t out of left field at all. But back in season… 2, I think? The Hound comes across a dude who can’t be killed, who attributes that to this Lord of Light deity. The same deity that Melisandre (the witch who brings back Jon) also worships. It’s proper set-up, proper time spent mourning him with a whole break between seasons, proper build up with the impact of his death, and proper consequences once he’s back, dude isn’t the same and I will always miss his fluffier hair.

Leo Valdez—I have no idea if I’m in the minority here but back when Heroes of Olympus was being published, the fandom had five whole years to argue over which of the seven heroes was going to die. It was all over the walls. Yes, this is a series about mythological creatures with gods and gods of the dead and even Death being captured to stop people from dying. “Character cheating death” didn’t come out of nowhere. However. Even though it was properly established, the series spent five whole books promising that somebody was gonna die, and then Leo comes back because the Prophecy didn’t read the fine print. I liked Leo, but I cannot stand chickening out of killing a character and this was one hell of a deus ex machina when the whole last book was a misfire.

The Whole Vampire Diaries and Supernatural—everybody knows the CW is allergic to perma-deaths. There’s infographics out there calculating how many times Sam and Dean and Cas have died. I know more about the background to TVD so herein lies the issue: The creator was allergic to change of any kind and apparently the actors didn’t have the best relationship with her because of it and other reasons. Her characters fell in the same cyclical arcs because who they were in seasons 1 and 2 is everyone’s favorite iterations of their personalities, so they can never have proper arcs with real growth. TVD was a serialized show written like it was episodic, so nothing, not even death, was permanent save for a few characters here and there. Death lost all meaning, the writing was manipulative constantly expecting audiences to believe it this time, and the lore kept breaking each time they did it with new excuses to bring somebody back.

*Gaara—I don't actually remember it super well and his death pissed me off more than his revival but I want to add it anyway. How they brought him back, with Granny Chiyo sacrificing herself for him and him being utterly shocked that anyone gave a shit to bother rescuing him was great, no notes. Even better because I belive Chiyo was like "it's alright I can fix him" and everyboy but Naruto realized that doing so would cost her her life. I just hated how they showed you Gaara dying ~20 episodes before anyone got there to save him, meanwhile the heroes were dicking around fighting their shadow-selves instead of just... running away? They didn't know he was already dead. The lack of urgency for all parties involved, in a show that's legendary for its shit pacing, promptly ruined any chances of me watching it past that arc. But, the revival was well done, so. Have a Gaara.

—

And then you’ve got way on the far end of ass-pulls, characters like Palpatine, heroes in soap operas, or shows in their 11th season that have already checked out or know it’s dumb and don’t care how dumb. It’s the nature of the beast. It’s hard to get mad at them for the single sin of undoing death when they probably already have a hundred other problems.

[sandwichboy625]

I have two Roman Empires. They surround Reuben and Gantu. (Third one is in the reblogs!)

My Roman Empire is how Reuben literally stopped being rude to everybody when Lilo gave him a name. A NAME. From the 65 episodes, all those insults he spewed out… that snarky attitude he gave everybody… all the hurt feelings he caused ended at this moment. You never see him being mean to Lilo, Gantu or Stitch ever again. He literally considers something as simple as being given a name affection.

He went the entire show without a name, just being called 625. Meanwhile, if not all, most of the other experiments had a name. Pretty sure it made Reuben feel that he was irrelevant, forgotten and most of all: failed. Perhaps that's ONE of the reasons he STAYED so rude throughout the show and like for half the Leroy and Stitch movie; the time he was simply a number?

My second Roman Empire is about how Gantu… this intimidating, strict, ruthless guy

...did not like being evil. He was seeking emotional validation.

"Am I good enough?" I can only imagine him asking himself that after hearing Hamsterviel, Reuben or his father's negative voice in his head. I don’t care if Reuben was “struggling too”, he still didn’t have to project so much.

When Gantu got vulnerable with Reuben in episode 28, he talked about how his father was very authoritarian and strict. He also talked about how his peers looked down on him. Can't imagine how bad he wanted to prove his daddy and peers wrong. He truly did try. It's awful because he even talks about how his life would have been better if he would have stuck with his girlfriend. Deep down, being the captain isn't what he wanted. He wanted to live a normal childhood. Sacrificed it, though, all for his dad.

His first attempt at being what his father pushed him to be was under the Grand Councilwoman. However, after the chaos he and stitch had, she fired him. This is why he had such a hate for stitch throughout the entire show. Not because of selfishness, not because he was evil, but because stitch ruined the pathway that gave him that sense of superiority and validation.

Throughout the show, no thanks to plot armor and gags and jokes, he is constantly failing to capture experiments AND is being ridiculed. It's by everybody- Lilo, Stitch, Reuben, random people. Sometimes it's physical, sometimes it's verbal. It definitely has an effect. Might as well be physical and verbal abuse because of how often and harsh it is.

It’s not normal to call yourself a failure because you don’t know where a street is.

There’s this episode where he prefers to be a guy named “Uncle Chester”. While he’s Chester, he doesn’t have to worry about Hamsterviel’s ruthlessness and doesn’t have to be bullied every single episode. He was delusional as Chester but at least he was happy. He pointed out how he was unhappier as Gantu.

But

There is nobody that affects him as much as Hamsterviel does.

I've ALWAYS been asking myself, "why doesn't he just squish Hamsterviel? Hamsterviel is all bark no bite!" Hamsterviel is the most demanding, controlling, manipulating, obnoxious, and most of all- DEGRADING boss that Gantu has had. However…

Could it be that he resorts to Hamsterviel and never hurts him because it's another chance to prove himself to a figure like his father?

He sees toxicity as another chance to prove himself. Doesn’t matter all the suffering he does.

As long as the job gets done, right?

But I mean, hey.

Gantu is hot.

[teabutmakeitazure]

Exasperation Under The Covers

>Yan! Chrollo x Fem! Reader

Word count: 1.2k

a/n: first time writing him. I tried making him as bastardly annoying as possible 🙏

Warning: touchy Chrollo

You have always been in awe at how such little things can lead to such drastic outcomes. The butterfly effect, as it’s called, is something you had first found ridiculous but soon found in many places. You suppose your first encounter with it was that one singular comment from a middle school classmate which later led to more.

It’s been years, so the memory doesn’t resurface and bother you anymore, yet you remember how it tore you to shreds during your highschool years. With your parents belonging to humble backgrounds, you didn’t want to burden them more so you kept it to yourself.

Years passed, and you grew out of it. The urban city life had whisked you away and waltzed with you along the rhythm of the city folk, your parents also busy in their lives as you’ve grown up. Despite being in the same city, you did not see them frequently.

With how your job had always kept you busy, you went weeks without seeing them. What seemed like a time management issue has metamorphosed into a lifelong regret. Oftentimes, you wonder if you just fixed your timetable a bit and made the decision to exit the subway at a different stop, you wouldn’t have forgotten their faces.

That day… if you had just gotten off the damned train, you wouldn’t be scrounging up memories to complete the image of those who birthed and raised you. Perhaps you wouldn’t even be stuck like glue to his side like you are now.

One step. That is all it would have taken you. One step and you wouldn’t have been regretting it this much now.

“I thought we agreed on your full attention, [Name].”

The interruption doesn’t elicit any kind of physical reaction from you. If anything, you simply sigh and start to fidget with your hands under the cover. He takes the silence as an invitation to let his hand roam. An arm slithered around your torso, it moves from your hip and rests on your bare thigh. You can see the bump it makes in the blanket.

“You got lost. Mind telling me where?”

His question is accompanied with his fingers tapping your thigh before they settle down with a gentle squeeze. The action causes your insides to recoil. Because of how overwhelming Chrollo's touch is, you have to take a few deep breaths before you can muster up a reply.

“Nowhere,” you state. “I was simply zoning out.”

You can hear him close his book, the sound echoing in your mind. Like always, he returns your question with something that demands further explanation from you.

“Zoning out to where?”

“I was thinking that maybe I should’ve accepted wearing your shirt after all.”

Infuriatingly enough, you don’t have to look at him to know that he’s smiling.

“Oh? I thought you would do anything rather than wear what I own. You had said it yourself, dear, that you would fall sick if you smelled like me.”

“This is worse than that,” you deadpan. “Sickness is nothing when compared to irreparable emotional and psychological damage.”

“I don’t believe I dress you up that horribly.”

Horribly? This is absolutely outrageous! A single button down shirt of his would cover more skin than what this measly excuse of a dress does. Having to deal with the lingering smell of his cologne would have been nothing compared to this.

All this mental suffering just to deny one damn kiss.

“Though the idea of seeing you in my clothes instead is enticing, I’m afraid I must call out your lie first. Tell me what you were really thinking about.”

You scoff, “I was fantasising about you choking on dinner.”

“Fun, but sadly impossible. Last chance [Name].”

Another squeeze to your thigh and you almost shoot him a glare. However, you decide to not grace him with your eyes and instead keep your gaze fixed on where your hands should be under the cover. Head slowly falling back and hitting the headboard, you try your best to keep a neutral face. Chrollo is, after all, blatantly staring at you.

“I was just thinking about my parents.”

“Ah.” His ogling comes to a halt. With his other hand, he gently nudges your head to rest on his shoulder. You begrudgingly let him. Any sort of comfort is welcome for the time being.

“What brought about the reminiscence?”

You can feel his eyes on you now. Chrollo watches like a hawk, waiting for any sort of reaction to his comforting gesture. Unfortunately for him, you don’t give him any and instead answer his question.

“Tomorrow is their wedding anniversary.”

He hums. “Perhaps I should send them a gift. Their mingling did result in you after all.”

“That was a horrible joke.”

“I’ve been called the same.”

Did he just…? Nevermind. His existence is somewhat a joke in poor taste. Wait. He isn’t serious about the gift part, is he?

“You aren’t serious about that, are you?”

He rests his head on top of yours, and you internally gag.

“I’m afraid not,” he replies. “I’ve always had the feeling that my mother would have laughed after she found out she was pregnant with me.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

Another squeeze and his hand travels further upwards. Goosebumps erupt on your skin as his thumb traces his initials on the inside of your thigh.

“Really? What do you mean then?”

Your heartbeat accelerates when his entire hand starts travelling up and down, the callouses on it creating uncomfortable friction. Fists clenched, all words die in your throat when he slips his hand under your thigh and lifts your leg up. With more skin accessible, his hand slithers under the hem of your dress, but you push yourself away from him immediately.

With how he easily let you go, you’re certain that he was testing your limits. Heart pounding in your ears, you scoot to the other end of the bed, pouting when you catch him staring at you again. Attempting to cover yourself to the shoulders with the blanket is unsuccessful, for he pulls the entire thing away.

“We agreed on your full attention, so you mustn't back away,” he smiles.

Ah. He’s not giving up on that, is he? But… he promised he'll return your pyjamas if you go along. He didn't say anything about your clothes as suspicious as it is. Nevertheless, a comfortable sleep is what you're after for the time being, so you must behave.

Hesitantly, you scoot back to him albeit with some distance between you both. Who knew stepping backwards when he was about to peck your cheek would lead to a silly bet like this?

Aaaand his hand is back again.

"Chrollo Lucilfer, do you not have any sort of self restraint or shame?"

He smiles, smugly tilting his head to look at you like he just won some sort of game. "A fine work of art should be admired to the fullest."

"No. You need to meditate in the forest or something. Now get your hand off me."

The smile remains and he doesn't move. Sighing, you grab his hand and remove it yourself. Before you could put it away from your person, he flicks his wrist and grabs your hand instead.

"You should know, [Name], that I typically revel in my spoils to my heart's extent. Whatever you do won't bother me. I'm a thief after all, and I always get what I want."

[the-whispers-of-death]

okay but like-

older omega reader already having children from a past relationship (their past mate cheated on him and left him that's why he's aprehensive about alphas). all his kids are grown and resemble reader very closely (like someone hit ctrl+C and then edited them slightly to the left in photoshop) and are also built like reader, same height or maybe even taller and have inherited readers death stare except it's x100. all readers kids work physically demanding jobs (hard labor, firefighter, warehouse work, maybe working on a ship) so they're all powerhouses and all turned out to be alphas and ridiculously protective of their "mother" (ik reader is male but in the omegaverse the omega is the birth giver and reader lets his sons call him mom or mama). when they first meet Kali they're immediately distrustful and staring at him with laser eyes like: "mom, who's this?". (think dad Stone with troublemaker reader). readers sons will not let reader and Kali be alone when they're visiting just.... existing in Kalis and readers general vicinity waiting for Kali to so much as breathe wrong at reader so they can snap him in half. they get all pouty and grumbly when they see that reader is genuinely appreciative of Kali and is showing interest so with time they back off but still keep an eye out "just in case"

Alpha!Kali would love omega!Reader's kids. They're his pups now, he doesn't care that they're grown. He's doing everything he can to get in their good graces. He wants to take care of them as much he wants to take care of Reader.

He's not threatened by so many alphas around him, he works with one alpha, so no need for all of these alphas to clash.

Hopefully Kali can get them to like him though, cause he really wants their "mother" to be his mate. He swears he's a good step-father.

[lanshappycorner]

Recently I saw people slandering Ace for what he did in the last few chapters of ep 1 to Riddle and because I am petty and salty, I'm going to defend Ace to the death here like my life depends on it

*I've posted this before but this time I'm going into more detail so yeah. Also this is written with spite I am going to be so passive aggressive sorry

why ace demanding a tart and a party from riddle is not bad, you guys just cant read, an analysis:

Let us begin by establishing what happens on the surface of the last few scenes of ep 1.

Riddle has just come back from overblotting. He begins to admit to the things he always wanted as well as the things he cared/didn't care about. For example, he lists that he wanted to eat the chestnut tart that Ace and friends prepared. He likes milk tea better than lemon tea, he wants to hang out with his friends and talk to lots of people after a meal.

After saying these things, he promptly breaks down, crying. However, the moment is ruined as Ace tells him that he won't forgive him, just because he's crying, and he promptly demands a party and a tart.

To some, this may be seen as an assholish move. Riddle has finally admitted to his wrongs, and yet Ace has the audacity to see this broken kid in tears and go "I still don't forgive you". That's terrible right?

WRONG.

Now that we have established what happens on the surface, let us establish reasons as to why Ace may be upset at Riddle, just to have everything on the table first because there is a lot to unpack here.

First off, Riddle kicked Ace out of his own dorm. This issue was brushed over, as Ace went to Yuu for shelter, but let's really stop to consider how ridiculous this is. Riddle, a dorm head, whose job is to care for the students in his dorm, kicked Ace out of the dorm without knowing if he would even have a place to sleep at night...because he ate his food.

If Ace had no friends at the time, he would have no where to sleep, and considering this is a magical school, there might be weird shit crawling around at night and idk about you but the prospect of it is completely terrifying to me. Not to mention, Ace is a first year. Everything on campus is new and unfamiliar to him. This has got to make things at least a good percentage more terrifying.

Secondly, Riddle threw away the tart that Ace made for him. At this point, Ace has come to the conclusion that he idk needs a place to sleep at night and he needs to be able to use magic (Riddle's collar is still cancelling Ace's magic...in a magic school. This is objectively detrimental to his studies). And so he makes Riddle a tart, not even being sassy about it, like the guy genuinely is offering this hoping to be forgiven. And what does Riddle do? Throw it away.

Working hard on something, and having someone badmouth it is one thing. To have the person you made said thing for PHYSICALLY DESTROY IT right in front of you...is probably not a good feeling. Ace is stronger than me I would've cried but anyways

Thirdly, in case you guys forgot, Ace was pissed but still kept his calm until Riddle insulted Yuu's lack of education, as well as the fact that their parents could not use magic. Despite everything that had happened to him, Ace did not snap and resort to violence until his friend was insulted. The only time he actually lost it was when he became angry on behalf of his friend, as well as the only person that would let him stay over after Riddle had kicked him out of his dorm.

I don't know if this particular fact plays any part in Ace's anger, but it's something to note that Riddle calls out Yuu for having parents who cannot use magic, and Ace has mentioned that his father cannot use magic either. It's possible that he may have taken it personally as well, but that fact was not revealed at the time of Episode 1's release, so I won't go into it much.

Fourth and lastly, putting aside all previous offenses, Riddle straight up nearly killed Ace. Yes, Riddle was not in the right state of mind and yes, going through overblot is extremely stressful and damaging to him. But the one being attacked was Ace. Overblot is exceedingly rare, and there were a variety of ways this could have gone badly had they not had the power of plot armor. Honestly, the fact that Ace wasn't angrier with Riddle is commendable because how do you respond to someone apologizing for almost killing you like.

C'mon now. Be honest how many of you guys would be willing to forgive and forget. Would you not feel a little wary? Or upset? Because I guess now you can't even be properly angry because he apparently wasn't in the right state of mind when he tried to kill you. I'm sure it was probably complicated for Ace but he handled it like a champ tbh. Anyways

Now we have established all the reasons why Ace is, (hopefully by now you guys understand) understandably angry, I hope you guys keep these things in mind as we continue forth.

Since we have now laid out the facts, let us finally dive into the actual analysis.

Regardless of how we feel about Ace's alleged insensitivity and demands, we can all agree that what Riddle did to Ace was in no way okay right? It was straight up shitty. And what did Ace ask for as compensation for 1) kicking him out of his dorm 2) throwing away his hard work 3) insulting his friend and 4) nearly killing him? A redo party and a tart.

My guy could've asked for anything in the world, anything at all. Riddle knew his faults, and he probably knew that Ace had every right to embarrass him, punish him, or ask something outrageous of him.

And yet all that he asked for was a redo party and a tart that Riddle himself baked. It almost sounds too simple, too easy really. This is the first sign that what he asked for is not as simple as what it may seem on the surface.

But before we talk about that, let's loop back to the whole point of this chapter. Riddle was a tyrant because he never faced any consequences for his actions. There are two sides to this. The first side is as mentioned above, he was a tyrant because no one ever thought to berate him for his actions.

Riddle overblotting and nearly straight up killing people is by far the biggest mistake he could have ever made. It's not something small, it could actually end someone's life. If you don't enforce some consequences then, when will you enforce consequences? Until someone actually dies???

That is precisely why Riddle needed to face some sort of consequence for his actions. In this case, what the consequences were did not matter. What mattered was that he needed to know "What you did was wrong and when you do this shitty thing, something is going to happen".

Now, the second side to Riddle's complex is the fact that Riddle may be an absolute tyrant now, but in his childhood, he was reprimanded and punished for the smallest of mistakes. Being punished is a large part of his trauma, which is exactly why I mentioned above "something is going to happen" instead of "there will be punishment for bad behavior". Because what Riddle needs is not punishment, and Ace knows this.

Ace knew full well that Riddle was in a rough spot, and he saw Riddle breaking down in front of his eyes. He could've humiliated Riddle as punishment, kick him out of the dorm, make him face the same things Ace himself went through as a result of Riddle's actions. However, he asked for a redo party and a tart, neither of which Riddle associates with "punishment". On the contrary, these are things Riddle likes.

Moments before Riddle cries, he admits that he wanted to eat the tart Ace made for him, and that he wanted to hang out with friends too.

What Ace requested of Riddle was less for himself and more for Riddle. He gave him a consequence that would require hard work, but did not have any traumatic or negative associations tied to it. If anything, it would be something Riddle enjoyed doing. It was not punishment, it was a consequence. It's much more gentle than any consequence Riddle had ever faced in his life.

This is also further demonstrated when Ace was able to laugh off his tart tasting horribly. If he really cared about the party, if he really cared about the tart, if any of his demands meant anything personally to him, Ace would've been more upset. But he wasn't.

When Ace refused to forgive Riddle as he cried, many characters called him out for being a jerk. However, Yuu comments after Ace demands a redo party and a tart, saying that Ace isn't very honest. They know that Ace's way of saying things may be rude, but he truly does have Riddle's best interests in mind.

Also side note but I think it's really funny how Ace gets so much shit for interrupting Riddle and saying he won't forgive him, when TREY was also part of the conversation. Riddle started crying, Ace says he won't forgive Riddle, and Trey comes in and says no what you did was wrong and you need to apologize rn 💀

Only after that did Ace demand a redo party and yet people are out here bitching about Ace being terrible to Riddle and not forgiving him instantly while he's crying.

Trey interjecting to tell Riddle off is like a key point in his character arc too because he finally stepped up to say something when Riddle was in his right mind so idk how u guys just conveniently forgot Trey's involvement in Riddle's post overblot and pin everything on Ace.

However TO CONCLUDE, the party and tart that Ace asked for was very much a form of symbolism and a chance for Riddle to start over with a clean slate.

(Also last minute adding this in but having a redo party is a great idea because things may still be tense between Riddle and his dorm mates, and if Riddle is now hosting another party without all the strictness, it will show to his previously angered dorm mates that he has changed and they have no need to be wary of/continue to hate him.)

It is not just Ace being selfish or Ace being mean and I'm going to bite the next person that says so. Thank u for coming to my ted talk

[chiefduckgarden]

Can't forget about you

Summary: You wake up in a hospital room knowing nothing about yourself. No name, no age, no family. You can't remember anything. Except for one thing. One person. Her.

A/N: Sooo I decided to keep this story going. In case anyone remember this fic, thanks. If you want to be add to the taglist let me know! :)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 5

Chapter 4 / Chapter 6

- That's all I know about her. I don't have any more information about her life - Wanda said. The entire team was seated in the conference room. At the end of the table, Wanda crossed her arms, wearing a cold expression.

The whole team looked at her with disbelief. They knew there was crucial information that Wanda wasn't sharing with them. Steve, the calmest member of the group, got up from his seat and began to walk towards the girl sitting there.

- Wanda… let's recap the information you provided: you met Y/N on a college campus whose name you can't remember, she doesn't have a home or family you know of, and you've never met any of her friends. But… somehow, she's the love of your life - Steve said.

- Yes, I love her more than anything - Wanda replied.

Everyone looked at each other in confusion. They wanted to be on Wanda's side, but she wasn't cooperating at all. That's when Tony got up from his seat with an exasperated sigh and stood next to the redhead's chair.

- Maximoff, this is ridiculous. We've already fulfilled our end of the deal and let you see the girl. Why don't you want to cooperate? - The man took off his glasses, faced with Wanda's expressionless gaze - We just want to help you, but we can't if you're not a hundred percent honest with us.

The girl let out an ironic sigh.

- Sure, you want to help me… just like you helped me in the cabin? - Her voice grew harder - You're partly to blame for her not remembering me, if only...

- We did what we believed was right; we did our job. Besides, if I recall correctly, you were just as much to blame as we were, so don't come here playing the victim," he replied.

Wanda stood up angrily to face Stark. It was then that both Steve and Natasha stood up to be prepared and try to defuse the situation.

- Okay, why don't we all calm down? - The Captain intervened between them, moving Wanda away from Tony - Wanda, we're your team, we're on your side. The cabin accident was just that, an accident. Y/N is fine, and despite her memory issue, she's healthy. If you truly love her and want us to defend her against Strange, you need to tell us the whole truth.

- We let you see Y/N even though Strange asked us to keep them apart. And you'll still be able to see her, Wanda. We're putting our trust in you. You can trust us - Natasha said.

Wanda looked at them - I've already told you everything I know. I met her on a campus I visited for its extensive library; she works in the field of physics. I don't know much about her family because I believe she doesn't get along with them, and I never asked further because I didn't want to pressure her into sharing something that hurt her. I don't know why Strange is against us, but I know she doesn't deserve any of this. We love each other and wanted to live together. What's wrong with that?

After that, the girl left the room, leaving the entire team in silence.

- What do we do now? Maximoff refuses to cooperate, and Strange is going to demand answers tomorrow… - Tony said, unbuttoning the collar of his shirt.

- She's scared, Tony. She doesn't want to lose Y/N, and we basically tried to separate them the last time, and honestly, I don't understand why. Strange only asked us to keep them apart and didn't give us any explanations. Now Y/N's amnesia has become a problem, but I don't understand why it was necessary to keep them apart before -Natasha spoke.

- Strange said there was something peculiar in Y/N's essence, something that didn't add up. In his magical abode, he sensed a threat, something that could potentially be dangerous. Besides, all the mystery surrounding her and Wanda makes the suspicions sound more plausible - Tony explained.

- Well, even though we don't have the name of the campus Wanda visited, I can still make a few calls to colleagues at nearby universities and inquire about Y/N - Bruce added - I'll also keep Y/N monitored throughout the night to see if there's any increased neural activity in her memory during her dreams - The doctor got up to leave.

Everyone murmured a thank you, and the room was left empty.

The next day, a gentle knock on your door woke you up. Slowly, you approached the door, and as you turned the handle, a smiling Wanda greeted you with a smile.

- Good morning, sleepyhead… Did you sleep well? - Wanda asked.

Her energy was contagious, so you couldn't help but smile immediately - Good morning, Wanda. I did have a good rest, thank you for asking - you replied.

- I'm glad to hear that - she stared at you for a few seconds - You look really cute just waking up... - she smiled at you and you flushed - Oh didn't want to... i'm sorry if i made you uncomfortable.

- It's okay, Wanda, it doesn't bother me - you said with a smile - Come on in, you won't stay in the hallway forever. The girl smiled, and both of you entered the room.

- Today, we have to go to your rehab session. Plus, I know you don't like it, but today you have to see Strange; he'll come to assess you - Wanda told you.

Your face showed your displeasure at the thought of Strange's visit - Will you be with me today? - you asked.

- Yeah, all day, except when Strange arrives. He can't know that I've been close to you, but apart from that, we'll be together all day, starting now with a breakfast that I'll prepare for you as soon as you take a shower - Wanda said.

You smiled at the prospect of spending time with her. You couldn't wait to learn more about her relationship - I better hurry then, I'm starving, and that breakfast sounds excellent - you said.

- Hurry up, I'll be here waiting - Wanda looked around and added - While you shower, I'll help you make the bed so we can go straight down for breakfast.

You nodded and turned around. But before heading to the bathroom, you looked at her once more and, with a blush on your face, you spoke - Wanda… um…

- Tell me, do you need something? - she asked.

- I was just wondering… um… if I could give you… if you'd allow me to give you a kiss, like last night… - You closed your eyes out of embarrassment, but you heard the sweet sound of her laughter, and you felt a pair of hands cupping your face. Her mouth moved closer to yours, and her soft lips met yours. You immediately responded to the kiss, caressing her face as she lowered her hands to your waist.

Once they broke the kiss, Wanda pressed her forehead against yours and whispered - You don't have to ask, I'm yours, Y/N…

You smiled and quickly took a shower so as not to keep Wanda waiting. The breakfast she prepared was delicious, and as you ate, she told you more stories about the two of you. Everything felt like a dream; your heart felt happy and at ease. Maybe you didn't remember much of the anecdotes Wanda shared, but your mind felt at peace; she conveyed peace to you. There was no doubt that you loved her.

When the time for your rehabilitation session arrived, both of you headed to the medical area to meet with Bruce.

- Hey Y/N, good to see you today. How was your first night here? - Dr. Banner greeted you as soon as you entered the room.

- It was fine, thank you. Everything went smoothly - you replied politely.

- I'm glad to hear that. Today, we'll be following the same therapy you had at the hospital, and we'll also try to stimulate your mind with exercises to see what we can discover today… - a woman in a lab coat entered the room, waving her hand - She's Dr. Helen Cho; she'll be joining us today.

You greeted her politely, and the session began. First, they conducted physical tests. You managed to pass the simpler ones without any issues, but some coordination tests proved to be more challenging.

One hand up, left foot down, right hand up, and then switch to the other hand with the opposite foot up. Your brain struggled to process so many instructions at once. Gradually, you began to feel overwhelmed.

- Okay, Y/N, take a break while we assess the initial data you provided - Bruce said, and your breathing returned to normal at his instruction.

Wanda, who was in the room with Bruce, listened to what the doctor was telling her.

- She clearly has coordination issues, but that's normal in patients who have experienced head trauma. With more sessions, she'll return to normal. She walks well, hears and sees correctly, and has no problem recognizing shapes, colors, sounds, or scents. Physical coordination therapy is the only thing left, of course, besides her memory problem. But apart from that, and speaking solely about her physical health, everything is fine, Wanda - Bruce explained.

Wanda smiled - Thank you very much, Bruce. It's great to hear that.

Bruce smiled slightly before speaking again - Now I need to take her to the control room to continue the research on her. You know that Strange will be there, and you can't…

- I know - Wanda interrupted him - Just let me say goodbye to her, and I'll let you take her with you. But before that… Do you know what kind of tests they'll be conducting on her today? - she asked.

- I actually don't know - Bruce said - Perhaps some recognition tests, but I'm not sure what Strange will request.

Wanda nodded and left the room. When you saw her enter the room, you smiled.

- How do you feel? - she asked - You did a great job, Y/N. Bruce says you're completely healthy.

- I'm fine, I guess - you let out a frustrated sigh - It's just the coordination that bothers me. I can't seem to do the tests well, and… aggh, I can't believe I can't do it.

- Hey, it's all right, sweetheart. You did a great job, some things will be more challenging, but that's why you're here, and I'm not going anywhere. I'll be with you every step of the way… - She gave you a gentle kiss on the forehead to calm you - Now, you have to go do more tests with Bruce and the rest of the team, and of course, Strange. But as soon as you're done, and I can see you, we'll go have lunch, okay?

You nodded and said your goodbyes to her. Minutes later, you were in the same control room as the day before, with everyone present except for Strange.

- Today, we'll show you some images we've selected. They are photographs of everyday objects and places. You just have to tell us the first thing that comes to your mind when you see them - Steve explained.

- If you don't have an answer right away, you can take your time. There's no rush to give a quick response - Nat added - After this, we'll see if Strange shows up for more tests, but if he doesn't, that'll be it for today until he comes with more answers about what might be happening to you.

They placed the same cap with wires on your head as yesterday, and the photos began to appear in front of you.

The first photo showed a house. It looked like it was from an animated movie but was very cute and simple - Story - you responded.

The next one showed a city; it was daytime, and there were hundreds of buildings - New York - you replied.

The next one was a couple hugging. Your response was quick and obvious - Wanda - you said promptly.

Several more photos followed, and your responses were either obvious or literal descriptions of the images displayed. In the control room, they tried to encourage you to think more about your answers, but your brain seemed unable to connect anything to something or someone specific.

After a few more attempts without accurate responses, they told you they would stop for a few minutes to discuss your answers.

- There's nothing, we have nothing - Tony said - It seems like the only thing familiar to her is Wanda. It doesn't make sense; this girl must have had a life before meeting Wanda… I don't understand.

- My colleagues at nearby universities responded this morning - Bruce spoke up - No one has anyone named Y/N Y/LN on their roster. If Wanda met this girl, it must have been at a somewhat distant university, which also doesn't make sense…

Everyone fell silent for a few moments.

- Did Strange say if he was coming? - Steve asked.

- No, he said he would visit someone who might help and that he wouldn't be coming - Nat replied - If we're not going to do more tests, we should let Y/N go.

- Let me try one more thing - Bruce requested - If this doesn't work, we'll let her go for today.

Everyone agreed, and Bruce spoke to you through the microphone.

- Y/N, Wanda told us that you used to work in the physics department of a university. Can you tell me if you remember anything about your old job? - Bruce asked.

- I can't remember anything about it - you said honestly - Maybe Wanda…

- No, Wanda can't help us for now. Maybe you can remember something on your own… Think about the words 'physics,' 'job,' 'university.' What do they sound like to you? - Bruce prompted.

You took your time to think. - 'Physics' sounds like science - you replied - 'Job'… is money, and also… happy? - You pondered the last word a bit more. You closed your eyes and imagined a university - University is a building; it's brick-colored and has two towers, and there's an emblem - You continued to imagine - In my mind, it's a lion with a torch - you laughed at your response - The colors are yellow and brown, and it's very cold.

Everyone was deep in thought. Perhaps you needed to use your imagination more instead of relying on preconceived images.

- What else is there at that university, Y/N? - Bruce encouraged you to continue describing.

You continued to imagine - There are many trees, there are laboratories, and… one has my name - in your mind, there were many people, but you couldn't put names to the faces - There are many students, and my lab always smells like coffee. There's also a library and a large auditorium - You saw it in the first person, as if you were living it yourself - I have a colleague, with brown hair.

Suddenly, a voice, your own voice, resonates in your head: "Matt," you say, laughing.

Your head hurts, the readings of your brain activity spike and become confusing, and you feel the need to remove the cables from your skull. In the control room, Nat rushes to help you and asks Friday to call Wanda immediately.

But you can't stop thinking about what your voice said, and you say it out loud - Matt… my colleague's name is Matt, I remember - Everyone is left stunned and not knowing what to say; they had definitely made progress.

The silence is almost immediately broken when Wanda enters through the door and approaches you.

- What happened? - she asked, concerned - Are you okay, sweetheart? - She took your face in her hands, and you nodded as you hugged her. But she didn't calm down and turned towards the camera, knowing it was watching from the control room - Enough is enough, it's over for today. I won't allow you to hurt her - she said angrily before taking your hand and leading you out of the control room.

Once in your room, Wanda gives you the pills that the doctor prescribed for your headaches and prepares you some tea.

- What happened in there, honey? - she asked - Why did they hurt you?

You shook your head and explained - No, they were conducting a test, but something different happened this time - Your voice sounded excited - I remembered something, Wanda. I remembered the university where I used to work, and I remembered someone… maybe you knew him. His name is Matt.

Wanda came to a sudden stop for a few seconds. This shouldn't be happening. You weren't supposed to remember…

- No - she finally spoke - I don't know him, but you mentioned him once. Maybe he worked with you, but I never met him personally.

You wanted to continue talking about the topic, but Wanda interrupted, saying she had bought food for both of you, and you headed to the dining area. You noticed a change in Wanda; she seemed more serious, but you interpreted it as her concern over your crisis during the test.

Meanwhile, in the control room, the rest of the team was discussing what had happened minutes earlier.

- There's no university with that logo, at least not in the United States. We'd have to investigate in other countries, but then Wanda's story about how they met wouldn't make sense - Bruce said - The only good thing we got out of it was the name. If we find the university with a lion and torch logo and ask about Matt from the physics department, we'll get more answers.

- All right, Avengers, we have work to do - Clint said, getting up - I'll try to talk to Wanda to get more information, and I'll let you know right away. In the meantime, try to contact Strange to find out where the hell he is.

The archer left the room, and the others followed suit. They had an extensive search to conduct, and they knew it wouldn't be easy.

Clint arrived in the dining area and found you washing a glass at the sink, but there was no sign of Wanda.

- Hey, where's Wanda? I thought she'd be with you - he asked.

- Oh, she was here, but she had to leave in a hurry. She didn't tell me where she was going, but she left quickly. She said we'd see each other later - you explained.

Clint furrowed his brow. Wanda used to disappear from time to time, but he didn't think she would continue to do so with you in the compound.

But he didn't have much time to think because a loud voice echoed throughout the place.

- Heyyy! Where is everyone? This place looks like a graveyard - Thor's cheerful voice announced his arrival after being away in space for months.

The other Avengers arrived at the scene. No one anticipated that Thor didn't know who you were, let alone that you didn't know the people there had powers.

But that changed in a matter of minutes because after a few quick greetings, the god of thunder noticed that he wasn't carrying his precious hammer with him. However, there was no major issue because he simply raised his arm, and Mjölnir came to him.

That's when you let out a scream of surprise, and the others in the room reacted. Your face reflected astonishment, doubt, and even fear. A thousand thoughts raced through your mind at that moment, but you couldn't articulate a coherent response.

- What? What the hell was that? … It looked like… how did he… and the hammer… -You wanted to ask a thousand questions, but you couldn't form a single coherent sentence.

- Y/N, calm down. We'll explain, but we need you to calm down - Natasha told you, directing you to a chair - Take a seat and breathe.

Thor, confused, addressed you - Hey, are you new here? I am Thor, the God of Thunder - he introduced himself friendly while making his eyes glow to give you a small demonstration of his powers. However, that only made you scream.

The others scolded Thor and helped you calm down. It would be a long night trying to explain to you that most of the people there had powers, including your girlfriend.

-----------------

Wanda arrived at the cabin in the middle of the forest, making sure no one had followed her. But her powers told her that something was amiss. Before knocking on the door, she used her powers to see what was happening inside. She closed her eyes and could see that Strange was there. Quickly, she cast an enchantment to go unnoticed and hid among the trees, waiting for the sorcerer to come out.

After a few minutes, Strange came out and opened a portal in front of the cabin. The woman behind him looked exhausted but had a determined look in her eyes, clearly at odds with the man.

- This won't be the last time you hear from me, witch. What you and Wanda are doing is wrong. I don't care if you enjoy dabbling in dark magic in your free time, but Y/N is innocent, and I will do everything in my power to send her home, even if it means breaking the rules of my own magic - Strange declared with determination, then disappearing through the portal after that.

Wanda's eyes turned red with anger as she heard his statements. No one would ever separate you from her, not even Strange.

The woman turned towards where Wanda was hiding and said, - You can come out now. We need to talk, Wanda.

Wanda dispelled the spell on her to allow the witch in front of her to see her.

- We have a problem, Agatha. She's remembering… that's not supposed to happen - Wanda spoke to her mentor as they entered the cabin. - Also, why was Strange here? What did he want?

- He suspects, Wanda. We're running out of time before he figures it out and takes your beloved - Agatha told her. - We need to act immediately if you want to keep her... In the meantime, I'll give you a spell to continue blocking her memories... after all, she told you she wanted to be with you...

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Taglist: @alwaysgoodnight // @simp-erformarvelwomen // @pyrorazor7 // @jadechasesworld // @justarandomhumanhere // @wandaromamoff69 // @fabgronsky // @originallovementality // @gay-fandom-menace // @lonewalker17 // @reggierizzoli // @chansuung // @agathaharkness-simp // @mrscromanoff // @helladumbsstuff // @wandsmxmff // @itsmekalou // @lightsoutnow-blog1 // @just-trying-to-enjoy-my-life // @trikruismybitch // @honeyurfamiliar // @cd-4848 // @la-vie-en-astrology // @jlr22universe

[the-six-that-thrive-if]

PLANS FOR 2024!!

IT IS A BRAND NEW YEAR!! WITH SO MUCH TO DO!!

In truth, I'm unsure of what I want to do for 2024. I'm not a good plan in advance and far more of a "this'll be fun to do" type of person. Especially when it comes to writing. So I am going to share what I want to do in the moment and my current feelings.

One Thing: I hate The Six That Thrive.

That is the ultimate looming threat, I'm facing, and want to put this out there, not because I'm going to scrape TSTT. I simply want to make it better. Working on other IFs has just made me realize how much I could add especially seeing that TSTT is my first ever IF, and if you were there when I first began, it was an utter mess.

Chapter Six has been in production, but I cannot work on it with a clear conscience, knowing how much I hate the previous chapters, and if I cannot somewhat like the old, I can't move forward. So as of right now, I think I am going to go on hiatus.

So now, you might ask. "What about the Patreon?" The Patreon is a mix of those who want TSTT content and mainly that, while others are down for supporting me in general. I am still going to be posting TSTT content. Sharing fics, drabbles, backstories. I may as well drop new and improved chapters.

So, what will I do in the meantime? As ridiculous as I am, I'm going to be posting new demos for unreleased IFs. Mainly to have the option to jump around and not feel guilty for it. I've realized that I've been sorta holding myself back from doing the things I enjoy in fear of what others felt and thought as well with overworking myself. But I am coming to realize what is best for me as a writer and it's the ability to write when and wherever. So I've planned to move forward without feeling guilt.

Things I've been facing and fear for the future. The amount of access everyone has to me. As in a sense online and how easy it is to reach out to me. For one, I'm not upset or bothered by those reaching out and haven't received harassment or hate. But there are subtle demands from strangers that I have noticed and simply expect me to do, because I want to be super inclusive. Which is a huge difference from suggestions and asking kindly. They just demand it, and I'm still learning to regulate it.

With School. Right now, I'm fantastic at balancing school and work, simply because most of the chapters I've wrote and write happen in a large chunk so that's not something I'm worried about. I also don't got a job so there's that.

ON MORE POSITIVE NOTES:

—The Dragon's birthday past. Jan 1st. Now when they get a little drabble, idfk.

The One Year Anniversary of TSTT is a day before my birthday so that's also exciting!

I turn 19 next month!! (Which I feel a lot of people are unaware of.)

More IFs! More genres! I have a pretty much horror track record, that's definitely ain't gonna change, but with my future IF that I plan to share hopefully by the end of this month, I'm EXCITED.

FINAL NOTES:

I truly don't know what I have in store for 2024! But I do want to make the best of it. As always, I want to thank you for your neverending support and patience and I'm excited to share this year with you all!! Please do not worry about my mental or physical health, I swear, that I am an 100 out of 10.

[plagiarised-passion]

On Dazai and The Flags

Each one of the flags has at least one prominent behaviour or trait that is reminiscent of Dazai

In Pianoman's case it's both his disregard of authority (specifically of Mori) and flippant attitude towards death. Pianoman and Dazai are shown to not care about the orders of Mori, despite his high status, Dazai actively teases and ridicules Mori, and Pianoman is stated to ignore Mori's demands when it comes to his jobs, as well as deliberately going behind his back to give Chuuya more information about his past. Additionally, Dazai and Pianoman both kill with ease (with a few more mental breakdowns on Dazai's part) and seem to have a light-hearted attitude towards the death of others.

For Albatross it's his method of connecting with Chuuya, e.g. being a little shit. Similarly to how Dazai teases and makes fun of Chuuya, Albatross does the same thing. They both get on Chuuya's nerves purposefully, joking with him in order to form a repertoire, a back and forth of Albatross/Dazai teasing Chuuya and Chuuya going grr grgr >:(( but not actually being angry. Dazai and Albatross also find excuses to be around or in contact with Chuuya and tend to get physically closer to him than others.

Doc and Dazai both use unnerving facts to put up a front. Dazai discusses disturbing suicide methods out loud, and says unsettling things, in particular with his jokes about suicide and death, which carries similarities to how Doc casually discusses methods he uses to kill people, or seems to delight in gruesome ways to injure others, such as remarking on how he couldn't wait to slit Adam's stomach open. They also threaten Chuuya in joking ways, although he shows no fear at their threats.

With Lippmann it's the fact that he and Dazai are both proficient actors, whilst it is Lippmann's job, acting is so deeply ingrained into what he does that it seeps into the way he behaved towards others, such as how he is deliberately soft and caring towards Chuuya despite being a mafioso. Similarly, Dazai is always putting on an act, although his is more to mask the fact that he struggles with emotions and empathy, making him appear cold and calculating, he acts childishly, like a court jester. Referring to No Longer Human, Yozo specifically does this behaviour to "allow the humans to endure his presence", which may be similar for Dazai.

Iceman and Dazai show one very specific behaviour, and it's that both he and Dazai are observed giving Chuuya space, from the assumption that their presence infuriates him. Iceman remarks this during the party they throw for Chuuya, saying he hadn't wanted it to happen or for him to be present as he makes Chuuya angry. This scene is incredibly similar to how Dazai retreats after telling Chuuya is he activates corruption that his memories will be wiped. After telling Chuuya that, Dazai offers to come up with another plan that won't involve corruption, and then says he will leave Chuuya to think as "his presence will only distract him".