#also sorry if this chapter sucks

[umblrspectrum]

do you ever like wanna make something cool but you dont know how so you just sit around like a moron for 5 hours straight pretending you know how

me neither

on a more serious note i know ad astra as a whole isnt over but i still want to thank daybreaker for their fics. what friends are for was the very first md fic i ever stumbled upon when trying out ao3 for the first time, and prior to joining the server i was checking it near daily for uploads. god knows if i'd be as deep in ao3 as i am now if it werent for this story and convenient timing. Thanks for the story.

[mapoeggplant]

skip to loafer chapter 64 analysis // spoiler

the desire to be loved that distances her more and more from people: we are finally starting to understand a little more about yasaka's past.

unlike what I thought, the first spark that gave shape to the kyoto arc didn't come from shima or the girl groups, but from one of the most enigmatic characters in skip to loafer: yasaka.

we always knew very little about her and how her story unfolded. all we had was the understanding that she was a very lonely person with a complicated family situation and someone who sought people's love. and now, together with mitsumi, we are starting to understand more about where she was going with when she said that mitsumi had always been too loved to not care about what others thought.

yasaka clearly has a great desire to be loved, but she doesn't know exactly how to make people create stronger bonds with her. she believes that by being a person who is liked and desired by everyone and making these people feel good, she will get everything she wants — and this illusion may have been the result of a troubled relationship with her father, something that I believe is possible due to the small flashback she provides us.

she wants to be loved, she wants people to look at her with affection and not disapproval. being loved, pampered, praised is the way she understands love, something probably the result of a strict upbringing, where demanding anything more would result in a disappointed look. to escape this, yasaka always acts like a good girl, who gives double meaning answers and only says what others want to hear. the superficiality of the love she receives is enough to soften her ego and feed her well-being and the superficiality of the love she gives is enough to protect her from getting hurt.

but of course all of this is just a time bomb that is very close to exploding. yasaka puts on this persona of someone who does not want to be completely understood, but is unable to separate her frustration from the desire to form more meaningful relationships. she is not only shielding herself from people forming more mature relationships with her, but also doing her best to maintain superficiality so that her mask doesn't fall. another thing that solidifies this for me is the central page of yasaka surrounded by “affection” and gifts, showing exactly the loss of her childhood and the desire she still carries within her.

and what I like most about all of this is how mitsumi, someone completely opposite to her and who barely knows her, tries at all costs to cross this barrier that yasaka places between her and the world. by not allowing her to leave and insisting that she stay with the group, mitsumi is basically confirming to yasaka that it's okay for her to have her flaws and receive disapproving looks: her presence is still required and she is still a person who complements the group as a whole.

I really like how sensei is always willing to put two completely opposite characters so that they can externalize their flaws and fight against their barriers — and the relationship between mitsumi and yasaka is exactly another great example of this. on one side we have mitsumi, who grew up surrounded by love and affection, that’s why she’s so sure of herself and doesn’t need to seek validation on others. on the other, we have yasaka who craves affection so much to the point that she will drown herself in any small glass of it.

another thing i want to point out about this chapter is how being in love can blind you for flaws of the one you admire so much. when ujiie realized that yasaka isn’t the perfect girl he always saw, the first instinct he had was to deny it: of course his goddess wouldn’t have a flaw!! she’s 100% that girl he idolizes and loves so much. but what if this was all something he made up inside his mind?? how will ujiie deal with this heartbreaking of a confession?

another month blessed with another gorgeous chapter. sensei keeps surprising me more and more and can’t wait to see what she’s keeping as a secret from us. thank you so much for reading 💛!!

[sugarpasteltmnt]

sometimes. part of the creative process is needing to admit that the chapter you've been working on for weeks is just not going to work out, and you should start from scratch again

[wikiangela]

wip wednesday

tagged by @diazsdimples @tizniz @daffi-990 @bidisasterbuckdiaz @fortheloveofbuddie @hoodie-buck 💖💖

i wasn't gonna post today but I'm currently writing another one of Buck and Taylor's arguments and I'm having so much fun lol (there's gonna be only one more conversation between them after this haha) I keep having new ideas for the in-between of what I had planned, and I hope all of this turns out coherent, I'm probably gonna have to do so much editing lol I'm so determined to post it this month and I'm actually inspired!

prev snippet

___

“I don’t know what to tell you.” he sighs, averting his gaze, as he’s trying to think about anything to say, but his mind is blank. 

“How about the truth? I really just want to know what the hell is going on with you. Because this-” she throws her hands out, vaguely gesturing around. “This isn’t a life together, and I don’t know how many more times we can have this exact same conversation.”

“Taylor…” he starts, hoping more words would come. “I’m sor-”

“Is there someone else?” she blurts out, angry tears welling in her eyes. He feels his own eyes widen in surprise, and his cheeks burn.

“What?”

“I mean, are you seeing someone else?” she doubles down, her tone a little shaky, but still determined. Suddenly, he feels his heart in his throat, and he has to make a conscious effort to breathe. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

___

no pressure tags: @elvensorceress @gaydiaz @thebravebitch @shortsighted-owl @eddiebabygirldiaz @watchyourbuck @eowon @loserdiaz @evanbegins @ladydorian05 @wildlife4life @diazpatcher @lover-of-mine @monsterrae1 @thewolvesof1998 @puppyboybuckley @weewootruck @loveyouanyway @spagheddiediaz @rainbow-nerdss @epicbuddieficrecs @pirrusstuff @spotsandsocks @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @nmcggg @rogerzsteven @hippolotamus @giddyupbuck @sunshinediaz @honestlydarkprincess @underwater-ninja-13 @exhuastedpigeon @911-on-abc @jesuisici33 @steadfastsaturnsrings @theotherbuckley @buddieswhvre @dangerpronebuddie

[sophiethewitch1]

I just finished catching up to what we want

And like

That scene with Dick finding reader

(Them? Us?) In his room Absolutely

mortifying idk how she felt comfortable

enough to ask him for help after that.

I am curious to see what he thinks of it

all though 👀

She still called him through a mix of desperation, still there idol worship, general erratic unpredictable behaviour, and a subconscious wariness towards Tim who was really the only other option lmao. Also Dick immediately assumes this is all a very strange trauma response which like... He's right. That is what it is.

[volfoss]

i think honestly what irritates me about yoshidas work SO much is that people will tell you that banana fish is THE gay manga (ignoring the many things that came before it and were more groundbreaking, ie MW literally having on screen (or like. on panel but still.) gay sex in it and that came out like a decade before BF did) when there really isn't barely any gay rep outside of the pedophiles and the one time ash drops the f slur. like im sorry but somehow yasha, a work she wrote in 1996, has more gay rep in it but also has the same issues.

i truly do not get how people can enjoy banana fish with the rampant racism every 2 pages or the rampant sexual assault plotlines (on women and ash bc he is just... written like how yoshida writes women lmao) that are handled IMPOSSIBLY bad and sincerely i hoped yasha would be better because it had been like a decade or so between works. and then it proceeds to continue with the heres our blonde genius protagonist who everyone is weird as fuck to and will sexually harrass and everyone finds it a VERY funny joke to point out how feminine he is when theres barely any women in the work (if you exclude the ones that are being raped/killed/creepy to minors. which to be fair yasha has toned down the sa a LOT) and that its funny that hes kind of gay except not really!! and its just absurd to me how it just persists in all of her stuff because she is not an author that handles gay stuff well. like the scene in banana fish where ash is completely ok getting gang raped and did it solely to get into the hospital when its been SHOWN that he has a lot of trauma with that. and then right after his friend makes a joke at ash's expense about that. like sincerely and genuinely is this what we are hyping up as the old retro gay manga. go read some tezuka and stop reading shit that the most the main characters do is share a kiss in a nonromantic sense and is obsessed w making every gay person be evil!!

[whumble-beeee]

The Waiting Game

The (Un)Official Guide to Hero-Keeping | Cont'd from Part 3

Contains: disabled whumpee, trans whumpee, PTSD, past captivity references, needles mention, tied up/retstraints, blood, collar

* * * * * * * *

[As the warden of your captured hero, you are responsible for their health, for better or for worse. So it is generally advised that you should make a habit of tracking what injuries you cause on or in the hero’s body. Write it all down in a journal!

Another reliable approach is to examine them physically. This approach is best used if you think the hero is lying or trying to hide a physical ailment they so stupidly caused to themself while you were away. There will usually be resistance from the hero to such an approach, so you may have to restrain the hero to use this method. This also comes with the drawback that only external ailments can be detected, so you will likely have to also pick up on cues in the way the hero acts to detect more invisible sicknesses; Are they dizzy, lurching around, or exhibiting other signs of illness? Then they might just be ill! But be wary of faking! How stupid they’ll feel when you don’t fall for it because you’ve read The Unofficial Guide to Hero-keeping! (for more information, turn to ‘Identifying Faked Behaviors’ on pg. XX)]

* * * * * * * *

Stan felt like he was dying. 

The way his arms wrenched behind his back had him constantly readjusting just to find even a semi-comfortable way to lie on the hard flooring. Every time he readjusted, the horrible aches and pains marring his body lit up as if it were the first time all over again, continually reawakening him with an infuriatingly small shot of adrenaline that only served to make him just conscious enough to feel the buzzing agony anew. He wove in and out of consciousness like a speedboat hurtled over the waves of choppy storming seas.

Genuinely a waking nightmare.

A bitter feeling at the top of his mouth stung lightly, clouding his mind, pulling him away from the terror, the torture, pulling him closer to an uneasy unconsciousness before the ever-present danger of the situation stormed back to the front of his mind and jolted him back awake.  Because yeah, the mercenary was still here in the room, sitting in his stupid chair and scrolling on his stupid phone. At least when he wasn’t standing up every so often to bounce around the room like a bouncy ball, or restlessly spin around in circles like a toddler or quietly seethe in a sort of Spanglish about “¿por qué tardan tonto?” and “God, are they fucking with me?” and “Ughhhhh, I’m bored.”

The intermittent movement only served to constantly remind Stan of his place on the floor, tied up, beat up, ankle chained, dizzy, collared, and without his cane.

Oh, and the collar. It sat heavily on his throat, restricting any and all use of his powers. Making the possibility of fighting back stretch ever farther away. 

He swallowed. Pushed the thoughts away. He tried not to think about it too much. The memories returned in the form of twisting waking nightmares if he thought about it too much. He did his best to just focus on the good things instead;

The fact that Chloe, his amazing little sister, didn’t seem to be involved in any of this. And if he ever found out she was, he would burn this entire place to the ground. He’d done it before for her, and he’d do it again. For her.

The fact that when (not if) he got out of this situation, he still had his fiance, Marcus, to go back home to. And in fact, Marcus was probably planning a rescue mission right this second, and when he saved Stan and put this Deeby guy in prison, they could all go back to normal and Stan could forget any of this had ever even–

“Oye! Chico! Stan, you better not be dying on me!”

Stan flinched out of his half-asleep daze and tried to move his hands out from behind him. His shoulders felt so stiff.

Didn’t work. 

Right. 

Then his eyes focused on the bounty hunter, and a glaring jolt of danger danger danger made him avert his gaze downward. The action made this vision swim, and he swayed. Had he always had a headache this bad?

The bounty hunter snorted at him.

“You givin’ me the silent treatment or something?” He started a slow meander toward Stan. “I was just checking up on you, bud. You stopped twitching and whining and shit, thought you were dead.”

And suddenly Stan found out that, in fact, there was a much more comfortable position for him to take in his bound-up state, that being him scootching back as quickly as possible from the encroaching mercenary until his back hit the wall. 

“I wasn’t–!” Stan did not want to be a part of whatever recreational activities he would come up with to stave off the aforementioned boredom. Especially now that he was so defenseless. “Just–... I just– tired… and hurting. Wasn’t ignoring you.”

He stopped in his tracks and raised an eyebrow. “Okay, I can understand the hurting, considering…” he gestured vaguely to all of Stan. “That. But you’re tired? Really? You’ve been sleeping since you first got here.”

Stan took a deep breath and managed to roll his eyes against his better judgment.

“Getting kidnapped, beat to shit, and tied up so you can barely move really has a way of doing that to you, I guess…”

Stan knew his mistake as soon as he voiced the thought. Then it all but was confirmed when he saw the way the mercenary perked up, that lively glint in his eye, the way his smile widened just slightly. Stan found himself tensing and pressing even further into the wall, as if that would help at all when the mercenary came over to do whatever tortures he saw fit.

Instead, the man quirked his head at him. “When was the last time you ate? You hungry?”

Then he didn’t wait for an answer before rushing to leave the room.

Stan had to take a moment to process.

“I– What?!” he tried to call after the mercenary, already feeling his heart pounding in his chest. The bounty hunter reentered the room again with his hands in his jacket pockets, and Stan couldn't cover up the small whimper that escaped from his throat when Deeby trotted up to him and pulled out that same horrible pocket knife from before. 

“Turn around.” The bounty hunter ordered with a little twirling motion of his blade.

What was happening?

“A-ah– What?! N-no!”

His mouth pressed into a straight line, an agitated huff leaving his nose at the challenge. Though, the shine never left his eyes even when they narrowed.

“I’m gonna undo the cuffs, turn around.”

What?

Stan balked. “Why would–... What’s the knife–!”

The mercenary surged forward and reached for the back of Stan's neck. Stan ducked down with a screech, more out of instinct than anything else as he braced himself for the pulling of the strap around his throat, his breath being stolen away from him as it tightened, constricting his windpipe, cutting off his air supply and inevitably wrenching him around like a ragdoll. 

Only for the pressure to instead pull on the back of his shirt. 

And sure, yeah, he was still wrenched forward so that he splayed out onto his stomach, barely avoiding smacking his face into the ground after a blinding white light filled his vision when he fell hard onto his injured, overworked knee, and a hoarse cry forced from his throat when the bounty hunter's own perfectly working knee dug into his upper back right between the shoulder blades. But Stan could barely even find it in himself to be mad about that over the overwhelming and very confusing relief he felt at not being choked out.

He still squirmed and struggled to get out of the pin, though the struggle was very short-lived as he fell into a forced freeze when the point of the knife rested threateningly on the small of his back. Right above the cuffs.

“Cálmate! Jesuchristo,”  the hunter’s voice sounded from above him. “Sit tight and shut up, I’m doing you a favor.”

His wrists lifted up and the sliding shing and clicks of metal against metal sounded out, the cuffs shifting and clacking against his wrists as Deeby worked. Then one of the cuffs momentarily tightened before clicking open and wrenching off, and before he could even think of struggling again, the knee on his back swiveled around, grinding painful bone into bone as his arms swung above his head and were recuffed there. 

Stan grit his teeth against the various pitiful noises threatening his vocal cords. If he wasn't going to fight back, he at least wasn't going to yelp like a wounded puppy.

Even if the man sitting on his back did make him agonizingly reaware of the beating he took earlier, the punch to the liver, the throws against the wall, the sprint on a knee that barely worked. And newly aware of a few possibly cracked ribs that shot lightning-quick stabs up through his chest and arms.

The manhandling was truly a gift that just kept on giving.

“There, that wasn't so hard, was it runt?” The bounty hunter said smugly as he pinched the back of Stan's shirt and pulled him back upright to his knees, which Stan quickly readjusted to sit crisscross. He had to bite his tongue from another defiant ‘yes’ and possible ‘that's what she said’ joke. 

The mercenary nudged his leg with his boot. “Verbal response, bud.”

Stan pursed his lips as he inspected the cuffs adorning his wrists, noticing for the first time the dark fuzziness that clouded the edges of his vision. “You… you could have just… let me just turn around…”

He squeezed his eyes shut and blinked rapidly, shaking his head to clear the fuzz. Unsuccessfully.

“I gave you two chances. Told you what I was about to do. Plus, you need to learn to just do what I say. We can practice now actually! Eat this!”

A protein bar fell into Stan's lap. He stared at it. 

He hadn't really noticed over the various screeching aches consuming his body which warranted more immediate attention, but a small, almost unbearable void was starting to take the place of his stomach. Maybe that's why he was so lightheaded. He tried not to dwell on how long he must have been here for the hunger to get that bad, and very tentatively picked up the bar to inspect it for… tampering he supposed. Poisoning.

As he turned the bar over in his hand, a small flash of dark red blotching his hand caught his eye; A little smiley face, lightly bloodied and scabbed over carved into the back of his hand. Taunting him with its joy.

He gawked at it, clenching his fist and watching the scab move lightly over the tendons. This must have been what the mercenary had carved into his hand that made him freak out when he'd first woken up. A perversion of everything the symbol was supposed to represent.

A fucking tiny little smiley face.

“It's not poisoned or anything.” 

Stan practically jumped out of his skin as the mercenary appeared right beside him and deafeningly thumped one of the chairs down.

“If I wanted to drug you, I'd just–” he pressed the side of his fist into Stan's flinching arm and made a small popping sound, pantomiming a syringe. “Works a lot quicker than orally. And I can control the dose better.”

Oh. Oh no.

If the mercenary was ever going to drug him– Which there was almost no doubt he would try at some point–

He would use a needle.

“If– If you…” he was breathless, head spinning all of a sudden, vision tunneling on the death grip he held the protein bar in. “If you try to give me a shot, I'm going to– gonna freak ALL the way out. All the way. The entire way.”

He chuckled. “Damn, maybe I should poison your food then, calm down runt. Just sit in your chair and eat the protein bar.”

Stan wrenched his gaze up to the chair. He felt so hot. Was the room always this warm? He did not want to sit back in the chair. What would the bounty hunter do to him if he sat in the chair? What would he do if he didn't? Tie him up again? Torture him? Or maybe the plan was to poison him with the food. Deeby must have known he'd be hungry, he must’ve been here for hours at this point, if not a day. Or days?! He wasn't sure he could take much more of a beatdown, he already felt like he was teetering on the edge of a never-ending spiraling hole that he would never be able to escape from if there were any more restraints, more pain, more collars and taking away his powers so he couldn't defend himself even though he tried, more nonchalant bantering as if his entire life wasn't being torn apart at the seams, as if he weren’t in chains on the floor of some unknown warehouse with a collar forced onto him again with absolutely no chance of escape and no chance he would ever see any of his family ever again, no way to protect Chloe from the same fate, no–

“--Chico! STAN!!”

Two thunderous finger snaps shot through his consciousness. Stan screeched and tried to slam his elbows back, straining against the cuffs and shoving back into the wall as hard as he could, breath shuddering, feet skidding across the floor, eyes darting around trying to see through the pinhole that his vision provided for the source of the noise as the world spun on its axis around him.

Then his vision locked on the source of the noise, darkness slowly receding back to the edges of his vision. The source of the noise stared at him with a probing look on his face. Stan shrank even further into himself, if that was possible. He had curled up into a little ball at some point.

“Let go of the collar,” the hunter said, voice scarily even.

Stan felt his heart skip a beat as he realized that he was indeed white-knuckling the collar. He pried his hands off of his neck as his heart pounded in his ears, only barely drowning out the deafening sound of his own gasping breaths

“Wait wait, I didn't–!...” The mercenary stalked toward him, and suddenly he felt like a trapped animal again, collar and chains and all. “Please, I– I'm sorry! I didn't mean to, I wasn't trying– trying– I wasn’t–!”

The hunter squatted down right in front of him and sharply held up a finger, and Stan slapped his hands over his mouth to stop any more words from tumbling out at the command.

“Follow my finger with your eyes, yeah?”

Stan jerkily nodded. Tears burned his eyelids and wet his hands.

Deeby moved his hand around and around in front of Stan's face. Stan did his best to follow it. The motion made Stan's head spin, as well as the piercing red gaze of the mercenary staring into his pupils that he did his best to ignore. 

“Oof, yeah,” Deeby said finally, resting his arm back down on his knee. “Concussion.”

Stan finally removed his hands from his mouth just enough to squeak out a response. “Concussion?”

“Concussion. You're off balance even though you're literally sitting down, staring into space, spacing out. Not making eye contact. Swaying. Plus your pupils are all blown up and you can't track for shit,” the mercenary laughed. “Maybe tossed you around a bit too hard back there. But hey, I told you what would happen if you tried to escape. That's on you, bud.”

Stan’s breath hitched on a light growl bubbling up in his throat. So it was his fault that he was beaten so badly that his brain literally rattled around his head? His fault that he was having a very understandable breakdown?

He wiped at the tear tracks running down his cheeks and around his eyes. Snorted, tried to get his chronically hitching breath back to normal. He couldn’t even remember what normal breathing felt like. The metal of the cuffs was surprisingly warm as they accidentally scratched at his face. 

“So… What're, uh…” he whispered breathily. “What’re we gonna– gonna do about it?”

“The concussion?”

Stan nodded.

“Nothing to be done really. Just don't try anything stupid and you won't get tossed around again, I guess. But you can’t really treat a concussion.”

Stan clonked his head back against the wall with an exasperated whine. The mercenary just gave an amused shrug in return with an almost empathetic smile. “Maybe don’t do that though. Want some painkillers?”

“No,” Stan growled at the air. His vocal cords sounded strained and whiny from the crying, and he cleared his throat to get his voice back to normal.  “I want you to let me go–” 

Deeby scoffed, but Stan reinterrupted the interruption before he could start with another quip. “– OR failing that, I want you to leave me the-the hell alone!”

“Hm. Yeah, no. I'm bored. I’ve left you alone for the past day, and I think you're supposed to stay awake for a bit if you have a concussion anyway. So you're not going back to twitching on the floor for the time being. And I’ll assume you’ll get snarky if I say I wanna do something more physical…”

The mercenary stood up and went to go grab his chair, setting it down just a few feet away from Stan before patting the seat of the chair that he’d set down earlier, the one Stan had previously been tied to, flashing a smile that Stan could have almost mistaken as friendly with all the brain fog.

“So sit down, eat your protein bar. Let’s just have a chat.”

* * * * * * * *

Next

Taglist: @flowersarefreetherapy

[brutal-nemesis]

E&T: Caught in the Clutches of Lust

No im not sorry for any of this. cope and seethe

Btw I used a line from @painsandconfusion and @wormwriting's degradation starter list that I saved THREE YEARS AGO for this very moment. I am always playing the long game (⊙ˍ⊙)

←Previous - Masterlist

Ingredients: VERY creepy/intimate whumper, implied threat of noncon, a lot of noncon touching (unsexy but right on the edge), implied noncon kiss, unsexy nudity

Shiori?

No, it couldn’t be, she was a world away, she was human, he’d left her waiting by the fountain after the party and she’d moved on and forgotten about him, no reason to follow him here, into the depths of hell, looking exactly like she had the night of the party, jarringly out of place in her pretty dress, smiling at him like he wasn’t a blood-covered, unrecognizable version of himself.

And then he blinked, and all of a sudden it wasn’t Shiori at all, but Lythia, wearing the same yellow bandana that she always did while she was working in the palace gardens, the little black braids of her hair just as beautiful as he remembered. There was no pity in her dark eyes, like there had been the last time he saw her, looking up at him from the crowd while he was chained to that pillar, promising he’d be rescued after it was already too late. Actually seeing her hurt, and Erebus looked away for a moment, just a moment…

When he saw the woman in front of him now, his jaw dropped, eyes widening, his tense, burning hands finally relaxing.

“Come on, let’s get you somewhere safe.”

Her voice was just as he remembered, and she was smiling at him so kindly, her eyes soft, her gloved hand outstretched, she was here to save him, she’d found a way to bring him back, he was too tired and scared and stressed to do anything else besides surrender control to her once again, to take her small hand and follow her blindly towards the fate she’d chosen for him. She was squeezing his still-healing hand tightly in hers, but she could do whatever she wanted with him just as long as she got him out of this place.

“Well, that was easy.”

The voice wasn’t Shiori’s, or Lythia’s, and it certainly wasn’t Neteri’s.

Erebus jumped back, finally seeing the person next to him clearly for the first time. She-they?-smirked at him, bright purple eyes sparkling. Their white hair was long and wavy, partially braided back with impeccable precision. Gold jewelry and a low-cut black dress accentuated their natural beauty, seeming very out of place in this hellish world. Most striking of all, though, was their bright red skin, a shade that was very familiar to Erebus.

This was a lust demon, and she’d lead him right into her lair.

“You-how did-I-”

They laughed, deep and bright, obviously amused by his shock and confusion. “You only saw what your heart wanted you to see, darling. It’s not my fault you turned into a meek little lamb and followed me here.”

Erebus’s face grew hot. “Well I-I…” his wings sank behind him. He’d thought he was about to be saved. Like an idiot. She’d led him away from the bubbling pools and acrid air into a sort of cave, a furnished one at that. But now he was cornered in here, at a disadvantage in the cramped space. He swallowed and changed the topic, hand resting on the pommel of his sword. “Who are you and what do you want with me?”

“Apologies.” She bowed slightly, the sort of bow people gave when they were pretending to show respect during negotiations, but then declared war a few weeks later. “My name is Asmodeum, and really,” they gave him a disapproving look, “I’d rather not fight with you. I heard you’ve defeated Somiaken and Vorath already, but I believe you and I could work something out without coming to blows.” They held their hands up briefly, but the way they watched him made it clear that their guard was still up. “So, tell me your name, now. Unless you’d prefer I just call you darling?”

Erebus very much did not want that, so he complied. “Erebus. But you didn’t really answer my question. What do you want, if not to fight me?”

Asmodeum sighed wistfully. “Well, I can tell that you’re the sort of person who’ll never agree to what I really want, but I believe something can be arranged. You see, I’ve been stuck here for Akumo knows how long with no toys to play with. So, I was thinking-”

“I-I’m not gonna be your toy,” Erebus choked, his throat feeling like it was closing up. 

“Ah, ah, ah.” Asmodeum wagged a finger. “Let me finish, dear. I could have my way with you quite easily, you know. It would be oh so effortless to drag you back into my domain proper and throw you into a pool of boiling water or lava and watch the show. However, I think your forced cooperation would make this a little more fun, and it would be nice if you behaved for me. So, if you let me do what I want with you, barring the most intimate acts, I’ll let you kill me once I’ve had my fill.”

“What happens if I don’t say yes?”

Asmodeum casually examined their nails. “I will take you by force and I will defile you.”

“D-defile?! You don’t mean…” Erebus quickly glanced down, and Asmodeum smiled wickedly.

“Oh, I do mean. If you let me play with you, I swear I won’t do anything of the sort. Call it an incentive. So come on, Erebus, get rid of your sword.” Erebus just tightened his grip on it, weighing his options. As much as he didn’t want to let this demon…play with him...did he really have any other options? He was exhausted, and there wasn’t much room in here for him to try and put up a proper fight. And more than anything, he really, really didn’t want to risk being...Despite the anxiety building in his chest, Erebus unbuckled the sword belt around his waist, setting it carefully on the ground.

“Fine. But if you so much as touch me there I’ll-I’ll make you regret it.” How would he do that? He wasn’t sure. But he just-he had to make it clear that he wasn’t surrendering. He was just…agreeing to play along. Just to get a break from fighting. He was okay with this. He’d be fine. He'd been through so much worse.

He'd be fine.

“I promise I won’t cross that boundary, don’t you fret.” Asmodeum walked over to him, kicking his sword out of reach as they took his hand. “First things first, you’re absolutely filthy. Let’s get you cleaned up, shall we?”

Erebus pulled his hand out of her grasp. “I mean, I-I can do that myself,” he muttered. Asmodeum raised an eyebrow.

“I’m sure you can, but I want to wash you, dear. And right now,” she grabbed his hand once more, “I get what I want.” They pulled him along into a bathroom, and he followed reluctantly, feeling an odd sense of familiarity in just going along with this sort of thing. Their threat was certainly a motivator, but that didn’t mean he was going to roll over completely on every little thing, right? He had to make it clear that he wasn’t happy with this, despite agreeing to it. She started filling up the bathtub with water, turning to him with a smile. “Let me strip you now.” 

“I-I’d rather-”

“Shhhh.” She placed a finger on his lips, her other hand starting to undo the ties on his shirt. “None of that, dear. I can’t get you all clean if you’re wearing these dirty clothes, now can I?” He looked away as they tugged his shirt off, hoping that they’d-nope, now they were going to try and take off his pants, too.

“You said you weren’t going to-to do that to me.”

“I won’t. But that doesn’t mean you get to keep your clothes on the whole time, you shy little thing. I just won’t touch.” Erebus stifled a whine as she pulled down his pants, and his underwear along with them. “There we go. You can get in now.” He did so, almost jumping into the warm water and crouching down, hugging his knees close and spreading his wings around himself protectively. They gently pushed his wings back, stroking his face as he glared at them with wide eyes. “There’s no use hiding when I’ve already seen everything, silly. I think I’m going to need to get these arms out of the way, hmmm?” They pulled out a pair of manacles, and Erebus’s stomach sank.

“Wait, I won’t resist just-just don’t-”

“Too late for that, Erebus.” She clamped them around his wrists, twisting the chain securely around the faucet. “Besides, you look absolutely darling like that, all helpless. Now, keep those wings out of the way or I’ll pierce them together.” Erebus’s wings sank in defeat, slowly moving back until they were behind him. There wasn’t any winning here, was there? “Good boy.” She grabbed a cup from the countertop and started using it to pour water on him, rinsing away some of the pieces of flesh stuck to his bloodied skin. After she lathered a washcloth with soap, she began to gently clean the dried blood off his face. He screwed his eyes shut, fists clenched as he tried to think about anything else. 

Even back when he was a prince, he’d hated being fussed over, preferring to take care of himself when he could. Asmodeum, however, seemed to have no concept of personal space, or just didn’t care. She had to work hard to get through the blood caked over most of his skin, leaning in close, starting with his face before switching to his hair. Their hands slid in, tenderly working through tangled bloody mats and massaging his scalp. He hated how nice it felt, how much it reminded him of the way Lythia always used to play with his hair, forcing himself to open his eyes and look at Asmodeum, to remind himself who was…

Lythia smiled at him sweetly, and Erebus felt his blood run cold. That wasn’t her, no matter what he saw, no matter how he felt. She wasn’t here. She was back home, probably still tending the palace gardens despite the change in management. Did she still think of him as she looked at all the places they used to laugh? Or could she not get the image of him screaming and sobbing up on that podium out of her mind, unable to remember any other version of him than the one he’d left her with? Maybe that’s what he deserved to be remembered as, since he’d hardly thought of her since that day, the memories too painful. 

Erebus shuddered when Asmodeum moved to his horns, which were always far more sensitive than they had any right to be. She seemed to be able to tell, continuing to stroke them long after they were clean, and as much as he wanted to ask them to stop, he was afraid it would only encourage them. At the very least, the disconnect between Lythia and his horns was enough to push the thoughts of her out of his mind, and Asmodeum changed back to their normal form.

Her hands finally slid lower, caressing his neck, fingers slipping under his collar, making sure the skin underneath was clean, pressing down against his throat every so often as they did so. It wasn't enough to really choke him, but the message was clear.

They moved onto his shoulders, his wings, his arms, his back. He caught their smile as they saw what his right arm really looked like, and her fingers traced his whip scars as they were uncovered. Dread started to pool in his stomach as she moved to his chest, scrubbing away, revealing-

“Oh, well isn’t this pretty.” They marveled at his brand, stroking the lines of the scar, pausing over his rapidly-beathing heart. “Too bad you’re already owned by someone else, huh? But I suppose they’re not here now, are they?” Erebus just bit his lip, refusing to make eye contact. The thought of his…of Neteri not being here hurt, and, try as he might, he couldn’t help but think of her, of the way she’d always protected him. He wondered how angry she’d get if she saw what was happening to him, or if she could feel now that someone besides her was touching him. He could imagine her bursting in, yelling at Asmodeum to get their hands off of him, unchaining him and letting him cover up before pulling him into a hug-wait wait what was he thinking she’d been his captor she’d hurt him and ripped him into pieces and kept him locked up but she'd promised to save him and he missed her.

“What’s wrong, darling? Is even this too much for you?” Asmodeum brushed away a tear he didn’t realize had been falling with her finger, her skin no longer red, but brown. He couldn't look her in the eye. Not while she wore that face. “Such a sensitive little thing.” Hearing those words in that voice was already bad enough. Erebus tugged at his chains, wishing he could rub away those stupid traitorous tears, because he wasn’t crying about Neteri or Asmodeum or any of this. 

Their hands plunged beneath the surface of the blood-clouded water now, and Erebus couldn't stop himself from tensing up as they scrubbed his stomach, glad the parts of him that were previously under clothes weren't as caked in blood as those that weren't. Still, there was enough to clean that she had an excuse for her hands to wander lower still, caressing his hips, his thighs, and now he was trembling, fists clenched, tears dripping even more steadily into the tepid, cloudy water, no one had ever touched him there, at least she was wearing her own face now, but please, please stay away from there, you said you wouldn't touch me there and if you do then why am I here why am I letting you do this why do I keep letting people hurt me if I just stood up for myself more if I wasn't such a coward maybe I'd still be-

"You're rather pathetic, aren't you?" Asmodeum mused as they cradled his face, turning him towards them. Erebus blinked away tears, just now realizing that they'd finished cleaning him, the tub already drained. He couldn't exactly argue, crying and shivering like he was, so he just swallowed and gave the tiniest nod as he pulled himself together, hoping it'd be enough to get them to move on.

With a satisfied smile, she unhooked his wrists from the faucet, but left the manacles on as she pulled him up and out of the tub. He tried to cover himself as best he could as they toweled him off, hoping they’d stop touching him or at least give him clothes soon. Thankfully, they did, handing him a small bundle, and upon unrolling it he found...a pair of shorts that barely reached his knees, and that was all. Once he’d put them on, she dragged him into another room and let go, crossing her arms. “Kneel.” 

“I don’t-” Asmodeum raised an eyebrow, and Erebus stopped himself. They were expecting him to obey their every little whim if he didn’t want to be...he knelt, staring at the floor. She circled him a few times, and he clenched his fists in his lap, hating how much of his body was on display. Not that she hadn’t already seen everything.

“You were just made to kneel, weren't you? Absolutely gorgeous." Erebus's face burned even hotter than before. All he could hope was that they'd be done with him soon, but he'd never specified how long this would go on for when he agreed to it, so this might last…He was such an idiot, why did he just go along with this without any negotiation?

Asmodeum stopped in front of him. "Well, what are you in the mood for, dear? Pain,” her hand slid under his chin, tilting it up, “or pleasure?”

“Please just-anything but-” he choked, and she just laughed.

“Anything, you say? Then, I think...I'm in the mood for this.” They grabbed his collar, yanking him up onto the nearby bed. Before he could even try to sit up they were on him, wrapping themselves around him, worming in between his shackled arms, forcing him to embrace her back. A shudder ran down his spine as her skin came into contact with his, her arms pinning him flush against her body, her legs tangling around his. “Have you ever been this close to someone, darling?” she whispered in his ear, their fingers stroking his hair.

“I-I, um, a few times but-” 

“Aw, and you’re still nervous.” Her hand ran down the back of his head, stopping at his collar. “It’s so cute how you still wear this. I’m sure you could get it off if you tried, so you must like having it on, huh? Do you miss your owner?”

“She’s not-I don’t-I just-it’s…” he screwed his eyes shut, “I can’t take it off, alright?!”

“Such a dutiful little pet-”

“I wasn’t h-her pet!” 

“You’re so adorable when you’re in denial.” They stroked his back, rubbing around the base of his wings. Erebus just opted for staring at the wall, hoping they wouldn't touch his horns. “Do you know how lust demons feed, my dear?”

“By eating…?”

“Well, of course, but not the same way you do. We feed off of humans, more specifically, their bodily fluids.” She smiled widely, showing off her fangs. “And I haven’t had a meal ever since being locked up in here. I normally get my fix a different way, but, to be considerate of you, innocent little boy,” they shifted until their lips were right next to the base of his neck, fingers pushing his collar out of the way, “I’ll settle for feasting on your blood.”

Her fangs sank into his neck, and he couldn’t help but gasp at the sudden pain. He tried to breathe in calmly through gritted teeth as she sucked on the holes in his flesh, drinking his blood. Soon enough, his ears started ringing, and lightheadedness crept in. He gripped the chain between his wrists just too feel something solid, glad that he was lying down, at least. By the time Asmodeum pulled away, licking droplets of blood from their lips, a dizzy haze had settled over Erebus. He closed his eyes, tears leaking out as she snuggled back into him, just hoping that this would all be over soon. In fact, maybe he would just...let the blackness take him...just for a little bit...so he didn’t have to be...awake…

Erebus’s mouth tasted like dried blood when he woke up, and Asmodeum was still wrapped around him tightly. She smiled when their eyes met. “Did you have a good little nap, my darling? I hope you don’t mind, but,” she gripped his chin, her thumb stroking his lips, “I had a little bit of fun with you while you were out of it.” A bit of...wait is that why his mouth tasted like-

“W-you-you can’t d-do that to me I-I don’t-” his voice broke, and he couldn’t breathe all of a sudden, no matter how many fast little breaths he sucked in, just get away, get away from me stop touching me don’t do that to me please please I don’t want that you can’t do that to me you can’t you can’t I never wanted that not from you not from anyone and now now now I-I’m-I’ve been-

He felt something solid press into his hands, and he realized that Asmodeum was standing in front of him, and that was his sword in his hands, he was sitting up now and that was his sword and Asmodeum was smiling they were holding out their arms to him they were ready they were ready they were laughing they were coughing up blood they were on the ground there was so much blood how much of it was his he wasn’t sure he didn’t know they reached up and he backed away he had to get away he couldn’t stay here a second longer she was dead she was dead she was already crumbling away and he had to go he wanted to rip off his own skin he could still feel her touching him where where where were his clothes where was the key to these manacles he had to go he-

Erebus dropped his sword. He fell to his knees. He buried his face in his hands. 

And he screamed.

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@vampiresprite

[thatneoncrisis]

oh captain my captain i didn't know what league of legends game was when i watched arcane. so i thought the plot was alright since i didn't (still don't) know the game lore. if it wasn't basically a prequel story, trying to aim the characters at the way they are in canon, do u think the plot and character arcs would have held up alright? or does that actually make the arcane canon story worse since it wouldn't at least have the existing canon as something it needed to land at eventually as an excuse for any "out of character" decisions? thank u

i wouldnt even call it a prequel story? its like a very elaborate au in a sense, one that feels comfortable changing things to a certain extent- clothes, personality adjustments, motivations, but they still have to hit certain beats. vi has to be an enforcer, jinx has to be a wild card harley quinn type, ekkos time powers ect ect. idk WHAT it is maybe the show needed more time or tighter focus or less characters but i just felt that like, some of the story decisions directly relating to LoL lore werent outright bad but didnt have a lot of time to breathe. the standout example being ekkos time thing, where when i watched that scene i assumed it was both a stylistic representation of a fight and establishing his and jinx's prior relationship (which is kind of too little too late considering they did not fucking speak once as kids pre time skip), and then i had to get a friend to explain to me for SEVERAL MINUTES that he literally died during that fight and it was supposed to be showing his rewind thing. it just wasnt clear at all and his character would not change in the slightest if he didnt have it. but you cant NOT include it so. *

really i have no clue the full extent of the story the writers wanted to tell and how much LoL is binding their hands on story beats. and i REALLY dont want to be inflexible considering i still have a full season coming up that might make me more receptive to certain decisions. but considering how much of the cast i REALLY like just straight up are not in the game, i think they are fully capable of making a solid story completely divorced from league

*someone in the comments told me apparently that Wasnt his time thing and my original read of the scene was correct so im not gonna hold it against the show.

[mars-ipan]

danganronpa is so fucking crazy bc it’s like “hi. this is a game series with a fucking amazing premise. unfortunately the writing sucks and is bad and you will spend half the time going ‘eugh why did they write that’ but you will play the whole thing anyways and get attached to your favorite characters and cry when they inevitably die. also it is filled with romance subplots that will stay in your brain forever” HUH??????

[mitsukikoga-lookbook]

Lookbook (Page 2)

BREAK (CH. 20): Checkered Bucket Hat, White T-shirt, Vest, Black Straight Trousers, Black converse, Double thin necklace, Simple Ring, Signet Ring

BLACK CLAD MUSICIAN (CH. 26): Dark Gray Stringed Hoodie layered under Black Zip Up Collared Jacket, Regular Fit Black Mens Pants, Black Converse, Jeans Chain, Simple rings

[unma]

Saw the Epilogue for Liar Satsuki just now and yeah no, I was coping when I thought it'd make things better. I still can't believe Akira and Satsuki didn't end up together. After EVERYTHING these two have been through together. Komachi is not even slightly as relevant for most of the manga, and you can say what you want about both their abilities tying them together thematically and what not, but frankly the entire manga set it up such that Akira x Satsuki was the obvious choice.

[cheetour]

when I was writing the goblin chapter, I was like, 'This is really a struggle, I can barely get the words out. Is my interest in writing this book dying?', but now having posted the goblin chapter and moved on I am 100% back in the groove I was before it started. it was just the goblins. I wasn't able for Dror Ragzlin

[volfoss]

Genuinely how Hoshie is written in Atom: The Beginning is so infinitely frustrating. She's a character that really barely appears in the original series and had no backstory other than her role as Umatarō's wife and Tobio/Atom's mother, and I was so excited to learn she was in ATB. Or was until I actually read it. In ATB, she's very largely only there to appear a few times as his love interest and has really no reasoning FOR feeling that way nor any character traits outside of that. I'm still before the time skip chapter wise (and have some hope she will get more development after that time skip), but to ME to take a character that is that underdeveloped and you have an opportunity to really add a lot in there and don't? It sucks. It focuses so much more on the other characters that really do not have as much importance in the long run of the series (mostly original characters) and a lot of how the women are handled in ATB can be really rough a lot of the time (Ran as the exception, she's great, but it feels a lot of them are just there to be sexy set pieces. The way that they hyper sexualized Pink's traditional Vietnamese outfit is one of the worse examples of this (as you could write off the "sexy robot girls from Lab 1" thing as criticism of it, but in that case there really isn't much excuse to bring in) and while I'm glad it's not as prominent w Hoshie (because they quite literally draw her as a child and then have her show up later having gone through puberty, so thankfully they didn't get bad with it), it is still so bad. Like why do we have this character that is instrumental to the source material (as he said he based ATB as a sequel to Chronicles of Atom, where she is very important for that one volume and for Atom as a character after he is sold to the circus) and very not developed and all that is done w her is on par with how Naruto tried to develop romantic relationships (girl is in one sided love with the male protagonist and barely appears). You could have done so much, and so much that could have really helped develop the relationship in the future and helped flesh her out as her own characters with her own interests. She had a personality in the original and here, it is just being blushy and fawning over the protagonist and it is genuinely kind of insufferable.

[set-in-stardust]

Grian - veritatem dies aperit

Sources for lyrics in order: Stranded Lullaby - Miracle Musical // Chapel Perilous - Feed Me Jack // Life Worth Missing - Car Seat Headrest // Inside Your Mind - The 1975 All images found on Pinterest and are found at this board here.

Full Fic Playlist HERE!!!!!

[hanzajesthanza]

obsessed that the one time dandelion ever actually felt guilt in his entire life maybe was not for the cheating, not for the cucking, not for the drinking, not for the whoring, not for the cheating (reprise), not for the avoiding paying his tab, not for the petty and minor theft, but he felt bad because he felt like he was not that good of a friend to geralt