#arson tiger

[jordanplsno]

The menace

[rakubalka]

Midora got reincarnated as Skull De Mort

(Seeing as there isn't enough of toriko or midora(s everything ) I'm making an au)

After the events of the manga Midora got reincarnated into the khr world

Midora being an orphan in this life too , as a early teen or preteen(and I cannot express this enough he is very young ) decided to join a circus mainly because it looked interesting enough at the moment and he was in a fancy mood

Then he gets an invite from Chekerface and decides " why not ?" Resulting in him meeting the rest of the Arcobaleno (and him being unimpressed with them) . After the first meeting he started ditching the rest of the meet ups resulting in a growingly bizarre , unique and downright cartoony game of cat and mouse . Consisting of the Arcobaleno trying to catch Midora at last , only to always miss by the skin of their teeth . Even more comical by the fact that Midora will for years to come not know what flames are

That continued until it was time for the ritual at which point Chekerface just teleported him at the time he was needed , binding them all together . With all of it being the same as in canon except Midora rather than as baby/toddler got stuck as a teen(aka as the age he got the curse which is at maximum like 15 but everyone thinks he is 19 at youngest)

The rest of the Arcobaleno were outraged as to why he got to keep his adult form while they are babies even Lal didn't get spared while being the"defective" so why does he get to keep his body ? Verde then put out the theory that he might just have such a monstrous flame amount and/or purity that he is essentially overfeeding the pacifier , after all it will explain why he got chosen as the Cloud of the Arcobaleno despite being a civilian

While they are exchanging theories Midora is escaping the manor because he doesn't give a tomato what is happening , death retired him from world/planet saving bullshit the rest can deal whit it . He has fought God , he's had enough of being alive . Is he overfeeding this thing ? He doesn't know , maybe yes ? Does he give a tomato ? No .

And so he continues following his fancy and going whenever he likes and doing whatever he likes . Creating and destroying(most of the time by accidents) cults , famiglia , families , business, restaurants and etc . One of the more passionate cults even started famiglia or was it the famiglia starting a cult ? Either case they are at the moment both and are calling him their boss . What was their name again ? Car something . In either case they are surprisingly good at finding him . They even found him a pet octopus so that is nice .

Anyway one day while he was on a walk on this cozy little island called Japan he stumbled upon a kid getting bullied and while he might be apathetic towards humanity as a whole he isn't going to let a kid be bullied before him . So he stepped in . After scaring the bullies away the kid(who felt so much like his little Starjun when he was young) introduced himself as Tsuna , tried to give him one of his onigiri as thanks for the help . Midora of course tried to refuse gently as to not hurt the little child who reminds him of his son so much , the kid however like a little amber haired version of Komatsu , succeeded in making him eat (chefs and their charisma) .

And the onigiri was undeniably delicious so Midora asked who has made it , with Tsuna answering his Mama who is the best cook .

While Midora would like to form a combo with her he isn't going to force her into it even if this onigiri was more than he has eaten in quite a while so he will probably continue on his way walking with no end goal . But first before that he is going to escort this kid who reminds him of his own child so much to his home safely .

When he got him home his mother tried and succeeded in getting him to stay for dinner(again chefs and their charisma) . While eating he did learn a lot more of this family of two and he might have grown a little attached .

With him being attached he did stay in town a lot , he is still going on long walks but he always returns to this place that is slowly starting to become a home for him . With little Tsuna who reminds him of his Starjun , of the little chef with big heart Komatsu and sometimes of himself when times were sipmle before he lost the one most precious to him . The one who Nana reminds him of , the one who is always so gentle and patient yet protective in a way only a mother can be like Fronze like his mother . With these memories being here his stay in the little town became long and often . He also became such a frequent visitor of the Sawada household he practically lived with them , with a room for him , a toothbrush for him , plates and mugs for him and more . Odako even got an aquarium in his room .And if he gets to babysit Tsuna while Nana takes time for herself and her hobbies . Well he wants to replay her somehow even if it's not much as Tsuna is such a good child that he is a blessing to babysit , always so curious as to what is everything in the world and asking questions and if Midora doesn't know the answer they both try to find it which is one of Midora's favorite activities with Tsuna .

One day after Nana had won 3 place in a competition she took part in , Midora took her and Tsuna on a celebration in a sushi place he and Tsuna found on one of their walks around the neighborhood a while back . Nana did try to say she would be playing but Midora stopped her by saying that the one for who is the reason for celebrating shouldn't play and that it is his gift for her for getting 3 place . The chef was rather good as well , not as much as Nana , Komatsu , Starjun or Fronze but still good . Not to mention that he and Nana seem to be hitting it pretty good and his kid does get along with Tsuna better than most others , so he excused himself and Tsuna saying he will be watching the kids while those two have that going on . They were red faced after the comment for some reason .

After the dinner and when both Nana and Tsuna were asleep the sushi chef came and asked some really strange questions . It was an interesting night but it did result in Tsuna and Takeshi becoming friends playing almost daily with the exception being if one of them is sick . Nana and Tsuyoshi seem to be getting closer (she even searched how one can get divorced with a consistently missing spouse) , so good for them .

Tsuna and Takeshi also got themselves another friend a little boy whit tonfas who seems to very much like order (the three of them are adorable together , he has half an album already)

Tsuna sat himself on fire accidentally (and with orange one at that) making Midora , Takeshi , Kyoya and Tsuna panic , thankfulaly Tsuyoshi came almost immediately . After Tsuyoshi got them calmer he seated them along with Nana to explain The Seven Colored Flames to them . All of them were surprised other than Kyoya who apparently had his suspicions with his family or at least a "fake baby carnivore" relative of his

After the fiasco Tsuyoshi did ask Nana if she wanted to cut contact with him after he thought Tsuna how to control his flames . Nana refused to cut contact with Tsunayoshi saying that she is already surrounded with flame users other than him such as her son , Midora , Kyoya and even her ex-husband . Her ex-husband who is responsible for why so many years seem to just merge together , why she felt as if she wasn't even awake most of the time , why she felt like a puppet . And she has memories of shortly before what Lemitsu did , she remembers a person asking if Lemitsu is sure he wants her in his state and Lemitsu answered yes without hesitation . And even if spotty she remembers the last time Lemitsu was here with that man before Tsuna started to feel like herself not in control in his own body , before that man put COLDNESS in her child causing Tsuna to constantly feel cold even under dozens of tick blankets . She members it all , and she also remembers how Tsuyoshi immediately started running towards their sons and Kyoya and Midora as soon as he felt flames . How his immediate reaction was to first calm them down and after that immediately get her whit them to explain what is happening and offering to help her . Because while he and Lemitsu both might have been in the mafia they are two very different men .

Shortly after Nana's love confession, she and Tsuyoshi got married . They didn't have a ceremony but did make a little after marriage party consisting of themselves , Midora , Tsuna , Takeshi and little Kyoya . And that was what they wanted . Both she and Tsuna did change their last names to Yamamoto as she was raised in an orphanage so her last name wasn't from her family , and she also wants Tsuna not to look at Lemitsu and think they are the same just because they are both Sawada . Not to mention that his new brother is also a Yamamoto .

And so time passed with the married couple and the three kids (and they don't care what anyone says Kyoya is also one of theirs and his friend Kusakabe is also welcome) . Midora continues to have his long walks around the world but makes sure that his phone(which he got by Tsuyoshi's recommendation in the mafia) always has enough battery life to go for days of talking with his family no matter what . He is without knowing it the kids favorite adult however be it teaching them cooking, Takeshi that knife technique or even teaching them knocking . Almost every time they need an adult advice they go to him first

And tings were peaceful in Nanamori

Until the Sun Arcobaleno showed his face to try and make Tsuna a mafia hair and the dam broke unleashing level of weirdness only before seen in Midora

[qrevo]

I Sent A Bunch Of Youtubers To The Biggest Escape Room In The World (Set In A Ghost Town!!!) (Gone Wrong!!!!) (They Are Fighting For Their Lives!!!!) (Am I Going To Jail?????)

i've been watching cape escape recently and i absolutely love this little guy

(alt versions under read more)

also the little pfp on his youtube channel (not a single thought going through his brain) (he doesn't know what the Cloud is)

[kvetchinglyneurotic]

Six Seven Sentence Sunday

(I have decided to be a brave little toaster and post part of my original fic)

Josephine called it the death rattle when the juddering, cracking growl rolled through the bones of the Alouen at 0500 shipboard standard, already bounding down the stairs to the engine room when Avram shot up from a dead sleep and stumbled out into the glow of emergency lights. A quick check in the cockpit told him, unhelpfully, that the problem was in the engine room, and that Marlowe, who was on night duty, had shut off all the alarms so buzzer flashed silently white. Avram left it off. He found the rest of the crew in the galley, perched on the counters and tucked into corners and sprawled on the cracking green vinyl benches in the way of seven people crammed into a too-small space. No one spoke. Silence hung thick in the air, stretched like taffy until Josephine crawled out of the engine room half an hour later with sweat beaded through her shorn blond hair and grease streaked up to her elbows, shaking her head as she plucked the mug of instant coffee from Sacha’s resisting hands.

“It’s the flight drive,” she announced. “It’s fucked.”

[nindota]

Some meme things from my Twitter

[theobliviousunluckybastard]

CALE HENITUSE:

A Commander wearing a black uniform.

An excellent strategist.

Can flip a whole continent over within a few hours.

Has a super smart black dragon by his side 24/7.

Many other powerful dragons follow him.

Covered in blood ... most of the time.

Mostly smiles coldly like a villain or a scamming smile.

Curses quite often.

Has committed all sorts of crimes like arson, torture, kidnapping, forgery, property destruction, looting, killing, scamming, fraud, stealing, blackmailing etc.

Will loot you dry if you're his enemy.

Lives in the middle of the forest of darkness, a forbidden region which is a habitat of the most ferocious monsters of the continent .

Has a 10,000 years old black castle in the middle of the said forest .

Often surrounded by a crazy amount of black crows(thanks to gashan).

Owns a whole flying monster skeleton brigade.

Has a whole army of dark elves, necromancer, wolves, tigers, swordsmasters, powerful mages, dragons, assasins, torture, and poison experts by his side living at his home with him.

Uses a strong ruling aura as well as an aura that reminds you of blood and death.

Can basically control nature at this point with the number of ancient powers he has.

Has a whole mine that produces dead mana magic stones.

Okay, if one doesn't know who Cale is and has no idea about the context, I swear Cale would seem like an extremely scary final boss villain with this list of descriptions to them!! 🤣🤣

[thewidowsledger]

Secrets Behind Our Dreams

Chapter 14: Last Piece | 4.5k

© thewidowsledger 2024 - DO NOT REPUBLISH AND PLAGIARISE

Summary: You are a club dancer; a stripper. Natasha is a respected notorious mob boss. What would happen if your paths happened to cross one night? The only thing you knew about each other was your dreams, and neither of you knew what the other was.

Pairing: Mob Boss Natasha Romanoff x Stripper Female Reader

Warnings: 18+, bad writing, dark themes, arson, torture (kinda waterbloating) Natasha almost killing Yelena with a piece of cloth and water, thoughts of suicide, implied sexual abuse, Natasha being a child of r4p3 (I’m really sorry)

Author's Note: BEWARE OF THE WARNINGS‼️I feel like I wasn't able to write everything in this chapter because I wrote this in a rush and since I will be gone for another week or 2 or worst a month, I decided to post this now. I also have received all the requests and tiger cub 🐅 I will surely write the one you requested :3 it will be the first fic I will post as soon as I get back.

Navigation | Masterlist | Series Masterlist

⧗

Yelena found herself lying in her safehouse, the familiar surroundings a small comfort amidst the pain coursing through her body. When she tried to move her left wrist was restrained, handcuffed to the bed. Despite the situation, she remained calm, she's trained for this—these things are like simple activities to her. She tried to reach out for the side table, to look for something she can use to free herself but the table was gone.

“Fuck, that was the first thing I bought with my own money.”

A sound of the chair legs scraping against the floor echoed in the silence while the blonde struggled in her own bed, when she shot her head forward she saw a figure loom over.

“Natasha…” she called out in a warning. Even if she hasn't seen who it is, she knew it was her sister.

Of course she knew she’ll come after her.

“Hope you don't mind me paying a visit,” Natasha said as she sat down on the chair she had dragged. The harsh sound of the metal against the ground only added to the tension in the room. The blonde always made a visit to her place without her knowing it so why wouldn't she do the same?

“I’m sorry.”

“Where is she?”

“Natasha, please…”

“Don't beg, yet.”

Yelena winced slightly as she shifted her body, but she managed to sit upright, her back resting against the wall. The coldness of the stone wall sent a chill down her spine, but it provided the support she needed. The handcuff kept her left wrist in place on the bed, limiting her movement.

“Where's the puppy?” Yelena asked as she tried to shift the situation.

“Somewhere safe,” Natasha replied. “But the mom?” She paused, her gaze boring into Yelena's, “That's what I'm asking you.” She now stood and walked over her sister who is now scooting on the corner of her bed.

“Where is Y/N?” she asked again with a little bit of force now.

“I don't know, Natasha,” Yelena said truthfully but her sister did not seem to be satisfied with that answer. Natasha felt like her own sister was lying to her, so she left in a minute and when she got back, she was dragging a trash bag behind her.

“Woah, woah, Natasha don't!” Yelena's eyes widened as she saw her own collection of vests inside the trash bag, and her heart almost stopped when Natasha carelessly flung a lighter onto the pile in a blink.

The blonde watched in horror as the items burst into flames, the fire licking and consuming her precious collection of vests.

“I am telling you the truth!” Yelena shouted, her chest rose and fell quickly as she breathed heavily, the smell of burning fabric filled the room, the acrid aroma of the vests being consumed by flames filling her nostrils. Yelena watched as her sister walked out of the room again. A few moments later, she could hear the sound of water moving through pipes as her sister returned with a hose in hand. She breathed thinking her sister would use it for the burning clothes she just lit, but then her sister gripped her right hand and cuffed it to the side of the bed, forcing her to lie back.

“Natasha…” She tugged on the handcuffs, the metal biting on both of her wrists as she struggled to break free, but to no avail.

The redhead grabbed a towel from nearby and placed it over her sister's face, covering her completely. The fabric was thick and stifling, making it nearly impossible for Yelena to breathe.

“What the fuck! Natasha!” She shouted but the fabric made her words muffled.

Natasha then took the head of the hose and aimed it over the towel-covered face of her sister, the water already running at maximum pressure. The force of the stream pushed the towel further into Yelena's mouth and nose, the water pouring down her throat and into her lungs. Her body convulsed as she gagged and sputtered, her legs thrashing beneath her.

She desperately tried to inhale through the soaked towel. Each breath was a fight, water pouring into her mouth and nostrils, choking and burning her. Her lungs screamed for air, but all she could draw in was more water.

Yelena's face scrunched up in agony beneath the towel and a slideshow of memories flickered through her mind—the moments she shared with you, short, yet changed the trajectory of her life.

She felt guilty about how she treated you, the names she called you. She still hated you, though, she hated how your purity and warmth reminded her of her own hardened ways. She also hated how good your cookies are.

But what she hated most was that she couldn't escape the fact that you had inadvertently made her realize the truth–that deep down, her sister, Natasha who was torturing her right now, loved her more than she cared to admit

“You know, your sister loves you.”

Just as suddenly as it began, the water stopped. She managed to remove the soaked towel from her face, coughing and sputtering as she tried to clear the water from her throat. Her vision was blurry, and her body ached from the ordeal, but her mind remained focused on one thing: finding you.

The hose continued to run, soaking the pile of her vests and extinguishing the last remnants of the fire.

“Red R-room,” Yelena gasped out.

Natasha stopped her movements when she heard her sister say the two words she doesn't want to hear anymore.

“They took her, Nat. It's them.”

“And you let them,” she said coldly, “You helped them!” She now turned and pointed a finger on her sister, she then fished out the burner phone Yelena had and threw it to her making the blonde wince when it hit her stomach.

“I can handle the truth of the Red Room resurfacing after all these years, after I burnt them down,” Natasha tried to keep her tears at bay, not wanting Yelena to see her vulnerable at this point, “But you?” Her gaze locked onto her sister, she clenched her jaw and finally let the tears fall from her eyes, “My own sister? Betraying me?”

“How could you do this to me?!”

Natasha exhaled, wiping her tears as she tried to hold her anger that she thought was finally gone after she almost killed her sister with a piece of towel.

“I’m sorry.”

“Shut up.”

“Sestra, please.”

“Shut up!”

“I was supposed to bring her back to you!” Yelena didn't back down, she wanted her sister to know about it, about you—about how you changed her. Maybe the things Natasha saw in you that she now saw too.

“I w-was changing my mind...” The weight of her actions, of what she did to you is now eating her alive.

“Too late.”

“Natasha! You're gonna need me!” Yelena called out urgently, thrashing her cuffed hands when she saw her sister moving to walk away—this time she thinks it's for good. “I'm going to help you! I'll find Y/N!”

Yelena's pleading continued, desperate to convince her sister to give her a chance. But Natasha didn't stop, didn't turn back. With a final glance, she vanished from sight, leaving Yelena drowning in guilt and shame of her betrayal.

“I’m sorry.”

⧗

You slowly wake-up, blinking your eyes a few times as you look at the ceiling above you. Your body is numb and you can hear a faint ringing in your ears as your heart starts to race. You shut your eyes and counted up to 3 and you managed to slowly sit upright but your body trembled. You look desperately around the room and notice heavy curtains. You're about to move towards it when you hear a voice.

“That will get you nowhere.”

You freeze abruptly, you can hear the loud thud of your heart as you scan the unfamiliar room for the source of the voice. And that's when you see a woman, sitting on her own bed across the room.

“W-who ar—”

“Xialing, Xu Xialing,” she cut you off as if she was already expecting you to ask her that.

“Xialing? A-as in the pri—”

“The Princess of Ta Lo,” despite you being disoriented right now, you noticed how her tone dropped. You’ve seen her on TV, when the crown was passed down to her mother. You always dreamed of being like her and now she's in the same room as you.

The only difference is that she is a princess and you're just a stripper.

Dreams be damned but you can feel the tears welling up in your eyes as you desperately ask again, this time you whispered it to yourself but it didn't go unheard by the princess, “Where am I?”

She observed you, her expression remained calm as she responded with a question of her own, “What was the last thing you remember?”

And that's when it hits you, the last thing you remember was the sight of Yelena, lying motionless on the street while the small puppy she bought you licked her face.

“You brought us in so much trouble already, you’re going to pay for it.”

Tears stream down your cheeks as the memory floods your mind. You then rushed towards her and stood in front of her bed, “We’re in danger, we need to get out of here,” you informed her as you paced around, finally gaining your senses back, “I-I was kidnapped a-and…and…”

As if she heard nothing, she simply tightened the robe around her body and walked in front of you to her vanity table. She sat there, casually searching on the drawers.

You furrow your brows in disbelief as you watch her start combing her hair, “What are you doing?” You asked and you weren't able to contain your frustration as your voice came out louder than you intended—even if you knew that you were talking to a royalty.

As you watch her continue to brush her hair, a sudden realization hits you. You had assumed the worst for yourself, but what about her? Has she been here for a long time now? Was she also taken captive? How can she be so calm?

You looked at her reflection in the mirror as she brushed her hair, your voice cracking as you ask, “W-were you taken too?”

She huffed, “We all are,” she then fixed her robe, and then there, you saw a glimpse of a scar on her shoulder similar to yours, “Even the only heir to the throne cannot be shielded away from danger.” She met your gaze on the mirror before she placed the comb back to its place.

“No one can escape the Red Room.”

“W-what are you saying,” you asked in a shaky voice, “w-what Red Room?”

“What's your story?” She asked, answering your question with a question once again. “Girls here have different stories,” you watched her in the mirror as she put some moisturizer on her face, “there's this spoiled daughter of a corrupt mayor in Europe, her room is across ours. She's one of the favorites, not the one to be messed with. Then there's the wife of the president of Latveria…” She trailed off as she noted every woman that was taken by god who knows what room.

“There's also this one student of Kamar-Taj, only few can enroll in that prestigious school. Very strict and they don't let the students out, they can only have visitors once in 2 months,” she shook her head sideways and chuckled lightly to herself, “but it's the Red Room, so…they still got her.”

She twisted the cap back onto her moisturizer bottle and then turned to face you as she sat on the edge of her vanity table, her arms crossing and eyeing you with anticipation.

“So what about you? What's your story?”

These were women from powerful backgrounds, high-class families, sent to prestigious schools—probably filthy rich. They’re literally elites, royalties, lived in mansions and had influential families, parents, husbands, partners, connections. And you? Hell, you have no one. You survived on scraps and you swallow filthy comments for a living, how can't you? You're just a lowly stripper who accidentally got saved by a mob by sheer luck.

So you remained silent, swallowing the lump that formed in your throat together with the shame you feel right now. The princess noticed it, though, but she didn't pry further.

“What's your name?”

“Y/N...”

She then moved closer to her bed and dipped herself on the soft sheets. She spoke again, “You were the last piece, Y/N,” she said and that made you furrow your brows more, this time not to hold your tears back but in confusion as you struggled to process what she just said.

Last piece?

“They had a hard time finding you, so whoever was protecting you must be powerful.”

“Not powerful enough, though,” she added that made you hitch your breath as you saw flashes of Natasha’s image before your eyes.

“But that makes us all the same, no matter how powerful we are, they still found us.” She then tucked herself in, signaling the end of the conversation.

You fixated on the princess beneath her duvet, your mind filled with horror with everything she just told you, what bothers you more is as if she had grown accustomed to this—comfortable even.

How will you process all that? All the suppressed tears you had been holding back now streamed down your cheeks. You swiftly brought your hands to your mouth, desperately trying to muffle the sobs that threatened to erupt.

“Crying will get you nowhere, you should rest,” she advised for the last time. “In a couple of days, you’ll see real powerful people. And we’ll be paraded while they dish out millions on us like it’s a chump change.”

⧗

The Princess told you everything you need about the Red Room, it's a sinister organization. They'll take who they're ordered to take, no questions asked. They will do anything if the price is right, regardless of who asks. Each woman in this place as you were all specifically targeted and requested. It's the Red Room's specialty—fulfilling those who request abductions of women.

And what bothers you now is who would pay just to take you?

Xialing applied her lipstick, fixing herself in front of her own vanity mirror as you sat on your bed, staring at nothing.

“We're having breakfast, be aware that there will be armed guards stationed outside,” she informed you sternly. “Stay calm, refrain from any impulsive actions. Speak only when spoken to, and avoid attracting attention. And above all,” she continued, her voice firm, “Do not attempt anything stupid. Keep yourself out of trouble, don't get in anyone’s way.”

You found yourself lost in thought, staring blankly at the floor in front of you. Your eyes had become unblinking as you became lost in your own thoughts. You can feel your chest tightening as a crushing sense of hopelessness begins to take hold. You felt trapped, helpless, and your despair grew with each passing moment.

The sound of the door opening echoed through the room and two men entered, their big weapons clinging in their body. The princess stood up from her seat, her gaze fixated on them. You, however, remained seated, your eyes vacant as tears streamed down your face. It was as if you were detached from reality, no longer responding to the world around you.

The princess shot a frustrated glance back in your direction, her irritation evident. She immediately ran to your bed and shook you.

“Why do you always cry?! If you want to survive,” she hissed, “you have to pull yourself together because crying won’t help you here!”

You struggled to stand, your body heavy with despair, and the princess nearly had to drag you to your feet. As you stood, you wiped the tears from your face.

“She's fine.” The princess told the guards who seemed being impatient with the two of you.

She guided you as you walked passed them. Your eyes take in every detail of your surroundings as you both went outside the room. You silently counted the cameras that were positioned in each corner of the hall, your eyes noting the locations of each one.

Next, you focused on the guards, mentally tallying their movements and positions within their area.

As you entered the dining area, there was a long table with girls seated in chairs. Their expressions were vacant as you, as if they were under mysterious control. A guard stepped forward, he dragged you away from the princess and firmly directed you towards your assigned seat. You reminded yourself not to fight even if your body wants to.

A woman at the head of the table smirked as she looked directly at you.

“Ah, perfect, all the chairs are filled. The last piece is here.”

You remained silent, eyes fixated on the table in front of you but that didn't stop you from feeling all the attention pointing towards you. The woman then clapped, and almost on cue, guards wheeled in carts laden with food and placed them on the table. The aroma filled the air, and the sight of delicious dishes lined the table. However, you remained silent and unresponsive, still unable to bring yourself to move even a single finger.

As you sat silently, your eyes scanned the table in front of you, and something immediately caught your attention–the sight of plastic utensils getting placed at the table. Confusion filled your mind as you wondered why they would use such materials for a meal in this luxurious setting.

You’re mind now fell onto the darker part of your brain by wanting to place the fork in your neck or maybe at your chest and just end it there. And there, you realized the reason why they use plastic as utensils.

The other women at the table began to eat, but you paid them no attention. You sat silently, ignoring the food on your plate. The central woman then tilted her head in your direction, her voice cold and commanding.

“Stripper,” she called that made you pull out from your deep thought, your throat tightened but you remained fixed on the food on your plate, not daring to look at her direction or to anyone. It sounded degrading coming from her and it made you want to rip your soul apart from your body as you remember that all women in here were literally nothing like you.

You sure do really need to know your place here.

“Eat. Or I will force you to eat, and trust me, it will hurt.”

You swallowed, your throat felt dry, and you slightly glanced at the princess seated across from you. Her eyes met your gaze, and she mouthed the words “please, eat” silently to you. The look in her eyes was pleading, her concern for you visible in her expression.

You took a shaky breath and picked up the plastic fork, your fingers trembling slightly as you began to eat. The food tasted bland and unappetizing, but you forced yourself to swallow each morsel that passed your lips.

The woman at the center of the table observed you silently, her gaze fixed upon you as you ate, clearly evaluating your compliance.

She then clapped her hands once more, and with remarkable efficiency. The guards immediately began to remove the food from the table, regardless of whether you had finished it or not. The sight of each plate being taken away so quickly was slightly unnerving.

You managed to take a total of four bites before the guards removed each plate and utensils from the table. Then, the woman at the center of the table gestured to a girl at the table, “You, over there–you have a visitor. Get ready.”

The girl immediately started to cry and plead, “No, no, no, please!” But the guard advanced toward her, undeterred by her frantic pleas.

You felt a sense of helplessness wash over you as you desperately wanted to intervene, but an invisible force seemed to hold you back—as if you were tied to your chair. You looked at Xialing who quietly shook her head, signaling you not to take any rash actions that will for sure put you to a death row situation.

Unable to bear the sight and sounds of the girl’s cries, you squeezed your eyes shut tightly, desperately trying to block them out. Your heart pounded heavily, and your fingernails dug into the skin of your palms as a means to distract yourself from the heartbreaking situation unfolding before you.

Once the girl had been led away, the woman at the center of the table addressed the remaining girls, “See you all at lunch.”

One guard approached each girl, gently taking hold of your arm as they guided each of you back to your rooms. As the guards led you back to yours, you felt frustrated, hating how you were being handled like a prisoner. But you are, though, you also remembered the princess’s earlier warning and tried your best to control yourself, knowing that any resistance or disobedience could put you in more danger.

You sat on your bed, your gaze vacant as you stared at the floor once again. The sound of the door opening echoed through the room, and without even turning your head, you knew that it was the princess entering.

“That was Agatha, she's the head here.” The princess spoke as if she knew all the questions you had in mind.

Your voice was cold and devoid of emotion as you asked, “What will happen to the girl?”

The princess stayed silent, her attention shifting to the vanity mirror as she began to fix her appearance. She did not offer any response to your question, her focus solely on her reflection.

You stood up abruptly, your voice filled with irritation and anger as you faced her.

“Why aren't you answering my question now, huh?” you laughed humorlessly, “You speak to me as if you know everything in my mind, but now you can't answer my question?”

“What is going to happen to that girl?” you repeated the question shakingly, angrily emphasizing each word.

“I am not answering because the answer to your question is already in your mind too.”

“No…” you shook your head, you wanted to throw up everything you ate on that goddamn table.

“She might probably meet the one who requested her from the Red Room but they won't have her not until the night.”

“Stop,” you whispered.

But the princess didn't bother, she continued, “And whoever that person can do whatever they want on her, like fuck her or...”

“Stop!”

“You want to know the truth, don't you? And now you cannot accept it?!”

The princess spun around, her face now visible to you.

“That is her truth! Because the same thing happened to me!” Her eyes were filled with anger and pain. She stood mere inches away from you, her chest rising and falling rapidly with her revelation.

You could feel the tears prickling at the corners of your eyes, their warmth cascading down your cheeks. It was not for your own pain but for the princess' and the girl. The realization of what they had been through, the suffering they endured, and the horrors of what is happening or what might happen to the girl right now broke you, and the tears rolled down shamelessly.

Xialing clenched her jaw, her voice sharp and harsh.

“I don't need your tears or your sympathy,” she said firmly, her jaw clenching as she turned her back at you. Now, she is the one who's trying to hold her own tears back, not for herself—but for you.

“Better save your tears for yourself because the same thing will happen to you in no time.”

⧗

Bucky pushed Yelena forcefully forward, his grip on her arm firm and unwavering. Yelena stumbled, regaining her balance as she came to a halt in front of Natasha's table.

“I saw this one climbing in,” Bucky said, his voice monotone. “I thought I'd bring her to you.”

Natasha looked up, her gaze shifting towards her sister who stood before her, panting and disheveled.

“Natasha…” she breathed but she was interrupted when Maria pushed the door open and entered the room, her eyes widening as she took in the blonde who looked so distressed in front of her.

“I thought we were having an emergency meeting,” she chuckled in surprise, “I didn't know we were having a torture party. Should I get your toys, Natalia?”

“You made the wrong move coming here, little one,” Bucky growled. “Did you really think you could still sneak in unnoticed this time?”

“Enough of that,” Natasha interjected, her authoritative tone silencing Bucky and Maria instantly.

Yelena seized the opportunity to speak, “I know you're looking for Y/N and I...I can help you.”

“Dreykov is not stupid enough to trust you with everything. They just used you and you, in your desperate quest to prove your worth, did whatever Papa wanted you to. Even if it's you taking away the one I love! ”

Yelena visibly flinched at her sister's words. Her expression shifted from determination to disbelief and for a brief moment, a flicker of guilt once again passed through her eyes with Natasha's revelation.

Her sister loves you and she knowingly became a part of those chains that led you away from her.

Her determination flared up even more.

“But I am not dumber, Natasha,” the blonde asserted. “I tracked them. I know where they are. We both know that I know the Red Room better than you. I knew they were still out there when you thought you succeeded in burning them, but you don't. You know mama is a product of the—”

She was cut off as Natasha hurled the glass of whiskey in her direction making the blonde flinch.

“Mama is not a product of the Red Room!” she shouted, her words filled with fierce anger. “She was a victim! She didn't choose that life, it was forced upon her. Don't you dare label her in that way!”

“YA byl produktom…” (I was the product) she now let out a humorless chuckle as she stared directly onto her sister's eyes, the irony of her own words bitter in her mouth. “You still don't get it, sestra, do you?”

Yelena froze, her breaths becoming shallow as Natasha's words settled within her. Her mind raced, refusing to accept the horrifying truth that was beginning to take shape.

She shook her head, an unconscious act of denial. “No,” she whispered, her voice barely a breath, “They love each other from the beginning! Papa loved Mama the first ti—”

“If they did…” Natasha didn't let her sister finish, not wanting to hear the stupid fairytale lie of a love story Alexei used to tell them as a kid.

“Why did Mama look at me, as if I reminded her of her worst nightmare?” The horrified look of her mother on her flashed in Natasha's mind, she winced as she remember how many countless times she called out for her Mama, but her cries went unanswered.

The three stood in silence, their heads were kept down in unease as Natasha revealed and recounted her pain.

“You heard the different side of the love story, Yeye. Why don't you flip the other side, so you'll see the rest of it?” Natasha's smirk was tinged with a bitter edge as she echoed the nickname Alexei used to call the blonde.

“He loved her the first time he laid eyes on her?” She paused in disbelief, her expression hardening as she avoided addressing Alexei as her Papa. “It was nothing more than an illusion - a sick, twisted form of possession. He was a coward, so he just asked his friend to capture her. He paid them and forced himself on Mama.” She narrowed her eyes as she looked once again at her sister, “I thought you knew the Red Room well?”

“I do, I still do...I know their every movement but what they don't know is I am willing to betray them for you, Natalia.”

Secret Behind Our Dreams: Masterlist

[webanglikethat]

an aftermath of episode 8, a life for a life. (a Devi and Ram oneshot)

also available to read here: ao3 published: 2024-06-06 words: 5,123 btw if you read this and don’t leave a comment a fairy will lose her wings

Devi held herself high, walking towards the garden, almost as if hiding behind dirt and leaves could alleviate her anxiety. she couldn't wrap her head around what had just happened, but she couldn’t let anyone know, she couldn’t let the truth slip … how ironic, how could she demand the truth, if she herself was a vessel overflowing with falsity? and yet she ran, for she knew how to do that the best after all. she had come out of the meeting with Mr Vaish, a meeting whose ending she could not have fathomed, not even in the wildest vision of her most ardent migranes. a meeting in which she had discovered a truth that had been eluding her for five years, a truth hiding right in front of her, a mindgame one might say.

Deviya Sharma was meant to die,and it was a fate she could not escape, for it had been demanded and forged by the Goddess herself.

Devi was going to die when she married Ian.

Devi was going to die, and it was going to be soon.

the prophecy had been clear and crystalline. the stars aligned to seal her destiny, perhaps even long before she drew her first breath, a victim of an inevitability that had haunted her before knowing it. this cruel revelation hung in the air like a haunting melody, echoing through the chambers of her mind, a symphony that could never cease to play from now on. tick tock, tick tock, so the clock laughed in her face, as time went on but she felt frozen in it, trapped in a glacier of her doing. the world seemed to shift beneath her feet, as if the dirth beneath the garden was stairs, and each step was an interminable reminder of the weight of the knowledge she now carried, opening and daring her to fall into the pit of her new reality. the truth, elusive and spectral, had finally unveiled itself. for half a decade, she had wandered through a labyrinth of uncertainty, her heart traveling alongside unanswered questions. but now she knew — and life would never be the same. so what was worse, she wondered, the not knowing or the knowing? which was more haunting, knowing she had been laughing and kissing her lover with an expiration date on her body, or now knowing the expiration date of not only herself, but their relationship too? how could she have not known? even a pig to slaughter would notice. the knowing was a double-edged sword. sure, it provided clarity, putting an end to the endless speculation and anxiety that had lingered in the back of her mind. but on the other hand, it brought a firm finality. the path ahead was now clear, but it was a path she had no desire to walk.

in those five years, she had seen it all; she had experienced deaths, some closer than she could process. she was lacerated with disappointment and she combatted grief, a companion that had accompanied her throughout it all, a constant reminder of that fateful night — the night her brother was taken from her and the flames of arson devoured their joint world, leaving behind an existence bereft of him and all the love she had ever known. her throat closed up as the memories surged back with a visceral force, just another force to add to the list of which she couldn't control nor possess. it was as if she were back in that burning mansion, on that damned mountain, that summer night. she could perceive it all again; from the heat searing her skin to the acrid smoke clawing at her lungs like a tiger approaching his victim. she could hear the crackling of the fire, feel the oppressive heat pushing her towards the brink of suffocation as panic gripped her chest and her heart pounded in her ears as the flames danced in her vision, a relentless specter from her past, an interminable hologram that repeated the same movie every. single. time. so welcome to the manuscript of grief, she said quietly to herself.

act one began, the lights dimmed and the flames rose. Devi could almost hear his voice, her beloved brother, beckoning her to Kamal, demanding of her to run, to just run and not look back, to hide in a safe place because it would be okay. but it wasn't okay, it surely hadn't been okay. Devi could almost smell the charred remains of their life, taste the bitterness of the loss that had settled in her mouth that night. the overwhelming dread, the frantic desperation, the helplessness, the screams, the pair of arms holding her back, scratches of nails as she fought, the clang of jewelry as she shook her face, rain mixing with tears —it was as if she were reliving the nightmare all over again.

but this time it was her life that was meant to flatline, and not his heart. (what a cruel twist, it seems the Sharma family is forever meant to star in a tragedy.)

losing her brother had felt like losing herself, as if a fragment of her soul had been cut away, shattered like their dream of a future in which they could live together in happy bliss. the taste of loss was more than a metaphor; it was a physical presence, a bitter, metallic tang that coated her mouth and refused to leave like a distant relative trying to claim what was hers. sometimes, in the middle of the night, she could swear she would sense it again — that smell of rotting flesh, the blaring and deafening gun, denying her brother of one last wish, an honorable death. and instead of running to him, she ran away, like she had promised him to, but that, my dearest goddess, didn't mean she was able to outrun the guilt. she knew it had been the right thing, the only route to ensuring her family legacy and her own safety, but it gnawed at her like a child tugging at his mother's skirt. she should've been with him that night. she should've protected him, she should've gotten him outside before anyone else, and she shouldn't have let Ram lead her away. this was her brother, half of her soul, the vessel of her blood, the echo of her existence, and she left him. and perhaps, she could have saved him, but the lasting fact is she will never know. and once again, she doesn't know what's worse: the not knowing, the guilt, or the what if, or the knowdlege that his presence had been forgotten, as she escaped the mansion with Ram. he hand't even been a thought in the back of her mind. and what is a sibling, if not the first to love you boundlessly, and the first to leave you shamelessly?

as she reached the end of the garden, hidden away from any gaze that would drown her with snotty remarks, Devi’s thoughts swirled like leaves caught in a tempest, and honestly, she thought to herself, comparing her life to a tempest was an understatement. it was a litote where each one was a fragment of the revelation of her path in life, or more accurately perhaps, the path to her death. the reality she had known, the life she had lived, now seemed like a mere fragile illusion, a puppet show designed for the immortals’ joys. how could she reconcile the world she knew with the truth that had just been unmasked? she couldn't hide it, not to herself at least. tomorrow she would wake up, raise her head proudly, wear her Sharma ring, adorn her body with jewelry others could only dream of wearing in the afterlife, participate in the Dozen's meeting, smirk and hold her foot down as she quickly remarked every word or action from the others, and she would smile as if nothing had happened, as if her life hadn't turned out to be a slaughtering transaction. she couldn't let them know and she wouldn't let them know — because any sign of weakness would be seized upon, a chink in her armor that could quickly unravel the balance of respect and authority she had fought so hard to attain along with the place she had so forcefully carved for herself in society. her presence was no longer personal, it was political. and she would do everything to not lose it, even if it meant losing herself first.

but that is the funny thing about attaching your existence to a role so strongly. the very armor you wear can become your prison. and sure, it gave Devi power and respect along with strength, but it subsequently isolated her from her own humanity. and yet, despite it all, she couldn't fraud herself into forgetting or into pretending this truth wasn't a ghost now living in her room and her mind, occupying every land and surface of her existence, as the British had done with her homeland.

and … how different truly, were the British from her destiny, she wondered. she knew it was a foolish comparison, one that could have her even imprisoned and exiled from the Dozen, because how could one compare the brutality of the invaders to the path forged by the merciful goddess herself? the British, with their seemingly insatiable hunger for power and domination, had carved a path of destruction through her land, leaving blood and hope behind every one of their footsteps. they had plundered and pillaged, leaving nothing but devastation in their wake. and the goddess — she was her creator. Devi was her child, but mothers often give birth to victims and not lovers, and Devi felt like a pawn in a game she hadn’t agreed to. so how different truly was the act of the British demolishing her country to the act of the Maharani demolishing her existence as she had known it? how difference is brutality truly, for isn’t it the same, regardless of names, status and history? the essence of brutality lies in its capacity to dehumanize and dominate, to destroy and relish in the chaos, to lead astray and drown the blindly faithful. power, whether human or divine, can be equally merciless. names and faces might change, but even a blind woman would agree that the suffering remains the same.

Devi had always been a fighter as her spirit was unbroken even by the worst trials she had faced. she hadn’t always been like this, but the death of her brother and the crowd of people beneath her, who urged her to give up her place in the Dozen, had turned her into a calculating woman. she had been a gentle and laughing child before, but she had to ice her heart because in a war between compassion and intellect, the winner was clear. “so this was no different”, she told herself. she could swim against the current, forging a new way forward. surely she could undo the reins of destiny, unstitch the tapestry of fate, and redo the prophecy. she has done this before, hadn’t she? she had showed everyone who told her a woman couldn’t possibly lead a family’s legacy that she in fact could. she could manage the finances, she could close a deal with the British Lord, she could gain the respect of Vaish, she could take part in meetings on her own without a guardian. she was Devi Sharma, head of her family, the last one remaining, a legacy standing longer than her grief so she would face whatever challenges came her way with the same stubborn determination that had carried her family through centuries. only time would tell whenever the manuscript of premeditated divine revelation would crumble first, or if it would be her stubborn heart.

as immersed as she was in her thoughts, she didn’t hear his footsteps, but she felt his presence and knew immediately who it was. she could’ve recognized him blindly, deafly even perhaps, though she wasn’t sure how that would work. after all, you do need ears to hear footsteps. she smiled to herself at her own joke. he hadn’t even approached her yet, and she was already joking around, if that wasn’t the premise of their relationship, then she didn’t know what it was. a lighthearted back and forth of teasing, of kissing between droplets of wine, of hiding behind curtains and dancing in front of thousands, of chase and run, of passion and a joy she wouldn’t have ever imagine.

Ram stood a few paces away, his expression a mix of concern and quiet determination, a mix she hadn’t seen before. his face used to be a shrine of teasing, of smirks and small smiles, which never truly left his face when she was around, but this time it was different. «Deviya», he said softly, his voice breaking through her reverie. he rarely called her by her full name, it had always been either Devi or Rakhasi — so called man-eaters monsters, his stupid yet loving nickname for her. but what better setting to use her name? so she turned to face him, her smile fading as the weight of the prophecy settled back on her shoulders. his fingers grazed her cheeks, as he often adored to do. that was the thing with Ram — he would always find an excuse to touch Devi; whether it was holding her hand to lead her somewhere, brushing his fingers over her cheek, cupping her face, putting a hand on her waist to surprise her, “trapping” her against the wall to kiss her, putting his finger on her lips, tracing words in her hair. it had always been a game of push and pull, of hide and seek. but it seemed now, they had been found and couldn’t hide, not from destiny, not from Ram’s duties as the goddess’s will’s interpreter, not from Devi’s imminent death. just uttering those words aloud asphyxiated the teasing out of Ram.

«Ram», she replied, trying to keep her voice steady. but Ram could see the turmoil in her eyes, the fear and uncertainty that had taken root — for it was a twin to the one in his own eyes. for how much she could try and hide it, Ram wasn't called a seer for nothing. he put his hand around her waist, bringing their bodies closer, as if the warmth of his body could ease the coldness of this reality, their new reality. «we can change this», he reassured her, but his eyelashes betrayed his calmness as they were shaking.

Devi let out a shaky breath, her eyes searching his, analyzing the face she had gone from finding annoying to being her only anchor in her slowly unraveling madness. «change this?» she echoed, a hint of her usual defiance creeping into her voice, the one he had learned to poke and to adore. "and how exactly do you plan to defy destiny, Ram? by charming the goddess with your smile? because that’s too egoistical even by your standards” she arched an eyebrow, looking directly at him with that signature smirk he had learned to trace even with his eyes closed at night, when he missed her the most.

Ram chuckled softly, the sound vibrating through his chest and into her, a sound she wishes she could trap into a bottle, perhaps a box, so wherever she went, she could have him with her. «if only it were that simple, my dearest demon. it might have worked with you, but I don’t think it will with her» he murmured, his hand sliding up her back to cradle her head. «but I’m serious. together, we are stronger than any prophecy. we will find a way. there is no way we were connected by Mahakali, if not because there is a way, an escape. nothing she does is ever a mistake, our connection is inescapable» his fingers grazed her lips and she leaned into his touch, her fingers gripping his shirt as if holding on to him could anchor her in this storm. «always the optimist„ she teased him, «you know, despite all the fun you make of my rule breaking streak and finding trouble even with eyes closed .. if this were a game, you'd be the one breaking all the rules». «and you'd be right there beside me», he countered, his lips brushing against her forehead, letting out a barely audible sigh. «my partner in crime, my rakhasi.» Devi's smile widened, her heart lifting slightly at his words. «well, someone has to keep you in check», she quipped. «we can’t have you, Mr Doobay, running off and getting us into more trouble than we are already in.» he laughed again, a rich, warm sound that made her momentarily forget the prophecy, as she wanted to just drown in it. Devi knew how to play many instruments, knew many dances, but she had never came across a tune she liked so much that she wanted to replay it and replay it until she went deaf from it. «I wouldn't have it any other way, miss Sharma», he said, his eyes locking onto hers with a determination that sent a shiver down her spine. «we will face this together, Devi. no matter what comes. I will be by your side, even if it means abandoning everyone else’s.» 

Devi shook her head slightly, as if he just told her a joke, «how can you be by my side, when we are akin to spies in the shadows? we can’t shine in the daylight. you can’t be seen with me, I can’t be seen with you .. well not like this. we are both heirs to different legacies, so how can you promise me this?» she said, her voice shaking on the word promise. what were promises, if not meant to be broken? her brother had promised her it would be alright, but it hadn’t been. it hadn’t been, not since, not ever again. so how could she trust another promise, from another man, once again? but what she didn’t say was how she deeply dreamed to shine in the light, to raise her head proudly, him beside her, and shape her own destiny so whatever they had wouldn’t be a secret but kept akin to a prayer. for what distinction exists between the tender caress of a beloved upon her visage and the heavenly benediction bestowed upon the devout? what semblance does religion bear if not the tender embrace of her lover in the nocturnal hours? and what is prayer is not if not the fervent plea of "remain with me" uttered in the hushed dawn's embrace? what is love, if not the first religion you put your faith in?

«what are promises worth, Ram?». she continued, her tone filled with a bitter edge, shaking away her thoughts. «my brother promised to protect me, to keep our family safe, and look where that got us. promises are just words, easily broken and forgotten when the weight of the world comes crashing down. why should I believe that your promise is any different?», she asked him, almost immediately regretting the vulnerability she had let slip, like a secret she couldn’t contain. but it was alright, for she knew he would keep this moment their secret, as they already did with their relationship. it seemed they were both amazing liars and thieves of truths, just how ironic.

Ram didn’t hesitate for a single moment and pulled her closer, his embrace a fortress against the world, as if the weight of his body against her could calm her turmoil, as if that nearness could be healing. (to him it was). his gaze softened, as it often did when his thoughts traced back to her. «I can’t promise that it will be easy, or that we won’t face more challenges. we both are too smart to believe that. we could die trying, our names could be dragged into the mud if this was ever revealed, but I can promise that I will stand by you, fight for us, and never let you face anything alone. I know that together we have the power to redefine what our legacies mean and rewrite the story. lion and falcon, remember? we can take both the earth and the sky.»

Ram couldn’t believe his own words, since when had he become so sentimental? since when did he began thinking of offering himself to bear her weight? when had his mindless teasing turned into emotions he couldn’t put a label on? all his life Ram had known one thing; relationships weren’t meant to amuse or to revere. they were to carry their surname, carry the weight of their household, carry their legacy. relationships weren’t personal, they were political. an alliance, a partnership, a confederation of sorts, an union for a greater good — a good that was never considerate of his own. 

but with Devi, everything was different. her laughter, her fiery spirit, her unwavering determination, her endless teasing, that raised eyebrows accompanied with her smirk, her eyes when she felt passionate about something, her quick remarks around him — she had so quickly become more than just a fleeting companion in his hidden world. he always joked that she was caught in his trap, but he now realized that if she was flame, he was the moth. the more he tried to distance himself, the more irresistibly he was drawn to her light. that was why he always searched for her in a herd of people, that was why he searched for her condescending smile during the Dozen’s meetings. Ram had always prided himself on his control and his ability to navigate the dance of duty and expectation with precision. but with Devi, all of that seemed to fall away. her presence ignited something within him, a longing he had never known, a longing he couldn’t put a name on. or maybe he could, but he wouldn’t admit it to himself. Ram had always believed that his life was predetermined, a series of obligations and roles he had to fulfill. it wasn’t a matter or if or when. it was a clear road ahead, made of stones he couldn’t turn around and demolish. he had to carry their name, get married, have an heir, and watch the story repeat, unfold in front of his eyes for decades to come. yet here he was, offering promises he never thought he’d make, driven by an impulse he couldn’t ignore, standing in front of a woman he shouldn’t pursue. now he knew; being trapped by her was more freedom than he had ever known.

Devi looked up at him, taking in the scent of lavender and sandalwood, a scent that already felt like her own when he pulled her towards him, «those in charge bend the rules to their will. you are my equal, and .. don’t you dare laugh», she interrupted her sentence, thinking Ram would make fun of her, of little miss Sharma comparing herself to a Doobay, but he didn’t tease her so she continued «we have enough power to change rule to suit ourselves.» Ram's eyes softened as he listened. there she was, the Devi he knew, the one who was able to find escapes in the darkness, solutions to problems no one else could. that was his girl, but for how much longer he wondered. «Devi, I've never doubted your strength or intelligence. you’re not just my equal; you're my partner in every sense.» Devi smirked, raising an eyebrow. «in every sense, huh? so does that mean you'll finally start taking my advice instead of just pretending to listen?» Ram chuckled, a teasing glint in his eye, «only if you promise to stop 'accidentally' forgetting our religious rituals.» and what he didn’t tell her was how often he found himself thinking of her during those, how his eyes searched for hers, just to catch a glimpse of her walking past him. in those moments of chanting and solemn tradition, Ram’s mind often wandered to her, more often than he’d probably admit to anyone, himself at the top of the list. while others were lost in prayer, he found himself lost in thoughts of Devi. (and what is love, if not a prayer? what is a prayer, if not thinking of the one you love?). he would remember the way her eyes sparkled with defiance and mischief, how her laughter could light up even the darkest of days. he would remember how she awkwardly flirted with him when she lost the bet with the Basu twins and how he enjoyed teasing her and seeing the pink in her cheeks, a shade of roseate he could wear everyday. he remembered hearing the wildest stories about her; of her running away riding a horse and getting injured, of closing a deal along with the British Lord, of creating trouble when she couldn’t find any. so he sough her out, lingered between doors to catch a glimpse of her, pretending forgetfulness had put roots in his mind just so he could turn back and linger in her presence again. catching her had become quite a challenge, one he was willingly participating in. in his almost thirty years of life Ram had never known a sentiment even coming close to this. he had always deprived himself of feelings, for he knew he was but a pawn in a game out of his reach, and he had accepted it. as a Seer, he was expected to support Mahakali’s will, under any circumstances or situation, but here he was, defying this one simple rule for a girl he knew he couldn’t have. but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t die trying. after all, Doobays are known for being stubborn. (so in a way, he is carrying the legacy by being stubborn, isn’t he?)

Devi chuckled and nodded, «I suppose I’ll attend, as long as you’re there too» and what she omitted was how grateful she was for him. she knew he was a mere mortal like her, but sometimes it felt like he possessed a healing power in addition to his Seer skills. a power that she could feel flow in her vein whenever he reassured her, a power as intoxicating as his words were, and she was but a drunk girl, hanging onto every word, the way a spider hangs onto its web.

Devi flashed a mischievous grin, and added «you know, Ram, for someone who's supposed to be the great interpreter of the goddess's will, you're looking a bit too serious today. did you forget to consult the stars this morning, or did they just refuse to cooperate with your grand plans?» she chuckled softly, her teasing tone a welcome relief amidst the weight of their conversation. «or perhaps I’ve been spending too much time daydreaming instead of focusing on my duties», he countered, a playful glint in his eyes, leaning in closer to her. «who needs duty when I can have the thrill of chasing after you instead?» he replied, watching the pink glow on her cheeks reappear and gods, he swore he’d love to die in a sea of that same shade. Devi arched an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corners of her lips. «well, in that case, you better keep up, Mr. Doobay. because this rakhasi isn't one to be caught so easily», she declared, her voice lowering, as she challenged him.

and so he took the challenge, as he finally kissed her, her lips on his, her arms around his neck, anchoring themselves to each other like doomed lovers drowning. their lips met with an urgency born of desperation, of “stay with me” hidden on their eyelashes, of “I will” on their noses grazing axis. Ram’s lips, soft and inviting, were a sanctuary that Devi sought refuge in, her own lips a testament to the depth of his longing. how could they kiss like this, if their relationship was a mere fleeting teasing object of foolish affection? they held onto each other as if they were dissipating colors and it was okay, as long as their shadows were inked together, imprinted on an immortal book of their story. each movement was a silent plea for their love to defy the cruel hand of fate. and as she felt his smile against her lips, his fingers tightening their grip on her waist as he could transcribe his fear of losing her in that simple act, Devi knew that whatever happened, it would be alright. if her past was engulfed in flames, he was the soothing stream, quenching the fires of uncertainty. if all she had ever known was a lie, the shadows of them in this moment were the only truth she believed in. «it will be alright», she told herself, and she didn’t realize she had said it aloud until she heard Ram whisper «it will be» back.

and so, at her soon to-be-grave they stood. they knew better than to beg or fall on their knees, pleading to the sky, to their creator. but that wouldn’t stop them from trying to redo the prophecy. destiny after all is just a tapestry made of stitches, and even the greatest pieces can be undone. and if not, if the threads refused to be shattered, at least they would live with the certainty that they, in this exact moment, had existed. Deviya Sharma and Ram Doobay had existed on this day, on the day where life and death had swirled into one. they had existed on this day, and they had tried, for love is trying, trying and trying, until your last dying breath. even as the threads of their existence began to unravel like cards, they knew they would have had each other on this day. and though the threads may never break, and their love may fade into a non existence, lingering between expiration and life, in this moment of certainty, they knew they'd never be bereft of love, even if they refused to utter those four letters — those two vowels and two consonants they weren’t ready to concede and confess. all came in pair of twos — vowels, consonants, mouths, eyes, hands, promises; Deviya and Ram.

falcon and lion, sky and earth, wings and roar — Deviya and Ram. the game has just began for in death one learns life, in drowning you learn the shore, in a trap you learn resilience. their fight had just started. but for now, they would hold onto each other, for their embrace was a temple of their crafting, a religion they wouldn’t let crumble. if their destinies were anything but not each other, the pen was in their hand and they’d craft another.

⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦ ⊹⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳

taglist: @liykaii

[chaos-and-sparkles]

Presenting:

Prowler Pavitr <3<3

Here's Pavitr's design in my Prowler Pavitr au akjdskjdskjkskdsk! It's my au where Pavitr is a fallen hero who used to be Spider-Man and becomes the Prowler, fueled by rage against a world and a system that forced him to pretend at perfection and then only hurt him and the people he loves.

I love him so much,, I have so much stuff in progress about him rn (working on the fics too). Gonna have chaipunk front and center, and like four separate plot arcs, I'm so insane about this au actually -

Anyway here's some infodump about his design inspirations and symbolism I put in it, I loveeeee talking abt him:

Hair -

Okay so this is after some time, like a couple months since Pav became the Prowler, and he's grown his hair out a bit now. It's kind of a mix of rejection of the "masculine" standard of short cropped hair by flaunting his longer curls that he's always been proud of and even had to grow to love He also dyes his hair purple! Bc he didn't wanna cut his hair but he wanted to do something to set himself apart from his old identity and also he's literally an impulsive 17-18 year old and wanted to do something that felt like owning his own self and asserting autonomy over his body etc etc

Something Borrowed -

The tie that he's using to tie back his hair is his original blue headband!! It doesn't go with his outfit at all but It's the original blue headband that Maya Aunty got for him all those years ago that he's been wearing forever and it snapped and broke in the battle that preceded what happened to her, and he still keeps it and ties his hair back with it instead The nosering (nath) used to be Gayatri's, they used to try out her jewelry on him and he loved that one so much she gifted it to him, and since he's basically left his old life and gone no contact with her it's all he has left of Gaya too

Main Outfit -

His jacket is loosely based on Krrish's leather jacket from the Bollywood movie series that's about a superhero named Krrish. I just think it has the dramatique and vibe Pav would like He binds his chest bc he still hadn't had top surgery but he's way more open about it, with the binding showing through the neck of the jacket now where he would have never dared to hint at it before,,, another thing about how he doesn't care about people's opinions and perceptions and standards anymore, he wants to say fuck you as much to everything in the system as he can and also piss people off while he's at it and a trans antihero/villain is a surefire way to do that. His dhoti is basically a dhoti pant, modified a bit bc i liked it

He has payals on his feet that make a faint chhan chhan noise when he approaches which has creepiness and cuteness potential imo I basically turned the prowler logo into his dhoti belt buckle askjdsjk

It's also slightly modified to mimic a trishul or even a diya shape, up for interpretation either way, bc trishuls are a symbol of Shiva, god of destruction, and diyas are a symbol of light in the darkness and the need to find it Also the chain around the dhoti at his hips is both a reference to decorative dhoti chain accessories and the lil things on it are his modified grenades that he uses for arson, bc Prowler Pav is big on arson and murder ajajsjsj

Prowler Claws -

His bangles/claws were hands down my favourite part to design!!

So his claws are of course his original spiderman bangles modified into the prowler claws But i based them on three weapons, each of which means something interesting for Pavitr

The first is bagh nakh. Literally translates to "tiger claws", famously used in a legend of Shivaji Maharaj They usually curl into the palm instead of going between the fingers like they do for Pav, but they're basically metal claws wound secretly around your hand for a sneak attack It's associated with bravery and righteous rage bc of Shivaji Maharaj but it's also really associated with stealth and an attack from unexpected quarters, being stabbed from a side no one saw coming. Which. Pavitr. The perfect hero, becoming the Prowler. Come on

Second is the trishul, aka trident That's the reason there are three prongs to his claw Trishul is the symbol of the god Shiva, and as i mentioned he's the god of destruction, as in he's part of the main triumvirate of gods who focus on creation preservation and destruction He also is really really associated with rage, especially destructive rage; he has a whole dance called the tandava for his rage which is a Huge Deal I can't stress this enough And because Prowler Pav is a being fuelled by rage against a system that has hurt so many including him that he wants to destroy and see burned, it is perfect for him The trishul is also seen as a symbol of goddess Kali, who's similar in the destruction goddess aspect and also is literally an embodiment of rage and violence that cannot be controlled which is more the theme I started out with, but whichever you notice first, it works either way. There's a whole myth in fact where Shiva had to lie beneath her feet to stop her destructive rampage before it ended the world.

And lastly, the urumi, aka the whip sword from Kerala Basically each of Prowler Pav's claws extend into whip swords when he does the swing/slash/whip motion This is really interesting at least to me, bc it means 2 things: 1) Pav still remembers and is actively using some of his skillset from swinging around as Spiderman. He does use the urumis to curl around distant objects and swing too, and they are very lethal weapons when used right, and that use requires a lot of skill, huge parts of which he built up by his experience 2) This is a weapon which requires an unimaginable amount of control, precision and strength And Pav is doing all that So all of his actions, every movement, is very deliberate and thought out. He's not doing any of this - turning away from heroism, becoming the Prowler, using these lethal weapons - on a whim. They are all very very deliberate.

Also one more thing - the blades of his claws are all retractable ofc But they are not protected or anything They slice up his palms and the in-betweens of his fingers whenever he uses them,, especially when he uses them as urumis And it would be so easy to fix the design or make gloves or smth so they don't do that But he doesn't ever do it He could make it so his hands don't bleed on using his claws But he doesn't want to

He is an angsty boyo...

Mask -

The eyes are ofc like the prowler mask design except I made them more curved and curled at the end bc that's a kind of shape often seen in traditional art of the headdress of Kali, goddess of uncontrollable violence as I've said before Then the part between them is meant to be based off a third eye, which is something both Shiva and Kali have. It opens at the height of their rage, it's meant to symbolise destructive fury for them both Although it's also used in an all seeing context otherwise but a lot of whitewashed bullshit is also there that dilutes sources to find connotations His theyyam-based tusks from his Spider-Man mask, I wanted to keep

The shape below the eyes is based off the noses in masks in various regional Indian tribal and traditional masks,,, a lot of them tend to have a very distinctive curly nose shape that I wanted to keep, a lot of these masks also depict rage or are intimidating and are very emotive And then ofc you have the bottom of the mask, I made the curved-ish cut based on the peacock-feather-y shape i was using but it's also based on the general shape of Kali's lips in traditional art where she has her tongue out, it's a big symbol of her rage and rampage I tried to put the tongue too but it looked awkward and honestly i thought it would be cooler to jsut leave the bottom half of the mask open and you can see Pav's mouth and his expressions through it a bit instead, in the spirit of that And also it's based a little bit off Krrish's mask, you can never escape the Krrish design Also there's the lil teeth. Those are often used in art for demons and animals,, and Prowler Pav is very cat coded in his behaviour in general tbh. He's like if an orange cat's fur got burned to black.

Anyway, so yeah, that's him!

[keisukes-number1]

Fem!Baji x fem!reader imagine - Manicure

CW: Genderbent!baji, Aged up baji! (If you don't fuck with that then u should block me), Catcalling/harassment, brief mentions of Kazutora/chifuyu (ALSO genderbent), Violence (not directed at reader), Suggestive material towards the end but no smut otherwise.

Note: This work isn't proof-read so don't be suprised if there is alot of errors. Constructive criticism is appreciated. Reblogs and comments are ALSO appreciated. Minors and blank blogs DNI or you will be blocked.

© keisukes-number1 (2024) I reserve all rights to my work. Please do not copy, repost or translate my works. Thank you.

Divder credits by ianrkives

Affiliated with @pixelcafe-network

Imagine that you are strolling through the city with her, the sound of nail files delicately shaping nails, the scent of lavender-infused lotions, and the gentle touch of the manicurist's hands as they pamper your fingertips and toes still fresh on your mind—a luxurious treat you both deserved. Then you see some guys leering at you, but she snarls at them venomously, "What are you looking at?" Anyone with working brain cells knows that challenging her is a fucking death wish because she's just looking for an excuse to knock out their teeth. As the guys approach, one of them admires, "You're stunning," while the other boldly asks, "What's your socials?" And now you're trying to get her out there because the last thing you want is for her to be arrested for aggravated assault, so you're just telling them, "We aren't interested," only to be cut off by one of them, "Why is it always the basic bitches that yap the most?" "You gotta be crazy to think that we want you when there's a bad bitch right there?"

A chilling sensation crept down your spine, leaving you breathless as if a fist had struck your stomach. In an instant, your earlier confidence evaporated, leaving only a void of self-doubt. He isn't wrong; a damming voice speaks to you, and according to her, you're as basic as they come. A plain Jane. That's right, how did you forget? You were unremarkable, merely existing to occupy the space, much like a non-playable character; you weren't anyone special, at least not in the same way as Baji. It seemed that no matter where she went, she had a magnetic pull on people. Her honey brown eyes shimmered in the sunlight, complementing her tanned skin. Her impeccable sense of style, including a pair of leather trousers that accentuated her figure, never failed to catch your attention. With a personality as radiant as the sun, she effortlessly assumes the role of everyone's big sister, and she has a devoted following of admirers who would do anything to get her attention. Her kindness towards animals is truly remarkable.

She possessed qualities that differed from your own; while she may not have been the most intelligent, her appearance and kindness more than compensated for it. She's absolutely incredible. An enchantress. You couldn't help but feel a sense of insignificance in her presence. The question lingered in your mind: Why you, of all people? You aren't Chifuyu, whose unwavering devotion to Baji resulted in the latter torturing the former with her life over her blond hair and seafoam eyes. Her captivating presence turned heads, leaving men stumbling over words and feet in a futile attempt to capture her essence in a photograph, yet none could do justice to her true allure. You sure as hell weren't like Kazutora with those sandy yellow eyes, her two toned hair that cascaded down her back like a water fall, and sporting a tiger tattoo that gave her a dangerous, alluring vibe to match her personality.

You've witnessed her stride with the poise of a runway model, yet her spirit is as wild as a party in full swing. She's the instigator of your escapades, suggesting reckless activities like arson, exploring abandoned places, and indulging in forbidden thrills. What made it worse was how casual she was with Baji—how they'd argue, fight, and greet each other with casual slaps as greetings. They were thick as thieves with how close they were, to the point where if they weren't together, then they must've had issues. Why do you think she deserves better than someone so plain? You don't deserve her. You can't keep up with her adventurous spirit, and you're constantly dragging her down. She's out of your league, and sooner or later she'll see you for the bum you really are. She'll find someone better than you who can keep up with her, and you'll be all alone—

You were interrupted from your thoughts to see her hand swiftly connect with the guy's jaw, hattering it and sending a cascade of teeth flying through the air. The force is so intense that it spins him around like a top before he crumbles to the ground. Shocking his little friend, who immediately tried to swing at Baji, "You little bit—" Without wasting a moment, he attempts to swing at her, but she swiftly intercepts his fist. With a vice-like grip, she crushes the bones beneath her grasp, leaving him desperately struggling to break free. "Let me go! BITCH, LET ME GO!" he shouts, desperately attempting to break free. However, she ruthlessly applies pressure to his hand, causing him to collapse to the ground in excruciating pain. With her unwavering strength, she prevented his body from succumbing to the ground, keeping him suspended in a precarious state between standing tall and crumbling under the weight of exhaustion.

With a deliberate and calculated motion, she gracefully raises her hand, each joint clenched with precision. Her intention is clear as she wants him to witness the impending strike. And then, in one swift and powerful motion, she delivers a devastating blow, causing his teeth to scatter and his nose to shatter. She relentlessly unleashes a flurry of devastating blows upon his jaw, leaving his nose and cheeks shattered in her wake. With unwavering resolve, she delivers a mighty right hook to his gut, causing him to expel his breakfast and lunch in a display of sheer force. Finally, she dismisses him with a casual toss, treating him as nothing more than discarded trash.

In the lingering silence, she halted abruptly, her hands coming to rest gently on your shoulders, a weighty tension hanging in the air like a thick fog. She fixed her gaze on you and growled."Listen to me, y/n; what they said was wrong. I'm so sorry that they said that. Nobody, I mean nobody, especially not those SHITS has any right to talk about you. You hear me?" You gaze towards the ground, a tumultuous blend of anger and sadness washing over you. Her words provide a small solace, yet the sharpness of their heartless remarks continues to haunt your thoughts. Uncertainty begins to creep in, casting doubt on your worth in her perception.

"But what if they're right? I mean, as compared to you, I'm—" Your last doubts are immediately put to rest as her body slams into yours. You attempt to wiggle away, your sound muted as you let out a startled cry. Nevertheless, she pulls you nearer by the waist, and to your surprise, you end up kissing her back. Her mouth is so delicate that it presses against yours. In an effort to intensify the kiss, you cup her neck in your arms and pull her closer. As her tongue entwines with yours, you find yourself completely absorbed in the moment.

She slithers her long, perfectly manicured nails downward to clasp your full derriere, eliciting a moan that you are unable to hear, and the kiss feels as though it goes on forever. The world around you fades away as time seems to stand still. The kiss lingers, filled with a mix of passion and longing. Eventually, the need for oxygen pulls you apart, a string of saliva connecting your lips as you gaze at each other with darkened gazes and hearts racing.

"Stop thinking about what others say; I love you for you," she whispers against your lips, her eyes filled with sincerity. In that moment, you realise that her love is all that truly matters. Baji wouldn't be with someone if she didn't think they were worth her time. "Okay," you respond, feeling a sense of reassurance and acceptance wash over you. With Baji by your side, she kisses your forehead before taking you by the hand. "Come on, let's go get some yakisoba. We'll split it, okay?" As you gaze at her, a determination wells up within you—you'll do anything to protect that smile. "Absolutely," you respond with a soft chuckle, "we'll split it. 

[typellblog]

Tsubasa Tiger - An Analysis

This is an arc about personal identity, which is fitting for the first book in the series narrated by someone other than our main character. Tsubasa’s halting attempts to discover herself feel almost in parallel to Nisio’s attempts to expand her internal world beyond that perceived by Koyomi.

It quickly becomes evident that Hanekawa Tsubasa does not know herself, the usual catchphrase of ‘I only know what I know’ recontextualised with the understanding that there are many things she does not know on purpose. This is what Izuko tells her, and note that for all her talk of Tsubasa knowing nothing, the specific facts that she focuses on - the tiger, Tsubasa’s feelings for Koyomi, the cram school burning down - are things that Tsubasa should know about. Izuko doesn’t stun her with information that would be impossible for Tsubasa to obtain, but rather things that it should be impossible for her to not know.

This absence is at the heart of this arc’s central oddity, the titular tiger. It’s rendered variously as the Tyrannical Tiger, Hystery Tiger, History Tiger, etc. I think the most immediately relevant things to draw on when talking about it are how it symbolises both the past and Tsubasa’s strong emotions. However, in her usual fashion, neither of these are immediately obvious in the tiger, which appears out of nowhere, rooted in no history, motivated by no emotion. It is singularly uninterested in these things, and that is precisely why it is useful to her. 

Its role is to burn the past. It is powered by her ‘dark’ emotions, but is not itself touched by them. Its habit of arson is found in her envy, the repressed desire for a home of her own leading her to destroy those of others. She also, in a more personal sense, envies the family. Her parents growing closer to one another. Hitagi and her father. The Araragi siblings and their mother. 

The reason, then, why she manages to stop herself from destroying their houses as well is because of the genuine intimacy and love that she manages to build with Hitagi and the Fire Sisters (as partially represented by the shower/bath scenes). She never manages to hate Hitagi for ‘taking’ Koyomi from her, because despite loving Koyomi she ends up a little bit in love with Hitagi too.

Over all three of Tsubasa’s arcs we’ve slowly been approaching the truth of the similarity between Koyomi and Tsubasa. The difference between them and Hitagi, or Kanbaru.

Tsubasa is someone that resists change, refuses to move forward. To some extent the backwards chronology of her first two arcs doesn’t matter because the conclusion is almost the same. Just don’t worry about it. Continue as normal.  This can seem a frighteningly noble thing, from Koyomi’s perspective. It is a frighteningly broken thing, to Tsubasa. 

Hitagi says she’s a ‘failure as a creature’. That she has no sense of danger, simply accepting everything as it comes. The concept of the ‘wild creature’ invoked here is obviously connected to how her oddities manifest as animals, holding the instincts and impulses that she rejects in herself.  She eats her food unseasoned, not because she prefers it that way, but because the difference in taste doesn’t matter to her. She approves of goodness to the exact same extent she approves of tediousness, of flavourlessness, of banality. In that sense, Hitagi questions, can even her love for Koyomi be considered real? Does she have a reason to prefer him in particular?

We’ve been told that she’s the ‘real deal’ in comparison to Koyomi’s fake, but what that turns out to mean is simply that Koyomi has a basic level of self-awareness. He knows how it looks to others, to be so self-sacrificing. It makes you stand out. Tsubasa fails to recognise this - how else would she still have the misconception that she’s been correctly acting as a ‘normal girl’?

Besides that one point, the two are remarkably similar. Their lack of self-regard drives them into service of others, all the while stubbornly refusing to reach out for help on their own. Koyomi fails again and again, repeating the same mistakes, accepting his old hypocrisies, and through it all, remaining himself. 

That’s why she loves him. Because he ‘confronts his own weakness’. Because when he saved Shinobu he was crying, and Tsubasa can’t remember the last time she herself cried. 

The second chapter ends with Tsubasa noting that she always gives thanks after a meal, for the plants and animals that have been killed ‘for my sake, of all creatures.’ Especially after spring break, she says. After encountering a vampire, after witnessing what it is to be a vampire, to devour someone else’s life for your own sake. But here I also think about the cat. An animal that died on the side of the road. A predator, whose energy drain selfishly takes from others. 

Just as Koyomi and Tsubasa are alike, so are their oddities. They both take the form of creatures that are capable of imposing on others, of asserting their own desires over those of others, and for that reason the both of them are deathly afraid of letting them out. They shrink back inside themselves, trying their best to avoid bumping into anyone else, to avoid cursing them with their touch. 

But where Koyomi, in his fumbling way, makes progress & reconciles with Shinobu, Tsubasa casts her cat aside. She loses the memories of its rampage after it leaves. This doesn’t seem strange at first. We assume this is how the oddity works. It is how it works! For Tsubasa. The cat isn’t the one removing her memories, she just went ahead and did that on her own. Like she does with everything. 

There’s a conversation between cat and vampire in this book. Shinobu brings up the tale of Napoleon sleeping in the bath & points out that two very abnormal things can combine to seem normal. Black Hanekawa is one such abnormal thing, an oddity, but going down this train of thought has Hanekawa wondering if she isn’t one herself, if her own ability to ignore inconveniences and tolerate the intolerable isn’t also something ambiguously supernatural. 

Episode says that she had an ‘overwhelming presence’ when he met her during spring break, that she almost seems normal now, having since cut off the cat from herself. Having cut off the tiger. It’s almost a contradiction. The more she relies on supernatural powers, the more normal she herself becomes. 

Perhaps the model student persona of Hanekawa Tsubasa was also a constructed identity, constructed for the purpose of protecting herself, just as Kuro was. 

After all, to a vampire’s eyes, there’s not much of a difference between human and oddity.

Again we have the oddity as a twisted reflection of its master. Shinobu sees everyone equally as food, while to Koyomi both humans and oddities are equally in need of his help. He saves Shinobu despite her monstrous nature, he saves Mayoi despite her being the cause of the incident. To him there’s no distinction, both Kuro and Tsubasa are Hanekawa. 

We are going to be seeing nightmares for the rest of our lives, he tells Tsubasa in Neko Kuro. You will never stop being that person. Because when it comes down to it, he doesn’t, and neither does she. 

It feels a little off. People can change, can’t they? People can always change. Does she really have to drag that cat, that tiger, around with her forever? In this book we get a more complete picture. What cannot change is the past. What happened, what you’ve done, that never goes away. You can become a different person as much as you like, as long as you never deny it. That the cat, the tiger, they were, are, both you. You can change as much as you like, but all of those changes, steps and missteps are still Hanekawa Tsubasa. 

Her mistake was pretending that the cat wasn’t her, pushing everything onto Kuro as though it had nothing to do with Tsubasa herself. 

As Gaen points out though, this is normal. Everyone goes through their life lying to themselves & each other to cope. Tsubasa isn’t special. What makes her special in this arc is accepting the oddities as part of herself, asking them to come home. Supposedly they’d disappear on their own. From both an oddity’s perspective, and a human perspective, that’s the preferable outcome. But just like Koyomi, Tsubasa doesn’t see this from an oddity’s perspective, or a human’s perspective. To her the cat and tiger have become family. 

The theme of this series, then, really hasn’t changed from the first arc, where a girl without her weight takes back her emotions. 

Hitagi and her own self-driven changes are vital to this arc, her affection for Tsubasa driving the girl to accept help freely given. Tsubasa still resists the idea of calling Koyomi, taking up his time, making her feelings known to him, and so both Hitagi and the Fire Sisters end up demonstrating the virtues of kindness freely given, what a family ‘should’ be like. This helps Tsubasa understand the character of her own family situation, one that she finally bluntly articulates as abuse. 

Both Tsubasa and Koyomi have that tendency, looking away from uncomfortable truths in order to maintain their way of life. Take, for example, the situation with Kanbaru, where he’s just a bit too charitable, doesn’t quite understand how much she wants him dead. He’s unable to solve the incident on his own, unable to realise the problem with getting himself killed to solve it, and in the end is only able to provide a justification for Hitagi and Kanbaru to meet. To buy time for her to get there. 

It’s an overstepping of bounds, a needless intervention, an unwanted favour. But it’s not pointless. 

It’s a classic Koyomi-narrated arc, in that way. He’s a bit slow to understand the mind of the ‘victim’, is unsuccessful in his attempts in intervention when compared to Oshino, the specialist, and Kanbaru has to just go ahead and save herself. 

Consider, now, the structure of Tsubasa Tiger. For once, our protagonist isn’t Koyomi. And yet, in a similar manner to Koyomi Vamp, we find the narrator herself to be the one afflicted by an oddity. 

She’s a bit slow to understand what’s going on in the mind of the victim, has the situation laid out for her by Izuko, the specialist, and in the end - 

Her attempts at intervention are unsuccessful. She can’t defeat the tiger on her own. She can only buy time. 

Just as Koyomi’s business with Kanbaru is an overstepping of bounds, a needless intervention, an unwanted favour, Tsubasa’s business with the tiger is ‘impossible, reckless and-’

Not futile. Never pointless. 

Isn’t the point of Koyomi in Suruga Monkey that without him risking himself, the two may never have come back together? That despite being unwanted, his selflessness is, in the end,  appreciated? 

The point of Tsubasa Tiger, then, is that people will come to help you if you call them. Koyomi demonstrates this in Nekomonogatari Kuro, with his text message trick. Here, in Shiro, Tsubasa returns the favour, finally reaching out to him by sending a picture, escaping the carefully constructed boundary of her school uniform, letting him know that she wants to stay in touch with him, that she doesn’t mind imposing on his time a little. 

One might question the role of Koyomi in this narrative, appearing at the end to save the day. Isn’t this arc supposed to be about Tsubasa? Doesn’t she have to resolve her own issues? Do we not all have to save ourselves?

That was never true, though. Koyomi’s appearance at the end is almost an afterthought. It’s Oshino’s final proposal in Koyomi Vamp. It’s Hitagi’s arrival in Suruga Monkey. It’s Shinobu’s emergence from the shadow in Tsubasa Cat. 

The protagonist role Tsubasa inherits from Koyomi is not the ability to solve incidents, it is the ability to help, to be there for someone. Just as Koyomi was able to face her feelings head on in Tsubasa Cat, willing to give up his life for her in Tsubasa Family, just how she was able to be a friend to Koyomi at his lowest point in Kizumonogatari - 

For the first time in a while, the one that Tsubasa Hanekawa tries to take care of is herself. 

And that's all for now. This arc is great. Gonna have to hurry up a bit if I want to finish this before the new season comes out . . .

[jordanplsno]

I was told to draw them drinking lemonade after committing arson.

So I did.

[stabbyfoxandrew]

happy wipw my beloved!

there is something so endearing about the image of you getting your laptop out in the middle of the night for this <3

I humbly request a little bit of arson 👉👈

(idk if your asks still look like this from last week or if I missed it? just delete it if I already missed it ig? mwah)

WIP Wednesday (5/22)| Arsonist Neil / Firefighter Andrew AU (Part 173)

“Liar,” 10 snorts. “I guess I’ll just have to set a fire soon so I can jog my memory about you.”

“You’d better fucking not,” Andrew says, smooshing his ice cream down with his spoon. “I won’t show up. I’m not even at work right now, idiot.”

“I know you’re not. I meant on like… uh, Tuesday or something,” 10 says. And Andrew blinks. 10 knows his schedule? How the fuck does he know Andrew’s schedule? They haven’t talked about it before.

“You know my schedule? Stalker,” Andrew says, loading up a huge spoonful of brownie and ice cream. He raises it to his mouth and crams it in, doing his best not to scald his tongue or get a brain freeze. Luckily, the two differing temperatures balance each other out.

“Nah, not really. I just know which days we talk a lot and which ones we don’t. Every couple days, you sort of disappear, so… it makes sense that Tuesday is your next work day.” 10 answers, impressing Andrew with his skills of deductive reasoning.

“Nice work, Sherlock. Tell me where I lost my pencil case in the third grade,” Andrew challenges. It’s a trick question though, because he didn’t lose it. He threw it in the garbage because it had a tiger on it that freaked him out. He takes another bite, waiting for 10 to solve the case.

“No idea. I’m not a detective, just nosy,” 10 admits. Then he lets out a breath before saying, “Send me a picture of you.”

[viviennevermillion]

Garden of Lights

notes: for once, dottore decided to be romantic. I had this idea ever since I found out what the inside of the ruin golem looked like. dottore is possessing my brain at this point.

this work is part of the #marry a harbinger event

contains: dottore x gn!reader

prompt: the proposal

warnings: none

Out of the many words you associated with il Dottore, "romantic" had never been one of them. Many would describe him as cold or cruel. In the presence of others he seemed indifferent towards you. Yet what Dottore lacked in obvious displays of affection, he made up for in companionship.

His love for you showed in the little things he did. How, after a long day spent in his lab he'd join you on the sofa, reading a book with you and gently leaning against you as you could feel his tense muscles relax. Or that he was always looking out for your health; something he had never done for anyone else. How he went out of his way to buy you new pancakes at the bakery across the street when he burnt the ones he tried to make you for breakfast.

You'd exit your shared bedroom, still tired and talk to him while standing in the doorframe. "What's that smell?", you raised your eyebrows. "The usual", Dottore replied, calmly putting out the fire in the pan. "Arson?" "Breakfast."

"Hmm", you'd reply and go back to bed.

But today was different. The two of you were up early, as you were on a "business" trip in Sumeru and Dottore insisted he had something to show you. "Something" apparently required a very long hike towards Devantaka Mountain.

"Are we there yet?", you whined, trying to catch up with him. "What are you, 5?", he teased you and gave you an amused grin, "does a little walking make you this exhausted?" "If you turn it into half a marathon by having the speed of a feral Rishboland Tiger, yes it does", you sighed and Dottore laughed but slowed down instinctively to make sure you wouldn't overexert yourself. He'd let you hold his hand and decided as much as he wanted to get to the point of why you went on this journey in the first place, he'd let you take a look at the scenery and would try to make the hike enjoyable for you.

You eventually arrived at the giant Ruin Golem that decorated the landscape of the mountain. "Here we are", Dottore said proudly, "almost set this thing loose on the capital in my Akademiya days....ah, good times." You gave him a concerned look as he entered the giant machine with you. "Is this safe?", you asked, "like, a normal person's understanding of safe?" "Don't worry, I'm not going to activate it...", he said, "...not today at least." He guided you through the tunnel entrance until the two of you arrived in a huge dark space inside of the Ruin Golem.

Dottore used a switch on the side of the tunnel.

You suddenly saw the whole interior of the Ruin Golem light up. There were hundreds of small lamps that looked like they all had been attached to the metallic hall by hand. It was a beautiful sight, looking like some sort of industrial light garden. Did Dottore do this for you? This must have taken a ton of work....

You marveled at the fairy lights decorating the rusty stairs and walls and then turned to Dottore who had taken off his mask and was looking at you with an uncharacteristically gentle smile that you didn't get to see too often. You walked towards him and wrapped your arms around him, pressing your cheek against his chest. "This is beautiful, Dottore...", you smiled at him and kissed him lovingly, running your hand through his hair which you knew was an action he loved.

"Want to dance or something?", he asked casually but there was a hint of nervousness in his voice. Likely because this was so untypical of him that he didn't want you to tease him. "You're so romantic today", you remarked in surprise but took his hand nevertheless and thus his offer for a dance. "We can also terrorize a village with the giant robot if that's more on brand", he rolled his eyes and wrapped an arm around your waist. "Let's not do that", you chuckled and Dottore used what looked like a small remote. Music started playing in the background and he swayed to the music with you. He accidentally stepped on your feet a couple of times. "Do you have any experience with dancing?", you asked him. "I read a book, does that count?" "It does not."

You chuckled and tried to teach him a little until he was looking into your eyes, concentrating on the dance. You wondered what was going on in his mind right now, his facial expression was unreadable but he looked like he was analyzing the way you made him feel. He looked a little puzzled so you decided to test his reaction by giving him a soft kiss onto his lips. He didn't react at first. He just kept staring at your face.

Then he leaned in for another kiss, pressing his lips to yours and kissing you slowly but passionately. He pulled you closer to his chest and sighed into the kiss while his hand was caressing your cheek.

"So", you inquired after parting from him, "what's the occasion? As much as I adore all this, you have to admit it's a little unlike you." He shrugged. "I suppose you're right. Well, there's something I've been meaning to ask you."

He reached into the pocket of his coat to pull out a small box. He opened it to reveal an intricately designed silver ring to you. He didn't kneel down but it was still evident what he was trying to do. "I made it in my lab", he explained and looked into your eyes, "we've been together for a while now and I thought we might as well." He tried to play it cool as he was obviously unfamiliar with a situation like this and didn't really know how to approach asking you for your hand in marriage. "Will you marry me, y/n?", he asked quietly.

You nodded with tears in your eyes and pulled him into a tight hug, burying your face in his neck. Oh great, emotion, what do I do now?, Dottore thought and awkwardly patted your head. He put the ring onto your finger and gave you a forehead kiss.

"Thank you", he then said, avoiding eye contact, "for understanding me. For accepting me the way I am. And for letting me into your heart even though I'm...not easy to love." You cupped his cheek and smiled at him as you pressed another kiss to his lips. "You were an aquired taste, I admit that", you chuckled and ran a hand through his soft hair, "but I assure you, by now loving you is one of the easiest things for me to do."

You smiled down at the ring and ran your finger over it, reaching for the gemstone on it. Dottore swatted your hand away. "Careful that's the button for the scalpel."

You raised your eyebrows at him. "You included a scalpel function in my engagement ring?", you stared at him for a moment, "nevermind, why am I surprised, it's you." "Think of it as a self-defense mechanism", he shrugged.

You pulled him close again and let him hold you in his arms. "What now?", you asked quietly. "Well, we could stay here for a while. Or watch the stars on top of the machine", he squeezed your hand and grinned at you, "or we could-" "We're not activating this thing, Dottore."

"If that's your wish", he sighed and kissed your forehead, "can we use a ruin machine as our flower girl? Machines have a way better aim than children. Or Columbina for that matter." "Fine", you shook your head and leaned your forehead against his shoulder, "I love you, crazy."

Dottore chuckled. "Love you too."

[writerofadream]

Hi! I've never asked one of these before like ever haha so im kinda nervous (ik i shouldnt be) but can you call me Butterfly 🦋 Anon, and can you start a miniseries with duncan tdi x juvie bestfriend! reader? I'd just absolutely adore to read it because I'm going through a TD phase right now haha

... me too butterfly 🦋.. me too

Fortune favors the Bold ⛓

TDI! Duncan x Juvie Bestfriend! Reader ⛓

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

You stared at the gray wall as you had done for the past three years. Last night you had been moved to solidarity when you had bitten a guards thumb off after he had shoved Duncan into a wall when 'recess' had ended. Duncan had laughed so hard he had ended up in solidarity too, sadly he was on the male side of the jail.

It was around three in the morning you had guessed when you heard a whisper of "Hey, princess." You felt your body tense, that wasn't a voice you recongnized.

Your eyes looked up from the spot where you layed on the cold floor only to be met with the face of a pale man with black hair who obviously did not work there. "Are you bestfriends with that crazy dickhead with the greenhair?" The man asked without an explanation. You nodded slowly.

"If I got you out of here and buy you freedom for at least nine weeks will you promise to wreak havoc on a group of teenagers for me?" The man asked a wild smile on your face. Huh.. he reminded you of your brother.

"Hell yeah." You smirked and Chris nearly whooped with excitment if he could get to cons with issues on his show someone was sure to die!

Think about the ratings!

He unlocked the door to solidarity and helped you out, quickly hiding you underneath a delievery cart where you were met with the eyes of your bestfriend.

"Hey, scorpion." Duncan smiled. "Hey tiger." You smiled right back. This strange man had no idea what he was in for. Did he even read Duncan's file (much less, yours?)

Duncan had commited arson, fraud, armed robbery, and assault. (Someone was trying to mess with his girl, okay??)

You had commited armed robbery, manslaughter, and assault. The manslaughter wasn't exactly your fault but thats a story for another day.

Chris smiled to himself as he pushed his two new pet projects. He had bought himself a tiger who was willing to burn the world for a girl, and a scorpion with a twitchy trigger finger. God, he would love if someone fucked up on the show and got either of you hurt so the other would go crazy. He giggled.

This was going to be the BEST week ever.

Chris dropped the two of you off in a hotel, just to make sure you wouldn't escape he sicced Chef Hatchet on you. But neither of you wanted to leave.

[jimraisedmeup]

TICK // 16.1 - lips like sugar

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Rating: mature (angst, language)

Word Count: 1900

☾

She floats like a swan Grace on the water Lips like sugar Lips like sugar

☾

May 15, 1984 - junior year

"You are a fucking asshole."

The animosity in your eyes made Eddie flinch. He took a few more steps towards you, holding up his hands… in some kind of… surrender? He didn't know. You were radiating violence and nothing else. Your eyes were red like you had been crying. 

"Babe, let me expla-"

"Take one more step towards me and I'll castrate you."

As usual, his timing was terrible. Eddie let out a nervous laugh which only infuriated you more.

You pushed yourself off the van and began walking over to him, like a tiger hunting its prey. 

"Say nothing. Let me talk. Nod if you understand."

Eddie nodded immediately, his burnt hands still held up before him. He swallowed anxiously, bracing himself for whatever wounds your words would inflict.

"Callahan told me you're being held back. That you can't graduate. Fuck you."

You took a step closer.

"Don't you care about your future? Not even just with school - you could have been seriously hurt today. Fuck you."

Another step. You began to reach into your pocket, which made Eddie take a step back.

You held something in your hand, flicking it at him in anger. Whatever it was hit him in the face, making him jump like a coward. Looking down, his stomach dropped.

You spoke again, your voice cracking. "I got my driver's license a couple weeks ago. It was part of your graduation present. For teaching me how to drive."

Bending down and grabbing your license off the concrete, you looked him in the eyes, pointing the card at him.

"Fuck you," you whispered, tossing the keys to his van on the ground and storming off.

Eddie watched, speechless, as you got into Jonathan Byers' car. And then you were gone.

☾

Just when you think you've caught her She glides across the water She calls for you tonight To share this moonlight

☾

"You okay?" Jonathan asked hesitantly, like he was afraid that you might turn on him next.

But your throat was constricting, holding back tears. You just stared out the window and held your breath. You refused to cry, even if it was out of anger. And especially in front of someone who you had only become good friends with over the last couple months.

The Byers' boy drove towards your home. He was the one to take you to get your driver's license in the first place. 

It was kind of an unspoken trade - Jonathan would take you to get your license and in turn, you would say nice things about him to Nancy. You didn't mean to end up friends, it just happened somewhere along the way. 

When you pulled up to the Buckley home, you let out a huff, finally calming down a bit.

"Thank you, Jonathan. I'll be fine," you looked over your shoulder at him as you opened the car door. "You're coming to the party this weekend, right?"

Jonathan looked a little bewildered. "You're still going to throw him a graduation party?"

You shrugged, sniffling. "It's a surprise party. Can you imagine the look on his face when he gets here? Congratulations, asshole, you committed arson and somehow dodged a felony. Has a nice ring to it, right?" 

"I guess...?" 

Throwing your backpack over your shoulder, you jogged up to the house, where Robin would surely be waiting to hear all about the fiasco at school. 

But instead, it was your father that was standing in the kitchen when you came in.

"I told you that Munson boy was no good."

Your temper flared for a second before you composed yourself. "What do you want me to say, dad? 'You were right'?" You dropped your bag loudly on the floor.

Richard Buckley sipped on his coffee, tilting his head and scowling in a way that said well, yes. 

You snapped. "I was kind of hoping for some support. You can't help who you love, right?" 

You held your tone in a way that emphasized not only his extramarital affair and subsequent relationship with Kate, but also the situations going on with his daughters. 

But, of course, your father was still oblivious to Robin's secrets, as that was something Robin herself had to confront when she felt the time was right.

"I'm just glad you weren't involved - that you weren't hurt," your father said simply, turning back to the newspaper in his hands. You didn’t know what to say to that.

Robin was sitting on your bed when you entered your room. 

"There you are!" Robin said, exasperated. "What took so long? I was worried you got arrested, too."

"I took Eddie's van to the police station, tore him a new asshole, and then Jonathan took me home."

You sat down on the chair near your pristine white vanity, removing your shoes. You arranged them in perfect order on the floor next to your dresser.

You internally admitted to yourself that your compulsive habits were creeping up on you again, like a stress-induced specter. All you could do was oblige to calm your nerves.

"Are you okay?" Robin's blue gaze was worried, she fiddled with her hands instead of uttering all of the words that were in her busy mind.

You looked at your sister morosely. "No, I had… I had no idea he was going to do that."

You explained everything that happened that day. Well, everything besides certain spicy extracurricular activities that took place during lunch near the drama room.

The gravity of the situation fell down upon you once again. Your face heated in frustration. Without knowing what else to do, you stood up and then flopped face down on the bed, breathing heavily into the blankets.

Robin rubbed your back tenderly, sighing. "So we're stuck with Eddie for another year at school?"

"Yes," you cried into the comforter.

"At least you guys get to graduate together, now."

Oh, Robbie. Always looking on the bright side. But you weren't sure if you could find a silver lining in the whole thing just yet.

☾

You'll flow down her river She'll ask and you'll give her

Lips like sugar Sugar kisses Lips like sugar Sugar kisses

☾

Eddie threw the tennis ball aggressively against his bedroom wall for the thousandth time, catching it as it came back to him.

It only took a couple of phone calls to your house before your father finally told him to fuck off, though not exactly with those words. 

Just leave her alone, will you? Go light something else on fire.

He whipped the ball again. The stinging pain in his injured hands as he caught it each time was mildly therapeutic.

Eddie Munson knew he fucked up. He knew he was in the wrong. There was no trying to justify his actions besides simply wanting anarchy, some more action in his already rebellious life.

How was he supposed to know that the last firework would backfire? Principal Higgins' car had been conveniently covered in toilet paper as some other students’ cliche idea of a senior prank. The stupid car went up like a box of goddamn matches.

For a split second before Hopper hauled him off, Eddie admired the fire, ignoring the burns on his hands. A day that meant to be nothing but a fireworks show turned into an actual shit show.

He turned his thoughts towards you. All he could do now was give you time and try to think of a way to apologize to you.

A knock on the door sounded in his room, quiet besides the impact of the tennis ball against his Metallica poster.

"Eddie? Can I come in?"

Uncle Wayne appeared in the doorway looking solemn. 

Eddie snorted. "I see you heard about what happened."

Running a hand down his weathered face, his uncle shrugged. "Uh, yeah. Chief Hopper called me."

"Great." 

Eddie pitched the ball again, not looking his uncle in the eye.

"Kiddo, I know this was just an accident that spiraled out of control. Kinda like a perfect storm. I'm here for you, always gonna be," Wayne grumbled, lighting a cigarette.

His uncle's sentimental words were unexpected. Eddie caught the ball and stopped, sitting down on his bed heavily. But Eddie couldn't find the words to respond. 

"I gotta head to work, but I bought a six-pack and some smokes… you can help yourself to it. I'm sure your nerves are fried after today." As he turned to leave the room, his uncle tapped on the door frame. "Just don't be too hard on yourself, kiddo."

He closed the door behind him. When Eddie heard his uncle's truck pull away, the Munson boy sighed and fell back limply on the bed.

Glancing over to his nightstand, his chest hurt. A Polaroid photo of you was on the wall above it. You looked bashful, smiling and reaching for the camera, wearing only a t-shirt that went down to your thighs. 

He remembered that night, about a month ago, every single detail burned into his memory. It was a Friday night. You and Eddie shared a small bottle of Jameson Whiskey and took dirty photos of each other with your new camera.

It was a sweet memory, of a sweet girl. A sweet girl who deserved a lot better than a boy who was as unstable as a stick of expired dynamite.

☾

Just when you think she's yours She's flown to other shores To laugh at how you break And melt into this lake

☾

It was sometime around midnight when Eddie heard a tapping at his front door. He hadn't been able to sleep for shit, stress clouding his mind. He couldn't even find motivation to play his guitar.

And now, someone showing up unannounced at his front door was the last thing he needed.

Grabbing a pathetic pocket knife from the junk drawer in the kitchen, Eddie inched towards the living room. He didn't want to take any chances - after his dad was sent to prison, Eddie and his uncle weren't sure what kind of trouble his dad had been wrapped up in. Or if Mr. Munson had owed anyone money prior to his arrest.

Anyone Eddie knew would have called before just dropping by in the middle of the night, even you.

So being his usual paranoid self, Eddie crept up to the front door. He could hear whispering on the other side, and then a harsh, louder knock on the metal door made him jump.

"Fuck," he mumbled, trying to peek out of the closest window to see if there was a car in the driveway. There wasn't.

But then a familiar voice sounded from the other side of the thin trailer walls.

"Eddie! Open the door, I can see your damn shadow-ow, clumsy bitch, you're stepping on my foot!"

It was you. And you weren't alone.

The Munson boy was confused when not just one, but two Buckley daughters stumbled into his home. You were both wearing dark clothes, your hair tucked under black hats, almost twins in the dim light. 

Robin smiled sheepishly at him before looking around his trailer in curiosity. "Snazzy place you got here, Eddie."

He stood there staring at the duo. "Do I even want to know what's going on? You guys look like cartoon burglars."

You shot him a mischievous grin, tossing him a matching black hat. You put your hands on your hips proudly.

"Get changed. We're going to get revenge on Higgins."

☾

She'll be my mirror Reflect what I am Loser and winner The king of Siam

And my Siamese twin Alone in the river Mirror kisses Mirror kisses

☾

(song lyrics credit: "Lips Like Sugar" by Echo & The Bunnymen)

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