#just the perfect youre powerless and useless

[noisilyeclecticmilkshake]

Something about powered whump.

The way, in any other situation, they'd be fine.

In any other situation, their power would rip through these bindings and they run.

Superspeed, but the doors locked. What now? Put them in a particle accelerator, good luck doing your stupid 'fazing through walls' trick now.

Ice powers? Their partners dying of hypothermia. Stuck in a too hot room. Stuck in an absolute zero room, no way to make it colder. Can't freeze the lock, its already as cold as its going to get.

Heat powers? Same thing, put that fucker in a volcano. Good luck finding your way through 8,000 feet of lava. Or an incinerator, yeah, just try and melt that lock off. Oh whumpee? They have a fever and your emotions are haywire, hope you can get that water to them without it evaporating.

Superstrength? Fighting a cotton powered villain. What are they gonna do, punch their way through pillows?

It's so fun.

It's funny if its for mundane things too.

Yeah, of course superstrength can move your entire apartment belongs in one trip. What's that? You want help building a bookshelf from Wal-Mart. They've never seen a screwdriver in their life.

You want a coffee run? Okay, but you better fine with no coffee left in the cup afterward. Just because they can run faster than light, doesn't mean liquid stops obeying physics.

Want the lights a different color? Just ask. You want them to fix the wiring in your remote? Why would they know anything about that?

Fun. The possibilities of powers being absolutely useless in everyday life is just good soup to me.

[pucksandpower]

Fantasy Come to Life

Day 23 → Consensual Non-Consent 💋 Max Verstappen

Warnings: 18+ content, CNC, drugging, and conditioning

Kinktober Masterlist

The streets of Monaco glimmer under the soft afternoon sun, a golden haze coating the narrow lanes of boutiques and cafés. Your sandals click against the cobblestone as you make your way towards the boutique district.

Excitement pulses in your veins. The air smells of salt from the sea mixed with expensive perfumes wafting from open shop doors. A vacation, you think. Finally, a breath of freedom.

There’s a group of tourists ahead, their laughter bouncing between the buildings, but you don’t pay them much attention. You’re too busy thinking about the new dress you’ve been eyeing since last night. Just a few more minutes, and you’ll-

A hand. Suddenly.

It’s over your mouth. It’s over your nose. You barely process the scent of something sweet before your body reacts, muscles tensing as you thrash, trying to scream. But your voice is gone. Your world is tipping sideways. The bustling streets dim, muffled voices becoming far-off echoes.

You struggle. Harder now, your legs kicking wildly, hands flailing to grab onto something — anything — but it’s useless. The arms around you are too strong, pulling you back, pulling you down. The cloth over your face smells like chemicals, sickly sweet and heavy.

The light above you begins to blur. Your fingers twitch, reaching for the fading streetlights, for the sky, but everything’s too far away. Your limbs stop responding. You’re falling.

And then — nothing.

***

When you come to, your eyelids feel impossibly heavy. Everything is hazy, dark. You try to move but your body doesn’t listen. Panic flares. You can barely breathe, and your head feels like it’s stuffed with cotton.

Then you hear voices. Men, low and murmuring, their words filtering into your consciousness through the haze.

“... should be waking up soon,” one of them says. His voice is smooth, calm, like this is all perfectly normal.

“Why her, though?” It’s the driver, speaking in a clipped tone. The rumble of the engine thrums beneath you, the subtle vibration reminding you that you’re in a car. “There are thousands of beautiful women here, Max. You didn’t have to go through all this trouble.”

There’s a pause.

And then, a deeper voice, Max, answers.

“I knew the moment I saw her,” Max says, his tone dark, possessive. “She’s meant to be mine.”

Your heart thuds. You can hear him shifting in the seat next to you, close enough that you can feel the heat of him.

The driver scoffs. “That’s ridiculous. You don’t even know her.”

“I don’t need to,” Max replies smoothly. “Some things are undeniable.”

His words drip with confidence, like this is all part of some grand plan that only he understands.

You try to move again, to make a sound, but your limbs are heavy and unresponsive, and fear curls in your stomach like a fist. You’re trapped, lying motionless in the backseat of this car with two strangers, one of whom thinks he owns you.

“She’ll resist,” the driver says. “They always resist.”

Max chuckles, low and quiet. “Of course she will. At first.” There’s a pause, then you hear him shift closer, his breath warm against your cheek. “But I’ll make her understand. She’ll be perfect once I’ve made her mine.”

The air around you feels suffocating, his presence overwhelming. You want to scream, to cry, but your body remains limp, powerless under whatever they’ve drugged you with. You try to focus, to force your eyes open, but it’s like swimming through quicksand.

“She’s pretty,” the driver remarks after a beat. “But not worth all this. You really think she’s the one?”

Max lets out a quiet laugh, a sound that sends chills down your spine. “She is the one. I’ve seen plenty of women, but none like her.”

The driver grunts, unconvinced. “You sound obsessed.”

“I’m not obsessed,” Max corrects him, his tone calm, deliberate. “I’m certain.”

A silence stretches between them, the only sound the hum of the engine and the faint rustle of fabric as Max leans back.

You fight against the drug still clouding your senses, trying to make sense of your surroundings. The luxurious leather beneath you, the soft vibrations of the car — this isn’t just any car. It’s expensive. You can tell by the way it smells, by the subtle way it moves over the road. These men — they aren’t amateurs.

“What’s the plan, then?” The driver asks, breaking the silence. “You can’t just keep her like this.”

Max takes his time responding. “I’ll introduce myself properly once she wakes up. Once she’s calm.”

“And if she’s not?”

“She will be,” Max says, a thread of steel weaving into his voice. “She doesn’t have a choice.”

Your stomach churns. You try again to move, to scream, but nothing comes out. It’s like your body is a prison, and you’re trapped inside, helpless. You feel Max’s gaze on you, heavy, unyielding. Even though you can’t see him, you know he’s watching, waiting.

“You’re insane,” the driver mutters, shaking his head. “This is a bad idea.”

Max doesn’t respond immediately. When he does, his voice is low, quiet, almost intimate. “You don’t understand,” he says. “She belongs to me. I knew it the moment I saw her walk out of that hotel. I could feel it.”

The driver sighs. “I still don’t get it. Why go through all this trouble? She’s just a girl.”

“She’s not just a girl,” Max snaps, his patience thinning. “She’s the girl. The only one.”

Your pulse quickens. You’ve heard enough to know that whatever Max wants from you, it’s not something you can just walk away from. There’s something dangerous about the way he talks about you, like you’re an object, something to be claimed and owned.

“Whatever,” the driver says, clearly done with the conversation. “Just make sure you know what you’re doing.”

“I always do,” Max replies, the confidence back in his voice. “Now, keep driving.”

There’s a shift in the car, a turn, and you feel the momentum change as they head somewhere new. You fight to stay conscious, to fight through the fog in your mind, but it’s getting harder and harder to focus. The drugs are still working their way through your system, and you can feel yourself slipping.

Max leans in closer again, his voice soft, almost a whisper. “Don’t worry,” he says. “You’ll wake up soon. And when you do, we’ll start over. Properly this time.”

The car hums beneath you as it continues its journey, and with every second that passes, you feel yourself fading again, drifting away into the darkness.

***

Time slips away, and you don’t know how long you’ve been out when you finally stir. Your eyes flutter open, and the world slowly comes back into focus. The car has stopped, parked somewhere dark and quiet. You can barely move, but you manage to shift slightly, just enough to feel the weight of the leather seat beneath you, the tightness of your clothes against your skin.

There’s a rustle next to you, and then Max is there, leaning over you, his eyes gleaming in the dim light.

“Good,” he murmurs, his voice a low purr. “You’re awake.”

You try to speak, but your throat is dry, and all that comes out is a faint croak.

“Shh,” Max soothes, his fingers brushing a strand of hair away from your face. “Don’t try to talk. You’re still a little out of it.”

Your heart races, and you try to push yourself up, but your limbs are still sluggish, your body refusing to obey.

Max watches you for a moment, then smiles. “Don’t worry,” he says. “This will all make sense soon enough.”

You want to scream, to lash out, to fight, but you can’t. You’re trapped, and Max knows it.

“You’re mine,” he whispers, leaning in close, his breath warm against your skin. “And I’ll make sure you understand that.”

Terror grips you, but there’s nothing you can do. Not yet.

Max sits back, his eyes never leaving you, and for the first time, you realize just how much danger you’re in.

The world outside the car is quiet, the faint rustle of leaves the only sound in the stillness. You’re groggy, trying to push through the fog in your mind as Max’s hands move to unbuckle your seatbelt. His touch is efficient, calculated, not gentle. The door opens with a soft click, and you feel the cool night air wash over your skin.

Max leans down, his face close to yours, eyes sharp and watchful. “I’m going to carry you inside,” he says, almost as if he’s giving you permission to protest. But you can’t. You can barely lift your head. The drug still lingers, turning your limbs to lead.

Without another word, he slides his arms under you, lifting you effortlessly. His grip is secure, possessive, and you can feel the strength in his muscles as he carries you out of the car and toward the looming silhouette of a villa in the distance. It’s massive. Larger than anything you’ve ever seen in real life, with sprawling gardens that stretch into the darkness. The villa itself is lit from within, a soft glow spilling through tall windows. It’s beautiful in a cold, detached way, like a piece of art you can admire but never touch.

As Max carries you up the long driveway, his pace is steady, unhurried. He isn’t worried about anyone seeing him. He’s confident. Why wouldn’t he be? There’s no one around. No one to help.

“Where are you taking me?” You manage to whisper, your voice weak but steady enough to ask the question that’s been burning in your mind.

Max doesn’t stop walking. He doesn’t even look at you. “Home,” he replies simply.

You swallow, the word landing like a stone in your chest. “This isn’t-”

“It will be,” he cuts you off, his voice calm, like he’s already made up his mind about everything. “You’ll see.”

You try to focus, to take in every detail. The way the villa seems to stretch forever, the heavy scent of flowers in the air, the distant hum of the sea. The weight of Max’s arms around you, the way his fingers press into your skin as though he’s afraid you might slip away.

But you’re not slipping anywhere.

He carries you through the grand entrance, past doors that swing open with ease, revealing a marble-floored foyer that’s so pristine, it feels untouched. There’s a quietness to the place, a hollow, echoing silence that sends a chill down your spine.

The sound of Max’s shoes against the marble floor is steady, rhythmic, as he carries you through the house. You catch glimpses of rooms as you pass — an opulent dining room with a crystal chandelier, a sitting room with velvet chairs and enormous windows. But it’s all a blur, your mind struggling to hold on to details as exhaustion pulls at you.

Finally, Max stops in front of a set of tall double doors. He shifts you slightly in his arms, then pushes one of the doors open with his shoulder. The room beyond is lavish, even more opulent than the rest of the villa. The bed is massive, draped in silk and velvet, with heavy curtains framing the windows that stretch from floor to ceiling. The walls are lined with dark wood, polished to a shine, and a crystal chandelier hangs from the ceiling, casting soft light across the room.

Max walks over to the bed, lowering you gently onto the soft mattress. Your body sinks into the silk sheets, and for a moment, it feels like you’re floating. But the comfort is fleeting, replaced quickly by the suffocating weight of reality.

He stands over you, his eyes scanning your face as if he’s searching for something. “This is where you’ll stay for now,” he says, his tone matter-of-fact. “Until you understand.”

You blink, struggling to keep your thoughts from spiraling out of control. “Understand what?”

Max’s lips twitch into the faintest hint of a smile. “That you belong here. With me.”

You want to argue, to scream, to do anything to break through the haze that’s clouding your mind. But the words catch in your throat, and all you can manage is a shaky breath.

Max moves to the foot of the bed, his hands clasped behind his back as he regards you with that same unnerving calm. “This is the beginning,” he says softly. “The conditioning will start now.”

Your heart lurches. Conditioning. The word feels clinical, detached, like something out of a textbook. But the way Max says it makes it clear that this is no abstract concept. This is real. It’s happening to you.

“What are you talking about?” You whisper, forcing the words past the lump in your throat.

Max steps closer, his gaze steady, almost gentle. “You’re going to learn to associate certain things with me. Pleasure, comfort, safety. And you’ll learn that being without me ... hurts.” He says it so simply, as though it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Your stomach twists. “You can’t ... you can’t do this.”

“I already am,” he replies smoothly, his eyes dark and unreadable. “The process is simple. Every time you wake up, you’ll feel better when I’m here. Worse when I’m not. Eventually, it’ll become instinct. You’ll crave my presence. You’ll need me.”

Your breath quickens, panic rising in your chest. “You’re insane.”

Max tilts his head slightly, as though considering your words. “Maybe,” he says, almost casually. “But that doesn’t change anything.”

Before you can respond, there’s a knock at the door. Max doesn’t react, doesn’t even turn to look as the door swings open. A man enters, dressed in a white coat, carrying a small bag in one hand. He’s older, with graying hair and a sharp, clinical air about him. He looks at you briefly, then turns his attention to Max.

“Everything’s prepared,” the man says, his voice clipped and professional.

Max nods. “Good. Let’s begin.”

The man moves to the side of the bed, setting his bag down on the nightstand. You try to push yourself up, but your body still feels sluggish, uncooperative. Fear surges through you as the man opens the bag, pulling out a syringe filled with clear liquid.

“Wait,” you rasp, your voice barely more than a whisper. “Please, don’t do this.”

Max moves closer, his gaze fixed on you. “It’s for your own good,” he says softly. “You’ll understand soon.”

The physician takes your arm, finding a vein with practiced ease. You flinch, but the needle is in before you can even protest. The liquid burns as it enters your bloodstream, a slow, creeping warmth that spreads through your body.

Your vision starts to blur again, the edges of the room fading into darkness. Max’s voice is the last thing you hear before everything goes black.

“You’ll wake up soon,” he says, his voice gentle, almost soothing. “And when you do, I’ll be here. Right where I belong.”

***

The next time you open your eyes, it feels like hours have passed. Maybe days. You’re not sure. The room is the same, the heavy curtains drawn, the chandelier casting its soft glow across the dark wood and silk.

Max is there, sitting in a chair by the bed, watching you. His presence is like a weight in the room, something you can feel even before you fully register it. The sight of him sends a strange warmth through your chest, a flicker of something you don’t want to acknowledge.

“You’re awake,” he says, his voice low and steady.

You blink, trying to shake off the fog that still clings to your mind. “What ... what did you do?”

Max leans forward slightly, his eyes never leaving yours. “I told you,” he says softly. “The conditioning has begun.”

You try to sit up, but your body feels weak, drained. The drug — whatever they gave you — is still working its way through your system, dulling your senses. But even through the haze, you can feel it. The strange pull toward Max, the inexplicable comfort that his presence brings. It’s wrong. It’s all wrong.

“You can’t-” you start, but your voice falters. The words don’t come as easily as they should.

Max stands, moving to the side of the bed. “I know it’s confusing right now,” he says, his tone almost kind. “But it’ll get easier. The more time we spend together, the more natural it’ll feel. You’ll stop fighting it.”

You shake your head, trying to clear the fog. “I’ll never-”

“You will,” Max interrupts, his voice firm but not harsh. “You don’t have a choice.”

He reaches out, brushing a hand over your hair, his touch gentle but possessive. The warmth that spreads through you at the contact is immediate, overwhelming, and you hate it. You hate the way your body responds, the way your mind seems to betray you.

“I’ll leave you for now,” Max says, pulling his hand back. “But don’t worry. I won’t be gone long.”

Your heart races as he steps away, moving toward the door. The thought of him leaving sends a sharp pang through your chest, and you can’t understand why. This is what you want. To be free of him. To be alone.

But as the door closes behind him, the room suddenly feels colder, emptier. The warmth he left behind begins to fade, replaced by an aching void that gnaws at you from the inside.

You close your eyes, trying to fight it, trying to cling to your own thoughts, but the emptiness crashes over you like a tidal wave. It’s immediate — sharp and suffocating, spreading through your body like a cold fog. You close your eyes, trying to focus on anything else, but the ache pulses deep inside you. Your muscles tense as though they’re bracing against a storm, but there’s nothing you can do to stop it.

The room feels unbearably quiet without him, as though the air has been sucked out, leaving only a hollow silence behind. You hate this. You hate how quickly your body has betrayed you, how quickly the comfort of his presence has taken root inside you.

This is wrong, you tell yourself. It’s the drugs, the conditioning.

But the longer he’s gone, the more unbearable the ache becomes. It’s subtle at first, like a distant pressure, but it grows stronger, clawing at your insides until every nerve feels raw and exposed. Your breath comes in shallow, uneven gasps as you fight against the pull, but it’s relentless.

Time stretches out. You don’t know how long you’ve been lying there, staring up at the ceiling, but it feels like an eternity. Every second without him feels like a thousand needles pressing into your skin. Your body screams for relief, for the warmth of his presence to soothe the burning ache inside you.

You grit your teeth, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. This isn’t real, you think, but your body doesn’t care. All it knows is that it hurts.

And then, after what feels like an eternity, the door opens.

The relief is instant. The moment Max steps into the room, the ache that’s been gnawing at you recedes, replaced by a wave of warmth that rushes through your veins. You hate it. You hate how quickly the pain fades, how easily your body responds to him, but there’s nothing you can do to stop it.

Max walks in slowly, his eyes locked on you, taking in every detail of your face as if reading the changes in your expression. You don’t need to speak for him to know what you’re feeling. He can see it. He can see how desperate your body is for the comfort he brings, even though your mind is screaming for it to stop.

“I told you,” Max says softly, moving closer to the bed. “You’ll feel better when I’m here.”

You don’t respond. You can’t. Your throat feels tight, the words trapped inside you, and the worst part is you don’t know if they’d come out as anger or something worse.

Max sits on the edge of the bed, his hand reaching out to brush a strand of hair away from your face. The touch is gentle, careful, and it sends a shiver down your spine. “I’m here to make you feel good,” he murmurs, his voice low and soothing. “That’s what I’ll always do. As long as you behave for me.”

You swallow hard, the weight of his words pressing down on you. He says it like a promise, like he genuinely believes that he’s helping you.

“I don’t need you,” you manage to whisper, your voice shaking. “I don’t want this.”

Max’s smile is soft, almost pitying. “Your body says otherwise.” His fingers trail down your cheek, brushing against your skin. “You can fight it all you want, but you’ll always feel better when I’m close. That’s the way it’s going to be.”

You try to pull away from his touch, but your body betrays you, craving the warmth and relief that comes with his proximity. The ache that had threatened to consume you moments ago is gone, replaced by a simmering heat that spreads through your limbs, making your skin tingle under his fingertips.

Max watches you closely, his eyes dark and calculating as he gauges your reaction. “See?” He murmurs, his voice soft and coaxing. “You’re already starting to understand.”

“I hate you,” you whisper, but even as you say the words, your body is reacting to him, leaning into his touch despite the protests screaming in your mind.

Max doesn’t flinch at your words. If anything, he seems amused. “Hate me if you want,” he says, his tone light. “But your body knows the truth.”

His hand moves lower, trailing down your arm, sending a ripple of sensation through you that you can’t control. Your breath catches in your throat as the warmth intensifies, and you clench your fists, trying to fight the pull.

Max’s fingers skim the edge of your dress, his eyes never leaving yours as he watches the way your body reacts. “You’ll feel good, I promise,” he whispers. “Better than you’ve ever felt before.”

You shake your head, panic rising in your chest. “No-”

But Max doesn’t stop. His hand slips under the fabric of your dress, his touch deliberate and slow as he hikes it up over your thighs, exposing your skin to the cool air of the room. Your heart races, a mixture of fear and something you don’t want to name thrumming through your veins.

“Shh,” Max soothes, his voice steady. “You’ll learn to trust me. To need me. It’s already happening.”

You try to close your legs, but his hands are firm, guiding you open, controlling the movement of your body as if you’re nothing more than a doll in his hands. A small, broken sound escapes your throat, but he doesn’t stop, his fingers tracing patterns over your skin, making your pulse quicken.

“I told you I’d make you feel good,” he says softly, his voice a low murmur in your ear. “You don’t have to fight it.”

Tears prick at your eyes, your chest heaving with shallow, uneven breaths. You want to scream, to kick, to fight him off, but the weight of your own body holds you down. And worse — the warmth that follows his touch, the heat building in your core, it betrays you. You can’t stop the way your body reacts to him, no matter how much you want to.

Max shifts, his knee pressing against the bed as he leans over you, his hand sliding higher under your dress. His fingers graze the edge of your underwear, and your breath hitches, panic and unwanted anticipation coiling together inside you.

“Please,” you whisper, your voice cracking. “Don’t.”

But Max doesn’t listen. His hand slips beneath the fabric, his fingers brushing against you, and the sensation is overwhelming. You arch against him involuntarily, your body moving without your consent, and the heat inside you builds, the ache that had threatened to consume you earlier morphing into something entirely different.

“You’ll come to love this,” Max says, his tone calm, confident. “In time, you’ll crave it.”

You want to scream that he’s wrong, that you’ll never crave this, but your body doesn’t listen. It reacts to his touch, to the way his fingers move, coaxing a response out of you that you can’t control.

Max’s other hand moves to your hair, brushing it back gently as he leans down, his lips close to your ear. “Let go,” he whispers. “Stop fighting it. I’ll take care of you.”

Your breath is ragged, your heart pounding in your chest as the heat builds inside you, and you feel yourself teetering on the edge, caught between the need to escape and the unbearable sensation that’s pushing you closer to a precipice you don’t want to fall over.

“I’ll always make you feel good,” Max murmurs, his fingers moving faster over your clit, his voice a steady, calming presence in the storm raging inside you. “As long as you’re good for me.”

Your body tenses, the wave crashing over you, pulling you under. You gasp, your back arching off the bed as the sensation overwhelms you, drowning out every thought, every protest, until there’s nothing left but the blinding heat of release.

Max’s hand stills, his touch softening as the aftershocks ripple through you, and he watches, his expression unreadable as you come undone beneath him. You hate it. You hate every second of it. But the worst part is that your body craves it.

Max leans back, his hand trailing away from you, leaving your skin burning in its absence. He stands, adjusting his sleeves as though nothing out of the ordinary has happened.

“You did well,” he says, his voice soft, almost tender. “I’ll leave you to rest now.”

Your body is limp, your mind spinning as you try to process what’s just happened. The ache is gone, replaced by an empty exhaustion that weighs heavily on your limbs.

Max heads toward the door, pausing only briefly to glance back at you. “Remember,” he says quietly, his eyes dark and intense. “You’ll always feel better when I’m here.”

Then he’s gone, the door closing softly behind him.

You lie there, staring at the ceiling, the echo of his touch still lingering on your skin. The room is silent again, but this time the silence isn’t cold. It’s suffocating, pressing down on you like a heavy blanket, and for the first time since you arrived in this place, you realize just how trapped you are.

And worst of all, you know that he’s right.

***

The door opens again.

This time, when you hear it, your body doesn’t flood with fear, or even confusion — it’s anticipation. The ache that had returned in his absence is quickly soothed as Max steps into the room, his presence undeniable, filling the space with a charged energy that you’ve come to crave.

His steps are measured, deliberate, as he crosses the room to you. There’s no hesitation in his movement, no uncertainty. He knows exactly what he’s doing and what you both agreed upon. The room feels smaller when he’s in it, like the walls close in, but in a way that feels safe, protected — like nothing can touch you except him.

Max’s lips curl into a slow, knowing smile as he comes to the side of the bed, his eyes locking onto yours. He says nothing at first, letting the moment linger between you, thick and heavy. You’re not sure if you should speak or wait for him to break the silence.

He doesn’t make you wait long.

“Good girl,” he murmurs softly, his voice like velvet as he leans down, brushing a kiss against your forehead. “You were perfect.”

There’s a flutter of warmth in your chest at the praise, something that makes you feel both proud and vulnerable all at once. You blink up at him, your body still exhausted from what just happened, but there’s something comforting about the way he’s looking at you now. The way his hand reaches out to caress your cheek, tender and affectionate, as if to erase any remnants of the harshness from before.

“I wasn’t sure if you could handle it,” Max continues, his fingers tracing the line of your jaw with an intimacy that feels far more personal than anything he’s done before. “But you did. You always do, don’t you?”

You nod, your throat tight, the words caught somewhere between your mind and your mouth. You can’t quite shake the feeling of how intense everything was, how quickly it all escalated. But now, with him here, touching you like this, the pieces of the scene start to fall away, revealing what lies underneath.

Max watches you, waiting for your response, but he’s patient. He always is, especially after something like this. He knows you need time to come back down, to find your footing after the role you’ve both played.

“Was it … okay?” You manage to ask, your voice still soft and hesitant. There’s a vulnerability in your tone, a need for reassurance, even though you know how he feels.

Max’s eyes soften, and he leans down to kiss you — soft, slow, and deliberate. His lips linger against yours, his hand sliding up to cradle the back of your neck as he deepens the kiss. It’s a different kind of intensity now, one that speaks to the connection you both share. When he finally pulls back, there’s a hint of amusement in his gaze.

“More than okay,” he whispers. “You were incredible.”

The tension that had been coiled inside you loosens at his words, and you feel yourself relax against the pillows. Max’s praise always has this effect on you, like it fills in the cracks and makes everything feel right again.

“I love you,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing over your lower lip as he studies your face. “Every second of it was perfect because it was with you.”

The weight of those words settles into your chest, grounding you in the reality of what you both share. It’s all an act — a scene you agreed upon. Max has always been careful, always made sure you were okay with everything. That’s how it works between you two. The intensity, the control, the power dynamic — it’s all part of the game, part of what you’ve both built together. But underneath it all is the love, the trust that binds you to him.

He presses another kiss to your lips, softer this time, a gesture of affection rather than dominance. When he pulls away, there’s a lightness in his expression, a warmth that makes the remnants of the scene melt away completely.

“I have something for you,” he says, standing up and walking toward the door. “Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”

You watch as he exits the room, the anticipation building again, though this time it’s mixed with curiosity. Moments later, Max returns, pushing a small cart laden with trays of food. The smell hits you first — rich, savory, and mouthwatering. Your stomach growls in response, reminding you that you haven’t eaten in what feels like forever.

Max notices, and the corner of his mouth lifts into a satisfied smile. “I thought you might be hungry.”

You sit up slightly, propping yourself on your elbows as Max wheels the cart over to the side of the bed. He lifts the lids from the trays, revealing an array of delicacies — perfectly grilled meats, roasted vegetables, fresh fruit, and decadent desserts. It’s more than just a meal, it’s a feast.

“Let me,” Max says, reaching for a fork. He cuts a small piece of steak and holds it out to you, his eyes watching your every movement, waiting for you to take the first bite.

You hesitate for only a moment before leaning forward, letting him feed you. The flavors burst across your tongue, rich and savory, and you can’t help the small sound of appreciation that escapes your lips.

Max’s smile widens. “Good?”

You nod, swallowing before responding. “It’s amazing.”

“Good girl,” he murmurs, and there’s that familiar warmth in his voice again, the praise sinking into your skin like sunlight. He cuts another piece of food, feeding it to you before leaning in to kiss you between bites.

Each kiss is soft, slow, and filled with an affection that feels worlds away from the intensity of earlier. You sink into the moment, into the comfort of his presence, letting yourself be taken care of.

“You were so perfect for me,” Max whispers between kisses, his lips brushing against your cheek. “I couldn’t have asked for anything better.”

You smile softly, feeling the tension of the day melt away as you let him feed you, let him take care of you. There’s something intimate about the act, something grounding. It’s not just about the food — it’s about the connection, the way he looks at you with such devotion in his eyes.

Max takes his time, savoring the moment as much as you are. He alternates between feeding you and stealing kisses, each one a little longer, a little deeper than the last. His hands are gentle as they move over your skin, brushing your hair back, cupping your face, his touch always lingering just a little longer than necessary.

“You have no idea how proud I am of you,” he murmurs against your lips. “The way you trust me, the way you let go. It’s everything I could ever want.”

You close your eyes, leaning into him, the warmth of his words settling deep inside you. It’s always like this after a scene — the tenderness, the closeness. Max knows how to bring you back, how to make you feel safe and loved after everything.

“I couldn’t do it without you,” you whisper, your voice barely audible.

Max pulls back just enough to look at you, his expression softening even more. “We do this together. That’s what makes it so special.”

There’s a weight to his words, a promise that echoes in the quiet of the room. You nod, knowing it’s true. You wouldn’t be able to do any of this without him — not the scenes, not the intensity, not the way you let yourself go completely when you’re with him.

Max leans in again, kissing you deeply this time, his hands cradling your face as if you’re the most precious thing in the world. When he finally pulls away, there’s a hunger in his eyes, but it’s not the same hunger from earlier. This one is softer, more intimate, and it makes your heart swell in your chest.

“I love you,” he says again, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I love you too,” you reply, the words coming easily, naturally, because they’re the truest thing you know.

Max smiles, a slow, satisfied smile that makes your stomach flip. He reaches for one of the desserts on the tray — a small piece of chocolate cake — and holds it out to you. You take a bite, and before you can even swallow, Max is kissing you again, his lips tasting of chocolate and sweetness.

“You taste so good,” he murmurs against your lips, and you can’t help but smile into the kiss.

The rest of the evening passes in a blur of kisses and laughter, the food slowly disappearing from the trays as Max continues to feed you, praising you with every bite and every kiss. The intensity of earlier is long gone, replaced by something deeper, something that feels like home.

And as you lie there in his arms, sated and content, you know that no matter what happens, no matter how intense the scenes get, you’ll always have this — this quiet, tender intimacy that belongs to just the two of you.

[mr-damian-s-power]

It’s not just the bad lesson in TOH, The Collecor and Stringbean are good examples of how inconsistent the writing became in the final episodes

In the Collector’s case it’s how their characterization kept shifting from Season 2 to the last episodes of Season 3

And how Stringbean became a “snakeshifter” showing how inconsistent the palismen concept became in the world building.

I am of the opinion that as soon as the writers found out the show was being shortened, they should have instantly cut the Collector. With how late in the game he's introduced, there was no time to develop him, and especially not enough time to give him a meaningful or satisfying 'redemption arc'.

Okay, tell a lie, there MIGHT have been enough time to develop him at least a bit if S3 used its time wisely. Did we really need all that crap at Hexside? Could we not have used this time to further develop Belos and the Collector?

That's not even bringing up what you mentioned! Him going from an aloof trickster God who views everyone as nothing but toys in his game, to a 'poor sad little boy who only wants a friend'. People like to call Lilith's redemption bad (which wasn't perfect, don't get it twisted), but look at how quickly ol' Collie changes!

How about this; Instead of Belos gaining power from the Collector, him and the Archivists just don't exist. Belos has been around for hundreds of years, we won't question it that he's managed to learn and keep some very ancient and very powerful types of magic.

-

Now onto Stringbean! I don't like Stringbean! I don't like what she represents! First of all, she's just fanservice! I'm sure people debated on what Luz's Palisman would be, and the writers couldn't decide so she's a shapeshifter. So, Luz gets a 'weird' Palisman that can be whatever it wants to. Weird? That's the coolest thing ever! Yep, Luz gets a really cool and special Palisman because she's just that great.🙄

Also, I found it incredibly shitty that Hunter loses Flapjack, his best friend and disability aid, then Luz very shortly afterwards gains her super cool and unique Palisman that is better than all the others. Just me?

How about this instead:

Stringbean is a little Snake Palisman (because Luz likes Snakes) who has been abandoned! She was thrown out by her previous owner when she was damaged and was deemed 'useless'. Her old owner couldn't use her to perform magic as powerfully anymore, and tossed her away like nothing. Luz comes across this poor hurt creature and feels pity for her. She finds it unfair to be thrown away when you've 'outlived your usefulness' like some rubbish.

Palismans are meant to be companions, not disposable tools! This is also under the impression Stringbean is introduced a bit earlier on. The whole time, she's upset at being abandoned and tries to help Luz despite her now limited magic capacity. Luz has to reassure her.

"you don't have to be useful to gain my love. I don't care if you're the most powerful Palisman that ever existed, or as powerless as me. You're more than just my Palisman, Stringbean. You're my friend, and nothing will ever change that. Everyone deserves love, and nobody should be made to prove that they're deserving of it."

-

Thoughts?

[mcags-world]

Are you brave enough to serve the Goddess? I need submissives that I can train and mold into my perfect little sissy boy. You'll be kneeling before me, your panties wet with chastity tears from that useless and powerless thing between your legs in no time. Unbelievable? Just ask. After you book a session with mommy you'll be begging to be owned by me. But mommy only picks the best to call my own. The best things in life are not free and that includes me. Discord mcag13__14337

[polysyndetonaddictsupportgroup]

Just finished reading Pez Dispenser Debris (I don’t even go there but I am fueled by Wiki articles and a love for your storytelling) and first of all—amazing!!! 10/10, I think I need to watch this series now. 

Second, I  noticed that (while very much distinct) Yuuta & Izuku have a lot of similarities in the voice you gave them—maybe it’s the constant panic attacks or perhaps both of  them placing blame for everything squarely on their own shoulders, but ough it makes for the perfect blend of gut-punching angst. I’d love to hear any ramblings you currently have about either of them. I am currently obsessed with both of them now and am placing the blame on you <3

I’m gonna pretty heavily discuss some spoilers for my hero academia in this. I figured that was okay since you’d already read my fanfic and the wiki so the cat is out of the metaphorical bag. That being said, maybe wait to read this answer if you want to not be spoiled for more details in my hero.

Yuuta and Izuku absolutely have the most similar voices out of all of my narrators and it is 90% because they are both completely insane and in violent need of a Xanax and a nice soothing cup of chamomile tea. God I love them both so much. They should each be heavily medicated.

My hero academia is a pretty great watch through the Shie Hassaikai arc. The concept is entertaining, the characters are GREAT, and the world building is really cool.

Then the story sort of. Went to shit.

I tried for a while after that, but eventually had to stop watching. My friends and I have a group chat named “horikoshi just call us” because we got so despondent at the writing decisions after that arc.

Horikoshi. If you’re out there. If you’re reading this. Just call us. We just want to help.

That being said, my love for the characters maintains its death grip on me. I simply adore them. They’re delights.

Yuuta and Izuku, on their face, have a lot of similarities as protagonists. The aforementioned insanity and need of Xanax, of course, but the skeleton of the stories has a lot of common touchstones and themes, like:

Both characters have some kind of history with suicidal ideation or tendencies. In the second scene of JJK0, it’s established that Yuuta canonically tried to kill himself. In the first episode of BNHA, Izuku is told to kill himself by his bullies, in an act which appears to be common to izuku’s life, and the only reason Izuku comes up with to not do it is “then you’d get in trouble for telling me to do it.”

Both characters have severe self worth issues. Yuuta’s looking for a reason to be alive at the start of JJK0. He’s looking for a right to be alive. In a way, Izuku is too at the start of BNHA. At the open of action, he is told by everyone in his life that he is useless. His nickname is “Deku,” which uses some of the same kanji as “Dekunobo,” meaning blockhead. The most direct translation were given is that this is a way of calling him useless. He’s the powerless member of a society choked with superpower, and he’s been told his entire life that he can do nothing, that his dreams are pointless, and that he’s a burden who would be better off dead.

They’re both saddled with power they can’t fully control. Yuuta with Rika, and Izuku with One for All, a transferable power that’s too strong to be contained in his body.

They both have a close relationship with an impossibly strong mentor that they are implied to be the successor of. Yuuta with Gojo, as he’s second only to Gojo in the modern age, and Izuku with All Might (aka Toshinori Yaga), who he is more literally taking on the mantle of One for All from.

They both are chugging that Loving Their Friends Juice and have tried to kill grown men with their bare hands as a result

That all being said, they could not be more different characters and honestly aren’t all that similar.

I have this sort of lasting grievance with literary analysis when people take a list of common plot points or events and use them to make the argument that characters are similar or parallel one another. Like, that’s all facial. The real question is how do they substantively handle those events. How do their story arcs treat those things? How does their character react to them?

Yuuta and Izuku’s actual substantive characters don’t really react to those events in the same way at all. The analysis could go on all day in this respect, really, but the biggest difference is how their respective story arcs treat the cornerstone of their original conflicts.

Yuuta opens action with Rika as the cornerstone of his conflict. She’s who he wants to free, she’s who he’s chained to, and it’s her protection of him that makes him think he deserves to die. Izuku’s cornerstone, meanwhile, is his own Quirklessness. He desperately wants to be a hero, and everyone in his life tells him he can’t be because he is Quirkless. He’s useless because he’s Quirkless. He should kill himself because he’s Quirkless. He’s a burden and always will be because he’s Quirkless.

And while Yuuta’s arc reconciles him with his cornerstone, Izuku’s forgoes it entirely.

The story just. Forgets. That he’s Quirkless. They stop talking about it. It never comes up again. It doesn’t make any real big impact on his character or decisions. It’s one of my biggest axes to grind with how the story developed, and it’s actually one of the biggest reasons why I wrote pez dispenser debris.

Pez dispenser debris was actually inspired by this one piece of my hero academia art where Izuku is hugging his younger self. I don’t know if it was official art or fan art, and I have no idea where it is or where to find it because by god have I tried so I can find it and link it for credit/to boost it. I saw it literally years ago, thought “oh that’s cool,” wrote the original first scene of the fic (where Midoriya stops the bus and is hit by the Quirk), wasn’t feeling it, got distracted by other projects, went to law school, graduated law school, signed up to take the bar exam, and was suddenly electrified in the last fucking month of studying with this fugue state of feverish artistic inspiration. I have never written so easily or so compulsively in my life. I’d write for eight unbroken hours and it would be fucking magic every time. It was like an addiction. I was writhing with a need to create and had so much fucking anxiety about the test I was not studying for instead. The words could not be restrained.

Anyway I taught myself three subjects on the plane ride to the state I was taking it in and passed anyway so it’s fine we’re fine

The moral of the story is that this story has been cooking long enough for me to get two more diplomas than I had when I started it and I have no idea where to find that fucking piece of art that inspired it, but if I find it, I’ll reblog it so y’all can see it too.

The thing is, the narrative sort of forcibly excluding Izuku’s past as Quirkless would make total sense to me if it was used as something Izuku himself was doing.

Izuku necessarily had to hide the truth of his former Quirkless status at the start of action—he needed to keep the secret of One for All. Like, he could not let people find out that a Quirk was transferrable, but you know, just the most powerful one, and also he had it, please come torture it out of him.

But as the narrative goes on, that rationale becomes less important. He has people he can trust with it. And yeah, eventually One for All becomes more known, but the discussion is all about him being all might’s successor. Him being Quirkless and how that affected him and still affects him isn’t really discussed or treated as important. And Izuku doesn’t act like it’s important to him either. He never really thinks about it.

And I just hated that. Like. He spent almost his entire life as a member of society who was spit on. He’s had a Quirk for less than a year. How are his experiences with Quirklessness not important to how he interacts with the world?

The other point of contention I had was Mirio.

Mirio is this superstar of a senpai who takes Izuku under his wing. He has an extremely powerful quirk that’s only as effective as it is because he put in the work and learned how to handle it. He’s a perfect, eternally smiling paragon of heroism. He’s flagged early as the one out of everyone, including heroes with established careers, who is most likely to replace All Might.

He’s also the one who was supposed to get One for All.

His mentor had found him and trained him to be All Might’s successor. Before All Might could meet him, however, he found this feral raccoon child in a sewer and said “oh my god I can’t not offer him incomprehensible power within the first three hours of meeting him” and tripped face first into fatherhood.

During a rescue mission, Mirio loses his Quirk in a way that’s borderline irreversible. There’s no known cure, and the only possible one is dependent on a little girl learning how to control an extremely volatile and dangerous quirk and using it in a way she never has before.

So surely, they’re going to commit to that writing decision, right? He’s Quirkless. We’re bringing back having Quirkless characters. It’s going to be this sick as hell juxtaposition between Izuku and Mirio. We are at least going to force Izuku to reflect on his own times as Quirkless or have some kind of discussion about how Mirio is treated differently now that he is Quirkless.

But no. He gets his Quirk back by the next season. We don’t talk about it much. It’s more of a minor inconvenience than anything.

It’s almost as if the show accepted as an actual rule that you couldn’t be a hero without a Quirk. And then just. Forgot. Everything it had to do with its literal protagonist.

Anyway, I hated it.

In contrast, I fucking loved how yuuta’s storyline with Rika ends. That scene where Yuuta’s turning back to Rika, thanking her for loving him, telling him they can die together? I’m obsessed with it. I recently moved across the country and listened to that theme song on loop during the drive.

Yuuta and Rika’s love was unhealthy. They hurt each other. But it wasn’t malicious.

They just didn’t know how to love each other in a way that didn’t hurt.

They were in shit circumstances. But the love was there.

Yuuta felt guilty for Rika’s love for him and his for her almost the entire narrative. He thought he cursed her with his love. He wanted to kill himself because of how she hurt people out of love for him. It’s why I have moments in sea glass gardens where Yuuta talks about begging Rika to stop loving him—he didn’t know why love had to hurt so goddamn bad, and he’s sorry for that, he really is. He wishes he was better at it than he was.

At the end of JJK0, Yuuta truly is the last person who remembers Rika as she was and still loves her for who she is. He’s faced with Geto, who wants to use her as a weapon. Everyone treats her as a threat or a tool, except for Yuuta.

Like. Just that moment. Of loving someone so genuinely, and being the last one who does, and knowing that everyone else will just use them. I’m obsessed with it.

Yuuta reconciles with his love for Rika and her love for him, and they’re both finally freed. It’s this perfect moment of acceptance that I adore. He comes to terms with his past. It doesn’t hurt him so much anymore.

I wrote pez dispenser debris to sort of force Izuku to have that kind of reconciliation. As it is, he hasn’t reconciled with his own Quirklessness and how that affected him. I wanted to give him something he couldn’t physically escape and had to face.

[theone-with-thestuff]

Power Rangers: Zeo💠

Hey guys! Here's an awesome new series of commissions made by the super talented @artandfail showing what I think could have been the 2017 movie sequels!

Following Zedd's attack and the Rangers separating, a new threat rises from the wreckage of the destroyed alien main ship. Capturing civilians and building an unknown structure. What is this new enemy's goal? And without the Rangers, who will be able to stop them?

We now get to the next part of Tomi's story! Where she has to take up the mantle of Red Ranger and train a whole new team to become Rangers after the previous team separated following their losses and sacrifices.

____________________

In the aftermath of Lord Zedd's invasion, the loss of their friend and losing their ability to morph, the once proud Rangers have disbanded.

Zack has decided to leave with his mom for a new city to focus on her health and treating her long-term illness.

Jason and Kim, grieving and in need of a fresh start, applied and were accepted to a college far from Angel Grove.

Tomi and Billy stayed behind... resolute to maintain the ship and keep watch over the reformed Zeo Crystal.

"After Trin-... I'm sorry, I just need some time to deal with this. And I can't do that here."

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

Deep in the quarantine zone, in the heart of Lord Zedd's mothership wreckage, evil still remains.

Analyzing its new habitat, capturing preys to assimilate, reconstruct and remold. Creating the perfect warrior, the perfect hunter. Create an apex predator, a drone to control just as its Bio-metalic system dictates.

It recreates the greatest warriors of this planet in its own image. Recreates these... Power Rangers.

But it will need more drones to construct a signal tower to contact the rest of its kind. It will need-

"WHAT THE HELL IS THAT!?"

To assimilate another prey.

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

School project partners Aisha, Adam, Rocky and Kat were taking pictures near Angel Grove's quarantine district when the... Ranger attacked. They tried to talk to it, tried to run but it was useless, it was hunting them, separating and isolating them.

But moments before it could strike and capture one of them, someone else managed to strike IT.

"I don't know what you think you are, but you are no Ranger. YOU'RE NOT WORTHY!"

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

After facing the Dark Ranger and reviewing the pictures taken by the four teens she had just saved, Tomi came to a simple conclusion. Angel Grove needed the Power Rangers again. This new threat was too big. It was building some strange structure within the quarantine zone, not only that but it was also capturing civilians and transforming them into these Dark Rangers.

With that in mind, Tomi headed back to command center, unknowingly being tailed by the same teens she had saved.

With the help of Billy, Alpha, Zordon and a broken piece of her own Power Coin, Tomi managed to imbue slivers of the Zeo Crystal with Morphing energy and strap them into six pairs of modified wrist attachments in order to create a new method of morphing, stronger than before, the Zeonizers!

Tomi took the first set and shortly followed by giving Zeonizers to each of the four teens that had followed her into the ship, finding them worthy after seeing them in action and observing them at school. She then offered the final Zeonizer to Billy... Who refused it, holding his own now powerless Blue Power Coin in his hand.

"I was proud to be a Ranger, we were heroes, we saved the earth over a dozen times... But my time is over. This isn't my team, It's yours. You are the new Red Ranger, this is your time."

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

With the help of her new teammates, Tomi dove back into the mothership of the monster that had taken so much from her. Intent on stopping this new enemy and destroying the mysterious machine sending deep-space signals that has been constructed in its center.

Fighting these bio-metallic twisted versions of her previous team, Tomi and the new Rangers will show them that no matter what, Power Rangers never lose!

"I've fought against witches, aliens, monsters, invaders and tyrants. You think you upstart Venom-wannabes are going to be the one to conquer earth? Well you've got another thing coming!"

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

Celebrating their victory, the newly formed Zeo Rangers returned to the ship and celebrated in the pit. Four teens joking together in the sandy terrain as two others stood farther away, picturing four other friends who once stood in that very same spot, joking in a very similar way after a difficult battle.

"So, what did you think of them?"

"They'll need training, lots of it... But they have the heart... They'll be fantastic."

"Rangers at the core, huh?"

"You could say that... What about that sludge we brought back for analysis from our latest planet ending event?"

"Metallic bioplasm, living metal, I'm not sure how to even start defining it. We ran it through the ships archive and had a match but the files are encrypted. Not even Zordon could access them. Alpha is trying to brute-force the system but we can't figure out exactly where that deep-space amplifier was trying to send out a signal until then.

"I just hope we were able to destroy it in time before it could reach whatever it was aiming for."

"Me too... We were able to access one thing from the files though."

"What was it?"

"Just two words, something called the Machine Empire."

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

In a deep, old and forgotten part of the universe, an ancient evil awakens.

Something so depraved and vile, even Lord Zedd himself had deemed necessary to seal away.

A hive of living machines, assimilating all biological matter it finds.

And after millenias of slumber, a blip, a hint of a signal reaches one of its communication captors, breaking their weakened prison.

The Machine Empire lives once more.

Hope you guys like it!

[turtletimewriting]

Stuck in Comfort

Summary: Donnie was having a perfectly fine nap with Raph! So what if he was now trapped underneath Raph! But of course, Leo and Mikey had to create chaos.

Look at me! Writing again. This is a tickle fic so there’s your warning.

Words: 1600

_._._

There was loud dramatic music playing and there was some part of Donnie that knew he had to do something about that. But he was too sleepy. The room was dark and he was perfectly cushioned by a nest of fleecy blankets and pillows. He had a heavy warm weight all across his body and it was literally perfect.

So often, he’d wake up to needing to stretch or having someone’s elbow digging in yet this was utterly perfect. 

Slowly it was all coming back to him. They decided to watch a couple of movies after a really tough mission as a pick me up. It couldn’t be called a proper movie night since Leo and Mikey weren’t there. Mikey had explained his head was too busy to sit there silently watching a film, he felt that urge to fidget and totally distract himself by concentrating on something physical. It wasn’t unusual for him to need to do some art quietly after a tough mission. 

Leo didn’t really explain. He just grabbed his skateboard and called them boring.

So him and Raph had shared a look and agreed to their own movie night.

They hadn’t done this since they were really little. Raph acting as the ultimate weighted blanket to dampen all sensation for Donnie to calm his frayed nerves, while Raph hugging Donnie so to calm his own thoughts of his family in danger. The movie only acting as something to fill in the silence.

Donnie sighed happily, not even opening his eyes, and tried to settle back into sleep. Raph was doing his snuffling snores so he was dead asleep so there was no way he could move even if he wanted to. Raph was deadweight and the heaviest sleeper of them all. Not that Donnie wanted to move. He was warm and his nerves were all settled and he felt just the right side of cozy sleepiness.

He flinched as he felt something soft drift over his foot.

Ugh, it was probably the blankets shifting from him waking up. Just try to settle down and allow sleep to peacefully wash over him once again.

There it was again.

He went to scratch his foot with the other since there was no way he could free his arm from underneath Raph. Only to feel something suddenly grab his ankle.

“Gah!” He shrieked, trying to sit up but he only ended up headbutting Raph’s chin. Raph didn’t even stir at that. The hand was still holding his ankle. It was awkward leaning over Raph’s sleeping form with his massive spikey shell blocking everything from view, he couldn’t see anything.

“Easy there, Don!” Mikey’s voice helpfully whispered.

“Mikey! You scared me! What are you doing? Just grabbing at me!” He was still trying to see over Raph but he was stuck at just the wrong angle.

“Oh you know! Just hanging out with you guys, told you I’d join you later!”

“Well the movie ended a while ago,” Donnie only now registered that the music he heard earlier was the credits now playing, “but you can put on another oOOAH!”

There was a deliberate stroke from a single finger from his heel right to the ball of his foot.

Mikey laughed in his obnoxious littlest sibling way that shot terror through Donnie. “What was that noise?”

“Mikey. Don’t. You. Dare.” Donnie desperately tried to peer around but he couldn’t see Mikey. No clue what he was going to do. Where he even was! He tried to rip free from Raph’s form but he was totally powerless.

“How can I not!” Mikey laughed back like this was a lighthearted matter. “You’re completely hidden under Raphie. Only your little feetsies are sticking out!”

He was now aware that his feet were bared to the world. Moving his legs was just as useless as getting his arms free. He couldn’t move at all. Only uselessly waggling his feet.

Donnie didn’t get the chance to respond as that finger returned. It barely brushed across his skin in a confident sweep up and down. One finger sending tingling tickles across his sole. He tried to hold back, breathing all weird to keep the giggles from erupting.

He could picture the stupid happy grin on Mikey’s face; so proud of himself to bring down his bigger siblings. There was no way he was going to give him the satisfaction.

“That tickle, Dee?” 

The finger now gently scratched at his foot. Wiggling did nothing, the grip on his ankle kept him in place and his finger was keeping strictly to his sole. “Mk! Mmff- Mike!” He tried to scold.

“Aww, are you trapped? You don’t want to be too loud, Raphie could wake up at any second!”

“An earthquake c-co couldn’t wahake Raph!” He screeched.

“But you don’t wanna disturb him though, do you? It’s only a slight tickle. You can take that, can’t you? Just a few tiny little tickles.”

The finger drifted from the direct centre of his sole to the side. Mikey did always seem to have a secret sense of knowing when a spot was getting too used to the tickling. His nerves were shot up. It tickled way more than it should’ve. His foot being electrocuted by tickles. Breathing through the giggles was getting impossible. The urge to move screaming at him but there was nothing he could do. Totally to the whims of a tickle monster of a youngest brother.

For pizza’s sake! Aren’t they meant to be the tickle monsters to the youngest! What family had the youngest be the merciless feared monster!

“Tickle, tickle, tickle, Donnieeeee!” Mikey was too gleeful for someone who was totally getting attacked the second he was freed from Raph.

“Pfft!” By now he was opening smiling widely. The giggles were coming. He was just too ticklish. “Eh! Ehe ssssstop! Haha! AAAHA HAHAHA!”

“Oh finally!” 

Donnie jolted all over again. “LEO?!” 

“Surprise!” Leo said in that obnoxious drawl of his before he felt another hand grab his other foot and a much harsher scratching tickle on his other foot.

“HAHAHAHAAHAH! AAAAAAH! HAHA! HAHAHA! LEHEHO! MIHI- AAAAAH!” He couldn’t even think what to yell out. Mikey was still gently tracing around his sole like he was reading his foot while Leo was like a golden retriever going nuts over tormenting him.

“Shhh! Don’t wanna wake up Raph,” Leo teased.

“THEHEN DON’T TICKLE ME! HAHAHAHAAHAAAAAA! AAAAAH!” 

“Hmm, seems unrealistic,” Mikey said.

“Would it be better if I did this?” Leo said dramatically.

“NOOOOOOOO!” Donnie squealed, kicking his feet even harder. But the tickles on his left foot stopped. But that was definitely a trap. “No! No! No! No! Don’t you dare Leo!”

Really, being trapped like this was a mercy. Because usually any sort of line like that from Leo would mean he would be tickled across his shell. But Raph protected his death spot entirely.

Eventually, Leo walked to in front of him. Leo laughed at him, which was probably fair. He did look ridiculous. Blushing bright red while still drowning under Mikey’s soft tracing tickle. He shook out his head. 

“Heehee! Hehee ehe!” Donnie giggled, unable to stop. Scrunching up his face, Donnie couldn’t block out the tickles now he had started laughing. Even the slow tracing tingling tickle across his foot was enough to have him frantically laughing. The sillyiness of the situation going to his head.

“Hello there Ticklytello!” 

“Leeeeheheho! Lehe eheheee!”

“Yes, Ticklytello?”

Donnie felt like his brain was melting from the constant tingle, made even worse by the fact that there was nothing he could do about it. Trapped to just endure the tickling until his brothers got bored. “MAhahke him stop heheh heh stop tickling me!”

Leo rubbed his chin for a moment. “Would this help?” He reached out and happily tickled under his chin. 

Donnie slammed his head down into the pillows, trapping Leo’s hand directly into his neck. Allowing him to gently tickle away. It wasn’t that bad of a tickle spot but it added to the already flustering situation.

Mikey happily tickling gently at his feet and Leo trapped to torment his neck with reckless glee. And no matter how hard he wiggled or squirmed, Raph’s deadweight kept him stuck. Helpless to some brotherly tickling.

“GUHUHU GHUYS! HAHAHAHAAAA!”

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!” Donnie screamed, suddenly feeling a raspberry pressed to the nape of his neck.

That stopped his brothers. They were all looking up at Raph as he blew a long drawn out raspberry. Eventually he ran out of breath and pulled back, letting Donnie collapse into his pile of leftover tickles.

“Nice attack there, team,” Raph smiled.

“I thought you were asleep!” Leo exclaimed.

“Oh shoot, did we actually wake you up?” Mikey finally scooted up to the rest of them, looking a little chastised. 

“Nah,” Raph said while looking like he was seconds away from falling asleep again. His eyes drooping shut and he was nuzzling into the nape of Donnie’s neck. “Don’s headbutt from earlier got me up. Just thought he needed a good tickling.”

Leo went to make another remark but Mikey nudged him. Donnie was in the same position, falling asleep now things had calmed down again. His eyes already shut and relaxing into the blanket nest. It would be just plain cruel to tickle them now. Raph and Donnie settling to fall back asleep against each other.

“Is there room for two more?” Mikey smiled as he pounced to sleep in the crook of Raph’s arm, pressed up against Donnie too. 

“Can’t forget Leon!” 

[bluepillednormfag]

This post was inspired by @zerodaytime, who made a great analysis of this poem back in april. I've really based my own thoughts on his point that the main theme of the poem was power. (I've chopped up the poem a bit just for ease of explanation: the full poem is here and zerodaytime's analysis of it can be found here)

"The gun may be the perfect weapon," he said,

standing between a rock and a hard place

"But a gun is nothing without a bullet," I replied

As zerodaytime put it, someone is suggesting to the speaker that the gun is the ultimate source of power. But the gun's dependance on the bullet makes the gun nothing: powerless. Allegorically, this implies that to experience true power a killer must be completely independent and in control.

Furthermore, I think it's important that the gun is a very impersonal weapon: it is not actually the gun kills someone, it is the bullet. The speaker is suggesting that that the power experienced in killing is not felt through any tool used to bring you there, but through the final and tactile act itself, and thus that any truly perfect weapon/murder cannot have even the illusion of separation from that act, as a long-range gun does.

I am my bullet.

The speaker, who is almost certainly Cal, views himself as the final piece to a perfect weapon. By being a bullet, he implies that his only purpose is to hurt. If Cal is bullet, there is a sense of inevitability about Zero Day: a bullet can either harm people or go unused and wasted- in a way, this is the "rock and a hard place" mentioned before: the choice between a wasted life or completing Zero Day. This sentiment is also seen in the final line of the poem.

Additionally, by being his own metaphorical bullet, he is in a way owning himself: being dependant on nothing and no-one, having complete control/power in the act of killing: All of which make it seem that he views his murders as an experience of perfect and ultimate power.

I live my life along the parabolic arch of purpose, meaning

Describing the path of his life as parabolic connotes that his actions are simultaneously natural and mathematical: predicable and unchanging in their destination- Cal feels Zero Day is inevitable and meticulously planned/executed.

I really like what zerodaytime pointed out about this line: a life lived in an "arch" suggests that Cal is in a continuous upward motion, implying striving for a higher purpose. However: an arch has both a rise and a fall: the fall being Cals planned suicide and the uselessness of any life beyond the culmination of Zero Day? Perhaps I am reading too much into it here.

And then there was that time when you stepped on a landmine

And I never forgave you

And you could feel the entire rise and fall of the Third Reich at your feet.

Here I am less confident about what the poem means. I do think it is interesting that the person who the speaker addresses has been the victim of some event (compared to a landmine and the Third Reich under their feet) and this victimhood, being at the losing end of some massive destructive power, is what angers the speaker. This could suggest what what most repulses Cal is the idea of victimhood and powerlessness in life.

Also the tense of "I never forgave you" stands out to me: the fact that it is in past tense implies that Cals ability to forgive the person is gone- because he himself is too consumed by the anger that motivates Zero Day? or because the person he is speaking to died as a result of their victimhood? Either way, its interesting.

It's a wasted life.

zerodaytime suggested that the life that Cal is speaking of is that of the person who stepped on a landmine, conveying that a life spent as a helpless victim is a useless one.

Alternatively, he could be speaking about life more generally, or his own life, as reflected his earlier implications that continuing his life without Zero Day would be pointless or perhaps impossible.

I love this poem so much and I really hope that you guys like my analysis :)))

[azurevi]

Resquets are open :D If it's not too much trouble I can get: character death + illness with Sebek

I find your works interesting, I hope to see more in the future🌠✍️💐

Sebek + character death & illness

thank you for the kind words! (｡◝‿◜｡) this was fun (albeit sad) to write, hope you enjoy!

Sebek was racing against the clock.

“Cherish the remaining time” was what the doctors had told him at the hospital, outside the room in which you were kept. It infuriated him that they admitted defeat when there’s still so much time left to make things right, but if they weren’t going to do anything, then he just had to take matters into his own hands.

For weeks now he had been looking for a cure, a solution, a spell- anything that can get rid of the sickness sucking the life out of you. His parents and their friends came up empty-handed, and even Lilia, with his bottomless barrel of experiences, told him that it was useless to keep trying.

“If you have time to read about the disease, why don’t you spend it with the actual patient?”

But it wasn’t just time he was running from, it was his own shame. To stop was to admit that he couldn’t save you, that he was powerless in the face of humans’ fragile mortality. How was he supposed to look you in the eyes, knowing that he failed you?

Ancient books made no mention of similar conditions, and no spell was strong enough that they could destroy a ticking bomb inside a body. Anytime he thought he was on the right track, he ended up drawing a blank. Yet the restlessness in his body didn’t dwindle. If any, it pushed him further. He spent days after days looking for someone or something that could help, regardless of the price, regardless of the distance.

“Where are you, Sebek? They are asking for you. You know there isn’t much time left.” Jack’s calls came every day, a haunting reminder that not a second could be wasted. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to see you, if the sleepless nights and frequent texts were any indication. In fact, he would teleport right next to you if he could, but he only had one body, and it was more useful to save you than to mourn in advance.

It wasn’t until Malleus personally dragged him back that he finally came to terms with the truth: he never had a chance to begin with. He could try and fight fate, but nothing he did could change it, and by the time he arrived, you were already at the edge of death.

For the past few weeks Sebek had been running from a lot of things, but as he stood in front of the cold, white door, he wondered if he had actually been avoiding you all along.

Clenching the vibrant flowers in one hand, he slid the door open. Whatever shell he had built around him shattered the moment he saw you— attached to beeping machines by various tubes on your arms, body thinned and ravaged by the battle within you. You were alive, but barely.

His throat tightened. He wanted so much to pull all those tubes off of you, to hoist you up in his arms and tell you that everything was going to be fine, but that could only happen in his imagination.

“Sebek,” you raised your hand, and he rushed to hold it. He didn’t notice the tears escaping his eyes until you wiped them away, making him flinch.

“Took you long enough,” you laughed quietly. Your voice no longer bore jokes intended to make him laugh. Its vigor was replaced by weariness.

“I’m sorry. I couldn’t find anything useful.” He said.

“It’s okay, there wasn’t much hope anyways.”

“Don’t say that!” He held tightly onto your hand. “If I try harder, maybe-”

“I don’t want you to find me a cure, Sebek. I just want you to be by my side before I go.”

“But that’s…” He lowered his head, fighting the urge to tell you about all his wishes and plans for the future, how he had already decided that you would be a part of it. Everything had been laid out in front of him in one perfect path, everything that he had now lost. He still didn’t want to give it up. 

And yet, there was no way he could be free from regret if he didn’t spend the remaining time with you.

He took a deep breath and nodded, leaning against your intertwined hands.

“…Then I will stay right here with you.”

In the remaining hours, he watched the life threaten to fade from your eyes despite your efforts to pocket as much time as you could. It took everything in him to hold back his distress and to talk to you like it was just another normal day. It was only when the beeps of the machines sank into a deafening flatline that he finally let his voice quiver.

“Hey,” He held out hope for one last miracle, one last mercy from the sevens above. Nothing came except for the footsteps down the corridor. His friends burst into the room in a desperate rush before the world finally crumbled around him.

In the end of the day, there was nothing he could do to save you.

[skzinka]

“ UNCERTAINTIES ”

timeline : pre-debut

summary : even in the biggest moments of doubt, when there is almost no hope in her heart, kalaya must show all her support to her friends.

warnings : angst, crying a lot, low self-esteem, strong language, kalaya is just riddled with sadness and disappointment

word count : 1.1k >

life is not something simple, she thought, looking at her reflection in the dance hall mirror. even if you put all the good will and efforts in the world in it, sometimes it feels like we are not getting closer to the end of the tunnel. that's what the girl felt, as she watched the silent tears of frustration slide down her cheeks.

it was an even more complicated time : some of her friends found themselves embroiled in a competition that was supposed to offer them the opportunity to start in a group, but some of them had already been eliminated. and other negative point, she was not part of this competition.

kalaya felt that everything she had given up to that point, had been for nothing. ruin her health, spend nights without sleep, make herself sick to keep a perfect figure.. all this was for nothing, because she was still at the starting point, locked within these four walls, lacking the talent required to enter the idols' world.

all hope had left her small muscles when she let herself fall to the ground, crying all the tears she had in her body. in one side of her head, she told herself that if her friends, who were much more talented than her, had already failed, she could already pack her bags and go home.

she was convinced that she had no future, and having to return home to face her mother's disappointed look, tetanized her. every particle of confidence that was part of her, was suddenly gone. she felt powerless, weak, alone, useless, incapable, she didn't think anything good about herself, quickly observed her reflection with a look of disgust and total rejection.

her sobs doubled as she hit the mirror with all her might, begging her demons to leave her alone, to let her catch her breath. but without success — those little negative voices in her head wouldn't stop. kalaya beat her chest as hard as she could, trying to fill the pain she felt, releasing more tears filled with pain and bitterness. she wanted to see a glimmer of hope, a sign from fate that this period was just a bad phase, but nothing seemed to want to pull her up from this hell hole.

her hands clutched at her sweatshirt, as tightly as possible, causing her knuckles to whiten and hiccups to be heard in the back of her throat, trying to force herself to stop the tears running down her cheeks. after long minutes of calm, the atmosphere lulled by her sniffles and the sound of her nails scratching her skin to blood, kalaya raised her head, watching her miserable reflection again.

the large mirrors in the room left her no choice but to look at how miserable she was. her puffy face and her eyes reddened by tears made her hideous. deep inside she hated what she was : she would have given anything to be someone else, someone more talented than her, someone more beautiful, someone you notice.

not some poor girl crying alone in a dance hall feeling sorry for herself.

kalaya was disgusted with herself, and couldn't help but be put down by the little voices in her head — “you're good at nothing”, “you're ugly, you're fat”, or “you can't dance”. this sentence had a devastating effect on her mental health, the girl trembled just by thinking of those words that had burned her heart in the most painful way. tell yourself that, the thing you bled for, cry, try relentlessly, to the point of fainting from exhaustion, was not made for you, was the worst thing in the world.

you know that feeling, when the ground is slipping away from under your feet, and after that, you touch the deep bottom without being able to get up, this feeling of being drawn into a black hole that destroys everything in its path, that was what she had been feeling for weeks. fortunately, deep down, she knew she could count on many people around her – especially yuehua who kept sharing her determination with kalaya all the time – but all these horrible emotions had become far too unbearable.

sighing and hitting her face almost too hard countless times in a row, kalaya finally came back to her senses, drying her last tears before staring at the ground, her eyes empty. nervously biting her lower lip, she tossed out some swear words about how pathetic she was, before getting up, silently putting her things in her bag. but just as she was heading to the door, hurried footsteps from outside called out to her — people were running towards the training room where she was.

with a bewildering crash, the door opened wide in front of her, a body automatically colliding with hers. she didn't have time to say or do anything, as felix shouted with joy, « we did it kalaya ! the guys and me.. we debut together soon ! »

kalaya could swear she heard her heart break completely for a second time in her life, each piece of the latter dissipating in his heart like a splinter. it was stronger than her : she wanted to rejoice for her friends, but an unknown rage and an immense sadness consumed her every thought.

she hated herself for envying them so much, hated herself for giving them a fake smile and rejoicing for them while she was jealous to the highest degree. kalaya hated every emotion she was currently feeling, she wanted to scream and cry, she wanted to pull out her hair and break every single mirror, but she could do nothing but smile falsely and congratulate her friends on their success, embracing them as a good friend would do.

« i'm so happy for you all ! you guys deserve it ! » kalaya kept repeating this kind of sentence, containing the tears that threatened to fall at any moment. her friends embraced her one after the other, their warmth not even able to warm her frozen heart. deep down, she knew that a warm glow was happy and really proud of her friends, but the major part of her being hated all that she was currently experiencing.

« kalaya noona, are you proud of me? » asked jeongin, somewhat shy but with sparkling eyes that caused kalaya to shed a tear. she felt ashamed, disgusting. so she nodded, pulling the boy into her arms and congratulating him in the most sincere way, even if her words might sound fake.

then, they all spoke together, congratulating and encouraging each other for the future, without noticing the silent little girl who wondered how she was going to get out of this hell.

in the end, kalaya had only one real enemy.

herself.

✧⠁taglist : @invuwrld @writerblock-sucks @mynameisnotlaura @alyszaen @felixsbrat

[fake-married-my-dead-fiance]

And I wrote some fan fiction. Read it below or on AO3

*****

Random snippets of Mu-deok/Naksu's diary:

Master Kill List: -trader who sold Mu-deok -Joo-wol nah she's cool -Jang Uk I promised I wouldn't, but I might... - Park Dang-Gu (I mean, I like him but he's related to Park Jin so I have to keep him here) -Jin Cho-yeon (no regrets there) -Lady Jin -Sang-ho (how dare he not let me in to Songrim!) -Jin Mu -That guy who knocked the meat stick out of my hands -Crown Prince he can live

-This jerk is the most spoiled, most picky, most annoying, most whiney human being I have met in my life. I did not know people like this even existed.

-The Danju abandoned me, guess I'll go watch my own funeral. Not sure what else to even do. This body is the worst body. I used to have actual muscles. Like how long would it even take for me to be able to climb up the side of a bridge? Ridiculous.

-My only option is this idiot...

-The poisoning plan worked perfectly. No regrets

-If Park Dang-Gu or ANYONE touches my hair or attempts to pat my head ONE MORE TIME I am killing them right then and there. I don't care if they're mages and I'm powerless. Poison. I'll use poison.

-Why does Jang Uk take so many baths? I don't get him at all. Before I guess he got cold because his gate of energy was closed but he's supposed to be normal now. Why the baths? WHY?

-This is the best luck ever! As long as Jang Uk doesn't die figuring out how to use it, he's going to have a whole ton of energy! This dude is so lucky.

-Jang Uk thinks I have to try not to fall in love with him?! Full of himself much? Now Seo Yul...

-Jang Uk randomly hugged me today just because he was happy despite the fact that I was covered with filth. He's so weird. I wish he had spent some of his lazy childhood actually learning how to fight because watching him was embarrassing.

He did manage to draw his father's sword though. Progress!

Crown Prince seems fairly easy to manipulate, Seo Yul not so much. I gave my sword to the C.P., not happy about that but I didn't have much choice. Jang Uk cannot fight with the C.P. again until he's stronger.

-Jang Uk was crying. It was awkward so I left.

-Jang Uk is still sad. He does not understand the basics of burying the hurt until it becomes hatred which is used to fuel your relentless training. It's how I became so powerful. (I need my power back!) I'm not actually sure what to do other than kicking him. I have no use for a student who won't learn.

-Master Heo has horrible self-control for someone his age. Finally got my useless student to move. Also, weird seeing Park Jin and he has no idea who I am. Even weirder with Seo Yul...

-Came here to focus on training and Jang Uk just wants to take baths again...

-WHY WON'T HE JUST DRINK THE CHASTE TEA??? I would in a heartbeat if I could get my powers back. I would cut it off permanently! I would give up a hand! This is Master Lee! He is legendary. He is the strongest mage I've ever seen. Drink the freaking tea!

It's some weird guy thing. I do not understand men.

-Threw a knife at that bastard, he deserved it. I'm going to burn the whole cottage down if he doesn't start training.

Went into town and almost got dragged away. Learned that this body can't tolerate alcohol which is just... perfect.

-It's so strange to be here with other people. Far less lonely I guess. I wish I could climb my tree. I can hardly climb a shrub in this useless body. Jang Uk still can't control his hand.

-Jang Uk thought he was so fast but I poked HIM in the eyes. That's what he deserves. He said some weird stuff about my soul marks and standing close to people. Ridiculous.

-Decided to hand him over to stay alive. It's only right... Traded my life for a damn bird egg. But Jang Uk actually did Tansu! We might survive this duel after all

-WHAT DO THEY MEAN I'M NOT ALLOWED IN SONGRIM?

-Now that Jang Uk got what he wanted he might just leave me behind. I'm not staying here and working as a servant for the rest of my life. I should have blackmailed him before he went; I didn't know the stupid rules. How could he do this? Trained him to win and now I'm left behind. He better not forget about our promise. But unless I'm there how will I make sure he keep training? I'm not staying in this pathetic body for years...

-Is the Crown Price in love with Mu-deok? Also, I cannot even express how much I hate cinnamon.

-Shit. Why did he have to say that? What is wrong with him? It was *not* a love letter.

-HE IS SAD AGAIN! I do not know how to deal with sad people. Why does this jerk have so many emotions? Why is he so lazy? You just keep going no matter how much pain you feel.

Also, Songrim wont even beat a student who won't train? They also suck at torture. How has this organization even survived? Pathetic.

-Ha ha! Bet my bird egg to make Jang Uk train. Was forced to admit I value the jade egg. Overall worked great. I do hope he manages to get it back. Because I want my power back and that would prove he's improving, no other reason.

-Jang Uk keeps hugging me. It's weird. Why is he so clingy? At least he's happy now. I'll bring him some snacks.

Another woman attempted to bring Jang Uk snacks. I wonder if I should kill her?

-So do I love him? Maybe? Doesn't matter if I do; once I get my powers back I'm gone. He's the crazy one who thinks we could possibly have a future after all of this. It would never work. It doesn't matter, love is useless and fickle. It's not worth risking your life over.

-Stupid love. Stupid ice stone. Stupid giving up my chance at powers. Stupid people that I love didn't want to see die being inside the ice stone. Stupid stupid stupid. Now I'm stuck in this useless body forever.

[skaruresonic]

hear me out, all right?

I must excise the fix-it plot bunny demons

Surge and Kit were wards of Windmill Village, two of the many kids for whom Mr. Tinker built toys. He created Belle to be a playmate for them in addition to his helper, and promised to adopt Surge and Kit when he finished building a house for all of them to live their happily ever after in. This promise ultimately went unfulfilled when Starline abducted Tinker. This rattled Surge and Kit, who have suffered an unfortunate history of being promised a forever home by prospective foster parents but let down; this reinforced the idea in their minds that they can only depend on each other. They also became disillusioned with Sonic, who promised to check on Tinker but failed to protect him from Starline's clutches. No longer seeing Windmill Village as a home without Tinker in it, they decided to take Belle and hide out in the nearby abandoned Eggman base (echoing when the two hid out in Starline's stolen eggbase after his death). They managed to evade the virus by hiding in the base, sending Belle out to forage for supplies despite her protests (implying the two have a hardening cruel streak). During one such excursion, she was badly damaged by a zombot, which resulted in amnesia over Mr. Tinker and her memories of Surge and Kit. The two of them presumed Belle dead. Later on, during his quest to steal Eggman's things strike out on his own, Starline locates this hidden base and subsequently finds the perfect pair of test subjects. He kidnaps them and forces them through vigorous brainwashing, using their disdain of Sonic and exaggerating their pain to such extremes that they feel nothing but hatred for him. He also "rectifies" their powerlessness by giving them powers which he portrays as "enhancements." This explains why they're such weaklings when it comes to their powers: unlike Sonic, Tails, or even Amy, they did not grow into their abilities and have no natural combat prowess. The cognitive dissonance keeping them from achieving their fullest potential is that they want to survive more than they want to fight. Therefore, their first instinct in a combat situation is to run, presenting an annoying hitch in Starline's plans. This explains why Surge has to fight off panic attacks and will begin to cry when engaging a powerful foe like Sonic, often taking swings through tears. Kit can, of course, use her tears to help her conduct a more powerful electric shock, but he notes that he doesn't like doing it. Surge demands that he does so anyhow, implying she feels her suffering doesn't matter. Ironically enough, their will to live overrides the effects of the codified metal virus that helps heal their injuries. During training, Surge almost dies when she mistimes a jump over a spike pit and gets impaled. This experience, followed by Starline's vehement berating of the pair as "useless," traumatizes Kit. Over time, their hatred of Starline grows as his abusive nature becomes harder to ignore. They really don't understand his obsession with Eggman. Eventually, they come to view Sonic, Eggman, Starline, and indeed the world that failed them, as equally worthless. One day, Surge catches Kit playing with a doll made out of scrap metal. She immediately begins to tremble, though she doesn't know why, and slaps the doll out of his hand. Stop that, you idiot; weapons don't play. Kit offers a feeble excuse. I was just… setting up a combat simulation. Yeah, yeah. You do you, Skippy.

Don't you mean Drippy?

Whatever. Surge keeps her mouth shut about the incident, feigning insolence when Starline later grills her, shoving the footage in her face. What, like you don't have your weirdo hobbies? Leave the kid alone. That's when Surge and Kit conspire to tie Starline to a chair and decides to give him a taste of his own medicine. Hey there, doc. You seem stressed. Welcome to therapy. :)

At first, Kit was as enthused as Surge about payback, but soon grew more apprehensive as Starline's protests quieted. Eventually, Starline falls asleep - Kit notes, because of his insomnia - and much to Surge's annoyance, the two must use this chance to make their escape.

When Starline wakes, he makes a recording believing himself to be Eggman, and the experience as a bad dream foisted upon him by Sonic and Tails.

[drones-of-innocence]

What would a "Super Princess Peach" scenario look like with your version of Mareach? That is- Mario (and maybe Luigi) gets captured and Peach has to go rescue him.

Hello there!! Thank you for the ask!

I actually have Super Princess Peach but I've never finished it, maybe I should go to that next chance I get 😆 But I adore the concept, I don't have any projects like it atm but I'd love to work out some thoughts on it!!

I can't get enough of mutual pining/confession scenarios, so it would probably be something like that. And probably a whump story 😳 Bowser must be really motivated to get under Peach's skin and hurt her, and as much as it pains him, it seems like she really cares about the stupid little plumber man so it makes sense to create a plan to capture him.

And, though he would never lay a claw on Peach while under his jurisdiction, he doesn't have the same inclinations toward Mario so why not play around and torment the guy? After all, he's foiled his plans how many times by now? He doesn't have enough claws to count. So he gets a bit of a kick out of giving Mario a taste of what he's been put through. Also, Mario is furious about this, but he's not gonna let Bowser see a hint of pain. So he tries not to react, just so he wouldn't get any satisfaction. Unfortunately, this only makes Bowser angry and has him double down on his efforts to hurt him.

But Mario is powerless in this scenario, as Bowser has found some kind of weakness of his. There wouldn't be any point in threatening Peach as Mario knows Bowser wouldn't hurt her already, but maybe he threatens to do worse to Luigi. Maybe he finds some sort of neutralizer to Mario's Firebrand, and finds creative(painful) ways to keep him awake and hungry so that he begins to lose his strength.

And the whole time, Mario is fretting because he knows Peach. He knows that she's so kind and wonderful and she'll probably arrange to rescue him. But despite knowing her strength, he hates this because he doesn't want her to have to go through everything he does to get to the Dark Kingdom. All those enemies, all those tough conditions. He can't protect her while he's chained down in the dungeon. And this is really what's killing him, despite Bowser trying to break his will. All he wants is for the Princess to be safe, and kidnapping him makes him unable to serve her that way. This man would happily lay down his life for her, but instead he's useless and trapped in a deep dark cell without sunlight or consistent sustenance or rest. All his effort and pain is meaningless here.

He starts to think a lot about his feelings. About how sweet and perfect and beautiful the Princess is. He loves her, he's suspected that he has for a long time. But he would never dare to speak up and say as much to her. He thinks he is not worth her time, that he is beneath her in every way. He is content living out a life of service to her because that alone is a privilege enough. But now even that outcome is up in the air. Doubts of his ability to escape cloud his mind.

Meanwhile, Peach is losing her mind. She did not hesitate to mobilize, storming her way to Bowser's castle. Initially, she was nervous for the journey. But she was so furious that Bowser would do this, so enraged and terrified for Mario's wellbeing, that she did not even think for a second of turning back.

Mario had rescued her so many times. It was about time she returned the favor, no matter how much he insisted she would never need to. That sweet man, always so willing to stand by her side, to defend her, to fight for her. He literally traveled across the world and to the center of the universe for her.

Oh. She recognized sensations in herself that she had only read about. The way her heart pounded, the way his pain was her pain, the way his smile sent butterflies fluttering in her stomach. The warmth of his touch, that cute little bashful face he made whenever she kissed him on the cheek. He always stood at a respectful distance, but she wanted nothing more than to be close to him.

And now he was hurt. Now he was in trouble, and she was going to rescue him if it killed her.

The last thing Mario wants is for her to have to fight Bowser. Actually, that's the last thing Bowser wants, too. He doesn't actually want to battle her, considering he'd like to marry her in one piece and also he knows she is more than capable of hurting him. But the Princess that storms his castle is ready for war and nothing is going to stop her.

She fights, and being at the sidelines is more painful than Mario can say. All of his instincts compelled him to go to her side, to fight for her, but he was powerless. There was nothing he could do but watch and worry and cry out if she got hit. The terror that seized him, watching her battle for his freedom, was cold and unforgiving.

She comes out victorious in the end, because Bowser just cannot triumph over her sheer will and power. And here I think my version of this story would focus a lot on the aftermath 😫

What if Mario collapses as soon as the battle is over, because he was just able to hold on until it was over? Bowser never got the satisfaction of seeing him beat, but he's beaten anyway. Peach rushes to his side, in near tears. She'd gotten so far, done all this by herself, and she can't lose him now. She doesn't know the extent of what Bowser had done to him. But she is safe, the danger is over, and Mario's body finally shuts down after everything.

She flies to him and wrenches open the cell. He is free, but at what cost? She drops to her knees and eases him up to rest upon her, hands shaking.

Their reunion is electric. She can't even think about escaping the castle with him in this state. She can't think about anything.

"I'm okay," he promises her, his voice barely there. He is bruised and bloodied, but his eyes shine with a faint hint of relief. He was so scared for her, but she did it. She made it to him and he's so proud.

Peach just holds him, her voice shaking as she wraps her arm around him. "You're not," she says. Her eyes darken, her voice clouds with more anger. She is stronger now, bolder after her journey. "What did he do to you?"

Mario doesn't have the capacity to describe it to her, and he begins to go limp. His eyes slide closed. "You did...You did so good. I am so...I am pr-proud..." he fades off. He's not dying, he's just extremely weak.

She seizes him all the same and presses her lips to his in a last ditch effort to rescue and restore his strength.

They kiss. Even as her healing magic takes effect, she continues to kiss him, desperate and relieved all at once for his safety. His wounds begin to heal, and he starts to shift beneath her. His hand raises up to cup her cheek and he kisses her back. It was nothing like their chaste touches before, or like any kiss she'd ever given to him or anyone else. Mario sighs with his newfound strength and murmurs that he loves her.

Peach gives a delighted, teary laugh and throws her arms around him as she confesses that she loves him, too.

...

Or maybe something like that 😅

[lilcreaturethingfromthewoods]

One thing that gets me about Pudding is just. She has no control over her own life. She is not allowed to make decisions for herself. In Big Mom's territory, she is utterly, completely powerless.

Her own mother tells her - to her face - that she is 'like a doll'. A doll that is pretty but weak, powerless, an object to be played with and manipulated rather than engaged with as a sentient being, and easily discarded if it becomes damaged or useless (not to mention that Big Mom herself acts like an overgrown child at times - but that's a topic for another time).

She's not a strong fighter, like Katakuri or Perospero, who have relatively more free rein. She's left out of important discussions amongst her siblings (or at least, she wasn't there when they were discussing whether or not Luffy was dead). She's told what to do, how to act, to the point where she can't even pick out a dress for her own damn wedding.

When she shoots Reiju and takes her to her own room to give her the classic villain this-is-the-evil-plan speech, it isn't necessary. Sure, it's important plot-wise, so that Sanji can hear it, but there is no rational reason for her to reveal the whole plan to the enemy - until you consider that this is the only way she can feel at all that she has power, a free will, any degree of ability beyond being a beautiful, perfect little puppet. Because as far as Big Mom is concerned, that's all she is - a tool to be freely used and manipulated.

From the moment she was able to understand, she was told that she was ugly, a freak, a monster, to the point where that's exactly what she became. No matter what personal skills or traits she may have had, everything else was always trumped by the fact that she was her mother's daughter and a three-eyed monster. Which is why, when Sanji honestly expresses admiration (without just being a simp) for what she's been told is a flaw, and validates her, she can't kill him.

I personally believe that deep down, Pudding is a good person - she actively chooses to team up with those who, in any other situation, would be her enemy, and she ultimately doesn't allow her own feelings toward Sanji to keep him from rejoining the crew. But when you've been told how monstrous you are, your whole life, by the person who's supposed to be your greatest protector and support - really, it messes you up. The only way Big Mom's children can earn affection from her is either by being strong fighters, or useful bargaining chips, and they aren't likely to find approval anywhere else - so really, what can they do?

Which is why I'm excited for her next appearance and can't wait to see what she looks like when she's been freed of Big Mom.

[mejomonster]

Chapter 174. I love the contrast in views between Fan Siyuan and Fei Du. Fan Siyuan truly thinks Fei Du is everything His father tried to make him into: a perfect monster with only monstrous intent. And Fei Du is going along with the assumption. The thing he knows people thought he'd become. That he pretends to be. But he didn't become that: he does have good intentions, he does think getting "ones own justice" is appallingly fucked up. At least in this case of Fan siyuan. Fan siyuan is a fucked up person justifying cruel actions just as much as his father was, as Zhang chenjiu is. In Fei Du's eyes. To fei du this looks like a cult of brainwashed, a murderer justifying himself calling anyone trying to do justice legally useless and himself a murderer as Good. Fei Du isn't a stranger to such ideas, he made his own justice-seeking private entity for fucks sake. But he is Not like Fan Siyan. Fei Du KNOWS what a monster looks like, he was raised to be one, and he knows when he's acting monstrous and cruel and takes responsibility for that decision as his own. Versus Fan Siyuan who he also thinks is clearly acting monstrous, but refusing to view himself that way. Fan Siyuan thinks he's morally superior to Fei Du, pure intentioned compared to a vicious beast. In reality, it is the other way around.

“If not for that, how would I have known that you, the innocent President Fei, were the oriole at the center of the web? We old fellows have all been duped by you. You really are too deep,” Fan Siyuan said. “But now that I mention it, I don’t think it’s surprising. After all, you are Fei Chengyu’s son. There was poison in your bones from the moment you were born.”

 

“Teacher Fan, that’s very unfair of you to say. If I hadn’t gotten mixed up in this and driven the Zhang brothers thoroughly to the end of their ropes, would your people have been able to invade the enemy’s interior so easily? The two of us are natural allies to start with. It’s very unfriendly of you to talk about me like that.”

 

“Shut up!” Before Fan Siyuan could say anything, the driver standing guard beside him became enraged. “Who’s your ally? Trash! Sinner!”

 

Fei Du shrugged, an unspeakable craftiness permeating his smile. “You collaborated closely with my father over a decade ago, and now we’ve finally taken down Zhang Chunling and his gang… Of course, I’ve only put in a little force in this. Most of the credit goes to you. Teacher Fan, you’re the elder. Just say the word, and of course I’ll offer up that old dog Zhang Chunling with both hands.”

 

Hearing how he planned to take a share of the spoils without taking part in the plot, the driver was beside himself with rage. Likely he thought he was polluting the air by breathing here. Agitated, he said, “Teacher has done this to…”

 

Fan Siyuan waved a hand to interrupt his subordinate’s speech. “I’m not interested in controlling anyone, and I don’t want Zhang Chunling to become my dog. From the start, I’ve only wanted to destroy them.”

 

Fei Du raised his eyebrows, feigning astonishment. “Teacher Fan, you aren’t going to tell me that you’re an undercover police officer? Killing six people in a row is too high a threshold for going undercover.”

 

“Those scumbags deserved their punishment!” These words came from some believer’s mouth. The words “deserved their punishment” echoed in the empty underground room. It was ghastly.

 

“While I’m not a police officer, most of those who trained to be police officers back then were my students. I understand them,” Fan Siyuan said. “In a certain sense, the police are only mechanical props, following a rigid institution, obeying a rigid sequence. And most of them are only using it as a job to feed their families. They’re powerless. Fairness, righteousness? These things…”

 

At this point, Fan Siyuan laughed coldly. Behind him, all of his believers were filled with stereotyped righteous indignation. Their righteous indignation was unusually pious. Fei Du simply felt that he’d wandered by mistake into the den of some cult.

 

“But I couldn’t see back then where this colossus was, and I wasn’t in a position to investigate it. They had eyes in the City Bureau. They were everywhere. If I lightly touched the edge of it, I would have ended up like…” Fan Siyuan’s words came to an abrupt halt, the rest of what he was going to say disappearing. After a good while, he went on: “There was nothing to be done. If I wanted to get close to it, I had to descend into the shadows myself, descend into the abyss, become one with them… There was nothing I could do.

 

“Destroying one person, one family, is too easy. You think these malicious pieces of garbage should die, but they can easily evade retribution. And even if one victim has the luck to have the demon put to death, so what? Most killers don’t have to pay with their lives. Most of those who ought to die only eat and drink for free in prison for a few years. The price they pay isn’t enough to atone for their crimes.”

 

This time, there was no need for Fei Du to pretend. He displayed a very natural “Are you crazy?” expression. “Oh… So you’re an unpaid volunteer judge?”

[littleshopofchaos]

Part 18 of HF - Be a Good Reaper, and Obey

Samantha is in trouble - warning: She's in chains in this part so if you dont wanna read about that, and some gourging on food, then don't read this part

INT. AN ABANDONED BUILDING IN MANCHESTER – AFTERNOON

There is a table in the middle of an abandoned building, with food across the table. There are grapes, sandwiches and other things. RAQAEL and HALCYON are sitting at the table, letting SAMANTHA eat because she needs to keep her energy up and she hasn’t eaten in 35 years despite being legally dead.

SAMANTHA is eating as much as she can, as fast as she can. Its kind of disturbing but can you really blame her? She doesn’t want to stop in the event this is a sick, cruel joke.

RAQAEL and HALCYON are watching her, impressed and slightly disturbed. They have smiles on their faces.

SAMANTHA's chains are still wrapped around her, though they’re looser now. They can tighten if they need to be tightened.

SAMANTHA:

[finishing tearing through a sandwich]

What do you want from me, there’s gotta be a catch?

RAQAEL:

We need your strength up, otherwise you’re of no use to us when we get to meet your daughter.

SAMANTHA:

[sadly]

You want me to fight her?

HALCYON:

We want you both to die.

SAMANTHA looks away, grabbing a drink to wash down all the food with. She looks like she’s going to be sick. She knows attacking HALCYON and RAQAEL will be useless.

She finishes eating. Sitting back on the chair, her scythe just out of reach.

HALCYON looks to RAQAEL, a curious look on her face.

HALCYON:

What, do you expect us to do the work? Imagine the tragic backstory of being forced to destroy your own family. Its perfect.

RAQAEL:

Whilst Samantha and Tiana destroy each other, we’ll destroy her annoying friends and kill our own sister.

HALCYON:

When we have our sister’s powers, we’ll be unstoppable.

RAQAEL:

We will, sister. We will be.

RAQAEL and HALCYON help themselves to some drinks. Its heavily implied that they either used their powers to get this food, or they straight up stole it.

SAMANTHA gets up, to stretch her legs and looks around, as if looking for an escape route or a plan or something.

HALCYON:

You can’t run anywhere Samantha, you’re powerless.

SAMANTHA:

I’m not trying to escape, there’s a difference between stretching and being an escape artist.

SAMANTHA watches HALCYON and RAQAEL, a curious look on her face.

SAMANTHA:

I feel like there’s something you’re not telling me.

RAQAEL:

We don’t have to tell you everything, just what you need to know.

SAMANTHA tries reaching for her scythe, but it disappears, reappearing in RAQAEL’s hands

RAQAEL:

You’ll only need this to take off your daughter’s head. You’ll get it back when the time is right.

SAMANTHA tries to hide the fact she is horrified, terrified and planning something all in one.

SAMANTHA sits down again, grabbing a drink.

SAMANTHA:

How are the Gods, anyway? They never visited me in Purgatory…

RAQAEL:

[lying]

They are busy.

SAMANTHA:

You still didn’t answer my question.

HALCYON:

They have so much to deal with, they felt like you’d been dealt with accordingly. We had other matters on our hands.

SAMANTHA:

Like my daughter and my husband.

HALCYON grins.

HALCYON:

You haven’t seen your husband yet, have you? Would you like to? I’m sure he’d love to see you and you’d be a happy family again.

RAQAEL:

[cruelly laughing]

Before you take off each other’s heads.

SAMANTHA:

[disgusted]

You’re no different then when there were gladiator arenas in Rome.

RAQAEL:

Its exactly like that. It’ll be glorious.

HALCYON flicks her wrists and SAMANTHA’s bonds/ chains tighten back around her throat.

HALCYON:

You need to train to be able to overpower and kill your daughter. So you’ll fight us in preparation, and if you do well, we’ll reward you with the meals you deserve. Does that sound good enough for you?

SAMANTHA doesn’t respond, only lifts her hands to her throat to try and loosen the chains. Nothing happens. SAMANTHA is clearly trying not to panic.

RAQAEL:

You look like you’d rather be back in Purgatory...wandering endlessly with no hope and nobody to talk to. Is that what you really want is it? To go back there.

SAMANTHA shakes her head.

HALCYON:

Shall we train, then?

The table of food disappears and RAQAEL gives SAMANTHA her scythe. They all stand up and move to an open space where they can begin fighting.

HALCYON:

Be a good little Reaper and obey, okay?

SAMANTHA slowly nods, and the chains around her hands and feet disappear so she can move freely.

RAQAEL and HALCYON change clothes before SAMANTHA’s very eyes – changing into some ancient-Roman like battle gear, leaving SAMANTHA very much alarmed. They really are loving every second of this, they’re giving off psychotic energy.

SAMANTHA readies her scythe, as RAQAEL and HALCYON leap at her, with various weapons in their hands.

CUT TO:

INT. JOSEPH’S CAR – SOMEWHERE ON THE MOTORWAY – AFTERNOON

JOSEPH is in the driver’s seat, fiddling with the radio like its going to help at all with his sour mood. You can see he is livid, he’s a man on a mission – focused.

He’s been on the road for a while now, stuck in traffic and trying to think of a plan whilst being accompanied by his worried friends, ARCHIE and ROBERT.

ARCHIE and ROBERT are snacking on things like crisps and looking at their phones, trying to plan where to go next when they actually reach Manchester.

ARCHIE:

I can’t help but feel like you’re a bit suicidal right now, Joseph

JOSEPH:

What makes you say that?

ARCHIE:

You’ve found out your wife who is technically dead, is being held hostage by two literal Angels working for three literal Gods and if anyone caught on to what we’re doing, we’d be put away in insane asylums.

JOSEPH:

But you guys know what this life is life, you were exposed to it all those years ago when you first met me.

ROBERT:

Yeah but we didn’t expect for things to go this way!

JOSEPH doesn’t answer, he just focuses back on driving. ARCHIE and ROBERT look worried again, knowing not to question things right now cause they’re in a dangerous situation.

ROBERT:

You have a plan though, right? When we get to Manchester?

JOSEPH:

Of course I do.

ROBERT doesn’t dare to ask, just passes ARCHIE a packet of gummy bears and focuses on the road ahead. The radio is turned up.