#despite the female or dragon aspect
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10/10 is Lon'qu Day so here we go, a 10 out of 10 family.
#fe awakening#lonqu#nowi#nah#i really like a couple of their supports with others but i am just so weak for them#that i normally have to get them married#its the only nah support with her dad that im not really upset with bc#with lonqu being afraid of women but not terrified of nowi and just being like fine whatever we can play house#its way less weird to hear the guy scared of women tell his daughter that her mom has always looked young AND TRAIL OFF#in the support chain like any other guy saying well your mom looked young is really weird to me#but it makes more sense to me that hes at more ease around her than others even though she can just#turn into a dragon like ... no one seems too put off by it but its such a funny combo of not being scared of her#despite the female or dragon aspect#idk man i just think its really funny to watch him correct nowi on how to play house ok
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I love the villain scorned by the world
feat: Malleus
genre: drama, hurt/comfort, romance
note: part 3 continuation of Being Reincarnated into a New World as the Bad Guy AU Malleus ver, not gender specific reader, no pronouns used, villain/ess!reader is human, insecure villain/ess!reader, use of non-canon characters, 1.6k word count
I'm scared that people aren't gonna like how the villain/ess!reader is portrayed but I wanted to write people who are hurt and are afraid, cuz that's what being alive is like, to sometimes be afraid. So, hope you enjoy!
There are requests with more specific topics or aspects of the story so they may get their own story post. I'm not ignoring you, I'm more story pacing ^^"
In one night alone, you’ve met your ex-fiancé and your former friends while you were with the fae that has asked to marry you. Then, said fae went on to antagonize your ex-fiancé who was a prince and low-key threatened to ruin him, his lover and those who supported the couple.
You were not built for this stress
In his defense, Malleus only did it because your former fiance started to mock you and your family over a crime that was proven false. You certainly weren’t ungrateful enough not to thank Malleus for his assistance. The powerful king simply smiled.
“This is but a mere glimpse of the things I would do for you, should you finally accept my proposal”
“T-this is not a decision you can rush”
You were hesitant and gave excuses to refuse the dragon king but he made efforts to rebuke your reasons one by one, destroying whatever obstacles that kept you from saying yes. Soon, it came down to one reason, your real reason.
You were scared
Not of Malleus, he has never done anything to warrant fear from you. But rather, his status as a “route target”.
Before the arrival of the heroine, you were friends with the other route targets and even felt happy enough to be engaged with the prince despite having only platonic feelings between each other. But the moment they all met her, your world became hers.
Your former fiancé grew irritated with you, then full out ignoring you. It was no better with the others as well when you expressed your worries to your mutual friends. Rather than consoling you or hearing you out, they took the heroine’s side and started ignoring you as well, calling you delusional and unreasonable.
Everyone changed (or perhaps you changed and this was how it was meant to be) and you were left ridiculed and soon villainized by those you felt close to. The look of disgust on their faces whenever you attempted to just speak to them, it hurt you.
Would Malleus be the same? Be kind to you then break your heart when the heroine comes in? You suffered because of it the first time but if it was Malleus…your last and maybe closest person in your life since reincarnating to this world… you don’t know how you could come back from that.
So you started to give up on your happy ending, refusing to answer Malleus’ proposal, avoiding to engage with the heroine at all, even escaping the party and retreating to your old hiding spot… in the royal garden.
Alone with your thoughts, you berated yourself over your cowardice as you hid in the tall rose bushes. Gently, you fidgeted with the rose petals and you reminisced about the past. You met Malleus here, didn’t you?
You were so clueless over your future. Back then, you still held hope that your fate was not predestined, that you could be content with stepping aside for the heroine and live happily with them. Yet despite your conflicted feelings, you managed a smile as you recalled one fateful night in the garden. It was the night that you met with your closest friend…
“Lord Malleus!”
…Did you say that out loud?
You looked around in confusion to see if you were truly alone as you thought and to your surprise, you saw beyond the tall hedges the very fae you were just thinking about and the person who called him…
The female protagonist.
“Do you like flowers, Lord Malleus?”
Your heart clenched painfully as you saw your worst nightmare come to be, the female lead with your friend(?) and they were alone in the gardens, where you realized where the player was supposed to meet Malleus in order to enter his route. Was the baron’s daughter aware of this? Did they meet like it was meant to be? Should you stay…or run away?
You could. Your engagement has been annulled and your family was cleared from accusations of treason. You haven't accepted Malleus' proposal so nothing is holding you or your family back from leaving this kingdom forever and starting a new life away from here. No need to follow this cursed story to the end. No need to ever see your ex-friends or the protagonist ever again.
No need to see Malleus again.
Just run away.
Malleus internally thanked the elders and Lilia for their lessons to conceal his emotions, or he could have done something as drastic as burning this garden to ashes due to the annoyance he felt at this moment. He noticed your escape from the party and assumed you wanted some fresh air so he left you on your own. But soon, the party attendees bore him and he soon ached to be by your side once more. So, he made his way to the one place he immediately thought of when thinking of you, the royal gardens.
It was his curiosity borne from boredom that brought him to the gardens that day. He found himself attracted with your kindness and obliviousness to his true identity. He found you charming, a delight and later an optimist when learning of your situation. He knew right away who you were, the child from a noble family betrothed to the young prince of this kingdom since young but that piece of information did not bother him…at first.
But you were turned from charming to tempting as time went on. He craved your attention, envisioning your smiling face with each letter he received from you via his attendant Lilia. He couldn’t count how many times he wanted to visit you personally but couldn’t. He was sure that if you knew his identity, you may cease your correspondence with him in fear of a scandal between the kingdoms. He at least could appreciate your tactfulness.
But he was greedy as any dragon fae would be once he heard your engagement was annulled. He may curse the foolish prince for his actions but Malleus suppose he should count himself lucky that your ex-fiancé was a fool. If he were a decent man then he may have to declare war by stealing you away.
But Malleus encountered another greedy individual, and she’s standing right in front of him.
“Do you like flowers, Lord Malleus?” The baron’s daughter asked, fluttering her eyelashes cutely.
“This garden and its flora has its charm” Malleus curtly replied, he can’t hate this garden afterall. He met you here.
“So do I! I guess fae and humans aren’t so different, huh”
Well, that’s a stretch of a comment. He couldn’t comprehend this human’s agenda. Constantly surrounded by young men, Malleus assumed she had better ways to spend her time, and not waste his.
Wait…was she reaching her hand to him?
“My wish is for humans and fae to get along. Wouldn’t that be great?” The female lead sweetly said with her best smile, stretching her fingers to reach for Malleus’ crossed arms.
To dare attempt to lay hands on him without his permission. No one would fault him for burning this woman’s audacious hands off, right?
“King Malleus!”
The dragon fae’s pointed ears perked up at the sound of his name. He turned immediately to the source, knowing exactly who just called him.
“My dear human” he responded back with a smile as he saw you walking quickly towards him.
In spite of your nervousness, you walked up to the duo and looked to share a gaze with the tall dragon fae before cautiously moving to hover your hand on his arm. Malleus did you one better and guided your hand to firmly rest on his arm, with his large hand kept over yours.
“Good evening, lady” you nodded your head at the heroine who seemed displeased with your presence but curtsied back, as is custom. You barely gave the woman’s much of your attention (your confidence may waver if you did) and turned directly to face Malleus.
“King Malleus, I had planned to retire early tonight and leave this party” you looked to Malleus, taking a deep breath before speaking once more. To let yourself be selfish and fight for the only man that mattered to you now. “Would you like to leave…with me?”
“Aren’t you being rude?” The female lead argued, barely hiding her annoyance with you. “Not only did you interrupt a conversation, you’re shamelessly asking Lord Malleus to leave-“
“Where would you like to go, my dear human?” Malleus’ deep voice interrupted the baron’s daughter, not that Malleus cared as his striking green eyes focused solely on you.
“If you’re willing…perhaps your manor’s garden?” You shocked yourself with your boldness, but you kept at it. “I much prefer your garden above all others, especially during our dates”
Whoosh
Your senses couldn’t keep up with the sudden shift as you were suddenly lifted by Malleus who quickly scooped you up into a bridal carry. You and the female lead both had looks of shock by the fae king’s sudden actions but Malleus paid attention to only one of you.
“I had made the false assumption that all humans were charming” Malleus’ eyes glinted a bright green, you compared them to gems, as he smirked amusingly at you, his fangs peeking from his lips. “But only you could evoke such feelings of greed within me"
Ignoring this world's protagonist, Malleus began to shroud the two of you in specks of green lights, a sign that you were going to be magically whisked away at Malleus' whim.
But before you did, you managed to meet the female lead's eyes which were filled with nothing but indignant rage. She looked ready to destroy you and everything you love, but you steeled yourself. Instead of flinching under her glare, you smiled at her while wrapping your arms around the dragon king's neck. Without a word, you made your decision.
I'm not giving him up
#twst#twisted wonderland#disney twisted wonderland#twisted wonderland imagines#twst scenarios#twst x reader#twisted wonderland x reader#twst imagines#twisted wonderland scenarios#villainess au#malleus draconia#malleus x reader#twst malleus
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Historical romance with Black woman, without including racism
Anonymous asked:
I write regency romance and I have a female character that I have written as having a mother who is black Antiguan and father who is white British in 1819—he’s a Viscount so they are highly placed. I want their daughter to have a typical romance arc…and that’s it. I don’t plan on making any of her problems about race or even mention it other than describing her as black and a brief backstory on how her parents met. In ignoring this aspect of her—whatever problems might have presented themselves, what conflicted feelings she might have about British white high society in that era—am I wrong? If I am wrong but still don’t want the romance to be about race and class, how to do that in a respectful way?
Or, is it okay to tell the story of romance without race being an issue at all?
Yes, yes, and yes. And it’s not so much about ignoring any racial conflicts in the era. Although, the history and treatment of Black people was not the same in the European regions as it was in the Americas (feel free to do some research, for context).
It’s about whether the issue matters specifically to:
your story
the specific area
your character’s narrative
to those around her, or specifically the people she interacts with, including the lover, his relatives, friends, and so on.
And it’s okay for that answer to be no. You do not need to make racism just * not exist* but rather, not make it a matter for the people in the story. This is the case whether you write a story set in 1819 or 2025!
Black people should be allowed stories, especially with romances, that aren’t about racist conflict and being dehumanized. The regency romance genre lacks Black women protagonists in love, and BIPOC in general. And these Black women and people do not need to only be mixed race or light, either.
Steps to diversify the genre starts with just letting us exist in history without fears of being “historically inaccurate.”
As discussed many times here:
Black people existed (and exist!) in Europe, and not only as enslaved or oppressed people.
Arguments against historical accuracy are usually only served to keep inclusion out, not to bring it in. The same historical accuracy is not called for when including fairies, ogres and dragons in historical settings.
Therefore, if supernatural creatures can exist in this era as upper class and royalty, so can Black people, period. But again, they did! So.
Not including racism doesn’t mean ignoring reality
Now, if one were to write a story about a Black person today and not include any racism, are they somehow doing Black people a disservice by not putting them through traumas and racism they already face on a regular basis? I would say absolutely not. In fact, it’s what I personally go for. Escapism should exist for us too. These heavy-hearted books have their place and can be sought out if desired.
Colorblindness
On the same note, colorblindness is not ideal. You mention that you’ll still describe the characters, which is good. But being Black or another race or ethnicity, but leaving out the anti and ‘isms doesn’t mean you’re removing an essential part of them. A welcome part of representation is to acknowledge their looks, culture, food, languages…aka the things that make them who they are. The narrative doesn’t need to obsess over differences, but simply accept them as natural.
Some people have this fear of race. As if to talk about, mention or even notice race is to be racist. “Black” is a whispered word.
Avoid all talk of “despite of race” or “not seeing race” because that’s
1) simply not true and is
2) another form of racist erasure.
We can see and acknowledge differences between you and me. And they can simply be embraced and accepted, not ignored.
Ways to acknowledge diversity without racism in romance
There are many ways to do this. Here are just some ideas, some vague and some specific.
Describe and mention the character’s looks
Include physical descriptions of your character’s race. Whether you show or tell, you should make it clear that they’re Black, or the given race you’re writing. It doesn’t have to be a big deal for the plot. It should be something that is at least apparent to readers. Without clear indication, the character will likely be seen as white. Book covers help avoid this white-as-default assumption, too.
You can thread descriptions and reminders, short or longer, throughout the story.
Examples
She had rich brown skin and even darker brown eyes. I lost my breath when she tucked her chin, only to bat her heavy lashes my way.
Thick curls spilled around her face, black coils against golden brown skin.
I attribute my looks to my Antiguan roots - dark brown skin, umber eyes, and a small, rounded nose - all traits that I got from my mother.
She tucked a thick coil under her bonnet
Comparisons also work, particularly if the people are not used to seeing people of this race. Now, these comparisons should not be about exalting one race or putting down the other group(s). Pointing out differences does not need to be a battle of what or who is better looking.
More examples
Lance couldn’t keep his eyes off of the beautiful woman stepping off of the boat. Her skin held a warm brown hue. He’d never seen skin this rich in color – all of his friends and neighbors were pale or only slightly tanned from the sun.
She had dark skin, her brown shade much deeper in tone than the other humans he had met so far on his ventures through space.
Her brown skin, black hair and dark eyes contrasted with those of the pale, blonde women in the room.
“I hear the Duke is courting that young Moorish woman.” “The woman’s name is Emilia Watson,” Sarah said, resolutely.
He admired the stark contrast of their skin, brown and white, as they walked hand in hand.
Add culture, not racism
Culture is many, many things. So there’s many ways to show hints of it throughout the story.
Consider things like:
Food
Holidays
Clothing
Religion, beliefs, myths
Language, phrases
Mannerisms, values and habits
Superstitions
Family roles
Traditions and customs
Art
Food
A special mention to food, but perhaps because I’m hungry writing this. Food can be culture, and a very important part of it, I think it’s also an easy and fun way to incorporate it into a story, without needing to mention racism.
Examples
The characters makes her partner or the family a traditional dish. He / they could also share their favorites with her.
She shows him how to make a dish passed down throughout the family.
Something she makes him is so spicy that he runs to find water for relief, which could be a funny and cute moment.
They celebrate a special holiday or tradition by making a meal together.
They visit a market that sells food or produce from her homeland that they try and enjoy.
In summary
Please feel free to write historical romances with BIPOC, minus the racism. I promise that there’s an audience for it!
More reading
Wealthy Black character in historical romance, written by white author
(1800s Western) non-racist White characters interacting with Black and Native people
Historical American Fiction without the Racism
FAQ - “It wouldn’t be historically accurate for my story to include BiPoC.”
Praising Beauty Without Fetishizing PoC
~Mod Colette
P.S. If anyone has some good diverse regency romances with WOC, please drop those recommendations. I’m always trying to find more to read!
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ALAICE DEVERAUX
Nicknames: Not applicable.
Age: Twenty-one.
Nameday: Twenty-Seventh Sun of the First Astral Moon (apparently I gave her my birthday, so that might change!)
Race: Duskwight Elezen.
Gender: Cis female.
Orientation: Straight?
Profession: Lady of the House of Deveraux and Dubois, last remaining survivor after the Dragonsong War; apprentice baker and occasional confidant to Firelight Trading Company.
PHYSICAL ASPECTS
Hair: A light blue, leaning more into teal. She tends to style it in loose curls around her shoulders.
Eyes: She is heterochromatic! One eye is teal, the other is a steel grey.
Skin: Pale with a silvery undertone; it tends to reflect whatever light hits it, rather than possessing it's own distinct colour.
Tattoos/Scars: None of any note.
FAMILY
Parents: Lord and Lady Deveraux, dead by Alaice's sixteenth year. It is said that Lord Deveraux attempted to defend his wife from the dragons before he was engulfed in flames. No remains of her mother have been found.
Siblings: Not applicable.
Grandparents: Not applicable, more unfortunate souls lost to the war.
In-Laws and Others: Alaice has a child from her first marriage, a daughter called Alyna. Her husband, Draeir Dubois, died under mysterious circumstances in the months preceding the Ishgardian/Dragon peace treaty, bringing no end of speculation from gentry and smallfolk alike. Some suspect his desire to expand his house beyond Foundation's spires drew ire from the High Houses and he was made an example of. Others suspect a more... intimate cause. Without a murder weapon or obvious intent, none can deduce a proper suspect.
She is particularly close to @riftdancing's Siyoh Mari who, whilst not understanding a lick of Ishgardian gossip, will happily entertain the confusion over a cup of tea as Alaice dramatizes. This leagues better than Elandervier who told her she'd 'rather chew on a voidsent's ass' and leaves at the very mention of anything to do with the city. She has an extremely complicated relationship with the other Elezen due to their mutual upbringings, trauma and reconciliation.
When Firelight is conducting business in Ishgard, she can be seen at its patriarch's side helping him navigate the intricacies of the city.
Pets: Unless you count the many birds that have taken residence in her gardens, not applicable.
SKILLS
Abilities: Alaice is ice-aspected to a dangerous degree, and it's an element she has always tried to keep under wraps for fear of heresy and expulsion from the Holy See. As a result, the magic is unpredictable and emerges as a by-product of extreme situations/emotions. Only a select few people know she possesses such an ability.
Hobbies: Like all ladies of her standing, Alaice was given a proper education including tutelage in deportment; music, song and dance; needlework and painting — among other gentle pursuits. She has a particular affinity for bird watching and, in the advent of her husband's death, has sunk herself readily into her little business as a baker.
TRAITS
Most positive trait: Alaice possesses a remarkable capacity for trust despite her confinement and husband's abuse.
Worst negative trait: Her naïvety. As a woman constricted by the societal expectations of Ishgardian women, Alaice knows scarce little about the world around her — or even Ishgard proper. It is something she is working constantly to undo.
LIKES
Colours: Blue, white, silver, gold and shades of brown. However, given Ishgard's proclivity to the cold, any colour that can break through the sheen of snow is a welcomed addition in her eyes.
Smells: Anything floral and/or citrus. These are not necessarily smells she will wear, but remind her of a time before the Calamity when the climate of Ishgard was better suited. She's also partial to vanilla, almond and loves the smell of rain.
Textures: Knitted wool and smooth glass (or ice, though she tries not to think too much about it), the gentle prick of pine and the grooves in wood and stone.
Drinks: Champagne, white wine and mead. She's also discovering some enjoyment of red wine, stay tuned if she gets more extreme!
OTHER DETAILS
Smokes: Rarely. She smoked recreationally after her parents died, a sort of 'dare' from the other ladies in her company, and took it up in secret as a way to release anxiety in the early days of her marriage — away from the prying eyes of her husband. Alaice quit after becoming pregnant with Alyna and hasn't taken it back up due to associating it with those negative experiences.
Drinks: Semi-regularly. Much like smoking, she quit entirely when she got pregnant and tends to only partake as a social nicety. She can acknowledge where she was falling into unhealthy patterns when she was married and tries not to go back to those places.
Drugs: Not applicable.
Mount Issuance: Not applicable. Alaice was fed on the indoctrination by her husband that is not a lady's place to traverse, but that men should come to her. If she is needed for Firelight Business she will be escorted by their couriers, but she has no vehicle of her own.
Been Arrested: No. Being a suspect was traumatic enough. Why would she kill her lord husband?
Tagged by: @eriyu — at least for this one! I'm going to try and do one character per tag.
Tagging: @thefreelanceangel, @hythlodaes, @piyopikamika, @sealrock, @thevikingwoman & @yloiseconeillants! If you'd like a chance of being tagged, you can like my permanent interaction call here!
#｡･ﾟﾟ･ — sea speaks#｡･ﾟﾟ･ — 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫 : alaice#｡･ﾟﾟ･ — sea answers things#｡･ﾟﾟ･ — character answers / memes#look how cute she looks in the screenshot my little BABY#i have so many more to do from the tags#so#i'll be here all day SDFKJGHSDF
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Gunpowder Dreams
Chapter 10 (Plan)
↳ Vash the Stampede x Female Reader
They didn't know a wounded man would show no mercy when they took the best thing he ever had away from him. What did they say? Don't poke the dragon if you can't take the heat; if you do, expect the flames.
Genre: explicit smut, toxic relation, romance, angst (Mafia au).
Warnings/Tags: +18, NSFW, Alternative Universe/Modern Setting, no spoilers from manga and anime, dominate Vash the Stampede, sexual situations, dub-con, graphic violence, gore, angst, toxicity, gunplay, manhandling, cunnilingus + fellatio, creampie, fingering, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, hair pulling, too many smut scenes, emotional trauma, and etc.
Song Recommendation: Arctic Monkeys - Do I Wanna Know?
Note: Sorry for the delayed update. Unexpected events in life took place. I hope with this smut chapter, I can earn your forgiveness.
Chapter Index - Next Chapter
The darkness suffocated you; unsettling dreams bled all over your mind and prevented you from finding rest. You only had your dreams to give you peace, but now they had vanished, leaving you unsure how to get them back.
All you saw when you closed your eyes was Knives.
You kept getting cut over and over and over, with a knife in his hand, and Vash shot his brother in the leg and outside, the wind sang, but its high-pitched and off-key melody made it difficult for you to ask it to stop. The blood on your skin drained the warmth from your veins, leaving you freezing. The floor beneath you seemed to engulf you as you lay on your back. You could taste the clotted blood in your mouth, throat, and heart.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Yet another delightful adventure in the land of perpetual misfortune.
With a sigh, you turned in bed, your eyes adjusted to the darkness, and when you blinked, you realized the leather couch in front of the windows was empty, with rumpled sheets tossed aside. Despite the house having millions of rooms, he chose to sleep on the couch. You weren't sure why he kept you in his room or why he preferred the sofa over another room. You didn't seek answers or dwell on it. Having him in the room brought comfort, but he was absent right now.
Once again, a sigh came out of your lips.
Being in Vash's presence was like a rollercoaster ride. He was so used to solitude that each day spent with him brought new revelations. These discoveries weren't entirely negative; in fact, most of what you learned about him was endearing and harmless.
Just last week, you stumbled upon him in his office, listening to vintage vinyl records. While you had seen his collection of records before, stacked high alongside old books and artwork, but seeing him simply sitting and listening to the music was a new experience altogether.
He didn't even notice your presence when you walked in that day. He sat completely motionless, staring at the wall, and you later realized he was listening to a Johnny Cash record. You discovered this when you peeked into his office hours after he had already left.
Your curiosity got the best of you as you couldn't help but wonder why Vash kept resetting the needle to listen to that one particular record. You were determined to find out which song it was, and it turned out to be a tune called "You're My Sunshine."
You had yet to share with him what you had witnessed that day, as you didn't want to disturb his comfort in his own space. However, some of you wanted to unravel his past, uncover both the good and bad aspects, and lay bare all the secrets so you could be done with it because you believed your imagination posed a greater threat than any of his hidden truths.
But you were not sure how to make that happen. He wasn't exactly known for his communication skills.
The previous night, you had feigned sleep as you watched him enter the room, cautiously lighting a small lampshade to avoid waking you up. He silently took a seat at the table, unloading his firearm and arranging the golden bullets on a cloth. He leaned over and cracked open the window slightly, hoping to dissipate the scent of gunpowder, but the bold wind had other plans. It audaciously swept in and playfully tousled his golden locks, eliciting a bittersweet smile from you that carried a tinge of pain. Yes, even smiling hurt. But witnessing him find solace was a rarity; now, you were fortunate enough to experience it twice.
With a revolver clutched in his gloved hand, he diligently used a bore snake to clean the barrel. You recognized the process because, when your father still had remnants of his humanity, he had taught you how to assist him in maintaining his firearm. However, you were only a child back then, unaware that cleaning the gun meant he had likely used it to take someone's life.
Men and their guns. They all use them for destruction, and the man before you had even used it to make you—
As the old memory resurfaced, a blend of anger and shameful emotions welled up, stinging the back of your eyes. You closed your eyes tightly, unwilling to witness Vash's sinful ritual any longer.
As you glanced around the dim room, your sleep-riddled eyes scanned from the couch to the shadows cast by the furniture. The filtered sunlight seeping through the covered windows faintly illuminated the space. Amidst the shadows, a phantom-like silhouette took shape that wasn't there, with light blond hair, chilling green eyes, and a mole beneath the right eye—a vicious ghost.
Your grandmother used to say that if you dwell on the thought of the devil long enough, he will appear at your doorstep.
The floorboards made a creaking sound to your right, seemingly originating from somewhere in the bedroom. Your head swiftly turned in that direction, and you took a sudden, sharp breath. The hairs on the back of your neck stood on end like a frightened dog backed into a corner. You held your breath, being cautious not to make any noise in case the sound repeated. Silence enveloped the room, an eerie stillness. Your fingers tightly gripped the duvet on your lap as your heart raced faster.
There was an intruder in the room. But how? How the fuck did Knives manage to evade the guards again?
After another creak, a distinct footstep echoed through the room. You cautiously rose from the bed, but as you stood up, a wave of dizziness nearly caused you to fall. You managed to grab onto the side of the bed, trying to steady your spinning head.
You made your way over slowly, masking the nausea coursing through your body. Your chest rose and fell rapidly, breaths coming in quick succession. With measured steps, you pressed your back against the cold wall. Despite your attempts, a trembling breath managed to escape. Your chest heaved as you took rapid, shallow breaths while the echoing footsteps reverberated from an unfamiliar location.
You stood frozen, your back melding into the wall as if you were one with it, rendering you immobile and unable to hide. However, you refused to become a victim once more. Determined, you knew you had to find a sharp object. With urgency, you sprinted towards the wooden nightstand by the bed, frantically rummaging through the drawers in search of a knife, a gun, or any means of defense.
But you suddenly stopped.
One of the drawers contained a collection of origami made from napkins, which you had previously crafted. It struck you as odd that Vash had kept these seemingly insignificant origami pieces while discarding the plates he used to bring you donuts.
With hands trembling, you shut the drawer and turned your attention elsewhere in search of a weapon. However, in your state of unease, you accidentally collided head-on with something solid.
Something human.
Male.
You heard him sharply inhale, felt his hands stabilize your body, and sensed the blood draining from your face, leaving you weak and lightheaded.
"Vash," you exclaimed, struggling to catch your breath. You went through the familiar motions, just as you always did. Your heart skipped a beat, then raced uncontrollably, your breath became shallow, and your palms grew sweaty. No matter how many times you encountered him, he consistently evoked the same response from you: a mix of fear and excitement. You couldn't quite explain why it excited you.
Something had to be amiss with you. It wasn't ordinary for fiery warmth to surge through your veins in such conditions, leaving a tingle in its wake.
He refused to release his grip on you. You could hear the rapid, forceful thumping of his heart in the quiet space between you. He remained incredibly still and tense as if he were struggling to maintain control over his own body.
Your heart was giving out. "It was you—"
"What are you searching for?" he whispered, his words strained as if he struggled to breathe. His eyes, an unusual shade of blue, captured your attention even in the darkness—they were stunning, crystal clear, and had a penetrating quality that was somewhat unsettling. His hair was thick, a lustrous hue of gold, and his physique appeared slender and unassuming, yet his grip conveyed effortless strength.
"I thought someone was in the—" you trailed off, abruptly stopping your words. Vash stood before you, clad in nothing but a towel. A TOWEL! The embarrassment swept over you, and you wished you could simply disappear, perhaps even roll under the bed to avoid the awkwardness.
The voice you heard came from him. He had just stepped out of the shower, appearing as if he had hurriedly done so because of you. Water droplets cascaded from the tips of his hair onto his shoulder blades, trickling down towards his chest and well-defined abdominal muscles.
Vash maintained a deliberately neutral expression, his voice unaffected as he assured, "He won't return to this house again."
For a brief moment, it was hard to fathom that you were still standing there, gazing at Vash, who was wearing nothing but a towel. It wasn't easy to take the situation, or even yourself, seriously.
"You kept those origamis."
There it was. A flash of anger. In and out. Vash's eyes flickered with intensity, then settled. He shifted his gaze towards the wall, remaining silent for a moment. "Yes," he murmured, his voice calm and composed.
"I didn't intend to rummage through your belongings."
He said nothing.
"I was searching for something sharp to defend myself against the person hiding in the room." The words slipped effortlessly from your mouth. What surprised you even more was the need to vocalize them, to reassure Vash that you hadn't invaded his privacy.
"I couldn't care less if you get bored and snoop around my stuff," he stated dismissively, walking past you without making eye contact. "My mother used to craft origami. They reminded me of her." His voice was chillingly cold. You observed as he opened the drawer, clutching the towel around his waist with one hand, and crushed all the origami in his wet fist. " But she's dead now, so it holds no significance anymore." With that, he returned to the bathroom and flushed them down the toilet right before your astonished eyes.
You couldn't quite understand why you felt a pang of hurt, considering those napkin origamis held no particular significance to you. However, witnessing him collect and preserve them in the drawer beside his bed stirred something tender in your heart. Unfortunately, as always, you couldn't shut up and ended up ruining the moment.
However, you were now aware. This man would go to any lengths to eliminate anything that could be perceived as a weakness.
He emerged from the bathroom and proceeded towards his walk-in closet, disregarding your gaze. You continued to watch him as he dropped his towel, exposing his bare buttocks to your view. You gulped as a hot sensation enveloped you, and your eyes shamelessly roamed from his butt cheeks to the muscles of his thighs, finally settling on his calves.
Who did sculpt this man?
Vash had everything going for him in the looks department. He was hot as sin, with a stunning body and killer charm. You almost drool, but when he caught you stealing a glance, you hastily averted your gaze, pretending to be engrossed in the fantastic sheets.
Sheets? Seriously? Huh!
"You know, it's pretty rude to be snooping on people, love."
Embarrassment flooded your face, heating your cheeks, as you were caught in such a juvenile act. Suddenly, you felt utterly clueless about what to do with your hands. Your thoughts raced, overtaken by self-reproach. What the heck was wrong with you? The overwhelming urge to hide and disappear consumed you. You sprinted to the bathroom, securing the door with two locks. Leaning against the door, you slid down until you sat on the cool, black-tiled bathroom floor.
Stop grinning, stupid girl!
*
Another day in the never-ending circus of misery.
The gentle afternoon sunbeams lazily brushed against your cheeks, almost as if teasing you. Squinting your eyes, you peered out the window. It was chilly outside, yet the usual forecast of rain seemed absent for the day. The Gods above were like twisted demons, mocking you by making such a gloomy day appear this beautiful.
Ugh! Why—
No!
Wait a damn minute!
Vash stood in the yard, and you were aware of this because you could see him from behind the curtain. He wore a tailor-made shirt that hugged his figure, a black shade so deep that it nearly dazzled. His shoulders were embraced by a charcoal gray coat, fifty shades darker than coal, while his golden spiked hair contrasted the somber autumn surroundings. Black pants adorned his legs, accompanied by black leather gloves and matte black boots.
He appeared flawless, particularly amidst the grimness of the dirt and decay, encompassed by the dreariest hues this scenery could present. He stood as a striking figure, his eyes adorned in shades of deep blue and turquoise, casting a captivating silhouette against the backdrop of the setting sun in a stunningly beguiling manner.
He could be glowing.
That could be a halo around his head.
This could be the world's way of making an example out of irony.
Vash possessed a beauty that surpassed even your most attractive ex-partner. He was far from being human; every aspect of him was extraordinary and unconventional.
He looked around, his eyes shielded by purple round sunglasses, and a gust of wind momentarily revealed the holster strapped to his right leg as his coat flapped open. He didn't even step into his own yard without his gun. The irony!
The men surrounding him appeared to be awaiting instructions, anticipating something, and you couldn't tear your eyes away. A strange thrill coursed through you, being in such proximity yet still distant. It felt like an advantage, being able to observe him unnoticed.
He was a strange, strange, unhinged man. You weren't sure if you could ever forget what he had done to you, the way he had made you feel, and the intense desire to bring harm upon him. The urge to despise him indefinitely lingered within you, but it was gradually weakening. He had abducted you, callously exposing you to danger, and vanished while his brother subjected you to repeated torment. Yet, he also took it upon himself to mend the shattered fragments afterward, carefully gathering and reassembling them—as janky as it was. You wanted to harbor hatred towards him but found yourself at a loss as to how to do so anymore.
You had no clue about who he truly was—actually, you never had much knowledge regarding how he spent his days unless he was in your company. Even now, you remained clueless about his purpose for being there.
He eventually uttered a few words to the men, and they nodded in swift agreement before running around. You retreated entirely behind the curtains, making sure to stay hidden. You positioned yourself at an angle, ensuring he wouldn't catch sight of you even if he happened to glance in your direction.
Vash removed his glasses and ran his hand across his face, briefly covering his eyes before his hand settled on his mouth as though he held something he couldn't bring himself to say.
Suddenly, he seemed tired. His eyes appeared somewhat … sorrowful, although you were convinced you were just reading him wrong. You observed him as he observed those around him, paying close attention to notice that his gaze lingered on the red Geranium flowers, fighting to survive in the harsh weather. You attempted to decipher Vash's expression as he stared at them, but he was always careful to keep himself completely neutral. He remained like a statue in the wind, doing nothing more than blinking.
A stray dog headed straight toward him. Suddenly, fear gripped you. You felt concerned for the poor creature, a weak little animal that had mistakenly wandered into the wrong place, searching for morsels of food to stave off hunger for a few more hours.
Your heart began racing in your chest, pumping blood too quickly and forcefully. A sense of impending doom washed over you, leaving you with an unexplainable feeling that something dreadful was on the horizon.
The black dog dashed straight into the back of Vash's legs as if it had impaired vision and couldn't see its path clearly. It panted heavily, its tongue hanging to the side, seemingly unsure how to retract it. The dog whined and whimpered slightly, leaving saliva all over Vash's impeccably fine pants. You held your breath, anxiously awaiting as the golden man turned around.
You half expected he might draw his gun and shoot the dog directly in the head, having witnessed him do such a thing to a person before. However, upon seeing the dog, Vash's countenance underwent a transformation. His flawless facade fractured, revealing cracks in his otherwise perfect demeanor. Surprise elevated his eyebrows and widened his eyes if only for a fleeting moment, providing you with ample opportunity to take note of it.
He looked around, his eyes shifting as they surveyed his surroundings before he gently scooped the animal into his arms. You felt a sudden desperation to witness his next actions, and your anxiety heightened, making it difficult to catch your breath.
You had witnessed the extent of Vash's capabilities when it came to harming another person. You had observed his callous heart, his emotionless eyes, and his complete indifference. His composed and collected demeanor remained unshaken even after he took a life without hesitation. Now, you could only speculate about what he might have in store for an innocent dog.
You felt an urgent need to witness it firsthand. You had to dispel the notion of him being a good person from your mind, and this was the perfect opportunity. It would serve as evidence that he was sick, corrupted, completely in the wrong, and would forever remain so.
You had to see what he was going to do to the helpless animal when a familiar voice called out from behind you, causing you to freeze in your tracks.
"Having an absolute blast, aren't we?" Bradd remarked sarcastically. "This room conveniently provides the ideal windows for our top-notch boss surveillance operations."
You quickly turned your head, giving him a sharp glare. He leaned against the wall with his arms crossed and shrugged nonchalantly upon noticing your reaction. He proceeded, "I knocked on the door multiple times. However, it seems you were so absorbed in your mission that you didn't notice, and I had to come in without an invitation."
Bradd moved until he stood beside you, and his presence tightened the knot forming in your stomach. T There was an ice-cold fortress shrouded around him, as palpable as the tension in his shoulders. It felt as though he was creating a distance between you, as if you were about to be sent off to war, and he believed he would never see you again.
On certain days, you resented him for assisting the twins, but deep down, you couldn't deny the truth that he was a good man. He had become your emotional support in recent months, and you had started to understand his character. He belonged to the category of men who prioritized only their own family, and anything beyond that circle? Held no significance to him.
At the moment, you were an outsider who had disrupted their usual order, akin to a parasite, just as he had described.
You turned your head, and your eyes widened at the sight of Vash crouching on the ground, using his hands to feed something to the dog. The trembling, bony body of the animal was nestled inside Vash's open coat, seeking warmth after enduring the cold for so long. The dog wagged its tail vigorously, briefly making eye contact with Vash before diving back into the cozy refuge of his coat. You heard Vash laugh, a sound you had rarely witnessed. It was a laughter that seemed to transform him into a completely different person, the kind of laugh that put stars in his eyes and dazzled his lips.
You realized you had never seen this side of him before. You had never glimpsed his teeth, so impeccably straight and white, an embodiment of perfection.
A flawless, flawless exterior for a man with a black, black heart.
It was almost inconceivable that the person you were staring at had blood on his hands. He looked soft and vulnerable—so human. His eyes squinted from his wide grin, and his rosy cheeks bore the marks of the chilly weather. Even his dimples were visible, adding to his overall charm.
He was undeniably the most breathtaking sight you had ever encountered. And yet, you wished you had never laid eyes on him, for something within your heart was tearing apart at the seams. You struggled to comprehend the image before you, as you desperately needed him to be wicked so you could revert to hating him. However, he defied your expectations. You didn't want to see Vash like this. It felt wrong, yet in some inexplicable way, it also felt right.
You believed that the revelations had ended, but you were mistaken once again. This realization left you pondering the extent of what remained unknown and how much more you would discover about Vash in the days and months ahead.
And it scared you.
Because the more you uncovered about him, you found fewer excuses to distance yourself from him. The image you once had of him was transforming right in front of your eyes, becoming something that terrified you in ways you never could've expected. Amid so much uncertainty, all you could think was that it wasn't the right time. It wasn't the right place. Not when there were still so many problems around.
If only your emotions could grasp the significance of perfect timing.
You released a sigh, frustrated with your own indecisiveness. Although you couldn't ignore your physical attraction towards him, you struggled to let go of your initial perception of his character. It wasn't easy for you to abruptly shift your perspective and view him as anything other than a manipulative monster. You required time to adapt to the idea of accepting Vash as a normal human.
"The dog," Bradd interrupted, returning you to the present. "Nicholas used to take care of that dog, but we hadn't seen her around for quite some time until a few days ago," Bradd explained. "Seems like Angelica has taken a liking to Vash as well." Bradd glanced at you from the corner of his eye, and you found yourself perplexed, trying to comprehend why he continued to smile at you even after he averted his gaze. Flustered and feeling strangely embarrassed, you scrambled to find something to say.
"Is there anything you need from me?" you inquired, keeping your gaze fixed on Vash as he affectionately rubbed the dog's head and chuckled, trying to avoid eye contact with Bradd.
"Hm?"
You shifted your attention to Bradd. "You're here. Did you come for small talk?"
"Oh," Bradd responded, scratching the back of his neck while sporting a smile. The creases forming at the corners of his lips and eyes revealed his age. You wondered whether he had a family and if they were aware of his association with mafia freaks.
"I came to see how you're doing and to let you know that Vash wants to meet you in the living room. If you need to change, I'll wait here to accompany you. I know you've likely become familiar with the layout of this house through your very successful attempts to flee, but I still want to ensure you don't wander into the wrong rooms," he said, winking.
You bit your tongue to refrain from responding with more sarcasm than his.
*
Vash couldn't hide his surprise when he walked into the living room. As you glanced up, you finished the remaining Vodka in your glass. "Apologies for once again getting into your alcohol," you said to him, and he blinked in response.
"You're feeling better."
You nodded over your shoulder. "I was thirsty, and the drinks were there while you ran late."
"Yes," he replied, speaking slowly and cautiously.
"So I had a few shots."
"I can tell," Vash remarked, remaining stationary near the stairs, his gaze fixed upon you. He didn't utter a word but slowly advanced into the living room, removing his coat and delicately placing it over an armchair. He retrieved a gun from his holster and another from his back, deliberately positioning them on the table beside your empty vodka glass.
"I want to hurt your brother, Vash Saverem," you blurted out abruptly. It startled you to realize how much you had transformed over the past few months. You felt like an entirely different person—more audacious, hardened, and, for the first time, willing to acknowledge your anger. It was a liberating experience.
"Are you—" he shook his head, then apologized, "I'm sorry, what did you say?"
You looked up, feeling the weight of Vash's stare. He appeared captivated as if intrigued by your words. If he didn't fully grasp your meaning, you were prepared to express it differently. "I need revenge," you stated firmly, or that's what you thought.
He took a seat and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and intertwining his hands. A wide, amused grin spread across his face, radiating a genuine sincerity that struck you like thunder. Something pricked at your eyes and weakened your knees. "How do you plan to accomplish that, love?"
"I've got plans."
"Is that so?" He leaned back against the couch, crossing his arms over his chest, and couldn't help but maintain a constant smile.
"Yes," you replied, growing increasingly irritated. Vash didn't seem to be taking you seriously, likely attributing your seriousness to being drunk. While you were indeed drunk, you were also very, very serious.
Vash waited, observing your annoyed expression, and nodded once, signaling you to continue.
A familiar, intoxicating buzz settled in your stomach, amplified by the alcohol swirling within your empty belly. Beads of sweat formed on your forehead, and your mouth felt parched as if you had swallowed sand. "Your brother—"
"You can't even speak his name yet talk about revenge?"
You attempted to conceal your surprise, but now you found yourself uncertain why you hesitated to utter his name. Perhaps it was because you feared that he would suddenly materialize, much like summoning a devil by speaking his name.
You slid your empty glass towards Vash, indicating that you wanted him to refill it. Vash glanced at you, and what looked like concern was clouded in his pretty eyes.
"If you want me to mention his name, hand me the bottle," you declared, snatching the vodka bottle from his grasp before taking a large gulp. The taste made your face contort, reaffirming your belief that alcohol tasted like shit when it wasn't mixed with something. You'd die on that hill. However, you did appreciate the burning sensation as it traveled down your throat, spreading warmth throughout your body.
"Knives," you said the name, taking a deep breath. Remembering the adage that fear of a name only heightens fear of the thing itself, you decided to defy that fear. So fuck him and his name! "Are you content now?"
He let out a snort. "Do you honestly believe that you can simply stroll out of this room," Vash said to you, "knock on Knives' door and shoot him in the head?"
Yes. "No."
"Liar, liar, pants on fire," Vash said softly, and you glared at him. "My brother isn't here," Vash continued. "He's gone to deal with a business complication elsewhere."
"He's not here?" you questioned.
"No," Vash responded, his smile fading. "And that's precisely why I wanted to speak with you." He picked up a larger glass from the table and poured himself a whole serving of Bourbon, likely his preferred drink. He downed the bitter liquor in a single gulp, then refilled the glass. He pressed the glass against his lips with his gaze fixed on you. "I need you to be gone until he returns," he said, closing his eyes as he swallowed the entire contents of the glass.
"What?" Your heart picked up so quickly that you thought you might be experiencing a heart attack.
"You heard what I said."
"No," you declared, shaking your head. It's often said that you can't repeat the same mistake twice; for the second time, it becomes a choice rather than a mistake. Therefore, this was your decision.
"Bradd will help you. It's up to you whether you want to return to your father's house or forge a new path for yourself. If you opt for the latter, I'm ready to offer my support—"
"I JUST TOLD YOU I WANT TO GET MY REVENGE!"
"How?" Vash scrutinized you intently. "How do you plan to reach my twin? How will you confront him?"
"I already told you I have plans!" you exclaimed, clenching your fists. "But I require your help," you whispered, filled with both fear and a glimmer of hope. You caught Vash's gaze from across the table. "What if I exploit Knives' vulnerability?" you asked, raising your eyebrow slightly.
"That seems unlikely."
"Why do you think that?" you said, feeling desperate. "Even if there's the slightest chance—"
Vash sighed and ran his hand through his hair, disheveling his perfectly spiked hair. "He doesn't have any weaknesses. If there were any, I would have discovered them long ago. You wouldn't be making such statements if you knew him like I do. Hope will only break your heart all over again."
You dug your nails into the leather that you feared it might rip. However, you resisted the urge. You were well aware of the threats you had heard and your chosen path. "I am an outsider," you found yourself saying. "Maybe I can perceive things more clearly than you—"
"Love—"
"Dammit, Vash! I have to give it a shot. You have to understand—"
"This is not good for you," he avoided eye contact. "It's dangerous for you to believe anyone could harm Knives."
You stared at his resolute and unwavering profile while he focused on his hands. "In the worst-case scenario, I might end up dead. You have nothing to lose, so why won't you allow me to pursue it?" you whispered.
He rubbed his forehead. "I have numerous conflicts to deal with in the coming days," he said, his voice tense. "I have meetings to attend and negotiations with people even worse than my family." He took a deep breath, the air feeling constricted. A weighty silence hung between you. "I understand that you are now afraid of even your own shadow," he continued, his voice filled with concern. "You struggle to sleep, and I know my presence makes you uncomfortable. However, I can't leave you alone anymore. I've lost my trust in Knives. So, I'm granting you your freedom once again. But this time, I'll ensure you truly are leaving. I'm making this decision for your well-being."
"Oh." A pause. Was he sleeping on the uncomfortable couch because he was worried about you?
"Yes," he said—another pause.
"Or," you said to him, "I remain here, and you use me for whatever plan you have involving my father—"
"I don't have any plans regarding that," Vash replied melancholic.
"Fortunately for you, I have made plans, and in exchange, you will allow me to seek revenge against your brother, I mean Knives. I am prepared to face the consequences on my own."
Vash fought a smile but couldn't hold it back. He glanced downward, letting out a small laugh, before locking eyes with you. He shook his head.
"What's so funny?"
"My lovely girl."
"What?"
"I've been waiting for this moment for quite a while now."
"What do you mean?"
"You're finally ready," he remarked. "You're finally ready to fight back."
Shock surged through you. "Of course I am," you replied. In an instant, memories of the unbearable pain and the horrifying fear of being brutally attacked flooded your mind. You hadn't forgotten any of it, but you realized that if you wanted to find peace, you needed to momentarily set aside your animosity toward Vash. Because now that you were prepared to fight, you felt a sense of empowerment like never before. You marveled at how different you felt and how different you knew things could be. You had a lot of things to do, so many scores to settle, and a big revenge to exact.
Everything had changed. The child you once were had succumbed to her foolishness. It was your turn to engage in this game on your terms, and you were not afraid of cheating.
No matter what lay ahead, there was no going back for you now. There were no other choices. "I forge forward or die."
Vash burst into laughter, his expression bordering like he might cry.
"I will cause hurt to your brother," you declared, "and I will make sure he learns not to threaten me."
He was still smiling.
"I will."
"I know," he said.
"Then why are you laughing at me?" you asked, puzzled.
"I'm not," he said softly. "I'm just wondering," he said, "if you would like my assistance."
"What? You agree with—" You blinked rapidly, unable to believe what you just heard.
"There are three things you should know about me, love," he said, leaning his elbows on his knees and interlocking his fingers. "First," he began, "I hate my brother more than you could comprehend." He cleared his throat. "Second, I am unapologetically self-centered and make decisions primarily based on my interests in nearly every situation. And third," he paused, looking down and chuckling softly, "I believe death would be a reward for despicable people like me or your father." He lifted his head. "I've always told you," Vash said, "that we would make an exceptional team. From the moment we met, I've been waiting for you to be ready to acknowledge your anger and strength. I've been waiting patiently all this time."
"That's why you wanted to use me to hurt my father?"
"Does that bother you?"
Your jaw dropped. "What? Of course, it bothers me! Wouldn't it bother you?"
"No," he said casually. "I would feel honored to have assisted."
Words eluded you. You couldn't tell if it was the influence of alcohol or a newfound courage that ignited within you, urging you to let your inner fire scorch others as well. "If that's the case," you declared, your gaze fixed on Vash's face, "then I want to bestow an honor upon you, Mr. Savrem."
He raised an eyebrow. "You want to use me?"
"Yep," you exclaimed, emphasizing the P. "We can hit two birds with one stone."
Vash took hold of his glass and reclined against the couch, looking at you as though he no longer recognized you. Good. When something is subjected to intense pressure, it becomes distorted. It forms sharp edges that can inflict deep wounds.
He lightly tapped his finger against the crystal, and the sound reverberated through the quiet living room. The crackling of the fireplace was the only other sound present.
Vash crossed one leg over the other. "Elaborate," he demanded.
"Do you—like, do you just like men?"
"Why? Are you trying to seduce me?" Vash asked in a relaxed manner, drawing your focus toward him as he sipped his Bourbon and peered at you over the rim of his glass.
His gaze was probing and studious, yet you offered no reaction. Your facial muscles remained steadfast as you replied, "That's what you desire, isn't it?"
A sly grin appeared on Vash's face, accentuated by the dim lighting and the flickering shadows, giving him a sinister look. However, you didn't even flinch in response. He no longer had the power to intimidate you. You had witnessed him kneeling before you.
"Is this a part of your grand plan?"
"Yes," you replied, contemplating how you wished you had a bigger mouth to accommodate more alcohol. It was essential to muster courage for what you were about to say.
"Nothing will hurt my dad more than seeing everyone talk about his beloved daughter fucking his enemy. And about your brother," you stated, taking a deep breath. You couldn't believe those words had come from your mouth. Your ears grew warm, but you had to press on because Vash didn't even flinch and needed him to take you seriously. "He has a vulnerability, and it's you," you continued, and he lowered his glass, tilting his head to the side as his eyebrows furrowed. Encouraged, you pressed forward, "He cut me because he believed you cared for me, and I am growing in you." You let out a mocking laugh, "So, you are his weakness. He doesn't want to share his little brother, and I want to do the exact opposite."
"You didn't tell me anything about this detail."
"There was no reason for you to be aware of it then. However, now I want you to pretend that you have succumbed to my seduction. I know you are skilled at acting, so it shouldn't pose a challenge for you," you said, taking another swig and wincing at the burning.
"I appreciate the sentiment, but I can't fuck you," he stated, finishing the remainder of his whiskey.
The words felt unpleasant on your tongue, but you forced them out anyway. "I don't want a relationship, and If you are interested in the buttholes—"
"For fuck's sake! I've been with women as well. So, let's put an end to this discussion about holes!"
"So, if you're not exclusively interested in men, what's holding you back?" you rushed out. He tilted his head, patiently waiting. "From fucking me," you stated plainly. "You didn't hold back before. What's preventing you now?"
He remained quiet for a moment. "Because I couldn't bear the guilt," he whispered, gazing at you contemplatively. "If it were to happen again, the outcome would be vastly different — you're already aware of that."
You folded your arms. "Would it, though?"
"Yes," he said firmly. "Do you think if I were to pin you against a wall, you would resist initially only to succumb to pleasure eventually? Or do you think you would fight as if your life depended on it, only to end up mentally checking out from the trauma?"
You swallowed, the truth leaving a bitter taste in your mouth.
"I will never claim to be a good, kind, or even honorable man. There is little of that left in me, and the truth is, it was never truly there to start with. I was born with a blackened soul. However, there is a distinction between those who are needlessly evil and those who do wrong in the hopes of achieving something good. I'll leave it up to you to decide which category I fall into."
You realized you didn't need to think about it at all. Trauma had a tight hold on you, but all you wanted Vash to do was hold you tighter.
You downed the remaining Vodka in a single gulp, relishing in the burn as it traveled down your throat. The clock ticked, approaching eight PM. It was the perfect timing since the household staff would soon be present to serve dinner. Why not put on a performance for them? You were confident that at least one of them would discreetly inform Knives about everything.
Adrenaline got steadily released into your bloodstream, akin to injecting heroin into a vein. Rising to your feet, you approached Vash, causing his muscles to tense up as you parted his crossed legs and settled onto his lap. Almost subconsciously, his hand swiftly grasped your waist to hold you. No matter how much he pretended otherwise, it was clear that men were all the same. Their dicks dictated their every decision.
"You'll end up getting hurt," he cautioned, his voice taking on a deeper tone as the words slipped out quietly and deliberately.
" Maybe I need another pain to wash away the one I'm experiencing now," you stated, unreservedly running your hand between your legs, provocatively stroking his crotch through his pants, all while maintaining unwavering eye contact with him.
He took a deep breath. "You're toying with fire," he croaked, shifting his gaze from your face to your hand resting on his groin.
"Then let your flames consume me, Vash," you urged, intensifying the pressure of your hand against the fabric. "Imagine the retribution we will exact upon the men who ruined us."
He tightly shut his eyes, tilting his head back as his lips parted. You reached out and touched him once more, this time with gentle tenderness. You felt his thumb caressing your side. Good.
You wished for Knives to witness this moment, wanting to prove something to the deluded man who thought he owned you. The only person with the right to claim your body was the one you granted permission to. You would allow Vash's hands to explore every inch of your skin, followed by the touch of his mouth. You would let his tongue lick your pussy until you were sated, right before he fucked you until you no longer knew your name.
You would let him because you said he could.
Vash drew you closer, pressing his body against yours and pinning your breasts against his chest. Your breath faltered as you felt the warmth surround you, his arm encircling your waist tightly, firmly locking you in place.
You liked the way he felt pressed against you. The softness of your body molded against the hard ridges of his. It felt... pleasant. Satisfying.
"We can handle this, Vash. Approach it like a business," you whispered in his ear, sensing his breath leaving him and his heart pounding against your chest.
Vash locked eyes with you briefly, and as you leaned in to kiss him, he placed his forefinger on your lips. "No need for kisses. This is not about making love. It's strictly business," he asserted.
As you were about to part your lips to speak, you were interrupted by his soft lips gliding rhythmically against your neck, reminiscent of water swaying the rocks beneath a cliff. A moan rose from your throat, and you immediately grasped the back of his neck, urging him to press his head closer to your skin.
He emitted a low, primal growl, his self-control slipping away. His other hand entwined itself in your hair, adjusting the angle of your head to gain better access. He sank his teeth into your flesh, skillfully exploring with an unrestrained fervor.
You clung to him tightly, pressing further into him. Shuddering with the feel of his hard cock digging into your stomach, his size only fueling your desire. He wasn't small, and that was precisely what you craved tonight. Something that would silence Knives' voice with pleasure, leaving you breathless and thoroughly gratified.
His tongue wrestled with your collarbones, skillfully swiping and lapping while his teeth playfully nipped at them. Another moan slipped free, bouncing in the air until he matched it with his groan.
The grip on your hair tightened, tilting your head back, allowing his lips to roam freely along the sensitive area where your neck and shoulder met.
You gasped as his teeth grazed your skin, a subtle warning before he sank them in. The sharp pleasure rolled your eyes to the back of your head, followed by a long moan.
"Fuck," he cursed, his tongue flicking against your neck as he emitted a primal groan. "That voice drives me wild."
You felt your eyelids flutter as you succumbed to the pleasure his tongue and teeth were drawing out of you. His hands ventured lower, and soon, you felt a firm tug on your jeans. The button popped open in seconds, accompanied by the low purr of your zipper being undone.
On a low growl, Vash inquired, "Is your pussy wet for me like before, love?" as he playfully nipped at your neck. It stung a little, causing you to wince in response to the slight pain. However, his tongue glided over the bite mark, soothing the sting.
"Yes," you whispered, pleasure overpowering the lingering pain. His hand smoothly slid down the front of your jeans and underwear, his fingers gradually moving lower until the tip of his middle finger teasingly dipped inside you.
A low, guttural growl arose from you as he realized how truthful you were being. "Fuck, love, that's it. If you want our plan to succeed, you need to be louder. Don't you want everyone to know we're fucking?"
Suddenly, two fingers delved inside you, skillfully curling to hit that sweet spot. Your vision blurred, and a scream of pleasure erupted from your lips, becoming your sole response. It was the only thing you could do at that moment.
With instinct, you tilted your hips, grinding against his hand. He withdrew his fingers partially before driving them back into you again. And again, until he fucked you with his fingers, leaving you with nothing to do but hold on tightly, your nails digging into his shirt.
You let out long, husky moans that emanated from your throat, obediently filling the space precisely as he had requested.
"You certainly know how to make a scene," he whispered into your ear, punctuating his words with a sharp nip. The heel of his palm pressed firmly against your clit, sending waves of pleasure through you. With his skilled fingers, he elevated your arousal, causing the orgasm to coil deep in your stomach. Then, he rubbed you just right, causing your knees to quake from the intense pleasure.
"Oh," you moaned, your breath coming in irregular, breathless gasps.
In a dark whisper, he asked, "Will you scream when you come on my hand, love?"
You thought you nodded, but you couldn't be sure, for in a matter of seconds, your head jerked backward as your climax escalated, building up to an intense peak.
"Let me hear it," he encouraged. His fingers glided out, only to plunge back in, this time with the addition of a third finger.
You bit your lip as you tumbled over the edge. A cry rushed out, the sound wavering in pitch as deep-seated pleasure engulfed you. Shamelessly, you pressed against his hand, surrendering to the relentless waves of ecstasy.
"So vindictive," he murmured, his voice tinged with satisfaction. Breathless yet possessing a heightened hunger, he took out his hand and lightly brushed it against your lower lip, spreading your arousal. "You've made quite a mess on my hand, love. It would be rude not to clean it up."
While maintaining eye contact, your tongue darted out, the tip sliding across his finger. He smiled wickedly, prompting you to open your mouth wider. Soon, you tasted your own familiar flavor, but it didn't last long as he withdrew his fingers and licked the remainder himself. You never expected such a simple and primal act to make you ache for him even more than you already did.
His hot breath tickled against your face, causing a shiver to run down your spine. As you closed your eyes, you couldn't help but bite your lip when you felt his hands slip into your shirt.
"Vash," you said in a hushed, breathless voice. His warm breath caressed your neck as he leaned in closer. Gentle lips delicately grazed the edge of your ear. Like a cascading waterfall, a torrent of chills raced down your back.
"You're such a good, obedient girl," he remarked. The aroma of smoke mingled with hints of mint and wood enveloped you. The thought of him being delicious and the desire to have him in your mouth crossed your mind.
As if reading your mind, he reached up and placed his hand on the back of your head, his fingers entwining in your hair and drawing you impossibly closer. In a moment of impulse, you did something foolish. You drew his lower lip into your mouth, savoring the taste of him and the feel of his lips against yours. Suddenly aware of your behavior, you let go of his lip, attempting to pull away.
He was like a drug, and similar to the actual substance, he led you to make idiotic decisions.
He held onto you tightly, using his hand to press your forehead against his own forcefully. "I explicitly said no kissing. Right?" His grip on your hair was firm.
You nodded in response.
In return, his tongue traced your chin, descending towards your neck once more. You let out a soft, unintentional moan, and as soon as he noticed your body's response, he nibbled on your skin. He completely consumed you, sucking and licking your body in a way you'd never experienced.
He was leaving hickeys all over your skin, and you found yourself powerless to resist him, just as you were powerless to deny the pleasure that ran through your veins. Another low growl pinged through his mouth, serving as a mere indication of his following action.
He gripped your waist and lifted you. "You're such a good fucking girl," he praised, leaning against your chest before biting your breasts through your shirt and bra. He held you against the wall, his body pressing tightly against yours.
Gasping for air, your feet touched the ground as you struggled to hold up your head, desperately inhaling precious oxygen. He firmly held your cheeks with his large hand, growling against you.
You inserted your hands between your bodies, traveling towards his muscled stomach and firm chest. With force, you roughly pushed him away.
"Wait, please stop," you gasped, feeling a haze of confusion clouding your mind. The heat of the moment had left your pussy pulsating and your senses overwhelmed.
"What did I tell you?" he demanded with a sharp tone. His piercing blue eyes locked onto yours, captivating you in a hypnotic grip. It was difficult to avert your gaze when you felt like a helpless prey entrapped by the eyes of a predator.
"What?" you whispered, still feeling lightheaded.
"You're toying with fire," he reiterated slowly, his voice rough with gravel. Your mouth opened, but the words remained trapped, unable to get out.
His lips brushed against your cheek, tracing a path along your jawline. "Think about the prying eyes behind these walls. Let's stick to your original plan and provide them with something to gossip about," he concluded, punctuating his words with a sharp nip on your earlobe. Your body reacted, arching involuntarily as sweat drops formed on your skin. " I know you want me."
"No," you denied in a whisper. "You're wrong."
He raised his head, a smug smirk gracing his lips. "So, you're going to be a bad girl tonight? Lie to my face and act like your pussy isn't aching to be filled up with my cock?"
A flush of heat spread across your cheeks, a blend of anger and embarrassment. "Not everything revolves around physical attraction," you retorted after a moment. "Maybe my body wants you, but up here," you tapped your temple, "it's a different story."
He nodded slowly, studying your face with a pensive gaze. Stepping back, he left you feeling a sense of emptiness. It was akin to a dark veil encasing the sun on a scorching summer day—a sudden, chilling coldness that seeped into your bones.
He seized your hand and yanked you away from the wall. He twirled you around until you stood in front of one of the mirrors next to the fireplace. You watched him from the reflection as he pressed his body against yours, his warmth soaking into your very being. Your gaze fixated on the mirror, your eyes meeting and colliding through the glass.
He lowered himself gradually, bringing his mouth close to your ear, never breaking eye contact. "If you've had a change of heart, I won't push you into anything and will stop right now," he whispered in your ear, eliciting sparks throughout your nerve endings. His voice carried ominous promises and dangerous new beginnings.
You swallowed hard, feeling a lump form in your throat. The word "No" teetered on the edge of your tongue, like a delicate ballerina dancing precariously at the tip, dangerously close to falling off and breaking her ankle. Because if you said no to this man, you'd spend the rest of your night—week—possibly longer, regretting it.
As he desired, a sense of recklessness and impulsiveness descended upon you. All you yearned for was to surrender yourself to him. You were dying to deny him, yet you had to fight your body from turning and pulling him into you.
Perhaps, just this once, to piss off Knives, you considered giving in.
You rolled your lip between your teeth, and he watched you closely, studying every gesture as if trying to interpret a cryptic language concealed within the contours of your body.
"So you think it'll work?" you inquired, your voice husky and uneven. His mouth remained close to your ear while his gaze remained fixed on yours.
He nodded slowly, his expression serious and his gaze penetrating. "Yes, love," he whispered. You closed your eyes, resignation taking over your body. You couldn't deny the truth to yourself anymore. Even if he doubted the plan's success, you still wanted him to have you tonight.
Noticing the shift, he trailed his hand over your stomach. You stiffened under his touch, feeling goosebumps rising on your skin. His fingers gripped your shirt, gradually lifting it up, parting the material at a painful pace.
"Does it hurt you when I touch your scars?"
Your eyes widened. The man, bearing his own soul's fractures, would never perceive your scars as repulsive.
"Just get it over with," you snapped, frustration emanating from his intentionally slow progression.
A malicious grin appeared on his lips, and even the mirror couldn't diminish the cruelty behind it. "Poor little thing," he jeered. "You miss having a man inside you? Were your fingers not enough to satisfy you? Have you fantasized about me while touching yourself?"
With just a glance, he possessed an uncanny ability to steal the air from your lungs. When his words accompanied that piercing gaze, it felt like you had no lungs at all.
Your shirt fell to the ground.
"What if your men come in?" you whispered, your voice barely breaking through the palpable tension in the air.
He grinned—a mischievous smile that conveyed his indifference if someone did. "What do you think they'd do?" he asked, his fingertips lightly brushing against your scars.
Goosebumps emerged, a tangible reaction from the electricity dancing across your skin wherever his touch landed.
"Do you think they'd watch?" he asked. "Do you think they would relish the sight of your naked body? Maybe they would get off on witnessing your dripping pussy or the rise and fall of your chest as you climax. I even think they would delight in watching your eyes roll back when my cock fills you so fully you can't fit any more of me inside you."
A shot of fear jolted through your heart, forcing the muscle into overdrive. Yet, despite this, your body still reacted more illicitly. Just like his words, you felt a renewed throbbing between your legs.
Would you be comfortable with a stranger observing? You doubted it. But there was something about the way he described the scenario that made you wonder if he would allow it to occur regardless.
"Are you comfortable with others seeing us undressed?" you challenged, breathless while staring at your shirt on the wooden floor.
Vash's fingers traced along your spine, moving slowly and purposefully. Their touch felt scorching, like searing lava against your flesh.
"No," he murmured into your ear. You observed him as his gaze descended, fixating on your chest. The band of your bra tightened, pressing uncomfortably against your skin before loosening. The black cups that held your breasts released, leaving you fully exposed. Your nipples were painfully erect.
When he caught sight of your hardened peaks, his tongue drifted across his lower lip as if he was salivating at the sight. "Do you want to know what I would do?" he questioned. "I would allow them to watch. I would let them watch me fuck you. They would watch as my cock fills every one of your holes and watch you cry with intense orgasms. And then, I'd fucking kill them. With my cock still wet from your cum, I would slice their throats for daring to lay their eyes upon us."
The fear within you constricted, forming a sharp tip that seemed capable of bursting the fragile balloon of sanity you clung to.
"You're insane," you gasped.
This time, he chuckled, his deep laughter sending a shiver straight to the apex of your thighs. "You were aware of this, and yet you asked for it," he murmured absentmindedly.
His focus pulled away, and his hands explored your stomach, delicately tracing the lines of your scars as if he found them captivating. Eventually, he cupped your breasts, his large hands making them appear smaller, barely contained within his grasp. He was a monster. Inside and out. Yet, despite all logic, you couldn't ignore the fact that other than your panties, your jeans had become wholly soaked, too. It seemed impossible for the body to experience both hatred and desire simultaneously.
He forcefully squeezed your breasts, causing you to scream out of pain.
"Be a good girl and scream louder," he ordered before relinquishing his hold on your breasts and moving his hands towards your jeans. You were swamped by confusion and a sense of dread. You knew this was all so terribly wrong. Yet, you couldn't bring yourself to stop him as he hooked his thumbs on either side, pulling your jeans down. First, he assisted you in removing your shoes and effortlessly slipped the jeans off, setting you completely free.
You remained clad only in your wet black panties. Swallowing hard, your heart raced as you surveyed your reflection. Vash, on the other hand, remained fully clothed, his eyes examining every angle of your undressed form. He looked as if he couldn't decide, unsure where to begin.
You resisted the impulse to cover yourself. The act of hiding felt more humiliating than standing nearly bare before an attractive man.
"You need to undress as well," you insisted. There was no way you were going to be the only one left vulnerable and exposed.
Finally, he came out from behind you and stood directly before you. It felt more real when you were not looking at them through a glass mirror. Yet, you couldn't pretend that your pussy wasn't weeping for him and that you were not anticipating the feel of him inside of you. You weren't a victim this time, as you were the mastermind behind this ill-advised situation.
"If you want that, love, then you'll have to be the one to do it," he declared with a raised voice. He regarded you skeptically as if he doubted your willingness to undress him. And there was no doubt in your mind he understood the effect that look had on you. The jerk was well aware of your inability to resist a challenge.
You reciprocated the same level of respect he had shown you. Slowly and delicately, you undressed him, purposefully grazing your fingers against his skin, earning your own shivers and growls of impatience.
You took off his shirt and stared at his scarred and rugged skin. His scars still caused him pain, evident by his reaction when your fingertips brushed over them, causing him to tense and bare his teeth. It wasn't physical pain; these scars had already healed. Yet, they resembled icebergs—seemingly formidable and commanding on the outside, yet concealing something far more significant and menacing beneath the surface. They had the power to sink someone to the depths of their darkest desires, much like the Titanic. These scars wounded him deeply within, and you were genuinely curious about the stories behind each one.
In the areas without scars, there were tattoos. The most notable tattoo was a giant maze extending from his neck to his right arm. You didn't know, but he had a few small tattoos here and there, too.
"You didn't cover any of your scars with tattoos," you quietly observed, running your finger along the maze lines. The tattoos intentionally avoided the raised skin, as if deliberately respecting the scars.
"I don't hide from my failures," he asserted. However, his physical beauty extended beyond his failures. His body was filled with well-defined muscles, strong without being too bulky. His physique made it clear that he could kill you with his pinky without looking like he took steroids for breakfast. And if that alone didn't turn your knees to jelly, the thick veins roping from his neck, down his robust arms, and into his large hands were enough to unravel you.
He was… fucking phenomenal.
He observed you with great care, his eyes burning with intensity as you examined him. He was nearly vibrating beneath your slow perusal, so you moved on and resumed your torture. It took a total of zero seconds before he was bristling with the need to fuck you. You felt so much power in your fingertips, and you couldn't help but wonder how much more powerful you would be if he had a feeling for you.
With every inch of his skin revealed, you grew shakier and wetter. It seemed unjust for someone to possess such flawless allure despite the visible imperfections and scars. If anything, the evident signs of the hardships his body had endured only made him that much more edible.
You choked on air as you lowered his pants, his hard cock jutting out from the confines of his pants. So this was what accepting death via dick looked like.
Once he was completely undressed, you took a big step back and examined the reflection in the mirror. Your gaze fixated on his muscular thighs, firm and shapely buttocks, and sculpted back that had enticed you since that doomed morning. You couldn't help but fantasize about running your hands all over them. And then there was the most gorgeous cock you'd ever seen.
You wanted to run away. Far, far away. To put as much distance as possible between yourself and this man. It was clear to you that he would bring about your downfall after tonight. You could taste it on your tongue.
"Are you scared?" he asked in a low, dark voice. His gaze bore into you, his expression inscrutable.
"Yes," you responded honestly. His smile, almost breathtaking, nearly weakened your resolve. It felt unnatural how strikingly beautiful he was. Without a doubt, he was the embodiment of darkness. Now, more than ever, you were convinced he was the fucking devil.
"You ought to be," he warned, his voice tinged with menace. Without thinking, you took another step backward, but he made no move to impede your retreat.
"Get on your knees, love," he commanded in a sinister tone. You hesitated, uncertain whether to obey or search for the common sense you seemed to have misplaced somewhere along the way into this living room and make a swift escape.
"Don't test me," he growled, his face dropping into a stern expression. Lowering his jaw, he glared down at you with an intimidating gaze. The threat in his face frightened you, causing your juices to dampen your thighs.
You dropped to your knees with a jolt, the impact causing pain. It was exactly what you both desired. He tilted your head back forcefully, making you gaze up at him. His cock brushed against your cheek, serving as a forewarning of what lay ahead.
"You enjoy being a naughty girl, don't you? You like the thrill of testing me because you get off on the fear I instill in you. You're a silly little girl toying with danger," he taunted, his face contorted into a cruel snarl. Tears welled up in your eyes as he held your head firmly, burning just like the inferno of ire and lust in his eyes.
"Tell me, love, have you ever been fucked by a man like me?"
"Better," you hissed, feeling the dormant resentment towards him resurface. Something very dark and dangerous shuttered over his eyes. He raised an eyebrow, and instantly, you recoiled inward. It was a lie. You both knew it.
Good girls don't lie. That was the first thing you learned when you were put in a religious school as a child. The second lesson was not to trust the devil and his influence. However, they forgot to mention the crucial advice of not provoking him once you had fallen under his sway. Perhaps that was considered basic common fucking sense.
Your lip quivered as you scolded yourself for your foolishness. Feelings of bitterness and mistrust simmered just below the surface. You couldn't fathom why you entertained the idea of allowing Vash to dominate and have his way with you without putting up a fight.
"Open your fucking mouth, bad girl. Right now, or I'll make you gag on my cock," he demanded, his voice dripping with threat.
This time, you obeyed. The moment your lips separated, Vash forcefully thrust the tip into your mouth, pushing it deep down your throat. He hissed through his teeth, accompanied by another feral growl.
You whimpered and then gagged as he pushed his dick deeper. It felt like rigid steel wrapped in smooth fabric, but the sleekness did little to alleviate the pain. He was too thick and too long for your mouth.
Tears instantly flooded your eyes and streamed down your cheeks as he continued to penetrate you forcefully. As a reflex, you grasped onto his sturdy thighs, attempting to create some distance. However, he swiftly seized both of your hands, clasping them together in one of his while maintaining his grip on your head with the other. He held your bound hands high against his abdomen, giving the appearance of a woman kneeling in prayer, worshipping the very embodiment of evil.
"Suck it. Now," he growled.
You complied with his command, hoping he'd ease up. You sucked hard, creating a hollow in your cheeks while running your tongue smoothly over the prominent vein on the underside of his length.
"That's it, love," he exhaled, granting you a momentary respite. However, within seconds, he pulled you back towards him, taking control of your movements as he guided your head back and forth while you continued to suck him with your mouth.
He murmured words of encouragement and let out deep, pleasure-filled groans as he became increasingly assertive. Every syllable and moan that left his lips fueled your growing desperation to satisfy him.
"Let's see. Your high school sweetheart, Eren Yeager, he was better than me, huh?"
Your eyes widened in confusion, unsure of how Vash knew him and fearing this conversation's direction. "I highly doubt he was better than me. Who else?" he emphasized the last word by thrusting deeper into your throat, causing you to choke. After a few seconds of struggling, he relented. "Satoru Gojo, Cloud Strife, that boy Zuko..." he continued, listing off every man you had gone on a date with. Admittedly, the number wasn't significant, but it felt a lot considering the peril in which you had just placed their lives. He abruptly jerked your head back, granting you a brief moment to catch your breath as he uttered, "I will enjoy killing each and every one of them, love."
Before you could even form a response or take another gasp of air, he resumed choking you with his cock. Your vision began to blur at the edges as he thrust deeply into your throat. No matter how much you gagged and fought against him, he only became harder and more aroused.
"What if I cum in your mouth, and you swallow it to make your father proud?"
For a brief moment, you glared up at him, your hatred burning brighter than any trace of desire. He smiled, or rather revealed his teeth, as he noticed the anger reflected in your eyes.
"You want it, but you won't damn well receive it. You haven't earned that privilege just yet."
Without any warning, he forcefully yanked your head back, his cock popping free. He gripped your chin firmly, raising you until you were on your tiptoes.
"Vash, please," you whimpered, your vision hazy from tears and your chest constricted from the lack of air. Uncertain of what you were pleading for, whether it was your own life or the lives of the innocent men you had unknowingly condemned to death.
"That's such a good girl," he praised. "I love it when you're scared and begging."
Just as you believed you could finally inhale, he swiftly stole your breath again. His lips closed tightly against yours in a captivating kiss, electrifying your senses. Your nails dug into his chest, provoking a deep growl from him as he dominated your mouth with his own. He claimed he wouldn't kiss you, but the energy between you crackled and exploded, causing both of you to drink from each other fervently. The kiss ignited sparks of fire and filled your tongue with the mingling flavor of bitter whisky.
Poison had never tasted so good.
As your tongues battled for control, he firmly grasped your waist and yanked you upwards. Your legs naturally wrapped around his trim waist just as you felt the cool glass pressed against your back. The mirror's chill threatened to send shivers curling for epilogue through your body, but the heat radiating from his body against yours was scorching hot.
A sudden, piercing bite of pain on either side of your hips caused you to gasp into his mouth. With a quick, forceful pull, he tore your panties away from your body, leaving the shredded fabric caught somewhere between your bodies.
He withdrew and positioned the head of his cock at the entrance. "Spread your pussy for me, love," he commanded.
"No!" you shouted. "There's absolutely no way I'll let you fuck me without a condom!"
"Why bother? You already have an IUD, so clearly, my spawns won't have any chance of impregnating you," he retorted, his tone laced with heavy sarcasm.
"How the hell do you know that?" you exclaimed, swiftly hitting his chest.
"Milly."
So the nurse examined you, checking if Knives had raped you or not.
"I don't want your STDs!" you spat out angrily.
"Who the fuck do you think I am?" Vash demanded, his eyes ablaze with anger.
"A manwhore!" you said.
He pushed you closer to the mirror while glancing between you and his reflection. "I haven't been with anymore since Nick!"
"Oh, C'mon! You fucked a girl on your birthday!"
"I didn't," he said, then relaxed his hold, letting you free.
"But Bradd—"
"I helped that abused waitress to run away," he said quietly.
You tried to speak up and ask him to just fuck you, but the anger on his face silenced you. Just as he was about to move away, you halted him and obeyed his instructions.
You spread your legs and, grabbing his cock, guided it into your entrance. It was belittling when he knew you weren't supposed to want it. And as a consequence of offending him, he was going to make you show him how much you wanted him. By spreading your pussy and inviting him in.
Gods, you hated him.
His hands tightened on your hips painfully. You knew that you would wake up tomorrow with bruises shaped like handprints, and a part of you dreaded that. The imprints left on your skin would make it impossible to forget what happened.
"Do not ever label me as a manwhore," he warned just before he forcefully brought you down onto his awaiting dick.
"Ah!" you cried out, your hands poised to push him away from your chest. He was too much, stretching you wider than you'd ever been. Your eyes rounded into giant saucers as you whimpered in response to the extreme pressure.
You sensed his grith slipping through your fingers as he worked himself deeper. "Stop! It's too big," you gasped.
"Well, tough luck for you," he cooed mockingly, his tone husky and tight. "This is the consequence of being a naughty girl, isn't it?"
When you remained silent, he forcefully pulled you down on his dick harder, causing you to let out another pained whimper.
"Answer me," he barked.
"Yes!" you exclaimed, breathless, as you tightly shut your eyes in response to the invasion.
"Will you behave now?"
"Yes," you mewled desperately. The pain was morphing into something much more intense and breathtaking.
He slid out and then eased back in with a gentler but still angry motion. It felt as if your body was on the verge of exploding. This wasn't natural to be so goddamn full.
He withdrew until only the tip remained, and then he slammed his entire length inside of you. It went so deep that you felt it all the way up to your throat.
You cried out, your voice cracking under the swell of emotions welling up in your chest. It didn't feel right at all.
"Damn, love, I can barely fucking fit."
Perhaps that's why it felt as if he was ripping you apart. He began with deliberate and powerful movements, forcefully thrusting before pulling out at a painfully slow pace, only to slam back inside you once more.
You felt your body starting to yield, eagerly taking him in as he ravished you with each thrust. He widened his stance, using the mirror for support, causing your stomach to tighten in anticipation of the damage he was about to exert on your organs.
Shockwaves scattered throughout your nerve endings as he quickened his pace, roughly fucking you against the mirror while loud noises you never made in your life fell from your lips.
The pleasure was blinding, and the sight of him moving in and out between your fingers heightened the strong desire stirring in the pit of your stomach.
He let you down, swiftly turned you around, and wasted no time before thrusting back inside you. You closed your eyes and pressed your palms against the mirror to find stability.
"Look at us in the mirror," he demanded roughly. It required significant effort, but you pried your eyes open and let them wander over the mirror. It was too much— watching him drive himself inside you so deeply.
Your eyes were partially closed, and your face displayed undeniable bliss. Then, you caught a glimpse of him in the mirror, and your gazes met. A torrent of emotions washed over you, causing your heart to sink, and you quickly averted your eyes. It was the most euphoric experience you ever had.
Your eyes met his again, and a sly smile spread across his face. He leaned in, his lips gently skating across the crook of your neck as he watched you slowly come apart at the seams, all the while maintaining a mischievous grin.
"Now, confess, have you ever been fucked by a man like me?"
You nibbled on your lip and shook your head, resisting the temptation to roll your eyes in sheer exasperation.
He abruptly halted, causing an involuntary, embarrassing scream to leave your lips. He pushed your back down to readjust your positions, and the moment he hit that particular spot, your legs trembled uncontrollably.
"Oh my God," you moaned, unable to prevent your eyes from rolling back this time.
"That's right, love. I am your fucking God," he growled, and then you felt his teeth sinking into your neck.
Your stomach tightened as an orgasm built rapidly, threatening to overpower you. It felt as if a furious Poseidon resided within, conjuring a destructive tsunami that seemed poised to engulf you.
The mirror began to shudder from the force of his intense thrusts violently. It seemed as if it could shatter at any moment, yet you were unable to bring myself to care. Just as you were on the brink of reaching climax, he pulled completely out.
You whimpered, feeling the sudden emptiness almost as if it were painful. "What—"
He took a step back and gestured towards the floor. Your knees wobbled, your balance disrupted by the sharp pleasure throbbing between your thighs. "Get on your hands and knees," he instructed.
You didn't protest, primarily because the absence of the orgasm was distressing, and your legs could barely bear your weight any longer. Frustration welled up, evident in the tearful corners of your eyes, but you suppressed your snarky remark. You knew that he would only escalate your punishment further.
You expected him to enter you once more from behind, but instead, he swiftly slid his hands between your legs and gripped you from underneath your hips. He lifted you, causing your knees to lose contact with the ground, and you had to quickly catch yourself to prevent from falling face-first.
You felt his warm breath fanned across your pussy just moments before his teeth latched onto your sensitive clit. You yelped as pain and pleasure mingled. However, he wasted no time in lavishing attention on your throbbing bundle of nerves, skillfully using his mouth to suck while lapping at your dripping cunt.
He hummed, sending delightful vibrations resonating through your core. "You taste so fucking good," he murmured before teasingly flicking his tongue against your sensitive clit. You gazed up shamelessly, observing him feast on you from behind. You adjusted your head to obtain the best view of him on his knees, hungrily devouring your pussy as if he were famished.
The impending orgasm resurfaced, now even more imminent than before. You were unable to grind back into Vash's face like you desired, leaving you utterly defenseless against the relentless assault of his tongue.
"Vash, please," you begged, your eyes crying with pleasure.
"Do you want to come?" he asked; his voice was breathless and unsteady.
"Yes," you pleaded with a groan.
Vash pulled away, and in frustration, you screamed, pounding your fist against the floor. Overwhelmed by fury from being denied for the second time, you struggled against his grip, thrashing in defiance. He chuckled at your futile attempt.
"You motherfucking ass—"
He abruptly halted your outburst by seating himself inside you, causing his balls to smack against the sensitive nub. You choked on your words, this angle allowing him in far deeper than before. He seized your hair, forcefully pulling your head back, making you look directly into the mirror in front of you. From this angle, you could witness him vigorously fuck you.
"You want to cream all over my cock, love?"
You nodded your head frantically.
He responded with a smile. "Have you been a good girl?"
Once again, you nodded unsteadily.
"Then fucking say it," he urged, calling out your name.
As his gravelly voice pronounced your full name, you instinctively clenched around his cock.
"I'm a good girl," you breathed, too far gone to feel anything but blinding lust. He molded his body against your back, spearing through your tightening pussy. The hand in your hair slid down to wrap around your throat, exerting a firm grip, while his other hand splayed across your stomach. Your vision became hazy, and finally, the tsunami of orgasm crashed through you.
You emitted an ear-piercing scream that nearly rattled the mirror. Vash's name spilled from your lips in a frenzied chant as your entire world exploded into myriad fragments.
"Fuck! That's it, love. Your pussy is incredibly tight. Milk my cock," Vash managed to say through gritted teeth. He concluded with a growl, his hips trembling as he slammed into you for one last time, filling you with his cum until there was no room left inside of you. Your combined fluids trickled down your thighs as you lay on the floor, panting and breathless. Your body convulsed with aftershocks, even after the biggest orgasm you had ever experienced subsided.
You couldn't fucking breathe, let alone move or form coherent thoughts. None of it felt normal. Not a single bit.
Your breath hitched, and your teeth clenched from the feel of him sliding out of you.
Disregarding Vash's presence, you hurriedly scrambled to dress yourself.
As you approached your shoes, a muttered "shit" caught your attention from behind. Turning around, you found Vash staring at his phone, his face etched with a serious expression. He was dressed in nothing but his black boots and loosely fastened pants, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of the well-defined V disappearing beneath the fabric. The glow from his phone emphasized the muscles flexing against his smooth skin, with scars and intricate black tattoos only enhancing his raw allure. The veins coursing through his hands and arms were visibly bulging, and if you weren't already leaning against the mirror, his overwhelming presence would have caused you to collapse. That masterpiece of jagged scars and rugged edges had ravished you completely, leaving you breathless.
You closed your eyes and leaned against the glass, seeking respite. Suddenly, you felt the warmth of Vash's hand on the back of your neck, causing your eyes to snap open. You realized he was pulling you closer, resting your head against his chest and draping his shirt over your shoulders. Assuming that this would be the last time you permitted his touch, you allowed him to slip his hands beneath your knees and neck, hoisting you effortlessly into his arms.
Exhaustion had enveloped you so entirely that his words, "Let's bring you to our room," evaded your weary ears.
Taglist: @julk4e - @lune010 - @beanibon - @emptybrain01 - @changingchances @awkwardchick87 @enchantedforest-network
#vash the stampede smut#vash smut#trigun smut#vash the stampede x reader#vash x reader#vash the stampede x you#vash x you#vash the stampede fluff#vash the stampede x y/n#vash the stampede angst#vash stampede x reader#trigun x reader#toxic vash the stampede#vash fluff#toxic vash#trigun fanfiction#vash x wolfwood#vash and wolfwood#vashwood#vash the stampede#vash angst#tristamp#nicholas d. wolfwood#vash the stampede fanart#trigun stampede#trigun vash#gunpowder dreams#trigun stampede x reader#sweat for me while reading this (lovingly)#stampede smut
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To be fair I did have a lot more expectation on the mother daughter relationship that could have been shown between Chameleon and Zhen because the past three stories have always been about father and son relationships, which had been well done, so I kinda expected their first female one to be done just as well. In some aspects I liked the concept but it also lacked a lot of scenes that would have fit well with the stablished quota. In my part it would have been nice to see it as a reverse Soothsayer and Shen dynamic, but explored through a different complex dynamic. As if, instead of the child turning evil due to their rebellion, it is the parent(and master) who has become corrupted with trying to achieve as much power as possible in order to protect their children. Someone who had at first a noble attitude and was resilient to the struggles she faced (she was short, she was weak. I dont mean to completely take away her backstory in kfp 4 , especially with how much the people on the team tried so hard to put aomething out there), no matter how much it hurt she was still going to become strong enough to protect those she loved, but she slwoly started to succumb to the ambition of power that her own reasons dissipated with time and greed over what others had that she didn't.
And Zhen could have followed on her footsteps for a long amount of time, thinking that well, Chamaeleon is her protector so of course she should be grateful despite the horrible things she does to protect them, just like in the og kfp4 (but not just looting or being the boss of a gang but maybe actively being just as bad as Lord Shen in a different way. Like, Chamaeleon killing so many heroes because she saw them as a threat and they saw her as a threat too, that entire villages lost their protection and even their lives against her troops.) And whenever or not Zhen should be redeemed is another case of its own so ill leave that out of the window. (Mainly bc that new dragon succesor could be interesting, but i feel like it should have been executed later faaaar later and not broken so many plot holes.)
If she gets to be redeemed then (for me for me) i think the trip would have been the last knot or the breaking point to the suspivion that Zhen would have had a long time ago. Maybe her resolution to go against her mother would be sealed when she started to notice that Chameleon no longer cared for her or the family she had protected for so long, even going so far as endangering them for the sake of obtaining more power.
That betrayal would not only reinforce the fact that Zhen would have been so loyal to her mother that not even the dragon warrior would have changed her ways in a simple trip, but also the fact that she had to expirience the horrible side of her own mother to understand even just a hint of what so many people had been afraid of for years. I wish Zhen could have been able to sympathise with someone over that; over having a strict parent who was the only person that wanted to care for you and you owned them the world for that (cough Tai lung cough—) but at the end of the day it felt crushing that you wouldnt be able to meet their expectations (in the case of zhen she didnt become a sorcerer and instead a martial artist, and also betrayal). It would have hurt, and well maybe Po or Shifu himself (in the kidnapped situation they had planned before im going way too divergent) would have told her that the actions of her parents are not her own fault.
Chameleon had chosen to go on a darker path on her own. (I would either like to put it that the chance was there but also wasnt, like she was already strong enough to be respected at some point but her descend to madness blinded her to anything but getting revenge on everyone who thought she was weak. Maybe showing the story of the chameleon through Zhen's eyes and slowly getting to doubt something as time goes on but never truly questions it. As a watcher you CAN see how she is slowly becoming evil, but Zhen had lived with the idea that this was how it always had been.)
But Zhen, probably throught the story finding out the extent of the horrible things her mother had done and not being able to excuse it, as well as being shown the possible chances that there were in life which her mother couldnt afford, realized she had to break that cycle right where it started and put an end to her mother's schemes before anyone else got hurt in the same way they both did. (Because like, Chameleon incidentally letting innocents die for her gains, had become the things she resented and trjed to destroy.)
(Im probably going to do another long post of things i would like to ramble about kung fu panda four, and no hate to the artists that worked on the show. Just like a pinch of salt thrown mostly at certain people but i still get it. From the beggining it was going to be a mess. BUT i liked the pitched in ideas in the interview with the co director and my little dumb brain likes expanding upon weird niche topics so—
I could be nitpicky of other things but the first 3 had been so centered around the relationships of fathers, from strict to spoiled to wise to absent and more, that well, i did WANT to expect a lot of the mother relations when its a trope that has so so many ways to be explored and it DID have a chance through the concepts (a chameleon, supoosedly weak and short and not being able to do kung fu trying to spraise a child [who knows kung fu where did she even learn it??] In a horrible enviroment who doesnt care for them both LIKE PLEASE. Of course i would be interested.)
#kfp 4#kung fu panda#kfp chameleon#kfp zhen#tai lung#cough cough#huh both shen and tai lung would have been able to “help” zhen escape from that bubble of never questioning her parents#since tai lung could understand what kind of unyeliding devotion zhen had to chamaleon would lead#and because lord shen had become so awful that chameleon will likely suffer the same way as her. dooming herself by fate as she keeps#hurting others more and more for the sake of survival#no like please please hear me out when i said it would have been FUN
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PROPAGANDA
ELEKTRA NATCHIOS (MARVEL COMICS)
1.) Elektra was created by the misogynist himself, Frank Miller, who would write female characters like garbage including her. Throughout her entire existence within a majority of Daredevil comics, Elektra has been treated as a character made to be a trophy for Matt Murdock. Daredevil writers love making her life revolve around Matt in a way that its framed as romantic when the reality of their relationship should be framed as a tragedy due to their conflicting ideals (and in my honest opinion, I think she should start hating him).
Frank Miller’s Man Without Fear completely butchers Elektra’s character by changing her character to this “crazy woman with voices in her head who loves to kill anyone and anything” completely shitting on the original backstory of her being a sheltered rich girl who was very kind and sweet until her father’s death that shattered her hopes and dreams, leading her to become vengeful and turn into an assassin who believes that all she’s good at is killing and that she can’t ever live a happy normal life.
[…]
And of course thanks to the mcu, that influenced current Daredevil writer Chip Zdarsky, who ruins her character EVEN MORE by trying to follow up on the MWF backstory AND make it align with the mcu version as well to this spy that was sent by the Hand to purposely seduce Matt just like how mcu Stick did in the show. Zdarsky writes Elektra in a way that ruins her character completely and makes her infantalize/belittle Matt by calling him naive and foolish despite in previous incarnations where she UNDERSTANDS why Matt wouldn’t follow in her footsteps and wouldn’t kill and WOULD NEVER TRY TO CONVINCE HIM OTHERWISE (and Zdarsky made her fetishize Matt’s blindness in a way in which she would never do if she was in character). Zdarsky made her stop her ways JUST FOR MATT and then writes Matt to constantly disrespect her and call her a murderer despite in previous iterations where he WOULDN’T DO THAT AND ALSO UNDERSTANDS WHY SHE’S LIKE THIS WITHOUT CHANGING HER. (Zdarsky wrote everyone OOC in his run but the most who suffered from it is def Matt and Elektra). Then Zdarsky made Elektra become Daredevil which yeah, the suit is cool, but the implications of it sucks as Daredevil is not an identity that anyone can pick up on like Spider-Man. Daredevil is explicitly an identity that Matt took up bc of the injustice his father received after his murder along with the desire to protect the victims of the justice system. Elektra is a foil to Matt so her uprising as Elektra wouldn’t align with becoming Daredevil. How he framed it was essentially on par of a woman taking up the husband’s last name but so much worse. Elektra as Daredevil doesn’t work because it completely erases her identity as Elektra and further pushes the idea that she only exists to serve as Matt’s trophy, as his pain, as his wife, as his tragedy, etc etc.
Not a single male Daredevil writer should ever LOOK at Elektra ever again until they know how to write her because she has been done so dirty and receives misogyny on EVERY SINGLE ASPECT OF HER EXISTENCE. There’s only been a few times where Elektra’s been done well and a lot of them had Matt be involved very little in it and it really makes you think.
2.) Both show and fandom perperativing the sexist and racist troupe of a dragon lady: overt sexual and physical aggression, untrustworthiness, and mysteriousness. The fandom is notorious for saying Elektra is toxic, instead of recognizes she’s an abuse victim working for her abuser. More often that not, all nuance is thrown out the window
(Comics and show) Killed for Matt’s(Daredevil’s) pain/fridged
3.) Constantly mischaracterized and used as a prop for Matt Murdock/Daredevil, especially in the case of his netflix series and his ongoing comics written by Chip Zdarksy (where she is so intensely out of character she’s almost unrecognizable, and in the case of the current Daredevil run parts of her origin story have even been heavily retconned to more closely resemble her Netflix counterpart which is. Oh my fucking god its infuriating.) But it’s an issue really like half the time she shows up in any given daredevil comic (im being generous)
ABBIE MILLS (SLEEPY HOLLOW) (CW: Racism)
1.) Abbie starts out as one of the two protagonists of the show, only to get almost entirely sidelined as early as season 2, getting less and less screen time and allowed no relationships, either platonic or romantic, while the other lead Ichabod Crane has a seemingly infinite amount of them. It got bad enough that her actor wanted to leave the show, which they did by having her sacrifice her soul in the season 3 finale for the male lead to live, and then they ended the show after season 4 anyway, because guess what, it’s a bad idea to entirely sideline and eventually kill off one of your leads!
2.) She was killed by the narrative to advance her white male co-protagonist’s plotline and I’m still mad about it, Abbie deserved so much better. This is an example of racism in the narrative too and it extended to the production of the show, see news coverage:
3.) Look, I only watched the first season but they killed her off the show SHE was a co lead of!! Misogyny AND racism, all rolled into one. I remember seeing the fan reactions and I was so mad on their behalfs. They wrote her off her own show and from what I recall, gave her less and less screentime leading up to that. Truly, she deserved so much better and I will always be upset by this.
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sansa stans steal everything from other characters/relationships. 'the queen we chose line', dany's dragons, arya's wolf, good queen alysanne, gendry. jonsas steal the 'what do you know of my heart/sister' line from jon and arya, and most recently i've seen them steal the bear and the maiden fair song from braimes. your fave is so boring and dull you have to steal stuff to make her more interesting and unique. she is the most boring character in asoiaf deal with it.
I specifically asked you to provide sources we actually 'stole' those things too, because half of these are outlandish as fuck. I will only address the ones that do have some merit: The Alysanne one.
Anyone who has a basic understanding of English history knows that Queen Alysanne is based off of Eleanor of Aquitane. GRRM flat out said he based Alysanne on Katherine Hepburn's version of Eleanor in the lion in Winter (1968) movie. However this isn't the only time GRRM spoke about Eleanor of Aquitane:
However, with Catelyn there is something reset for the Eleanor of Aquitaine, the figure of the woman who accepted her role and functions with a narrow society and, nonetheless, achieves considerable influence and power and authority despite accepting the risks and limitations of this society. (x)
The first character GRRM compares Eleanor to is Catelyn and calls them both baddass. Secondly he describes Eleanor as 'the woman who accepted her role and functions with a narrow society'. GRRM describes a type of female character that conforms to societal expectation of womanhood in a feudalistic society and Sansa squarely falls under that category..
Also while Sansa hasn't 'achieved considerable influence and power and authority despite accepting the risks and limitations of this society' just yet we can clearly see that Sansa will go down that route. Anyone who analyses Sansa's narrative arc in good faith knows she will hold a political position by the end of ASOIAF. The fandom has unamiously agreed to this. The only ones who vehemently deny this are antis.
So since Sansa is so extemely similar to Eleanor of Aquitane it naturally makes sense that she is similar to Alysanne as well, but that isn't the correct way to describe this.
It's Alysanne who is similar to Sansa. She is created in Sansa's and Catelyn's image and not the other way around. After all they are the major POV characters with lots of chapters. Alysanne is only a historical figure in Westeros who is only mentioned in one book whereas Sansa is a character who will shape the future.
And this is only aspect to Sansa Stark as a character. There's also her biggest storyline that is related to songs and truths, her identity and autonomy arc, how she is deconstructing and reconstructing what it means to be a true lady (a fine counterpart to her true knight), her romantic storyline is another.
These are all storylines that only belongs to Sansa and aren't stolen from anyone. So you were saying, anon?
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tbh you are so real for talking about the misogyny targeted to mei & other women in the lmk fandom. in general its like people only value mei as: a: the wingman to some basic mlm ship or b: macaque 2.0. its honestly crazy how so many male side characters overshadow her in the fanbase despite not even having a FRACTION of her screen time. idk chat i feel like the reason people dont care about mei but care about some random male side/background character is less because they're inherently more likeable but because some of you view women as inherently less likable. and everyone is always like "mei is so girlboss pussy cunt slay shes the only reason theyre still alive because she keeps them safe from their silly boy shennanigans shes their ultimate wingman shes so badass shes their lesbian best friend i totally paid attention to her when i watched this show LOL" and even ignoring the obvious misogyny here (ie. how people reduce her to being the male characters babysitter) its like... okay... i know mei is cool & badass already... could you name literally ANY other character trait she has. like people just value her as being "the braincell" who can get red son and mk together or something stupid and its like are we having fun still is this still fun. literally every day i go into the mei tag its like "look at mei shes red sons wifey and shes vaguely in the background of this drawing of red son and mk staring into each others eyes #trafficlighttrio am i right oh look shes macaques niece now this post is about ao lie why is it in the mei tag"
and thats literally JUST talking about mei and it doesnt even begin to cover the other female characters. chang'e constantly gets reduced to being red sons aunt/mom/big sister despite them like. not having any actual interactions in the show. lady bone demon constantly gets overshadowed by her minion who has like 2 seconds of screen time, or she gets made into a cartoonishly abusive madwoman who people call lady bitch demon. just in general people act like shes a horrible person for like. being a villain. liks yeah the trying to destroy everything was bad but also she was an antagonist and thats what antagonists do LOL. spider queen gets completely ignored. princess iron fan gets made into a cartoonishly abusive mother so that way red son can have a poor angsty backstory and some male character (usually nezha, macaque, swk) can take care of him.
(also theres just a great deal of ethnocentrism in the lmk fanbase? like im white so take what İ say here with a grain of salt but so many people will misconstrue aspects of chinese culture for their own personal hcs. people will say male characters are transfem or nonbinary while completely ignoring the time period/culture their from where thats the norm. like yippee youve implied that an east asian man is feminine/emasculine because he has long hair. how do you not see the negative connotations with this. people also turn pif (& lbd to an extent) into a dragon lady which obviously has negative racial connotations lol.)
anyway this is where my unhinged rambling ends have a good day have a good night İ had more to say here but İ reached the text limit. İ dont see a lot of people talk about the misogyny thats prevalent in the lmk fanbase so İm glad youre pointing it out lol.
Yeah, I totally hear you. The lmk fandom has plenty of issues with misogyny and, like you said, ethnocentrism. It's definitely something worth having a discussion about, along with these issues in fandom as a whole.
#you seriously hit the nail on the head anon#(feel free to rant more! I appreciated reading yer thoughts)#tbh I think it's the purity culture like#If LBD and SQ were men. They'd be so popular it's not even funny#But because they're women. And women can't be flawed#(or their flaws are harder to justify- unlike a male character like Wukong. So they're a ''bitch'')#But don't worry! There's one girl character we can girlbossify and ignore all of those pesky flaws and characteristics!!!#I'm so sorry Mei#You're not a support character for spicynoodles to me#you're literally so insane about MK it's not even funny#she's going to become my fav character out of spite on god#when she was like ''what's the point of having power if you won't use it?''#and azure was like ''i did not sacrifice everything to be an idle deity''#And 1x03 was about her using her family sword (her power) to protect her house#And Azure used his sword (his power) to protect the world#And when Mei modeled her sword after Azure's (and now he's dead)#and when- *gets shot*#also Mei doesn't even have the fucking braincell#None of them have the braincell#They're all dummies. They're all scrambling around doing their god damn best#A main theme is the fact that no one knows what they're doing. Like#idk#lmk#lego monkie kid#torment nexus#asks#anon#lmk Mei
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Guardian of Time
“That’s because the War for Erdholyss has nothing to do with Cato. It wasn’t even about Erdholyss.”
“I know,” The bard interrupted, earning another eyebrow raise from the elf.
“It was about the survival of the dragon seekers and the attempted genocide of dragonkind.”
“No. It was about a woman.”
It was about You.
Synopsis:
In the heart of the Silver Empire, you, a small orphan girl become bonded to the dragon of time. Much too young to understand what it means you continue to survive on the streets, oblivious to the power living within you until a strange encounter with the emperor himself leads to your adoption by a power noble family, and betrothal to the crown prince.
Eventually you find a scholar who knows what you are and offers to teach you to unlock the secret of your bond with your dragon. When you're old enough he tells you of the Order of Dragon Seekers, a group dedicated to finding and protecting the dragons that have been missing since an attempted genocide took place 200 years ago. Meanwhile the emperor is trying to lead the biggest war the continent has ever seen with a race of beings that aren't supposed to exist.
Now, its time for you to take your place, both in the Dragon Seekers, and in the court of the Silver Empire. There are numerous forces trying to stop you, but they all lead to the same place. The Cult of Evanyrid, the one who led the original draconic genocide, has made you their next target. The problem, however, isn't that they want you dead. It's that they want you alive.
Features:
This is game is genderlocked to a female protagonist, but several aspects her personality and appearance are customizable.
Bond with an ancient dragon of time.
Discover the secrets of the past, both those lost by Dragon Seekers, and those the Empire is trying to hide, and possibly stop a war in the process.
Form strong relationships with many different characters including your foster siblings, and mentor character.
Fall in love with one of six men who help you on your quest including the prince your engaged to, his younger brother, a witch hunter, a pirate captain who may or may not also be a general, a foreign king, and a physician whose a member of the cult hunting you, or keep your heart to yourself.
Romance:
Lukyan Feylorn: The Crown Prince of the Silver Empire, and the man you're supposed to marry. As children you remember him being distant, but that's nothing compared to how withdrawn he's been since his return from war. Despite the distance he's always been protective of you, but is it merely the duty he feels for his future wife or something more?
Tzesar Feylorn: Lukyan's younger brother, and your childhood best friend. Unlike his brother, he's always happy to see you. When he returns from attending university in another country, its as if he never left. Unlike the others, Tzesar doesn't have a reason to be joining you other than simply wanting to help you. Is this a loyalty for a friend, soon to be sibling, or does it demonstrate a love that's existed since childhood.
Sentinel: The Witch Hunter has no surname which is just another thing to add to his unnerving presence. He's been tasked to keep you alive during the final test of your Dragon Seeker training. All the other apprentices are afraid of him, but he seems to have formed a peculiar attachment to you. Even when you've finished your training he remains by your side as you face everything thrown at you. What is it that keeps him by your side? Duty, loyalty, or that soft affection you sometimes catch hidden in his eyes?
Naxok: A pirate captain of a race that should not exist. All logic says you should be afraid of Naxok, but when he treats sea monsters like cats and sings way off key while hanging from a rope that may or may not be important, you can't help but see a much different side of the man who should be your enemy. He's saved your life several times, but is there something special about you or is he just a good man?
Albien: The young king is the leader of Erdholyss a land filled with people you were told were myths. Regardless of how the Empire has treated his people, he immediately offers you hospitality, and seems to be one of the few who hold the answers you so desperately seek. In spite of his amiableness, there's a sadness that follows the king around like a cloud, but is it your place to try to brighten it?
Gaderous Archon: You first meet the physician when he's stitching up your wounds, but all you really know about him, is that he's medically trained, the single most attractive being you've met in your life, and all your companions strongly dislike him. Still, he doesn't disguise his interest in you, nor the romantic nature of it. The only questions is: can you trust it?
Demo:
https://dashingdon.com/play/reagan-mclean/guardian-of-time/mygame/
Forum:
https://forum.choiceofgames.com/t/guardian-of-time-wip-posted-on-january-28-2023/131582
#interactive fiction#Guardian of Time#Guardian-of-Time-IF#choicescript#RO: Luk#RO: Tzesar#RO: Sentinel#RO: Nax#RO: Albien#RO: Gat#WIP#interactive novel
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Diasomnia and Mulan Parallels in Chapter 7
We gotta talk about Diasomnia and the subtle Mulan motifs because I haven’t seen many people talking about it in relation to chapter 7 and I’m seeing the signs everywhere.
So obviously Twisted Wonderland has dropped hints and has referenced Mulan multiple times, especially when it comes to Diasomnia. The first time I remember it being extremely prominent was in the Halloween event. The relationship between the two being dragons, which makes sense. However, there’s a lot more connections than just that.
Silver represents and is twisted from a lot of things, much like Lilia, but one of those things is the silver sword used by Prince Philip to kill Maleficent. Now there’s also another movie where a sword and physical fighting is important and you guessed it, it’s Mulan!
Let’s talk about the parallels between Mulan and Diasomnia especially when it comes to chapter 7.
Lilia and Mulan’s dad are in the same position. Both fathers are getting older and have lost their prowess and power they once had.
Silver and Mulan are also in the same position. When the war comes to China and the draft is announced, Mulan steps up for her family and father, who’s too old to go to war, and goes in his stead despite her family’s disapproval and devastation. When Malleus overblots and Lilia is too weak to counter him, Silver steps up to save his family from this sleeping curse despite Malleus’s active disdain and outrage. Both of them choose to do the harder thing. Mulan had the option to stay home and just act as a good wife in order to help her parents and Silver could have decided to stay in his dream with Lilia because that’s what he wanted most of all, but neither of them do that. Mulan goes into the military to protect her father and her family, while Silver opposes Malleus because he wants to respect and honor his father’s last wishes and knows that this isn’t what he wants, and it’s not easy. Mulan desperately struggles to stay in the military and is only barely able to make it (I’ll Make a Man Out of You). Silver has to give up his dream and desire to be together with his father and then fight one of his closest relatives essentially on the matter, which is emotionally taxing.
Mulan is also the underdog, the least likely person to save China, and much like Mulan, Silver is too. Mulan is a woman, who's often considered weaker than men. Similarly, Silver is a human surrounded by fae, who’re known to have more magical prowess and power and long life spans. They’re the unexpected ones who will defeat someone who’s considered an impossible enemy.
Now Silver’s Unique Magic is a foil to Malleus’s Fae of Maleficence. You could consider Silver a mirror to Malleus, a reflection. Which could be connected to Mulan, as she sings Reflection and ends up seeing her reflection in the sword before deciding to cut her hair off and go to the military.
Now, while not 100% confirmed, I’m inclined to believe that Sebek has heavy aspects of Shang incorporated into his character. Much like Shang’s actions of kicking Mulan out of the military when he finds out she’s a female, Sebek parallels this by believing that fae are stronger than humans and discriminating against them. Now, Shang comes around to the idea of Mulan, a female, saving all of China and is pretty cool with it and seems a bit proud of her. Now, I have a distinct feeling that Sebek is going to do the same in terms of coming around to humans. The first year gang is gonna show him that humans are just as powerful as fae. Maybe not in the exact same way, but they do have their strengths. Just like how Shang might have been physically stronger than Mulan, Mulan was more creative with her environment than he was.
Malleus is probably acting as the Hun’s leader whose name I forgot and I also forgot his motive for going to war too so can’t say much about him.
I also have a distinct inclination that the first year gang, or at least ADeuce is gonna play a part in this because of how they inducted Ortho into their group and how they’ve been grouping them together so far. I’m thinking that in terms of story roles, the first year gang is gonna act like Mulan’s besties in the military who dressed up as beautiful women to get inside the palace along with Cricket and Mushu. Defeating the Huns was a team effort in Mulan and I have a feeling it’s going to be the same for defeating Malleus. I mean, defeating Maleficent was a team effort in Sleeping Beauty. The fairies helped Philip escape, gave him weapons, and buffed him in order for him to one shot Maleficent. I can see that happening with Ortho being the striker.
Also if my thought process is correct for Sebek, that means that he’s going to end up bonding with other humans besides Silver and who’re better candidates than the first year gang? Besides, Ace hasn’t gotten his unique magic yet, so it’s probably going to happen in Chapter 7 and if not, chapter 8. I’m not exactly sure how Twisted will end, but that’s not the main concern at the moment. We gotta survive chapter 7 first and I’ve already cried over these characters two times already.
#twisted wonderland#twst#diasomnia#twst lilia#lilia vanrouge#twst analysis#analysis#mulan#malleus draconia#twst malleus#twst silver#silver vanrouge#twst sebek#sebek zigvolt#twisted wonderland silver#twst diasomnia#twst chapter 7#twst spoilers#twst chapter 7 analysis#twisted wonderland chapter 7#twst theory#twst thoughts#twst first years#epel felmier#ortho shroud#twst Epel#twst ortho#ace trappola#deuce spade#twst ace
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What are your thoughts on webtoon obsession with the reincarnation female mc who was send back in time b4 she died and vow to get revenge on those who wrong / isekai where mc wait up as protagonist or villainess of her favorite story?I never really read them, more like heard ppl reactions to them or just speed read through certain chapters to see the fuss or see a terrible character I heard about suffer. I knows the remarried empress is popular but I heard of how some ppl stop reading because the mistress who stole the mic emperor husband was a slave who want power to protect herself and it despite the slavers as good people. I also watched videos about the problematic aspects of that genre like colorism, leading into European beauty standards, and racism depiction of poc.
I personally think that there's a cultural discrepancy with webtoons/webcomics that follow such a trope.
Like, almost all of them are made by korean authors/artists, but they don't take cues from korean culture at all (or asian culture in general). Why, though? I wouldn't the mind the genre and its clichés at all if they at least bothered to be more diverse.
You know the MOTHER/Earthbound series, right? Have you ever wondered why its aesthetics aren't eurocentric (but rather more Sci-Fi and modern in comparison), despite Shigesato Itoi himself loving Dragon Quest and being clearly inspired by the series? That happens because Itoi didn't knew anything about fantasy eurocentric elements and got more creative in his approach, molding the games closely to his experiences as a developer and as a person.
Just because it's a villainess story, that doesn't mean it should be always set in Not-Europe. Villains exist in every genre and ethnicity BEYOND Fantasy and eurocentric ones; why not work around that?
Also, why do these webtoons always have to involve romance? What if the reincarnated villainess decides to get her shit together and change her ways to avoid an unsavory death? What if the villainess uses her power and influence as a political figure to combat against injustice (slavery, racism, unrealistic beauty standards, etc...) and wants to introduce democracy? What if the villainess is sapphic, ace/aro or non-monogamous? What if the villainess just doesn't want to conquer kingdoms and is willing to give up her royal status to live a commoner's life?
And what about the drama and mind fuckery that comes with reincarnating in another person's body and having full access to their memories and intimacies? The horror that comes with briefly experiencing the cold and dark embrace of Death before entering a new world? The uncertainty and anxiety that comes with being able to start anew in your new body and identity?
Surely there are other issues that are much more concerning and interesting than who's kissing who in a story.
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With regards to Disney's Sleeping Beauty (1959), I've heard it being referred to as their (inadvertently) most Feminist Movie made to date. And to be perfectly honest, I can see why. From Flora, Fauna, and Merryweather being effectively the leading protagonists, Aurora's Mother being a Good Queen (a real rarity there), and the three Good Fairies providing Philip with the means to kill Maleficent. But what are your thoughts on these points?
I agree wholeheartedly! Except maybe with the "most feminist movie to date" claim – that's subjective. But Sleeping Beauty is a female-dominated movie with some of Disney's best female characters.
Flora, Fauna, and Merryweather really are the protagonists, and excellent ones. Just because they're fairies and because Aurora is the title character, Disney got away with doing something in 1959 that would be considered "daring" today: making a movie with three plain-looking, unmarried older women as the protagonists, whose central relationships are with each other and with their foster daughter. Each has her own distinct, endearing personality, and despite Flora and Merryweather's comic bickering, it's clear that all three love each other, and that they adore Aurora. They're allowed to be funny and fallible and make big mistakes (those shouldn't be just the privilege of male protagonists, after all), but they redeem themselves gloriously at the climax. They risk their own safety by infiltrating Maleficent's lair to free Phillip, and not only do they provide him with the weapons to kill Maleficent, they thwart all the dangers Maleficent's goons throw at Philip, they free him from the thorns around the castle, and just when all seems lost for Phillip in the battle with dragon-Maleficent, they enchant the sword they gave him to make it fly into Maleficent's heart. Even though Phillip's kiss breaks the spell, it's just as much the fairies' victory as his.
The worst aspect of the 2014 Maleficent is that the fairies are reduced to hopelessly incompetent, annoying ditzes, who constantly squabble and catfight with each other and who seem to view Aurora as a burden. Obviously, this was done so Maleficent could take their place as Aurora's mother figure, leading to to the "progressive" twist ending where Maleficent and Aurora's platonic love for each other saves the day instead of a boy/girl romance. But the original film never devalues platonic bonds between women! The fairies' motherly love for Aurora is every bit as important as Phillip's romantic love. I'm glad that at least Maleficent changes their names to Knotgrass, Flittle, and Thistlewit, so we can think of them as separate characters from Flora, Fauna, and Merryweather.
As for Queen Leah, I wish she had more than just two lines, but it is nice to see a good queen in a genre where queens are often evil, and a Disney Princess's mother who's still alive at the end. It's too bad that Maleficent kills her off.
Then there's the underrated Aurora herself. Anyone who claims she has "no personality" is talking nonsense. She's sweet and romantic like any fairy tale princess, yes, but she's also lively, clever, playful, imaginative, and has an air of queenly dignity, even as a peasant girl. Her role is just too small. But even this isn't too much of a problem, because she's not really the protagonist, the three good fairies are.
Disney's Sleeping Beauty deserves a better reputation than it has among feminists for sure!
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I saw some AUs of the Dance of the Dragons in which Rhaenyra and Laenor had a trueborn daughter before the other Velaryon boys, and it made me think. Do you think that this change would have affected the events? If so, how?
Number one, why would Rhaenyra be acting differently from how Rhaenyra acted IOTL, such that she would want to have a trueborn child by Laenor and Laenor would want to have a trueborn child with her (but then the two of them would subsequently give up doing so)? For reasons that may have been personal and/or political, IOTL Rhaenyra clearly made the decision very early on that she was going to keep on Harwin Strong as her lover and the father of her children. That Laenor seemed at least amenable to this situation is demonstrated in his own acceptance of the boys as his sons, despite the knowledge he would certainly have had that he did not himself father them. It is impossible for me to conceive a scenario where both of them act so differently in this way without completely changing their personalities, at which point I am no longer speculating on established text but simply writing a new story.
Moreover, even in such an impossible scenario, the fundamental question of the Dance would not have changed. The legal issue which gave rise to the Dance, and which Viserys I had foolishly left unanswered, was one of competing precedent: would the right of a king to name an heir (and a female heir at that) supersede the right of a trueborn son to inherit ahead of a trueborn daughter (and specifically in the context of inheritance to the Iron Throne)? (Let’s leave out the Widow’s Law aspect, since Fire and Blood Volume 1 did not care to bring that law into the Dance anyway.) The green faction IOTL did not claim the throne on Viserys I’s death because Rhaenyra’s Velaryon sons were not actually fathered by Laenor Velaryon. While the illegitimacy of these princes was a convenient argument for members of the green faction to raise to undermine the black faction’s position, the base of Aegon II’s claim was his status as the king’s eldest surviving trueborn son - a status that would not have disappeared if Rhaenyra had had one or two or 20 trueborn children (as indeed it did not IOTL, when Rhaenyra did have trueborn sons by Prince Daemon).
Would there have been some change to the actual mechanics of the Dance? Possibly. A daughter would still have been no older than 15 at the outset of the Dance, though I doubt Rhaenyra would have been any more eager for her daughter to fight in battle than she was to have her sons do so IOTL (assuming, of course, that she was in fact a dragonrider - likely, but as we see with Rhaena of Pentos at the start of the Dance not guaranteed). I think it’s pretty difficult to say, without knowing how Rhaenyra (much less the rest of her court) would have felt about this daughter, to say whether Rhaenyra would have sent her daughter on either of the diplomatic missions undertaken by Jacaerys and Lucerys IOTL - and consequently, whether we would have seen changes to, say, the promises made by Jacaerys (and the rumors of his marriage to Sara Snow), or the murder of Lucerys near Storm’s End by Aemond. Would Corlys Velaryon have been more inclined to give Driftmark to his (almost certainly) bastard sons Addam and Alyn over his apparently trueborn granddaughter (which, given his willingness to skip over Baela and Rhaena in such a question, may still have been true here)? Would this daughter have survived the Dance, as the Velaryon princes did not IOTL? Again, this is where an entirely new story could or would be written.
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𝖆 𝖘𝖙𝖗𝖆𝖓𝖌𝖊𝖗 𝖈𝖆𝖑𝖑𝖘 . . . have a drink at my table , allow me to tell you stories — stories of dragons and burnt men . tell me about lady hwang haeun .
( jeon somin , cis female , she/her ) : ̗̀➛ twenty-seven years young , a firebender from the noble house of hwang . many know them to be stubborn & judgemental . how unfortunate , truly . . . i’ve always found them to be dedicated & passionate . they oft fulfill the duties of a pianist . oh , i should tell you — they support the rule of house yi . well , you know how every storyteller bends the tale they tell . ✶ eggie , 27 , she/her .
♡ HISTORY ! ♡
♡ haeun’s position within her family has created a complex character left to navigate the uncertainty of who she is . the eldest daughter , the middle child – constantly eclipsed by her elder sibling in the eyes of her mother . when once she fought for the limelight , she now prefers the slink around in the shadows , aware that when you’re in the cool shade you’re less likely to burn up .
♡ she was a dedicated student as a child , stubbornly learning as much as possible so that she could never be looked down upon . she took many musical lesson and is adept with several instruments , the piano being her first love .
♡ her piano teacher was a strict and straightforward elderly man who slowly began to fill the father figure in her early teen years , after the loss of her father at seven . while she was very young when he passed , she felt more seen and appreciated by him.
♡ despite being grateful and , of course , loving her father , there is still complex emotions around the man . she had once overheard him make comments about her and her older brother , disappointed that he couldn’t firebend and she was a female . she had never told anyone about this , especially considering it was so near to his passing , but it left her with an uncertainty – were they loved ? or was being part of a family just fulfilling pre-written roles ?
♡ for this reason , haeun is particularly suspicious of everyone . her eyes are keen and she enjoys watching people expose themselves at moments when they think is safe .
♡ due to her brother’s fame and familial connections , haeun has been given opportunities to play piano at concerts . however , she avoids it as much as possible , only agreeing to when pressured by her family . she much prefers to play as support for singers or just for companions for fun .
♡ DIG DEEPER ! ♡
♡ haeun has a very sweet singing voice , she loves to sing but she will never ( knowingly ) sing to another . sometimes she writes her own music , but once again , it is hidden from the rest of the world.
♡ she is a stark supporter of the house of yi , not because of who they are but because she believes the only way to prosper is to have a strong lead . haeun has an interest in politics but would rather watch other people’s actions and reactions to see who align with her beliefs rather than be an open book in this aspect .
♡ her stubbornness is both a curse and a blessing – to her , she sees it as determination . but to those who have seen that ugly side rear it’s head , they know sometimes she blinds herself to reality to keep from herself being wrong . at least , the few that she allows close enough know that she would never give them up .
♡ her love for music transcends everything else , as mentioned it’s her true love .
♡ she grows frustrated sometimes with her firebending , as it goes against her nature – it’s offensive rather than defensive . however , she has a good grasp at it , especially as ( for the most part ) she’s got a good grasp at controlling her own emotions and manipulating them to serve her .
♡ PLOTS WANTED ! ♡
♡ childhood friends – the one person who may have heard her sing/know about her writing music ( ? ) / fluffy crush or first ‘real’ love / frienemies forever / toxic ex who brings out the worst in her / musical lover unites / people she might become fascinated with watching/trying to understand – im open to anything and everything !
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PRELIMINARY ROUND - MARVEL COMICS - ELEKTRA NATCHIOS
PROPAGANDA
Elektra Natchios (Marvel Comics)
1.) Elektra was created by the misogynist himself, Frank Miller, who would write female characters like garbage including her. Throughout her entire existence within a majority of Daredevil comics, Elektra has been treated as a character made to be a trophy for Matt Murdock. Daredevil writers love making her life revolve around Matt in a way that its framed as romantic when the reality of their relationship should be framed as a tragedy due to their conflicting ideals (and in my honest opinion, I think she should start hating him).
Frank Miller's Man Without Fear completely butchers Elektra's character by changing her character to this "crazy woman with voices in her head who loves to kill anyone and anything" completely shitting on the original backstory of her being a sheltered rich girl who was very kind and sweet until her father's death that shattered her hopes and dreams, leading her to become vengeful and turn into an assassin who believes that all she's good at is killing and that she can't ever live a happy normal life.
[...]
And of course thanks to the mcu, that influenced current Daredevil writer Chip Zdarsky, who ruins her character EVEN MORE by trying to follow up on the MWF backstory AND make it align with the mcu version as well to this spy that was sent by the Hand to purposely seduce Matt just like how mcu Stick did in the show. Zdarsky writes Elektra in a way that ruins her character completely and makes her infantalize/belittle Matt by calling him naive and foolish despite in previous incarnations where she UNDERSTANDS why Matt wouldn't follow in her footsteps and wouldn't kill and WOULD NEVER TRY TO CONVINCE HIM OTHERWISE (and Zdarsky made her fetishize Matt's blindness in a way in which she would never do if she was in character). Zdarsky made her stop her ways JUST FOR MATT and then writes Matt to constantly disrespect her and call her a murderer despite in previous iterations where he WOULDN'T DO THAT AND ALSO UNDERSTANDS WHY SHE'S LIKE THIS WITHOUT CHANGING HER. (Zdarsky wrote everyone OOC in his run but the most who suffered from it is def Matt and Elektra). Then Zdarsky made Elektra become Daredevil which yeah, the suit is cool, but the implications of it sucks as Daredevil is not an identity that anyone can pick up on like Spider-Man. Daredevil is explicitly an identity that Matt took up bc of the injustice his father received after his murder along with the desire to protect the victims of the justice system. Elektra is a foil to Matt so her uprising as Elektra wouldn't align with becoming Daredevil. How he framed it was essentially on par of a woman taking up the husband's last name but so much worse. Elektra as Daredevil doesn't work because it completely erases her identity as Elektra and further pushes the idea that she only exists to serve as Matt's trophy, as his pain, as his wife, as his tragedy, etc etc.
Not a single male Daredevil writer should ever LOOK at Elektra ever again until they know how to write her because she has been done so dirty and receives misogyny on EVERY SINGLE ASPECT OF HER EXISTENCE. There's only been a few times where Elektra's been done well and a lot of them had Matt be involved very little in it and it really makes you think.
2.) Both show and fandom perperativing the sexist and racist troupe of a dragon lady: overt sexual and physical aggression, untrustworthiness, and mysteriousness. The fandom is notorious for saying Elektra is toxic, instead of recognizes she's an abuse victim working for her abuser. More often that not, all nuance is thrown out the window
(Comics and show) Killed for Matt's(Daredevil's) pain/fridged
3.) Constantly mischaracterized and used as a prop for Matt Murdock/Daredevil, especially in the case of his netflix series and his ongoing comics written by Chip Zdarksy (where she is so intensely out of character she's almost unrecognizable, and in the case of the current Daredevil run parts of her origin story have even been heavily retconned to more closely resemble her Netflix counterpart which is. Oh my fucking god its infuriating.) But it's an issue really like half the time she shows up in any given daredevil comic (im being generous)
Elektra Natchios (NMCU)
1.) This continues over to her mcu version in the netflix show where the writers decide to be extremely racist and make her the dragon lady stereotype while also following the Man Without Fear version to which many dd comics fan fucking hate. The show paints her as someone who was born evil with this Black Sky bullshit and makes her a puppet for the Hand and then kills her off just to be white man angst for Matt (comics have done this too but the netflix show takes this idea to such a degree that its horrible). Thanks to the netflix show, many fans believe that Elektra is this murderous bloodthirsty woman who is abusive to Matt and a manipulator so now Elektra faces misogyny and racism from fandom.
2.) Both show and fandom perperativing the sexist and racist troupe of a dragon lady: overt sexual and physical aggression, untrustworthiness, and mysteriousness. The fandom is notorious for saying Elektra is toxic, instead of recognizes she's an abuse victim working for her abuser. More often that not, all nuance is thrown out the window
(Comics and show) Killed for Matt's(Daredevil's) pain/fridged
(Show) brought back to life in the spin off series only to be killed again
3.) Constantly mischaracterized and used as a prop for Matt Murdock/Daredevil, especially in the case of his netflix series
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