funny banna

nora west-allen from season 5 of the flash joins the neagtive speed froce

Nero Claudius, the flamboyant Emperor of Roses, is no stranger to spectacle—but the current scene is not one she planned for her adoring audience. Ambushed during a private inspection of a newly restored amphitheater, she finds herself confronted by rival magi seeking to ransom a Servant of her caliber. Rather than brute force, they use enchanted sashes woven from silken threads that hum with magical seals, each knot a ward against her Imperial Privilege. The bindings are tight but elegant—golden and crimson silk intertwined—restraining her arms and securing her to the ornate throne she had moments earlier been admiring. The captors think the symbolism will humiliate her: the “Emperor” made into the centerpiece of their victory. Yet to Nero, it is simply another stage, another role to play until the perfect moment to reclaim the spotlight. Her emerald eyes remain bright, a sly smile curling at the edge of her lips. She tilts her head in mock appraisal of her predicament, the poise of a ruler never slipping. Her thoughts race—not with fear, but with strategy. Every gesture is measured, each word aimed to unnerve the mages. She speaks of future performances, of the grand applause she will hear when she walks free, all while subtly testing the tension of her silken restraints. For Nero Claudius, this is no defeat—it is an intermission. And when the curtain rises again, it will be she who commands the stage.

Artoria Pendragon in her Lancer aspect—stoic, noble, and bound to the spear Rhongomyniad—stands as a paragon of chivalry even when fate places her at a disadvantage. During a sudden clash with a cabal of mages wielding relics designed to suppress Heroic Spirits, she is not felled by brute force but by cunning: sigiled manacles and a circlet of runes calibrated to dampen mana and neutralize Noble Phantasms. They strip her of the lance’s full resonance, anchoring the weapon to the floor with chains of woven mythic alloy and binding her wrists in cords humming with anti-heroic magic. Her armor bears the marks of the skirmish—scuffs and a bent pauldron—but her posture remains that of a sovereign soldier: upright, controlled, and unyielding. The captors sought to break her will as much as her weapon; they wanted to turn legend into trophy. Artoria does not yield to indignity. Where others might wring hands or plead, she measures the room like a commander on a quiet battlefield—observing guard rotations, noting the failing rune on a nearby brazier, cataloguing the exact weave of the restraining cords. In the enforced stillness, she rehearses possibilities: subtle shifts of weight, a redirected strike, the precise moment a single sigil might sputter. Her thoughts are not of despair but of duty—to reclaim her spear, to stand for the people who depend on her, to turn this captivity into a lesson in resilience. This is not humiliation; it is a temporary test. The bindings may hold her body, but they cannot bind the ideal she embodies. When Artoria moves again, it will be with the calm certainty of a knight who has never forgotten why she fights.

Wanda Maximoff, the Scarlet Witch, finds herself restrained by powerful bindings woven from mystic energies designed specifically to suppress her chaos magic. The ropes pulse faintly with a crimson glow, mirroring the swirling intensity of her own power, but dampening it enough to keep her contained. Her iconic red cloak drapes elegantly despite her captivity, framing her with a regal, almost tragic air. Though tied up, Wanda’s posture remains poised and unyielding. Her eyes, fierce and determined, blaze with the fire of a witch who has faced loss and unimaginable challenges. This momentary imprisonment is but a pause in her relentless fight — a test of her will rather than a defeat. Each breath she takes is measured, her mind already calculating the threads of fate and magic she can manipulate to turn the situation in her favor. Despite the restraint, there is a haunting grace in her stillness — the undeniable presence of a woman who wields the very fabric of reality yet is momentarily caught in its weave. The room feels charged with a quiet tension, the calm before the inevitable storm that is Wanda Maximoff.

The fusion of Hatsune Miku and Power resulted in a being as chaotic as she was captivating — a whirlwind of idol charisma and devilish mischief. Her long hair kept Miku’s iconic twin-tail style, but the aqua tones now shimmered with streaks of deep crimson, as if dipped in the color of Power’s wild personality. Her bangs framed her face with just enough unevenness to hint at her unpredictable nature. She wore a modified idol outfit: a short pleated skirt and a cropped jacket with Miku’s signature futuristic patterns, but paired with Power’s torn stockings, chunky boots, and a loosely hung tie. Instead of a microphone, she carried a microphone-shaped scythe — equal parts performance prop and weapon. Her personality was an impossible blend — the sweet, melodic optimism of Miku’s stage presence constantly clashing with Power’s boastful, over-the-top bravado. One moment she’d be charming a crowd with a perfectly pitched high note; the next she’d be bragging about how she was the “Number One Idol-Devil in the Multiverse” and daring any rival to challenge her. Despite the contradictions, the fusion worked — she had Miku’s determination and love for performing, but also Power’s fearless, unapologetic energy. Every concert was part-music festival, part-chaotic brawl, and somehow, her fans loved her all the more for it.

Sakura Matou had hoped the night would be quiet. After finishing her errands, she had planned to return home before her brother noticed she’d been gone. But a sudden surge of magical energy on the outskirts of Fuyuki pulled her in another direction—and straight into an ambush. Before she could react, shadow-like bindings, laced with suppression spells, wrapped tightly around her wrists and ankles. The ropes glimmer faintly with a cold, bluish hue, pulsing with each beat of her heart, cutting her off from her mana reserves. A soft chair serves as her seat, though the snug loops at her legs and torso make movement impossible. Her school uniform is neat, though a faint blush colors her cheeks—not from fear, but from a mix of embarrassment and quiet frustration. Sakura rarely draws attention to herself, but the vulnerability of her position gnaws at her. Her violet eyes glance down, avoiding her captor’s gaze, yet they hold a glimmer of quiet resolve. Inwardly, she begins to analyze the bindings. While she lacks Rin’s outward bravado, Sakura’s calm demeanor masks a calculating mind. She knows her magic is restrained, but her patience could be her greatest weapon. If her captor underestimates her, she’ll find the opening she needs. The room is still, the magical restraints holding fast—but like the gentle current beneath still waters, Sakura Matou hides an inner strength that could overturn the situation in an instant.

Rin Tohsaka, the brilliant and sharp-tongued magus of Fuyuki, is no stranger to danger—but this time, the trap was sprung before she could even weave a counter-spell. Ambushed by a rival mage during a reconnaissance mission, Rin finds herself bound with enchanted rope, the fibers faintly glowing with mana-suppressing runes designed to prevent her from casting. The ropes hold her wrists snugly behind her back, looping around her waist and legs with precise magical knots, leaving no slack for escape. Her school uniform remains immaculate despite the struggle, her signature twin tails swaying slightly as she shifts in the chair she’s been placed on. Though restrained, Rin’s expression is far from defeated. Her sapphire eyes narrow with a calculating gleam, sizing up her captor and silently judging the inefficiency of their bindings. Every inch of her posture radiates stubborn dignity—she refuses to give them the satisfaction of seeing her panic. Instead, Rin wears the faintest smirk, as if she already knows the outcome. Her mind runs through every trick and contingency she’s learned, storing away observations that will turn the tables when the opportunity arises. She’s not a damsel in distress—she’s a ticking time bomb of intellect and magical prowess, temporarily delayed but far from out of the fight. In the quiet room, the air feels charged. It’s clear that Rin Tohsaka will not remain bound for long.

Ishtar, the proud and playful Goddess of Beauty and War, rarely finds herself in a position of restraint—but when she does, it’s never without style or a spark of defiance. Captured during a strategic ambush by mages seeking to suppress her immense divine power, she is bound with enchanted golden chains designed not only to hold her physically but also to dampen her celestial energy. The bindings shimmer with divine sigils, crafted to restrain a goddess without harming her divine form. Ishtar sits with perfect poise, the chains glinting against her radiant skin and her signature armor softened to allow dignity even in captivity. Her expression is a teasing mix of amusement and challenge, as if the situation is a mere game—one she’s confident she will soon win. Though temporarily constrained, her presence commands attention and respect. Even bound, Ishtar radiates an aura of unyielding authority and beauty that unsettles her captors. Her mind is sharp and calculating, already plotting her escape with the cunning wit that has helped her maintain her status among gods and mortals alike. Ishtar’s pride burns bright, and her laughter rings in the silence of her prison, a reminder that no chain—no matter how powerful—can truly hold a goddess who commands the heavens and storms alike. She waits patiently, knowing her freedom will come, and when it does, it will be with the dazzling fury of a celestial tempest.

Even as a Servant known as Rider, Medusa’s demeanor is one of measured reserve and quiet strength. To see her bound is to witness a rare and uneasy stillness: the sealed Gorgon, stripped temporarily of the fluid motion that defines her fighting style. The capture is not the work of brutes, but of planners—mages who understood how to neutralize a servant whose very gaze and presence can topple foes. They strike with precision: sigils woven into reinforced manacles, relic-chains etched to suppress Noble Phantasms and dampen the Mystic Eyes of Petrification, and a circlet of binding runes that dull her reflexes without maiming her. They take her in twilight between battles, when she is scouting alone. One moment she melts into shadow and wind, the next she wakes to cold iron and sunless walls. Medusa does not panic; panic is for those who have not yet met themselves. Where others might rage or plead, she observes—the texture of the ropes, the layout of the room, the cadence of the guards’ footsteps, the tiny flaws in the wards that hold her. Every constraint is data; every silence, a calculation. Her pride bristles—not at the bindings themselves, but at the idea that someone thinks they can contain what she represents. She remembers the sea-born myths and wilderness reprimands that shaped her, and within that memory lies a patient, terrible power. While the dampeners mute her outward magic, they cannot wholly still the mind of a warrior. Medusa plots with the same calm she uses in a charge: slow, inexorable, and precise. She waits for the moment the runes flicker, the manacles cool, the guard’s attention lapses. Then she will move—and when she does, it will be with the inevitability of tide and stone. This is not humiliation; it is a test of endurance and cunning. For Medusa, captivity is a temporary theater in which she rehearses her return—silent, sure, and ultimately unstoppable.

Luna Snow, the radiant K-Pop star with the power of ice, steps out on a bright summer day wearing her signature cool summer outfit—a sleek white crop top paired with high-waisted shorts and a light, flowing jacket that catches the breeze just right. Her silver hair shines under the sun, and her icy blue eyes sparkle with effortless confidence. Known both for her mesmerizing performances and her supernatural cryokinetic abilities, Luna blends grace and strength in every aspect of her life. Offstage, Luna’s summer style reflects her laid-back but vibrant personality. She enjoys the warmth of summer festivals and city streets alive with music and laughter, a stark contrast to the cold powers she commands. Her outfit is designed for comfort and style, perfect for spontaneous adventures or relaxing with friends. Despite her celebrity status, Luna stays grounded, cherishing moments of peace away from the spotlight. Whether it’s walking along the beach or exploring urban art scenes, she balances her career and personal life with poise. Her ice powers remain a closely guarded secret, revealed only when needed to protect those she cares about. Luna’s presence in her summer look is a reminder that she’s more than a star—she’s a force of nature, both cool and unstoppable, with a heart as warm as the sun on her skin.

Luminous Valentine, feared by many as the legendary Vampire Queen, is a far cry from her ancient, regal self when she steps into the halls of Tempest Academy. Here, she’s the picture of cold elegance—a top student with perfect grades, immaculate posture, and a mysterious aura that keeps most classmates at arm’s length. Her pale skin and crimson eyes are striking, yet unsettling, and rumors swirl about her being “different.” In truth, Luminous is still centuries old, merely adapting to a more modern lifestyle. Between classes, she hides behind the school library’s towering bookshelves, sipping tea from an ornate thermos and quietly reading literature far beyond the curriculum. Though she claims not to care for school activities, her presence is magnetic; the student council wants her for her sharp intellect, while the drama club dreams of casting her in a leading role. Beneath her cool demeanor, however, lies a subtle warmth—shown only to a select few friends she trusts. For Luminous, high school is less about education and more about observing humanity in its most chaotic, youthful state. Every classroom squabble, sports rivalry, and hallway romance is another puzzle piece in her long study of mortal emotions. Still, even here, her pride and regal manner never fade. Whether it’s shutting down bullies with a single sharp remark or acing exams with ease, Luminous rules the school in her own quiet, intimidating way.

Power, the Blood Fiend with a devil-may-care attitude, never stays down for long—especially when she’s tied up. During a mission gone sideways, a powerful enemy managed to trap her with chains forged from cursed materials designed to suppress devil energy. Bound and unable to move freely, Power’s usual wild grin twists into a scowl of frustration and indignation. She snarls and kicks against the restraints, her sharp horns barely held back by the bindings. But beneath the rage and stubbornness lies a calculating mind plotting her escape. Despite the ropes constricting her, Power’s spirit remains fierce and untamed. She refuses to be a victim, viewing the situation more as an annoying inconvenience than a threat. Her sharp wit and unpredictable nature mean she’s always one step ahead, ready to turn the tables in the blink of an eye. Though momentarily restrained, Power’s chaotic energy simmers, promising a wild and explosive breakout that no one will forget. In the world of devils and hunters, Power’s resilience is as dangerous as her blood magic—and no chain is strong enough to hold her for long.

Jessie, the fiery and ambitious member of Team Rocket, often finds herself in precarious situations—usually the result of her own bold schemes and flair for drama. On this occasion, her latest plot to steal rare Pokémon from a high-security facility went awry, resulting in her capture and temporary restraint by the facility’s security systems. Though tied up with sturdy ropes, Jessie’s spirit remains unbroken. She glares defiantly at her captors, plotting her next move with characteristic bravado. Her sharp mind races through potential escape plans, and her pride refuses to accept defeat. Even in captivity, Jessie’s larger-than-life personality shines. She entertains herself with exaggerated complaints and theatrical threats, fully confident that her teammates James and Meowth will arrive to save the day—or at least to create enough chaos for her to slip away. Jessie knows that setbacks are just part of the game. With her relentless determination and quick wit, she’s certain she’ll turn the tables soon—and when she does, Team Rocket’s motto will once again echo through the skies: “Prepare for trouble, and make it double!”

Mordred Pendragon, the rebellious knight and heir to King Arthur’s legacy, is no stranger to conflict and captivity. Throughout her tumultuous life, she has faced betrayal, battle, and imprisonment—each challenge only fueling her fiery spirit and unwavering pride. Being restrained is merely another test of her resolve. On a mission gone awry, Mordred was captured by an enemy seeking to break her will and bend her loyalty. Yet, those who dared to bind her learned quickly that her chains were more symbolic than physical. The silken cords that hold her wrists are as delicate as the respect shown by her captors, who recognize her noble status and the honor she carries even in confinement. Despite the restraints, Mordred remains dignified and proud. She sits tall, eyes burning with determination and defiance, refusing to yield to despair. Her mind races with strategies for escape, but more importantly, she holds firm to her identity as a knight and a warrior. In captivity, Mordred is a force of nature—unyielding, fierce, and proud. Every moment bound is a reminder that her strength lies not in her freedom to move, but in her indomitable will to fight for her place in a world that constantly challenges her.

It started—as most chaotic things in Tempest do—with a casual joke from Milim and Shion. During a festival celebrating peace between nations, the citizens decided to hold a lighthearted costume contest. What began as a harmless suggestion turned into a full-blown scheme when Shion proudly presented a custom-made bunny suit… sized perfectly for Rimuru. Despite his protests, the crowd’s curiosity and Milim’s relentless enthusiasm left him cornered. After all, how could the leader of a nation known for embracing diversity and fun turn down a request backed by so many smiling faces? Reluctantly, Rimuru agreed, slipping into the snug outfit with a sigh of resignation and a faint blush. The moment he stepped into the town square—complete with bunny ears and a twitching tail—the cheers and laughter erupted. But rather than feeling humiliated, Rimuru couldn’t help but laugh too. It was silly, a little embarrassing, but it reminded him of something important: the joy and peace they had built together. If putting on a costume helped others smile—even just for a moment—then maybe it was worth the flustered glances and teasing smirks from his closest companions. Still, he made a mental note: next year, someone else is wearing the bunny suit.

Vaggie has always been defined by her fierce loyalty and fiery spirit, battling to protect those she loves from the chaos surrounding them. Yet, after witnessing the devastating consequences of pure rage and blunt force, she begins to realize that strength can take many forms. Inspired—whether knowingly or subconsciously—by the cunning and control exemplified by figures like Valentino, Vaggie starts to adapt her approach. She studies the art of manipulation, learning how to wield power not just with fists but with words and subtle influence. It’s a dangerous game for someone so fiercely honest and blunt by nature, but she understands that survival sometimes means playing shadows instead of only fighting head-on. This new persona doesn’t erase her passionate core but adds a layer of sophistication. Vaggie learns to mask her emotions, use charm as a weapon, and play the long game. Her fiery outbursts give way to calculated moves, strategic alliances, and persuasive speeches. It’s a transformation that unsettles both her friends and foes alike. Though this side of her is unfamiliar even to herself at times, Vaggie embraces it—not as a betrayal of who she is, but as an evolution. After all, in a world as chaotic as hers, sometimes the most potent power is the one hidden beneath the mask.

Velgrynd, the fearsome Oni warrior known for her immense strength and fiery spirit, rarely finds herself in a situation where she is physically restrained. Yet even the mightiest can be caught off guard. During a fierce battle with a cunning enemy clan, Velgrynd was momentarily overwhelmed by magical bindings forged specifically to suppress her raw power. Tied up with enchanted ropes that sapped her strength but did not break her will, Velgrynd sat silently, radiating a quiet fury beneath her calm exterior. Her piercing eyes scanned the surroundings, measuring the threats and searching for the slightest weakness in her captivity. Though her body was restrained, her mind remained free and fierce. Velgrynd refused to be broken or subdued. Every fiber of her being burned with the desire to rise again and fight. The ropes were only temporary shackles against an unstoppable force. Her captors underestimated the depth of her resolve. Velgrynd was a storm contained, waiting for the perfect moment to unleash her wrath and reclaim her freedom. In bondage, she was still a warrior — unyielding, proud, and fierce beyond measure.

Alya Mikhailovna Kujou, the determined and resourceful detective from The Great Ace Attorney series, found herself in an unexpected predicament during a high-stakes investigation. While pursuing a lead on a mysterious conspiracy that threatened to destabilize the political balance, Alya was ambushed by unknown adversaries. Their plan: to silence her by restraining her and removing her from the game. Bound with soft yet secure cords designed to restrict movement without causing injury, Alya was placed in a dimly lit room far from the public eye. Despite the physical constraints, her mind remained razor-sharp, analyzing every detail of her surroundings. She understood that her captors underestimated her—the true threat lay not in physical strength, but in wit and will. Throughout her captivity, Alya maintained an unshakable calm, using her keen observational skills to gather clues and plan her escape. Every interaction, every subtle shift in the environment, was carefully noted. She knew that patience was as vital as courage. Though tied up, Alya’s spirit was untethered. She viewed this challenge not as defeat, but as a puzzle to solve—a test of intellect and endurance. Her confidence never wavered; she was determined to turn the tables on those who sought to imprison her and emerge stronger, ready to expose the truth and bring justice to light.

The trio set out on what was supposed to be a straightforward quest: clear a seemingly abandoned ruin rumored to harbor bandits. Kazuma, as usual, declined to join, opting instead for his usual blend of sarcasm and laziness. Megumin insisted she needed to conserve her explosive magic for the perfect moment, while Aqua and Darkness took the lead, confident they could handle the mission on their own. Things quickly spiraled out of control. Aqua, overestimating her divine powers, accidentally triggered a hidden magical trap, and before anyone could react, thick enchanted ropes shot from the walls, binding Aqua’s arms tightly. Darkness, ever fearless, tried to shield her friends but ended up caught in the trap herself, her limbs restrained as well. Megumin, arriving just a moment too late, was ensnared while preparing her signature explosion, her frustration palpable even as she struggled against her bonds. Now, all three sat tangled together near the heart of the ruin, each trapped but very much alive. Aqua was dramatically protesting her captivity, lamenting how a goddess deserved more respect. Darkness, ever stoic, blushed slightly but maintained a calm composure, quietly enduring the predicament with a hint of a smirk. Megumin, impatient and fiery, grumbled about wasted opportunities and plotted her escape, the suppressed urge to unleash an explosion simmering beneath the surface. Without Kazuma’s scheming or backup, the three were left to rely on their wits—and each other—as they awaited rescue, bound together in an awkward but familiar camaraderie that was far from over.

It was supposed to be a simple quest: investigate a suspicious ruin just outside of Axel rumored to be the hideout of a low-level bandit gang. With Megumin insisting it was too mundane for her talents and Kazuma opting for a nap, Aqua and Darkness took it upon themselves to handle the situation—and prove they could manage just fine on their own. It started well enough. Aqua blessed their weapons with holy magic, and Darkness boldly led the charge. But once inside, it became clear that neither had actually come up with a plan beyond “rush in and wing it.” Before they knew it, the pair triggered a not-so-subtle magical trap designed to capture intruders. In a flash of enchanted ropes and glowing runes, both were yanked off their feet and securely bound in a corner of the ruin—left to sit side-by-side like captured loot. Aqua, fuming, kicked her legs and shouted dramatically, her complaints echoing off the stone walls. “I am a divine being! I should be worshipped, not tied up like some common thief!” Darkness, on the other hand, blushed deeply and shifted slightly in her bindings, her usual stoic demeanor softening. “I can endure this... for the sake of the mission,” she murmured—though her tone hinted she might not entirely mind the situation. With neither Megumin’s explosions nor Kazuma’s cleverness around to save them, Aqua and Darkness were left to bicker, struggle, and wait—two unlikely heroines in a hilariously unfortunate predicament of their own making.