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#I have ideas for most of the characters mind's. I may mention this later
epickiya722 · 2 days
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I just know I'm gonna get people to look at me (my blog) sideways for this and I promise you that is not my intention.
Probably a hot take, probably not.
But after a lot of thinking and writing fics, I'm starting to think that Yuji being Kenjaku's favorite is more fanon than actually canon. Like... is it canon? It is fanon? It just feels so... I don't know how to describe it. It's just something that we barely got any interactions between Kenjaku and Yuji and Kenjaku doesn't really talk about Yuji unless he's brought up somehow and only once they mention him on their own accord.
What I mean is, I don't think Kenjaku looks to Yuji like "that's my favorite child and I care for him". It's more so like, to me, Kenjaku may look to Yuji like "He's my most successful experiment".
I say this because of how Kenjaku is and what they have done. So far, Kenjaku really hasn't done anything worth showing actual affection for their kids. When it comes to Yuji, the most they have done was mention him to his ex-schoolmate Sasaki, talked briefly to Choso about him and told Yuji they expect much from him (during the Culling Games).
Particularly that last bit honed it for me that Kenjaku sees Yuji as another experiment. Throughout chapter 136, Kenjaku had used Yuji twice as an example when discussing their plan for the upcoming Culling Games and it comes off more like someone presenting a project than a parent talking about their kid.
It would make sense to use Yuji as an example to get the others to understand what they mean because Yuji is, at the time, the only person who is a vessel that they know.
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In chapter 203 when asked by Choso what is their plan for Yuji, Kenjakh just answers they don't really have one and that Yuji already plays his part as Sukuna's vessel.
It comes off like "I'm done with him now" way. Like, Kenjaku now has nothing else for Yuji and that project is done. Now, Kenjaku could have said this to tick Choso off and to hide their true intentions, but it also could be how they really do feel about Yuji. Just another tool in their plan in merging humankind with Tengen. Just a start to that plan. Just a vessel for Sukuna.
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In this translation, I noticed Kenjaku calls Yuji "that thing". Now, I don't know how close this is to what Kenjaku may have actually said, but something to think about.
I think back to how in the previous chapter, Kenjaku shows disappointment in how Choso and the rest of the Death Paintings turned out. Again, just experiments for them.
There's also the other instances from other parts of the story. Kenjaku tricking Choso to almost killing Yuji, using a very aggressive attack against Yuji at the end of the Shibuya Arc, lurking around and following Yuji during the arc with Junpei.
Moments like these just feels like, yeah, Kenjaku was watching and testing how their experiment was adapting.
Now, what about in chapter 160 when they thank Sasaki for being nice to Yuji?
I would say that's the only time Kenjaku shows some bit of care to Yuji and interestingly enough, maybe was a little thankful there was someone who didn't make Yuji feel so alone at school and treated him like a person (mind you, Sasaki actually was clueless how people thought of Yuji until she was informed of it). Kenjaku could relate to Yuji in that sense of loneliness.
Now about that scene, it could also just be Kenjaku being Kenjaku and toying with people. That bit was, of course, written to confirm that Kenjaku is Yuji's mother (143 shows Kenjaku possessing Kaori's body). It was at that time Kenjaku was leading people to other locations just to use then later for the merger.
Kenjaku does things for their own amusement and to satisfy their curiosity, after all.
Before thinking otherwise, do I hate the idea if Kenjaku actually caring for Yuji (even in their own evil way)? No! Honestly, it intrigues me. For one, Kenjaku caring for someone is... unique to how they are as a character. It makes me question that after many, many years has Kenjaku finally have someone they feel even a little affection for? Or would that affection come from Kaori, the woman whose body Kenjaku used to birth Yuji.
We don't know much about her, but I think just like Jin, she wanted a child. And no doubt, she would have adored Yuji with everything.
If Suguru reacted to Satoru's voice calling to him and choked Kenjaku... what if whenever Kenjaku does express any bit of affection for Yuji, it's from Kaori?
If techniques can carry from one body to another when Kenjaku inhabits a different one, how about one's own feelings just like their memories? Memories create feelings. What if Kenjaku still has Kaori's memories?
I don't know, I'm just rambling here really.
Still adjusting to fan theories and all that. I'm just finding out there was a theory that Yuki could have been Yuji's mom.
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shiny-jr · 8 months
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from DIASOMNIA
- Warning: Yes, this is still a yandere thing. You have been warned. Gender-neutral reader. 
- Characters: Malleus Draconia, Lilia Vanrouge, Silver, Sebek Zigvolt.
- Summary: (Continuation, after this “we just got a letter, wonder where it’s from”) You have barred them from entering the safety of Ramshackle Dorm, but they are determined to make their words reach you. Which is why the letters begin arriving at your doorstep.
- Note: This is just the first part, only with Diasomnia. I’ll post the rest later once its written. For now, I hope you enjoy this part! Oh, and this was inspired by the mention of letters @qierxing​‘s fic inspired by the whole imposter au idea. So yeah. Hopefully I caught all the mistakes in this post because I am not rereading all that again.
Diasomnia   |   Ignihyde
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Among the first letters you pick is carefully sealed in a black envelope. You found it peculiar that Grim, who had offered to use his claws to open the envelopes, hadn’t been able to cause the slightest tear as if it were being protected by some magic. But it opened with ease during your first attempt to rip it open.
You didn’t care much for the wax family crest that had sealed it, or the black envelope itself. Maybe it would feel liberating to just set them all ablaze as soon as you finished skimming over the carefully written words.
To my dearest human,
I understand the pain I have caused you.
Ever since that moment I betrayed you, all I have seen in my vision and in my mind is your expression of terror. It tortures me. Your terror spurred by my actions and my very own hands. I am your most beloved and loyalest of companions in this world, and yet, had my retainers behind those doors not intervened, you would have been gone forever. And it would have been all my doing, all my fault.
I write this letter to apologize, but as I write this, I realize that there is no forgiving what has been done. Ever. No matter how I plead or what comes from my lips. But I will say this: there are no amount of words that can truly convey how sorry I am. This will haunt me for the remainder of my centuries of life.
Agonizing thoughts plague my mind and torment me at all hours of the day and night, at every and each moment. Even now, I reflect on everything I had done to harm you. While, the time I believed in those falsehoods was minuscule compared to the days others knew and acted upon it, the fact still stands that I was too easily deceived by mere rumors alone. I was blinded by my rage when I heard that someone dared to impersonate you and had been the probable cause of your vessel’s malfunction, that I did not even take a brief respite to consider the validity of the information that reached my ears.
Believe me, although I realize you have no reason to hold even a shred of faith in a single word I say and for that I would not blame you, but I will atone for the crimes I have committed. In any way possible. Even if it takes my entire lifetime, I will continue forward until I have achieved this goal and you may smile upon me once again. There is a human saying, which if I recall correctly I believe goes something like, forgive but never forget. Well, I would beg for forgiveness, while knowing full well that my misdeeds will never truly be forgotten. The harm I inflicted will leave scars that will never fully fade.
For every scratch my nails left on your delicate flesh, you may drive vines of the sharpest thorns against my own skin until blood pools all around me. For every bruise from my hand that tainted you, I would hand you an iron sword to use as you wish against me until you believe I’ve had enough. If it pleased you, I would even utilize my magic to transform into a figure with wings, which I would then proceed to sever the wings by my own hand and offer them to you on a silver platter.
Any punishment you can think of, I would readily accept.
Although living with the guilt of my mistakes and knowledge of the weight of my actions against you, is by far the most painful torture I’ve ever known.
If I do not receive word from you soon, I fear I may go insane with my own guilt. Yet I know I bring this upon myself. And if I were to go insane, if I was not insane this entire time already, you are all that would be in my thoughts. You are all that would remain in the part of my mind that is intact. You are currently and have been all that I think of, so perhaps my sanity is already long gone.
I would venture into the deepest crevices of hell and back, just to prove my worth to you. Even if I must be punished for the rest of my life, so be it. But I implore you to allow me to redeem myself, let yourself bear witness to the incredible feats I may accomplish in your name. Redemption... The thought of perhaps one day receiving the blessing of your smile and your grace once more in the near or distant future, is the light at the end of the tunnel in this dark period of my existence. I am yours. Whether you still desire me or not, I will forever be yours, and I will brave through trials of fire to demonstrate my eternal devotion to you.
Just know that I will do everything in my power to please you. Whether it be to fulfill the judgement you cast upon me, to demonstrate my worth and determination to achieve redemption, or simply because you command it so, it shall be done. 
For now, I will wait on your response and deliberate over my next course of action. Should you desire anything, anything at all, wether it be something as simple as traveling to the store for a purchase, you have a moment of recluse and desire company, or if you command me to move the island or clear the very heavens, all you must do is speak my name. Then, consider it done. Once my name is upon your lips, I will be there as the last syllable leaves your tongue. 
I will await the moment I am summoned.
Forever yours,
Malleus Draconia
That was... unnerving. Your hand unconsciously drifted up to the slight puncture wounds on your neck. They had long since dried, but you vividly remember feeling the thin trail of crimson being drawn and dripping down like a steady stream. 
You could remember the way Malleus withdrew as soon as he realized the truth, like he had been burned with his hands on you in that fashion. The blood, your blood, staining his sharpened nails. The red was deeper than any nail polish or ink. 
You were nearly sent spiraling, until you felt a tap and the texture of paper against your arm. When you glance down, you see Grim pressing his paws with another crumpled letter onto you. The ink on this letter is red, but the feline’s wide curious eyes are a glowing blue. 
“You okay? What’s so interesting about that wall you’re lookin’ at? You’re kinda just staring off into nothing there.” 
Offering a grateful nod to Grim who frowned worriedly, you accept the already opened envelope while tossing aside the letter from Malleus. “I’m good. Just... thinking.” 
Lifting a hand, you place your palm against his head and scratch the spot behind his ears. Grim lets out a content purr and holds a bag of junk food, which he probably found among the mountain of gifts, and curls up beside you. You continue the slow and soothing scratches as you use your freehand to unravel the letter Grim brought you from the towering stacks. 
This envelope was already cut open. It was a light brown and more square-shaped as thin rope kept it tied together. It had a mash of colorful strings that formed a messy bow to top it off. At least, you assumed it was meant to be a bow, but it looked more like a messy knot that would be impossible to untangle. Good thing it was already partially cut by Grim’s claws earlier. 
As mentioned, the ink was red, an interesting choice. While the handwriting was not as elegant as Malleus’ letter. Some words were written neatly, before falling off the line and blending with other words. Making it a bit difficult to read, but you managed. 
If you’re reading this, 
This means that I am not irredeemable in your eyes. 
Had I been beyond redemption, you would have not even opened this letter. If this was a lost cause, a merry dance, this paper would’ve been tossed into the trash without a second thought. But, my words have reached you. You’re reading this right now, aren’t you? It’s why I decided to write this. I could predict the actions you’d take. You are different from your vessel, but it’s only natural that you would act similarly to the silly little doll you controlled, the same doll that sparked this whole fiasco. 
I truly am so sorry if I frightened you. While I will admit, it was my intention to strike fear into your heart and use you to serve for another dubious purpose, that was when I hadn’t recognized you. Although, I know this doesn’t mean much to you, I figured I should be entirely honest to you. It’s the least I can do. I’m such a fool for being quick to believe the rumors like some sort of senseless child.
All I can do now, is remain true and offer up my loyalty. It’s nothing compared to the mistakes I made, and I’ve made plenty, but I know an apology will never suffice. So, even if you’re still uncertain about redemption, I’ll remain loyal. Among all the beings and creatures I’ve met in my lifetime, you remain an enigma. You’re human, but at the same time, you’re different. There continues to be so much I do not know of you. I wonder, could you hear me whenever I spoke to your plaything? Do you recall the stories I told, of my time as a reckless youth? Foolhardy, wild, that I was. But I was also fiercely loyal. For the Draconias, I razed down all foes like wheat in a field. 
Now that I consider it, perhaps it's best if you hadn’t heard me recount those tales. While I had been eager to share with you my experiences and act out my thrilling adventures, perhaps my story telling was much too graphic. I wouldn’t want the vivid details of bloodshed to be cause for alarm as our most recent encounter was far from pleasant. You have to forgive me, sometimes I get carried away when narrating my accomplishments and exploits. I’ll share more light-hearted memories with you the next time we meet. 
Our first meeting with your true self really went abysmally, didn’t it? I know that things never really go as planned, so I don’t bother planning such things in advance. But, I had pictured it to be a lovely moment. Silver and Sebek would look at you with shining eyes and proclaim their loyalty as they had practiced vows over and over again for such an occasion, I would get to embrace your true form and unlock your secrets, and of course Malleus would be truly content for once as he finally received the company he deserved. 
But, as expected, things didn’t go accordingly. 
Those three youths are miserable, thinking of the proper words to pen, a way to apologize for the suffering they’ve caused. But now, we are the ones suffering because we hurt you. 
They write and write, but tear their letters over and over again as they believe no words they’ve written so far are adequate. Soon they’ll realize that no words will ever be sufficient for an apology. Even if they were to create new words that are unheard of by any dictionary, it would not come close to being enough. That’s why I’ve decided to stick with this single attempt, because I already know that nothing I ever write will measure up to being acceptable. 
There is something about you that always leaves me bemused. Your grace left me feeling dizzy and giddy, like I was experiencing a little crush again, although this was much more intense than any crush. The truth about your vessel controlled by you, had me perplexed as I had never heard of such a thing. And well, the disastrous chase that followed your arrival... you know that part well and could assume how I feel about that from what I’ve told you. At present, all I can do is remain loyal, for what my loyalty is worth to you. Beyond that, despite having an abundance of experiences, there is no such situation that could have prepared me for this moment. 
Genuinely, I am stumped once again. I cannot even envision what can be done with my own two hands, that can be worthy of your attention once again and earn me redemption. But, you can be certain of one thing, and that is: my loyalty is undying. I still have a few years left in these old bones of mine, and I will use the rest of my life to serve you. 
Whether you want me or not. If you still want me, I will be of use to you. Whatever you are in need of, a soldier, a plaything, a companion, or even someone to take out your anger on. I shall be it. If you don’t want me, I will still be there. I will always be there to smile and lift your spirits like you once did for me through your doll. 
I eagerly wait for word from you. 
Until we meet again soon, 
Lilia Vanrouge
None of these letters were comforting in the slightest. In fact, they only placed you further on edge. For a moment, you considered stopping it here after only two and getting rid of the rest. 
Grim by now had settled in your lap, and looked up at you with those watchful blue eyes. Had he been staring at you the entire time? 
“Let me guess, they’re not taking it well?” 
“No, not at all.” You answer with a grimace. If this was how they were like now, you didn’t even want to know how they acted when they found out your vessel stopped working over a week ago. 
“Huh, sucks for them.” The feline stretched out, his claws poking out for a moment before quickly retracting as he plopped back down on his back with his stomach up. Maybe it was his own attempts to fill the silence, or to let you know you weren’t alone, but he eventually groaned. “Hey, read me one. I wanna know what they say.” 
Unable to say no to your companion, you nodded slowly and smiled weakly, “Alright, alright, let’s see what we have here...” 
You plucked out a random letter with neat packaging. However, just because the exterior was pretty, didn’t mean the interior message would be. You learned that already from the last two letters you had read. 
This envelope looked somewhat similar to the last one, square-shaped and tied closed with string. However, instead of the knot of ribbons on it, it held a simpler gift. The brown rope around it was tied in a neat bow, and between the string were lavender stems with a small branch of wild berries. 
Grim immediately indulged in the berries and the flowers, staining his little fangs and whiskers with the sweet sticky juice and purple petals. All the while exclaiming, “Oh, oh! I remember this letter. Some bird came to drop it and it flew away just before I could catch it...” 
A short laugh escaped your lips as you hear him. “So that’s why you were grumbling this morning.” 
Not wanting to be reminded again, he swat his paw at your nose as the feline hissed, “Shh! Just read already!” 
Dear player, 
I truly am deeply remorseful and I offer my sincerest apologies. 
I was to be a knight, that has been something I have strived for ever since I was a child. A knight not just to serve Malleus but to protect others, and eventually I discovered my purpose was to serve you as well. But... all I did was stand idly by and watch the torment. Shortly after meeting your vessel, I had promised to shield you from all danger. I broke that promise. 
I cannot imagine how frightened you must have been. Had just one person stop and thought things through, they may have realized the horrible mistake that was being made. Had I acted as soon as I felt the tug on my heart when I saw you weakened and on the dirt, I may have saved you from anymore pain. 
Those eyes, your eyes, I see them in my sleep. You were scared, and through your gaze you were pleading for help, were you not? I see it every time I close my eyes. You witnessed it yourself, the very moment when I had failed you. You were right there, so close I could have extended a helping hand. But my grief rendered me sightless, all I could think of in that moment is how my heart ached and how I longed to see you again. Even if it was through your vessel. The rumors didn’t quite make any sense to me, as I wondered how could anyone possibly be so cruel as to tear you away from us? 
Father had said that it would all be over soon. That capturing the imposter and bringing them to their knees, would make everything better. But when I saw you on the ground before we learned of your identity, I couldn’t help but wonder if this was alright. Would the player have wanted this? Would they have scorned upon witnessing the scene? Would this undoubtedly end the throbbing pain I felt in my heart? The pain was becoming unbearable, and I was not the only one to feel it. The news made little sense to me. Sebek insisted that it was true, and Father seemed to believe so as well. However, that is no excuse for how I went along as if it were okay. 
You were innocent and helpless, you, the player, not only witnessed the scene but were the victim. I’m so sorry, I should have done something... If it were the only way to gain your forgiveness, I would spend every moment of my waking hours writing letters of apology. To do so I would keep myself awake for as long as humanely possible. If asked, I would use every moment to pen these letters, each different from the last. Although after several attempts in redoing this single letter, I realize that it would be a pointless endeavor. 
After reflecting, the only way to make up for what I have do is be patient. 
Be patient and await for word from you. I cannot force you, I cannot pressure you, I can only pause and prepare myself to do whatever I must in order to earn back your grace. 
Please, do not keep me waiting too long. I know I have no right to ask you this. I’m willing to wait years if needed, but part of me has this fear that I will never regain a spot near your heart until I’m frail and feeble with age. Rest assured, even in old age, I would be willing to be your knight. Even if my bones ached, I would raise my sword and shield. If I couldn’t use my weakened legs, I would call upon a horse to be my steed. And if I were to become magicless, I would use the remainder of my physical strength to serve you. 
If I may be honest with you? I have no idea what to do. Yes, I said I would wait, but what else can I do? What can I do to eventually secure a place beside you, if it were possible? In times of trouble I normally turn to Lilia and Malleus for advice, however, I am a bit unsettled by their approach to this delicate matter. Truthfully, I am anxious, but while they share the sentiment, they are oddly confident that things will turn out alright in the end. I am unsure how they can muster the self-assurance to quell their fears. Maybe they know something that I do not, and have decided not to share this secret for now... 
Nevertheless, for now I’ll eagerly anticipate the day we can reunite just as I have dreamed. I greatly look forward to the second where not only I can see you smile once again and your eyes might finally look at me with content, but also the moment where all those I know might get the opportunity to be in your peaceful grace. 
I’ve dragged this letter on for too long. If you were to take something away from this letter, let it be this: I will carry out your wishes. No matter what you may think of me, whether it be a positive or negative image in your mind, I will continue forward in your name. Even if you think me unfit for the title of knight, then consider me a humble servant instead. Nothing will shake my commitment, and I will do whatever it is you ask. 
This is a pledge that will not be broken. 
Cordially, 
Silver
This letter felt a bit lighter than the others. Still, it was slightly intense in its own way, but it was nowhere near as extreme as the previous two were. And, maybe you had a better opinion on Silver, not because he was gentle with his words but because he was one of the very few who hadn’t threatened you, directly harmed you, or treated you cruelly. 
But! He didn’t get a free pass just because of that. Yes, he may not have directly caused any harm, but he didn’t exactly help you either. 
Grim had taken the letter from you, and inspected the paper in his paws. He held it above his head, scrunching up his nose a bit as he looked it over. “I dunno... he’s okay.” 
At that, you roll your eyes a bit as a smirk crept up from the corner of your mouth. “You’re not just saying that because his letter came with a snack?” 
“No! You think me easy to bribe? I think not! It would take a whole bucket full of berries just to get me to even discuss it. Then, I’d turn them down and take the berries anyways!” The feline proclaimed his brilliant plan should that situation ever arise. Maybe the gifts you allowed him to take were starting to get to his head. “But... he could be worse. Silver, as dumb as he was like everyone else, he did hear me out after they separated us.” 
Silver did that? If that were true, it’s possible that he wasn’t as bad as the others who had wronged you.
“That’s... good to know.” You murmur as you pluck up another random envelope from the pile. 
The last envelope you pick up before you planned to take a break was surprisingly plain. It was just that. A plain white envelope, sealed by green wax with what looked like a family crest that depicted a creature with fangs and scales. One of the corners was crinkled, as if it was gripped too tightly there. 
As soon as you slid out the folded letter, you were bombarded by the ink. Whoever had wrote this, seemed like they applied too much force. This caused certain parts of some letters to be too round and heavy with ink that made those bits feel damp and stain your fingers the slightest bit. Like whoever wrote this, placed just as much pressure with their hands on the pen gliding across the page, as much pressure as they felt weighing on their mind. 
Great Player, 
As I pen this, I am on my hands and knees.
I have prepared a multitude of letters which I will send daily, so that now and in the future you will continue to hear my apology and know I truly mean it. One admission of regret is not enough. An apology is only an acknowledgment of an offense, it does not absolve one of their wrongdoings. I know this! So, I, Sebek Zigvolt, will atone by any means necessary! 
To you, the player who I wronged and deserves nothing but happiness and perfection, I give my deepest sincerest profuse apology. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m SORRY. Right now when I look at my hands that I use to write, I’m reminded of the vicious way I grabbed you like some... heathen! These hands sullied your flawless self, and for that alone I will never forgive myself!
Had it not been for the wise words of Master Lilia and the bothersome yet logical reasoning from Silver, I would have been at your door everyday, every hour, begging for a second chance. In the midst of brainstorming, I presented my idea of crawling on hands and knees, from Diasomnia to the Ramshackle Dorm, to deliver the letter myself. Then, I would display whatever cuts or bruises formed on my palms and knees which I would receive from the rocky roads or thorns, that way you may see my devotion was true and no lengths are too great when it comes to you! No matter the pain or burden! The idea seems to appeal to Lord Malleus, but I was told that it comes off as too extreme...
But! I beg to differ!! I only consider it so that you may understand what I feel, so that you might comprehend the things I would do for you, and receive me back in your good graces! Additionally, delivering the letter in this manner would cause me as much or more physical pain than I caused you! It is a shame that things have come to this. I had wished so much for our first proper meeting to be one of joy where you might accept me as your knight! In spite of that, I will not falter in shame! If I were to deliver the following letters in that method I had detailed earlier, I would wear the scars proudly! It would be physical proof of my faithfulness towards you! 
I am sorry, and I will continue to say it. Perhaps, this may be presumptuous of me, but if you consider it, Diasomnia did not torment you nearly as long as any other insolent dorm had! And! We retainers accompanied Lord Malleus every day to check on the wellbeing of your vessel, and watch over it while investigating various possible approaches on how to revive Yuu. We diligently did this until the moment we encountered your true self! 
I swear to you, no one shall harm you from this moment forth! 
From now on, I’ll march forward and see to it that you are never hurt ever again! This is something I know that my fellow dormmates will tirelessly work toward as well. 
Have you realized that we have been guarding you and the serenity of your dorm in the past days? Have you not thought it strange that none have come to needlessly pester you? Yes, that is all thanks to the efforts of those in Diasomnia! Even when you do not realize it, we are insuring your welfare and the tranquility you require to recover! Of course, as much as I desperately want to inform you of the details, I will not. It is best you don’t know. 
Now, I must be honest with you. Originally, I had planned this letter to be much longer and have contents that would have been much different than what you are currently reading. I aimed to be honest in my feelings! But before I could sign off on the original draft, I realized that the others may be in the right. It is possible that our devotion, my devotion, may come off as disquieting if I were completely sincere. I’ve had to restrain myself on many occasions, reminding myself to at least appear collected and controlled. That is not as easy as it sounds! 
How could it be, when the one I must suppress my emotions and actions for, is you? That’s as if asking to repress part of my very soul and heart! I absolutely detest hiding it!! But when I remember this is for you and your own comfort, it becomes bearable. I can only hope that soon, very soon, I might be able to unveil my true sentiments towards you! As intense and extreme as they may be! 
It seems that I’m nearing the word limit that they imposed. Once again, I apologize. I’ll have to contemplate new ways to write ‘sorry.’ I wish I could write a million more words for you! But even a million words wouldn’t be anywhere near a satisfactory amount for me to detail how much I revere you! And it would take more than another million words for me to write a full apology, but even then I wouldn’t be satisfied! No single letter is adequate enough, so be prepared to receive the rest I have written! 
I will make sure they are delivered posthaste! 
Faithfully, 
Sebek Zigvolt 
Great... you’re back to being unnerved again. 
There was something about them all being so weirdly obsessed, but in vary different ways. Malleus and Lilia puzzled you, they had you feeling the most uneasy by far. Maybe it had to do with the fact that they were both not human, they were arcane beings with enigmatic personalities and objectives that were incomprehensible to you. 
Out of the four, Silver was the only one that was fully human like yourself, but even he was a bit of a mystery as he was raised by the fae. It was hard to be wary of him, which was probably because your distrust and fear of him wasn’t as intense as it was towards the others due to his good nature and lack of actions he took during the whole disaster. 
As for Sebek, well, he was unnerving in his own right but it was nowhere near on the level that Malleus and Lilia were on. At the very least he wasn’t a complete mystery to you. It was easy to figure out his intentions, because he either said them or wore them on his sleeve. 
Your mind was spinning as you looked over the four letters, filled with lines upon lines and more lines of pages. In that moment your breath quickened as you noticed the cloudy sky outside. For a brief second, you feared you would see that familiar flash of green lightning, taking you back to that dark day when you nearly died. It’s like you could feel Sebek’s hands tightly gripping the back of your skull that forced you against the earth, you saw Silver’s sorrowful gaze that spoke a thousand words you didn’t yet understand, you heard Lilia’s words hinting to a doomed fate of becoming some lifeless doll, and god, you couldn’t forget him even if you wanted to. Malleus. He was the worst of all. You felt his nails and fingers constricting around your neck and squeezing out all the air, you saw his haunting green eyes with those slit pupils as he glowered at you with such anger and hate, and you heard what you had thought would be the last words you ever heard come from his lips––
“Hey!” 
You were torn out of those dark thoughts by the feline in your lap. A concerned frown tugged at Grim’s lips, but once he saw he had your attention, he mustered a slight grin as he held up what looked like an armful of snacks. At least, as much as he could carry in his small paws. From his grin, you could see his little fangs still covered in the remnants of the berries and flower petals.
“Look, I found your favorite! This is getting boring, so let’s just take a break!”
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sideprince · 3 months
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Eileen Prince
I'm relentlessly curious about how a witch from Slytherin, a house that values cunning and ambition on paper, and bloodlines/nobility in its culture, ended up living in a muggle slum.
Unfortunately for me, she's a barely mentioned character written by an author who consistently fails to portray female characters with depth or dimension. The women in Harry Potter are portrayed as either maternal or villains, or, in Ginny Weasley's case, as redeemed by their masculine traits (because Rowling's Thatcher era feminism dictates that equality for women = emulating patriarchal ideas of manhood). About as much as you can expect from an author who's as unable to acknowledge the personhood of trans women as she is to write women as actual people. This leaves a lot of room for interpreting or delving into what Eileen Prince's life may have looked like, and how that would have affected her son's development.
There are three direct mentions of Eileen in the text :
“The picture showed a skinny girl of around fifteen. She was not pretty; she looked simultaneously cross and sullen, with heavy brows and a long, pallid face. Underneath the photograph was the caption: Eileen Prince, Captain of the Hogwarts Gobstones Team.”
HBP Ch. 25
“I was going through the rest of the old Prophets and there was a tiny announcement about Eileen Prince marrying a man called Tobias Snape, and then later an announcement saying that she’d given birth to a" “ — murderer,” spat Harry.
HBP ch. 30
“Harry looked around: he was on platform nine and three-quarters, and Snape stood beside him, slightly hunched, next to a thin, sallow-faced, sour-looking woman who greatly resembled him.”
DH Ch. 33
(Shoutout to Harry James Potter, who didn't recognize Eileen's fifth year photo despite her resemblance to Snape, the teacher whose classroom he got his used Potions book from. Shoutout also to Harry James Potter who didn't connect the dots between the Prince's handwriting and Snape's, a teacher who regularly wrote instructions on the board. "I needed to make the plot work, ok?" - JK Rowling, probably.)
Other relevant excerpts:
“Snape staggered - his wand flew upwards, away from Harry - and suddenly Harry’s mind was teeming with memories that were not his: a hook-nosed man was shouting at a cowering woman, while a small dark-haired boy cried in a corner ”
OoTP Ch. 26
“Harry delved into his trunk and pulled out his copy of Advanced Potion-Making before getting into bed. There he turned its pages, searching, until he finally found, at the front of the book, the date that it had been published. It was nearly fifty years old.”
HBP Ch. 16
Supplemental material re: Gobstones from JK Rowling:
"...it remains a minority sport within the wizarding world, and does not enjoy a very ‘cool’ reputation, something its devotees tend to resent. Gobstones is most popular among very young wizards and witches, but they generally ‘grow out’ of the game, becoming more interested in Quidditch as they grow older.  ... Gobstones enjoys limited popularity at Hogwarts, ranking low among recreational activities, way behind Quidditch and even Wizarding Chess." [There's an additional sentence on the Harry Potter wiki's Gobstones page: "...it is also known as 'the thinking wizard's Quidditch.'"]
A few conclusions can be drawn from what little information we're given about Eileen:
She's described as "cross and sullen" around the age of 15, and as "sallow-faced, sour-looking" when she's older.
She's captain of the Gobstones club around her fifth year, so she likely marched to the beat of her own drum - given that Gobstones isn't particularly popular - and owns it proudly enough to take, or even seek out, a leadership role.
The sport is described as "the thinking wizard's Quidditch" which would imply Eileen was more interested in intellectual challenges and was clever (and can be paralleled with a young Severus' comment about "if you'd rather be brawny than brainy" to James Potter when they first meet on the Hogwarts Express).
Her marriage and the birth of her son are both announced in the paper, which might mean the family she came from was of some importance or note, or perhaps something else... but we'll get to that.
If we assume that Severus' secondhand copy of Advanced Potion Making was originally Eileen's (reasonable, though there is no textual evidence) then its publication date is likely around the time she was a sixth year, given that this particular text was specific to students beginning to prep for N.E.W.T. exams. Harry begins his sixth year in 1996 when the book is "nearly fifty years old," so we can assume Eileen was 16 years old sometime not long after 1946. Severus was born in 1960, which would mean Eileen was in her mid-late 20s at the time.
Her marriage was dysfunctional at best, abusive at worst. As per a Pottermore post that is still up on WizardingWorld.com: "...the desperately lonely and unhappy childhood [Severus] had with a harsh father who didn’t hold back when it came to the whip." Based on this, we can assume Tobias was abusive, and given Eileen's cowering as he shouted at her, she presumably feared him.
From these bits of information emerges the image of a woman who either had a surly personality, or at the very least was guarded, though perhaps just formal. There isn't really any difference in how her face is set when she's in an everyday setting like King's Cross, or when she's having her picture taken for the Gobstones Club. It's possible she was a stern, unsmiling person, but it's also possible - given that her wedding and child were announced in the paper - that she came from a family of some standing and was raised to conduct herself with hallmarks of British class, such as dignity and unaffectedness. After all, there are several wizarding families - such as the Potters - who are wealthy purebloods with social standing but are not part of the Sacred 28. Additionally, the Gobstones Club portrait would have been taken around the mid-1940s, when portraits were formal and their subjects did not often smile, and given that we see only a snippet of Eileen, we don't have enough information that she was unhappy or sour. It's also important to remember that we see her portrait and Snape's memory of her through Harry's perspective and, like his perception of Snape himself, this may convey Harry's biases.
We also know from the text that Snape had a house in a deserted part of Cokeworth, a fictional Midlands town that presumably had a collapsed milling industry, at the end of a street called Spinner's End. There's a great thread that goes into details about the kind of 2 up 2 down house it would have been, and we can assume that this is Snape's family home given that we know he and Lily grew up in Cokeworth. For all intents and purposes, the conclusion we can draw from this being the Snape family's home in the 60s is that they were working class and cripplingly poor. Most estates like this had been cleared by the 60s, and no longer exist today.
This begs the question: how did a witch from a possibly well-off family end up in an abusive marriage in an irrelevant slum?
Buckle up kids, we're leaving the world of textual references and veering into deep meta territory now. I won't label any of this as head canon because I'm not set on these interpretations, and am just drawing conclusions from the text, but some of it may be a bit loose even for meta.
If Eileen was 16 years old not long after 1946, then she would have finished school in the late 40s, possibly even 1950. While some people (including past me) posit the theory that Tobias may have been injured in WWII and his injuries debilitated him, forcing him to go on the dole and affecting his mental health, I'm increasingly skeptical of this theory. It would make more sense if Eileen had known him before he was drafted/enlisted and had committed to a relationship with him, which would then have changed when he came back from the war and was altered. If we assume Eileen's age based on the idea that it was her own copy of Advanced Potion Making Severus used, then she would still have been at school during WWII (which makes an interesting parallel with Severus' own experience of spending the bulk of the first wizarding war against Voldemort as a student at school).
I do think, however, that there's merit in the theory that Tobias suffered some kind of altering injury and that he wasn't necessarily abusive before Eileen committed herself to him. It makes little sense for a Slytherin graduate who was confident and self-posessed enough to be the face of an unpopular club to be drawn to a partner so abusive his shouts caused her to cower and who whipped his child freely. If, however, he was a charming, happy man when they met who suffered a life-altering injury, the trauma of which left him a shell of his former self, then someone like Eileen might stick around for the sake of the parts of his old self she can still see in him.
It's interesting that she didn't seem to use her magic to protect herself or her son, or even to dress her son in clothing that fit, but we know from the text that depression can cause a wizard's powers to wane:
“...it is also possible that her unrequited love and the attendant despair sapped her of her powers; that can happen”
HBP Ch. 13 (Dumbledore talking about Merope Gaunt)
The fact that the Snapes retained the house in Spinner's End seems to indicate that they continued to live there even when the local industry dried up and the slum was cleared as workers were moved to other parts of the country where they were needed (presumably what happened given *gestures at British history*). The most likely explanation for this would be that Tobias wasn't able to work, and perhaps did suffer an injury, only it was at work, and not during the war. This would mean the family lived on the dole (ie. welfare) and also that he would have spent a lot more time at home. It would also explain his anger and frustration that led to abusive behavior (which isn't to say that disabled people are abusive by any means, but it would have been emasculating for a man who considered himself the breadwinner in the 60s, and chronic pain coupled with limited abilities would give anyone a short fuse).
Moreover, this living situation seems to indicate that there is no additional support coming from anywhere. Where is Eileen's family? Why were they not helping? There's no indication in the text that there is any connection with them at all. We can infer from Snape's memories that, as a child, he learned what he knew about the magical world from his mother. This implies that she talked to him about it a fair amount, and his conviction that he and Lily were going to Hogwarts well before they got their letters also implies that Eileen expected him to go there and was set on her son having a magical education, despite how little she seemed to use her own powers.
Severus knows a lot about the wizarding world as a child, including that prisoners are sent to Azkaban and that it's guarded by Dementors, Hogwarts' house structure and what to expect when he and Lily get there, and about the Statute of Secrecy and the laws around it. When Lily asks him if it makes a difference being Muggleborn, Severus hesitates before replying no, presumably because he's aware of pureblood bias being a part of wizarding culture.
Perhaps that's the reason Eileen's family doesn't seem to be in the picture. My own theory is that Eileen hadn't planned to commit herself to Tobias long-term, and Severus was an accidental outcome of an innocent tryst in which a young Eileen, an educated witch from a well to do pureblood family, was having fun slumming it with a working class muggle and ended up pregnant. While we don't know the wizarding world's attitude around pregnancy and abortion, we do know it's a conservative and classist society that parallels muggle British culture fairly closely, and that the late 50s/early 60s were a time when an out of wedlock baby would have been considered a disgrace.
Add to that the anti-muggle bias of a pureblood family and it sounds like Eileen was disowned her for her mistake (and don't @ me, but even though I know that not all Slytherins are purebloods, it does seem to be a persistent cultural value of the house reaching back to Salazar Slytherin himself, so Eileen's being sorted into it can reasonably be taken as an indication of her blood status). Perhaps the marriage and birth announcements in the Daily Prophet were put in by Eileen herself, if she was a woman from a family where this was customary. It may have been her way of letting her family know of the events, or even of asserting herself and even deliberately defying them, announcing to the whole wizarding world that a Prince married and had a child with a muggle. It makes sense that the girl who wasn't just in the Gobstones club, but became captain, would also say to herself, why shouldn't I have my marriage announced in the paper like everyone else in the family?
It's worth noting that mid-late 20s is pretty young to have a baby in the wizarding world, where the life expectancy and child bearing years are much longer than they are for a muggle. According to the Harry Potter wiki:
"Wizard life expectancy in Britain reached an average 137¾ years in the mid-1990s, according to the Ministry of Divine Health ... Wizards in general have a much longer life expectancy than Muggles, usually living two or three times as long as their non magical counterparts, some living even longer than that depending on circumstances. In addition, seeing as James Potter's parents had him "late in life,” witches likely have significantly longer childbearing years than Muggle women."
Although we see several characters in Severus' generation getting married and having kids not long after leaving school, there's a mention in the text that a lot of people were doing this during Voldemort's reign, as the fear he inspired made people more eager to get a move on with life since they thought they might die any day (I think Mrs. Weasley says this but I can't find the quote, @ me if you do). It's clear this wasn't the norm in the wizarding world. Eileen was a Slytherin, a house that values cunning, ambition, and strong wizarding heritage. Something must have gone very wrong in Eileen's life for her to end up having a child so young and living in a muggle slum.
And so it's possible Eileen Prince found herself pregnant and alone, having been disowned by her family to save face in light of her disgrace, and dependent on the only person she was still close to, the father of her child. It's the kind of storyline that Rowling would write, and it would parallel fairly closely the story of Voldemort's mother, thus adding another to the long list of similarities between Voldemort and Snape.
Lorrie Kim makes an interesting point when she talks about how Snape has a strong reaction to other people having a love life or romantic experiences (the context being Rowling's intention of his love for Lily being romantic and unrequited), but doesn't react particularly strongly to mothers sacrificing themselves for their children, whereas Voldemort does. Her insight, and I think it's a reasonable one, is that Severus accepts the idea of mothers making sacrifices for their children, whether it's Lily giving her life for Harry or Narcissa risking all she did to ask for his help in protecting Draco, because his own mother protected him from his father as much as she could.
There's a lot of room for interpretation on what Eileen's relationship with her son looked like, and what it says about her own state. She may have prioritized not angering Tobias to protect Severus, who as a child might have perceived her actions as a form of rejection. At the same time, she seems to have prepared him thoroughly for life in the magical world, perhaps in the hope that he would find his place in it and escape home. Perhaps she missed it and told him so much about it so she could live through her own memories.
The only time we see her argue with Tobias, in Severus' memory, she's cowering as he shouts. We know from JK Rowling that Tobias used corporal punishment liberally, which implies Eileen didn't stop him despite her magical abilities. We also see in the text, however, that while at school Severus stood up for himself against bullies and fought back, and that he was an exceptionally clever and powerful wizard. As an adult he was brave enough to face Dumbledore when he betrayed Voldemort, and later fought against Voldemort right under his nose (or lack thereof). So it stands to reason that at some point Severus began to stand up against Tobias too.
How much of that was Eileen's influence, or the result of Severus seeing her acceptance of her fate and rejecting it for himself, is hard to say. As for what happened to Tobias and Eileen that their house was Severus' by the mid-90s and they were nowhere in sight, I don't think there's enough information in the text to infer.
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genshindsau · 9 months
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Pleasure for Two, Punishment for One - Part Two
Summary: Genshin!au, Empress!au. Its finally Scaramouche's turn to be dealt with after having to watch you and Aether. Except the fact that you are not done with his punishment and instead drag it out until he is completely pliant and submissive for you.
CW: Dom!reader, sub!character, reverse harem, bondage, tentacle use, OOC, mentions of voyeurism, throatfucking, gagging, unsafe sex, cum eating, urethral insertion, edging, use of "no" but there is a safeword system so reader ignored him when he says no, one line mention of rimming, anal, aftercare.
Part One
On top of the wrinkled bed sheets laid a naked and exhausted Aether. He was covered in sweat, cum, and drool but he couldn't bring himself to care. All he could feel was a satisfying ache run throughout his body. He was still trembling and just coherent enough that he could barely make out the feeling of your hand on his back as you rubbed it. One of your fingers grazed his backside and he couldn't suppress the flinch. His hole was bright red and sore to the touch, indicating just how well used he was. Despite wanting to curl up to you, he couldn't even make himself move.
He vaguely made out the breathless chuckle that left your lips.
"Are you okay to stay there for a while?" It took a second to process you were talking to him. Fighting the sleepiness that was starting to settle over him, he wrestled with keeping his eyes open.
"I still have someone else to take care of," He managed to spot you, who was also nude, but then he was able to remember one more person that was in the room.
Huh, I forgot he was here, Aether distantly thought. In the same position as earlier sat Scaramouche. Instead of the intimating concubine Aether was used to, sat someone who looked completely debauched. His body was shaking, constant watery sobs and pleads left his lips, tears fell freely from his eyes and the most noticeable were the tentacles that continued to explore and play with his body.
You brushed hair behind Aether's ears while waiting for his answer. It seemed to take a few seconds to register that you were asking him something. However, in the end he was able to nod. Knowing he was most likely about to fall asleep you decided that you would clean him later. Once you're done with Scaramouche it would be best to just let them soak in the baths for a while.
Speaking of Scaramouche, you moved to get off the bed and then stood in front of him. In the back of his mind he was able to understand that you were in front of him, but he struggled with lifting his head.
"I - please - I can't, i cant, i cant, i cant," he repeated as his head fell forward, his forehead against your thighs. He had no strength left in his body and every nerve felt like it was on fire. With no idea how long he was forced to deal with this pleasurable bordering on painful torment while watching you and Aether, it felt like it would never end. He stopped counting after Aether came the fifth time and you the second.
"Is it hard? Does it hurt?" Your words may have been sympathetic, but your tone was anything but. There was mockery underneath your words and your hand roughly pulled his head back and off your thigh. He felt a rush of tears well up in his eyes at the rough treatment.
"I'm sor-" he voices fell off into a sob when the tentacle that was in his ass gave a sharp thrust causing his body to jerk as best as it could while still wrapped in ropes.
"Hmm? I couldn't hear you." You squatted in front of him, your hand still in his hair. He was granted another thrust, followed by another and he was hoping that maybe this time you would let him cum. However, the tentacle also resumed its place back into his urethra. Just a few thrusts would have made him cum, he knew that, and you definitely knew that based on the way you manipulate the tentacle with your magic. You were dead set on not letting him cum.
"I'm - ahh - sorry. pleaseplease." Scaramouche was beginning to let out garbled nonsense. His prostate was being hit with each thrust, but he couldn't cum. He couldn't cum. He couldn't cum. That thought brought fresh tears to his eyes.
He could feel the burning in his stomach as he was forced to linger on the edge. His cock felt like it was about to combust, all slick and red. The tentacle slithered down his urethra, refusing to let him properly cum and scaramouche just broke, gasping sobs leaving his lips as drool slipped out of his mouth and onto the floor.
His hair was let go by you and he slumped down a little bit due to the loss of tension.
"Scaramouche," he could vaguely recognize your voice through his muddled mind. "Look at me."
You were speaking, he could hear you, but he couldn't comprehend what you were saying. It wasn't until a hand gripped his chin and angled his face towards you that he was able to focus on something. The rest of the world blurred out as he focused on your face and your face alone. When you saw the glossy look in his eyes, indicating how lost in his mind he was become, you softened your tone.
"I suppose it would be too much to expect you to listen. At least not when you're as mindless as you are right now." You offered false sympathy as you lightly shook his head with your fingers that were gripping his chin.
"Y'know many people complain about the words you spew out. About how you're too rude, too condescending, too arrogant." One of your fingers traced the glossiness of his lips as you spoke before dipping into his mouth and running over his tongue, coating your fingers with his saliva. "Afterall, this is what got you in this position in the first place."
"I guess I'm going to have to make it to where you won't be able to speak for a while."
The next thing Scaramouche was able to distantly recognize was the feeling of something soft on his tongue. His tongue moved at the pressure and felt around the new intrusion in his mouth. He was rewarded with a small moan that left your lips. For the first time you placed a gentle and delicate hand on his head which caused Scaramouche to lean forward, pressing against it and seeking out for that comfort.
"ah - ack," Scaramouche was interrupted with a garbled cough as he pressed forward trying to chase the comfort of your hand on his head, unintentionally pushing your cock deeper into the tight cavern of his throat. Even with the coughing and the obvious fluttering of his throat, you refused to pull out, opting to hold him still and force him to get used to the feeling of your length down his throat.
You gave him a few seconds to try and calm down until the majority of the coughing subsided. Scaramouche squirmed, his hands aching to come and rest against you but all that did was ignite a slight burning in the skin around his wrist due to him straining against the rope.
You pulled back a fraction but still kept the head of your cock in his mouth. Scaramouche eagerly sucked in as much air as possible, his chest heaving with his deep breaths.
Deeming he had enough time to situate himself you tightened the grip in his hair, "Be good for me and maybe I'll let you come afterwards."
That was all the warning he got before you pushed his head forward and thrusted your hips as well. With the first thrust, you only fed him half of your cock before pulling back a little and thrusting once more, this time forcing it all the way down his throat. He squirmed and tried to pull back instinctively due to the pressure in his throat, but you held firm. You kept him against your pelvis, his nose grazing your lower stomach before loosening your grip in his hair, letting him pull back just enough to where he could breath.
You slowly thrusted into his mouth one more time until his lips were at your base before pulling out. You did this a few times before you finally started to speed up. Scaramouche was unable to focus on using his tongue or suctioning his lips, but you didn't seem to mind, happily fucking up into his mouth. Instead of worrying about that he just adverted his eyes up to your face and tried to focus on that - wanting to see that you were feeling pleasure from your harsh treatment. However, this was deemed nearly impossible due to the tears that were welling up and trickling down his cheeks.
Glug, glug, glug, gurgling sounds filled the room along with soft moans that left your lips. Looking down you had to still your hips to stop from coming. Scaramouches eyes were unfocused and glossy and his lower face was covered in cum, drool, snot, and saliva. You could tell by the way he stopped struggling against your hold that he had finally fallen into that submissive headspace.
The loss of fullness in his throat led to scaramouche blinking away his tears and trying to look at you, afraid that he had done something wrong. Hurriedly, he had stuck his tongue out and tried to lick around the part of your cock that remained in his mouth. To appease you he even tried to swallow more of your cock, until it once again touched the back of throat. Despite the small convulses in his body he did not try to move away.
"Fuck... you're killing me here." You had let go of the tight grip you had in his hair and instead rested your hand on top of his head. You took a few deep breaths in order to push down your arousal.
Once you calmed yourself down, you pulled your hips back a small bit before shallowing thrusting back in. You were gentler this time around, not making it to where he violently choked against you. Instead, you set a steady rhythm. With each thrust you would still yourself at the back of this throat for a few seconds to feel the convulsions of his throat. You would finally pull back once he started to turn a little red in the face. You kept this going until you felt the familiar twinge of arousal in your lower stomach.
"Shit," Your hips picked up their pace. "Be good for me and swallow."
Scaramouche flinched at the first taste that spurted onto his tongue before he eagerly swallowed it down. He struggled to swallow it all and instead some flowed out of the side of his mouth. You kept him held against your stomach before pulling back and taking yourself out of his mouth.
Scaramouche's throat was burning from the rough treatment, and he had hunched forward coughing.
It took a moment before he realized he was being moved. One moment he was situated on his knees and the next thing he knew he was face down on the ground. His muscles burned at the new position; his weight was now resting directly on his knees, and he tried to move them but was unable to do more than scooch them. He rested his cheek against the floor and shivered at the coolness which was in direct contrast to the heat that was run rampage in his body.
"haah.. plea-ase," His voice cracked when he felt your fingers replace the tentacle that was previously shoved up his ass. There wasn't as much of a stretch but the fact that you were now touching him instead of a tentacle caused his body to shake.
When you entered three fingers into him, he reflexively grinded back against them, desperately wanting to feel them hit that one spot inside him that always set his body aflame. You didn't reprimand him for that and instead let him do some of the work, opting to just curl your fingers.
"nghhahh, there, right there." he cried out, but his voice was so hoarse and choppy that you could barely make out what he was saying. Even as he kept thrusting back and getting his prostate hit, you weren't allowing him to cum. That damned tentacle that was in his urethra and the rope that was tied around his balls was constricting him. "pleasepleaseplease - out. Need it out," he wailed, and his body was trembling so violently that you were worried he would pull a muscle.
You pulled your fingers out of him and wrapped them around his thighs and gently massaged them. He whined at the loss of touch, but his body unconsciously relaxed under your fingers that were pushing into the muscle on his thighs. You kept doing that until he became pliant once more and was not at a risk of harming himself.
"Relax," you cooed, moving to grip both of his cheeks with your hands and spread them. A small chuckle passed your lips when you saw his hole gaping and fluttering.
"cant." He gasped out. "hurts... need t' cum. please plea - ahh!" A throaty scream escaped his lips when he felt your tongue lick around his rim. You moved to kiss his cheek and traveled kisses and licks up his spine until you reached his neck. Your fingers traced the intricate ropes before tugging them and forcing his upper body off the ground. You continued to pull until he was once more on sat up on his knees but now, he had his back pressed against your chest.
Your cock situated itself right in between his ass cheeks and you rutted against him. "Want to cum?" It was a teasing question.
Scaramouche weakly nodded. "please. 'm sorry, I wont - I won't" his throat was burning through his pleads and in some distant part of his mind he knew he should not be talking anymore but he couldn't bring himself to worry about it. "won't talk back, wont be rude. prom-promise."
You both knew this was lie and that in a few days' time he will be the same condescending and rude concubine he always is but right now at this moment, he completely believed what he is saying.
"Promise," you decided to play along.
"Promise," he whined out.
"Alright. You're done with your punishment. I suppose you should get your reward."
He felt the slickness of the tentacles leave his entire body. All that is left from them was a trail of wetness that left goosebumps rising in their wake. The second you pulled it out of his urethra a scream left his lips. His hips tried to buck away from the feeling but he couldn't. All those previous denied orgasms that were pushed back due to the tentacle stopping them came rushing over him tenfold. His cock spurted out load after load and it felt like a never-ending pleasure to him that was becoming painful. His body shook uncontrollably against your hold. He wasn't sure how it felt like he was still cumming, his hole gaping and spasming.
It took a while for his body to calm down and even then, he was still having shaking. One of your hands had wrapped around his waist and rested on his stomach and was rubbing small circles onto it. In his twitching, the hands behind his back had grazed your cock a few times and despite your own arousal pressing against him you were well aware that he could be too sensitive to deal with anything else.
Scaramouche had felt the twitching of your own cock against his back and fingers. Despite the oversensitivity in his body, he still craved for the closeness of you inside him. He could handle one more, he wanted to feel you inside of him this time instead of the sliminess of the tentacle.
"s'okay," he managed to whisper out. At the same time one of his hands clumsily grasped your cock. His thumb ran over the tip (or at least tried to) before struggling to position it at his entrance.
You raised an eyebrow, "You sure?"
He eagerly nodded, "please."
You positioned yourself at his entrance and was able to easily sink into him. The breath was knocked out of Scaramouche and a loud keen left his lips and his back arched. Once you were completely sheathed inside him you let out a shuddering breath as he twitched sporadically around you. You knew this would be a short round, Scaramouche would probably be able to cum one more time before his body would no longer be able to handle anything else.
You pulled out only a small amount before shallowly thrusting into him, trying not to hit his prostate just yet. With each thrust, small uh - uh - uh's passed through his lips. Even with these shallows thrust he felt his stomach tighten. His orgasm was building and embarrassingly quickly too. His crying only got louder because he knew he couldn't hang on anymore.
"c-cumming," he managed to wheeze out. His whole body became tense and he squeezed down on your own cock. You let out a groan of your own, a small orgasm wracking through your body. It wasn't overly strong but it did not bother you. Scaramouche's on the other hand was strong, too strong. His mouth fell open in a silent scream and his body had convulsed before he fell completely slack, mind falling in and out of consciousness.
He felt the tension of the rope released from his body. He was distantly aware that he was falling forward but he couldn't make his body move. He didn't hit the ground and instead fell right into your arms. He first recognized your scent and unconsciously nuzzled into your chest wanting to be surrounded by the smell. He felt a new pressure around his body but this time instead of the coarseness of rope he felt the softness of skin as you wrapped your arms around him.
You sat down on the ground and situated yourself before moving him into a more comfortable position on your lap. One hand came up to run through his tangled-up hair whilst the other took to wiping away all the dried up cum and drool. You couldn't do a perfect job with just your hand, but you managed to clear up some so that it was not sticking onto his face.
Scaramouche was letting out small puffs of air that had undertones of wheezes in them, showcasing how well used his throat was.
You should get one of the servants to make him a tea, you thought while your hand left his jaw and mindlessly went to rub his throat.
Scaramouche opened his lips but strained to say something, anything but he couldn't due to the throbbing in his throat from his crying and your treatment of it. He unconsciously squirmed away from the hand at his throat.
You were befuddled before realizing that he thought you were going to start another round since you usually place your hand on his throat during sexual encounters. Quickly moving your hand to his shoulder, your cooed at him and brought him closer to you.
"shh, it's alright you're all done." He lost the last bit of tension in his body and slumped against you. "You did so good for me." If he had the energy, he would have preened at your words but all he could managed was a shaky smile.
Neither of you moved from your position on the floor for a while. It wasn't until you felt his breath even out and his body become pliant that you decided to stand up. You kept him in your arms as you carried him to the joining bathroom. He let out small sounds at the jostling but did not open his eyes. You carefully settled him on one of the cushions set aside the tub and used magic to start the tub.
Once it was filled up and at an appropriate temperature you carefully maneuver him into the tub making sure not to aggravate any of the rope burns. You did not join him and instead, once he was settled, let go of him and went to stand up. At the loss of your touch Scaramouche couldn't help the panic that welled up inside him. His eyes snapped open and one of his hands weakly clutched onto your arm.
"Do - " He winced as the pain in his throat finally settled in. He wanted to tell you not to leave him, but he couldn't. You could see the despair in his eyes and reached out to pet his head before moving to caress his cheek.
"I have to get Aether too, lovely." Even with your reassurance he didn't want you to let go of him. He shook his head and clutch onto you tighter. He wasn't jealous at this moment but instead all he could focus on was the fact that in order for you to get Aether, you would have to leave him and that caused an unimaginable amount of panic to form inside him. He did not want to be alone when he was feeling as vulnerable as he was right now.
You let out a sigh and squatted down behind the tub and ran your hand through his hair.
"You trust me, right?" you kept your tone light as you played with strands of his hair. He had his knees curled up and was resting his head against them.
He nodded without hesitation, and you couldn't help the pride that resonated in your chest.
"Then I want you to close your eyes and stay in this position for 30 seconds alright." As you were speaking, you had let your magic cast over him and mimic an embrace. You also mimicked the feeling of your hand playing with his hair. Once you felt confident in your spell, you had slowly and quietly gone to grab Aether who was still laying on the bed. His eyes blearily blinked open when you lifted him in your arms.
"Finally done with him?" He whispered but there was no malice in his tone. He was well aware that Scaramouche had gone through a tough punishment and that he would be dealing with some discomfort for a while.
You hummed in acknowledgment as you reentered the bathroom. Scaramouche was in the same position as you left him, and you breathed a sigh of relief.
The tub was more than large enough to fit the three of you, so you had place Aether in and made sure the both of them were comfortable before joining them. You made sure to sit in between them because even in their headspaces (or rather Scaramouche's, Aether seemed more well recovered) they could spiral.
Within a few minutes of joining them, you could feel weight against one of your shoulders (Aether fell asleep first) and then on the other side of your body, Scaramouche nudged under your arm so that he could lay against your chest.
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rineptune · 25 days
Note
before i request i just wanted to say your writing is so good!!!(literally made me giggle and scream no joke) and if this may interest you I'd love to request something! so the idea is a bit abstract you can play around with it- the reader is a relatively new vampiric overlord, and became close friends with rosie because well, cannibal and a blood sucker just have common grounds of friendship, and this all happened during Alastor's absence. And the reader is also at neutral terms with the other overlords, and kinda like a person who just everyone wants to talk to, and itls generally nice. so it's kinda like she is taking over Alastor's life in a way? like, Alastor thinks finally no one is singing her praises at the hazbin hotel and boom charlie introduces a new employee, the reader. i know this is a lot and I'd totally understand if you dont take up this request, but if you do thanks a lot!! thank you so much!!
bloody hell.
summary: the new vampire overlord that rose during alastor’s absence? he’s awfully tired of hearing others sing you praise, because what’s so great about her?
warnings: foul language, description of gore, canon-typical violence
a/n: thank you for taking your time and writing this request!! and i’m giggling bcs of your compliment 💗
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alastor’s absence for seven years was a great mystery to many. 
most sinners feared his sudden return to massacre a good amount of them in one go. but during this absence, a lot has changed in pride ring—and that includes the rise of a new overlord that would sooner or later be the cause of major changes in his life, and whether those changes are good or bad is for him to find out.
the first time he meets you is during the overlord meeting after yet another extermination.
“oh, alastor! this is yn, the most uncanny bloodsucker in all of hell,” rosie says.
“she’s an absolute dear.”
“hello, i believe this is our first meeting.” you extend your hand. 
alastor’s glare is sharp and unreadable. for a second, he doesn’t say anything and simply assesses your figure, though eventually he takes your hand and shakes it. 
“pleasure’s all mine,” he replies.
there’s something in the back of alastor’s head that’s nagging him that something is about to go wrong, and yet he paid no mind to the incessant worrying of both his thoughts and the shadow that tailed him wherever he went. he just had to be cautious, play his cards right, and eliminate you if need be.
but judging by how most overlords had already greeted you and looked forward to talking to you, he assumed that you were on common ground with the majority of them.
that’s no good.
he won’t let a newcomer hog most of the attention now, can he?
alastor might just lose his wit and massacre every passing sinner that mentions your name.
the vampire overlord this, the vampire overlord that—hello! he was back in town! and not one sinner cowered before him, as they’re too busy to even notice his presence.
too busy talking about you.
for satan’s sake, everywhere he went, he kept hearing of you.
rosie’s emporium? you just bought fresh bloody fingers and even took a cannibal with you—or so he’s heard.
his trusted tailor? too busy to finish your custom-made suit, alastor didn’t even get the chance to get his suit fixed.
it seemed as though anywhere he went, you were always ahead of him.
it’s fine; it’s ok. 
alastor is reassuring himself because no one has been on his nerves this much before. not even the noisy picture box of an old pal of his. not even the king of hell himself, the majesty that was just too easy to provoke.
but you—you were just too passive—too mysterious—dare he say out of reach?
it’s mentally taxing to plot against you when you’ve done nothing wrong to him personally. 
if he killed you, would anyone know that it was him?
he contemplates in his room, most of his thoughts immersed in you. it’s so out of character for him, but then again, who in this wretched place understood him thoroughly?
just when alastor thought that he could have a pleasant, quiet morning of listening to nothing but the screams of sinners dying in the recent newspaper, charlotte had gathered everyone in the main lobby for a “super-duper important meeting.”
“i wonder what this could be about,” his static voice is heard.
“quite frankly, i was in the middle of reading my favorite newspaper.”
“you could still read it even when you’re here,” vaggie’s unamused reply came. 
“oh, where are your manners, my dear? i’m certain that your lover would not be ecstatic to find out that not all of the inhabitants of this hotel are listening to her, isn’t that right?” his smile broadened at the last question, fixing his black knotted bowtie.
“whatever,” she sighs, “just pay attention.”
charlotte came in practically jumping with every step she took as the patrons of the hotel awaited what she was about to say.
“ok, so i know that our hotel is still a bit understaffed—but! i have amazing news!”
“we’re finally charging the guests an expensive price without changing the way we treat them?”
“what? no!” she shook her head.
“capitalism is one of the worst things there is to exist. that, and violence—and the extermination, of course.”
“then?”
“we have a new staff.” charlotte opened a portal, and the demon who stepped from it had alastor ripping the seams of the leather couch unintentionally.
“ta-da!” 
a wave of bats came rushing in and dropped pieces of confetti over them.
how fun.
“this is yn; you may know her for being an overlord, just like a certain investor we have, but now she’s our chef!”
this might just be alastor’s nightmare incarnate.
“what is it that you’re after?” he confronts you just when you’re putting away the dishes.
“hm? whatever could you mean, alastor? ”
“disregard what i said.”
alastor smiled, getting uncomfortably close to you.
your reaction is, as always, unbothered and confused. he doesn’t find it entertaining when demons shrug him off as if he were nobody—no more than a mere sinner.
“but do remember that if you put this hotel in harm’s way, i’ll be the one you’ll be dealing with,” he chuckled.
“noted,” you reply.
“bloody venison? i heard from charlie that you preferred meals like this, and i must say, we have quite a lot in common than you think.”
you licked the blood that spilled on your arm once you set the plate on the huge dining table, nodding your head. it’s just now that he noticed the blood that stained your apron and sleeves, and he’s tempted to have a taste too.
and he physically and mentally stops himself from doing so to show you that he’s indifferent to the way you captivate almost everyone.
“a lot in common,” you say once more.
alastor watches you leave, and his curiosity is at an all-time high. he’s tasted no one’s cooking other than his or his mother’s cooking before, not that anyone really bothered to prepare him a meal because he’d turn them down without a second thought.
but he doesn’t let the effort go to waste.
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mysadcorner · 2 months
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Hello love! I hope this new year is treating you well! May I please have headcanons of Jason’s reaction when his s/o says Red Hood is their favorite superhero? Like they have no idea that Jason and red hood are the same person so they’re always like, “wow red hood’s so amazing! But not as amazing as you Jay!” Thank you 🙏 💕
Jason Todd x Reader That’s A Fan Of Red Hood Headcanons
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- Credit to the images owners - Please be specific about characters wanted in headcanons -
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• Jason would definitely be surprised when you mention your passion towards Red Hood, or at least the fact that you like him. This surprised reaction from Jason wouldn't leave either, whenever you have anything good to say about Red Hood then it'll be as if he's hearing something shocking for the first time all over again simply due to the fact he hardly hears comments about himself that aren't negative. He seems to be quite controversial around Gotham.
• As he probably didn't meet you through being connected to other vigilantes, and was presenting himself as being as much of a normal person as could at the time, then he definitely didn't tell you about being Red Hood. And he would try his best to keep it that way, almost always brushing off your concerns about his injuries or bruises, and even his disappearances, through the regular use of sarcasm.
• One of his main reasons for hiding this from you would be him being scared of your reaction. Despite being tough and cold on the outside most of the time, he actually cares deeply about what you think of him and is pretty self-conscious about hoq you view him. In his mind, finding out about him being Red Hood may give you a reason to leave him on op of all of his other not so great qualities, even if this was just a projection of his own fears rather than how you actually would have felt.
• After you express your fondness of Red Hood he starts to purposefully pay close attention to your schedule and knowing whenever you go out later on in the evening. The last thing he wants is for you to accidently stumble across him as he's patrolling the streets, so he plans ahead to do his best to avoid you, and hopefully preventing you from figuring out who his is by stopping you from seeing Red Hood up close.
• The longer you express positive feelings about Red Hood for the more he starts to get paranoid and feel guilty about being around you. He knows that since you're just a normal person that a villain or someone with bad intentions could get a hold of you whenever he isn't around to use you against him, it also means someone could follow him to where he meets you or to where you live just to find out his identity. There are plenty of ways that things could go wrong if he isn't constantly extremely careful.
• Deep down he does actually like the fact that you approve of Red Hood and are somewhat of a fan of him, if you were a bit of an obsessed fan then he would still enjoy that you were although being slightly concerned. He may even bring up the topic of Red Hood just to hear you talk about him which also helps him feel better about himself and what he's doing without expressing it.
• Realising that he wants to act better knowing that you're watching the reports on his activity and looking forward to any mentions of Red Hood being sighted around Gotham, he purposefully goes out of his way to be on his best behaviour whenever the situation allows for it (more that Bruce could have ever convinced him to).
• After a while, Jason may try to test the waters to see how you may react about seeing Red Hood in real life, and this may help him see that you finding out who he really is won't end in a bad way. To do this, he may stage a little run in with you on a quiet night just to see your reaction, and not hanging around long enough for anyone to stumble across him interacting with you as the Red Hood. Putting up with your reaction and constant mentioning of it in the days afterwards won't be something he's irritated by, and will actually help fuel his comfort about you finding out.
•When he finally tells you, he's going to be his usual dramatic self, and you'll probably think he has something absolutely terrible to tell you when he sits you down for the conversation. But once he does tell you, he feels the burden instantly lifted from him. He'll still be concerned about you, but at least now he can be honest with you and not stress over making up lies or trying to hide things from you.
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tpwkwriter · 3 months
Note
Can we get y/n as a total book worm and Harry just finding it so adorable and loving that about her and teasing her and recreating cute scenes from romance books with her
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Head in a book
I wish I could say I was a bookworm but in fact the only things I read are on tumblr🥲
Warnings: slight cursing, mentions of book tok😭fluffy as!!☁️
Pairing: Harry x quiet!y/n
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Y/n appreciated a quiet life, the small moments were a huge thing to her, the smell of freshly baked bread, picking flowers, watching the stars n all.
So when her boyfriend is the most biggest popstar, surrounded by loud music, screaming fans, and flashy cameras, everyone thought the couple wouldn’t work out, oh how they were so wrong.
After loud music, flashy lights, the screams and chants of millions of fans, Harry learnt that quiet and peaceful moments were better shared with y/n, he didn’t just love her, he adored her and everything she did.
She was the quiet rain in the darkest of nights.
It was a common occasion that Harry would come home to y/n absolutely nose deep in a book on the sofa, he loved watching the way she would get totally immersed in the story and endorsed on the character’s behaviour and thinking process.
Well tonight was no different, the time neared 6:45pm and Harry was out of the studio relatively early, he walked into there shared home, before he could look around he could sense something wasn’t right, the lights were all off, normally y/n would have various candle scents lingering in the atmosphere and the sound of her playlist would be faintly heard in the background.
He toed off his shoes and released his belongings by the door (making a mental note to clean it up later)
And walked through to there shared living room, y/n was bundled on the sofa with a grey faux blanket covering her, her hoodies hood was covering her hair and her eyes looked red and defeated.
Alarm bells are immediately going off in Harry’s mind, and he’s quick to act.
“Hey you, what’s happening?” He asked gently asked, swiftly sitting down next to her, leaning back and gently tapping her arm enough to signal ‘come here’
“Harry? Didn’t even hear you come home” she said voice a little wobbly, she joined his side, lounging her legs across his lap and resting her head on his chest.
“S’okay, what happened my love?” He asked softly into her hair, allowing his hand to slowly trace gentle circles on her back.
“Well” she started
“You know the book i was close to finishing?” She sniffs.
Harry begins to slightly relax at the fact it may not be as serious as he anticipated.
“I do m’love” he smiled
“Well because, it wasn’t a good ending at all” she begins to tear up again and snuggle her head further into his chest.
He mainly chuckles out of relief that it wasn’t anything ‘real’ and ‘serious’ he continues to hold her and press kisses to her hairline.
“I’m sorry to hear that m’love, wanna speak about it?” He’d gently ask.
As she begins to tell him the tragedy of the protagonists death and the failing love story between characters, even if truthfully Harry had no idea, he loved listening and taking in what she had to say.
“It sounds like such a beautiful story though my love” he said, trying to amp the spirits up.
“Mhmm” shes hum against him, the rest of the night was filled with cuddles and a lazy dinner together.
——
It was a few weeks later and now y/n had got on to some new books, she was never without one.
One evening when y/n was sitting up reading in bed, and Harry was in there shared en suite getting ready for bed, y/n had an idea, that would send not only her but many girls around the world into a frenzy.
Before he finished up she sent up her phone discreetly on her beside table and began to work her magic.
“Harry!” She called
Lucky for her, timing was great, he emerged from the bathroom and was about to head out to the bed.
“Stay right there mister” she smirked
A confused smile crossed his face, at her instructions but he did as she said.
“Babe-?” He chuckled lowly.
“I’ve just been reading here” she said holding up her book
“And it says here: “with arms holding him up he leant against the doorframe admiring the girl in-front of him” “ she recites from the paper.
Rolling his eyes already knowing what she was gonna request.
“So if you could please, show me your best doorframe lean, I’d be very happy” she smiled as she put the book in her lap and leaned back against the headboard.
His famous smirk flashes at the girl
“Y’want me, to lean against the doorframe?” He chuckles.
“Basically, but like- in a really romantic and heroic way, y’know” she giggles.
Y/n can practically see Harry think of how he’s gonna do this.
“M’kay, I need you to c’mere then” he calmly requests.
“Harry, just do it!!” She blushes, she’s also thinking of how thankful she is for the 5 minute feature on TikTok!
“Will, just come here” he laughs, he walks over and takes both of her hands and guides her to the place he wants which is right by the doorframe but far enough.
When satisfied with were the both at, harrys left arm lifts up and due to his height sits just above the top door frame, already y/n found her self flustered, and with his right hand he held her face and pulled her in for a sweet kiss on her lips, while still holding the “doorframe leaning position”
She pulls away flustered and blushed up,
“You did not just do that” she laughs as she stares at him.
“No Harry, I know the fuck you did not do that” she states, her eyes still wide and her mouth curling up into a big smile.
The smirk of satisfaction crawled up on his face as he managed to to fluster up his girl, despite nearly 5 years of being together.
Remembering the iPhone camera pointing in there direction, she quickly turned on her heels to stop it, at the realisation of she’s been filming them hits Harry and it’s now his time to go red.
“You cheeky thing” he says going up behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist, he kept his chin on her shoulder as they watched the video they just made together, sharing laughs and smiles.
“Fuck sake” he smiles, pressing a kiss to her temple and getting into his side of the bed.
She presses post and couldn’t wait to see what everyone had to say tomorrow, she joined in the bed next to him.
“Safe to say girls are gonna be having a field day with that one” she laughs.
“Where did you learn that stunt from anyway?” She giggled leaning in to his side.
“Well baby” he started.
“When your girlfriend is obsessed with books and romance novels you do learn a few tricks along the way, and I’d be lying if I said I haven’t read a few of your stuff” he nonchalantly pointed out.
Her eyes light up again.
“Really? You have?” She excitedly asked
“Mmmhmm, I got say y’got good taste” he shrugs.
“If you want recommendations just say”
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Text
I can’t stop thinking about the way that when Robin hears Nancy’s name in Season 3 she rolls her eyes and calls her a priss, but then not five minutes later she runs into Nancy in the flesh who’s apparently in the thick of the insane situation Robin has become unwittingly wrapped up in. Her makeup is smudged and her hair is messy and she’s terse with Robin and all Robin can do is utter a flustered reply while giving her this look:
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And then shortly afterwards Robin watches as Nancy plants herself in front of a station wagon full of kids and shoots at an oncoming speeding car with a pistol, fully ready to sacrifice herself to protect them. That night at the Star Court Mall changes everything Robin thought about this dainty, pretty, prissy girl who turns out to be a certified badass with nerves of steel. 
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After this, Robin is smitten. She volunteers to go with Nancy the moment an opportunity presents itself. When they’re waiting in the library, she assumes that Nancy has some genius trick up her sleeve because since Star Court she’s built up an idea of who she is in her mind: brilliant and brave and tenacious. Robin is so desperate for Nancy to like her that she loses all pretense of sardonic aloofness that we see around other characters and the words start spilling out, exactly as she described when venting to Steve about how she behaves around girls she’s crushing on. 
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Robin is self-conscious and apologetic about how she comes across to Nancy, she repeatedly tries to diffuse the underlying tension between them in any way that she can, and is particularly keen to emphasise the platonic nature of her friendship with Steve. Despite barely knowing Nancy, she starts using the nickname “Nance” right away. There’s a sincere and earnest effort to win Nancy’s approval and affection; Robin needs it more than she even realises.
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And the thing is, it works. Nancy starts off cool and irritable and exasperated (which, one should point out, may be in no small part because she’d been up all night looking for her friend who she just found brutally murdered - cut her some slack folks!), but after those two hours with Robin in the library, she realises that she’s remarkably bright and creatively minded and complements her own logical way of thinking so well. You can see the journey she undergoes in that short period of time written on her face: bemusement and impatience soon give way to respect and the dawning realisation that she’s met her intellectual match, someone with the same insatiable curiosity and a whole new way of seeing the world to show her. 
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Nancy has so many emotional walls built up from years of repression and trauma, especially surrounding having and losing friends (not to mention, potentially, her own repressed queerness), but Robin despite her insecurities over her lack of filter and tendency to ramble and her other personal quirks manages to steal in past those defences. After that first encounter together, Nancy wants Robin by her side at all times. Even though she knows Steve, Dustin, Lucas and Max so much better, she picks Robin to come with her to Pennhurst, she asks Robin to explore the Creel House with her, she has Robin ride shotgun with her in her car. They stick together as a pair at every turn. 
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This is so, so important: Nancy grows to like and care about Robin because of her being totally and utterly herself. The Robin whose mouth moves faster than her brain, the Robin who is relentlessly inquisitive and goofy and clumsy, the Robin who is at her most overtly neurodivergent around her. And Robin is slowly but surely finding confidence in herself and courage through that relationship, she’s taking risks she never would have before, and learning that her perceived flaws are actually strengths. When talking to Warden Hatch at Pennhurst with Nancy, it’s her runaway way with words that saves them and leaves Nancy incredibly impressed. The unmasked, unfiltered, beautiful gay disaster Robin Buckley is the person Nancy comes to admire and develops a deep fondness for. 
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It’s been said many times before, but Robin and Nancy complete each other. As we’ve just established, Nancy quickly becomes a source of reassurance, inspiration and affirmation for Robin. And Robin is someone who can keep up with Nancy’s laser-focused fixations and faced-paced thinking, who can challenge her to consider things she never would have otherwise. She also encourages Nancy to be more honest with herself and makes her feel at ease at a time when she’s more lost than ever. Robin is always carefully reading Nancy and respects her opinions and feelings; she’s the friend and confidant Nancy has been missing in her life all this time since losing Barb.
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When they’re talking in the woods, it’s not what Robin says about Steve or Jonathan that Nancy latches onto. What truly takes her aback is the realisation that Robin considers them to be friends, and both quietly, bashfully blush and smile to themselves at that confirmation. However adrift Nancy might be from her complex feelings over Jonathan and Steve or her unhealed emotional scars, she’s found an anchor in someone. However insecure Robin might feel about herself, she’s found a girl who she doesn’t have to pretend with.
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And then we come to perhaps the most revealing scene of the season so far: when Eddie, Steve, Nancy and Robin are on the boat over Lover’s Lake. The parallels to Tammy Thompson are evident as Robin stares at Nancy who can’t pull her eyes away from Steve, and the way in which the camera focuses on the two characters in the frame imparts so much more than Robin simply being happy for the rekindled feelings of her friends. Her longing expression breaking into a soft smile and the bowing of her head feels like the sad acceptance of something she believes to be unattainable for her. 
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Nancy demonstrates her trademark reckless abandon to protect the people she loves when she dives in to rescue Steve without hesitation after he’s pulled under, but Robin’s reaction is gut-wrenching as she cries out Nancy’s name and reaches for her. And then Robin, who beneath her snarky facade is far more scared than she likes to let on, pushes down those fears and without wasting a second moves to go after her with a sense of resigned determination. The framing of this scene, the dialogue and Maya Hawke’s performance make it clear that Robin is willingly following Nancy Wheeler into hell. As Eddie says, that’s as sure a sign of true love as these cynical eyes have ever seen. 
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Regardless of whether the romantic subtext is intentional or this relationship is supposed to remain strictly platonic, Nancy and Robin’s blossoming friendship is a very special one. Having swiftly dismantled their presumptions about one another, they’ve found true synergy, inspiring and pushing each other to be the best versions of themselves. In spite, or rather because of their differences, the two are slowly but surely forging a profound bond that is already one of the most charming and memorable on the show to date, and with any luck, we’ll get some meaningful and moving payoffs to their arcs together in Vol 2. Perhaps, through each other, Nancy and Robin will finally find the closure, catharsis and connection they’ve been yearning for. 
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Thanks so much to @meanlesbianrobin for providing the accompanying screenshots! 
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beloved-belittled · 26 days
Text
Gods/Titans x Sick! Reader
Characters: Shinnok, Raiden, Fujin, Liu Kang, Cetrion, Kronika 
A/N: Did not have the brainpower to work on my other stories so I drafted up this instead. Influenza is a bitch.
TW: Implied yandere, mentions of drugging, kidnapping, death, SFW
18+ to interact
Shinnok 
Can probably detect that you're getting sick before your symptoms show. You know how some people can smell sickness? It's like that with Shinnok. Thankfully, you don't have the waft of death he's so accustomed to being around. He's not worried about you dying from this. Still, he'd rather not his plaything be ill.
He's a bit confused on how you got sick in the first place though. He doesn't exactly take you outside once he's kidnapped you, and it's not like he's affected by any mortal disease so ???. It's especially puzzling if this happens while you're trapped in the amulet. At least in the cell you came into contact with demons who may have carried something. 
Regardless, at this point Shinnok realizes his arsenal of healing magic is rather… Lacking. He's much more adept at rending flesh than mending it. But he's a skilled sorcerer so it takes him little time to learn a healing spell. A few test subjects later and he feels confident at curing your cold.
All this takes less than 24 hours for Shinnok to achieve. You're probably bed ridden at this point with all the chills/fever, coughing, and weakness. Speaking of beds, I think this is one of the few times he'll have you sleep in a bed rather than your cell. He wants you to recover after all. The only way you’re dying is by his hands and not some petty mortal disease. 
His magic works better than any herbal healing or medicine tbh. One moment you're on death's door and the next you've completely recovered. No sign of illness anywhere in your body. Even though being Shinnok's darling is not desirable, it does come with a few benefits like this.
Raiden 
Raiden doesn't know you're sick until the symptoms show. Might not discover your illness until 2-3 days of you being under the weather due to his busy schedule. He likely hears about your condition from a monk he's trusted to watch over you. Man immediately teleports to the Sky Temple to see how you're doing. He finds you laying in the bed barely able to move. Wearily, you greet him only to immediately fall into a coughing fit.
Unfortunately, he can't fry the disease out of you with his electricity. So, herbal healing it is! You drink more tea this week than you have your entire life. Seriously, you have to beg Raiden to stop because your stomach is about to burst. He does, only to immediately pursue some aromatherapy. Your room smells strongly of flowers and eucalyptus afterwards.
Would frequently check on you nearly every hour. If there's an extremely urgent matter that calls for his attention he'll leave his most trusted colleagues to look after you. Right after he's done with business he'll ask the person if your status has improved. 
He's super mindful of making sure you don't get bed sores or any other complications from laying around all day. At the same time, he only wants you getting up to bathe or use the restroom. You're essentially stuck in one place until he can 100% guarantee you've recovered. 
If your condition worsens he would hire a doctor to come see you. If the doctor suggests you go to a hospital, Raiden will take you there. I imagine the admission process would be a bit awkward though. He has no idea how all this works so you're left doing most of the speaking. You get admitted in though, and no his constant visiting doesn't stop even now. The hospital staff would likely have to kick him out.
Overall, he's praying that you'll make it through this.
Fujin
Well, Fujin actually lives among mortals so he has more knowledge on how to take care of you. Like Raiden, whenever he's on important business he hires someone to watch over you. I could see him having a phone unlike his brother. Definitely more hip with the times. Anyways, because of this he probably gets a worried text from your caretaker that you've fallen ill.
He arrives back home ASAP. Seeing you in this condition pulls at his heartstring the most. Out of everyone he's the most worried, as he's had his most favorite mortals pass away from illness. He wastes no time getting into Dr. Fujin mode.
He has you on a liquid diet until you heal. Tea, soup, broth -that's all you're eating for the next week. He’ll get whatever you need medicine wise. Got a headache or cramps? He'll get some painkillers pronto. Are you coughing with an irritated throat? Have some cough syrup/drops. He's very attentive in giving you a balance of home remedies and prescribed drugs.
It pains him every time you cough or groan in pain. He wants nothing more than to cure you right now. He hates seeing you suffer from illness. You can expect him to keep you company for as long as necessary. He'll also bring whatever entertainment you want, long as it isn't too expensive. 
Again, if your conditions worsen he'll take you to a hospital. It's a smoother process getting in with him though. He also understands the concept of visiting hours, but best believe he's taking full advantage of them. He'll only leave your side if he has to and will be back the next morning.
Liu Kang 
He doesn't have an ability to detect disease but he does have impeccable intuition. Something just changes about you before you fall ill. He's not even sure how he predicted it, but sure enough you're bedridden a few days after his spidey senses tingle.
He tries not to be too worried about your cold. He hasn't crafted your destiny to be one where you die from disease. But, there are some externalities even he can't control being Keeper of Time. So, it's off to the Wu Shi's medbay with you!
The Fire God checks up on you regularly, but not as often as Raiden or Fujin. It's not that he cares less, but rather he understands boundaries more. You don't need him breathing down your neck while you're recovering or sleeping. He makes an effort to see you every day though, giving you updates of what's going on at the academy. 
If you're suffering from chills though at least you're in luck! He'll keep the room more than warm enough with his fire powers. It's like having a heated blanket around whenever he's in the medbay. At the same time, if you have a fever you may find his presence to be a little too warm. 
I believe if you don't get better he'd take you to a sorcerer skilled in healing. Luckily, there's a whole multiverse at his disposal so it's extremely easy for him to find someone to cure you. You won't die under his care. You're far too precious for him to lose.
Cetrion
Can detect your sickness way before symptoms show. Honestly, you probably wouldn't even realize you're sick before her magic heals you. With her around you don't have to worry about such mortal afflictions. 
If there was an illness that her powers couldn't heal… Well tbh you're probably going to die. But, I think it would leave her spiraling into a pit of worry beforehand. How did you get this disease? What can she do to help you? I think she'd try a lot of home remedies like the other characters here but doesn't have as much faith for it working. After all, no mortal medicine can surpass her powers as an Elder God.
If you pass away from this she'll likely just keep your soul in Heaven with her. If she's Keeper of Time she may just restart the Timeline. Although, I can't imagine it'd be too hard for her to just put your soul in a surrogate or artificial body. Regardless, she's not going to let an illness take you away from her. The consequences be damned.
Also, in a weird way I could see Cetrion getting you sick on purpose. Drugging whatever you eat/drink with just enough poison to make you lethargic and sleepy. Or manipulating the timeline so you're purposefully born with a weak body. It feeds her ego to take over a caregiver role for you. Having you completely dependent on her love and attention gives her a much needed dopamine boost. It's very unfortunate for you.
Overall… Probably the best person to have if you get sick. As long as she decides to heal you immediately of course.
Kronika
Is even more confused than her son about how you got sick. After all, she had you trapped in a pocket outside of time. Even if you caught a pathogen, it wouldn't be able to progress due to time being paused there. And not only that, you've been in there for far longer than the incubation time of any disease. Briefly, she wonders if your safety inside the bubble has been compromised. She dismisses that idea though. No… No one has the ability to tread that space without her permission. Not in her New Era.
Fortunately, she can just reverse the “age” of your body to before you got infected. She's reversed time on your body several times at this point, so she's not the least bit worried about doing so. A wave of her hands later and you're cured. And feeling a bit younger too.
Not much else to really say here. I doubt she would intentionally get you sick. Also with her being a Titan and succeeding against Liu Kang/Raiden in this timeline, the arc of history really does bend to her will. So basically -you're not getting sick on her watch.
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grandeoatmilklatte · 8 months
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And Then There Were Three 🍼
Happy Weasley Wednesday once again! This week's theme from the Discord server was "kink" which is nice and open ended for us to go nuts with. I love the Garreth HCs that say he's a family man and wants a big family, and the ones that say he would have bad pull out game 😂 so with that I present to you - br33ding k!nk Garreth!
I know this isn't everyone's cup of tea, and that's fine, you can skip this and I'll have something you for next week! But if you're into this, please continue!
And Then There Were Three - Garreth Weasley x F!MC
Summary - After a year of marriage, Garreth and MC are ready to start their family, which brings out a particular kink in Garreth. 1.6k words
NSFW/18+ Smut! Characters are aged up, over 18, and married. You read the description, there's mentions of breeding kink, and pregnancy in here, so please don't proceed if either of those things may upset you!!
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Garreth checked his pocket watch for the fifth time in the past hour, it was finally time for him to close up shop, jumping from his desk to quickly close. He couldn’t wait to get home. Not because he hated his job, he actually loved running J. Pippins potion shop, which he took over after Mr. Pippin had retired. Normally he wouldn’t mind the work day, but today was special. Today was his one year wedding anniversary with MC. 
It felt like it was only yesterday that they got engaged. After two years of dating, Garreth proposed to MC right after graduation. They were married a little over a month later, refusing to wait any longer. They had a small little 2 bedroom home right in Hogsmeade. Garreth running the shop, MC training to be a professor at Hogwarts. Everything in their life was perfect, with one small exception - they still didn’t have any children yet.
Garreth and MC had discussed children at length before they got married. They both agreed that they wanted children soon after marriage, eager to start their own Weasley family. They had tried a couple of times already, but they had no successes so far. MC wasn’t too discouraged, knowing they were still young and had time. But Garreth on the other hand was losing his mind. Garreth was a family man through and through. He loved caring for his siblings and loved watching his parents care for them all, seeing how happy raising children made them. The two things he wanted the most in the world was to be a husband and a father. He had one, he just needed to get the other. 
The failed attempts also put Garreth in a bit of a predicament. Although he loved everything about MC, and lots of things turned him on, he had developed a particular kink as of late, the lack of success in their endeavors leaving his new kink unsatisfied. Lately he had found himself insanely aroused by the idea of impregnating MC. Every time they had actively tried to conceive, his mind was running wild. The way MC would moan and beg for him, so eager for him to finish inside of her, the way she’d tightly wrap her legs around him and pull him close as he plunged into her as deep as he could when he came, the way she’d lay with her legs up against the headboard afterwards, trying to make sure his seed was deep in her, all of it was insanely arousing for him. And every time they failed, he couldn’t help but feel discouraged. But tonight he was confident. Tonight was going to be the night that they finally conceived their first, of many, little Weasleys!
When he walked through the door, he found MC preparing dinner, her having gotten home before he did. He placed the flowers and bag of pastries he had gotten for her on the kitchen table and came up behind MC, placing his head on her shoulder and his arms around her. His hands coming up to rest on her stomach. He couldn’t wait for the day he could do this and there would actually be a baby inside of her. 
He planted a kiss on her cheek before turning her around to pull her into a deep kiss, dipping her slightly backwards to deepen the kiss. “Happy anniversary my beautiful, darling wife!” He shouted. MC giggled as he returned her to her normal standing position. “Happy anniversary, my love! Are those for me?” She took note of the flowers, a large bouquet of red roses. “No, I actually quite fancy roses myself! The rose petals make good potion ingredients!” Garreth teased. MC and Garreth broke into a fit of giggles as they sat down to enjoy their dinner.
Once dinner was done and the kitchen was cleaned up, they cuddled up on the couch in front of the fireplace, MC’s head in Garreth’s lap, her eyes closed as he played with her hair. MC opened her eyes, staring up at Garreth while he stared down at her. Their eyes locked, small smiles on their faces, each of them taking in the beauty of the other, relishing in how much they adored each other and how happy they were together. After enjoying some comfortable silence, MC spoke first. “You know Garreth, maybe tonight we could…try again.” Her voice was soft, but her look was mischievous. “Oh, I thought you’d never ask sweetheart!” MC rose from the couch, Garreth taking her by surprise and picking her up in his arms, carrying her to their bedroom, MC giggling the whole way.
Once he brought her to the bedroom, he immediately placed her onto the bed on her back and got to work on undressing her. He was quick with it, ripping her clothes off and tossing them haphazardly around the room. “Someone’s eager!” MC teased. “Do you blame me? Look at you!” Garreth exclaimed as he took note of her choice in lingerie tonight, an all white lacy set, the exact thing she wore on their wedding night. Garreth took a few moments to admire her. Once again, he was flooded with thoughts of starting a family. His thoughts went from sweet to naughty in a second as he removed the lingerie, as well as his own clothes. 
He lined himself above her, leaning down to passionately kiss her once before he took his rock hard length in his hand. He ran himself through her folds, coating himself in her wetness. “Oh sweetheart, you’re soaked. I just love how wet you are for me already!” He then slid inside her with ease. Normally Garreth loved foreplay, but there was only one thing on his mind tonight. 
Once Garreth was fully inside of MC, he began rapidly thrusting into her, fucking her into the mattress, the bed frame shaking violently. Her whines of pleasure egged him on as he lost himself in her warmth. Garreth grabbed at her legs, lifting them up onto his shoulders so he could sink in deeper. 
“You feel so good sweetheart! I can’t wait to fill you with my seed! You’re going to look so pretty carrying my child” Garreth said through gritted teeth. His thrusts were harsh and deep, but MC couldn’t get enough. 
“Garreth! I…” MC was in such a state of pleasure she could barely speak. “I want it…please!” She whimpered. “What do you want, sweetheart? Tell me.” His brilliant green eyes were dark and there was a seriousness to him unlike she had ever seen before. “I…I want you to fill me up! Put a baby in me, please Garreth!” She looked up at him with a desperate look in her eyes. Garreth let out a loud groan. “Oh don’t worry sweetheart! We’re not stopping tonight until you’re good and pregnant! I can’t wait to put a baby inside you!”
Garreth’s thrusts were becoming sloppy, a telltale sign that he was reaching his release. “Are you ready for me, darling?” MC whimpered in response as Garreth gave her one more thrust before bringing his body flush to hers and pulling her close. MC wrapped her legs around him drawing him close as well. He stilled as he came, and she could feel his cock pulsating and emptying into her. It was such a wonderful feeling, being full of him. 
He pulled out of her slowly, looking down at her filled cunt and smiling, his hand coming up and rubbing her stomach. “Oh sweetheart, you look so pretty full of my seed.” Garreth then shoved two fingers inside of her and pumped them a few times, which drew a moan out of MC. “Just making sure my cum is deep in there. Can’t have anything spilling out, can we?” He gave her a dark chuckle as he removed his fingers. MC smiled at him, sucking his fingers clean before proceeding to get into her usual position, her legs up and against the headboard.
Garreth pumped three more loads into MC that night in a similar fashion to the first, wanting to make sure it stuck this time. By the time his cock emptied into her for the fourth time, MC was a whimpering mess, legs shaking and voice hoarse from her moans that had turned to screams as Garreth fucked her into a state of overstimulation. 
Garreth rolled off of her as he caught his breath, also spent from their long night together. Once they both had come down from their final high of the night, MC brought her legs down as Garreth pulled her into his arms and kissed her softly, one hand coming down to rest on her stomach. 
“Darling, you know there’s nothing there yet, right?” She asked with a giggle. “I know, but I’m already excited to meet our little Weasley!” They both laughed as MC snuggled into her husband, falling asleep in his arms. 
———————
Garreth breathed a sigh of relief as he locked the door to the shop. It had been a long, busy day, and all he wanted to do was go home and rest, especially since he was arriving home later than he usually did, his work forcing him to stay a little longer. 
“Sweetheart! I’m so sorry I’m home late! We had an insane last minute order.” He shouted as soon as he opened the door to their home. MC wasn’t in the kitchen like she normally was when he arrived home. Instead he found her sitting at the dining room table. 
MC looked up at him as he entered the dining room, tears streaming down her face. Panic set in for a split second until the biggest smile formed on her, tears still actively coming down. “Garreth, you’re going to be a father!” She choked out. Garreth grabbed MC from her chair and hugged her, lifting her in his arms as tears ran down his own face. 
He could finally put his new found kink to rest, at least for now, until it was time to create their next little Weasley. 
———————
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aita for “not being able to keep issues in servers separate”
🌻🌷🌹🥀 (to find later)
this all happened a couple months ago now in mid november-ish so i’m sending this late, but i didn’t want to while the situation was ongoing. for the record me and everyone affected have collectively since left both servers mentioned. so. wee
i (23mtf) do a long of long form roleplay, specifically in public oc-based discord servers. these are servers where people will create a setting and then people can join and insert their ocs into the world, and they’re tons of fun! this is a hobby ive had for years now. it’s really important to me as it’s my main creative outlet and i know a good number of people in the community. i’ll often join servers and recognize at least a handful of people there already
around may last year, i joined a new server and things were great, for a while, but then not long after i joined someone new did, i’ll call her X (34nb) for this. when she first joined the interactions we had were fine, but - and i’m still really not sure why this is, i’m not trying to absolve myself if i did do something but i have no idea what i did to warrant this shift even to this day - a few weeks later she just got… extremely passive aggressive and contrary with me, over silly things. most of it was “in character” but it really stuck out to me. i’d have a character say something marginally unconventional and she’d always, without fail, have one of her characters come in to scold them, even if her characters hadn’t been part of the conversation prior. her characters constantly talked down to or insulted mine. she was always talking ooc about how strange her characters found mine. when i tried to get involved in overarching plots, she would often push me out of them, or insist that my characters were only getting in the way, or would insert her characters to do things i’d stated to the group i wanted mine to do, so i didn’t end up able to do anything. it seemed targeted to me because the main character she was doing this with was known to be very kind to everyone else, but for some reason never had anything nice to say about mine. i know none of this is outright bullying but it wore on me greatly. i tried to confront her on this multiple times to tell her it was making me uncomfortable and to please knock it off, and i tried to get the server mods involved when that failed, but the behavior never really stopped and eventually i was content to just… not interact with her
but then a while later i noticed her treating someone else the same way. i reached out to him about it, and he told me that she had done basically everything she’d done to me to him, and he wasn’t the only one. after snooping around a little more i realized that a lot of people in the server had had this problem with her, totaling 7 of us. 7 of us in the group at the time. some people had dropped characters or outright left the group because of her, so 7 isn’t even everyone because it doesn’t include people she’d already driven out that i couldn’t contact. for reference, this server only had roughly 30 people. even if the number of total members was bigger, 7+ still feels like a lot
i tried to take this to the mods of the server again, but (and this is where i’m unsure if i misstepped) i thought it would be right to bring it up to the mods of a separate, larger server that all of us were in together as well. this server had closed to 50-60 members. in my head, if this person has harassed over half a dozen people like this it’d be silly to assume its only a problem in one group, and even if it wasn’t a problem in this larger server it would be better to make them aware of it so they could keep an eye out
the mods in both servers weren’t happy with me, through. even when all 7 people tried to give testimony, both teams claimed there wasn’t enough evidence to support harassment and that they’d talk to her about it, but this didn’t warrant any further action. keep in mind again i’d already had to go to the mods about this same person before, so they weren’t unaware that this happened to me and they had tried talking to her already. then they told me that it was inappropriate of me to bring this up in a server that wasn’t necessarily involved, and that the 7 of us were ganging up against her and bullying her. and i, especially, had been unfairly targeting her
this confused me greatly! i will admit, it’s likely i’ve been snippier with X than i intended. thats on me, i struggle with tone and i have trouble masking my frustration, but i have never once gone out of my way to make her feel bad. she has a generalized anxiety disorder or some such, and before i realized how many people had this issue with her i had been avoiding her for months. i have no idea what i could have said to her that was taken as bullying, because i haven’t been talking to her, period. when i see her in channels i just mute the channel until it’s passed, ive seriously done everything i could to minimize contact because i figured it was a personal issue. i asked both the mods and her directly, in dms, for examples or screenshots of what i said or did so i could adjust my behavior, and i never got shown any. i still as of typing this don’t know what i did to warrant that being said
the mods said they would give her a warning, but they gave me a warning as well, that if i continued like this i would be booted from both servers. they insisted to me again that i’d been clearly bullying her (did not provide examples) and i never should have brought it up to the other server and gotten them involved. i admit i think they might be right on that last point, but i am iffy. i had (honestly still have) justifiable reason to think X is an unsafe person to be around. she pushes people out of the community and cries and gets meek if she’s ever confronted on it in a way that’s distinctly guilt trippy and makes it hard to communicate. i have previously tried to resolve my issues with her in private and she was never receptive nor did she ever accept accountability, or change her actions. if her target calls her out she just starts doing it to someone else. it’s not like her being in a different server suddenly means she’s a different person. if someone like that is in your server, even if you don’t have “proof” that it’s happened in your group, wouldn’t you want to know about it? they kept insisting it had nothing to do with them and it was wrong of me to get them involved. i kind of think this is a cowardly policy to have, that you won’t act on or acknowledge harassment from your members unless it happens right in front of you and is blindingly obvious, but i don’t know
to be clear, i think X is an asshole, so that’s not what i’m asking about. anxiety disorder or not, she is frankly too old and has done this too many times for me to believe it’s unintentional. even if it is unintentional, she’s still hurting people and makes no effort to change. but i’m wondering if i’m an asshole for bringing it into another server. should i have just kept it in the first group?
What are these acronyms?
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Yae with a reader who really, really wants to touch her tails
Yae with a reader that really want to touch her tail
characters: Yae Miko x gn!reader
warnings: none
a/n: I hope this matches what you asked for, I may have strayed strayed a bit from the request at a few points, but I just started writing and couldn't stop myself.
Anyway, hope you enjoy!
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Yae Miko
The first time you asked to touch one of Yae’s tails, you were shot down almost immediately, the only thing stopping the Guuji from completely disassembling all the self-worth you might hold for the rest of your lifetime being the fondness she held for you. That being said, you still didn’t get away scot-free, not hearing the end of the story until several months later.
But while most others would have never mentioned the subject after such an incident again, knowing not to play around with the fire that was Yae’s teasing, that brain of yours worked slightly differently from theirs.
When the contract between Yae’s Publishing House and one of their best writers ran out and it became increasingly clear that she had no interest in signing a new one any time soon, most publishers would have given up and moved on, but not Yae. Not when she had one last ace up her sleeve.
“No. No, not in a million years. No”, you shot down Yae’s idea almost immediately, not willing to hear her out this time. You had always been okay with completing various odd requests from her, was it for an extra day off, because you had nothing else to do or because it was Yae asking you, but this was one you absolutely refused to even entertain for a second.
“I don’t see why you’re so against it. Didn’t the two of you know each other since you were kids? Surely sitting down with her for one evening and discussing the future wouldn’t be that difficult for you”, she continued, the realization that she wasn’t going to give up on her plan slowly setting in.
But Yae was right with one thing. You and the person in question did know each other for a long time, and while you never felt anything towards her, she had always been surprisingly receptive towards anything you asked of her, the idea to sign a contract with Yae’s Publishing House being the most obvious example of such. 
There was no doubt in your mind she’d agree to sign whatever paper you asked her to, but that was reason enough to decline Yae’s plan. You had principles and using someone else’s feeling towards you for such things was out of the question, no matter what she offered-
“I’ll let you pet my tail if you help me out.”
“One minute per month for as long as I work here.” The counter offer shot out of your mouth, those ‘principles’ of yours suddenly nowhere to be seen.
“I’ll let you rest your head on it for 30 seconds. Once”, Yae responded, only for you to immediately jump at the opportunity without as much as a second thought, sealing the deal by grabbing her hand and shaking it.
Any regrets and disdain you might have felt towards yourself for actually going through with Yae’s request evaporated the moment your eyes fell on her fluffy tail. It looked even more comfortable than you imagined it and once you actually laid your head on it, you could feel sleepiness wash over you. You might have had to lay a few more of your principles at rest for it, but at this moment you couldn’t help but feel you made a good bargain.
As you laid there, Yae began silently humming to herself in order to pass the time. It was a beautiful and calming melody that made your eyelids grow even heavier with each second, and before you knew it, you decided to close your eyes and enjoy the time you had left, you let out a content sigh. 
As your the time your eyes had been closed increasingly felt longer and longer, you couldn’t help but start feeling worried, causing you to eventually open your eyes. You were surprised that Yae hadn’t woken you up at the exact moment 30 seconds passed, your surprise increasing at least tenfold when you noticed the sun already setting and the previously blue sky painted in various shades of red.
“And? How was your sleep?”, Yae asked as she looked down at you, a small smile on her face as she noticed your widened eyes, causing your cheeks to flare-up until their colors nearly matched the sky.
“F-fine”, you quickly answered before trying to sit back up, only for your head to be pushed down until it once again laid on her soft tail.
“No need for such a hurry, you already laid on it for 3 hours, so what difference will a few more seconds make?” The contrast between Yae’s soft words and the smug smile she wore on her face couldn’t be bigger. You weren’t an Idiot, so you instinctively knew her words' true meaning. The sudden feeling that your ‘quick nap’ wasn’t as unplanned as you previously thought… at least not for one of the two of you.
“The time of a Guuji is very valuable, you know?” Hook
“Especially on a day like this, I can’t fathom how many guests visited the shrine today.” Line
“But don’t you worry, I can think of a few tasks you can do to pay me back.” and sinker.
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thornybubbles · 8 months
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Forever My Queen (Yandere Diavolo x Reader)
**Note: This is the first story in a collection of stories based on songs. All of the songs used as inspiration have lyrics that sound a bit “yandere-ish” to me. Each song was paired with a character that I personally think it suits the best.**
**Note 2: Features a female reader. Diavolo may seem a bit out of character here, but I figure that by this point, after having gone through the death loop for so long, his already unstable mind has snapped completely. So have fun with that, Reader. Be warned that I haven’t proofread this so it may contain mistakes. I’ll go back over this and fix any mistakes I find later. In the meantime I’ll go back to working on “Kinder Than Love”. 
WARNING: Mentions of suicide, death, and other dark themes. Read at your own discretion. Remember that you alone are responsible for what you choose to read. 
Inspiration: “Forever My Queen” by Pentagram
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How much longer would he have to endure this? How many times would he have to endure the agony of death? 
Over and over and over again… 
Would he ever be allowed to die and just stay dead?!
Diavolo’s wild, green eyes darted around, making note of every little thing that could possibly kill him. He deemed it all dangerous. After all the times he died, he learned a very important lesson: 
Death could come at any time, from anywhere, from anyone or anything. 
From being stabbed, burned, shot, poisoned, strangled, electrocuted, drowned, starved, crushed, chopped to pieces, eaten alive, torn in half, beaten to death, he’d experienced nearly every way a human being could die. He couldn’t take it anymore. 
How would it happen this time?
Would it be slow and agonizing or quick and painless? 
He stared about, cringing in on himself and trembling. It had already been about ten minutes and he was still breathing. It offered him no comfort. He knew it was only a matter of time before the end came. Then he would end up somewhere else and die again… and again… and again… 
“Please…” his voice came out in a trembling whisper. 
“Please!” 
A few people walking down the sidewalk glanced in his direction, shook their heads at the obvious madman, and kept walking. 
“FOR FUCK’S SAKE! GET IT OVER WITH! JUST KILL ME ALREADY!” he screamed, glaring at the people that turned to give him strange looks. 
How did the saying go? “Oh, how the mighty have fallen.” Diavolo, the man that had once held an entire country in the palm of his hand had been reduced to a cowering, trembling, paranoid lunatic that screamed obscenities in the streets while people looked on in shock, concern, and occasional amusement. 
The King was king no more. 
He had nothing. 
He was nothing. 
His subjects had all turned against him. His kingdom had been stolen from him. He was exiled  into a never ending loop of death, defeated by a mere child. King Crimson was gone. Dear Doppio, his companion soul, was dead. And now, the only thing he had to look forward to was death.
He fell to his knees and tried to keep from bursting into tears like a pathetic child. Most of the people that had been distracted by his little outburst had already walked away, some more hurried than others, but all wanting nothing more than to be as far away from Diavolo as possible. He could keel over right there in front of all those people and none of them would care. They would just step over his corpse as if he were just a pile of trash. No one cared what happened to him. 
He had nothing at all to live for.
Nothing to live for… 
Diavolo chuckled at the realization. Of course. Why hadn’t he thought of it before? It all made sense now. It was the one death he hadn’t experienced yet! 
Suicide. 
He was supposed to kill himself this time. 
He couldn’t help but laugh, elated at the idea. He could resist of course, but he knew that the death loop would increase his despair until he finally gave up and ended himself. But he wouldn’t resist. No. He wanted to die this time. And he would enjoy it, too. It would be the only time that the death loop allowed him to choose the nature of his elimination. What would he choose? He wanted so badly to savor his brief moment of control, but he felt that the death loop would grow impatient if he didn’t act soon. So he would have to work with what was around him. He looked around his immediate area hoping to find something that could end his life in an at least tolerable way. Eventually he lifted his gaze to the rooftop of a nearby apartment building. Why not go with the old standard? He would climb to the roof of that building and jump to his death. 
Diavolo entered the building, feeling something akin to peacefulness in his soul. He didn’t know what future horrors the death loop would bestow upon him, so he would relish this single moment of mercy. He decided to take the stairs, forgoing the elevator completely. He just wanted to enjoy the moment as this had been the longest he’d ever been allowed to stay alive. He could safely say that this would be his favorite death. 
The door to the rooftop was thankfully unlocked. He opened it and walked out into the late afternoon glow. The air was so clear up there and Diavolo took a moment to breathe it all in. He walked up to the edge of the roof and stared down at the city. It gave him a great sense of tranquility standing there, looking at the skyline and the setting sun. He had no idea where he was, but for a moment, he imagined that this city was his kingdom and he had just climbed up to the roof of his sprawling villa to survey his domain. 
Just like old times. 
The feelings of despair hit him hard then and he knew it was time. He looked back down at the streets below and took a deep breath. It wouldn’t be the first time he fell to his death. He’d done it at least five times before. He knew it would hurt, it would be extremely painful, having nearly every bone in your body crushed by the force of gravity and your flesh splitting open as your insides spilled out all over the pavement would always be excruciating, but at the very least it would only last for a moment. Painful but quick. Diavolo supposed he’d take that over slow and agonizing. He held his arms out wide and started to let himself fall forward. 
Something grabbed a hold of the back of the mesh shirt he wore and yanked him back onto the roof. He spun around and locked eyes with you. 
--------
You had come up to the roof to watch the sunset and have a little smoke. You didn’t smoke often, but sometimes the events of the day wore you down and having a little nicotine in your system helped you deal with it. You had just finished your cigarette when the door to the roof was suddenly thrown open, startling you. A man dressed like a mannequin in the window of a Hot Topic shuffled out onto the roof with a spaced out look on his face. You weren’t sure but, he might’ve been under the influence of something with the way he was acting. He lumbered past you as if he hadn’t even seen you. You watched, with growing concern, as he made his way to the edge of the roof. He stood there staring out at the horizon before throwing his hands out and leaning forward. 
SHIT! 
You had a terrible feeling that he was going to jump the moment you saw him heading for the edge of the roof. You moved with speed that you didn’t know you possessed and grabbed a fistful of the netting on the back of his “shirt”, if you could even call it that, and yanked him backwards. He almost fell backwards on top of you before pulling himself out of your grip and turning his manic green eyes on you. He seemed shocked, confused, and maybe a little bit angry. 
“WHY THE HELL DID YOU STOP ME?!” 
Okay, maybe very angry. 
You didn’t know how to answer him. 
“I-I just… you were going to…” was all you could say. 
“What business is it of yours?” he asked, voice dropped to a quieter, but just as threatening growl. “What compelled you to interfere?!” 
Again, you didn’t know how to answer. Frankly you thought it was obvious. 
“I guess… I just didn’t want you to jump.” you said, wincing at the sound of your own voice. 
The man sneered, painted lips pulling away from his teeth. 
“You shouldn’t have stopped me! I was meant to die here! I was….” 
He trailed off and a look of stunned realization came over him. His mouth dropped open and he stared at you as if you just gave him the answers to all of life’s problems. 
-----
The gears in Diavolo’s head were turning. Something had changed. He could feel it. He felt it the moment he felt you grab him and yank him back before he could let himself fall to his predestined death. All throughout the death loop, not once had anyone bothered to come to his rescue. You did. Where had you even come from? He hadn’t seen you at all when he walked onto the roof. There was a moment where the paranoia rose within him again and he thought that maybe you were meant to be his death, but why would you save him only to kill him a moment later? At the very least, he could trust his deaths to make sense. The paranoia within him faded when he looked at you. No. You wouldn’t hurt him. You weren’t the type. He knew full well what the look of murderous intent looked like in a person’s eyes. The only thing he saw in your eyes was confusion, discomfort, and a little bit of fear. 
He felt as if a chain around his neck had been broken. Gone was the ever present atmosphere of impending doom. 
It was over.
He was free. 
Somehow, when you pulled him back onto the roof, you managed to pull him out of the death loop as well.
Something stirred within him and he absently placed a hand over his chest. That presence that had always been with him since his birth had returned. Doppio. His dear Doppio was a part of him again, he could feel it! Not only that…
He stood up to his full height and took a few steps back. 
“King Crimson!” he shouted, causing you even more confusion. 
His ever grimacing Stand appeared beside him, looking as if he had never been lost. King Crimson cast one sideways glance in your direction before Diavolo mentally dismissed him. 
He turned back to you. 
“You fixed it.” he said, sounding completely wonderstruck. “I don’t know how, but you fixed it. You gave everything back to me!” 
Well, almost everything. He was still a king without a kingdom, but now that he had Doppio and King Crimson back, it was a problem he could easily deal with. 
“Um, sir…” 
Your timid voice interrupted his thoughts. His crazed eyes met yours and you took a step back. No, he wasn’t high, but he was very clearly mentally ill or at the very least mentally distressed. 
“...is there someone that I can call for you?” 
He answered you by suddenly sweeping you into his arms and pressing his lips to yours in a much too passionate kiss to be shared between strangers. You tried to pry yourself from his hold but his grip was like iron. He deepened the kiss in a way that had you both panicking and swooning at the same time. You didn’t know who this guy was, but he kissed like he was trying to suck the life out of you. You were getting dizzy and your vision was filling up with black splotches. You were on the verge of passing out when he finally pried his lips away from yours and set you back on your feet. 
You lost your balance instantly, and fell over on your rear. Your head was spinning and you took a moment to catch your breath. You could feel the heat in your face and you were certain that it was roughly the color of a tomato. Your dazzled mind was at war with itself. One part of your mind was screaming that you needed to pick yourself off the ground and get the hell out of there before that psycho did something worse to you, while the other side of your mind was nervously dismissing the whole thing, saying that he was just showing his gratitude at you saving his life. Once your head began to clear, you scooted backwards on your ass until you felt you were out of his immediate reach. You weren’t going to let him touch you again. 
“I will repay you. You have my word on that. I know you don’t fully understand what you’ve done for me today, but I will repay you for it.” he said. 
He turned away from you, his eyes filled with a frightening kind of determination, and left the rooftop looking like a man with a mission. 
You lay there on the roof, desperately trying to comprehend what just happened to you. 
-----
Several months later… 
You shook your head as you read the morning news. 
“Man, this city’s gone to shit.” you murmured and took a sip of your coffee. 
Almost overnight, your city’s crime rate skyrocketed. Murders, assaults, beatings, robberies, gang wars… there didn’t seem to be any end to it. Sure all of that stuff existed before, but not to the extreme level that it had reached in only a few months time. Something was definitely going on with the local criminal organizations and you wanted NO part of it. You glanced over at the pile of real estate brochures that rested on the kitchen counter. You had already been wanting to move for a while now, and the way things were going, you may have to move for your own safety. Young woman living alone? Yeah, you were a prime target. Luckily your apartment building was the only one in the neighborhood that hadn’t been broken into yet. Keyword being “yet”. It was only a matter of time. If there was ever a time to move out to the country, now was it. You quite frankly hated living in the city anyway. It was too noisy, too hectic, and lately, too dangerous. 
A crashing sound caused you to look up from your paper. That came from just outside your door. You set the paper aside and cautiously approached the door. You reached out and put one ready hand on the handle of the baseball bat you kept next to the door and looked through the peephole. You didn’t see anything right away so you slowly opened the door. Sprawled on the floor was a little guy with pink hair who was pinned underneath a rather heavy looking box. He struggled to push the box off of himself but it wouldn’t budge. You let go of the baseball bat and threw the door open. 
“Need some help?” you asked, stepping out into the hallway. 
The little guy looked over at you and immediately blushed with embarrassment. 
“N-no! I’m okay!” he said, rather unconvincingly. “I can handle it.” 
He grunted as he tried to push the box off of himself again. It just wouldn’t budge no matter what he did. He looked back over to you, giving you a sheepish grin. 
“Uh, actually… I could probably use a little bit of help… if you don’t mind…” 
You couldn’t help but smile. Whoever he was, he was oddly charming. He seemed a little dense though, but hey, nobody’s perfect. You went over and knelt down next to where he lay. You pushed the box off of him and he sat up, sighing with relief. 
“Thanks!” he said.
He got to his feet and looked up at you. His face flushed again, and he looked around himself, seemingly trying to avoid looking directly at your face. 
Aw, he’s shy! You thought. 
“I guess I overestimated my own strength…” he said and chuckled nervously. 
You glanced over at all the other boxes sitting just outside of the open door to an apartment room. 
“Guess this means you’re my new neighbor, huh?” you observed. 
“Yep!” he said with a nod. 
Getting over his shyness a bit, he offered a hand for you to shake. You smiled and shook his hand. His grip on your hand seemed to linger slightly longer than necessary before he finally let go. 
“My name’s Doppio. Vinegar Doppio.” He said. 
-----
Diavolo was overjoyed to have both his Stand and his second soul back. Not only that but he was slowly rebuilding his empire. The best part of it all was that he was no longer stuck in that infernal death loop. 
He had you to thank for that. 
And thank you he would. 
He already made sure that you were the most protected being in the entire city. All of those under his rule knew that you were off limits. Your apartment was a safe zone and any of his underlings that passed it by wouldn’t even look at the building for fear of his wrath. Only one upstart thief thought that he would try his luck and attempt to break into your apartment. Doppio, who had been observing from the building across the street, quickly put a stop to it. Diavolo allowed his other half to deal with the disobedient worm however he desired. His dear Doppio was very thorough in his punishment. The thief's brutalized body was hung by its entrails from the ceiling of the local thieves' den. The message was very clear. Any slight towards you would be met with swift and horrific punishment. There would be no forgiveness, no chance at redemption, and NO MERCY. 
Diavolo didn’t know what strange parallel world the death loop had taken him to, but what he did know is that you were destined to rule it alongside him. You hadn’t just saved his life that day you kept him from jumping from the roof, you gave him back everything that had been taken from him. You were special to him. You were clearly meant to be his. His Queen. With you by his side, he would bring this new world to its knees. 
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katapotato55 · 1 year
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How to write a good metaphor
yall seemed to like my post on "how to write good horror" so i figured i should make another one of these.
1- do. not. explain. the. metaphor.
don't.
"oh but how will the audience know my deep and meaningful message- "
SOME PEOPLE WONT GET IT. if you explain what you mean then suddenly the metaphor won't be deep anymore. it becomes a generic forced message.
i know you are tempted to make a character infodump about everything, fucking don't.
followup on this:
2- a good metaphor should potentially have multiple interpretations.
"but i don't want people to get the wrong impression of the story!"
then you either need to make damn sure its an elegantly written metaphor, or none at all. the death of the author is the idea that everyone has their own vision of a story they read, rearguards of authors intent. you need to come to terms with this or else you won't improve your writing skills.
you need to trust that your audience is intelligent enough to understand the metaphor on their own without bashing them over the head with it. sometimes people misunderstand meaning, it is a fact of life.
The game little inferno was thought of as a metaphor about pollution, in which later the creators went out to say it was actually about capitalism and wasting your life with things like exploitative mobile games. you just need make it SUBTLE and hope for the best.
3- The story/gameplay/etc should inform the metaphor(and sometimes reference real life examples)
To mention little inferno again, the "you must wait x amount of time for in-game item to be given to you" is a mirror of mobile games in the real world that use timers to leach money from you.
another example: analogue horror.
broken old technology is scary on its own, but many good analogue horror artists tend to use this to the advantage.
analogue horror can be used as a metaphor for dying trends and technology, like how in the 30's through 70's we used asbestos in the walls. Analogue horror makes a great parralel to this idea (see Blue_channel by gooseworx for a good example.) . the audience questions WHY this is on an old CRT tv and not just a smartphone, perhaps to imply this was an event that happened years ago.
undertale is another example, where most RPG's encourage you to fight and to level up, undertale uses this as a simple metaphor about obsessive control and being cruel to get an arbitrary achievement (i recommend the escapist's video on "why i didn't review undertale" on youtube for way better examples)
tldr: a metaphor is stronger if you lightly reference real life occurances and implement your metaphor in the medium presented.
4- the curtains are blue because they are blue.
not everyone is going to understand your metaphor
and not everyone is going to notice every single little metaphor you add to your story.
remember those teachers that would constantly stretch to imply something in a story is a metaphor and that the curtains are blue because of some deep metaphor for death and sadness and shit?
those teachers are full of it. ignore them.
metaphors are allowed to be simple. not every metaphor needs to be a hyper deep depth defying world changing thing. I could even argue a bunch of small metaphors connected to each other can be better than one big metaphor depending on your story.
relax. don't think too much about it because your average audience member won't.
5- study movies, tv, books, games, etc and understand why their metaphors work.
don't fall into that "the curtains are blue because of a deep message" English teacher mindset mind you.
"but how do i tell what is and isn't a metaphor?" you may ask
simple. trust your gut. you won't understand everything you come across but the human brain has a way of telling what is and isn't a metaphor in stories.
(spoiler about bugsnax)
I could argue Bugsnax is a metaphor about drug abuse and addiction. The characters have personality traits commonly associated with people vulnerable to drug addiction. An athlete, a hippy, a married couple going through a rough spot in their marriage with the threat of divorce, a mentally ill person with trauma and paranoia, etc.
It isn't obvious, many people may disagree with me, but you can't deny that there are signs i may be right.
(end of spoiler) the point i am trying to make: don't stretch to find a metaphor when you don't see one. if you are curious google other people's theories and make your own opinion. metaphors are hard and you will learn over time. and finally 6- do not ever do "it was all just a dream" or "the character is secretly in a coma" etc this applies to writing in general but it is still related to metaphors. the only time i have seen this done well is driver san francisco, but what it did right was A- make it so the players can guess ahead of time the mystery, such as the radio saying voices of your character in the hospital, or if you zoomed out you could hear a heart monitor. and B- it didn't completely un-do the entire story. that is my core issue with this trope. it either wastes your time un-doing the entire story readers worked hard to finish, or it is just nonsensical and terrible. "dora the explorer is actually in purgatory!" "spongebob is a metaphor for the 7 deadly sins!" "ash is in a coma and that is why he never ages! " ooooor it is a cartoon and you are forcing meaning that doesn't exist in something that doesn't even imply it. the world being a bit weird is not enough to be a metaphor for anything. If you want to make a good metaphor: do more effort than just slapping a lazy "it was all a coma" thing at the end. Like horror, stuff like this needs to be built up properly. also consider authors intent. I understand death of the author and all of that, but do you really think a retired marine biologist made spongebob to be a complex metaphor about sinners in hell ? (rip Stephen Hillenburg btw. we didn't deserve him.) thank you for reading, hope this helps. and please, learn to understand the tropes of metaphors before you attempt to make the story of a generation. edit- adding a couple more things i forgot 7- "the darkness is going to destroy the land or whatever!" i see this used all the time. spooky wookey dark shadowy bits going to destroy a land and is the hero's generic bad thing to fight. stop it. it is not a deep and complex metaphor about depression or whatever the hell you are on about. its lazy and stupid. 8- a story should stand up on its own regardless if audience members understand the metaphor or not I don't like Gris. it is a very pretty game with lovely visuals But also the entire story is just the main character moping about artistically and shit and go on about how artistically sad and dramatic this all is. if i don't understand the story without understanding the metaphor, then your story and your metaphor sucks. an example of a metaphor done well: spiritfairer without the metaphor, it is a simple game about running a traveling boat. even if you didn't care too much about the deeper meaning it is a cute story and the gameplay is fun (spoiler) if you look deeper, it can also be taken as a metaphor about greif and learning to accept your loved ones will one day die. things like the boat being filled with empty houses you can't remove is a good example of this. (end of spoiler) your story needs to stand up on its own to be good. don't use a metaphor as a crutch.
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senorabond · 5 months
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Rumor Has It: Chapter 2 (Peña x f!reader x Pike)
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Pairings: Javier Pena x f!reader; Marcus Pike x f!reader; future Pena x f!reader x Pike
Chapter 2 Summary: You’re reviewing the case file Javi gave you when a memory of your last night in D.C. distracts you. After a bit of a brainstorm, you decide it’s finally time to call Marcus back and get his opinion. He always has the right words.
Rating: 18+ (Minors DNI), Explicit sexual content, additional warnings may be added for future chapters
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Chapter Warnings: masturbation (f!reader), flashback, thigh riding, oral sex (f receiving), semi-public/workplace sex (evidence locker after hours), hand on throat for control, Dom/sub dynamic, soft Dom!Marcus, praise kink, you are such a good girl
Reader/Character notes: Reader is fem/afab. Marcus is strong enough to lift Reader up onto the edge of a table (no mention of Reader’s body size, shape, composition, or skin color), Reader has hair long enough for Marcus to brush away from face, Marcus is super thoughtful and thorough when planning for sexy times
Words: ~4.5k
Author's Notes: A huge thank you again to @kilamonster for being my wonderful beta, talking me through my fear of posting dirty talk, and letting me bounce random porny ideas off her. <3
Again, there’s no specific time/setting, I just really wanted to get both Javi and Marcus together in the same story. In my mind, Javi is post-s3 of Narcos, and Marcus is somewhere around/after s7ep1 of The Mentalist.
I learned basically everything I know about the court system from true crime TV and podcasts, so the legalese here is purposefully vague. I have no idea what it would take to prosecute a federal case, lol. However, I did find some interesting information while researching art fraud/money laundering! I’m happy to share links to my sources if anybody is interested.
Masterlist || Previous Chapter
Chapter 2
Later that night, you sit cross-legged on your bed, the various photos and documents from Peña spread out around you. You can see why he was so adamant about Customs involvement – there was enough circumstantial evidence in front of you for some lower-level courts to convict. Peña doesn’t strike you as the type to take chances though, not at this point in his career. If he’s making an arrest, he wants a case airtight, no room for technicalities or sympathetic juries. He’ll have worked with enough federal prosecutors to know what he needs to put bastards away and keep them there.
You think back to your conversation with Peña for what must be the twelfth time since that afternoon. It’s still difficult to reconcile the reputation with the man. Javier Peña, the senior DEA agent, was by reputation a force of nature; women and men alike wanted him and wanted to be him. He is unapologetically brash, arrogant, and always gets his way. If he believes something is worth getting, he’ll do whatever it takes, even if he has to use less than savory channels. 
Javier Peña, the man, is intense, focused, driven, and has some of the saddest, most beautiful, big brown eyes you’d ever seen. He has a level of self-awareness you hadn’t expected. He struggles with asking for help, even if he can recognize his own limitations. 
With a sigh, you take the wire transcript in hand and lean back against the pillows propped up against the headboard. The conversation had thankfully already been translated from Spanish with the original attached for reference. You had basic Spanish under your belt from high school and learned some choice slang from friends and exes, but you didn’t know nearly enough to comprehend the entire conversation on paper in front of you. 
The men were discussing various works of art and their estimated values at auction and on the black market. One of the men, Castano, was insisting he could simply forge a copy of a famous painting since it was “just a bunch of splattered paint” that “didn’t look like anything anyway.” You chuckled to yourself. 
You used to think the same thing about the abstract expressionism paintings you’d seen until somebody actually took the time to explain the meaning behind the movement. Agent Marcus Pike knew a lot about art – it was his job, after all, as head of the FBI’s art crimes unit in D.C. You worked closely with Pike and his squad to close a major case before you put in for the transfer to Texas. The two of you had spent a lot of time together and grown close, developing a mutual professional respect before things had ever gotten personal. 
Your thoughts travel back to the last time Pike taught you something about art. It’s a bittersweet thought, since that was also your last night in D.C., and the last time you saw him. You’d come so close to saying more than you were ready to admit, and certainly more than you were ready to hear in return. 
With a sigh, you drop the transcript on the bed and fall back onto your pillows. That last night in D.C. was also the last time you experienced an orgasm you didn’t give yourself. More than one, actually. 
Your mind floods with images and sensations from that night and, rather unconsciously, your hands begin to retrace the parts of your body Marcus had touched. Fingertips ghost over the crook of your neck and across your collarbone to the collar of your worn t-shirt. Marcus’ t-shirt, actually. You’d stolen it unapologetically when he’d forgotten it at your place and told him it looked better on you anyway. Marcus had agreed, and then shown just how much better he liked it on you.
While your one hand is occupied at your breast, the other busies itself at the waistband of your panties. Eyes closed, you slide a finger over your dampening slit, remembering the path Marcus’ tongue traveled as your breath hitches. God, that man could use his mouth. And he loved to use it on you. You let the memory of that night wash over you…
Washington, D.C. 6 months ago
“There is one thing I need right now.” You feel a bit giddy at your recklessness, but any nerves you might have are quelled when Marcus runs the tip of his nose up your jawline to your ear. 
“And what’s that? Hm?” He inhales your scent and hums with pleasure. Before you can stop yourself, you shift the hand at Marcus’ hip to his crotch. When you feel how hard he already is you release a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. 
Marcus inhales sharply through his nose at your touch, then lets out a groan in your ear at your gentle squeeze. “Tell me what you need.” His five o’clock shadow rasps against your sensitive skin as he sucks your earlobe into his mouth. 
“I need you to show me that evidence locker you haven’t shut up about since we met.” 
~~~
Pike stands behind you in the elevator in case you happen upon anybody else working late at the office. The odds are low, except for the contracted private security officers, but you didn’t think they’d want to see Pike’s hardon either. He’s so close, he’s almost pressed against your back while caressing a palm over your ass. You try to keep a straight face, but are practically panting through parted lips.
“You’ve been wanting this for a long time, haven’t you?” Marcus asks, his voice low in your ear as he leans over to push the button for the correct floor. His tone is almost conversational, but you can feel the thread of excitement pulling taut between your bodies. He’d been teasing you with the idea of fucking you in the art squad’s evidence locker for months now, going into great detail about what he was going to do to you – you only had to ask. 
You nod silently in response as the elevator doors close, and Pike grips your waist, grinding his erection into your lower back. “Yes,” your breath huffs out. He likes you to use your words, and strokes your arm with an approving hum. 
“Are you going to be a good girl for me?” Your nipples harden at his words and your breath comes out shakily. 
Marcus was the first person you’d ever been with to call you a good girl. You never thought you’d be into the kind of gentle dominance and steady stream of praise Marcus employed with you, but it made all the right synapses fire in your brain and took the experience to an entirely different level. 
You nod again, playing the game, knowing what he wants to hear.
Marcus’ hand splays across your lower belly, the other sweeping gently across your throat and brushing your hair away from your face. He’s pressing into you, the energy coming off him in waves, leaving you feeling heady. 
“Say it for me.” It’s spoken softly, coaxing, but still an unmistakable command. 
“I’ll be a good girl for you.” Your voice has the slightest waver, but ends strong.
Marcus’ hand on your belly inches lower and heat radiates between your thighs. “I know you will.”
The doors of the elevator open with a ding that makes you jump, and Marcus moves back with a reassuring squeeze on your shoulder. Gently, he guides you with a hand between your shoulder blades. You’re on one of the underground levels, where the low ceilings and fluorescent lights are stark reminders that you’re both still in a government building and cameras are watching your every move. 
A security guard rounds a corner and Marcus clears his throat, then moves to button his suit jacket, presumably to hide his erection. How he manages to walk with that thing when it’s hard, you’ll never know. 
The guard waves amiably. “Good evening, Agent Pike. What’re you still doing here so late?” Of course Pike knows the guard; probably knows his kids’ names too. 
“Just had something to finish off first.” Biting your tongue to keep from laughing, the two of you pass the guard. “Oh yeah, tell Rosie good luck at her big match this weekend.” You nearly snort. The men share a brief handshake and you and Marcus round the corner, the door to the evidence lockup just ahead.
The two of you share a heated look and Marcus smirks. He swipes his badge and the door unlocks with a small snick. You’re guided inside a dark room that could be the size of a storage closet for all you can see. Marcus flips one of the light switches, and sturdy floor-to-ceiling shelving units are illuminated on either side, hedging you in like a maze. So far, it looks like any other evidence room, except with mood lighting.
“I don’t know what I was expecting,” you mutter, and Marcus chuckles. As he leads you along the shelves towards some unknown destination, long shadows from the meager overhead light throw the long rows and corners into darkness.
He takes your hand and explains, “The lighting, temperature, and humidity are all controlled by a central system. Same kind as in the National Gallery.” You nod, genuinely impressed. 
“You don’t keep all your evidence here, right?” The room was large, but most of the shelving space was taken up by various sized crates and archival boxes. Marcus shakes his head.
“Just the very valuable pieces that need to be kept under special conditions. Any other evidence is kept in a regular lockup.” Marcus stops and you come up short, nearly colliding with his broad back. “Oh,” you breathe, peering around him and knowing this is what he wanted to show you.
The maze of shelving units opens up onto what looks like a miniature museum exhibit. Paintings are hung on the walls or staged on easels and covered with drop cloths. Sculptures are on pedestals in glass cases along one wall, and to your right are a few chairs next to an expansive table. 
Marcus approaches the paintings and proceeds to carefully remove the drop cloths from each work of art. They vary in style, color, expression, and movement. Some of them are encased in elaborate frames, while others are plain, or bare. Now this is what you’d hoped for after all these months hearing Marcus speak of this place in near reverent tones. This evidence lockup could rival most well-funded galleries and museums. 
“Are these all forgeries?” You take a step closer to the nearest painting and inspect it – for what, you’re not sure. “Stolen?” 
“A bit of both.” Marcus sidles up behind you. Your voices remain hushed, private, intimate.
Hands casually in his pockets, he takes you on a tour of the evidence on display, telling you a bit about each piece – what made the art valuable enough to forge or steal, and a few particulars about each case. He is in his element here, the picture of quiet confidence. Passion laces his every word and brings a spark to his eyes that you’d only seen a few times before when you were about to crack a case.
You have never felt more attracted to him.
Coming up to the last painting, you cock your head to the side and give it a quizzical stare. It’s abstract, composed of a muted yet warm palette. The paint is blended with no discernable lines or shapes.
“What is it?” you ask, looking up in time to see Marcus’ dimple appear next to his gentle smile. 
“What do you see?” Marcus steps behind you again, and runs the tips of his fingers up and down your arms.
“I… I’m not sure. What am I supposed to see?” The texture of the paint is layered in some spaces, and there’s almost an ethereal glow emanating from its contrast of light and dark. You feel a bit embarrassed and uncultured. Maybe if you squint or let your vision blur, like it’s one of those magic eye puzzles that give you headaches.
“What I love about abstract art is that there’s no right or wrong answer. I hated it until we studied it in school. I always thought I was missing something, and got frustrated that I couldn’t see what was right in front of me.” 
You let out a soft hmm of agreement, but are distracted by Marcus’ voice, hot on your ear, lips close enough to graze the sensitive shell. “It was this quote by an artist, Arshile Gorky, that helped me appreciate it more. To paraphrase, abstraction frees the mind and allows it to explore the unknown. Whatever you see is what you’re meant to see.”
You let your mind rest on his words, buzzing from the energy between you. With a smirk, you say, “I bet you got laid a lot in school.” 
Marcus gives a surprised chuckle. “I did alright,” he admits, and you hear the grin in his voice.
Turning to face him, you run your hands up his chest and under the lapels of his jacket to his shoulders. Marcus sighs, placing his hands on your waist and pulling you closer. That spark in his eye is trained on you now, his pupils blown while they skate over your face under hooded lids. 
“What’s next on the tour?” Your voice comes out a bit hoarse, his gaze almost overwhelming in its intensity. 
Marcus smiles, somewhat mischievously. “Just one more thing. C’mon,” he takes your hand and starts leading you to the large table and chairs. “I think you’re going to like this part.” 
Leaving you at the edge of the table, Marcus goes to one of the nearby shelves and pulls out a large cardboard envelope from a box, nearly the size of one of the paintings. With the flip of a switch, the entire surface of the table illuminates, humming gently from the internal fan. He pulls out what looks to be a sheet of dark plastic film and lays it on top of the table, revealing an x-ray image.
Marcus’ face is like a kid’s on Christmas morning. “This is an x-ray of that painting over here,” he points to the abstract work you’d been standing at a moment before. The x-ray on the table is a ghostly, black-and-white rendering of the muted swaths of paint. “And here,” he lays a second image down on the table, “is another x-ray taken of the same painting at different settings.” 
You nearly gasp. It’s virtually a different image entirely. The abstract painting has been reduced to a haze, overlaying a distinct pastoral landscape. Leaning over the table for a closer look, you feel a pleasantly warm glow on your face from the lit surface. “What the…” Your eyes snap back to Marcus’ face, which is lit up with what you can only describe as glee. 
“So you like it?” His eyes are sparkling and that dimple you love so much has reappeared. “‘Like it?’” You scoff. “I love it, Marcus, this is incredible. But…” you gesture at the images, “What exactly does that mean in terms of evidence?” Marcus comes around to your side of the table.
“The first one is a radiographic image of that painting we looked at, which could have told us if there were any traces of minerals or other elements within the paint used. Modern paint pigments are synthetic,” Marcus pulls the first image closer and gestures to the different shades of gray. “But–” he slides the second image next to the first, with its outlines of rolling hills and fluffy clouds, “Historically, heavy metals were frequently used, like lead and cobalt.” 
Nodding along with the lesson, you put two and two together. “So the heavy metals in old paint would show through on an x-ray, even if somebody has painted over it.” Marcus is beaming at you, clearly happy that you made the connection. 
“Exactly. And then the synthetic paint could be removed later.” Turning to face you, he rests a hip on the edge of the table. The surface light casts dramatic shadows across the contours of his jaw and nose. You mirror his body language and reach out to poke him playfully in the chest. 
“No fair; the FBI gets all the fun toys.” The cool satin of his tie slips deftly between your fingers, and you give it a gentle tug. His gaze is alert and hungry as he takes a step closer, and you can feel your body responding to his proximity once again. Marcus trails a finger across your clavicle that sends a chill down your spine and tingles straight to your nipples. 
“Yeah, but if you ask nicely, maybe I’ll share.” Threading his fingers into the hair at the base of your skull, he pulls gently but purposefully until your head tilts back and you’re forced to meet his eyes. A shuddering breath escapes your parted lips. Marcus leans in and grazes his lips against yours, barely a whisper of a kiss. His tongue traces the sensitive inner edge of your top lip and you nearly let out a whimper.
“Go on, then. Ask me.” He nips at your bottom lip. “Nicely.”
“Please,” you breathe. Marcus’ arm encircles your waist, while the hand in your hair grips a bit tighter. He uses a tight hold on your ass to grind you against the firm thigh he places between your own. Your hands grasp desperately onto his shoulders as your knees feel like they’re about to buckle from the delicious pressure. 
“‘Please’ what?” Marcus prompts gently. You’re pressing back against his thigh now, too lost in the sensation to respond. He withdraws it suddenly and you’re left clenching, all too aware of how badly you need that pressure back. 
“‘Please’ what?” He repeats, more firmly this time. 
“Please, Sir.” You correct yourself quickly, and are rewarded with Marcus’ lips against yours and the blessed return of his thigh. He’s a man possessed, and you whimper into his mouth as his tongue licks inside. The next thing you know, he’s got you sandwiched between the table and his thigh now, your skirt hiked up, juices leaking through your panties as you ride the firm muscles of his leg. 
“Look at you, just beautiful. You’re so hot like this, I love seeing you lose yourself. Does that feel good? Hm?” Marcus presses his hard cock into your hip and groans. “Jesus, I can feel how fucking wet you are through my pants. Are you going to leave your pussy juices on me, so anybody we walk past can see what a good girl you are for me?” 
Your eyes are squeezed shut tight, arms gripping to Marcus for dear life as you continue rutting against him, breath becoming ragged. The friction and pressure are almost too much, you’ll practically give yourself rug burn at this rate. But the onslaught of Marcus’ filthy praise in your ear, his hot, steamy breath against your neck, his tongue on your pulse point – you’re already careening out of control and he knows it.
“Are you going to cum for me, baby?” Nodding, wordless, you scramble to hold onto him as Marcus scoops up one of your thighs and hooks it over his hip with a grunt. “Then you better ask first.” 
“P-please,” you gasp out, “Please, Sir. Please can I cum?” You’re on the precipice, Marcus’ cock almost painfully hard in your hip. 
You gasp when he pulls his thigh away, eyes flying open in shock. “Not yet, sweet girl, hold on for me just a little bit longer. You’re going to cum on my tongue first.” Before you have a chance to protest, Marcus hoists you up fully onto the edge of the light table and pulls up a chair to feast on you. 
You’re immediately aware of the warmth the lit surface of the table infuses into every part of your body it’s touching. The table itself feels sturdy and solid beneath you, but you can’t fight an initial moment of panic. “Um, Marcus…I don’t know if–” It’s a struggle to concentrate as Marcus noses at your clothed pussy. A gentle double tap to the crown of his head is all the signal he needs to check in.
“You okay? Do you want to stop?” Marcus’ face is flushed, but his eyes are clear and laser focused on you. 
“Is this, uh…safe?” You rap gently on the table with a forced air of nonchalance. 
Marcus smiles and strokes the outside of your hip and thigh with his hand. “Totally safe. I triple-checked the specs and tested it out already.” 
You lift an amused eyebrow at that. “Tested it out?”
Marcus’ eyes go round at the implication, his dominant persona dropped. “Not like that! I mean I stacked a shitload of evidence boxes on it and did a– well, ah– a simulation, I guess you could call it.” His self-effacing chuckle is endearing.  He always knows how to make you feel safe and secure during your more adventurous times together. You smile and stroke his hair as he rubs his cheek against your inner thigh, the rasp of his five o’clock shadow sending shockwaves to your pussy.
“I’m very interested in finding out more about this simulation…Sir.” His honorific on your lips is your signal that you’re ready to continue and his grin turns wolfish. With a playful, smacking kiss to the tender flesh of your inner thigh, Marcus slips his fingers into the waistband of your panties. Bracing your calves on his broad shoulders, you lift your ass a little to help Marcus slide the panties the rest of the way off. 
“Open up for me, sweetheart.” Gently, he applies pressure to your knees until you’re completely spread out before him. You might be a little embarrassed being on display if you didn’t know how much he loved you like this: open, vulnerable, and completely at his mercy. The expression on Marcus’ face is practically one of reverence. 
“This is exactly why I wanted to bring you here,” Marcus places open-mouthed kisses up your thighs, sucking and nibbling his way to your center. It’s difficult not to squirm, he’s got you feeling antsy and impatient. “I wanted to see you lit up and on exhibit for me, like the work of art you are.”
You must be quite a sight to behold with the bright light of the table shining from beneath you. To drive his point home, Marcus dips his tongue to your core and collects your gathering slick on his tongue, spreading it and his saliva up to your clit in a broad swipe. Riding his thigh earlier has left you swollen and sensitive; your back arches off the table and you gasp at the sudden contact. 
Marcus holds you open with one hand so his tongue can more freely explore the full length of your slit, while the other alternates between massaging your breasts and rolling a peaked nipple through your blouse. Desperate for more, you unbutton your top enough to pull the cups of your bra down and leave yourself exposed to Marcus’ roaming fingers. 
Your whimpers and shuddering breaths combine with the sounds of Marcus lapping at your seeping cunt. His nose bumps against your engorged clit and you gasp, hips spasming. The hand on your breast disappears, and a finger gently nudges your entrance. 
“I’m going to get you ready for my cock, baby. Are you ready?” You nod wordlessly, and Marcus eases a digit inside you, watching your expression. “Oh, pretty girl, you’re so good, so wet. So tight, fuck.” 
Marcus laves his tongue over your clit and you clench around his finger. “Mmm, you’re going to take me so good, aren’t you?” Soon, he adds a second, working it rhythmically in and out, sucking and flicking his tongue against your clit until you’re panting.
The wet noises made by Marcus’ fingers inside you are practically obscene. When he crooks them at just the right spot, you lose all sense and writhe against him. You can hear a question in his inflection, but the twist and pull of his fingers are distracting, to say the least. He’s leaning over you now, the heel of his palm applying pressure over your clit to replace his mouth. 
“You’re doing so well, I know you can do it. You just need to ask me first.” His fingers inside you are relentless, and you can feel the pressure building inside, pulling taut like a rubber band about to snap. Marcus can tell how close you are and stops with his two fingers buried deep inside and applies his other hand to each side of your neck with just enough pressure to get your attention.
“C’mon, sweetheart, focus for me, otherwise I’ll have to stop.” His fingers are barely moving inside of you, just enough to keep you right on the edge. “You know what to do.”
A sob practically escapes your throat. “Please, Sir. I need to cum. Please can I? I want to be good for you.” It’s impossible to keep the pleading from your tone, you’re so close. Your hips are gyrating of their own accord, feebly fucking yourself on his fingers.
Marcus moves his hand off your throat to cup the side of your face and tangle his fingers in your hair. “Mm, do it. Be my good girl and cum.” Marcus leans down for a final taste where you’re stretched around his curling fingers, then settles his lips around your clit. With a cry, you break and see stars behind your eyelids as your orgasm crashes over you.
“Fuck yes, that’s my good girl. So beautiful like this, so perfect. I can feel you dripping into my hand, baby, you’re so wet. Did that feel good? Is that what you needed?” Marcus praises you through it all, stroking your neck, your breasts, peppering kisses over your mound and belly. His fingers retreat, leaving you fluttering in aftershocks, and you watch him lick your cum from his palm and fingers.
“Thank you for being such a good girl for me, sweetheart. I had to taste you at least one more time before you leave...” Reality falls over the room like a weighted blanket, and you let your engaged muscles go slack against the lit surface of the table, suddenly harsh and blinding. You feel exposed instead of exhibited and you squeeze your thighs together as the final flutters of your orgasm subside.
“Hey, come back to me,” you hear Marcus murmur, and feel him turn your face to meet his. He kisses you slowly and deeply, and you taste your tang on his plump bottom lip. He presses his forehead against yours and you share a couple of breaths. 
“I’m not done with you yet.”
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Additional Author's Note: Thank you so much for reading! There is plenty more to come (had to). I'd love to know what you thought -- any and all feedback is welcome! I just want to become a better writer. :)
Chapter 3 || SeñoraBond's Masterlist
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flananjan · 2 months
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welcome to flan's Very Long and extensive analysis for chapters 3 and 4 of jan and nace by damon baker 🔥
id like to preface this by saying that im viewing this from the perspective of an aroace person, so therell be notable mentions of amatonormativity and traditional gender norms.
keep in mind these are mostly my own opinions and also reflect some of the things other people have already said!! im also not a professional at analyzing anything im just insane in the head lol
i dont have the most coherent train of thoughts since i see many different interpretations for everything, so i apologize if this is a bit messy to understand 🥲 lol
feel free to share any thoughts on this btw!!
(also, special thank you to @lovvecherrymotion for enduring my insanity with me 🩷)
i want to start off with the individual photos damon took of them! these will be relatively short since im sure people have gone in depth with these already, but i wanted to mention them to preface the idea of their characters blending together later on.
nace jordan
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these first photos are very intense. theres such a strong contrast between the blacks and whites, so his features are prominently highlighted. being this open about having his body be photographed so closely mustve been a challenge for nace to accept, so to say that im extremely proud of him is an understatement.
nace reveals more of his skin than he usually does at the top. you can see his full tattoo sleeve and even the new tour bus tattoo, symbols of growth and making art out of ones body tightly. but he still "hides" himself; his arms are crossed, guarding his chest. he grips his shirt to reveal more of himself, but is hesitant to fully take it off, his hands rough and highly defined to show strength in his grip.
i take it as his relationship with his body image. although hes been slowly becoming more confident with himself and in his clothing choices, its clear that hes still self-conscious about it to an extent. hes not willing to show his whole, naked self like jure and jan might, so he hides it amidst his battle of accepting how beautiful he really is. perhaps he also grips his shirt as a cry of wanting to fully accept his body. he wants to take it off and be fully proud of who he is, but he just cant get himself to, so hes fights with himself in the strength of his grip. his head is angles downwards and his eyes peer up, emphasizing his timidness despite his piercing, strong gaze.
the bottom two photos reflect a similar idea of accepting who he is. on the left, he touches and molds his face, aware of what he looks like and his yearning to find some comfort in it... but he cant. at least not before. theres a look of discontent and perhaps even anger in his face. on the right, we get an extremely close shot of his face, his eye being the most prominent feature with how strong the shadows and highlights are. he looks up from below, his gaze so serious and intense. given the context of the other photos and the dark shadows, i see this as nace trying to find autonomy against his own dark thoughts of doubt. he looks up in an attempt to move on from his past and to live in the bright future ahead of him instead. hes determined to let go, however long it may take. he looks to joker out and he finds security.
though, this isnt to undermine the amount of progress he has made in his self-acceptance either. hes showing his bare arms for gods sake. hes showing more than he was probably willing to a few years ago. he grips his shirt as a sign of taking control of his own self-perception, to damn and crush the fear hes lived with for so much of his life. this is a testament to both his struggle and how hes grown from it.
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i find the contrast between these two photos with the ones on top to be very interesting. his expression and general demeanor is much softer and vulnerable, like hes inviting you to look at his emotions. at first he gazes up once again, being watchful of those looking at him. like hes expectant of something, perhaps judgement, perhaps some reassuring words that tell him he really is beautiful.
but he doesnt find any, and he resorts to looking at his tattoos. the floral theme represents beauty and fragility, something nace yearns to see in himself. so, although he may not always see himself as beautiful, he can at least appreciate the work hes done to try and get there. he gazes at this body he cant fully accept in hopes of finding the comfort he wished he couldve heard when he was younger, and its a constant battle.
jan peteh
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i find jans photos very interesting in the sense that hes the least exposed out of everyone. he intentionally wears a long sleeved top and covers his face with his hair to hide himself. i think it perfectly encapsulates jans character: despite being rather sexual, hes still a very reserved man. he shrouds himself in mystery and is selective in how much he shows. even when its a lot on face value, its still not the full extent of jan as a person.
i think this conscious choice to hide himself reflects autonomy over his body more than anything. yes, he often wears rather revealing clothing to their concerts and isnt afraid to be physically intimate with those around him in public, but his choice to hide his bare self tells me he wants to reserve that part of himself for his eyes only (or at most, to those close to him). he exhibits vulnerability by showing that he finds beauty in privacy, as if to say that he only wants his true self to be known to certain eyes. his version of being true to yourself is self-preservation. (im having a hard time verbalizing this concept so forgive me if this doesnt make sense lol) though, you could make a point about jan also hiding out of doubt and a fear of vulnerability given his sometimes timid nature in public, but generally i think he just likes being in the background. hes a star in his own way, even amongst the clusters of constellations around him.
at the top, i find it interesting that jan covers his eye with his painted hand. added with his long hair in his face, i think it symbolizes his connection with his more feminine and gender nonconforming side. hes not the most subtle about it but hes also not declaring it to the world very loudly, so him purposefully placing his painted nails against himself serves as a statement of his more "queer" sense of self. he peers at the camera, knowing that his sense of identity is queer and is prone to judgement, yet he hides in it anyway. a similar feeling of hiding and reservation can be seen on the right, his eyes covered by his hair but his gaze still there, watching.
(going forward, ill be using the term "queer" to refer to anything that doesnt follow traditional gender or attraction norms. this does not entail an assumption of identity, but rather is used as a description for a behavior that is seen as "out of the ordinary" amidst societal expectations.)
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here he has his eye more visible, becoming a strong focal point amidst all of the dark values and mystery surrounding it. his gaze is intense and even more watchful of whatevers looking at him, the light in his eye bigger and strong in its presence. to me it looks like a look of determination, challenge, and alertness. with his long hair still covering his face, he observes the outside from the comfort of his own self, of the familiar, of the things he knows wont cast upon him judgement. this notion is emphasized by his rather defensive stance, guarding the rest of his body.
ive seen some people say that it kind of looks like hes holding onto nace. if thats true, i think it adds more onto the idea of jan preserving his sense of self in the things he can find true comfort in, in the face of a judgemental society. perhaps its even jan trying to protect nace from the same kind of shit hes heard himself, especially knowing the kind of shit nace had already faced before in his past. nace is his safe space, and his arms are his home.
but to bring these two together, i find that they have a common point in reservation and privacy. theyre both relatively on the quiet side and keep to themselves in their own ways, usually in the background to support their friends. while they both arent afraid to express themselves openly through their fashion choices and mannerisms, the truest forms of their soft, fragile vulnerability seems to only be seen amongst each other. its as if they see a part of themselves in each other; nace being understanding of jans reservation and recluse, and jan being understanding of naces timidness and acceptance of himself.
but what does this all mean for their relationship? well, i think these characteristics help shape the way they act with and perceive each other. theres two main facets to this that ill be exploring below: first of how theyre perceived publicly, and second of how theyve internalized everything in private!
Side A, section 1: confrontation.
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lets start with nace first. his expression is neutral yet firm. it feels intense in the way that theres a sense of "challenge" in the way hes looking at the camera; his face is angled slightly downwards whereas his eyes are looking up. it makes his eyebrows more downcast too, adding onto that intense look. he looks determined and serious despite that just being one of his "neutral" expressions.
given the context of the photoshoot, i think it works to convey the difference between how he usually presents himself — kind, friendly, always smiling — with his inner, more intense emotions that he experiences but may not always show. especially with his eye contact; he often has this look of intensity when he gazes into the eyes of his bandmates onstage as they play, being enraptured by the music and truly feeling it, not just putting on a show. his eyes here are no exception to this, as theyre wide open and bare. its as if his gaze is truly unfaltering; hes confronting the camera like he confronts his bandmates when hes overcome with passion.
this works with the idea of vulnerability that damon tends to hone in on. instead of emotions like happiness and adoration that hes often associated with, damon shows us an unfiltered version of nace when he faces confrontation, passion, and the truth. hes stripped bare of his usual friendly demeanor and is presented as an adult man facing his identity, his own truth. what it means to be nace.
his hair doesnt appear very messy and it doesnt feel like its trying to hide his face (disregarding its length). it just looks like how he usually styles his hair.
however, this contrasts with jans hair. sure, jans known for having his hair all over the place, but the messiness here in particular seems deliberate. its all over his face, very disheveled and unorganized (reminiscent of his carefree and "messy" nature).
despite the messiness of his hair, it doesnt fully cover his eye. the framing of his hair makes his eye a focal point of the image (added with the light contrast of his skin with the darkness of his eye). and, just like naces, its wide open and bare, staring directly into the camera, into us. its undeniably jans truest soul staring into ours.
however, the framing of his face here is interesting; naces staring almost directly at the camera, whereas jans head is at a slight 3/4ths angle. part of his face is even covered by whatever is separating the two. therefore, we're only able to see one of his eyes as opposed to naces pair. his expression is also rather intense, though somewhat different from naces. to me it feels like hes serious yet also unsure, tentative and simply peering at whats in front of him. it gives me the impression that jan is somewhat hiding, perhaps uncertain of the camera. hiding behind his hair thats usually long enough to cover his face, hiding behind something so that the camera cant fully catch him.
but he cant hide completely. his hair can only hide so much. whatever distractions he uses can only hide so much. in the end, hes seen, even if just barely. hes there, even if hes unsure, cautious, and watchful.
i can see this being the point of view of two possibilities. the first one is this reflecting their initial meeting of each other. we know that jan, against his better judgement, didnt fully trust nace during their first rehearsal together. bojan may have described nace as a nice person since they already knew each other, and martin mightve begged the others to take him in as their new bassist, but they — jan — still didnt... know him. he didnt know of nace like he had known of martin. he didnt even know of nace like he had known jure, who had only been in the band for about a year by then but had curated a close relationship with. uncertainty and perhaps fear had overcome jan, clouding his judgement, inevitably making him wary of the man that is nace jordan.
thats why jan hides. he covers himself with his hair, with the doubts that surround this new change. he observes carefully while reserving himself, perhaps out of protection and fear.
and nace plays along. he knows the guys are nice, but this is their first proper rehearsal together after all. he hasnt gotten a proper taste of what their sound is truly like, what it feels like to be part of that sound. hes still new. so, as much as he may try to appear friendly and amiable, he knows hes still being watched, so hes watchful in return. and jan tries to see past that front, past the joyful persona nace puts on. he looks directly into naces soul searching for something, and nace, with his internal struggle of belonging and wanting to be seen, looks back. determination overwhelms the both of them, and they play.
therefore, taking this perspective, you could interpret the following photos as a progression of their intimacy, however ill mostly be following the second perspective for the sake of consistency.
the second is this reflecting the confrontation of their identities from the public eye. their intense gazes emphasize their watchfulness of the things they hear and see about themselves. as much as they may say theyre not too active on social media, they still become aware of our conspiracy theories and marriage jokes. they hear these things and have to decide whether or not to internalize them.
looking at it from this perspective, naces expression gives off more of a feeling of defiance, as if he knows something we dont. he stares at us knowingly, though still amongst the shadows. or perhaps its the look of a man in the face of confrontation, of this new reality hes living with jan.
and jan hides, whether it be from the feelings he experiences, his acceptance of himself, his definition of "love," or just the reality of everything. perhaps its all of the above. his apprehension to be seen could be a sign of fear stemming from himself and how hes perceived. we dont know him after all. but does he even know himself?
im sure at some point, once they became aware of the things people would say about them, they talked about it, even if it was just briefly. perhaps they addressed the jokes and theories and gave their honest feelings for each other to remove any misunderstandings. or perhaps they didnt. they just understood that this is what their relationship had become, what it developed into. is there truly a need to discuss what has already been said, albeit unspoken? after all, it seems like theyre always on the same wavelength, and actions often speak louder than words.
but even so, theres room for doubt. doubt about whether or not this is all real, if theyre feeling the same things, if they really wanna keep doing this, if nace really wants to be perceived this way with him. so jan hides, like this is all just a silly joke.
but they still face the truth. amidst the doubt, speculation, and uncertainty, they stare back. but why?
because they know.
it isnt that jan hides only because of his own uncertainty. he hides to reserve this special part of him that only belongs to nace, this pure, unfiltered part that hes only willing to show nace away from everyone. he hides to reserve this part of himself that has taken time to accept and wash away of its uncertainty. so he stares, bare and naked in his soul, because he has battled with himself enough to know that he needs to accept how much of a home hes found in nace. this is him.
nace faces the truth directly. surely hes confronted himself about this matter on his own accord, away from everyone. hes battled with this idea of intimacy with jan and what it means to be friends with the guitarist. but eventually, he finds himself self-assured that this is what he wants. he enjoys the playful flirting and teasing, and the happiness that it brings the both of them. was it not his dream to belong somewhere? why should it matter if its in the arms of another man? so he stares, bare and naked in his soul, because he has come to accept that he finds his home with jan. this his him.
they stare at us out of acceptance. for their entire lives, they have battled what it means to be nace jordan, what it means to be jan peteh. so, after exploring themselves to a point where they know, they stare. theyve done enough thinking and self-reflection to know what is true and false about them. things we dont know. things we dont have to know, because this is them, not us. yet, the intense gazes at the camera challenge us to explore that little part of the unknown.
whatever perspective you take from this image, theres a common point in the both of them: the lights in their eyes. after all of the searching, observing, reflecting, questioning, and watching, theyve found something:
their light amidst the darkness.
Side A, sec. 2: awareness.
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theyre becoming aware of who they are, what they are, what they seek in each other, and most notably, of the eyes that are on them. they watch even more intently at the camera, the contrasts of their skin becoming even stronger than the first image. as if their relationship has truly "been coming to light" and defined in the public's eyes. the atmosphere is notably more intense because they know its out of their control by now.
naces gaze is relatively the same, although a bit more... intentional. his more downward angle makes him look like hes watching his prey, his eyes looking more "dark" than usual.
with the values more pronounced in this photo, it looks as though jan and nace are separated by some kind of frame or mirror. i think this represents the fact that theyre a reflection of themselves. they see parts of themselves in each other, which must be what drives them to get closer to one another. they finally find some commonality amidst their own inner turmoil, and they seek for comfort in it.
jan turns his head more towards his right, exposing a bit more of his cheek. his expression is still watchful, but somehow a little less cautious and more daring. i see intent in his eyes, like he plans on doing something, like a challenge. aware that all eyes are on them, jan leans more against this frame and begins to face nace, the latter unknowing of what jan will do next. its part of his spontaneous nature, something we're familiar with onstage.
Side A, sec. 3: challenge.
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jan takes control of nace, still as watchful as ever and looking directly into your soul. he brings him to the other side of the frame close to his face, closing the gap between them into an almost uncomfortable level of proximity. jan has fully brought nace into his world, realizing that he needs him there with him. theyre so close to each other yet still separated by jans hair, not fully there. just another tease, as always.
jans hand is rugged and detailed as such, though interestingly its not the hand that usually has nail polish on it. its his right hand, the one he uses to strum his guitar. if you go back to jans insta and look for the post from 5 june 2023, it features a photo of his right hand really fucked up after playing the guitar, bleeding and bandaged up. his hand is rough and has gone through some shit in the name of self-expression and performing. so thats what jan does; he puts on a performance with nace and shuts him up. his grip on nace isnt strong though, its simply suggestive. its provocative and it stirs up the fans.
jan is directly covering naces mouth, his middle and ring fingers closing in on his lips. its as if hes trying to silence him, with jan being the one to "speak" for them as seen through his open mouth. it could even be that jan is making nace face him to kiss, his mouth open and expectant, ready to do something. but if this was jans intent, its interesting that naces mouth is covered. its like jan is making him kiss his fingers instead of him.
im making a huge stretch here, but part of me sees this as nace trying to heal jans struggle to act a certain way in public. by kissing jans scarred fingers amidst the roughness hes experiencing, nace still provides jan a sense of comfort. he understands what its like living in such a suffocating, judgemental society. it reflects the soothing nature nace has over jan, the kind that helps ground him back to reality and make him realize things are okay. it reassures jan that its okay to look and act "queer" around him, no matter where they are and whos watching them.
though, given the context, it makes more sense to assume jan is purposefully preventing nace from saying anything. he brings nace closer to him as a sign of protection and possession, to say that nace and the love they share is for him and him alone. jan, the one always hiding in the shadows, steps up and takes control of the situation, of their "moments." hes the only one allowed to have him this way, even if he has to take matters into his own hands. it isnt that nace goes talking about private matters every day, but perhaps theres always that irrational fear inside jan that makes him act anyway, a reflection of his more reserved personality.
jan shuts nace up out of that privacy being taken away from him, from them. he doesnt want him to say or reveal anything, not out of shame, but out of preservation. theres only so much you should show to the public when you have thousands of eyes on you. now that people have taken notice, now that people know, theyre in a constant battle of trying to maintain a good image while staying true to themselves.
so jan performs. to us, it looks like another one of his suggestive antics that he does with nace frequently. the charged energy and implications of the gesture make the fans go crazy and cheer for more. while jans intent does originate from a place of genuine adoration for nace, its still somewhat exaggerated for the sake of putting on a show. being taken over by the music does that to you. it pushes you to share that passion with someone you love.
but to jan, its more than just a show. its an act of possession. he stares at the camera, to us, in defiance. only he is allowed to do this to nace. only he is allowed to have nace this close to him. his piercing gaze challenges us to try and take that away from him. we're not exactly invited onto the stage where they play after all.
however, as this is all happening, all nace can do is play along. he lets himself be taken by jan, and hes overcome with his rugged, scarred, and unpainted hand. its a strong contrast between the femininity of jans long hair (and his swollen lips, i suppose). naces unable to retaliate against this idea of "masculinity" masking his desire to be with jan. he struggles to fight against the expectations of "being a man" being put onto him by society, all while he looks longingly at jans lips.
i see this as (a general) commentary on traditional gender norms and toxic masculinity. though all of joker out is known for openly saying "fuck you" to these societal pressures, jan and naces relationship in particular is quite queer. society tells us that a man shouldnt look at another man like they do. society tells us that a man shouldnt be so affectionate with another man like they are. society tells us that a man should reserve such intimate gestures for their female lover only.
but jan and nace dont follow that. they look at each other as if theyre gazing at the stars. they caress and hug each other as as if they are each others second home. they butt heads, make kissy faces, stroke each others bodies, and smile so happily at each other as if they are the only men in the world.
but the pressure is always there. nace, being the more "traditionally masculine" one between the two, is faced with these struggles of what it means to be a man and his desire to damn those expectations to hell. he doesnt care that his acts of affection are queer, he just wants to... love jan. he wants to rip the hand suffocating him and take back control of what he can do. so, even in the face of judgement, nace disregards those watching him and looks to jan, yearning to close his open lips. he doesnt care about what people think as his attention is fully towards jan. the only other man in the world.
the implication of jan wanting to kiss nace can also contribute to this idea. jans mouth is open and ready to kiss him, but this force of ruggedness stops him from doing so, seemingly created by himself. it blocks off naces lips, and hes unable to kiss him properly. the image of jan trying to kiss nace with his fingers creating a boundary between them represents the idea of societal pressures getting in the way of being your true self, a concept that is strongly associated with queer people. jan wants to be affectionate and intimate with nace, yet he faces an obstacle that prevents him from being able to fully carry out his fantasies. so he ends up kissing his fingers instead, rough and scarred.
toxic masculinity aside, i do think this can also reflect naces yearning to be closer to jan, but just being unable to. perhaps jan doesnt let him and because theyre mostly used to just friendly flirting and teasing. perhaps its from the pressure of needing to uphold an image to the public. perhaps its just cowardice. whatever it is, he doesnt fight against it, so he simply observes and yearns in silence.
(note: this could serve more as a representation of toxic masculinity rather than reflecting an actual experience of it that nace/jan had before. however, i dont doubt that they had to face toxic masculinity before, whether or not it was in the presence of each other.)
to sum up this side of them: after figuring out what they are and accepting this part of themselves, it soon starts blending in with their public image. they start being unashamedly more affectionate and intimate with each other, and the world begins to notice. they begin pointing out the things that they do and conjuring up speculations of what exactly they are and what they mean to each other. this doesnt necessarily stop jan and nace from their public intimacy; if anything, it contributes to the insanity that they indulge in together. they ramp up their gestures, their gazes, their sense of challenge. yet at the same time, it begs the question of just how much of them they should give. they still choose to only give a small part of them to us, often being quite provocative and intense. even with possible uncertainty over their relationship, they find entertainment in the their shenanigans together and are self-assured that there will always be love between them.
this had to deal more with their relationship of being perceived by the public, but what about jan and nace behind closed doors? what was it like dealing with and accepting this fragile part of them?
Side B, sec. 1: their initial intimacy.
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however long its taken them, theyve gotten to a point in their relationship where the lines of platonic and romantic have been blurred in some way. well, at the very least, its clear that what they have is... different from everybody else. theyre the only ones who frequently hug and caress each other in the background of their eurovision interviews. theyre the only ones who stare so intensely at each other for moments at a time. theyre the only ones who tease and flirt with each other in such a charged manner. a dynamic has developed that questions the true definition of what it means to "just be friends."
but that shouldnt matter, right? i mean, joker out had always been a very physically intimate group of guys. bojan clings to people like a little puppy, kris is always open about his fondness for everyone, and jure basically gives everyone kisses on the daily. besides, shouldnt friends be allowed to be intimate with each other? should there truly be a set expectation for what is considered romantic and what is platonic? its love first and foremost, is it not?
these things are all true, but... its still too easy to get caught up into the "what ifs." "what if im reading things wrong?" "what if i end up doing the wrong thing and creating a distance between us?" "what if these feelings im experiencing are something else?" "what if its something more?"
i interpret this image as a commentary on amatonormativity. if you dont know what that is, its essentially the idea that romance is the end-goal for the human life. it says we are born to seek romantic relationships because they inherently have more value than a platonic one. this alludes to the idea that there is a strict line between what you do with friends and what you do with romantic lovers; for example, the idea that kissing your friends is inherently "romantic." similarly, this also addresses the issue of toxic masculinity ive mentioned before (the idea that a man must act a certain way).
once they realized just how different their relationship is from the others, im sure jan and nace had to tackle this idea of amatonormativity. it was nothing new; again, theyre all very intimate their bandmates in some way. however, though this level of intimacy is not new, what they have is different.
so they approach tentatively. theyre gentle when they meet each other out of the fragility of their relationship. theyre close but not kissing, creating symbolism of friends pushing the boundaries of intimacy. their noses touch, if just barely, as they tread lightly towards this different experience of being in a "platonic" relationship.
the idea of nace being direct and jan hiding returns in this photo. nace stares directly into jans eyes, his entire focus on just him. hes putting his entire attention to him and him only, not letting him escape from his gaze as nace peers into jans soul for answers, unashamed and intent. he wants to know if he can truly find his home here.
this is reminiscent of their constant eye contact during interviews and concerts, but the feeling being conveyed here is different. the framing of the photo is extremely close to the subjects and removes any sort of distraction; the foreground (their faces) are shoved right in your face. no background, no special lighting, nothing. just the intense details of their hair and skin. its so personal and almost feels like an invasion of privacy, especially given the context of the photo. we're given a glimpse into what its truly like to look at someone in the way jan and nace do.
however, like in Side A, jans eyes are covered by his hair. he hides again in the face of confrontation of his truth. his head is also at a slightly lower angle compared to naces, so its easy to assume that hes avoiding eye contact.
but i dont think thats exactly the case. while he may have been hiding his true feelings about everything, theres still that vulnerable part of himself that hes willing to show nace. its the whole reason why he feels comfortable being so intimate with him in public. he damns whatever expectations are set on him as a man and lets himself be taken by nace, whether it be through short staring contests or full on cuddling.
like before, i believe jans hiding more from the public eye. hes starting to understand how he feels about nace, but he wants to keep that part reserved for just the two of them. its his special little thing that he wants just for himself. so he hides away from everyone and finds refuge in nace. his gaze, hidden away from all, is reserved for strictly for bassist's eyes as he tackles his feelings head on (quite literally lol).
this is backed up by the idea of them being behind a glass wall. their hair and cheeks look a bit flat because of it. the glass wall represents that divide between their private explorations of their relationship and what we, the public, see. hiding behind glass is a bit of an oxymoron because we can still see them, but we cant touch them. this is a space purely for themselves, where they dont let anyone dictate how theyre defined but themselves. we ultimately have no control over their relationship, which should really be kept that way. because what they have is so sacred and fragile. we dont have any right to tell them what they are and what they arent. all we get is a glimpse into their little world as they explore themselves in the shadows.
ive seen some people point out that the areas of their noses, mouths, and eyes are somewhat blurred, and i agree that its meant to reflect the nature of ambiguity in their relationship. perhaps theres a lack of focus and definition because they dont have a concrete definition for their relationship. theyre still searching and exploring, slow and gentle. or maybe they do, and they simply refuse to let anyone but themselves know what it is. cue back to the glass wall, where the public is only given so much of their relationship. we can only see so much of their unconventional acts of affection, so their relationship is often up for debate. added in with amatonormativity, it can become difficult to pinpoint exactly what they are.
but i think thats the point. in their battles of what it means to be men, what it means to be friends, and what it means to love, they dont... have to come up with a strict definition of what they are. they arent defined strictly by their relationship either, theyre their own persons. they are simply jan and nace, two men who happen to love each other. whatever that entails (platonic, romantic, etc.), its beautiful in all its forms. and theyve come to accept that this ambiguity is okay, because at the end of the day, they know that its just love. no need for fancy labels.
Side B, sec. 2: traces of kisses.
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theyre starting to figure out what they really are. theyre becoming more comfortable being close and unashamed of the fact. they dare to make their gestures more intimate and flirtatious, pushing that boundary of what is considered platonic. though, at this point, i feel as though its appropriate to call this "queerplatonic behavior" now given how suggestive some of their antics can be.
nace develops a bit of a more daring expression, the slightest hint of a smirk hidden in the ambiguous shadows. hes staring downwards more at jan rather than directly, taking over control like a bullfight. its as if to taunt and tease jan like they always do, except here, its much more charged given the private nature of the composition. he stares intensely and with passion, perhaps overwhelming jan since we literally cant see his eyes anymore.
this contrasts with the photo from Side A, section 3, where jan was the one to take control of nace. he sought to protect this vulnerable side of nace and to preserve this sacred part of their relationship in the face of performing for thousands of eyes to see.
but here, its nace who takes over. hes able to finally look at jan intentionally, no longer having to yearn. hes able to look at all of his features at the comfort of his own discretion. hes not forced to hide and struggle against anything; if anything, hes stripped bare and completely honest. he doesnt have to yearn anymore. he can be truly intentional and do as he pleases, and he revels in the fact.
you may notice there being less hair on jans cheek/face too. theres an implication that either he or nace put his hair back to fully show his face, bare and open to look at, to admire. if its jan who put back his hair, it represents him not wanting to hide from his feelings anymore. he wants to be fully honest and intentional with his relationship with nace, to let himself indulge in this special little thing they have to the fullest. if its nace who put back jans hair, it represents him wanting jan to be honest with his feelings too. he wants to see jan be just as indulgent as he is with their love. he wants to admire jans beauty for all that it is, with no distractions, eyes, or expectations telling him not to.
jans face being more exposed can also contribute to the faint kiss mark between them. in being fully open with nace, theyre able to kiss and be affectionate with each other with the whole of their hearts. theres truly no longer a need to hide anything anymore, and they give in to love.
this alludes to the comment damon made on his insta story about "boys kissing behind closed doors." it represents this idea of privacy once again, with how the public is only given so much of their relationship. all we get is a tease, a trace of a kiss on the glass. its all but a glimpse into how deep their love for each other really is. it reflects how jan and nace can be quite intimate in public, but it only represents a fraction of what they truly are like to each other when no one is watching. their love for each other is so much deeper than we can ever truly imagine.
this also lends to the idea of ambiguity again. the kiss is barely visible and very faint, but its certainly there. its not a clear image of a kiss, but a blur, just like their faces. its hidden yet still visible, just like the undefined tenderness of jan and naces love. the kiss doesnt need to be so defined for it to be a valid representation of love.
Side B, sec. 3: pure, genuine happiness.
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after their final trial of acceptance, they laugh. they break, and they give in to the hilarity of it all. theyve hiding and struggling for so long over this complicated relationship of theirs just to realize that none of it even matters. nothing does, only the overwhelming feeling of love and happiness theyre experiencing at that moment. they are the only men in the world, living in euphoria.
this photo serves as a culmination of every aspect in their relationship. after all of the doubt, uncertainty, hesitance, watchful eyes, and complicated feelings, they find true, unwavering happiness. after everything, this is where they truly belong — in each others company, in each others arms, in each others eyes.
its the first time we're properly seeing jans eye in Side B. despite the slight blur, id say this is the most of either of their eyes that we see; naces eye was more so amongst the shadows and not very defined, whereas the white in jans eye makes it pop more. i think its an interesting contrast, given how nace was initially the more "open" and "vulnerable" one and jan was the one hiding.
the same can be said for nace too. while hes known for laughing really easily, you can tell a lot of his moments of absolute joy stem from jan, having such childish fun no matter where they are. he finds his place in jan when the guitarist starts playing around with him onstage and inviting him in his shenanigans. im sure even the smallest degrees of these kinds of gestures helped nace feel more comfortable as his new position of being joker outs bassist. nace truly needs jan.
i think it represents just how much happiness nace can pull out of jan. its not very often youll see jan smiling so widely or laughing so deeply. so many of those instances... were because of nace. their little staring session from this wiwibloggs interview sums up this idea perfectly. nace can do something so simple and jan will find so much joy and amusement out of it. and, piggybacking off of this idea, this represents just how much nace has done for jan, always grounding him in the background and making sure hes okay. jan truly needs nace.
again, this isnt to undermine the very strong and just as loving relationships that they have with bojan, kris, and jure. everyone is intertwined deeply in some way, but theres certainly something... different that they can only find in each other.
you can see this through the fact that their smiles contrast the other photoshoots so far of kris and bojan. i think theres a lot of artistic value of kris and bojan not smiling in their photos; their emotions, feelings of struggle, and slow acceptance of their identities are primarily focused in their eyes. its as if youre truly peering into their souls, a formal confrontation of their deepest despair.
with jan and nace, though, we mainly get glimpses (once again referring to the idea of reservation/privacy, and them being behind a glass wall). i believe this display of such raw happiness is their version of their true souls, of their true vulnerability. its a side of genuineness that can only be made possible when theyre together. isnt that beautiful? they thrive off of each other. they need each other. they are so deeply intertwined that they were the only ones whose chapters had to be merged. they cant be separated. their identities are inherently connected on such an intimate level. that is how much they mean to each other.
and their smiles are so... open. the way they can only smile and laugh like that when they look at each other is just... so precious. maybe they had just kissed (for the first time?), and as they back away theyre overcome with a surge of happiness and relief. theyre hit with that feeling that this feels right, you feel right. its just so perfect, so much that they smile with their teeth, something they may have been self-conscious about before given the slight gap in their front teeth (something i feel like jan intentionally hides whenever he usually smiles). but now they just dont care. they only care about each other and of the moment, fondness and adoration pouring out of their faces.
i also like how jans eyes are fully open whereas naces are more squinted. naces so moved by their love that he cant help but focus his vision solely on jans eyes. he finds it beautiful. meanwhile, jan intentionally looks at nace openly. i noticed that he doesnt often open his eyes that widely, and when he does, its usually when hes looking at nace. thats why i see this as jan being selfish and drinking in naces laugh and smile. he opens his eyes fully so as to not miss even a second of it.
the increased contrast/lighting compared to the previous photos also highlight the idea of blooming happiness. the first photo has a lower contrast and more shadows engulfing them, but as the photos progress, their skin becomes noticeably lighter. its as if they are each others light in the darkness, their passion burning brighter and brighter the more they lean into their sappy love.
before i wrap this up, i want to bring back the idea of Side A surrounding jan and nace being separated by a frame. i see it as a representation of needing to "put on an act for the public." the camera is right in jans space, so he feels compelled to do something about it. therefore, jan pulls nace in knowing theyre being watched, and he creates his own narrative in the face of their privacy being breached, trying to say that its just in light fun, that theyre just joking. but i also see it as jan needing nace with him amidst the pressure they must be facing, needing nace out of his own selfishness.
and, to connect this to the idea of privacy one more time, their gazes are exclusive to their little world. theyre not looking at anything else but each other — not society, not their other friends, just them. we're able to see them, but it will always be out of our reach. their faces look somewhat more pressed against the glass, as if to convey how close the public tries to view this side of them. however, this form of unfiltered, pure joy can only ever belong to them.
closing thoughts
in Side B, we peer from behind the frame — a glass wall. we're no longer up in their business, and theyre finally at peace. they can properly process their feelings and emotions without needing to hear the voices from outside their little world. they may still have eyes on them, but they have proper control over their relationship now. they can be their true selves. its what the universe had intended their relationship to be: close in public, but fully vulnerable to themselves only.
to sum up this side of them: they slowly come to realize the amount of comfort they find in each other, and they battle with this idea of platonic boundaries and what it means to be friends. but they cant help but feel compelled to be closer to one another, so they explore that gently, and they get closer and closer. they realize that they dont need to put a specific label on themselves because they know that they love each other, and thats all they need. in the end, the public will only ever get small slivers of jan and naces true form of vulnerability. this is their story, nobody elses.
what this all means for us
both sides of jan and nace reflect this idea of staying true to yourself while also knowing what things should be kept private. i think it serves as a great commentary on how people sometimes treat celebrity couples/friendships. their actions can often be taken too far and ultimately ruin whatever bonds these celebrities had. thats why as much as jan and nace want to be authentic versions of themselves to their fans, they still reserve a part of themselves for each other exclusively. because its special to them. there should only be so much that a fan should know about a public persona.
their relationship also tackles many traditional expectations. they are cis men who act almost like a couple and have very unconventional ways of showing their love for each other. they serve as a symbol of resistance against these norms and shed let to the idea that platonic love is just as beautiful, strong, and reliant as romantic love. their relationship shows that love is just... love. no matter the label you put on it, all that matters is that you feel safe and happy. thats the ultimate goal of human life.
there is not one such way to love someone just as there is not one such way to be "a man" either. men dont have to look or act a certain way to still be called a man. i think these two messages resonate deeply with queer people, specifically those that are aspec and trans people. remember, you shouldnt have to conform to society to prove to yourself that you are something.
they also just... represent this idea of soulmates. of finding your second home in someone. someone to help you figure out what it means to be happy, what it means to live and grow as a human being. and this person can come in all shapes and forms: a friend, a lover, a family member. there could be multiple people with that same level closeness to you too! theres at least one person in the world that would be able to understand you in the way jan and nace do. they would be able to connect with your own struggles and seek to find comfort with you in their battles. its human connection that we must search for.
ill try to keep this short since this is more of a personal reflection of this photoshoot haha (emphasis on try 💀)
this is genuinely the most beautiful representation of a queerplatonic relationship ive ever seen. though they might not define themselves as queerplatonic (they could very well be in a romantic relationship for all we know), they certainly act queer in a platonic way. i will forever be indebted to their openness about such a personal and private part of their lives. im so touched by the fact that they were willing to formally confront this side of them and to release it to the world. theirr vulnerability will live with me until the day i die.
jan and nace have always been idols to me; jan for his gender nonconforming sense of expression, and nace for his warm, amiable personality. i truly cannot understate how much theyve helped me navigate this complicated life of mine.
their relationship with each other had touched me more than anything else in the world. as an aroace person, ive always struggled with the concept of loving others and letting yourself be loved. love in general is just... confusing to me. but this photoshoot makes me feel seen. i feel like my notions on love really mean something, that im a little less alone in my struggles with what love is.
so to see them tackle this idea of love so meaningfully just... left me speechless. i couldnt even comprehend this happened, let alone the fact that we get to see it. its the whole reason why it took me so long to make my own analysis post of it lol
not only that, but the fact that theyre doing this as men also heals a part of me. theyre proving to the world that there is not one way to love someone, and that your gender shouldnt matter. love is love and will always just be love.
i could make a whole other 10k word letter of appreciation but ill stop here lol. i just hope that one day i can tell them how much they mean to me, but i suppose this post will have to suffice for now 😅
thank you, damon, for exploring and documenting this fragile concept so beautifully. and thank you, jan and nace. ill love you two forever 🩷
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