#he was fine with it at first before it started affecting his self image and before the physical injuries

[skunkes]

why doesn't talon like looking young?

dis was gonna be in the little lore write up but i still have to iron out many details surrounding it ➡️ connecting to my general vampire lore....anyway the answer is abuse at the hands of higher rank vampires and mortal men who sought out young "boys" just like him + also he already hated that he would never get to age bc people would treat him weird even before all that (as in, they'd just treat him like he was stupid because he looks so young)

[nyancrimew]

oo if we’re doing queer confessions i got a bit of a long one

first relationship, classic story of not realizing we were into eachother for the longest time, even after regularly kissing and cuddling for almost a year lol (calling him bf 1). went really well actually after we properly got together

after about a year or so, bf 1’s ex (not on any sort of bad terms INITALLY) (calling him bf 2) who was my best friend asks if we wanted to just be in poly relationship together since we all had confessed to eachother at once point and we say yeah sure we still all like eachother, it took bf 1 a few months to think over first which was fine by all of us, so we just continued all being close friends for a few months till then. few months later, he says yea sure that’d be fine and so we started trying it out since we had all been really happy with eachotehr up to that point

literaly the same exact night that happened, bf 2 changed his attitude towards me completely and despite being very good friends before this and loving eachother he started ignoring me and claiming he just didn’t have energy to do anything ever, while constantly showering bf 1 in overwhelming affection and hundreds of smaller things like that where i’d get left in the dust while he would get mounds of attention. he was just as unnerved by it as i was.

i was a bit dumb and so didn’t really act on this for a while despite realizing immediently it was weird, and after a few months me and bf 1 started talking about it privately and realized he was just flat out lying to both of us and expected us to like. not talk about it?? like super blatant things llike telling me he didn’t value sex in a relationship at all and didn’t want it with me while minutes later telling bf 1 that sexual intimacy is the thing he valued most and wouldn’t want a relationship otherwise

one of the worst thing though (atleast in terms of how much it damaged my understanding and acceptance of myself)) was despite him being nb (he/they) and even experimenting with being a girl for a while he started constantly hanging our own gender identities over our heads and sayin shit like “well i’m gay so if you start identifying as a girl i’m gonna leave” to me when i brought up to him, the first person i talked to it about, that i wanted to be a girl which stunted myself growth by years and similar things to bf 1 who was very openly nb (which, wow i’m relazing as i’m typing this how casually mysoginsitc he was, he made all sorts of “jokes” about how inherently disgusting traditionally feminine bodily features were)

after about a year of this (me and other bf were just too scared to leave, but we definently should of) he actually broke up with me , and tried to speak on behalf of bf 1 claiming they just both wanted me out of the polycule, also just a straight up lie as when i talked to him about it . after talking for a while and asking some mutual friends we figured out he told literally every single person a different, conflicting story and putting the pieces together we came to conclusion that he was just using me as a throwaway tool to get back together with bf 1 to squeeze himself in the relationship, and tried dumping me out so he could be monogamous with him only.

needless to say bf 1 dumped his ass less than a week later after we finally were able to decipher the literally 10 different conflicting stories, and this story actually does have a really happy ending!! me and bf 1 are still besties and kiss a lot while he found another much sweeter and nicer boyfriend, i got another girlfriend with a shared pet kittygirl shortly after that helped me through the whole thing and i’ve never been happier about my body image/self image and gender identity in my life. IM FINALLY A CUTE GIRL WITH A CUTE GIRLFRIEND WE MADE IT NYALL :3!!!

(and as a nice bonus ontop, the only time i hear about him now is from other people realizing how scummy he was and cutting him off, leaving himself to rot in a hole of his own making surrounded by people jus like him. feels great to be away from that whole toxic friendgroup in general. freedom.)

(anyway thanks, “but we stay silly :3” was a quote regularly said to myself during the recovery of all this )

yipppeeee, we really do stay silly!!!

[court-jobi]

Let's Heal Each Other

((banner by me! I don't own Horikoshi's work OR the mindblowing art of @gsony24))

Pairing: Midoriya x reader (fem!reader is a semi-retired pro hero)

Words: 3.6K

Rating: T+ (18+ near the end for some spicy themes)

Warnings: talk about scars, past traumas, FEELINGS, body image issues, hurt/comfort, body worship, kissing, use of petnames

Summary:

You play a game only you keep tallies of: lay hordes of kisses onto your boyfriend until he breaks and gives into your sweet affections. It works-- making him reconsider keeping the majority of his skin (and insecurities) hidden from you, until he believes wholeheartedly that your love for him goes beyond scar tissue and that he literally never wants you to feel an ounce of self-hatred anymore, either. "I don't think I like this uno-reverse treatment. Aren't you supposed to be the flustered one, green eyes?" "You want me to stop?" "..no." "Then respectfully, hush your mouth, honey."

A/N: a love letter to sweet, sweet teacher!deku… I've lowkey always wanted to write for him~ horrified I'm not caught up on the manga/anime as I write this, but I had to dabble! Back into my MHA era I go~

For my My Hero Academia Masterlist, check it out here!

Read on AO3

What began as you looking through his journals and hearing each and every one of your sweetheart’s passions from over his shoulder turned into a game of placing whisper-soft kisses on his cheeks. It was a private game that only you kept tallies of. 

Rules are… anytime he opens his mouth, the timer starts: how long can you hold out before forcing him to stop and take a breath after a quick pebbling of affection? Seeing him sigh at the first touch only encouraged you to do it more. He’d allow a few little pecks here, a few more there, or -like tonight- he’d suffer every one of your little presses until his patience broke, and he had no choice but to give you a kiss back.  It wasn’t that you didn’t want to hear the content of what he shared– he was your own personal podcast, after all… but sometimes the fight to resist kissing him silly just turned tail and was nowhere to be found.

One long kiss turned into two and under the trae lit ceiling of his study, a bit of a makeout session grew as your lovely Izuku Midoriya relaxed into your affections, his hands roaming to your back to pull you comfortably over into his lap from your spot on the couch. He hugged you close and placed plenty of pecks along your cheek and jaw until you ultimately pressed him back into place– all so you could straddle him and face him properly. This move finally made him flounder and start to lose his vocabulary- even at the ripe ‘ole age of twenty-eight. 

You had to giggle a little and tease him for it; you’d expect a boy half his age to sport such a reaction, not a faculty member at UA highschool.

 "This is ok? I just wanted to see that cute face of yours-" you leaned back to give him enough space if he needed, letting your hands trail along his arms, down to his hands.

Izuku, or ‘Deku’ as his friends and the Hero World still called him, grasped yours and fought his wavering voice  to recover.

"N-no no! uh, it’s ok- yeah, it's fine!” want and desire brought out Izuku’s voice flip, “I just uhhh-heh~ haven’t had you sit this close up, like this before. I‘m... like it a lot."

You brushed your thumbs along his hands and linked his dominant's hand’s fingers with yours– noticing the pull of some scarring there for perhaps the first time. 

Izuku swallowed and tensed, pulling back to simply squeeze your hand briefly before letting go. Turning his wrist to turn down his cuff sleeve clenched that fist  so tightly,  the scars turned white.

"U-um.. yeah, I know it's pretty rough to look at. I hurt myself a lot my first year at UA- as a student, I mean. It's kind of embarrassing..." Izuku laughed it off, massaging his hand palm side up so you didn’t have to see.

"Embarrassing? Why?" You brushed his hair back on one side soothingly. 

Izuku met your eyes, finding nothing but genuine interest. Any effort to keep him talking would reward him in the end– only now you feared this was not a game anymore, but rather a necessary act of reassurance. He shook off any initial nerves with a quick tease back,

“... You’re just–  trying to get me to lay off the stats, aren’t you.”

“Course not,” you defended, “but it seems like if I touched a nerve, it must be important and I don’t wanna gloss over that either. So, I wanna know all about that, too.”

Izuku quirked his lip and carried on, "If you insist. I guess the short of it is, I didn’t know my limits when I enrolled, and I damaged myself beyond repair while training with ‘One for All’. The tightness is a lot better now! But I overdid it... and I'll always have these scars as a reminder- they're… still there."

Care for his younger self flooded you. It’s clear Izuku still had plenty of regrets surrounding his former hero days, at least in how he went about discussing it. Were he still active as a hero, he might view battle scars differently - just signs of the lifestyle. Now on him, they must be more painful reminders  instead.

"May I see?"

Once again, the man looked up in surprise to see your little half smile and steeled himself– not having the heart to say no to you when you were being sweet. You were his girl after all. 

So, Izuku shimmied himself out of his sportek hoodie, and you scooted off his lap to give him room. You always noted he wore a black underarmor shirt, no matter the weather, and now realized why. 

Biting the inner of his cheek, Izuku kept his sights up and over your shoulder as he rolled each sleeve off, wrenching it between his hands. Jagged scars ran all the way up his dominant arm to a big patch behind his tricep. His shoulder remained largely untouched save for a dangerous slice following where the underarm curved upwards. Without the pop of a shirt collar or the bunching of a hoodie, you now fully saw the stiff scar that trailed up his neck and matched in color to the one gracing his face.

For all the years that had passed since those days which he’s fully told you were a time of intensive training and exercise, you were surprised to learn that he’s kept up a workout discipline. His body was scarred, yes, but still incredibly strong. He’s clearly prioritized keeping himself in shape, if for no other reason than to maintain  flexibility and range of motion. 

The whole moment fell quiet, but extremely intimate– even as he left his  base tank top on. You ran your fingers up his now bare arm and hummed gently.

"Well..." you leaned demurely towards the back of the couch, admiring the freckles that stood out between the changed pigments, "for what it's worth, I think they read ‘I lived’ rather than ‘I failed’. And I don’t think they’re ugly." You kissed a broad line on his bicep and met his eyes. " ‘Scars are tattoos with better stories’, right? Yours even have ‘sparkles’." 

Though touched enough to give a sweet little hum back, his expression held tears right at the surface. He looked at your arm in comparison and let out a little sigh, his own fingers caressing the soft skin there. Didn’t take anyone with a psychic quirk to tell what he was thinking. 

"Here–”

You sat up and turned around, starting to lift the back of your own shirt, and you heard his squeak of surprise–

"UhhhHWHATareyoudoing!!" Izuku reared back as if his scandalized mother would enter the room at any moment. 

"Relax, tiger,” you fitted a look over your shoulder and teased. Holding the shirt in place over your shoulders, you activated your kinetic quirk and doing so illuminated some rigid scarring across your lower back- what looked like whip marks as you'd seen from the surgery notes.

Gemlike light shone through even your underclothes, up your back, then on a diagonal across your neck. These were your own battle scars from over the years. You pointed with your thumb starting at the low spine, 

"These were from when I was first captured in Panama. Up here, when I tried to escape." Then you twisted to the side a bit where a big gash shone brilliantly to just under your left breast, "this, I got when I tried to make a quick rescue during my first internship in the States. I had a little boy in my right hand and couldn't drop him, so I took a hit on the other side." You shared these stories softly and he studied each with complete care.

 Izuku reached a bit with his good hand, but stayed his motion when he hovered an inch away. 

You encouraged, with ultimate trust, "You can touch it." 

Despite your kind chirp, his eyes checked over you briefly and simply brushed you with the back of two fingers at first. He let out a shaky breath at the sight that greeted him– the light danced around his fingers, interacting with his presence like ethereal steam rising around the contours. There were so many moments watching you in combat with these sorts of emissions that he remembered blackwhip- one of the more practical gifts ‘One for All’ had offered him, though equally dangerous and hard to control.

You had your own ‘blackwhip’ and it gifted you similar lessons learned- he wasn’t the only one. 

"See? It's not so bad," you resolved any concern Izuku had shown so far. He sought your eyes again, catching sight of the side of your other cheek which was also glowing a bit. "-- at least we match in the face shot department~" 

With a scoot, you slid back to face him again; he noted the scar across the temple of your hair trickling down to the top of your cheek bone. The way the light shone mimicked a tear’s tread down a fogged windowpane.

Ultimate care brought Izuku to reach up -to stop it’s run somehow- and touched the skin with a gentleness you came to love about him. Anticipating his concern, you mumbled something about it only really hurting when you have a glare headache after too much screentime, reminiscing on the throbbing sensation.

"Huh..." Why couldn't he see them before? Why would your quirk hold onto pain this way?

"They only show up when I'm actively using my power to its fullest, and these are usually covered by clothes or face shield when I'm driving." You tuned into his thoughts perfectly. "But… I know they’re there, even if I’m completely covered up. I see ‘em in the back of my mind anytime I’m in front of a mirror." 

As you deactivate your illumination and your skin settled back to normal, you righted your sweater down to your waist so it didn’t catch in the sofa cushions. If you were bothered at all, you barely showed it through your shrug.

"Everyone carries scars- not every single one can be seen, but we all have them. If not physical, emotional then." Running your manicured hand along the edge of his jaw made him lean into the touch, not unlike a puppy. "Please dont think less of yourself because of this... you're too wonderful to even think so poorly. If nothing else, it's proof of how great a hero you are." 

He was one, after all, according to the annals of the Pro Hero Japan Registrar… but Izuku  hardly felt like one anymore. It was an old pain in several ways past the tangible. Because ultimately, he had his chance of being an active pro hero– which was now fully over the minute he expelled the last of his power and ended the cycle for good. 

Help of friends, mentors, and loads of therapy have helped him cope with the memories and pressures of his time in school– all to bring him to a better, more healthy mindset in terms of his place in the world. Putting in the mental work was his largest success, to his credit. In many ways, his life was even more fulfilling now; Izuku fully recognized that and expressed gratitude vocally. Teaching gave him both an outlet and a purpose that he shined in. Still, a selfish twinge of him still hurt knowing how it all panned out- how different his life ended up from what he’d dreamed. 

‘What a great hero I am’…What kind of hero am I?’ his eyes grieved with distance behind them,  ‘Now that I'm no more than a living legend like All Might? He at least got to have a full career.’

Behind a tight lipped smile, Izuku wanted everything in him to sink into your loving sentiments as they often consoled him like none other; but now he found his delight dropping against his will. And how could he fight your praise when you looked at him so earnestly? Like you believed it? It seemed this sentiment upset him. Izuku never once doubted your sweetness so visibly, until now. 

It seemed dating you brought some old feelings to the surface– try as he might to ignore them.

As if sensing the turn of his thoughts inward, you read the tiniest of changes in his posture and pressed on, pulling your legs up to stretch over his lap. Unphased, Izuku dropped the hoodie to the floor and absently caressed your calves.

“You do know you’re still a hero, right?”

Izuku cocked his head, not understanding.

“You were one before any of that madness. They show it all the time at the schools, y’know,” you shared with a good deal of pride, “The sludge monster that had your friend– that was Deku’s first mission. Bet you didn’t know it then, anymore than you do now: even while you’re teaching the next generation of heroes. Your words, your mind, and your heart– you’re still very much a hero… by all three you carry with you.”

And just like that, Izuku truly didn’t think he could melt into the floor like Mirio– until that very moment. It was that pinnacle point that Allmight identified it, too. The instinct that turned the rest of his life upside down. 

Betrayed by his disciplined nerves, his weepy heartstrings eeked out a catch in his voice, 

"How is it you always know just what to say?..."

Your brilliant smile pressed your cheeks into the most charming lift, knowing him all too well and being proud of it:

"I feel like you do, more than you think. I've gotten really good at masking my own issues, so I get it.”

In a split second, Izuku channeled all  self-pitying energy into full, protective alarm–

"IsSuEs?? About what?!–Yourself- how could you say that??"

You chuckled with a full heart, and gave him another doting kiss on the shoulder to try and deter him. 

"Well I'm not exactly a tiny girl anymore, hot stuff~ Mah thighs have been particularly blessed since I took a step back from active duty, and they’re at war with any skirt or pants I find." You palmed down your legs briefly, stretching and doing your best to be alluring, "You don’t seem to mind too much ‘bout my size though, so I don’t sweat it nowadays… You inspired me, actually.”

Light suspicion glared back at you, listening but friendly. “How so?”

You turned introspective yourself- but voiced your train of thought rather than shut it up behind pretty eyes and stunted vulnerability.

“Oh, that silly voice in my head shouts just as loudly as anyone else, so I’m plenty guilty of keeping myself down. She doesn’t serve me though, and that’s taken some reframing to get over… I started focusing on making you feel better, when I met you. Share something outside of myself. That makes me happy. Helps keep things in perspective and not stay hung up hard on myself either.”

Before you could read into how tenderly your Izuku was listening to you, you bombarded him with a bite of your trademark humor..

“I mean, let’s be honest– you’ve done the impossible work of convincing me to finish an entire Stanley before lunch, all in the name of hydration! That’s true love right there…”

You reclined back fully now- an extension of your true level of comfort with him. Watching you ease your way down, Izuku would have been flustered at any other time, but now? All he did was fawn after you like you hung the stars yourself.

“You deserve some happiness, baby,” you reminded him. “If I can play any part in that, give you even a fraction of what you’ve given me? I’m honored for the chance.  Not for everything you've done– but everything you are. To me."

Seeing Izuku’s newfound appreciation and sentimental smile, you feared he would slide right off the sofa and take you with him– until a newly confident smirk took its place.

A flit of his gaze down your body proved he’d decided otherwise: you were gonna pay for the  emotional roller coaster this night has turned into.

Picking up one of your bent legs and chucking it off the couch, Izuku stole you from your comfy position outright: he scooped you up, then plopped you down again with the immense strength he did in fact still carry– all to snuggle up by pinning you where he liked. The surprise had its desired effect, as you giggled at your hero snatching you– squeezing him in a tight, full body hug.

"If you're going to let me not worry about my arms,” Izuku curtailed his laughing, “-then I'll see to it that you don't worry about these–”

He muffled a kiss to your thigh after scooting backwards- one kiss each, then settled his chin on your tummy. 

"You’re really beautiful,” Izuku marvelled, “I’ve always thought that. Inside and out." 

You stuttered a bit and leaned up on your elbows. Your earlier bravery was slipping now that the roles were reversed. 

Next, he set a loving course of affections there on your stomach too, and scattered more smooches across your midsection, regardless of the barrier your sweater kept between. The hand not supporting his weight caressed your side and even dipped underneath the hem a little.

"Izuku...." you sighed a bit, running through his hair again. There he goes, making you thoroughly embarrassed.

“You should take your own advice, sweet girl,” he shared wisely, “-- treat ourselves as nicely as we treat others– and I don’t mean about keeping you hydrated, silly.”

You snorted back. No argument there– but you hear him out all the same.

“You’re right about that, y’know,” his sights adored you inch by inch as he spoke. “I can wish and wonder how things might have been n’let that keep me down… or, I can be proud of what I’m making now… the future I get to live and see… with the loveliest woman on Earth.”

These comments would be the death of you. Death by Deku.

You chuffed at the change, “Well, geez what happened to my blushing bride?  A little pep talk all you needed?”

“Mmmyup. Your turn, now.”

“I dunno if I like this uno-reverse,” you teased his scalp– “it’s definitely.. different.”

Izuku mouths a minute at your wrist, puppy eyes locked on yours, “You wan’ me to stop?”

“...No.”

“Then respectfully, hush your mouth, honey.”

Littering compliments on you caused Izuku to kiss you a bit slower, crawling up your body, pressing tiny kisses up your middle, skipping your chest (politely) and going for the open space from your off shoulder top to take a taste of you on your collarbone. He hummed on contact with skin, brushing some of your flyaways up and away.  He muttered between kisses. 

‘You smell good… well, of course, you always smell good, always feel s’soft…’

Sighs and spoken praise passed the man’s lips as chose a new spot on your shoulder to adore, claiming you as soft and warm in the tenderest of ways, humming distractedly along every spot he deemed worthy of worship.

Without your noticing, those very strong, steady, scarred hands guided your chin– leading your head away so he'd have room by your neck. This was a great tactic to hide your dizzying aversion, so you’d be damned to stop him now.

Completely unfair. Wasn’t it his job to be constantly embarrassed?!

Taking your pitiful moans as a hint for a breather, Izuku pulled back to savor how cute your face contorted in shyness.

Your darling Izuku leaned down to your ear while you hugged him closer than ever now. The hot anticipation in your belly let its tight grip loose to something relieving to your senses; a refreshing blanket of comfort, rather than white-hot lust and drive. He nuzzled you as he spoke, whispering such caring words,

 "You hold onto me, love, and I'll hold onto you. Let's help heal each other."

You hummed in agreement and gasped a little at feeling warm lips meeting your neck for the first time. The sound that left you, involuntary as it was, did nothing but give him the confirmation he wanted. 

Izuku’s kisses fell gently and sweet from that moment forward, tongue lapping after some sucked areas to ease any harshness on his way to your waiting mouth. He seemed to be lost in his actions, moaning little utterances of your name as he went. You called  for him too in your lovestruck haze, rubbing his shoulders and holding him in place lightly by the hair once he graced your lips at long last. 

His hands trailed all over your sides and with your encouragement finally reaching his ears, he grasped at your waist a little firmer. Strength and assurance on full display, he turned the both of you over so you laid in his arms fully, and he met your lips with newfound passion.

Pausing to catch a breath, you both looked at each other with such respect and understanding and  damn near reverence that you couldn't keep a smile in. He could have sworn you were sunlight. Warmth you'd never felt before bloomed inside.

Not that you’d ever be the one to make him stop once he’s on a roll, but you caught sight of the abandoned notebook on the ground beside you. Still open, long forgotten.

“What happened to quizzing me on Present Mic’s sound wave frequencies per mile~” you mouthed to him, breathless. 

Izuku simply held you tighter, onto his brightest sunflower. “Nah, maybe later. ‘Wanna play your game first.”

[r0-boat]

Yessssss I lOvE your headcanons about the 2 unreleased kings 😋 must be because I love dark headcanons.... (and that in Abbadon is something couldn't miss out 😈)

But can you do some moreeee? 🥺 Like about the headcanons about interactions between kings perhaps (seven kings---!!!!) Or maybe between kings and MC pls 😚 I kinda crave for some dark contents right now (cus when I first play WHB, I already expect this 👀)

Only if you're fine with this request, and jusst ignore it if you don't okie 😘

Oh my God interactions with the Kings hshshs

I mostly just have really stupid headcanons about those guys interacting but I got some dark ones

Dark!whb King headcanons

speculation for asmodeus and belphegor(I'm writing these two before they come out)

Cw: yandere, murder, drugging/drugs, death, cannibalism, sexual slavery mentions of being sold off, most of this shit is just talking about a black market shcsdgj. This shit is dark dead dove do not eat

Disclaimer: I do not condone anything I write This is purely for fantasy written by adults for adults only!

Belphegor and asmodeus has been fully released here's the update

Links to little asks about people's questions

Question one about Satan's desires

Question two on Mammon

Satan

I don't think we talk about Satan's depression as much as we should have. What I feel like you would think himself as a wrathful monster unable to control his wrath, sometimes he would have depressive episodes where his personality is a completely 180. He's just as angry at himself as he is at everyone else.

The first time you've witnessed this depressive episode is when he accidentally struck you and made you bleed. His whole body starts shaking as he began to break down He tore apart his room and started crying and took weeks for him to calm down.

The reason why his subordinates are okay with him taking out his anger and physically hurting them is because if he doesn't have an outlet he'll take out it on himself.

Satan is dependent on you for his emotional needs. He loves you, and he needs you; please do not leave him.

Satan is definitely holding back a lot of his dark thoughts because he doesn't want to hurt you, and he doesn't know how much longer he can hold back these darker desires. Normally he tells you everything, but he doesn't want to scare you. He wants you to like him.

Leviathan

Leviathan is a budding yandere, He already stalks you. Trying to keep his obsessive thoughts underneath a layer of hatred. That hatred mixing into more obsession. Of course he wants you to love him, but he also wants to be hated by you just as much as he is loved because it gets him on your mind. And that's really all he wants. It doesn't matter if he makes you hate him. As long as you're thinking about him he is okay with that.

Because of his abuse as a child from angels I would not doubt he wouldn't know how to normally show affection.

He has killed another devil for you. And he will gladly do it again. He sends the heads of lower rank devils that you dare show a smile too under the name "You're admirer" isn't he so romantic.

Leviathan only tolerates the kings being around you because chilling one of them or they're subordinates would start a war. So to have you he must use sneakier tactics.

Beelzebub

He has a fantasy where he roofies you at a bar and takes you home with him. Whenever you go to the bathroom thinking that Your drink is safe with him, He stares blankly into the glass, thoughts swirling with mental images of your nice loopy giggly self being laid on his bed.

Angels taste like chicken, humans taste like beef, demons taste like pork. Humans so far is his favorite. Humanoid meat especially humans are delicacy and highly illegal in the Tartaros black market. A delicacy He has been recently craving.

If he ever dies he wants his last meal to be you after he fucks you of course.

Levi gives the bodies of the devils he has killed too Beel to eat.

Beel definitely does drugs He's mostly immune now... He hates that Adderall doesn't affect him the same as the others.

Mammon

Tartaros is home to the rich and the very powerful. They hold grandiose special parties where the wealthy gather. Of course Mammon attends these parties. These demons see you as a pretty little exotic pet unknowing that Mammon is the pet and you are the master. And these same demons frequently talk about how they would buy you at any price, talking about your body as if you are a piece of meat and a prize to be bought and sold. Sadly you are not for sale.

As the demon of greed flaunting is his specialty And he has definitely thought about telling you up and all his gold and jewels to bring you to one of these parties to show you off. As a message saying 'This is something you cannot have.

Mammon knows of the Tartaros Black market and he turns a blind eye, but he will gladly do something if you tell him to. Or if belphie gets off his ass and strong arms him.

Giving him a little more because getting asked for it: Mammon doesn't do shit about the black market because He owns part of it and he practically created it. This man runs his kingdom like a mafia and he is a mob boss. Shady dealings to other kingdoms smuggling goods anything for More money and greater goods.

Lucifer

Has purchased a human corpse from the same black market for scientific purposes he swears up and down.

He slowly corrupting himself He beats himself up over it but at the same time he kind of likes it.

"hey can I cut you open and look at your organs? No? Oh okay..."

Lucifer because of his past as an angel suddenly gets urges to kill you. They have gone down over time since his transformation as a devil but he really shouldn't be getting this hard over thoughts of putting his hands around your neck.

Makes aphrodisiacs as a paid commission for asmodeus. And asks you to test the drugs.

If you ever die he wants to keep your beautiful eyes.

Your blood is a beautiful drug like sweet wine. He's obsessed with the taste

Belphegor

Belphegor and his superpower of a kingdom are the only reason why the Kings actually give a damn about their laws. Nifleheim is a strong powerhouse and a great enemy to those who don't want to make one of them.

However, Belphegor isn't all justice and the law and order in fact far from that. He is the law whatever he wants he can bypass it and everyone will turn a blind eye. If you were ever sold by Mammon to the highest bidder Belphegor would be your buyer.

Grand spectacles of public executions are very popular thing in Nifleheim(Belphie Danganronpa fan)

The real horror is that belphie invest in cryptocurrency and has an NFT/j

Belphie is also completely dependent on you and he will make you stay any way necessary.

Belphie only hasn't cracked down on the others harder as he should is because he doesn't give a fuck what happens in other kingdoms if it is in his own.

Belphie thinks Asmodeus is a disgusting freak. Leviathan is an amateur to him. Satan and belphie would get along pretty well I think they would be FPS partners.

Asmodeus

All of hell's most heinous devils come here because the laws are so lax. You're wondering why this kingdom hasn't fall to complete anarchy... Apparently getting you addicted on sex and then withholding it as a punishment is surprisingly very effective.

Asmodeus would love to have you but hasn't invite you yet because... Well if your kingdom is filled with half trained rabid dogs and you throw a nice fine steak inside.... Yeahhh.

Asmodeus is actually a pretty nice dude, He's very calm, polite and chivalrous. Which makes you wonder how much of that is a mask. Something you'll never know.

Asmodeus has a harem I think that goes without saying. And he talks greatly about adding you to that harem and how you would be his favorite~

It's no secret that I think humans are a very sexualized being in hell. Asmodeus is one of the demons with a huge human kink. Humans in his eyes are still primal animals which is part of their biggest appeal to him.

Asmodeus thinks belphie has a stick up his ass and he needs to loosen the fuck up

[strangersteddierthings]

My Default's Self-Destruct (Oh, I'm Not Used to Normal)

@nburkhardt, this ones for you, since you've been so excited and patient! Title from Jillian Rossi's Not Used to Normal.

-

There is a doctor in his room, explaining the extent of his injuries to him and his uncle but Eddie quit listening when the doctor had started with it's our recommendation that he not start back on the scent blocker until-. Whatever the doc had to say after that was more for Wayne's benefit than his own, anyway. Eddie turns his face away from Uncle Wayne and the doc and stares at the wall.

Eddie knows he's a freak.

He never had an option to be anything else.

He was born wrong, a thing his dad would remind him of every time he was deep in his cups and feeling angry or bitter. Which is to say, he'd heard it every day until he was fourteen and, with his mom long gone and his dad's new prison sentence, he was shipped off to Hawkins, Indiana to live with his uncle.

It gave him a choice for the first time in his life.

It was salvation.

No one here knew a damn thing about him except what he wanted them to know. He got to curate his image exactly how he wanted it.

Loud, bold, mean, scary.

Anything that kept people at a distance because he wanted them to be. That's not to say he didn't let people get close. That he didn't have friends. He does.

He founded Hellfire sophomore year and made acquaintances with fellow nerds and geeks. Some stuck around, genuinely seemed to like him and he them, so he got some real friends out of it. Jeff, Frankie, and Gareth.

The only three people in the world who knew about him because he'd chosen to tell them.

But now with this doctor not wanting him to get back on his scent blockers as soon as possible, the whole town's going to know how much of a freak he really is.

His gut twists thinking about how Erica, Lucas, Max, Dustin, Nancy, Robin, and Steve already know. They have to know. Why else are they not here? There's no way they don't by now. Scent blockers need to be taken every day to work effectively. Missing a day every now and then is fine when Eddie knows he's not going to leave home or if it's just the guys he'd be seeing.

But he's missed sixteen days because today is April 7th, and he'd spent most of the prior three days fading in and out of consciousness trying to claw his way out of a coma. Now he's fully alert and aware. He'd woken up alone, but it wasn't long after that his uncle showed up, apparently summoned by a nurse.

"-ddie. Eddie, you still awake?" Wayne's voice is gentle in a way it never usually it. It makes Eddie want to pretend to be asleep.

"Yeah."

"The doc just left."

Eddie doesn't respond verbally. but he does turn his head back to look at Wayne instead of the wall.

"There's a boy down in the lobby. Been tryin' ta visit every day but, well," Wayne trails off with a one shoulder shrug, which seems the easier way to sum up all the events that place while he was in a coma. Wayne apparently making a fuss when the hospital finally got a hold of him and he'd come into Eddie's room to find his unconscious body handcuffed to the bed. No one's been around to explain the how or why to Eddie, but supposedly ten days after Eddie should have died, three days before he awoke for the first time, the "real" murderer was found and died in a gunfight with the police. Eddie's been pardoned, by some miracle.

"Why wasn't he allowed to visit?" Eddie asks, even as he dreads the answer.

"No visitor for murder suspects except family," Wayne says.

"Okay. But I was proven innocent six days ago."

"I know. This last week's been me. I told the staff no one but me could see ya until ya were awake enough to name 'em. Didn't know if that boy who led the manhunt was gonna try and get in, or send someone else after ya."

Warmth floods through Eddie then, both affection for his uncle and a hope that, maybe, no one's been here because they haven't been allowed to be. Maybe they don't- maybe they'll give him a chance even though he's a genetic freak of nature.

"Is it Dustin Henderson?"

"Nah, ain't him. He's been by as much as his ma will allow, though. Sits down there with the first boy."

If it's not Dustin then- "Steve?"

Wayne gives a one-sided grin before saying, "Steve Harrington Sir, if you wanna full name him."

That gets a laugh from Eddie. Wayne hates to be called sir, and he spent a full year calling Jeff 'Just Jeff Sir' when Jeff had made the mistake of correcting Eddie's introduction ("And this here, is Jeffery") while trying to be polite ("Please, it's just Jeff, sir."). Seems like Steve made the same mistake.

"Oh, fuck, don't make me laugh," Eddie wheezes, more from pain than laughter and Wayne looks only a little guilty for causing him pain. "But, uh, yeah. Steve's a-okay."

"Alright. I'll go let the nurse know. Anyone else you wan' ta come see ya?"

"Wait," Eddie says quickly, swallowing thickly. He has to know. "Do- have they... said anything? About me?"

"About you? What- oh," Wayne says. "Did they not know?"

Eddie shakes his head. "No. Not- I didn't tell them, but I haven't had a scent blocker since the first day of spring break. They have to know, right? Everyone always knows."

"Do you want me to ask before gettin' them approved to visit?" Wayne asks, softly and sincere and it makes Eddie's eyes water. He closes them to prevent the tears.

"No. It's fine. Better to, uhh, get this over with. Learn if this will change anything, y'know?"

"And you wanna start with Steve Harrington Sir? He's an alpha, ain't he?"

"Don't act like you don't already know. Everyone and their mother talks about how alpha he smells. I heard about Steve and his alpha scent before I'd even met the dude."

"Well, no need to be so uppity about it," Wayne grouses.

"Sorry. Guess I'm just... not in the mood to joke about this. People don't- they change how they treat me, once they know."

"Just Jeff didn't, nor Gareth or Frankie."

"Yeah, but they were my friends first. I- they saved my life but that doesn't make us friends."

Wayne shakes his head. "You tell that to the boy sittin' in the lobby right now waitin' to see ya."

That's right. The hope that has bloomed earlier. If they did know, they were still around. Either because they are his friends and they care, or they have... questions, possibly. Still, "You'll be in here? When he comes in?"

"I won't leave unless you ask me to," Wayne assures and then he's gone. Out the door, to retrieve Steve.

Jesus Christ, this is fucked. Eddie feels so anxious and scared and he shouldn't. He's never been afraid before. Just. Fed up with how people treat him. How they scrunch their noses when they smell him. When they look at the whole of him and realize there's something wrong with him and their expression changes to either pity or disgust.

Wayne's gone just long enough for Eddie to regret his decision but then it's too late. The first person to enter his room is Steve, followed closely why Wayne.

"Eddie!" Steve says, and Eddie is confused. Steve sounds... awed? A bit breathless like he's witnessed a miracle.

"Hey Steve," Eddie manages to squeak out and that's all the permission Steve seems to need. He crosses the room quickly, dragging a second chair from the corner with him to the opposite side of the bed from where Wayne has taken up station.

"Fuck, Eddie, we didn't know if you'd- but you did. You're awake," Steve says, even as he's trying to sniff the air. Probably trying to get a read on Eddie's own scent, and therefore his own emotional state. When Steve doesn't find what he's looking for, his brows furrow into confusion, and he looks so fucking adorable with his face scrunched like that. He's glad Steve can't smell that on him, at least.

"I'm awake," Eddie says.

Steve nods, but his confused face doesn't fade. Instead he sniffs the room more loudly, thoroughly. He looks to Wayne, then back to Eddie. He does that a few times before settling on Eddie.

Eddie sighs heavily. "Go ahead. Ask."

"What? Oh, uh, nothing to ask, I guess. Just thought Wayne would have scented you by now, but I don't smell him on you."

"Yeah. Wayne's nose barely works, so no point in that."

"A fact I'm thankful for every time you'd finally drag out the days old dishes from your room," Wayne quips.

"Hey!" Eddie shoots him a wounded look as his face gets hot. Low blow, old man, he thinks.

"Oh. Do you... not get isolation sickness? Is that rude to ask?" Steve asks.

"I don't get isolation sickness anymore, not since long before you were even born," Wayne answers. He's still hovering by the door, expecting to be dismissed by Eddie probably, since Steve's not- since Steve doesn't seem to- Eddie doesn't know. Is he too nice to ask out right? Too disturbed by it to even bring it up?

"And, uh, isolation sickness could never effect me," Eddie says, biting the bullet, looking at a wrinkle on his blanket instead of at Steve.

"What?" Steve sounds startled by the answer, as if he can't understand. Maybe he doesn't.

"I can't get isolation sickness."

"That doesn't- everyone but childr-" Steve cuts himself off, and Eddie hears more sniffing before his startled by Steve grabbing his arm. He looks up quickly, and sees Wayne move closer from the corner of his eye, as Steve shoves his nose into Eddie's wrist and takes a deep breath. A sound between a whimper and a whine comes from Steve. "But you- What?"

"Steve."

"Eddie, I don't understand?"

Eddie looks to Wayne, who raises his brows as if to ask want me to tell him? He almost nods, but this is going to be the first of many conversations, and he might as well get the practice in. "Steve. You can only get isolation sickness after your secondary gender develops. I can't. 'Cause I don't have a secondary gender."

Steve blinks at him. Then blinks some more. He opens his mouth, then closes it and blinks even more. "I- how- what? It hasn't developed yet?"

Eddie groans in frustration. "No, Steve. It won't develop ever. I don't have one, I won't have one! No scent gland will ever grow, no second puberty as my body changes to be able to send and receive emotional signals, no bonding gland to establish pack or mate!"

"Wha-"

"Don't! What aren't you getting? I'm a genetic fucking freak of nature who can't ever bond with pack or a mate because I don't have a secondary gender!"

Steve jerks back at Eddie's sudden outburst, "Sorry. I'm sorry. I didn't- I wasn't trying to, uhh, offend."

Eddie scoffs and looks away. He wants to roll onto his side, put his back to Steve and block him out. Offend. Eddie's not offended. He's- fuck, he's sad and scared and angry. Because he spent a week flirting freely with Steve, who'd started to flirt back and now it's all back to just being a fantasy in Eddie's mind.

Steve's an alpha. Even if... even if he ever might have entertained the idea of being with Eddie, that's going to be gone now. Alpha's want omega's. They'll settle for a beta, sure, but that's what it is. Settling.

And Eddie's not even that.

He's nothing. No secondary gender, no place in society, he'll always smell like a goddamn child to everyone else. He knows how this goes. Until he's back on the scent blockers, which just make him smell like chemicals, they're going to treat him like a child, or like a pariah.

"Eddie-" Steve says, quiet.

Whatever it is, Eddie doesn't want to hear it. "I'm tired. I hurt. Please leave."

Eddie stares at a spot on the wall as Wayne escorts Steve from his room. He doesn't let himself cry until after counting to thirty in his head once the door's closed.

@i-less-than-three-you @afewproblems @skepsiss

[soullessjack]

something i was thinking about at work is jacks insecurity about being a burden to the Winchesters + Cas and how much that fits into the autistic lens of his character. obviously it starts with the fact that Sam and Dean were essentially forced into taking care of him at first because of the circumstances surrounding. Literally everything. but it goes beyond that all the way to jack just being what he is and that being inherently dangerous.

for one thing, the bunker (Jack’s only beloved home ever)

initially, the only reason sam and dean agreed to take Jack back to the bunker at all was to safeguard the public from his then-uncontrolled powers, and in last holiday mrs butters also suggests that they’re only keeping him there so he can’t destroy anyone else like he did mary (which jack doesn’t even fight against so.. maybe he’s fine with it being that way?)

then when you come to jacks powers themselves:

they are fundamentally [part of] what makes him different. they’re part of what makes jack dangerous. he can’t have public meltdowns or show extreme anger (or even any frustration, really) without there being consequences — the consequences of someone else getting hurt-or-worse by him, and him being perceived more negatively & fearfully each time it happens. those consequences are just added to the burden jack feels he brings to his family, which breeds guilt and frustration in jack for how he feels he’s affecting them and disappointing their expectations.

this in turn is why jack is so abrasive whenever the guys try to comfort or reassure him. it’s rejection sensitive dysphoria with a little more C4 to it, basically. and speaking from my own experiences, when you’re constantly in a state of low self image or rejection sensitivity, it creates a cycle of eggshell walking and people pleasing—putting all of your focus and energy into managing the feelings of others because you assume the slightest slip-up will make them upset or disappointed or even hate you.

you react to the idea of being rejected before it even happens, and even if it doesn’t happen, because at the core of it all you already perceive yourself in a rejective way.

and that’s exactly what happened between jack and mary after he tortured Nick.

after he’s done, jack turns to mary, ‘flushed with pride’ and grinning about what he did. it was cathartic and sickeningly enjoyable to do. but when he sees the horror on her face as she just says “what did you do?” his pride ‘curdles to shame.’ he’s already sensing rejection for what he’s done, and tries to justify it to mary, and somewhat console her; Nick was a killer who deserved it, and Sam and Dean would’ve been grateful for his death. if Mary thinks something is wrong with him for what he did then she’s the one who’s wrong, actually.

mary (honestly god bless her for still being sympathetic & patient with jack after that) just gently tries to tell him: “something’s wrong. it’s not your fault. you just need help and we’ll help you because you’re family and we love you,” but all jack hears is “something is wrong with you and it scares me. YOU scare me. I’m going to tell the others that something is wrong with you and they’ll be scared of you, too.” **

I don’t think i need to explain in-depth how jack loves his family a very normal and healthy amount, but suffice it to say that he’s established to have a deep fear of, and inability/unwillingness to accept, losing them. he can’t think about it because he hates thinking about it. he’d do anything for them (like self sacrifice or slowly burning a man alive) and to be with them again (like necromancy and unleashing biblical plagues upon nonbelievers).

so when jack perceives that the Winchesters would reject/hate/fear him because of what he did to nick—because there’s something wrong with him—he starts spiraling right there, and he can’t accept that Mary still loves him and wants to help him; he doesn’t even think he can be helped. he can’t deal with any of the rejections he’s perceiving and just wants to be left alone…..

I was going to try and reroute this post back to the whole burden thing, but it’s 3am and I’m losing my train of thought. TLDR i just think it’s very autistic for jacks nature to be narratively framed as both a burden and a threat and also something that just wants to be loved for what it is even though it knows it’s difficult ……. yeagj

**additionally i think he does the same when Rowena refuses to help but I’m getting too sleepy to write that in

Goodnight everypony (<__>)

[ominous-auburn-orbs]

Can you do a fanfic for Kinger and Caine's first kiss with mild NSFW

Here's some dialogue for help

Kinger: Wow.

Caine: Yeah.

Kinger: That was...intense.

Caine: Yeah.

This. This one was a struggle. But you were nice enough to give me dialogue. If you read my stuff for plot, there's not a lot of that to be found here lmao.

Also, same warnings as in the ask, slight NSFW, but it's basically just them semi-failing at making out like the sillies they are.

Kinger and Caine stood outside of the tent, watching the sunset. They held each other's hands, enjoying this moment of peace. Kinger eventually spoke up.

"Hey, Caine?" The ringmaster looked to him, immediately giving Kinger his undivided attention, although that was far from irregular. "This is our 7th date, right?"

"Indeed it is, my dear! It's sweet that you've been keeping count." It took a few moments, but the tone of Kinger's question started to sink in. "Wait, is something special meant to be happening? Is- does the 7th date hold a sort of significance? Was I meant to get you something specific? I-I'm so so sorry, my darling, I didn't-"

"No no no, you're fine!" Kinger chuckled, "There's nothing too important about the 7th date. At least, I don't remember there being. I was more referring to... our progress in our relationship."

"Why, whatever do you mean?"

"Well, we've been together for a little while now, and we, uh, haven't even kissed." His voice trailed off slightly. He knew he'd kissed people before, but all of those memories had a dream-like quality to them. He hadn't done much of anything romantic since he got stuck in the circus, so it felt like he was about to have his first kiss overall. It did make him feel rather self-conscious before it even began, worried that he'd do something wrong or embarrassing and ruin the moment.

"Oh. Yes, you're right, we haven't. I have done research on that, and kissing is allegedly a staple part of romantic relationships. But, I'm not quite sure how we'd go about it, considering our severe lack of lips." Caine chose not to admit that he had near to know idea on how to kiss someone, despite his extensive research. Very, very extensive.

Kinger brought Caine's hand to his cheek, requiring the ringmaster to fly in order to reach him. "How about we try anyway? Just use our collective knowledge, and... experiment, until we find something that feels right."

Caine felt heat spread across his gums. "A-alright, that sounds, uh, good. Very good."

Unsure, the two started to lean towards each other, Caine's teeth and eyes shut tight. Eventually, their faces touched, causing them to relax a bit more. Kinger moved the spot where his mouth would be against Caine's teeth. It did have a similar sensation to what kissing had felt like. Or perhaps he was remembering wrong. Either way, he loved it.

Caine opened his mouth partially, nibbling on Kinger's face, which was admittedly more pleasurable than he thought it would be, although the chess piece did have to hold in a laugh at the mental image of what their current situation would look like.

The ringmaster opened his mouth further. He remembered that he had read about how people would use their tongue to show more affection and passion, so he somewhat awkwardly ran his tongue across Kinger's 'mouth', which drew unexpected noises from both of them.

Since Caine didn't need to breathe and only God knew how Kinger's respiratory system worked, they continued this for a while. Saliva dripped down the front of Kinger's face, but he didn't care enough to stop. In an attempt to further chase the feeling of what he could only describe as his chest exploding from the inside, Caine bit Kinger's face, although harder than he intended.

"Ow-" Kinger pulled away, bringing a hand up to where he had been bit, but stopped before he touched it. There was no lasting mark on his wood, and the pain wasn't that bad. He started to think about how he wouldn't have minded Caine doing it again, but decided to leave that new feeling for another day.

"Oh my goodness, I am so sorry, my sweetness, are you okay?" Both of their faces were bright red and their collars were crumpled from where they had been grasping at each other to try and get closer.

The chess piece wiped at his face to clean off some of Caine's spit. "I-it's fine, I'm fine, I promise." Kinger put one of his hands on the ringmaster's shoulder and the other on his waist, while Caine encircle his 'neck' with his arms. "That was- it was a lot."

"Yes, a-a lot would be a good way of describing it." They continued to stand there in each other's embrace. Well, Kinger standing and Caine floating. "Did you like it, though?"

Kinger was silent for a moment before pressing his face to Caine's teeth. "Yes, I did. I'd love to do it again some time, sweetheart, if you don't mind."

Caine couldn't help but be flustered at the petname. Kinger knew how much of an effect it had on him. "O-oh! Ah, of- of course, yes, whatever you wish for, my dear."

[caustinen]

I'd love a follow up on the security scare Hollywood!AU Clegan experienced....Does Bucky cancel all press and social media activity? Hire a military level security team? Want to move to the country? I can imagine he'd go in to overprotective mode.....

And does Gale recover ok? Is he left with any trauma/fear? :(

thank you for this ask anon!! i love protective tropes <3 (continuation to this drabble)

to start off with, i think it would definitely make bucky step back from the media for a while. he’d go completely silent on insta for a few weeks and while he’s contractually bound to do some press for his upcoming movie, it’s clear he’s much more serious and avoids talking about his relationship (partly because he does not want to comment on the incident at all, just put it all behind them) and compared to his usual endeavor this is very noticeable, making the journalists also careful not to ask him about it reflexivly.

as for extra security, i think he’d go a bit overboard and unhinged with it before gale forces him to take it back a notch. gale is shaken up after it but gets over it much more quickly, reasoning they both got through it completely fine, and he just wants to go on business-as-usual to the extent that it’s possible; he doesn’t wanna live in constant fear because of one bad experience after he works through the first shock (i mentioned gale also having a tough childhood in this au somewhere and i could maybe even write something about him only realizing some emotional locks and seeking therapy year into his relationship with bucky, so he would maybe have some mental tools for dealing with trauma already!). the first he notices some fridge/military level bulky dudes following them everywhere they go he actually has some flashbacks to the attack, just about to get anxious, before he realizes these must be guards hired by bucky. they have a small fight about it and eventually bucky begrudgingly agrees to let some of them go, but for his side of the compromise both he and gale take a self-defense class, and gale has to allow him to take him away for a bit for some pampering. gale rolls his eyes and sighs dramatically as bucky packs their bags with a driven attention but he doesn’t hide how much he likes to have a moment of peace with his fiancé in the midst of the media circus when bucky takes him to wisconsin for the weekend and barely lets him out the bed, bringing him breakfast on a tray and kissing all of his sweet spots over and over to make sure he’s really okay.

slowly bucky gets over the scare and loosens up to the extent he starts posting and raving about gale on his social medias again, but he’s more careful with drawing boundaries with fan encounters and pays special attention with talking honestly about his life and doing his best to disillusion the image of himself as anything other than a normal guy trying to have a relatively normal life. the extra security stays on their payroll but it becomes more background operations than surrounding them in all public places. for gale this was a first properly bad experience with “fame” but surprisingly it doesn’t affect him as much as one would expect since he was struggling with just the media attention anyway, and the attack doesn’t seem too far removed from that in the end since nothing bad actually happened and he’s just getting used to having his privacy challenged anyway. he worried for bucky tho, but in a weird way it also brings them closer together as he starts to realize these new symptoms of fame that bucky has been dealing with on his side for years already. all in all, he’s a bit jumpy and untrusting with crowds for some time after, but once his main goal becomes soothing john he quite quickly gets almost back to his normal self <3

hope this was to your liking, sorry it took so long!! i would love to write some protective/worried moments more in detail

[count-lero]

The session of plenipotentiaries that never happened,

Or The tale of how I rediscovered that one lithography of Isabey’s famous painting in extremely high resolution and went through a total recall, so that everybody could suffer (myself including) ⭐️

The arrival of the Duke of Wellington had not only affected Vienna's diplomatic activity and social calendar; it was also posing a problem to the painter Jean-Baptiste Isabey, who was trying to capture the congress on canvas. He had been working for some time, and he had finally found a way to balance all the strong personalities, many of them patrons, into one single painting, and yet not offend national sensibilities or fragile egos.

The painting, which depicted the delegates gathered in a conference room, turned out to be a compromise in the best spirit of Vienna diplomacy.

Metternich, the president of the Congress, draws the eye, as the only standing figure in the foreground.

Castlereagh, though, commands the center, sitting with his legs gracefully crossed and elbow resting on the table.

The light shining through the window, however, falls onto Talleyrand, sitting across the table with his dress sword at his side. An empty chair on both his right and left make him further stand out, as do the nearby figures who look to him, just as many of the smaller powers had sought his leadership the last few months.

As Isabey was putting the finishing touches to his composition, he had to figure out what to do about the fact that the Duke of Wellington was now also in town. Starting over was out of the question. Omitting a man of his stature was equally impossible. Yet it was not easy to incorporate him into a canvas on which all the best places had already been taken. The painter's solution was simple and elegant: why not make the painting commemorate the Duke of Wellington's arrival in Vienna?

That way, the duke could simply be inserted on the far left side of the painting, without any insult to his position. As for the duke's reluctance to be painted from a side angle (he was self-conscious about his nose), Isabey had overcome that with a well-targeted compliment: didn't Wellington look like the handsome and chivalric Henry IV? Pleased with this comparison, Wellington accepted, joking that Isabey was a "good enough diplomat to take part in the Congress".

The painter also had to apply his finesse to convince Humboldt to enter the studio. The Prussian ambassador hated to have his portrait made, and, sure enough, he first declined, claiming that he had "too ugly a face ever to spend a penny" on a portrait. With this statement, Isabey saw his opportunity and emphasized that he would not "ask the slightest recompense for the pleasant trouble I am going to take". Isabey only wanted "the favor of a few sittings".

"Oh, is that all?" Humboldt quickly came around when he realized it would not cost him anything. "You can have as many sittings as you like".

Later, many congratulated Isabey on his portrait, particularly the fine job with Humboldt. The Prussian did not pay anything, as agreed, and Isabey got his revenge, Humboldt joked, by painting "an excellent likeness of me".

Few could complain of the treatment received from Isabey's flattering brush. This famous painting of the Congress of Vienna was pleasing to all, though typical of this peace conference, the scene was purely imaginary. The group of twenty-three delegates had never met in exactly this way before. Isabey had painted the portraits of each figure individually, and then later assembled the whole group together.

And so, symbolically, this simulated image would commemorate a congress that never was.

After that spectacular depiction of historical context surrounding Isabey’s magnificent canvas by David King few things are left to be added. I would simply love to highlight some other figures of utmost importance for the diplomatic life of that illustrious historical period - there are

Karl August von Hardenberg, Prime Minister of Prussia at the time;

Herren Wacken and Friedrich von Gentz, two Secretaries who were responsible for the protocols of the most important Congress' meetings;

count Karl Vasilyevich Nesselrode, a Russian-German diplomat, who became state chancellor of the Russian Empire in 1816;

prince Andrey (Andrew) Kirillovich Razumovsky, an extremely wealthy Russian aristocrat and diplomat, for whom Vienna was like his second home;

and we shouldn’t (or rather can’t) forget about general Charles Stewart-Vane, Castlereagh’s younger brother who definitely knew how to throw an unforgettable party, so refined aristocratic society could discuss his wild adventures at their fashionable salon meetings day and night. ✨

P.S.

Perhaps, there should be more posts with other details of the lithograph as well as Isabey’s original canvas, I’ll just need some time and motivation for that. 👌

[rainiishowers]

Ok so- hey dear council, how are you on this fine day :D

Self indulgent request by..a friend, but could thy by chance write a oneshot about gn!mc slowly warming up to mammon and is only okay with physical affection if its with mammon or luke

Summary: Everyone noticed that MC wasn't okay with physical affection, however that started to change with two specific indiviuals

Genre: Fluff ---- MC wasn't the most physically affectionate person. Mammon knew this well, and while he was a bit sad he couldn't be greedy with their touch, he would always put MC and their boundaries first. Mammon had seen Simeon or Solomon softly remind Luke that MC wasn't the most physically affectionate, but lately MC seems to tell them that's it's fine if Luke wants to give a quick hug. It was movie night in the HoL and after a bit of disagreement in what movie to watch, they settled with an action movie and obviously Mammon seated himself beside MC. As the movie went on, Mammon could feel MC snuggles up to his side, seeming unsure if it was okay. In response, to confirm that it was okay with him, the demon swings his arm to relax on their shoulders. And Mammon swore he saw a small smile on the human's lips as they continue to watch the movie. The next day, Mammon was still thinking about that. As he lays in his bed, he felt so giddy and excited that MC, having a history of being touch avoidant, had finally been able to start warming up to his touch. His DDD buzzes and when he opens the brothers' group chat, it was Asmo, sending an image that he said Solomon took. The image was MC and Luke doing a little dance around the kitchen as they wait for cupcakes to bake. They seem to be enjoying their time and man Mammon wishes he was there. Gahh I have to go get groceries first..

Remembering that it was his turn to go get some groceries, he very reluctantly got up to do his task. Maybe he'll go pay Purgatory Hall a visit afterwards. After doing that chore and finding out that MC still wasn't back from Purgatory Hall, he makes his way to the residence, bringing a bottle of sprinkles that he bought for Luke to try out. He knocks on the door and Simeon was the one to answer it. "Mammon, it's nice to see you." He smiles. "Here for MC, I presume?" The Avatar of Greed rubs the back of his neck, holding up the sprinkles. "I was actually here to visit a bit, but if you an' Luke are busy.." "Oh, not at all!" Simeon lets Mammon in, closing the door before continuing. "They baked some cupcakes and MC offered to try and help Luke with an assignment." Simeon informs him. Mammon puts the sprinkles on the kitchen counter for later, nodding at what Simeon said. Simeon went to knock on Luke's room but there wasn't a response. Mammon walks over and the two of them see MC and Luke, cuddled up together while a book laid on MC's lap. "Aw, how adorable." Simeon smiles. Mammon huffs, they had no right to be so cute. Suddenly, there was a ringing from the living room. "Ah, excuse me.." Simeon goes to go answer the phone call while the second eldest walks in quietly as to not disturb either of them. Mammon cracks a small smile seeing the two and carefully takes the book off their lap and onto Luke's desk. He pulls up a blanket for the two of them. Content with this, he starts to walk off, but a hand stops him. He turns back and sighs in a more fond manner before walking over beside MC, lifting up the blanket and joining the two in the cuddle pile, soon drifting off himself.

[whirld-of-color]

hiiii welcome back to the gay people. the first image is based off of kiss by death by bruna kazinoti! gonna go on a very long ramble about why exactly blueberry and mango are Like This below the cut. before that here's some more textposts

okay! so the main thing About Them is that they're both very mentally ill. mango is so driven with purpose and revenge that he's gonna kill himself to get rid of minecraft. blueberry is so utterly empty and purposeless that he is constantly passively suicidal. if you throw two people like that at each other they fucking explode, right? yeah it's great. because they almost balance each other out, if you look at it right! blueberry tamps down on mango's preemptive self-destruction and mango cuts through blueberry's apathy to give him a reason to live. hypothetically they're fine. the thing is that they're still both super mentally ill

like, okay- blueberry keeps mango from working himself to death. what he doesn't do is ever try to dissuade mango from trying to destroy minecraft. because that's not The Point. the things that pull them together are the things that are going to destroy them. mango is attracted to blueberry’s calmness and apathy but that character trait only arises in the ways that it does due to blueberry's incredible depression. blueberry likes mango’s sense of purpose and internal fire except that fire is burning him alive and it's gonna drive him to try to kill an entire videogame's worth of sentient beings. the things that draw them together are going to kill them and neither of them are going to stop it, is the thing! why would they? like honestly as if they went into this relationship to get better? don't be ridiculous they don't even really have proper conversations about their problems, they just sort of pingpong off of each other and make each other worse

(literally any time one of them doesn't want to talk about something they just start making out. unofficial "shut up and kiss me" rule. this is really funny to me personally and it's a decent indicator of the way this whole ship functions)

so that's the main thing. it basically affects every single aspect of their silly little relationship. for example it's implicitly understood that there's a timer strapped to this relationship and all of this is temporary because mango's probably gonna go run off and destroy minecraft and die within a year or two (and then blueberry can sink back into his empty husk of a life and carry on until someday he finally slips off of a building and dies), so they're lowkey out here perpetually treating their relationship like a short-term thing even when they've been doing this for like, 8 months. i think they've only ever gone on one actual date pre ep-30

i will say that at some point within that time they do start genuinely liking each other for their personalities and not just their mental illness, which is neat! i should fucking hope they did! this is helpful for post ep-30 content because it means they'll probably get less toxic later down the line when mango gets redeemed

[drifting-pieces-blog-blog]

Breaking down the comics: Taking the hit (Issue #26)

Moon Knight Issue #26: Hit it! / The Cabbie Killer

Two in one! What a wonderful time to be alive! 

Also this cover really gives me modern comic feels and I have no idea why. I feel like I've seen a variant of this cover before or perhaps another comic did a similar theme. Hmmm. 

We start with an editor's note from Denny O'Neil! That's either a good thing or a bad thing when it comes to a newer comic that is experiencing its first big few years and establishing characters and villains. 

It reads: 

Falling on our noses? 

   In tai chi chaun, a gentle and wonderful combination of martial arts and exercise, there is a concept called "exploring the limits." This means testing how close you can let an opponent come before he hits you and how far you can extend yourself towards him before you lose your balance and fall on your nose. What you learn is where your body is, its boundaries, and the distance it can be extended and yet retain wholeness and identity.

In Moon Knight we're exploring the limits. 

We're asking: What kind of adventures can our hero have and still be his own unique self. (Can we do fantasy? Science fiction? Humor?) How long should stories be? (One per issue? Two? Three? Or should a story extend over a number of issues?) How many liberties can we take with the traditional comic book format? (Our black-and-white covers are a solid success. but we're not sure about our other experiments --putting the title on the inside cover, next issue ads on the back cover, text features, cover galleries and whatever we come up with next.) 

Lots of questions. Very few answers. 

But that's okay. In fact, that's fine. That's what makes working on Moon Knight just about the most exciting job in comics. I've always liked journeys and everyone likes surpirses and Moon Knight is both. The magazine--and character--are fluid, not fully defined and we're busy exploring the limits. 

Of course, we may fall on our noses. You'll let us know if we do.

-Denny O'Neil. 

Okay! So this is a big thing for early comics! Many of you are only familiar with newer age comics and have graced Golden Age comics with a peak or two. But we’re sitting firm in the early 80s and Moon Knight is indeed a character that is unlike any other that was sitting firm in Marvel’s top tier. Born from a supernatural/horror type portion of Marvel that saw the birth of Man-Thing, Werewolf by Night, and others of the likes, Moon Knight bordered on classic Super-hero and supernatural horror. 

The note about Tai Chi and extension is actually really beautiful and a perfect metaphor for Moon Knight. I’ll have to remember that one! 

Now, to have a clear call to arms in where to take Moon Knight means that they have had this conversation in the writing room. They don’t know what to do with the comic. They have classic stories and ideas, but they don’t want to start repeating themselves this early int he game, but they also don’t want to jump the shark. 

It also means that this particular comic that we are about to read might be an experiment on where to take the comic. So let’s see what the story of the week is! 

We open with some utterly outstanding art. I mean, this stuff is GOLD. We got TWO spreads people! 

The first page describes the colors of sound. The beat of jazz and how it affects the senses. 

"First there is black. Then tehre is light, and all the colors of Jazz. And there is sound in these colos. A wailing trumpet drips cool violet, threaded with smoke. Heavy blue lumbers from the bass... While the clarinet tempts and tantalizes in hot pink counterpoint. But the drum... The drum beats Blood Red." 

We move from jazz to images of various uses of the phrase "Hit it!" Hit it to be starting the jazz band swinging. To fix a malfunctioing TV, to encourage a baseball player to hit the ball out of hte park to a child's drawing....

"Double meanings sometimes multiply." 

An abusive father and a crying child. 

"But even as a trumpet screams through the night...The drum still beats Blood Red.” 

"Hit it, Moon Knight. The night is here, the moon is full, and caught between one and the other dark deeds will prowl. Hit it, Moon Knight. Hit it. 

Cats in windows, cries from the alley, shadows mixing, and mysteries cloaked for the kill. Hit it, Moon Knight, Hit it. 

Fear in lurking, money itching to change hands, twitching and always, always blood to be spilled. 

It's hot, Moon Knight, and it's dark and it's now--Don't be late, Moon Knight, Not for your time to howl...

It might be in rage or it might be in pain...But never fear, Moon Knight, it's always the same. 

Just hit it, Moon Knight... Hit it!" 

Sometimes I think Moench just shows off. And then Sienkiewicz just FLEXES. 

We see Moon Knight on patrol. He passes by a building and we hear some men talking. 

One complains about the graveyard shift to Joe. 

But Joe isn't paying attention. He's having a flashback. 

He's reading the newspaper. Specifically the Obituaries. We see a children's drawing of the angry father. Joe throws the paper and runs away. 

He runs to a jazz club where the crowd flows out onto the sidewalk. 

Joe runs into the crowd and comes across a man in the way. 

Moon Knight notices the commotion and heads on over. 

"Just down the street the colors are wilder --Neon shrieks without mercy...And the beat is younger, faster, harder... Pounding, driving, relentlessly slamming... Everybody is doing it these days, getting great satisfaction..." 

They move past the jazz club to a rock house. 

Along the way we see people beaten, bloodied, and terribly wounded. 

"By hitting...hitting...hitting it!" 

Joe makes it to his destination at last: The funeral parlor. 

"I'm coming old man! Coming to pay my respects!" 

The blood red drum beats and he bursts into the parlor. 

There he finds the coffin of his father. 

A priest tries to speak to him. 

Joe beats the man down. 

Joe is ready to fight. To fight anyone that tries to stop him. That stands between him and his father. Him and his past. 

"Did you come to hit me too? Well, come on then--Hit me! Hit me till your arms fall off! You might as well...

He did it often enough! He hit me till I couldn't sleep at night--Any night! 

And then he hit me some more! And then he ran away--Left my mother alone! Finally he wouldn't hit me anymore! Finally he wouldn't even give me that!" 

Narration: "Blood red... The beat never ends... Pain, catharsis, rage--They shriek through nights lost to time..." 

Narration: "Turn away, Moon Knight--You were wrong--It's not your time to howl. There are others with stronger voice, greater cause..."

The priest interrupts demanding that Moon Knight stop him. 

Moon Knight: "No... There's been enough hitting tonight... I won't add to it." 

While Moon Knight talks to the priest, Joe stands up and punches Moon Knight. 

Here we remember that Marc Spector was a boxer. His violence settling from the school yard to the ring until his father turned him out. Marc moved from the ring to the battle field to the mercenary role. Marc runs hot with rage and fire. Who is he here? The raging child fighting back or the monster with nowhere else to put his fire than into those around him? 

A Rabbi once told him to stop. A Rabbi that tried to lead him down a path of passive peace when the world around him was violence and pain. A father that could not stand the sight of his son fighting back. 

Now we see a priest telling him to fight and him standing up and saying there is enough violence in the world that perhaps just this once there can be peace. 

And when violence falls on him, he does not take the passive path. He can’t. Everything Marc is and has been is refusing to look the other way while he is hurt. 

Narration: The crowning madness... Long live the king. And so, Moon Knight, the night was yours after all... And once started, the drum beats blood red...Forever." 

He is angry with himself. Angry at his loss of control. Angry that he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t stop the violence. He couldn’t stop his own rage. His own need to hit back. To hit it. 

What an opener. This one has me feeling a lot here. The direction of past trauma on those around us. The need to get resolution only to have it taken away from us. How it leads to more pain. More hurt. More trauma. 

Does this remind anyone of anything?

Yeah. I went there. 

PART TWO: Cabbie Killer! 

This story is written by Denny O'Neil with artist Keith Pollard and editor Ralph Macchio. 

I know what you’re thinking. “Oh no, Jake!” 

We open on Jake sitting in his cab late at night. 

"This is Lockley. I'm headin' for the garage after I drop my fare." 

In the buses waits a man with a bazooka. 

Narration: It is quiet in Brooklyn, this cool autumn evening, as Jake Lockley ends a day of driving around New York City--Quiet for exactly four more seconds...Then, two events occur simultaneously. Lockley stamps on the breake to avoid "STUPID DOG" --and the car parked a few feet away erupts in eye stinging flame...

Jake's fare asks if it was an accident or a bomb. 

Jake sits stunned. "Neither. Just before the fireworks, I glimpsed a muzzle flash from the bushes. Weird as it seems, somebody shot off an old fashioned Bazooka! The thing that bugs me is, it looked like we were the target.... You got any enemies, mister?" 

Jake's fare decides it's probably safer to walk and departs the cab. Probably for the best. 

We cut to an hour or so later on a pier somewhere. We see a man in fancy military garb talking to another guy. 

He explains that because of the dog, he missed his target and the target got away. He explains that he will try again with success next time.

The other guy tells him he doesn't give second chances and to 'take a hike'.  

Military guy isn't happy. 

"You have hired me to destroy a taxi cab and so I shall--whether you like it or not. I gave my word--And Commodore Donny Planet always keeps his word. Understood?" 

Let me just say: WHAT A NAME. 

Oh no. I didn't think it was this issue. I suppose I take solace in knowing now that it isn’t Bill that gave us Speeden. It always seems wrong to see old Moon Knight drawn by someone else. They just don’t get the face right. 

But they sure do get the dialogue right. And the name. Steven. Because we all know who the vain one of the group is. Someone has to take care of the body and we all know it isn’t going to be Marc or Jake. 

Ladies and Gents and all of the others, I give you Speedo Steven. 

The pool scene wasn’t even needed. He literally came home after being shot at by a bazooka, changed into Steven, took a dip into a pool, then ran off to Brooklyn as Moon Knight. There was absolutely ZERO need for Steven to get into the smallest speedo he could find and take a swim. He even demanded that Marlene and Frenchie….wait. He demanded that Marlene meet him by the pool. She showed up in a bikini, expecting lovely pool time. Frenchie just showed up! In full attire. He was just there for the show. He takes it where he can get it, I suppose. 

Moon Knight, now flying over the city, spots something burning. On closer look, he finds a cab on fire. 

It seems the Bazooka man found a cab to hit. 

Saddened by the loss of a cab, he is at least relieved to know that Jake Lockley is not the primary target. 

Moon Knight tells Frenchie to take them to the Queens Cemetery. 

"For months, I've known that a lot of our local criminal types play poker there every Friday night...They figure they won't be disturbed. Maybe one of them will have some answers for us." 

Once there, he directs Frenchie to grab his cab and park it near the north gate. 

I just gotta say... I have always loved the idea that all the bad guys get together to play poker and complain about their foes. Takes me back to the Batman Animated Series "Almost got him" episode. 

I also gotta say that no one draws Moon Knight's face right in classic outfit with little emotive eyes like Bill. This one is just...lacking. They also over buffed him out in muscles. 

Just a small criticism. 

I do appreciate that Frenchie does still have his moon hat though. I love that stupid hat. 

Moon Knight takes out the guards and interrupts the poker party. 

One of the guys at the party knows something and spills it. 

"One of my boys was runnin' from the law...Ducked into a garage and hid a certain tape cassette the cops want in a cab. He told us that much before he died from a slug in the chest. Problem was he didn't say which cab or where in the cab he hid it." 

Turns out three cabs were in the garage that night. They hired Commando man to track the three cabs down. 

The boss man at the table laughs that Moon Knight isn't going anywhere and calls over a hired goon with a gun. 

Crawley! 

Now Crawley is a sort of undercover informant for Moon Knight and all the baddies at the poker table trust him. 

So Moon Knight has a problem. He can't fight Crawley like he was a regular thug. But if Crawley doesn't shoot him then they will know he's working for Moon Knight and lose all trust. 

Crawley takes a wide shot and Moon Knight uses the chance and kicks Crawley in the face. 

The choices he makes sometimes...

Crawley is knocked out and the thugs all scatter. He takes a moment to make sure Crawley is alright then runs after the main guy. 

The boss spots a nearby parked cab and jumps in. 

Moon Knight calmly sits at the wheel. 

He informs the boss that this is one of the cabs from the garage and that he suspects the Bazooka man is waiting at the garage for a shot. 

"You've got a choice: Either tell me where to find your assassin or we cruise 'round and 'round till HE finds US! Might take all night, but I'm in no hurry." 

The boss is more than ready to give up the goods and tells Moon Knight where Commodore Donny Planet is. 

He finds the Commodore in a boat. They fight and Moon Knight finds the Commodore to be freakishly strong. 

Moon Knight strikes at normally vulnerable spots only to get tossed around like nothing. 

It's near invulnerable vs. Moon Knight's ability to take the most brutal beating and keep going. 

Moon Knight switches tactics and tosses some Judo in, keeping the large man off balance. 

He knocks the man off the boat into a fishing net. 

"The safe thing-The smart thing- would be to just let him drown." He contemplates for but a moment. "No." 

He jumps in and saves the large brute then leaves him for the cops. 

And that’s the end of the cabbie killer. 

I must say, this one ended on a let down. I feel that if Moench had written it, we’d have ended on Jake finding the tape in his cab or something to indicate that he was the mark all along. Maybe that’s just me. 

Especially after the first half with “HIT IT”. That one was really amazing. Fantastic art, a very heavy subject, and only took a few pages to cover it. Even though it didn’t end with a distinct note, it still felt like an end. A story that needed to be told that still somehow painted a picture of Moon Knight despite it being a one off that didn’t give any sort of moral or definitive point. The man still was angry over a past pain that will never be resolved. He’ll end up in prison because of all the people he hurt, and his mental health will never be addressed. 

And that editorial at the start! What a piece! Learning to reach only as far as our body can go and learning not to get hit. I'm going to be thinking about that one for a while. Wow.

But that’s the story of Moon Knight, isn’t it? A story of underlining pain and trauma that affects his everyday life but that is never resolved, addressed, or healed. How it radiates out to affect everyone around him and the way he struggles to make the right choice and do the right thing…even though everything around him forces him back into that corner that forces him to fight for his life over and over again. 

[brianyololau]

December 5, 2023

Today is gonna be a positive journal. Sammie and I started this activity where we write down a list of our accomplishments in a notebook we gave each other. So, I have been focusing a bit on the stuff I achieved every day. It’s been nice so far seeing how much stuff I get done even though I normally wouldn’t give much thought into it. Seeing this list makes me pretty satisfied about my day. It’s like my day actually mattered even though I wasn’t making nursing money or getting a job offer.

One day at a time! I can also see how i’m investing into my life balance which feels amazing. I can see how putting time into friendships and communication actually contribute to stronger relationships and a stronger sense of well being.

I caught up with Tran recently, and I’m glad I did. We trauma dumped so much on each other, stuff that has happened in the past 6 years and more. I used to think she had an put together and perfectly fine life besides studying hard for school. That wasn’t the case at all.

In many ways, I learned she also went through similar experiences as I did, and in other ways, she went through her own struggle that taught her personal life lessons too. I felt as if I were speaking to a friend from the past even though we never officially hung out before.

Tran’s also super cute. I just wanna protect her from harm’s way & listen to her nerdy personality yap all day. She has a pouty demeanor when i’m teasing her, and she’s so sweet. She also has pretty eyes which is something I’m attracted to. Idk if we’ll work out tho. She might be too reserved and committed to school for me. I’m not trying to put her down, but I can see how this would affect a relationship between us. I’m not even sure if she sees me like that. I feel like she’d find a more suitable partner in crime if he was as type A as her. I’m surely not as type A, but I do fall under that spectrum. It’s probably why she and I were able to establish a bond pretty well. She’s just so cute. I wanna see her in one of my sweaters. I also love that she’s smart, not just book smart, smart.

but what am I saying…… focus man. You got bills to pay, a life to live, and friendships to manage. You’ve made it this far. You’ve even cut off ur father as an act to improve your life. I gotta rethink the life I want to create and the pillars I’ll represent as my own self without him in the picture.

After I cut him off, I thought life would’ve been the same the next morning. It wasn’t. I still have to deal with the guy, and I’ll probably see him at the burial event for Appac.

I also thought I would completely change for the better by now. It’s been harder than I thought. At first, I felt this strong sense of betrayal and loneliness. I was neglected for 24 years and nearly abandoned for 16. The feelings of pain suffered from his actions remain, and the younger version of myself has to just accept it.

It’s so unjust. My 24 year old self knows it’s wrong and is doing everything it can to help my child self process and heal. My 24 yo self is telling my younger self to point this glock at the memory of my father and to pull the trigger. Pull the trigger. Pull the fucking trigger. Pull it. That image was shattered a long time ago, and my younger self needs to let that shit go. Empty the clip because it was never real. What’s real is the fragmented fathering he’s shown you. It’s up to you to hold your own head high and face him for who what he truly is, a disappointing father.

Once you feel it, channel the weight of that anger and frustration into something greater. Let the flame of injustice ignite a fire in you so strong that it suffocates you, and even then, learn how to survive. For this new weight on your shoulders is going to teach you how to be a better man, a future father, and someone you can respect.

I’m proud of myself for going through all of this. I opened Pandora’s box and dealt with all the evils that have been haunting me for years. It even affected how I view relationships. This will be an issue no more. I’m in control of my life now, and no one can tell me I can’t be.

[neyzuko]

text under cut:

Well, first off, Inami feels pretty great about himself because Yashiro came to his place after being with Doumeki. Inami assumes that Y and D had sex, so he also thinks that Yashiro came skipping over because Doumeki was unable to satisfy him. Then Inami starts to insult Yashiro, calling him “slutty” for wanting sex even though he’s impotent. Yashiro responds by subtly reminding Inami that he should be happy Yashiro is that way, since it turns Inami on when his partners don’t appear to consent (i.e., can’t get aroused). In other words, Inami gets sexual pleasure from violence and domination. He’s a sexual sadist. With Yashiro not being able to get hard, he’s like an unwilling participant—and rape is the ultimate fantasy for a sexual sadist like Inami. Recall the first time they did it in the hotel room 4 years ago, when Inami tied Yashiro’s dick with a shoelace to prevent him from getting hard and “enjoying” the experience.

Then we get the flashback scene. I’m not too sure, but but I think the internal monologue in this chapter is a flashback rather than a stream of consciousness. We see Yashiro in different clothes, unbound, and with a beat up face, not to mention the monologue is positioned in the middle of an event and surrounded by a black border— this suggests that the changes in Yashiro’s perceptions came before the timeline of chapter 47.

In the flashback, Yashiro admits to feeling apathetic while having sex. He can no longer enjoy sex the way he used to, which clearly affects him a great deal. He thinks his lack of arousal is “poetic justice” for initially developing a body that “couldn’t live without sex.” In his mind, his impotence is his punishment.

Looking at the line, “I really, really didn’t care anymore. And I was so beyond redemption that I thought I was only fine when I felt pain.” Here, Yashiro explains why he continued to have violent sex after becoming impotent: 1) “I didn’t care anymore,” contrasted with an image of him on his bed in the daylight, which could refer to being awoken by his recurring nightmare and the accompanying loneliness and guilt (all related to Doumeki), and 2) “I was beyond redemption,” which just means that he doesn’t think that changing his habits at this stage in his life would make a difference. So, Yashiro continued to chase the pain of violent sex. I also think it was also a form of self-punishment.

Then the flashback ends and we come back to present tense. Yashiro is enduring the sex with Inami, when sudden images of Doumeki invade his mind. This isn’t really anything new— Yashiro always thinks of someone else, someone kind and gentle, when he’s having painful sex.

But now in 47, Yashiro has a different thought process: “Suddenly I realized, there’s no need to get rid of anything if I didn’t know it in the first place.” I think this has two meanings.

First, if we go back a bit in chapter 47, we see Yashiro refer to Inami and other men as rapists. Terminology is important, because it determines how we interpret meaning and events. If Yashiro understands that he was raped, then he also understands that he didn’t “want it.” He didn’t invite it, he didn’t enjoy it, and it’s also not his fault it happened. This changes his whole self-perception as well. Before, Yashiro believed he was perverted and twisted because he was addicted to violent sex, well into his adulthood. But once he realized that the act of rape impacted his life in ways he didn’t wish for, he was able to connect the dots and see himself as a victim/survivor, rather than a pervert. This realization also means that Yashiro is looking back on his life with with a deep sense of sadness, for knowing that he never knew love and respect before Doumeki. One of the reasons Yashiro abandoned Doumeki 4 years ago is because he didn’t want to “corrupt and sully” his beauty and purity with his own twistedness. So, if we put this information together, Yashiro has concluded that there is no reason to get rid of Doumeki because he himself is not a twisted person, and he ought to experience beauty at least once in his life… I’ll talk more about this further down, but I think this is the overarching theme of this chapter.

And the second meaning is more straightforward. Chapter 46 opens with Yashiro thinking: “I thought I knew him” (or something to that effect). Yashiro thought he knew all of Doumeki, yet as he’s come to realize over the last few days, he doesn’t quite know him as well as he thought. I don’t think I have to give any examples of Doumeki’s changes because we are all aware that he is different and a stark contrast from 4 years ago.

I don’t think I have to explain the importance of autonomy and living for yourself first. Doumeki has truly outgrown his boyish fascination with Yashiro that bordered on self-destruction and delusion, and has become a man with goals and principles that will outlive whatever circumstance he is currently in. This is not to say that he is incapable of loving Yashiro, but rather, this simply means that there is a place and time for all of life’s pleasures— love is one of them, but so is autonomy.

Yashiro is more than aware of this. In fact, the absence of autonomy was one of the reasons he let Doumeki go.

Back to this quote: “Suddenly I realized, there’s no need to get rid of anything if I didn’t know it in the first place,” accompanied by an image of Doumeki. The Doumeki in Yashiro’s imagination is the one that looks him in the eyes and says what he thinks. It’s not the Doumeki following him around blindly. The person Yashiro thought he knew turned out to be a lot more self-assured, independent, and wise, unlike the little bird who would fall to his death to follow Yashiro without thought. This is not someone Yashiro has to worry over either corrupting or endangering, because he is already a fully-formed individual with his own values, beliefs, and agency.

Back to Inami’s bedroom. After the sex, Yashiro asks for information about the Okuyama Group, which Inami offers up. Then Inami asks Yashiro to share his info. Yashiro refuses, saying his body should suffice as payment. Inami turns to him, and asks whether Yashiro is placing too much value on “being a tranny.” Yashiro smiles and tells him “no, try to understand the premise,” which basically just means that their deal is: sex for info. Inami gets sex, Yashiro gets info. The deal is not: we both get sex and then we share info. Inami, however, doesn’t seem to understand the premise— he thinks Yashiro wants sex from him.

When Inami drops Yashiro off, a similar sort of exchange happens, with Inami falsely believing that Yashiro wants to have sex with him. In this conversation by the car, Inami begins to insult Yashiro again. He tells Yashiro that he must be happy that another “decent” guy like Doumeki has fallen from grace. Inami is suggesting that Doumeki is decent, while Yashiro is not. Of course, this is referring to the fact that Yashiro lets men have hardcore sex with him.

Yashiro turns around and says, “decent, huh.” He was going to walk away, but he decides to lay it out again for Inami, so he understands the premise. Yashiro looks him in the face with a grin and says, “[Doumeki] thinks I’m the one wanting to have sex with you.” Surely this would ring some bells, but it doesn’t. Inami says, “but you do want to, don’t you? … you’re the one who wants to be treated violently.” Not only does Inami not understand Yashiro, but he also doesn’t understand himself. In his mind, Yashiro is the pervert in their relationship; Yashiro is the one that gets off on violence, not Inami. Inami thinks he is merely giving Yashiro what he wants. He’s deluded himself into believing that he’s a decent guy and Yashiro the sinner.

The Yashiro from 4 years ago believed this too. Yashiro always thought of himself as the masochist and pervert in all of his sexual relationships. Yet, what the relationship with Inami has shown us is that Yashiro is just a passive participant, often at the mercy of violent partners. Most of his sex partners have been yakuza that look down on gay men and treat them violently in bed. The same people then turn around and insult Yashiro, instead of acknowledging their own immoral behaviour. Yashiro had internalized the insults and beatings up until now.

In chapter 47, Yashiro calls Inami a rapist (in his mind) and challenges him head-on to acknowledge the true dynamic of their relationship. Again, this changes the onus of responsibility from Yashiro to Inami. This is a huge step for Yashiro. Like, really, really big. The shift in responsibility clears Yashiro of negative labels, including “pervert” and “twisted,” and goes back to my earlier statement about the overarching theme of this chapter. Yashiro has realized that he is not a bad person, and that he can and should be loved. When Doumeki shows up, Yashiro looks at him with a serene expression, and says, “he’s not my guard dog anymore,” meaning that Yashiro no longer fears corrupting an innocent and naive Doumeki, both because Yashiro is NOT a corrupting force and because Doumeki is mature enough to take care of himself.

And since I said I’d come back to the dream that was haunting Yashiro and subconsciously telling him to change: Yashiro has stopped resisting Doumeki’s advancement and is allowing himself more and more closeness. In chapter 48, Yashiro follows Doumeki back to Tsunakawa’s place, and of course, chooses Doumeki as his guard. None of this development would have been possible without the long-awaited recognition in chapter 47. Although it’s a long and slow process, Yashiro has started the hard job of forgiving himself.

Forgiveness

A Chapter 47 Analysis

I feel like I’m long overdue for a proper chapter 47 analysis, which is v shameful, considering how very important this chapter was. I can’t even overstate its significance tbh. I think some pretty rapid character development took place between chapter 46 and 47, much of it owing to Yashiro’s prior self-reflection, being around Inami, and having Doumeki back in his life.

In the first few chapters of volume 7, Yashiro was looking pretty tired around the eyes. He looked aged. He seemed listless and defeated, and we know that around that time he was having dreams/nightmares about Doumeki, which startled him awake. And I know I’ve talked about this dream many times before, but in light of chapter 47, its meaning has shifted somewhat. I think what is so nightmarish about the dream isn’t just that Doumeki was gone when Y turned around, but rather, the reason Doumeki was gone— and not for his lack of trying to hold on. The dream was largely focused on Yashiro himself, who broke away and ran from Doumeki, only to feel devastated when D disappeared and Y was left alone. Yashiro’s subconscious is clearly telling him something. “If you don’t want to feel this way (i.e., alone), then you need to change your actions.” We’ll come back to this later.

Alright, let’s actually talk about chapter 47 now.

Well, first off, Inami feels pretty great about himself because Yashiro came to his place after being with Doumeki. Inami assumes that Y and D had sex, so he also thinks that Yashiro came skipping over because Doumeki was unable to satisfy him. Then Inami starts to insult Yashiro, calling him “slutty” for wanting sex even though he’s impotent. Yashiro responds by subtly reminding Inami that he should be happy Yashiro is that way, since it turns Inami on when his partners don’t appear to consent (i.e., can’t get aroused). In other words, Inami gets sexual pleasure from violence and domination. He’s a sexual sadist. With Yashiro not being able to get hard, he’s like an unwilling participant—and rape is the ultimate fantasy for a sexual sadist like Inami. Recall the first time they did it in the hotel room 4 years ago, when Inami tied Yashiro’s dick with a shoelace to prevent him from getting hard and “enjoying” the experience.

Then we get the flashback scene. I’m not too sure, but but I think the internal monologue in this chapter is a flashback rather than a stream of consciousness. We see Yashiro in different clothes, unbound, and with a beat up face, not to mention the monologue is positioned in the middle of an event and surrounded by a black border— this suggests that the changes in Yashiro’s perceptions came before the timeline of chapter 47.

In the flashback, Yashiro admits to feeling apathetic while having sex. He can no longer enjoy sex the way he used to, which clearly affects him a great deal. He thinks his lack of arousal is “poetic justice” for initially developing a body that “couldn’t live without sex.” In his mind, his impotence is his punishment.

Looking at the line, “I really, really didn’t care anymore. And I was so beyond redemption that I thought I was only fine when I felt pain.” Here, Yashiro explains why he continued to have violent sex after becoming impotent: 1) “I didn’t care anymore,” contrasted with an image of him on his bed in the daylight, which could refer to being awoken by his recurring nightmare and the accompanying loneliness and guilt (all related to Doumeki), and 2) “I was beyond redemption,” which just means that he doesn’t think that changing his habits at this stage in his life would make a difference. So, Yashiro continued to chase the pain of violent sex. I also think it was also a form of self-punishment.

Then the flashback ends and we come back to present tense. Yashiro is enduring the sex with Inami, when sudden images of Doumeki invade his mind. This isn’t really anything new— Yashiro always thinks of someone else, someone kind and gentle, when he’s having painful sex. But this time there’s a big difference from before:

But now in 47, Yashiro has a different thought process: “Suddenly I realized, there’s no need to get rid of anything if I didn’t know it in the first place.” I think this has two meanings.

First, if we go back a bit in chapter 47, we see Yashiro refer to Inami and other men as rapists. Terminology is important, because it determines how we interpret meaning and events. If Yashiro understands that he was raped, then he also understands that he didn’t “want it.” He didn’t invite it, he didn’t enjoy it, and it’s also not his fault it happened. This changes his whole self-perception as well. Before, Yashiro believed he was perverted and twisted because he was addicted to violent sex, well into his adulthood. But once he realized that the act of rape impacted his life in ways he didn’t wish for, he was able to connect the dots and see himself as a victim/survivor, rather than a pervert. This realization also means that Yashiro is looking back on his life with with a deep sense of sadness, for knowing that he never knew love and respect before Doumeki. One of the reasons Yashiro abandoned Doumeki 4 years ago is because he didn’t want to “corrupt and sully” his beauty and purity with his own twistedness. So, if we put this information together, Yashiro has concluded that there is no reason to get rid of Doumeki because he himself is not a twisted person, and he ought to experience beauty at least once in his life… I’ll talk more about this further down, but I think this is the overarching theme of this chapter.

And the second meaning is more straightforward. Chapter 46 opens with Yashiro thinking: “I thought I knew him” (or something to that effect). Yashiro thought he knew all of Doumeki, yet as he’s come to realize over the last few days, he doesn’t quite know him as well as he thought. I don’t think I have to give any examples of Doumeki’s changes because we are all aware that he is different, but if I had to give one example, I would say:

I think this has said this before, but it’s is a stark contrast from 4 years ago:

I don’t think I have to explain the importance of autonomy and living for yourself first. I think the previous panel perfectly summarizes Doumeki’s maturity and growth. Doumeki has truly outgrown his boyish fascination with Yashiro that bordered on self-destruction and delusion, and has become a man with goals and principles that will outlive whatever circumstance he is currently in. This is not to say that he is incapable of loving Yashiro, but rather, this simply means that there is a place and time for all of life’s pleasures— love is one of them, but so is autonomy.

Yashiro is more than aware of this. In fact, the absence of autonomy was one of the reasons he let Doumeki go:

Back to this quote: “Suddenly I realized, there’s no need to get rid of anything if I didn’t know it in the first place,” accompanied by this image:

The Doumeki in Yashiro’s imagination is the one that looks him in the eyes and says what he thinks. It’s not the Doumeki following him around blindly:

The person Yashiro thought he knew turned out to be a lot more self-assured, independent, and wise, unlike the little bird who would fall to his death to follow Yashiro without thought. This is not someone Yashiro has to worry over either corrupting or endangering, because he is already a fully-formed individual with his own values, beliefs, and agency.

Back to Inami’s bedroom. After the sex, Yashiro asks for information about the Okuyama Group, which Inami offers up. Then Inami asks Yashiro to share his info. Yashiro refuses, saying his body should suffice as payment. Inami turns to him, and asks whether Yashiro is placing too much value on “being a tranny.” Yashiro smiles and tells him “no, try to understand the premise,” which basically just means that their deal is: sex for info. Inami gets sex, Yashiro gets info. The deal is not: we both get sex and then we share info. Inami, however, doesn’t seem to understand the premise— he thinks Yashiro wants sex from him.

When Inami drops Yashiro off, a similar sort of exchange happens, with Inami falsely believing that Yashiro wants to have sex with him. In this conversation by the car, Inami begins to insult Yashiro again. He tells Yashiro that he must be happy that another “decent” guy like Doumeki has fallen from grace. Inami is suggesting that Doumeki is decent, while Yashiro is not. Of course, this is referring to the fact that Yashiro lets men have hardcore sex with him.

Yashiro turns around and says, “decent, huh.” He was going to walk away, but he decides to lay it out again for Inami, so he understands the premise. Yashiro looks him in the face with a grin and says, “[Doumeki] thinks I’m the one wanting to have sex with you.” Surely this would ring some bells, but it doesn’t. Inami says, “but you do want to, don’t you? … you’re the one who wants to be treated violently.” Not only does Inami not understand Yashiro, but he also doesn’t understand himself. In his mind, Yashiro is the pervert in their relationship; Yashiro is the one that gets off on violence, not Inami. Inami thinks he is merely giving Yashiro what he wants. He’s deluded himself into believing that he’s a decent guy and Yashiro the sinner.

The Yashiro from 4 years ago believed this too. Yashiro always thought of himself as the masochist and pervert in all of his sexual relationships. Yet, what the relationship with Inami has shown us is that Yashiro is just a passive participant, often at the mercy of violent partners. Most of his sex partners have been yakuza that look down on gay men and treat them violently in bed. The same people then turn around and insult Yashiro, instead of acknowledging their own immoral behaviour. Yashiro had internalized the insults and beatings up until now.

In chapter 47, Yashiro calls Inami a rapist (in his mind) and challenges him head-on to acknowledge the true dynamic of their relationship. Again, this changes the onus of responsibility from Yashiro to Inami. This is a huge step for Yashiro. Like, really, really big. The shift in responsibility clears Yashiro of negative labels, including “pervert” and “twisted,” and goes back to my earlier statement about the overarching theme of this chapter. Yashiro has realized that he is not a bad person, and that he can and should be loved. When Doumeki shows up, Yashiro looks at him with a serene expression, and says, “he’s not my guard dog anymore,” meaning that Yashiro no longer fears corrupting an innocent and naive Doumeki, both because Yashiro is NOT a corrupting force and because Doumeki is mature enough to take care of himself.

And since I said I’d come back to the dream that was haunting Yashiro and subconsciously telling him to change: Yashiro has stopped resisting Doumeki’s advancement and is allowing himself more and more closeness. In chapter 48 Yashiro follows Doumeki back to Tsunakawa’s place, and of course, chooses Doumeki as his guard. None of this development would have been possible without the long-awaited recognition in chapter 47. Although it’s a long and slow process, Yashiro has started the hard job of forgiving himself.

[jonesy-and-max]

part 10: Snap-Mart

“Soup is Good Food,” by Dead Kennedys blared from the rickety van as Max parked in front of Snap-Mart. The purple, yellow, and pink sign read SNAP-MART in bold, italicized letters, a snapping hand with three sharp, little lightning bolts zapped from the pointer and thumb in illuminated neon. White fluorescent light poured from the gallery windows, its flow blocked only by various advertisements for various sales, deals, their famous Mighty Guzzler frozen drinks (Don’t forget your First Wives Club Collector’s Cup!), and three fliers for “Italian Wedding @ the Silver Mine! Saturday - Doors Open 7p!” that made Jonesy’s skin crawl. Though the sun had increasingly dipped under the horizon, Snap-Mart’s parking lot remained well-lit. 

Max once more checked the clock on his dash. It was now five-twenty five, and they were starting to become uncomfortably behind schedule. Jonesy cleaned out and reassembled her inhaler and followed behind Gina who had already headed into the convenience store.

Bing-Bong

The door chimed for each member of the trio, alerting the clerk at the counter to the new customers.

“Yooo!” The familiar shy baritone of Jonesy and Max’s D&D comrade-in-arms, Azrael greeted them with delight. The fifteen year old goth was just as tall as Jonesy, but always stood with a self-conscious stoop in his posture. His straight black hair had gotten very long lately, now reaching down to his painted black fingernails. His silver rings clinked as he waved to his older friends, but especially towards Jonesy. 

“What up, Azrael.” Jonesy gave the boy a salute and made a quick turn towards the nacho bar while Max made a beeline to his pale pal. Azrael’s crush on her made her uncomfortable, he was a genuinely kind-hearted kid, he liked poetry and despite his obsession with death and decay, he wrote flowery poems about nature and romance. His mom and dad were Chinese immigrants, and were always warmly welcoming to her and Max when they would go over to his place to game. All of this only served to tie her stomach up in guilty knots whenever she saw him. Best to just avoid contact as much as possible until he moved on to another object of his affections.

Azrael’s eyes followed Jonesy for a few seconds with pained longing before pulling them to meet Max.

“Dude! Opening day!!” Max drummed on the countertop. “After the weird as fuck day I’m having, it’s all gonna be worth it when my ass hits that seat and the lights go down.”

“So jealous, dude. I don’t get out til nine tonight. Sucks.” Azrael tried to find Jonesy again, but could only make out the top of her head.

“Bogus, dude.” Max started cramming bags of Reese's Pieces, gummi bears, and various candy bars into his jacket while Azrael’s attention was noticeably elsewhere.

“How’s Jonesy doing?” Azrael asked.

“Uh. Fine. We had a run-in with the dynamic dildos earlier, Farley & Greg, and they kind of got in her head, but I think she’s finally comin’ out the other side.”

Azrael’s attention finally came back to Max, “Shit. Should I try to scrape those fliers off the window? I told them not to put those there, but they just ignored me.” 

“Don’t sweat it. We have more important things to discuss! Before I tell you my story, though, dude, what happened with the fuckin’ seance?? Did you see anything??”

Azrael smiled, he reached into his back pocket and pulled out a polaroid. He handed it to Max, “You tell me.” He said. 

In the inky night of the cemetery, illuminated by two candles set atop respective gravestones there could be seen, what some might interpret, as the ghostly image of a hand. Its long, boney fingers, reaching out of the darkness.

“Holy shit, Az. Is that…”

“Mr. Crooked Bones. My summoning worked. Or at least partially. I’m still alive, so…” He gave a small shrug.

“Shyeah, for now. Shit, dude!”

“I didn’t have the rest of the enchantments I needed to give him corporeal form. Plus I’m still cleaning that cat’s jawbone I got from that roadkill. If I’m gonna really summon Mr. Crooked Bones, I need a talisman to protect me. Last night was really just a test.”

“Well, don’t finish it without me n’ Jonesy.”

“Oh, totally, dude.” 

The two of them fist bumped, making an exploding noise on impact.

“Mutually assured destruction!” They said in unison.

“So, what happened to you today?” Azrael circled back.

“You are not going to believe this!” Max leaned in closer. “So you remember the story of Futureland Arcade…”

Gina lazily perused the drinks, opening the case and pulling out a can of soda, shaking it up, and putting it back. Through the fogging glass of the door she found herself staring at Max as he chatted with the goth kid that worked behind the counter. He’s so gross. God, why does my sister hang out with that loser? I wonder if they’re fucking or something. Gina furrowed her brow and wrinkled her nose, laughing to herself, Ha-ha, shyah, as if. She rolled her eyes and wiped the fog so she could continue her observations. He’s kinda funny, though. That would’ve been funny if like, when she had come out of the back and, like, me and Max were like…we were kissing or whatever. Ugh. So fucking gross. Gina looked at her shoes, chuckled and looked back at Max. My sister would lose her mind if I kissed him. That’d be so gross. If we kissed. She took out another can of soda, shook it up until it was tight with agitated carbonation and put it back. Why did he invite me to the movie? Why would he want me to come with them? She looked around, making sure no one was looking at her, and continued watching Max through the foggy glass. What the fuck is happening here? Her thoughts seemed concerned. He smells like a wet dog.

Jonesy stared at the nacho bar in awe. The fresh nachos were housed in a deep basin, underneath a roof of warming lights, next to a variety of fixins such as chopped jalapenos, black olives, diced onions, black beans, salsa, and ground beef. A faint sizzling could be heard in harmony with the hum of the lights. It gave Jonesy a sense of calm and understanding she would never be able to express in mere words. She touched the goosebumps on her arms and leaned forward to feel the warmth against her face. She closed her eyes and smiled, opening them again slowly, they moved to the right to see the keg of liquid cheese.

“Well, hello there you.” She winked at the keg, biting her lip and putting a flirty finger on its pump. “My daddy warned me about girls like you.”

She snatched up a basket, loaded it with hot nachos and pumped glob after glob of neon golden cheese onto them until they swam amongst the gooey goodness like a frenzy of sharks, their dorsal fins only just breaching the surface. She munched and crunched, sucking the cheese of her fingers as she went back in for more. Every so often checking for any unwanted observers like a watchful meerkat in the African plains. Loading her basket back up and beginning the feast anew.

“It’s not fair that you can’t just eat this cheese. Like, just fill up a cup and eat with a spoon. Because of “SOCIETY.” She said to herself, complete with cheese stained finger quotes. She ruminated for a minute before her eyes wandered over to the self service soda fountain. There were cups there. Empty cups. Cups for filling. You would be a trailblazer. Who’s gonna stop you?? Azrael?? As if!! AZ if! She giggled to herself. She chuckled and giggled and snorted as she pulled a large cup and rushed back to the nacho bar.

“Yo. That’s absolutely, fuckin’ insane!” Azrael was in awe listening to Max’s tale of the Futureland Queen Rat. “Dude! We have to go back there.”

“You read my mind, sir. This time though, I’ll be prepared.” Max mimicked pulling out a couple of swords from behind his back. 

“We’ll take back the arcade! For Lake’s End! For mankind!”

“For us,” Max added, “For fame and fortune!”

The two fist bumped again.

“You know,” Azrael thought aloud, “The way everything collapsed and remained completely intact…I wonder if it has anything to do with the -”

“Oh! With the heavy -”

Max and Azrael tripped over each other’s words, both trying to get to the point at the same time. 

“UFO presence!” They said in unison.

The two of them had bonded significantly over their love of the paranormal and the unexplained. They had fantasized about becoming full time supernatural investigators more than once.

“The area over the strip mall has been a hotbed of UFO activity since, like, the sixties.” Max continued.

“I wonder if they’d been excavating some kind of base underneath the arcade.” Azrael posited.

“It makes sense…” 

Jonesy placed her basket of cheese (that happened to have nachos in it) down on the counter, “You guys aren’t talking about the Lake’s End Dracula again are you? I keep telling you guys, it’s just an old mannequin in a field.” She rolled her eyes and dunked a hot dog into a large cup of nacho cheese.

“Uh, how much of that cheese have you eaten?” Azrael asked.

“A lady never tells and a gentleman never asks!” Jonesy dunked her dog back into her cheese cup. She took a bite and rolled her eyes back in ecstasy, “Fuuuuck yesss, dude.”

Gina joined them at the counter, placing a bubblegum flavored Mighty Guzzler next to her sister’s nachos.

“This was the important thing you had to get at the store?” Jonesy raised an eyebrow.

Gina just shrugged dismissively, “Can we go now?”

“Shit! What time is it?” Max suddenly realized how long they’d been dicking around Snap-Mart.

Azrael checked his watch, “Five-forty-two.”

“Shit! Ok, yeah, we gotta go, come on everyone, back in the van, giddyup!” Everyone threw some cash on the counter as Max began hustling them towards the exit, “Game tomorrow, Az?”

“Oh, definitely.” Azrael smiled.

Gina was first at the door, already pushing it open as she turned from Max’s face to look straight ahead. Through the glass she could see two figures in the parking lot. As it became clear to her who those figures were, a sinking feeling dropped in her stomach. She stopped short, Max and her sister crashed into her and the three of them walked into the door, Gina’s face mashed against the glass, leaving a clear outline of oil, foundation, and lip gloss.

“Gina!” Jonesy yelped, “The shit, dude?”

Gina pushed them back and searched for an escape route in her mind. She had avoided telling them the real reason she was tagging along and was desperate not to reveal herself. She looked over her shoulder and could see the figures were headed directly for the store.

“Are you okay?” Max asked.

“Fine!” Gina blurted out. “Fine! Okay. Like, okay. Right now, Jennifer C. and Jennifer K. are in the parking lot. They’re headed this way.”

“So? Aren’t those dicks your friends?” Jonesy crossed her arms.

“Yeah. But, like, also no. Okay. I’m going to level with you guys. I kinda thought if I just hung around you guys, I’d be able to avoid them. They don’t exactly hang in the same circles as you two.”

“Not sure what that means, but continue.” Jonesy raised an eyebrow.

“Are they looking for you?” Max was excited about the potential for drama, “Are they gonna kick your ass?”

“Is that how you got the bruise??” Jonesy’s face became almost motherly in her concern. Angry, disappointed, but concerned for her sister’s well-being.

Gina avoided eye contact, “Yeah. Jeinnfer C. shoved my head into my locker when I wasn't looking.” She was embarrassed that she let Jennifer C. get such a cheap shot in.

“Oh, she’s fucking dead.” Jonesy cracked her knuckles.

Max put a hand on Jonesy’s shoulder, “Wait a second. So why exactly do they wanna kick your ass?” Max knew there was a little more to this story than what Gina was letting on.

Gina rolled her eyes and let out a huff, “Jennifer C. thinks I blew her boyfriend.”

“Does she think that…because you did?” Jonesy asked.

Gina shoved Jonesy, “No, skidmark! I blew her ex-boyfriend. She has a new boyfriend. Who I did not blow!”

Max thought for a moment, “So, who gives a shit?”

Gina shrugged, with some attitude, and hugged herself. She crouched down in a fetal position and groaned. Jonesy kneeled next to her and put her hand on her back.

“Hey, like, are they really gonna beat you up or whatever? Cause, I won’t let that happen.”

“Yeah, dude, me either.” Max added.

“It’s not a big deal. I’ll deal with it by myself…I always do.” Gina said, her face buried in her arms.

Jonesy’s heart broke for her sister. A life, a world, she was not aware of laid bare in those few words. The hurt, loneliness, and shame, it hit her like an arrow through the chest. The anger inside Jonesy began to bubble to the surface. She stood back up and tapped Max on the chest with the back of her hand.

“Hey, Max?”

“Yeah, Jonesy?”

“I think we should have a little talk with Jennifer C.”

Max smiled with anarchic glee, revealing his fang.

[prolix-yuy]

Chapter 6: Last Looks

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x F!Reader Production Designer

Summary: Last Looks - the last chance to make a change before filming starts.

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: M, some light groping, overuse of filmmaking terms, E in other chapters so full series is 18+ MINORS DNI.

Notes: It's Day 6 of Dieter Takeover. Where do these two go from here?

Cross-posted on AO3

Below the Line Masterlist

INT. PARLOR - DAY

Ronna is a fucking saint. You relayed Dieter’s request to her through Dee, hoping that if you went through the proper channels and were polite about it she’d agree. It turns out you barely need to convince her. She was already on the fence about cutting Carwin’s departure, the fact that Clara would not get her confrontation and Carwin wouldn’t get a moment of redemption not sitting well. Her approval of the final scene was dependent on a minor rewrite to shoot it on site instead of off location, which is why it was cut in the first place. 

Dee brought the good news back to Dieter. You were feeling too dizzy with the emotions of the morning, instead going back to Dane and Shelly and telling them the good news. In your relief you even gave them the assignment to scout out a location where that scene would be filmed, relieving them from set duties. The interiors were all prepped, you could handle it just fine. They took off to survey the grounds, and just as they were getting out of sight you saw Shelly slip her hand into Dane’s. You couldn’t tell from here, but you think they might have squeezed back. 

Despite grumbles at delays, the day was only slowed down by a few scenes that were rescheduled to tomorrow. Dieter came back on set looking a lot less wild in the eyes (I gave him half a Valium, Dee said under her breath with a knowing look), clothed and styled and looking a little sheepish.

You didn’t approach him, not wanting to hint at anything salacious behind the scenes. When he caught your eye across the room and offered a small smile, you returned it with all the warmth you could muster. The ghost of a kiss, a promise, still lingered on your lips.

INT. HALLWAY - DAY

The days continued to tick down, still on schedule even with the minor hiccups all productions face. The discovery of the murder scene took twice as long as expected, mostly due to wardrobe and special effects slowdowns. Your team offered help where needed, dabbing sticky fake blood onto props and helping the FX crew with blood splatter mechanics.

These later scenes also relied heavily on dressing getting set up and broken down quickly. You tended to be flitting between rooms, coordinating props returns and furniture deliveries, barely having time to talk to anyone outside your team and Dee.

This included Dieter, who had stolen quiet moments with you over the past weeks, but hadn’t pressed for anything more. You can still feel the uncertainty and some self-doubt when he touches you, which you attempt to counteract with gentle acceptance. He puts his hands on you whenever he gets the chance - touching your shoulder as he passes, a knee pressed against yours under a folding table - all discreet. He knows the consequence of being too open in front of your colleagues.

The gentleness of his interest coils inside your chest and keeps you up at night. Yes, you'd forgiven him a long time ago, and yes, you'd let him pay some penance between your legs (the image of his ravenous eyes burning in your mind). But now, you had to come to terms with what you wanted from him.

I like you.

I'd like to do more with you.

Did you want that too? You'd never considered it before, always pushing it down when he tried to connect with you, but now you had to address the sneaking affection Dieter is fostering in your chest. The touches and moments were respectful, but clear.

I'd like to do more with you. If I haven't fucked it up already.

He did manage to sneak in a few encounters that made your knees weak. As you stood on a ladder in the grand entrance to replace a tiny bulb in a chandelier, he came around the corner and scoffed.

“Didn’t realize best boy electrics could be women now,” he said in that low gravelly voice of his. You snorted, twisting the bulb into place.

“That’s not very progressive of you,” you teased back, peering around to be sure no other bulbs were in danger of flickering out. 

“Not very safe of you either, this looks like an OSHA violation,” he shot back, and you watched his large hands wrap around the ladder, steadying it for you. You tossed him a grateful look and finished your inspection. His head was at waist height at your differing levels, and as you readied yourself to descend you felt the fingers of the hand not steadying the ladder come to your hip, bunching the edge of your t-shirt. You paused, looking down at him.

His eyes were playful, a teasing smile dancing on his lips as he lifted the hem to reveal a thin strip of bare skin. You were both alone in the space, the crew finishing up on the other side of the house. You watched him with baited breath, calves screaming but unable to move.

Without breaking eye contact, Dieter leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to the newly revealed skin. You bit your bottom lip and a smile curled on Dieter’s mouth. He waited for a reprimand, a flash of discomfort to warn him away from you. When none came he kiss quickly changed to a suck, a press of his mustache and a flutter of his tongue against your flesh as you took in a quick breath. He let go with a pop, pressing another kiss to your hip and letting your shirt fall. 

You descended the ladder in a way that would definitely get you in trouble if a safety officer was watching, sparking eyes connecting with Dieter’s, now above your eyeline rather than below. He smirked, but there was an undercurrent of affection.

“A little something to look at when I’m not around,” he purred, stroking his thumb over your hip. The sound of approaching voices moved him past you and to the other end of the hall, pulling out his phone to make it look like he was Googling something.

That night you lifted your shirt in front of your bathroom mirror. A purpling hickey bloomed on your skin, not painful to the touch. You caressed it, and wondered if you might let him put his mouth on you again. And what else you might want to do with Dieter Bravo.

EXT. PROPERTY GATE - DAY

The filming was winding down, only a few establishing shots left and Clara and Carwin’s confrontation. Ronna and Dee decided to leave the scene until close to the end, primarily because it was an exterior shot and they wanted the best possible conditions. The day of the wrap party was fast approaching, and after a few schedule shifts it looked like the final scene would actually be the confrontation. 

Dieter was focused. You didn’t think you’d ever seen him so focused. When he wasn’t on set for other scenes he was rehearsing his final speech. To an outsider it might look like he was just trying to get the scene down pat, make sure it was burned into his brain and as natural as possible. However, you know that this means more to Dieter than Ronna knows. This scene might be the one that gives him a semblance of closure on some of the hate he harbors for himself. He has to get it right. 

You let him be the final week, your workload also a massive undertaking. You had pieces to return to half a dozen prop houses, rooms to reset to their original floor map, on top of keeping a keen eye out while the camera was rolling. Dane and Shelly stepped up, acting as runners for most of the last days and keeping you sane. They also were talking nonstop about the wrap party, excited to let go and celebrate what you felt was a wildly successful production. You desperately hope you’d impressed Ronna, you want to be the production design Schoonmaker to her Scorsese if she’d let you. 

The day of filming the final scene Dieter comes to you in the parlor room. You’re cleaning up, referencing before photos of the room to put back the owner’s belongings in the correct places. Leaving a set as if you’d never been there was a point of pride for you.

“Can I talk to you?” he murmurs, a hand on your elbow. You nod and direct Dane to finish resetting the dining room and master bed after this one. They look at you and Dieter with a puzzled glance, but take your reference photos and get to work.

Dieter leads you outside to the back of the mansion. People sometimes mill around for a smoke back here, but it’s blissfully empty right now.

“Will you come and watch the last scene?” he asks. He’s still holding your elbow, his thumb rubbing circles against the fabric of the thermal you’re wearing.

“Oh, I'm sure you’ll do great,” you say, a little confused at yourself as to why you phrased it that way. Why didn’t you just say yes? Were you really still holding back that much?

“I’d feel better if you were there for it,” he replies, stepping closer and putting both his hands on your arms. He’s in costume, a rich-looking black jacket and vest, a shock of crimson around his throat. His hair is slicked back, which you hate. His natural curls are by far your favorite. It feels like you’re in a Jane Austen novel, the leading male bad boy begging for your forgiveness and you need to embrace the third act redemption arc before you can slip into the denouement. 

“Okay,” you say, nodding when he smiles like you gave him something precious. He hasn’t kissed you since that one time in the trailer, and the more you’re with him, the more you want him to.

Fuck, have you fallen for him?

“Call time is in five, walk me down?” he asks, and you lead him down the road to the entry gate for the mansion. You walk a respectable distance apart, and if not for the way Dieter keeps his hands occupied you wouldn’t be able to tell how nervous he was. You want to reach out and take those frantic hands in yours, soothe him in the moments before this scene, but you’re half held back by propriety, half by giving him the space he needs to get into the right mindset.

Shelly had the idea to film the final scene at the gate, both mirroring the beginning of the film and allowing Carwin to be caught before escaping. The sky was overcast, perfect lighting. Clara and Carwin (you finally were able to see Dieter as Carwin) stand on either side of the gate, Carwin pulling it closed as Clara rails at him. She is putting on a hell of a performance but you can only watch Dieter’s face. 

This is the truest performance you have ever seen him give. He is quiet in the way a far-off storm is, the air crackling with electricity and a rumble barely perceptible. The lines, which could be delivered flippantly, or in a way that defers blame, are spoken with such doubt, such fear and remorse.

“I am not this villain; I have slain no one; I have prompted none to slay;” A flash of uncertainty in his eyes, betraying his belief in the words. Hands wrapped around the wrought iron bars, his face framed in the spaces between. 

“I have handled a tool of wonderful efficacy without malignant intentions, but without caution;” Carwin’s fingers brush Clara’s, begging for understanding. She jerks her hand away, and his falters in the air, holding the realization that he will not be forgiven

“Ample will be the punishment of my temerity, if my conduct has contributed to this evil.” He says this with all the certainty in the world that this crime will follow him, consequence or not. 

Scholars argue over the duality of this monologue, that Carwin is both justifying his actions and deferring blame, that he holds no guilt but may hold remorse at the outcomes. Dieter’s performance melds all of the warring emotions of a man who plays a dangerous game and has never reaped the consequences. And Clara, amazingly talented Clara, does not forgive his trespasses but accepts his turmoil, letting Carwin leave. His damnation is the knowledge of what he’s done to them, and how it will haunt his soul.

The scene ends with the camera hanging on Clara’s face, Carwin walking away as the DP finally gives the audience space to breathe with her. You can’t breathe at all, lost in the moment until Ronna gasps out, “Cut. Shit. Perfect.”

A moment of silence, then the cast and crew burst into noise. People are clapping Dieter on the shoulder, words of amazed encouragement jumbling up together. Clara is beaming, talking with Ronna and Dee. Her and Dieter hug, a couple tears in their eyes over the emotion of the scene.

“Okay team, I am happy to say that we have a production wrap on The Transformation!” Dee shouts, and everyone whoops a little cheer and claps. The breakdown begins immediately, but before you can escape back to the mansion to finish your own work, Dieter pulls you away from the crowd and through the line of trees along the driveway path.

“Holy shit, that was fucking incredible,” you blurt out, wishing you had a more eloquent response. Dieter pulls you into his arms, his chest still heaving.

“Fuck, yeah, that felt…shit, that felt like real acting. I haven’t felt that good in years.” You put your hands on his cheeks and squeeze, admiring the dazed smile he’s giving you. 

“They’re gonna eat it up. Might need to make room on a shelf for Oscar number two.” He makes a face at that, pulling you in for a tight hug that he buries his face in. You crush him right back, warmth spreading through you.

"I wanted you to see it," he says into your neck. You nod, letting your fingers travel to the few soft curls at the base of his neck.

"You're forgiven, Dieter," you say. There's a tremble in the clutch of his arms, then a sigh. You scrape your nails against his scalp soothingly.

“After the wrap party…” he starts to say before leaning back far enough to see you. “I’d like to show you exactly how I feel about you.” The devilishly suave smile he can turn on in a moment brightens his face. “For as long and as many times as you’ll let me.”

A shiver runs up your back.

“Dieter Bravo, are you asking me to have sex with you?” you tease back. He tips his head to the side.

“I think you know I'm asking for more than that.”

It's another moment where time could stretch, and you could prolong your answer. Deny how seeing him these past weeks has made you feel, and changed how you feel. His voice no longer brings dread, his silhouette anxiety, it now ushers in excitement.

“Okay, after the wrap.”

PREVIOUS || NEXT