#or maybe i am just grasping at straws

[orangerainforest]

just finished weak hero class 2. this is me rn.

[alien-of-earth]

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE

Y’all don’t understand- I saw the spoilers and I’m hanging onto every last hope that LEGO canonizes this despite what was (probably) confirmed in the captions. Cole being queer is actually so important tho. It makes so much sense for his character. Man’s popped up on screen in 2011 and has been covered in rainbows ever since. I could write an essay on the obvious queercoding of his character since season 1, and with Geo, it’s one agonizing step closer to switching from subtext to text. This would be a bigger step for LEGO than having queer background characters or pride stickers, but it would mean so much to its queer audience. And, again, it fits Cole, especially with his current relationship with Geo.

Please LEGO just do it, it’d be so easy, just one kiss or one scene. PLEASE.

[ivan-fyodorovich-k]

I am never going to experience intimacy, acceptance, or understanding. I know this because people who get close enough to me invariably find me baffling, infuriating, and bitterly disappointing. There have been no exceptions, or else if there have I was too insane to see it.

And look, at the end of the day, it’s nobody’s fault but mine. Because, as I have aforementioned, I am insane. I am the lowest of the low and ought not ever to have lived but here we are, and my life is the project of trying to accept and manage as best I can into what a base condition the accident of my birth has brought me.

But wow have I been experiencing the temptation to feel some evil things about it

[highlifeboat]

Melony is insecure transmasc or transman? You seem to be using those interchangeably :p

Transmasc.

I don't even know if transmasc would be right.

But I think her wanting to socially trasition to using male and female pronouns interchangeably still counts as transmasc.

Like, it isn't exactly what I'm going for, because Mel doesn't wanna physically transition, and doesn't really have the dysphoria or anything, so it kind of takes away that whole... aspect of what I want. But still leaves the worry of telling people.

So it's something, at least.

[takes1]

UHMMM hello, RAN HERE to request 😭😭😭 Please could I have an NSFW scenario where experienced!shortreader with a size kink devours inexperienced!lev and tries to teach him a few things. RIDING this man till he dies. Please and thank you. 😝❤️

clingy!lev crushing on reader

i cant tell you how real of a phenomenon this is. thank you for the opportunity to write thiiiis. ohh man i hope this finds the right freaks bc i am into this. absolute two-parter. titled 'the lev brainrot' in my notes.

warnings. recreational alcohol consumption. nsfw to follow. minors DNI

details. fem!reader / porn! with! plot! (this is the plot) / praise kink / size kink / clingy!lev / inexperienced!lev / experienced!reader / 'mom-friend' reader / bar setting / heavy drinking / best friend!kuroo / college au! / manager?trainer?reader / aged-up characters / 2k words / reply to be added for part two!

links. my masterlist. more haikyuu. my ao3. PART TWO HERE. my imagines. my request box

You called him Haiba, not Lev, because you didn't want him getting the wrong impression. There were only a handful of players, all seniors along with you, that you called by first name-- he plainly held the most animosity toward them.

Of course, you weren't ignorant to his little attachment.

It took the form of him grasping at straws to find something to talk to you about, usually in rushed attempts between warm-ups. Or asking you obvious, sometimes repeat-questions about ailments he hypothetically did or did not have. Or, when the team went out for morale events, he worked like a dog to sit or stand next to you.

You once asked him: "Haiba!"

"Hm?" His attention was fully captured, his attempt to receive forgotten. The ball rolled past him on the floor and his teammate across the gym groaned, "Yes-Yes ma'am?"

That wasn't your intention, to distract him. You sighed and picked the ball up. A handful of new members called you 'ma'am' but Lev was by-far the worst offender.

"You have any sisters?"

"I do!"

He looked like he was about to tell you his entire life story, so you threw the ball back at him and urged him to keep practicing, instead.

Maybe that had something there. It could connect with how he didn't take as easily to the senior guys on the team. If he wasn't accustomed to handling dude-dynamics with brothers, it made sense that he might seek the comfort of a somewhat-familiar presence, like a sister.

Still, that idea didn't hold much weight when you considered his time playing competitively in high school. He spoke about the friends and experiences he made there with fervor and excitement. He got along with guys. He wasn't shy, he wasn't reserved, and he didn't have problems speaking up.

Your curiosity got the better of you at one of your team outings.

The local bar on the square was packed on a Friday night. The team barely got seated, but once you were all comfortable, it was a rowdy and fast kind of evening that zoomed right through decent hours. You were all buzzed already from the restaurant you walked there from-- the idea to 'keep it going' was indulgent, and probably your first mistake.

Kuroo took the seat right next to you like he had at the last spot, but laughed, capturing your attention, and stepped back down.

"Oops! Sorry, Lev! That's your spot buddy, my bad- my bad," He cackled, and brushed the seat off for him.

It was only kind of a joke. You blushed, forearms prickling up, at the looks and snickers it generated from the rest of the team.

Lev took too long to decide if he should sit there. Kuroo shimmied into the seat across from you with a smirk.

"Just- just sit down," You pulled the chair out more so his legs would fit, and lowered your voice to something nicer, "Lev, don't mind that dumbass."

You were left to smooth it all out, as usual.

The guys often joked, in his absence, and on occasion right in front of him, that he had an obvious crush on you. You didn't like to entertain it, because it made things super awkward. Somebody had to put their foot down, or else the whole team would get too unprofessional and potentially mean-natured to the new guys. You found yourself advocating for him, giving every excuse to call it something else. Lately, you were married to the sibling idea.

Lev sat down, but slow, and armed with an odd look.

All you paid notice to was how he didn't need to jump or climb up the way you did, to get into the tall, narrow chairs.

The waitress came around, already horribly busy, and you helped her by facilitating some semblance of focus amongst your friends.

You patted the table, leaning all the way over Lev, to get Yaku's attention, "Hey- hey! What do you want?"

"Oh! Uhhh- rum'n'coke, please,"

Thankfully, it spurred a string of just rum and coke orders down the length of the two tables you had corralled together. You sighed, rubbing your face, at how stupid they all got when they were together and tipsy. You got three orders of jalapeño poppers for the table and had to forbid anyone else from revising theirs, after hearing such a great idea.

You also ordered something incredibly strong and tipped her well.

Then, it took a while to relax. Kenma helped, seated on your right- you watched him play Mario Kart on his Switch and sipped on your water. But you could feel Lev's weird, fresh energy, and wished Kuroo had stayed. You had three years of goofing around with him, and now he was all the way across the table. This place was too loud to hear much of anything, so you were barred from a lot of easy-to-make conversation with old friends.

The food, the drinks, and the three pitchers of beer they ordered, couldn't come fast enough. It took about seven levels of playing for your orders to start floating around the table to their designated owners.

12 guys + 3 baskets of jalapeño poppers = 20 seconds of frenzied grabbing, followed by 2 minutes of silent seething and burned tongues for the rest of the night. You grabbed five and placed them on a napkin, to eat on slowly.

Lev was already done with a tall glass of Michelob Ultra.

"Are you kidding me?" You watched in shock and awe as he wiped the foam from his upper lip and set the empty thing down.

"What?" He laughed, "Those are spicy!"

They, almost certainly, were not spicy. His tolerance must have aired more on the 'lighter' side. That went largely ignored, though, as you watched him pour a second glass with perfect angle and precision.

His arms were long and could reach far into the center of the table, especially if he leaned forward. You subconsciously began to catch up with your own drink, eyes glued to the way his lats were visible through his shirt as he pulled his glass back in.

You squinted at the face he made when he sniffed the rim of it.

"Do you like beer? Or--,"

Lev couldn't hear you. He leaned in with an amused grin, and you caught a whiff of something that smelled good enough to make you smile a bit.

Some of his hair brushed your cheek from how close he got to listen.

"Do you like that stuff? Or are you just drinking it to look cool?"

When you pulled away, he was staring at your yummy drink held close to your mouth- then your nose, and back up to your eyes. He closed the distance again.

"You think I look cool?"

You laughed and pushed his shoulder back lightly- he laughed, too, and shrugged, "I mean- if it's working, yeah!"

Anytime you wanted to talk, you would look at Kenma, then down at his game, and eventually lean towards Lev, instead.

The way he looked at you made you all warm and fuzzy. Like he wanted to hear what you had to say soo badly. He was eager, and jumped at the opportunity to get close, to feel your voice brushing by his warm ear, a light touch on his arm, or his leg.

The night was a crash course in what kind of person he was. You learned a lot about him.

"Ohh! Oh! An older sister!" Your eyes lit up, your hypothesis confirmed at last. Lev nodded with a big grin, no idea why that made you so happy. But you didn't smile much at practice, so he didn't pry.

You pushed yourself up and slapped a hand in front of Kuroo, hard, on the table. He was grinning as you pointed a stiff finger at him.

"I told you!!"

"I'm sure you did!" He yelled back with a laugh, "What the hell are we talking about?"

As you sat back down, Kuroo caught Lev staring shamelessly at your ass. He snapped his fingers at him like he was trying to get a puppy's attention. You didn't realize that's what he was doing.

"He has an older sister!"

Kuroo rolled his eyes. This hill you were going to die on was getting excavated as you preached, so confidently, that it was your unmovable mountain. But- who was he to take away your beacon of hope? Dance on the dirt mound all night. He'd help you out of the mud in the morning, because you were his friend. And he thought your little quirks were funny enough to entertain.

Blind to the very argument against your excitement -Lev, staring hard down through your 'going out' top- you explained, "That's why! Kuro- you were dead wrong!"

Kuroo's belly-laugh was not what you were after.

"Oh- ohhh fuck! You're too cute- ahaha! You really are!"

You crossed your arms. Lev gulped down another glass, a needed endeavor, to be buzzed enough to keep talking to you. Talking, or yelling, rather, to Kuroo had already lost its novelty because he could never just let you be right, for once.

"Yooo!! Lemme get some of those!"

Yamamoto's hand was already in your reserved stack of food.

You swatted it away, hard.

"Fuck off!"

He retracted right away, faked a sob, then yowled- it was nothing in volume compared to the bustle of the noisy bar.

Lev hummed next to you. It sounded like a word, so after you were done laughing at Yamamoto, you turned your attention over and felt a fun whoosh as your vision lagged. You blinked for a long second, and set your drink down with a giggle.

That was officially enough.

"What did you say!" You asked Lev.

"What!" He yelled over the music.

You giggled and pulled on his shirt at the shoulder hem to get him to lean closer. His grin was horribly handsome, his engrossed eye contact so cute, and you found yourself unable to stop your giggles. You rested your warm forehead on his shoulder.

He smelled good. Like a pricey, foreign cologne. You were still gripping his sleeve.

Out of all the guys here, none of them were as cute as Lev right now.

That handsome smile was back on his face, "You called me Lev earlier!"

You were confused, for a moment. What? When? Why?

An incomplete excuse, if you had ever heard of one, "Must've been- uhh, well, I think Kuro called you Lev, so-!"

When you let go of him, you missed the feeling. Your fingers were cold and wanted to hold something, so you picked your drink back up and finished it. Only after, when it all went to your head, did you realize you had already decided not to do that.

Kuroo startled you when he spoke at you from behind. You quickly fell back into your never-ending string of giggles at how silly it was.

"You want anything? I'm starting a tab!" He asked you over the music.

The sound of that appealed to you, but you knew better.

"I'm- whew-- Yeah," You laughed, and rubbed the top of his hand, nodding, "I'm good-I'm good! Don't give me anything."

Kuroo lingered for a few breaths, analyzing you from over your shoulder, then directed a mean squint to Lev.

"You tell her to keep up with you?"

It was a far reach and a confusing question. The pretty boy's hesitant head shake pissed him off a little more than it should have.

"Make sure she drinks water," Kuroo announced to him, within earshot, and rubbed your shoulder again with a goodbye-pat.

He stayed a few seconds longer, looking for the best route to get to the bar, then directed his attention back to Lev. His hard grip was a painful on his shoulder, purposefully squeezing him. A warning.

"You wanna stare at'er all fuckin' day, then let her get this drunk? I know what you're doing," Was a vicious, eerily quiet, mutter.

"Don't be a prick," He shoved him, just a little, when he walked past.

In reality, it was just a bit of misplaced concern. Lev turned his head, thoroughly intimidated, tracking Kuroo all the way to the bar.

"Um-,"

His nerves seemed to fall away when he looked down at your pretty smile, how you were still finding everything a bit too funny. Plus, your body was really getting to him. Maybe it was because you kept touching him.

Again, he had to lean down far to speak to you, "(Y/n)? Uh... Kuroo- he isn't your boyfriend, right?"

Regardless of sobriety, you would've laughed really hard at that. Your hands gripped around his arm; this time, unnecessarily, and enough to make his blush strong and vibrant.

"Oh my God! No!"

Lev laughed with you, lightly, with eyes still on Kuroo, far away.

"Ohh, this is gonna sound so terrible-," You laughed under your palm, debating on whether on not to keep talking, but Lev gave you this 'I wanna know so bad' look, and you just couldn't stop yourself, "But he's not my type. Not at all."

An incredible wave of confusion took over his pretty features.

"He's too smart for me- it's kind of, I dunno, like-- I wanna call the shots, do all the thinking, y'know?"

It's not that Lev identified as being dumb, but the proclamation made him hard, and simultaneously view you as more capable. He didn't know the first thing about girls, but you seemed to know enough for the both of you.

Transfixed, he nodded along, halfway-listening to you ramble, halfway-focused on flexing his arm for you.

☆VIP☆

@integers @paradoxicalwritings @yuchacco

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future details/sneak peak: afab!reader / riding / overstim / size kink / handjobs / multiple orgasms / top!reader / puppy love!lev / loss of virginity / begging / needy!lev / dacryphilia / + more

[kopilot-pop]

Hi, I’m making a post because something very serious happened in Korea and I’m hoping as many people are alarmed at this.

Deepfake photos have been made and sold on telegram (an anonymous chatting app), and almost 220,000 users were identified for being in Korea. About 70% of those were teenagers, and a list of schools (including colleges) that had victims within the chatrooms in the past couple of years was posted.

My school was on the list and it has been identified that two of my close friends were direct victims.

So that’s why I’m making this post. It’s a little bit of a rant and it’s mostly my anger getting the best of me.

Waking up, finding girls BEGGING their friends to take down photos from their instagram profile, the terror we felt when we found out men were hacking into privated accounts to take revenge, watching my friend breakdown as she tells me that she’s being investigated because her face was deepfaked into pornographic content - can you imagine that? Because that was me two days ago.

Korea, as a whole, is extremely lenient on their criminals - especially sexual offenders and minors - and it’s TOO LENIENT on men.

This situation is not being reported as much as it needs to be, and I’m trying to grasp onto straws by alerting people that know my stupid account on how fucked up this country is.

Men are making friends-only stories saying shit like ‘Why are y’all concerned? Y’all are ugly af�� (this is a real post i had the pleasure of seeing), and people in general have this fucked up view on AI generated content saying shit like “Isn’t this better than actually getting assaulted?”, and it makes me sick to my stomach.

I have to go to school. I have to walk around campus with the fear that maybe, just maybe, the man I walked past just now has seen a deepfaked photo of my friends. The perpetrator’s aren’t limited to simply the number of accounts within the group chat - what if they passed their phones? What if they texted the photos to each other after making them on the telegram? Our school has a big dormitory - what happens within those walls FILLED with men?? The more I have to think about it, the more sick it makes me.

I am not being the most informative and rambling more than anything. But my excuse is that there aren’t many reports and credible sources talking about this. So I’m going off on my personal experience as much as possible.

Please, people - especially women - be fucking warned about this situation. My country is one of the biggest perpetrators, but that doesn’t mean this deepfake issue isn’t (already) worldwide. It’s gonna get bigger, it’s gonna get more dangerous, and it should be making you sick to your stomach.

I hope all victims, including including my friends, get the justice they deserve.

Please, stay safe.

[maxxiemoa]

~Rodrick x babysitter fic~

An: This story has been in my drafts for a little while. I love my dorky emo boyfriend Rodrick <3

Summary: Susan Heffley knew you from the neighborhood and thought you were a responsible enough girl to watch manny for the evening. What you didn’t really grasp was that she was really asking you to watch all her sons while Frank and her went on a much needed night out.

I arrive 5 minutes early to the Hefley’s house. I rang the doorbell and was quickly met with a cheerful greeting from a younger brunette haired boy.

“Im Greg you must be y/n” says the young boy. Hes sweet but I can tell hes a bit awkward socially. I nod and introduce myself, “yeah I’m y/n I’m babysitting your little brother tonight. Is your friend here…erm Rowley? Right? Your mom said you two would be having a sleepover tonight.

“Yeah he should be here any second” Greg says moving out of the way for me to come into the house.

“Oh! Great you are here early!” Susan walks over to me quickly and in her arms is who I am assuming is Manny.

Manny waves at me and does grabby hands at me. I offer to take him from Susan and she happily hands him over to me. “I’m y/n and you must be Manny.” I smile at him sweetly and hold him close to me. God he is adorable. Oh how I wish I had a little sibling to carry around.

“RODRICK!” I jump a bit at Franks sudden yelling. I turn around to the sound of quick footsteps coming down the stairs. Down comes a boy who I vaguely remember from somewhere.

Susan points at her eldest son and says “this is Rodrick he goes to the same school as you.” I remember where I’ve seen him before, he is in my 3rd period English class….hes a bit of a…dumb dumb.

Rodrick looks me up and down and then runs back upstairs nearly tripping on his way up.

Frank nears the door and grabs the keys. “If he does anything stupid just ignore him. Hes in a rockstar phase right now” I giggled at his comment and so does Greg.

The two of them leave and I am now the adult in the house. “So Greg what are you and Rowley going to do tonight? Movies? Video games? Make a fort?” I ask curiously.

“We were probably going to watch a movie in my room and play some board games” he says. I nod my head and tell him that sounds nice. “I can make you two some cookies or brownies if you’d like. And I can order a pizza for dinner” I offer. Greg’s eyes light up immediately and he hugs my side tightly and says thank you.

About 20 minutes into the night manny and I are at the table coloring when Rodrick comes into the kitchen. “Sup” he says in a forced deep voice as he leans against the table.

I look him up and down much like he did when I first came over. He has changed his clothes and is now wearing….eyeliner? He runs his fingers through his hair and makes it even messier than it was mear seconds ago.

“Did you come down to join in on the coloring?” I motion towards the coloring books and crayons laid out on the table. “Umm..no…I..I came down for..umm….DRINK…a drink.” He says nervously. He walks over to the fridge and pulls some stuff out. He walks back over to Manny and I and sets a juice box in-front of Manny and three different drinks in-front of me. “Pepsi, juice, or water? Or uhh I think we have milk too…” I smile at his kind gesture and pull the Pepsi close to me. “Thanks….ummm do you remember me from class?” I ask while I take a sip of my drink.

Rodrick sits down next to me and takes the straw off of Manny’s juice box and pokes it into the little hole at the top sliding it back over for Manny to have.

“English class, right?” He says to me fooling around with the bottle of water he’s holding.

“Yeah, English class. The teacher doesn’t really like you does he? Can’t really blame him I guess. You are never paying attention and it really shows when he asks you a question about what we are reading”

“Well maybe if pay attention if the stuff we were reading wasn’t so damn boring” he says kind of slamming his hands on the table as a sort of attempt at making a point

I laugh a little at how serious he seems about hating English class “Don’t you have better things to hate? Like I don’t know…the government or like poverty? What is it your punk band stands for?”

“I don’t know if I’d really call is punk. We are more of a chaotic unlabeled band” he says pulling his hands through his hair again.

“The hair and eyeliner kind of makes it seem like you are in an Emo band” I lean over and brush my hands through his hair. “Not that I want to admit it and float your ego but I do like the eyeliner”

Rodrick just sits there tensed up as I play with his hair. I will be the first to admit that I have a think for alternative looking boys like Rodrick but I’m babysitting and as cute as he is I should not be flirting with him. I have a job to do and I like this family.

“I never feel like I can do it exactly the way I imagine it looking in my head…..the eyeliner I mean.” Rodrick says in a soft voice looking me in the eyes. His brown puppy like eyes are looking right at me and they are melting my mind.

“I could help you with your eyeliner if you’d like” I brush my thumb across his cheekbone.

Rodrick brings me upstairs to his room after I put manny in his little play pen infront of the tv. His room is dim and there are clothes scattered around the floor. Surprisingly there isn’t any trash making his room messy. Just his stuff.

“Here” Rodrick hands me an eyeliner pencil and I sit on the bed next to him

“Close your eyes and try not to wiggle too much ok” I gently hold his face and paint the eyeliner on his eyes as neat as I can. “How do you like?” I ask him pointing to the little mirror in his room.

“Wow, it looks way less messy than when I do it” he comes back over to where I am sitting on his bed. “My turn to do your eyeliner” He says uncapping the pencil.

“Be careful ok I want to leave with both of my eyes intact ok” I say closing my eyes.

Rodrick starts putting the eyeliner on my eyelids while gently holding my cheeks and face still “there” he says as I open my eyes

His face is really close to mine and I can feel my face getting a little warm.

“It looks nice on you” Rodrick doesn’t let go of my face and instead slides his hands through my hair. I mimic him and tangle my fingers in his hair.

I close my eyes and lean in a little hoping he will close the space. And he does. His lips are sort of chapped and I can feel him breathing quickly out of his nose.

The kiss is gentle and sweet. It only lasts a few seconds before he pulls away. He looks at me and licks his lips. “Was that ok?” He says so quietly that I am surprised I heard him.

I smile at him and pull him in for a hug “I’ve never kissed anyone before…It was nice…really nice” I close my eyes and let myself enjoy the warmth of his body.

[nagaytoe]

THE KID AT THE BACK

-theories

(- Posted before the new version of day 1 and day 2 -)

Did i sit down and analyze this game for 3 hours straight because I'm hyperfixated on it? Yes, yes i did.

This isnt proof-read and long as hell so buckle up for a joyride, y'all (by the way, there's another TKATB fanfic in the works as we speak and also some fanart, though I'm not sure wether to post it or not... well, we'll see!)

Some of these might not seem all too thought through (??) Since i was kind of grasping at straws here (and it was like 2 a.m. lmao), so if y'all have questions/need me to elaborate or have theories of your own feel free to share!

(There's some inspiration here from other people in the Fandom, most of them from the community section on itch.io which isnt available any more)

Sol knows the player longer than we think

My theory ->

-Fantasia stated that one of her 3 biggest inspirations was the game AMNESIA

-In amnesia the mc loses her memory in an accident. One of the love interests is her childhood friend and also the only yandere in the game (at least from what i could find out)

-She already drew Sol with Forget-me-nots and in the valentines day special the boquet sol gave us also contained Forget-me-nots

-In the book (this gallery thing with all the cutscene images) on the top of sols page is written 'Remember Me' which implies we forgot about him

-Annabel Lee Poem:

+The poem contains the line 'I was a child, she was a child' which furthermore implies that Sol and MC knew each other as kids

+Except for the last two paragraphs the poem is written in past tense, which could be talking about sols POV with us

Perhaps MC had an accident, as mentioned above, and MCs father (highborn kinsmen) tore MC away from Sol to the countryside

+The poem mentions angels killing annabel lee which could also mean something like this: MC doesnt die but, however, gets amnesia. That way, the MC sol knows and loves is dead because MC no longer exists the way MC did before (also the fact that she forgot him)

Some people theorize MCs farm is near the sea and that is the reason why sol hates the sea (i believe the city is near the sea and that's where MC 'died' (maybe MC almost drowned and got Amnesia that way?(apparently its possible for people who almost drowned to get amnesia)))

+"The speaker loves annabel lee to the point of death and even after death" (MCs view how to interpret the poem) (-> Sol loves MC to 'death' (the day they got amnesia) and even after 'death' (after MC got amnesia and 'died' in a sense, as a person))

-sol says he thinks death is beautiful, i didn't really know what to make of that, the only conclusion i came to would be: If MC actually did drown and lose their memories due to that, sol might have been involved in MC drowning (or at least blames himself for that) but viewed MC losing their memories as a 'second chance' with them, since they can start from anew (perhaps he made some mistakes with MC in the past which all eventually built up to MC drowning (it could be that we were already teens at that point)

-sol states afterwards: "But people refused them to let them be together, as if fate refuses them to die together" which supports my theory that MC was taken from Sol by someone (most likely the father after he witnessed Sols behaviour and his final straw was MC drowning because of him) the 'let them die together' could mean something like their relationship 'dying' and then starting over again or perhaps he tried to die with them, who knows (all this is really far fetched i am grasping at straws here lmao)

-in a really quick scene right after he mutters "I'm won't let it happen to me... not again" (some people view this as Sol already lost someone he loved dearly but it could also be the MC who was taken from him

ANOTHER THING I COULD IMAGINE -ABOUT DYING TOGETHER COULD BE:

MC almost died, Sol went after them but they were already saved, Sol just didnt witness that and almost died himself/wanted to die but was saved from that by someone (maybe hyugo? Though, he is an exchange student)

-Another theory on hyugo. It's canon that he is an exchange student, however i do believe he is from this city (since he knows about the hierarchy and his brother Geo apparently is no exchange student), moved away and is now back for business (relating to his 'mafia schemes' but under the disguise of being an exchange student)

Maybe he moved around the same time MC left or some time after that

-Hyugo mentions on the rooftop that we remind him of someone and the pronoun of the person he refers to changes based on the one the player picked for the MC in the beginning. It could mean we remind him of someone else entirely, someone maybe not even related to sol (though i doubt that) or to the MC and he knows them from back then but maybe thought MC died as well and cant believe they actually survived (maybe he want to spike MCs memory by doing that)

-A dream within a dream: MC mentions that this poem, at least to them, talks about the uncertainty about something, like life (which could also imply that they might be uncertain about some things in their mife because they simply forgot them due to amnesia)

-THE SECOND DAY 'THE KINGDOM'

+some people think the kingdom (by the sea) refers to MCs farm and implies its near the sea, however in day 2 we find out about the hierarchy in the city and considering my theory that MC actually is from the city and almost drowned there, i believe the kingdom by the sea is the city. MC does mention in the beginning that they lived on the farm ever since they were a child, however, it could very well be that we moved there right after the incident that caused MCs amnesia (if MC was akid when it happened it would really matter because then it would still fit with the fact that they lived there since theyre a child, however if they were already a teen, perhaps the father moved there immediately to cut off all ties to Sol and told us we have always lived there on top of that (considering the previous theories)

The father also didnt seem fond of the idea that we go to the city (the fact that he is is indebted to someone from high class could imply he might be from there), that could be because he knows how dangerous the city is (and how we could potentially meet sol again)

-maybe the reason for the debt is that MCs father suddenly bought the farm land to get us away from the city as soon as possible and had to take on a loan from one of his contacts in the city

-we know that this is MCs last year at the university, if we say shes minimum 22, and was already in the school for 4 years that would mean she got there at 18. If the 'drowning theory' events took place when MC was a teen (like 16 maybe) it would explain why the father was indebted (i also think 2 years is an believable timeframe a higher class person would give someone to pay off their debt)

-at the end of day 2 sol says he's sorry for leaving us and "i dont know what I'll do if..." which supports my theory that he lost us once (and he blames himself as the reason (again, MC drowning?))

-inspirations:

+ https://www.tumblr.com/sweet-herbal-peach-tea/746168072919023616/tkatb-theories?source=share

+ https://itch.io/t/3749638/whats-the-secret-between-hyugo-and-sol

Another theory:

Sleepy Hollow and The kid at the back

-In the nicknames the boys have for MC (fantasia released that on twitter and tumblr) sol calls MC pumpkin (like the pumpkin of the headless horseman (also in the gallery there is a pumpkin above the book)) and Crowe calls them '(star-crossed) lover'

Star-crossed lovers are people who love each other but can't be together

I believe this might imply that, even though Crowe is the second romance option, MC can't be with him no matter what they do

I also found out that the nickname is a phrase from romeo and juliet (which furthermore implies crowe will die)

We know what romeo and juliet is about: romeo and juliet cant be together because their families are enemies (some people believe Crowes father might be them man MCs father owes money to(i personally doubt thah though but it would support this romeo and juliet situation)) and at the end romeo thinks that juliet died, kills himself and then juliet turns out to not be dead but kills herself after seeing romeo dead

-Jericho Ichabod is a character from Sleepy Hollow, along Katrina (the FMC who owns a farm (what a coincidence)) and Brom Bones (its implied he is the headless horseman). In the story, jericho courts Katrina at a party, she rejects him and on his way home the headless horseman kills him (in the scene where Sol accompanies MC to class he says 'it's always been you ichabod' which could furthermore imply that crowe or his family have something do to with the fact that Sol and MC arent together)

In the library scene with Crowe he asks MC about their opinion on marie Antoinette and when MC says something negative about her, his reaction seems kind of strange. MC also brought a book about torture devices and execution methods and in that book is a picture of 'The Executioner' and he has scars on his arms, wears a mask and a chained collar. This correlates with some of sols features. He has scars on his arms (as seen in one of fantasias drawings), wears a chocker (he also wears a mask when he breaks into MCs room but that's really something anyone who does that would do). This implies even more that he will kill crowe.

[f1rodrigo]

the mclaren boy mystery | part three

l. norris / o. piastri

summary: in which your boyfriend is a formula one driver for team mclaren and when you finally decide it's time to start hinting to the world, the internet is confused on exactly which driver is your boyfriend. pairing: social media au || lando norris / oscar piastri x reader fc: jazmyn makenna

a/n: honestly i have no clue how long it's been... but I KNOW it's been LONG. and i am incredibly sorry. but wow is it easy for things to just get away from me but i finally got the motivation and want to continue this so here we are! who knows how long it will last but let me not get ahead of myself with any promises. i hope you all are well and enjoy! MWAH <3

part one | part two

sweet relief series | valentine's day

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liked by oscarpiastri, charles_leclerc and 54,899 others

yourusername keepin it classy 🍸 @/alexandrasaintmleux

view all 1,922 comments

user1 not sure classy is the word i'd use...

⤷ user2 seek help<3

user3 WHEN TWO WAGS MEET UP TO MAXIMIZE THEIR JOINT WAG

⤷ user4 stfusshdf im crying

⤷ user5 the way we don't even know for sure if shes a wag

user6 shes so IT girl i cant

alexandrasaintmleux my girl

⤷ yourusername mwah mwah mwah

user7 oscar in the likes bro im gonna end it all

user8 with alex... charles in the likes... double date...walk with me here

⤷ user9 just cause charles liked doesn't mean he was with them 🤷🏻‍♀️

⤷ user10 fr like his gf is in the post 😭

landonorris text me back maybe

⤷ yourusername desperate much

⤷ user11 WHY DOES HE NEED TO TEXT HER WHEN THEY SHOULD BE TOGETHER??????

⤷ user12 bc she was there with oscar... piastri nation RISE 💆‍♀️

⤷ user13 my jaws on the floor i don't know what to believe anymore

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liked by mclaren and 1,282,094 others

yourusername yee... haw?

p.s. a shoutout to @/oscarpiastri for the chugging tips...

view all 3,138 comments

user1 omg ok. can everyone just stay calm.

user2 ARE WE READING THE CAPTION. I REPEAT ARE WE READING THE CAPTION

⤷ user1 great so that'd be a no.

oscarpiastri not sure they boded well seeing as about 5? seconds after that photo there was wine down your shirt... but you're? welcome?

⤷ yourusername …mind ur business piastri

⤷ oscarpiastri hey you dragged me into this mess first

user3 ynoscar nation its been amazing, i think we're nearing our well deserved victory

⤷ user4 LETS NOT GET AHEAD OF OURSELVES

user5 such excellent wag material here guys i NEED to know if she's dating one of them

user7 fuck landoscar DATE ME! LOVE ME!

user8 ynlando nation it feels so over 😪

⤷ user9 WE CANNOT GIVE UP NOW

user10 user landonorris found dead in a ditch

user11 this is certifiably INSANE what do YOU MEAN chugging tips???!?!?!?

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liked by mclaren and 1,282,094 others

landonorris 100 stickers, 100 races, and a brand new trophy to add to the mix 🏆❤️

view all 3,138 comments

user1 the writing on the second pic he is so unserious

user2 ur honor i love him 🥲

yourusername special weekend. congrats.

⤷ user3 why am i getting friend vibes

⤷ user4 fr just grasping at straws now huh 😭😭

⤷ user5 no but the periods???? its giving my mom when shes mad at me

⤷ user6 "special weekend" WHAT DO U MEANNNNN

⤷ user7 maybe it has something to do with the 100th race and podium....... 😭

oscarpiastri good job 👏

⤷ user8 maybe landoscar are dating

⤷ user9 CORRECT!

⤷ user10 at least oscar can add an emoji

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liked by yourusername, mclaren and 102,761 others

oscarpiastri not our weekend... but the company makes it a bit better. 🇲🇽 here we come!

view all 403 comments

user1 you're joking. you're fucking joking.

user2 THE LAST SLIDE YN IS IN THE LAST SLIDE

⤷ user3 PLUS THE CAPTION??????? its giving soft launch im sorry this is basically confirmation

⤷ user4 but like its really not though

mclaren 🧡🧡🧡🧡

user5 nah am i the only one thinking they're just fucking with us at this point 😭

user6 are we forgetting that there are also two other girls in that picture

⤷ user7 well... yes BUT they've been known to be friends of oscars so its like...

⤷ user8 so its like he posted a photo of his friends! yup!

⤷ user9 no fr like yn is also known to be friends with oscar? its all just internet speculation how is this confirmation

⤷ user10 well we've never got a grid post from lando of yn sooooo

⤷ user11 valid point

user12 on to the next!! keep pushing, we love you<3

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landonorris added to their story

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yourusername added to their story

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liked by yourusername, mclaren and 282,654 others

lando.jpg team mclaren

view all 471 comments

user1 this is adorable

user2 NEW JPG POST AKA MY REASON TO LIVE JUST DROPPED

user3 CAPTION LAST SLIDE OH MY GOD IS THAT YN

⤷ user4 I THINK SO SHE WAS WEARING THAT TOP IN COTA

user5 ynlando has never been so alive holy shit

user6 forget ynlando!! we've got oscar in a jpg post 🥹

yourusername 4life

⤷ user7 im in a puddle of tears

⤷ user8 this feels so much like confirmation guys!!!!!!

⤷ user9 idgaf if they're dating or not either way this relationship is so adorable wtf 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

user10 ynoscar truther clocking in! i pretend i do not see!

user11 i'm going to pass out

user12 he considers her part of team mclaren 🥲🥲🥲🥲

user13 i swear they see us freaking out and are like here’s more content to confuse the fuck out of you even more

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part one | part two

taglist:

i know it has been a while so just message me or reply to be removed or added <3333

@landoscar-f1 @urfavnoirette @imsiriuslyreal @geniusalpaca @wadupppp

@tinyhrry @clemmisser @itsprashimusic @leclercdream @eugene-emt-roe

@lozzamez3 @sbrn0905 @ririyulife @not-nyasa @bloodyymaryyy

@ihatetakumi @orangetreekid @ares10156 @susieees-blog

@loloekie @sarx164 @evie-119

@saachiep81 @vicurious28 @awritingtree @callsignwidow

[remotewatch]

some call it arrogance

Jack Schlossberg x reader | 2.5k wc

summary: Let’s face it: you kind of suck at paddleboarding. Thankfully, your boyfriend is an eager instructor with a trick up his sleeve!

cw: shameless smut, outdoor recreation, questionable teaching, peppy upbeat softdom jack (good lord), fingering, unprotected sex, if you want to keep your plan b go VOTE ‼️‼️, play fighting, jd is catching strays, this is somewhat a comedy

minors dni and stay out!!!!

Time and time again, you realize that you and Jack have very different definitions of what constitutes a short paddle. You could pass out right here on your little break, sun hat plopped over your face and one leg dangling in the pleasantly cool water. He tugs you closer to his board to drum a few fingers on your knee and ask “You asleep?” just as you’re drifting off.

A barely audible “mhm” is all you care to let out. Jack’s hand slides to your inner thigh, a polite veneer of concern slapped onto his more crude interests.

“Do you need something?” When you lift your hat to squint over at him for being so euphemistic, he’s already zapping you with those doe eyes you struggle to resist.

“Diva, the telephotos,” you mumble as you flop back down. There’s almost certainly no one hiding out in the mangroves waiting to catch you two, but the press had noted the extension of your Japan trip to stop at Iriomote. Your growing collection of condemning paparazzi pics is already nudging at the edge of your mind, and you have no desire to add to it today.

“They can’t get a good shot this far out.” His hand stills when you don’t murmur back how much of a whore he’d have to be to know that so definitively.

“Here, let’s get out of the sun for a bit. Get you a honey stick or something.” A grateful thumbs up is the most movement you care to make.

As much as you like getting into Jack’s hobbies with him, it’s undeniably more fun to have him tow you around whistling Elvis tunes like your little chauffeur. It would be so easy to fall asleep to the sound of it paired with the waves crashing in the distance; maybe you do; it’s really none of your business.

The temperature suddenly drops, and you briefly tilt your hat up to see he’s steered you into a particularly thick mangle. It’s a straight, narrow shot from it up to the shore; exactly the type of hidden launch he’d know about.

He turns around from rooting in the supply bag and waggles a fanned out selection of power bars, honey straws, and glucose gels at you.

“What’re we having today, huh?” Still hiding under your hat, you grasp blindly until you find a few straws and tear one open with your teeth, shoving your dentist’s exasperation to the back of your mind. Jack knows better than to pester you until your temperature and blood sugar level out a bit. Eventually, you rise from the dead and get a better look at your spot.

The mangrove roots here are as thick as you’ve ever seen and rise far enough out of the water that you could set up a hammock under them. Schools of diminutive silver fish swirl beneath the surface, bouncing light back up to paint the underside of the overhead foliage. The two of you are technically visible from open water, but a pap would have to drop anchor at the perfect angle to get more than a glimpse. You remind yourself that you’re on the west side of the island anyway; surely there’s more exciting things to report on than America’s most notorious SUP proficiency gap relationship.

“You’re getting better, you know.” You gnaw at a second honey straw and scrunch up your nose.

“Am I?”

“For sure. Remember Lake Superior?”

“God, must I?” you groan, wincing at the mere thought.

“Gotta appreciate where you started!” Jack is laid out on his board doing alternate toe touches, and the fact that it’s more of an unconscious ritual than a way of showing off his balance makes it all the more annoying.

He’s truly so pretty, even after putting your legs through hell on the way out. The little gaps in the mangrove canopy cover him in spots of sunlight, and he still refuses to buy a smaller pair of shorts, just rolling down the hem of those ratty old ones until they’re shorter than any of yours. You’re too busy watching them fall further down his thighs with every leg raise to notice he’s still talking.

“Sorry, what?”

“I said-,” Jack finishes the last of his coconut water and smacks his lips. “Why don’t you stretch a bit before we head back?” You press your hands flat as if to push yourself up, and he notes your hesitation.

“What is it?”

“…Can you spot me?” His smile cracks his whole face open like a fresh daffodil, clearly thrilled to be needed.

“Why, certainly.”

You brace yourself as he slides onto your board as easily as scooting closer on the couch, quads flexing delectably while he helps you stand up.

“Do a forward bend for me,” Jack effortlessly slips back into his instructor cadence, to the point that you could forget he’s your boyfriend aside from his hands feeling far more than professionally comfortable on your hips. He leans up against your backside to peer over you as you place your palms flat on the deck, not bothering to conceal how much it excites him. After the tension of the paddle out and stiffening up during your nap, the stretch in your hamstrings is virtually orgasmic. Jack doesn’t miss the little sigh of relief you let out, nor do you the the smugness that spills into his voice.

“And walk it out, just like that,” you can feel him staring at your ass and can’t even kick his shin without knocking you both over.

“Can you at least pretend to enjoy this a little less?” it doesn’t sound very commanding with his dick pressed right up against you before you shift into downward dog. Even less so when he knows how much you love a good calf stretch, knows exactly how far to push you into it to make you melt in his hands.

“If I’m not happy to be here, how can I expect you to have any fun?” There’s a brief wobble as he reaches to grab your ankles and help you move to a headstand, but one shift of his heel and you might as well be back on dry land.

“That’s why I said pretend.”

“That’s why I’m not an actor. And, push yourself up!” If nothing else, you’re decent at handstands, at least with Jack ready to catch your legs. Decent on a good day, that is, when the humidity isn’t bleeding your energy like a stuck pig. Your right palm slips into the water, and you screw your eyes shut in anticipation of a face full of board and a few tree bark scrapes.

“Fuck!” you hiss, but his grip instantly locks down on your ankles and lifts you out of the line of fire. Jack’s obliques ripple as he rights the board, and he’s very clearly pleased to catch your notice of it.

“That’s alright, you had a few good seconds there.” He lets you swing a few moments longer than necessary before lowering you back down and piping up again. Ever the show-off.

“It’s always…,” he hesitates as if he’s searching for the right words. “-been my understanding that if you can balance on all fours in unfavorable circumstances, you can stay standing just fine.”

“And what kind of unfavorable circumstances would you be talking about?” it’s obvious, though you’d rather hear him say it. He knows you too well to take the bait and cheekily rolls his eyes.

“You know, the favorable ones.”

“Is that what they teach you at surf instructor school?” Your hands are back on the board now, and you kick one foot free to slide it down his chest under his shorts.

“Oh yeah, the first thing,” he chuckles, fishing it out before helping you down into a plank.

Jack somehow wriggles his way under you without causing any major upheaval, claiming it’s the easiest way to check your form. He’s talking like this is your first time on a board just to wind you up and making no attempt to hide how much he enjoys doing so.

“Now, there’s nothing to it, just gotta make sure you’re not leaning too far to the left-“ he tugs at one of your bikini ties.

“Or the right,” he twists the other between his fingers, not quite loose enough to fall off, but certainly plenty of room for him to slide his fingers below your waistband. His smile grows wider when he pulls them back out to observe their newfound shine. You have a halfhearted go at defending your reactivity.

“That has nothing to do with you.”

“Oh yeah? You’re pulling a JD, getting riled up by the dolphins?” If your balance or endurance were half as good as his, you’d shove him off your board and ditch him right there. The best you can do is double down; a bit pitiful, but better than giving him any satisfaction right after that bullshit.

“And these are the unfavorable circumstances? Seriously?” It’s more the stupid fucking grin on his face than the controlled circles he’s tracing on your clit that’s disrupting your concentration. You’re hoping that focusing on the space between Jack’s eyebrows will keep your mind blank, but his fingers feel better and better the more you try to ignore them sliding around like he’s trying to memorize every cell you’ve got down there.

“It would be deeply irresponsible of me to throw you right into the deep end. Safety first, after all.”

“So irresponsible,” the mocking tone you’re going for doesn’t really work when your pitch is stuttering in perfect response to his movements.

Your eyes slip closed out of habit, but he’s right there playfully pinching your nipple to bring you back to reality.

“Hey, now! No daydreaming during your lesson! That’s not very considerate to your instructor,” he’s trying to pout up at you, hit you right in your weak spot, but he looks far too pleased with himself for the illusion to work.

“What if he deserves it for comparing me to a bloated couch fucker?” Again, the conviction isn’t really there when you’re bending your knees into terrible form trying to chase his touch every time they recede.

Jack yanks his fingers away, sucks them clean with a slippery pop, and kisses you on the point of your chin before shuffling out from under you.

“Clearly you’re not being challenged enough if you can complain like that!”

This time, you do try to kick him off the board, but you have no range at all to put some power into it. That’s what you tell yourself, at least.

“Look at you! You wouldn’t have been able to do that at Lake Superior. Told you you’re getting better!” He’s tugged his shorts down and your swimsuit to the side before you can snap at him, and he actually cackles when he sees how much your lats twitch when he first slides in.

“You’re unbelievable.” The way your voice shakes makes it sound more like a compliment than a last ditch effort to compose yourself.

“That’s what I’ve heard! There you go, arch for me.” He’s not causing much motion yet, only waves big enough to scatter the fish, but you’re wound so tight he might as well be putting you straight through the deck. Your arms are already shaking, and of course Jack notices; how could he not?

“Keep your arms steady. No, don’t lock them up, lean into it,” he’s saying like they’re not on fire, like you can’t feel yourself clamping down on him in some sort of weird unified muscular system effort to keep you from falling on your face.

“Can’t believe y-“

“How fast you’re progressing? I know, right! You must have a pretty good teacher!” He’s absolutely insufferable. You’ve been moving nonstop since dawn, he’s got your ass locking up like an NDA, and his voice is still perfectly fucking steady.

Jack’s middle finger just barely trails along your side, feather-light enough to raise goosebumps on your skin.

“You’re holding too much tension here.” Thank god, he mercifully spares you the lecture about proper abdominal engagement.

“Jack, I can’t- I’m gonna fall!” The wavering in your voice is so unbelievably humiliating when he’s barely breaking a sweat. Your arms buckle, threatening collapse, and there he is seamlessly shifting his hands from your hips to swing under your torso and support you when they finally give out, the other splaying flat across the deck.

“Noooo you’re not, you’re fine. You can have a little break, and then we’ll try again, okay?” All while his thrusts remain infuriatingly consistent. The board barely even moves when he catches you. Your nails scrabble at the deck pad, then the limb supporting you, trying to regain your balance, ground yourself, Jesus, something, but he’s got a better angle now and can haul you back onto his dick as hard as he likes without worrying about your arms giving out.

“You’re such an asshole!” you sob as you claw at his forearm.

“Tell me to stop then! Be silly and turn down a free lesson, why dontcha?” Any attempts you make to thrash your way out of Jack’s grasp just stimulate you more, and he’s suppressing a fit of laughter watching you jolt like you’re stuck in a bear trap. When all that’s left for him to knock out of you are little stilted squeals, his resolve softens, and he leans down to kiss your ear.

“I know you can do it. Push yourself up for me.”

The only way out is through. This time, your arms do lock up; blame the unfavorable circumstances. The world narrows to tunnel vision as you watch the board tilt left, then right, with the ringing in your ears making the whole spectacle feel a tinge nightmarish.

Your orgasm hits you hard enough to have Jack choking out an “oh, fuck” that sounds just as strangled as his dick must feel. You can hardly enjoy it over both of your triceps cramping terribly, though you can’t help but feel a little proud of yourself for staying dry when you slump to your elbows halfway through.

As unceremoniously as Jack thuds down at your side, he still instinctively spreads out enough to keep the board steady. He looks about ready to fall asleep, so of course you roll over to bother him.

“Is that how you taught people to surf?”

“Nah, they were way more advanced.”

“Fuck you!” He’s back on his board and paddling out of the inlet in a flash, somehow not flipping yours in the process.

“Sounds like someone doesn’t need any breaks on the return trip!” By some miracle, you manage to grab his leash before he flies past you.

“You’ll tow me back.” Jack spares you a full glance over his shoulder, and there’s an unmistakable streak of you remaining on the left side of his mouth.

“Oh, yeah? Why’s that?”

“I’m pretty sure I’m your favorite student.”

[kabr0ztrousers]

I really like your transformation work

would you do a doll transformation one?

maybe you encounter a kind fae but accidentally insult them, so you offer to remedy it with your body and you get turned into a doll

or an orc finds an abandoned toy and decides to try and fix it up idk i really like terato

Kabr0z Writes episode 52: Doll

Find the rest of the Kabr0z Writes anthology here!

CWs: transformation; dubcon; noncon; immobilisation; loss of agency; PIV sex; doll transformation

A/N: there's one problem with fucking a doll: dolls are rigid and generally speaking, quite smooth in the nether regions... Although, rubber solves most problems.

###################################

Your teacup clattered to the ground. The forest around you, so previously verdant and full of life, was dead and dark, the illusion fading, showing you the real. The toymaker stood up from his seat, still holding his teacup in a many-fingered hand.

"Don't you know it's rude to point?"

You don't remember pointing at him, or anyone really, all you could do was back away from the oncoming Fae, trying your best to apologise. "I am sorry, I hadn't realised, I'm sure there's some way for me to make it up to you?"

The toymaker smiled, showing far too many teeth. "I'm sure there is... Hold still, my doll"

You stopped backing away. That's when you realised your mistake. You'd told it to call you Tess. You'd just answered to a name that isn't the one you'd made safe for yourself.

You tried to run. Your feet wouldn't move. Your body stood, statue-like as the toymaker approached and started running his fingers over your skin.

Where he touched felt cold, you could only move your eyes to look. You couldn't see your flesh transmuting to painted cedar, your bones to threaded metal rods. You could feel your joints stiffening, turning to hinges and ball joints which he delicately squirted a little oil into before testing the smooth movement.

The wood spread across you, replacing flesh, changing bone. It reached your heart. A keyhole formed in the middle of your back, a clockwork motor replacing where your heart was. You could feel the mainspring, loose and idle. Lethargy flooded you. You couldn't move at all as your eyes became glass and your brain turned to straw. Your thoughts clouded. The fear left you, the memory of who you used to be becoming more distant. The toymaker stood in front of you, looking over his work as you stood in your dress, arms held slightly away from your body. It stepped around you, grasping the key in your back and giving it a few brisk turns.

The governor in your chest started up, balance spring setting a perfect rhythm, the faint ticking echoing into your head, clearing your thoughts. Your limbs loosened, life filling them.

You ran. The toymaker laughed as you went, until he was out of sight. Behind a tree, you took stock. Wooden, now. You'll probably want to avoid naked flames in future. Your hands slid across your body. Touching your glass eyes didn't hurt, which was a plus, all your joints worked, but you could feel the mainspring in your chest getting weaker as it lost tension.

You stretched to reach it, reaching around your back, sticking out your wooden chest as you did. You fell to your knees, fingers scrambling to turn the key as it ticked down moments.

The spring ran out. The governor stopped and so did you.

Your arms stopped in place, joints stiffening. Your thoughts stopped too, calming to a stupid placidity. You saw the toymaker coming towards you, felt his hand fix your hair, heard his footsteps as he walked away, continuing down the path.

Time didn't have meaning any more. You knelt on the ground, your petticoat was getting dirty, but you couldn't move.

A figure approached. A big lumbering man carrying a club. His green skin covered by by furs. The orc saw you, walking over. He grabbed you in one hand, lifting you by an arm. He looked into your eyes. Without clockwork power, you couldn't speak.

The orc pushed a hand up your skirts. You felt his hand brush against your rubber cunt, slipping a thick finger between the moulded lips and into the hole. Despite being wood, metal and rubber, you felt yourself producing fluid. His hand came away wet, a thin film of your pussy juice on his finger.

He ripped off your skirts, exposing your finely carved thighs, shining white wood exposed to the outside. Your body hung limp from his hands as he pushed his cock into you.

He thrust into you, holding you at his waist as he did, using your body as your head lolled and your limbs hung limp. You could feel yourself stretching around him, feeling so close, but unable to move, to even make a peep.

His pumping got harder, fucking you harder. You felt him twitching and throbbing in you before pumping out a load of his cum, grinding his hips into yours, forcing himself as deep as he could.

Pleasure flooded your mind, the world reducing to hazy shapes as the orc filled you. The euphoria only deepening as he slung your body over his shoulder, your leaking cunt dripping his cum onto the ground behind him as he carried you off. You were made to be owned.

After all, the purpose of a doll is to be played with

######################################

Thanks for the request, anon! Hopefully it's everything you wanted

If you have a request, please send a DM or an ask, and I'll see what I can make out of it! There's a bit of a wait, bit it's still projected to be less than a month (though I can't promise how long that'll last)

[lucabyte]

i'm so curious about your character gender reads now tho 👀👀

(You enter the kitchen and see me, eating shredded cheese out of the fridge by the handful)

(I turn around to face you.)

Hi. Do you want me to sell you on amab NB Siffrin? I'm going to try and sell you on amab NB Siffrin. And maybe even a little bit of tranfem siffrin and/or loop. as a treat. just for you.

So, (I put the cheese back in the fridge.)

This read of mine comes from a number of things, a lot of them to do with the game's themes, and to do with Siffrin being a narrative foil to the other characters. And Vaugarde as a whole.

(READMORE WARNING: THIS IS LIKE 6K WORDS LONG. YOU ALL SHOULD KNOW BY NOW I DON'T MAKE POSTS WITHOUT UNCONSCIOUNABLE AMOUNTS OF EVIDENCE AND EXPLANATION. IF ANYTHING I'M BEING RESTRAINED HERE. THUMBS UP.)

(Pre-readmore note: this is in response to me having given an analysis of how I personally percieve Sifloop in relation to asexuality and shipping. Which you can look at here. (x))

It is however, not what my like, no-holds-barred no-rules just-for-me headcanon for Siffrin would be. (which is intersex 'head empty no thoughts' siffrin, for the record). This is instead my close-reading-of-the-text-and-themes interpretation of Siffrin. This is why I'm gonna be saying Read and not Headcanon, to distinguish the two. (Anything I consider a little bit too much of a stretch vis a vis interpretive hard reads I will call a headcanon. But those are for the last bit of this post.)

Unlike *gestures at mass media* All That… ISAT is already packed to the gills with queer rep, to the point where I feel no need to grasp at straws and make overextended reaches into obviously unintended subtext. Like with, y'know, most media. Since here, the subtext isn't unintended. Like this isn't a Transfem Metal Sonic or Aroace Ash Ketchum situation where I know none of the evidence is on purpose and I'm just having fun making a conspiracy theory pinboard out of it. This is like… There's intentionality there. And I want to engage with it on its level, see what the text itself suggests. It's my personal preferred method of expressing deep respect to a text. (Not that it has to be anyone else's, obviously. This is just my way of showing I love a work.)

So yeah, I am, in general, very interested in hearing hard-fought arguments when it comes to interpreting texts. I'm glad ISAT has a lot to pick at here, and so, I will. (and since not a lot of texts ever have anywhere near this kind of depth in this arena, i don't wanna squander it… i'll try and keep my own biases as in check as i can, and already have done by hashing quite a bit of this interpretation out with two people of very different gender identities to mine. To put it mildly, binary-aligned or transfem I am very squarely Not.)

(Now that the cheese bag has been removed from the equation, I drop this framing device, sit you down at the table and begin to dredge up evidence from below it.)

Okay, so. What are my like… Core reasonings here? I think I can split it into three categories. Broadly, with an amount of overlap, so bear with me…

SIFFRIN AS A FOIL AND CONTRAST TO MIRABELLE, ISABEAU AND THE CHANGE RELIGION AS A WHOLE.

SIFFRIN'S HABITS OF CLINGING TO 'KNOWN QUANTITIES', SCAPEGOATS, AND THEMES OF RACIAL IDENTITY INTERSECTING WITH GENDER IDENTITY.

SIFFRIN, LOOP, DE-PERSONING, DEHUMANISING, APATHY AND SURVIVAL.

Okay so up top I'm going to split my argument for Siffrin's gender identity Present and Future here. This means, for now, I'm arguing for AMAB NB Siffrin alone. The transfem stuff is for later (and more for loop, in my mind, too).

I have a few direct observations of the text here that set things up. Here are the things in-game that make me assume that Siffrin, as of the start of the game, has not yet undergone any radical change to their identity in their life. Not on purpose, at least. These are ordered in a messy but logical flow, so uh, try and keep up. I'll synthesise at the end. I Prommy.

SIFFRIN AS A FOIL AND CONTRAST TO MIRABELLE, ISABEAU AND THE CHANGE RELIGION AS A WHOLE.

CHANGE & THE UNIVERSE: PERCEIVED OPPOSITES

When interacting with most objects in the Changing Room in the house, they express a genuine curiosity toward body craft. It seems they are legitimately unfamiliar with it on a deeper level than having simply heard of it.

Despite this curiosity (explicitly stating they've previously wondered about it), they dismiss it as too much work early on in the game. These points combined seem to suggest to me that they have never previously sought out any kind of real change to their appearance or identity. Either for gender reasons, or other body dysmorphia reasons. (Which, despite the dismissal, they do refer to their body as a 'meat prison', which is not particularly positive) However...

This changes in Act 3. In acts 3 and 4 they flatly state: "You're thinking about crafting your body. You seem to have all the time in the world now." While still never spoken aloud, their declining mental state corrosponds with a worn-down, almost nihilistic reckoning with the feelings they masked with the 'meat prison' joke in act 2.

[Image: Interactions with the change craft textbook in acts 2 and 3/4.]

In talking to Mirabelle, they are very self assured that one can stay the same/be comfortable with their born identity. They also seem a little unsettled by the change religion's flippancy in general, which makes sense, as they have been clinging to the famliar (even when painful) to cope with other traumas. (More on this later, section 2)

The Universe Faith appears to heavily disincentivise Wanting for oneself and other expressions of Free Will due to safeguarding against Wish craft. This seems to have impacted Siffrin's mental state majorly, even if they do not recognise it. The followers of the faith are (if Siffrin is to be believed) incentivised to 'go with the flow' and take paths of least resistance, and those that DO make big decisions will tend to justify things as being The Universe's Will. (See: The King's entire Modus Operandi, and the way Loop (and Siffrin) do the same rote actions, constructing worldviews (the play analogy, the Universe's Will) and justify that as what the Universe Would Want (despite a total lack of evidence to prove as such)) As such, it seems as if a follower of this faith as neurotic as Siffrin would be unlikely to act upon any Wants to Change Themselves without a lot of turmoil and backwards-justification. (Of note, Loop's forcible change coinciding with a dropping of pronoun. But that is again for later, section 3) As of the start of the game, they do not appear to have broached this kind of turmoil directly.

[Image: Act 5 interaction with the star journal, emphasis on it being a cautionary tale against reckless usage of wish craft, instilled so deeply to be a children's bedtime story]

Siffrin, in act 5, grows frustrated with both The Universe and The Change God, feeling abandoned by the former. They struggle with simultaneously anthropomorphising the Universe as a cruel onlooker, while also seemingly acknowledging them as a cold, almost scientific fact of nature. This would heavily imply that the 'blame' put upon the Universe by Siffrin in these moments is known to them, at least a little, to be potentially meaningless. It seems that somewhere in Siffrin's belief system is something, be it the core or merely a creeping worry, that the Universe is not a thinking, feeling, thing. And thus that their invocations of "The Universe's Will" are merely rationalisations of random chance and consequence. This is in DIRECT contrast to the Change God, proven to be an emotive sapient entity, who merely refuses to offer a helping hand. (Similar sentiments are, too, spoken by the Change God itself.)

[Images: Interacting with the window in the observatory in act 5, text from the change god meeting]

So. These are the bulk of my observations when it comes to how Siffrin is positioned in contrast to the Change Belief. It would seem to be that Siffrin, inkeeping with their role as an outsider, is a complete fish out of water in Vaugarde's change-centric world. This makes sense! It makes them a compelling foil to the Vaugardians in our cast, and allows the Vaugardians to challenge Siffrin's worldviews merely by existing. It also, more importantly, makes Siffrin an interesting lens through which to inspect our two most Change-driven characters. Mirabelle and Isabeau.

MIRABELLE.

Mirabelle and Siffrin's differing faiths are put on display the most frequently. Interactions like the circle key and the party's disbelief of Siffrin's facts about the stars make this clear. These interactions other Siffrin from the group further, and are another avenue through which Siffrin can ignore their own needs, not communicating with the party and allowing them to dismiss things he deems important.

Obviously, the friendquest is primarily about Mirabelle's struggle with her aromanticism and asexuality. But there's an implicit undercurrent of gender there too. Mirabelle has never made a big change, not like Isabeau. She has never 'changed completely', by her words. And Siffrin distinctly finds this an odd thing to be worried by. Whatever culture he carries has no pressure to explore these avenues, it seems. Siffrin is able to help her by sharing their honest opinions, that he's never felt the need to change these things, and he's happy (allegedly). Why should she?

[Image: Mirabelle's friendquest text] Siffrin is not thinking particularly hard when he first does the friendquests, they are just being themselves. By positioning Siffrin as this unchanged yet confident object, they are in the perfect position to help Mirabelle by being in her almost exact position, both sexuality and transgender status (albeit, with the caveats of potential alloromanticism, and a they pronoun), that they become her ideal foil. (And in fact, the subtle differences between their positions in canon add to this, showing a display of Perceived Genuine Truth, rather than simple in-group camaraderie)

Whereas…

ISABEAU.

When Mal du pays speaks as Isabeau, it says the following;

"I don't want to know someone who won't even try to change, who luxuriates in things staying the exact same like you do."

I don't want to know someone - Shame of being known, that's Isabeau's insecurity. Reflected back at Siffrin, who has become the worst thing imaginable to each of their friends, in Siffrin's own mind. He absorbs their insecurities like a sponge and incorporates them into himself. Empathy turned ill.

Who luxuriates in things staying the exact same - Now THAT'S interesting. This is not Isabeau's insecurity, it's Siffrin's own. But also, it appears as if, Siffrin, whom to Mirabelle was unflappable in that not changing was alright, has internalised some of her worry. That it is MDP's Isabeau saying this, though, shows this is about Personal Change, perhaps even Specifically Gender and Self Image, rather than Mirabelle's spiritual side.

Isabeau and his distinct change in personality and gender, to become someone who he actually likes… Diametric to Siffrin, who has been stagnant for a long time, presumably as far as they can remember. It would seem to imply they have no recourse against this argument. Siffin becomes, in his mind, the opposite to Isabeau, a man he deeply admires the bravery of when told the story of his Change. These are Siffrin's words against themselves, that they consider themselves to have never even 'tried' whatever it is they think Change to be.

So. These are my main points vis a vis: Siffrin as a foil. This reading would posit that Siffrin's He/They status is, well, almost accidental? Which I would imagine befitting of them. They are, at the start of the game, still the mysterious rogue who never elaborates upon anything. They aren't going to be correcting a they/them from a teammate who is likely far more cautious about assumptions.

Notably, Mirabelle excludes Siffrin from the label "man" in the bathroom monologues… But as does Siffrin when in the prologue poem room. Though one needs remember, Siffrin only expresses these thoughts internally.

[Image: Bathroom conversation featuring Isabeau identified as the party's singular man]

[Image: Prologue!Siffrin expressing that they are not a man in very certain terms.]

While I do wonder what Mirabelle's knowledge (or lack thereof, potentially! Did Siffrin actually divulge this to her, once? Or is she making assumptions again?) is here, this is pretty clear evidence that Siffrin doesn't see themselves As A Man. (that, and Adrienne's word of god "fella" comments). I'm sure you can see where I'm going with this… but.

The thesis here is, that Siffrin may want to explore their gender further; doesn't feel connected to Masculinity, and yet, keeps that He pronoun around? Well, the Universe does not, in Siffrin's mind, really allow for personal wants and desires. If their friends start they/themming them, then cool. They like it, but never requested it, so it's the Universe's will. But, asking? Making decisions and requests and rocking the boat? That seems to scare Siffrin a lot. It seems to scare them so much it causes a lot of, if not all of, the conflict in the game. I feel like it's a fair deduction that this aversion to humour their own desires pervades a lot of their existence.

Plus, I think there's meat there. By only allowing Siffrin to reckon with any potential desires to change only after growing closer with the family, you get to explore things like "How does Mirabelle feel that even the person who said she didn't have to change is changing." and the slightly less potentially harrowing (OR MORE, IF YOU WANT IT TO BE? IDK. I'M NOT YOUR BOSS.) "Isa's continued changing allows Siffrin a space to explore it, maybe even just by proxy, or maybe by joining them."

But mostly, this section is about how Siffrin not having Changed Yet makes them delightfully strong narratively; allowing them to relate to Mirabelle, and get cold feet when comparing themselves to Isabeau. I love this as a narrative strengthener. It's very rare in media that we get to explore a nonbinary character's thoughts and insecurities on whether or not they're "doing enough" to be nonbinary. Even less so Aligned nonbinary people. And reading that alignment and insecurity through the lens of a nonbinary person not fully disconnected from their assigned gender at birth? It's a very compelling exploration of a very common and raw and yet underdiscussed feeling, much like the rest of ISAT. I think this is an extremely potent element should it be read this way, and is only strengthened when taking Siffrin's other themes into account.

Speaking of which.

2. SIFFRIN'S HABITS OF CLINGING TO 'KNOWN QUANTITIES', SCAPEGOATS, AND THEMES OF RACIAL IDENTITY INTERSECTING WITH GENDER IDENTITY.

HOLDING ON TO WHAT YOU KNOW. (OR KNOW THAT YOU DO NOT.)

I explained above many of my thoughts on the Universe Faith, and trying to keep these two sections separate was difficult, but needed to be done for the sake of clarity. But this section and the above are deeply intertwined.

Siffrin… Holds on to the things they know. They do not know much. But man do they fucking hold. And yet, paradoxically, they are also avoidant about it.

It is made clear in the text, to the point where I really don't feel the need to rehash it here, that Siffrin's disconnection from their homeland is incredibly painful, but that they consider that culture utterly and irreplaceably important to them. They cannot face it, it is too painful. They cannot let it go, it is too important.

Knowing what we know of the Island's irl inspirations (though, word of god, the exact location is not supposed to matter, one can infer it from the text (and I did! within reasonable proximity!)), Siffrin is of an indigenous peoples of some description, more than likely. And at the very least, Siffrin carries with them inherent biases and ignorances that show that Vaugarde's conceptions of things don't quite mesh with their own. Bowing to the Vaugardian way of things could very easily be seen as assimilation, in this way.*

And identity? Gender? Presentation? Role? All of that has a cultural element. There's no telling what specifics Siffrin has lost in that arena, and that's the problem. Neither do they. How paralysing, the feeling, to know that should you change yourself you risk unknowingly erasing another piece of home? I wouldn't blame them for locking it off. Keeping their old clothes, keeping what little they can remember of themselves… It doesn't seem to me a conducive or safe mental space to get experimental.

And the Universe makes for a perfect scapegoat. As referenced in the section above, a lot can be justified should you call it "The Universe's Will", because who's there to call you on it? Hardly anyone. Your divine right to Freeze A Place In Time; Your Deserved Punishment for Wanting to be Loved: All of it the Universe-- If you want it to be. And thusly, if the Universe wanted you to be a certain way, wouldn't you already be? Wouldn't it make you so? (Wouldn't it take away your body, that which makes you human? If that is what it thought of you?) So best to put it out of your mind. Wouldn't want to accidentally wish anything.

But as the game itself puts it, personified by The King, you cannot stay mired like this forever. As Loop themselves puts it, they can "get so fixated, sometimes." At some point they need to allow themselves to grow in whatever direction they need, because in the end, they need to live their life. They don't need to abandon their country, their culture, but they can't let it restrain them either.

(* MASSIVE CAVEAT: im white as fuck boyyy. i cant say shit. im like technically Of The Land im like 90% pictish or something ridiculous like that so my particular line has never moved anywhere but. this is notttt something i have input or insight on. this is all gleaned from reading and listening to indiginous perspectives from wherever they may be. i am simply trying to infer from what the game gives us without inserting my own feelings on the matter.)

3. SIFFRIN, LOOP, DE-PERSONING, DEHUMANISING, APATHY AND SURVIVAL.

Alright, here's some less heady and purely-thematic points to round things out. And where we'll also address the fucked up star being in the room; Loop.

My last couple of reading points are the most potentially-transfem to me. Or at least the ones that really hammer home, to me, a seeming lack of want to be masculine-aligned.

ANOTHER NOTE ON THE 'NOT A GUY' THING.

Obviously, there is the aforementioned "Not a man/not that you're a boy" thing. This is rather straightforward, but also still pretty ambiguous. You can be masc-aligned and still Not A Guy. But it does seem to be of note that being a guy very much does not seem to be a goal of Siffrin's. I would posit this in direct contrast to… Isabeau.

But not Isabeau's masculinity. I would instead hold it up against Isa's femininity.

ISAT, as a text, has its characters have genuinely different levels of security in their gender identity, and Isabeau, despite still having insecurities, seems super chill on the gender angle specifically! Their internal strife comes not from their 'not feeling like a man enough' or 'hating being a woman', but instead from their self perception as a friendless nerd! Something that seems to be only tangentially related to Isa's gender, really?

The big dumb bruiser thing is certainly aided by being a dude, but Isa still seems completely comfortable referring to themselves with feminine language, calling himself a "mother hen" (prologue) and having "the heart of a fair maiden" (cookie snack time). (However, they also take being excluded from Mira's girly book club as a surprised compliment, implying they weren't expected to be excluded, and find it affirming.) And even further so, Isa states they want to continue changing further and exploring their identity more, being rather blatant that they might lean back into femininity (and more importantly, let themselves be outwardly smart again), since they're starting to feel hurt by everyone assuming they ARE genuinely stupid.

[Image: Prologue Isa calling himself a mother hen]

And man, this is such a breath of fresh air vis a vis representation. I don't think I really need to explain that. A character who's gender identity is driven by chasing euphoria, even if it started out by trying to drive out misery. Isabeau's character is so damn good. But this essay isn't about him, so get back in the crate, boy.

... So here we have Isa, who is genuinely comfortable reclaiming things about their birth gender, and Mirabelle who loves her traditionally feminine traits to the point where she feels a little guilty that she isn't rejecting them to foster change. And then we have Siffrin… who seems to reject masculine language…? Hrm… (… And then we have The King. A Masculine Title. Someone who Siffrin increasingly sees themselves in and deeply, deeply dislikes this.)

APATHY AND SURVIVAL

It should be clear by now that I see Siffrin's core character as being driven by avoidance and survival. This seems to lead to a lot of apathy, brushing off emotions that are too intense or events and occurences that are too painful. (See: just absolutely everything with Bonnie)

It's all Siffrin really seems to be able to do to Survive. They've travelled, seemingly alone, for what would be around a decade by what the game says about the island's disappearance. They've lived alone on the road as a traveller in a country that so openly welcomes strangers that THE KING and his whole motives can happen. Siffrin is avoidant and refuses to acknowledge problems or strive for help and comfort.

So. That line about the dress. Let's unpack the line(s) about the dress.

THE DRESS LINE, AND THE WAY IT CHANGES BETWEEN PROLOGUE, ACT 2, AND ACT 3.

Good god where to start with this. Full disclosure, the first draft here was way more vague in how I approached this line because I remembered it (and another line, I'll get to it.) way more tame, but going and getting the screenshots..... Siffrin. Buddy. We gotta unpack this.

In act 2, we have "You haven't worn a dress in forever!". This is a neutral, if seemingly a little joyous statement. All we really glean from this is the information that Siffrin at some point, wore 'a' dress. No real inferences there. (Maybe you could say that the singular as opposed to plural makes it more likely that they borrowed/only owned One Dress rather than owned several? But that's a massive stretch...)

Then, act 3/4 shuffles this off into a more general "You wonder if you'll ever wear different clothes again." Which is a more despairing and distant statement. Considering Siffrin seems to travel with only the items they can carry, and owns sleep clothes... It's unclear how many changes of clothing they have. The party seems to consider the cloak a pretty permanent fixture, anyhow. But this line doesn't really say much aside from 'oh god i'm losing myself to the time loop malaise'

NOW THE PROLOGUE. Prologue Sif, buddy, pal, Loop, if I'm allowed to call you that....

Thousands of loops in. We are wistful for specifically dresses. You've forgotten almost everything. You dream about someday seeing the sun again. To be anywhere but here. You want to wear a dress again.

I. Kind of do not know what to do here but point at it. Like I said, my first draft had me half-remembering the progression of this line and as such I was far more vague on what I thought it could imply. Instead this is just straight up yearning.

To, try and segue back to what I had initially written, we'll pick up here...

Siffrin expresses a want to wear other clothes, explore changing their body... But instead, they wear a ratty old form-covering cloak that keeps them warm and safe and is a last reminder of home. They are shapeless, formless, hiding their face under the brim of a wide hat. They do not voice their desire to wear a dress aloud. They once again, keep a desire to themselves, because they do not allow themselves to want publicly. Apathy is safer. Apathy and quiet means you do not risk retribution or hurt.

While I do not think the above is exclusively a transfeminine feeling, it really, really reads like one when taken part and parcel with assuming Siffrin has denied themselves prior exploration.

... And here I have to break my first draft again. I was being, once again, restrained in my reading when writing this. Because I had convinced myself I had maybe straight up imagined one of the lines I was basing my reads on, because I couldn't find it. Because it was a line that read so strikingly desolate to me that my brain had slotted it in during Act Five, meaning when I went looking for it neither me nor my friends could find it.

It's in acts 3 and 4. It's a line I already brought up.

"You're thinking about crafting your body. You seem to have all the time in the world now."

good fucking christ. sorry to break the academic tone but Jimminy Fucking Willikers, Siffrin. What's with that bit. The resignation and despair and guilty comfort we know the timeloop brings them, bleeding into the gender.

This. *taps my finger harshly on my desk* THIS, this feels transfem. this feels so wildly transfem to me. The knowledge that they've never changed before this line lends. The admission that they've been holding back because it's 'too much work'. I spent a lot of time during the game relating Siffrin not to myself but to my friends.

If I'm honest, really, truly, I'm not all too often in Siffrin's shoes. I'm the stable one, of my group. I'm the rock people ground themselves on. And I see so much hesitance, all the time. Denial of joy because what if it's taken away, again? Or futilely out of reach? It hurts more to try, and to fail, than to never try at all.

I wanted to shake Siffrin by the shoulders this whole game. Grit teeth beg them to accept help because for fuck's sake people are clearly offering it get it through your skull--

*coughs* Ah. Ahem. Right. The uh, academic tone.

Right. What I mean to say is, this read as transfem to me because of the way it relates to real-world experiences of denial. And this combo of the Dress line, and the progression of the Meat Prison line, the constant evidence of never having strived for what they want, and that insistance that you're not a man, seem to dislike being percieved as a man, but not being able to shed the outward signifiers?

Individually, yes, these points can be read in different ways. The total opposite ways, even, I'm sure! But as a gestalt it feels really, really transfem. Even if yeah, sure Vaugarde is a magical setting where being transgender is accepted, and this hesitance, specifically, around gender, might not 'make sense' in 'the lore'...

Diegesis isn't everything. Sometimes something that reflects a real-world feeling is important, even if it doesn't 'mesh' with 'the lore' of the world.

TANGENT: DIEGESIS AND READING INTO NON-REAL-WORLD-SETTINGS.

This is a Watsonian vs Doylist spectre that's been haunting this whole argument. In-universe (Watsonian), Vaugarde has seemingly no discrimination between genders, sexualities, and a lackadaisical approach to most things in the arena. Reading our own patriarchal/heterosexual/amanonormative/perisexist society unto it does not make sense, not in this context.

In the real world, however (Doylist), ISAT is a text made in our prejudiced society. A text that is distinctly flavoured by those bigotries which it is kicking back against. Because of this, it is not the whole story to simply read the text while discarding our real-world-informed inferences. Isabeau is a big example of this. While perfectly accepted in Vaugarde, he is very obviously a revolutionary character in our real-world space! He has so much to say, specifically BECAUSE things about him that are not readily accepted here, are accepted there! Same with Mira's struggles, and yes, Siffrin's too.

ISAT was written with the knowledge of how it would play against our real world in mind, we know this, clearly, from many an interview. This is most present in how it engages with asexuality and aromanticism (and immigrant identity), but make no mistake, it influences the Whole Text.

Ergo, just because I view certain writing choices here in the context of Our Real World Perspectives On Gender and not Vaugarde's In-Universe Perspectives, it does not make them an invalid read. They are simply a Doylist read.

There's been an admittedly loosey-goosey lack of delineation here between things I'm reading with either lens, because for the most part all of these points have been a vague synthesis of both that I can't quite decouple. Unprofessional, I know, but I'll admit to not having written my thoughts down like this in a good long while. Usually I just hash this out verbally over discord voice to a small number of weirdo literature and classics student friends who are willing to humour me. I'm an arts student too, but animation hardly required I actually write an essay to a literature degree's standard. Lol.

DE-PERSONING. AND LOOP. OH JESUS . LOOP .

Siffrin de-persons themselves a lot. I say de-person rather than dehumanise because, well, there's a subtle difference there. Siffrin doesn't see themselves as vermin or an animal or an object, but they do seem to see themselves as lesser, not requiring the respect they grant others. They aren't, you know, a 'real person'.

People get to have things like thoughts and wants and identities. Siffrin is, at best, Just Siffrin. They have what they have and they don't ask for more and they don't (CAN'T) feel too strongly on what they do have!

When Loop at first offers their pronouns they offer the Royal 'We'. This is at least a little bit, a joke. A nudge toward their true identity, a potential dig at themselves for becoming so understanding of The King. Mostly though, a joke on the first thing…. and a sign that they do not see themselves as a separate entity to the Siffrin stood before them.

When Siffrin rejects this, they settle for they/them. Loop drops the he/him, presumably partially to cover their tracks, but… They just showed their hand with the 'Royal We', and if you wanted to go even further with this, there's no way for us to know whether Loop is treating this pronoun as singular or not. They presumably are, but it is still a potentially plural pronoun.

Loop… Clearly does not see themselves as a person. It's, I would say, a completely reasonable assumption that the form they have taken reflects implicit feelings toward themselves as less than a person, an actor, a monster, a tool, a means to an end. They are rendered inhuman by The Universe, frivolous distractions removed. No mouth, inventory and clothes confiscated, nothing between the legs. Formed roughly in the shape of a person to allow them to do their only job: Help.

Loop's body does not make logical sense, given their continued ability to sleep, dream and their continued habit of deep breaths to self-soothe. It would seem to me, it was made in the image it was, with only the tools it needed to Help Siffrin. Why obfuscate their identity? Because giving the game away too early would likely make them lose hope. Why so deeply, thoroughly star themed? An instant signal, that even if a stranger, they are an ally. They are home.

[Image: Loop saying that they take naps and dream, and evidence of Loop habitually attempting to breathe in the twohats lose-to-loop ending]

And they… Degender themselves. No longer with any bodily signifiers of masculinity, and cruelly disallowed the ability to hide themselves beneath fabric, they are null. The spoiler Q&A (paratext, as it were) states that:

Q. Is Loop: 1. Actually comfortable with both he and they, but only gave the one pronoun to emphasize the distance? 2. Only using they/them because a large life event led to a shift in identity/ how they’d like to be perceived? or 3. time lops stole he from they they :( A. Mostly that first one. But all three of those reasons have a bit of truth to them.

While the 'mostly the first one' comment does imply that Loop would not baulk at being he/him'd (similar to how Siffrin does not), the other reasons, especially the second, having 'a bit of truth' does lend credence to this reading. That Loop's self-perception has shifted, and what I posit, is that this shift is in tandem with a disconnection with humanity. Due, presumably, to the dehumanising experience of the timeloop.

Loop has no biology to speak of, and yet they remain blind in one eye. I take this as an implication that they considered this so core to themselves, to who they could remember being, that it stayed. Even if they had forgotten their own face, trapped in a part of the house with no mirrors, they knew they couldn't see. They kept this, and yet seemingly they, or The Universe, or both of them in tandem, discarded all else.

This isn't like…. Healthy behaviour. That is for certain. But it is interesting that Siffrin and Loop seem to hold on to their masculinity by a thread, and that Loop, when actually given the excuse to make a choice, chooses the Neutral Option. Siffrin might de-person themselves, but Loop, Loop is absolutely dehumanising themselves. From Loop's own mouth (or lack thereof) do they call themselves a Corpse. That's… pretty damn bad.

TANGENT 2: POTENTIAL IMPLICATIONS OF THE JAPANESE TRANSLATION.

Did somebody say 'distance'? Yeah turns out that has some more potential evidence. In the form of First Person Pronouns. See, English, with its third person only pronouns relies on others to gender you. Japanese, you get to gender yourself. And Siffrin specifically has an interesting discrepancy in the way he refers to himself.

(DISCLAIMER: I . DO NOT KNOW MUCH ABOUT JAPANESE. THIS IS SECOND-HAND KNOWLEDGE. SOURCED FROM THIS TUMBLR POST AND OTHER QUICK SKIMS OF WIKIPEDIA)

Loop and Siffrin use the same, very neutral "mostly male but could go either way" pronoun of 僕 boku. Safe, soft friendly pronoun. Used by people on the younger side of adulthood, not so impolite that you can't use it in a formal setting. Such a neutral all-rounder that female singers in japan tend to use boku in their songs to relate to the audience with quiet confidence.

And in their internal monologue? Siffrin uses a completely different pronoun. In his head, for himself, he uses 自分 jibun. Now, this may be an artefact of the monologue's english second-person "You", since jibun can also be used to mean a very neutral "self". A "myself/herself/himself" type 'self'. But when used as a first person pronoun, it has a connotation of being… distant, introspective. Which is… a fascinating implication, if that was the intent.

But I don't know anything about japanese so ! If I'm off the mark, discard this!

LOOP, PART 2: MAYBE NOT A GREAT STATE TO BE IN.

While Siffrin I can comfortably argue that they can like, keep their current gender presentation, whatever you may perceive it to be, once the game is over, Loop, I cannot.

Siffrin's potential issues with their identity are ones that honestly feel like they would best be explored with gentle refinement and searching. They don't need to violently seperate themselves from what they are now, far from it, in fact. They need to learn to grow comfortable in their own skin, and with the people they love. To become open and trusting, with an open mind to where it may lead.

Loop has already lost this battle. They don't get to refine anymore, just pick up the pieces. While I don't necessarily think radical change is Good for Loop, I think they may Need It. For them, resting will probably become stagnation (see: napping all day under the tree, resigned, really, to the idea they're stuck there forever.), they need a shake-up in order to re-find their feet. Even if they end up right back where they started, they still need to do the actual painful process of soul-searching first.

Problem is, they're still rather avoidant. So it basically becomes a question of getting them into a situation where this exploration is forced upon them. At which point, that's a whole new plotline. This becomes fanfiction. Hence, why while I think Transfem-Egg Loop is a Valid Read when extrapolated from Siffrin… I must concede any actual adventures into them acting upon that as headcanon territory. I just do not know how you would get them there without making a whole new Thing, at which point it stops being Just A Read of the text haha. It doesn't help that Loop and Siffrin (grudgekeepers supreme) both have reason to spite the Change God after who was phone.

As for whether this egg-read reflects directly back on to Siffrin? Maybe! They are the same person. But I think that, especially with Vaugarde's lax views, and their actual differences (Loop's general worse mania // Siffrin's incentive to stay a reminder to themselves and Loop of their country) means they could easily go two different routes, along the road to becoming their own distinct individuals. (And in all honesty, growing into their differences is probably the more healthy option in the long run if you're keeping Loop around? But again, we are going so far into the future here this is no longer a read. And I am not here to dispense baseless headcanons without massive disclaimer, so…)

Tl;Dr:

Siffrin's Survival-Apathy and hesitance to change feels really thematic to their being 'what's left' of their homeland

They seem unsettled by the flippancy of the Change Religion at times, clinging to the familiar to cope with the trauma of displacement.

Mal du pays speaks of them that they have not 'tried' to change, showing an insecurity there, even outside of the literal stagnance of the loops.

They are self assured to Mira that one does not have to change, in a very genuinely personal impulsive statement.

They and others exclude themselves from being "A Man", but Siffrin keeps desires to explore their expression to themselves.

The Universe belief, seemingly in Siffrin's view of it, disincentivises Free Will and Wants very heavily. It is not hard to assume they extend this to all elements of their life.

They have self-admittedly never pursued tangible change, likely due to this aversion to choice. Despite this, they express interest in changing, seeming nonplussed with their body, and house at least some desire for more traditionally feminine expression.

Oh Good God. Loop Sure Does Not Treat Themselves Like A Person. Why Does That Come With A Pronoun Change? What Does That Mean?

But most of all:

It makes them such a fascinating foil and lens to Change and characters who believe in it! It makes them eerily similar to The King! It opens up such fascinating debate between characters like themselves and Mirabelle, Isabeau and Loop, on whether or not they want to change in future, or if it truly is okay to never radically change yourself! What genuinely fertile ground for dialogues. And man if I'm not heavily drawn towards dialogues.

(End of essay! Congratulations for making it the whole way! 🎉 I hope this nightmarish deep dive helps with understanding some of the ways I've been writing Siffrin and Loop too. Since while I've not ever focused on the gender side of it (and probably won't in comic form) this does pervade my view of the two, since it would be impossible for it to Not. As you can see, I do think it is pretty relevant to both their themes.)

(Now for some bonus material)

ADDENDUMS:

PERSONAL BIAS NOTE:

Not included in this analysis since this is more a Pet Theme of my own (usually kept quarantined to the realms of my OCs), but something else I see in Siffrin is a reflection of the Dude Issue(tm) of patriarchal irl society disincentivisng Dudes(tm) from ever fucking introspecting ever.

I'm curious about nonbinary/trans characters who have no idea they’re nonbinary/trans because they’ve been disincentivised from thinking/doubting their identity due to societal power structures or simply tradition. I dig around the themes of “a lot of guys are trapped in a societal prison without ever knowing and it makes them miserable but they can’t escape because they don’t even see the cage” like, a lot, in my personal work. It intrigues me. So bleh, cards on the table there. That mode of interacting with nb/trans characters is one I'm inclined to.

This kinda goes hand in hand with the watsonian vs doylist situation i took an aside to mention. But it is so far along the doylist side that I didn't want to include it, since it is a little too assumptive of the text for my comfort. I don't think the game necessarily has much commentary on this specific Societal Bind. But if it does, then hey, there's my thoughts on it.

STRAY SIDE NOTES AND HEADCANONS ABOUT OTHER CHARACTERS (AS A TREAT FOR GETTING THIS FAR):

MID-GAME OBSERVATION ABOUT BONNIE AND ODILE THAT I NEVER WENT BACK TO VERIFY:

I got the impression that Bonnie heavily favours they/them pronouns for Siffrin, and Odile he/him, as a bit of presumed character voice. I don't know that I am right, literally at all, in that observation, because it very well could've been confirmation bias.

BUT! It did give me the impression that one of the things Bonnie was idolising about Siffrin was a degree of "wow!! older person with my gender!! wow!!", which is just like, cute. I like it even if I don't have any solid evidence.

ODILE, WHAT'S HER DEAL?:

Oh she stays just as mysterious as she intends to be, huh? Even with her comments in the Changing Room alluding to knowing things about underground changing operations, you can't draw much of a conclusion about her. I appreciate verily that she's word-of-god unlabelled and also poly. That shit's great. Woman who has stopped drawing lines or caring what she's up against. Nice characterisation flavour I think.

Anyway, I do think that transfem Odile is a really, really nice take. I have no evidence in either direction for her in either direction, and her being a woman of any description makes her relationship with her absent mother something interesting to chew on, but the idea that she pursued womanhood intentionally lends an interesting texture. I've not much to say, but it's a thread to pull on. Makes you wonder what other female role models she had in her life instead. Anyway she's mysterious as fuck I can't extrapolate Jack nor Squat. Shrug! I'm also made curious by the idea of her potentially moving away from womanhood as she feels the weight of her history lifted. This goes either way, really. Diagnosis: mysterious.

HEADCANON NOTE: INTERSEX SIFFRIN

I don't have any in-text support for this so this entire thing is an unbased headcanon to me. but i DO like it because 1. fun and 2. potential for more thematic exploration

haha gotcha its fuckin themes again. its always themes with me.

But yeah. Not much to say here besides drawing a parallel (that I believe I've seen drawn elsewhere in the fandom already?) between ISAT's comments on how a society that values change would view Aroace identities, and how Mira feels about not wanting to change with the real world experiences of Intersex people having alteration and conformity forced upon them, saying the Change Belief would likely be just as bad for them as it is for aroace people.

So, adding it to Siffrin's situation further drags them into the opposition-to-change foil role. Which like I said, think has a lot to explore.

HEADCANON NOTE: A POTENTIAL METHOD FOR GETTING LOOP OUT OF THEIR GOD DAMNED COMFORT ZONE

I think utilising Loop's contrarianism is an effective and funny way to get them to explore their gender. I personally think running with them trying to hide their identity from the party is a hilarious way to do it. Having them try to position themselves in direct opposition to Siffrin to "throw the party off their trail" (not that i think they really need to?), going full feminine-revealing-clothing because it's NOT what a Siffrin would do and accidentally growing accustomed to it. Funny to me. Especially when the party eventually do find out who they are and go . "????? what was the girl stuff about ??? is that something you wanna do now ???".

[Isabeau] "Ohhhh it was a bit! Haha you really are Sif, still a jokester!" [Loop] "HAHA YEAH . JOKES. LOVE THOSE. LOVE TO MAKE JOKES!" [Isabeau] "Yep! Anyway. Tell me if you need anything!"

Bonus bonus:

[Siffrin] "Okay, so, if you're a girl. Does this reflect on like… me?" [Loop] "No doubles. Get your own gender, parasite~!"

[nino-rox]

ADDICTED | BYEON WOO SEOK X MALE READER | M.A

Content Warning : Sexual themes, Top Wooseok and Bottom Male Reader, Angst, Mature, Use of Drugs (Marijuana), Trigger Warning - emotional /mental abuse, college AU.

Disclaimer : This is a Fan-fiction story written for entertainment purposes only, no part of the story implies or affirms anything regarding real world events or individuals. Please be of the appropriate age ( i.e, Adult as per your country’s stipulations and regulations) before interacting with this post

I woke up feeling cold and lonely in our bed.

When I opened my eyes and saw the empty side of the bed where Woo Seok was supposed to be sleeping I remembered last night and how he just left.

I turned to the side and stared at the empty space where his face would usually rest. It felt so lonely, I almost wanted to cry. I reached over to his side of the bed and touched his pillow, hugging it to my chest and trying to catch any last lingering scent of him.

The scent of him comforted me as I sat in silence for a while, hugging his pillow close.

After a while I got out of bed, I felt so drained, both mentally and physically.

I had hoped last night was just a dream. That maybe he was still here somewhere.

I walked into the kitchen, hoping he'd be there with breakfast and his charming smile. I hoped he would greet me with his arms wide open and tell me he was sorry and that everything was going to be okay. But there was no one in the kitchen. Just an empty table and a lonely chair.

It made me sad. I thought we were finally getting better. That maybe things were looking up for us. We had been fighting a lot lately and things between us had been really rocky. Last night was the last straw for me. I had decided when he get’s back….if…. He gets back…. I need a break.

We hadn't gone on a proper date in months. It seemed like all he wanted to do was stay home, sit on the couch and drink. I tried talking to him about it but he kept avoiding it. I tried bringing up the topic, but every time we would end up in another fight.

We were fighting over such small things lately, things that never used to be a problem, over a towel on the bed, over lights, food, sex, everything.

I couldn’t take it anymore, it felt like we were falling apart and no matter what I did he wouldn't talk to me, he was shutting me out and I was sick of it.

"Why are you making a big deal out of this? Why don't you go out with your stupid friends!" He yelled.

"Because I want to spend time with you!"

“ I can’t with you right now. I need a fucking break. I am so sick and tired of this! Just go, please! I need some fucking air. I am sick of being in this house, with you, all day long. I need to clear my mind. Please just leave me alone." He said and walked away.

"Wait, Wooseok." I ran after him, grabbing him by the arm and turning him around to face me.

"I don't want to be in this house alone right now, if you walk out right now, I WILL hold it against you…I mean it."

He looked at me and for a second I saw a glimpse of the old him. My sweet and kind Woo. He was there. Behind those dark eyes, I saw the same man that I fell in love with. The man that brought me coffee in the morning, and made me laugh so hard, I could barely breathe. Always hung out with me in every class break. The man that always asked how my day was and would bring me a single flower just because. He was there, I knew it.

But as soon as the glimmer came, it disappeared and all that was left was anger and darkness.

"Let go of me."

"NO, Woo Seok, I will NOT let go. Please, talk to me, what's wrong, what is bothering you?"

"You. You are bothering me." He said and snatched his arm from my grasp, walking out and slamming the door behind him.

I was snapped back to reality, realizing that the last words we had exchanged were hateful ones.

I looked down at my hands, the hands that were holding him, and realized I was still clutching his pillow.

I sighed, dropping the pillow to the floor, getting into the bathroom for a shower.

I had to stop thinking about it. It was all in the past, and right now I had a day off from school and no plans...not any more … at least.

I needed to distract myself, I quickly showered, putting on my favorite outfit, the one that I had picked for the date that wasn't going to happen and headed out the door. If he didn’t wanna go to the beach … FINE, I can go.

The sun was setting as I got to the beach, there were a lot of people…and couples… enjoying the weather and the ocean view. It was a beautiful place. The waves crashed onto the shore and the sound was like music to my ears. It calmed me, and made me feel free and happy and since this day is such a bust, I might as well try and enjoy this by getting high.

I walked around a little as the sky grew slightly darker, finding a good spot, laying my towel on the sand, putting my bag and stuff next to me, before lighting up. I was taking in the scenery, the sky was growing darker and the beach was almost empty, most people were leaving, and as the smoke was leaving my lungs, I was already feeling lighter and happier excited about the high to come which would make me forget about all the drama - it was also kinda cold, pretty cold.

As I took another large drag from the joint, I felt the high starting, I was more “aware” of myself and my surroundings, I felt at ease, and it felt like i had let out a breath i dint know i was holding in. Suddenly the stress of the situation began to reduce as my body felt lighter, more fluid and ‘fun’.

I was lost in the sensations of the high, I put on some music, took off my t-shirt and laid down, shut my eyes for a moment, getting comfy in my plush soft blanket.

Suddenly I heard a chuckle, a chuckle full of snark.

"Well, that's certainly a sight, I guess your dates are more fun without me"

I opened my eyes, and was met with his.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" I mumbled closing my eyes immediately, not wanting to accept that this was happening.

"Nice way to greet your boyfriend" he replied, and snatched the joint from my hand, taking a long drag.

"You can't just show up here like that, we're supposed to be taking a break, remember? You didn't want me, you made that very clear. I don't have to put up with this, fuck off. Go back to whatever hole you crawled out of"

"Aww Ouchie. That hurt." He said tauntingly, and then continued, "you look really good in those shorts, you know"

"Fuck off, Wooseok" I replied, sitting up and reaching for the joint, which he immediately raised above his head, out of reach from my height, as he chuckled.

His playful and casual mood was starting to throw me into a rage, why was he acting like nothing was wrong? After everything he said? Why was he now fucking with your high when you weren’t even dating anymore?

"You can't just leave and come back, whenever the fuck you feel like it."

"Watch me" He replied, taking another drag, and smiling.

"What's gotten into you? Are you drunk or something?"

"No" He laughed and handed the joint back to you - you didn’t accept it from him.

"Why are you acting like nothing's wrong, like you didn't walk out last night? Like you didn't tell me, and I quote "I am sick and tired of you"

"Oh come on, don't be a bitch!"

"Don't call me a bitch, Wooseok."

“You taking a hit or no?? It’s getting wasted over here. "

"Are you actually fucking with me right now???"

"Okay fine…Don't want it, you don't get it.." He said taking a massive drag and putting out the joint with his foot.

I stood up angrily and yelled, "Are you crazy?! That was a perfectly good joint, you just wasted it!!"

Suddenly Wooseok roughly grabbed my waist pulling me closer as he harshly held my face with one hand keeping my mouth open - he immediately pressed his lips onto mine, shotgunning his last massive drag into my mouth.

One was breathing out pushing the smoke, while the other was taking it all in.

His lips were on mine, his tongue was inside of me. It was intense. I hated that I loved it.

The kiss felt heavy and intoxicating, Wooseok slowly pushing his body’s weight onto you, both getting on our knees, lips still intact.

Wooseok slowly pulled away from me and looked at me, his gaze was hungry.

He was so beautiful, the sunset illuminating his face, and his eyes. I loved his eyes, and his smile, and the way he looked at me.

My eyes were fixed on his as I tried to catch my breath, my mind feeling shocked, angry and very much seduced at the same time.

“Tell me that wasn’t a better hit than the joint,” He whispered into my ear, his breath warm and seductive as he smirked, his gaze locked with mine, not breaking eye contact for a second. I had missed his voice, and the way his lips brushed against my skin as he spoke. I missed the way he was looking at me, and how his touch set my entire body on fire. I missed him.

I tried to say something but the words wouldn't come out.

Loosening his grip on my face he slowly moved his hand down to my hip, gripping it, and slowly pushing his leg between my thighs, as he pushed me onto my back.

He towered over me - "Now, where were we?" He whispered again, his lips grazing mine and his breath hitting my face.

His lips were so close, it was driving me crazy. I didn't know if I should push him away or pull him closer, but what about everything he said? Did I forgive him just like that? Was I really this easy?

He leaned down and kissed me, softly at first, but quickly grew more heated and passionate, his tongue exploring my mouth. His hands roaming all over my body, pulling my hips closer, pushing his knee against my crotch.

My brain was screaming at me to push him off, but my body was betraying me, wanting his touch, and craving more - addicted - addicted to him.

He slowly started kissing down my neck, his hands caressing my chest, his thumb brushing against my nipple, making me moan. He smiled and started kissing my neck, sucking hard, biting me, making me whimper and moan.

My head was spinning, it was all too much, and not enough at the same time. At some point I just had a silent stream of tears, running down my cheeks as the emotions hit me.

"I missed this so much" Wooseok whispered, kissing his way down my chest, and biting and licking my nipples.

"So much."

- I didn’t react

"Please, let's go home, okay? Come on."

- No response

"Y/N, come on. Let's go home."

"Look, I'm sorry okay? Can we please go home and talk about this?"

"No, Wooseok, you had your chance, you said it yourself, I bother you, remember? You don't need to pretend like everything is okay."

"Baby, please. Don't be like that. I didn't mean it."

"Yes you did."

"No, baby, please, it’s getting dark can we just talk inside.”

“ baby, I just wanna go home, and talk. It's so cold, and it's getting late."

- I turned around laying on my other side, my back facing him.

He sighed and then got up, packing our things, and putting everything back into my bag.

He walked over, and reached out his hand for me.

"Let's go, it's getting late.”

-I refused his hand and got up on my own, brushing off the sand.

"Come on, let's go" He said again, his voice impatient, as he grabbed my wrist and tried to drag me along.

"Stop it!" I protested, but he was still dragging me.

"LET GO OF ME!"

- I yelled, and pulled my arm away from him.

He turned to look at me, a hint of anger flashing in his eyes.

"What the fuck is your problem?" He yelled.

"You're my problem. You keep hurting me and then acting like nothing's wrong!”

"It's not like you never hurt me!,” he shot back.

"When? When did I ever do that to you?"

"You didn’t even run behind me in the morning when I said we needed a Break, you didn’t even care! You couldn’t care less about fighting for this relationship!."

"OFCOURSE I CARE! Maybe I would've chased you if you didn't leave after yelling at me and telling me to leave you alone!, and as for FIGHTING for the relationship, ALL I HAVE DONE is fight for it! - Chase after you ??? For What ???? You and I NEVER make it fucking work, has anything we’ve had for so long even barely qualify as a relationship?,” I snapped back in rage, only realising what I had just said after his expression fell dark and cold. Before I could Tell him I would never mean that -

"JUST WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT Y/N” He shouted at me, his voice was harsh and his eyes were dark and cold, there was no trace of the Wooseok I had just been kissing.

I didn't respond, my heart was beating fast, and I felt like I couldn't breathe.

"WELL ?" He shouted again, stepping closer to me.

"W-what?"

"What do you want from me, hm? What can I possibly do to fix this? You are always complaining, about something, and nothing I ever do is good enough for you, it's never enough, and you're always mad at me, what the hell do you want from me?!

“ I JUST WANT YOU, OKAY !! I WANT YOUR LOVE AND ATTENTION AND PRESENCE I WANT YOU TO HOLD ME I WANT YOU TO BE THERE! “

I paused for a second and then continued, my voice cracking. - "And you weren't. You aren’t.

It was like I could see the person I love crumble, his expression changed and I saw his eyes start to water.

"Will you give me.." he hesitated for a moment, and then continued, his voice shaking.

"will you give me another chance?, Please."

- The last word came out almost like a whisper.

I didn't say anything. My eyes were filled with tears.

He stepped closer to me, his eyes fixed on mine.

"Please" He whispered.

"Just one more chance. Please."

-I still didn't say anything.

"Please, Baby."

-I nodded.

"Say it, say you'll give me another chance."

-He pleaded, his voice barely audible.

"I will"

-His expression changed.

-His eyes lit up as a smile spread across his face, tears still streaming.

"Thank you" He said, before wrapping his arms around my waist and burying his face in my shoulder.

I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, holding him tightly, my face pressed against his neck.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, Y/N" He said, his voice shaking.

"it's… okay"

"no it's not. I was such an asshole to you. I'm so sorry"

"It's okay.”

"No, It's not. You don't deserve that. You deserve so much better than me. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me. And I've been such an asshole."

"You have"

-He looked up at me, his eyes watery, and his expression full of regret.

"I'm sorry, Baby. I'm so sorry" He repeated.

-He hugged me tightly, his arms wrapped around my waist strongly, almost as if they were desperate to be embraced.

"I'm sorry too"

"you don't have to apologise, none of this was your fault. It was all mine. I fucked up." - “Let me make it up to you at home?” he asked smirking and grinning like an idiot while crying, which was honestly kinda cute.

"Okay, you can try, and the “I’m sorry sex” better be Earth Shattering,” - I added on, pouting…. as our lips collided.

PART 1 COMPLETE {Please Request For PART 2}

Author’s Note: Hey Everyone, This story was based on an anonymous request. This is the first time I’ve written such an argument scene in an informal/ non-academic way, so I really hope you guys like it. Please leave any feedback !!! It is always greatly appreciated. P.S - STORY IS NOT PROOF READ.

[halfvalid]

Hey! Since your requests are open, may I request opla!Zoro x reader (established relationship) where the reader has a lot of self doubt (not only in their looks, but their abilities and their place in the crew) since it’s, unfortunately, been shoved done their throat by pretty much eveyone they knew, even their parents, that they would never be good enough? Maybe Zoro figures out that they have sort of been spiralling lately and they have a talk about the readers past and the problems they’re facing and he comforts them? Maybe it ends sort of spicy or turns out full on spicy, if you’re comfortable with that!

daybreak

ABOUT

alternate title: some fluffy established relationship hurt/comfort to save my soul

rating: teen & up

characters: live action!roronoa zoro | fem!reader

pairing: live action!roronoa zoro x fem!reader

word count: 2.9k (short; sorry!)

description: zoro notices you've been seeming off recently, and you confide in him your insecure feelings of self-worth. he comforts you.

tags: strawhat!reader, established relationship, fluff, emotional hurt/comfort, kissing, no use of ‘y/n’, soft zoro, ridiculously stupidly absolutely horrifyingly fluffy. 

author’s note: thank you so much for the very lovely request! i hope i did your prompt justice; i ended up not writing any spice at the end (just slightly suggestive) since i didn't think it fit the story but i hope you like it anyway ^^

it feels slightly ooc, but i also wrote it in the span of two hours at 1:00 am so can you really blame me. 

It was morning on the Going Merry, and you were cleaning up the wreckage that had been scattered along the deck in your last battle. The crew had gone up against some other pirates; it’d been late at night, and the attack had come suddenly, what you’d thought would be a peaceful docking turning combative quickly. 

You barely remembered the fight. One moment, the warning bell had sounded, and the next Zoro was rolling out of bed beside you, grabbing his swords and darting out of your bedroom before you could even register what was happening. The fight had gone in the Straw Hats’ favor, thankfully; Zoro, Luffy, and Sanji had fended off most of the threat, and you were back on the open sea, safe from enemies for at least a little while now. 

You let out a sigh as you swept shattered glass into a dustpan, shaking out the collected trash into a nearby empty barrel. None of the men usually bothered to start cleaning up—typical—so you’d pulled yourself out of bed as early as possible to get the ship looking a little more like normal. 

Zoro had left some corpses on the deck for you to deal with, and you’d had to toss them overboard, a grimace tugging at your lips as blood stained the white of your blouse. No matter. You’d finished sweeping, at least; all you had left to do was mop, right as everyone else was waking up. 

You filled a bucket with warm water and soap, and were just grabbing the mop from the closet when you heard footsteps. You glanced up, surprised to see Zoro heading towards you, one hand grasped loosely around his sword handle as always. “You’re up early,” he said, casual as ever. “Woke up and you were gone.” 

“Figured I should get a head start on cleaning,” you answered quickly, not meeting Zoro’s eyes as you dunked the mop into the bucket. His brows creased as he watched you start mopping, pushing the handle along the deck to wipe it clear of bloodstains. 

“How long have you been doing this?” Zoro asked, after a few seconds of delayed silence. You shrugged, dunking your mop again before going for another few swipes. “We can help clean too, you know.” 

“It’s the least I can do,” you protested. You moved past him, trying very hard not to meet his eyes—but Zoro didn’t let you pass, one hand going out to grab the mop rod and stopping you in your tracks. “What?” 

“What do you mean, least you could do?” Zoro asked blankly. 

“I mean—” you shrugged, muscles limp like your entire body was sagging you down. “You and the others were the ones to deal with the pirates, so I figured I could at least—”

Zoro still looked confused, brows pulled together, forehead taut with a frown. “I distinctly recall you throwing a pirate twice your size overboard. Unless I was imagining things.” 

You sighed. “Not what I meant.” You tried to push past Zoro again, but he didn’t let you, hand still tightly grasped around your mop handle. 

“Okay, what did you mean, then?” 

“Nothing. Will you just let me finish cleaning so there aren't blood stains all over Luffy’s ship?” You sighed again, even as you attempted to keep the sound inside—but you couldn’t help it. It was like there was an anchor stuck inside of you, pulling everything from your feelings to your body down, the weight of gravity tugging at your features. 

“Luffy’s ship?” 

You shrugged. “The Straw Hats’ ship. Whatever.” 

“Our ship,” Zoro said. There was a certain twinge of something in his words; still blankness, but laced with a dawning realization that you weren’t sure you liked. “You’re upset.” 

“Nope.” This time you really did manage to get free of Zoro’s grasp, yanking your mop out of his grip and starting back on cleaning the deck. The acrid smell of iron hit your nose as you scrubbed the dried blood off—you’d have to go back in later with a sponge to get all the cracks and crevices, but for now this would be okay. 

Zoro followed you, unceasing with his interrogation. “Yes, you are. I know when you’re upset, and you’re upset. What happened.” It was more of a statement than a question—Zoro didn’t often doubt himself, really, which was one of the many things that’d helped make you stumble into falling for him. “Was it about last night? You know the cook's just making fun when he keeps a counter, right? It doesn’t matter if he brought two or five more men down than you.” 

“It’s not about that,” you insisted. 

“So you admit you are upset.” 

You groaned, finally turning to look Zoro in the eye. He’d stopped walking, the dawning sun glinting hazey gold onto his skin in the early hour. There was still an overcast of blue from the night in the sky, and it made the heavens look ethereal, watery and glittering. 

“Come on,” he urged. “Just tell me what’s wrong.” 

“It’s really nothing you need to be concerned about,” you attempted, but your voice was weak now. Zoro stepped closer to you, gently pulling the mop out of your hands. Your fingers let go easily. “It’s silly.” 

Zoro gave you a look. “Out with it.” 

“I don’t know, I just—” your fingers clenched, like your hand was trying to find something to do now that Zoro had rid you of your mop. “Comparatively I just don’t do much. So I want to help out as much as possible.” 

“Who said you don’t do much?” 

“What?” 

“I don’t think I need to repeat myself,” Zoro said. He let the mop fall to the ground, arms crossing over his chest as he watched you. “Who said you don’t do much?”

“I mean, nobody. It’s just true.” You shrugged, distinctly uncomfortable with the way Zoro was looking at you—all attentive, like he was trying to strip you raw with his eyes, uncover whatever secrets might be hiding in the pores of your skin and the gaps of your teeth. “Luffy’s the captain, we wouldn’t be able to do anything without Nami, you and Sanji are the fighters, and Usopp’s everyone’s favorite. I’m just kind of… filler?” 

The more you spoke, the worse your words got, your tone turning more desperate as the sentences fumbled out of your mouth. Zoro’s eyebrows raised higher as you went on, and you flushed, red prickling all over your skin. 

“First of all,” he started, “Usopp is not my favorite. That’d be you. And—where are you getting this from?” 

You shook your head, trying to backtrack. “Nothing. Nowhere. It’s not that import—”

“Yes, it is, and we’re talking about it.” Zoro pulled a nearby barrel by the side of the ship, plopping himself down atop it and gesturing for you to sit. You didn’t, but you did move over to the railing, hands curling around the painted wood. “Speak.” 

“I have nothing to say,” you tried. Zoro just shot you an unimpressed look, and you squirmed. “Fine. I don’t know. I joined last, so I just figured… you were all kind of already set without me, right?” 

Zoro shook his head. “We’re a crew,” he said, voice strong but somehow still gentle. “You’re part of us for a reason. What, this entire time did you think you were—expendable?” 

You fidgeted uncomfortably, weight shifting from one leg to the other. “No.” 

“Don’t lie.” 

“Yes. No. I don’t know. Last night—I only got, like what, two guys? And you reacted way faster to the situation than I did,” you started, words flailing around on your tongue as they rushed out. It was indelicate, for certain, and you yourself couldn’t make sense of most of the words—but once you started, you couldn’t stop, even as they slurred together. “I was still getting out of bed and grabbing my weapon when you’d already dealt with half the enemy crew.” 

“Don’t compare yourself to me,” Zoro said with a shake of his head. “That’s not fair. I’ve been training since I was eight. It’s different.” 

You huffed out an exasperated breath, trying not to let your frustration get the best of you. “I can't help it sometimes. It’s a bad habit.” You loosened your grip on the ship railing, staring out at the golden clouds hovering over the sky.  “Sorry.” 

“Don’t apologize,” Zoro answered. He didn’t say anything after that—giving you a space to talk, you supposed, in case you wanted to. But his hand did reach up to press against yours, pinky brushing against your finger as he held onto the railing beside you. 

“I guess I just always had these standards back at the village,” you managed out eventually. Your island had always been one of the more traditional places in the East Blue, and there were plenty rules and guidelines abound. One of the many reasons you’d left the place in favor for Luffy and the Going Merry, really. “So I just… always want to do more. It’s not that bad.” 

“Right.” Zoro’s pinky looped around your finger, now, holding it close in a soft kiss of the hands. You sighed. 

“My parents were kind of rough on me, I guess,” you tried, sneaking a glance over at Zoro’s face to see if it satiated his curiosity at all. His expression remained as steel as ever, so you just continued. “They wanted me to be the best I could. But their standards were too high, even when I was little.” You found yourself rubbing circles into the back of Zoro’s hand with your finger, more so to comfort yourself than for any other reason. “Just normal stuff, like being upset about my school grades or my combat training levels being too low. Nothing that terrible.” 

“But…?” Zoro asked, tilting his head up to look at you. You smiled, but the action didn’t reach your eyes—it was all mouth and jaw, cheeks lifting but eyes glinting with the same glazed stare. 

“It just affected me a lot, I suppose,” you answered. “Always trying to get better. Never satisfied. And I guess now—I don’t know. I don’t think I’ll ever be good enough.” 

“For?” Zoro asked. His voice was low, soft, all hollow and empty inside. There was a tinge of roughness lacing it, like he’d forgotten to clear his throat, and the scratch of his vocal chords had surfaced up along with the words. 

“Myself. My parents. Luffy. You.” Your lips tightened into a line. Vaguely, you could feel the warm pinpricks of tears starting at your waterline, and you tried to will them back, letting out a little laugh. “Everyone, I guess.” 

Zoro’s hand had come to hold yours fully, fingers woven in between yours, thumb pressed firmly against the joint of your thumb. Somehow, that one motion managed to force the last of the words out of you—all wet and soft, eyes glued fiercely to the horizon in fear of seeing what was etched on Zoro’s face. 

“We do arranged marriages back at home,” you started, trying very hard to keep your voice from trembling. it worked only marginally—there was a tiny quaver in your tone, but it was soft, not noticeable unless you were really listening hard. “And my mom used to tell me I’d die alone. Because I wasn’t pretty enough, or smart enough, or anything enough for any of the boys there.” 

“Oh,” Zoro said. It was quiet; barely a whisper. You tried for a wry smile. 

“I like helping, though. I don’t mind cleaning up or whatever. It makes me feel more useful.” You tried to tug your hand out of Zoro’s grip, but his fingers tightened, keeping you in place. A nervous laugh escaped your throat. “And I know I’m part of the crew and all of this is just silly. So it’s really fine—”

Zoro tugged your intertwined hands to his chest, causing you to stumble and glance down at him in surprise. His expression was nearly unreadable. It’d darkened, and there was a contemplative gaze in his eyes, lips parted with invisible words perched on his tongue. “Don’t do that,” he whispered, and your stomach dropped, the nervousness that had gathered inside during the conversation tightening up into a hall. “Don’t say it’s okay or that it’s not important. If it’s making you upset, then it matters.” 

“I guess,” you tried, and Zoro’s gaze lifted to fix you with a glare. “Sorry.” 

“It’s okay, I just…” Zoro shook his head. “Look, whatever your parents used to tell you, whatever you have ingrained in your head—it’s not true. And there’s nothing wrong with wanting to do more, but… you don’t have to do it. You’re enough already.” 

Your gaze softened, lips falling open to say something, but Zoro wasn’t finished yet. “You shouldn’t come out here and force yourself to clean up just to make up for your—waste of space, or something. You’re not a servant. And you’re not wasting up any space. I think everyone would agree that you’re a very important and vital part of the crew.” 

“Thanks,” you whispered. Zoro’s hand was warm around yours, and you felt the threatening droplets of tears start to rise up at your waterline, ready to fall at any moment now. Zoro just nodded. 

“You’re a great fighter, and way smarter than what you give yourself credit for,” he said firmly. He raised your hand to his mouth, then, leaning over to press a feather-light kiss to your knuckles. “And the boys on your island have to be blind, because you’re pretty enough. You’re more than pretty enough.”

He whispered the last words, all soft and sacred on his tongue. “You’re beautiful.” 

That was enough to drive your tears over the edge. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to stop the flow as the warm sensation of liquid streaking down your cheeks began. Droplets caught in the crevice of your lips, and at the hinge of your jaw—Zoro brought a hand up to wipe them away. “Are you okay?” he whispered. 

“Yeah, I just, um.” You shook your head, sniffing. “Thank you. That… helped. I think.” 

Zoro bummed out his response. “Of course,” he said easily. “You’re my girl. It’s my job to cheer you up.” He kissed your knuckles again. “And you can talk to any of us. I’m not really the best at this, but everyone else…” he shrugged. 

“You’re doing just fine,” you assured him. Zoro nodded, tugging you down until you finally took a seat on a crate beside him. “I think it’s just been worse lately.” 

“If it makes you feel any better, I think you’re better than the waiter,” Zoro said. You just laughed. 

“I think you’re biased, but thank you,” you said. “Here, I, um, I promise I’ll let you know if I’m feeling down, I guess. If you don’t mind.” 

“Definitely don’t mind,” Zoro answered. This time he placed a gentle kiss on your neck, somewhere at the bottom near the back. “Leave the mopping for someone else. You’ve already done a lot.” 

“Okay,” you whispered, eyes fluttering closed as Zoro kissed the rest of the way up the back of your neck. He placed a final one right below your earlobe. With that, Zoro stood up, sweeping one arm under your legs and hoisting you up. You cracked open an eye to regard him with a blank look. “What are you doing?” 

“Bringing you back to my room,” Zoro answered. “You didn’t get much sleep tonight. And I doubt anyone wants to watch me kissing you on the main deck anyway.” 

That was fair enough reasoning, so you didn’t complain, letting him carry you all the way to his cabin and gently lay you down onto his bed. He leaned over to press a gentle kiss to your lips—you could still taste the saltwater from your tears from before. “Want me to stay?” Zoro asked. 

“You don’t have to,” you said automatically, and Zoro raised both his eyebrows. You let out a sigh. “Okay, I get it. Yes. Please stay.” 

“All you had to say,” Zoro said, shedding himself of his shoes and swords before leaning over the bed to watch you. He didn’t slip under the covers or anything, just propped an arm up on the mattress, kneeling beside the bed. There was tender silence for a few moments before Zoro spoke again. 

“I love you,” he said abruptly, voice rough but somehow still soft. Your heart beat too fast in your chest, ribcage squeezing in on the organ and making it skip. His hand slid along the mattress to find yours, and you took the offer, fingers clasping around his palm. 

“I love you too,” you whispered back. Zoe leaned over, then, the hand not intertwined with yours tilting your jaw over just so to allow him better access to your mouth. He kissed you full-on, tender but firm, mouth working against yours in a way that unraveled you entirely. Your grip on his hand tightened as he deepened the kiss, a soft sound emitting from low in your throat. Finally you broke apart, heaving for breath, exhales mixing together midair. An exchange of souls, you’d heard once, somewhere. 

“Come on,” you murmured, tugging Zoro closer to the bed so he got the hint. He slipped beside you onto it, turning your head again to meet you in another kiss. His hand drifted down to your waist, holding you securely in place.  

“I don’t think anyone should need us for a few more hours, right?” Zoro asked, and you laughed. He swallowed up the sounds with his mouth, tongue licking languidly into you as he rubbed delicate circles into the skin of your waist. “You’re beautiful,” he whispered, and then he was kissing you again. 

You let him siphon the soul out of your lungs, knowing you were getting his right back. 

© halfvalid 2023

[kinkyniragi]

Until the debt is paid – Chapter 4: Guidance

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x Reader

Genre: Smut 18+

Word count: 1,6k

Summary: As payment for your father’s debt, you’ve been handed over to Thomas Shelby—a ruthless criminal with a reputation as dangerous as his smirk. It’s getting dangerous for you—food and water are running low. Your attempt to coax some mercy out of Tommy comes at a cost…

CN: Power play, degradation, humiliation. Please note that this is all just fantasy. Things that happen in my stories should always be consensual. Take care.

Author’s note: After writing a lot of smut for Niragi from Alice in Borderland, I’m now diving into the world of Cillian Murphy. Feel free to leave comments and share my story if you enjoy it—I truly appreciate every bit of motivation to keep writing. Also, I’m not a native speaker, so if you spot any creative grammar choices…call them artistic liberties, ok?

***

<<Chapter 3

The second night in the stable is worse than the first. No surprise there. The cold has seeped into your bones, straw clings to your skin, and your stomach aches with hunger. You try to ignore the dull, persistent thirst scratching at your throat, but it’s no use. Your body betrays you with its needs, making it impossible to maintain even a shred of dignity.

You need water. Food. A chance to wash the filth from your skin.

But more than that, you need answers.

So, when the heavy barn doors groan open in the - you assume - early morning hours, and he steps inside, your pulse kicks up—fear and something else twisting in your stomach like a vice.

Thomas Shelby stands there, silhouetted against the dim lantern light, his ice-blue eyes scanning you with something in them that is neither amusement nor pity. Just quiet, calculating interest. The kind of attitude that strips away pretense, that pins you in place without even trying.

You push yourself up from the pile of hay, ignoring the way your body protests. You don’t want to look weak. Not in front of him.

"What about my father? I am sure he must have paid off his debts by now.” The words leave your lips before you can second-guess them.

The look on his face makes you realize that it was a mistake to have asked at all, though it’s crystl clear that this is all that counts for you right now.

"That’s a dangerous question, love."

A slow inhale, smoke curling from the cigarette between his fingers.

"He has time."

A pause.

"Let’s hope he uses it wisely," but there’s not a trace of real hope in his voice—if anything, quite the opposite.

A sick feeling settles in your stomach. Your mind screams at you to back down, to accept the non-answer, but you can't. You won’t.

"What does that mean?" You look at him with wide eyes, struggling to keep your dismay from showing.

His response is a quiet chuckle, one that carries no warmth. "When you plan something well, there’s no need to rush, you know?”

You hate the way he speaks in riddles and yet seems to reveal so much that he fuels your worries. So much on point that it hurts. A dangerous question, you almost get angry that you fell for it. No, at least you won't play this game anymore. But what's the alternative? Maybe he'll give out information if you try a different approach—less...directly.

„Look at you.“ His voice is smooth, the mockery laced with something almost gentle—almost. „Filthy. Desperate. Poor thing, eh.“

A pause. Then softer, yet audibly crueler: "It’s a shame, really. You could be something else entirely, under the right… circumstances." Even though his attempts to degrade you are so obvious, they still hurt you. Is he also alluding to your father's complicated role in Birmingham's gang activities? You couldn’t tell.

"You’re right. That’s why I can’t stay out here forever," you grasp at the only solid piece in the wreckage of his humiliation, ignoring the true intention. Your voice is steady, though it takes effort. "I need something to drink. Food. To clean myself up. Thomas, you know it," you try to appeal to his compassion even though you know it’s hopeless.

He takes a slow step forward, the floorboards creaking beneath his boots.

"Need," he repeats, savoring the word. "You do like making demands, eh?"

Your jaw clenches. This is fucking victim blaming. You won’t beg. You won’t—

His head tilts, as if considering. " And what makes you think that I will comply with your impudent demands?”

You swallow hard.

You won’t beg Thomas fucking Shelby.

But the thought of another cold night in this shed, weak and filthy, is worse than whatever game he’s playing—At least that is your assumption at this moment.

"Because I can’t be of any use to you if I starve," you say, lifting your chin. "You’re keeping me for a reason, aren’t you?"

Something flickers in his expression—approval, maybe. Amusement. Something darker.

"Clever girl."

He steps closer, his boots nearly brushing against your bare toes. You should step back, but there’s nowhere to go. For a moment, he simply looks at you, dragging his gaze over you like he's peeling away layers, stripping you down past skin and bone more effectively than hands ever could. You feel it, the way he takes his time, letting the silence stretch just long enough to make you squirm. The grime on your skin should be a shield, a layer between you and him, but under his eyes, it feels like an open wound.

You hate the way it unsettles you, how it coils something hot and unwanted in your core. He is everything you should despise, a man who holds power over you and enjoys it far too much. And yet, the slow drag of his eyes over your body sends a pulse of something dark and traitorous through you that you can hardly deny.

You force yourself to hold his stare, to ignore the heat creeping up your neck.

He can’t know.

He can’t see.

And yet, the slight curve of his lips suggests that he already does.

Then, with deliberate ease, he flicks his cigarette to the ground, crushing it beneath his boot.

"Fine," he eventually gives in, almost bored. "You can come inside."

Relief flutters in your chest, but it’s short-lived.

„If you ask nicely.“ He raises his head.

Self-assured.

Dominant.

Watching your struggle. His attitude carries something disgustingly arrogant in it, as if your resistance is just a minor inconvenience rather than a real obstacle.

You hate it.

„On your knees would be a start,” he says, his words cold and devoid of emotion. His face remains an impassable mask, offering no hint of what he thinks or feels, just the same unreadable expression that never betrays a thing.

Your body stiffens. You lift your chin, refusing to break under his unflinching stare.“

On your knees? Over your dead body.

Slowly, resolutely, you take a step toward him. Not submissively—never that—but with a quiet, simmering resistance. Your heart pounds, the scent of whiskey and smoke fills your nose. You meet his gaze head-on, daring him to push further.

„Not happening,“ you bite out.

Something dark flickers in his eyes, and his smirk spreads— disturbingly relaxed, knowing, pleased.

„Oh, I do appreciate watching you fight, love.“

He gives an affected sigh, the kind a teacher might give when a particularly slow student just can't grasp the lesson. „You know what,” he continues. “Women usually beg me for a place in my house. You, however… You’re just lucky I enjoy watching you act coy, knowing full well that you're going to do it anyway.”

You hesitate, heat rising in your cheeks. His eyes gleam with a dark kind of arousal, waiting. Expecting.

"I won’t kneel for you."

"No?" He snorts contemptuously and pulls a metal bottle out of the pocket of his coat, unscrewing the lid with one flick of his thumb.

Water. Your throat tightens at the sight.

His lips curl, as if enjoying your desparation. " You must be very thirsty, eh? Go on, love. Show some manners if you want me to share some drops with you!"

He swirls the liquid, letting it slosh against the metal walls of the bottle. "Shame. And here I thought you might be a fast learner."

Your pride wars with the raw, aching thirst in your body. You refuse to look at the water, but he notices anyway.

Of course, he does.

"Go on," he coaxes, voice deceptively smooth. "Ask nicely, and I’ll let you have some."

You swallow hard. Every second stretches, thick with tension. The stable is silent except for your breathing, the distant creak of wood shifting in the cold.

And then—slowly—you sink to your knees.

A victorious hum rumbles in his throat. He takes a sip from the bottle, then crouches before you, fingers tilting your chin up.

"Open."

The command is soft, but absolute.

Your lips part, shame burning through you as he leans in. He takes another sip, then—deliberate, taunting—he presses his fingers to your jaw, prying your mouth open further.

And then, he slowly lets the water spill from his mouth into yours.

It’s warm, laced with the taste of whiskey and something else, something distinctly him. You swallow instinctively, the relief of the water mingling with humiliation, fury, something you can’t quite name.

When he finally pulls away, his thumb brushes over your lower lip, catching the last drop of water before smirking.

"See?" he murmurs, savoring your reaction. "You just needed a little guidance."

His fingers lift, just barely brushing against your jaw. The touch is light—mocking in its gentleness. "Now, you’ll say ‘thank you’ like a good girl," he says in a stern tone. "And you’ll mean it."

Your hands curl into fists, but you force the words out between clenched teeth. The words catch in your throat, pride and desperation warring inside you.

The ‘thank you’ barely makes it past your lips, agonized and brittle.

A small, satisfied smile tugs at his lips.

"Very well. Peter will take you into the house right away and provide you with everything you need."

He turns, already walking away, but tosses one last remark over his shoulder. "I don't want to hear any complaints from him, got it? If I hear a single word of whining, I’ll make sure you regret it."

The stable door closes behind him.

Peter.

That disgusting man who ate bread in front of you while you starved.

And just like that, you realize—you may be stepping out of the shed, but you’re walking straight into the lion’s den.

Chapter 5>>

[babextoken]

Your Mouth is Open Wide, the Lover is Inside

Dangerous to Me series ⟡ chapter 6

catch up or relive it ˚𝜗𝜚˚‧ masterlist

And don’t look for me in human shape, I am inside your looking. No room For form with love this strong. No Room for Form, Rumi pairing: Vessel x reader wc: 2.6k head's up: brief discussions of fatphobia and emotional abuse, inferences to sexual abuse, wrestling between vessel and reader, explicit sex a/n: I'm going to miss this so much. thank you for the love, it is incredibly validating for me to know my little thoughts have a space outside of my head. please be gentle. I'm not known for series or finishing series ;-; ⟡₊⋆∘˚⊹ Situation Enjoyers™: @lifemod17 @glitterghost @adenobabe  @jeriiicho @milk--bones  @okoatmeal  @horsebiologist @intake-of-breath @fruitsandcheese @killed-by-thegods @goosepond69 @friendly-neighborhood-ghoul @lynzeequitlollygagging @thatxxjiyong-ssi  @cloudy-soul @daddysaidbringthethunder  @evisnotok @cheomain @object-of-my-desire @dreamer-lost-in-wonderland @thedemonofsodom @canopies-of-gold-and-evergreen @thewayyoulay @houseofsleeptoken @jerrysghostwriter @music-lover23 @renegadebirch @blackcherrywhiskey @saythatuwill @temptation-waits @kenjipepsi1 @iiischeckeredsocks @gee10120 @sanctifiedcanines @hisdancer18

The sound of a car door this early in the morning wasn’t out of the ordinary in Vessel’s neighborhood, but when it sounded like it was in his driveway, it was weird. And when it was followed by pounding at his door…fuck.

Vessel just stared at his front door. It felt like he was getting punched again with each little pummel on the wood. Face the music, V. Avoidance leads to worse anxiety. Anxiety compounds depression. Depression leads to…

“Well, hello, you,” he says with an air of condescension and fake pleasantries, “didn’t know you knew my address.”

You look good. Like…really good. This wasn’t new information for Vessel but today you looked rested and healthy…and unhinged Where did you have to be this morning in a little sundress and sheer tights like that? 

“You’re surprisingly easy to find, Vessel.”

“Am I?”

The easy smile on his face would be so satisfying to remove with a punch. Or maybe a gentle hand to his crotch, palming it. His head would be thrown back and his mouth parted, so what’s the real difference? Your eyes feel the size of saucers. Your face aches already from your tight smile that holds back all the venom, the vitriol, that you’ve saved for him. You reach in your pocket.

“Oop, what do you have in there? Threatening m-“ A notification from his phone interrupts him. The unmistakable chime from the chatroom app.

“Wanna check that?,” you ask, deadpan. 

Vessel rolls his eyes but gulps all the same. “Probably spam.”

“That’s rude. Bet it’s someone important.”

Your breathing syncs with his with the most delicious tension. He pulls out his phone.

You: omg who’s banging at your door? Im worried ;-;

“Just my mum.”

“Text her back then.”

Had his eyes always been that color? It felt like you were both seeing each other for the first time. And maybe you were. This was adversarial now. A single breath could activate this hairpin trigger.

“She’ll live.”

“You’d ignore your mom for me?”

Vessel types out a quick message, keeping his eyes on you, and locks his phone. Silence. Your phone doesn’t buzz. 

“What can I do for you,” he asks blankly.

You clear your throat and try to save face. You couldn’t be wrong. You don't know that he just didn't send the message. “What did your mom say? Or was it your dad?” You start to act like a cocky child who’s trying to tell some outlandish lie, arms crossed, head bobbing side-to-side all sassy. Grasping for straws, just dropping the word “dad” hoping to rumble him. You take a step forward, crossing the threshold. “Hm, what did they say? I wanna know. Let me know more about you, yeah?”

Vessel lets you walk into him and into his house. He closes the door behind you and stands firmly in place, making your soft body budge up against him. Slowly, Vessel pulls out his phone with his thumb and two fingers, dangling it in your face. “Christ. Not even dating and you want to go through my phone?”

“Just let me—“ you reach for the phone but he quickly holds it out of reach, his t-shirt riding up. That sliver of ivory skin over his v-line served as a successful distraction, keeping you from grabbing in time. He holds it at his full arm’s length…you couldn’t even jump that high. But you try nonetheless. Your leap only gets your hands to his shoulders, falling against him as you grab at his neck and scramble to pull down his raised arm. He doesn’t even budge. He laughs.

“Look at this,” he purrs with labored breath, the only evidence that your plush body was pressed against his in a tussle. “Little dove trying to fly.”

Your eyes turn fiery as you shove him. “You’re fucking with me.” 

Vessel crowds you into his living room. It’s nothing like your fantasy of the listening party. Please locate the nearest emergency exit. “You made it easy.” He keeps backing you up, making the back of your legs hit an ottoman, but you think fast and grab his shirt, pulling him down with you.

The ottoman is no match for the force of your weight and his height, toppling over as you land on it. Your back arches in response to the pain, a small yelp leaving your throat as you’re sandwiched between the hardwood floor and Vessel’s body. His hand still clutches the phone while the other tries to pin your free arm above your head, but you pull your hand from his grasp. “FUCK,” he shouts as you push his face away roughly and bring your legs up to practically bunny kick his abs. The phone slides out of his hands. You both look up at it. 

Scrambling. 

You roll over and army crawl to the phone the moment Ves lets up. He sits on his knees for a moment before grabbing your hips, his hand slipping into the pocket of your dress and attempting to fish for your phone and pull you away from his. 

His body covers yours in prone as he tries to grab his phone from your delicate hand. The dream memory of that same hand stroking his cock distracts him long enough for you to slip out from under him. With both phones in your possession, you realize his backdoor is open. He must have been outside before he answered the door. Blinded by the unfamiliarity of your surroundings, you stumble out of the house and nearly fall down the stone steps of the small covered deck. Your arms swing wildly, willing your uncoordinated body to stay straight and not splat on the concrete, but you’re falling. Hard. And as your stomach drops, Vessel tugs the back of your dress hard, pressing your ass to his front. You toss a phone into the grass.

“That was your phone, idiot.”

Fuck. Yeah it was. As the first raindrop of a summer storm falls, you throw his. With your non-dominant hand. Onto the concrete. Vessel spins you around, no time to care for his shattered phone. 

“What...the fuck is your problem?”

“My problem? MY problem? You are the one who has consistently made fun of me,” you start to count on your fingers, “insulted me, and now, gaslit me. And I’m the one with a problem? Did I not leave you alone after every time I clearly overstayed my welcome with you? Why trick me? Why not actually BE MY FRIEND INSTEAD OF HIDING BEHIND A STUPID FUCKING SCREENNAME?”

Vessel’s grasp could bruise as he hisses in your ear. “Keep your voice down, we’re outside.” A lightning bolt strikes in the distance. 

“I’ll keep my voice down. Fine. But you better hear me all the same. You’ve lied to me.” You shove him, and he just sneers down at you.

“I meant every word I said to you. Do you know how I felt when…when you told me what that asshole did to you outside work where I could have protected you?”

“Fuck you. That might as well have not been you.” You say with a rueful laugh, backing away from his grip and stepping down a stair. He was towering over you even more now. Dangerously so. 

“Imagine me trying to talk to you about it in real life! You would have told me to mind my business! To leave you alone! Maybe I shouldn’t have stopped him that night.” He doesn’t mean that. Vessel’s ears ring. His jaw clicks softly as he adjusts it. His little dove had an arm on her. And if his face stung, so did your palm. He knows he deserved that.

“I. Hate. You.” You seethe with tears burning your eyes to blindness. “I don’t care what you did for me. I HATE YOU.”

“Then why are you here? You come to my house unannounced, smash my phone, and scream at me…” Thunder rumbles again. “You gave up on me. Yeah the first time we talked wasn’t great but you didn’t even try again.”

“Neither did you.”

“Stop it.” Vessel puts his hands up, his chin wobbling a bit. “You listen to me. I am treading lightly with you. This whole time I have been desperate to connect with you. And you’ve…” The storm is getting closer. “You’ve driven me to insanity. Listen…I got fired.” 

You look like you’ve been slapped now. “What?”

“No one told you, then? They saw the CCTV footage. Well. They saw me trying to delete it. From that night. And every other night you saw him out there. They were going to sack you, too.”

“Vessel.”

“Let me finish. I was going to delete it after I made copies. Show it to the people I know. Figure out exactly who that fucker was and make sure he never touches anyone again.”

You shake your head as the rain starts to fall more steadily. “You might be actually insane.” You try walking away but he blocks you, gently maneuvering you back to him. 

“And what of those people who begged you to change shape? To be palatable? Hm? They’re sane, dove?” 

“…don’t talk about him.”

What no one knew about your ex was that he considered you a project. Something to change. To mould. To break. You simply told people he was “controlling” and “particular.” Well. Mothmansdad knew. He also knew about the threats and what he had actually gone through with.

“I had something else planned for you, too,” Vessel says shakily. His hair begins to stick to his forehead from the rain. “I was going to find him. Not to hurt him physically. He’s not worth feeling the flesh of someone else in any capacity. Light extortion. Not my finest moment planning this, but…how horribly…terribly convenient for him that he’s dead.”

You shudder and begin shaking. Your expression breaks. No more trained, composed mask for you. “It was me or him, Ves-“

“Shh. Look at that. Just going to admit that to me, freely now? It’s ok.” He whispers as he lifts your chin, watching the raindrops trail down your face like tears. “I am powerless to you and I’ve given up trying to stop it. Why should I? My darling…you’re inevitable. You happen to everyone you encounter and no one is safe.”

“Fuck you.”

“Don’t you see?” He smirks and leans forward to whisper conspiratorially. “I want that.”

“Just like the rest. Go on, throw me over your shoulder and have your way.”

He grabs your hair. “Listen to yourself. I don’t want to pick you up. I don’t want to put you somewhere else, I want to meet you and root you where you are.” He pauses for a moment, shaking his head. “No. No. You’re the one rooting me. Root. Me. And if that is atop you…beneath you…I…am content to crawl on the floor and to feel the air run out of me, even if for a moment, if it means I’m pleasuring you.”

He lowers you down by the shoulders and lays you back. Your body is uncomfortable as the edges of the stairs dig into your back and offer no cushion for your bent elbows. Vessel doesn’t notice you wince when he moves your leg up a step. He's a man possessed. He’s still dripping wet from the rain, but the cold and the damp isn’t making him shake. It’s the nearness. The mere concept of you being aroused threatens to end him even though tasting you would be a reprieve. He fights against the voices saying that he shouldn’t want this. Shouldn’t do this. This is not the way. But for now, Vessel is inevitable. Vessel’s hands tremble as he smooths his palms over your thighs. He seems to be calculating what to do next. This doesn’t come easily to him anymore and it pains him. He misses the connection. The almost violent exchange of power and energy. As the wind picks up, so does his shuddering breath. The anxiety and raw sexual tension welling inside him only grows with another crack of lighting immediately followed by quaking thunder. Your tights are ripped at the seam. 

“Don’t ever do that again,” you chide, but it’s useless to try and sound angry. 

He is starving for you just as you are for him. 

Mutually assured destruction.

Vessel slides down the steps slightly to press his face into your core. He moans longingly against your underwear, inhaling you, effectively ignoring you. Desperate, pained whimpers vibrate against you as he traces his lips along your pussy. He doesn’t mind the barrier for the moment. There’s something precious about this moment. It’s the tip toe over the edge, not knowing if you’ll be ripped to shred by the craggy terrain below or if you’ll be swept away by the sea. 

Vessel’s curious fingers and tongue offer neither fate. You are swallowed. As if the seas parted and a gaping abyss broke your fall. He buries the bridge of his nose against your clit and lets his tongue memorize every fold and ridge of your heat. Your hands dig and tug at his hair aimlessly. It’s just something to ground you to him. To root you to one another. Was this what losing your mind was like? Feeling everything and nothing at once as you the voice in your head screams into a vacuum. 

“Ves…” you gasp out. Your voice is thick and strangled as he coaxes you up a bit, guiding you to the patio, away from the rain. You whimper when he doesn’t continue his ministrations. Instead he lays down and beckons you forward with the same finger and motion that was just inside you. 

“Please.” He rasps out. “I’m sorry I didn’t ask first. I’ll be so good. I can do good for you again, please.” 

Gingerly, you move to straddle his face. You dreamily remember what brought you to this moment as Vessel coaxes your hips down.

You: he basically told me I was made to lay still unless told otherwise. Like not even be a fun pillow princess. A fuck pillow Mothmansdad: you don’t need to joke. don’t worry about making me uncomfortable or trying to make it less awkward  Mothmansdad: this is hard. Let it be what it is. You: you’re right. Basically, I should have got out when I asked him if I could sit on his face instead one night. He gave me a weight goal.

A new, hypnotic heat bubbles up and pulls you from your horrible memories within memories when Vessel’s tongue buries itself deep in your pussy. He practically whines into you like your sex is a pillow. His tongue snakes out and laps up to your clit, while his hands wander all over your body. Perpetual motion. Your tummy, tits, and ass are covered in his hands. Red from being squeezed. He laughs and moans with relief as you start grinding against his face. You were letting go. And he did that. Vessel was making you mewl and gush all over his chin. 

“Yes…” you murmur shyly. You feel like a virgin again as he sucks your clit. “Ves…that…right there…fuck.”

You’re so caught up you don’t feel his hands leave you momentarily, but you’re aware of his renewed lust. He goes up on one elbow and practically sucks you off, leaving you doubling over with heaving breaths and an orgasm that makes your brain fuzzy. Your blood pressure was dropping. But Vessel keeps licking at your pretty folds, content to let you ride it out and come down on his face. He pulls his mouth away and turns his head to kiss your creamy thighs. “Clean me off.”

You pant, trying to understand him through your post-orgasm haze and the sound of the rain.

“Turn around. Look at what you’ve done.” You move off him. When you turn to look at his body, his shirt is lifted and his sweats are askew. Eating you out left his taut plane of a stomach glazed with his own cum, his hand still holding his twitching cock. Your mouth watered. “All you do…is make messes. You’re dangerous, dove."