#polycule yearning time

[ford-ftm-150]

Polycule Yearning Time:

Oh to be in a polycule with folks who are fluent in &/or learning different languages, so we could help each other practice & maybe flirt a little bit in the languages we’re learning

[calamitys-child]

There is a poem about having a threesome with a couple that are so in love that their care for eachother spills over and onto you. I'm pretty sure I remember seeing you reblog it, I was wondering if you know what it's name is? feeling insane about it etc.

It's called After the Threesome, They Both Take You Home by Sue Hyon Bae and it makes me UNWELL here's a copy for you

[zuulbean]

whatever walt bannerman and john smith from the dead zone (2002) had going on is NEARLY as bad as whatever the fuck that gay little angel and that butch lesbian looking guy from supernatural had going on good GOD.

John “holding hands so tightly that i bring you back from the dead” Smith versus Cas “dragged you out of hell” Tiel

[wildberry-12]

Oh to be held tight.

Just big arms wrapping around my waist pulling me so close to them. Feeling their breath run down the collar of my loose shirt, feeling like electricity down my spine. Their legs intertwined with mine, feeling every inch of their skin pressed against mine. Submersed in their warmth and comfort as they run their fingers through my hair. Losing all sense of time under those covers, letting them fill my senses with their presence

or that's how I would cuddle someone idk I only have stuffed animals

[poppy-metal]

oooh what if fail marriage!art after separating with reader and being a sad miserable fuck now with tashi and patrick, sees you on a date, like on a random tuesday evening? He sees you all dolled up with this guy and you‘re smiling and giggling and tashi and patrick just feel him vibrating from anger and sadness next to them. How long has it been that he made you smile like that? How long has it been, that you wore something slutty like that for him on date night (when was the last date night ouchies)

sm came over me this au is dangerous.... cause why did i add some reader x patrick drama at the end..... failmarriage au is slowly riding closer and closer to toxic polycule but its gonna be drama drama drama till we get there !!

tashi has to put a hand on his arm to physically stop him from picking up a knife and slitting his throat - or yours - committing a murder - suicide. he thinks god is punishing him. because there's just no way, no way, the one night hes able to drag himself from bed to go out with patrick and tashi you're at very same restaurant. with another man.

and you look beautiful, like honesty his lips are parted, mouth open - because your style has always been a little on the modest side, you wore it well, sundresses and long skirts and blouses. you looked lovely in them.

but this - a skin tight body suit. black and hugging every curve on your body. he knows your body. well, he knew it. not as well as he wanted to, maybe, but he'd seen you naked - he'd been inside you countless times. but this. it feels new. it feels like hes seeing you for the first time. your tits look amazing, somehow appearing fuller with the fabric of the bodysuit clinging to you. and your ass.... he could weep, he really could. it moves like water when you walk, the smooth glide of your steps making the cheeks jiggle just the right way. strappy heels that accentuate your legs.

even patrick lets out a 'damn' and tashi would shoot him a glare except she's staring at you too. all of them just kind of gawk as you walk past them - you dont even look their way - you must have noticed art, you must have - and settle into a booth across the restaurant from them. you're smiling at your date. lips painted a dark seductive red.

art wants to go over to you. stab your date in the eyes. fall to his knees. beg for you to take him back, spare him a glance, just let him touch you. he misses the feel of you, the unique texture of your skin. the way you giggle when your ankle receives soft touches because you're ticklish. are you going to spread your legs for that man tonight? are you going to let his touched burn away arts?

he swallows. sets down his silverware. "im going out to the car." he can't watch. tashi frowns at him, like she wants to say something, encourage him to say, encourage him to talk to you, even, but he just looks at her, pleading. wordless communication that they've gotten down to a science and her lips press into a thin line, her eyes going sad. she nods and drops her hand from his arm. lets him leave.

you watch him go, taking a sip of your drink to hide your expression. the unpleasant turn of your mouth at the way he walks out, head down, fingers nervously twisting the watch on his wrist. you crunch ice between your teeth, swallow down the disappointment of his easy retreat. typical of him, to recede instead of fight.

your eyes catch on tashi's - dark and cunning, assesseing and all too aware, like shes peeling you like an orange and she knows what she'll find - you look down quickly. focus back on the date you'll inevitably ghost.

____

patrick zweig is smoking a cigarette behind the restaurant for a moment - tashi is paying the bill - art is moping in the car still, probably. its just a brief moment of reprieve from the borish melancholy cloud he'll be suffocated in the moment he gets in that car and gets engulfed in the pathetic yearning permeating from art like slick oil, and the even worse tension from tashi over her inability to fix the situation.

god, he just wants to fuck. he expected to be getting alot more ass when art moved in, if he was being honest. like a full on fuckfest. you'd come around eventually - as soon as the facade of a boring monogamous marriage lost its appeal and you realized you'd been missing the thrill you had in college when all of you, the four of you, were in eachothers orbit at all times.

but it'd just been a fucking drag. all he'd gotten was one sad moment, where he'd been throating arts cock and enjoying himself very much, before art had started crying - going on about how he missed your mouth - very mood killing. not that he'd mind if art pretended he was fucking your throat instead of patricks, because that'd be kinda hot, but the tears were a bit much. he hadn't touched art since. he didn't know if he and tashi were fooling around, but he doubted it was a common occurrence with the amount of time art spent moping.

he was on his last drag when the back door swung open and you stepped out into the humid night air. you startled to see him, like a frightened doe, and made to grab the door handle, "oh, im sorry -"

"no - stay." he blew out a cloud of smoke, right in your face - "i got something i wanted to ask you, anyway." he stubs the cig under his shoe.

your eyes dart around nervously but you lower your hand. cross your arms like its chilly. maybe your own cold heart keeps you cold, fuck if he knows.

he leans a shoulder on the brick of the building as he studies you - eyes perusing your outfit languidly. his lips twist, like he's hiding a smirk.

"this is new."

you shift on your heeled feet. look away, "you dont know enough about me to know if its new or not."

patrick straightens and steps forward, you hadn't realized his hunching posture before was doing so much to hide his height until then, when you have to crane your head to look up at him, scramble backwards so he doesn't bump your chest with his.

"see that's what pisses me off about you." he pokes you, and you jolt at the sensation of the touch "i do know you. because before you decided to become betty fucking crocker we used to be what you call 'friends'. do you know what that word means? or have you sniffed so much lysol your little brain gave you temporary amnesia."

your mouth parts in shock. you stare at him, speechless. speechless because its been years since anyone has talked to you this way, speechless because the only person who did were him and tashi, when they'd call you out, pull you out of your shell - it makes your cheeks flood with heat.

"i-" you scramble for what to say, trying to pull words, defenses out of the air. "i dont have amnesia...." fucking great line.

patrick nods. "right, okay. so-" he waves a hand in the air, his wedding band glinting in the moonlight. you want to look at it. see if it resembles the one you and art share. you didn't attend his and tashi's wedding. guilt pricks at you. "my question for you is how long do you plan on playing this game? because that's what this is. and dont -" he shakes his head with a laugh - " and dont give me that shit about art and tashi when you know damn well how they felt about eachother in college. you still married the guy. you wanna know why?" another step. you can smell him. spicy and sharp. something tashi would have bought him, no doubt. its too polished to be something he'd pick for himself.

you inhale. lashes fluttering with the memory of the over expensive boysih cologne he wore in boarding school - in college - the kind that stung your nose, but. but made you feel comforted. because it was so distinctly patrick.

"because deep down you know he loves you just as much. you've always known. and this whole act you're putting on-" he looks you up and down, "- of the scorned neglected housewife? its tired. its fucking boring. i mean-" he licks his lips, leans down so close his nose almost brushes yours. "-does art know you almost let me eat your pussy on prom night?"

you gasp, stepping away. flushing. eyes wide. "no." you gasp, voice small. "that was - you promised you'd never -"

"i promised my friend I'd never bring it up again." he looks at you, "you're not my friend, sweetheart. haven't been for awhile."

you glare at him. patrick smiles. one dimple indenting his cheek. so boyishly charming for a man in his 30s. you want to kick him.

"i hate you." you hiss. "i hate all of you."

"uh huh -" patrick shrugs, shoves his hands in his pockets. starts to walk backwards. tashi will be getting impatient by now. wanting to head home to tend to a wounded arts wounds. "keep telling yourself that."

you huff. spin away from him and yank open the back door, ready to storm back inside when his voice rings out one last time behind you.

"your ass looks great, by the way!"

they'd all be jerking off to the thought of it tonight, probably. he knew he would.

[bougiebutchbinch]

You know, if I weren't lazy I could give you an essay on how comic Wade is either closeted transfem or wants to at least medically transition even if he stays using he/him pronouns. I'd even site my sources in MLA format for you. I'd just have to find some very specific events, and it also relies on the idea that the scars are psychosomatic (which was implied in one of the Deadpool and Spiderman comics).

The only problem is on a good day I'm wishy washy about liking that (a physical representation of his poor mental health that people either ignore or out right demonize? yes please) but on most days I don't really like it as a concept.

oh goshhhhhh I am soooo here for transfem Wade!!!!

Should you ever have the spoons to deliver that essay, I for one would love to hear it.

She (or he, I think they're pretty fluid with pronouns, like Deadpool always is!) is the transfem who makes her gender identity A Big Joke for years and years and years, always laughing about 'haha what if I was a girl what if I was your girlfriend what if my pussy got wet whenever we fought what if I wore a maid dress for you what if that hahahaha wouldn't that be funny'

to the point where

everyone can kinda tell

it isn't a joke

but Wade's almost too afraid to acknowledge that it isn't? Like, she's been keeping her barriers up with comedy for so long, and especially growing up with her dad and then in the military, a BIG part of her is fucking terrified about what it means to acknowledge how she really feels about herself, let alone embrace it.

Anyway, I think one day someone (Vanessa?) would listen to Wade doing his usual bit about 'lol what if I was a girl' and would just say "You could be, you know."

Her tone is kind, gentle, and completely fucking serious.

And Wade suddenly gets

very

very

quiet.

For all of a minute.

"Yeah," he manages eventually, hoarser than ever. Flashing Vanessa a bright, cheeky grin that doesn't quite reach his (her?) eyes. "But then you'd have competition for being the hottest woman in this polycule, and we can't have that."

But maybe next time he takes Vanessa up on her offer to do his nails and make up, she catches him looking at himself wistfully in the mirror, and presses a little kiss to the side of his head.

"I'm ready for that competition whenever you are," she promises. "But you'd better bring your A-game. I'm not gonna go easy on you just because you're a newly minted girl."

Wade chokes out a laugh. She jerks away from her reflection like she's scared that she's been caught - then, tentatively, glances back again. Looking at herself, scars and high cheekbones and thin eyelashes darkened with mascara, and more scars, and all - before her nervous, sickly yellow eyes flit to Vanessa's.

Vanessa can see the want there. The yearning.

And she can see, just as clearly, the fear.

"Rain check?" asks Wade, fake-breezy. "Not that I'm not ready for you to kick my ass at the art of hot-girlhood, but you have had a lot more practice."

Vanessa finds her hand - fever-hot as ever, and just a little sweaty. She gives it a tight squeeze.

"Rain check," she agrees, not because she wants it, but because Wade needs it. Then, distracting her, because there's a fragile set to Wade's mouth, like she's letting something she so desperately wants slip between her fingers - "What colour should I paint your toenails?"

"Ooh!" Wade perks up immediately, clapping her hands in delight. "Wolverine-costume-yellow? Nonono, gunmetal grey for Cable! And Colossus. Okay, so maybe one yellow for every two grey? Hey, I'll do yours too~ We can match!"

She's adorable when she's excited. Vanessa drops another little kiss on one of the textured ridges that divides Wade's skull into continents of scar tissue. "Sounds like a perfect girls' night."

"Girls' night," Wade repeats, smile small and precious. Then, bouncing up from the chair in front of Vanessa's vanity - "Okay, game plan! I'll go put on the Golden Girls and make popcorn, you get the nail polish and the files. Sound good?"

"Sounds amazing."

[joenhead]

Posting more duck team polycule doodles because every time I listen to campaign three my love for them is reinvigorated tenfolds and i think about them for the next week.

i was just thinking about how funny itd be if in a moment of insecurity Sol worries about what Calder and Callie think of him meanwhile those two are head over heels in love. like pining and yearning so hard it makes them dizzy.

Also no I am never letting the “Make Out Every Hour” lie go ever. Im gripping that bit so hard my hand is going to go numb.

[muffinsin]

Perchance-

How do you think the dimi sisters would navigate having an s/o date all of them? Like- a polycule not cheating obvi

Like- I feel like bela would come up with a rigorous schedule but cass and Dani would be jealous as fuck whenever it’s someone else’s day? They would never have sex with their s/o together obvi but I feel like they would try to make each other jealous by rubbing their scent off on the s/o right before they went to another sister? Idk I want them all so bad it kills me- fluff and maybe smut?

- 🪶

This is interesting! I’m surprised I’ve never had a dynamic like this in a request👀🙌

Let’s get into it! :)

Masterlists

It’s originally Daniela that discovers you along the staff. And, unsurprisingly, she takes an immediate interest towards you

Your relationship with her starts very soon and fast

Within the first day of seeing her, she asks you out and unintentionally lets on: the poor thing is desperately looking for romance

With this useful piece of information, you easily woo her during your first date in the opera hall

With her hand clasped in yours, both of you move to the light music. You tell her, she looks beautiful in the dress she has put on

To this day you often lay it out for her, but truly? You think your girlfriend looks good in anything you give her at all. Or nothing, for that matter

You bring her a bouquet of beautiful flowers from the gardens, and even dedicate a small poem to her

Daniela still swoons when she thinks of it all

You treat her like a princess, and she can’t get enough of it. Each day you remind her what she means to you, and each day you are reminded of what you mean to her multiple times a day

However, even with your quickly developing relationship, you catch another sister’s eye: Cassandra

You’re completely caught off guard when she corners you one day and flirts boldly

And while you are certainly not unaware of your growing attraction to Cassandra, you shoot her down in an instant

You’re with her sister! Shouldn’t that be enough?

You like Daniela. A lot. You just can’t help but feel so curious about Cassandra, and Bela for that matter, too

At first, it makes you feel incredibly embarrassed and ashamed. Could you really tell Daniela you fancy her sisters as well as her?

Could you ask of her to share you between them?

You yearn to do so

One day, it all seems to spill over and you confess your thoughts

Daniela is- hurt- at first. Isn’t she good enough? Why do you want her sisters too? Are you like the last lovers she’s had, who, despite being with her, truly only wanted one of her sisters?

No. She realizes, you want her too

You…want all three of them?

Truly, she has never been good at sharing

Still, as you reassure her you love her, and want to be with her too, she begins to develop an open mind as it comes to the idea of sharing you between her sisters

It’s certainly not uncommon for the three to share someone. Still, these are usually pets. Meaningless flings, little servants made to pleasure one of them whenever they felt like it. You’re different

She’s a little scared you will leave her behind for her sisters, or “realize they are better”, according to her

You spend every day showing her how much she means to you, even as Cassandra comes around

She is the first to add to the relationship

The three of you decide; you are to be shared between both. Sometimes you get time with one sister, at other times with the other sister

In the beginning, any type of marking is strictly forbidden. It only leads to whines and tears, growls and poutines when a sister finds you have been marked by the other

Alas, the three of you manage. While jealous, sharing often works out

As such, you’re all Daniela’s when Cassandra is busy hunting or “playing” with maidens

And you belong to Cassandra as Daniela is out hunting, reading, or napping throughout the day

You make sure to spend time with them both, reading, cuddling, kissing, staying in the bedroom, showing your love and appreciation, even hunting and watching Cassandra as she explains her weapons

And it all works. Not perfectly, yes, but certainly without all that much fuss

Then, however, the third sister very obviously catches your eye

From your relationship with both sisters, you have grown confident

You don’t even notice you’re practically ogling the eldest whenever she is near

Both sisters are incredibly jealous of this at first. How come Bela always gets a person’s attention?!

You remind them, they got it first, and it soothes them. You’re right. They were here first

Bela’s the last of the sisters that takes notice of you, yet wants to claim you immediately

As the eldest, she is all too used to getting things she wants. The first bite, namely

She is, however, not at all oblivious to Daniela’s scent all over you. She notices the subtle scent of Cassandra linger too, but shrugs it off for the moment. As far as she knows: you’re all Daniela’s lover, made known by the many public displays of affection

Now, Bela isn’t the type to steal partners from her sisters. Not intentionally anyway

In fact, when she notices your growing attraction to her while you’re with Daniela, she is furious!

How dare you treat her little sister this way!

At first she ignores your glances across the room, then returns them as glares. She knows, you’re with her sister. And she won’t stand for disloyalty!

However, then she is visited by both, you and Daniela, in her office

Her surprise only grows when Cassandra swarms in as well, standing on your right whereas Daniela is on your left. She growls quietly when you wrap your arm around Cassandra’s midsection

Aren’t you with Daniela? What have her younger sisters gotten themselves into?!

Her confusion is easily written all across her face, and as such, she only rolls her eyes when Daniela coos at her expression

It is explained, that you’re with both of them. Bela raises an eyebrow, and you’re quick to assure her: no, you aren’t taking advantage of her precious sisters

She doesn’t quite understand why you’re telling her this, though. Are the…three of you…worried she will kill you should she catch you with Cassandra without knowing you’re with her, too?

No, not quite

Bela’s face heats up nearly instantly when you boldly reach forwards and cup her cheeks gently

She hears her sisters scoff and whine, as though demanding your attention back. Alas, it is set on her

Your eyes find her bright golden ones, and Bela feels her face only burning hotter when you stroke your thumb along her soft cheeks gently

She shivers when you voice your thoughts and admit your adoration and attraction to her

She gulps when she is asked to join what relationship you seem to have

And with your beautiful eyes staring into hers, she can’t help but agree. She’s had her eyes for you for so long, she can’t help but moan when you lean forwards a little more and push your lips against her plump ones

“Don’t get your lipstick all over them!”, comes Daniela’s immediate whines, whereas Cassandra sticks to mocking gagging

As such, your relationship with all three sisters blooms

The beginning is, rocky, to say at the least

Neither sister wants to share when it’s the time, truly, despite their agreement to share you between them

They all want their turns with you, and are reluctant to let go of you

Aside from this, all want to spend the nights with you

This leads to large cuddle piles most days, where you are all in someone’s bed- usually Bela’s, as it’s the largest. With two sisters at your sides and the other on top of you, you’re content to sleep

However, the bickering already starts in the morning, when all three insist, they want to join you in your bath

Of course, this doesn’t work, space wise. You know you cannot fit four people in a bathtub, no matter its size

As such, bickering begins of who gets to join you

Often, it ends up being Bela for the simple reason that she pulls back to sneak into the bathroom with you while her sisters bicker back and forth about who gets to join you

Quite early into Bela adding to the relationship, rules are established

Such as no snatching you when you’re having time with another sister

There is, of course, poor time management. All want you. None want to share

It’s settled- in most mornings you belong to Bela until breakfast. The other sleep in anyway, and while both would rather wake up to you by your side, they agree with only minor annoyance lacing their words

You usually get to be with whoever of your girlfriends isn’t busy

Often, Bela is occupied by her work. Sometimes, you decide to distract her

You’re a big fan of teasing her when she is meant to finish up the paperwork sitting on her desk

Even more so as you find out very fast: Bela is the most sensitive out of your girlfriends

She trembles beautifully for you and gasps at the smallest of touches you inflict on her

She is also the most jealous underneath the mask of maturity and tidiness, and is often irritated when you show up in her office reeking of her sisters and their scents

You often make your precious blonde feel better. Or at the very least add her scent to the mix

She moans beautifully for you when you easily push her over her desk and shivers easily when she hears you take off your clothing

You always take your time with her, and love to slowly pull her dress up her smooth legs and stroke, squeeze and kiss her thick, soft thighs

With her pushed on her back on her desk, your favorite way of treating your girlfriend is by eating her out

Bela grows incredibly at this. Her clit is the most sensitive part of her, and you’re often able to make her cum even without penetration. This can be particularly embarrassing to her, though the moment you lower yourself between her legs, all words slur or die on her tongue

She moans and whimpers loudly for you, so much so you often see it only fit to gag her

The last thing you need is someone walking in on you because of the loud noises you draw from her, after all. Still, you know, and always note with a coo, your precious Bela just can’t keep quiet no matter how hard she tries

You simply make her lose her composure

You make her cum on top of her desk often, though often enjoy kinkier uses of her as she works, too

Namely to visit her with an innocent-looking bag, then demand she stands and place a long, slightly curved toy on her chair

The blonde blushes hotly, the gorgeous woman now struggling not to squirm as she slides down on the dildo and you tuck her closer to the desk with a reminder to finish up her work

Occasionally, you like to check whether she still straddles it, and you’re never disappointed

Bela is such a good girl for you when she wants to be, after all

With Cassandra, there are harsh contrasts

You often find yourself the one dominated by her, snatched as you work with the only justification being that she’s here now and craves you

How could you deny her?

Her personal favorite is to tie you up and inflict pain and pleasure upon you

With a vibrator want taped to your thigh and your arms and legs tied as you stand, she stalks you like prey

You feel fear, and pleasure given to you by the toy. It works against your privates perfectly, and she knows it

It feels so good, you almost forget the pain she yearns to inflict on you

Almost

“Now scream for Mommy”, is her personal favorite, you believe

Often, it serves as your only warning before the pain follows

Usually, in the form of bites and knives, whips bruising your skin, or cruel slaps hitting your backside and striking your ass relentlessly

She draws all kinds of noises from you, and prides herself on it

Another thing she secretly enjoys, is to mark you entirely in those times

Restrained and often even gagged, you’re helpless to her lips and teeth dragging against your skin and digging in lightly

You’re covered from head to toe in her marks and scent, and it makes her feel lightheaded as though the vibrator was against her clit, and the whip hit her creamy, pale skin

At other times, it’s you marking Cassandra

While you like to opt for sweet movements with Bela, you know this sister requires a firmer hand

Cassandra loves nothing more than to let you fuck her like a mere slut

You usually need to break her into this role, and neither of you mind

In fact, she’s ecstatic when you force her down on her knees and fuck her face until she begs for you to allow her up again

Cassandra is incredibly flustered as it comes to submitting as a whole. Any act of dominance of yours has her get wet already, much to her humiliation

You, of course, love to take advantage of this. Especially when you merely grab her face and pull her in for a kiss, yet notice her thighs push together already

You like all things that really get her going as a submissive. Most of all, this is pain and humiliation

Both is brought together, sometimes, when you have her in a sweet, by far too sweet for her, dress as you drag ice cubes across her thighs

The poor thing is crying and squirming non-stop, cumming fast and hard with no end in sight

Her cheeks always flush bright pink when you have her wear a cute looking dress, certainly too girly and innocent for her tastes

Matching this with stockings and a little bow to her head, Cassandra feels right on edge

You never get tired of seeing the gagged brunette watch pitifully as you adjust her stockings and lift her skirt

You are both capable of taking such good care of one another ;)

Then, of course, you have Daniela

The sweetest, yet perhaps kinkiest of the three, as you’ve come to find out

While only sometimes, she too enjoys to control you from time to time and bring you pleasure

Here, she especially likes to tie you up at a chair or so, with your thighs apart and your clothing torn off you

She struggles with sharing you with her sisters and becomes incredibly jealous at their scents sticking to you

She does, however, love to “cleanse” you of them

With her head moving between your legs, she first ensures their scents are covered by your own again

She could work her mouth on you for hours, and almost always does

You’re just too cute wiggling and whining for her when you’re so sensitive already and cant even grab onto her to steady yourself

She savors your tastes each time, and likes to place her marks on your thighs or so. A little bit of pettiness, perhaps. Something for her sisters to see and get jealous over

She loves the thought. You’re all hers, in her mind, after all. As such she loves seeing her older two sisters get jealous whenever they see she’s claimed you

But that is hardly all

Aside from this, she greatly enjoys to tease you while she’s on top of you

You see stars when your seemingly innocent girlfriend easily ties you to the bedposts and straddles your naked body with hers

Soft skin drags along you as she moves, and you feel lightheaded when her lips and tongue returns to your overly sensitive privates

And Daniela? She’s absolutely soaked, just as she likes it

She doesn’t intend on taking care of it just yet, however. She’s very possessive and shameless. She wants her scent all over you

As such, she does just that

Only afterwards and judged by Bela and Cassandra’s disgusted grimaces and urges you please get a bath, do you realize what your not-so-innocent Daniela is doing

She’s grinding on you as she pleasures you, her wet pussy and warm body dragging along your front as she rolls her hips

You only feel the wetness, yet Daniela feels more and more aroused the more of her scent is rubbed off on you

As a submissive, things aren’t all that different

However, Daniela allows for some kinkier plays. Especially as she is the sister capable of being the quietest as you pleasure her

Often you draw little, quiet whimpers and mewls from her, which allow you to take her just about wherever you want

And Daniela loves it

She only giggles when you push her up against walls and reach underneath her lace panties already, her arms over your shoulders as you begin with her clit and two fingers

It doesn’t take a lot to have this one submit, yet you know Daniela can be a little bit of a brat sometimes

Namely, when she keeps snatching you from her sisters on purpose, or keeps putting obstacles in the way to ensure you have less time with them

You realize often: the poor thing is so lonely and pent up when you aren’t there to take care of her

With her arms and legs tied and a vibrating dildo buried inside her velvet core, you often ensure she is prevented from snatching you again

Instead, you shoot her a dirty grin and smirk when you return hours later, your precious brat squirming on the bed and begging for forgiveness after being forced through orgasm after orgasm

You know, even tied up Daniela can swarm out of her restraints at any time. The tears of overstimulation and her bright pink pussy tell you she stayed in place like a good girl

You trace your fingers alongside her trembling form, her perky breasts and little nipples on display for you

She groans and whimpers as you tug and spank them, the toy in her mercilessly bringing her pleasure

She’s utterly soaked for you, and you’re mildly surprised the thing hasn’t slipped out of her yet

Just when she believes you fill free her of this sweet torture, though, you merely lower yourself between her soft legs and lick broadly across her warm pussy

She’s trembling and moaning, her own arousal clinging to her and the sheets between her legs

Her eyes practically sparkle, despite her exhaustion, you reveal the strap/cock between your legs, and with a simple tug, the toy slips out of her with a wet sound

She is only granted a moment of peace before you thrust between her southern lips already until she’s lubricated you enough

With no issue at all, she takes you in and squirms beautifully when you begin thrusting right away

Her skin is flushed and warm, her thighs tremble and her pussy is soaked for you

With hard thrusts, you push her up on the bed, before your hands at the rope adorning her hips pull her downwards again

It seems, this is a perfect way to make your little songbird sing for you

“Will you take more hours, or have we learned our lesson, Daniela?”

She always assures you, yes! She has! She will behave! She will be good!

For a time being, the brat in her is fucked out, and you’re all too happy to reward the good girl squirming and clenching around you

[whataperfectwasteoftime]

The Rift - Chapter Three

Pairing: Marcus Moreno x Marcus Acacius x Marcus Pike x f!Reader

Rating: Chapter is T, overall fic is E (18+ only, explicit smut)

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: Bad Latin, language barriers, lots of yearning, Marcus Acacius is Very Hot and no one knows what to do about it

Summary: Marcus Pike shows up at your door in the middle of the night with a very broad man in Roman armor in tow. Armed with only your Classical studies education and a Latin-English dictionary, you do your best to help.

A/N: Okay, we've got three of the four members of this grammatically insane polycule in the same space! Only one more to go! I wonder how a certain Leader of the Heroics is doing.... Just a reminder, to keep everyone sane, the POV character is called out by name at the beginning of each POV switch.

Masterlist | Chapter Two | Next chapter>>

(You)

At around the same time that the leader of the Heroics was impatiently waiting for his coffee maker to finish brewing, you’re startled awake by loud, forceful knocking on your door. 

Going from ‘asleep’ to ‘instant dread’ in the span of two seconds makes your body feel like it’s short-circuiting. You tumble out of bed, grabbing the nearest object to potentially use as a weapon. You examine your choice–Stephen King’s The Stand, and shrug internally. I mean, if any book could be a blunt weapon… 

With your fingers white-knuckled around the thick spine, you peer carefully through the peephole to find–

“Marcus!?”

You yank open the door to find the Special Agent of your dreams standing on your welcome mat. “What the hell? Do you have any idea what time–”

“It was an emergency,” the Agent says quickly, holding up his hands in supplication. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know who else to call.” The dread returns to the pit of your chest. “Marcus, oh God, are you okay? What happened? What’s wrong?”

“It’s not me, it’s um. Well, let me show you.” He grimaces, then pushes someone else out from behind the corner and into view. 

It’s a man–a very large man. A large, broad man wearing a dress. No, wait. That’s not a dress, that's…

“Marcus,” you say carefully. “Why is there a man dressed in Roman armor on my doorstep.

“Marcus,” the man repeats, and slaps his chest. 

“Yes, that’s right,” the Agent says tiredly, as though he’s gone through this several times in the past hour. “This is Marcus. He’s from the Rift. I... kind of almost hit him with my car.”

“Car,” the Roman says, nodding seriously. He looks you up and down in a way that makes heat creep to your cheeks, and says something in a language that you don’t understand, but seems oddly familiar.

“Oh my God,” you murmur to yourself. “He speaks Latin.”

“I’m kind of at a loss,” Marcus, your Marcus says with a tired sigh. “I don’t know whether to call someone at Heroics, HQ, or… I dunno. I mean, who the fuck do you call when you have… a Roman?”

“Hang on.” You hold up a finger and dash over to your office, which is really just a tiny room off of the living room filled to the brim with shelves and shelves of books, with a tiny desk squeezed in between.

“You should get rid of your old college textbooks,” you say to yourself in a mocking tone. “How many times are you going to move house, and you still have all these books taking up space? Well, the joke’s on you, Linda, because I’ve got a Roman Centurion in my kitchen and the man of my dreams showed up at my door at three in the morning because he needs my help and this is my moment, dammit.” Your finger finally lands on the text you were looking for–a dog-eared copy of Oxford’s Latin-English Dictionary with a broken spine and part of the front matter missing. On a whim, you grab the first book next to it, Ovid’s Metamorphoses in the original Latin, and race back to Marcus and… other Marcus. 

“Salve,” you begin, and the Roman’s eyes snap to yours. 

Marcus Pike grins as though you’ve hung the stars.

Flipping through the pages frantically, you manage to string together your first sentence.

“You… are… safe… with… us.”

You hope you conjugated the verb correctly. 

The Roman murmurs something back, speaking slowly and deliberately, understanding that this is very much not your native tongue. He repeats it twice, until your face dawns with understanding. 

“Where am I?”

“Jesus, can we start with an easier one?” you chuckle to yourself. After some quick thinking, you manage to explain to Roman Marcus that he is in a different country, very far away from the world he knows.

The man shakes his head. “Quam?” he murmurs to no one in particular. 

That’s a tough one, too. You have no idea how to explain black holes and time rifts in Latin. 

You make a face, putting your hands up and shrugging your shoulders in an exaggerated pantomime of, “I don’t know.”

The man nods slowly. You feel awful for him, really. Stranger in a strange land. He must be terrified.

“Famelicus,” he says. 

You don’t know that one. You flip through the pages to find the F’s. 

“Famelicus,” he repeats, pointing to his stomach. “Panis?”

“Oh shit, yeah,” you whisper. “Of course you’re hungry.” You turn to the cupboard that serves as your pantry and search for something he’d recognize. You pull out half of a baguette and hold it up hesitantly. The man rips it from your grasp almost comically and begins to tear pieces off of it with his teeth, devouring the bread with gusto. 

“This is surreal,” Pike murmurs under his breath. 

When the Roman finishes eating, he seems almost as interested in the clear plastic wrapping than in the bread itself. He stares at it, brow furrowed with a deep frown of concentration as he crinkles the plastic over and over again in his fist. 

“I hate to ask, but can we… can we crash here until morning when I can think straight and figure out what the hell to do with this guy?” Marcus asks, looking pained. 

“Yeah, ‘course,” you reassure him. “I’ll help you. We’ll get him back to where he needs to go, or... find the person who can. In the morning.”

“In the morning,” Marcus nods, smiling gratefully. 

Turning to the Roman again, you say haltingly, “Somnus. Nox. Somnus?” Sleep. Night. 

The Roman also looks relieved at the prospect of sleep. 

“Uh, cubile,” you say, gesturing at the couch and indicating he can use it as a bed. You’re about to go rummage in your linen closet for a spare blanket and maybe a pillow, but Marcus the Roman strides confidently over to the couch, lies down, and is snoring within seconds. 

“Woah,” you remark, laughing to yourself. “Shit, Marcus, I only have the one couch…”

“I’ll take the recliner,” he says quickly, pointing to the battered, second-hand Lazy Boy in the corner of your living room. “Listen,” he swallows thickly, looking up at you with those deep brown eyes that make you melt in any situation, much less in the middle of the night in your dark living room. “Thank you. I didn’t know where else to go, and you–Well, if anyone can speak a dead language conversationally, it would be you.” His voice is soft and earnest, and you want to tell him anything at all, Marcus, anything for you but you force yourself to bite your tongue.

“It’s no problem,” you assure him. “Honestly. I mean, talk about a Classicists dream, right? When do you ever get to use the stuff you learned in graduate school in the real world?”

Marcus chuckles softly. “Go get some sleep. We’ll tackle Mount Olympus in the morning, yeah?”

“That’s Greek, not Roman,” you snort.

He winks at you, and you will your knees not to buckle. “Whatever,” he teases playfully. 

“‘Night,” you say, hoping you don’t sound too breathless. Without waiting for a reply, you retreat to your bedroom before you can make a fool of yourself even further.

“‘Night,” Marcus returns softly, and when you turn to close the door, he’s still looking at you. 

(Pike)

Marcus awakens to the comforting sound of someone puttering quietly around the kitchen. He opens his eyes to see you–what a beautiful sight–reaching up on your tiptoes to take three mugs from the cupboard. The other Marcus is awake too, sitting at the kitchen table and watching your task with curiosity.

When he stirs from the recliner, you smile in greeting. “I made coffee,” you offer brightly. 

“Sainted being,” Marcus groans tiredly as he gets up from the chair, his joints creaking and protesting as he stands. 

“Cah-fee,” the Roman repeats as you pour the steaming liquid into three cups. 

“I don’t think you’re gonna like it,” you say with a chuckle as he reaches for one of the mugs. “It’s hot. Calidus. Be careful.”

“Care-fool,” the man nods seriously, and Marcus can’t help but smile at the bizarre domesticity of the scene. 

He sips cautiously, makes a face, and lets out a string of Latin that Marcus takes to understand that he didn’t like the coffee.

You snort. “I told you. How about, ah, milk?” You flip through your dictionary. “Lac? Lacte?” You take the quart out of your fridge and hold it up.

“Lac. Mil-k?” 

“Yes!” you squeal excitedly, spinning around to grab another cup. Before you can turn around, however, the Roman has managed to open the carton of milk himself and begins chugging from it. 

At your shocked expression when you turn back around, Marcus can’t help but let out a loud laugh. The other man stares at him questioningly, and he gestures to the cup. “The cup.”

“Cup,” the man repeats, and laughs too. 

“I’m gonna make some eggs,” you announce. “He should like that, you think?”

Marcus shrugs. “I don’t see why not.”

You hold up an egg for the man’s inspection. “Uh, ovum?” you ask.

His face brightens. “Sic, ovum,” he agrees. He stands and inspects the carton thoughtfully. “Quid est?” 

“Ovum,” you answer again, not understanding the question. 

“No.” The Roman picks one up carefully and points to himself. “Ovum,” he says patiently, then points to you.

Oh. Marcus grins. “I think he wants to know the word in English.”

“Egg,” you tell him. 

“Egg,” he repeats. The word seems to strike him as funny, because he repeats it several times, chuckling as he does. 

Now that understanding has been made, ‘Quid est?’ seems to be the man’s new favorite question. He repeats it over and over as you make breakfast, getting in your way in the process and generally causing chaos throughout the small apartment. Marcus tries his best to run interference, answering all of his questions to the best of his ability. Thankfully, he seems to stick to objects that are familiar to him–a pillow, chair, fork–rather than ask Marcus about the microwave, or, god forbid, his cell phone. He repeats every English word thoughtfully, in a thick accent and rumbling voice that he can’t help but find attractive. 

“Hey, you don’t think anyone else saw our friend here last night and said anything?” you say suddenly while the three of you sit around your kitchen table eating the eggs. 

Somehow, the thought hadn’t even crossed Marcus’s mind. “Shit, I dunno,” he admits.

“I’m gonna check the news.” you grab the remote off of the coffee table and switch on the TV. 

The noise and pictures emanating from the screen immediately cause Marcus to spit curses in Latin. He tries to rise from his chair in alarm, but you place your hand on his forearm and repeat several words in Latin softly and reassuringly, and the man calms. 

The local news is, as it has been since its arrival, fixated on the Rift. Everything seems as expected–normal seems to be the wrong word–until Marcus realizes what the anchor is saying. 

“ –was successfully closed around six am this morning. Joining us now is Marcus Moreno, leader of the Heroics, to give us an update on the situation.”

“What do they mean, ‘Closed?’” you ask with a frown. 

“Shh,” Marcus says. 

“Mr. Moreno, representatives from your team are saying that the portal is now closed, is this correct?” the anchor asks. 

“That’s right. The um… the security risk was too great, and we don’t really know what that kind of rip in the fabric of uh, you know, space and time, is capable of. Our team of physicists have been working on a solution day and night and I’m happy to announce that the Rift has disappeared completely and Pennsylvania Avenue should be reopening in the next few days as cleanup begins.”

“Is there any chance of it opening again?” the anchor asks. 

Marcus Moreno looks uncomfortable. “Listen, the… the math around this isn’t my strong suit, but my understanding is that these kinds of things–rifts in space and time–can only happen when an exponential amount of energy is released, so barring another supervillain somewhere out there with the same Black Hole bomb, there shouldn’t be any more Rifts opening in the nation’s capital anytime soon. Uh, thanks.”

“He’s always so stiff in interviews,” you comment. “You think he’s uncomfortable with the limelight, or what?”

“Are you being serious right now?” Marcus shakes his head in disbelief. “The portal is closed. The Rift is gone. And our friend here is trapped on the wrong side.”

“Oh, shit,” you breathe. “Oh, fuck. Marcus… what do we do?”

“I’m gonna go to Heroics HQ,” Marcus announces. “To talk to Moreno one-on-one and try to keep this situation quiet. He’s a good guy, he’ll use discretion.” “You know Marcus Moreno?”

“How is that your takeaw–nevermind. I mean, I don’t know him, but I’ve definitely come across him in professional settings in the past. Why?”

“He’s–” you laugh nervously. “It’s silly. I always kind of had a crush on him. Childhood celebrity crush, you know how it is.”

“Oh. Right.” Is it hot in here? Did someone raise the temperature in this room? Marcus can’t explain why the prospect of you finding the leader of the Heroics attractive eats at him so much, but the next thing that you say nearly makes him swallow his tongue.

“Actually, you resemble him a lot,” you comment nonchalantly. “You’ve got the same pretty brown eyes.”

The other Marcus chooses this moment to hold up his empty plate and ask, earnestly, “Egg?”

[nualaofthefaerie]

Opinions on Catwin happening alongside Payneland? As in like V shaped poly relationships?

I think they should all hold hands, for real. My ship is CatMontWinRowPalaSaki. They are a circle that holds hands in different capacities, and I think that's so cool. They all have different appeals and different dynamics. There are not a lot of shows with these levels of chemistry all around.

As for Catwin specifically, it's just the one dynamic that appeals to me personally the most, but I like all of them. I think realistically, Catwin's not happening as endgame. Endgame is gonna be Painland, possibly some sort of opened polycule between them and the girls with queerplatonic NikoxEdwin. But I do think the showrunners didn't expect the Cat King to blow up the way he did so they have hinted on him coming back if they do season 2 so I think we'll be seeing cat and mouse in reverse this time with Edwin being in control and I'm hyped for that. I think a real kiss for Catwin is in the cards, depending on how the hand is played.

As for the general moral debate, I think it's rather funny that we attach such rigorous morals to two ghosts, a cat, a crow, a witch, and a psychic. In a show with Dandellion Sprites, I don't see a reason to be so deep with it. It's fun, it's intimate, it's sexy, it's a story of attraction, and the first brushes with lust and yearning.

In conclusion, polycule.

Love,

Li 🪷🩷

[tigers1o1]

Yall really liked part one

PART TWO OF WHAT YOUR FAVORITE JRWI RIPTIDE SHIP SAYS ABOUT YOUUUU

(except this time I’m not putting pictures so i can do a longer post)

PC/NPC

Pistolwhip (jay/lizzie) - if you’re all the way caught up, you are HERE for the angst. That toxic, fucked up yuri. If you havent watched 101 yet, you think they girlboss. And honestly, you girlboss too.

Sharpshooter (jay/kira) - childhood friends to lovers FUCKS you up. You probably didnt have many close connections as a kid and yearn for the kind of love that can only come from knowing someone for years. You also really like the “lovers on opposite” sides trope, but maybe not quite to the “hero/villain” trope or enemies to lovers. Just tragic romeo and juliet types.

Clockwork rivals/ women in STEM (jay/ensa) - you’re probably a STEM major too to be honest. You’re hella chill, and i know that for a fact. You are also in love with ensa. You’re also probably a cat person.

Jay’s Harem - Jay is your favorite, you’re pissed that so many people over look her and you hate your dad. You’re probably a lesbian/sapphic. You think she deserves everything. You’re probably in either a very stable relationship, or chronically alone.

Swordfish (gillion/caspain) - i feel like you’re probably a fairly lonely person who seeks comfort in those with similar backgrounds/identities to yours. You just think theyre neat :3

Scarlet Captains (chip/jasmine drake) - BOY KISSER 🫵. No but in all seriousness you LOVE the flirting, the tension. You’d probably turn into a blubbering mess if someone flirted with you the was Jazz flirts with Chip. You’re down bad for Jazz, dont lie.

Chiptune (chip/queen) - queen is your favorite character, and you’re just a littol guy. You want to be wrapped in a fuzzy blanket always and have a sweet tooth like none other. You love fluff, and are probably obsessed with the character cinnamoroll

Fnfnc (gillion/caspian/chip) - you’ve been here for a while, havent you? I feel like this one was more popular in the earlierish days, so if this is still your favorite you’ve got some DEDICATION. You are loyal to a fault and you are not afraid to fight someone if they hurt one of your besties.

Sea sharp (gill/chip/queen) - you just like them being silly together :> you also probably want to be at the middle of a cuddle pile. You think highly of your friends and you’re probably on the quieter side.

Greater mana polycule (whatever that means to you is correct) - you’re autistic and when you were a kid, you had more stuffed animals than room on your bed because you felt bad leaving anyone out

NPC/NPC

Waning crescent/ frigatebird (lizzie/ ava) - oh so you like to cry. You like tragic yuri. You liked doomed timelines. You like MCD, you freak /pos. You fuck heavily with the “hero/villain” trope but ONLY when its messy and complicated and there are no heroes and villains and they love each other but they can never have each other and- yeah thats all i need to say. You know who you are. Also props to you is you shipped it before 101. There were like 4 of us, i fear

Rosewater (lizzie/caspian) - you are LOYAL. You know who your friends are and you will defend them until you DIE. Youre also a CHRONIC overthinker. You’re probably in a strange found family relationship with most of your friends and I’m willing to bet you’re ace. You love undying loyalty in relationships, and unconditional love through extremely tough times. You probably elect to ignore the “Caspian is a traitor theory”, and if you dont, you love it for the fucked up angst potential.

Cattlepunk (drey/ ichabod) - you are ride or fucking die for this ship. You scrounch up anything there is for this ship and if you’ve consumed it all, you make it yourself. You have a thing for cowboys and pray to grizzly every day that he beings jonah scott back.

Drearl (drey/earl) - oh you’re fucking OOOOLD. You’ve been in those fandoms since the days before they deleted fated. Also. If THIS is your favorite ship? What the fuck. But its almost definitely ironic, and for that? You are iconic.

Star crossed survivors (star/ zamia) - you’re adorable, probably a lesbian, and really like happy endings despite tragedy. You want to live in the woods with 4 cats, 2 horses and your soulmate. Your favorite barbie movie is/was Barbie and the Diamond Castle

Let me know if I missed yours!!

[ford-ftm-150]

Polycule Yearning Time:

Them doing my hair. Me doing their hair. Scalp massages & being pet on the head during quiet moments.

[kaiju-krew]

Ohhh wow, I didn't expect you to actually answer my question hahaha (new fav gif, ty).

I asked you about Shimothra because I recently listened to 'Good Luck Babe' by Chapell Roan and for some reason I imagined Mothra and Shimo... Idk if it's a popular ship but I wanted to ask your opinion because you're my favorite kaiju artist <33

So yeah, share your thoughts, it'll be fun!

the people yearn for old woman kaiju yuri and i will do my best to deliver 😤

GODDDDD UR HURTIN MEEEE ok that song for them is so gd angsty...... it's making me think of some au where they used to be paired up but got separated/think one another are dead......... only for shimo to be imprisoned/unreachable before they can reunite.......... and they both move on but not rly........... YOWZA im making myself sad ok i cant start with angst it hurtin oK OK lets back it up

ANGST ASIDE i think it is very cute. very very cute. and ripe for very interesting development. i wanna do some doodles for it once im done my current comms!!! i have ideas........

i will be fr and say i am such a multishipper goblin that the idea of a quad-polycule gets my brain gears going a bit more than 1on1 ships in a totally unique au because i think they should all love on each other (like goji n kong smooching and mosu n shimo smooching while mosu n goji high five each other do you see the vision. do you. do you see it.)

in regards to an au where they're a pair removed from the others tho i will say i am an absolute SUCKERRR for like. a char like shimo who has Missed Out on a lot due to being enslaved for so long, and a char like mothra, who is endlessly patient and empathetic unless you're ghidorah, helping shimo sort of.... get used to the world again. spending time together, introducing her to other benevolent kaiju, that kinda slow guiding hand that helps her regain autonomy and feel safe??? i WILL be crying in the club tyvm

i could yap for longer but i'd rather leave some ideas/interactions quiet until i can doodle them :3c soon soon

[ilminnestrone]

I really need to take this out of my system because I stumbled across this polyphobic bullshit too many times.

When it comes to polyships, you all need to stop with this constant blabbering that ships involving character 1, character 2 and other characters are not character 1 x character 2. Yes, they fucking are.

It's literal Polyamory 101, if not Polyamory for dummies, and you're just full of polyphobic shit without even knowing (I hope).

Do you really think we polyamorous people wake up one day and fall in love with the same person, at the same time, with the same intensity? That's unicorn hunters' thinking. It's the first thing you learn when you get into consensual non-monogamy. I'm telling you: it doesn't.

Not all the people involved in a polycule are necessarily in love with each other or having sex with each other. That's called Heaven on Earth. Most of the times some of them are in love, some of them fuck, some of them do both, some of them just watch, some of them cuddle, some of them are into kink without the sex part and some of them despise each other.

Polycules are formed around relationships between individuals. Polyamory is messy and complicated because the people involved in it form bounds that are completely independent. Every pairing in a polycule has its own peculiar relationship. A, B and C are in a closed throuple? Then you have three different pairings involved: AxB, BxC and AxC. And also the dynamic between the three of them. The more characters you add, the more the pairings and variabilitiy. That's math, pure and simple. So YES: ships involving A, B and C are AxB too!

You are totally entitled to your NOTPs. You're entitled to dislike het ships or homo ships (even if I think you might have an issue if you are repulsed by an entire sexual orientation). You're entitled to your monoships or to dislike polyships. The point here is not personal preference.

The point is you have to fucking stop using polyphobic (or any other kind of queerphobic) statements to exclude things you don't like. Use tags. Don't consume a piece of media if you don't like it. Headcanon every single character on Earth as monogamous. But keep in mind you don't own an entire fandom and other people are entitled to enjoy their headcanon as much as you do.

Just be a decent human being to people who are just trying their best to survive in this world and yearn for representation. Because we exist, and those statements are hurtful.

[pseudonymphomania]

"Shout Your Heart Out", the narrative compulsion of unrequited yearning, and the things that stick with me

How to do DiaLuci correctly: in the NB "Creating Records" WW, Diavolo takes many pictures of Lucifer as keepsakes, to Lucifer's resignation, until Lucifer takes the phone from him. Diavolo is a very extra person. He does things to their furthest extent and is a very goofy character despite his propensity for sound judgement in other matters. Lucifer taking the phone from him reestablishes Lucifer's agency. After a heart-to-heart, the skit culminates in Lucifer taking a selfie with Diavolo of his own volition, not because he is forced to, but because he cares for Diavolo as a friend. Lucifer gives Diavolo his phone back and taps him on the chest over his heart. The scene is a balanced reflection of the care these two have for each other in their different ways. The denouement [the final part of a narrative in which the strands of the plot are drawn together and matters are explained or resolved] is delicious, heartwarming, interpretable, logically sound.

How to do DiaLuci incorrectly: in "Shout Your Heart Out", Diavolo practices for weeks yelling about all the things he likes about Lucifer. His words leave little to be interpreted. He gets MC involved for no narratively compelling reason and despite having that quality time together, there is nothing much that sells even a friendship with MC aside from circumstantial presence. When it comes time for the event, Diavolo tells the world how much Lucifer means to him and how attractive he is (this is a romantic trope). Then the brothers stand there awkwardly commenting on this, including the object of the prince's affections, Lucifer, who says, paraphrased, "I don't care". Then, finally, after Diavolo confesses his love for Lucifer, he pulls MC on the stage and confesses to them and kisses them. (Denouement: ???)

I already made comments on someone else's post about my feelings regarding the card and despite an entire day passing and a real life to live and bills to pay, I couldn't get this out of my head.

I think I know why.

As much as I play this game to get the DiaLuci crumbs, this card left me feeling really hollow and sad. Canonically, Diavolo and Lucifer are best friends. This is exemplified by their first meeting (OG "Glory Days" Lucifer UR), their continued meetings as representatives from their respective realms (NB: Seven Apples" Diavolo UR), Diavolo's support to aid fallen Lucifer who asked him for help (Story Canon both games), their mutual regard as Devildom leaders (Role of Prince and Whip respectively in respective chapters), their affection for each other in general (little things like Lucifer offering to take half of the consequences in the past Christmas event because he couldnt let Diavolo take it on himself). This is explicit and textual. In this card, having Lucifer not give even a little bit of a shit is anti-character development.

The implicit is where the fans live; an interpretation of a written text is subject to the whims and tastes and biases of the perceiver. It is my pleasure to interpret them as a romantic relationship, a beautiful friendship, among everything they are and could be for each other. But.

But... to explicitly, in no uncertain terms, have Diavolo stop just shy of saying I Love You to Lucifer ("Shout Your Heart Out") and have the reaction to that be status quo indifference, then have Diavolo get washed by the narrative to remember the MC exists is some astronomically bad storytelling. Lucifer is a major poster-boy. Metaphysically, it's not possible to have him reciprocate because its an otome and he's a big money-maker (This is where the fans ignore the meta of the game and run with the interpretation of the text because it doesnt matter if something is canon or not in the grand scheme of things; DiaMC fans exist, LuciMC fans exist, Dialuci-polycule-sandwich fans exist, DiaLuci fans exist, ANTI-all-of-the-above exists).

Now, this card makes it explicitly textual that Diavolo is in a constant state of yearning (sad). This card makes MC the rebound (in a dating sim??). This card doesnt even have Lucifer react to the DiaMC kiss when Lucifer is supposed to be into MC. He's just there (Asmo got more screen time!). This is tragic for everyone involved. In a game about "romance", this card is an absolute travesty, and because of that I spent all day thinking about it like it was something of consequence in my busy life.

By comparing the two scenarios above, there is a very strong lesson here about the strength of a beautifully crafted narrative, so I am amiss as to why this card exists if not to commit to the ideas as written. (This is rhetorical; I know why)

Note: this is not an either-or situation. The DiaLuci and DiaMC plots CAN be done at the same time in one card, but it takes skill and a commitment to the kind of storytelling that is very hard to do with corporate and stakeholder meddling, deadlines, interprofessional and jurisdictional impudence, misunderstandings of market demographics and consumer behaviors, funneled into what is essentially a 4-koma Devilgram.

Am I still a hardcore DiaLuci shipper? Yes. Obviously. My personal denouement [headcanon] is that the love is requited. But poison can still smell delicious to a mouse before it kills it. *sighhhhh... saves the screenshot of Diavolo admiring Lucifer's attractiveness reluctantly* I just care about the value of a good story a little bit more because both DiaLuci and DiaMC were done so dirty here. 😭

Conclusion: the real winners are the cherry pickers who are able to make do with what little exists for them. The portentous winds say that I will become one.

Thank you for reading this and I hope you all have a wonderful day! 🥰

Edit: My opinion has been slightly changed because of a comment on my Reddit post by user Clarasiir. I appreciate that and I'm happy to have experienced a real life Hegelian Dialectic.

Edit 2: A kind reprise. The aftermath of the Devilgram.

[veikonvihannekset]

I am thinking, once again, of Lucy Westenra, and how she is at the heart of both the tragedy and the triumph of the story.

It is unutterably tragic that Lucy Westenra had so many people who loved her, but none of them could save her; none of them could even be by her side in those moments of sheer, stark terror. None of them could know what she felt when she was too weak to write.

It is tragic and unfair that Lucy was forced to choose between the three men she loved, to drive wedges between those her affectionate heart yearned to embrace, and she would never know how they could come together. That all the people she loved could have come together from the start, without jealousy or barrier, but they didn’t know how to do it; they couldn’t do it in time to save her. They gave their blood for her, but it wasn’t enough.

Lucy’s tragedy reads specifically as a commentary on the barriers that the institution of the nuclear family throws up between people who care for each other, but do not have the space, or the time, to be present for each other; in particular, on the isolation it brings to women. As long as Lucy had Mina by her side, she was not alone. But when Mina was called to Jonathan’s side, she could not intrude; she could not ask her for what she was not in a position to give. Mina’s first duty, in that society, was to her husband, and at that time there was no-one to take that burden off her. If only Lucy had dared to confide in Mina; if only Mina had been in a position to notice, and act! If only either of them could have talked to her mother!

If only Van Helsing had confided in her, or in her mother, as to the actual source of her malaise! It is, perhaps, understandable that Van Helsing didn’t confide in them; such a tale could scarcely have been credible to her mother. It might have caused her weak heart to fail entirely; it might have caused her to lose all confidence in Van Helsing’s treatment. It would have brought more horror and distress to two women already trapped in a ghastly situation.

But what a relief it might have been to Lucy, to hear a tale that would have illuminated the root of her suffering! To feel less alone through those long terrible nights! Not to mention the possibility, however slight, that they might have believed in Van Helsing’s story, and acted; that she might have been saved. That all those gallant friends who were ready to give their blood for her might have done more, if they had known what to do.

When the polycule comes together to defeat the evil, it is by pooling their knowledge and their resources, and by embracing each other without hesitation or restraint. It is only by doing this that they are able to defeat Dracula, who acts by finding people when they are alone and weak in the darkness, and kills them while other people are too preoccupied to act on their behalf. It is by acting always together, by being ready to sacrifice all for each other, that they are able to defeat him in the end.

It is by the illumination of their scientific method, their rigorous curiosity, and their shared study, that they are able to defeat the darkness of Dracula, that feeds on people’s ignorance and isolation. But it is also Lucy’s triumph, that all these people she loved could find common cause in her name. That they could, for a little while, set at naught the boundaries that society throws up between people’s hearts. They could not do it in time to save her, but they could do it. I think the girl who wished that she could have three husbands, who wanted to share everything with Mina without reserve, would have found joy in that.