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cloudyluun · 2 days ago

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No Cameras Allowed (p2) | famous!harry

Summary: A single photo exposes what was meant to stay hidden, throwing Y/N into a storm of scrutiny, speculation, and Harry’s growing distance. But just when the chaos seems to settle, something far worse lurks beneath the surface, waiting to destroy everything.

A/N: Me: Let’s add some angst.Also me: Accidentally ruins their lives in the process. 😇

This part has it all—smut, emotional damage, and the internet being a raging dumpster fire. If you think things can’t get worse… oh, sweet summer child. Buckle up. 😈

Alsooo!! i opened up commissions, find them here!

Word Count: 5k

Warnings:

Smut (NSFW, described sex scenes, not very explicit)

Angst (SO much angst)

Jealousy & possessiveness

Arguments, raised voices, and hurt feelings

Public exposure & media frenzy

Slut-shaming, cyberbullying & online hate

Emotional distress, panic attacks, & isolation

Sex tape leak & intense feelings of violation

Betrayal & trust issues

(If any of these are triggers for you, please read with caution or skip certain parts! 💜)

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

You barely make it through the door before the weight of the night crashes over you. Your heels dangle from your fingers, their straps digging into your skin, forgotten in the haze of exhaustion. The dress that once made you feel untouchable—cinched perfectly at the waist, shimmering under the ballroom lights, a second skin of confidence—is now nothing but a burden, suffocating and heavy against your body. The fabric clings to the sweat on your spine, a reminder of the hours spent dancing, smiling, pretending.

The air in your apartment is still. No distant chatter, no flashing cameras, no murmurs of speculation just out of earshot. Just silence. A stark contrast to the whirlwind of the gala, to the tension that still lingers in your chest, wound tight like a coil refusing to snap. You kick the door shut behind you, the sound echoing through the dimly lit space, grounding you.

Your hands tremble as you reach for your phone, the screen illuminating your face with a cold, blue glow. You refresh Twitter. Once. Twice. Again.

Nothing.

No blurry pictures hastily taken from the corner of the room. No speculative threads dissecting stolen glances or analyzing body language. Just the usual: best-dressed lists, articles debating the most jaw-dropping looks of the night, a few clips of drunken celebrities caught mid-slur.

You exhale, a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, and sink onto the edge of your bed. Maybe you got lucky. Maybe the fan who recognized you in that moment—who raised their phone, eyes wide with realization—decided to keep the photo to themselves.

But relief is fleeting. It never lasts long when it comes to him.

Your fingers hover over his name in your messages, muscle memory betraying you.

Maybe you were just overreacting. Maybe the fan won’t post it. Maybe this was just a false alarm—a close call, but nothing more.

You type out a message to Harry but doesn’t send it.

(What would you even say?) "That was close?" "Thought we were caught?" "I can still feel your hands on me?"

You don’t text him. You shouldn’t. You tell yourself you won’t. Instead, you lock your phone and toss it onto the duvet beside you, pressing the heels of your palms against your eyes. As if that could stop the flood of thoughts, the relentless replay of the night unraveling in your mind.

The rooftop.

The cool night air brushing against your skin, a welcome contrast to the heat that had coiled low in your stomach the moment his hand found yours. The city stretched below you, lights blinking like stars scattered across concrete. The faint hum of music from the ballroom below, distant, as if the world had momentarily paused for the two of you.

You remember the way he looked at you—really looked at you. Like he was trying to memorize every detail, as if this moment, this stolen sliver of time, was all he’d ever have. His gaze had burned through you, unspoken words resting heavy between you both. You should have walked away. You should have ignored the way his voice curled around your name, like a secret only he was meant to keep.

But you didn’t.

You stayed.

You let him pull you in, let the night swallow you whole, let yourself forget—just for a second—that there were rules, consequences, a world beyond the rooftop’s edge waiting to come crashing back in.

And now, in the quiet of your apartment, with only the hum of your thoughts and the lingering scent of his cologne on your skin, you can’t escape the truth.

You crossed a line tonight.

And the whole world might find out.

But before the rooftop, before the gala, before the lies and the secrecy, there was a beginning. A first moment. A shift in the air so subtle and yet so undeniable that even now, as you sit in the dim glow of your apartment, you can still feel it humming beneath your skin.

The first time you saw Harry, the world around you dulled. Maybe it was the sheer force of his presence, the way he occupied a room so effortlessly, all slow movements and easy confidence. Maybe it was the sound of his laughter, rich and unhurried, cutting through the noise of a crowded space like he had all the time in the world.

Or maybe it was the way he looked at you—like he had already known you before you had the chance to introduce yourself.

You weren’t supposed to notice him. You weren’t supposed to feel anything when his gaze lingered just a second too long, when his lips curved into that lazy, knowing smile that made your pulse falter. But the second his eyes found yours across the room, something clicked into place. Something inevitable.

The attraction was instant. Palpable.

You remember the way your breath caught when he spoke your name for the first time, the syllables rolling off his tongue like he was testing them, savoring them. The way conversation with him felt different—like an undercurrent of something dangerous, something waiting to pull you under.

You told yourself it was nothing. A fleeting moment. A trick of the light.

But Harry Styles was not the kind of man you forgot.

It started as a game. A dance of words, teasing and laced with something unspoken. A battle of who would fold first.

And you did.

It wasn’t supposed to mean anything. The first time it happened, it was just that—an accident, a misstep, a single night that spiraled out of control before either of you could stop it. A party, too much champagne, the sharp edge of desire pressing into your ribs.

You remember the way his fingers grazed your wrist when he reached for your drink, the way his lips quirked when he caught you staring. You remember the heat in his eyes, the way his touch burned through fabric, the moment his mouth finally crashed against yours like he had been waiting for it, like you had been waiting for it.

It was reckless. Messy. Teeth against lips, hands fisting in fabric, breathless laughter swallowed by the dark. The press of his body against yours, the sheer force of wanting him making your head spin.

And then, morning came.

And you told yourself it was a mistake.

But then it happened again. And again.

Each time, you swore it was the last. Each time, you promised yourself it was just physical, just an outlet, just something to be ignored in the light of day.

But it never was.

Because Harry didn’t just touch you—he unraveled you. He kissed you like he was memorizing you, like he was terrified you’d slip through his fingers the moment he let go. And when the world wasn’t watching, when the cameras weren’t flashing, he looked at you like you were the only thing keeping him tethered to the ground.

So you made rules.

No feelings. No expectations. No one finds out.

And in the beginning, the rules worked. They made it easier to pretend. They turned stolen glances into nothing more than coincidence, turned fleeting touches into meaningless gestures. They allowed you to lie to yourself—convince yourself that whatever this was, it wasn’t real.

But rules mean nothing when he kisses you like he’s drowning.

When his fingers tangle in your hair like he can’t bear to let go.

When he pulls you into his arms after, as if holding you in the dark is the only thing keeping him together.

And now, with your heart still racing from the night you just had, with the taste of his name still lingering on your tongue, you know one thing for certain: This was never just a game.

But you pretend it is.

You have to.

Because if you let yourself believe anything else, if you admit that this thing between you and Harry has already bled past every line you swore you wouldn’t cross, then you’re left with something fragile. Something that could shatter with a single breath.

So you do what you do best. You compartmentalize.

You throw yourself into work, letting your schedule consume you. Early morning meetings, script read-throughs, press junkets, rehearsals. Your days are meticulously planned, a well-oiled machine running on caffeine and sheer force of will.

When people ask about the gala, you keep your answers light, practiced, as if the night hadn’t ended with you pressed against the wall in a dark corner, Harry’s breath hot against your neck.

You’re good at pretending. You always have been.

But at night, when the world quiets, when there’s nothing left to distract you, the truth finds you.

Or rather, he does.

It happens like clockwork.

The text usually comes first.

"Awake?"

If you don’t answer fast enough, your phone buzzes again.

"Liar. Open the door."

And sure enough, when you tiptoe to your front door and glance through the peephole, he’s there. Hood up, hands shoved in the pockets of his hoodie, his frame half-hidden in the dim glow of the hallway light.

You hesitate for only a second before unlocking the door.

The second he steps inside, the air shifts. The easy charm, the teasing, the cocky smirk he wears in public—gone. Instead, there’s something raw in his eyes as he looks at you. Like you’re the only thing in the world that makes sense.

Neither of you speak as he toes off his boots, shedding layers as he follows you into your bedroom. You’re already crawling under the sheets when you feel the bed dip under his weight, his body warm and solid behind you.

A kiss to your bare shoulder. A whispered, “Missed you.”

You tell yourself this is enough. These quiet moments, these stolen nights.

That you don’t need more.

But that’s a lie.

Some nights, it’s reckless. Impulsive.

Your phone vibrates while you’re in the middle of a meeting, and when you glance down, the message on the screen makes your breath hitch.

"Wish I was there. On my knees. Bet I could make you come without making a sound."

You press your thighs together, biting back a smirk. He knows exactly what he’s doing. Knows that for the rest of the meeting, you’ll be restless, distracted, replaying his words in your head.

And later that night, when you finally see him, he doesn’t even let you get a word in before his mouth is on yours, hands roaming, pushing you up against the nearest surface.

"Thought about you all day," he murmurs against your lips, and the moment you part them to respond, he swallows the words whole.

And then there’s the jealousy.

It’s subtle. Unspoken. But it lingers in the space between you.

Maybe it’s an event, a photo that surfaces of you and someone else—just friendly, nothing more. Maybe it’s work, a scene you had to film with a male co-star, your bodies too close, your laughter lingering a second too long.

He never says anything. Not really.

But later that night, his hands are rougher. His grip tightens on your hips, fingers digging into your skin. He fucks you deep, slow, deliberate. Like he’s trying to carve himself into you, trying to erase anyone else’s touch.

"You’re mine," he breathes against your throat, and you don’t argue.

Because you are.

And then there are the mornings. The only time when the heat has burned itself out and there’s nothing left but softness.

The warmth of his fingers tracing patterns along your back. His lips skimming your temple, voice thick with sleep as he murmurs, “So perfect like this.”

Like this.

Like he already knows these moments aren’t meant to last.

And for a while, it’s easy to believe the secret is safe.

That the picture from the gala will never surface.

That no one will ever find out.

At one point, you even joke about it, stretching lazily against the sheets as you grin up at him. “Imagine if someone finds out? They’d probably think I kidnapped you.”

Harry smirks, fingers trailing down your thigh, amusement flickering in his gaze. “You kinda did.”

It feels like a game.

Until it isn’t.

You wake up to chaos.

The sharp, relentless vibration of your phone drags you from sleep, the screen lighting up with notification after notification, the soft glow casting eerie shadows across your bedroom. You blink against the brightness, still half-asleep, reaching blindly for your phone.

And then you see it.

Your name. His name.

Trending. Everywhere.

A cold weight settles in your stomach as you swipe to unlock your phone, your heart hammering against your ribs. Your vision blurs for a second as you take in the headlines, the sheer speed at which the world has latched onto something that—until now—had belonged only to the two of you.

Harry Styles’ Secret Romance EXPOSED! Who Is the Mystery Girl Holding Hands with Harry Styles? Fans Speculate: Harry’s Hidden Relationship REVEALED!

Your stomach twists painfully as you scroll, your hands trembling around your phone. And then—

The picture.

It’s unmistakable.

The two of you leaving the gala, his fingers laced through yours. The way he’s looking at you—not just a glance, not something casual, but something intense. The angle makes it painfully obvious, the intimacy written all over you.

Your breath catches in your throat.

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

You were careful. You always were. Every stolen glance, every fleeting touch, every moment behind closed doors—it was yours. No cameras. No press. No speculation.

But now?

It’s out.

And the internet is on fire.

The comments are instant. Loud. Unforgiving.

Some are excited, supportive.

"He looks so happy! Whoever she is, she must be amazing.""I knew it! He’s been glowing lately!""As long as she treats him right, I’m happy for them."

But others—

"Who even is she??""She’s just using him for clout.""She’s not even famous. She’s NOTHING.""Homewrecker. Slut. Gold digger."

The words slice through you, sharp and merciless. They don’t even know you, but that doesn’t matter.

You were naïve to think they’d be kind.

You knew what happened to women in his orbit. You’d seen it before—the scrutiny, the invasiveness, the vitriol. You had just hoped… maybe, somehow, it would be different.

You were wrong.

And the worst part?

You don’t know how Harry is handling it.

You call him.

Straight to voicemail.

Your pulse pounds as you try again, fingers gripping the phone too tightly.

Still nothing.

Panic coils in your chest as you check your texts. No messages. No missed calls.

Just silence.

Meanwhile, your team is already reaching out.

Your phone buzzes with an incoming call from your manager. Your publicist. A flurry of texts asking how to handle the situation.

Do you deny it? Ignore it? Release a statement?

But you have no answers.

Because the only person who matters isn’t answering his damn phone.

Then, finally—

It rings.

You don’t even hesitate. You answer immediately, your voice breathless, frantic.

"Harry—"

But his voice—

It’s cold. Distant.

"We need to talk."

The words sit heavy in the air between you, weighted with something dark, something dangerous.

You hesitate for only a second before whispering, “Okay.”

The moment you see him, you know.

He’s waiting for you in his hotel room, standing near the window, hands shoved deep into his pockets. His posture is stiff, his shoulders drawn tight, tension radiating off him in waves.

His jaw is clenched, his lips pressed into a thin line.

He hasn’t even said a word yet, but your chest is already tight.

This is bad.

The door clicks shut behind you, and you take a step forward, arms crossed over your chest like they might shield you from whatever’s coming.

"Say something," you murmur.

Harry finally turns, his eyes locking onto yours. And for the first time since you met him, they’re unreadable.

"What do you want me to say?"

"I don’t know. Maybe that it’s not a big deal?" You shrug, trying to keep your voice steady. "It’s just a picture, Harry. People will talk for a few days, and then they’ll move on."

He lets out a sharp, humorless laugh, shaking his head. "You don’t get it. This isn’t just about us. This is my life."

"And what am I, then?" You step closer, heat rising in your chest. "Just someone you fuck in the dark?"

The silence that follows is deafening.

His throat bobs as he swallows, his jaw tightening further.

That’s the answer, isn’t it? The thing neither of you have ever said out loud.

"You keep me hidden like I’m your biggest mistake."

His head snaps up at that, something flickering behind his eyes. He shakes his head quickly, voice raw. "You’re not a mistake."

"Then why are you acting like I am?"

You’re too worked up to stop now, to soften the blow, to think before you speak.

"Jesus, Harry. Do you know what it feels like to be with someone who refuses to claim you? Who never reaches for your hand in public, who won’t even look at you too long when other people are around? Like I’m some dirty little secret you have to keep?"

"That’s not—" He runs a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. "That’s not what this is, and you fucking know it."

"Then what is it?" Your voice is hoarse now, the frustration bleeding into something more vulnerable. Something fragile. "Because to me, it feels like I’m always going to be the girl you love behind closed doors but pretend not to know when the lights come on."

That gets him.

His entire body stiffens, his fingers twitching at his sides.

Love.

You said love.

And you don’t take it back.

His breath is uneven when he finally speaks. "I just—fuck, I didn’t want this for you. I didn’t want you to go through this."

You stare at him, the fight temporarily knocked out of you.

"What?"

He exhales, pressing his fingers to the bridge of his nose. "The media. The rumors. The hate. The way they tear apart every woman I’ve ever been seen with. I didn’t want you to have to deal with that. You don’t deserve it."

"So you were protecting me?" The words taste bitter on your tongue. "By making me feel like I don’t exist?"

Harry’s eyes squeeze shut, and for a second, he looks wrecked.

"I didn’t mean for it to be like this."

"But it is."

It hangs between you, heavy and unmovable.

Neither of you speaks. Neither of you moves.

You don’t break up.

But something between you fractures.

The distance is immediate.

A coldness that lingers in the spaces where warmth used to be.

Harry doesn’t text as much. Calls grow infrequent. Conversations turn shallow, safe, as if you’re both terrified of touching the wound too soon, of reopening something that’s still bleeding beneath the surface.

You don’t reach out either. Maybe it’s better this way.

Maybe space will fix what words couldn’t.

But then—something shatters the fragile truce.

You’re sitting on your couch, scrolling mindlessly, when the clip appears.

A headline first.

HARRY STYLES BREAKS HIS SILENCE ON DATING RUMORS

Your stomach knots.

With shaking hands, you press play.

The video starts mid-interview, Harry perched on a plush chair, microphone in hand. He’s wearing one of his usual tailored suits, his hair messily tousled in that effortless way only he can pull off. The crowd laughs at something he just said, the interviewer leaning in with a conspiratorial grin.

And then, the dreaded question.

“So, Harry, there have been some rumors lately… A certain photo making the rounds. Any truth to it? Are you seeing someone?”

The air in your lungs turns solid.

Harry stills, just barely. It’s subtle; the faintest stiffening of his shoulders, the almost imperceptible tension in his jaw. But you see it. You know him.

And then he smiles. That easy, practiced grin, the kind that charms the world but makes your stomach twist.

He laughs, brushing the question off like it’s nothing.

“People love to speculate, don’t they?” he says lightly. “I’m just focused on my music right now.”

Your heart stumbles over itself.

No denial. No confirmation.

The interviewer doesn’t let it go.

“So, you’re saying you’re single?”

The silence lasts half a second too long.

And then—

“Yeah,” Harry says, smooth and effortless, not a single waver in his voice. “I’m single.”

The world stills.

You can’t breathe.

The clip ends. Your screen fades to black. But the words linger. The weight of them presses down on your chest, heavy and suffocating.

"I’m single."

Like you never happened.

Like the nights spent tangled together, the whispered confessions in the dark, the way he held you like he never wanted to let go—none of it meant anything.

Your hands tremble as you exit the video, but it’s too late. The internet is already burning.

#HarryIsSingle trends within minutes.

Fans take his words as gospel. Theories shift. Maybe you were just a hookup. Maybe you made the whole thing up. Maybe you’re obsessed with him.

The hate floods in fast.

Your DMs. Your mentions. A hurricane of strangers dissecting your life, your worth, your place in his world.

You’re a liar. A desperate fangirl. A delusional girl who thought she was special, who was using Harry for his fame.

And worst of all?

Harry doesn’t reach out.

Not even a text.

You don’t cry. Not at first.

You just sit there, numb, watching your phone vibrate with notifications you refuse to read.

Then the anger comes.

Slow, simmering, bubbling up from the depths of something raw and wounded until it erupts.

That night, when your phone finally lights up with his name—just a simple, “Hey”—you don’t respond.

But he doesn’t let it go.

An hour later, there’s a knock at your door.

You hesitate for only a second before pulling it open.

Harry stands on the other side, hands stuffed into his pockets, eyes scanning your face. And the second he sees your expression, he knows.

“You saw it.”

Your laugh is sharp, bitter. “Saw what? You telling the whole fucking world you’re single?”

He exhales heavily, dragging a hand through his hair. “It’s not that simple.”

You scoff. “Isn’t it? Because from where I’m standing, it looked pretty fucking easy for you.”

“It wasn’t easy,” he snaps. “But what was I supposed to do? Announce to the world that we’re together? Let the media tear us apart?”

Your eyes flash. “Better to pretend I don’t exist, right?”

He takes a step forward, his voice tight with frustration. “You’re twisting this.”

You shake your head. “No, Harry. I’m finally seeing it for what it is.”

Silence.

A long, painful pause where neither of you know what to say.

And then, barely above a whisper—

“You don’t get to do this to me. Not again.”

His brows furrow. “Again?”

Your throat tightens. The truth sits heavy in your chest.

You swallow hard. “You did this before.” Your voice is hollow, empty. “Back then. When we started this. You acted like it didn’t mean anything. Like I didn’t mean anything. And I let you.”

Harry’s expression crumbles. Guilt flickers in his eyes, his lips parting like he wants to argue, to tell you you’re wrong.

But he doesn’t.

Because he knows.

“That’s not true.” His voice is hoarse, barely above a whisper.

“Isn’t it?” Your voice breaks. “Because that’s how it fucking feels.”

For the first time, he has no defense.

And you don’t have the energy to fight anymore.

You take a step back. Your chest aches, your eyes sting, but your voice is steady when you say it—

“Just go, Harry.”

He hesitates.

But you don’t waver.

Finally, he nods. Turns. Leaves.

And this time—

You don’t think he’s coming back.

You didn’t think things could get worse.

You thought the storm had passed. That the damage had been done. That the worst of it was behind you.

But then—your phone rings.

It’s your manager. Their voice is clipped, urgent. “You need to see this.”

Your stomach drops.

There’s something in their tone. Something that makes your skin prickle with unease.

You pull your phone away from your ear, heart hammering as you open the link they sent.

And then—your world crumbles.

The screen loads. A video. Camera footage. Grainy but unmistakable.

You. Harry. The gala night.

The intimacy of it—the way he’s touching you, the way he’s whispering things only meant for you—it’s all out there, laid bare for the world to see.

You feel like you’re going to be sick.

Your vision tunnels, fingers tightening around your phone as the weight of it all crashes down on you.

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

This was yours. His.

Something private. Something that was never meant for the world to see.

And now—it’s everywhere.

Your hands shake as you scroll.

Trending: - “Harry Styles sex tape” - “Who leaked Harry’s video?” - “Y/N is ruining his life”

The internet is cruel. Ruthless.

The comments flood in, thousands of voices screaming over one another:

- “She probably leaked it herself for attention.” - “Poor Harry. He deserves better than this mess.” - “She’s disgusting. A clout chaser.” - “She’s trying to trap him.” - “Harry needs to leave her for good.”

They defend him. They attack you.

As if you planned this. As if you wanted this.

As if this isn’t your literal worst nightmare.

Your breath comes too fast, too shallow. You try to inhale, but your lungs won’t cooperate.

Your phone slips from your grasp, clattering onto the floor.

Harry is calling. Again and again.

You don’t answer.

Because what could he possibly say to fix this?

Nothing.

There is no fixing this.

But that doesn’t stop him from trying.

Within the hour, your phone won’t stop vibrating. Your manager. Your PR team. News outlets. Lawyers. And then Harry, over and over again.

Then: a knock at your door.

You freeze.

Your hands grip the edge of the counter, knuckles white.

You don’t want to see him. You don’t want to look him in the eyes, see whatever shattered version of him is waiting on the other side.

But you do.

The door creaks open.

And there he is.

Disheveled. Jaw clenched. Eyes burning.

A storm contained within flesh and bone.

He steps forward, into your space, into your orbit, like he’s drawn to you despite the wreckage between you.

His voice is raw, barely above a whisper. “Are you okay?”

You laugh. A sharp, bitter sound. “Am I okay?”

Your eyes burn as you shake your head. “Harry, the whole fucking world just watched us—watched me.” Your voice cracks, but you force yourself to keep going. “And they think it’s my fault.”

He exhales sharply, his hand raking through his hair. “I know. I know, and I’m going to fix this.”

“Fix it?” You step back, the words tasting like poison. “How the fuck do you fix something like this?”

He looks at you then—really looks at you—and there’s something in his eyes. Something wild, desperate. Guilt. Rage. Fear.

But before he can answer—before he can try to convince you that there’s a way out of this—

Your phone dings.

The sound cuts through the moment like a blade.

Your heart pounds as you glance at the screen.

Another notification. A new article.

And then—

Your breath catches in your throat.

Because it’s not just about the leaked tape anymore.

It’s worse. So much worse.

Your entire body goes cold as you read the headline:

“EXCLUSIVE: INSIDER REVEALS WHO LEAKED HARRY STYLES’ SEX TAPE.”

Your vision blurs, hands trembling as you click the link.

The page loads. Your stomach drops.

And then—

The name staring back at you makes your blood run cold.

You don’t realize you’ve spoken out loud until you hear your own voice, barely a whisper.

“No… No, that’s not possible.”

Harry’s eyes snap to you, his expression shifting instantly.

“What? What is it?” He reaches for the phone, but you yank it away, gripping it so tightly your knuckles turn white.

Your head shakes, disbelief crashing over you in violent waves.

Because the person who leaked it…

It wasn’t some hacker. It wasn’t a random invasion of privacy. It was someone close. Someone you trusted.

And now?

Now, the real betrayal begins.

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

Thank you so much for reading! I appreciate any support so remember to comment, reblog, & like ❤️‍🔥

taglist:

@oscahpastry, @mema10, @angelbabyyy99, @iloveharrystyles04, @cinemharry, @drwho06, @donutsandpalmtrees, @panini, @mads3502; @imgonnadreamaboutthewayyoutaaaa, @one-sweet-gubler, @rizosrizos26, @ciriceimpera, @everyscarisahealingplace, @hello-heyhi, @sexymfharriet, @lizsogolden, @hannah9921, @chicabonitasblog, @huhidontknowstuff, @berrywoods1245, @jennovaaa, @angeldavis777, @prettygurl-2009, @almostcontentcreator, @run-for-the-hills, @maudie-duan, @dipmeinhoneyh, @harrrrystylesslut, @georgiarose94, @stylestarkey, @watarmelon212

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347 notes · View notes

deception-united · 2 days ago

Note

Hi,

I'm rewriting an one-shot with OCs. They are both women in their late teen years, early twenties. A fancies B in a slightly obsessive way, and B is going to get married, so they don't get together at all. I thought about how should I write it being angsty, on A's pov, without ending up boring or whiny.

Have a great day/night :)

Hi, thanks for asking!

Writing Unrequited Love

This is a classic trope with a lot of emotional tension involved, but there's a fine line that falls between deeply evocative storytelling and a protagonist who comes across as melodramatic or pitiful; so, when writing from the POV of a character (A) who obsessively fancies another (B)—who is about to marry someone else—you want to capture the intensity of their emotions without exhausting the reader with endless self-pity. Here are some tips!

1. Make the obsession feel real, but not over-explained.

A’s feelings, albeit visceral, would be better woven into the narrative through sensory detail and subtext rather than outright declarations. Instead of repeating things like, "She loved B more than anything. It hurt. It wasn't fair," try showing the longing through her reactions—things like stolen glances, hesitations, or memorising B's habits as if hoarding the last pieces of her. Examples:

The way A's stomach tightens when B laughs at her fiancé’s joke.

The way A’s hand twitches, itching to reach out, when B absentmindedly brushes a lock of hair behind her ear.

The way A studies every micro-expression, searching for doubt or regret or anything that says she doesn't want to marry him, either.

2. Resist the urge to rant in internal monologue.

A bit of this is good and can add insight into A's exact thoughts and feelings, but it can be tempting to let her spiral into pages upon pages of why won't she love me back, which can get tedious. It may be more difficult to connect with excessive wallowing, but keeping internal monologues sharp, poignant, and purposeful can keep readers engaged. Include them mainly in moments of heightened emotion, rather than drowning the narrative in a flood of self-pity.

3. Let her have moments of denial and delusion.

A character in unrequited love will likely have fleeting moments where they convince themselves they still have a chance, no matter how irrational. Maybe B holds A’s hand for a second too long, or says something wistful about their past together, and A clings to it like an addict chasing a high. This emotional whiplash between hope and despair can add a lot of depth to her internal conflict throughout the story. Here's an example of how you can depict this in the narrative:

She's sitting on my side of the table. She still looks at me first when something funny happens. Maybe that means something. (hope) Then again, maybe it doesn’t. Maybe I’m just a memory she keeps around for nostalgia’s sake. (reality)

4. You don't have to paint B like an unattainable angel.

It’s easy to write B as a perfect figure—someone A puts on a pedestal. And this may be how you choose to write it, which can make for an interesting story of its own! Maybe she sees B as radiant and untouchable, and every smile she gives someone else feels like a dagger. But it's also important to show B's flaws as well (though this may not work as well in a one-shot with only one POV). Maybe she’s oblivious to A’s pain, leads A on unintentionally, or is struggling with her own uncertainties. This adds more complexity: A isn’t just losing something; she’s also struggling with the fact that B chose someone else over her.

More tips and things to consider:

Suppressed emotion: let A's emotions simmer beneath the surface and show her turmoil through the little things, like a lingering glance or a hand that hesitates before letting go.

Instead of drowning the reader in raw, explicit yearning, let them feel the gaps. Make A's world feel off-kilter, distorted by B’s impending marriage. Maybe the wedding preparations invade her senses—the clink of glasses, the rustle of silk, the scent of flowers that now feel sickly sweet.

Self-delusion: give A moments of near-normalcy, where she's pretending to be fine and almost manages to be—until something tiny unravels her again.

How does A cope? Does she act out in small, destructive ways, grow distant and quiet, or lean in, helping with the wedding like it's some self-inflicted punishment?

---

Unrequited love rarely gets neat closure, which is what makes it so miserable. Maybe A finally accepts the loss, or maybe she doesn’t—but keep in mind that angst isn't just about drowning the reader in sadness, but about making them feel the weight of what's lost.

Hope this helped ❤

#ask #writeblr #writing #writing tips #writing advice #writing help #writing resources #creative writing #character writing #deception-united

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literaryvein-reblogs · 1 day ago

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Writing Notes: Autobiography

Autobiography - a nonfiction story of a person’s life, written from their point of view.

Autobiographies are popular among the general reading public.

A newly released autobiography by a current political figure can easily top the New York Times bestseller list.

Some autobiographical works, such as The Autobiography of Benjamin Franklin (1791), Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass (1845), and A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man (1916) by James Joyce, have endured for well over a century and become part of the literary canon.

Elements of an Autobiography

An autobiography should include all the most important details of your life story. This does not mean it should contain every tiny sliver of minutiae; a self-aware autobiographer will take stock of specific moments in their own life that may be interesting to themselves but not to an audience of strangers. Here are some key elements to consider including in your autobiography:

A description of your personal origin story: This can include your hometown, your family history, some key family members and loved ones, and touchstone moments in your education.

Significant experiences: Add accounts of each personal experience that shaped your worldview and your approach to life in the present day.

Detailed recollections of episodes from your professional life: Often, these are the turning points that your autobiography will be known for—the moments that would inspire someone to pick up your book in the first place. Be sure to give them extra care and attention.

A personal story of failure: Follow your setbacks with a good story of how you responded to that failure.

A unique and compelling title: Steer clear of generic phrases like “my autobiography” or “the story of me, my family, and famous people I know.”

A first-person narrative voice: Third-person writing is appropriate for traditional biographies, but the third-person voice can read as presumptuous in the autobiography format. Stick to first-person for a more intimate feel.

How to Write an Autobiography

Setting out to write your life story can be daunting, particularly during the first draft. Here is a step-by-step guide to the art of writing your autobiography:

Start by brainstorming. The writing process begins by compiling any life experiences you suspect might be compelling to a reader. As you sort through your memories, be sure to cover all eras of your life—from childhood to high school to your first job to the episodes in your life you are most known for. Many of these episodes won’t make it into the final draft of your book, but for now, keep the process broad and open.

Craft an outline. Begin to organize a narrative around the most compelling episodes from your brainstorm. If you pace out your life’s important events throughout your book, you’ll be able to grip your readers’ attention from beginning to end. The process is roughly similar to a novel outline.

Do your research. Once you have the first draft of your outline, engage in some research to help you recall contextual information from the period you are writing about. Interview friends and family members to help you remember all the details from the moments you choose to recall in your autobiography. No one can remember the full history of their entire life—particularly their childhood—so prepare to do some cultural research as well.

Write your first draft. If you’ve come up with the key biographical moments around which you can anchor your life story, then you are ready to attempt the first draft. This draft may be overly long and scattershot, but professional writers know that a long-winded first draft can yield a tight final draft.

Take a break. Take a few days off when your first draft is complete. You’ll want to read your work with the freshest possible perspective; removing yourself from the process for a few days can aid this endeavor.

Proofread. After a brief layoff, begin proofreading. Yes, you should look for grammar mistakes, but more importantly, you should identify weak moments in the narrative and develop constructive improvements. Consider what you’d look for if reading about another person’s life, and apply it to your autobiography.

Write your next draft. Write a second draft based on the notes you’ve given yourself. Then, when this second draft is complete, show it to trusted friends and, if you have one, a professional editor. Their outside eyes will give you a valuable perspective that you cannot possibly have on your own work.

Refine your writing. Follow new revisions with new reads from new people. You will refine your writing skills and autobiographical know-how throughout the process. Hopefully, you will produce a final draft that is leaps and bounds beyond what you created in a first draft—but that still holds to the essential elements of your life and your truth.

Autobiography vs. Biography

Autobiographies - a subgenre of the broader category of biographies.

The author of a standard biography is someone other than its subject—most commonly a historian—whereas the author of an autobiography is the subject.

“Auto” means “self” in Greek, so an autobiography is a self-biography.

Famous biographers include Doris Kearns Goodwin, who has written about Abraham Lincoln and Teddy Roosevelt, and Robert Caro, who has written about Lyndon Johnson and Robert Moses.

Biographers are known for developing significant expertise in their subjects.

By contrast, an autobiographer only needs complete knowledge of one topic: themselves.

Memoir vs. Autobiography

Memoir - a type of autobiography that focuses on a particular period in the author’s life rather than their whole life.

The strict definition of autobiography is a first-person account of its author’s entire life.

A memoir does not document the memoirist’s full life story but rather a selected era or a specific multi-era journey within that author’s life.

Memoirs tend to be much more focused than autobiographies.

The main difference between memoir and autobiography is the length of time they cover.

For example, President George W. Bush wrote his memoir Decision Points (2010) about his eight-year presidency.

Chef Alice Waters’ memoir Coming to My Senses focuses on her college years and the lead-up to founding her restaurant.

Climbing the Mango Trees (2005) by actress and cookbook author Madhur Jaffrey details her childhood in India.

In Born Standing Up (2007), Steve Martin recounts the decade during which he became a stand-up comic and why he quit.

Examples of Autobiography

An Autobiography (1974) by Angela Davis: Originally published in 1974, renowned activist Angela Davis released this expanded edition in 2022. It covers her childhood in Birmingham, Alabama, and how her struggle for liberation led to her joining the FBI’s list of the Top 10 Most Wanted fugitives in 1970.

Finding My Virginity (2017) by Richard Branson: Sir Richard Branson’s latest autobiography builds on his 2010 memoir Losing My Virginity to provide a complete picture of the trailblazing entrepreneur’s life.

I Am Malala (2013) by Malala Yousafzai: Although Nobel Peace Prize winner Malala Yousafzai was only 16 years old when she published her autobiography, it covered the major events of her life up to that point, including how the Taliban shot her at the age of 15.

My Life (2004) by Bill Clinton: In his bestselling autobiography, President Bill Clinton recounts his life from childhood through his presidency.

My Life on the Road (2015) by Gloria Steinem: This New York Times bestseller starts with Gloria Steinem’s childhood and journeys through her activism, with a central theme of travel.

Source ⚜ More: Notes & References ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

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haytan · 2 days ago

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SPRINKLES | G.A

I missed you guys.

𓍼 WORD COUNT: 1814

𓍼 SUMMARY: you and gracie making or trying to make cake together

𓍼 WARNINGS: fluff

the kitchen is an organized mess. bowls, measuring cups, and small containers are scattered across the counter, as if the process of making a cake were something extremely complex—when, in reality, it was just an excuse to spend time together.

gracie stretches to reach the bag of flour on the highest shelf, her fingers sliding along the surface until she find it. the movement causes her shirt to lift slightly, revealing the warm skin of her toned abdomen. you notice, and your eyes drift down to watch how her muscles subtly contract—a simple detail, yet utterly hypnotizing.

“what are you admiring?” her voice a playful tone as she lowers her arm and turns to you, holding the bag of flour.

you blink quickly, trying to look nonchalant. “just wondering why you put that so high up.”

“it makes things more exciting,” she says with a grin, and you hold each other’s gaze for a moment. gracie is wearing round glasses—even though she doesn’t need them—because, according to her, they make her look cuter.

“okay, ready?” you snap back to reality, already reaching for two eggs. gracie nods, still smiling. you crack one against the edge of the bowl, letting it smoothly drip in, then repeat the movement with the second.

“you’re very gentle with that,” gracie observes, arms crossed.

you raise an eyebrow. “were you expecting me to crush them with my hand?”

she scoffs and shakes her head. “no, no. i mean, you do everything so delicately. it’s cute.”

“i know, baby,” you chuckle, tossing the eggshells aside and meeting her gaze. “i’m just messing with you.”

abrams smiles back, ruffling your hair lightly with her free hand. “yeah, yeah. sure you are.” she gives you an amused look before grabbing the bag of flour and opening it with ease.

however, a careless movement sends a cloud of white dust into the air, hovering for a moment before settling on the counter—and inevitably, on your face. gracie blinks a few times in surprise while you bite your lip, barely holding back a laugh.

“no. don’t laugh.”

“i’m not laughing,” but your smile gives you away.

gracie huffs and wipes her face with the back of her hand, leaving a small white smudge on her cheek. she looks at you and smirks. “liar.”

you tilt your head slightly, studying the trace of flour on her skin. “you have a little something here,” you murmur, pointing to her cheek.

gracie wipes at her face again with her palm, but it doesn’t help. “better?”

“no,” and you’re biting your lip to suppress another laugh.

she sighs and steps closer, resting one hand on the counter beside you, the proximity natural and unhurried. “then fix it for me.”

“of course, your majesty.”

with that, you take off her glasses, the lenses now covered in white powder. “i think you should’ve started with this,” you murmur softly.

gracie just hums in agreement, keeping her eyes closed as if your touch were some kind of exclusive privilege only she gets to enjoy. and when you finish, she makes sure to steal a quick kiss as a thank-you.

“thanks, baby.”

“anytime.”

…

somehow, neither you nor gracie can explain how you ended up on such a ridiculous topic: bad boys.

now, gracie is finishing the frosting—eating more than actually preparing it—while you, having already put the cake in the oven, occupy yourself by gesturing random things. every now and then, she lets out a little laugh, shaking her head at your nonsense.

“like those guys, you know?” you say, climbing onto the stool nearby to add dramatic effect. “bad boys.”

gracie raises an eyebrow, licking the frosting off her own middle finger. “bad boys?”

“yeah,” you puff out your chest like a character from an early 2000s movie. then, leaning slightly forward, you deepen your voice, trying to sound as intimidating as possible.

"you're so beautiful… do you have trauma?"

gracie stares at you for two seconds before bursting into laughter.

"i'm traumatizing right now."

"are you broken?" your fingers slide through gracie’s hair, pushing her strands back playfully, but she leans away.

"yeah, i'm getting broken and traumatized right now."

you let out an exaggerated sigh, shaking your head. “tsk, tsk. i knew it. bad boys like me always find the broken ones.” still on the stool, you lean forward dramatically, raising your arms and flexing as if you had massive muscles, an expression of pure arrogance on your face.

“for the love of god.” gracie rolls her eyes and without warning smears her frosting-covered finger on your arm.

"was that an attack?" you feign indignation, looking at your own arm.

"that was a warning," she replies, licking her finger again with a victorious expression.

your eyes fix on her fingers—on the way she brings them to her mouth so leisurely, the tip of her middle finger slowly sliding between her lips. the almost absent-minded way she maintains eye contact the entire time makes something inside you falter. your breathing slows down before you even notice, and the warmth in your chest spreads to your neck.

you avert your gaze, but it's too late. gracie notices.

the corner of her mouth lifts, and she tilts her head slightly, as if savoring the discovery. "what are you staring at?" she asks, her voice lower now, almost teasing.

you force a little laugh, trying to bring back the lighthearted tone from before. "just analyzing your technique. purely for research purposes." you pause, then smirk. "‘ultimate frosting-tasting technique,’ maybe?”

gracie giggles but doesn’t pull away. instead, she dips her finger into the bowl again, twirling it in the air as if pondering. “maybe you should test it yourself.”

your gaze shifts from her face to the frosting-covered finger. the obvious, almost childish choice would be to smear her back, keeping the joke going. but something about the way she’s looking at you—like she knows exactly what you’re thinking—keeps you in place.

you lean forward on the stool, closing the distance between you. your hand rises, gently holding her wrist, and without breaking eye contact, you lower your head slowly, closing your lips around the tip of her finger.

gracie holds her breath.

the sweet taste mixes with the warmth of her skin. you keep the touch brief but significant, releasing her finger slowly before tilting your head slightly to the side.

“hmm.” you lick your own lips, thoughtful. “interesting technique, but i think i still prefer the traditional way.”

gracie's eyes gleam with a mix of surprise and something else. she hesitates for half a second before laughing softly, leaning in toward you, her face close to yours.

“you know what?”

you freeze.

“even with you on that stool and all that ridiculous attitude, i still affect you sooo much more.”

you narrow your eyes at her, pretending not to be fazed, but gracie keeps her gaze locked on yours, with that half-victorious, half-challenging smile, and it makes your mouth dry.

“i think you’re pretty convinced of that,” you murmur, trying to sound indifferent.

gracie shrugs, her fingers absentmindedly stirring the frosting in the bowl. “i’m just stating the facts.” she brings her finger to her lips again, this time on purpose, licking it slowly while watching your reaction with a sharp gaze.

and damn, you know you’ve lost this game.

“i could turn this around in a second, you know?” you cross your arms as if her proximity wasn’t making you feel a little lightheaded.

“hmm.” gracie pretends to consider it, but the amused glint in her eyes gives away that she doesn’t believe it for a second. “then prove it.”

the air shifts.

you don’t think twice before leaning over her, your hands sliding up to her face, pulling her into a kiss without hesitation. gracie startles for a brief second but quickly matches your intensity, her fingers digging lightly into your waist, holding you steady.

it’s something she does instinctively—holding you, adjusting you into the right position. and then, in one smooth, practiced motion, she slides a hand along the side of your thigh and grips it firmly, pulling you off the stool and onto her lap.

you let out a small surprised sound, but gracie is already holding you securely. without breaking the kiss, she turns with you in her arms, the world spinning for a brief moment before your skin meets the cool surface of the counter.

your hands find her shoulders for balance, but gracie doesn’t let go of your waist. on the contrary, she settles between your legs with a natural ease that makes your heart race, her chest rising and falling against yours. there’s something playful, almost teasing, in the way she smiles against your lips, as if she knows exactly what she’s doing to you.

“does this count as reversing the game?” you breathe, still wrapped up in her.

her eyes shine with amusement and something more. “hmm… i don’t know. i think it was more of a reaffirmation of my advantage.”

you laugh, but any witty response that could have come to mind dissolves when gracie squeezes your waist again, her lips grazing yours before capturing them in another kiss—this time slower, more deliberate. your hands move up her neck, your fingers tangling in her tousled hair, and you feel her breath hitch when you tug slightly.

suddenly, a sweet scent begins to spread through the air. at first, it’s just a faint presence, blending with the warmth of the kitchen. but soon, it grows stronger—dense enough to demand attention.

gracie takes a deep breath and pulls back just a few inches. “hmm.”

you feel the moment waver slightly, reality slipping in between you. your fingers are still resting at the nape of her neck, and hers are still holding onto your waist, but something in her expression shifts.

then, almost unconsciously, you inhale as well and catch the scent.

“our cake.”

gracie doesn’t answer right away. instead, she tilts her head slightly, as if debating whether she really needs to move just yet.

“think it’s done?” she asks but makes no effort to step away.

you smile, hands trailing slowly down her shoulders before gently pushing her back. “not sure, but it smells pretty good.”

she exhales a short laugh, one corner of her mouth still lifted as if she’s not entirely convinced to step away. but then, with a resigned sigh, she releases your waist, gives you one last lingering look, and finally moves back.

“alright, we can pick this up after we eat, yeah?”

“of course—then i’ll prove to you who’s in charge.”

gracie lets out a quiet chuckle, shaking her head like she doesn’t take your challenge seriously. but the glint in her eyes says otherwise.

“we’ll see,” she murmurs, spinning on her heels and heading toward the oven, leaving you with an involuntary smile on your lips.

I want to write yellowjackets fic

thanks for reading <3

back to nav

#˚🐇⋆hayfics!!#gracie x reader #gracie abrams x reader

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freyjas-musings · 9 hours ago

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Since this fandom seems to be made up of a lot of people with little to no real experience with intimacy atleast based on some of the regressive appalling takes I have seen over the years.

Kink heavily leans on consent and a controlled environment which is indeed why a lot of physical trauma survivors prefer it ( emphasis on the word a lot not all ) .

So, if the author thinks her character Gwyn is ready to embrace her sexuality in the next book, I can assure everyone that kink will only be an advantage for the story line because if anything it would make Gwyn and Azriel more compatible intimacy wise.

Both of them are survivors of extreme physical trauma and know what it is like to feel the loss of control in what's being done to them!!!

Healing is not linear the author alone decides when and how her character is ready to move in the story .....

Editing to add this detail

See the specific emphasis on Az not preferring close contact sport or training .... see how that doesn't translate to his bedroom habits ...

Keep that in mind that it's applicable to all characters irrespective of their gender ....

#gwynriel #gwyneth berdara #pro gwynriel #acotar #gwyn acosf #azriel shadowsinger #azriel #gwyn x azriel #post acosf #acosf theory

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thedeskofaltoclef · 1 day ago

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autisum infodump about victor I'm bored as fuck and I need to character design somthing for my portfolio or I will simultaneously implode and explode

Victor/Viktor depending on how I feel like spelling it at the time is a homebrew element that I have added to Alto Clef. Victor's name comes from his stand in 'Violence In Clef' that I used as a name during the outline phase and just eventually became Vic which became Victor/Viktor (because Ks are edgy)

The Deskverse follows the D.I.D. cannon representing Agent Ukulele and Alto Clef as alters of Francis.

With some assistance of some friends I have met who have D.I.D. I worked on my own alter to add to the character.

It was explained to me that there or roles that some alters can take which is how I found out about the 'protector' role. This, i believe, is represented via Francis creating Clef. The protector of Francis and Ukulele.

To go into better detail here is some other lore that leads up to it.

In 4231 Meri is originally held at the foundation and to close the plot hole with her escaping along with Ukulele and Francis being active at the time of Cornwall I created the lore that they can split into two people if need be. They are reality benders after all. The original goal of the Deskverse was to make a complete timeline of events and patch up any holes that could stop creating a full cannon inside a world of no cannon. Granted I decided to take another road and just go multiverse because its easier. The most Alto Clef thing you can do is say FUCK YOUR 'THERE IS NO CANNON'! EVERYTHING IS CANNON NOW!

Though I digress.

Ukulele was originally the protector of Francis and after Francis was taken in to the foundation as a SCP and being tested he was able to split himself again and get less-than-a-day-old-meri to the nuns VIA Ukulele while he stayed to be a distraction.

At this time Francis was alone again, for the first time in a long time, and with that a new alter began to form. Tough was good but he had lost so much. He cant lose anymore. He needs to be tough, vile, disgusting. He needs to be everything he hates. He needs to be everything everyone else hates and thus Alto Clef was born.

As time goes on in the Deskverse Ukeulele and Francis refused to front. Spoiler reasons. However one day I was thinking, "Who protects the protector?" and it really kept with me. What would Alto Clef, from my experiences with the character, create to protect him?

This had me thinking of every video, 'explained', off site story or suggestion where Clef is damn near always depicted as a violent blood thirsty monster. He only exists to kill! SPOOOOOKY He only hates and fights... SCAAAARRRYYYYY. And as anyone who is an actual fan would know that really isnt the case. The unfortunate amount of knowledge I have on the character I can also say that isnt the case.... So I made that him.

Victor is pure violence. Victor is that version of Clef that you see laughing and cackling as he does go on a balls to the walls murder spree. Victor's job is survival of the system and when every alter has had their whole life shown to them that 'Violence is the answer' Victor is what you get. He is feral. He is Primal.

Mentally he's kinda like Hulk. Hes there, hes present, but hes angry. He doesn't think. He is the definition of fight or flight. For his intelligence I like to equate it to a more advanced cave man. He growls, he grunts, he snarls and drools. He is just a monster.

A thing with me, though, is when I make a character I need to give them flaws. I hate power scalers and its hard to say that when you are this closely connected to a character that is the definition of a Mary-sue. Oh, this problem cant be fixed? Throw a clef at it. Hes basically SCP duct-tape for writers block. One of these flaws is when in this state he doesn't recognize people to well. He can only focus on one task at a time and like I said earlier he is only there during 'fight or flight'. It basically has to take Clef losing absolute control for Victor to come out. With that, however, part of Victors flaws is that he has no clue who Meri is. This goes back to the intelligence. His job is to kill the thing or escape the thing. Thats it. That is all he is. Meri is not part of that. Meri does not matter to him. Yes, this does come up in one of my tales.

Within the Deskverse I use Heterochromia to depict each alter. The Blue eye is a representation of Francis, the hazel eye is Ukulele, the green eye is Clef. Three men active in one body all represented. They are all always active and always communicating with each other.

little lore bonus. Tears only ever come out of his blue eye for some reason. *internet shrug*

Vic on the other hand, well, hes not represented by an iris. He is represented by busted blood vessels in the whites of the eye. He is a much stronger presence than the other two and by, for a lack of terms, letting him out he takes full control. The blood vessels in all three eyes is how I represent that.

The elder has his own eye pattern as well but no one ever asks about him.

----

and after that dash was like 30 minuets because I got distracted and probably left stuff out. So, yeah, thats a chunk of Vic. Hes a feral animal that is there to preserve the system by any means nessacary. He likes murder, he likes blood, hes what the offsite-offsite thinks clef is.

Again, sorry, I got distracted and lost my flow hahaha

#scp foundation #dr alto clef #scp #scp alto clef #deskverse #francis wojciechoski #agent ukulele #disassociative identity disorder #scp 4231

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marcussour · 3 days ago

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EXU Divergence E02 random thoughts and bits

Liam's Time Cop's back again

Time Regulation 420.69 NICE

STR 21 at LVL 0, damn

Also, is just, here's a vestige, thanks Stormlord

Crokas just entered, fullthrotle, into the CR Pantheon of fav characters

"I was foolish enough to believe I understood this world"

How on earth both Liam and Jasmine manage to repeat their rolls, and these are nat 1 and 2

3 Nat 1s Liam, come on

"You succeed and do not die"

Seriously, coming out of a campaign that ended with literal legends like VM and M9 at lvl 20 fighting massive world ending threats and Bells Hells at a really high level fighting a literal god eater, and also how both Calamity and Downfall went, the fact that here, like Brennan said, a hike through the woods (and massive rainfall and ash, and the risk of starvation) might as well caused a TPK if it wasn't for some good rolls now and then, that's a change of pace if I've ever seen one

We love 2 lesbian matriarchs (halfling and goblin) who run a woodland community

Fiedra, the original elf on a shelf (or halfling in this case, but y'all get it)

Crokas my beloved, you absolute legend

Garen using all that dwarven know how to find the best booze, I feel seen

Incredible find by Garen

I said it before, in a Candela Obscura maybe, but they really should adopt the closeups for personal 1 on 1 conversations for the main campaign. I know it's way more people on the table and maybe that makes it more technically difficult, but I think it really adds more depth, especially when it's people on oposite sides of the table

Congratulations, heroes of the Divergence. Loved that D20 like interjection before the time skip towards the next day.

Fiedra one day: almost dies. Fiedra the next day: back into mischief. What an icon.

It tells a lot about Fiedra that she tries to keep Crokas kinda a bit at arms lenght with the whole "bodyguard". Like, babe, those are attachment and trust issues from *gestures everywhere*, I get it, and its really interesting

Great to see that the Roaches survived... also Keph, what the actual fuck

Oh, who's gonna be the one to take out Marlath eventually, because there's no way that piece of shit's gonna survive the campaign. Look, I'm a lawyer, I've seen motherfuckers like him for years, no loss there

Hey look, a tiefling, long time we haven't seen one -not counting Jester-.

A cleric named Luz, again, not subtle, and I wouldn't have it any other way.

Was it Snowvale or Snowgrave pass?

What's a bureaucrat without a bureaucracy.

This whole little vignette of the construction of the wall and the bridge, and the difference between a ruler and a leader? incredible

I can imagine that the soldiers are actually like, level 1 or 2, maybe 3 or 4 the leader, but since our PC's are level 0, I can imagine what a challenge this will be

Great move by Erro

Love the excitement of everyone seeing their minis. I wish they would've shown them more on camera

Wonder if the exhaustion points are gonna matter in this battle or not

Oh no, just 1 point of damage for everyone

So that's were the title of the episode came from

They're so fragile at lvl 0, a couple of hits and Erro's already down

That kenku's another certified Brennan's little guys

Love that we already entered into "Seven Samurai" territory

Crokas becomes a storm avatar??!!!! Again, what a legend, going full Godzilla against the Strife Emperor's soldiers

RIP Luz (or maybe not?)

"To respect the free will of all beings means to respect when one has made themselves an obstacle to a kinder world"

WAY TO GO NIA! LVL 1 MOONWEAVER CLERIC!

There's my zoom for the minis!

"Change is coming... AND I AM CHANGE"

Both dragonborns are down now

FIRST LEVEL ROGUE!

Nice detail the portraits of the characters gaining color the moment they level up

Crokas with a nat 20 on the death saving throw, see, already a CR legend

Oh, interesting, Crokas is a monk, I though it was gonna be some kind of barbarian (also, he's level 1 and already doing badass monk shit)

Also, from the way they all reacted to Alex not remembering that Crokas was a monk, I assume that all of them settled for a class before the whole being level 0

Brennan and his love for British Bake Off

And Erro's a ranger (which I guess now makes sense of Brennan saying at the beginning of the battle that Erro approached the soldiers like a ranger)

Poor Garen, the only one that didn't level up

Oh, so that's why Matt's reacted with a "WHAT???" to that Nat 20 by Alex

Look at those babies calming Crokas

I know that it's just how the dice rolls, but the fact that it's Nia the one that has lost people dear to her in both episodes.

Oh, Fiedra making an appointment behind Torm's Hill in the forest, I think she's really gonna kill Marlath.

Fiedra raised Crokas? wow

Now it's Snowgrace pass

GIGANTIC MONK SHIT

Marlath's not only a bureaucrat and the worst kind of layer, he's also a fucking capitalist

"You have to beat a 6", "That's a 23"

Oh, that's amazing, I thought that they were gonna kill him, but they "just" cut his tongue.

So interesting that Matt took the option of not gaining a level.

Well, we're halfway through the story, and it's a clean break as any, even though we have the goal of finding Nia's family. Wonder how things will continue.

#critical role #critical role spoilers #exu divergence #exu spoilers

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chemyaart · 12 hours ago

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Rant about the cookie run kingdom fandom

Okay, so I know I'm gonna get hated for this, but I don't care. Ignore if you're sensitive.

First, I just want to clarify that it's for every fandom, of course, bad apples exist everywhere. But at this point, I can't believe what I'm seeing. The more a media is cute, kid-friendly, the more the fandom is crazy (and not in a good way)

So, I want to adress the things that bother me a lot.

Firstly, I think the Beast Yeast update was both a good thing and a bad thing to happen. Let me explain. Of course, the enemies into lovers trope has always existed and it's the most popular trope, but I think that update actually flipped upside down the fandom. Toxic ships has always existed (like affocara, redpastry, etc..) but they weren't that common I think?

But after that update, it never became the same thing again. It honestly makes me uncomfortable how shippers say "hAhA ToXiC yAoI" for everything, especially Shadowvanilla. It makes me cringe (I like sometimes when it's funny cringy, but not uncomfortable cringe you know?)

I hate how CRK content mainly ships (like 90% of the time) it's sexual.

Of course, I guess sex jokes/suggestive jokes can exist, but it comes to a point where it's like everywhere. These shippers only think about these 24/7.

One thing that adds with the fandom, is how people love to woobify the characters. The misrepresent/misinterpret the character for something they're not. Headcanons are fine, but when I see Shadowvanilla, and purecacao fans... I'm really concerned. They woobify the characters into "b-b-b-but he's g-g-g-ood!" or "I'm j-just a-a innocent uwu gay boi" I understand if you're a kid/teen, but when I see adults doing that, I'm like actually scared.

Every character is complex, and it doesn't have to be romantic. I actually like the Shadowvanilla ship, but not to this extent. And I don't like them romantically. But I would love to see them grow.

Plus, not just woobifying the characters, but also just changing them entirely. Like their personalities, and just only keep one trait. For example, Pure Vanilla Cookie. He's the most popular cookie with Shadow Milk, and all I see is just him being all innocent and nice. Of course he is friendly and generous, but (especially purecacao shippers) think he's weak or something. But when you see him defeating Dark Enchantress ALONE in the video, he isn't WEAK at all.

Or Dark Cacao, all they make him is "manly man who is strong and protects his boi" or "neglectful dad bad dad". When it's much more complex than that. I'm shocked when their account is JUST about this ship. Like I like Purelily and Cacaolily, but I don't post to this extent about them. And even if I wish for Cacaolily to be real, I'm not delusional enough to repeat that they're canon like some shadowvanilla and purecacao fans do. Of course, you can say that they're joking, but there are actually people that seriously do this ☠️ (do what you want, but I just can't belive it myself)

Plus, the amount of times where these shippers also looked at the tiniest details of an interaction, and thought, "it's canon" it's actually crazy. Like I've seen a post about how Dark Cacao's face in the fight between the ancients and Dark Enchantress Cookie, meant that he loved Pure vanilla cookie in a romantic way ☠️

Obviously characters can care about eachother without liking them romantically. Plus, not only Dark cacao was saddened, but also Hollyberry and Golden Cheese. But you don't include that for your ship.

You guys can understand that I really hate Purecacao, right? Well, unlike Shadowvanilla fans, they don't attack me personally, and they're actually cool. The experiences I had with Purecacao shippers made me hate this ship.

Also, stop hating characters for no reason, because of misunderstanding or something. Whether it's Golden Cheese Cookie, where there are people who think she's selfish and as bad as the beasts, Lord Oyster, or anyone tbh. A lot of characters are hated for no reason, either from their design, or what they did. What I mean is, okay, hate a character, but PLEASE have a at least a reason why you hate the character, and not just because it blocks your ship 😭

It's actually crazy Kingdom fans hated Revel Cookie and Okchun Cookie just for their "simple" design? A lot of CRK fans are so narrow minded it's sad. I really hope your minds opens up more, especially to other ships. For example, rare pairs are cool, and I don't see the problem with it except if they're problematic like age gap, pdf things yk?

I hate Purecacao, Affocacao, but I just block their tag. They just love drawing them kissing and making out. As much as I hate them, I won't threaten them or sending death threats over it, you know? I'm really sorry if I was too rude, my emotions get over me, I really hope it didn't hurt you.

At the end of the day, do what you want. Just don't interact with me. And please improve yourself, a lot of you guys need therapy, myself included. I needed to rant.

#crk #fandom #rant #ships #shadowvanilla #purecacao #purelily #shadow milk cookie #pure vanilla cookie #white lily cookie #golden cheese cookie #hollyberry cookie #crk ancients #crk beasts

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1007xf · 1 day ago

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Hallucinations

Ever since EP3 first came out and I found out that the hallucinations during the Translation Core fight change depending on your team and that each member has a corresponding one, I've been, well, very normal about this fact. I've been ruminating over theories in my brain ever since then and now with EP4 behind me I think it's about time I laid down my thoughts about each one in written form for whoever has the patience to humor me.

DISCLAIMER this entire post could be me overthinking some cool designs. But overthinking is like my thing so. Can't help it☆☆

Now, I'm going in with the assumption that each hallucination represents some sort of deep seated fear within each character. Maybe not necessarily their biggest fear ever, but definitely something that eats away at them from the inside. So, let's begin with looking at each of them in alphabetical order!

Akizet

Starting off strong here with I Have No Idea. Seriously. For all of these, I have some pretty robust interpretations, but Akizet's the only one that fully stumps me.

I can make out some elements, the receptors on it seem to be tir, but they hardly match any character we know of. The shape kind of fits Miltza, but her receptors have 5 "fingers", not 4, and Kazki doesn't fit at all either. So either this is someone from her past we haven't met yet (Rouzesche? Unlikely), not any specific person at all, or I'm missing something.

Obviously something that sets this hallucination apart is the pink "strings" coming out of it. This is the only one that has them. Looks like parasites to me, probably secri since we know what zuzucri infection looks in quite great detail and it's not like this. This is not particularly surprising, we know Akizet dealt with things like this as a surface runner, though I suppose this could hint to how her larval death went. Also to be noted, this hallucination lacks the hole in the chest multiple other hallucinations which depict someone "infected" have. This leads me to believe this is a larval obesk, as opposed to a qou, who can't even get infected by secri.

Last thing I'd like to add is that this thing kind of looks like... a weird amalgamation of multiple obesk. The 3 legs all look like they were taken from different bodies, and also it kind of looks like it had a second head that got decapitated? So like I said when I was talking about the mystery tir receptors, maybe this isn't a specific individual, but a mixed representation of a parasitic infection? Like the multiple victims, all having fallen prey to the same hivemind, now are fused and melted together into one monster. But I'm actually really unsure about this. I promise I'm more confident with the other ones, this one is just really confusing to me for some reason!

Bozko

Okay, this one is quite interesting. I'll first get out of the way what I think this is not.

This guy clearly has jut receptors. But I don't belive it's Cavik or Tozik, since it doesn't look like either of them beyond anything extremely superficial.

As for I do think it is... this is Vekoa. Appearance wise, I'd say she fits.

The receptors are the same, the one eye, and the cape (?) thing behing the hallucination isn't too far from Vekoa's clothing. Also, this hallucination is a qou, since it has a hole in the chest, denoting the destroyed mindcore and hijacked body.

Though beyond just looks I do believe it also makes sense from a character standpoint. Everyone at this point would be scared of Vekoa, since all clues lead to her spearheading the collapse, however Bozko seems to dread her the most out of anybody. He multiple times mentions how he thinks she's to blame for the entire tragedy. He zeroes in on eliminating Vekoa being the solution to everything, to the point he starts sounding somewhat sinister, definitely concerning. Obviously the situation was much more complicated, however Bozko is unstable and needs to anchor himself to anything in order to stay present, and burdened by his past as he is, that anchor seems to be protecting the team and culling the infection. To him, Vekoa is the root of it, and technically he isn't wrong, but his way of thinking and processing the situation is very dangerous. He has tunnel vision on the idea that he is alone, alone with the monster, with the predator, with Vekoa, that it's him and him only that needs to bear the responsibility of taking her on, because he fucked that up in his life, so now he needs to set the record straight in his death.

Overall, what at first seems like a twisted representation of Vekoa slowly becomes a representation of Bozko's self destructive, self punishing spiral.

(I could talk about this guy for so long but it's so hard because his story touches on some real personal stuff for me. He just like me frfr but honestly it's not even funny anymore why are the pixels on the screen stealing words from my mouth)

Cavik

Do I. Do I need to say anything. Seriously.

I think the fact that this is so obvious fits Cavik. He's always been so open about himself and his ideas, to the point it can become... problematic.

Seeing how important Akizet is to him like this is quite sad. Losing her could very well be his greatest fear, especially losing her in such a violent, terrible (haha get it. Because terrible life. Parasites?) manner.

What I would like to point out is that while Cavik's hallucination is clearly Akizet, Cavik is nowhere near close to being Akizet's hallucination. Just something to think about. Their dynamic is healthy and will definitely not degrade in time because of Events that have transpired.

IK Golem

(Or well, Karik, since Itzil is asleep at this point) (right) (they're asleep right) (I'm not misremembering this no? 0_0)

Well, this is Gakvu! Funny thing, girl is featured in a whopping 3 hallucinations. Congratulations?? I think???

Now, I will not give this one too much thought. It's just a Gakvu turned into a husk. The "real" hallucination of Karik appears only after the Pale Halls are unlocked.

Hey girl.

This is Telyu! The fact that the hallucination changes is so cool. Yeah, but I don't have much to say here either. Karik is scared of losing a close friend. Painfully normal fear for a painfully normal kiv. What is interesting is that Telyu retains Gakvu's melted leg. I don't think that means anything, but I thought I'd mention it.

Gakvu

Huh. Looks like she couldn't be bothered to even come up with a hallucination for herself. I'm joking.

Now, here, this is less based on actual clues and more just me interpreting something. I think this creature represents the Conflict as a whole. Gakvu always thinks of the bigger picture, so her fear being this Conflict itself fits. And, even visually, I'd say it fits. It's a ambiguous mass, with many eyes, many claws, a great thing that only works because so many minds are dedicated to senseless fighting, stuck in their ways of thinking, a ball that in it's own stubbornness throws itself down the hill, only to inevitably get hurt, only for inevitably tragedy to strike. This stubbornness to stay in your old ways, this closed off way of thinking, is what Gakvu resents, is what she ultimately fears, because she knows how destructive they can be. From the trauma of how she was raised (yes, trauma, she may act cool, but it clearly greatly affects her) in the structurist way, to the imminent threat of her execution (I do hope she doesn't die that way. She'll definitely die, I just hope she gets to do it on her own terms) she's always lived with the fear of a much greater entity out to get her.

An interesting thing, her hallucination and Bozko's kind of parallel eachother? Or are moreso foils? Bozko's is the immediate problem, Vekoa, the person propagating this infection, but Gakvu's is the Conflict itself, the bigger picture. It's cool to see how they view their situation in such different ways, both of their ways of thinking being both useful, but also potentially dangerous. I generally tend to think of Bozko and Gakvu as foils to eachother in one way or another, but that's another discussion entirely.

Miltza

Miltza. MiltzaMiltzaMiltza. Sigh.

Again, this is one of the very obvious ones. Though it's cool that you can cross reference this with another hallucination of Gakvu, the one IK has. It really shows how Miltza sees Gakvu, even if she tries to be reasonable, not as a qou, as an individual, but as a saboteur, as an instrument for mayhem and strife. Instead of the hole in the chest, the hand symbol is shown, a mark of Gakvu's alliance. Miltza literally doesn't see her heart.

Obviously I don't think Miltza is that vile. She clearly was... trying. And Gakvu herself seems to recognize as much, unfortunately by then it's too late and she's gone. But the hallucinations are the worst a mind can conceive, so I don't think she's really to blame for this.

Miltza you certainly were a character. Bon voyage girl you were kinda crazy for believing in allat <3

Tozik

Last but definitely, definitely not least.

This is. Okay. It's not okay.

Obviously the figure in the left is Bozko, the one on the right is Gakvu, the one in the middle could be Cavik, but it could also be Tozik himself. The receptors could literally be either of them. Yes, they have a curve, which would be Cavik, but the style in which the hallucinations are present seems to kinda hate the straight lines and angles of the Ekivik style sooo... it's a bit hard to tell? Either way, I think both interpretations carry similar enough meaning.

Tozik cares. A lot. He always did, Akizet was just terrible at reading him (to nobody's surprise). When his fear gets extracted out of him and made manifest, it's a corrupted, lost version of his closest friends. While he seems to keep everyone at an arm's length, his friendship with Bozko gets outright stated and it's clear he was closer to Gakvu too. (As for Cavik, if that is indeed him, I guess they shared a caste and had similar duties so maybe they worked together more?? I don't know. Their tie doesn't seem as personal as the other 2 so that's another reason I tend to lean into that being Tozik himself)

And now? Now, beyond everything else happening, he has to witness these 2 friends deteriorate more and more, Bozko's struggle being obvious, and the cracks starting to show in Gakvu's façade too. Ironically, he is the first to start physically deteriorating, and at a much faster pace, a little later on. Maybe because this hallucination doesn't have the chest hole, this isn't the fear of them becoming husks, but rather the fear of them succumbing to their own internal struggles and losing it?

Another interesting detail, this hallucination seems to have blood on its hands. This is the only one with such a detail. It obviously means something. I don't know what, but it must mean something.

Conclusion??

Hi are you still with me. No. Ok :)

But really, if you somehow read this far I really appreciate you <3<3<3

I would like to add something. I'm not on the discord (too scared :( ) and I've never really participated in online discussions yet. I've never seen anybody else speak so in depth about this topic specifically yet, however obviously I could have missed something. So if I just stated a bunch of obvious shit everyone knew already I'm soooorryyy. I tried to give it my own flare okay☆☆☆

Overall I'm glad to finally get all this info off my chest and into the void of tumblr. I definitely have more to say about other things and maybe I will in the future!! I was thinking about writing some of my thoughts on each character respectively, maybe.

And once again thank you for reading and good night is 3 in the morning for me and I need to get up in 3 hours <3

#corru.observer #WOW this is. a lot of text uhm. sorry??#im a humanities guy and it shows. badly

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pouletaulait · 3 days ago

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But the moment is brought up once then not again (from what I recall), and its effects are hard to see without reading far into the text, so I’ve always questioned why this instance was written as Doumeki’s first sexual experience. Why was this event discussed in only a single chapter? Why did it have to be rape and not some healthier arrangement? And if others want to add to that too, I’m curious of those thoughts

In a way, I think I saw it as evidence of Yashiro's "distorted" views on sexuality: He makes Doumeki describe the incident in detail and masturbates to the thought of Doumeki getting sexually assaulted as a young teen... which exemplifies how he trivializes sexual violence, not only in regard to what happened to himself but also to others.

Also, I think you're spot on about this:

We only have so much to work with, but I’m speculating that the blase portrayal and Doumeki’s (seemingly lack of) reaction to these moments could be interpreted as commentary in itself. These moments are so casual in society that even the survivors themselves don’t realize they have been subject to a crime.

Like you said: We never get to know how Doumeki felt or feels about what happened. Maybe he, himself, doesn't really know and never knew how to feel about it. I think Doumeki had no one he could talk to about this in order for him to make sense of what he experienced, it's just something that happened to him; no big deal; and that's how it's portrayed in the story: It's only mentioned in passing, it's trivialized and presented as "sexy". So, yes, it might be on purpose; a realistic portrayal of how this sort of incident has been down played and never really been taken seriously as actual sexual assault. However, to what extent this experience actually may have affected Doumeki and his sexuality subconsciously, is difficult to say imo (you pointed out some interesting possibilities) but what seems evident to me is that his father's actions seemed to have a much bigger impact on him than what the nurse did to Doumeki himself which might also be a reason as to why the incident with the nurse plays a much more negligible role in the story overall compared to what he witnessed his father do to Aoi and his fear of not being able to control himself/being like his father. It also fits nicely into Doumeki's characterisation: He's a protector who doesn't think twice about how something affects himself, in a way he's similar to Yashiro in that respect; he doesn't really care too much about himself: He doesn't appear to be bothered too much about what this nurse did to him as a child and he didn't worry about what would happen to him when he beat his father to a pulp, he also didn't tell anyone about what happened probably because he wanted to protect Aoi and maybe also his family's reputation (?) even though the judge probably would've been more lenient on him if he'd told them what had happened but he chose not to, to his own detriment. As to what's behind the creative decision about the nature of Doumeki's first sexual encounter, I'm guessing that it might be intended to draw attention to the prevalence of this sort of experience among minors in real life as well. There are minors who go through something as horrible as what Yashiro had to go through but there are also a lot of cases that people might deem "not that bad" or like you said even calling Doumeki "lucky" because of what this woman did to him. So, maybe it serves to show a different, less obvious kind of CSA. Or maybe it's intended to, in a way, give Yashiro and Doumeki a bit more of a "common ground", in the sense that they both have had sexual experiences as minors that they shouldn't have had to endure. Yashiro said to Doumeki in chapter 23: "I decided all on my own that you were broken in some way, like me." So, it matters to the story (to Yashiro) that Doumeki wasn't "normal/healthy", it made it easier for Yashiro to relate to Doumeki and to trust him. The focus is on Doumeki's impotence which appears to be mainly a consequence of his father's crime/Doumeki witnessing it but maybe Doumeki's experience with that nurse also played a part in how his father's actions affected him psychologically, it's difficult to tell, but it certainly adds another layer of complexity to his issues with sex.

Implications of Doumeki’s Trauma, mainly with the Nurse

I haven’t seen many discuss the significance of the nurse trauma or why they think it was written that way to begin with, so here’s some of my thoughts

TW: CSA, SA, parental neglect

I’m glad that the story treats the moment with the nurse as SA of a male by a female, rather than Doumeki “being lucky” to have done it with a woman (gross). It’s not often that this situation is represented without it being played as a joke or as something… desirable. (I wanted to puke just writing that).

We know that when Doumeki was younger, his parents stopped treating him like a child because of his inability to express emotions well and how much his body developed (ch.29). I think Yoneda-sensei wanted to point out the harm of treating a child like an adult when they are still growing. I drew a connection to the phenomenon of adultification, primarily affecting Black children but also applying to other ethnic minorities frequently. There are many negative effects, but among the worst is that some children who are deemed as “more mature” are more likely to be sexualized and potentially assaulted. I believe this is what happened to Doumeki.

Now that I think about it, has Doumeki ever himself thought of the experience with the nurse as rape, or those times in prison as SA*? He said in ch.5 that he has never told anyone else about his encounter with the nurse. Maybe he was ashamed of this sexual encounter, or maybe he was scared that others would judge or simply brush off his experience? Maybe he didn’t even realize he was a victim in that moment. We only have so much to work with, but I’m speculating that the blase portrayal and Doumeki’s (seemingly lack of) reaction to these moments could be interpreted as commentary in itself. These moments are so casual in society that even the survivors themselves don’t realize they have been subject to a crime. Normalization of these experiences is a foundation of rape culture.

The implications/effects of the nurse trauma are harder to see but I think it manifests in a few ways.

Doumeki was around 12-13 (first year of junior high in Japan) when he was exploited by an authority figure, so he may not have fully realized he was a victim. His inability to express emotions well when he was younger explains his general lack of expression, but that doesn’t explain his emotional numbness and feelings of emptiness that are very prevalent pre-timeskip. I believe these aspects are attributed to his trauma (concerning parental neglect, the nurse, and his feelings surrounding Aoi’s trauma). This numbness has actually improved seeing as how he’s expressing more emotion and starting to joke around more post-timeskip. His sense of purpose has also improved, and I don’t think it’s just about Yashiro anymore but also his dedication to the Sakura group.

The nurse incident may also show his early sexual curiosity (since he didn’t run away). It may have added to the huge sense of shame that he would develop for having those feelings later.

Actually I just realized that it was when Aoi entered junior high that she started developing feelings for Doumeki, and it’s when he started avoiding her. They are 5 years apart. Doumeki encountered the nurse when he was in junior high. This recontextualizes everything. The confusing and traumatic feelings Doumeki must have experienced from the nurse incident must have scarred him, making him deeply uncomfortable with Aoi’s new feelings. So it’s not just because she was his adopted sister that made him uncomfortable, but also because she may have reminded him of horrible feelings with the nurse. Now I think this is what makes him avoiding his sister for so long more tangible. He wanted to disconnect from that trauma, which unfortunately he affiliated with his sister. This disconnection from his trauma must have also contributed to his feelings of numbness and emptiness I mentioned earlier.

The nurse incident also highlighted his childhood loneliness. His parents didn’t treat him like a child for as long as they should have. He may have just wanted some attention from an adult…

It’s easy to see why Yashiro’s trauma is so heavily discussed (and it’s extremely important that it is): the effects of his trauma are so visceral to us. And it’s true that portrayals/explanations of how his trauma affects him are given significantly more “screentime” than Doumeki’s (Yashiro is the main character so it makes sense but; admittedly it’s still a bit of a critique). However, the effects of Doumeki’s trauma are also very complex and should be discussed as well. They are just harder to notice..

———————————————————————————

I think we will see more of Doumeki’s perspective this arc. And soon. Yoneda-sensei loves hiding stuff from us only to reveal that info at just the right moments, and I think this is what’s happening here. Lots of things about him have changed without any real explanation; so far we can only speculate. E.g. his feelings regarding his father, his situation with his family, his relationship with Izumi (which is being teased heavily), etc

Mysteries all around

*= edit for clarification

#saezuru fandom #saezuru tori wa habatakanai #twittering birds never fly

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