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animasola86 · 6 months ago

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F o r g e t f u l 🎀 1 / 4

Your roommate has a dirty secret - you. The only problem is: you can't remember anything about that. And there might be even more problems when you realize just what kind of relationship you have with her.

a dominant woman X a submissive girl with a memory problem

WARNINGS: F!Reader-insert! NSFW! Explicit sexual content. Mistress/pet. Domme/sub. Memory loss. Manipulation. Gaslighting. Praise kink. Dubcon elements. Fingering. Sex toys. Object insertion. Bondage. (More tags on AO3.) WORDS: 5.5k

A/N: Remember: if these tags are not for you, you better turn back now! If you know my other stories, you may be used to my very explicit writing style, but this is still some of the darker stuff, somewhat. It's rough, but there is an actual wlw story buried beneath the depravity, I swear! And: THIS IS FICTION! Nobody got hurt in the making of this series. (By the way, the header is just for aesthetics, it's up to you to decide how Mistress looks like and obviously Reader looks however you want to insert her. I tried my best to keep her neutral.) Another note on the fandom tags: I write characters who could be anyone, so I thought about some kick-ass ladies who may fit the role here. I'm sorry this is not about your favorite character, but maybe it can still somewhat fit? Give it a try :)

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You're staring at the pictures with your lips parted and trembling, your cheeks warm, a strange tingle in your nape. Your hands are shaking as you file through the prints. They look weirdly professional, good lighting, even better angles, the background is blurry while the focus lies directly on...

You.

It's you in those photographs, you in various positions, you in different outfits... or with nothing at all hiding your curves. Some pictures are just showing certain body parts, some angles you've never seen of yourself, some more flattering than others.

But whatever you see, you can't hide the fact that it arouses you. It's not the subject, you're usually quite self-conscious about taking nudes of yourself (even though you gotta admit that these look quite well made, so surreal that you feel almost proud of yourself), it's actually two things that make your core throb:

One: you are in clearly compromising positions, bent over with your legs spread wide, on your back, bound to the bed with cuffs around your wrists and ankles, or tied up with soft-looking rope in intricate patterns, your body composed in ways you haven't thought possible (or comfortable).

And two: you are always stuffed. There are various objects sticking out of both your cunt and your ass, sometimes there's even something in your mouth that's held open by a spider gag. It varies too, not all holes are occupied all the time, all at once, in some pictures it's just one and it's particularly stuffed and stretched (is that an eggplant?).

Your body reacts more and more as you flip through the thick printed paper. The worst thing about it all:

You can't remember a goddamn thing!

Shame and arousal course through you as you stare at yourself. But you can't put them down, can't stop. In this photo, you're wearing a black leather harness that accentuates your breasts. You're standing, with wide legs, a spreader bar attached to your ankles. You're blindfolded, your arms tied behind your back. It's a series of pictures, you realize.

First from the front, then from the back (your ass cheeks look great with how they're pushed up by the leather straps). You notice something shiny between them: a butt plug with a sparkly diamond base. It's glowing, or blinking as you see in the next picture where the light is gone.

Your insides convulse a little, your muscles clenching around nothing. It's like looking at porn, but you can't ignore the familiarity about the body portrayed. It is undoubtedly yours.

But then again: you've never had anything up your ass, not in your conscious state at least. But here (and in those other pics) you have, and the next print even shows a close-up of the plug in your ass. It's a strangely aesthetic photo considering the unflattering motif and angle, but it certainly does things to you. Though you can't be sure if the tension in your stomach comes from embarrassment, excitement or sheer terror at the revelation that somebody took these pictures of you – and you can't even remember it.

Swallowing hard, you pry your eyes from the prints, your hands still shaking, as you look around the room. Somebody can only be one person. Your gaze scrapes over the shelves around you, full of camera equipment, old-fashioned film containers next to a plastic box full of SD-cards, various lenses and other extras, and then the cameras themselves, three at least, behind glass doors, kept away, like the pictures you found in a large brown envelope hiding in a drawer.

You've been looking for some hair ties, an innocent search, knowing your roommate wouldn't mind, but now you feel as if you've stepped into a different world, uncovering secrets you should have never known about. Even if they are about you.

Taking a shuddering breath, you look back at the pictures in your hands, your cheeks positively aflame now as you trace the blurry lines of your body before the focus shifts to a close-up of your cunt, shiny and reddened, your clit swollen, with black clamps attached to your pussy lips, thin metal chains disappearing off to the sides, holding your folds open while something black and girthy vanishes into your body.

The next pictures show a white-gloved hand gripping the base of the dildo, and you flip quicker through the sheets to create the motion, seeing the toy going in and out of your cunt, guided by the anonymous hand, spreading your core, diving in to retreat with an extra layer of shine before disappearing again, and as you stare at the prints, you can almost feel it moving inside you, a faint memory as your muscles clench and unclench, your arousal building up before it drips into your underwear.

You are torn between being very horny upon seeing these pictures and utterly disturbed. If you could only remember these scenes, then it wouldn't be as bad. But you can't. There's nothing, only fog that slips through your mind's imaginary fingers as you try to catch it, as you try to make sense of this. You feel your heart beating faster while your eyes tear up from staring unblinkingly at the prints in your hands.

This can't be real. Confusion merges with betrayal, your belly feels tense, your heart clenches in rhythm with your walls, your throat closes up as the first tear spills from your lashes.

You let go of the pictures, watching them scatter over the desk and down to the floor, every angle of your body on display, every inch captured in embarrassing detail, your holes filled or gaping, your mouth gagged or stuffed or open, there's drool, there are tears, there's wetness glistening on your skin in almost every shot. Your eyes may be the scariest part staring up at you. They're either glazed over, unfocused, or rolled back and hooded, some bloodshot, some watery, and some look almost defiant, a moment captured in time where you seemingly fought back?

The ones where you're blindfolded are the least terrifying, those are the ones where you can dissociate, where you can imagine somebody else being tied to whatever surfaces there are, tables, benches, beds, chairs, artfully presented, where it's just a body, clad in sexy lingerie and high heels, or adorned with ropes, or in the moments after where the skin is dented by the intricate patterns left behind by the ties.

The close-ups are also getting to you. You've never seen your own cunt or ass up close like this, so again, it could be anyone's holes filled and spread and used by various objects. The sheer amount and variety of them is quite concerning. But it's the unconventional ones that make you shiver, that create that tension in your stomach. The cucumber pushed deep into your ass so only its thinner stalk or whatever its called pokes out. The wide eggplant parting your labia in an obscene fashion, its entire body stuffed into your cunt, creating a slight bulge in your lower stomach.

There's another stack of photos atop a large envelope (the whole drawer seems to be dedicated to just you), and your curiosity gets the better of you after all. It's a series of pictures showing different round objects pushed into your holes. From marbles to ping pong balls to actual tennis balls, they're all shown vanishing into either your ass or your cunt, pushed by a delicate finger clad in a white glove, one after the other, and you can only assume how many would actually fit. It's not a video, you can't be sure, but you can imagine whoever did this to you didn't stop at just one.

Indeed they didn't, as the next photo shows. Another set of hands, also wearing white gloves, is grabbing your ass cheeks and pulling them apart, making your sphincter wink at the camera, before, in the next shot, your hole is gaping, allowing a strange view inside, rosy flesh stuffed with white little balls (you can see at least three, but more are hinted at behind them). You feel a little sick looking at the rest of the series of pictures, where they come back out as your hole puckers, pushing and pushing.

Your body reacts in earnest, your muscles clenching around nothing, deep shivers crashing down your spine. You flip past more of these kinds of photos, until you stop when you see white-gloved fingers poking at your cunt, spreading your lips, gathering your slick that glistens on the surface of the latex gloves, and you let out an audible gasp when the next picture doesn't show them push in, but shows only a wrist (attached to a slender arm) poking out of your stretched hole, gripped by tight skin, suggesting the entire hand is stuck inside you.

Your stomach gives a nervous growl at the sight, your breath hitching in your throat. You swallow thickly, your nostrils flaring as you force yourself to breathe through your nose to calm yourself. The stack of pictures shakes in your hands as you flip through more extreme insertions, more vegetables, some fruits, an entire apple made it up your cunt apparently, while they went from using one cucumber in your ass to at least three, stretching your rim impossibly wide. The sight alone makes your asshole clench violently, and you wonder why you never felt sore after being stuffed so full and spread so wide.

But your body seemingly adjusted, returned to its former state, unharmed, giving no hints at what actually happened to you. Strange. It's almost as if this happened to somebody else after all. But it didn't. It is your body. You may not know your cunt or ass up close, but you recognize the rest, your boobs, your arms, your belly, your legs, your feet, the birthmarks that make you you. It is you in these pictures, in every single one.

Only you.

A strangled sob escapes you as you look over the desk, seeing more and more envelopes, hiding in plain sight, more prints, some smaller, some bigger, all filled with motifs of your body being used in various fashions, one more degrading than the next. Shame settles low in your stomach, like a heavy weight that makes it hard to breathe. Your head is spinning, blood rushing in your ears so loudly you are startled back into reality as you suddenly hear the creaking of the door.

Footsteps follow, before someone clears their throat.

You whip around, dropping the last pictures you were holding, more shots of your stuffed cunt, wet and glistening as it's assaulted by more household items. Your eyes widen when you see your roommate in the door frame, a smug smile on her beautiful face as she crosses her arms over her chest.

“Oh hi,” she says in a nonchalant tone, tilting her head. “What are you doing here, pet?” she adds, and you frown at the nickname, a strange sensation crashing through your nerves.

“I... uh... I was looking for...” you stammer, taking a step away from the desk and the mess you made by dropping all those prints. “A hair tie,” you whisper breathlessly, curling your shaking hands into fists as you stare at her. “What... what are these? Did you take them?” you then ask, your voice trembling as much as your shoulders while you look from her back to the discriminating evidence you found by accident.

Your roommate sighs, unfolding her arms as she walks towards you. She's taller than you, slender and still curvy in the right places, her long hair falling over her slim shoulders. You force yourself to look into her eyes and not get distracted by the cleavage her tight dress creates or how close she is. She stops right in front of you, looking down, a softer looking smile curling her full lips.

“You know I did,” she says quietly, reaching up a hand to caress your cheek with the back of her finger. You shiver under the touch, but don't flinch away. “You agreed to this, remember?”

“No,” you breathe out, blinking quickly as you feel tears welling up in your eyes.

She clicks her tongue, shaking her head. “Shh, it's okay, pet, don't worry. You did. I would never do anything to harm you,” she whispers, leaning closer until you feel her hot breath on your lips. “You wanted to be my muse, you begged me for it,” she adds, biting her lip sensually before leaning in to press her warm mouth to the corner of yours.

You stiffen, eyes widening, your heart nearly exploding in your chest. You can't remember any of this. Why is she saying that? She is just your roommate!

You moved in only a few months ago, replying to an ad you saw on the bulletin board of your college dorm. A cheap room in a good neighborhood, your own room, away from the distractions of having to live with people you don't like or know that well, it sounded too good to be true. But it was true, and the woman looking for roommates was so nice, so enticing. You met her at a neutral place, to get to know her (fall for her charm), before she showed you the apartment, and you moved in later that week.

It was perfect. Until it wasn't. Not that you noticed it right away. You just never saw her. Now that you thought about it, you can only (barely) remember going to your classes (you are still going to your classes, right?), while the rest of the day is somewhat of a blur. You can't, however, remember going to your job at the coffee shop (do you still have a job? How are you paying for this place?), and the more you try to remember, the more holes come up, black and all-consuming.

You frown as you stare at her. She leans back slowly, watching you. Her hand is on your face, the pointy nail of her thump scraping over your bottom lip as her long fingers caress the shell of your ear.

“No need to worry, pet,” she says quietly, her voice a low soft thrum, rich like honey, that tickles something inside you that you've fought all your life. Why does she keep calling you 'pet'? And why does it affect you so much? “Everything is just fine. And I'm not even mad that you just went into my room like this. I told you you shouldn't, didn't I?”

You swallow as she lowers her hand and closes it around your throat, giving it a gentle squeeze. You feel your pulse throbbing against her palm. “I'm sorry,” you gasp out.

She smiles at you, moving her hand even lower, teasing her fingertips along the neckline of your shirt. “It's okay. You know the consequences. It'll be fine.” You furrow your eyebrows, breathing harder, not understanding anything. “Not the first time, hm?” she adds, giving you a wink. Her words make no sense, your head is hurting with how tight you pull your eyebrows together, and with all the thoughts and questions whirling about in a wild dance of confusion.

“I... I don't –”

“Shh,” she shushes you, her hand gripping your chin. You freeze. “Be a good pet and go back to your room. I'll clean this up. Put on the clothes I chose for you. Wait for me when you're done. Do you understand?”

You stare at her, your body tensing up, your cunt clenching hard around nothing. Her words, the cadence of her voice, the dominant tone, it all brings you to do one thing, your mind emptying as words spill from your trembling lips. “Yes, Mistress.”

You don't even know where these came from. Mistress? Pet? What is going on? But your body moves on auto-pilot, your mind swirling, still fighting the confusion, but also easing into a strange void, triggered by words you've heard before, or so it feels, commands you've answered many times in the past.

She lets go of your chin, giving you a warm smile, even though her eyes are dark and somewhat cold, and you nod, bow your head and shuffle out of the room, your legs trembling as you make your way back into your bedroom across the hall.

For a moment you're wondering how you got here, why you're here, but then your gaze falls onto a pile of clothes on your bed. You walk closer, picking up item after item. A short black skirt, pleated, barely long enough to not be considered a belt. A tight tank top, white and almost see-through. A set of fancy black underwear, a lace bra with an intricate flower pattern, a thong of similar design. There's also a pair of sheer black stockings, a garter belt and straps to attach each piece together.

Your stomach tenses at the sight. You've seen these pieces before, in the photos you shouldn't have seen. It's a blur how you put them on, your head spinning, your hands shaking, but you still somehow manage to dress in time before you hear footsteps on the floorboards outside your room. Your heart beats faster, your chest heaving, tight in the bra and top, straining, something cold crashing down your spine before it gathers hot and pulsing right between your legs.

Before the creaking of the door announces your roommate, you suddenly fall to your knees, your feet tucked under your rear, your hands automatically finding purchase in your lap, folded neatly as you stretch your back and square your shoulders, breathing deep as you train your eyes straight ahead, waiting for the door to open. You have no idea what made you assume this position, why it feels so familiar, so safe in a way.

Your roommate (your Mistress) enters your bedroom, her high heels thudding over the carpet as she walks up to you, tilting her head as she watches you closely. “Stand,” she says, and you do, your legs moving seemingly on their own. Once you stand, stiff with your arms pressed to your sides, chest pushed out, your neck straight, eyes wandering over the tall frame in front of you, she nods. “See? You haven't forgotten. Good girl,” she says, and the praise shoots through you like a pistol shot, straight into your clit, making it throb and ache, your heart beating in the same hurried rhythm.

She walks around you then, her long fingers brushing over your bare arms, around your shoulders, down your spine, until she gives your ass a soft slap, making you gasp quietly. She repeats the motion, but this time, she leaves her hand on your cheek for a moment, squeezing it, her fingernails digging into your soft skin. You stiffen, breathing a little harder.

“You're so beautiful,” she whispers as she leans into you, looming behind you, her breath ghosting your jaw. “My perfect little muse.”

You feel her lips brushing against the soft spot behind your ear, a hot kiss that makes you shiver, while her hand gropes your ass, fingertips teasing at the thin fabric of your thong tucked between your cheeks.

Suddenly she leans back, lets go of you, and you hear her walking a few steps before she stops, a deep sigh echoing through the room. You turn around slowly, unsure if you should, but when you do, you freeze as you watch her pick up the glass of water on your bedside table.

“Baby, I told you to drink more,” she says with a tilt of her head. “You always forget, hm? So busy, head always in the clouds...” She walks back to you, holding the glass in front of you, her eyes boring into yours as she waits for you to grab it. You do, your hands shaking. “Drink up, pretty girl. You know you need it.”

She's so caring, you think as you bring the water to your lips, holding her gaze, but as soon as you feel the cold liquid running down your tight throat, an image flickers before your eyes. Your roommate (Mistress) sitting on your bed, moving a clear glass straw in a stirring motion, swirling the water, making a faint sheen of powder disappear. You feel as if you've watched her do that many times. What is that? What did she put in here? Vitamins? Or something else?

But you can't even question it further, can't find the courage to ask, when you realize you've drank the whole thing, every drop of water (and whatever else was in there) now in your stomach. “Good girl,” she praises and smiles at you, before she takes the glass from your clammy fingers and puts it back on your bedside table. “Now let's get you ready for our big night out, yeah?”

You frown, another faint memory peeking through the fog in your head. It seems to be getting thicker now. Strange. But this image, you still see somewhat clearly before you. You had plans tonight, you remember now, you wanted to go out. Where? No idea. But you needed a hair tie. Yeah. That's why you went into your roommate's room in the first place. Some details are blurry (were you supposed to go out with her? Have you done that before? Why would you? You barely know the woman...), but somehow they don't matter anymore.

She steps back in front of you, her fingers vanishing in the cleavage of her dress before she pulls something from between her breasts. You blink in confusion as you recognize the shape. It's a metal butt plug. And she stored it between her boobs? Interesting.

“Open wide, pet,” she tells you, and without even questioning it, you part your lips and let your tongue roll out. She looks pleased as she puts the rounded object into your mouth. It's warm, and the taste triggers something else in you. Another familiar sensation. It's her, you know without knowing, her taste, sweet and a bit salty, exploding on your tongue, sinking deep, causing soft shivers to crash down your spine, something hot gathering low in your gut.

You've had your face on her chest before, huh? Must be. Your cheeks burn up badly, your breaths loud through your nose as you suckle on the butt plug between your lips, your eyes scanning the pretty face looking down at you. She keeps her fingers on the base, pushing the object in and out, and you find yourself licking around it, coating it in your saliva. Like you've done before. You think.

She watches you before she lets go of the plug and puts her palm over your mouth. “Keep it nice and warm for me, okay?” she says, leaning closer until her nose brushes against yours. You give a jerking nod, tightening your lips around the narrowest part of the plug while its body rests hard and heavy on your tongue. “Good.”

You feel saliva pooling in your mouth, and the urge to swallow becomes stronger. But you focus on the woman in front of you as she straightens up again, her hands on her hips. Her whole presence, her aura, has you in its grip, you feel, it's impossible to fight it, to protest, to do anything except the things she demands of you. All it takes is a look, a word, her voice driving through you like an electric current that controls your every limb.

And so you move when she tells you to turn around and bend over, and as you rest on your forearms on the edge of your bed, she nudges your legs apart and steps between them, her hands sliding under your skirt and pushing it up. You stiffen slightly, breathing harder, your heart thundering inside your chest, but you can't object, you don't want to. You just endure.

And a tiny part of you, through the fog in your head, lights up, a growing heat that creeps down your spine, tenses in your stomach, seeps lower until it gathers in your core, scorching, wet, and it's all you feel when she pushes your thong aside and moves her fingers along your slit, dipping gently between your puffy lips and into your slick, the loud squelching noise making your ears burn.

She prods at your entrance, teases your clit, but then she moves up again, and without warning or command or reassuring words pokes right against your puckered hole, and as you gasp around the plug in your mouth, flinching slightly, she stretches your rim and pushes into your ass, a slim finger, a pointy fingernail, digging against your tense muscles. In and out it goes until there are two fingers, then three, and it burns, the friction too much, like little daggers poking at your nerves.

“Come on, pet, relax,” she says from behind you, moving her fingers deeper, curling them, pushing and prodding against protesting muscles. “You've done this before. You're a pro at this, remember?”

Her words bring up the hazy memories of the pictures you saw, of the various items wedged into your tight ass, and some just don't make sense. Three cucumbers? Really? While it already feels like too much when she 'only' has three slim fingers inside you? How did you manage that? Your stomach gives a distant growl as drool slips past your tight lips and onto your bed.

“Fine, I'll lube you up this time,” she sighs and removes her fingers with a strangely wet pop. This time? She doesn't usually? It's almost as if you can remember the pain of the dry friction, but then why can you never remember any soreness afterwards? Confusion lingers on your mind as you hear her footsteps leaving the room.

You remain in your bent-over position, your hands clawing at the sheets as you suckle mindlessly on the metal plug in your mouth, trying to make sense of it all. You come to no conclusion whatsoever when she eventually returns, and you hear the squirt of some liquid before you can feel it. Large dollops of something cold pressing against your tight hole. You groan against the object between your lips as she pushes deeper, her fingers, slick and cold, sliding in and out again.

This time she stretches your hole by scissoring her fingers, knuckles digging into your tense muscles, and you hear another squirt and something cold lands on your hot skin, slipping right into you. You shiver, goosebumps breaking out on your exposed skin. She keeps doing that, filling you up with more and more lube, you assume, her fingers pushing it deep, coating your insides. It's a strange sensation, but again, this feels somewhat familiar, and triggers more memories you seem to have suppressed before, or forgotten.

You see yourself strapped to a reclining chair, your legs raised up in some sort of stirrups, ankles tied and wrists bound to the armrests. You're naked, and she is kneeling between your wide open legs in front of a large plastic bucket or something like it, and there's a tube inside your ass, something cold (water?) pressing through it and into you, and you see and feel it filling you up, your stomach bulging, and you feel sick, your insides cramping, but you can't say anything, there's a gag in your mouth, so all you can do is squirm in your restraints, until you feel a different sort of pain as she slaps your mound with a force that makes you cry out, makes you flinch remembering it, and she keeps at it, hitting your clit with precise blows until it's all puffy and throbbing badly, and you throw your head back and whine helplessly, your belly still bulging, filling up, while her voice coos into your ear:

“You want to be clean, pet, don't you? So we gotta clean you up properly. You don't want to be dirty for our guests, now do you?”

You frown deeply as those words echo in your cloudy head. Guests? But the question vanishes slowly, replaced by the sensation of her fingers digging deep into your ass, spreading more lube, and in the back of your mind you're just glad she isn't giving you another enema. A strange thought to have, but it makes sense in the dizziness that holds you hostage. Breathing harder, you press your forehead into the bed, swallowing hard around the plug in your mouth.

As she works on (in) your ass, you start to feel a tingle in your neglected pussy, a spasm deep within, a little clench, a needy little urge, and instead of holding still, you find yourself grinding your rear into her hand. She stops immediately, a deep sigh escaping her as she pulls her fingers out of your ass and grips your nape with her wet hand. You shiver and stiffen, holding your breath as she pulls you into a standing position.

Her free hand grabs the base of the plug and pulls it out of your mouth where it clangs against your teeth, causing you to flinch. You swallow the excess spit and take a shuddering breath as you feel the warm metal pressing between your ass cheeks. With how she worked you open, it slips in easily enough, and your muscles clench slightly around its narrow neck, but it's only after she smacks your soft cheek a few times in rapid succession, making you whine and shudder as your skin tightens, that you're tensing up enough to hold it in place.

She lets go of you and spins you around, then holds out her hand to you, her fingers glistening in lube and your own wetness. “Clean,” she says, and even though your stomach makes a loud grumble of protest, you find yourself leaning in and closing your lips around her slim fingers. A strange taste of artificial strawberry and something else, something tangy and your own, floods your senses, but you close your eyes and flick your tongue around her digits, focusing on the task and not on the taste and the origin of it.

Eventually she pulls her hand away and pats your cheek, leaving a trail of saliva on your warm skin. Your eyes flutter open as she leans around you and adjusts your thong, pulling it back in place, then pushes your skirt down again. Her eyes meet yours, the gaze intense, creating another soothing wave of heat that rolls over you gently, that makes you clench around the plug in your butt. A smile grazes her full lips, and you find yourself smiling back.

“Alright, now put your hair up, get your shoes and your coat, and wait by the front door,” she tells you as she steps away, holding your gaze until you nod obediently. Your mind is reeling at this point, confusion and arousal warring inside of you. What is happening?

You don't know, and you don't seem to care too much either as you start moving, following her orders. You end up on your knees again, right by the door, waiting like a dog, and the image couldn't have been more fitting when you see her approaching with a strange leather band in her hands. You blink when she crouches down before you and fixes what you can only assume is a collar around your neck. It sits tight enough to notice it, but you can still breathe freely and swallow against it without it restricting you in any way.

You're still confused why you need this (and why you accept it so easily). Your roommate (Mistress) cups your face and looks at you with a warm gaze that makes you bite your lip, her hands rubbing over your cheeks before she tugs her thumbs under your chin and lifts it so she can lean in and press her lips to yours. Your eyes flutter shut as you part your lips and meet her tongue, the kiss deep and soft, gentle gliding of tongues and lips, a warm gesture, sending sparks through your nerves that make you throb with a need that feels both familiar and eerily unknown, frightening.

A single thought ricochets through your empty head: You would do anything for this woman.

“My beautiful pet,” she whispers against your tingling lips, the tip of her tongue tracing the corner of your mouth. “Are you ready?”

Without thinking, without wondering what for, you nod eagerly, a breathless “Yes, Mistress.” leaving your swollen lips. She gives you another peck and stands up then, snapping her fingers in a way that leaves no room for interpretation. You stand immediately, swaying slightly on the high heels you were told to wear. You're still smaller than her, but having to look up only amplifies the sensation coursing through you. Your devotion for her.

She grabs a large bag and shoves it into your hands, and you know by the weight and feel of it, that it holds camera equipment. A distant memory shimmers behind your glassy eyes, of stumbling into her room, finding those envelopes in the drawer of her desk, of flipping through countless pictures of your naked body, of your holes being stuffed and stretched, of being tied down, of letting her do with you whatever she wants. What has disturbed you earlier is barely worth a flinch now.

It's what you do. It's what you are. Her muse. Her pet. She chose you and you obey. It's what you do, it's what she does. She's your Mistress, after all.

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End notes: Yes, our dominant lady here is indeed inspired by a character from my other (m/f) Dom/sub story: Infatuated: Mistress.

By the way, a little disclaimer at the end here as we go to the next (heavier) chapters: I am not a BDSM professional or expert, I am a writer with a dirty mind and access to the Internet. This is fiction, gaslighting people is bad, consent is very important, but when a hot lady tells you to do something, you gotta do it, that's the law (jk). Please see this as what it is: a fantasy and nothing more.

Thank you for reading! Next chapter on Saturday!

MASTERLIST // AO3 // ORIGINAL WORKS

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ryes-brownies08 · 2 months ago

Note

hi luv! im craving for a fluffy date of sungchan x male reader who are so down bad for each other! can u write it for me pls??

ily bby, xo [sungchan x male reader]

“God,” Sungchan chuckled, deep in conversation with the guy he’d realised he loved all too dearly. “You’re a hot mess.” “You’re odd as fuck, too.” M/n laughed, the boys drowning in one another’s laughter.

˙⋆✮ genre: FLUFF ˙⋆✮ roles: top! sungchan, bttm! mreader ˙⋆✮ word count: 3.7k words

Synopsis: Sungchan and M/n have been attracted to each other for a while, and now that they're finally on a date, they begin to realise how much they truly like each other. Sungchans composed masculinity paired harmoniously with M/n's adaptable friendliness, and the two go wherever life takes them as they thoroughly enjoy one anothers company on a late night date.

WARNINGS + TAGS: affection, dating, kinda sappy, swearing, insensitive at times, sunchan loves soccer!!, high school, kissing, holding hands, depictions of any irl character here does not reflect who they are irl this work is purely fictional, etc

M/n and Sungchan walked out of the shopping center hand in hand, the sound of laughter and the warmth of a whole heart following them. M/n cradled a pastel pinkish-blue soccer ball in his arm, a prize he won from a claw machine, whilst Sungchan gracefully nibbled on a cupcake besides him, colorful sprinkles occasionally getting stuck to his lips.

“That’s why I don’t go to arcades anymore. I had no idea, what was I supposed to do?” M/n chuckled, playfully swinging Sungchans arms to the same rhythm of his head as it gently bounced side to side. Sungchan smiled as M/n lead the conversation, purely happy to listen to him talk.

“That’s crazy. I wouldn’t have seen you at school for a century, huh?” Sungchan responded restfully, turning to look at his date. As he did, M/n took note of Sungchan's kind, deep-set almond eyes that he loved ever so, watching as his lips spread to either side of his face in an elegant, observant smile.

“Realistically, no.” M/n laughed, returning his gaze to stare at the ground as they walked, which was a little habit of his that Sungchan loved.

The two had a crush on each other for a while. At school, neither M/n nor Sungchan sat with the same group of people, but just so they could talk to each other, interacted with each other’s respective friend groups. M/n was an individual who only showed his liveliness to people he trusted, and the athletic Sungchan was a part of a popular but not impolite friend group.

Despite their differences, their attraction to each other was strong. So they took a chance, and before they knew it, became a thing.

The two of them discovered they both had a liking for similar things, although their customary penchants could sometimes be quite different. But that’s just what made them all the more beautiful.

For their date tonight, they set out to wander a shopping centre together until the sky turned a brooding black, and a million stars floated brilliantly in its embrace; they both loved the serenity of the night.

As the two walked out the front gate of the shopping center, they were hit with the pleasantly cold breeze of the night. The outside was surrounded by floral bushes and majestic trees, and the orange lighting from above created a vibey, nocturnal atmosphere as they walked upon the cobblestone pathway. Sungchan was feeling the cold a bit more than he was prepared for, wearing only a white tee shirt that was tucked into his pair of blue denims. M/n, wearing a brown striped sweater and cargo pants, noticed and decided to offer his long beige coat to Sungchan.

“You’re gonna become paler than you already are,” M/n said, nudging at Sungchan’s shoulders as he looked up at him. “Take this back. I’m overheating anyways.”

“Are you sure?” Sungchan asked. “I don’t want you to get cold.”

“Nah, it’s fine. Can’t have you freezing, can I?.” M/n smiled softly, looking up at his date. M/n took pride in his height of 5’10, but Sungchan made M/n feel short, standing at 6’1.

“M/n, I mean it,” Sungchan said, despite the cold noticeably getting to him. “You don’t have to-”

“Sung.” M/n interrupted, eyebrows raised in a way that read ‘don’t try me, my precious loser.’

“Alright, my bad.” Sungchan laughed. “Never been terrorized to wear a coat before.” He muttered, knowing M/n would hear. M/n didn’t care though, softly smiling as he admired the man infront of him.

Sungchan’s face was attractively long and oval-shaped, his jawline clean but not aggressively sharp, alongside a bigger and structured nose that rested above relatively full and kissable lips. But despite the sheer perfection of his visual, that wasn’t what M/n was necessarily looking at.

M/n was rather entranced by the way Sungchans biceps flexed with every movement, his chest straining against his white tee, leaving little to the imagination. But what M/n was most hypnotized by, was how Sungchan focused intensely on whatever he had in his arms, in this case, the coat. His movements were so deliberate and calculated, ensuring the coat was put on smoothly, and M/n couldn’t help but take it out of all appropriate context. M/n mentally slapped himself, not wanting to ruin this innocent date; he was simply taking notes for the future. A heat began rising in his cheeks. One day, he would be the thing Sungchan would examine every corner of, and there wouldn’t be any clothes to-

“M/n?” Sungchan called out, snapping M/n out of his trance.

“Y-Yeah? Sorry, zoned out.” M/n responded, chuckling sheepishly.

“Are you cold? Your cheeks and nose are all reddened up.” Sungchan asked. Fuck, already? M/n didn’t expect the heat to show through his (S/c) skin that quickly.

“Really?” M/n asked, using his hands to feel the temperature of his face. It didn’t feel so hot, so he wondered how prominent the blush was for Sungchan to have noticed it. All M/n really felt was a slight stubble, which he needed to shave before it became anything noticeable. “Hold on…” M/n reached for his phone, trying to visually examine the degree of redness of his face.

“Wait, don’t move.” Sungchan spoke softly, hyperfixated on M/n’s face as he began stepping closer to him. M/n remained still, like he was asked to.

M/n was slightly unnerved as he observed Sungchan gently touching up his hair. It made M/n wonder if he had something on his face. Was it a cut? Or a bug? M/n became a bit worried. Then, he noticed as Sungchan's hyperfocused face slowly morphed into an enamoured expression. A leafy rustling crinkled against M/n’s ears, and when he opened up his camera, M/n saw that there wasn’t, infact, any blush.

Instead, there was a flower that Sungchan had placed in the nook of M/n’s ear. M/n let out an amused sigh, realising he was on edge for nothing, but he did make sure to offer Sungchan a look of playful indignance.

“What? You look cute. I had to.” He smiled, eyes forming half-cresents as his lips spread to either side of his face, his expression too loveable to refuse.

“You had me so confused; I was scared.” M/n said, chuckling as the two began to walk again.

“You’re scared of roses?” Sungchan smiled, as calmly mischievous as only he could be.

“Wha- No?- Well, you picked it from a random bush!” M/n protested.

“All roses come from bushes, my love.” Sungchan responded. His adaptable composure was something M/n loved, unless he was getting clocked.

Before long, the two had been walking together for an unknowable amount of time, their harmonious company making time go by only too quickly. The roads were empty, the only sound being the laughter of the two, or the rustling of the nearby trees every now and then.

“God,” Sungchan chuckled, deep in conversation with the guy he’d realised he loved all too dearly. “You’re a hot mess.”

“You’re odd as fuck, too.” M/n laughed, the boys drowning in one another’s laughter. “Remember when we had biology, and you stood like an NPC and zoned the fuck out?” M/n spoke in between chuckles, too busy cracking up at the memory.

“Oh my god, shut up..!” Sungchan cringed at the memory, grinning ear to ear and shaking his head in regret.

“The teacher couldn’t even…” M/n trailed off, wheezing. The thought was just so funny.

Everyone got up to go to their tables and conduct an experiment, whilst Sungchan had a brainfart, and just stood there, zoned out in the middle of the class. The teacher tried to ask what was wrong, but he was too caught up in his head to respond. Not only was it awkward, it was pindrop silent. It took a few minutes for him to snap out of his trance, and he ran to his table, face reddened like a tomato through his pale skin. His group of boys didn’t let him live that one down, and invited M/n and his group to joke about it once they caught onto the fact that Sungchan liked him.

Sungchan gave M/n a playful nudge, watching as he almost stumbled in the darkness of the night, eventually needing to pause there and take a break from laughing his ass off.

As M/n fumbled, the pinkish blue soccer ball fell out of his hands, rolling over to a relatively tall black fence. Beyond it was an open soccer field, illuminated by a single large sports floodlight in the far corner. M/n picked up the ball, and turned to see Sungchan, who gasped and became struck with excitement. This was one of the many sides to Sungchan’s generally reserved personality that M/n was eager to explore. His 4D personality was a beautiful, well-crafted mystery that M/n was excited to unveil.

“Oh my god! M/n, we have to get in!” Sungchan leaned against the moderately tall fence, eyes wide in a boyish eagerness.

“What? We can’t go in there, it’s closed!” M/n replied.

"Well, no one's gonna catch us." Sungchan said.

"They might." M/n suggested.

Between the two, neither were troublesome, even at school, but Sungchan was a likeable rule-breaker. He and his friends would always fuck around every now and then, and though they didn't do anything too extreme, you could still roll your eyes at it.

"Not at 8:37pm in the night!" Sungchan said, turning to M/n as his eyes became glossy and his eyebrows were knit together in a pleading expression. He was no longer asking for permission. He placed a foot against the black plastic fence, rising above the ground before throwing the other leg over it so that he was sitting on top of it. He looked back down to M/n, who hadn't moved yet.

"C'mon, M/n! It'll be fun." He said, patting the top of the fence as his eyebrows bucked upwards, daring M/n to come. Remembering Sungchan's love for soccer, M/n couldn't say no. He'd just have to get dragged into trouble again and hope he'd never get caught. Sungchan extended a hand, as he knew M/n wasn't a daredevil (or rather that M/n was lame and couldn't even climb a fence).

With a yelp, M/n hesitantly set a foot on the fence, using the pull of Sungchan's arm as an advantageous leverage. M/n tried to distract himself from the rebellious nature of the moment by focusing on Sungchan's strong arms, and how they moved him around so easily. Then again, M/n had to ensure he didn't turn this cute little date into something not so appropriate.

"Good boy." Sungchan teased, causing M/n to raise a clenched fist as an empty threat. With a flinch and a hitched laugh, Sungchan jumped off the fence and landed with a thud in an athletic, graceful squat.

M/n followed after, thumping on the floor disgracefully despite using the fence as a means to come down, slipping and falling on his side.

"Cute." Sungchan remarked. M/n didn't know what was so cute about that, though; seeing the person you'd potentially want to love not be able to climb. If anything, it was a sign that M/n would suck in an apocalypse, presumably being the first to die unless Sungchan came to save him.

M/n didn't know how, but Sungchan already had the ball, doing a cool little trick where he kicked it upwards and used his one leg to keep it from touching the floor. He clearly looked like a natural.

When M/n caught up to him, he smiled at him wholeheartedly. It was clear he loved M/n and appreciated the gesture to do this despite not wanting to. "What's up, cutie?" He spoke, his voice flattering M/n and surely evoking an upcoming blush.

Deflecting, M/n interjected. "So, am I just gonna sit on the bleachers and watch you play?"

"Well, you don't have to watch if you're bored. You can use your phone." Sungchan shrugged.

"Hey, don't be ridiculous. I'll watch you. This is your chance to impress me." M/n smiled, taking the ball from Sungchan's embrace.

It was clear that Sungchan preferred if M/n watched, because like a child, his mouth grew into a excited smile, eyes sparking with possibility. "Yeah..?" He spoke somewhat breathily.

"Yeah! Matter of fact..." M/n said, holding the ball over his head with intents to throw it. Not even a split-second into the movement, Sungchan already got ready, eyes wide and creasing with glee as his lips spread open in an exhilarated smile. When M/n tossed it in a measly, unathletic throw despites his best efforts, Sungchan began to sprint right after it, racing towards the goal with a laser-focus.

"Go Kylie, go! You're doing great, sweetie!" M/n yelled out, and heard Sungchan chuckling from the distance as he played.

M/n took a seat on the bleachers, and it was just incredible to see Sungchan dominate the open fields as he showed off his skills, doing cute little tricks where he bounced the ball between his legs or did an airborne kick. It was impressive and M/n realised that he'd wanted to see him play more often.

M/n watched as Sungchan darted around the goal with the ball, a talent M/n hadn't really seen in full bloom before. He knew he had an interest for soccer and sport, but didn't realise how proficient he actually was; it was incredible. The way he chased the ball with not only precision and skill, but a burning sense of passion. This was where Sungchan wanted to be at, and his body was aligned perfectly with his heart in that very moment.

After a few goals and incredible tricks, Sungchan looked to M/n, catching a breath as he smiled warmly, allbeit exasperatedly. M/n smiled at him back. "You're doing great, sweetie!" He yelled out, referencing that Kylie Jenner meme again, causing Sungchan to hunch over, using his knees for support as he laughed.

"Why don't you come and play?" Sungchan asked from the distance.

"Me? Girl, I can't play for shit." M/n chuckled, yelling back.

"I'll go easy on you!" Sungchan laughed, holding his arms out in invitation.

"Promise?" M/n said, offering it a bit of thought before cautiously coming down from his seat on the bleachers.

"I promise." Sungchan said, hand on either one of his hips as he waited for M/n. He raised a hand out, opening and clasping it to indicate that he wanted M/n to come and play.

M/n walked down, Sungchan looking at him with a loving gaze. It was clear to M/n that Sungchan ended up enjoying this moment alot, appreciating what M/n was doing for him. That was a good thing; perfect, actually.

"Alright, so what am I doing?" M/n asked, looking at his date with a somewhat nervous, but nevertheless happy smile.

"You just go stand near the goal, and I'll try to score." Sungchan responded.

"I'll never win that! You're too good!" M/n chuckled, gasping indignantly.

"I'll go easy. You can do it, trust me." Sungchan said, smiling. "Why don't I show you?" He said, stepping away from the goal with his ball.

"You ready?" He called out after maintaining a sizeable distance. M/n gave him a sheepish nod in return. Without as much impact as he was using previously, Sungchan kicked the ball so that it began rolling over to M/n and he had a moment to intercept. M/n stepped forward to connect his feet to the ball, stopping it in it's tracks. It wasn't impressive at all, but M/n was thoroughly impressed with himself.

"Just like that!" Sungchan called out, smiling. "Now pass it back, and I'll show you some real skills."

"Go ahead. I'm the soccer baddie himself. Complete with a BBL." M/n said, leaning on one hip in an attempt to serve cunt, eliciting a laugh from Sungchan.

"C'mon, don't change yourself. Besides, your ass is a skinny queen." Sungchan spoke back, cringing at the latter part of his sentence. "Was that good or should I just stick to my own slang'?"

M/n chuckled. Sungchan had pretty boyish, masculine humour compared to M/n's somewhat more feminine persona, which was another difference between the two that he loved. It went to prove that there was no set standard for a relationship of any kind. "Not bad; you slayed, or as you would call it, cooked."

"Well, I'll do both in a second. Think fast!" Sungchan said, his foot taking off from the ground as he struck the ball with fury, M/n ducking helplessly as it hit the net of the goal behind him.

"Hey, not fair!" M/n chuckled, the two entangled in a lighthearted moment of wholeheartedness. He kicked the ball back, and Sungchan began to control it with his swift feet. He was like a rabbit, the way he hopped and ran with the ball, so M/n would have to become the fox.

"Catch this!" Sungchan took another shot, but ended up hitting the top bar of the goal, watching as it bounced back.

"Ha!" M/n yelled in defiance as he held his hands out in an 'L' shape.

"You got lucky, just wait!" Sungchan huffed, fog forming with every breath out of his mouth against the cold air.

This little adventure of the theirs together felt wistfully short, but at the same time pleasantly elongated, and neither of them wanted it to end. Sungchan was absolutely besting the hell out of M/n, but M/n was determined to show him who was boss. Just cause M/n wasn't athletic, didn't mean he had to let that define him at all (it did, M/n just wanted to look remotely impressive for Sungchan).

A familiar thud echoed through the field as Sungchan kicked the pinkish-blue ball, a symbol of M/n's potential defeat against Sungchan if nothing was done. The ball was calling out to M/n, daring him to block it; that very thud was an indicator that M/n had the choice to fight or fly, to defend his point or succumb to Sungchan's reign of ferocity.

M/n squatted, his body loose and anticipating, ready for the move as the ball approached. And as if everything happened in slow motion, the ball flew towards the corner of the net, sure to have hit it; but not if M/n had anything to say about it.

He sprung to the side, both arms reaching outwards as if to create a great iron wall, impenetrable by a mere pastel ball, and unphased against Sungchan's power. With a moist thump, the ball ricocheted off from his hands, sent away in a thrust of humiliation and defeat, rolling over as it grovelled pitifully at the feet of Sungchan. It surrendered, it's halt acting as a silent proclamation of defeat against M/n's defence. The ball was powerless. M/n had won.

He had won! Sungchan raised his arms up, whooping for his date. "Fuck yeah! Awesome, M/n!"

M/n gasped, picking himself up off the ground. It took him a second, but he began to smile and laugh too. Sungchan ran towards him, picking him up and spinning him around, causing M/n to let out a giddy yelp. M/n felt Sungchan's strong arms around his waist, his honest smile at even M/n's tunnel vision victory a silent message that he'd support him forever. M/n felt a thrill through his chest, both from the cold air and the fear of being off the ground. But there was something else, too.

Love. An intense love for Sungchan.

Eventually, Sungchan set him down, and the two were caught lost in each other's eyes, despite panting and beginning to sweat. Sungchan stared deep into M/n's (E/c) eyes as they looked up to him with a docile, amiable light, and found himself marvelling at how the floodlight's shine subtly reflected in his alluring (S/c) skin. M/n returned the look to Sungchan, looking up at the youthful yet sophisticatedly elegant man before him, his gaze towards M/n as loving as it was intense.

Without a word, before the two knew it, they leaned in closer and closer, until their lips met in a loving, warm kiss. The soft sound of smooching englufed either of the two, as their hearts began to beat to a harmonious rhythm. This was their first kiss ever, and they wanted it bad for a while now. Sungchan's hands grasped M/n's waist in a respectful, but affectionate manner, as M/n put his hands on Sungchan's shoulders, holding him close.

Maybe the kiss was too sudden, maybe they were just acting out of teenage impulse. But, boy, did it feel electric.

Etiquette and time wasn't a consideration to the two in that moment; they were beyond that. Their hearts aligned in a way that would make the stars in the night sky shine eternally brighter.

When they parted, they took a moment to open their eyes, their faces still only inches apart. Fog escaped at their lips given the temperature of the night, and it's as if they were breathing each other in as they slowly broke into two soft smiles.

"M/n. I think I really like you." Sungchan spoke in a low, vulnerable, but nevertheless genuine tone.

"Sung... I don't know what to say..." M/n blushed, his eyes deerlike as they looked up at him, all flustered. He felt the same, and Sungchan knew it. He just got shy.

"Whatever feels right, baby." Sungchan smiled warmly, making sure not to rush him.

"Well, I think I like you too. A lot." M/n said, trying to overcome his nerves. "And I think that I really like it when you call me baby." He said softly, as his heart felt like it was about to beat out of his chest.

Sungchan chuckled, the breath from his nose tickling M/n's cheeks. "You're so cute when you're shy." He noted, a blush rising to his own face.

"Aw, Sung.." M/n smacked his lips, getting shyer. There was a comfortable silence as Sungchan examined M/n, who looked away in diffidence.

"Can I... kiss you again?" He asked, his voice low and loving.

M/n turned his head back to face him slowly, a full-fledged blush now on his face. Sungchan noticed how the flower was still there on the side of M/n's head, the same shade of red M/n's nose and cheeks were.

M/n tried to respond, but he couldn't, and his mouth just hung ajar. It was so cute to Sungchan. M/n let out a chuckle, embarrassed at himself. Instead, he offered an eager nod, before speaking under his breath, almost inaudibly. "Yes.."

Sungchan smiled softly, and didn't waste a second after that, meeting M/n's soft lips in a pleasant moment of warmth and love.

The two stood like that for a bit, just melting into each other. After today, was there really anything else they needed?

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jinuaei · 1 month ago

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Godbless you for writing yandere where the reader is actually the one that’s more in control, it’s so hard to find yandere where the reader isn’t literally getting owned, emotionally and physically.

I just imagine Tarn with like a famous YN and discovering fanfics of them, he’s gonna be so appalled but he prob read them as like a guilty pleasure, especially the explicit ones.

It's rare to see sub!Character authors so I go crazy when I do find one, @/muletia is my fav TF writer by far!

And Tarn with a famous reader is such a good dynamic, especially if we still follow the lore of Tarn being close/'serving' the reader directly. Like he is happy that a lot of people appreciate you! That means all of them see your greatness the same way as he sees you, but also he'd be so competitive with his worship.

He always has to be your no 1 fan! The other bots/people who's saying that they are your #1 fan are lying! They'll find themselves on The List (tm) and will stay there until a) they retract their statement and say that Tarn is and always will be your #1 fan, or b) they can't say anything because they're dead. Also, haters will always get the latter treatment.

Anyways, he'd buy every merch to add to his shrine, he'd always be the first one on a merch drop and he'll buy two of each. One for the shrine, and the other to use for uh... other ways of worship. My gods he'd definitely run to you as soon as he gets the merch and have you sign it.

Fics are a whole different can of worms, because I agree, it is a guilty pleasure, he'd read every fic that even mentions you in any tags or genre(I think he'd be a big fan of you x readers LMAO). Smut is for when he is alone in his berthroom, but imagine him on his back, reading smut of 'him' and you interfacing, servos rubbing his node while occasionally slipping his digits inside his valve. And then the fic you suddenly says or do something that you will never do and he just lays there, frozen. It takes him a minute before he removes his servos to furiously type on the data pad to rant about how 'they would never say this!' and 'You don't know them like I do and this is BULLSHIT!!!'.

The horny energy is gone now and all that is replaces is pure, devotion fueled rage. And out of spite, he'd make his own fic, that is so accurate that it makes people question who the author is. The fans would always question whether it is a stalker, or one of your staff members, because it's so terrifyingly accurate it actually concerns some fans. But with how eloquent he is and how passionate his writing is, it's no wonder that he'd be a popular writer among fans.

Oooh, also depending on his role on your staff team, most fans would see you together a lot (I'm thinking he'd be a bodyguard honestly) and the way he treats you is so gentlemanly and so sweet that fans actually ship you both, but he also has his own fanbase of simps.

Going back to fics, after people started shipping you two there will definitely be an influx of fanworks; edits, fanart, and fanfics!! Once he discovers your ship ITS OVER! Nobody is safe from his commitment to the ship, HE'D EVEN MAKE MORE REASONS TO SHIP YOU TWO. He's the type to show off how good of a partner he is, and always make sure that the cameras always capture how sweet he is to you (as a way to claim you definitely).

I also think he'd be a lurker, he'd have a secret account he'd use to comment, share, and save all of the fanworks that involves you. He'd be in every post ever that he becomes infamous as the no. 1 Tarnxyou shipper, or a you fan in general.

Goodness I've been yapping so much about his but yes! I approve of this.

#ask #valveplug #yandere x reader #tarn x reader #yandere tarn x reader #tarn idw #yandere tarn #tf tarn #transformers x reader #yandere #yandere transformers #transformers #idw tarn #Yandere transformers x reader #tarn x popular reader

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supercalifragipopculturevomit · 1 year ago

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6 TYPES OF DANIEL BRÜHL CHARACTERS

(updated as of 19 February 2025) After going through his filmography—54 movies, 2 TV shows, 2 music videos, and 1 documentary—I've noticed the roles that he plays often fall into these categories...

#1 - because he's German, obviously, a Nazi. The bottom two are a little niche as he plays 'unwanted Nazi admirer'.

#2 - guy you can take home to meet your parents. He's played way too many of these—it's a given with that beautiful baby face—but these would be my top six. Bottom layer gets extra points for being a good friend to the elderly.

#3 - opposite that is the guy your parents warned you about. It seems Daniel has a lot of fun playing these, especially the top layer, which leans on the love-to-hate category. I can't tell if it's just my utter distaste for The Face of an Angel (if you know, you know), but I also considered adding Thomas Lang. Could be why Chris in Cargo made it here as well... because what even was that movie.

#4 - now we have 'man in way above his head by the situation his political ideologies have gotten him into'. You almost always need a trigger warning for the films these characters are in as they will absolutely gut you. They're often based on real people and events. So you will learn something about history while Daniel gets tortured into a pulp.

#5 as he’s gotten beefier older, he’s getting more and more of these roles: sugar daddy. We don’t know much about Dirk, but I just know he’d have to be one to be in a relationship with anyone. Does Laszlo count? I wasn’t sure.

#6 - and finally, 'expert in his field, kind of an asshole, but hella breedable'. Most of my favorite characters are in this category... I don't know what that says about me.

p.s. in case there’s any confusion with the old reblog tags, I’ve moved category #5 to #6 because I still wanted to end on it.

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peonysgreenhouse · 1 year ago

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-`♡´- the day you and the stars disappeared.

summary: the discovery and aftermath of your disappearance. what do your beloveds do in your absence?

tags: obey me characters (lucifer, mammon, levi, asmo, satan, beel, belphie, diavolo, barbatos, solomon, simeon, and thirteen) x gn!reader, angst, spoilers for the first chapter of obey me! nightbringer.

When Lucifer wakes up, the left side of his bed is cold.

It's not the most unusual thing. Lucifer was much less of a morning person that you were. He glaces to his bedside table. 8:30; it was too early for you to be out of bed on the weekend. Even if you woke up early, you'd still be tucked into his arms, or scrolling through Devilgram on your D.D.D.

Lucifer sits up, a pout on his face. You couldn't have strayed too far in such a short time.

"Beloved?" He calls, hoping you could hear him if you were in the bathroom. Lucifer says your name, this time a little louder, but again gets no response.

It wasn't your turn to be on breakfast duty... Perhaps you had a bad dream? You did tend to hide those things from him.

He closes his eyes and thinks of you. Usually, he would feel a faint warmth, like the fluttering of a moth's wings underneath his skin; it was the feeling of your soul connected to his through your pact. But now, even with all his focus, the feeling of your soul connection is nothing but a cold static.

Lucifer swallows the panic welling up in his chest and stands, quickly throwing on his clothes and rushing from his room. He starts in the basement, looking in any place a human could possibly squeeze into, desperately calling out your name. The ever-composed Lucifer, reduced to tearing the house apart when his human isn't in his sights.

He hopes that he is overreacting. He hopes that he'll find you curled up with Mammon, or on a walk outside the house.

He hopes that you are still somewhere that he can reach.

"Oy, Lucifer, what's going on?" Mammon. Lucifer takes a deep breath and tries to collect himself. If he let himself be emotional, his brothers would take that as a sign that something is very, very wrong. He would have to hold himself together, for now. "You're waking everyone up."

"Mammon, have you seen MC?" Calm enough.

"I haven't seen 'em since last night, they were with you, right?" You and Lucifer stayed up late to finish paperwork for your new student council role. "You didn't make 'em angry, did you?"

Lucifer's pout deepens. He's sure he'll age a millennia faster with how much he worries over you. "No, nothing like that. We finished up the assignments and then went to bed." Lucifer sighs, "and then when I woke up this morning, they weren't there. It's unlike them."

"You sure they just didn't go for a walk or something?" Mammon checks his phone to see if there were any messages from you.

"Mammon... try to connect to them with your pact."

Mammon closes his eyes, and repeats the same action Lucifer did only a few minutes prior.

Nothing.

Mammon instantly shifts into his demon form, fear evident in his eyes.

"I'm gonna go drag Solomon over here. He'll be able to track 'em if they're nearby, right?"

"He should be. Bring Simeon too, if he's there.". Lucifer straightens himself out. "I'll wake Leviathan and then go get Diavolo and Barbatos. Maybe they'll know more about what's going on."

Mammon nods, out the door before Lucifer can even finish his sentence.

Lucifer doesn't allow himself any more moments alone, he rushes upstairs to shake Leviathan awake.

-`♡´-

"No need to pound on the door, Mammon." Simeon smiles, but Mammon can tell he's annoyed. Giving Simeon a minute to open the door was Mammon's idea of being patient, he had half a mind to knock the damn thing off its hinges. "Is there anything—".

"Where's Solomon?" Mammon cuts him off, pushing past him and into Purgatory Hall's living room. The smell of fresh coffee fills the air; just how early did these guys wake up?

"He's still sleeping, I believe. Why are you in such a rush?" Simeon asks.

"MC's missing. Need him to find them. He in his room?"

"What?"

"You heard me!" Mammon can hardly keep it together. He didn't want to talk about it, he knew that if he started talking he wouldn't be able to stop.

He hadn't felt your soul connection so cold since... since...

"What's going on?" Solomon steps out of the hallway, still in his pajamas. "I heard Mammon yelling. What happened to MC?"

Of course he'd have been listening in. "Lucifer woke up this morning and they weren't there. Can't hardly feel their soul at all, it's like they're—".

"What do you mean?" Solomon's eyebrows quirk up, clearly not expecting to hear that. "What does it feel like?"

"Damn it, Solomon, it feels like it did when Belphie... y'know." Mammon can't bring himself to say it. It was too awful, what he did to you. "Enough talking, do your magic thing and find 'em!"

Solomon and Simeon exchange worried looks. "Alright, let me get dressed. Then we'll head off. But Mammon...".

"What?" Mammon huffs, already heading towards the door.

"I'm sure they're fine. You know how capable they are. Perhaps they just wanted some alone time."

"Yes, MC has survived a lot. I'm sure they just popped back up to the Human World or something... We'll probably be laughing about this with them at the end of the day."

Simeon smiles, but it doesn't reach his eyes. Mammon tries not to let the thought that they might be trying to placate him bother him.

-`♡´-

"You want me to watch over our brothers? Why? What's happening?" Levi sits up in his bathtub bed, disoriented from being shaken awake so suddenly.

He had heard the commotion earlier, but assumed that Mammon had done something to warrant Lucifer's ire. Lucifer searching through Levi's room while he was sleeping wasn't the strangest occurrence. Mammon did hide things in here from time to time.

"Levi, don't worry over this right now. I'll fill you in once we figure out what's going on."

"No, Lucifer, tell me now!" Levi stands, suddenly very awake. "You're worried over something, and you're never worried, not like this."

Even standing up straight, Lucifer was still looking down at Leviathan.

"Telling you would only make the situation worse." Levi hates how patronizing Lucifer sounds. He hated it when they first fell and he hated it now. "Make sure the others stay put, I'll be back soon."

Levi moves quickly to stop him from leaving. "If you don't tell me, I'll... I'll summon Lotan!" Lucifer steps forward, but Leviathan doesn't budge. "I'll really do it, Lucifer! I'm serious about this!"

It would probably take Levi a few hundred years to muster up the courage to stand up to Lucifer like this again. But watching the cold pity fade from his brother's eyes and turn into something more akin to pride was worth it.

"MC is gone, and I'm going to the Demon Lord's Castle to seek Diavolo and Barbatos's help." Lucifer says it with such a barely-maintained calmness that Leviathan knows this is serious. That you weren't sucked into a silly game or hiding out in Purgatory Hall for the weekend.

Levi feels his heart sink.

"Now, can you do as you're told and stay put? I'll be back soon." Lucifer squeezes Levi's shoulder, forcing Levi to listen. "If anything happens, call me."

He nods, but once Lucifer turns to leave, he quietly falls back into bed. Levi watches Henry swim around in his goldfish tank; you had just fed him yesterday, how did things change so much in just a few hours?

No, he can't shut down here. If something happened to you and he wasn't there to help he would never forgive himself.

You had saved him so many times before, it was time for him to be your Knight. (God, he sounded like a normie).

-`♡´-

When Mammon arrives back to the House of Lamentation with Simeon, Solomon, and Thirteen (Solomon had called her for help), the front door is blown off its hinges. Levi peeks through sheepishly at the four of them, waving for them to come in.

"What the hell happened here?" Thirteen tries to shut the door behind them, but it slowly starts to creak back open as soon as its closed.

"I told Satan what happened." Levi sighs, fiddling with the ends of his sleeves. "He went out to calm himself down. Said he'll be back by the time Lucifer gets home."

"Have you guys found anything here?" Simeon asks Leviathan. Just past Levi in the living room was Asmodeus, who was anxiously staring down at his phone.

Beel descends the stairs at the same time Belphie comes up from the basement: "I checked all the rooms upstairs, they're not up there."

Belphie shakes his head: "They're nowhere in the basement, either."

"I've been texting anyone that knows them from R.A.D. No one has seen them yet." Asmodeus blinks back tears. "This is crazy, you know! Why does this kind of thing always happen to them?"

"Well, they're not dead. So stop acting so sad!" Thirteen chimes in, sprawling herself out on the living room couch. "I checked their candle this morning myself. I can check again but trust me, I would know if they died. I'm a reaper, y'know?"

"You checked their candle this morning? Isn't that quite a walk from where you sleep?" Despite the situation, Solomon just can't help himself. Thirteen sits up and throws a pillow at the sorcerer, cheeks flushed.

"I just had some business over there, that's all." Thirteen huffs, sinking back into the sofa so she doesn't have to see Solomon's smug face. "Anyways, aren't you supposed to be doing your thing?"

"Yeah, get to it, Solomon." Mammon tugs on the back of Solomon's cape, pointing him towards Lucifer's room. "They were last seen in there. See if you can find anything."

-`♡´-

Simeon stands near the doorway to Lucifer's room with Mammon, watching as Solomon searches for traces of anything that might give them a clue as to your whereabouts.

Simeon had thought that he had accepted being human. He thought the feeling of powerlessness that was so overwhelming to him at first had finally settled; there was nothing he could do to gain his grace back after what he had done, after all.

But now? He knew even as an angel there wasn't much more he could do to find you. If he had become your Guardian Angel like he had teased so many times, he could at least feel out if you were in danger.

Cautious Simeon, always so scared to make that final jump.

He says a prayer for you, quietly. Simeon hopes that his Father would still lend his ear to his own child, no matter how far he had strayed.

"There's one strong concentration here." Solomon frowns, gesturing to an area a little above shoulder height, right beside the left side of Lucifer's bed. "but that's all I can sense right now."

"Yeah, there's gotta be something else you missed." Mammon anxiously looks around the room, checking to see for himself if anything was out of place. "Keep looking."

They both follow Solomon as he does just that. He checks Lucifer's bathroom, in the closets, in the halls by his door... Nothing.

"I just don't get it." Solomon says, eyes closed in thought. He leans against the low table in the hallways. "If someone went through all this trouble to kidnap MC, why would they leave such an obvious trace behind?"

"Who gives a shit their motive right now. Tell us that you found something that can lead us to them, Solomon." Desperation drips from Mammon's voice. Mammon needs some hope to hold on to; Simeon empathizes with that feeling.

If Thirteen hadn't assured everyone you were still alive Simeon is sure he'd be snapping at Solomon too. Solomon was a good friend, but there's something about how casual he is with everything that makes Simeon angry. Did he not love you too?

"I did, don't worry, Mammon." Solomon pats Mammon's shoulder, "Once everyone gets back, I'll explain what I found."

-`♡´-

Diavolo, Barbatos, and Lucifer arrive shortly after Solomon is done with his search.

The anxiety in the room is palpable; any news at all could set them alight. Especially Satan, who seemed to be trying to remember old breathing exercises to keep back his demon form.

"Solomon, they're here!" Asmodeus announces, and Simeon, Solomon, and Mammon come out from Lucifer's room to join everyone in the living room.

Lucifer doesn't comment on the broken door, he doesn't much care if the house itself was destroyed in the process of finding you.

"Tell us what you've found." Diavolo asks; Lucifer had informed him and Barbatos about what had happened on the way back from the castle. It had been a long while since Diavolo had seen his old friend look so grave.

Solomon comes around the couch and takes a seat by Thirteen. She scoots away.

"Well, there wasn't much left behind to find.... Which is good in its own way." Solomon crosses his legs. "Time magic was used sometime in Lucifer's bedroom last night. It appears MC has been taken to another point in this timeline."

As soon as the words leave his mouth, all eyes go to Barbatos. Even Barbatos looks stunned, eyes widening in shock.

"Time magic?" Satan stands, hands clenching at his sides. "I would like an explanation then, Barbatos. Now."

"I... am afraid I am as in the dark as you all are." The hesitation in Barbatos's voice does little to persuade the brothers. Beel stands and keeps a watchful eye on Satan. If you were here, you wouldn't want anyone to get hurt for your sake.

Diavolo stands in front of Barbatos. "Now, you all know Barbatos isn't the only being capable of time magic."

"Is it possible that someone else used your portals?" Thirteen asks. "You leave those things wide open, don'tcha? Seems like an easy target."

"I would know if anyone other than myself used them, yes. But I did not feel any abnormalities last night."

Belphie turns to Solomon. "Wait, you said time magic, what time period did they get sent to?"

"Ah, well that's a little tricky." Solomon answers with a sheepish smile. "The residual magic was strong, but you would expect more to be left behind if they went to the future. Future magic is highly unstable, anyways. It's more likely they were sent somewhere into the past, probably around the time of the Celestial War based on my analysis."

Belphie shakes his head. "You can't say 'probably', you have to be certain about this."

"Then, yes, I am certain that is where they are." Solomon answers smoothly.

The second the words leave Solomon's mouth, Mammon speaks up:

"Okay, so how do we get them back?!"

-`♡´-

With lots of loud disagreements, and a few almost-fights, they come to terms that it has to be Solomon that goes after you.

No one particularly likes that idea, but he was the only one who wouldn't completely disrupt the timeline. His past self wouldn't be in the Devildom, so he could avoid paradoxes, and he was more than strong enough to protect himself if need be.

That same day, Barbatos prepares the portal for Solomon to go through after you. But not before one last warning from Diavolo:

Diavolo's eyes are stern, hand gripping Solomon's shoulder tight enough to where it would be painful. Solomon takes a step back, but Diavolo's body follows him.

"You bring them back safe." A warning, "And bring them back swiftly. Whatever you must do to get them back... do it."

Solomon, frankly, had had enough warnings from the demon brothers, and from his old friend Thirteen to understand that his life was forfeit if he came back without you.

He supposed he couldn't fault their protectiveness, however. If your safety was left alone in the hands of any other, he's sure he'd do worse to guarantee you came back alive and well.

"Of course," Solomon rolls his shoulder, shrugging off the Prince's hold. "You know I want them back just as much as you do. Perhaps even more."

Diavolo pats his back, his usual genial smile returning to his face, and he laughs. "Oh, I doubt that."

Barbatos gestures to the two, indicating that everything is ready for Solomon to step through. Solomon doesn't feel anything but calm, for what did he have to be anxious about? He was getting to see you again.

Was it selfish of him to be happy that he would be in a time period where the one you would rely on the most would be him?

"Bring them back to us," Is the last thing he hears before he steps through the portal, and into the past.

-`♡´- Lucifer

Lucifer busies himself with his work. If he fills his schedule enough, he doesn't have time to worry about you constantly, doesn't have time for his mind to cycle through the worst of what could happen with you out of his reach.

He volunteers to take on all of your duties that you were newly appointed as R.A.D.'s newest student council officer. Lucifer doesn't want anything to get in the way of you spending time with him again once you get back.

When he isn't working, he takes care of his brothers. The House of Lamentation always becomes a little quieter when you're not around, but the silence this time is more somber.

Lucifer doesn't scold them as much, gives them more leeway when they skip classes or forget to turn in assignments. He knows they're struggling and he doesn't want to add to that burden.

He hardly sleeps unless he passes out from exhaustion. When he does, his dreams are of blame. Why didn't he just wake up when you were taken? You were right there.

-`♡´- Mammon

Mammon had to be held back by Levi and Beel to keep him from going into the portal after Solomon.

It wasn't fair that that guy got to go and he had to stay behind. He was your first man! Mammon wasn't even sure that Solomon didn't play a role in helping you disappear. He never trusted that guy.

But all he could do now was hope that he would bring you back, right? It didn't matter anymore who saved you, just the fact that you were alive and safe and in his arms would be enough for him.

Mammon misses you ardently.

He texts you about his day every day. He knows the messages won't deliver, but he doesn't have anyone else to send them too. Sometimes he'll even call your phone so he can hear your voice in the voicemail. It helps him sleep.

-`♡´- Leviathan

He's just so tired of this. He thought once your trials at R.A.D. were over, you could settle down in the House of Lamentation forever.

If anyone deserved a life full of peace, it was you. You had endured way too much hardship on their account to keep having these things happen to you.

Levi tries to maintain a normalcy for you to return to. He buys games that you had on your radar for you to play with him once you got back.

He likes looking at the pictures you both had taken together. Cosplay pics, photobooth strips, candid polaroids... precious memories that could never be replaced.

And, when he really misses you, he takes one of your school uniforms, hanging up neatly in your closet and takes it to bed with him. It still smells like you, and if he closes his eyes, he can picture you're there with him.

Though, waking up and seeing you weren't there is like losing you all over again.

-`♡´- Satan

Satan worries.

He knew what he was like right after the Celestial War. He knew what monstrous things he did when he couldn't control his anger; before he made a conscious decision to crawl his way out of his emotional stagnation and to be more than he was created to be.

He gets into a habit of hanging out with Thirteen. Satan never really cared much for her attitude, but she's the only one who would know if you were still alive.

She's tolerable, in that when they get together they always end up talking about you. Satan doesn't tell her the best stories about you, no, those were reserved only for himself.

When he is alone, he often drifts towards your room. He knows his brothers often sleep there when you're gone, so he washes your sheets and makes your bed back up when they're not there.

Satan even tidies his own room just enough so that you would have room to sleep in his bed with him when you returned.

-`♡´- Asmodeus

To have both you and Solomon taken away from him in the same day, it seems a bit cruel, doesn't it?

He's thankful for all the consolations from his friends and his fans; the well wishes are nice, but it isn't the same as hearing it from your voice.

Asmo tells anyone who will listen about what happened to you in hopes that they'll spin stories back at him. Even if most were lies conjured to make him feel better, there always are some true stories in the mix. He hears a few rumors of ancient, powerful demons that he hands over to Satan and Belphie to look more into. He was glad he could do something.

Asmodeus starts collecting things that remind him of you. Flowers that never wilt, lamb plushies, silk pajamas — there's a box in his room of gifts to give you once you get back home.

He writes down everything that you've missed since you disappeared, he has so much to catch you up on, after all! And if there's a lot of 'I love you's' and things he misses about you in between topics, he's sure you won't mind hearing them, too.

-`♡´- Beelzebub

Beel feels a little lost without you there.

You were so ingrained in his daily schedule that he doesn't know what to do with a lot of his time. You, Mammon, him, and Belphie would always hang out after school, since the four of you had the same last period.

There was no sun in the Devildom, but he didn't need any to feel warm sitting next to you three. Mammon would bring cards, and you would take turns picking out games to play.

You would usually win; he loved seeing your smile as you asked for praise for winning. Belphie and Mammon would pout, but Beel was always happy to tell you you did a good job. He keeps an ongoing score sheet somewhere in his backpack:

MC - 102, Mammon - 16, Belphie - 59, Beel - 20. He didn't care much for winning as long as everyone was happy.

He makes his way to the gardens and finds your usual spot empty. Beel waits there for a long while, but only Belphie shows up.

Beel thinks that maybe in the past, you were waiting for him in the same spot too. The thought makes him feel a little less lonely.

-`♡´- Belphegor

Belphie misses you, of course, but he really finds this whole situation odd.

Time magic. Diavolo had said that other beings were capable of it, but Belphie had never heard of anyone, besides Barbatos, that had mastered it enough to send someone back that far. Belphie wasn't the most well-connected person, but he thinks he would've heard about them by now.

Satan thinks the same thing, and so the 'Anti-Lucifer League' is postponed, and in its place the 'MC's Detective Agency' forms. Beel sits in on most meetings, and the rest of the brothers join in occasionally.

But with so few leads there was only so much they could do. But still, Belphie is determined not to give up. If you were in his shoes, he knows you would do the same thing.

He would never admit it to anyone, but he wants to hear you say that you're proud of his work. To feel you pet his head and tell him he did good, to kiss him on the cheeks for working so hard.

...And, of course, making whoever did this pay for what they did would be good, too.

-`♡´- Diavolo

The last note you left him is still taped to his desk:

A chibi of you fist-pumping is drawn on the side of the yellow sticky. There's a big speech bubble that reads: "You can do it, Dia! Knock out that paperwork!" He can't help but smile every time he sees it.

It's silly, but when he looks down and reads those words of encouragement he feels your loss even more strongly. He's sure Solomon will be back with you soon, but as the weeks roll on, he starts getting impatient.

He sends all his best men to search for whoever did this to you. Without any solid leads, it was like chasing the wind, but it helped settle his mind, if only a little.

He supposes you did spoil him too much. He forgot what it was like to be so lonely when you were around. And unlike the brothers, he couldn't just curl up in your bed whenever he wanted to be reminded of you.

Would it be so improper to move you into the castle once you got back? At least here, he would know you were safe. Nothing like this would ever happen to you again on his watch.

-`♡´- Barbatos

Barbatos knows that all eyes are on him.

It isn't hard to figure out that the brothers are suspicious of him. Mammon's crows perch outside his bedroom, Satan takes extra trips to the library in the castle, Belphie "gets lost" wandering the halls after dinner... Even Lucifer asks him pointed questions about that night.

He understands that it comes with the territory of his powers, but when has he ever done anything to jeopardize the exchange program? If he wanted to send you away would he not have done it when you first arrived? Would he not have let you die at the hands of Belphegor?

The him of today would never think of such a thing. Barbatos cared too much about your safety to let you wander too far from his sights.

He knows it is an indulgence that only he is afforded, but he can't help but steal looks into your life back in time as you try to find your way back to them.

Perhaps the others would like to hear about how you are doing, but Barbatos thinks these things are best kept to himself. He was never a fan of sharing, anyways.

-`♡´- Simeon

Luke cries and cries and cries when Simeon tells him what happened to you. Simeon holds the boy in his arms tight, rocking him back and forth to soothe his troubled heart.

He had done this many nights in the past, and he's sure he'd do it for many nights in the future.

The last time it had happened it had been when Simeon had told Luke about losing his powers. You had been there, then, and had cried as soon as you saw tears well up in Luke's eyes. Luke was less sad and more angry at Simeon for not telling him sooner. He had held you both in his arms that night, and before long the three of you fell asleep together.

Simeon wishes you were here now to hold him. To tell him it was going to be alright. But he supposed if you were here the both of them wouldn't have anything to cry about.

Michael allows Luke to stay in Purgatory Hall for as long as it would take to get you back. Simeon is thankful for the company; with Raphael and Solomon gone, and the Hall silent, it was easy for Simeon to start blaming himself.

He hears Luke pray every night for your safety, and Simeon slips back into the habit as well.

-`♡´- Thirteen

Thirteen spends a lot more time in her cave when you're not around.

What's the point of going to R.A.D. if you weren't there? It's not like she cared much about anyone else that went there. And to hear the brothers cry about missing you... She couldn't take it.

She cared about you too, but you didn't see her moping around about it!

But even worse was the fact Solomon got to go back in time to save you. Just thinking about you spending all that alone time with that shitty Sorcerer makes her blood boil; he could live a thousand lifetimes and never once deserve you.

She goes and checks your candle every morning to see if the flame is going strong. Thirteen breathes easy when she sees the bright orange flame light up the darkness.

Reapers weren't supposed to interfere directly with mortal's lifespans, but she supposed it wouldn't hurt if she poured some of Solomon's melted wax onto your candle. It's not like he would need it anyways.

Besides, this was her making up for lost time. Every day you were away shouldn't count! You didn't choose to go back in time, after all!

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jollyparaphernalia · 13 days ago

Text

Welcome back to the Kingswap AU Yapping. Todays topic is Party Dynamics

(What's this?) Today we focus in on Clovis (Our swapped King now in Siffrins position). As you can see, his first introduction to the party was a bit of a...mixed affair? Guy's got some anxieties (Don't worry, they caught him later) WARNING: This chatter post i'm just gonna blanket as just being spoilers all around for 'In Stars And Time', and any content warnings that apply to the game also apply here.

First things first before getting into it...WOAH THANK YOU GUYS FOR THE RESPONSE! I wasn't expecting people to resonate so much with the idea, I was maybe expecting a small handful of notes, but seeing people interested and keysmashing in the comments/tags and theorizing makes me very happy! I also appreciate all the asks that have been sent in (Don't worry. I've seen you guys who are curious about how much of a freak Isabeau is re: the Stagemaster. I see you. I love you. I will get to those soon.) But the topic today is focused on Clovis.

Hey Jolly, what's the point of focusing on all this background stuff if this AU ends up in the loops anyways?

It's MY BRAINROT, and I SAY that the Orb Quest and background stuff is ESSENTIAL to the LORE A big part hanging over In Stars and Time is the Team. The Friends. The FAMILY. It is a huge crux of the motivations of Siffrin, and for this AU I wanna sell you on the Swapped King having a place in the party, and how the others bounce off of him and interact with him. It's fun translating someone like The King into a form that is a very different role but keeping some of the themes he comes with.

So, what's the Vibe?

Clovis is an awkward wet dog. He fills a similar niche that Siffrin does, being a semi-forgetful islander who is a complete disaster once you peel back the curtains, and is different in how he intersects with the party.

A small example would be puns. He doesn't make puns - but he ends up being funny anyways

"You're telling me a shrimp fried this rice?" He forgets words a lot similar to Siffrin, and is mortified every time - but he says things so seriously that everyone has a great time anyways.

One on One, you can rank the differences between character interactions on...Do they Like Dogs or Cats More? Siffrin is Cat, Clovis is Dog.

Lets Look At The Most Different Dynamic Compared to Siffrin: Mirabelle.

Mirabelle prefers dogs. She struggles to understand Siffrin, and Siffrin struggles to understand her, and that is the crux of a lot of problems that happen in ISAT, with Mirabelle not wanting to seem nosey with Siffrins secrets.

So, she thrives alongside Clovis. A sad, wet dog she found behind a dumpster. Who is very, very intense and gives off unnerving energy.

Mirabelle leash your fucking cryptid. He's scaring the neighbours.

Clovis is slightly more open than Siffrin (Can't hide behind a hat, after all) and he willingly searched out the Party to join them on their quest to save Vaugarde (Though he's a bit cagey on answering why outside of thats what a knight would do, but thats okay). He's willingly pledged his service, and Mirabelle appreciates having someone who is unambiguously on her side without having to be asked. It also helps that he also seems a little scared all the time, but thats okay. They can be brave together. (She just wishes that he wouldn't put himself in harms way all the time)

Mira also considers Clovis to be a bit of a good luck charm, in fact - she's learned she can take him out to do errands, and for some strange reason...She doesn't get bothered nearly as much by strangers approaching her to talk with the 'Chosen of the Change God'. Going shopping is almost pleasant when he's with her!

Clovis isn't really sure why it happens either. (It's because you scare the shit out of people with your neutral expression, dude.)

Hey, wouldn't that kinda dedication be a little weird for Mirabelle?

Maybe. I'd like to think they're on a weird similar wavelength, with Clovis being so deep in his knightly sensibilities and being so polite to her. Some....secret third thing (It's friendship. Ace for Ace solidarity). Clovis would probably catch onto the papers well before Dormont, but, well. He'd probably not wanna snoop about it, cause that's rude!

(He's some flavour of Ace? You decide. shipping ain't off the table, but that's not the focus for this AU. The focus is pain and the agonies). Much like how in the artbook insertdisc5 muses that Siffrin would travel with Odile the longest, I think Clovis would join Mirabelle for her pilgrimage.

So, what about someone who is more a Cat person?

Like, say, Odile! Great topic change. Clovis steals Siffrin's spot as 'Odile's chosen for Secret Quests' because he's good at keeping secrets, though...Odile has to pay a bit more attention to Clovis when left in a book store or library on his lonesome. Guy just hones in on Headache books like candy.

As seen above with the first meeting, Clovis also keeps a lot of Siff's Sus energy. But considering how easily Clovis tends to cave under Odile's pressure, the idea that he could be an assassin from the Stagemaster is laughable at best. (And also easily disproved, considering how active The Stagemaster is in Orbquest for this AU)

You know how in ISAT proper, Odile's Susquest is incredibly hard to get naturally, and often needing a guide to achieve for the typical player? Yeah that's reversed. Clovis can't act for SHIT and Odile can read him like a book. Clovis going through the House of Dormont and has one innocent conversation with the team and you just hear*Ping! Ping! Ping! Ping!* Cats can keep secrets, but you KNOW when a dog has done something they shouldn't have. (Odile probably finds that both funny and charming?)

Now, just cause Clovis can't keep a personal secret, and is potentially easy to read...doesn't mean he isn't cunning. After all...The King in ISAT proper is able to deduce that there's something fucky going on with Siffrin, and is perfectly capable of deception.

Clovis voted 'second least likely to beat someone in chess (first being Isabeau on purpose)' but the truth of the matter is he's probably cracked at that. Probably would also love Strategy Games (And is fucking awful at poker).

He'd also prolly join Odile and Isabeau in smoking a bong and going drinking. They're both prolly delighted at this (Out straight edge little knight smoking and drinking? The scandal!)

So...What's Up With Isabeau And Clovis. Is Isabeau...interested in Clovis like he is Siffrin?

WELL. THERE'S CERTAINLY SOMETHING COMPLICATED HERE.

We can't talk about Isabeau and an AU'd KING and not get a LITTLE bit into The Gender. Even in the baseline material, you can probably write essays on the compare/contrast between The King and Isabeau regarding their masculinity and how it manifests (and in fact, i'm almost sure people have!). Seriously, The King literally chose his title. An explicitly masculine title, with him specifically highlighting the ability to make decisions and force his will onto others.

There's shades of it here, but the villainous side of it is understandably no longer present. Clovis...well, Clovis has a complex relationship to his gender? Unlike Siffrin (who is explicitly said to have never done Body Craft) The King is stated to HAVE done Bodycraft at some point (even if it was to BE BIG), so...Clovis maybe has thought about it (maybe even done it?).

I like to say he's explicitly attached to being A Guy. I'm talking full on 'yippee!' if people call him Sir Clovis. Could just be he's happy to be identified As a Knight...could be something more.

I'll leave the interpretation to you.

But wait! You said it was complex, this seems straightforward?

Well. The second half of it is that Clovis...explicitly wants to be seen as a protector. He doesn't WANT to scare people, he doesn't WANT to be seen as intimidating or weird or strange and intense. He doesn't want the Party to see him as dangerous or scary. ('But you're the good kind of scary!' is prolly what Mirabelle would say, the horror loving fanatic she is.)

Not that Clovis would ever -voice- it, but he so very desperately wants what Isabeau has. And vice versa, Isabeau I think would deeply admire Clovis for being practically fearless when it comes to taking on the burdens of the adventure. Clovis takes things in stride (even if in social contexts he's VERY NERVOUS) and yet...Clovis might be anxious...but Clovis isn't a coward. Clovis knows what he wants to be. If shit hits the fan, Clovis is marching forward, focused and unafraid to use what cunning he can muster to get through the obstacle.

So, yeah, Isabeau and Clovis are definitely two bros bonding over being dudes, 100%. Maybe not super outwardly, but it's there. The whole thing smacks of Gender. They both want what the other got.

Does that translate to a crush from Isabeau that Clovis is oblivious to? I haven't decided yet (I lean towards yes? because thinking about Loop having an aneurysm watching Isabeau be an idiot trying to confess to Clovis makes me happy)

They're friends, at a minimum.

Hey Wait a Second! How is Clovis with Touch?

He's so-so about it! He has the bonus of having his armor insulate him, so, the party will casually touch his armored bits like his gloves and chestplate, but...he reacts about as well as Siffrin is to sudden touch. He'd like it! But. Uh...Well. Not like he can remember a time when someone hugged him, you know? (He'd like a hug, but that would be weird to ask for. Something something knightly distance something something.)

But Wait! There's One More Party Member! What about Bonnie?

(Yes for the timecraft from the Stagemaster, btw, i'll get into it another time)

Eye incident? What Eye Incident? Bonnies right over there, see?

Bonnies all well and go- what? You want them to turn around? Okay...Hey! Bonnie!

Turn around for us!

See? Bonnies fine. Everything is fine. It's. Fine. Maybe we'll get into the tale there another time. (That's not a typo. Bonnie calls him Cloves :) )

get out of here you cheeky twink

Anyways, what's the Conclusion here?

Clovis wants to support the party. Clovis, just a little bit selfishly, wants to be useful to them just a little bit longer, if only to make sure Bonnie gets back to their sister (and so she can yell at him profusely and maybe beat him to death with a hammer)

If Siffrin's mantra is 'i'm fine', Clovis' is 'I can handle it.'

See? He's strong. That's what knights are for, right? Bearing the burden? He can handle it. He can handle it.

SO WHY CAN'T HE HANDLE IT?!

Once again I hope you enjoyed this little journey here, and i'd like to thank everyone again for being so curious about my brainrot (and a big thanks again to the isat discords AU channel for feeding my worms)

Anyways thank you byyyyeeeeeeeee, have Clovis enjoying a parfait

#isat #isat kingswap au #isat spoilers #isat artbook spoilers #jpdoesart #i've done my best to proofread stuff but this post might have the text tweaked but shhhhh #the vast majority of this post is dedicated to Isabeau and Mirabelle oops #because I have been rotating the gender in my head a lot in regards to isabeau and Clovis so I hope it's just as interesting to y'all #of me trying to bash my tuoys together like i'm calvin hammering nails into the coffee table #look it is absolutely crucial to nail the party vibes #because sure its fun to watch a guy get into situations #you need to have the joy to balance out the horrible existential terror and dread #anyways enjoooyyyyyyyy #long post

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thatcryptidinthesea · 2 months ago

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So I've been thinking way too hard about the ISAT role!swap aus by @anxiousapplepie (hi! hope you don't mind the tag :]), especially the Housemaiden!Siffrin AU, and I was planning to draw fanart with my ideas but my university assignments have been looming over me *head in hands*. So in the mean time here's all my thoughts rambled out onto paper so maybe they'll stop haunting me while I'm trying to do work.

Starting with some HCs:

• Having depression is an inherently Siffrin trait, the different Sifs just deal with it differently. HM!Sif was able to get access to antidepressants due to being in the House of Dormont, but wasn't able to take them with him when he had to flee from the King's curse. So like OG!Mira, they had to go through their journey unmedicated. Isabeu and Odile's ractions to finding this out was something like

• All Miras are medicated for their anxiety, and most of them were able to have access to their meds throughout their journeys (OG!Mira and T!Mira I'm so sorry but you had to do it scared). F!Mira made double sure she brought her's knowing HM!Siffrin didn't have their's.

• Once T!Bonnie started warming up to and trusting the party, they'd hide behind the others' legs when they didn't want to be seen. Hiding behind Siffrin had the added bonus of being able to hide under his cape.

• When T!Bonnie has had a particularly rough night, they'll go sleep next to Siffrin because they know Sif WILL end up cuddling them in his sleep and it makes them feel safe. <- I imagine a lot of their sibling relationship was built on Bonnie going to Sif and just silently clinging and Sif just letting them and not forcing them to talk.

• C!Odile is the best fusion cook ever. This woman can take any two cuisines and mix them together flawlessly. Even things that arguably should never go together.

Ok now for a character ramble under the cut because Housemaiden!Siffrin is that one character I want to put under the microscope like a beetle. Argh. The angst of being the Universe's walking talking religious contradiction...

There's so much potential for HM!Siffrin's inner struggle with the Change belief. For one thing he doesn't really get to choose how he Changes much, he doesn't really have control over it. You can't decide how you'll be a different person if you have no idea who you originally were. Yet the Change belief has this whole thing about choosing to Change yourself and choosing to leave your past self behind. Can you imagine being Siffrin and being told you have to decide to be a completely different person when the only info you have about yourself are the clothes on your back, your accent and a love for malanga fritters? Meanwhile everyone else can choose to Change however they like because they know who they are and how they can be different, and they get to choose to get rid of the mementos of their past because they still ultimately have the memories if they ever want to go back for whatever reason.

And the fact Sif can't really choose to Change kinda shows in the ways he does decide to change because they're all physical changes. They recut their cloak into a cape, they dyed their hair and then let it regrow, they trade weapons or headgear with Mira. Those are all things that he can actually control, and thus can actually make choices about.

Which also makes me think about how he got the "worst/laziest Housemaiden ever" title. It probably felt to any outside perspective who knew the Change belief that Siffrin wasn't putting in any effort to Change and was instead skirting around the rules by just physically changing. So people started to say he's lazy and not following the belief right, and because Siffrin didn't have an identity he internalised being the Worst Housemaiden Ever as his identity and kind of stopped trying because why bother? Which SUCKS because can you imagine losing literally everything about your home/culture/language/family and then trying to make a new home and identity with another community only to be told by that community "hey you're terrible at this actually"? That's awful. Siffrin can probably never really feel truly, confidently part of the Change belief because they were alienated from it from the start.

And then to finally top it all off when Euphrasie chose him to save Vaugarde it's likely no one believed that Sif was the saviour because he's known across the Houses as the Worst Housemaiden Ever, why would the Head Housemaiden of Dormont choose him?!? Which probably only cranked up Sif's self-esteem issues because they'd also think Euphrasie could've picked better.

So yeah *head in hands* Housemaiden!Siffrin feels like a character locked in a constant feedback loop of "can't be part of the community despite their efforts because the system is inherently flawed for them" and "doesn't bother trying so the community disregards them".

#it's turtle time #in stars and time #isat role!swap au #all of apple's swap aus are brilliant #hm!siffrin has just done something to my brain chemistry that I cannot reverse #thinking about hm!sif making a change god statue without a face #as a reflection of how he feels like an unwilling blank slate for the Change belief #*head in hands* AURGH #isat spoilers #< bc siffrin backstory

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miharuhebinata · 1 year ago

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do you mean twilight princess, in which she held a sword exactly once in a flashback and pretty much immediately dropped it in surrender? or wind waker, where she forgets how to use a sword the second she turns into princess zelda until literally the final battle 🤔? and i genuinely can't think of whatever other time you're referring to that she apparently uses a sword. spirit tracks? ok i'll give you that one, i guess, because phantom zelda is pretty badass, but other than that.........??

"ummm actually it's a good thing that zelda plays differently from link, because link has the triforce of courage so of course he fights and uses swords! meanwhile zelda has the triforce of wisdom, so obviously she's going to find more clever ways to solve her problems teehee ;)" hey did you guys know you can still be excited for the game while also acknowledging it's pretty fucking shitty of nintendo to act like zelda is incapable of picking up a sword in a mainline game.

#i'm sorry if this response seems condescending or rude but this is just a very flimsy argument.#like....you know what i meant. nintendo acts like she's incapable of fighting outside a very scant few circumstances & use the #“well she wouldn't solve her problems like that” or “but if she's the main character what would link be doing haha” as an excuse.#also before anybody tries to use it as a gotcha yes i know she does get to use the bow of light in a few games as well #(in all 3 games mentioned funnily enough). which is cool! i think the bow of light is awesome and an iconic weapon of hers #(and yes i think of it as *her* weapon. which is why i'm so fond of the idea of a bow and arrow being her main weapon of choice in the same #way a sword is link's). but those times are few and far between and it's always only to play a supporting role to link.#which obviously works from a gameplay standpoint since in those cases we're playing as link and thus would literally have nothing to do if #she DID do all the fighting. but the fact she still doesn't get to fight in a game she's literally headlining????#idk it's just not a great look to me. combat has ALWAYS been a very core part of the loz series from the very beginning & on one hand yeah #think it's cool they're trying to branch out & experiment with different gameplay styles. but idk it just leaves a bitter taste in my mouth #(especially because i can already tell the whole ~just throw shit at enemies~ thing is going to get very annoying very fast for me lmao)#...HOWEVER. i do also acknowledge that overall we actually know very little about the game so far. only what we saw in the reveal trailer.#so obviously i'll withhold final judgement until i play for myself. i'm just a little wary is all.#honestly i guess what i really take issue with is the loz fans acting like the decision to focus less on combat is somehow more #“in-character.” as if every iteration of zelda doesn't have her own distinct personality anyway? it would literally be so easy for them to #write a zelda who's eager to fight (even if only because it's to save link) while still keeping close to her core characteristic traits.#like. come on.#sigh. but anyway. sorry for the rant but it's just so upsetting that so many loz fans #(and this isn't aimed at the person in the screenshot. just in general) seem perfectly ok with the perpetual mistreatment of zelda #especially when they use the same tired arguments to justify it. i'm so over it but i'm also not going to discuss it further #as this literally took me 6 hours to write and i'm sick to death of having to think about this because honestly all of my thoughts #are far more nuanced than i care to convey in the tags of a tumblr post anyway.#...actually i'm kind of tempted to write a whole essay about this now. if nothing else it might help me sort out my thoughts a bit better.#lmk if any of you (assuming anybody's even made it this far lmfao) would be interested in seeing that ?#but yeah ok seriously i'll stop talking ...for now 😈#replies #send tweet

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invinciblerodent · 2 months ago

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Are people playing the same game I did? What do they mean "Rook has done nothing to earn Solas' loyalty"? Given what Solas did to Varric, and just the general threat Solas' plans represent, Rook is well within their rights to give zero shits about his loyalty. Why are they concerned about Rook earning Solas' loyalty to begin with? Solas wronged THEM not the other way around??? What did Rook even do? Stop the ritual? The ritual which was going to cause apocalyptic destruction? You can't blame Rook for not having all the facts. The one who does have all the facts (Solas) has been keeping them to himself. It's not Rook's fault if they only know what they've been told. What are they supposed to think given that demons are literally popping up all over the place? Solas hasn't exactly given Rook any reason to trust him. Did they forget Solas has a whole track record of being untrustworthy??? And even that considered Rook still makes plenty of effort to understand Solas? That entire quest with Solas' memories? Various companions weighing in based on their perspectives? I don't understand where they're getting this impression that Rook is some unreasonably judgemental dickhead. I'm sorry for ranting I'm just so tired of going into the VG tags and seeing people put the most unwarranted Rook hate in the main tags. How do people have the most bad faith takes about their own character? Are they role-playing them like that??

Dude, I totally get what you mean. These are all the same questions I'm asking myself every time I happen across a take like that. (Adding the link to my prev post about the take in question.)

If you'll allow me some room for pondering, my guess is just that... they are kind of roleplaying them like you say, but they're not truly roleplaying. Or better said, they're not playing the role of Rook.

I think that these people posting takes like that, they're playing as themselves, not taking up the perspective of a character within the story but looking into the story from the outside, AND they're doing so filtered through the lens of having previously also played Inquisition (and their Inquisitor) the same way.

What I think may be happening here is that the Inquisitor's (and by extension, these players') experience with Solas is, by design, drastically different from that of Rook, and many of those who have loved the character they knew Solas as for a long time (a decade at this point) find Rook's and Veilguard's perspective of him and his role in the story irreconcilable with what they know.

These players see Solas as a companion, a friend, a lover, a character who is fundamentally a protagonist in the story (regardless of the fact that Trespasser explicitly states that him achieving his goals would cause massive devastation and the end of Thedas as we know it, plus that much of the face that he showed in Inquisition, he himself admitted was either shown under false pretenses or was an outright lie), and with that being their version of the truth about him as far as they are concerned, they find conceptualizing him as an antagonist very difficult, or even impossible.

Which means that the neutral/wary attitude that Rook (a character who was written as someone who never before interacted with Solas, spent the better part of the year pursuing him with the intention of stopping him, and now has goals that are explicitly contradictory to his ultimate goal) puts them in a place where the player's point of view character is one they think of as an antagonist.

That's why they think that Rook is the one who should win Solas' trust and loyalty, that's why they're frustrated that Rook has no option to immediately believe and trust everything Solas says and prioritize helping him, and in some fringe cases, that's why they think there should have been an option to let the Veil be brought down and let Solas succeed.

Simply, I think that these people, they aren't engaging with the story as written, but they are constantly fighting against their own protagonist, which creates this sort of... I guess moral dissonance(? can I call it that?) between them, and the point of view that the game asks them to embody.

I don't know how much sense this makes (I've been microwaving this in my head for a long time, I think it may be a bit burnt at this point), but I feel like it lines up with the posts that have broken into my isolation chamber. Granted I don't purposefully engage with these types of posts and I'm pretty sure I've blocked a large chunk of the people posting this stuff, but...

I mean, to me it makes sense, lol.

It's kind of that theme of fact and truth and history changing depending on who tells it (which permeates the entire setting) seeping into the real world, and into the fandom.

That has kind of an almost poetic irony to it.

#dragon age #squirrel plays datv #da fandom critical #fandom critical #veilguard positive #datv positive #do you even know just how much i hate that that has to be a tag we use #dragon age the veilguard

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bantersnatch · 3 months ago

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THE BIANCA MASTERPOST

Why, hello! Are you interested in throwing yourself down the rabbit hole of lore for Dropout's "Very Important People"? Are you trying to drag a friend into the madness? Welcome! Hopefully this post can help. This all goes a lot deeper than you might expect after a casual viewing of the show, so let's get down to business.

In the past, the Host's stepdaughter, Bianca Jocasta, was something of a cryptid lurking at the edges of the show's lore. As of season 2, however, she has a face, speaking lines, and an implied crucial role in the meta plot. Us rabid Bianca fans -- and there are indeed a non-zero number of us -- simply never lose. Unless we get a week where Bianca doesn't show up. Which happens often.

PART 1: UNDERSTANDING the CANON.

Let's say you've watched the entirety of VIP. You have questions. Maybe you even have theories of your own. Welcome to the club, friend. Bianca generally pops up in only brief mentions -- amidst the chaos of the show it's sometimes hard to piece together exactly what's going on with her. Luckily, I've written it down for us!

Analyzing everything we know about Bianca (as of s2e3) for a review of the basics, plus some surface-level theorizing.

Analyzing the Host's relationship with Bianca (as of s2e3) for a more character-centered approach to figuring out what's going on here.

Revisiting the s2e4 loredrop.

Unpacking the s2e6 loredrop.

And of course, the sacred texts: this gifset by the talented @/avadaniels capturing their first on-screen interaction.

Dissecting the s2e11 loredrop.

PART 2: INTO the METAVERSE.

So there's something funky going on here. That's to be expected, because this show is an improvised fever dream and the Host is a certified freak. But is this actually leading up to something...? Signs point to yes.

Asked to describe the relationship between the Host and Bianca in one word, Vic chose "tethered". A normal word to describe coworkers who purportedly hate each other.

Asked for any further information about the two of them, Vic responded... like this.

Okay. Here's where we jump off the deep end. Hold my hand. Vic likes to reuse material, and the "stepdaughter the same age as her stepparent" is an idea that's been around in their work for a while now. Take a look here and here for more on that. Do you see the vision?

It seems like Vic and Talia are very down to go down interesting paths with their improv together, and they're certainly able to conjure up chemistry. Case in point.

PART 3: EXPLORATION via FANWORKS.

That's it. That's the canon, that's the relevant supplemental material from Vic. But this is tumblr, and we all know that's just the beginning of the fun.

The wonderful @/owleanders draws Bianca so beautifully and I think about his art of her non-stop. Go look at his stuff!

I would be remiss if I didn't at least mention Star Maker, my fic that attempts to blend our knowledge of the Host's lore with the "Bride Comforting Stepdaughter" sketch. It is my version of a long-form thesis for why this dynamic has the potential to be so compelling.

We use the tag #bianca vip for her here on tumblr. (edit: now that we have a last name for the character, #bianca jocasta is also in use! it's a mishmash but we'll muddle through somehow. i personally will prefer to use her full name now that we have it, but i'll be using both for a while as i adjust.)

The AO3 tag for our Bianca is wonderfully vibrant for a character with so minimal screen time, and well worth checking out if you want more!

#vip #very important people #vic michaelis #bianca vip #bianca jocasta #host!vic #dropout #bianca loreposting #dropout tv

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mizzcap · 7 months ago

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you're not him

@b-l-a-n-k-d-r-e-a-m inspired this batch of HCs! Send your love to them! (I hope the tag worked!)

TW- Meltdown, Panic attack, Bullying, Mention of SA and Murder, mention of Jimmy (character), fighting

Actor! Jimmy x Reader

ACTOR AU: Jimmy is feeling distant and closed off- curly has even taken notice and brought it to your attention. Maybe this role was too much for a first role?

Continuation of Jimmy's last part

And yes, Curly's partner is a ACTOR AU! version of Y/N from the part 1 scenarios! They're referred to as (P/N)(partners name)

-Jimmy was excited to start the project. Him, Anya, and daisuke hit it off right away

-it made Curly so happy to see Jimmy coming out of his shell and becoming more and more comfortable around his co-actors.

-it made you happy to know that you finally could get your thesis done.

-you started noticing a few older guys in your film class hanging around to talk to Jimmy, though you chalked it up to Jimmy making more friends

-you knew the guys as dudes who kept hitting on Anya, though she couldn't care seeing as they didn't take it too far and well. Anya doesn't like men.

-one day, Jimmy just didn't show up to film a shot

-you had seen him in class that day, and around campus, so you knew it wasn't sick

-now that you thought back on it, Jimmy had become slowly reserved all over again- hesitant about any form of touch.

-so you went looking for him

"Sexually aroused by horses? Oh- so your a freak freak."

You paused up on hearing the familiar voice of your classmate, and the familiar line that Anya improvised one day during filming (truthfully it was funny enough to not only make the cut but encourage a retake because curly wouldn't stop laughing. His partner had to bring him water because he wouldn't stop wheezing)

You found the corner in time to see Jimmy practically curling into himself. Now, Jimmy wasn't small. He was in weightlifting with Curly since the 10th grade- (you learned that while texting Jimmy late one night talking to him before the first shoot)

With that being said

Jimmy hated confrontation. He wasn't a big fan of physical altercations- and only ever went as far as wrestling in the grass with Curly. (Which resulted in (P/N) scolding them for staining their dry clean only varsity jacket)

"What's going on?" You quickly butted in. Pushing past the two over grown men to stand next to Jimmy. Your side pressed briefly to Jimmy's though he was quick to lean away. He was tense, and looked a bit pale. What's wrong with him

"Just talking to Jizzy here-"

"Jimmy." you spat his name, correcting the rude ass boy almost immediately with a glare.

"-right.. we're just having a chat is all. 'bout horses and shit" the other guy laughed at his friend's comment. But the way it made Jimmy's fist ball up as a distraction from the uncomfortable situation, the rage boiled deep in your skin

"if that's all.." you pushed through grit teeth. "We'll be taking our leave now" you sneered and tried pushing past

The two boys whistled as you and Jimmy went past them "Go one now Jimmy boy- Master's callin'!" One whooped after he said that, the noise ringing annoyingly in your ears

You turned so quick the world felt dazed for a moment as you got up in the guy's face. His hot stank breath making you more pissed than before "you got a fuckin' issue, bud? Cuz we'll fix it." You snapped

"I don't, but maybe put horse fucker on a leash. Or not- maybe he'll diddle you next-" the man laughed in your face

The insult made your blood bubble and burst. In your peripherals, you could see Jimmy tense up at his words almost uncomfortably.

"fuck off man!" You snapped, shoving him back without properly thinking first.

You watched his red shoes stumbled back a few steps before sliding forward. Barely having time to process it as a stinging feeling ripped through the side of your face.

You whipped your head up at the man to strike back, only to be met with the back of Jimmy's head and his arm. Stumbling back a few steps as you watched wide eyed

The normally reserved and peaceful man- the one you would watch wrestle in the grass with Curly after shoots. The one who ever showed a hint of anger (though it was more confusion) when he and Anya could understand why Daisuke was winning (you're positive he was eating the game pieces), The man who you would eat being reassured by curly after every shorty that he was not his character..

You watched the same man's fist sink into the center of your classmate's face- a loud crunch sounding as his nose was crushed between his face and Jimmy's fists.

+-+-+-+

"it's not that bad" you sighed, sitting on your coffee table and holding a small mirror as Jimmy looked at his reflection.

a bit of blood seeped into and crusted on his scruff that he grew out for the sake of you movie. His bottom lip was puffy and split open on one side. An ugly bruise on his cheek spread to his eye that had nearly shut. While his nose has started bleeding- it was still bruised and banged up. On top of that his knuckles were raw and red from the fight.

Truth be told, you weren't in the best shape either. Your nose has started bleeding from that initial punch from the guy. And your sides ached from where you got hit.

The guys tried ganging up on Jimmy, and you tried jumping in to help.

"on a good note... I think I kicked them hard enough so one won't have kids" you chuckled, but Jimmy didn't reciprocate your enjoyment of the joke.

You paused for a moment, then silence almost suffocating

You grabbed the Gauze and Neosporin as scooted towards the edge of the table, your knees barely brushing against his

"here- I can-" "please don't"

You watched in shock as he tore his hands away from your own, grimacing at the touch

"Jimmy wha-...?" You furrowed your eyebrows and shook your head in confusion "what's going on"

When he didn't respond you pushed more

"Jimmy, you've just been acting weird- I tried talking to curly but he doesn't know either- is it the role? Jim, if it's too much you don't have to continue-" he yanked his hand away when you grazed your fingers over it accidentally.

You blinked in surprise

"What if they're right?" Jimmy choked out, head in the heels of his palms as his fingers curled into his dark brown locks. "What if I'm just like him- and that why I play him so well?"

"What?- oh.. Jimmy-"

"what if I end up like him- end up hurting everyone- hurting Curly-- he's like my brother man- I can't hurt curly" he choked on a sob.

"Jimmy.. I-" you sighed and ran your hand over your head as you tried to think of proper wording "This-.. you're feeling upset about playing a fucking horrendous character. That's completely normal- Seasoned actors have a hard time playing a role like this- You're a first time actor, for you to be thrusted into acting- having to play- y'Know.. it's normal to be upset or unnerved, but you have to talk to us, you can't just suffer in silence"

Jimmy shook his head, lifting it to meet your eyes with his dark, bloodshot ones. "But Those guys-"

"Drew and Max are pissy because you get to work so closely with anya- meanwhile they're barely allowed in the same proximity as her" you crossed your arms

"but-"

"are you sexually attracted to horses?"

"..what?"

"are you?"

"no-"

"have you ever...?"

"God no! I'd cut off my nuts before I'd ever-"

"ew dude! TMI" you giggled, grinning as he slowly sported a small smile

"and as far as I'm concerned you haven't off'd anyone or been a 'Manipulative Conniving Dictator', so you're fine" you heard him snort at the dictator part

"I just-"

"Jimmy- look at me" you slowly took his hands in yours- your eyes searching his for a moment as you drew circles on the back of his hand using your thumb "You're not him"

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BONUS:

"Found you n Jimmy on the couch this morning" Anya hummed as she ate a granola bar, helping you build a medical bed by simply holding the screws

"We watched a movie last night and fell asleep- talked for a bit before hand but nothing happened" you muttered, hunched over a rod as you screwed it to the bed frame

"talked? Like when I hear you giggling at 2 am on the phone with him?" Anya has a lazy, teasing grin as she stared down at you, her tongue sticking out from between her teeth as she quietly giggled

Your ears felt extremely hot, and your heart felt like it stop

"shut up!"

You playfully picked up a piece of foam and threw it at Anya's legs

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YAYAYYAYAYAYYA! up next will be part 2 of Anya x Circe reader, then imma do part 2 of curly, then part 2 of Daisuke!

#Spotify #jimmy x reader #mouthwashing jimmy #jimmy #mouthwashing game #Mouthwashing #mouthwashing x reader #Actor AU Jimmy #Mouthwashing Jimmy x Reader

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