#aside from all that. i just love how they depict the environment and how he fits perfectly into it......

[spheredotorb]

dude im still so obsessed with simonさん(@/kabo_chips)'s magolor gijinka....

mentioned in tags↓ (+other characters bc i love them too)

[fanaticsnail]

Play Stupid Games, Win Stupid Prizes (1/2)

Masterlist Here, Pollen Masterlist Here

Part 2 Here

Word count: 7,500+

Synopsis: Doffy is attempting to gain the upper hand against you. He's longed for you, yearned for you - in his own unique way. Considering you never give in to his flirtatious advances, he takes matters into his own hands and attempts to spike your drink. The problem? Your quick wit and nimble fingers switch whisky glasses with him, causing unforeseen problems that he has no cure for…

Warnings: Doflamingo x f!reader, NSFW, 18+, Mdni, smut, pollen fic, Pollen!Doffy x Unaffected!reader, dubcon, size difference (Doffy is 10’, reader is 5’+), degradation - Doffy receiving, yandere Doffy, Doffy is a brat, mentions of drugging, mention of poison, Doflamingo is a conniving bastard, swearing, choking - Doffy receiving, Doflamingo is his own warning, Doffy begs, toxic relationship, Doffy is infatuated, love confession, marriage proposal. ‘Mi amor,’ ‘Mami,’ femme titles used for reader.

Notes: this may not be everyone's cuppa, and it was absolutely something different I decided to try for pollen. Please read the warnings before reading the fic.

Tag list: @mfreedomstuff @gingernut1314 @feral-artistry @nerium-lil @writingmysanity

Sitting at the lengthy dining table, Donquixote Doflamingo extended his glass out towards the gathering of eclectic individuals. Each person present had an array of wealth, titles and reputation; all represented with their names embroidered into their napkins and painted into their drinking glasses.  

Doflamingo had planned everything perfectly. He had plotted each element of the meal to have everyone relax into the welcoming environment: keeping the air light and merry. There was not a fork out of place, nor a knife unaccounted for. He wanted the mood light enough to have you not suspecting a thing to go wrong.

And everything was going exceptionally well, all according to his plan. 

“To a long and healthy relationship between us all,” Doflamingo's smirk grew on his face, him turning to you with a small wink, “And to casting aside differences in the face of humility. Salud.”

“Salud,” you and the crowd repeated in unison, all arms extended with beverages in hand. 

Your glasses all contained gold letters depicting your names and titles on the rim. The servers ensured the liquid was all topped up with your chosen beverage for the night. Your choice? Whisky, neat with no frills nor ice to taint the liquid. Just like your host, Donquixote Doflamingo. 

All according to your plan. 

As soon as you received an invitation to attend this dinner party, you knew Doflamingo was planning something sinister for you. His silly little mind games he used to attempt to get the better of you were always centric to his plans. To embarrass you, to humiliate you, to harm you, to ridicule you: this was always the aim. And you had had just about enough of this torment. 

Getting information out of his menagerie of guards and house staff was simple enough. Offer them enough Berry, and their lips would never stop moving. Hearing Doflamingo’s disappearance in the town square, halting over a small shop stocked with pills and powders, had you mortified at his cruel fate he had in store for the evening. 

You expected poison to meet with your lips the moment you raised your glass to meet them. Your little game would rise to the greatest crescendo yet, you clutching at your rapidly closing throat and pleading for reprieve. Considering Doflamingo was the one to purchase the powdered poison, he would likely only offer you the antidote if you begged for it. 

In lieu of following through with the action of swallowing a heaping gulp of poisoned whiskey, you decided to give the pink-feathered bastard a taste of his own medicine. You reap what you sow, was how you figured it. 

“Fuck around and find out,” you chanted internally. Your soft, knowing smile drew over your features; watching Doflamingo drain the contents from the glass in his hand with gusto. You mirrored his action, downing the liquid in a single gulp. 

Doflamingo shot you a smirk, watching your face for any immediate changes to your body. A flush of your cheeks, a dilation of your pupils, your lips parting and becoming both drier and filling with saliva in unison. He was shocked when you returned his smile: only warmth being offered to him from your place across the dining table before turning to the woman beside you. 

He initially thought drugging you with a form of poison would be a hilarious sight: watching you claw at your neck and beg for the antidote in front of a room of his wealthy guests gave him a sick sense of satisfaction. But to give you an incredibly potent aphrodisiac with no known cure aside from giving into your cravings? Why, the thought alone made his cock twitch in eager anticipation.

He wanted nothing more than to have you shed your fine clothes of their place on your body, tearing them at the seams and beg for him to finally fuck you. He wanted you so desperate for him, you'd care not of the fact the room was full with those in your same league of formal standing. 

As you had always turned down his prior advances of you; he wanted to claim you publically, and leave no room for misinterpretation for his ownership of you. He wanted you to want him, to yearn for him, to plead for his cock with lust oozing from your body in rapid waves. 

He wanted you to want him in the same way he chased his release into his palm every night since your first introduction together. He wanted you the same way he would pay concubines to pretend to be you: copying your mannerisms, immigrating your vocal cadence, wearing similar attire. 

It was never enough for him. He wanted the real thing, and he hoped this final push would have you want him back. 

His craving to have you on your knees and begging for his cock to fill you to the brink with his cum, your neediness flushing your face, the whines and whimpers you'd elicit was too much for his mind to catch up with. He was already feeling aroused by the thought alone, confused at how alite his body felt with just the simple flash of erotic imagery. 

Suddenly the room was hot. Too hot. His clothes were too tight, the lights were too bright; causing him to wince behind his rosy glasses. His cheeks tinted with a soft pink, his body immediately becoming ignited with the hot beads of glistening sweat. 

He attempted to process the feeling, the stiffness of his erection brushing painfully against his striped, leather pants. Eyes widening and teeth clenching, he hissed out a winced breath as the sensitive buds of his nipples grazed against the open jacket firmly clutched against his chest. 

Looking down at the glass in his hands, his lips parted with horror. 

Your name was intricately painted in perfect cursive on the rim, each letter sparkling in the light illuminating the room. He snapped his face over to you, watching as your smile climbed up at the corners of your lips. 

Remaining blissfully unaware of how much torture you narrowly avoided, you asked the waiter for another glass of whiskey for yourself and your companion beside you.  

The glass in your hand had his name “Donquixote Doflamingo” in coiled lettering on the rim. As the waiter filled it, you held your eyes firmly against your conversation partner before you slowly sipped at the contents within. 

The cruel reality of his situation now dawned on him. 

He had unintentionally spiked himself with the incurable aphrodisiac, in public, instead of you. And now his body was desperate to see his lust satisfied by any means necessary. 

“And what did he say, Maria?” you asked the woman beside you, your attention fully fixed on her eyes as she relayed her tale. 

“He said: ‘a goddess as radiant as you should have men falling to their knees in adoration’,” Maria mocked in a lower, masculine tone. You bit back your smirk, eyeing her dangerously. 

“And what did you do in response to that?” you urged her with an excitement in your knowing tone. 

“I let him worship,” she smirked at you. Both of you became overcome with a fit of giggles, laughing at the sheer audacity of her promiscuous nature. You tapped her forearm with your hand playfully, enjoying a soft shove in return from her shoulder. 

Of the guests amongst you: Maria and you had known each other the longest. Both of you felt out of place here, being two of the few women present. You were roughly of similar ages, both unmarried and unspoken for. She had a soft-spot for the marines, her latest conquest being the right-hand man of Vice-Admiral Garp. 

“You are incorrigible,” you tease her, with a soft, “Atta girl,” added, nudging her with your shoulder before elevating your drinking glass up to take a sip. 

“Speaking of,” she returned your gentle nudge with one of her own, “Doflamingo’s glass? How'd you manage that?” She gestured to the cup in your hand. 

“Bribed the server,” you smirked, clinking the rim of the cup with the one in her own hand, “Had a feeling a game was afoot. And you know what they say,” you leant against her shoulder, both fixing your eyes on the blonde man at the head of the table. 

“Play stupid games,” you both uttered in unison, “Win stupid prizes," concluding with a sinister chuckle,

Your host for the night was hunched over the table, his teeth clenched firmly shut and soft beads of sweat were rapidly now gathering at his temple. This only solidified your suspicions, noticing the silence he was presenting in lieu of his usual conversation. 

Raising your brow, you remained focussed on him as the grip his hands perched against the table made his knuckles flash white. Curiosity plagued you, unsure as to why he was not asking his staff for the antidote to cure him. He was obviously under the effects of some kind of poison, his heavy breathing and indicator of such a plight. 

Why would he not ask for help? 

His eyes meet with yours, his frown deep and teeth grimacing. Quietly raising your eyebrows at him, you gently extend his glass in the air to add further sting to the ridicule. His eyes drew up to glare beneath his pink glasses. His pupils were focussed on your body, noticing every exposed area of flesh remaining unshrouded on the neckline of your button-up shirt. His eyes attempted to undress you, his gaze scorching you beneath his rose-tinted glasses. 

Noticing his gaze, you hum in deep thought. Shrugging your shoulders back, you turn to Maria beside you and give her a short nudge. Upon finishing her final bite of dessert, she turned towards you. 

“I’m going to go and gloat for a minute at my quick swipe,” you smirk at the woman to your side, “I'll be back once I'm satisfied he's ‘faced his humility’.” 

“Be safe!” she giggled, ushering you on with two quickened waves of her hands. 

“I'll be so safe,” you mocked her in return. Rising to your feet, you tucked your chair beneath the table and watched as several others did the same. All mingling amongst one another, you made yourself comfortable in a now vacant seat beside Doflamingo. 

“Doflamingo,” you nodded your acknowledgement, crossing your knees beneath the table and nudging his calf with your foot, “You've been awfully quiet tonight.” Trailing your toes over his calf, you noticed the hitch of his breath as he balled his knuckles into clenched fists. 

“Something amiss?” You asked him, placing down your drinking glass for the night while circling the rim with your index finger, “Something not quite going according to plan, perhaps?” Your smile grew as you noticed his shoulders tense, his breath hitch and his legs began to shake beneath your foot.

Gently trailing your toes higher, you eyed his reaction cautiously. His body was as hard as polished marble, his hair now slightly damp with a small amount of sweat gathering on his forehead. 

“Oh, Doffy,” you hissed a small whisper, your foot now tracing the outer edge of his thigh, “What the fuck were you attempting to poison me with this time?” You clicked your tongue at him, pouting through pursed lips, “Doesn't look like it's quite agreeing with you.”

“Out,” he whispered in a gruff bark. 

The quiet growl cut through the air like a steel knife carving through tough flesh. All guests immediately drew their eyes over to the pink-feathered host with a snap of their chins towards him. 

“I said out,” he snarled, his eyes frantically darting between each member attending the dinner party, “Everyone out. Out now.” 

You flinched at his change of tone, jumping back in your seat but refusing to hede to his dictation. Doflamingo felt his blood ignite with a passionate lust he had never experienced. He needed the cure, and he needed it now. 

Each guest rose to their feet, murmuring amongst themselves as they hastily fled the space with caution. Against your better judgment to follow suit, you remained behind and rose the glass marked ‘Donquixote Doflamingo’ to your lips and finished the remaining liquid within. 

Whiskey burned its way down your throat, the honey-sweet notes lingering on your palate as you placed the glass down once more. You rose to your feet and grasped for the water jug in front of Doflamingo and poured your emptied glasses with the icy water. 

“You don't look so good, sweetheart,” you cooed in a mocking gloat, placing the water glass with your name in front of him, “Have a drink, you'll feel better.” Doffy remained unmoving, clenching his eyes tightly shut as his body fought against itself. 

He tried to convince himself he'll manage this. He'll get through it without asking for your aid. He'll be able to withstand the potency of the aphrodisiac without becoming a whimpering mess in front of you.  

But then you spoke. 

And you kept speaking. 

Your sweet voice cut into his resolve with expert precision. Haunting him, cursing him with the ridicule that you should've been experiencing. He attempted to control his urges by gulping back a dry mouthful of saliva and concentrating on slowing his breathing. 

“Oh, come now,” you scolded the tall, blonde, “Nothing to say for yourself, huh?” You leaned your hips back on the table and eyed him cautiously, “Not even going to order the staff to get the oral antidote for whatever you've-.”

“-There is no oral antidote,” he spat through gritted teeth. He tried to ignore the twitch of his cock at the mention of ‘come’ and ‘oral’ from your lips. The swelling blood pooling in his cock had the shiny tip brushing against his leather pants. He mewled at the small twitch of his oversensitive knob, attempting to disguise his whimper with a soft cough. 

The air grew thick and tense; silence swelling in an uncomfortable dance of fluttering heartbeats. After taking a moment to hone in on your thoughts, you slowly inhaled and exhaled alongside externally verbally processing. 

“You were going to have me drink a poison tonight that had no cure?” you uttered darkly, “And watch me convulse as I took my last breaths?” Down turning your snarl and drawing up your heckles, you placed your foot on Doflamingo's bare chest and kicked hard. You glared into his shrouded eyes. 

“You were going to publicly execute me in front of your guests?” you continued, “My friends, my colleagues, my potential clients? Doflamingo,” you continued, leaning down and pressing your chest into your knee, “You deserve your cruel fate. Suffer, asshole.”

A shaky, large hand slowly drew itself up and softly cupped your ankle. He cautiously lifted your foot off his chest and pressed his lips against the ball of your foot. As soon as that kiss ended, another was placed slightly higher up into your inner calf. 

He removed your shoe, casting it to the side of him as he groped at you with his large hands. Hastily drawing his hands down to collect your other foot, he rid the presence of your shoe from you before placing your toes down on his thigh. 

Shock wrote itself on your face as a flurry of several more kisses were pressed into you. Each kiss was accompanied by a strangled whimper falling from Doflamingo's lips: breath hitched, brows furrowed and throat humming out the calls of desperation. 

“It h-has a cure, mi amor,” he softly whined into your leg, “Just not a manufactured one.” His lips could barely part with your skin, each soft kiss growing hungrier the further up your legs he drew. Humming through several more of his kisses, you were too terrified to truly correlate his affectionate advances to any known experience prior. 

Donquixote Doflamingo had always been intrigued by you. Always finding some way to bully, vex and torture you. This was something you never anticipated. His desperation in need for you was now depicted as his tongue raked up your thighs: his moist organ dampening your pants with a long and lustful streak of saliva. 

“Absolutely not,” you spat, forcing Doflamingo back into his seat by pressing your foot against his chest once again. “What the fuck, Doflamingo?” He mewled as your heel grazed his right nipple, his body crying out in relief and arousing itself further. 

From this angle, you hastily drew your eyes down to the large polearm hoisting up his pants in a perfect peaked tent. His large cock left very little to the imagination beneath the shroud of his leathery pants. 

He whispered your name, the last syllable calling out in a soft sob. His breaths were both deep and shallow, his body hot and cold, his mind clear and cloudy - he had no idea how to process these emotions. All he knew is he needed you. He wanted you. He craved you. 

Disgust was now openly displayed on your features at his desperation, watching the mighty King of Dressrosa sob and cry for you like a child that had a favorite toy hovering just out of reach. His hands began opening and closing, the strings of his devil-fruit power beginning to hover in his fingertips; only to fizzle away as soon as they formed. 

“What were you attempting to spike me with tonight?” you hissed at the blonde king, adding an emphatic kick to his chest to regain his attention. 

“An aphrodisiac,” he admitted, choking on his confession as he attempted to withhold it, “One so potent, the only cure for it is s-sex.” He moaned with his hissed admission, throwing his head back and whimpering. 

You sucked in a horrified gasp, recoiling as you understood exactly what he was admitting to you. You took a moment to collect your thoughts and mull over your next actions. Hardening your resolve, you shook it off and removed your foot from his chest, before straightening up your clothes. 

“Fuck you, Doflamingo,” you spat, beginning to walk away from him and collect your discarded shoes. He spun in his chair, almost knocking the seat over with the haste he followed you with. 

“Where are you going?” he whispered your name, falling onto his knees and needily following you with desperate longing. You growled, pairing your shoes and beginning to attempt to exit the dining room. 

“Getting you your concubines,” you spat over your shoulder, “Only cure for this is sex, and there is no way you're getting that from me,” Your hand hovered the doorknob, halting as a large hand drew down onto your knuckles and held your hand firmly away from it. 

“Don’t,” he huffed a gruff growl, his body leaning unconsciously towards you. 

“You want the cure? I'm getting it for you,” you whispered, rage bubbling within your chest, “It's likely better than the fate you had in store for me.”

Silence was once again uncomfortable between you, your confirmation solidified in the quiet of his response. 

“You would've had me beg for it, wouldn't you?” you uttered darkly, “Have me grovel and plead for release in front of the entire dinner party.” His hand tightened over yours, bordering on painful. 

“Yes,” he admitted in an icy tone. He sucked in his bottom lip, clenching his teeth over them and moaned while inhaling your scented perfume. 

“And who was going to be the likely cure for this tonight?” you shot over your shoulder, noticing his face was hovering closely against your shoulder, “You?”

“Yes,” he whined, hovering his body behind yours and caging it against the door. 

“You bastard,” you spat, turning around to face him and breaking your hand away from his, “You don't deserve a cure for this-.”

“-I know,” he sobbed, dropping to his knees in front of you, “I know, I know. I just-...” 

“Just what, Doffy?” you growled at him, “What now? After all this, what-?”

“-I just wanted you to want me how desperately I want you,” he confessed in a single breath, his words fleeing from him with unbridled gusto, “I wanted you to want me so badly, your body couldn't stand another moment without me. And now that I've taken the fucking drug instead of you,” he lunged towards you, clutching at your thighs, “I can barely keep up with how much I want you.”

“Doffy, what are you-?” you began, your breath hitching in a shriek as he ripped off your pants in a quick swipe. “Doflamingo!” you yelped as he buried his nose against your clothed cunt. 

“Let me taste you,” he whined, nuzzling against your panties with his nose and greedily lapping at the cotton with his lengthy tongue, “Please, let me have you cry for me. I n-need you.”

“Doffy,” you uttered sharply, nudging his shoulders away from you - which did nothing to halt his enthusiastic advance. He instead circled his arms around your thighs and hooked them over his shoulders. 

Shrieking, your back was now placed against the door: Doflamingo's head buried deep between your thighs as he clasped his hands around your ass to hold you in place. Greedily bobbing his head, he began lapping at your cunt with his slippery tongue, paying no mind at all to the fact what he wanted most was shrouded by the fabric of your panties.

With each cruel swipe, a single word was chanted in a penance-like prayer. The word was music to your ears, your resolve crumbling with each whimpered petition. The song of his desperate pleading beckoned you to let go and give into him. 

“Please.” He hooked his lengthy tongue beneath the fabric, clenching his teeth on the elastic and noseying it aside with his chin. “Please.” Flattening his tongue, he gasped as he tasted your sweet nectar and swirled his organ over your clit. “Please.” 

The ache in his pants was so strong, he could barely take another moment not being buried to the hilt within you. He continued to make an effort to withhold his cravings, to ensure you were ready to take him, as he was twice your size in every way. 

Being the giver was not his strength. Doflamingo would take, take, take until there was nothing left to take from his bedmates. He wanted to chase his release, no matter the consequences his large cock would indent while sheathed within a partner. He simply didn’t care about them, but he did care about you. He wanted you to want him so badly, desperate to earn your approval and love. He needed you to know how far he was willing to go to ensure this was as good for you as it was going to be for him. 

You barely had a moment to adjust to what was happening to you. Replaying the events of the evening perplexed you with even more confusion. 

Doflamingo invited you to dinner with the intention of poisoning you. A poison that was an incurable aphrodisiac that made you desperate for sex with any willing partner. The reason he wanted to poison you with this was because he liked you, and wanted to pursue you romantically. And instead of asking to formally court you, he decided spiking your drink in public was the answer. 

You had every right to push him away, to tell him “no,” and to halt his advances. But at each skillful swipe of his tongue, you felt more of yourself melting away beneath his humility. His apology dictated to you with each intentional swirl of his lengthy tongue.

“Doffy,” you mewled to him, feeling his tongue dip into your slick entrance. His nose circled your clit, his skillful organ greedily flicking in and out of your cunt while hooking up within you to climb deeper into your body. Your walls clenched around his tongue, his chin spiriting you towards bliss as he ground your pussy against his face. 

“Please,” he muffled into your core, desperately lapping up your arousal like a dog parched for water, “Please, please.” You felt your stomach tighten, his aggressive chase of your high with his lips wrapping around your sensitive bud ushering you to your unravel. 

“Doffy, wh-what are you-oh!” your breathy gasp had his hands pawing at your ass, grinding your core against his face harder to urge you closer to your high. Your hands pawed at the wall behind you to brace yourself against it. You found the pit of your stomach wind tighter and shoot sparks down your legs. He moaned into you, expressing his gratitude at your body beginning to give into him and release your inhibitions onto his face. 

“Please cum,” he begged, slurping messily and lapping up your juices, “Cum on my tongue. I n-need it.”

Your hands shot down to his hair, clutching at the strands in heaped fistfuls. As the coil inside you snapped, your lips formed a perfect ‘O’ as he channeled his desperation into meeting your needy thrusts and grinds against his head. “Let go, let go,” he begged you, his face becoming coated by your gushing slick. 

“D-Doffy! Oh, f-fuck. Oh fuck, I'm cumming. You fucking prick, Doffy!” You mewled his name, crying for him with your eyes clenched tightly shut. 

His hair began to burn within your fists, but he truly didn’t care. His tongue lapped up your gushing cunt over emphatically while grinding you skillfully against his nose, lips, tongue and chin. Riding your high, Doflamingo continued to hold you against his face as your soul fell back inside your body. 

“So good,” the older Donquixote brother complimented you, looking up at you through his glasses, “Now let me fuck you.” He withdrew your hips from his head, attempting to wrap your legs around his waist and shepherd you over the waistband of his pants. 

He pawed at the front button, his cock immediately springing forth and glistening in the light. Eyes spread wide with worry, you shook your head after feeling yourself recover from your high. Your underwear once again shrouded your glistening core, protecting you from a small twitch of interest from Doflamingo’s aching and incredibly large cock. 

“No, Doffy,” you firmly commanded, wriggling yourself away from his hold over you. As you side stepped, his hands extended in longing with outstretched, splayed fingers. He whimpered, his body leaning down and shaking with desire. 

“B-But I-...” he didn't get a chance to speak, as you growled over his pleas. 

“-You pinned me to the wall, and forced me cum on your face after you attempted to poison me,” you barked at him, “And now you expect me to help you by what? What, Doffy?” you snarled intp his face, baring your teeth at him, “You want me to sit on your cock and ride you until you cum? Tsk, pathetic.”

A sound you were not expecting to exhale through Doflamingo's lips at this moment. He sobbed, his lips quivering as his hands shuddered. His lengthy digits hovered over his cock, desperately wanting to chase his high into his fist: only withholding it because he knew it would make his situation all the more severe. He knew he couldn’t cum without external, other bodily stimuli. He needed you to help him, and he bit back a soft sob as his eyes grew glossy behind his pink glasses. 

“I need you,” he whimpered, “I need you so badly. I needed you when you were first introduced to me, and I have needed you ever since.”

“I simply do not care, Doflamingo,” you spat in return, his soft sob doing nothing to break you away from your resolve, “The only thing I’ll do for you is get you a concubine to sleeve your cock in, but otherwise I am done.”

“I don’t want them, I want you,” he whimpered, shaky hands balling into his covered thighs. His cock twitched in the air, the veiny underside throbbing with pulsating longing. You fold your arms over your chest, looking down on the taller man with absolute disgust. He held your gaze with his shrouded eyes, disguising his longing behind their tinted hue. 

“You repulse me,” you snarled, walking over to his kneeling position on the floor.

“I adore you,” he mewled through his confession, gasping as you grasped his girthy shaft. 

“You don’t deserve this,” you began pumping his shaft, flicking your thumb over his glistening knob. 

“You deserve the world,” he confessed, a small release of tears began expelling from his eyes. You halted your fisting of his cock, focussing your unrelenting grasp over his tip and squeezing it. 

“I despise you,” you spat, using your unoccupied hand to pry his glasses away from his face; throwing them on the table beside you. As soon as your attention returned to his now unconcealed eyes, your breath was stolen from your lungs. 

“I desire you,” he whispered, blinking slowly with his lengthy blonde eyelashes. You understood now why he concealed them behind his sinister glasses. His irises were a pastel pink, eyes expressive now they were unshrouded by the coloured glass. There was no lie presented within his eyes, honesty being the only inhabitant lying within. He was a very pretty man, especially with his whole face now presented to the light. 

“You make me sick,” you lied through gritted teeth as you rolled your neck, stepping out of your panties and straddling his lap, “You are foul,” you anchored your knees against his hips, placing your heels firmly on the floor beside him, “Obnoxious and detestable.”

“Mami, stop teasing me with your horrible words,” he moaned, “I’ll cum.”

“You’ll cum when I allow you to cum,” you retorted firmly. The bob of his adams apple did not escape your notice, nor did the soft roll of his glassy pastel eyes. You clicked your tongue, lining up your slit with the tip of his cock. 

“Don’t you fucking move, Doflamingo,” you barked your orders at him, “You’re a great deal larger than I am, and I am no mere whore you paid to fuck yourself stupid in.” He sucked in a soft whimper as he felt your prior release coat his knob, “I don’t particularly enjoy taking partners twice my size, and I don’t want to get hurt because you decided you wanted to buck up suddenly.”

“I-I won’t, mi amor,” he stuttered, crying out a little with his lips parted, “I’ll be a good boy, I swear. So good for you.” 

“Pathetic prick,” you mewled at him, eyes wincing as your body adjusted to taking his tip inside you, “It hurts,” you cried out a little as your body began to sink onto him. Your slow descent atop his cock, impaling yourself on his thick shaft, had your breath hitch and a soft whimper leave you, “And you were going to rail me with it, weren’t you?”

He stooped low, covering his eyes by burying his head against your clavicle. He huffed out his restraint, his voice shuddering as he felt your walls stretch to accommodate him. Wrapping his arms around your back, his fingertips ghosted around your body to trace gentle encouraging circles against your skin. 

“Answer me, asshole,” you sobbed, slowly sinking down as you felt the blunt, mushroomed tip begin to kiss your cervix, “You owe me that much.” Anchoring your hands against his shoulders, you braced yourself as you continued to inch your way down his lance of a cock. The girth was almost the width of your forearm, your glistening walls struggling to stretch to accommodate him. 

His shoulders shook, his lips finding your collar bone and pressing gentle kisses against it. He winced as he disciplined his body to wait for you to adjust to him, sniffing back a small cry.

“Th-The pollen makes you-... nnnmpph-... Makes your arousal heighten,” he winced at his resolve, bracing you within his arms and snaking his large hand up your back, “You would’ve b-been too far gone to care.” 

“Is that what you are, Doflamingo?” you snarled at him, sinking yourself past your limit to suck more of his full length inside your body, “Too far gone to care?”

“I want you, mi amor,” he murmured into your shoulder, nose rubbing against your neck and brushing your blouse away from covering your chest, “Although, I a-am reaching my l-limit for tolerance. I need to fuck you. I need t-to cum inside you.”

“Don’t you fucking dare move,” you whimpered at him, “You’re too f-fucking b-big.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he exclaimed, tearing his face away from you to look into your eyes, “I am so sorry.” His expressive eyes pleaded for you to understand how hard he was trying to hold himself back. His pink irises were eclipsed by his blown pupils, his lips open and panting, his temple bleeding with drops of heavy sweat. He couldn’t help a soft rock of his hips, testing how your body adjusted to him. 

“Stop!” you barked at him, “Stop that right now or I’ll leave.” Doffy whined, prying open your shirt with one quick rip, tearing the buttons from the seams and revealing your bare chest to him. The buttons flew over the room, your nipples perking up now revealed to the cool of the air. Your sleeves fell down your shoulders and each inch of revealed skin was immediately replaced by Doflamingo’s lips. 

“I’m r-reaching the e-end of my resolve, mi amor,” he confessed, “I-I’m c-close, and I need you to bounce a little on me. Please ride me as you are now, you d-don’t need to take any more of my length. Please just bounce on what you can take. I’ll be so good.”

“Close just from me taking your partial length? You’re so fucking pathetic,” you degraded him, your voice solid and unwavering. You felt the twitch of his cock, his body revealing more to you than he would ever audibly inform you, “Oh, you like that, don’t you?” Doffy whimpered.

“S-Stop degrading me,” he attempted to growl, his voice breaking and turning more into a breathy pant, “Stop it or I’ll cum, mi amor. I’ll cum so fucking hard for you.” His whispered confession had you elevate a sinister smirk up your lips.

“Stop calling me ‘mi amor’,” you wrapped your right hand around his throat, your left perched on his shoulder as you sunk yourself down on him, “I’m not your love. You're a conniving and devious bastard, and I despise you.”

“Just like that, Mami,” he whimpered, hands falling to your hips as you began to bounce on his cock, “I know you hate me. I adore that about you. I wanted you for so long, and you’re so, so good.”

“At least your ears work, you arrogant prick,” you released your firm hold on his throat, glaring into his eyes as you continued to take more of him into you. You became more confident in riding his swollen cock, bouncing, writhing and grinding your slick cunt against his pelvis, “Maybe there is hope for you after all-.”

“-No, no,” he begged, pressing his throat against your palm, “No: I’m nauseating, I’m disgusting, I’m pathetic. Please, please choke me. Tell me how much you hate me. Ride my cock while you tell me you find me repulsive.” 

“Oh fuck, Doffy,” you bit back your moan, feeling the rapid approach of your second orgasm stampeed within your abdomen. You choked him harder, forcing his eyes to meet yours as you circled your hips on his cock. His eyes held firm to yours, feeling the tangible dislike against him from you. He fought back the urge to roll his eyes back in bliss, his balls sucked deep within his stomach the longer you rode him. 

“I abhor you,” you whined, feeling him hold back meeting your bobbed movements. You finally began encouraging him to thrust up into you, your motions now rhythmic and in perfect synchrony. 

“I adore you,” he whispered in return, placing his lips against your jaw and tenderly kissing you. 

“I f-fucking loathe you,” you felt the familiar sparks indicating the eruption of an impending orgasm. Your pussy began contracting around him, your walls beckoning him with rhythmic throbbing. 

Whimpering, your world came crashing like waves breaking down cinder blocks. You threw your head back, keening more so at the fact Doflamingo made you cum for a second time tonight. The first one was against your will, this one you ensured you were in control of. 

“I fucking l-love you,” he held his eyes against yours, his orbs glassy as they filled with tears, “I love you so fucking much,” he mewled in bliss as spurts of his hot cum splashed deep within you, “I-I-... I’m cumming, oh fuck. Oh fuck. I’m c-cumming. You’re s-so good. I love you s-so fucking much. I love you.” 

He cried, hot tears of relief spilling down his cheeks as he sobbed through his accentuated release. His lip quivered, his highly emotive eyes looking almost innocent the longer he rocked his hips up into yours. You squeezed his throat, choking him as your pussy milked him of his large load. 

The spill of his seed dripped down your legs and onto his patterned leather pants. The blunt tip of his velvety cock continued to kiss your cervix, propelling you into a longer release. Your walls could barely contract around his cock due to the stretch, but each time Doffy’s cock released a squirt of his cum, it twitched back enough for your cunt to wring his shaft. 

The twin highs seemed to last an eternity. Spurts of his load continued mixing with your slick and Doflamingo’s prior saliva. You were not sure when exactly it happened, but you found yourself within an almost loving embrace within Doflamingo’s arms. His cock was sleeved completely within you to the hilt, your arms circling his shoulders as you both hid your faces in each other’s necks. His hands gripped your waist, his blonde eyelashes ticking your shoulder as he buried himself deeper within you. 

Sunk to the hilt, you remained that way until your thighs began to burn from holding your body up over his thighs. Your pussy began to ache, coming down from your high with his full length still buried within you. Unhooking your arms from his shoulders, you attempted to remove yourself from his embrace to no avail. He held you firmly, not enough to bruise, but not allowing any room for you to wriggle away from him. 

“Doflamingo, release me,” you barked at him, shoving his shoulders away in an attempt to reveal his eyes to you. 

He held you tighter. 

“Doflamingo, let me go,” you spat, trying again to flee from his steely grip. He gripped his elbows behind your back, holding you firmer. 

Your panic grew more frantic, your heart beating faster than it did when you rode through your bliss. 

“Doflamingo, you will break away from me this instant,” you pushed and shoved him with all your might, only managing to have your abdomen ache at being so full for so long. 

He refused. 

“Doflamingo, if you don’t free me from your grip right now; I’ll-,” Doflamingo murmured against your chest, halting your wriggling and frantic movements. 

“-But if I let you go, you’ll flee,” his voice whimpered, his chin anchoring against your chest and staring his blush-coloured orbs up at you. You felt yourself become breathless beneath the spell of his loving look, feeling all emotion pouring from his eyes onto you. 

“Yeah, that’s the point,” you attempted to break from his embrace, only causing Doflamingo to grip you tighter. 

“I don’t want this to be a one-time thing,” he massaged down your back, pressing on your hips firmly enough to lock you against him, “I meant every word I said. I love-.”

“-And I meant every word I said, Donquixote,” you winced against him, attempting to pry his hands off you by gripping his wrists. He was far stronger than you were, causing panic to rise within your chest, “I hate you.”

“Marry me.” 

Those words shocked you, causing you to snap your eyes up to meet his. Again, those ruby orbs held you captive. You couldn’t believe how expressive they were. 

His soul was raw behind those twin lanterns, illuminating his face with the innocence you were certain had long-since left him. Still, you remained firm - the softening of Doflamingo’s cock within you brought you crashing back to reality. 

“Never.” 

“Consider it,” he sighed, releasing your left thigh and cupping your cheek with his left hand, “Consider it, and you will want for nothing. That’s all I ask,” he rose from his stoop and pressed his forehead against yours, “That’s all I want. All I’ve only ever wanted.” 

Using this opportunity: you hastily rose to your feet, the crude squelch of Doflamingo’s flaccid cock exiting your slit prompting you to cringe more than the embarrassment you felt at his profession of love. You felt the mix of fluids seep out of your core, dripping down your legs and onto the floor. He called your name, wincing now he felt empty and unfulfilled without you wrapped around him. 

“No,” you retorted, bending down to recover your panties and pants. You wrapped your top around your chest to shield your body away from his eyes. 

“You would be my queen,” he tried again, leaning forward on his knees and looking up at you, “Queen of Dressrosa. Queen of my heart. I would have you rule beside me as an equal, mi amor-.”

“-I said ‘no’, Donquixote.” Your buttons from your shirt lay scattered on the floor, your eyes darting around while arguing whether they're worth collecting. 

“Please,” he whispered his soft beg, his palms finding the floor as he began to crawl towards you, “Please, I need you. I want you. I crave you. I would bleed for you, die for you, kill for you - just say you'll be mine.”

“Look,” you turned on your heel, glaring at him with enough animosity to halt his low stalking prowl, “The next time you attempt to drug me over dinner and accidentally drug yourself in my place,” you snarled, prompting Doffy’s eyes to fall half-lidded in adoration, “Do not call on me for aid, you won't find any empathy from me.”

You hurriedly thrust your panties and pants back over your sticky legs, tucking your shirt into them as Doflamingo sat back on his knees, kneeling in stunned silence. Without a further word, you made your way towards the large exit, only stopping your withdrawal when Doflamingo tried one final time to woo you. 

“You didn't even let me kiss you,” he whispered in a voice so soft, you halted in place to hear him. You turned your chin, glancing at him over your shoulder as he sat in somber silence. 

“If you think you're getting a kiss from me after all that-...” you began, fully turning to face him as his head lay hanging low to avoid your eyes. You sighed, finally in pity for a man who resorted to great lengths to gain your attention, “...you get one to show me your gratuity.”

Doflamingo perked up, his ruby eyes meeting with yours with the hope of a child being promised their greatest coveted prize. 

In a few hasty strides, you made your way back over to Doflamingo. He continued to kneel beneath you, cock still hanging limply over the waistband of his pants. You grimaced at the flaccid cock, noticing that its limp length was still well above the average size of the cocks you'd seen prior. 

You shook your head, taking Doflamingo's cheek in your palm and elevating his face to meet yours. Lips closing in a soft purse, you collected his plump lips beneath yours in a soft and tender kiss. Parting your lips, you gently grazed his mouth with a soft swirl of your tongue. He moaned against your lips, large hands perching on your hips and holding you firmly against him. 

Tilting your head, you bumped Doflamingo's chin with your own to deepen it. He sighed into your mouth, allowing you to initiate how much emotion you were willing to press into him. His lips felt warm, encumbering and loving, something you were not expecting to experience from any encounter with the King of Dressrosa. 

Even though he had confessed his love for you, the softness he was presenting you with was foreign in comparison to his harsh dictatorship. You swirled your hands behind his head, massaging his scalp in soothing circles. A happy chirp fled from his lips to yours, his smile evident as his tongue collided with yours. 

Breaking away from his embrace, your hands raked through his blonde hair affectionately. He hummed up at you, his blonde eyelashes fluttering beneath his half-hooded eyes. 

“I'll cherish the gift of your lips always, mi amor,” he sighed up, the sparkle in his ruby gaze. That title snapped you away from your daze, shaking your head and once again grimacing. 

“Never call me ‘mi amor’ again, asshole,” you spat hastily, refusing to allow him a semblance of your heart, “I'm not your love, I'll never be your love. You're fucking pathetic, and I hate you.”

“Stop being mean to me,” he licked his lips, his gaze growing dark, “I’m already starting to get hard.”

[sashi-ya]

𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝟐𝟑 DAY 26: SHOWER SEX Sōsuke Aizen x F! Arrancar! Reader

Requested by @muzansfangs ➡ Hi! Since you are literally one of my favorite authors, I would like to submit a request for the kinktober event! I would love to read Aizen + shower sex. I trust in your abilities blindly. Add whateve kinks you like! I don’t remember if I had to specify the gender of the reader. In that case, I would like f!reader. Thank you for your hard work and for blessing us with your works! tw: mdni. bathtub sex. praising. vag. arrancar! reader wc: 1.2k masterlist

The sound of dripping water echoing all around the biggest bathhouse you have ever seen. His head thrown back, his chocolate hair too. Arms strong but also lean helps his naked body to float as he grabs from the sides of the tub.

You take some time to admire his beautiful physique. Abs barely visible from over the water level, protruding collarbones, prominent Adam’s apple and the sharpest mandible framing his relaxing façade.

“What, (Name)?” he asks, surprising you with the tray and a cup of tea on your hands.

“I’m sorry, Aizen-sama. I… brought your tea, where should I leave it?” you ask, stuttering. How could you forget how much of a powerful being he is? Of course he could sense your presence… you’ve been created by himself.

Sosuke opens his eyes and after sighing, he turns his head to you. Him, in that sterile environment with everything so white as everything in Las Noches, stands out in such delightful imagery.

“Bring it to me” he commands, with a soft smile on his lips but eyes full of impure intentions.

You nod, and fast enough bring the tea closer to him. You are aware of his nudity, but still try to act as if he was fully clothed… even if your eyes couldn’t get away from the running drops coming from his wet hair to his chest.

Your lips barely part, letting soft sighs of warm breath scape in between them. You slowly kneel on the ground to serve him the tea, you shouldn’t be above your Lord.

Your pupils dilate as he lifts his back just a little, allowing some more of his belly to emerge from the water. Aizen Sosuke is the definition of temptation, of lust, of need…

“Heh… You like what you see?” he asks, breaking the enchantment all of a sudden. “Excuse me, Sir. I didn’t mean to look, I…” you quickly excuse yourself, although your cheeks get on fire and your breathing accelerated.

The ting of the porcelain cup on your hand echoes as much as the water drops… the more you tremble to keep it steady as you pretend to serve him, the more it resonates. And Aizen is delighted, because if there is something that pleases him is when people consider him a god. He enjoys intimidating you as everybody else.

“You seem to be having trouble to serve me a cup of tea today, (Name)… leave the teapot aside for me, please” he orders, always politely but still perversely.

You leave everything on the floor, bowing before him. “I’m sorry, Aizen-sama. I am so unworthy of serving you!” you repeat, hitting your forehead on the wet floor of his bathroom.

He takes his hand to his chin, observing your pathetic intent for mercy, and stops your whining.

“(Name), you might have trouble serving me tea… but I know you are good with other tasks, aren’t you? Come here, help me bathe” he commands, offering your hands the privilege of touching his godly -not so pure- flesh.

You blink, as he stands up. His whole anatomy surfaces, showing you his attributes with absolutely no shame. Aizen extents his hand for you to grab it, as the very depiction of a godly creature inviting you to heaven.

You swallow. A trembling hand of yours touches his, and with his help you stand up from the floor.

“Very well… now, use this to rub my chest” he indicates, giving you a piece of white cloth imbued in water and a soapy substance.

You take it in between your hands; the cloth is warm and so is the water and your core. Your quivering hand approaches his right pec with delicacy, almost as if you were about to touch something fragile.

Aizen smiles lovingly, looking at you in the same way a master looks at his dog. You are, to him, inferior. And still, cute, so very beautiful.

Slowly tracing circles on his flesh, you let a fine mantle of foam. Your eyes, fixed in the pores of his skin, are battling against your own need not to look any further… down, down where his sin start.

However, and besides not watching, pulled by the transgressive force of desire, you lost the battle against morality… you let your cheek to be pressed right in the middle of his chest.

He gasps, would it be a lie to say he wasn’t surprised. Aizen plans it all, but still… there are some types of physical contact that are simply unforeseen. A man whose life has always revolved around being lonely, breaking limits with no mercy for a higher mean, can still get amazed at a sudden show of love.

Sosuke takes some time to think; never has he ever stuttered… but this time he did; and the final decision meant for him to turn off his mind and let desire to take over. This time, as he learnt the Hogyoku was supposed to do, he just let his heart manifest its true desires…

A heavy hand falls on the crown of your head. Though hefty, it’s also delicate and caring. Aizen presses your face against his chest, you can hear the heart inside pumping harder and faster.

“You love me that much, (Name)?” “I love you more than much, my Lord… with all my soul” “Your soul? Mh… I see”

He sighs, not annoyed but pleased. And his hands pass around your waist, pulling you inside the tub swiftly.

You get your white and black uniform all wet, things he doesn’t mind and also enjoys. The transparency of it, showing hard nipples through. The soaking skirt, attaching to your skin, showing your sex.

“Come here” he murmurs, kissing you with a class that cannot be found in another man. It’s also perverse and deadly, and you are all about losing your life for it.

Slowly, softly… both sliding down. Hips straddled on his lap, the water playing with the hem of your skirt, making it float and dance with the way you hump on his hardness.

Sosuke presses you down with his hands on the small of your back; your hands, hang loosely on his shoulder blades. His lips attacking your neck, and the breasts he freed as he tore your uniform.

And the more his kisses go down, the more your back arches with him holding you with playful fingers along your spine. Your hair rains on your back, your cheeks tinted in black drops as your make up has started to smear.

“You know you are here because I created you? And you are here because I wanted to, right? He whispers, kissing in between your breasts, down your sternum.

“Yes, Aizen-sama. I am beyond grateful because you chose me, my Lord. I am completely devoted to you” you murmur, feeling his sex search for your entrance.

“Would you be a good girl and let me fuck you?” he asks, -in reality he doesn’t need to-

You alone lift your hips to help him accede faster to your insides, you are desperate… “Yes, my Lord… please, fuck me”

Aizen smirks, tracing circles with his index on your lower belly around your hollow. And with his free hand, he guides his shaft into you.

Who knows, maybe you were just one more of his Arrancar… Or maybe you were created from a piece of his own very soul, because when he penetrated you, it felt like two forces were finally rejoined…

Taglist: @miabiaria @carmenthedreamer @stygianoir @electronicwitchcollection @aizenwifey @deputy-videogamer @efrodd17 @mizugami @uzxotic @cyberdazetragedy @bookandyarndragon @fushiguroshotwife 💖🙆‍♀️

[66sharkteeth]

Belated weekly thoughts-

Mostly because this was too big of an ep to completely skip and I really wanna clear up a few misconceptions I keep seeing in the comments. I know only a small percent of readers see these, but at least a few of you will have the canon facts:

First off, just some personal thoughts-

I get asked a lot of reader input has ever influenced the story and, aside from a few fan-servicey memes like Roof Blank, the answer is no for the vast majority of the comic. This episode was kind of the one exception. I definitely never intended to address Rex's ace identity in the comic (outside of his obliviousness), but the more people learned he was canonly ace, the more I realized how important that was to a lot of people, so I thought it'd be cool to actually canonly address it- of course in a way that's realistic. To be clear, Rex absolutely has no idea what asexuality is, and I doubt any other characters do either. This comic does not take place in the digital age, so Rex doesn't have resources like twitter and reddit to help him figure this stuff out lol. He just knows he's not experiencing attraction the same way everyone else seems to, and that's what this episode is addressing.

Now as far as misconceptions- He is not aromantic. I've seen a few people jump to that? And I'm not really sure where it comes from, because he is very much in love with Bell, as I thought (?) I made clear in this scene. I understand the demi assumption, but I don't think he's that either. Bell's just the first person he's felt romantic attraction to, but he does not have sexual attraction (towards her or anyone). However, he's not repulsed by the idea, and that was also important for me to depict, as someone who...basically identifies the same way haha.

Now, for the BIG misconception- Bell potentially taking Lyss' face. So let's clear some things up:

This would not kill Lyss. She got plastic surgery on her nose that Bell already stole, so she would have a way to breath if Bell took the rest of her face.

Lyss would be able to resume a completely normal life after some reconstructive surgery. Blank victims still have a mouth and eyes under their sealed flesh. She explained last season that the only reason she's missing her eye still is because her parents wouldn't pay for the surgery to fix it after she moved out. Basically, giving Bell the rest of her face would just result in a painful and expensive surgery, but she would be by all means fine.

Not so much a misconception I've seen in this episode but just in general when I bring up the reconstructive surgery point- No, this does not mean you can just keep having your face stolen over and over and over. Your face gets a little harder to rebuild each time, and it's very expensive and painful. Think like an acid burn victim getting facial reconstruction, but just smoother...then getting in the same accident and surgery over and over. Surgeons can only do so much.

Bell would not "lose herself" or "become Lyss" if she stole the rest of her face. At this point, Bell is practically a half-blank in the sense that she fully her own person with her own personality, and stealing the rest of a face wouldn't really change that beyond maybe some influence- Much like how when Rex stole Mikiah's face, he didn't stop being Rex. He still maintained the personality and preferences he had as Rex, but just now has knowledge and memory of all of Mikiah's personality and preferences. Bell is slightly different in the sense that she *started* as a copy of Lyss, so many of their preferences and identities are the same (i.e, if Lyss is a straight cis girl, Bell would be a straight cis girl. If Lyss hated cilantro, Bell would hate cilantro), but she's developed in such a different environment from Lyss, that she has very much adopted her own unique personality (though with traits from Lyss, like her fieriness), and taking the rest of Lyss' face wouldn't change that. She would just have memory and knowledge of the rest of Lyss' life. The only real consequence of taking her face might be...getting some unpleasant memories of Rex and Scion, but even then, Bell has grown into such an understanding and forgiving person, I don't think she'd hold those past actions against them (except maybe Scion for the whole attempted murder stuff).

[tarohonii]

genuinely think Ian would be SUCH a better main character for eleceed than Jiwoo could ever hope to be.

Narrative and perspective wise, Jiwoo does have the upside of not being tied to an association or a specific setting, and his past breaches into a lot of unknown territory with the awakener world, but Jiwoo also propels the story of eleceed in an extremely rose-colored lens. This is because Jiwoo is, arguably, much more privileged than any of the other characters in this story. He can somehow perfectly balance a happy, idyllic life and then also be deeply involved with the hot violent mess that is the awakener world. He's met some of the most kindest, gracious people when we know the awakener world is anything but that. He leads a relatively politically unburdened life, with his own independence and freedom, which is far more than any of the other awakeners in this story could ask for. He emerges unscathed from any conflict he's in because he has two (three?) absolute fucking nuclear powerhouses who'll come to his aid at any given moment-and, might I add, practically is the reason he can have as much freedom as he does.

I guess my main takeaway is that Jiwoo does not accurately depict the struggle of the setting that he is in. He finds the awakener world as the place where he finds his own footing, where he can feel accepted and welcomed for something that would usually cast him aside as an anomaly. And, sure, that's what makes him a good main character-that's what sets him apart from anyone else in this story. But one of his only traits that made Jiwoo stand out in the awakener world environment was the fact that he found fighting fun.

It makes sense, considering Jiwoo's scenario, that he would be one of the few who would find sparring fun. it's the thing that gave him his place in the world. With his complete independence, there's no stakes or burdens on him when it comes to fighting. He's never lived a life where when the stakes are far larger than just losing the spar itself, where politics to family honor is wagered on a single battle, where he's been burdened with the knowledge since childhood that his power is what will keep them at the top and can never afford mistakes. And that's my main issue. One of the only things that sets him apart is something that's derived solely because of his privilege he has in eleceed.

This is where Ian comes in. He is one of the few-if not only-other character in eleceed besides Jiwoo who finds fighting fun. And this-this is what makes him far more interesting than Jiwoo. Ian comes from a situation similar-if not likely more intense-than the other WAA students. He and his family are one of the most highest ranked people in the political world in eleceed. From what we've seen, every character in a similar position to him are, for a very good reason, bitter, snarky, prideful, and chronically overburdened with the weight of the awakened world. The awakener world breeds generation after generation of awakeners obsessed and fixated on power and becoming stronger than anyone else.

But Ian goes against that grain. Instead of simply smirking snidely at Jiwoo when he found how strong he was, he got genuinely excited over it, enthusing that it'd been awhile since he had fought someone on his level. No masked words, no pretenses, just pure enthusiasm and love for what he does. He got irritated in his stagnancy not because he was fueled by the all consuming thought to 'get stronger so I can become the strongest awakener' but because he wanted to hone his craft.

Additionally, Ian grew up in an enviroment that exposes him to every nook and cranny of the ugliness of the awakener world. He's probably seen some shit-people dying because of spars, associations crumbling, wars being waged. He knows the weight and responsibility that his title and power holds. He'd give the audience a much more clearer, raw view of what the awakener world is actually like and intricacies of it.

In terms of character itself, Ian would be such a joy to read about. His personality is in accordance to his environment and how he was raised. He's snarky, bratty, rude-basically every average WAA personality box ticked off-but despite that, he's also much more candid and has a rebellious flair. He doesn't beat around the bush or lie-he says things how he sees it and doesn't spout any flowery bullshit.

Additionally, though he's confident and sure of himself and his character, knows how to manipulate and work the system, he's also brash and volatile, which would open up opportunities for the audience to be able to really see his youth and immaturity because he really is just a kid at the end of the day.

Jiwoo, as far as we can tell, wants to bring about change in the awakener world through his kindness. But that completely juxtaposes the fact that he's...brutally fighting in order to do that. But Ian would bring hell on earth if he was the MC. he'd bring change with his unapologetic attitude and unwavering confidence, fighting against the grain in a way that makes sense but still highlights his rebellion. He'd know how to tear down the system from the inside out, or maybe he'd unintentionally just be a trailblazer along the story. Either way, 100000 times more interesting than Jiwoo

[leconcombrerit]

I keep putting off watching recent episodes of DFF not because I don't like it but because I'm legit scared. I just watch spoilers. No further emotional involvement for now.

I put a lot of faith in this show and I'm slowly starting to think that maybe I should try and snatch it back while I still can. Although "think" might be a bit of a stretch. It's more of a survival instinct at that point.

Look, I don't care what trajectory it takes for most plot points and characters and ships and twists. Whatever is fine, it's done a good job so far, I'm in for the ride. There's just one thing I want -okay, maybe one and a half.

And it's for Non to have a good ending, preferably New as well.

And no, "everyone including them gets a bad ending" isn't a valid alternative for me. My love for these characters themselves put aside, it's the message and symbol that matter to me. I'm weary of the usual way characters like them are treated. Mentally and emotionally exhausted. I think I saw some Until Dawn comparisons at some point, and what happened in Until Dawn is exactly what I fear will happen in DFF too. Because it usually does.

Non, who's mentally ill and kept rolling with the punches over and over again, and New, who lived through trauma after trauma since his brother's disappearance, would traditionally snap (Non's aborted attack during his breakdown, New's whole story arc) and die.

It doesn't have to depict them as villains ; it can be a soft, sad and respectful tale of how people get abused and cornered and go too far as a result. So far they lose sight of themselves. But how many stories have you seen where they get a good ending ? The opportunity to heal and live ? Not many. Redemption and peace can only be achieved through death. It may be "realistic", but I find it very funny that media defaults to realism about this specific matter almost all the time.

What's worse, Phee and Jin are presented (so far, I'm still holding my breath) as the more "morally right" characters. Those you could see getting a good ending more easily.

And if Non, and preferably New, don't get a good ending, Phee and Jin absolutely musn't get one either.

They both have their flaws, sure, but how many times have we been shown that Jin is the least horrible person in this friend group, if not a downright good one at heart ? He's painted in a different light, always singled out. And Phee ? He's selfless, he's not a murderer, he's brave, he's kind, he regrets, he forgives, you get it (unless my theory of choice is right, but I'll go with what is explicitly told here). They both display values that everyone else lack.

But they got it served on a plate in comparison with the others. Those values and principles were developed in an environement that let them grow. We don't know much about their financial situation, but we haven't seen them struggle -unlike Non, New, and Tee's families. Phee talks to his dad and goes to him for help ; what about Por, who gets abused and is visibly scared of his father ? What about Non and New's relationship to their parents ? What about Tee's sick father and criminal uncle ? Where's the support system ? What about Fluke, always on his guard, entrenched in the sidelines, too scared to even allow himself to even think ? I'm leaving out Top (who I think represents gratuitous, unassuming evil) and White (who doesn't fit in the same equation for now) here, they give me nothing to work with so far.

Most of them don't have the strenght to walk the "right" path. They lived through shit much harder than Phee (who, by the way, chose to be with Non knowing, or even because, he was riddled with issues, and for whom Non's fate didn't break other parts of his life) or Jin (who seemed to live in his cute bubble before shit went down with Non, unaware even of his friends' true colors). They get a boost from the start and an easier middle, so of fucking course they'd be better armed to fight for a better end. Non was fucked from start to finish. He didn't stand a chance. New didn't stand a chance. Por, Tee and Fluke probably did, but not those two.

And it's not fair. Life isn't fair either, sure, but I can't help but repeat myself : it's fiction. And if even fiction tells you that if you're too damaged, and/or if you stumbled on a bad path while running away from what kept hurting you on the righteous one, then the only peace and redemption you can hope for is death, then I don't want it. Give me hope, not another "bittersweet" catharsis where it's always the same ones getting the bitterness and the same ones getting the sweetness. I don't want to be told I can be forgiven, I want to be told I can win and heal.

On a sidenote, I'm more lenient when it happens in fantasy settings. The events that lead to the character's ultimate fall and broken mind (sometimes rebuilt completely crooked) are far removed from reality. Your whole family was killed, you fought so many wars, truly horrible things, you name it. But in DFF the trauma is painfully rooted in reality. Many viewers, me included, had trouble watching Non's bullying. His breakdown, his loneliness. This is why I'm so demanding with the show. And as the end is closing in, I get scared.

HOWEVER I still have hope. A lot of elements I noticed could point to and ending I could accept. And, you know. It's not like going along with the trope I described is bad. It can be perfectly executed. It's a fine direction to take. Hell, I used to live for this narrative as a teen. It's just not for me anymore, I guess.

... Well, it was supposed to be a short post, apologies for the long rant, but I needed it off my chest.

[magentagalaxies]

Uh-oh Ze's Writing A Kids in the Hall Essay for Fun Again

aka i wanted to infodump but i didn't know who to send the infodump to specifically so i'm making it a post

basically i was thinking about the iconic man-in-a-towel "character" that's become ubiquitous in kids in the hall projects and how that's an example of how queer culture is such an integral part of kids in the hall even in basic ways people might miss. not just bc paul bellini has been openly gay for just as long as scott has, but also because the towel thing itself is literally a reference to queer culture

(side note when i was watching kids in the hall for the very first time i had no idea bellini was gay, and now after diving into mouth congress and every other piece of kids in the hall related media i could get my hands on, plus becoming close friends with bellini himself, i'm just sitting here like "how was there ever a time when i didn't know he was gay???")

like, here's the explanation of the source of the "man in a towel" aspect of the bellini contest from Paul Myers' Kids in the Hall biography "One Dumb Guy":

i just find it so fascinating that the towel thing specifically came from the idea of this "character" being in a bathhouse, and how watching the series in 2023 without that context may lead to that aspect being lost on viewers entirely because that's not something that's as in the public consciousness when it comes to queer culture anymore. you see a guy walking around in a towel in a piece of media in 2023 and your first thought is of a gym locker room or something like that. and this lack of context doesn't take away from the joke at all, the surreal humor of this random guy wearing a towel being the prize for the kids in the hall viewer contest and appearing in the background of numerous sketches works regardless of why he's in the towel in the first place, but as someone who loves kids in the hall in large part because of its attitude towards queerness refusing to play along with respectability politics, the way gay sex is a part of this seemingly-unrelated gag is incredible. like, it's almost framed as though the world is his bathhouse, and he's just wandering around waiting for something to happen. like a more zen version of the "running faggot" character. and even in the above section, when he's like "i knew it would make me famous, and maybe that would help me get laid." that idea is so normalized when it comes to straight guys wanting to get laid, but it still feels so revolutionary to be like "yeah, this can be a part of it as well."

but beyond that, the way bathhouses in particular come up in kids in the hall related works is always going to be fascinating to me, because i feel like they're a part of queer culture and queer history that is so often either forgotten or treated as shameful. like, prior to getting into kids in the hall, the only times i ever heard about bathhouses were when people talked about the AIDS epidemic, and even when people were trying to sound queer-positive there was always this implication that bathhouses were just a place where disease was spread and they all ceased to exist after the 1980s. kids in the hall on the other hand? any time bathhouses are brought up, it's treated in a similar way to just going to a bar. some people like to get drunk, some people like to get high, some people like to have casual sex with men. there's comedy to be found in any of these environments but there's nothing inherently morally wrong with any of them

in most other western media, bathhouses are forced to carry this stigma, but in the works of kids in the hall (especially scott thompson) the carefree attitude towards sex is almost enviable. a STEPS sketch where the trio are in conflict ends with the group setting aside their differences to head to the bathhouse. the scenes in buddy babylon (the fictional autobiography of buddy cole, written by scott thompson and paul bellini) depicting a bathhouse encounter are surprisingly un-sensationalized. it's just a casual fun night out and a way to meet new people, and even the sex scenes in that book aren't typically framed as spectacle. (this goes along with buddy babylon's unique tone as the most down-to-earth buddy cole media, but that's a whole other essay). even scott thompson's standup set "the human urinal," which revolves around a particularly embarrassing bathhouse encounter, thrives on its observational humor and self deprecation. most strikingly, the human urinal story is a recent example, and in this set scott even acknowledges the reputation bathhouses have as this shameful relic of the past. i actually highly recommend the human urinal standup set, though it's absolutely a "dead dove do not eat" for exactly what it says in the title.

and, of course, on this topic i was thinking about the way gay sex is portrayed in kids in the hall season six (aka the revival season for amazon prime). in it, we have two main sketches that center this particular theme. the first is sole buddy cole sketch of the season, "the last gloryhole" (featuring paul bellini as the voice of the gloryhole, fun fact). this sketch highlights the exact theme this essay has been getting at, directly calling out the way respectability politics has erased the more "nsfw" history of the queer community through the surrealist premise of buddy cole getting the last remaining gloryhole in the city declared a national landmark by the late queen elizabeth. the only other sketch to center around gay sex happens as a 70s flashback, and even that one is actually moreso focused on the idea of the partners in this gay relationship getting jealous of each other for sleeping with a woman (honestly i don't have much deep analysis for this one because tbh i didn't like the sketch that much).

the most striking thing about these two examples is the weird paradox kids in the hall season six finds itself in when it comes to censorship, or lack thereof. now, censorship and kids in the hall season six is a loaded topic that could spawn its own essay, but this isn't about direct censorship (i.e. someone explicitly saying "you can't show that"), but instead about cultural ideas of censorship, what is and isn't normal to show on television. ask any kids in the hall fan who's seen all six seasons and the most jarring difference between the revival and the original show is the amount of nudity. amazon let them show dicks, so they're gonna show dicks, and also dave foley has fake tits in the latter of the sketches mentioned above (though they were technically also able to show dave with tits in the original show too). however, even though visually seeing nudity gives the implication that this is a fully uncensored production, there's still this hesitancy towards some of the gay topics that were freely explored in the original series that's definitely a product of respectability politics. gay male sexual desire is de-centralized in a way it never has been. the reason the above sketches feel out of place is not because they're not typical of the kids in the hall, but because the rest of the show is not matching the tone in the same way.

anyway, thank you for listening to this infodump. gay male sexual desire has always been integral to the kids in the hall and the fact that the show's queer creators refused to conform to respectability politics allowed them to treat this topic with far more respect than anyone has since.

[asknarashikari]

Regarding this ask, this is a good explanation about the "it’s a bit of a miracle he was able to cooperate with Berobitch at all" (this was written during JGP; before DR where Daichi used deceit):

Yes, Azuma would target those who already clearly fit his view first like Morio or Daichi (afterwards in DR), but he believes the others can pull something like Morio too, despite appearing decent, but he's waiting to see it.

People like Beroba openly revel in how evil they are and own up to her acts. So it's not like Morio type, two-faced ones which feeds Azuma's distrust and paranoia, Beroba makes it known that she's evil, which means she's more readable to Azuma and thus more trustworthy.

Geats aside, this belief is maybe more common among people. Some believe that an entire group, or humans as a whole, is inherently evil. Obviously, worst examples are brought up, like war, genocide, or torture, but blame can also be placed on mundane stuff like lifestyle, due to, for example, harming the environment or exploiting slavery (e.g. buying products from those) just for more comfort.

By this, it means nothing good done by them is genuine. Some can even think doing good out of conscience disqualifies as it's seen as self-serving to avoid discomfort (haunted by guilt).

Those who adhere to morality can be viewed as hypocrite or sheltered, believing they're just that way because they have not had a wake-up call that 'proves' their (evil) nature is the same (not only traumatizing experiences but also things like retail work).

Obviously above will involve judging people in extreme situations and "[x] is bad so everyone who does [x] is bad". Some villains are motivated to prove that humans can't ever be good (if they face a supposedly noble hero) and they make use of the above too.

Or at best, they think people can only be genuinely good towards those close to them. So if they're kind to strangers, for instance, it has to be done for ulterior motives, such as validation, attention, PR, getting laid, etc.

While cruelty towards other people can be supported/condoned if it's done for the sake of loved ones (e.g. justifying MCU Scarlet Witch's villainy for her children's sake). Which is why I think being good to friends or family doesn't necessarily mean they're good people.

I've seen many considering being an open asshole as being genuine and honest, thus they can encourage and normalize direct shitty behavior, depicting it as blunt and non-deceptive. They don't pretend to be anything other than their 'inherent nature' (so yes, two-faced moves like Morio are still discouraged).

I still don't necessarily think Buffabutt trusted the people he worked with (i.e. Berobitch and Kabuto-wannabe), he just worked with whoever was the most convenient for his purposes. Maybe he does think they're somewhat more "honest" with their intentions, but that doesn't mean he works with them because of that. They're just more useful to him, a means to an end.

Though I do agree with you on how he views people. He fundamentally distrusts their ability to be altruistic. He deems someone who does try to do good for the sake of doing good as dishonest about their "true" intentions.

Imo? I think people like these assume too much and only the worst about others. People could have multiple reasons for wanting to do good things. Just because they have some "selfish" reason for doing it, it doesn't make them dishonest about also wanting to do it because it's the right thing to do.

Honestly though, the way you put Azuma's philosophy just makes it even more baffling that he was the one lecturing Keiwa over the whole Darth Tanuki debacle. In that instance, not only was Keiwa not being the goody-two-shoes type he seems to loathe, he was actually pretty clear about why he was doing all of it. It would seem to me that Keiwa was just doing exactly what Azuma would've expected him to do.

[thelediz]

I haven't watched Sonic prime bc something in me went "egh, no" after the first three minutes but when I heard abt Nines I immediately though about how you said Tails could be incredibly dangerous and his relationship with Sonic raised him out of a bad path hehe. I just kind of gauge Sonic and Pokemon stuff through your worldbuilding now lol I can't help it

Asides from that, I wanted to ask your thoughts abt Sonic's relationship with Gaia! You've mentioned you had Thoughts abt it in a couple of posts and it stuck to my mind bc I've always thoughts of Chip as a very one-off character (as in, I like him, but I've never thought of the Gaia mythos outside the context of Unleashed) but since you made a point of highlighting environmentalism in the Lost Prince I'd honestly really love to hear however much or however little you've thought on his relationship with the personification of the planet (both of them, even!)

Let me reassure you that "egh no" is a perfectly valid reaction to any media. Especially the first three minutes of ANY episode.

As to Sonic and environmentalism - honey, don't tempt a 90s kid.

I would argue that finding a balance with nature and sustainability has been part of the Sonic franchise since AT LEAST Sonic CD, if not the very beginning. And Sonic himself has been a literal force of nature since his inception, you just don't get into it very often because his ACTUAL purpose is to show off how the Mega Drive can go very fast with lots of colours, stop thinking about it so much.

(And you are skirting DANGEROUSLY close to my going on a gushing rant about why I love this franchise and the whole concept of controlled chaos. I shall try to contain myself.)

First off. I repeat: the actual purpose of Sonic the Hedgehog was to show off the capabilities of the Mega Drive and the technical skill of Sonic Team. Play any Sonic game on any platform (except 06, Lost World, and Boom, which all had Other Issues) and you will see how that team pushes the hardware to its absolute limit without causing problems. These people are skilled developers and they want you to know about it.

Now let me get madcap about character symbolism and worldbuilding.

Now, there's obviously the whole thing about Robotnik/Eggman being evil technology and polluting the environment, yes, yes, par for the course with half the other villains created in the 90s.

But the thing that made the Sonic franchise different is that Sonic never had any issue with technology AS A CONCEPT. He flies a bi-plane, Tails is an inventor himself, the good future as depicted by the Sonic franchise ALWAYS incorporates both technology and nature, and the whole idea of using chaos as a power source is basically code for sustainable engineering and renewable energy, because CHAOS ITSELF is as natural and inescapable as the sun and the wind and the only way we're going to lose them as a resource is if we -

Okay.

Stop.

Come back to the point.

Sonic's relationship with Gaia and the environment. Great.

Short point to be taken as a given, but which I can understand newer fans not realising because of the world they grew up in: the Sonic franchise, since its inception, has carried a theme of sustainability. You can take this to extremes by pointing out some vaguely anarcho-environmentalist takes about freeing captured animals, but I think it's more about the theming.

Every Sonic game starts in Green Hill Zone or a close equivalent: they're always lush and green and beautiful, and the deeper into Eggman's territory you get, the less naturalism you see. Eggman has gotten better about pollution, but he is always destroying nature in favour of machines. He uses and abuses the resources he finds until they cease to be visible, if not wiped out entirely. He has no thought about what he's going to do when these resources run out. He has no interest in how his desires impact the rest of the world. He just wants to build his theme park, staffed by robots, and anyone who disrupts that plan is impinging on HIS DREAMS and -

-cough-

Anyway.

Meanwhile, while Sonic and Tails use resources, they do so in measured ways, and only ever enough for their needs. In fact, in games like Sonic Colours, the resources (wisps) are actively forcing themselves on Sonic to be used. They transform him, and he just kind of goes along with it.

Because (and this is where I begin to actually answer your question), Sonic is a force of nature himself.

There are many versions of early Sonic lore, and you can take whichever one works for you, but in some of them, Sonic's first appearance in the world was him just... wandering lost in the woods, with no memory and no idea how he got there. He just appeared.

A spirit that appears when influence is needed on the world

Similarly, in most franchises these days, Sonic doesn't... live anywhere. He wanders the earth, he goes where the wind takes him, he isn't trying to do good, necessarily, he just stops the spread of bad when he sees it. In most current franchises, even when he DOES have a fixed address, it's... weird. Basically just a place for him to get out of the rain and store his strange collection of Stuff. Because he doesn't and isn't supposed to exist in the way of 'normal' people. He just is.

A lot of this is tied up in Sonic's relationship to Chaos, but I'd argue that nature and creation are inherently chaotic things. Have you ever seen what happens when a rose or blackberry bush is allowed to grow on its own? Madness! Trees will grow wherever they want, dandelions think a scrap of dirt in concrete is a wonderful spot to start a family, animals don't care about this concept of personal property that you have, and the human body doesn't give a damn about your 'schedule', it has NEEDS, dammit, and YOU ARE NOT PROVIDING THEM.

Go drink something. When was the last time you felt sunlight?

Anyway.

Even in the franchise, Sonic is unique among the characters for his relationship to chaos. All three male hedgehogs can use Chaos Emeralds to turn Super, but Shadow is artificial, and there is an argument that Silver is Shadow's son (don't @ me, I'm not invested and I don't want to get into it. Just accept the Dragon Ball Z reference and move on). Sonic is still an anomaly.

ALSO. Since Sonic Adventure, Chaos has been tied to emotion, and Sonic represents the positive side of that. The Water God Chaos represents the negative side of it. When they do battle, and positivity wins, neither side is destroyed. They just calm down and go away. You can't destroy emotion, you can only -

STOP.

So. If we agree that chaos is a part of nature, and Sonic is inherently tied to chaos, then you can see how Sonic can be read as a LITERAL force of nature. He exists to exert nature's influence and re-establish balance by being a positive chaotic force on the world.

And that's why he can also be inherently problematic because sometimes humans need nature to be controlled in order to live safely and SERIOUSLY LEDIZ STOP

The Adventure series made the subtext supertext, and Unleashed happily made it TEXT, but it's always been there. Sonic has always disrupted manEggman's march over the environment with nothing but his speed and natural resources.

Chip was a one-off character, but he is the continuation of a discussion enforced by Chaos, and then Shadow, and in many ways Metal Sonic, and Merlina, and lately followed up by Sage: personifications of how humans and their technology can disrupt and be disrupted by natural forces. Sonic's continuing triumph over these forces is a reminder that with good intent and effort, we can find a way to survive and maintain a sustainable future.

-DEEP BREATH AS WE EMERGE FROM THE THEORY MINES-

Watch me defend the Sega mandate about who can have a Super form with this madcap theory of mine

Listen to me get all cultural studies about how this ties Sonic into the storybook series because fairytales are implicitly tied to nature fables

The point is, Sonic is tied to nature, and so whenever the planet OR technology is personified, in any way, shape, or form, he WILL have a relationship with it.

And I will go back in my box now, thank you for not getting upset with my ramblings, please.

[caddy-crystal-queen]

Moon Knight and Daemons

So I'm losing sleep over something and I wanna hear honest opinions.

Been back on a moon knight kick as well as a His Dark Materials kick. That being said, I've started to wonder: what daemon(s) would the Moon Knight system have? Now I have no idea how someone with DID would work in the world of HDM, so I'm kinda going on a limb here and assume that a system's daemon would also have alters and alternate forms. I don't actually know if that's how it works, so please please please PLEASE do not take my word for it. I'm literally just doing this for fun.

So...what daemon would each alter have? Well, I'm glad you asked. Let's get into it

1. Steven Grant

Daemon: the Kestrel

This bird is small. Like really small. I believe it's actually the smallest of the raptors, but I could be wrong so don't quote me on that. Either way, the bird is small and folks tend to underestimate it, the same way Steven is rather underestimated by his peers as well as the system at first. The kestrel, despite its size, is still a bird of prey and important to the environment, just as Steven is still important to the moon knight system.

2. Marc Spector

Daemon: the Timber Wolf

Yeah I knew this one right off the bat. Marc's daemon is a wolf and no one can convince me otherwise. Here's why: wolves can function fine on their own, but they work best when in a pack (something we'll also see with Jake's, but we'll cross that bridge in a minute), which I feel is something Marc learns throughout the Moon Knight series. Wolves are also highly misunderstood animals, being depicted throughout history and lore as monsters and villains. Who else have been depicted in a similar way? People with DID unfortunately. These people aren't monsters, they're human beings who deserve to be loved and understood. And again, like the kestrel, wolves are important to the environment (they're actually a keystone species if I recall correctly), and Marc is, arguably, the most important personality in the moon knight system (a keystone, if you will).

3. Jake Lockley

Daemon: the Meerkat

Before you get your torches and pitchforks out, let me explain, as I had a REALLY hard time figuring this one out. Primarily because we haven't seen much of Jake at all in the series, and I personally have not read the comics. Please take it easy on me yall. So I chose the meerkat for one pretty big reason: they are the most murderous mammals on the planet aside from us, and Jake is the most bloody of the Moon Knight system (as far as we know). However this does not mean that he's not important to the system, or can't work well in a group. Like the wolf, a lone meerkat can, and often does, function well on its own but it eventually does need a mob. If you've seen Meerkat Manor, you're probably very familiar with meerkat society and how it functions, and just how brutal it can be. I feel that Jake, if we're ever gonna get a second season of Moon knight, is probably gonna go through a similar arc as Marc, where he learns to get along with the other two in the system rather than pushing them away like he seems to. Honestly I'm all for it, so bring it on Marvel (well, after the strike of course). And seriously, I just love the idea of seeing someone like Jake with something small and kind of adorable. I'm a sucker for that trope, and plus I think he'd find a meerkat to be pretty damn useful.

And those are the Daemons for the moon knight system. This was actually pretty fun to write but I think I'm gonna try and get some sleep now! Leave honest thoughts in the comments or reblog if you feel so inclined! Have fun ^.^

[emotionalcadaver]

Part 10: They Scream & They Cry

Fandom: The Dark Knight Trilogy

Pairing: Jonathan Crane x OC

Summary: Rachel Dawes proves herself to be a problem, and Vanessa deals with an issue in the basement.

Word Count: 2,696

Notes: Warnings for depictions of murder and blood.

Previous Part • Series • Fic • Next Chapter

Chapter 1: Fear Will Find You

Vanessa leaned forward, the uncomfortable chair creaking slightly with her movements. The courthouse smelled musty, like old papers and dust and wood. Putting the folder she’d been glancing through aside as she waited for the trial to start, she rested her chin on her arms, folded over the back of the chair in front of her, foot tapping impatiently as they went through the usual proceedings and arguments. The courtroom was mostly empty. Probably a good thing. Security had been tighter ever since the incident with Joe Chill a few years ago.

Her eyes slid lazily to fix on the back of Zsasz’s head, more specifically on the tally marks carved into the skin all along his neck, the scars disappearing down under the collar of shirt.

Really. Even if getting him moved to Arkham wasn’t a favor to Falcone, Zsasz was undeniably, extremely mentally unwell. He belonged with them anyway. Of all the thugs they’d had moved to the asylum for Falcone, this one was by far the most justified.

Shame that Rachel Dawes had such a deep-seated hatred for Jonathan that she couldn’t see that.

Dawes was becoming more and more of a problem, going so far as to show up at their apartment in the middle of the night once to try to yell at Jonathan regarding his acceptance to testify in favor of Zsasz’s defense. And while she’d been quieter since they’d filed a formal complaint about her with the DA, Vanessa still often caught her shooting them hateful glares from across the courthouse from time to time.

Shooting a quick glance to Dawes’s dark ponytail on the prosecution’s side of the room, Vanessa cocked her head, considering. If things got bad enough, they would have to decide what to do about her. She would love to have the chance to take her down to the basement, but they really couldn’t risk arousing too much suspicion at the moment.

When Jonathan finally stepped up to the stand, she straightened, lips settling into a tiny smile as she watched him sit down gracefully and begin to speak, voice low and even.

She really did love watching him work.

“In my opinion, Mr. Zsasz is as much a danger to himself as to others and prison is probably not the best environment for his rehabilitation,” he said, eloquently. 

The case was pretty shut and close, all things considered. Dawes was clearly unhappy about it, huffing as she gathered up her papers. Vanessa would have liked to have shaken her. The man was covered in tally marks he’d carved into his own skin, and in their evaluations of him he had displayed a clear compulsion to kill. He needed treatment, no matter what Dawes thought. 

They were done in time for lunch. Pulling out her phone to send a quick message to their people at the asylum to prepare for Zsasz’s transfer, Vanessa gathered up her papers, standing and heading to the doorway to wait for Jonathan.

“Hey,” he greeted her as he came out, pecking a quick kiss to her check.

“Hi,” she began to walk alongside him towards the exit. “We have half an hour. You want to go get lunch before we head back?”

“Sure.”

“Dr. Crane!” a voice shouted from behind them. Oh, come on.

Vanessa groaned, but bit her tongue. 

“Miss. Dawes,” Jonathan greeted, with all the enthusiasm of someone just asked to drink spoiled milk. 

“You really think a man who butchers people for the mob doesn’t belong in jail?” she demanded, walking briskly beside them.

“I would hardly have testified to that otherwise, would I, Miss. Dawes?” Jonathan said smoothly. Vanessa pushed a lock of hair back. How he dealt with this woman on a regular basis, she had no idea. Had it been her, Dawes would have gotten her skull caved in a while ago. Dawes moved to stand in front of them, blocking the way to the doors.

“This is the third of Falcone’s thugs you’ve had declared insane and moved into your asylum.”

“The work offered by organized crime must have an attraction to the insane,” Jonathan responded dryly. Vanessa shouldered past Dawes with a glare, Jonathan following her. She could hear Dawes’s heels clicking on the floor behind them. Oh, what she would give to be able to take one of those heels and jam it into her windpipe…

“Or the corrupt,” Dawes called after them, the implication clear as day. Jonathan stopped, glancing over at where Dawes’s boss was standing, speaking to some woman who was probably from his office.

“Mr. Finch. I think you should check with Miss. Dawes here just what implications your office has authorized her to make. If any,” with that, he stalked away. Vanessa glanced over her shoulder, smirking at the sight of Finch rushing over to Dawes, clearly admonishing her.

“I’m beginning to think that we might have to get a restraining order against her or something,” she remarked as she pushed open the door and stepped outside, Jonathan right behind her. He groaned, pulling off his glasses to clean them before replacing them on his nose. She inclined her head. “You want to go to that sandwich place at the end of the street?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “That sounds good.”

“Seriously though,” she said, once they’d made their way down the street, gotten their food, and sat down at a table. “What are we going to do about her? She’s not letting up. And it could be bad if she decides to start sniffing around the asylum.”

“Yes,” he agreed, frowning as he chewed around a bite of food, swallowing. “I think that I’ll ask Falcone to take care of her for us.”

Vanessa frowned. They had an arrangement with Falcone. He brought in the shipments for a price. Keeping his thugs out of prison was just a sweetener to make sure he didn’t get all huffy with them over anything. But asking him to do this…it might mean that he would feel they were indebted to him. And that was a dangerous position to be in. “I could do it. There’s no need to get him involved.”

“He’s the reason that Dawes is sticking her nose in our business in the first place,” Jonathan reasoned. “Besides, considering all the public altercations that we’ve both had with her, if anything happens to her, we’ll be some of the first suspects. Our involvement in whatever happens should be as minimal as possible.”

Vanessa wrinkled her nose, pouting. “I hate that you’re making this make sense.”

Jonathan flashed him a smirk. She sighed.

“Fine. Let him deal with her,” she huffed. “I was looking forward to getting to use my ax.”

Jonathan chuckled, reaching over to pat her hand. “I know, Nes,” he shrugged. “But either way, she’ll be gone.”

“You have a meeting with Falcone soon, don’t you?”

“Yes. I’ll talk to him about it then.”

“You want me to come?”

“No,” he shook his head. “I can handle Falcone.”

“Okay.”

He stoked the back of her hand with his pale fingers. “Things are going to start happening fast now, Nes.”

“I know,” she chewed on her bottom lip. “The boss still says that he’s coming?”

“He is.”

“Well. Won’t that be interesting.”

“Yes,” his eyes were far off, clearly thinking very hard about something. “Yes, I think it will be.”

∗ ∗ ∗ 

“Doctor Sullivan?”

She’d just gotten back to her office, having finished her afternoon appointments, ready to start on the mountain of paperwork that had accumulated in the corner of her desk. 

“Hopkins,” she greeted the guard, beckoning him in. 

“I’m sorry to bother you, but Dr. Crane is in with a patient, and I know he doesn’t like to be disturbed…”

“What’s going on?”

“Zsasz is settling in well,” he shifted from foot to foot. Vanessa rolled her eyes. 

“But…?” she urged.

“We have a bit of a situation downstairs.”

She looked up at the ceiling, trying hard to fight back the exasperated headache beginning to build behind her eyes. With a deep sigh, she reached into her pocket, pulling out a hair tie and some bobby pins. With quick, expert movements, she pulled her long black hair up into a bun at the top of her head.

“Show me,” she commanded.

Hopkins led her to the elevator, her key sliding easily into the slot at the bottom of the panel of buttons, elevator rattling as it descended into the bowels of the asylum.

She followed Hopkins down the hall, into one of the many side rooms. Seated at a table was one of the workers who was part of the production team they had making the…ahem, medicine, down there. Two guards were standing over her. Vanessa looked between her and Hopkins. “What’s this?”

“We caught her snooping around in the lab.”

Her eyes darted to the woman, who looked back at her anxiously. She took a step forward, curling a finger under her chin so that the woman was looking directly up at her.

“What’s your name?”

“Betty,” the woman said. An uneasiness had entered her eyes at Vanessa’s calmness.

“Betty,” Vanessa repeated. “What were you doing in the restricted lab, Betty?”

“I was just curious,” Betty said. Vanessa waited expectantly for her to say more.

“That’s all?”

Betty nodded.

“No one hired you to find anything…to steal notes…nothing like that?”

“No,” Betty said, voice weak. Vanessa stared in her face for a long moment. She was telling the truth. That was a relief, at the very least. The last thing that they needed was their workers getting hired by Falcone or some other slimeball to steal their research. She took a step back.

“She take anything?”

“No.”

“Move anything? Touch anything?”

“No, I don’t think so. We got to her before that.”

“Hm,” Vanessa nodded, eyes staring at nothing. “Get her up.”

Betty began to shake and whimper as the guards each grabbed her by one arm and hauled her to her feet.

“Please, Dr. Sullivan, I’m sorry–”

“Shut up,” Vanessa said evenly.

“I was just curious.”

“Curiosity killed the cat,” Vanessa shrugged. “Bring her,” spinning on her heel, she marched out into the hall, pushing open the doors to the main work area. Everyone ceased their work and chatter the moment that they saw her, seeming to shrink in on themselves. Vanessa internally purred at the reaction. “Ladies and gentlemen,” she began, voice echoing. “Your colleague here made a very, very stupid decision. At this point, I would hope that all of you would know how Dr. Crane and I feel about idiots. And snitches. And snoopers. But perhaps it is time for a reminder,” she reached into her pocket. Behind her, Betty had started to sob. “Don’t look away,” she ordered, staring down at the workers before her. “I’ll know if you do.”

Fast as lighting, she spun, and grasped Betty by a handful of hair at the base of the scalp, yanking her head back. The guards held Betty’s arms out, so that she couldn’t struggle. Twirling the scalpel once in her hand, Vanessa plunged it into Betty’s chest and dragged it down, slicing her open from her collarbone all the way down her stomach nearly to her groin. Betty screamed, the sound a bellowing, twisted echo throughout the room. Blood burst in rivers from the wound, pouring copiously out onto the ground, some of it spurting out warmly onto Vanessa’s face. Betty screamed and writhed, gurgling before she finally went still, skin steadily growing more and more pale as the blood drained from her. The guards let her fall with an unceremonious thud to the ground.

Staring down at the body, ensuring that there was no possibility of life left in her, Vanessa raised her blood flecked face to the other workers.

“Let this be a reminder to all of you to stay out of the private fucking lab,” she announced. Satisfied that the message had gotten through, she nodded. “Get back to work.”

They all just about fell over one another to get back to their stations. She turned to the guards.

“And get rid of that,” she nodded to Betty. They scooped her up by a shoulder each, dragging her away. “Hopkins,” she crooked a finger at him, and he rushed over to her. “What’s the status on production?”

“Everything is on schedule.”

“Good. I’ll be in the lab. I don’t want to be disturbed unless necessary.”

“Yes, Dr. Sullivan.”

She nodded, spinning to the door and pausing as she was met with Jonathan’s smirking face, leaning against the doorframe, eyes glimmering as he watched the display. He held out a hand to her, beckoning her to come to him, and she did, his hand resting against her shoulder blade as he steered her through the doors and into one of the side rooms. 

“We had a snooper,” she explained.

“I heard,” his hands landed on either side of her face, smearing the blood there, not caring that it stained his hands as he tilted her head up, and kissed her hard. Vanessa clutched at the lapels of his suit jacket, lips parting against his, moaning softly at the contact. When he broke away and leaned back to examine her, one of his thumb massaged over her cheek. “It really is a pleasure to watch you work, Nes.”

She smiled in spite of herself, leaning deeper into his touch. He pecked her lips again, and then reached around her to pick up a rag, wetting it with a trickle of water from the sink and bringing it to her face, tenderly cleaning away the blood. Vanessa’s eyes fluttered closed at his gentle touch, hands bracing against the counter behind her. Her head tilted back towards the dim lights in the room, her veins alight with the thrill of death at her hands, lips still tingling from the pleasure of her husband’s kiss, and the scent of blood still lodged in her nose.

∗ ∗ ∗ 

“No more favors. Someone is sniffing around,” Jonathan said, as soon as he was seated across from Falcone’s desk.

“Hey, I scratch your back, you scratch mine, doc. I’m bringing in the shipments,” Falcone argued. Jonathan’s brows pinched. He’d always hated that saying.

“We are paying you for that,” he reminded him simply. 

“Maybe money isn’t as interesting to me as favors,” Falcone suggested. God, he hated working with him. The man was slimy and idiotic. His thugs were bumbling fools and his operation was not run nearly as smoothly as he would have liked everyone to believe. Lifting a hand, Jonathan removed his glasses, so that the cold blue of his eyes was unimpeded. Vanessa had once told him that his eyes were practically hypnotic. That he could get anyone to do whatever he wanted if he focused them correctly. And he made a conscious effort not to blink. It unsettled people.

“I am more than aware that you are not intimidated by me, Mr. Falcone. But you know who I’m working for, and when he gets here–”

“He–he’s coming to Gotham?” Falcone interrupted, a level of uneasiness appearing in his face. Aha. Good.

“Yes, he is,” Jonathan assured. “And when he gets here, he’s not going to wanna hear that you have endangered our operation just so you could get your thugs out of a little jail time.”

Falcone nodded, clearly unhappy. But the fear of Jonathan’s boss was more than enough to put him back in his place. “Who’s bothering you?”

“There’s a girl at the DA’s office.”

“We’ll buy her off.”

“Not this one,” he said. Dawes was far too much of an idiot goody two shoes to be swayed by simple money. No, she actually believed in the system. Stupid girl.

“Idealist, huh?” Falcone said with an unbothered snort. “Well, there’s an answer to that too.”

Jonathan shook his head. “I don’t want to know,” he lied. The less he knew, the more believable it would be when the police inevitably came to ask him some questions about a mysterious murder or disappearance. 

“Yes, you do,” Falcone said, looking at him knowingly.

Jonathan said nothing. 

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Thank you for reading! Please consider leaving a comment, reblog, or like. I always appreciate feedback and love getting the opportunity to interact with you and hear your thoughts!

[xhanisai]

Have you seen the new Sonic Prime TV show? If you did, what do you think?

As a matter of fact, I have! Here are my thoughts below:

I genuinely really enjoyed it and binged it all in one sitting. There are many aspects of the show that I really liked such as the voice and portrayal of Shadow (the best English voice depiction we've had for him since Jason Griffith in my opinion), the shatterverse versions of Amy, Tails, Knuckles and Rouge and just so much more.

I found the portrayal of Sonic really cute in the show. Yeah, he's very goofy and gets his ass kicked constantly by everyone around him but it's actually quite interesting to see that he isn't perfect and that he's very much vulnerable. I did think they dumbed him down too much for the sake of humour and even though it wasn't unbearable, I didn't really appreciate it that much?

Though, I understand that Sonic will never be a consistently written character because he's on different media and written by different people and everyone has their own image of him hahaha. He felt like a blend of film Sonic, sa2 Sonic, Boom Sonic and Forces Sonic in this show. I really enjoyed this version of him.

I also really loved the design and depiction of Rouge in all the universes! She was animated so fluidly and it was interesting to see her back to working on her own rather than for G.U.N or with Team Dark. She is one of my favourite characters and she was really nicely fleshed out. Wish we got more of her flirting with Knuckles though because I love it when she riles him up!

With Amy, although I really loved how she was portrayed in all the universes, I just wish we got her being a little flirty with Sonic. What made Amy so unique is how open she is about her feelings- especially her romantic ones for Sonic. I just want to see her make him a little flustered again and sadly I don't think we'll be seeing that from her again :/

That aside, she really is the glue of the team and I can't wait to see more of that in the episodes to come. I really liked that for the shatterverses, she was working for the egg council in one of them as a mech and she was a 'monster' in the feral world. The people behind the show were very creative with her and gave us some delicious angst and cute moments between her and Sonic~ Her pirate self is also super adorable and I love the designs for all of her selves.

Tails is perfect in every depiction of the shatterverse. He's so cute, so smart and was such a treat to watch. Of course, Nine was really fleshed out and we got to know the most about him but I can't help but be drawn to Mangy because he's just a little guy. I love Tails, he's too good for us.

Captain Dread Knuckles was my favourite depiction of Knuckles so far in the series! Especially towards the end when he finally got his mitts on the Prism and looked like an evil little fella. I do wish he wasn't dumbed down a little because we got plenty, PLENTY of that in Boom but I really did enjoy watching him and seeing him in action. His design as the pirate is probably my most favourite design in the show.

Overall, I have like a million more things I could say about this show and fangirl about the music, the animation, the environment designs, the characterisation, Shadow using Sonic as a punching bag, etc. But we don't need a 100K word doc from me about it hahaha.

I'm really glad we got so much wonderfulness from the dream team and this show as a whole was such a treat for Sonic fans. We are eating so well this year and it makes me so happy to see the silly blue bastard getting the love and treatment he deserves :)

[blakesuga]

Little Things #7: Barefoot Gen

I would like to first start with the fact that the anime Barefoot Gen, gave me a new perspective of the Hiroshima bombing victims. Everything from the bombing of the people, the before and after effects, and the recovery from the attack. I especially loved how raw the animators of the series made the bombing even with the limited frames for each frame, they still managed to convey the intense chaotic nature of the event. They even went so far as to include graphic depictions of people's skin melting, burning, and all-out exploding. It was hard for me to look at, yet I could not look away. I was glued to my screen watching the different reactions of the townspeople trying to process that they were being bombed. It brought more of a sense of humanity to the situation compared to when we would just hear and read about it. The anime did a really good job of showing the consequences of war and how it can affect innocent people. I also enjoyed how it provided contextualization for a few major events that happened throughout the story to add to the telling of the tragic event that the audience may be unaware of. Yet it does not provide the events in a biased manner and instead shows the scenes in a neutral format. When choosing this method of storytelling it invites the audience to form their own opinions on the event and potentially sympathize with the thousands of victims and survivors of this horrific event. It also makes you question if the bombing was really necessary to end World War II, and if it was, then were the deaths resulting from this attack necessary?

On another note, the main character, Gen, surprisingly handled the bombing relatively well for a six-year-old. He was easily traumatized by the event and could have easily become affected for life because of this, but he made sure to prioritize his mom and provide for the two of them. The mom was also relatively alright after losing most of her family aside from one of her sons, Gen. Obviously, they do not represent the actual capability of the survivors due to them being able to quickly bounce back and find resources to support themselves. However, the reason for the fast pacing of the movie could be that the director wanted to show how necessary it was to adapt to the current environment or else the remaining family would not survive, similar to what the other survivors had to go through.

[lord-squiggletits]

🌻

I'm familiar with Chris Metzen's writing style because of his work on World of Warcraft, which is the first media I was ever a huge fan of (started playing in the single digits of age, was making fanart and OCs and participating in gift exchanges before I was a teen). That might give me some bias in favor of his writing in IDW, but I honestly don't think so. The first time I read his trilogy was 2 years ago and I found it good if edgy at times. Then I got into the fandom and found out people didn't care for it, eh maybe they're right. Reread the Metzen trilogy again and NOPE I actually like it even more now that I understand more of IDW's story and don't get how it's supposed to be edgy or out of place.

The primary reason I love them is because I love Metzen's Optimus (I am not taking criticism on this), but to set aside my special boy for a moment, I just like Metzen's writing in general.

Autocracy/Monstrosity/Primacy have super high stakes. It feels dark and gritty and horrible (which I guess is why people call it edgy), but considering that the books cover the collapse of a tyrannical regime + the chaotic civil war and exodus from Cybertron + the worsening energon crisis + massive parts of Cybertron being destroyed, it's not edgy??? It's literally just depicting governmental collapse, impending war, and famine as seriously as they are??? Complaining about the Metzen trilogy for being edgy is like going to the beach and complaining that the water is salty, like bro this is what the environment entails

But besides that, it's NOT just about how horrible war is, the stories show the Autobots and Decepticons both being cool as fuck. Optimus is precious and trying so hard but not able to hold everything together on his own. Megatron is fucking brutal and absolutely unstoppable and I also love him. The narrative is perfectly balanced between action, character reflection, and some fucking COOL early war politics.

The character interactions are so fucking interesting. Dai Atlas is a cunt but I love how he serves as both ally and critic of Optimus at different points (until he leaves on bad terms with OP). The Dynobots are SO COOL: they're literally FORMER GLADIATORS but then Optimus convinces them they can be saved instead of isolating themselves as monsters! That leads to Grimlock having cool "jaded veteran + young rookie" interactions with Hot Rod! Megatron talking to Penitus which leads to him refining/doubling down on his already existing philosophy of monstrosity and tyranny! Starscream being evil but also lowkey being one of the only Decepticons with braincells who raises an eyebrow at pointless destruction!!!

Even the news media and general populace of Cybertron get to have their viewpoints represented! And it's fucking good representation because it makes Optimus a more believeable character! The news media is still unconvinced what Optimus' primacy will bring, normal civilians are scared the government won't protect them, fuck there's even a scene where Optimus shows up to a riot and people are terrified of him!!! It really fucking shows that Optimus fought an uphill battle with the existing populace knowing him for his role as Zeta's right hand man! When Cybertron goes to shit people leave instead of staying to fight!!! I fucking love how the Cybertron populace's reaction to Optimus/the Autobots reflects the tumultuous history that preceded the Autobot/Decepticon war! I fucking love how Optimus tries to protect everyone, tries to appeal to people to stay and fight for freedom and their homeland, but fails to keep most of the population from leaving! I FUCKING LOVE HOW IT'S MESSY AND CHAOTIC JUST LIKE IT WOULD BE IN REAL LIFE. I LOVE HOW OPTIMUS HAD TO STRUGGLE TO BE A LEADER AND STILL FAILED TO GET MOST PEOPLE TO HAVE FAITH IN HIM!!! I LOVE HOW ALL OF THE ACTION AND PLOT AND CHARACTERIZATION ISN'T JUST COOL IN ITS OWN RIGHT BUT IT ALSO MAKES OPTIMUS FEEL LIKE A COMPLEX AND FLESHED OUT FIGURE!

I fucking love the Metzen trilogy!!!!!!!!

[psychewritesbs]

Twelve, where something grows there is hope...

Facts: Cowboy Bebop is a classic and Samurai Shampoo is amazing, and they both have beautiful bittersweet endings. 

Zankyou no Terror, on the other hand, is quite imperfect in a way its predecessors weren’t. In the end, however, neither Bebop nor Shamploo hit home like Zankyou does for me.

I don’t know if it’s the plot, the characters, the music, or a combination of all of the above (Watanabe + Yoko Kano = anime dream team)...

But I have to admit I especially love Twelve’s character for many reasons. The main reason, however, is his willingness to throw himself into experiences regardless of any perceived negative consequences with a double open heart.

Being the romantic at heart that I am, I have to say that I also love how Watanabe used Twelve and Lisa to depict teenage first love. There is just something that feels very raw and real about the way their bond develops. 

Just like in Pygmalion’s myth, their bond transforms from an idealized perception of other into a deep appreciation of other.

And it all starts and ends in that glorious Ferris Wheel scene.

Where something grows there is hope.

Von, the Ferris Wheel of life

I’ve already written about how I suspect that hope is the binding force that brought Twelve and Lisa together.

For one, Twelve can see the color of Lisa’s voice--yellow, which can be psychologically associated with hope and optimism.

Second, Twelve’s seemingly cheerful persona is underscored by a keen awareness of his impending death. The boy knows he’s going to die and is very much consciously choosing to carpe diem the sht out of whatever little time he has left in this lifetime. 

When I realized that Twelve had chosen the kanji for winter (冬) to spell his fake name, Hisami Toji, I couldn’t help but think of Von’s lyrics. Von is a song all about how hope can break through even in the bleakest of winters. Above all, it emphasizes the idea that winter and summer flow into each other in the never ending cycle of life.

Aside from that, the Ferris Wheel scene is loaded with the emotion of two teenagers confessing their feelings for one another. It is both the culmination and highest point of their arc as a pair AND the lowest point in their respective experiences. Literally and figuratively. 

This might be one of the reasons why the episode is titled “highs and lows”.

I also think it’s an interesting detail that Twelve and Lisa are having a “moment” while on a Ferris Wheel. I feel like in anime and manga, the Ferris Wheel is a cliché date spot*.

*This Tumblr user took one for the team and came up with a list of cute Ferris Wheel date moments found in shojo manga (including Kimi no Todoke).

But this is Watanabe we’re talking about here and Watanabe doesn’t do cliché. What’s more, the fact that Five created the conditions for Twelve and Lisa to have a “date” on a Ferris Wheel just goes to show how “twisted and sinister” the scene is meant to be.

As a culmination of their character arc as a pair, however, the Ferris Wheel serves the function of bringing them together in an intimate environment and situation where they both have to face their mistakes.

From Lisa’s perspective, she sees herself as a burden to Nine and Twelve.

From Twelve’s perspective, however, Lisa is an innocent victim whom HE knowingly dragged into their plans all because he wanted to make her into “one of them”. 

All because, against his better judgment, he needed to reach out and connect with her.

It is in Twelve’s nature to seek connection

I just cannot begin to imagine what it must feel like having been abandoned by my parents and then consequently have been sent to an institution where my human rights were violated.

The fact alone that Nine and Twelve call each other by their number instead of giving themselves “real” names is just so heartbreaking because it speaks to them having internalized not just that they are not important enough to have names, but that their numbers are who they are.

Like... seriously, who hurt you Watanabe? Who hurt you?!

And since I’m all about symbolism, I could not help but notice that 12, the number meant to represent December, is also when the Winter season begins--on the 21st no less, the inverse of 12. 

Whether you believe in numerology or not is besides the point. But consider that a quick Google search about the symbolical meaning behind the number 12 reveals that the number can represent “a creative and optimistic existence, that is social in nature” (source).

Other important associations to 12 include the Zodiac sign of Pisces (the 12th sign of the zodiac) and the tarot’s major arcana the Hanged Man--both symbols deal with self-sacrifice. More specifically, the sign of Pisces is characterized by two fish swimming in opposite directions.

I can’t say with certainty whether Twelve is a Pisces Sun sign because there is no official birthday, but I can speculate that the symbolism of two fish swimming in opposite directions is representative of Twelve’s initial inner struggle to reach out to Lisa against his better judgment.

ALL THAT TO SAY...

Twelve is someone who is starved for human connection because, unlike Nine who is a massive introvert, Twelve has a double open heart that thrives in connection to others.

But as it is implied in the story, Nine and Twelve seem to also have internalized the idea that the people who get involved with them will suffer. 

Since we don’t know anything about their upbringing once they escaped the institution, it is left up for interpretation how they manage to survive on their own at such a young age.

For every time Nine warns Twelve about “you know what will happen, right?” you kind of have to wonder what they went through and how that impacted them.

So, what happens when you have a belief that others will suffer if they associate with you AND you want nothing more but to connect with others? You have the perfect recipe for a hell of an internal conflict.

Add to this the subconscious existential angst of having been abandoned by their parents as children, and you have yet another perfect recipe for developing a very broken perception of human connection.

Now, I also thought it was interesting that in Greek mythology, Sphinx was considered a literal monster. The association to riddles aside, the idea that Nine and Twelve would have chosen a “monster” to represent themselves as terrorists is honestly kind of heartbreaking too.

Like... why is this story so fucking heartbreaking? Even Bebop for all of its noirness was not this depressing.

Also... I’m pretty darned sure the masks are symbolic in their own right, but I am going to let this one go for now because I don’t think they are Power Rangers and don’t know where to start unraveling this symbol aside from the obvious color associations. Maybe they are an allusion to actors in a Greek tragedy wearing masks for the audience.

Really, what I am trying to do here by sharing all of this is to set the stage for understanding how Watanabe might have meant to depict how Twelve sees himself in relation to others.

As we can see in the anime, it is in his rather cheerful nature to want to involve himself with others. And yet, he has to hold himself back from doing so because of the self-fulfilling prophecy that others will suffer because of his mere existence.

And so when Twelve first approaches Lisa, he can’t help himself but want to connect with the girl with the pale yellow voice. It’s impossible for him to stay away because it is in his nature to want to connect. 

Add to this the fact that Twelve took a personal interest in Lisa, and we now have yet another perfect recipe, this time for first teenage love. 

However, for someone who wants to connect badly with others, the only one who has ever been a constant at his side is Nine, and Nine is introverted and sadistic (in Twelve’s own words). So Twelve doesn’t have much of a blueprint for how a connection should be nurtured.

All Twelve knows is that he wants to connect and goes out of his way to follow that instinct against his better judgment.

Twelve threatens and stalks Lisa under the pretense of keeping an eye on her, when in reality, he can’t stay away from her because he wants to connect with her.

If you were socialized as a girl, then surely you’ve heard somewhere along the line that if a boy is mean to you then it means he likes you and is only picking on you to pretend he doesn’t like you.

Yes, it’s a toxic belief that we all eventually have to grow out of. But I am only mentioning this because I love how Twelve literally follows that pattern and, instead of avoiding him, Lisa is actually drawn to him despite him threatening to kill her.

I tell you... first teenage love.

While she seems timid and reserved, the interesting part is that Lisa trusts and opens up to Twelve right away. 

I like to think that perhaps, just like Twelve, she too recognized the connection they shared was unlike anything they had experienced before. I even dare use the “s” word and am going to go ahead and call them “soulmates”.

I am only sharing this because I headcanon that for Twelve to have betrayed Nine, the only family he had, to go and save Lisa, Lisa must have made a HUGE impact on him. He did not think twice about saving her but it created yet another internal conflict within him--feeling like he had to choose between Nine and Lisa.

Twelve is someone who is driven by his heart’s desires after all--especially given the fact that he knows he’s going to die sooner than later.

And so the boy cannot stay away even if he wanted to.

I think partly it comes back to the idea that he’s experiencing first love so he is also swept away by his feelings and desire to become Lisa’s knight in shining armor. 

Nowadays, with the blurred lines between gender roles being so murky, society in general has forgotten that feminine and masculine polarities exist at opposing ends of our gender fluidness. 

When it comes to pure, unadulterated masculine energy, the Knight as a symbol is meant to represent having an honorable purpose or mission in devotion to the Beloved.

Really, chivalry did not die in medieval times but manifests itself in different ways in our day and age.

Like... say... a certain boy rescuing a certain damsel in distress from certain danger on his trusty steed. 

Let’s not forget that Chess is a "character” in the story and one of the pieces is the Knight.

Now, the thing about “first teenage love” is that it is love that is idealized and immature. 

And yet, love is love--it’s light is blinding and overwhelming.

So blinding, indeed, that sometimes, when we fall in love, we don’t see the real person we proclaim to have fallen in love with, but rather a projection of our idealized search for the perfect partner.

And as I’ve said before, if Lisa is anything, she’s an incredibly imperfect human compared to Nine and Twelve’s superhuman abilities and intelligence.

In other words, despite how much Twelve wants to turn her into “one of us,” she can never fulfill and live up to that impossible ideal.

This is where we start moving into the deeper meaning of their arc and the ideal of romantic love.

My Fair Lady

It is no secret that Watanabe uses a lot of pop culture references in his work--whether they are references to certain moods (Cowboy Bebop’s noir), pop culture music (Carole & Tuesday), or making references to Greek tragedies (Zankyou no Terror). 

So I started wondering what Watanabe might be referring to by calling Lisa “my fair lady” and naming the episode when she is captured after said phrase.

Given all I shared above about becoming Lisa’s knight in shinning armor, the first thing that came to mind was that “my fair lady” was a term used by Knights when referring to the damsels they courted. These fair ladies became the idealized object of the knight’s love and devotion and the term dates back to medieval Europe. 

Just as a quick side note, Jungian author, Robert Johnson’s He, She and We provide a fantastic breakdown of how ungrounded romantic love is an illusion that does not stand a chance when tested against reality--which is exactly why I prefer John Haule’s take on romantic love, more on that later.

Aside from the ideal of courtly romantic love, My Fair Lady could also be a reference to the Greek myth of Pygmalion. Since the Oedypus myth already serves as a story arc for Shibazaki, I wondered about Pygmalion representing Twelve’s arc. 

In a nutshell, Pygmalion is a story about a King and sculptor who falls in love with one of the female statues he created. One day he goes to Aphrodite’s temple and prays for a “bride in the likeness of his statue”. The next time he kisses the statue she comes to life. They marry and live happily ever after.

In 1964, Pygmalion’s story was brought to life under the name of My Fair Lady, an American film starring Audrey Hepburn about a man who seeks to transform a humble flower girl into a high class lady, and, ends up falling in love with her in the process of getting to know her (sounds awfully similar to Pretty Woman’s plot too).

That hat tho... It makes me wish I lived in an era where wearing such a hat was fashionable.

Another “modern” re-telling of this trope is the 90s movie “She’s all that” which I just shamelessly had to mention because 90s movies are a #mood and I love some of these cult classics like Clueless and SLC Punk. 

Personally, I have to say that I feel like this very well encapsulates Twelve and Lisa’s dynamic.

Again, first teenage love at its best.

It’s clear that Twelve is in love with her and that Lisa reciprocates those feelings. But it sometimes feels like Twelve is playing out a fantasy with the girl with the yellow voice rather than being in relationship with the human that is Lisa.

Twelve and the girl with the pale yellow voice

I have to assume that when Twelve first meets Lisa, he saw the color of her voice and was immediately drawn to her because of it. After all, he does tell her that the color of her voice is very rare.

But that’s just it... Twelve does not see Lisa the human being, but the girl with the pale yellow voice--the fantasy of his ideal girl.

For me, the most telling piece of evidence that Twelve idealized Lisa, lies in the conflict between Nine’s words, “she’s not one of us,” and Twelve’s desire to mold and sculpt her into “one of us” so that he can keep her around.

What I mean is that Twelve is not taking into consideration what Lisa wants and is acting out of the selfish desire to keep her around--and really, why wouldn’t he want to keep her around if he’s in love with her? 

On the other hand, Lisa thinks that she wants the same without truly understanding the consequences of what she’s getting herself into.

Look, I really believe that Lisa reciprocated Twelve’s feelings, but the girl is also stuck in a situation in which if she does not make herself indispensable and becomes “one of us,” she will end up back out in the street, or worse, back home with her overbearing mother.

(This is actually consistent with one of the interpretations on why My Fair Lady ends the way it does.)

And so Lisa willingly lets herself be molded by Twelve, who is not shy in telling the audience in one of the Sphinx broadcasts, that he wants a girlfriend who can make bombs and cook curry--both of which Lisa cannot do but strives to do nonetheless.

Ah to be young, innocent and not know better...

Another great example of this is when Twelve and Lisa go on an actual date the day after the incident in the Ferris Wheel. 

To me, however, it mostly looks like Twelve on a date dragging Lisa around. As for Lisa, she is dragged around not because she doesn’t want to be there, but because she’s the mature one in the relationship and knows that Twelve is only running away from his problems instead of facing them.

Maybe Twelve is a Pisces Sun after all. We are professional escapists.

All that Twelve cares about, however, is that Nine is planning on doing something big. Again, he also knows he doesn’t have much time and wants nothing more than to spend it with the girl who captivated his double open heart.

Not to mention the possibility that he might be unconsciously seeking to validate his existence through her.

But just as in Pygmalion’s myth, Twelve is granted the wish of his beloved coming to life by the Goddess of Love herself.

Somewhere along the lines, Twelve sees beyond the girl with the pale yellow voice and falls in love with the perfectly imperfect human that is Lisa.

Twelve and Lisa, the human being

That said, I headcanon that, given the parallels to Pygmalion’s myth, Lisa is an answered prayer that Twelve did not know he made.

Yes, I am a diehard romantic, sue me.

Again, it goes back to the fact that Twelve is keenly aware of his mortality. 

And to fall in love and have that experience of first teenage love... even if it is an unrealistic and idealized love... if you’ve ever been in love, then you know how beautiful that experience can be.

Twelve dragging Lisa into the plan he shares with Nine is less than ideal, and yet it gave him the opportunity to have a “normal teenage experience” with her. After all, is it not normal to “fall in love” with “love” when we are young and naive?

Given his circumstances, were it not for Lisa being willing to get dragged around, Twelve would not have gotten to know the real Lisa and become emotionally attached to her.

God I fucking love him so much.... the raw emotion in his face. Leave it to MAPPA to deliver.

And so it is that at as they approach the highest point of the Ferris Wheel, with Von playing in the background, Twelve and Lisa meet in the middle as equals.

Right... I’m just going to put this out there again because #truth:

And I think one of the factors that makes this scene so poignant, other than the idea of impending death of course, is that as Five says, Twelve won’t let Lisa, whom she chose over Nine, die.

Twelve knows he is responsible for getting her involved because he tried to mold her into “one of us.” But it goes much deeper than that because, again, this is a self-fulfilling prophecy. In his eyes, he is a monster unworthy of something as simple as a given name who will only cause pain to others.

As he thinks through how he is to blame, Twelve chastises himself both for his actions and for not being able to control his desire for human connection.

I’m the one who should apologize. Nine was right. If I hadn’t asked to bring you to the airport, this wouldn’t have happened. I shouldn’t have given you a ride that time. No, I know... I shouldn’t have talked to you. I knew that it would turn out like this someday.

But... I...

WHO HURT YOU WATANABE?!!!!! 🤧

And can I just say that Saito Soma KILLS it in this scene with the voice acting? My God.

To me, when he is about to confess how he feels about her (“ore wa...”) is perhaps the one moment when Twelve was looking not at the girl with the pale yellow voice, but at Lisa herself.

Her response to him is just absolutely beautiful as well.

Not only did he absolve her of the burden she was carrying, but she did the same for him.

Thank you. I’m okay now. Run away. If you go by yourself you can get away. Nine is waiting for you. I know... Nine needs you. Don’t you two have something you need to do? Isn’t that what you came here for?

Lisa is acknowledging Twelve as a human being and his motivation as very much human. I also think it’s interesting that she is the one who keeps reminding Twelve that Nine needs him.

In the end, she might as well have said “you’re not a monster. You deserve to live. Whatever you want to do has value for the mere fact that you see it as your purpose. If you die here with me, your death will have no meaning. Your life has worth.”

To quote my last ZNT post “in defense of Mishima Lisa”...

And just like Twelve was inspired by her response when he first met her, Twelve is inspired again by her resolution.

If you watch the scene again (because why wouldn’t you want to watch it again?), when Lisa tells Twelve to leave her behind, Twelve starts moving faster and more desperately as though her words, her hope in this hopeless situation makes it all the more important that he save her.

This is the real Mishima Lisa, the human being whose hope inspired Twelve.

I’m glad that I met you

It isn’t after he’s been shaken up after trying to save Nine that Twelve shows the audience that he’s been changed by his bond to Lisa.

Not only does he use every last bit of strength to get back to her before he passes out, he is also relieved to see her once again.

Lisa is equally relieved when he wakes up, showing Twelve once again that he matters. I have to say that I love how he’s taken aback by her sudden display of affection as she cries on his shoulder.

I have the feeling that in that moment Twelve realized what it must feel like to be cared for by someone else--what it must feel like to be cared for by the same person you care for no less. 

Above all, he could have realized this is what it must feel like for the person who has every right to blame you for their misfortune, to accept you and acknowledge your existence instead.

And just as he thinks that Tokyo is about to be plunged into darkness by the bomb’s explosion, Twelve shares with Lisa just how much their brief encounter has meant to him.

We were raised not knowing our parents in that dark institution.  Even after we escaped, we were always alone, just the two of us. He and I... Neither one of us was ever needed by anyone before. That’s why... Thank you, Lisa... I’m glad I met you.

In a nutshell, the moral of Pygmalion’s story is that “what’s inside matters”. But more importantly, it is a story about how a man experiences and grows from his romantic attachment to his projection of the idealized woman. 

John Haule writes about this issue of projection extensively in his book Pilgrimage of the Heart: The Path of Romantic Love. 

What it comes down to is that Pygmalion had to learn to see the real woman behind the projection he had cast upon her. Only then was his love for her blessed by Aphrodite who turned the statue into a real woman. In a sense, this also humanized Pygmalion, thus making their romantic love story one based on two human beings meeting as equals.

Similarly, Twelve is made human by Lisa for it is thanks to her that he can finally come to accept and be at ease with his latent desire to connect with others. It is through her that Twelve comes to learn what it feels like to matter.

In a sense, Twelve too gets Pygmalion’s happy ending (no pun intended I swear).

And then, just when we all thought they would all live happily ever after, because Watanabe felt like we had not suffered enough, Twelve is dehumanized by the American forces and dies in the most unceremonious way possible.

Thus ending Twelve’s struggle to live his life to the fullest with a single bullet to the heart. And so it is Lisa who is then left behind to validate his and Nine’s existence for the rest of the world.

“Hey... Remember us... Remember that we lived.”