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chiisana-sukima · 1 month

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Hello, I love your blog and your thoughts on supernatural. Could you explain what you meant when you said it's "barely disguised kink." This sounds intriguing but I don't really understand.

So you know how you'll be reading along in, say, an AU longfic where Character A gets turned into a vampire, so you know there's gonna be some biting in it? And the first chapter where Character A bites the neck of their beloved Character B, you're like mm yes good.

But then there's another big, lovingly described biting scene, and then another one and another one, and they all go on for many paragraphs with much loving description of how sensual, hot, and/or angsty it all is. And then you're like still yes good, but also "Oh! I get it now! The vampire plot is an excuse; the author has a biting kink!"

In a stunning show of 'start as you mean to go on', here's the first time we see adult Sam. He's shrouded in shadow behind a bright, idyllic picture of his military father and his dead mother, asking a loved one--who will soon die in an act that both is and is not his fault--if he has to do something he doesn't want to. It's spn, so of course the answer is yes, he has to.

And here's the first tasty vampire bite. The ghost is exacting punishment on men who have been unfaithful. Sam never has, so she sexually assaults him, and now, on a technicality, he can be punished because he's guilty of something he never did.

There's no way to make logical sense of this. On it's face, it's just plain stupid. Even on a thematic level, it struggles. She's afraid to go home, so is she Sam? She murdered her two children because of grief and anger. Is she John? She's wearing a white nightgown or slip or whatever. Is she Mary?

Is Sam thematically vulnerable because by going to Stanford, he's been unfaithful to John and Dean? Because by going back to monster hunting, he's being unfaithful to his commitment to have a normal life with Jess? Or is there nothing under the technicality that the monster about to kill him is able to do so because she kissed him against his will first? There's no real answer ever given. The justification for the inclusion of the sexualized violence seems to be merely that it's hot. In either the DVD commentary or on Supernatural Then and Now, I forget which, someone even comments that while they were filming the scene, everyone was jealous of Jared because he "got to" have the hot actor playing the ghost on his lap nuzzling up to him. And if I had a nickle for every iteration of this kind of weirdness over the following 15 years, I'd have way, way, way more than two nickles.

I don't want to make it about ships here, because I think the ship aspect is peripheral. It's not, I think, about kink between any two specific characters but between the creators and the viewers. The creators find a bunch of kinky power play hot or compelling or idek what, and expect us all to feel the same about it too. There are a bazillion kinds of kink of course, but a very popular one involves two or more people engaging in a stylized roleplay of transgression and punishment for the purpose of getting them off, and spn enacts that specific roleplay so many times it's just not credible to me that they are doing it purely for plot reasons.

Kind of gay to transgress so badly two men have to lock you in the basement to be pretend crucified, handcuffed to a cot, and then pretend tortured by yet another different man.

Kind of gay to have something so wrong with you that a man has to tie you up and order a third man to stick a belt between your teeth to muffle your screams while he fists you.

Kind of gay to have something so wrong with you, you have to be locked in a basement, handcuffed to a cot, have a man direct another man to presumably fist you while a third man watches and you scream and beg for--wait a minute haven't we done this all before??

Kind of gay to have something so wrong with you, you have to get double penetrated by two men at the direction of a third man with the assistance of a fourth man while-- Anyway, y'all get the point. This is way too much BDSM to be just about the plot.

And it's not just Sam. Dean gets forced to be the reluctant punisher even more often than Sam gets forced to be the punish-ee. And Cas may get tortured less often than Sam does but I think he probably gets humiliated more.

Despite the overlay of sexualized violence--and oh holy hell is there ever a lot of that overlay--I don't mean to imply that by "kink" or "getting off" I necessarily mean sexually though. There are a lot of nonsexual elements to kink that are equally, or sometimes more, important than just getting laid in a complicated, ritualized fashion. Often it's about comfort, safety, surrender, catharsis, intimacy, or other intense emotions that are too frightening, taboo, or embarrassing to experience in everyday life.

The term "Final Girl" has taken on a lot of other nuances since Carol Clover coined it in 1992, but originally it was used as an analysis of how men use the female protagonist in slasher flicks to experience emotions like fear and vulnerability that--because of toxic masculinity--they can't allow themselves to experience either in real life or even at the remove of a male hero in fiction. Spn, I think, is a very Men Who are Final Girls who are Still Men kind of show. There's so much crying, so much vulnerability, so much terror and loss of power, and so many heartfelt conversations about topics that most men will never broach IRL unless they're lucky enough to have a woman partner who will pull it out of them or maybe a sufficiently sympathetic nurse at their bedside while they're literally dying. It's this that I mean when I say it's about kink rather than whatever bullshit ethical dilemmas tptb are claiming they're concentrating on that season.

The sastiel-directed-by-Dean example above is my favorite for being the most overtly and unnecessarily sexualized (why does detecting the presence of a soul involve fisting?? what is the belt for; they usually just go ahead and grunt or moan or scream?? why the detail that Sam could've got up and left the whole time??), but here, straight from the pen of eventual showrunner Andrew Dabb, is my favorite for total divorce from making a lick of sense.

Kinda gay to shoot your load at another man during a fight over who gets to eat the foot long wiener.

#i am imagining impassioned meta now on why it was right for john to shoot sam over a hot dog #he had his reasons #(He did! i swear!)#it was to teach sam a lesson #also sam started it #and also the hot dog was delicious #spn meta #sam winchester #mostly #although really its about all of TFW #and everyone else on spn too #discussion of kink #cw sexualized violence #cw implied incest #(for trigger warning purposes)#although this isnt intended as ship meta #intricate rituals to touch not other men but your own emotions #saved

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sephirthoughts · 4 months

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Vincent's New Kid Just Dropped CH7: Back in the present, Nero, Sephiroth, and Cloud go to the grocery store.

rating: mature (for now) CW: implied/referenced incest

(right after Deepground Flashback Part 2. maybe i should start properly numbering these)

EDIT: I PROPERLY NUMBERED AND LINKED THEM YAYYY

🕷️🪽🥀 the Valentines 🥀🪽🕷️

Nero had never been to a grocery store, but he knew of them conceptually. Not that he had any burning desire to experience one firsthand, now, but Sephiroth made it clear he didn’t have a choice, and told him to go get ready.

With as bad a grace as possible, he went upstairs and came back down again, dressed in some of the clothing the obnoxious blonde man purchased for him. In the face of Nero’s utter indifference and flat refusal to choose anything for himself, Cid had evidently decided the young man’s theme color would be purple, and made his selections accordingly.

Thus, Nero now wore a dark-purple hoodie, black, acid-washed motocross jeans, purple converse high tops, and a black turtleneck, to hide the Shinra-made restrictive collar, which supposedly prevented him spitting out clouds of people-eating darkness miasma, or at least reduced the ability somewhat.

“Ah-guh!” the hyper-alert noise machine announced, over the shoulder of the little blonde (as Nero uncharitably thought of Cloud, despite the fact that they were the exact same height), alerting everyone to Nero’s entrance.

He shot the baby a glare, then his eyes fell on Sephiroth, and his lip curled. “Why do you look like that?”

“Keeping a low profile,” Sephiroth said tranquilly.

His boyfriend smirked. “Meaning, he’s the most famous war-criminal in the world. He can’t be seen in public looking exactly like his wanted posters.”

The hitherto silver-haired giant was dressed in his usual white v-neck t-shirt and black jeans, with the addition of a leather jacket, but his long hair had changed to jet black, and his eyes were now crimson, like those of the rest of the Valentines. With their coloring coordinated, Sephiroth’s resemblance to Vincent was downright unnerving. He looked even more like him than Nero did.

“Look at your brothers, Ollie. They're almost as pretty as you,” Cloud cooed to the baby, who gurgled and drooled about it.

Nero gave a ‘hmph’ and went to lean on the wall, with his arms crossed, unconscious of the fact that this was among his father’s most characteristic behaviors, and one highly recognizable to his associates.

Cloud and Cid looked at Nero, then at Vincent, then at each other, and had to cover their mouths to stifle laughs. Vincent appeared bewildered and asked what was so funny, which only made them laugh harder.

Before the young men could depart on their errand, there was the ordeal of transferring the baby from Cloud’s arms to Cid’s, which took a measure of sleight-of-hand and trickery, and to which she took great umbrage. She made her displeasure known by turning bright pink from head to toe and howling like a banshee, despite Cloud’s assurances that he’d be back soon.

“Nero,” Vincent said, as the three young men walked out the door.

Nero stopped and turned back sullenly, prepared for the highly unsurprising lecture about behaving himself and not harming civilians and blah blah blah.

Vincent, however, failed to produce the expected admonitions. He only pushed something into Nero’s hand. It was a pair of dark-lensed sunglasses. Nero looked down at them and back up at the man, in blank perplexity.

“It’s bright outside,” Vincent said simply. “The polarized lenses help.”

Then he turned around and went back in the house, without another word. Nero stared after the man, as the door swung shut, muting the baby’s raucous wailing inside.

His vision went red, teeth clenched tightly and hand shaking, around the black sunglasses, as a big, ugly knot of pain and rage and other unidentifiable emotions surged up in his chest, choking him and making his eyes sting with tears.

He wanted to smash the stupid things to fragments, hurl them at the door and scream curses at that man. Rip open his bleeding chest and force his so-called father to look at the mangled insides of the ruined creature he brought into this world, and then tore away from the only person in it that he’d ever loved.

Then the cold reason of his dark side rose up, black flowing into red, and cooled the rage. Calmed the storm. Reminded him of his objective and the tasks before him. He needed to gain these people’s trust, if he was to get back to Weiss. Childish outbursts would only hinder his purpose. Patience. Patience.

“Nero, are you coming?” Sephiroth called out, drawing him from his ruminations.

Nero shoved the sunglasses onto his face, to hide his pink-rimmed eyes, and stalked gloomily to the vehicle.

The little blonde had arrived on a motorcycle, but that was an impractical means of conveyance, for their errand, so the three of them were to drive to town in one of the many vehicles that belonged to the Valentine-Highwind household.

This one was a small work truck, with a pickup style bed and cab that technically seated three. Technicality butted heads with reality, however, when Sephiroth was one of the three involved.

Cloud was driving, since neither of the others had a license, and Sephiroth’s six-foot seven-inch frame was already pushing the limits of the truck's capacity, even in the passenger seat. As a result, Nero wound up packed like a sardine into the middle seat, between his ostensible elder brother, and his brother’s former-nemesis-slash-current-boyfriend.

He very quickly began to suspect this was some method of psychological demolition. Because, if the entirety of the prison system had coordinated its efforts, it could never have contrived a more devilish torture for him, than this exact situation.

Not only did Cloud drive like a lunatic, causing Nero to be constantly bumped and jostled about between the two, but Sephiroth kept reaching over him, to fiddle with the radio dial, simultaneously invading his personal space, and causing all kinds of disjointed snippets of songs to blare briefly from the vehicle’s speakers.

Finally, much to Nero’s relief, Cloud smacked Sephiroth’s hand away. “Cut that out. I’m driving, so I get to pick the station. Besides, you have the absolute worst taste in music.”

“I do not,” Sephiroth contended.

“He does,” Cloud intimated to Nero. “He was raised on nothing but classical music, for optimum cerebral development, and now he’s taking revenge by soaking his super-brain in the most atrocious, top-forty pop garbage imaginable.”

“The music you claim to prefer is full of screaming, and instruments that sound like rusty bandsaws,” Sephiroth put forth. “I simply do not enjoy music with such an aggressive sound and violent themes.”

“Said the most violent man on the planet.”

They went on like this for the remainder of the drive, with Nero seething silently between them, his eyes squeezed shut behind his sunglasses (for which he was very grateful, now), and darkness tendrils stuffed into his ears, against their affectionate banter.

At long last, they arrived at the grocery store. It was a massive, fluorescent-lit, commercial monstrosity, that a corporation had christened Mid-Mart without a hint of irony. They paused, just inside the entrance, and Sephiroth tore the grocery list into three parts, handing a piece each to Nero and Cloud.

“We can get this done more quickly and efficiently if we spread out,” he explained. “Everyone take a basket, gather your items, and we will rendezvous at the Mt. Nibel Dew display, in thirty minutes. Understood?”

Cloud returned a jaunty salute, and before Nero knew what was happening, he was handed a red plastic basket with black handles, and then left on his own, in a grocery store full of innocent, unarmed civilians. Him. The known terrorist, official enemy of society, and former de-facto leader of Deepground. Like his custodians were mentally deficient.

Luckily for them, now was not the time to make a move. He had his own plans, and no intention of playing his hand, just yet. Storing the sunglasses in his hoodie pocket, he studied the list of items, and began the daunting task of searching for them, in the glossy, chaotic fever-dream that was a modern grocery store.

Shopping was not as difficult an undertaking as had it seemed, at first blush. The aisles, though arranged according to no logic decipherable by man, were labeled with their general contents, and items tended to be grouped together with other, similar items.

Following this pattern, he quickly gathered the first several things. Next, his list had ‘maple syrup’ and ‘strawberry jam’ on it, which were in the same aisle as breakfast cereals and granolas, but not the peanut butter or honey.

As Nero turned into the aisle, he encountered the little blonde, choosing canisters of something called ‘rolled oats.’

“Hey,” he hailed, as Nero approached. “Finding everything ok?”

“Yes,” Nero answered, putting a jar of strawberry jam into his basket. “It isn’t a particularly challenging task.”

“So, um. Sephiroth told me a bit about you,” Cloud ventured. “What happened with your brother, and all that.”

Nero’s crimson eyes flickered to his face, then away. “And?”

“And…nothing. I’m just sorry you had to go through that. I know what it’s like to lose your only family member.”

Ugh. Concerned sympathy from a fellow griever. Nero was repulsed by this kind of thing. He knew how to shut it right back down, though. “Weiss is more than just a family member. He is my lover.”

“He’s…what?” Cloud asked, confused.

“Weiss is my biological half-brother. He is also my lover,” Nero said slowly, pronouncing every syllable clearly, as if defying Cloud to take issue with it.

Cloud balked, blindsided by his frank assertion. “Y—you mean…”

“Yes. I mean exactly that.” Nero narrowed his eyes and tilted his head questioningly. “Is me sleeping with my brother—the only person who has loved me and taken care of me, in my entire life—somehow stranger than you sleeping with the man who burned your hometown to the ground, and murdered your mother?”

Cloud’s golden brows lowered angrily, but he swallowed whatever sharp retort was on his tongue and took a deep breath, before he answered. “Look, I didn’t mean to come off like I was judging you. I don’t know about your relationship and it’s none of my business. I was just caught off-guard, is all.”

“I am not offended, I was merely illustrating a point,” Nero said serenely.

“Which is?”

“The heart can be neither ruled by law, nor governed by reason. Thus, reason and law have no place in the dominion of love, which will reign over a man’s heart, one way or another—whether it is as a ruthless tyrant to a captive slave, or as the benevolent sovereign of a willing subject.”

Cloud blinked. “Uh…”

“Pickles.”

“Huh?”

“Pickles are the next item on my list,” Nero clarified. “Do you know where they can be found?”

“Right. The ones Cid likes are pickled cucumbers, in the refrigerated section, with the cheese and cold snack foods. The ones Vincent likes are Chinese-style pickled vegetables, which are in the international foods section, on aisle thirteen.”

For the briefest moment, Nero’s curiosity got the better of him and he paused. “Is he—”

“Half Chinese. Grew up bilingual. That’s why everyone in the house speaks Mandarin. You didn’t wonder?”

“I don’t bother myself about what others are doing,” Nero replied, with a haughty toss of his head. “If learning languages amuses them, then so be it. It’s nothing to me.”

“Maybe you should try learning a little, too,” Cloud suggested. “It’s part of your family’s heritage.”

“Those people are not my family,” Nero said icily.

“Yeah, sure,” Cloud snorted. “Whatever you want to tell yourself.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“I mean you don’t know them as well as I do. Once they’ve decided you’re one of their own, they won’t ever give up on you, no matter how much you kick and scream. Trust me, I speak from experience.”

Nero gave a mirthless laugh. “Yes, well, thank you for the sage advice. If you have nothing further to add, I am going to collect the rest of the items on my list.”

With that, he turned on his heel and strode off, leaving Cloud feeling flustered and annoyed, and rather glad to be rid of the intractable, unpleasant young man, who seemed so much older and wiser than himself, but was actually several years his junior.

In aisle thirteen, where all the Asian foods were grouped together in one section, Nero found the pickled vegetables, without much trouble. To his exasperation, however, there were spicy and regular varieties, and no one had specified which was wanted.

On the other side of the aisle, as he was deliberating, there was a woman near a partially filled cart, with a girl of around two years old, sitting in the child seat. The woman was talking on her cell phone, whilst perusing the products on the shelves, with her back to the child.

As such, she failed to notice that the little girl had got loose of the safety restraint, and was reaching for something on the shelf, stretching her little hands out further and further, till all of a sudden, she toppled out of the seat, headfirst.

Quicker than sight, Nero’s darkness tendrils shot out and caught the small girl, just before she cracked her skull on the tile floor. He was setting her gently back in the cart, when the mother turned around and let out a bloodcurdling scream, dropping her cell phone and snatching up the child. The child, startled by the scream and being yanked around so abruptly, immediately burst out sobbing.

“My baby!! Help! Help!!” the woman shrieked. “This monster is trying to take my baby!!!”

Nero sighed and placed the jar of pickled vegetables (spicy variety) in his basket, now deeply regretting that he hadn’t just let the child fall and break its stupid neck.

Meanwhile, footsteps came clattering from every direction, as the store employees, manager, security guard, and curious onlookers stampeded over to see what the commotion was. Fortunately for all of them, Sephiroth and Cloud arrived faster, and got between them and the extremely volatile bio-engineered weapon, in a purple hoodie.

“What’s—what’s going on, here?” the rather portly manager panted. “Ma’am, are you alright?”

“He’s a monster!” the mother intoned, clutching the bawling child to her bosom. “He tried to snatch my Sally, right in front of my face! He grabbed her with these horrible tentacle things, like some kind of demon!!”

The gathering crowd turned on Nero, muttering and glaring at him, with open hostility and disgust. There were cries of ‘damn freak!’ and ‘arrest him!’

“Everyone shut up!” Cloud bellowed, in his rather impressive command voice, giving the manager and security guard (who were already sweating, looking up at the towering Sephiroth) a jolt. “Did anyone here actually see what happened?”

There was general murmuring from the crowd, but it was apparent that no one had.

“I saw!” the mother said furiously. “I already told you what happened! Were you not listening?”

“Ah…ha. Let’s not be hasty, ma’am,” the security guard attempted, in a conciliatory tone. “Is it possible you saw wrong, or—”

“Why are you questioning me instead of arresting this man!” the woman interrupted. “Look at him! Look at his eyes! He’s clearly dangerous!!”

“Nero, what happened?” Cloud asked, while the manager and guard were attempting to soothe the woman.

“Didn’t you hear?” Nero sneered. “I’m a dangerous freak. I tried to snatch a baby with my monster tentacles.”

“That attitude isn’t helping,” Sephiroth told him, in an undertone. “If the police get involved and assault charges are filed, you’ll be in violation of your house arrest, whether you’re guilty or not.”

“Fine,” Nero sighed, as if he was being sorely put upon, and pointed to the mother. “That idiot was on her phone, not paying attention to the child. It fell out of the cart. I caught it, before it landed on its head, and put it back. Then she started screaming nonsense at me and making a scene. In hindsight, if she’s going to raise it to be another fool like herself, it would’ve been better to just let it crack its skull on the ground, and end its misery.”

“How dare you!” the woman scolded. “You’re calling me liar and victim blaming?! And wishing harm on an innocent baby?!”

“Sir, this store has security cameras, correct?” Cloud asked the manager. “Shouldn’t a review of the feed clear all of this up?”

“Ah…ah, yes! In my office. W—we can look at the footage in my office,” the shiny-faced, balding man stammered, nodding like a chicken pecking rice.

The woman tossed her head. “Hmph. I know what I saw, but fine. It’ll just prove I’m telling the truth.”

“Right this way, right this way,” the manager said, directing the involved individuals toward the back of the store. “Gerome, disperse the, uh…other guests, please? Thank you.”

The security guard waved people along, as the group followed the harried manager back to his office, which as turned out, was a rather tight squeeze, for five adults and a baby. Everyone wound up inelegantly clustered together, over the bank of monitors, while he scrolled back through the international foods aisle footage, to a few minutes ago.

The video showed the incident more or less as Nero described it, save for the fact that his darkness tendrils didn’t show up on cameras, so there was a bizarre moment when it looked as if the child stopped its fall and hovered in midair, then floated back into the cart, of its own accord.

“Ma’am, is that satisfactory?” Sephiroth asked, looking down at the woman, who was packed in between himself and the manager.

The woman’s lip trembled, and tears welled up in her eyes again. “I—I thought…I just saw tentacles grabbing my Sally, and this man with scary, red eyes. I can’t be blamed for thinking the worst, right?”

Sally, meanwhile, seemed to be enjoying all of the excitement, very much, and was busily yanking on Sephiroth’s long, inky-black hair, with both tiny fists.

“Sally, no—we don’t pull hair,” her mother chided, gently prying the baby’s hands open. “Sorry about that, she grabs everything these days.”

“It is quite alright,” Sephiroth replied mildly. “My little sister is about the same age. I have to wear my hair in a braid at home, unless I want it all to wind up in her mouth.”

“Oh, I can imagine, with long hair like yours. That’s why I’ve cut mine short. It’s just easier that way,” she smiled, softening at finding common ground with another (sort of) parent. Then she hesitated, glancing awkwardly at Nero. “Look, I apologize for overreacting. We keep hearing these horror stories about people coming back from the frontlines deranged and with all these horrible mutations, and attacking people right in the streets. I lost my husband to the war, and Sally’s all I’ve got now. If I lost her too, I just—I don’t know what I’d do.”

Nero, however, was looking the other direction, studiously ignoring the conversation.

“All’s well that ends well, so there’s no sense in dwelling on it,” Cloud answered for him. “I’m sure we’d all just like to finish our shopping and get home.”

After the woman and baby had gone away, the manager apologized and sweated profusely, at the three gentlemen, for a few more minutes, and even went so far as to offer them a twenty percent discount on all their purchases today, by way of compensation for the trouble, though it looked like it cost him a pang to do it.

“So. Your first foray out of the house, and you saved a baby from getting seriously injured,” Cloud remarked to Nero, as they drove homeward, a little while later.

“I didn’t mean to,” Nero scowled, behind the dark sunglasses that he’d put back on, the moment they exited the store. “I acted without thinking. Needless to say, I won’t be making such a foolish error again.”

“Our father will be very pleased to hear of your good deed,” Sephiroth put in, looking exceedingly smug. “It seems you’re already making progress toward becoming a productive member of society.”

Nero crossed his arms disconsolately, shrinking down in the cramped middle seat. “I hate this stupid family.”

“It’ll grow on you. You’ll see,” Cloud chuckled, as he swatted Sephiroth’s hand away from the radio, yet again.

NOTES:

Sephiroth picture: user screenshot by MrsPika with a mod for black-haired Sephiroth. No idea what they used for the eyes when ollie says "ah-guh" that's ollie for "er-ge" which is mandarin affectionate for "second elder brother", pronounced like "ahr-guh"

LINK TO CHAPTER 8

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bliss-unmuzzled · 2 months

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Luke: Father said the only bad thing I've done was steal his heart.

Han: Her Worshipfullness just sued me for "being a scoundrel" and she won.

#cw implied incest #aniluke #vaderluke

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casketears · 2 months

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edits that i would have made to riverdale if they'd known to hire me

more explicit hiram/archie/veronica. now i know what you must be thinking: how the fuck could it get more explicit than what was already shown, especially since archie is the flavor of oblivious gay that would mean he'd likely shirk any form of homosexual contact with a confused smile and an aha, whoa, did you– did i– no, im straight. yeah. but all the same i'd have liked some more sensual solo scenes with him and hiram. his deteriorated half disinterest in his relationship with veronica in favor of his growing obsession with her dad is good but not perfect. i want them to get touchier and weirder about it. and i want veronica to also get in on it

cheryl as an insane quasi incestuous straight woman. i have never seen a less convincing dyke than as portrayed by madelaine petsch, and i have never seen her have more chemistry with anyone than when she was either a) obsessing over jason, b) using archie as a romantic projection of jason or c) straight up romancing archie in season 7. it's actually absurd. also cheryl is fucking crazy in a commandeering action seeking sort of manner and archie is the ultimate orders boy so you can imagine what a red-haired power couple the two of them could have been. archie go die in my mines yes honey <3

if cheryl had to be a lesbian then at least let her be involved with donna sweett from season 3. no meaningful thoughts here i just think they could have enjoyed each other's weird mind games, writing/painting foils, and overall gothic aesthetics. and i bet donna wouldn't have been so lame about the whole taxidermied twin in the basement thing

more explicit hiram/reggie/veronica. here i do actually mean explicit. i want that boy passed between the two of them like a rebound blunt. i want him spitroasted by the narrative.

speaking of which reggie and archie should have at least made out in season 7 and it's actually preposterous they didn't. i never knew a gay man (the show creator) within a cast of gay characters could queerbait like that.

in the jughead paradox i would have loved to see a taste of the flavor of insanity that would have befallen jason if the roles were reversed and cheryl had been the one to die way back in episode 1. i think about this roleswap a normal amount

more ethel. thank fucking god season 7 gave her justice by letting her escape the narrative but i still wanted to know more about this dnd-obsessive horror artist weird girl (+ betty's arguable half sister)

i would have had reggie actually be groomed by that driving instructor (miss bella) in season 7 rather than have it be a red herring. more horrible parallels to archie etc. also i want him and veronica to stay in that awful toxic rebound-adjacent business partnership forever but that's just me

more on the season 7 mini jughead squad (dilton doiley, ben button, ethel muggs). they hinted at it and never delivered and it makes me lose my mind to think about

REMOVE THE PALLADIUM PLOTLINE. I HAVE NEVER CARED LESS ABOUT ANYTHING IN MY LIFE THAN THAT ROCK.

more detective drake from season 5. she showed up told betty to leave her man and experiment with women and left without even kissing her. also her name sounds like dyke. i miss her so much and also every day.

musical episode ideas: dear evan hansen (smth related to covering a murder and jughead is evan and archie is jared and a gun is in my mouth), bare: a pop opera (featuring gay kevin), in trousers or hadestown (they could never pull either off but i'd love to see them try).

actually fuck it also more on eric jackson from season 5. preferably dating archie but i'm not picky.

ARCHIE SHOULD HAVE ABSOLUTELY STAYED IN RIVERDALE IN THE EPILOGUE? WHAT DO YOU MEAN HE LEFT HE LIVES AND BREATHES AND BLEEDS RIVERDALE HE WOULD HAVE ABSOLUTELY NEVER LEFT BY CHOICE OR FREE WILL HE HAS A WIFE AND TWO BEAUTIFUL CHILDREN AND IS BURIED OUTSIDE OF POP'S.

kevin worse quality life. yes i just don't think he goes through enough. i think he should have been in an unhealthy sexual relationship with the devil after he turned him into a cop (percival pickens) (i know percival is technically not the devil but he's english anyway)

cheryl should have had a cannibalism moment that post on tumblr was right

i don't think i emphasized enough earlier how badly i want explicit hiram/reggie/veronica. specifically of a flavor where both the former and the latter are using him to fill an archie shaped hole in their heart while also as a weird incest divorce cope to get back at their respective daughter/father. if you think i had established my point well enough just remember it again with me because it could have been beautiful. i'd have dragged this out for half a season at minimum

more on peaches the background character peaches (she is very attractive).

a proper time loop episode

was about to say 'canonically bisexual betty' (<- has been a vocal supporter since day 1 when she kissed veronica) but then remembered this is actually true now and now i'm so happy i forgot most of the other qualms i was going to add on this list

non-sike deaf jughead

non-sike dead jughead

a jughead that kills himself and makes it everyone else's problem

#riverdale #cw riverdale #jughead jones #cheryl blossom #archie andrews #<- my most emphasized characters i think. obviously not tagging everyone here for cluttering purposes.#op-txt #inevitably more will come but here we are for now so. yayyy riverdale posting on side #tw implied incest #<- if needed by anyone. then again some could argue riverdale is one of The incest shows

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perelka-l · 3 months

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Heyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy

#trainer drayton #elite four drayton #cw: implied incest #draycest #syagatsuba kudasai or i will die #anyway had this on my mind for like two months now #watch me and my fail art #i just. uughhhhhhggaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa #im a starving bebe dont mind me

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andrewbestcharacter · 17 days

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READ TAGS.

Incest will be implied or "shown" as I plan on writing some stories/fanfictions about the game.

(If they get too long in chapters I might move them to my AO3 account, but usually they won't go past 2 chapters)

However it will never be shown positively.

Characters like Andrew and Ashley will see it as normal, my OC does too (but because he's just as messed up as them after the quarantine) but Andrew as the "sanest" will eventually move on to realize what he feels for Ashley is wrong, as for my OC he's lowkey weirded out by Andrew and Ashley relationship but excuse it because of that quarantine making everyone crazy.

Like the in game Canon, Ashley doesn't have any romantic or sexual interest for her brother, she's just willing to do anything in her power to keep him trapped, even if it's through sex.

However her actions and love for her brother (even if it doesn't look like it) are generally platonic, a little sister afraid to lose her brother and willing to do anything to avoid that.

Andrew is most definitely the one who "fell in love" first with Ashley, but because of her manipulation, guilt trip etc. over the years since childhood + quarantine making them desperate, it's clear once you play the game that Ashley manipulation made him turn out to be what he eventually became in the game.

Mini explanation of their relationship aside based on the Canon, I'll write again the warnings here even if they are in the tags.

There will be implications of siblings sex, incest, nudity, cannibalism, gore etc.

If you are familiar with the game I take it you are used to this, but I'll say it anyway.

Andrew starts as Straight but pretty much I don't see either of the siblings as straight (Definitely two bisexuals going around causing a Bi panic to everyone in existence) and while Anthony is mostly made to be paired with Andrew I also plan on writing stuff about him with Ashley or maybe straight up Poly.

The only reason I'm willing to write a Poly relationship is because there's someone in the middle making it less incestuous.

Ashley and Andrew will only flirt with each other like they always do in the game but never go further, often they will bicker about who gets to be with Anthony, but Andrew will only be romantic with him, Ashley will be jealous of both, for Andrew in a platonic way and for Anthony in the romantic way.

One day I actually want to share some drawings on here but for now it's just going to be about writing.

I'm still learning and trying to improve so nothing will be shared anytime soon in fact of drawings, but I hope it will happen one day.

#tcoaal #andrew graves #oc x canon #horror #cw: gore #implied incest #dead dove do not eat #ashley graves #lgbtq #homosexual #implied nudity #implied sex

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trying414 · 1 year

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Have we ever thought about the fact that "try the gray stuff, it's delicious, don't believe me, ask the dishes" meant that the dishes were actively eating/tasting Belle's food before her?

Following up: that she was putting people in her mouth to eat and then rubbing them against another person to get more food?

Following up the following up: is a teapot pouring tea into a cup and telling them not to spill a drop so someone else can drink it just cumming in a hole and making someone else eat it out?

Or is it just like...breast feeding? And then making the one you breastfed hold it until someone else drinks it from them?

Out of the two, I think I prefer the cum, to be honest.

#beauty and the beast #weird thoughts #4am thoughts #look i was just going to ask about the dishes eating food. i swear.#and then this is where i ended up.#vaguely implied incest?#cw inc*st #maybe?

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cyandelightz · 2 months

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the nightmare you know (is better than the nightmare of the unknown)

-- Author's note: Oh my god, be careful with this one, guys. It is horror content, check the content warnings, please let me know if I missed any... Content warnings for abuse, implied CSA, implied incestuous abuse, suicide, death, graphic descriptions of gore, moderate depictions of decay in a corpse, and whatever the hell mental illness it is Buzzo has here to make him react like this. Dear lord. -- ------------------------------------ In their dreamspace, just for the two of them (well, just for Buzzo himself - Lisa isn't really there, she's been dead for almost two decades), the garden remains, beautiful and pristine, warm and lovely in sight and scent. The sky seems to shift for a moment - but he ignores it. He could easily be seeing things, and it's not important to him in this hour of celebration of his loved one.

What is important to him is her. His beloved, the meaning of life, the universe, and everything. The reason for everything that he is and will ever be. (You know your life ended when hers did.) Something in his mind itches, something that makes the hairs on the back of his neck rise - not an unwelcome feeling, it is in fact familiar, and it's something Lisa inspired in him - part of what he loves her for. The fear. The discomfort. Her mean streak… He could never be upset at her for it. He knew the causes of it, all too well. And so the fear, the stomach churning, the hair raising, it feels like home - like he's finally home.

He looks up at her. She was rounded out before, like her brother and father. But she is gaunt now, bony, her grin a toothy snarl. He smiles back up at her, adoring, worshiping. Of course he got that part wrong. She could never be like Brad or Martin, regardless of whatever genetics said. Lisa would always be Lisa. And he knew Lisa as being rail-thin and gratefully, ravenously wolfing down whatever food he could bring her, be it bought with his allowance and spare change from the couch or outright shoplifted for her sake. As if she hadn't eaten in days - and he knew she hadn't, because Marty is a goddamn worthless waste of oxygen.

Her smile is even more familiar than the one he had dreamed up before. He considers it an upgrade, even if others would currently be screaming for him to run.

"Berny…" Not… Buzzo? Her voice sounds too high, too. Like a child's. "I need you to do something very important for me, okay?"

Oh. His stomach sinks, and sweat beads on his forehead. He remembers this. This was… right before she asked him to - to cut her. To make her 'ugly'. So Marty wouldn't want her any more.

He was hoping this version of her wouldn't ask for this, or wouldn't feel the need to revisit it. But it's okay. It's okay! He'll do anything for her. Anything. Even if it's cruel and unusual and…

He takes a deep breath. "Okay. Anything for you."

He manages to trudge back home (how long has it been since he's been in his father's garage?). It's as he remembers it, really. The atmosphere as oppressive as classic Americana can be - even as an adult, six foot three, he feels the need to step as softly as possible so as not to gain his father's ire or the nosiness of his brothers. He's in and out as fast as he can be, back by her side.

Except she's not there. But her old house is, strewn in garbage, down in the valley below - he remembers this sight, biking down the way, checking on her.

No, God. Please, no. Don't let this be him losing her again. His heart sticks in his chest, pounding, stomach sick as he runs toward the old house, the old garbage-covered lawn - climbing up the tree in the Armstrong's backyard as he remembers doing when he was just an adolescent, his current adult form being irrelevant to how helpless and small he feels against the force of Lisa's will to escape, to not exist if she couldn't get the abuse to stop.

There she is. Just like last time. Her feet aren't touching the ground.

A sob wracks through his frame as he's clinging to the tree branch, which miraculously supports his adult form as if he were still a spry child, tears welling in his eyes. He doesn't like to raise his voice - it's a cheap, shitty way of scaring people, like calling yourself a comedian just because you're tickling people… but this isn't to cause fear. This is unbidden, something he can't control, a body-wracking screaming, pleading to capital-G God, please don't let her be gone -

His breath catches and he gasps for breath. He saw motion in the window, and he looks up to double-check, not wanting to hope because having that hope crushed would potentially literally kill him. He saw right. She's - she's climbing down. She's coming up to the window, she's

Her face is gone. He's the one who did that to her. By her request, cutting her up with his dad's circular saw. One of her eyes has been gouged out by his clumsy hand. Gore hangs in strands off her inner musculature, her lips gone, her face trapped in a grin.

Her remaining eye is decayed, as if she'd been dead for a day or so already, covered in a milkiness. Lividity has started to appear on her pale, sun-starved skin. Even despite this, though, she opens the window, and she makes to climb out toward him. He cries further, and holds his arms out to hold her, to guide her out - he doesn't care if she's some kind of zombie so long as she's still here, Goddammit!

She's cold in his arms, and she retains that horrible, yellowed grin. He hurries to help her down from the tree. As long as she can still move and talk and think he'll worry about whatever condition, whatever near-death she's in, later - he needs to get her out of here, away from her father. He already knows what would make her put herself in the noose, and if her not having a fucking face wouldn't stop the man, nothing will.

He's on the grass, facing away from her, about to speak - about to reassure her that he'll get her out of here, he'll take care of her, they'll be through this soon, it's all gonna be okay, Lisa, I love you, please hang on -

He hears the saw starting up. He remembers he had dropped it in his rush to climb the tree.

He turns back to her. She's got it in her hands, and she's approaching him with that horrible yellowed grin, the awful fate of her face being skinned - what he inflicted on her, what he thought she wanted, what she insisted on - still, so, everpresent, the dried blood staining her whole upper body, that white silk poncho completely ruined in a nasty brown scab stuck to her frame.

"Lisa?" He questions her, backing up somewhat. But - he can't… he can't bring himself to harm her, not again, never again. "It's your turn now," she coos, softly, in that voice of hers that makes his heart flutter. He can't help but relax a little upon hearing it. "I, I don't -" "It hurts so much. I need this, Buzzo." "I…" He takes a deep breath, slowing down as he questions whether to fight this at all.

"Would it… make you happy?" "Very." "I… I…"

Tears are welling up in his eyes again, his chest wracked by ragged sobs. "I don't know what to do without you," weakly escapes his lips, a confession unbidden, something he's needed to say for years. "I got your revenge, I made your brother suffer, and now that's done, and I don't know what to do with myself any more. I'm so tired of having to make my own choices without you, I…"

She gets closer and closer, holding the saw with one hand - she reaches to cradle his face with one cold, pale hand. Staring into his eye with her one remaining, half of the other dangling out of the socket.

"I just want to know you're happy," he says, pleading to her, pleading for her forgiveness, pleading to feel worthy of anything resembling affection.

The saw cuts through the flesh of his cheek and cleaves through his nose, his brows, in an instant - an instant in which he immediately screams with all the strength his lungs can give him. He can't see any more - he's pretty sure he just lost both eyes, possibly a bit of the front of his skull - but suddenly, with an inhuman amount of strength, he's shoved to the ground. He hits the grass with the back of his head and all of the wind leaves his lungs at once.

He can feel her standing over him and he can hear the saw start up again, and that is the last thing he remembers hearing before he felt the sawblade rip his chest cavity open.

It is the last thing he can remember before he wakes up again, in his bed.

He has to peel himself off of it to want to move at all. His chest aches with a horrible pain as if it's been cut open.

Dragging himself to the bathroom, to get started in his day, to use the mirror… reveals a horrendous scar over the middle of his upper body, going on a diagonal from right to left. Right where he felt the saw cut through his ribcage. Exactly that, exactly there.

Was it really just a dream? He doesn't know any more. He drags his feet down the stairs- he doesn't want to be awake…

And he sees Lisa outside the window. Hands folded behind her back. Smiling her yellowed smile.

Even, despite, (because of?) what happened, he can't help but rush again to her side.

"Buzzo," she says, in her soft, sing-song voice. "I'm so happy to see you again!"

And she pulls the saw out from behind her back.

He would gladly die for her entertainment. Over and over and over again. He could know no better bliss than to have a purpose in life that functions for her amusement, for her love. At least then he has a purpose. Outside of her, with Brad mutated and suffering, he has nothing left to cling to, to define himself by, other than pure, meager hope that she's just happy. Somewhere, wherever she is, please, God, just let her be happy.

If breaking him over and over with the same saw he used on her is what makes her happy - so be it.

#Event Drabble - Phantasm Amalgam 2 #&&|| in character #&&|| solo #abuse cw #torture cw #gore cw #csa implied cw #incest implied cw #death cw #suicide cw #isola drabble

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