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proxima-writes · 1 year

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Can you write something where Joel is trying not to fuck you (maybe because of your age or something), and then he caves out of pure horniness. I seriously have a kink for always in control men - losing control.

Thank you for the message!! I hope you like this little story!

title: the babysitter

pairing: pre-outbreak!joel miller x babysitter!female reader

rating: explicit (18+ MDNI)

content warnings/tags: explicit sexual content (18+ MDNI), age difference (21F and 36M), power imbalance dynamics, begging, pet names, oral sex (f receiving), kinda perv Joel, no use of y/n.

You’re asleep on the couch when Joel comes home from a night at the bar with Tommy. The TV casts a blue glow over your soft features. Your plush pink lips are slightly parted, and your tits remain barely covered by the tank top you wore over that evening to babysit Sarah.

You’ve been Sarah’s babysitter since you were eighteen and Joel was desperate to find a balance between being a single father and getting the chance to spend some time out with his friends and brother, usually at a dive bar shooting pool like they did tonight. His neighbor had recommended you, a sweet young girl who just graduated high school and worked as a babysitter for extra cash while attending the community college.

Now you were approaching twenty-one, a whole fifteen years his junior. Something Joel has to remind himself on nights like tonight, when his eyes greedily roam across your exposed skin and commit the view of your nipples straining against your tight tank top to memory.

He’s had a few drinks tonight. Nothing crazy, but he feels the buzz in his veins as he continues to watch you. You shift positions, turning more on your back and raising your arms up, the motion exposing a strip of stomach above the waistband of the shorts you’d worn.

Joel can normally tamp down the thoughts he has about you, sweeping them under a metaphorical rug to be ignored. But tonight, he lets himself drink his fill, storing it away for later.

Surely there’s no harm in that?

He needs to wake you up, needs to hand you the handful of twenties and walk you to your car, just like he does every other evening you babysit for him. He reaches a hand out to grip your shoulder, giving it a gentle shake. Your brow furrows, but you otherwise don’t stir. He lets his palm linger in your warm skin, swallowing down the urge to drag his hand lower, to cup your breast in his palm and see if a pinch of your nipple makes your back arch in ecstasy.

He tries another shake, followed by a murmur of your name. That has you blinking up at him, eyes heavy with sleep.

“Mr. Miller? What times’it?” You slur. He checks his watch.

“Just past 12,” he tells you. His hand is still on your shoulder.

“Oh. I’m sorry I fell asleep,” you tell him with a yawn. “Guess I didn’t realize how tired I was.”

You lick your lips, staring up at him. His brain is screaming at him to remove his hand, to take a step back and take a breath, to remind himself that you’re the babysitter.

But your head tilts, appraising him. Keen eyes stare back at him like you know exactly what he’s thinking.

“Mr. Miller?” You ask again, voice breathier. Joel’s fingers flex against your skin. You press your shoulders into the couch cushion, the movement causing his hand to drift lower, the tips of his fingers just grazing the flesh of your breast.

Your breathing becomes rapid, but you remain still. Joel swallows harshly, his fingers inching the slightest bit lower. Your lashes flutter as he slips the tip of his pinky beneath the neckline of your tank top.

He takes a harsh breath, ready to withdraw his hand and chalk this up to a brief moment of insanity, but as he tries to move away, your hands grip his wrist.

“I can’t do this, honey,” Joel says. You whine, tilting your head back.

“Please?” You ask. Your hands release his wrist, and Joel knows he should hold strong.

But then your own hands are drifting down your body, caressing your curves before dipping beneath the waist of your shorts. Joel’s heart beats a mile a minute, a frantic pulsing in his chest as he watches you with unwavering focus.

Your hips jolt as your fingers swipe against your clit. His view is hindered by your shorts and he wants nothing more than to remove them and replace your fingers with his.

“It’s okay, Mr. Miller,” you say, eyes wide as you stare up at him. “You can touch me. I want it.”

“No,” Joel says, but it sounds weak even to his own ears. And you notice it, too.

“Please,” you beg. Your hips grind against your hand. “I’ll be such a good girl for you.”

Joel’s eyes flutter closed as he takes a deep, steadying breath. In through his nose, out through his mouth.

“You’re too young for me, darlin’,” he finally says. He lifts his hand from your shoulder and you give a sad little whine that has him grinding his teeth together.

“Why are you being so mean?” You accuse.

“You don’t know what mean is.”

“Why don’t you show me, then?”

You remove your hand from your shorts. Even in the dim light of the TV he can see the unmistakable shimmer of your slick coating your fingers. When you spread them, a thin thread stretches between your digits.

He watches it stretch to its limit before snapping. And much like that thread of fluid, the last of his control snaps, too.

“Take off your shorts,” Joel says. When you don’t move he snaps, “Don’t make me ask again.”

That gets you moving, your hips lifting from the cushions so that your hands can shove your shorts down to your ankles. You gaze up at him, waiting for instruction.

Joel moves your outer leg off the couch, your foot settling on the floor. He kneels between the new space and lets his hungry eyes consume you.

“Dirty girl,” he murmurs. He collects the saliva on his tongue, spitting it harshly against your pussy, your body jolting and your head dropping back with a moan. “Quiet. You gotta be quiet, okay.”

You nod your head quickly, teeth digging against your lip to make good on your promise. Satisfied, Joel leans down and licks a broad stripe through your slick folds, the tip of his tongue dipping into your entrance before he drags it up to circle your clit.

You’re writhing beneath him as he attends to your needy cunt, your whimpers such music to his ears that he doesn’t have the heart to tell you to be quiet again.

Your fingers grip his shoulders, the bite of your nails into the thick muscle making him groan against your center. He can feel your hole flutter against his tongue and takes the opportunity to slip a finger into your tight heat.

You gasp, back arching as you shatter around

him, cunt pulsing deliciously around his finger. He’d love nothing more than to feel you around his cock.

But this has already gone too far.

He withdraws his hand, reaching down to grab your shorts and pull them up your legs. Your brow furrows in confusion.

“What are you doing?” You ask.

“It’s time you head home,” he says, not daring to meet your eyes. You’re still and quiet for so long he finally chances a glance.

To his surprise, your lips are tilted into a smirk. You shuffle onto your knees, bringing yourself face to face with him. You reach for his hand, keeping your eyes trained to his as you slip the finger coated in your release into your mouth.

You hum, and Joel has to fight the moan clawing its way up his throat. You release his finger with a slick pop before rising to stand.

“I’ll see you next week, Mr. Miller,” you say casually.

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel miller x female reader #joel miller fanfiction #no use of y/n #joel miller x you #joel tlou #fic request

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forever-rogue · 2 days

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let me just say i am obsessed with your work and i have a small concept with pre-outbreak!joel that i’d like to share. you’re welcome to develop this as a full fic, a headcanon or even just discuss it.

joel has been dating you for a while, it’s his first serious relationship since sarah’s mom left and needless to say he’s very much in love. but being with you comes with a lot of pressure. as i said, it’s his first real relationship and he tries to be the absolute best partner for you. in the beginning you don’t pay attention to it because what you have is new and of course you do a lot to make it work but as time passes, you realize it’s a bit more serious than that.

he literally drives himself crazy trying to be the perfect partner. to the point where he’s stressing himself out or feeling guilty about things that are either normal or out of his control. for example, let’s say it’s your birthday and he wants to take you to a nice restaurant. you happen to be late (maybe an issue with his car or traffic) and lose the reservation. it’s okay, you assure him it’s fine but he feels terrible and just trying to fix it. in a similar way, if you ever have an argument and you decide to leave to clear your mind, it will bring the worst anxiety out of him. it’s all small things that pile up until you realize that he’s actually terrified he isn’t enough because if he wasn’t enough to make the mother of their child stay, why would you?

you can choose how you work it out so he feels more secure in the relationship or tell me what you think of this, i’d love to hear your opinion 🙂

AN | Okay but this is so soft and heartbreaking at the same time. But there is a happy ending! Enjoy ❤️

Pairing | Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Warnings | Language

Word Count | 2.7k

Masterlist | Joel, Main

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Joel was standing on your doorstep, clutching a bouquet in his hand. He felt like he was shaking and sweating and going to throw up all at once. Needless to say he was nervous. It had been so long since he’d been on a date, let alone a first date. And not just any first date, but a first date with you.

You, that had almost knocked him over, literally and metaphorically, in the grocery store and left him feeling like a scared teenager. You’d been the one to ask him out, in fact, but he was still somehow convinced that you’d made some kind of mistake or were going to change your mind.

He rocked back and forth on his heels for a few moments as he listened for your footsteps. When he heard you unlock the door and slowly open it, his heart felt like it was going to beat out of his chest.

“Joel,” your pretty lips pulled in a big smile as you looked him over, “you’re here!”

“Of course I am,” he replied sweetly, a soft twang to his warm drawl, “did you think I wouldn’t show up?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted sheepishly, your face growing warm, “men are weird sometimes…even more so when it’s a woman asking a man out. But I’m so glad you’re here.”

“You look beautiful,” he couldn’t believe how lucky he’d gotten or how pretty you were. You were wearing a pretty little sundress and that alone was enough to cause his mind to practically spiral; he was just a mere mortal man and even he was not immune to the effect of a sundress. He pulled himself together to hand you the flowers that were still tightly clutched in his hand, “these are for you.”

“They’re lovely,” you took them gently, your fingers brushing against his, “thank you so much. No one’s given me flowers in so long, this is so kind.”

“They reminded me of you, bright and pretty,” maybe he wasn’t totally terrible at this after all.

“Come on in for a moment while I put these in some water,” you moved back inside and motioned for him to follow you. He slowly followed you inside, looking around your humble abode to try and get a good feel for you, “so, have you decided what we’re going to do this evening?”

“I have a few things in mind,” he grinned, a little half smile that made your heart speed up a little bit as you quickly moved to set the flowers into a vase with fresh water, “I can tell you or you can be surprised.”

“Surprise me,” you set the flowers on the counter and looked at him sweetly.

“Surprise it is.”

“I have a feeling you’re going to surprise me a lot, Joel Miller,” you grabbed your purse and he shot you a cheeky little wink, “I look forward to it.”

“Me too, sweetheart, me too.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Joel Miller couldn’t believe his luck. It had been a year, a whole ass year, since the two of you had gone on your first date. That might have been one of the best days of his life, topped only by the birth of his daughter. He knew that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you, and knew that he wanted to ask you to marry him.

But there was still some remaining doubt that kept nagging at the back of his mind.

A part of him was always waiting for you to realize that he didn’t deserve you and to leave. Not that you’d done anything to ever suggest that was going to happen but still. He thought about it…a lot. He’d felt like a complete failure when his wife had left him and their daughter when she was only a few months old without so much as a proper explanation. If the woman he’d loved and married, the mother of his daughter, didn't want anything to do with him, why would anyone else? And what did he have to offer anyway? Nothing. Not in his mind anyway.

And he loved you, so much. He would do anything to keep you in his life. So he threw himself into everything he did; he wanted to make sure everything was perfect for you, even if it all but killed him.

You appreciated everything he did for you, so much and all the things he did were definitely not lost on you. At first it didn’t really hit you just how much he was driven to perfection until you started to see some of the cracks in the facade.

It happened one night when you were over at Joel’s house for dinner with him, Sarah, and Tommy that you noticed something was off. Joel had seemed so tense and distracted since you’d arrived. You’d made it to the Miller household a little earlier than you had initially told them in order to help finish up dinner and get everything set up.

Sarah had answered the door and let you in with a big hug before you made your way into the kitchen. You adored the girl, and her father, and you were happy that she seemed to like you too. You weren’t trying to force your way into her life, but let her welcome you at her own pace. It had only been her and Joel for pretty much her entire life so you were sure that this was a whole new world for her too.

“Hi baby,” you grinned as you walked into the kitchen, setting down the desserts you’d brought. Joel turned around and his entire face dropped when he realized it was you. Ouch. That managed to sting a little bit, “everything alright?”

“You’re not supposed to be here,” he looked at his watch and ran a hand through his messy hair, “for almost another hour!”

“I finished earlier than I thought at work,” you shrugged lightly, “and thought I’d come over to help. I didn’t think it was a big deal…I can go if that’s better?”

“No - no,” he insisted softly, “no, I’m glad you’re here, it’s just that nothing’s ready. It’s not set for you yet.”

“You don’t have to do all the work silly man,” you pressed a kiss to his cheek, “let me help. I’m more than happy to - I want to.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive,” you whispered as you decided to hug him; he looked like he could use a hug. He wrapped his arms around you, squeezing you tightly to his broad frame, “just let me know what I can do to help, okay?”

“Okay,” he agreed, allowing himself a moment to bury his face in your neck and to breathe your warm scent in. When he pulled back, you kissed him sweetly, “okay.”

Once you had everything squared away and ready, Joel ran upstairs to shower and change, leaving you and Sarah to set the table. She looked at you for a moment before quietly saying, “he really likes you, you know?”

“I do,” you smiled softly, “I really like him too.”

“He’s never been with anyone since I was born,” she scooted over to you so there wasn’t a chance for Joel to overhear, “I don’t even remember my mom; she just up and left when I was a baby. But I’ve always had my dad. And it’s nice to see him happy ‘cause he deserves it.”

“Oh,” your expression softened, “he told me it’s been the two of you but never went into what happened.”

“Yeah,” she shrugged, “it’s fine. I never had the chance to know my mom so it never really bothered me. But I know my dad really likes you, he’s been so happy lately it’s kinda gross. He’s trying really hard. He just wants you to be happy too.”

“I am really happy, Sarah,” you promised, “and I want your dad to be as well. I love him a lot and you both mean a lot to me.”

“This is too sappy,” she snorted in amusement and rolled her eyes playfully, “but…you mean a lot to me too. Just so you know.”

“Don’t worry kiddo, we’ll keep it between us,” you shot her a wink, causing her to giggle softly, “you mean a lot to me too.”

“What are you whispering about, huh?” Joel came back downstairs and into the kitchen, his eyes flitting between the two of you, “planning a mutiny?”

“Duh, old man,” Sarah pushed past him, and Joel raised an eyebrow.

He was just joking around, mostly, but he was also panicking internally - just mildly but still. It was there. His first thought was that somehow the two of you were talking about him…but not in a flattering way. What if you were telling Sarah you were tired of him? What if you were telling her that you were planning on breaking up with him? What if you told her that -

“Joel?” you put your hand on his shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. He blinked a few times as he snapped back into reality before looking at you, “where’d you go, space cadet?”

“Just zoned out,” he offered you a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, “sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” you insisted, “it’s been a long day, I’m sure tired as well. We’ll call it an early night tonight, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, heart constricting at your gentle nature. You were always so sweet and kind but he still found himself waiting for the other shoe to drop, “sounds good, sweetheart.”

“I love you,” you reached for his hand and squeezed it, “a lot.”

“I love you too,” he hoped you never stopped saying that. He wanted to hear it for the rest of his life. He was going to try his damndest to keep you in his life forever.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“I can’t believe it,” Joel shook his head as he looked at the maitre’d, “it’s only fifteen minutes! You can’t tell me that you don’t have a table available anymore.”

“I’m sorry sir, the reservation was for 6:30 and we have a ten minute policy for being tardy,” he remained calm but you could see that Joel was only growing more annoyed, “as you can see we’re very busy.”

“I made these reservations three months ago-”

“I’m sorry, sir. That’s our policy,” you put your hand on Joel’s arm and squeezed it gently. He looked at you with a deep frown on his face.

“It’s alright,” you promised him, voice gentle and soft, “we can go somewhere else, it’s no big deal.”

“Fine,” he huffed after a moment and turned on his heel to leave. You offered the man a small smile as you followed your boyfriend out the door. He immediately started walking to the truck, leaving you to trail after him in his wake, “this is fucking ridiculous.”

You flinched as he slammed his door against the side of the truck, “Joel. I need you to calm down. It’s really not a big deal - I don’t care where we go, I just want to spend time with you.”

“But it’s your birthday,” he hissed, “it should be nice. I had this all planned out and I fucked up and made us lose the reservation.”

“Hey,” you slowly took a step closer to him, “do you want to tell me what’s really going on?”

“I just wanted everything to be perfect for you,” his shoulders slumped as he looked at you with misty eyes. Clearly there was a lot more going on underneath the surface, “I don’t want you to leave me.”

“W-what?” you looked at him in confusion, wondering where that train of thought had suddenly come from. You reached up and out your hand on his cheek, gently brushing away the tears that had rolled down his cheeks, “why on earth would I leave you? That has never crossed my mind.”

“I want to give you everything, you deserve it but I feel like I can’t give it to you,” he pressed his hand gently onto yours, “sometimes I wonder why you’re with a loser like me.”

“Joel,” he hated, and loved, how gently you always managed to say his name. You always had such a tender way about you, “I have never once thought you were a loser. Never. I love you, silly man, so much. You’re perfect to me - for me. Why would you even think that I would feel like that?”

“I couldn’t even get the mother of my kid to hang around. She up and left and sent divorce papers and left us,” he sighed softly, “sometimes I wonder how long it’ll be before you get tired of me as well.”

“I’m not her. I’m me,” you reminded him gently, “I’m never going to get tired of you. Oh my gosh, you don’t know how much I adore you, do you? Joel, no one has ever been as good and kind to me as you have. I look forward to spending time with you even if its just at home watching a movie. When we’re apart I look forward to seeing you. Not because of things like fancy dinners or grand gestures or whatever - not that I don’t love those - but because I love being around you. It’s because of you, not anything else. We could have nothing but as long I have you, and Sarah, it’s more than enough. It’s everything.”

Joel looked at you, trying to make sure he’d heard everything you’d said correctly and you weren’t about to laugh at him. When he saw the soft smile on your face, the tender way you were looking at him, he knew that you weren’t joking. He nodded slowly, sniffling before whispering, “I love you.”

“I know you do,” you promised, “you’ve never once given me a reason to doubt that. I love you too, Joel.”

“I know,” he reached for your hand, hesitantly and gently, lacing his fingers through yours, “you’ve never given me a reason to doubt that either.”

“Good,” you squeezed his hand gently, “I think we’re on the same page, right?”

“Yeah,” he agreed quietly, “we are.”

“If you ever have any doubt, just let me know and I’ll remind you just how much I love you. But…does that mean we can go and get dinner? Some McDonalds fries sound amazing right now.”

“You want to go to McDonalds? On your birthday?” That was one of the many things he loved about you - you weren’t pretentious or picky or anything. You were just you.

“Are you going to go with me?”

“Obviously,” he snorted in amusement, shaking his head fondly at you.

“Then hell yeah,” you teased, “let’s go and get tons of McDonalds and go home and watch a movie. That sounds perfect.”

“Then that’s exactly what we’ll do,” he agreed as he opened the car door for you. He buckled your seatbelt for you before leaning in to kiss you gently, “happy birthday baby.”

“Thank you,” you made sure to steal another kiss from him, “I love you, Joel Miller.”

“I love you. So much.”

#joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller x fem!reader #joel miller imagine #joel miller one shot #tlou #pedro pascal

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rachalixie · 10 months

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a/n: tiny little minho fluff sprinkled with a bit of hurt/comfort idk what this is honestly

it’s when you just get home from your third time trying and failing to adopt a kitten from the animal shelter that you see it.

the plant you’ve been trying so hard to take care of is wilted beyond repair, brittle leaves either hanging on by a thread or fallen to the soil in the pot to decay. their sad appearance matches the feeling in your heart right now.

you drop to your knees by the pot, hands hovering over it trying to decide if you should help the limp stems stand back up again or water it or what even should you do right now?

“i think it’s dead,” minho pans from where he’s standing behind you, leaning over your body to peer at the sad excuse of a plant.

“i think you’re dead,” you bite back, gritting your teeth when it comes out wobbly from how tight your throat feels.

“that doesn’t even make sense,” he says, sounding a bit shocked when he kneels next to you and sees the beginning of tears brimming under your lashes. you try and hold them back, letting out a scoff, but one dribbles it’s way down your cheek anyways. “hey, baby it’s okay, we can get a new plant.”

“but i want this plant!” you almost wail, letting him gather you up in his arms as you let your control of your emotions go completely. you know you’re being a bit childish right now, crying over a cheap plant you bought from ikea, but it was a test. that you failed.

his eyes are a bit bewildered as he rubs a hand up and down your back, the other pressing your face into his chest, but he doesn’t say anything. he lets you get it out, let’s you tangle your hands into the back of his jacket that he’ll have to iron out later, let’s your saltwater tears dot his collar.

“it’s not the plant,” you mumble into his shirt once you’re all but wiped out, slumped half into him and half into the hardwood floor.

“i know,” his voice is soft even as it’s trickled with amusement, and you let out a huff of laughter. you can’t see his responding smile but you know it’s there. you know him.

“it’s just,” you start, leaning back and swiping the back of your hand across your face to clean it up. he holds your wrist back after a moment and resumes with his own hand, his sleeve covering his skin as he dabs at yours. “i can’t even keep a plant alive. how am i going to take care of a kitten?”

blunt realization crosses his face at your words, and he immediately shushes you.

“that’s completely different, and i know you know that. a plant can’t meow at you to tell you that it’s hungry, or scratch you when it’s upset. it can’t curl up on your lap when it wants attention.” you can see him almost lose himself in the metaphor before pulling himself back. complete cat boy. “and you’re not alone in this, okay? i’m going to be there the whole time. any gaps you leave, i’ll fill in for you. and you’ll fill in my gaps too, yeah?”

“yeah,” you can only respond, leaning forward again until your forehead thunks into his chest. “i was being ridiculous, wasn’t i?”

“maybe a little,” he teases, his hand resuming its precious trek up and down your spine. “but isn’t that better than not caring at all?”

#stray kids imagines #stray kids fluff #stray kids #skz fluff #stray kids fic #lee know fluff #lee know imagines #lee know x y/n #lee know x reader #stray kids drabbles #stray kids x reader #stray kids hurt/comfort

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mockerycrow · 1 month

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not really a request but do you have any thoughts about how Gaz would act if he were jealous? I usually see hcs about it with ghost, soap, and price but never with gaz

this is not roommate!gaz specific — slight nsfw under the cut. (gn!reader)

hmm, i think Gaz would be the type to be silently jealous. I think Gaz has a lot of emotions that he’s good at controlling and leveling out—i’m trying to display that in my roommate!gaz series where he feels it heavily at first, but he finds ways to either suppress it all, or he finds ways to healthily level it out.

I don’t see Gaz as an insecure man; he isn’t jealous because he’s afraid he’s going to lose you, and of course this man doesn’t “own” you.. However, the way his chest tightens and his metaphorical tail wags hard when you wear his clothes (especially w/ his name on it) does suggest that he is.. protective in a way. Gaz hates the word possessive, it implies he owns you—he firmly believes you are your own person—but there’s something little creature inside of him that wants to keep you to himself selfishly.

Alas, he knows this isn’t humanly possible! So, Gaz instead lets himself simmer and stew in his own emotions for a little while, a mini pity party for himself you could say. I think the most he would outwardly show is jealousness is through being a bit snarky/snippy on accident (with lots of apologies later), or through sex. you would definitely have to expect more bruises and hickeys, maybe even a bite mark or two—and perhaps he would ask the same of you!

Overall, Gaz is a jealous person but he knows how to control it and not to impose it onto you imo :-)

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hamletthedane · 8 months

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Jane Austen was so insane for writing Emma I’m losing my mind

Like you have the mean bossy femme lesbian in her late 20’s, living off her trust fund and becoming hyper-obsessed with a local pretty peasant girl Jennifer’s Body style. People call her perfect, and she knows they’re right

(They’re wrong. Her childhood best friend - her metaphoric conscious - reminds her every day.)

She’s the protagonist of this book but the antagonist of every other: she’s Caroline Bingley, Blanche Ingram, Cordelia Chase, Regina George, Heather Chandler. She’s the queen of this school, and popularity is a hell of a drug.

(Popularity is the only power she has. There’s something itching at the back of her brain: She doesn’t want to be this. She doesn’t want to do this. Why is she trying to impress all these mean people.)

She can do no wrong. She mocks the annoying weird girl and everybody laughs and the weird girl finally shuts up.

(He’s frowning at her in the background. She’s frowning at herself. She’s angry at both of them)

People think she’s charming and beautiful and so kind.

(They’re wrong.)

She keeps everybody at arm’s length, staying mean and fiercely independent.

(They can’t see her loneliness. Her failures. The way she watches her pretty new friend laughing joyfully and beautifully in the sun, and it just makes her feel sad.)

She plays Cupid because she sees people as her play things - love is just a game for her.

(She plays Cupid because she knows that everybody will leave her in the end, anyways. This just allows her to control it.)

Jane Austen famously called Emma “a heroine whom no one but myself will much like.”

(I like her too)

#emma #Jane Austen #I’M VERY NORMAL ABOUT EMMA #ultimate beloved queer coded mean girl #jane austen said ‘i want to take this mean girl and study her for science’ and that’s such a mood #uh this post got out of hand. i might just be gay for emma.#also yes Emma is actually 21 this is a vibes ONLY post

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sashi-ya · 1 month

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byakuya kuchiki x f! reader tw: suggestive language, not entirely nsfw. thinking of writing a full nsfw part tho. wc: 475 masterlist 🌱

DESERT ROSE. A sun that shines too brightly, too hot. the heat, rising up… almost boiling your blood, your skin, your eyes. “Are you feeling ok?” he asks, turning around to look at you. Byakuya looks visibly hot, drenched in sweat but still perfectly fine. “I… yes, Captain Kuchiki“ you lie. Of course you aren’t. Never in your soul years you have experienced such hot summer. But you can’t lack now, your captain trusted you to accompany him in this important mission for the very first time. Byakuya frowns. He knows you are lying; he can tell the way your skin has become hotter and hotter. How your breathing is becoming accelerated and drops of sweat garnish your temples. But, is he really worried just for your safety? Your lips, slightly opened in an O shape, letting hot air escape your insides, are making him nervous. Nervous, anxious, needy. “We should rest a little bit anyway” he suggests. In all honesty, orders. You nod, following the orders with no hesitation… as if being completely submissive towards him, wasn’t something you wouldn’t like to indulge in. He is using his gimpaku to cover his head, somehow it reminds you of those tales of the middle east. A beautiful Bedouin in the middle of desert. Following him has never been easy, but this time he waits for you to walk past him. There is a reason why Byakuya needs to walk behind you... Your uncovered back, the uniform you are wearing that used to belong to squad two. The shiny drops of sweat pooling on the small of your back, luring the eyes to wonder down, down your spine. The sixth division captain, far from being a pervert, somehow can’t help it this time; just today, one single time…let me lose control. A bottle full of water wouldn’t be enough to cool down his own inner workings… and that bottle full of water would look much better if it got poured on your beautiful anatomy. A cold relief makes you jolt. “What?!” “I was worried you would end up passing out because of the heat” he murmurs, enjoying the fabric of your uniform get even wetter, sticking to your already dampened skin. You stutter. You are lost of words. Slowly, you turn around to face him. It is almost immediate; the little water left is now being poured on your lips. Like honey, like milk… like what he would absolutely love to drizzle on you. “Thank you, Kuchiki-sama…” you purr, looking up at him. Oh, you have understood exactly the metaphorical meaning of his actions. “I’m about to pass out, too… you know?” he lies; Byakuya hasn’t ever felt that strong and alive. “You must cool down too, Taichou…” you whisper, coming closer, using your hands to untie the white sash of his hakama.

#mini scenarios series 🌱#byakuya kuchiki x reader #kuchiki byakuya x reader #byakuya x reader #byakuya kuchiki imagine #byakuya x you #kuchiki byakuya #byakuya kuchiki x you #kuchiki byakuya x you #byakuya #kuchiki byakuya imagine #byakuya kuchiki #bleach #bleach headcanons #bleach imagines #bleach byakuya #bleach x reader #bleach anime #bleach fanart

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androids-insides · 9 months

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Another thing I’d like to explain! What can I say, I like explaining things ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Todays explanation is on my theories (I guess?) on, you guessed it:

The Stanley Parable!

(I like other things, I swear! I’m just very irrationally afraid that everyone who follows me won’t like the other things, so I usually don’t post about it :,] )

A summary, so I don’t lose your attention, is that I like to think that most theories are correct! Now, allow me to explain! (Yes there will be pictures)

Put in different terms, all endings are “cannon,” in what they imply. For example,

This is a helpful and much needed picture of Stanley and The Narrator.

From here, the story could go anywhere! From following directions, to jumping out a window, anything and everything is on the metaphorical table.

This is the Confusion Ending. Here, The Narrator had a story and a point to it all, but has lost his control to a yellow line^tm and self-contradicting revelations.

One of the few examples where The Narrator has no control. The story, the parable and the outcomes are all at someone, or something, else’s command. This is currently cannon.

This, however, is the Countdown Ending. Here, everything had gone exactly to plan, aside from Stanley’s last decision. The Narrator, seemingly on a whim, rewrites the ending in a moment, and has the omnipotence to detonate the entire facility.

At this point, The Narrator is in control of everything. Nothing stands in his way from destroying both Stanley and the story’s outcome. There is no question of who or what has altered the story, as it is most certainly The Narrator himself. This is currently cannon.

If that understands it, then let it be. In some endings, The Narrator is the only one who controls the story, in others, control is left to someone/thing else. In some Stanley has a wife and a kid, and in others he’s just a boring no-body (or, no legs at least). In some The Narrator works the boring office job and created Stanley to entertain himself, in others Stanley miraculously became part of a dark and twisted game that both gave his life meaning and took it away.

On a cosmic scale of “what is the parable and where did it come from,” I honestly think there is no real answer. It’s lazy, I know, but hear me out:

Think of it as Past, Present, Future. We, as spectators or consumers, know very clearly where the story currently is. As well as that, we know several of the ways that it ends. We know it started at some point, is currently existing, and will stop existing after that loading screen, right?

Each ending answers the burning question of “what about before this?” However because of the inconsistent variation, there can’t really be a solid answer. We arrived at the middle of the story, where Stanley works in a big office building and decides to try and figure out where his coworkers went. We don’t know how long Stanley and The Narrator have been in this loop, as it is, you can play The Stanley Parable as many times over as you want. Therefore, the beginning can really only be where we know the story picks up, which is at a time where there is no definitive answer of What came first, The Narrator or The Stanley. A question that no one can truly answer.

It’s sort of like the concept of Gender Fluidity, in a way. Where however the person feels that day is their decided gender, is as to however The Parable ends is how it begins. In conclusion, The Stanley Parable plot is a close second Gender Fluid icon, right behind Nimona.

Joking put briefly aside, I think The Parable is just a huge concept. Did/can/could Stanley talk at some point? Maybe. Isn’t The Narrator supposed to be the “physical” representation of divorce? Probably. Is The Narrator a figment of Stanley’s imagination, or the other way around? Who knows. All I can guarantee, is that the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never

#I forgot to add tags somehow???#the stanley parable #the stanley parable art #the stanley parable fanart #tsp art #tsp fanart #tsp fandom #the stanley parable ultra deluxe #tspud #iknowitsagooddaywhenConnorEatsTrousersthreatenstoeatmyart #whatdoyourhinkittasteslike?

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box4brains · 3 months

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I just want to talk about Law…

Kinda hc-y, could I get other ppls opinions and views on these things?

So!

I hc Law as someone who has extreme issues with control. In fact, he knows he can be unreasonable and extreme when it comes to being in control, however due to his trauma he associates not being in control with the worst moments of his life and thus fear it more than anything else.

He can’t not be in control and not fear he’ll lose anything and everything he holds dear.

I know there’s a lot of jokes about how relaxed Law was before the time skip and while it’s possible that it’s just Oda not having cemented his character, I generally look at it as Law just… being a cocky little shit.

Law is someone I see as extremely cautious, strong and clever. He wouldn’t put himself or his crew in danger if he could avoid it. And in case he can’t avoid it, try ending it as fast as possible and in whatever manner is safest to him and his crew.

So unlike Luffy he never had any close calls all through the first half of the GL. He never encountered any truly strong marines or enemies the same way Luffy did.

I don’t think he’d go out of his way to be antagonistic or pick fights like Kid either.

Law is definitely still cautious, but the first half of the GL basically being a breeze would definitely make him a cocky little bastard. At least until the war between the WBP and the marines gave him a wake up call in the form of a metaphorical slap to the face.

But it it still doesn’t adequately explain his “new” personality in Punk Hazard (imo).

He appears to act hastily, is grim and severe and appears to be in the middle of a suicide attack. Seems weird and kinda ooc… at least without a good reason for it.

I generally look at it like this;

Law is acting more hastily than he’d prefer, because he knows he’s running out of time.

We know his original plan to take down Doflamingo wasn’t what he’d actually wanted to do. Law wanted revenge, he wanted to fight Doflamingo himself, not set up this elaborate scheme that basically used Kaido to do what he couldn’t.

So what’s the rush?

I believe that Law designed the Heart pirates logo/jolly roger and picked the name as a way to honor Cora’s memory, but it was also meant to send the message to Doflamingo “I’m your Corazon, I’m coming home”. That’s why the flag look so alike, remember, Doffy doesn’t know that Law was present when he killed his brother. Doffy doesn’t know that Law knows that Doffy means to use him to further his own agenda.

From Doffys pov it probably looks like Law disappeared only to appear maybe 5-6 years later as a pirate, practically wearing his symbol and carrying the title/name he raised him to inherit.

I believe Law would know Doflamingo well enough that Doflamingo would take it as a sign that he was (perhaps slowly and meticulously, just as he was taught) making his way back “home”.

Hell, Doflamingo probably was all happy and smug about it. His 3:rd Corazon was working his way up in the world, making his way back to his side, despite his own brother having done everything in his power to mess everything up.

Remember, Law was in no hurry to make his way into the New World. I think it’s because he knows he can only prolong his appearance in front of Doffy for so long if he did.

Now, I hc hard that Law and the Heart pirates deal in the black market, specifically because Law knows that Doflamingo is Joker, and he needs all the dirt and information he can get to try and stay one step ahead of Doffy, and to try to find his weak spots.

Well, he finds out about SAD, Smile and Kaido. Finally he’s got something he might use to his advantage. However, he also finds out that Kaido’s almost done creating his army of world domination. Maybe he gives it a year or so before the whole world will be dragged into a war guaranteed to change the world forever, both politically and geographically. And then all his knowledge will be useless.

And Law knows Doffy won’t wait another decade or so before he might be able to tackle Doflamingo again.

No, his only choice is to get in front of the storm brewing on the horizon, to take charge and use the pieces all around him to place himself in the eye of the hurricane and use the powers around him to accomplish his own goals.

He needs to use Kaido to take out Doflamingo. It doesn’t matter if Kaidos army of beasts is almost done, practically done or just a single person short. Kaidos temper is legendary, and his rage against Doflamingo failing to fulfill his duties would lead to a clash between them, a clash Doflamingo has no hope of winning.

A strong and clever pirate could sweep in after an stake his claim in the New World. The probability of coming out on top is abysmally small, but Doffys defeat is practically guaranteed, and the rewards of success is incredibly enticing. Not to mention he has no other choice.

Now Law is a warlord during this. He needs the contacts in the navy and he needs something to be a plausible reason for not turning up at Doflamingos doorstep with a smile and begging to be his puppet.

Law knows, Doflamingo likes useful pawns, but Laws biggest use is to die so Doffy can live forever, and Doflamingo isn’t going to wait forever, regardless of how much Law improves his abilities and allure as someone who’s usefulness is off the charts.

So he gets his hands on a eternal pose to PH and says goodbye to his crew… They don’t want to part, but they know that his orders are absolute, to disobey orders is to be kicked from the crew, so they go, and pray to anything that will listen to please let their captain come back to them.

And Law negotiates with Ceasar. He gives him his heart, his freedom, his most precious thing, what Cora-san died slowly and agonizingly to give him. And then… Luffy

For the second time in Laws life, Luffy crashes into his life, turning everything upside down and blowing all his carefully laid plans out of the water.

Luffy who’s freedom itself, Luffy who’s the very definition of the D that Cora-san spoke of. The storm that declared war against the world, the enemy of the gods that punched a celestial dragon in the face without a moment’s hesitation.

In the face of such an free soul, the invisible leach that Ceasar has around Laws neck chafe something terrible. Listening to the clown happily talking about how he made drug addicts of small children, something in Law finally snaps and he ends up hunting down Luffy with the goal of making an alliance.

Because some part of Law trusts Luffy, regardless of how much he hates it, swears up and down that he doesn’t, that he shouldn’t…

After all, Luffy and his crew are perhaps the definition of the type of people that he can’t help but open his heart for. (Strong-willed, happy-go-lucky and determined with a tendency to do everything in their power for those they care for). And that terrifies him. Because Luffy can’t be controlled, and therefore Law cannot protect him.

And Law just can’t handle losing a loved one again. Never again. There’s a reason he always makes sure to place himself between anything that would do them harm and his crew.

Anyway, I sure would like to hear other people’s thoughts and/or hc of Law and his character

… I spent most of the night writing this 🙄 oh well…

#trafalgar d water law #trafalgar law #trafalgardwaterlaw #character discussion #one piece #heart pirates #rant

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fluffywings13 · 4 months

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Binding Vow Loophole (2/2)

“I can’t–! I cahahahahan—Kuhuhunaaa!”

Their new Binding Vow didn’t pertain to any forceful usurping of Control between them, no magic word that tore Yuuji out of the metaphorical drivers seat without the ability to reclaim it, the details are quite simple but without any room for potential abuse of loopholes.

One; Sukuna had the right to yank him down into his Domain whenever he pleased, so long as Yuuji was in a safe location to be rendered Unconscious, whenever he was feeling particularly restless and/or a sense of irritation that needed to be cured without a more physical approach.

Two; Yuuji was only required to hand total control over their Vessel retaining the ability to coexist in that metaphorical drivers seat. (Sukuna taught him how to manage that feat–guy was a surprisingly decent Sensei when in a mellowed out state of mind)

Three; Sukuna was required to step in if something or someone Yuuji was not suited to handle on his own or with his partners to ensure he remained unharmed (healed if unavoidable harm did befall him) without complaint or an attempt to mutilate the other two bratty students. Control was to be given back upon assurance the threat was neutralized completely unless the child was not capable of handling control at the moment. In which a suitable location must be found with haste to allow control to be returned while the boy recovered within his domain.

Four; Yuuji could summon Sukuna into the physical plain just as Fushiguro could summon forth his Shikigami if the need arose, Sukuna was tied to remain within a specified distance to the boy at all times, and could only cause harm to whatever reason he was summoned forth. (Again, Sukuna taught him how to perform this particular technique because though akin to his friend’s ability it was starkly different in the finer details of the act)

“You most certainly can. I’ve seen it with my own eyes. Take it, you brat, this is your consequence for summoning me for such frivolous reasons.” Sukuna rakes his nails, sharp as ever, up and down the bratty child’s abs. Taking in his howling shrieks of laughter as one would a much needed tonic or such. “Let’s go over them, shall we?” With the child hanging over his lap, bent at the back over his knees, legs anchored at his hips as he rests contentedly upon his Throne as usual. Sukuna made sure that the bend of the boy’s back would not cause discomfort, legs spread open only just to ensure the skirt of his kimono cushioned his position, his head resting upon the tops of his feet. “Summoning me to assist with your daily chores, I think not, they’re your chores to complete not mine.”

Yuuji screams and jolts at the sharp pinching spider crawling of fingers racing over the sides of his tummy, the sensitive belly surface spasming with the intensity of his peals of squeals, no regrets for summoning the Curse forth for stupid reasons. Arching his back as they come around to knead and scribble over his lower tummy, bursting with a loud shrill squeal, the most lighthearted sound to ever ring within this typically dismal place.

“I don’t mind you summoning me to assist with your studies. I know you struggle with sciences and history studies. That I won’t punish you for. I’m, dare I say, happy to be of assistance in that regard.” Sukuna tugs the hem of the brat’s lounge pants down enough, a discovery made upon the very first torturous endeavor, a rather ticklish waist. “However, the same can’t be said when you summoned me to assist in folding your laundry.” He watches in content as the boy screams and bucks, head lifting from the cushioning his feet provide him, as his claws scratch lightly over the sensitive waist. “It never ceases to humor me that you lose all hope with something as simple as me lightly scratching your waist.”

“Pl–Pleeaaasseehehehhehehshshahahahahah nohohohot theheheheere! Nonononononoahahahhahahhahahaha I caaaaaahan’t! Anywhere but theeheheheheheheere!”

Oh, how the sounds of his pleas always falling short of their desired outcome are music to his ears. “Perhaps I’ll stay right here for, I don’t know, ten minutes–longer–how would you like that, hmm?” Sukuna feels the boy’s legs jolt against his hips and grins. “If you kick me, no matter if it’s accidental or not, I’ll bring you to absolute tears kid.” The strain of those little feet just under his elbows, toes flexing in agony, is so harsh it’s felt. “Don’t you dare. You asked for this, daring to abuse our Vow for your own childish gain, something you should have considered was this being your atonement for using me to your whims.”

When that right foot, bare and warm, so very small compared to his own, makes contact with his hip Sukuna follows through on his threat. Yuuji wails at his misfortune and shrieks in surprise when he’s yanked up into the Curse’s lap entirely, nothing more about his position changes, legs tugged up to curl comfortably over the man’s shoulders the apologies he spews are met with deaf ears as far too knowledgeable fingers attack his inner thighs with a viciousness that has shrill screeches mixing with great loud shrill squeals and cackles.

Kicking and bouncing, Yuuji can’t find the mental capacity to form actual words for further pleading and apologizing for the unintentional assault, fingers wander down kneading and clawing vicious as ever to the spot that started the exploration of his thighs in the first place. Drumming his legs, careful not to kick the Curse King again, his head whips around as his hair messes completely as he pushes himself upwards with his feet against the backrest of the Throne they reside on.

“Oh, little one, you didn’t say you wanted me to get that particular spot.”

He didn’t! Yuuji did no such thing! Fingers far more gentle than they’ve ever been return to that insanity inducing spot just under the curve that would be considered a groping of his rear end. Collapsing in a fit of guffaws, fingers leave that life altering spot to race up his sides again, the teen writhes and twists as they race back down. Up again, shrieks and squeals, down once more, twist and turns like a cackling little worm. Up. Down. Up. Down. You get it.

Tears slowly begin to entice his eyes to burn, laughter becoming a tad hysterical, as one set of fingers continue to race up and down his side as he tries to curl sharply away from them and the other set claw up to his defenseless armpit.

Sukuna’s cruel. Obviously. Worming one finger under the clenched arm. Then two. Three. Four. All five. Yuuji feels those tears threatening to burst as he socumbs to the horrid tickle torture as penace for kicking the man who gave him fair warning. Clawing and vibrating in his sensitive pit, the pinkette’s laughter slowly falls to silent crackly cackles, tears soaking his cheeks.

Then it stops. Giggling deliriously, gulping frantic breathes of much needed oxygen, the aid of a warm large hand rubbing his sore belly in a manner that could definitely be taken as tenderness helps him settle far quicker then one typically would. “Don’t you ever kick me again.”

#jjk itadori #jjk sukuna #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu sukuna #yuji itadori #tickle fic #secretly soft sukuna #soft fluff #jjk tickle #ler!sukuna #lee!itadori #ticklish itadori

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red-moon-at-night · 10 months

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Let's talk a little bit about Mahiru's boyfriend

This post is alternatively titled "Mahiru's Boyfriend Probably Had An Eating Disorder And I Am Very Sad About It So Now You Get To Be Sad About It With Me" but that felt a bit much in the bold title font so I'm trying to tone this down at least a little bit :')

So I was reading this wonderful post earlier (you should too btw it has a LOT of interesting information), and as I was going through the food section something clicked in my brain. Pieces of information that were drifting aimlessly before quickly came together for me and I almost wish they hadn’t because oh boy is it depressing.

Now, nothing I’m about to say here is explicitly stated - but I do think it is strongly insinuated, through the MVs of both ‘This Is How To Be In Love With You’ (TIHTBILWY what an acronym wow) and ‘I Love You’. I am aware that the latter video has a lot of metaphorical imagery, but I still think some of this imagery can be taken in a literal sense to reinforce ideas established in TIHTBILWY.

TW/Trigger Warnings: discussion of eating disorders (anorexia, bulimia, etc.), discussion of suicide and suicidal thoughts. Please take these into consideration and stay safe!

credit to iaobug’s transcribed images from ‘This Is How To Be In Love With You’ used below btw!

Now I’ve always had an inkling this could be possible, but I didn’t realise until recently there was this much evidence supporting a little idea of mine dancing around in my head.

But First, Some Quick Definitions and Criteria

First things first, I think we should briefly clarify what an eating disorder is and what eating disorder I think Mahiru’s boyfriend most likely had.

Here are some definitions:

Eating disorders are behavioral conditions characterized by severe and persistent disturbance in eating behaviors and associated distressing thoughts and emotions. They can be very serious conditions affecting physical, psychological and social function. (source)

An eating disorder is a mental health condition where you use the control of food to cope with feelings and other situations. (source)

And here are some brief introductions to several types of eating disorders:

The most common eating disorders are:

anorexia nervosa – trying to control your weight by not eating enough food, exercising too much, or doing both bulimia – losing control over how much you eat and then taking drastic action to not put on weight binge eating disorder (BED) – eating large portions of food until you feel uncomfortably full

Other specified feeding or eating disorder (OSFED) – A person may have an OSFED if their symptoms do not exactly fit the expected symptoms for any specific eating disorders.

(source)

Okay, so we have some basic information down, cool! This is not fully comprehensive but it will do for the purposes of this segment.

So what eating disorder do I believe Mahiru’s boyfriend had?

I’m not sure! The information we have is not conclusive enough for me to confidently pick an option. What I will say is most likely, and most common, is OSFED and the concept of the eating disorder cycle. People’s symptoms will often overlap with multiple diagnoses, or shift from one mode of behaviour (e.g. the restrictive eating behaviours found in anorexia) to another (e.g. binge eating and following compensatory behaviours found in bulimia).

Things are often not as clear-cut or black and white as we’d like to imagine.

Let’s move onto looking at the MVs, shall we?

This first music video has a wealth of information hidden in its cute magazine-style annotations and imagery - information that, when you look a little closer and consider the bigger picture, raises all the alarm bells in my mind.

Parts of ‘This Is How To Be In Love With You’ That Make Me Pause In Concern, In Chronological Order:

The Bread

Let's start off with a not very obvious one.

One of the first things we learn about Mahiru’s soon-to-be-boyfriend (which by the way this is literally the 2nd time he’s mentioned) is ‘wow he buys a lot of bread’. Insignificant on its own, I know, but consider this through my lens if you will: my man has bought 5 whole baguettes from a bakery. Not 2 or 3, but 5. Actually, on closer inspection there's even more bread of a different type at the bottom of that bag too. These aren’t store-bought, they’re fresh and will probably go stale in a few days. Pray tell, if the man is not eating baguette for breakfast lunch and dinner over the course of 72 hours... why did he buy so much fucking bread?

What comes to mind when I see this is binge eating. Bread is one of the most common binge foods out there; anything with high carbohydrates or high fat content, in fact, often due to its “unhealthy” or “forbidden” nature.

We'll just have a quick look at Mahiru's comment again:

"I thought to buy the same bread he did, but this is far too much for me to eat... ><

I forgot to ask how many calories there are..."

If it hasn't been established by now with the MV's aesthetic, Mahiru cares about her appearance. A lot. Her self-image and beauty directly ties into looking 'good' enough for others, so she can find the love of her life and please him with her looks.

If Mahiru is also calorie counting, this does not bode well for their relationship. I should probably speak in past tense, actually... Mahiru's own self-image behaviours made her blind to her boyfriend's self-image behaviours. There we go.

But I'm getting ahead of myself here.

So, We have an indication of binge eating behaviours. Remind me again what comes after binging?

The Jogging Hobby

Oh, that’s right - purging.

Excessive exercise is an indirect method of purging/compensatory behaviour found in bulimia. A more commonly known purging method is self-induced vomiting, but that's certainly not the only way to counteract excess calories.

So the jogging, while harmless in isolation, is starting to paint an ever-so-slightly worrying picture.

Again, let's take a look at Mahiru's comment:

"I had a chance to chat with him today, and he mentioned his hobby was jogging. ... I haven't exercised this much in ages... I'm totally exhausted..."

The only hobby (not hobbies but hobby, singular) that we learn the boyfriend has is this. Sure, there's one movie that he also likes... but that's it. There's not much else to him! So when the two most prevalent ideas attached to this guy are 'food' (in excess) and 'exercise' (in excess)... you can see where I'm going with this.

And by the way, the post I linked at the very beginning? Well, they worked out the location of where this running loop is, and judging by Mahiru’s position and direction it would suggest she’s already jogged about 5km and beginning another loop. So we’re looking at a jog ranging from 5-10km (or more)...

The Alcohol

Okay, here's a quick pop quiz question for you. Who is more likely to get drunk on the same volume of alcohol: a 5"1 woman, or an average height (5"7 in Japan) man?

In theory, it should be the 5"7 man on the basis of his height and size. Alcohol tolerance goes up the bigger you are.

So why is it that the boyfriend ended up blackout drunk, and Mahiru... didn't?

Let’s take a look at the comment:

“My first date at a bar, how heartpounding!

Here is where I learned he’s the biggest lightweight I’ve ever met! ...or maybe I’m just really good at holding alcohol?

Whatever the case, blackout drunk him is so cute!”

Three possible options:

Mahiru really can 'hold her liquor'. Judging by her sheltered home life and general lack of adult life experience though, I'm gonna press x to doubt here sorry mappi.

The boyfriend drunk more alcohol than Mahiru. Also unlikely, as she calls him a 'lightweight' and I think she would've highlighted this in her comment.

He drank on an empty stomach. Alcohol absorbs way faster if you haven't had anything to eat beforehand. This, I think is the most likely scenario.

Here's a little more on the subject that I found interesting:

You absorb 20 per cent of alcohol into your bloodstream through your stomach and the rest into your bloodstream through your small intestine.

Drinking a small amount of alcohol stimulates your appetite because it increases the flow of stomach juices. A large amount of alcohol dulls your appetite and can cause malnutrition. (source)

What have we learnt so far?

So we’ve established some concerning behaviours here.

He eats in excess

He exercises in excess

He drinks in excess (on an empty stomach)

I’m actually going to move onto material from the ‘I Love You’ MV, but intertwine it with some of the remaining points from TIHTBILWY.

At this point the relationship has progressed, we’re moving into winter which brings with it the holiday season! Yay! Except not yay, because things are starting to look really bad for Mahiru’s boyfriend. We've gone from this:

To this:

The carousel was fine at first but now it’s taking its toll on him. Both of them have tattered clothes but Mahiru looks optimistic, whilst the boyfriend looks very distraught. His cheekbones are visible and overall he looks a lot less healthy. I guess this is a good time to point out how distinct and visible his collarbone has been this entire time by the way? He’s even bonier than before. Not great.

A lot of events occur at this time of year, such as Christmas (celebrated between couples in Japan as more of a lovers holiday) and new years. What happens a lot during that period of time? Food. Lots of it. This point in the year is not ideal for someone suffering from a worsening eating disorder. This is a period of time which someone would want to move very quickly from because they can’t see the end of it.

I think it’s time to read Mahiru’s comment from day 15:

“Happy new years! To celebrate, we went to a shrine.

Predictably, I already have my wish in mind.

May we stay like this until the end of time.

May nobody stand in my way”

She, on the other hand, is very happy for things to remain as they are.

Day 16 - AKA, Oh No Things Have Gone Terribly Wrong

This is where the narrative hits its climax and everything starts to snowball.

Now, we reach this scene where the boyfriend stops walking and breaks down. He kneels on the ground, digs his nails into it, and pleads for... something. Help? An intervention? A stop to this carousel that’s doing him no good and only making his health (physical and mental) worse?

He never speaks. It is a silent plea.

One that Mahiru misses.

Saying I love you but doing what I did, I know I have no right, crossed and covered in sin

My love, it scored an own goal, destroyed my love and me with its weight

Tell me, oh tell me why, can’t I just do it right

What did you do, Mahiru?

I believe that this scene and response:

Is directly parallel to this event:

As in, they’re the same thing.

One more comment to read:

He’ll be in for a big, delicious surprise once he gets home!

I’ve made SO many notes about his favorite foods, and practiced my butt off!

I can’t wait to see the look on his face when he sees it all.

Her love - her surprise buffet to cheer him up - scored an own goal, so to speak.

I don’t think I need to say much about this picture, or this scene. She’s giving him excess but that excess is literally driving him over the edge. The nuance is lost between them, and they both need different things from each other and they’re not getting it. Cake to rats, rats to cake.

They’re back on the carousel, spinning around and around with things never changing, no end in sight.

I want to end on this frame of the MV. You see the pole behind the boyfriend? It’s reminding me of rope, and of a certain visual at the end of the video. The juxtaposition of Mahiru forcing her ‘love’ onto him, and of suicidal ideation being the only way off this ride and his problems.

#milgram #mahiru shiina #analysis #long post #eating disorder tw #anorexia tw #bulimia tw #this is how to be in love with you #ai nan desu yo #I love you #daisuki #I DID THE THING and it's... long. and sad :(#this was a really interesting interpretation to write! it's certainly not bulletproof but I truly believe this guy had problems in life #and mahiru couldn't have changed that fact. did she help? not really! did things get bad bad? y. yeah. but! ...#...I have nothing uplifting to say here. her love was plentiful and well meaning but woefully misguided </3 #I genuinely care about this nameless character now... he looks so happy at the start embracing her and im certain in better--#--days between them they were having a great lovey dovey time!! ugH my heart it hurts.....#if there's typos it's because it's late and I'm tired LMAO

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 1 year

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GOD I AM NOT YOUR STRONGEST WARRIOR/j

***Glorious Masquerade spoilers beneath the cut!!***

ROLLO LORE ROLLO LORE ROLLO LORE 👀

ROLLO FLAMME UNIQUE MAGIC REVEAL, I REPEAT: ROLLO FLAMME UNIQUE MAGIC REVEAL>>>?!?!?!??!?!??>!>@@ WE GET THE INCANTATION FOR ITR TOO?????

“Crimson flower, scorch my soul and guide me. Dark Fire!” (Translation generously provided by @mysteryshoptls, who is currently on hiatus)

Note that the line itself says “身”, which more closely translates to “physical body/myself”. “Scorch my soul” is a phrase lifted from the lyrics of Hellfire, the Disney song, and fits with the “salvation” tone and theming.

Please also note that the “crimson flower” he’s referring to in the incantation is NOT literally referencing the crimson flowers (the magic sucking plant he cultivated in the waterways); he’s not controlling or influencing the flowers in any way (other than having grown them). The “crimson flower” of the incantation is metaphorical and likely refers to the fire that covers his body afterwards (as the actual flowers are described to closely resemble real fire).

“くすぶる欲望”, the name for Rollo’s unique magic is spoken aloud as “Dark Fire”, but it is written as “Burning Desire”. Again, this is a lyric lifted from the lyrics of Hellfire.

Rollo’s UM literally engulfs his body in flames, which he can freely control firebending lol. The magical fire is fueled by others’ fear and uneasiness.

ROLLO’S IN HIS RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS ERA, HE’S FINALLY EMBRACING HIS INNER ARSONIST I KNEW HE COULD DO IT I KNEW HE COULD LOSE HIS SHIT

ALSO, WE WERE SUPER CLOSE WITH THE DEAD LITTLE BROTHER THEORY 😭 Apparently Rollo’s little brother died very young. He unlocked his magic before Rollo did; he played around with his magical abilities and acted recklessly with them. He performed a fire spell he couldn’t control… which ended up claiming his life. Rollo wasn’t able to help him, as he unlocked his magic AFTER his little brother was already dead (and he claims that he is absolved of fault because he didn’t have magic at the time but come on, I think we all realize he probably has internalized guilt over it). Because of this, he resents magicians for not doing anything to help moderate or to restrain his brother’s magic use.

HE’S CRYING, ROLLO IS CRYING

BRUH 😔 YOU REALLY GOT TA HIT US IN THE FEELS LIEK THIS????????????? I FEEL MY HEART BREAKING I’M NOT MADE OF STONE I’M NOT MADE OF SOMETHING STRONGER I’M LITERALLY GLASS RIGHT NOW

(THIS PART IS THEORIZING + ANALYSIS but there’s a flashback to Rollo’s past… and when his little brother calls out to him for help, there are rising flames in the background. This implies that his little brother died burning alive because he couldn’t control a fire spell… and Rollo couldn’t help even if he wanted to because he hadn’t gotten his own magic yet. As Azul points out, he must have been so conflicted when his own magical abilities awakened. THEN ROLLO LEARNS THE MAGIC THAT MAKES HIM “UNIQUE” IS ASSOCIATED WITH FIRE 🤡

Imagine how fucking traumatic that must be if his little brother was lost in the flames… And if that’s true, then it explains why Rollo has dialogue which implies he’s unhappy with himself, that he views his own magic as being “cursed”, on top of forming a disdain for magic (and particularly those who overindulge in it as his brother once did). Losing his brother would have made such a big impact on Rollo that it literally SHAPED what his unique magic would be… That death was an extremely traumatic formative experience. Then, in a cruel twist of fate, Rollo sees his own magical abilities are a constant reminder that he could not save his loved one, and the form it has taken is like a sin and the guilt he cannot scrub from himself. Rollo’s body literally sets on fire when he uses his unique magic—a horrifyingly reminder of his little brother’s body burning to a crisp before his eyes.

What must Rollo be thinking in that moment when he discovered his unique magic and every time he uses it after that? I can control the fire that my brother couldn’t. I survive when this fire consumes me, and my brother didn’t. Uh, no wonder why he describes his magic as “repulsive” 😔 and no wonder why he’s not scared to lose his own magic. He, in fact, believes it will be liberating.

And the fact that his Dark Fire is powered by negative emotions????? That’s… such a scary manifestation of Rollo’s own dark thoughts and emotions. The worse people feel, the worse the flames become… the stronger Rollo’s internalized guilt, the more hateful he became, until it ultimately culminated in this plot to steal all the magic from Twisted Wonderland. In his eyes, any amount of magic is dangerous—too little, and mages becomes jealous. Too much, and they become arrogant. Magic is that evil, the unease and the fear, that propels Rollo and his unique soul-defining spell.

Dark Fire fittingly defines him, his obsession, and his ambition. Most importantly, it gives him drive, and a cause to work toward. It is Rollo’s guiding light in an otherwise dark, sin-drenched world. This is reflected even in the incantation: “Scorch my soul and guide me.” Rollo’s “sin” is also, very ironically, the hope that propels him toward is own brand of “salvation” at the expense of all other magic users. Like Idia says, Rollo tries ro justify his actions by claiming it is for the good of all when, in reality, Rollo is just seeking salvation for himself. He wants to come to terms with all the guilt he has been burdened with: seeing his brother burn, coming down with the curse of magic, the blight of his unique magic… GOD HE’S. SO AWFUL OTL BUT ALSO SO DARK AND COMPLEX)

asgk dihasbioasbiadfbiadfbafds Anyway, back to canon!!

SO THEY BEAT THE SHIT OUT OF ROLLO AND. His punishment for all of this is… Well, none of his crimes are shared with people outside of NRC (like how they try to contain news of Jamil and Vil’s OBs in the main story) 😂 so Rollo still remains “pure” in the eyes of the NBC mobs that adore him, BUT he has to deal with the internal moral dilemma and turmoil.

Truly fitting for a villain who has already internalized so much self-hatred and guilt… Oh yeah, and he dances with Malleus at the end 😂 Happily ever after, I guess??

#twst #twisted wonderland #Malleus Draconia #Rollo Flamme #disney twisted wonderland #spoilers #notes from the writing raven #flame body Rollo resembles Esmeralda dancing in the fireplace #twst theory #twisted wonderland theory #twisted wonderland theories #twst analysis #twisted wonderland character analysis #twst character analysis #twisted wonderland analysis #d does this count as Rollo rot 😔#GOD I LOVE DEAD FAMILY DRAMA IT’S SO JUICY #it’s such a good literary device for angst 😈#Rollo Flamm

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tadpolesonalgae · 11 months

Text

Demon!Azriel x reader: Teeth and Talons - Part 2 [***]

Warnings: demon!az, mentions of rituals, arguably monsterfucking, sadomasochism, bdsm themes, slight blood play, ovipositor, dark!azriel, dubcon, mentions of somnophilia, cockwarming

A/N: 6.6k words

-Part 1- -Part 3-

Sleeping hasn’t gotten easier. Every night he prowls the halls of your unconscious mind, driving deeper and deeper into you until he forms a nest. Then he starts devouring you from inside out. It’s the same every time. It starts as a normal night, the usual frenetic dreams zipping and zapping through you, morphing from riverbeds and dandelion fur into melting with the sun on an afternoon stroll. He’s always just behind you. About to pounce.

Tonight is no different.

You’re seated in his nest, wrapped in a white silk robe that parts down the middle, exposing you to his hungry gaze. His eyes are blotted out, dark, pulsing veins running below his skin. He becomes more animalistic, anthropomorphised into something vaguely humanoid. Dæmonoid. Fur dusts his lower stomach, thickening when you inevitably follow the dark trail to his cock. Every time a zap of arousal licks between your thighs.

Tonight is no different.

He beckons you forward, glittering claws grazing your mind, tugging you forward on a metaphorical leash. Not as metaphorical as you would like it to be. You lose control of your body - that’s what you tell yourself when you wake - following his command obediently.

Tonight is no different.

You crawl forward slowly, eyes glued to one another as you drag one hand in front of the other. Until you’re seated in front of him, scars and all. Your hands settle primly in your lap, back straight, nipples peaking beneath his piercing gaze. You look up at him beneath your lashes, waiting for the dream to fade to darkness. It doesn’t.

Tonight is different.

Tonight he pounces.

His mouth splits in a grin, razor sharp canines splitting from beneath his lips. Your own part in surprise, a hushed breath passing between them. His hand comes up to cup your jaw, his blacked out eyes rippling down your body, silently feeding off your form.

“You got too comfortable, bride,” he drawls, tilting your head to peer up at him, your hands lifting unsteadily from your lap, taken by surprise. He leans in, the mark on your neck stinging as he brushes his canines over the scar, “you made the mistake of letting me inside.”

You shake your head, trying to pull away from his bruising grip, claws bracketing your cheeks, nearly slicing into your skin. A stray droplet careens down to your jaw, splashing onto the virginal robe. “You aren’t real,” you breathe, “this is my realm.” He grins, and you can practically see your own blood gleaming on his lips. “Is it?” He drawls.

Doubt sparks in the pit on your stomach, “you’re in my mind. I’m asleep. You can’t hurt me here.” The words are more for you than for him. His grin widens, presenting you with a view of too many gleaming teeth. “What’s stopping me?” He taunts and you still. Your breath catches as he leans closer, canines brushing over you lips.

“You’re nothing,” you tremble, forcing the words against his mouth, “you’re a filthy figment of my imagination. Nothing more. You can’t hurt me.” He releases a dark laugh, muscles flexing in his forearms as he tightens his grip, shoving you back on the bed, stalking up your body.

You’re too scared to scream.

“A dirty fantasy, huh?” Again, his teeth drag over the scar in your throat, your back arching at the change in sensitivity. “Then you’ll be fine if I get started,” he growls, moving down your body, the robe concealing nothing as it drapes at you sides, baring your chest to him, nipples peaked. He gives an appreciative lap to one as he passes, making you flinch, his canines catching on the skin, nipping.

Tremors run through your legs, spiralling in the pit of your belly as he pushes your thighs apart as his eyes ravish you. Hot shame flushes your cheeks as he finally sees the slick glossing your heat, coating your thighs. He chuckles, as if he’d expected it, knowing you better than yourself.

Black eyes flick up, “such a waste,” he mocks, one large hand wrapping around your thigh, swallowing it, “the next time sin grasps you, find me.” He lowers himself between your thighs as your breathing quickens. “You’ll find infinite pleasure in kneeling before me than trying to resist.”

And with that warning, he opens his mouth over your inner thigh, biting down into the soft flesh, teeth piercing your skin as you moan. Your palm smacks over your mouth as you hear the sound, legs desperately squeezing together as he works his sin into your body, the euphoria making your insides glow.

Maybe it wouldn’t be so awful to be eaten by him.

————————

You wake with a gasping breath, jolting upright, sweat coating your skin. Your whole body is trembling. You already know he’s watching you. It feels as though he’s always watching. Hardly a moment of privacy spared.

It’s only when you move to push the new covers back do you have to bite back a whimper. The skin on your inner thigh is burning. Hands scrabbling in the sheets, you push away the material, only to find a second set of bite marks already freshly stamped.

Beside you, the dæmon shifts, pushing up to see what you’re staring at, bewildered. A laugh is pulled from his throat as his attention spears into you, “already?” Teary eyes flick to him as he has to remember not to pounce, “what are you doing to me?” Your lower lip quivers, shrinking beneath the pleased glint in his eyes at your helpless confusion.

“Warming you up,” he replies, moving toward you as he pushes you to the bed, one large hand splayed across your chest, “preparing you.”

“For what?” You manage, the pleasure from having his teeth piercing your skin still leaving hot flushes branding you.

He grins, “for when you’re ready to submit.”

————————

The heat isn’t going away.

Ever since that one dream - you’re not sure if it even was a dream - there’s been a constant need thrumming beneath you skin. Like he’s set something off inside of you. And it’s slowly consuming you, becoming more and more intense with every passing day.

You can already feel slick dripping down your thighs.

You look up into the mirror, halfway through changing, seeing yourself clad in the taunting white silk with only a narrow slip of fabric concealing your heat. You can’t go to bed like this. He’ll surely take advantage of you.

You look away from the mirror, tears welling in your eyes as you attempt to take in deep breaths.

A powerful arm curls around your waist, another hand biting into your jaw. Your eyes flick back upward as Azriel pushes your hips into the edge of the sink with his own, his arm pulling your lower body flush against his as his chest presses into you, pushing you forward, practically bending your over. Your breath hitches as you brace your forearms on the counter, meeting his pitch black gaze in the mirror.

“What are you waiting for?” The words brush sensually across your neck, his hips rolling surprisingly gently into yours. “Find me. Seek me out.” The commands are deceptively smooth off his tongue, his hand snaking lower, slipping easily between your parted legs. “Release yourself.” His fingers reach the apex of your thighs, just barely brushing over where you need him so so so badly, before he vanishes again. As if he were never there in the first place.

You don’t know what to do.

He’s set you alight, and you don’t know how to douse the flame.

————————

The moment you enter the bedroom, his eyes are on you, the entirety of his attention pinning you down. From the lack of proper night robes, he knows something’s snapped. The white robe hangs open as you move defeatedly toward the bottom of the bed. Arousal spikes in his abdomen at your expression.

You’re far from your true breaking point, and he knows this. He knows what it would take to shatter you irreparably, and it would be much more. Which is why he delights in the drag of your feet, you’re failure to meet his gaze. You think you’ve already reached the worst of it. How wrong you are.

“Look at me, bride,” he drawls, his body thrumming with pleasure as you obey. Torn, hungry eyes lifting to his own. He tilts his head, as if in sympathy, “you held out longer than I expected.” You swallow, and he traces the roll of your throat with open anticipation. His shadows deepen, thickening as they roll off the bed, dropping to the floor as they wrap around your thighs.

“Are you finally ready?”

Your shoulders slump, head drooping to stare at the floor dejectedly. How foolish of you to look away from him, he thinks. Even after all this time, you don’t understand his threat. How easily he can snatch your life from you.

You don’t want to give in. You don’t want to submit to him. He stole you from your home, trapping you in his realm, taunting and mocking you endlessly. You’ve had enough.

For once, you wish you could act unapologetically. Wish you were strong enough to take what you want without fear or worry for others’ thoughts. But you’re not like that. Your mind turns fuzzy as another wave of arousal washes over you.

Make him pay.

There’s no way for you to kill him. No way for you to ever get him the way he’s got you. You can’t take what you want from him, force him to give you whatever you desire. But you can take whatever he gives you. You can take all of it.

Burning hel, you want all of it. Everything. All of him. Devour him until there’s nothing left. Take everything he gives until he’s run dry.

Biting your lip, you crawl up the bed, eyes settling on his as you drag your body upward. His gaze is latched to yours, gulping down every move you make until you’re perching atop his lap. Male arrogance is seeping from his skin as he keeps his arms tucked beneath his inky mess of hair, piercing gaze trailing up your body. The thin silk hardly covers your breasts.

The heat between your joining points is surprisingly immense as the pads of your fingers splay across his toned stomach, settling yourself nervously above him. “You said…” You swallow, “you said I should come find you, should I ever…” His eyes are already undressing you, thread by thread, torturously slow for both of you.

Black eyes flick to yours, hunger growling in their depths, “should you ever…?” He echoes, a silent taunt in his honeyed voice. You bite your lip as you look down, breaking eye contact, “should I ever…want company.”

A wickedly arrogant smirk plays on his glorious mouth, “you want me to fuck you, bride?” Heat spools in your stomach at the title, eyes returning to his. You swallow your pride as you nod, just a small dip of your head.

He laughs. A slow, mocking laugh.

Fire burns across the crests of your cheeks. He was the one who offered in the first place. Was this all just a cruel joke to degrade you? Let you know your place?

“You think you can take it?” He drawls, malevolence dripping from his sin-touched mouth. You just swallow nervously. You have no answer to that.

His gaze drags deliberately slowly over your form, the curve of your stomach, the exposed skin of your breasts. “If I fuck you, you’re mine. Do you understand?” His words settle in your stomach, an ultimatum laid clear in the sand. “No going back; no hiding behind your so-called morals. You ask me for this and you’re mine.”

Are you going to cross it?

Your lips part, pads of your fingers pressing into the firm muscle beneath you.

You nod.

Muscles ripple as he lifts an arm from behind his head, a single finger tapping against the pulse point on his neck, his claw catching on tough skin, splitting it open for blood to swell. You cock your head, confused, and you feel something shift beneath you. “Stake your claim,” he commands, the dark lilt of his voice so enticing as he tucks his arm back beneath him.

Arousal flutters in your pussy, nipples peaking beneath the too-thin silk. His piercing gaze marks every reaction, amusement and pleasure dancing in his coal-black irises. Your hands pad up his body as you lean over him, breasts brushing over his chest.

You hesitate, breath fanning over the hot, sensitive skin. Even if he isn’t showing it, you can feel the tension building beneath his surface. Power boiling as it strains to be released upon you.

All it takes is the time of one exhale. Then your mouth is hesitantly latching onto his skin, lips parting as your tongue slides out, lapping up the metallic flavour that’s so distinctly him. Your teeth sink against the muscle in his shoulder, as if you’re biting into a ripe fruit, dying for liquid to coat your parched mouth. Your tongue laps over the skin as you suck, hard, bruising him until colour blooms.

The rise and fall of his chest is more pronounced, his whole body thrumming with heat under your touch. You get greedy, moving your mouth to the space beneath his jaw, nails biting into his skin as you nip at the sensitive area.

He indulges for a little, allowing you this small experiment; then one hand is roughly tangling in your hair, yanking you back, painfully. Charcoal eyes pierce your own, spearing into your mind as his brow arches. “Very eager.”

Shame flushes your body at the same time as arousal licks between your thighs. You don’t have time for the former. You want. You need. Subconsciously you press down against him, a groan rasping from his throat as his fist tightens, forcing you to bare your neck to him.

Then he’s hauling your mouth to his, crushing you against his open lips as he shoves his way into your mouth. Entitled. Arrogant. Dominant.

You whimper, your own hands cupping his jaw as you try to keep up with him. It’s sloppy: inexperience on your part and uncaring for mess on his. His hands slope down your back, settling on your ass as he squeezes firmly, your hips keening over him desperately. Then he draws his palm back and you whine helplessly at the cool space he’s left. But his hand is smacking down, a startled moan flying from your mouth to his as your back curves, breasts dragging over his chest.

He growls at the sound, canines nipping at your lips hungrily. I can imagine how your skin would come apart beneath my teeth. You shiver.

When your hips wind over his, he pushes up from the bed, hand gripping your hips as he drags your centre over him. A growl rumbles in his chest as he repeats the movement, bucking up into you, making you moan.

Azriel pulls away from you to admire his work, how your lips are nipped raw, an arousing flush to your cheeks while your eyes are glazed. He chuckles, swiping his thumb beneath your lower lip, enjoying how you preen under his touch.

The male leans back, leaving you chasing for warmth but the stern look he gives you instructs you to stay where you are. “You want me to fuck you?” He drawls, selecting a crude choice of words to revel in the way it sends more heat to your cheeks. “Take the reigns,” he orders, voice lowering an octave, “I’m not going to give you a single excuse to hide behind once this is done,” he grins, and it’s just teeth. “You’re going to wake up from this knowing you chose every single step, and hate yourself for it.”

He’s right. You know he is. And yet you can’t find the will to care. Not when you can feel him straining against you. Not when he’s looking at you like you’re just another game for him to work through.

You flush, but refuse to break eye contact, lest he decides to change his mind, “I don’t—” you begin, uncertainly. “How do I…?” He cocks a brow. He’s going to force every uncomfortable thought from your mouth. Every silent question you’ve never voiced. He wants all of them.

“Got to figure that one out for yourself, now, don’t you?” He drawls, sick arousal purring within you at his condescending tone. You catch the way his eyes flick down to your pussy. You’re almost certain there’d be a damp spot were you able to see.

Still, you swallow, shifting over his lap as your hands drop to the ties in his trousers. The smirk remains on his mouth as he watches you clumsily fumble with the strings, hands trembling too much. He eases a sigh of relief, a quiet moan, as you push the leather away along with the stretchy fabric hiding beneath.

He makes sure to mark your expressions when your eyes land on him. How they widen, you suck in a sharp breath, hands fall back a little, taking him in. Then your fingers slip beneath the fabric blocking him from your pussy.

You gather an embarrassing amount of slick on your hand from one go alone, swallowing as you wrap your glossy palm around him. Azriel grits his teeth as he silently basks in the feel of your slick hand and the softness of your tummy. He bucks his hips, commanding you to hurry along.

Feeling impatience curling in your chest, you return to your glossy heat, lathering him with more of your slick. On shaky thighs, you raise to be above him, lining yourself up so you can begin the quest of sinking down on him.

He’s fucking big though.

Your eyes only close for a moment, but you feel the familiar catch of skin between your thighs. You jerk hard as his thumb presses painfully on your clit, a command to hurry the fuck up judging by the look in his eyes.

You don’t want to know what he’ll do should you fail an order. Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe you shouldn’t have allowed lust to cloud your mind, soften what he is. His thumb begins oscillating sharply when you don’t take any more of him. It’s painful, too much pressure to such a delicate part. Even if it turns you on.

“Don’t do that,” you hiss (plead?)

“Doesn’t feel good?” He taunts, mouth brushing over your own, knowing damned well you felt the sparks he set alight by stimulating the nerve endings. “You need some help taking me. Or do you want me to fuck you raw?”

You bite your lip, eyes angrily flicking to his, his crude words overwhelming your prudish ears. “It would feel better if you weren’t trying to strum me like an overzealous lute-player,” you snap. Your eyes widen as you replay what you just said, and to who, hands covering your mouth as if it would hide the words you spoke. He seems mildly surprised by your outburst, having not expected any kind of aggression from something like you.

“I’m sorry,” you breathe from behind your clasped fingers, “I didn’t mean—”

His hand returns to tangle in your hair, forcefully pulling your head back. You whimper, then freeze. Hot breath fans across the skin of your neck, followed by the threatening scrape of canines. A warning and a promise wrapped in the guise of a kiss.

…how your skin would come apart beneath my teeth.

Is he about to bite down? Sink his canines into your throat as he turns you into a blood feast for him to fuck and feed off? You almost sob as arousal slams into you at the depraved thought. Maybe it was the idea of him consuming every piece of you, so thoroughly not even a drop was left.

“A-Azriel,” you pant, his tip pressing against your entrance after you lift from him, “it’s not going to fit…” He can sense your fear, yet does nothing about it. It’s not his problem. Quite the opposite, in fact. He’s getting off on corrupting you.

His hands bite into your hips, pulling you down as you squirm desperately, anxious to get away. “Stop,” you plead, tears lining your eyes as you place your hands on his chest in desperate and humiliating supplication, “you’re going to break me.”

The male’s mouth fashions itself into a merciless grin, “I don’t give a damn,” he whispers so adoringly over your mouth. “You’re the one who came to me, remember?” He lifts you up a little, before pushing you down further, forcing you to take more of him, “so you’re going to take every fucking inch I have to give you. And I don’t. Care. If it kills you. You’re swallowing all of it.”

He gives one more sharp tug to your hair before he releases you, his expression relaxing into one of nonchalance, the malevolence fading so quickly you feel as though whiplash has lacerated your spine. You know he won’t be as forgiving next time, so you push down on him. You’re surprised when there’s little resistance, heat flushing your face as your eyes helplessly flick to his before darting away.

There’s a knowing glint, one you could pinpoint in a second. He knows how much he turns you on, and like he said, you’re already hating yourself for it. And yet you have both parts shame and arousal in equal measure. Maybe arousal is the slightly more prominent, actually.

You peer down your body, steadying your breathing as you lift your hips a few inches, preparing to sink down as far as you can take. All of you is aware of his narrowing gaze, piercing into you even as you refuse to meet it. His hips shift beneath you, and you know it’s the last warning you’ll get for not keeping up with him.

Wetting your lips, lower one trembling, you shift your weight from your hands and thighs, allowing you to settle on his cock. Unwillingly, your mouth drops open as he fills you in every sense of the word. Your thighs tremble, eyes rolling back, breaths becoming uneven and spasmodic. Fuck.

A strained moan slips from your lips, nails biting into his stomach as you softly grind your hips, winding them over his cock. The strength seeps from your body as he presses against you. He chuckles darkly, “struggling, bride?” You tighten around him at the sonorous drawl, your nails biting into his abdomen.

Gathering your conscious, you raise from his cock, slowly sliding up and down as you push your weight onto his lower stomach, raising and lowering onto him while you clasp your lip between your teeth. His hands brace your hips, helping you to fuck yourself.

Help definitely isn’t the right word. He’s not doing it for your sake, he’s doing it for him.

His hands slam you down and your eyes roll at the explosion of pleasure blazing through your body. You gasp, grappling for his arms in attempt to push him away. He snarls and you freeze, paralysed at the malevolence thrumming from the male beneath you. “Don’t,” he growls. You swallow, silver lining your eyes as he lifts you by your hips until you’re perched at his tip. “Azriel…” you plead, hands settling on his chest as you attempt to leverage yourself.

Pitch black eyes flick to yours, the pupils dilated to take up his irises. “Please, I can’t—”

He slams you down, raising his hips to meet your own as he hits a spot deep inside of you, your arms giving out so you’re braced on your forearms. A growl rumbles in his chest, reverberating through you as you meet his gaze, “quit complaining,” he snarls, hand gripping your jaw, harshly tugging you until you’re within a breath’s reach. “I’m going fucking easy on you since you clearly haven’t taken time to prepare yourself for this, despite all the nights I’ve given you by yourself, despite all the opportunities I’ve given you while you’ve been asleep.”

Arousal spikes in your tummy as well as mortifying shame. Had he really been expecting you to pleasure yourself to him? Hot indignation rises at his arrogance, “are you serious?” You huff, mouth dropping open in surprise. He raises a single brow, unimpressed by your attempted retaliation.

Gathering your remaining strength, you furiously push away from him, sitting back on your thighs as his cock sinks deeper with the shift. “You’re the one who stole me from my normal life! You could have picked anyone else and now you’re getting pissy over the fact that I didn’t read your mind and know I was supposed to prepare myself for you - whatever the hel you meant by that.” You take in a sharp breath, attempting desperately to tamp down the aroused flush that’s heating your cheeks. “So you’re in no position to be getting grumpy with me, you dæmon prick.”

You breathe heavily, both from finally releasing your pent up anger toward the male, and from having his cock buried so deep inside of you, the slightest movement sending trembling pleasure zapping through you. He twitches inside of you as you finally show some backbone, and you think his pupils dilate even further, expanding over the white of his eyes. They flicker a little, as if struggling to keep their formation.

Then he pushes up from the bed, shifting inside of you making you tighten around him, hands bracing on the mattress until you’re chest to chest. You’re aware of every breath you take has your breasts brushing against him, nipples dragging over the corded muscle of his torso, though you refuse to lean back, yield any more of yourself to him, even as arousal is dripping down from you.

His expression is neutral on the surface, but you can feel his displeasure at being spoken back to, the anger that’s swimming in his black gaze, hunger intensifying. “I would have thought the messages were clear, bride. You were just too dense to realise.” Your eyes flick to his angrily, “and what ‘messages’ are those?” You snap, quickly becoming sick of his cunning words.

This time, he grins, glittering white teeth being bared to you. Your neck aches in response, but it’s different from last time. Before it was a stinging sensation; painful. Now, it’s a dull, heated throb. An arousing itch. You think of how it felt to have his canines spike your skin and pleasure sparks at the thought, excitement running rampant.

“The nightmares you’ve been having,” he drawls, eyes locked on yours. You freeze, breath catching, “what about them?” Helplessly your gaze drops to your inner thigh, where another set of bite marks lay, stamped into your skin. His grin broadens, “they weren’t simple dreams,” he drawls, “just like I didn’t simply pick the first female I saw.” A dark laugh rumbles through him at the way your eyes widen; mouth parts. “A dæmon taking a bride is no small matter,” he smiles, again showing off those glittering canines, “it takes time to select a compatible human, and even more to find one that will be continuously satisfying.” His hands lift to the bone of your hips, thumb brushing over the swell in your abdomen from having you seated atop him.

“Wh— huh?” You’re speechless, struggling to find words to express your complex confusion, “but you said anyone would do, that you picked me because I was there. And what do you mean compatible?” You chose to sweep over the continuously satisfying part.

His hands lift to your back, pulling you harshly against his chest, your arms coming up defensively to have some sort of block between you and him. You gaze up at him, his mouth inches from your own as he keeps you tight against his body. “Most would turn and run at the slightest hint of dark powers,” he drawls, “yet each night you would allow yourself to crawl to me, despite every sign of malevolence that would ward any normal human far away.”

Confusion mars your features, “what signs?”

He laughs, “exactly.”

Your brow dips, “what signs?” He cocks his head, seemingly sizing you up.

Then the air shifts.

His features sharpen, black swallowing the whites of his eyes, canines becoming razor sharp as they push from beneath his lips. His shadows densify, and you feel the soft brush of fur against your lower abdomen. Talons break from the skin of his fingers, sharpening until they dwarf your waist.

Your mouth involuntarily drops open as his cock shifts, expanding beneath the tip, pressing so appetisingly against a spot inside of you that has you helplessly winding over him, desperate for more of the mouth-watering stimuli. Your thighs tremble as light tremors wrack your body, shamefully lowering your head as you give out, slumping into his solid warmth, face dipping into his shoulder.

He laughs, the sound dark but pleased. He knows you’re at a tipping point. One of his hands raises to your head, settling over your hair as he keeps you comfortably enveloped in his warmth. Your own hands ball into fists on his chest, nestling against him, delighting in the animal brush of fur softly sweeping over your abdomen with each breath, melting into his power as your body loses it’s tension, becoming pliable to his will.

“Are you ready?” He asks, and it sounds more gentle, not as carefully sharpened as his previous remarks. You pull away to look at him, take in his dæmon form, the one that isn’t softened for the world, harsh angles and sharp teeth. You swallow, heat racing beneath your skin, “ready for what, exactly?” You manage. After all, you know nothing about dæmon rituals, if the joining ceremonies are at all likeable to human ones.

He grins, hips shifting, evidently enjoying the way it has you sucking in a breath, biting the inside of your lips. “Ready to be taken.” You tighten around him, the words slicing down your spine with lethal precision. You take in a breath, “is it going to hurt?” The words are muted, quietened with fear.

Azriel cocks his head, “the mating or the breeding?” Your mouth drops open, cunt clamping down on him involuntarily. “The what?” You pant, hands splaying open over his chest, feeling the frequent thump of a pulse. A few, actually. He smirks.

You shift, pushing away from him slightly. His hands tighten on your hips possessively at the movement, brow narrowing. “The mating and the…breeding?” You repeat incredulously, staring at the male. “You’re trying to get me pregnant?” Anger seeps through your words as your gaze burns into him. He just laughs, and you bite your nails down into his chest, even if you know he’ll hardly feel it.

“It’s not dissimilar from your human methods,” he growls, an amused lilt to his deep voice, hand moving to brace your lower back. Then he’s flipped you over, your back pressing hard into the spongy mattress as his powerful frame cages you in. “It won’t result in the pain your females are accustomed to during the process.” Your females, you repeat in your mind, as in, humans.

His gaze drops down to your joining point hungrily before his blacked out eyes flick back upward, “that should be enough time for you to adjust,” he drawls, drawing his hips back only to push into you again. Your back arches at the delicious drag of the swell of his cock against your sensitive walls. “There you go.”

Azriel’s large hands land either side of your head, the tops of your shoulders pressing against his wrists, in order to keep you in place for when he begins. Out of the corner of your eyes, you’re able to see those talons of his slicing into the sheets, the threat of having them so close to you sending a sick throb of arousal sparking in your lower belly.

He’s more rough this time, pushing in harshly, sending you bumping into his arms with the force, yet you receive nothing but pleasure, despite how large he is. You manage to look down, enough to see the bump in our abdomen. Curiously, you press your palm down atop the skin, both of you releasing sounds of pleasure at the pressure as he thrusts back in.

You curse beneath your breath and he chuckles, your eyes skating up to his, “already using the devils tongue,” he laughs.

You move to reply but he slams back in, your eyes rolling back as he fills you up, pressing tight against every space available until it’s hard to breathe, basking in the euphoria of having him inside of you. Shadows slip beneath your ass to angle your hips upward and you scream when slams in again, pleasure lighting your nerve endings. “Azriel,” you plead, tears forming at the edge of your eyes as you hit your peak, thighs spreading for him, latching around his hips as you attempt to pull him closer, having him drive his cock deeper inside.

He doesn’t stop for you, even as you cry for him to slow down, the pleasure overwhelming you as you babble. He doesn’t speed up either, keeping up with the rough pace he’d already set. That was something, at least. “You take what you’re fucking given, bride,” he snarls, and your back curves at the animalistic rumble, the beastly timbre of his voice.

“Every drop. Every egg. Swallow all of it.”

Your body goes lax, melting beneath his overpowering heat, allowing him to use you just how he wants. He snarls suddenly, twitching inside of you, head dipping to your neck as he noses at the sensitive skin. You tip your head to the side, gathering enough strength to thread your fingers through the thick, silky locks of inky hair, desperately pulling him closer.

His mouth opens over your neck, canines lining up with their mark as they sink down. He snarls again as he releases inside of you, thick, hot cum spilling. It feels strange. Deeper. Far deeper. The consistency is different, you can feel all of it, pumped so full you’re sure when he pulls out there’ll be a swell to your lower belly.

His teeth pierce your skin, and euphoria seizes your body, doubling…tripling. “Azriel…” you breathe, weakly, already so drained from the mating. You know he’s feeding off the gash in your neck, but with the aphrodisiac coating his canines, you feel nothing but sizzling pleasure. He laps up every drop, sealing you clean when he’s satisfied with his meal, not a mark to be seen.

The male pulls away, cock still pressing into you when he pulls away. One look at you has a possessive growl rumbling through the room, shadows thickening, becoming more frenzied at the air thrums, power pulsing in the air and you’re almost certain the feeling is not limited to the chambers you’re in.

You attempt to move away from him but he snarls down at you, nostrils flaring as he scents you, “where do you think you’re going, bride?” You involuntarily tighten around him, amusement dancing in his eyes as the white returns. Nothing else shifts, though. You’re kind of pleased. “Aren’t we done?” You pant, fatigue heavy in your voice.

His lips purse, “for now.” His gaze drags over you hungrily and you consider the possibility he’s holding himself back at seeing you so exhausted. Your eyelids flutter as you become aware of the weight gilding them.

Azriel’s hands carefully glide beneath your back, wary not to slice your skin as he pulls you against his chest. You suck in a breath as your weight is pulled down onto his lap, his cock driving languidly against your already oversensitive walls. A small whine is pulled from your lips, releasing beside his ear, your arms tiredly wrapping beneath his shoulders.

“I’m beginning to think you don’t want me to give you time to recover,” he drawls, in answer to your needy sounds. And you can’t help it, your body moves by itself as you softly buck your hips against his, moaning as you feel his cum being pushed deeper. “Azriel,” you pant, continuing to grind your hips over him as he lays back into the mountain of pillows, “more.”

He groans, settling his hands over your hips, stilling them as you whine. “Your body needs to rest. You’re human, you need time to recover.” Your brow narrows, attempting to move over him but his grip is like iron, clamping down as he smirks knowingly. “I can take it,” you breathe, hands trailing curiously over his skin, lifting to his jaw as his gaze follows you with interest and amusement.

You lean forward, breasts dragging over his chest as your mouth brushes his, “you want to, don’t you?” You goad, eyes latching onto his as heat flares in the pits of blackness. “Careful,” he growls in warning, brow narrowing. You ignore him, opening your mouth over the skin of his neck as you press kisses up to the space below his jaw, “you want to go again, right, Azriel?” He twitches inside of you, fingers biting into your hips, “come on, I think your cum is leaking out,” you breathe beside his ear, “so fill me up again, yeah?”

“You can hardly sit upright,” he bites out, his words clipped and hard. He’s so hard. Pressing against you; you feel like you might pass out from the pleasure. Your breaths deepen, tightening around him. A muscle feathers in his jaw at your actions. “You can tie me up, right?” You pant, “your shadows.” Your eyes flicker from the darkness back to his, “you can use them to keep me upright. Then you can go again. Doesn’t matter if I pass out.”

A growl rumbles in his chest as you spill your mind to him, “bride—”

“If you don’t want to, why haven’t you shifted back?” He stills beneath you for a moment, eyes snapping to yours. Then a grin splits his elysian mouth, “perfectly compatible indeed,” he mutters.

He grips your hips, shadows twining roughly around your wrists and torso as they pull you upright, supporting your weight carefully as he perches you at the tip of his cock, slamming you down before any of his precious cum can slip out. Your head falls back as you scream.

Then he’s pounding into you, fucking you within an inch of your life as his eyes split to pure darkness, dark as pitch, shadows writhing on the bed as he takes you roughly. Moan after moan spills from your lips, prayers ranging from please, don’t stop to Azriel please! I can’t take it to incoherent babbles. He works you through it all, fucking you until he comes as you flutter around him again.

Your eyes roll backward as you nearly pass out, drowning in pleasure at the feeling of him spilling inside of you, filling you to the brim. Then his shadows are releasing their support on your upper body, allowing your weight to help you sink down on his cock, the final wave of euphoria knocking you out as you fall forward on his chest.

His arms circle you possessively as he keeps you seated on his cock, pulling you into his warmth as he tucks you against the powerful lines of his body, shadows swirling over your form so he can keep you for himself, greedily swallowing your body in a blanket of velvety night.

You’re his.

Taglist: @myheartfollower

#demon! Azriel #demon! Azriel x reader #Teeth and Talons #[***]#demon! Azriel smut #Azriel #demon! Azriel x reader smut #monsterfucking #acotar #acotar au

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delphinus-dancer · 6 months

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A deep dive into a swan lake and flipping the (metaphorical, sadly) bird:

A Mihaly-centric view of JD 2024 story mode

(because they’re my favorite and I’ve thought about this way too much over the past few days weeks) Spoilers for JD 24 in the almost-essay under the cut, including some images!

Starting off with Mihaly’s first appearance in the story mode in Canned Heat, it seems like not too much time has passed since the end of jd23- Sara seems to be at the same party, Jack still at the tower, etc. (how Brezziana got to the beach that fast and had a workout class is something I’m going to guess was preplanned before everything went down).

We can assume this would be the first time Mihaly’s come back to their room since then (which makes the idea of Wanderlust FaceTiming everyone like 5 minutes after they left even funnier). Of course there’s the shot of Mihaly ripping the poster off the wall, which probably puts their feelings into words better than anything else within an E10 rating. <Side note: I don’t know much on lore but does the setting mean there’s a chance they’re from Eternyx? Both maps started in dark crowd/nighttime so wasn’t sure if confirmed or not>

While Sara has the spot pretty much clinched for a Night Swan’s foil, Mihaly is a really close second. This shot literally puts it into perspective- Mihaly’s color scheme has as many color elements of Master Panda’s (shirt/jacket/foot wraps) as it does Night Swan’s (hair-that-perfectly-matches-the-poster/ gold of headphones and glasses/pants). Their dance style also overlaps moreso with hers than the other dancers, with the precision and technique of their moves, from the footwork and leaps of Rather Be to the dramatic powerful motions of their Swan Lake part. It’s pretty obvious who the song is directed to, and what makes the song so interesting compared to their last story mode one is how loose it feels. This is unlike their usual technical style because of the connection to Night Swan with the control demanded of certain moves that they’ve presumably mastered- maybe they were fueled by a desire to achieve her success. Regardless, the song and emotion fueled, less ‘perfect’ dance lets Mihaly basically flip the bird at Night Swan’s corrupted idea of perfection. Either way, it culminates in them achieving a new high in their training with channeling their ‘true’ inspiration of the (master) panda. Although they retain most of their same costume after sort of becoming a furry?, a noticeable change is that the black leggings are understandably switched to something looser- but to the navy color of master panda instead of Mihaly’s black.

What’s also interesting is that the specific point Night Swan interrupts Mihaly’s song isn’t at the beginning like Brezziana/Sara/Jack’s or the very end like Wanderlust, but at the climax of their journey for the song. Not only does this imply that she may have been watching the entire time but choose to interfere later, but she is also the only character to see the Panda form before Swan Lake.

As Night Swan basically invades Mihaly’s //mind/headspace/flowspace?/no idea on the lore// they initially try to fight her off, but unlike Brezziana in her map, don’t fight until the end. Although Mihaly themselves wasn’t being corrupted like the background coaches in Brezziana’s map, they still let themselves, in a sense, lose a more internal battle to Night Swan as they leave the metaphorical and literal height of their understanding and power in the Flow and come back to the real world.

This then takes us straight into Swan Lake, which is really interesting for the Night Swan/Mihaly interactions and how they compare to the other dancers. Although from a format standpoint it makes sense for the movements in the bridge to be different, there are more differences too.

A big one that I only realized once I watched Majesty again is how the other swan soldiers/minions were turned back- and that was mainly by doing the same moves to ultimately come together and bring the dancers back. Here it’s the opposite for effectiveness- what causes Wanderlust and Brezziana to fail is that they think that’s how to stop Sara. Sara matches the moves in a way that <well> matches, if not surpasses the power that they put in. As a result of meeting them head on and assuming control, Sarah actively corrupts the two of them. She makes motions to bring in the smoke, and both of them also are stationary/surrendering as their color drains.

When it gets to Mihaly, the dynamic with Sara changes completely. While Sara starts off watching with the same expression as when the others challenged her, it shifts as she realizes she can’t emulate what Mihaly does, with the movements almost like Night Swan’s-dramatic and slower. It comes to a head when Mihaly channels the panda again and visibly knocks Sara back, so she’s unable to push any of the smoke towards them.

Sara’s expression also becomes noticeably softer for the rest of Mihaly’s part, and she doesn’t reassert that dominance/control she had earlier- with dancing or the smoke. See how she looks almost pensive in the photos above/below, especially compared to the earlier parts.

Speaking of the smoke, this is the key part about Night Swan seeing the panda earlier. She knows it exists and how to force it off after the earlier song, and as Sara is incapacitated/distracted, she presumably sends down the smoke that starts attacking Mihaly in Panda form.

This attack is why despite having a chance to get through to Sara, Mihaly still ends up failing as they return to normal. However, they are the only character to be so dynamic in their active corruption. Not only does Mihaly manage to send a signal out to Jack, which was a display of power never seen from them previously, but they also do it as they are actively losing their color and control. Unlike the other dances, Mihaly still moves as they lose control, possibly having the strength to continue to fight had they not realized that Night Swan was attacking alongside Sara.

Although the signal is in the shape of a pawprint, its underlying meaning is more than just a plot device to send Jack on a wild goose chase (pun intended that I couldn’t pass up). With the way it opens to form a window into the location from such a distance, it almost seems to be a step away from a full fledged portal. With the sudden appearance of a new power, it’s also an interesting parallel to Night Swan, who here uses powers to create a unique form of control that wasn’t seen in the previous game and who regularly uses portals with her magic.

Another note is the lights that appear for each of the dancers in the upper left corner during the song as they take on Sara. While Brezziana and Wanderlust’s fade out a few moves before they fall, Mihaly’s still goes strong even as they completely turn grey, as seen the the photos above. This could be a possible indication to them having a more stable power than the other dancers, or a form of magic more comparable/competitive with Night Swan’s. Also to note about the lights: looking on the floor during the song, the diamonds flash 3 colors: hot pink (Night Swan), a deep green (Sara, especially while corrupted- her original outfit but darker), and a teal (the exact same color as Mihaly’s flow energy). Like everything else, this is a stretch, but it could possibly mean that Night Swan’s control and magic background could have stemmed from a pure form of flow like Mihaly practices.

This could also be a factor in why they retain the most of their original outfit in the corrupted design- possibly a form of resistance like they displayed during swan lake or general flow magic? Notice that while they have significant changes to their robe/face/accessories, their feather motifs are much less pronounced than the others, simply appearing as marks on the robe that can be mistaken for stripes, rather than overt feathers like Wanderlust/Sara or Sara/Brezziana’s feather tights. Unlike the others, Mihaly keeps their leggings exactly the same (which were notably lost in the panda form, as mentioned earlier), and interestingly enough, their wraps. I initially thought that Night Swan would have changed that to something like ballet slippers with ribbons, so I think it’s really interesting that they are the only dancer who had any details remain exactly the same, especially one that had unique opportunities to be changed.

Going off of that, since they were the last to turn and have (some?) control over their outfit and (some?) magic that may be similar to Night Swan, I could see them being the first/easiest coach for Jack or someone else to turn back when he (hopefully) takes on the coaches.

One last note is the number of maps per story mode coach at this point. Counting Stronger /Survivor, and Treasure/Lose Yourself (hopefully coming soon after that ending!), that seems to be setting a trend for the other coaches to potentially have an additional map as well. If so, maybe that would be one where Mihaly could individually be freed, or a chance for them to further explore their rapidly developing powers (maybe in a confrontation with Night Swan?? a girl can dream).

And there y’all have it! Thank you for somehow reading to the end!! Happy dancing!!

this took forever oh my god

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