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queenshelby · 3 months

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The Basement (Part One)

Pairing: Dark Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Dub-Con, CNC, Smut

It was a Thursday evening when you found yourself standing amidst the artfully crafted chaos of your new exhibition opening in Dublin. The scent of expensive cologne and the hum of excited chatter filled the air, accompanied by the occasional clink of glasses raised in celebration.

You had been working there for a year now and your heart raced, palpitating with the anticipation of meeting your favorite actor tonight who was said to appear at the event according to one of your acquaintances and fellow artists.

As you surveyed the crowd, you couldn't help but feel giddy at the thought of finally meeting him. It was a dream come true and you wanted to shake his hand, look into those icy blue eyes, and express how much his work meant to you ever since you began watching him in Peaky Blinders.

But the crowd seemed to grow thicker, and you began to lose hope of getting close enough for a proper introduction.

That's when you saw him standing across the room, wearing a black suit. His slightly greying hair framed his face like a soft halo and those striking eyes were unmistakable, even from meters away. And then there was his smile, slightly crooked, as if to suggest a naughty secret just waiting to be told.

The moment your eyes met, he locked onto you, his gaze penetrating straight through to your soul.

He had obviously noticed you starring at him like some obsessive little girl, unable to take your eyes off his enticing form.

It was a strange feeling, being seen by him like that; it felt like he could see right through you, past every layer of facade you hid behind.

Taking up the courage to introduce yourself to him, you carefully made your way over to where he stood.

"Hi, I'm Y/N," you offered hesitantly, holding out your hand in greeting. "I work here and I am a huge fan of your work," you quickly added, hoping to sound professional enough for the occasion but failing miserably in doing so.

Cillian took your hand gently, his touch sending goosebumps racing up your arm. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Y/N," he said warmly, his voice deep and soothing. "I've heard great things about this place. It's truly inspiring work," he complimented, gesturing towards the stunning art pieces surrounding you both.

You blushed at the praise, feeling butterflies flutter in your stomach.

"Are you one of the collaborators?" he then asked and you nodded awkwardly. "Yes, I do the photography," you answered shyly, pointing to a series of surreal landscapes adorning the walls nearby. Cillian's eyes widened with genuine interest upon seeing your work hung proudly beside the paintings of renowned artists.

A gentle smile crept across his lips as he studied each image intently before offering a genuine compliment. "Beautiful," he murmured softly, looking up at you with admiration in his eyes. "I can only imagine what inspired you to create such ethereal visuals."

Your cheeks turned a rosy pink, your nervousness intensifying under his praise. "Thank you," you stammered, struggling to muster the confidence to continue speaking so you took a big sip of your wine instead.

Cillian smiled down at you encouragingly, watching you as you nervously toyed with the hem of your dress. "How long have you been working here?" he asked conversationally, moving closer to you.

"About a year now," you replied, taking another swig of your drink. The alcohol gave you a bit more courage to speak freely while he reached for another glass of wine from the waiter walking by and handing it to you.

"And do you enjoy it?" he then questioned, turning back to you with curious gleam in his eye.

"Working here? Well, sometimes it feels a bit overwhelming, but yes, I do," you admitted truthfully, shrugging sheepishly.

"It looks like a lot of hard work goes into it," he acknowledged, nodding appreciatively.

"It does but it is fun too. I get to meet a lot of interesting people, like you," you responded, smiling nervously.

Cillian chuckled quietly, his eyes crinkling in amusement. "Well, I don't think I am that interesting, but thank you," he said as he leaned in closer, his hushed voice.

"Well, I think you are and you are, uhm... well I really liked you in Peaky Blinders," you stammered, your cheeks burning with embarrassment. "Tommy has this kind of darkness about him and it is very attractive I think," you laughed self-consciously, suddenly realizing how much you had to drink.

Cillian's eyes sparkled with mischief as he grinned knowingly. "Oh, so Thomas Shelby is attractive to you, huh?" he teased, his voice dropping low and seductive. "Well, I guess I should be flattered then, shouldn't I?"

"I didn't mean it that way!" you gasped, shaking your head suddenly.

"No?" he drawled, his tone dripping with teasing malice. "What exactly did you mean, then?" Cillian wanted to know.

Your cheeks reddened further as you glanced around, trying to hide your mortification. "I just meant that you portray Tommy so well that I find myself drawn to him," you muttered under your breath.

"Interesting," Cillian mused, studying you carefully. "So, does that mean that you feel drawn to me too?" Cillian teased playfully, raising an eyebrow.

"No, no, not at all!" you sputtered, laughing nervously.

"No?" he asked mischievously. "That's a shame," he teased, winking slyly. "Because I wouldn't have minded having someone like join me at my hotel room later tonight," he suggested nonchalantly, leaning in closer until his lips brushed against your ear.

You gasped, stunned by his bold proposition. "What?" you spluttered, jerking back from him in shock. "Are you serious?"

Cillian smirked, his eyes dancing with mischief. "Yes, although you would have to agree to sign an NDA before I take you there," he added, winking slyly.

You stared at him, wide-eyed, processing his offer. It was like a dream come true and even though you had never slept with anyone before, you agreed to his proposal.

The idea of spending the night with Cillian Murphy was irresistible, intoxicating even. You knew the risks involved, but at that moment, nothing mattered more than fulfilling the fantasy you had nurtured inside you all these years.

"Alright," you managed to whisper, swallowing hard as you watched Cillian finish up his drink.

"Good then lets get out of here," he whispered back, flashing you a wicked grin and, soon after that, you stepped outside, the cold night air hit you, instantly sobering you up. You couldn't believe this was happening. You were going to a hotel room with Cillian Murphy. But as the reality sunk in, you started to feel anxious about losing your virginity to someone you didn't even know.

When you arrived at the hotel room half an hour later, Cillian made you sign the NDA and, soon after you did, you found yourself pressed against the door, his hot breath fanning your neck and his hands already starting to explore your body.

"Don't worry, I won't hurt you," he murmured reassuringly, kissing your neck tenderly as he sensed your nervousness.

"You want this, don't you?" he whispered, sliding his hands beneath your shirt, caressing your skin. "Just say the word, and we can stop," he reassured you but you simply moaned softly, arching your back as his fingers touched the sensitive spot between your shoulder blades.

Despite the lingering doubts in your mind, you couldn't deny the intense desire coursing through your veins. You wanted him, needed him.

"I don't want to stop," you whimpered, clutching at the fabric covering his chest.

Cillian smirked down at you, his eyes dark and glittering with lust.

"Good girl," he cooed, running his thumb along your jawline. "Now, tell me Y/N, will you let me do whatever I want with you tonight?"

You swallowed thickly, your pulse thrumming wildly in your throat. "Whatever you want, Cillian," you breathed, clinging tighter to his shoulders.

"Really?" he murmured, trailing kisses along your jawline.

You shivered, feeling a thrill of excitement course through you. "Yeah, whatever you want," you assured him, reaching up to tangle your fingers in his soft hair.

"Good," Cillian groaned as, with a devious grin, he pulled away, leaving you breathless and hungry for more.

"Now I want you to undress for me," he commanded, his voice soft yet commanding. His eyes held a playful glint that belied the power they exuded.

Slowly, you slipped off your heels first, letting them fall silently to the floor. With every step you took back, you became spellbound by his gaze, entranced by the magnetism oozing from his presence.

Your heart pounded in your chest, as you untied the knot holding your dress together, allowing it to slip gracefully from your shoulders.

The thin fabric pooled around your feet, leaving you standing naked before Cillian. Your bare skin prickled with anticipation, knowing that he had complete control over you.

"Your panties too," Cillian purred, the edge of his mouth curling into a devilish smirk.

Eyes fixed on his mesmerizing gaze, you hesitated for a brief second before pulling away your panties. The feeling of utter vulnerability washed over you like a tidal wave, yet something within you embraced the sensation.

"Perfect," Cillian murmured approvingly, his eyes raking over your nude form hungrily. "Now, stand still for me."

You obeyed, standing stiffly as he circled around you like a predator assessing its prey.

Cillian traced his index finger along your collarbone, leaving a trail of warmth.

"You're beautiful, Y/N," he murmured, his eyes traveling downwards to admire your curvy hips tapering into your waist. "So fucking gorgeous."

His words ignited a fire within you, and with each passing second, your nerves began to calm down. This was it. The culmination of everything you ever fantasized about.

Cillian stepped back to take off his shirt, revealing a lean torso.

The sight made your mouth go dry, and you almost forgot to breathe.

He moved closer, running his hand up along your inner thigh, sending shivers down your spine.

"Drop to your knees Y/N," he ordered, his voice low and gravelly. You hesitated for a moment, but his insistent gaze compelled you to follow his command.

Once on your knees, you looked up at him, his eyes burning with desire, his erection straining against his pants. You reached out, unbuttoning his jeans.

He groaned softly as you slipped the zipper down, freeing his cock from its confines. You gasped at the sight before you - thick, veiny, and throbbing with need.

"Look at me," Cillian demanded, placing his hands on your shoulders roughly. Your eyes lifted towards him, meeting his fiery gaze. "Tell me how much you want this."

"I want this. I want this a lot," you managed to utter, biting your lip nervously.

"Good girl," Cillian praised, his grip tightening on your shoulders. "Now, show me. Take my cock in to your mouth," he demanded and you hesitated for a moment, staring at the swollen tip of his cock. The urge to wrap your lips around it was overwhelming, but you also felt uneasy about the unknown territory you were treading.

Still, the prospect of pleasing Cillian thrilled you, and you leaned forward, your tongue darting out to lick the tip of his cock.

Cillian groaned loudly, his grip tightening on your shoulders. "That's it, baby," he murmured, his voice hoarse with raw lust. "Take your time, taste me."

His request spurred you on, and you opened your mouth wider, taking the head of his cock between your lips.

You sucked lightly, savoring the taste of him, your heart pounding in rhythm with the intensity of the moment.

"Suck me harder," Cillian growled, his hands grasping your hair tightly as he thrust deeper into your mouth.

You complied, applying more force, reveling in the sensation of his cock pulsing against your tongue. You felt empowered, desired, and utterly submissive. The combination was intoxicating.

Cillian continued to guide you, coaching you through every stroke, praising your efforts with guttural moans and sighs of pleasure.

"That's it, Y/N," he coaxed, threading his fingers through your hair. "Fuck, you're good with your mouth."

You struggled to catch your breath, your lungs heaving in the silence of the dimly lit room. Each word, each gesture, served to fuel the growing tension between you two.

You tasted Cillian's precum, tangy and salty, arousing you further.

Your inhibitions vanished, replaced by a raw hunger for his approval.

"You're doing great," Cillian murmured, his grip tightening on your hair. "I want you to take me deeper, okay?"

You eagerly bobbed your head, engulfing his length greedily. The heat building between you threatened to combust.

"God, you're amazing," Cillian groaned, bucking his hips.

"Open wide for me now, sweetheart," he instructed, gripping your hair tightly in his fist.

You followed his order, parting your lips and sucking harder.

As you deepthroated him, Cillian's hips bucked involuntarily, grinding against your lips.

The smell of sweat combined with the faint smell of alcohol, created a unique scent that aroused you further.

"Ah, fuck," Cillian cried out, his hand tightening on your scalp.

"Keep going," he encouraged, his voice strained with effort.

You obliged, loving the taste of him.

Cillian's cock grew thicker in your mouth, his hardness becoming even more pronounced. You could sense his pleasure and it drove you wild.

"I will cum down your throat now and I want you to be a good girl and swallow it all," Cillian declared.

His voice had a stern authority that sent shivers down your spine.

Nervous excitement surged through you as you prepared for the inevitable.

"Okay," you managed to whisper, your heart drumming in your chest.

Cillian placed his hands on your cheekbones, his thumbs stroking your temples soothingly.

"Relax," he urged, his voice softer now. "Let it happen."

You took a deep breath, clenching your fists tight, readying yourself for the sensation.

Cillian's breathing became labored, and you could tell he was on the brink of release.

"Here it comes," he warned, his voice strained. "Swallow every drop baby."

You nodded, your heart hammering in your chest.

With a final warning glance, Cillian exploded, filling your mouth with his seed. You gagged reflexively, but you remembered his warning. Swallowing hard, you forced the semen down your throat, tasting the bitterness of his essence.

Cillian sighed heavily, releasing your hair and caressing your head tenderly.

"Good girl," he murmured, his voice laced with satisfaction. "You handled that beautifully."

You sat back on your heels, panting heavily, your senses reeling from the intense encounter. "Thanks," you mumbled, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. "I tried my best."

Cillian smiled down at you, his eyes sparkling with pride. "You exceeded my expectations," he praised, cupping your chin before pulling you up to stand on your feet again. "Now it is time to see how tight you are," he announced, his voice husky with anticipation. "So why don't you climb on to the bed for me. I want to fuck you from behind so that I can watch my cock slide in and out of your pussy," Cillian murmured huskily, his gaze burning with lust.

You hesitated briefly, unsure of what to do. You'd never done anything like this before and the fear of not being able to match Cillian's expectations loomed large. However, the thought of experiencing something you'd only dreamed about pushed you forward.

"Okay," you responded, climbing onto the king-sized bed. The mattress sank beneath your weight, enveloping you in a cloud of softness.

You turned around, facing the mirrored wall opposite the bed, watching yourself in the reflection. The bedside lamp cast a soft glow on your skin, illuminating the flush of arousal creeping up your cheeks.

Cillian climbed onto the bed behind you, his movements confident and assertive. You watched him pull a condom from the bedside table drawer, expertly rolling it onto his erect cock before discarding the wrapper on the floor.

He then reached forward, assessing your wetness with a fingertip. You arched your back in response while Cillian gripped your hips firmly.

"I want you to stay like this," he instructed, positioning your legs apart. "Ready for me?" he asked as the anticipation built within you, your heart pounding with trepidation and excitement.

"Yes," you managed to squeak, biting your lip as you waited for him to enter you.

You could feel his heated breath on your neck, and the anticipation of his entry filled you with a mix of excitement and apprehension.

Cillian positioned himself behind you, aligning his cock with your entrance. You braced yourself, anticipating the invasion of his massive member.

"I am going to stretch you open now, Y/N," Cillian murmured in your ear, his words vibrating against your skin as you felt his hands grip your hips firmly, anchoring you in place.

Then, with a single swift motion, he thrust deeply into you, stretching you open, causing tears to spring to your eyes from the sudden intrusion. You suppressed a scream while pushing your face against the pillow while Cillian pumped into you.

"You're so tight," he groaned, thrusting faster, deeper, relentlessly driving into you, his cock burrowing into your core, filling you completely.

It was painful but knowing who he was and that you were pleasing him somehow numbed the discomfort.

"Does it hurt?" he murmured, sounding genuinely concerned, his voice cracking slightly.

"No," you lied unconvincingly, your voice quivering. "Not really."

"Good," he grunted, continuing his relentless assault on your body. "Because I'm enjoying this and I am going to make you mine," he declared, grabbing your hips more tightly, guiding your movement with his firm hands. You gasped as he slammed into you, his cock hitting the deepest parts of you, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

You fought the urge to cry out as he mercilessly fucked you, his thrusts deep and unrelenting.

"Good girl. Keep taking my cock," Cillian groaned, his voice muffled.

He grabbed your hips roughly, forcing you to arch back against him, and you moaned softly, unable to resist the pleasure he offered.

"So tight," he murmured, pumping into you harder.

"Can you feel my cock stretching you open?" Cillian murmured, his voice heavy with lust.

You winced, your muscles tensing, but nodded weakly, unwilling to break the spell that Cillian had woven around you.

"Good," he groaned, pulling out almost entirely before slamming back into you with renewed vigor. "I want you to cum for me, Y/N."

His words jolted you, stirring a strange sensation within you. You'd never experienced anything quite like this before, overwhelmed by the mixture of pain and pleasure coursing through your body.

The fear of disappointing Cillian fueled your determination to satisfy him, despite the discomfort.

"Do you like that?" Cillian murmured, his voice deepening as he buried his cock inside you multiple times. "Feel my cock stretching you open."

Your heart raced, pounding against your ribcage like a frenzied beast. You moaned softly, struggling to contain the mounting desire raging within you.

"Yeah, that's right," Cillian growled, punctuating each thrust with a sharp yank of your hair.

"Scream for me, baby."

You whimpered, your cries echoing in the silent room. Every brutal thrust of his cock stretched you open, driving you toward the precipice of orgasm until, finally, you could not take anymore.

You screamed, your voice reverberating through the room as your orgasm washed over you, consuming you whole.

"Yes, that's it," Cillian murmured, his voice strained and desperate. "Come for me, Y/N."

You thrashed beneath him, writhing uncontrollably as he pummeled your depths, milking your release. Your screams echoed in the silence, as the sheer force of your orgasm shook you. You cried out, your voice raw and hoarse.

The pleasure consumed you, obliterating any lingering fears or doubts.

Cillian continued to pump into you, his cock relentless as it plundered your depths. You clawed at the sheets, your nails digging into the fabric as you surrendered to the exquisite torment until, suddenly, he withdrew and quickly removed the condom.

"Turn around," he commanded, his voice strained yet commanding as he pumped his cock with his hand.

You complied, turning to face him, your chest heaving with exertion.

"Open your mouth," Cillian said, his voice low and gruff. You parted your lips obediently, exposing your moistened flesh beneath his scrutiny.

"I will cum inside your mouth again, so open wide," Cillian murmured, his words laden with intent.

With a practiced twist of his wrist, he aimed his pulsating shaft directly at your waiting mouth. The head of his cock swelled, eager to be welcomed inside.

"Good girl," he groaned. "Here it comes," Cillian jerked his hand, unleashing a stream of cum straight into your mouth. You gagged, choking on the warm liquid as it filled your mouth.

"Swallow it," he barked, his voice strained with lust. "Every last drop."

You coughed as the thick substance filled your mouth, and you wondered if you'd ever forget the flavor of Cillian's essence as you gulped it down.

Your heart thumped erratically in your chest, adrenaline coursing through your veins like a drug. As you lay on the rumpled sheets, the remnants of ecstasy and exhaustion pulsed through every fiber of your being.

"That was quite something," Cillian murmured, tracing light patterns on your arm with his fingertips. "But I must admit, I'm surprised by your eagerness to please me. I did not expect such obedience from anyone really."

You shrugged uncomfortably, avoiding his gaze. "Well, I must admit, I had my fair share of wet dreams about you so I really wanted to please you," you replied, hoping your answer sounded casual enough. "And it's not everyday you get to sleep with a famous actor."

Cillian chuckled softly, leaning in close to kiss your cheek.

"Hmm, you know what I have been fantasizing about?" Cillian mused, brushing some hair away from your face and kissing your forehead lightly. "I've been fantasizing about keeping someone like you at my house for a few weeks. Someone who agrees to let me do whatever I want to her. Someone I can use every day for my pleasure," Cillian explained as he traced a gentle pattern on your arm with his fingertips, his eyes locked on yours. "Would that interest you?"

You hesitated, your heart fluttering at the idea. "Well, I don't know..." you trailed off, trying to sound nonchalant. "I mean, I guess I'd consider it."

Cillian smiled mysteriously, his eyes gleaming with a mischievous sparkle. "Good," he said, his voice dropping low and seductive. "I get my assistant to send you a contract then. You can read it, see if you are okay with thee terms and then we can make arrangements," Cillian suggested, his tone hinting at an excited undercurrent.

You blinked, your mind racing with possibilities. The idea of spending a few weeks with Cillian, submitting to his desires, seemed both terrifying and thrilling. "Sure, I'd love to see the contract," you agreed meekly, secretly yearning for the opportunity to spend more time with him.

"Good," Cillian grinned, his eyes sparkling with delight. "Although, you better think it though thoroughly, Y/N. It involves me doing things to you which you may not necessarily enjoy," Cillian said, his voice deep and resonant. "I won't ask for your consent or permission during every encounter. You will be in some pain and you will most defiantly be sore. And most importantly, you'll be in my house, with no contact with the outside world whatsoever during our arrangement," Cillian told you matter-of-factly, as he ran his fingers gently down your arm.

Tags: @ietss @thorins-queen-of-erebor @cilliansbabe @calmingmelody96 @lavender-haze-01 @febris-amatoria @cursedalchemist

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy x you #cillian murphy x y/n

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daytaker · 4 months

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Hi! I'd Like to request something for obey me. So MC is an Artist Like Semi realistic or so and then they draw the brothers and themself all together Like some Kind of Family Photo for maybe a sweet gesture to appriciat them, what would the reaction be?

First of all, that's adorable. Second of all, yes, absolutely.

Everyone

The immediate question on everyone's mind is where it should be put. The suggestions are fairly predictable. Beel wants it in the kitchen. Satan wants it in the library. Belphie wants it in the observatory. Asmo thinks it should go in his bathroom, and he acts amazed when his brothers disagree.

You'll probably be the one to suggest making some copies of it if they like it so much. That way they can all have one. The brothers all like this idea, so you head off to the Devildom equivalent of a FedEx store and make some quick copies for everybody.

Eventually, the original work will find pride of place above the fireplace, where everyone will get plenty of time to admire it, including guests. The brothers are all very proud to explain to them that they have a very close friend who's an artist, thank you, and they made that piece of artwork up there for them, for free, because they love them all so much. What do you mean it's too small for that big of a space? Clearly you don't understand art, they'll tell the guest. Satan smirks; Levi rolls his eyes; Asmo whispers something to Mammon and they both start snickering. Real mean girl energy.

Lucifer

It's proved to be more or less impossible to get a photograph with himself and all six of his brothers, so this is an immediate hit with him. Plus, you're in it, which makes it even more valuable. He wonders why he didn't commission a painted family portrait earlier. It just hadn't crossed his mind, he supposes.

He'll buy a very nice and expensive frame for the picture and have it professionally mounted on a backboard. Only a museum quality display will do.

He enjoys looking at the artwork now and then and mentally noting all the details he likes. You captured Mammon's smug smile perfectly, and somehow Levi looks happy, but still like himself. Of course, his favorite part of the picture (along with you, of course) is himself. He thinks he looks very dignified, and he appreciates that you placed him in the center; the true patriarch of the family. Besides that (though he wouldn't bring it up unprompted), he thinks you made him look very handsome, and he likes the idea that you see him that way.

Mammon

You put him next to you?! I mean, of course you did! He's your number one demon, right? Obviously he belongs right next to you! He'll point out his positioning in the picture to his brothers often enough that they've gotten past feeling annoyed about it and just tease him for simping so openly.

He thinks it looks a little bit like you're smiling at him in the picture. You're not. You're staring into the 'camera', just like everyone else. But he tells himself that. He has another copy of the picture made where he cropped out everyone besides the two of you. He keeps it in his sock drawer so he can pull it out when he's by himself and admire it. Lucifer has walked in on him lying on his back and holding it up, staring wistfully at the picture, often enough that he can tell by how quiet it is when Mammon is either sleeping or staring at that goddamn picture of his again.

Speaking of extra copies, he also made some more to try and sell at RAD, but, shockingly, cheap copies of a picture of someone else's family didn't sell well. Diavolo bought one though, as did Simeon. Yeah, maybe it wasn't exactly ethical to try and capitalize on your artwork, but, well, come on, he's in it, and you gave it to him, so that kind of makes him the owner of it, right...?

Leviathan

He's pretty sure he's not breathing right now. That's... That's how he looks? To you? He looks....amazing....!! Look at his smile! His jawline! His glossy hair! His cheeks, touched with color---!!! You must think he's... like....... Ugh, it's stupid, like, who even cares? Nobody, that's who. Nobody except him. He cares. And he wishes his stomach would settle down a little bit before lunch explodes onto the rug. So he'll just take his copy of the painting, clutch it to his chest, and giggle to himself as he slinks off to his room while everyone else stands admiring the painting on the mantlepiece.

Now, to really study this thing. He lies in his bathtub and squints at the painting. He realizes, to his dismay, that all his brothers look extra hot in this thing too. Hrmm... But, whatever! The important part is that he looks amazing! His eyes are shining, his skin looks healthy and smooth, and.... well.... he doesn't look like somebody it'd be weird for you to be into, maybe. Maybe? Possibly.

He's pretty shy around you for a few days after you give them all the picture. He's not really sure how he's supposed to react around someone who thinks he's... h....ha-ha....handsome...???? And not just that, but the look on his face! Does he make faces like that in real life? Does he make faces like that in front of you?

He spends a good chunk of time in front of the mirror trying to imitate the look from the painting, but he can't quite get it right. He always ends up crumbling into a pathetic, groaning, blushing little creep and fleeing the bathroom. He hates himself. But he can cheer himself up with the knowledge that you definitely don't hate him, right? How could you draw someone you hated looking like... like....?!?

Satan

Knowing Satan is someone who admires art in general, you were most nervous about him seeing it. He has a tendency to be fairly blunt and honest, and you really hoped he'd just appreciate the thought behind the picture without subjecting it to any kind of critical analysis.

But of course he did it anyway. He'd expressed his appreciation just like his brothers had when you first gave it to them, but you'd often see him standing in front of the fireplace staring up at the picture with a hand to his chin after that.

Satan's initial thought, after the excitement over the gift and how cute and nervous you looked giving it to them all, is that the composition of the piece, while not particularly original, has definite visual appeal. While he doesn't particularly enjoy Lucifer's position in the middle, he understands why you put him there, both artistically and psychologically. Lucifer dominates almost any group he's in with his annoyingly hefty self-confidence. His ego is smeared all over the picture, but that's not your fault. That's just Lucifer, being awful and ruining things, like he always does.

When he finally gives some attention to how he looks in the painting, he's pleasantly surprised. He looks refreshingly like himself, but also like he's meant to be there, with everybody else. He can also tell you spent some time on his eyes. They look lovely. If you ever want to paint them again, he'd be happy to model for you. What, shy all of a sudden?

Asmodeus

Well, obviously he's the real star of the artwork. It's as if he's glowing, washing out his brothers with his effervescent presence on the canvas! Clearly, you know your art. Never mind he's the only one who seems to quite see the picture in that way.

He has his copy of the painting framed and hung up in his bathroom, where he thought the original should have been put all along. Now he never feels like he's alone in the tub! Every once in a while, he'll talk to the artwork while he takes a bath. Just to amuse himself. But when you go back to the human world, 'every once in a while' becomes 'almost every day'.

He has a theory that if someone stares into the eyes of Painting Asmo too deeply for too long, they'll fall in love with him. The painting version of him, that is. He knows that's silly, so he keeps it to himself, but he can't stop himself from imagining you mesmerized by your own painting of him, bewitched by the very eyes you painted...

Beel

Honestly, Beel is just happy you made a picture including him, his brothers, and you. You put him right beside Belphie with an arm slung around his shoulders. He's smiling more in the picture than he normally does in real life, but that doesn't bother him at all. He wants to look happy in this kind of painting.

He taped his copy of the picture to the refrigerator door. Everyone appreciates this, not just Beel, though he definitely sees it the most often. After you go home, he says good morning to you every day when he first heads to the fridge. It's a nice way to feel like you're still around.

Belphie

Wow... He looks adorable here. And you didn't include him drooling like his brothers always do when they draw him. Though it really isn't fair to compare this to the "drawings" his brothers have made to make fun of each other. Idiots...

You put him right next to Beel. That makes him smile. And he looks...like he's happy to be there. Maybe not grinning like a doofus, but like this is his family, and he's pretty okay with it.

He keeps his copy of the picture taped to his bedpost so he can look at it whenever he feels lonely, especially after your year in the Devildom comes to an end.

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flowersandbigteeth · 1 year

Text

Your naga professor gives you a gift

General Plot: This is a longer, sloppy oneshot. You work at a library, frequented by a professor who studies amorous history and strike up a friendship with him.

Naga professor (Arion) x female reader

Word Count: 4k

💕 SFW MASTERPOST 💕

W: Yandere behavior, obsession, kidnapping, mostly sfw yandere fluff, there is a brief mention of cum, ambiguous ending

You never noticed the way he looked at you. The way his gaze lingered on you while you pranced around him pushing your little cart of books.

“Need help finding something?” you asked him, holding a pile of books in your arms. You were a librarian in a college for the magical arts, already graduated yourself. You’d been offered the job right out of school after you interned there so you took it and never left.

It was a great atmosphere and the college community was kind of nice. Bright, young students were funny and ever hopeful, getting into all sorts of hijinks with their magic. The week before a student had glued himself to the ceiling of the gymnasium with a spell gone wrong.

As a hedgewitch, you didn’t have much magical power yourself. Your witch blood hadn’t allowed you any boons but your short stature and wide eyes. You could do hearth magic and bloom flowers, but that was about it. Your mother always told you if you applied yourself you could be a brilliant chemist, but it wasn’t something that interested you. The library was quiet and peaceful. Just right.

You recognized the professor. He was a handsome naga who taught in the history department. He came to the library often, staying late into the evenings. He always sat in the same corner, his thick green tail curled over itself in fat loops as he read, scribbling notes with long, strong fingers. He was quiet and you hadn’t spoken to him much, except a few pleasantries in passing. That day, however, you caught him perusing a shelf. He seemed to be searching for something.

He turned to you, jumping a bit.

“Sorry to startle you,” you chuckled, putting out your hand and brushing his shoulder.

You didn’t know why you did that. Maybe it was because he was handsome and flustered you a little. He had beautiful hazel eyes behind his metal framed glasses and long dark hair, streaked with a bit of silver, showing his age. He had it braided over his ears in the traditional naga way, the rest falling down his back in a smooth sheet. You jerked your hand back immediately. That probably wasn’t appropriate. Your cheeks pinkened, hoping you hadn’t offended him.

His eyes widened slightly at your hand, but he gathered himself a moment later.

“Erm…yes,” he said, “there’s a book in the database that doesn’t seem to be on the shelf. Heart Magic of the Meridian Era. It says it's here and I can’t find it.”

“Let me look into it for you,” you said.

He slithered behind you to the counter and you pulled up the title on your computer. You didn't know that while he followed you, he admired your plump bottom and the cute little legs you tipped around on perilously.

“Oh I see,” you explained, “that book is part of the special collection. You can’t remove it from the library, but I can help you make copies of any pages and give you a private room to review it.”

“That would be perfect,” he agreed, smiling at you.

His smile was handsome, his fangs very long and sharp.

“Everything okay here?” your manager Levi asked, sidling up to you.

He peeked over your shoulder.

“That book is in the special collection. Have you set him up with a private room?” he asked.

“Of course,” you said tightly.

He wasn’t a terrible manager, but he could hover a bit sometimes and occasionally it annoyed you. Placing a hand on your shoulder, he gave it a little squeeze.

“Great job, (Y/N),” he said, “come find me if you need any help.”

He wandered away to engage in his favorite professional technique, managing by walking around.

You glanced up to see the professor’s eyes narrowed watching him walk away.

“Shall we go?” you asked, jotting down the book’s identification number on a post it.

He seemed to relax a bit and nodded at you to lead him on.

“I’m (Y/N), by the way,” you said, making conversation as you led him down the stone steps that went down a few floors to the basement where the special books were kept. They were books with dangerous magic that only professors and supervised graduate students could look at.

“I’ve seen you around the library, but we’ve never been introduced.”

He gave you a bit of a shy smile.

“Arion Dernald,” he said with a tip of his head.

“Wait here,” you told him, as you unlocked the door where the books were kept and went inside to retrieve the right one. When you’d found it, you brought it out with a pair of white gloves and led him to a private room.

You looked at the heavily engraved book, covered with reliefs of passionate lovers entwined in each other’s arms.

“Oh my,” you gasped, “what are you studying?”

He looked even more bashful and cleared his throat.

“Ah…Ancient romance spells,” he said, “I’m writing a book about how romance was seen differently in the Meridian era than it is now.”

“Oh?” you asked, as you laid the book down on some cotton cloth to protect the cover, “how so?”

“It was more…intimate, perhaps,” he said, “lovers owned each other’s hearts. They used many varieties of magical bindings to grow closer.”

“That’s what’s in this book?” you asked, looking down at it.

“Yes,” he said, “mostly…and some aphrodisiac spells.”

You weren’t sure why, but the contents of the book made you squirmy. Any kind of binding spell was illegal in the modern day. You gave him a hesitant smile.

“Well, I’ll leave you to it then,” you said, “please use the gloves so you don’t damage the pages. The oils on your fingers break down the fibers.”

You handed him a matching pair of white gloves and hustled out of the room.

Glancing up a few hours later, you saw him carrying the book to you, a few pages marked with scraps of paper.

“Could you make copies of these pages?” he asked, “then I’ll be done with it for today.”

You agreed, taking the tomb from him and heading back to the copy machine. Flipping open the pages you glanced at the first spell, reading a few lines. It was a proximity binding spell, not allowing the person to leave a certain area around them. The next one gave you pause. It was almost like the proximity spell, but much more serious. It bound two souls together in this life and the next. The two parties couldn’t be too far apart from each other for too long or they would start to waste away and eventually die.

The spell guaranteed that your souls would find each other in your next reincarnations. The idea was that lovers would rather die and be reunited in the next life than be parted. Who knew if it really worked. Ancient magic like this was spotty, mostly derived from sloppy experiments before the time of the scientific method.

Still, the concept of being tied together through death made you shudder a bit. It was a dangerous spell to make a copy of, but there was no rule against it. As a senior professor, the naga was authorized to copy any spell in the library.

You quickly made the copies and shuffled back to the naga, who was waiting patiently at the front desk.

“Here you go!” you said, cheerfully, handing him the stack.

He thanked you and slithered away. You watched his broad back as he left, unsettled for some reason.

–

“I don’t like him,” Levi said quietly as you checked in books at the front desk. You followed his eyes to the corner, where the naga was curled up reading again.

You drew your brows at him.

“That’s not like you, you like everybody,” you snorted, “what’d he do to you?”

He glared across the library.

“Something about him is creepy,” he said, “he’s here more than anyone else. A lot more and I looked up his browsing history on the public network. It's weird, all binding spells.”

You glanced over at him. He seemed perfectly normal to you, focused on whatever he was reading.

“I don’t know what you mean,” you said, “he’s a professor. They like to study and this is a library.”

“Just…be careful around him,” he warned, “tell me if he says anything weird to you.”

You nodded and he walked away.

You shook your head of the bizarre interaction. Levi was normally a pretty affable wolf. It was weird for him to just not like someone for no reason.

As if to test his instincts, you scooted your cart by him as you went to return books and stopped to say hello.

“How is the research coming?” you asked.

He looked up from his notes and pushed his glasses up his nose with a long finger.

“Oh, excellent,” he said, “I think I’ve made a breakthrough in the translation. What experts have thought to mean blood is actually semen. They’ve been wrong for years.”

You blushed.

“Oh,” you said.

His cheeks darkened and he cleared his throat.

“Erm…it’s a completely different reading of the text,” he mumbled on awkwardly, looking away.

You couldn’t stifle your giggle and his eyes widened on you a bit.

“What an interesting thing to study,” you laughed, “ancient cum spells.”

He smiled too and the tension lifted.

“I suppose it is,” he chuckled, “but it’s for a good reason. We can learn a lot from the Meridian era. Partners were devoted back then, willing to risk it all for the ones they loved.

"Dating today is all apps and lies. It’s so plastic. My students hook up once and then never see their partner again only to do it the next night and the next night. Never any real connection. No real investment to speak of.”

His eyes sparkled at you.

“There’s something magical about true devotion,” he said, “and I think we’ve lost that romance with our technology.”

“I guess I never thought of it that way, but you might be right,” you tilted your head, “People are always going on about not getting too attached.”

He waved his hand.

“That’s what I’m saying,” he said, “nowadays people conflate real love with red flags. Obsession, they call it.”

You weren’t sure you’d go that far.

“Well there has to be a limit, I guess,” you said.

He shook his head.

“True love knows no limits,” he declared.

You smiled at him, charmed he was so passionate about his work.

“That’s quite a topic for an academic paper,” you chuckled.

“Yes,” he said, settling down.

“My department head isn’t thrilled with my pursuits, but I think it will make a brilliant book. “The Return of Romance” I want to illustrate how beautiful Meridian era romance was and how we can apply their principles to modern times. I already have a publisher lined up and he’ll change his tune when the University is mentioned in the press release.”

“That sounds wonderful,” you said.

He beamed at your praise revealing his fangs and you felt something brush your ankle. Looking down you realized the tip of his tail had wrapped itself around you. Your heart fluttered at the contact.

“Um,” you murmured, lifting your foot.

He blushed, clearing his throat.

“S-sorry, it just does that sometimes,” he stammered, unwinding it.

“I-it’s okay,” you stuttered back, “I-I should get back to work.”

After that day you started seeing Arion more frequently, only not only at the library. He seemed to turn up random places where you were. You would see him at a coffee shop on a Saturday or at the grocery store after work. He made the excuse that he lived nearby so you brushed it off without thinking. It was kind of nice to have a handsome neighbor to bump into that always had a smile for you. You had no complaints.

He even started bringing you little presents at work. It started with a cup of coffee. He apologized that he didn’t know how you took it, but made you tell him for next time. Then it was a book, a small picture book of Meridian era artwork. Some of it was quite pornographic. You should have seen that as a red flag, but he was an academic. You figured he didn’t have the same hang ups as you. This was all research to him.

It came to a head when he brought you a bracelet. It was tucked in black velvet and looked very old. It was a gold bangle with some strange script carved into it.

“What’s that?” Levi asked, peeking over your shoulder to Arion’s dismay at the open box he was handing you.

“It’s a gift for (Y/N),” he said, “none of your business.”

Levi frowned.

“I don’t think it’s appropriate for you to be giving my employees gifts, (Y/N) is on the clock and you are also an employee of this university.”

You waved your hands trying to diffuse the situation.

“It’s nothing Levi,” you said, “just a friendly gift.”

“Jewelry is not a friendly gift,” he snapped, “I’m going to have to ask you to stay out of the library if you continue to harass my staff.”

You weren’t used to him being this protective.

“Levi!” you exclaimed, “you can’t ban him over this. It’s harmless!”

“(Y/N), I think there are some boxes for you to unpack in the basement,” he snarled, ordering you away and ending the conversation.

You gave Arion an apologetic look and shuffled to the stairs.

Levi apologized later, saying he just didn’t like guys who harassed women at work where they couldn’t escape and he didn’t feel comfortable with him taking an interest in you. He explained that it was his job to protect his staff from those sorts of things.

He even went as far as giving you a pamphlet on harassment in the workplace and told you he was reporting the interaction in the morning so there would be a record. You thanked him for taking it seriously and assured him it was just a casual friendship but he left for the night still determined to report it.

Oddly, he didn’t come in to work the next day. He didn’t call or text and when you called him it went straight to voicemail. When he didn’t come in the day after that you went to HR wondering if you should call the police. When you finally were given permission to call them they just took your information and told you they would look into it, but that was all you could do.

“You look anxious, (Y/N),” Arion said, as he slithered up to the front counter, “what’s wrong?”

You shook your head, frowning.

“Levi’s been missing for days. I just can’t help but be worried about him. This isn’t like him. What if something bad has happened?”

Arion narrowed his eyes for a second before giving you an encouraging smile.

“I’m sure he’ll turn up,” he said, then pulled the box from before out of his jacket pocket, “I have something that will take your mind off of that.”

He showed you the same bracelet as before. You fingered the pretty piece of jewelry, running your finger over the gold before picking it up.

“Go ahead,” he said, “try it on.”

You snapped the bracelet on and it conformed to your wrist making you jump.

“Don’t be alarmed,” he assured you, “there’s a bit of magic in it…to... make it your size.”

“Oh,” you said, relieved. You looked at the script written on it.

“What does it say?” you asked.

“Sweet nothings,” he said, smiling, “just Meridian era poetry. There isn’t really a good translation of it in our language. Maybe something close to ‘the strings of endless devotion bind us’, but not quite.”

You nodded slowly.

“Do you like it?” he asked, hopefully.

“It’s lovely,” you said, “thank you for thinking of me.”

You were a little shocked, it was such a nice gift. You didn’t realize Arion thought so highly of you.

“I think about you a lot, (Y/N),” he admitted, then blushed as if he hadn’t meant to say that.

You smiled shyly.

“I don’t mind if you think about me,” you shared, your heart skipping a beat.

“Really?” he asked, his eyes widening.

You giggled.

“Sure, think about me all you want.”

If only you knew how frequently that was, you might not have said those words.

A customer cleared her throat, tapping her foot impatiently and Arion winked at you, giving you a little wave before he slithered back to his corner.

–

Things went smoothly for the next few days, though Levi still hadn’t turned up. You knew how to manage the library on your own, so not much changed during the workday except you had to go to HR to get your timesheet approved instead of Levi.

Arion brought you cups of coffee the way you liked it and pastries every day, his eyes always lingering on the bracelet on your wrist. You hadn’t taken it off. You’d tried the first night, when you showered, but the hinge was stuck and you didn’t want to break it trying to get it off yourself. You’d given up, figuring you’d take it to the jeweler over the weekend to have it fixed. It was such a nice gift you didn't mind wearing it and it appeared to be solid gold so the water wouldn’t change the color.

“Good morning (Y/N),” Arion said, slithering up to you as he usually did, “what are you so busy with?”

You were elbow deep in books, trying to get through the backlog.

“I have to finish all these before my vacation,” you said, “the temp won’t know how to check them in right and it will be a nightmare to sort out when I get back.”

“The temp?” he asked, his voice dropping and growing perhaps a bit more growly, “you’re going somewhere?”

You smiled up at him, completely oblivious.

“Oh yeah!” you beamed, “I’ve been saving up my PTO to take a trip to the ocean. I haven’t seen it in years. I’m catching a plane Monday morning. I’ll be back in a week.”

You noticed Arion seemed genuinely disturbed.

“Is everything okay?” you asked.

“Erm…yes,” he mumbled, catching himself, “just thinking about a problem with my research.”

He gave you a little wave before slithering over to his corner, his brow drawn. For the rest of the day he seemed to be frantically working something out, not looking at his books but instead his laptop and phone. You were too busy to go question him and it really wasn’t any of your business, so you just went back to checking in books and brushed it off.

That night, however, on your walk home, you had the distinct feeling someone was watching you. You’d hurried into your apartment and locked the deadbolt, pushing it a few times to make sure it was tight. Closing the curtains, you let your magic light the stove and fill the kettle, setting it to boil.

Hearth magic wasn’t usually taken very seriously though it really made your life easier. If anyone asked you, which they didn’t, it should be taught in college. Instead there was just a special interest club. It was considered a lesser magic, so easy and insignificant that there wasn’t much research done on it.

You started some soup on the other eye of the stove and were beginning to relax when you heard a thunk that made you jump. It sounded like something heavy had fallen in your bedroom.

You didn’t have any pets or roommates so there was no reason for anything to make any sound at all. Your mind immediately went to robbers. Gulping, you grabbed a baseball bat you kept by the front door and crept towards the bedroom.

“H-hello…” you murmured, nudging the door open with your foot.

The curtains were closed and the room was pitch black. You slid your fingers up the wall to find the lightswitch but something stayed your hand, making you jump a foot in the air.

“AHHHH!” you screamed, jerking your hand back.

Two large hands emerged from the darkness and clamped down on your shoulders, drawing you deeper into the inky room. You swung blindly with the bat, but whatever was there jerked it easily out of your hand.

You struggled as it pulled you under its arm, whispering strange words at you. Your body went limp and gradually the room began to fade. The last thing you saw was Arion’s face illuminated by the slice of light spilling in from the hallway.

–

You woke with something tight wrapping around your waist. You shifted, your eyes still closed, and found you couldn’t move. You blinked, taking in the dim room around you and the naga sitting next to you reading in the lamplight. His coils were wrapped around you, pinning your arms to your sides. He wasn’t squeezing very tight, but you had no hope of fighting the thick, solid muscle of his tail.

“Arion?” you murmured, your head a little fuzzy, “what…where am I?”

He gave you his soft smile, folding his book and laying it on the side table. The smile you had grown to like, so much.

“You’re safe here.”

For some reason him saying that you were safe made you feel the exact opposite. You started struggling, even though there was no hope of you breaking free. Arion cocked his head at you, sliding his glasses off of his nose and tapping them on his chin.

“You’ll only tire yourself out like that,” he told you and squeezed you just tight enough to make his point without hurting you, “and I’ve been waiting so long for you to wake up. It would be a pity.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, your mind muddled and not entirely sure what was going on.

“Why am I here?”

He slid his glasses back up his nose and leaned in to you, frowning.

“I didn’t want to do it this way…but you made me,” he said, “you can’t get away from me.”

“Away from you?” you murmured, “what are you...y-you mean…my vacation?”

Realization bloomed in your mind as it sharpened.

“You did this because of my vacation?”

He narrowed his eyes at you.

“You did this,” he clarified, “why would you ever want to leave me? If you wanted to go to the ocean, you should have asked.”

“Asked?”

He was speaking as if you were a couple or something.

“Arion, I’m confused and you’re scaring me,” you said, “can you please release me so that we can talk?”

He squeezed you tighter.

“No,” he said petulantly, “I’ve spent enough time without you in my coils. I’m not letting you go now. I wanted to take things slower, but you’ve made me accelerate my plans. It’s as if you wanted this all along.”

You swallowed thickly, trying to slow your racing thoughts. The shy, quiet professor you’d come to favor was a complete nut job!

“My touch is not such a burden to you?” he almost pleaded, sliding you closer to him.

You grimaced and tried to pull away.

“Don’t touch me! You’re insane!” you screeched.

He growled.

“You don’t mean that,” he assured himself, “you’re just a little frightened, but everything is going to be okay, darling. Your beloved is going to make everything all right for you.”

“B-beloved?” you sputtered, unsure why your mind was hanging on that word.

His reptilian eyes looked at you, his pupils blown out and a little wild.

“I know you love me, (Y/N). You told me I could think of you as often as I like and I find that is all the time,” he said smiling, “we don’t have to hide it anymore. I’ve taken away any obstacle that could get in our way. You belong to me now.”

You whimpered. This was truly a nightmare.

“You don’t have to do this, Arion,” you whispered, “we can do this the right way. You can take me on a real date! We’ll have a nice time. You don’t have to do this!”

You were lying to his face. If he believed you and let you go, you were going to run straight to the police, but you would say anything. He gave you his gentle smile again, his eyes more lucid.

“Don’t worry, we’ll go on lots of dates as soon as I know you aren’t going to try to run from me,” he said, “I know you don’t really mean it, but I still have to be sure. I’d hate for you to hurt yourself running away from your destiny.”

He brushed his hands through your hair.

“You’ve been taught devotion like this is wrong, brainwashed, really,” he clucked, his long fingers carding the strands, “but I’m going to teach you true love, love stronger than life itself.”

“W-what do you mean by that?” you whimpered, a cold stone dropping in the pit of your stomach.

He jerked your wrist from where it was pinched between his body and yours, holding up the bracelet.

“I’ve bound you to me,” he said with pride, twisting the metal, warm from your body heat, in his fingers, “the spell I’ve been researching worked! The binder has fused to you, it'll never come off.

"Now we can be together for this life and the next. We can’t ever be parted. We’ll die and meet again in the next life if we spend more than a day apart. ”

He chuckled.

“To think all it took was a little bit of semen, that was what the spell has been missing for thousands of years. It’s the breakthrough of my life, honestly!”

He nuzzled your trembling body as the realization of what he was saying sunk in. The spell. The one you’d copied for him!

“You can’t do this, Arion,” you hissed, “it’s illegal! It’s…It’s slavery!”

“No, no, my love,” he said, “that’s what they want you to think. They want to control your mind. What we have is so, so special. No laws can bind us.”

Desperation had become anger and now anger was turning to despair. You sank into his coils, resigning yourself to your future. You were no magician. You had no power to fight this. You could make pots and pans dance, but that was about it. You were so far out of your depth. Tears plummeted down your cheeks in hot streaks.

“That’s alright, darling,” he said, rubbing your back and pressing your head into his neck, “get it all out. You’ll feel better after a good cry and then we’ll have a snack.”

You breathed in his disgustingly delicious scent and hated that on some level it comforted you.

#monster x girl #monster boyfriend #monster lover #monster romance #yandere headcanons #yandere fluff #male yandere #yandere male #yandere x reader #naga #naga x read #naga x reader #monster fluff

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toxic-aries · 1 year

Text

my tattoo artist went down on me (2k words)

paring: tattoo artist!eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: eddie munson offered to design a new tattoo for you, during the session things got a little heated.

warnings: 18+ (minors DNI), oral (f recieving), fingering, squirting, some strong lanuage, and some cringey writing, if i missed any please let me know.

a/n: this is a super old draft from a few months ago so I hope you all enjoy <;3

feedback & criticism is very appreciated. please let me know if you have any thoughts on how I can approve. thank you :)

You stood outside the Munsons trailer, a tad bit nervous, but it is a normal feeling…especially when it comes to getting a new tattoo. But, the thought of Eddie Munson giving you said tattoo made your heart race even more…not that you didn't trust his tattooing skills…oh come on you didn't trust that boy's art skills at all.

All of a sudden the screen door of the trailer swings open, and there stood Eddie. Shirtless. Kind of sweaty. Messy curls as always. Slightly tighter jeans than normal. This look of his caught you off guard, rightfully so…it was a stunning look. “Are you just going to stand there like a creep?” He leaned his body against the door frame, crossing his arms while examining you.

Your mouth parted slightly like you were going to answer his question, but no words were coming out. All you wanted to do was stare at him. He knew. “Cat got your tongue, sweetheart?” He whispered as you stepped through the doorway of the trailer, those words sent shivers down your spine. “Come on, I have everything set up in my room.”

“You do know what you're doing right, Munson?” You teased as Eddie led you to his room down the hall.

“Well how else do you think I got these sweet ole’ tatties, huh?” He points at the bats on his arm, “This is my newest work, you like?”

“Not really my style…but they're cool.”

“You seem hard to please…” He mumbles to himself as he sits down in a rolly chair, then opening a sketchbook turning to the page with your design on it. You just wanted some simple roses on your thigh, not too much. “Does this look like what you had in mind, darling?” He really needs to stop with these pet names.

His artwork was actually…good. Surprisingly. “Oh my gosh, I love that!” You exclaimed. He rolls over to the edge of his bed and pats it motioning for you to sit down. The workspace area wasn't the greatest but hey…it’s more professional looking than others. A single towel sits on the edge of the bed, the tattoo gun with the ink caps on a random nightstand and a pair of normal gloves beside it. “Well, I’m glad you like it…hopefully I can draw the sketch again actually on your leg”

Eddie says as he pulls out a couple markers, biting the cap off of one and spitting it out onto the floor, he rolls himself over to you. Putting his knee in between your legs, “Now which thigh are we putting it on.” His pretty brown eyes look up at you as his free hand caresses the side of your right thigh.

“U-uhm…my right one. I want it…” You pointed to the upper thigh of your right leg, making a general circle motion around the area. “About right here.” He moved his hand to that spot, retracing that circle you had made. “So, you want it right here?” You gulped at his question, feeling the slight tension building in the room. “I guess you're going to have to take these things off so we can get started.” His finger moves from your thigh to your hip, pulling on the belt loop of your jeans. “I thought I told you to wear something short.”

“I know, I’m sorry. I had just gotten off work and -”

“Y/N, i'm only playing around…” Eddie chuckled as he pushed himself back, giving you some space to take off your jeans. “Unless, you like to be told what to do?” His eyebrow raised as he watches you stand up and unbutton your jeans.

“Maybe I do, Munson.” His eyes widen at your words. “Oh really…” Eddie's words lingered as he rolled over to you, your hips perfectly in line with his head. “Maybe…I can help take these off for you, sweetheart.” His hands moved up your legs to your hips, pulling down on your belt loops. Pulling down your pants slowly. The feeling of his hands against your bare skin sends tingles throughout your body. The cold metal from his rings sent chills. The intimacy was a bare minimum, but your body craved more.

“Sit back down.”

You listened. He grabbed the marker again and began to draw the rose design on your upper thigh. About thirty or some extra minutes pass and he’s done with the sketch. It looked just like what was in his notebook. “You ready?”

“I guess so…lay it on me.”

Eddie’s been tattooing for about an hour. The vibrations from the tattoo gun piercing your skin sends tingles throughout your entire body. Causing you to grip onto the sheets of his bed, tighter and tighter and tighter. Eddie notices. He moves his free hand to your opposite leg, gripping his hand in the skin of your soft thigh. “Do you need a break?” You shook your head to signal no, you were lying.

He pushed himself back slightly as he lifted the machine up from your skin, placing it on the table beside him. “I can tell you need a break…” His words faded off almost like he was going to say more, which made you curious. Your eyes met his. He uses the chair to pull himself closer to you, leaving you face to face, merely inches apart. “Maybe, we can do something else…instead.”

“Like what?”

“Like this.” He pushes your body against the bed, now hovering over you. His finger pulls your chin up closer to his face, staring directly at your lips. You need him. All of him. You couldn't take the tease anymore, so, your arms wrap around his neck and pull yourself up to meet his lips. Clashing into each other. You wanted more. His lips trailed off yours, moving down to your chin, then your neck. Leaving a few marks on his territory. “Let me take this off of you.” He whines into the crook of your neck while pulling at the edge of your t-shirt. His hand starts pulling it up as you move with his movements finally taking it off. Exposing your bare chest.

Suddenly the heated makeout session paused. “Oh shit, I don't want you getting an infection with this thing being exposed. Stand up real quick.” He said as he stood up, reaching his hand out to help pull you up. He put a few layers of paper towels over the half-way done rose, taping the edges to your skin, making sure he doesn't make it too uncomfortable for you. “Does that feel okay?” You nodded at his question.

Eddie places a few soft and gentle kisses on your other thigh, getting closer and closer to you. You feel as his hand moves from the side of your thigh to palm your clothed pussy. His touch caused you to jump a tad, “Oh. Do you not want that?” He said as he looked up at you.

“N-No, I do, trust me. I want that.” You whined, practically begging for him at this point. A smirk grew on his face. Using his pointer he slid your panties over, running said finger down your pussy, “You’ve been this wet the whole time?” He sighed, “Fuck Y/N.” His pointer finger then enters your core, making slight pumping motions. Then pulling it out, putting his hands on your hips, his face directly in line with you.

“Take them off, please.” Your voice was breathy. Eddie wasted no time, pulling your hips closer to his face then using his teeth to drag your panties down your legs. Finishing taking them off using his hands. He stood up from the chair, towering over you, “Lay down on your back, bend your legs too.” He demanded.

You did just as he said, of course. Watching him get down to the right level, he threw your legs over his shoulder. His fingers danced around your entrance, sending pains to your stomach as the heat began to build. Your pussy was throbbing, craving for him to do something…literally anything. You weren't really an impatient person, but you just craved him. “Can you please do something Mun-”

You were cut off by him licking your cunt, tasting you from bottom to top. Sending you to throw your head back letting out a soft moan. Using his pointer and middle he spread your lips open even more, sticking his tongue into your core. Your hands reached between your own legs to his hair, yanking and pulling at his roots. “We’ll see if youre so hard to please…” He groaned into your pussy, the vibrations from his voice causing that heat to build even more in the pit of your stomach.

Eddie put his lips around your throbbing clit, while locking eyes with you. Your back pressed harder against the bed, he continued to lick and suck on your cunt, randomly pulling up to plant kisses on the inner thighs. His ringed hand rubbing up and down your thigh as the free fingers finds its way to your core again. His lips stayed on your clit as his fingers fucked your tight hole, his tongue dancing around your clit in circular motions. That intense feeling in the pit of your stomach gets warmer and warmer. “Eddie fuck!” You moan out, trying to catch your breath while he hasn't eased up one bit. “Are you already getting close sweetheart?” He whined as he pulled up from your pussy, removing his fingers from your center, “God, youre so fucking wet…” His hand reached up to your mouth, “Open for me…” His fingers that are covered in your juices enter your mouth, you take them deep, nearly down your throat.

He pushes your legs from his shoulders and plants them down to the bed, spreading your legs open further. Making his access to your pussy easier. “You can only cum when I tell you to, okay?” He says as he gets back down to your level, maintaining that intense eye contact still.

You nod, “O-Okay.” His tongue meets your core, in and out, circular motions, he then licks all the way up your cunt again taking in all your taste and juices. The feeling was incredible. He definitely knew how to use his tongue. He sucks on your bulging and throbbing clit again, using his pointer and middle to pound your hole again. Pumping them in and out. His free hand moved to your hip pushing you down deeper into the bed, the cold metal from his rings against the warmth of your skin. You were getting close, but he hasn't told you yet.

“Are you close, princess?” He moaned as he came up to catch his breath, how in the fuck did he know. “If you're close…you can cum.”

He didnt have to say anymore, “Eddie, fuck.” You cursed out as your head flung back, your chest rising up and down faster and faster. That warm pit in your stomach is nearly on fire. His fingers got faster and faster as they pounded into your core, “Cum for me baby…” he groans, your legs start to shake as an even more intense orgasm builds.

Then you did exactly what he said. As it snapped, you screamed, Eddie pulling his thick fingers from inside you, still pushing against your clit, a hard stream gushing forth. After a few moments, you are still shaken by the sensation. As his digits plunge into your dripping pussy,a few curses and moans of his name escape your lips, he pumps in and out a few more times before pulling them out and watching you squirt again.

“Fuck Y/N.”

“Shit Eddie, I am so fucking sorry.”

“No, I dont give a fuck about that.” His tongue licks off the excess cum dripping from your warm cunt. “That was fucking hot.”

“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.” You leaned down to his level planting a sloppy kiss on his lips. “Then let’s finish this tattoo.”

“Another round once I'm done?”

if you enjoyed please consider commenting or reblogging, it makes a huge difference ♡

#.paige writes ✎*ೃ˚#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #eddie munson blurb #tattoo artist!eddie munson #.eddie ♡

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jokeringcutio · 4 months

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Art the Clown x Reader Drabble "Giving Birth to Art's Baby" [ EXPLICIT, Gore]

AN: Nobody asked for this. Summary: If Reader had Art’s baby. (or: You realize you're fucked, birthing a demon's child, but get a bright idea while doing so)

Warnings: Explicit content (Blood/Murder/Birth), Demon!Art, Demon!kid, Cannibalism/Placenta eating. Mentioned Forced Impregnation. Reader gives birth. Reader tries to survive. Reader lives by the end of this chapter. You have Art’s look-a-like baby (not just his head. An actual kid).

The sterile whiteness of the hospital room blurred into a canvas of dread as they told you to push. "You can do this," the nurse said, her voice a harsh command against the silence of your unborn child's heart—a silence that had been haunting you since labor began. The monitors sang no lullaby of life; instead, they hummed a dirge for the creature stirring inside, the one you knew bore no resemblance to a human babe.

"Push!" she insisted, but something primal within you recoiled. Your mind reeled, images of the ultrasounds flickering like a horror show behind your eyes—those glimpses of something otherworldly, something that twisted the midwives' faces into masks of confusion and fear. You felt it squirming, an alien presence in the sanctuary of your womb. Its head, too large, its limbs, too sharp—you remembered the cold gel on your belly and the screen showing a chest empty of a beating heart and a skull with teeth that no other baby ever had.

The images had filled you with nightmares.

"Push, damn it!"

With each word from her lips, you were torn further between the instinct to expel the abomination and the unnatural maternal pull towards the thing you carried. It looked slightly human, yes, but there was no pulse, no thrumming of life—just the void where a heartbeat should echo.

"Push, or we'll lose you both!"

Your muscles clenched, a symphony of pain rippling through you as you fought to obey, to be rid of the living death inside. You tried to calm the tempest in your chest, telling yourself over and over, "I can do this."

Then he invaded your thoughts—Art, the demon, the clown in black and white, a mockery of joy and laughter. His teeth, those sharp instruments of terror, flashed in your memory, evoking the night of unspeakable horror when he had claimed you. Should you have fought him harder? Should you have shouted or cried? His touch was a brand, his seed the poison that grew into the monstrosity within.

You had recognized the shape of the baby’s skull the instant the ultrasound had shown it. His teeth. His head. His heartless frame.

Mass murderer and psycho on the run. A clown who never spoke and was never caught. A criminal the police claimed to have killed time after time again, yet he kept returning. You weren’t stupid. You knew he was no ordinary man, had seen and felt him up close, had lived through carrying his offspring and felt its tiny hands like claws inside your womb.

"Push! I see the head!"

Your scream tore through the air, a battle cry against the violation that had led to this moment. With a guttural cry, you bore down, every fiber of your being straining to bring forth the offspring of darkness. The nurses leaned in, their faces etched with morbid curiosity and professional detachment.

"More! Now!"

And you did. You pushed past the fear, the revulsion, and the anguish. You pushed because surrender was not an option. The child of Art, the silent clown with the soulless bright eyes surrounded by circles of dark, was coming, and you would face it, even as it threatened to tear you apart.

"Head's out!"

The words cut through the fog of your agony, and for a brief, impossible moment, hope flickered. But it was a fool's hope, born of pain and desperation. For what lay between your thighs was neither dead nor alive, neither human nor wholly other. It was the unholy union of your flesh and Art's demonic whimsy, born into a world that would never understand its existence.

"Keep going, you're almost there!"

That nurse's voice, so insistent, so devoid of the horrors that awaited, spurred you on. And you pushed again, into the unknown, into the nightmare made flesh.

The sterile chill of the delivery room clawed at your senses, but nothing could compare to the icy grip of fear that seized your heart. The nurse's declaration was a death knell, ringing hollow in your ears.

"Oh no, look at that color,” she breathed out, her words a ghost lingering in the air. The child’s head was as white as the sheets you were birthing on.

Your gaze fixed on the writhing mass that now slipped free from your body, its skin as white as untouched snow, not a shade of life to be found. Terror danced in the nurse's eyes as she caught the creature you had birthed, fully convinced to hold a stillborn child.

But then it turned its head towards her, lips pulled back in a macabre grin, black and white painted across its face like a twisted replica of Art's mime visage.

It was as you had feared it would be. Any hope you had held that your baby might come out all rosy and normal faded like ice under the sun.

"God!" The nurse recoiled, hurling your offspring onto the bed as if it were a viper.

"Easy! Easy!" You cried out. This was your child, your blood. And there was the little voice inside your head that whispered that Art wouldn’t die. No matter how many shots had been fired at him. No matter how many limbs had been cut off. The man still walked the earth, spreading death in silent joy wherever he went.

What if your child was the same? Already its heart wasn’t beating yet it seemed very much alive. Would throwing it away like its life meant nothing be the solution?

Adrenaline fueled your limbs, and with a grunt, you crawled toward the tiny form cast aside on the cold hospital linen. No. This was your baby too. No matter how evil, you would nurse it.

"Shh, shh," you soothed, half-mad with pain and wonder as your arms closed around the little body. Your hands trembled, cradling him close, the resemblance uncanny—Art's spawn, his legacy. Something soft dangled between the baby’s legs.

"Boy..." you whispered, the realization dawning upon you as you held him against your breast. The baby’s head instinctively sought for your nipple, his already long-grown teeth snapping as he sought.

The sight of his head filled you with terror, and you felt slightly sick to see the baby’s lack of lips and already blackened teeth. Bright eyes stared up at you, black circles around him. The first touch of his mouth to your skin was tentative, searching, before a sharp pain made you hiss. "No biting!"

He seemed to understand or perhaps heeded the command instilled in his dark lineage. You were grateful he started to suck next and didn’t bite your entire nipple off. You wouldn’t put it past him – not with what you had seen his father do and what you had read and heard in the news articles about him.

There amidst the blood and the shadows, you were bound to this child, this extension of a demon's desire, by cords thicker than fear, stronger than revulsion. In the silence that hung heavy, only your harsh breaths and the soft, wet suckling sounds filled the void.

Your arms ached, but you clung to him—the fruit of your womb and a monster's seed. The room spun slightly, the stark white tiles of the hospital room blurring as you focused on the tiny creature at your breast. His lips, so unlike a human’s and too far pulled back, painted in an unseen artist's black and white, suckled with an instinctual hunger.

"Sweetheart,” you tested the word, reassuring yourself that you could do this. That you had to use affectionate terms around him especially because he was the way he was.

A new plan formed in your mind.

If you could bring such true evil to the world, could you perhaps dampen it? You were pretty certain you could not undo it. You could not change a devil into an angel. But if you could not turn evil into good, could you perhaps guide it? Guide it away from harming innocents?

"You're mine," you murmured, studying the little baby in your arms. If not for the head, the child would have looked rather normal.

“My son,” you proudly said, testing the words whilst the nurses and doctors around you stood and watched. You heard their muttering and were vaguely aware of how one of the nurses had pushed an emergency button and alerted someone else in the building about what was going on.

Would they come and take your baby away from you? Would they want to try and murder him?

A fierce protectiveness was swelling within you. “I’ll protect you, sweetheart,” you reaffirmed, determination lacing the single word. “You are my son.”

Some of the nurses took a step back from the bloodied bed, their eyes still wide with disbelief. Behind them, the door burst open with a violence that made every eye swing toward it.

Art stood there, his silhouette like a twisted shadow from a child's nightmare. The nurse at the entrance reached for him. “Sir,” she said, eyes upon the garbage gab he carried over his shoulder. “These are sterile surroundings.” Her concern was cut short by the gleam of steel—a deft flick of Art's wrist—and she crumpled, a scream caught in her throat, blood blossoming on her uniform like a grotesque flower.

The doctor next to her cried out when a blade hit his legs, slashing through the clean white fabric until his shins bled. Another nurse to his side crumpled when Art passed her by, pushed over with blood on her pristine white clothes.

"Stop!" Your voice was a command, even as you recoiled. "Don't."

Art’s head cocked, you could tell he had heard your voice, but he didn’t listen. Whatever knife he had brought with him was launched to land in the middle of a nurse’s forehead, pinching her to the wall. He smiled broadly while he stepped up to the doctor’s tools to get a scalpel from them, obviously pleased with all the sharp things that were within his reach. He threatened to step forth to the Doctor who had already wounded legs and who had fallen to the floor. The man looked up at the demonic clown fearfully, tears in his eyes as Art raised the scalpel.

“Art, please,” you begged, “Don’t hurt them.”

It wasn’t your pleading that stopped him. But something else entirely. A low groan as finally, the afterbirth followed - a final, visceral release that marked the end of your gruesome trial.

His head cocked, the mime's unnerving silence punctuating the chaos he had wrought. He approached, eyes fixed on the bundle in your arms. Between your legs, the heap of blood and tissue drained the sheets. The baby’s umbilical cord was still attached to the placenta that had finally come out.

Art studied it. First, the writhing baby in your arms. He looked at it like he had never seen a newborn child before. He probably hadn’t, you thought. At least, not one of his own. The wonder was visible in those bright light eyes of his. The demonic toothy smile had turned into a black hole of wonder.

Then, the brightly shining eyes traced the umbilical cord and came to rest on the placenta. Something in his eyes changed, and he looked up at you, almost hungrily. His gaze softened then at the sight of his son again, and dirt-covered fingers reached out a few times, indicating he wanted to hold him but was too shy to grab the babe.

Your son’s eyes opened, recognizing his father. But he wouldn’t leave his meal. The teeth nibbled on your nipple while milk kept flowing richly, then bit down a little harder when you moved your arm – an indication that he did not want to be moved.

With a spidery grace, Art extended a hand, his fingers stretching toward his progeny. You tightened your grasp, feeling the peculiar warmth of your son against your flesh.

"Art," you began, voice quivering with a cocktail of fear and resolve. "He's feeding." You met those abyssal eyes, searching for understanding. "We need them alive—the nurses, the doctors. We might need their help..." Whatever could you say to keep him from killing these people? You raked your mind, thought desperately. And then it came out. Unbidden. "For next time."

A pause, and then a different kind of hunger flashed across his face. Another offspring? The idea hadn't crossed his twisted mind until you seeded it there. The possibility of creating more beings like this one, beings that belonged to both of you—it ignited something within him.

"Next time," you whispered, coaxing.

Art's attention shifted, drawn away by the glistening afterbirth on the bed. A grotesque curiosity morphed into action as he reached down, snatching it up with an eager hand. He snapped the umbilical cord with his teeth, igniting gasps throughout the room of the nurses and the doctor – all either petrified or too wounded to leave. You gave them all an empathic stare, a silent ‘I’m sorry’ while you watched as Art descended on his own meal.

The room filled with the sound of his silent feasting, a tableau of horror that paralyzed the surviving staff. They could only watch, too terrified to move, too horrified to look away.

"Good," you breathed, holding your son closer. "Focus on that. Let us be."

Surrounded by trembling bodies and the scent of iron and fear, you rocked gently, whispering promises into the velvet softness atop your son's head, promises of a world where he would never be alone—where he'd have a sibling to share the darkness with. And more importantly, a mother who would guide evil in ways that would save those she cared about. Herself included. ~ AN: This could be a full story, but I was lazy and only wrote the birthing scene. Might upload other parts that can go along with this as I have an outline. If you like my (gross) writing (style), consider following me or browse my masterlists (psst, there's more).

~~ Support me on Ko-Fi - Masterlist - Request Box ~~ The Full Tale: Art saw the pale girl, another of his kind, and realized that he wanted to be less lonely. Someone of his own kind, now that sounded nice. A kid of his own to play patty cake with? So he started looking for a potential carrier for his kid. You were cute, didn't run as hard, didn't make a sound when he tried to harm you. A quiet little human, about the size of the clown kid he had seen. You were perfect. Instead of killing you, he made sure you got pregnant. During the pregnancy, you kept seeing traces of him, found little gifts from the stranger who featured in your nightmares ever since.

You weren't stupid. You found out quite quickly that your clown is in fact the much sought-after murderer who comits the most horrible crimes under the name of Art. You have seen what he is capable of and dive into the archives researching him and his crimes. He seems to survive everything.

When the ultrasounds show you a distorted baby with no heartbeat, you know that you carry true evil inside of you. But getting rid of it is no option, as you can't kill what already seems to be dead. With no other fate, you have no option but to birth the monster's child. How you will handle things after, however, that is something you can influence. You will do anything in your power to survive. ~~

#art the clown x reader #art x reader #terrifier baby #terrifier fanfic #birthing horror fanfic

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probablyhuntersmom · 1 year

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It's me again. The therapist/illustrator who can't stop squeaking and screaming about her beloved son Hunter.

I've been thinking nonstop about him finding the terrible grimwalker graveyard, imagining what would be going through my mind if I were him. Sifting through whatever moments, dialogue and frames that I can find from the existing material, along with references outside of the show, to formulate what an offscreen scene would've been like.. (And seeing if I can find editable and salvageable enough backgrounds so I could perhaps even depict this scene one day)

A soul like him who not only wants to help others, but also acquire knowledge:

heading back here to see the graveyard:

You can't tell me that this wouldn't still be on his mind, and he's even anxious while saying this below, scratching his face a little:

Whether he follows up on this or not, also depends on how he looks back on being shown this:

And is he just going to go cold turkey and totally drop these leads he was pursuing in the episodes before the finale? :

Three things prompted me to finally write this post:

@polyhexian's and @ashanimus's analyses of Hunter's fight scenes in Hunting Palismen and Eclipse Lake (links here and here, they're really cool to read!!), based on their years of experience with martial arts. Reading those was a revelation to me because learning about how high Hunter's skill level is, how in touch with his body he is by default, portrayed so well thanks to the crew...that allows me to make far more educated guesses about his mental health in the early stages of the pre-epilogue gap of about 4 years. Because he is so used to high activity and being on high alert, no thanks to having C-PTSD.

Observing how light and free Hunter's expressions are, and how transformed his demeanor became, in the epilogue sequence. That transformation is an indication to me of the magnitude of grief which had to be transformed within him. To be put back together, in order to be so radiant, generous and self-actualized in the epilogue...imagine how much had to be deconstructed and further broken beforehand. He wouldn't have room to fill his life up with all that amazing newness if the old isn't emptied out first.

This psychoeducational video by my fave author, also a practicing therapist, who specializes in traumatic grief: link. Hearing her address the topic of entering the second year after a bereavement vs. the first year, was interesting. Definitely confirms to me that Hunter wouldn't have carved Waffles until past the 2nd year of navigating his bereavement.

In the years that pass before the epilogue, Hunter will not be able to understand why the efforts he puts into all the rebuilding work, coordinating and leading others, and trying to have fun - only cycle back to him experiencing a mix of a restlessness and emptiness in the deepest layer of his mind. It'll exhaust his energy bit by bit. I bet he's going to generally look as tired as depressed Luz does below, even if he's had an acceptable hours of sleep per night:

That restlessness will be an awful psychological itch that he'll be unable to scratch, caused by losing Flapjack and now also Belos. This is the same as what happened with his anger in For the Future, except Belos was still alive back then. It will be harder to understand and messier to navigate the bereavement this time round. It'll be something gnawing into his soul which I really think only professional help can heal, especially since the show promotes that it's okay to not be okay, and more than okay to seek professional help (Steve and Lilith's conversation in Edge of the World).

He will be trying to claw his way out of that C-PTSD pit, but he'll be aware deep down that he simply cannot reach any emotional high points for long, and something will be blocking his feelings of connection with his loved ones. He won't feel nearly as free and easy the way he used to be in the human realm:

Having a routine like he used to in the Castle, and moving around a lot, was what helped him survive. However, he won't have the awareness that the shift resulting from Belos passing away has been at such a fundamental level: to the point that those old, supposedly tried-and-true methods no longer serve him in any positive way. At least, not until his mental health will be back in better shape.

As he puts in more and more effort to escape that restless emptiness, getting annoyed at himself because he doesn't know what's going on...he'll use up the rest of his strength and eventually crash. That itch won't be solved by going back to overworking tendencies, and like how it is with addiction cycles, he would need some kind of fix for the deep restlessness within. The answer? Productivity to feel useful, which we have seen even in his efforts to fix damaged clothing and well, making stuff in general.

Where the grimwalker graveyard comes in is...once he hears news about its existence, he will stubbornly insist to want to help in investigating it, saying he has already read a bunch of books about them, and can be useful, etc. Worse, if his offer to help to investigate is refused, he will do what he did in Eclipse Lake. Go to the location anyway, to fill that deep void within.

Old habits die hard.

I don't know if he may hear from King (who he'll be seeing fairly often, I think!), The Collector or even Kikimora about it. Since they were the three characters who went all the way down there in King's Tide, and The Collector already knew about these horrors for literal centuries. King and The Collector are also still young kids! Will they have the sensitivity and awareness about breaking this news to Hunter?!

On the other hand, I don't know how the timing will be with Darius, Raine and Eberwolf..Darius will want to get serious about investigating his mentor's disappearance. Once the searching and scouring extends to the location of the Head of the Titan, they will find the evidence staring them in the face. If they want to scour every inch of the Isles, there's also a high chance they'll find the godforsaken grimwalker lab.

Worst of all, Darius would be aware by then of how much Hunter loves to help out in operations like this to be productive. At the same time, Darius's own grief will surface even more, I'm not sure he'll be able to hide that, and Hunter is highly observant. If Darius is trying to hide his own priority of finding closure re: his mentor, I think Hunter will sense that.

Therefore I wonder if this will happen except it's Hunter with Darius:

and then this poor beloved skrunkly son of mine, who so famously said these words at the beginning of his arc:

is probably going to get reckless, and endanger his mental health...not unlike moments like this:

by venturing to the graveyard, whether stealthily or accompanying the grownups, because he'll rationalize it as "getting closure" and once again "being useful". Remember how used he is to moving around so much and being active, combined with growing up isolated so that asking for help can still be a foreign concept to him. He would be anxious about grinding to a halt, and he'd want to be on the move instead.

He may demand to see the graveyard, and holy Titan I'm not sure any dilemma will be as tricky for Camila and Darius to navigate as this one. Because preventing him from seeing something he already knows exists is, in a very twisted way, also an unhelpful form of avoidance. Avoidance is a hallmark criterion for diagnosing both PTSD and C-PTSD.

How far do they go in protecting him from himself? Where do they draw that line? They might reach a compromise where Camila and Darius accompany him there. Once he sees it, it'll hit harder than this:

Letting him see it means his new parents would have to fall with him, in the sense that they follow him to that emotional place: but while he figuratively does not have a safety harness when falling into this deep dark hole, Camila and Darius are equipped with harnesses a.k.a. higher maturity, less of a trauma history, and some tools to help him get better, navigate the trauma, and manage his symptoms.

Camila will have the warmth and sensitivity to catch and meet him as he falls (she interacts with animals in her profession, who don't have the capacity for human language, in a similar way to how serious trauma can't even be put into words at times: it makes you voiceless). Darius's shared past living in the Castle and grieving over his mentor will help Hunter not feel as alone once he has seen these horrors.

And because his heart generally became more open to receiving love and support,

I doubt he'll close himself off almost completely, the way he did in the first two-thirds of For the Future (god, remember these deleted storyboards??):

It wouldn't surprise me if he weeps and panics as soon as he sees the graveyard, and his parents give him maximum support through that breakdown. As complicated as it would be for Camila and Darius to give in to his desire to see the graveyard, a response like this from him - a child seeking attachment with proper timing - is a good sign of growing into healthy attachment with parental figures.

It is an arguably better response than one of the hardest aspects of C-PTSD: where the outpouring of grief only happens after a delay, sometimes a significant delay, at very inconvenient or strange times. Hell...if I were Hunter, I'd probably want Camila and Darius to just hold me close in wordless silence for half an hour until my initial distress and shock passes.

If I use King - a child who is securely attached to Eda, who's definitely had a more stable upbringing - as a control experiment here, he could have the appropriate response immediately in Echoes of the Past and expressed his emotional needs clearly enough:

Whereas this is what Hunter has to now learn, at twice King's age, as he settles in with new parents who take care of him instead of mistreating him the way Belos did. Hell, I can't imagine what kind of Belos punishment awaited him if he cried to demand attachment.

(I need to use more King scenes as a comparison to Hunter's upbringing in my next metas! I realize this can make my explanations clearer)

Anyway, what may happen next after he can't unsee the graveyard is...Hunter will then swing to the other extreme of high activity. I.e. being passive, physically inactive and psychologically crashing into depression, which may translate into habits such as oversleeping (catching up on all that lost sleep...but at what cost?). Supposedly sliding deeper into the C-PTSD pit. A place from which he has to express the desire to seek the forms of help he needs.

Remember that this kid has only known extremes for most of his life. Until he settles in properly with his found family and attends therapy, he has no clear reference point for more balanced approaches in living.

The trauma he went through is a quadruple whammy for a 16-year-old who just survived growing up in a cult. It would be so much. I can't see him not falling into months of deep dark depression, as unfortunate as this sounds.

Grieving over Flapjack, grieving over Belos, over his childhood/upbringing, and now a grisly memory of his predecessors who didn't make it (to add to what he saw in Belos's mindscape). I simply cannot see him handling a load like this without a highly-equipped and sensitive professional, paired with his support network of family, friends and even possibly the wider community at times. Especially now that we've seen him in action during the epilogue.

The epilogue sequence would've had a different feel (and in my opinion, a not-so-good feel) for me if Dana had established that the grimwalker graveyard was still untouched after those 3.5-4 years and if Hunter never found out about it. Something like that is different compared to Dana mentioning in the recent Post-Hoot that in the he does not know about Caleb and Evelyn, or that he is related to the Clawthornes. Mysteries like the Clawthorne heritage can remain an eerie secret that only us in the audience know about, but I wouldn't feel comfy if this were the case for the graveyard as well.

To quote @idlescree's video essay about Hunter's death (link), the show's writers didn't pull any punches when it came to Hunter's development arc. Which means they had to take his story to the "categorically appropriate place for him to overcome" his greatest challenges.

Something tells me that with respect to the grimwalker graveyard and the avoidance theme in C-PTSD recovery, Hunter would've had to put in more work to confront a number of terrifying foes even beyond his Thanks to Them speech. One of which was the graveyard containing the remains of his predecessors.

PS: This is a spontaneous post which branches out from my giant post-finale meta (link) that I pinned to my blog, I suppose.

#toh hunter #the owl house #hunter noceda #camila noceda #hunter deamonne #darius deamonne #toh analysis #grimwalkers #grimwalker graveyard #loz writes a meta

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dnp-pet-rectangle · 1 month

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WAD reflection from the perspective of a theatre director

Inspired by @/calvinahobbes who did an amazing job breaking down the show’s metaphors & using her English degree in this post, I wanted to share my perspective on it (even a month later) & get use out of my theatre degree lol. Also, warning, this will be very much a long, long essay with run-ons. I have ADHD & I love when my frequent hyperfixations intersect 🤪 There are major spoilers.

My Background:

I am a semi-professional theatre director, but more broadly, a theatremaker. I have a theatre degree from New York University’s Tisch School on the Arts (NYU Tisch), where I did a conservatory program with one of their studios which focused basically on those who wanted to do a little bit of everything and create new works & was the only studio training directors & playwrights. I originally went into the program as a performer. I did not mean to end up concentrating on being mainly a producer & a director, but that’s a whole other story. I also through that program had to take theatre/performance studies courses, which I loved for the most part & is an interesting interdisciplinary field. But I will try to define terms just in case since anybody reading this may not know any or all the specific terminology I might use. In short, I have a fancy degree that apparently should cost $300k 🤡 & I’m gonna actually use it with doing this lol

Setting the Tone:

While Dan might call this a comedy special or comedy show, and thereby comparing it to other comedians, I actually think he is doing himself and We’re All Doomed (WAD) a disservice. I saw folks compare him a lot to Bo Burnham in the chat (who was actually was accepted and almost went to NYU Tisch for a different studio that focused on solely experimental work), which makes sense considering the theatrical nature of both of them. However, Dan actually goes further into the realm of theatre because of how he utilizes his crowd work (I’ll go into that later). I recognize traditional comedy specials/standup as having jokes or stories, when doing you know like late night talk show interviews, that can be made outside of the context of the show & slip into a conversation. Or with Burnham’s Inside Out, the songs & other parts can be done or understood mainly out of context, as seen through Bo uploading them to his YouTube channel. Comedy specials have the sections of their comedy stand-up thread together, but what Dan has done is weave his sections together. The length along with the intermission/interval being a part of WAD, adds to my point that he is not treating this as different material he tested out at different comedy clubs, but as something cohesive storytelling pieces. I think in terms of testing, Phil was the main sufferer audience member of the initial materials being created.

Anyway, you cannot as easily remove it from the context at certain points, because the transitions & the order of these different sections are treated as equally important, rather than a means to move on to the next section, with some possible space for improv.

Basically, I’m bi. Sorry, my brain started thinking about BIG when I started writing “basically” at the start of that sentence. Actually, what I am trying to say is that I would classify We’re All Doomed as a one-man performance piece/show, so I will be treating it as such in my review/reflection/breakdown. The comedy of it is important and there, but I don’t think it captures what WAD entirely is.

Also, unfortunately due to where I was at mentally at the time & the location it was being performed at, I never saw this live. To be honest, how it got framed marketing-wise did not help me feel connected with the actual purpose of the show, with hope being a key element. So while this was filmed, I am as much as possible trying to remove the cinematography as an element of my analysis. However, some things might be clearer on film, as with theatrical directing, you cannot add a zoom or crop & instead are trying to ensure moments are clear to an audience by what they see and hear through drawing their attention to it. With theatre being mainly about the live output by performers and intake by the audience, at the end of the day, what my job as a director is is to direct not only how the performers share the story, but also direct the audience on what is important to catch for understanding.

Breakdown of Thoughts

Originally, I wanted to rewatch the show again, and started to, but considering I ended up writing about a whole page worth of things for each minute of the show & I was sleepy by the time I was like 5-10 minutes in, I decided to be nice to myself & stay up all night in my comfortable bed instead of staying up all night at my desk trying to take in-depth notes 🙃

I’m gonna breakdown this analysis/reflection into further sections, just to give myself some anchors & break up the blocks of text. Also as a way to just be that pretentious, maybe with an academic flair, as is fitting to be for something about Dan Howell (said affectionately 💕)

The Script/Writing

When considering the text of the show itself, two things came to mind for me:

(1) This is definitely what I would call intertext. Intertext is a piece of writing that relates to another or more other writings through allusions. WAD is an intertext which alludes mainly to other works of Dan’s on his YouTube channel. The ability to get the true impact of the show relies on you knowing Dan (as his internet persona) on some level. And as a theatre maker & longtime fan, I love that it is, it’s what the piece needed to be. As a theatre producer, the hiatus from engaging with his audience and the limited runway given to reactivate interest in him and his creative work I think made it difficult to get that audience in some venues, along with some other funkiness (mainly with promo) I am less knowledgeable on. But I think Dan has already learned/continues to learn from that, which I think may have been valuable for him. (sidenote: I need the tea on all that because I love knowing how presenting venues work with performers, as well as the lack of understanding they have of internet culture as it relates to venue leadership.)

(2) This was a work he made for himself. He mentions this both in the show & in reference to WAD multiple times. But I think what truly came to mind for me was that it is still powerful for him to write for himself. He is writing for what he needs to be hearing or wants to be processing creatively.

I think why it is powerful is that Dan has discussed before how much stress he put on himself regarding danisnotonfire, and later Daniel Howell, videos, focusing on the audience, and how he was presenting a specific style/quality of video to them. Add in the layer of being closeted & actively fighting internalized homophobia, and the anxiety he built up makes sense. And I might personally attribute that more to his need to pass as straight & catering I believe at one point to an audience of cishet men, whether actual or perceived by him. Not all videos, especially the most impactful ones in my opinion, rely on this, but it was a key piece of what he made during his rise in popularity on the platform. This catering slowly decreased with the amount of uploads he was doing, along with a more tangible understanding of his audience thanks to the tours he did with Phil. Basically I’m Gay I think was the true shift where he gave himself permission to write work that had a main audience of himself. That’s where his best work has come from, and I think since then, he’s been able to have the space to process things creatively through his writing.

The Relationship Between Performer & Audience

When I was in theatre school, my directing teacher would constantly talk about not just considering the relationship of the performers on “stage” (I did a lot of more immersive work & we only had black box theatres, which is literally a room that is floor to ceiling black) but also the relationship of the performers & the story with the audience. By Dan knowing mainly who his audience would be, the show can now play with that understanding in mind.

This leads to my point that, overall, Dan does not use the fourth wall, and I think that is what makes We’re All Doomed work. It may also be why he called it a comedy show, idk.

For those who don’t know what the fourth wall is, it is a term from theatre originally that is about the way in which a traditional theatre stage (called a proscenium) has three physical walls around it, while there is no 4th physical wall, so the audience can see the performance. If does exist physically, it is only the curtain that acts as the 4th “wall”. So, in order to keep it as a separation between the performers and the audience, the actors treat the side where the audience is as a fourth wall. When someone breaks the 4th wall, this is when they speak to audience directly, rather than to another character. Examples from English-speaking pop culture would be the asides from Hamlet or Ferris Bueller in Ferris Bueller’s Day Off. But when you are the only person on stage, the only way to have a fourth wall is when you don’t reference that you know there’s an audience there. Hence, a monologue where the character is talking to themselves or an entity that is not the audience directly (or assigned to be the audience by the director), it is the closest you can have a fourth wall when alone.

Dan in his videos and in his previous tours with Phil never were without direct engagement of the audience (obvious with the naming of Interactive Introverts). It was never not a variation on him speaking with the audience in any type of dialogue, even if done parasocially.

Some of that is not new to theatre, but I would say is that it has become more of a trend within new theatre starting in the early 2010s to have more interactivity and a more authentic, explicit message that no performance will be the exact same. I definitely saw that in the shows I saw both Off-Broadway (which sidenote, all that means is that there’s fewer seats in that theatre, not about quality of the work or how worth it is to engage with) and larger settings like Broadway and the West End. That’s what I love about theatre, and why my own work is more about immersion and direct audience engagement.

Now Dan’s creative works have never been skit only or interested in telling a story outside of the realm of connecting with an audience as a variation of himself, so again, him not using the fourth wall overall is appropriate and fits in with what I mentioned about intertext. The piece does however start with a fourth wall for the music number, which I will walk through fully sharing why I am saying that about the song & dance opening after establishing some other concepts to help build understanding.

Design Can Work With You or Against You

I just want to say out the gate that the design was done really well, and I immediately felt a need to emphasize it after watching the first 10 minutes again.

First, let’s talk about the orange & black aesthetic of the show. Dan may have simply said that the orange just looked cool, but I think I would attribute more meaning to that color. Orange brings to my mind at first instance both a bright happiness/warmth and a sense of caution and warning, like road signs (at least those in America). The themes of the show reflect these two ideas and plays with the tension between them. I don’t know if he or the team meant to have that be a conscious choice, but there’s a joke I’ve had with other directors of when they get complimented on something unexpected, they just nod and say “yes, that was a choice”, even though it was just a random thing that happened or was something that you just thought would be cool to do. Orange runs through the show’s designs and it becomes clear that it is a tool for contrast and emphasis for the points Dan & the director want to make.

Now with the design team of costumes, lights, sound, and media, I can see a clear cohesion. Good theatrical design has the designs act as a character or highlighter in the story. Bad theatrical design can take away/distract from the core intensions of the show. It was so clear to me that the design was a character. And seeing that there were two media designers make complete sense considering the labor lift of both creating the projections displayed, but also creating/filming pieces of the media itself. The music/sound and lighting work well to articulate the manic feelings it means to instill in the audience and seeing it as a director, I assume part of the creative discussion was about parts of the media played they wanted to make sure were heard, and the lights help catch attentions in service of those pulled out moments. For costumes, I think Calvina did well in her post at articulating the elements of the costume and the progression it goes throughout the show. I’d rather not take up space to say the same thing truthfully.

With all the design elements, I think three characters could be defined (not including the audience), two as main characters, and one as a supporting character. I would name the main characters as “the Circle” (the looming set piece throughout hosting the projections used throughout) and “Dan On Stage/Dan performing” (the one in the physical space) with the “voiceover Dan/inner voice Dan” as a supporting character. The voiceover only exists in the beginning, and it is only shared with us to demonstrate the way in which the Dan On Stage singing is not really that aggressively optimistic and wholeheartedly believes the words he is singing. He is not the Dan we know from the Internet, so we can cathartically laugh at the attempt to pretend everything is fine. The voiceover only has one role, and it is to force Dan to confront this breakdown has an audience.

Staging an Opening Sequence: Our First Stage Character is the Circle

In directing classes, often what you focus on is called stage pictures, which is meant to help you consider what the actual imagery you want to ensure the audience absorbs for their understanding of the piece. The first and last stage moment of each act should tell a basic story of what happened, and therefore, are heavily emphasized as important for directors. The Circle (capitalized for reference purposes) being lit up before the show starts and then again in conjunction with the light flashes and sound establishes the importance of the Circle to the show. When the projection comes into play, showing the speech of a 15-year-old Greta Thunberg before beginning to add more, we are then introduced to the purpose of the Circle to be an output/portal for the overstimulation of messages, in this case, I would claim it being what comes from the Internet.

The music/sound and lighting work well to articulate the manic feelings it means to instill in the audience and seeing it as a director, I assume part of the creative discussion was about parts of the media played they wanted to make sure were heard, and the lights help catch attentions in service of those pulled out moments. The Circle also through some of the lighting moments, mimic that of a clock, which again adds to the doomsday, the "end is near" type energy. To have the end of the opening sequence build to an explosion which then shows solid orange at the end while Dan is in silhouette begins the introduction to the orange emphasis & proposes a sort of prophet-like version of him after the apocalyptic imagery disappears as he rises to be seen. What we have opened with is setting the tone to how we should view these two characters of the Circle & the Dan on Stage.

Song Time!

Dan is such a theatre kid & I love that for him. His dramatic side shows through the moment he used a rise to start his show at the top of the stairs, first in a place of seriousness with the sharp lighting and smoke to then bring in a very happy music number. The contrast & switching of expectations is a key of comedic works, and shows through most of the phandom who did not know WAD started with that, as it is indeed funnier if it comes as a shock. The movement & music mimic what folks attribute to as musical theatre, which is campy, happy singing. Knowing he was the one who suggested the song for TATINOF, I am loving Dan clearly wanting to have that opening number of a musical moment, even if it is dripping in irony. The Circle & the lights in this acts as a supporter to the message of it being sunshine and rainbows, with literal rainbow lights included. (Sidenote: I am 99% sure the pigeon coo is Phil, so if anything, I’m disappointed he was not credited as Pigeon sound effect AND remote crisis manager. Idk why I could tell, but both times now, it’s what I immediately thought when hearing that part)

I think of the musical number as the only place where he does have a fourth wall, because the number does not directly reference the audience at the start. It’s a one-man moment and it is about the performance not the audience engagement. It starts falling away when he starts pointing out the “and you”s, but the voiceover is the real break in our understanding of the world. It is emphasized by the color inversion of the sun & sky media of the Circle. The director is saying, this is important to how you now interpret what you’ve seen & will see, this is another shift from what was established of this world.

I should mention “world” is the terminology used to name what the environment the story is being told in with consideration, especially in theatre, of how much of a need there is for suspension of disbelief. I believe this term is also referenced a lot when discussing the fantasy and sci-fi genres, since those also requires some distancing from reality for the audience. This ties into a phrase I will probably end up using a lot of “rules of the space”. When establishing this world for the show you are presenting to an audience, there is a type of logic that must be established in order to understand what is the baseline for what the audience will be engaging with over the span of the show. But the voiceover immediately changes the rules of the space, because it messes with the Dan on stage, and messes with the messaging of the Circle. It adds a new context to the Dan On Stage, as while a fan will know that this song is not in alignment of our knowledge of Dan Howell, we get confirmation that this indeed ironic and outside of the branding that Dan has boxed himself into over his time on YouTube.

But the voiceover is also not in alignment with that “branding”. It expresses concerns related to the Dan On Stage’s mental wellbeing. There is no irony or subtext in that voice, it is the most direct in speaking to Dan On Stage, because it is being said by a variation of Dan in voiceover to himself. These could be seen as questions he knows to ask himself, but as someone who advocates for mental health & shares now about being openly gay, I interpret that he may feel he cannot express that outside of his mind for fear of undermining his advocacy points. The discussion of the “wonders” of the Internet also continue building in the tension that exists throughout WAD of how Dan feels about that space. The voiceover then proposes at first a type of equal extreme, which only sees the Doom, and as someone with clinical Depression myself, I think is only a furtherance of the breakdown, rather than the reality check it started off being. Not that what is listed is wrong by any means, but the barrage of it is meant to expand the drowning feeling, not act as call to action or consideration of the intricacies for engaging in the world. With the Circle’s sun imagery & the music having been inverted and shifted to something more sinister, Dan’s movement up the stairs fits a type of circular moment from the first entry of him, where the image of the prophetic figure is questioned on how he alone will solve the climate emergency. The slap & break of character for the Dan on Stage serves to confirm our understanding of the voiceover as the voice in Dan’s head & indeed there are not two Dans.

Also, the sparklers 🎇 showing up really make the key change for the song, but my producer brain is going, “girl, of course you lost money on this show, was that so VERY NECESSARY?” But the dramatic Gemini theatre bitch in me would 100% want this too. I just don’t have a capita£ester working to get sponsorship money in my life, so I have to be reasonable 😔 Also, the confetti with the high note is peak theatre gay so I again, love that for him. And of course, the confetti is orange.

Hints of Orange

When the song reaches its end & the Circle starts showing squares of orange, rather than a full background, this acts as a seed for the breakdown and waterfall of cubes, which Calvina speaks to the orange cube hint at the beginning in her post. The sudden cut-out with Dan simply lit replicates a moment the Circle is not present. The Internet is not present. To crawl to a microphone, the message is not “hey this guy needs two mics”, because we see one on his face, but that the wired mic (which I will now label as “The Microphone”) is a metaphor. It’s a crawl towards sharing out, not suppression. Only when the voiceover of himself points out the audience does he does a full fourth wall break. The suppression did not work, and neither he nor the audience can believe that it was the Truth.

The wire of the Microphone being orange showcases that it was meant to be seen. I don’t think it even in play in terms of the sound, like it might not even be on, considering the feedback nightmare it would likely cause. And no standard microphone used on stages has orange wires, because that would pull the audience’s eyes to it. But that’s the point here.

The rules of the space are now this: the Circle is not always active, the Microphone has significance, the Dan On Stage knows there is an audience. None of these were true before, even the Circle was on before the start. This draws the audience to know there has been a shift & to have the first words said into the Microphone be “We’re All Doomed” solidifies the song moment was a blip, that this is really where we start at. As an example, in the social media section, Dan does a deliberate wrapping of the wire on his hand at the same time the Circle scrolls to the social media icon. It is how the director & Dan are ensuring that we understand “what he is saying and what is been shown on the screen are in tandem”, so if you’re paying attention to that wire, it signals you should look up too.

Every other prop, except I believe the gavel and wig, is also orange. The bubble gun is mainly what comes to mind for me, since the cubes are not as activated as props necessarily. But if an item is to enter the stage, what I interpret it as is that it must be orange, there must be high contrast, nothing in the physical world on the stage can become blurred, only screens have that privilege(?) to have things blend together.

The Power Struggle Between Dan & the Circle

Once Dan has begun directly conversing with the audience, the rules of the space are:

(1) Dan On Stage acts, the design elements react (not including the Circle)

(2) The Circle and Dan have a symbiotic relationship, as neither have complete control over the other & react to what each other are doing

(3) The icons are our guides in understanding the sectioning done throughout the show

(4) Having “One Good Night” is the goal to reach at the end of the piece

As a person, as well as discussed throughout the show, we know that Dan has a contentious relationship with the Internet. It is what has given him his living but has also caused some of his worst moments mentally (2012? I don’t know her). It is the space in which lets him have an audience who have mainly showed him support, but also the space that has fed the cynicism that fuels his clinical depression. There lies in the way in which the Circle exists on the stage & looms over Dan in the background. It’s a necessary evil of what appears on the screen.

Why do I then say that the design elements are reacting? Well, if we remove the Circle from the equation, the lights, sounds effects, and props are all cued off of something Dan does like the clown honk. However, the Circle sometimes cues off what Dan does, but sometimes instigates what Dan speaks to. That especially is evident when video clips play that invoke what media Dan has been contending with on the Internet and the consequences of those things.

The Circle exists throughout both Act One & Act Two, but only becomes passive to the piece when Dan directly shows vulnerability & the removal of protective irony. Calvina spoke to this when discussing the costume choice of him opening the jumpsuit in Act Two to show the orange tank underneath.

Cubes as Articulators

Oh Creator did I have to dig deep into my brain for this term of articulators. So my directing instructor had some key terms that I think I don’t think are universally used, even by American theatre directors or at least in academic settings. She defined articulators to basically be elements that helped give almost like checkpoints for the progression of a throughline in a show. For WAD, that is easily those orange cubes.

When static is displayed on the Circle’s screen each time we transition to a new section, it is not the typical emulation of TV static, it is that sea of orange squares. It is an articulation of those fear, issues, concerns, all those pinpoints Dan speaks to why he says “We’re All Doomed”.

That’s why there is the culmination of the orange cubes falling on him, when he reaches the top of the stairs at the end of Act One. When he circles back to the same stage picture of him at the top, it can been considered a repetition of the prophetic imagery I pointed out from the opening sequence. What changes is that the orange squares enter the physical world, falling onto Dan. He can no longer say they live in his head. They are here and stay in the space until the end of the show. In Act One, they are the looming issues that signal the Apocalypse. In Act Two, they are the rubble that must be sorted through.

Calvina was the one who named it rubble and the cubes as representations of Dan’s problems. To have the audience actually able to take a cube home, she argued, would be symbolic of the audience helping carry that weight. While I’d love that, I mentioned in my tags on her post that I think mentally, that rubble would still be at his feet, even with taking home that visual metaphor. This is Dan we’re talking about, and with personal responsibility being a topic of the show, while it’s not his burden to bear alone, he does have to recognize it exists.

I think the repetition of the prophetic imagery comes to its climax when in the aftermath found in Act 2, voting who to fire into space can and does end up with him being sent by the audience. It represents an understanding of where he exists now from where he did at 18 in terms of social, political, and economic access and the possibilities of his influence. There is a responsibility there that ties to how he can move in the world now publicly, so why wouldn’t he have an existential crisis?

It is a Comedy Though, Right?

This is hundred percent comedy, and obvious dark humor at that. As a director, I love comedy, especially this type, because when an audience gets to laugh, the armor gets stripped away. They have no built-up resistance that let’s any uncomfortable point be heard effectively. It’s why the end’s vulnerability is effective, because we have already joked and laughed about our pains and our desire for escapism. Now we are able to move on into a place of reflection.

To underline why I say this is not stand-up comedy is that Dan has made it a stage show, just one that has comedy as a vehicle for telling this “story”. His interactions with his audience, through both quips based on audience reactions or “heckling” as well as explicitly asking for input into who to shot to space or what to add as a mad lib (generic brand for law purposes), are about being blended into the loose narrative constructed already, not actually to be reactionary like most crowd work I associate with stand-up comedy.

If anything, I could argue that it could be considered a comedy special that “Dan On Stage” is trying to make, but there is actually conflict being introduced that disrupts his set (both the comedy one and the physical one). There is clearly a showing of meta, as Dan makes sure to share thoughts on the creation of the show, the reactions from his overall show branding & imagery, the use of the lift because it was expensive to have. Dan’s comedy style can never be told without reference to behind the scenes, because if this is a creative means to process feelings, there are things about the show & its making that impact what needs to be processed too. It is also related to how his work is strengthened by acknowledging the two-way street of being in a parasocial relationship with his audience.

Can We Have One Good Night?

Another term central to what my directing teacher spoke of was the “Core”, usually a question, though not always, that motivated what was being explored over the course of a theatre piece. At the top, as Dan on Stage exaggerates that love doesn’t exist (which Dan refutes as being an actual belief of his during the afterparty) and other sardonic phrases, he also states he wants to give his audience one good night, because he recognizes the escapism his audience finds in his solo and joint content. We’re All Doomed’s Core is “can we just have one good night, even in the midst of the horrors we have outside of these theatre doors?”. But I would also say that in terms of where his writing was at the time of WAD’s inception and the naming of his mental health book as You Will Get Through This Night, it feels more like Dan himself has been grappling with a Core of “can I have one good night? Or a full 24 hours where I feel mainly happy when all I am bombarded with about the world is suffering?” I think night can be both literal, since we know he has had sleep issues, and metaphorical, as the night can represent this depressive episode he was writing himself out of.

When the mood tracker gets discussed in the last portion of WAD, to see a sea of neutral or uninterested emojis demonstrates when he took the time to do it, the answer that night was “no, not really” 😕. The main one mentioned is the ritual of “Fry Day” he has with Phil (sidenote: why are these British men not calling it “Chip Day”, since this ritual falls on a Saturday?), which is a rare smiley face. The question he likely has then is “can I ever have a good night again?”

So for him to then turn to his own videos during one of those nights, to a video where he states his famous “embrace the void and have the courage to exist,” that showcases what I mentioned of his best work being written for himself, in this case, a future version of himself.

Ending Sequence: Where Do We Land?

When the Circle does not display any media, it again shows the orange square motif, but after mentioning his own video, he turns to his audience for glimpses of what joy exists even in the face of Doom. The Circle changes into a display of different submitted clips showcasing this joy and hope that Dan was clearly looking for throughout this piece. He walks towards the top of the stairs to witness these clips. I cannot for my life at this point having now been separate from it for about a month, but I believe before the submitted media sequence, he states the famous line again of “Embrace the Void and Have the Courage to Exist”. With this last thing spoken, it gives that emphasis needed to take in the message emotionally and then witness what the Void (in this case the Circle) can offer.

A Good Director Should Go Unnoticed

When someone is not versed in theatrical directing, if the audience cannot tell what was a choice by the director or even consider the director themselves, this is weirdly a good sign. It means that it feels natural to what they are witnessing and to the messages that are meant to be communicated to the audience. As someone who also works in government, it feels very similar, as only bad work is evident to the general public. Obviously that is not true for everyone, but is an overall trait I think impacts both an understanding of public service and directing.

I am not familiar with any of the work of Ed Stambollouian, who through research, looks like he has done work with comedians like Joe Lycett (who I am also not familiar with) and directed TATINOF, but also more stripped down, exploratory theatre. Through a quick review of his portfolio, one, I am not shocked that Dan tapped him to assist with directing since there is a familiarity and two, his background tells me he knows how to direct for writer-performers, which is what comedians really are at the end of the day.

To direct for those who are doing one-person shows that they both wrote and performed, it is especially tricky to have the artist hand the reins over to the director. The director in this case acts as the artist’s eyes, because an artist cannot clone themselves. It is impossible for them to wear multiple hats at once, where they can give quality, objective feedback to themselves while also doing a full out performance. For Ed to be someone Dan has worked with before, there is already an established understanding of each other’s work styles, and a trust that otherwise would have to be built up before the work can truly begin to finalize the piece.

In short, Ed Stambollouian and the creative team on We’re All Doomed did an incredible job bringing what I understand Dan intended when he started writing this down in isolation. And @danielhowell you whole-heartedly deserve to call this your magnum opus. What can I say (sorry I can't help lovingly poking fun at you), your artistry shines throughout the show. I hope this too can be something your future self can turn back to.

🧡

(bonus) Thoughts on Orange Carpet & the Phil element

I didn’t fully rewatch the orange carpet, just to keep myself on task & not bring Phil too much into the main reflection without explicit reference in the show, but hearing Dan go “I’m alive in 3, 2…” made me laugh both times. He understands that we just want to know he has a pulse, ya know? Also them pretending it totally was live, when those fools (affectionate) cannot run a real live broadcast from their home for their lives. It just ran too smoothly, esp. in the transitions, for it to be anything but some very, very light editing on one improvised take they did. But I always support them in their acting, no matter how bad, like with DITL Australia’s opener or pretending there were not two apartments or that Google Feud being back was unplanned or Dil being pregnant with a statistically rare alien child or Phil living in a tiled, cramped bedroom or...

Also, Dan’s little laugh at the end of Phil’s sign-off is so fond it hurts. It also hurt that the VOD was hard to scrub through, so another deduction for the Kiswe platform.

Anyway, I’m glad that Dan was able to find space outside of the Dan & Phil branding of the 2010s as well as the image he was forced to manufacture for his YouTube presence, but also realize that with having a core audience that wants him to simply be happy, he can recognize that Phil is part of the things that make him happy. And can do so openly.

He is his own person, but it has been clearly emphasized now that Dan has no interest in not acknowledging that Phil always is and will be part of his present and future. He has made work like WAD & "Gay and Not Proud" to explore his way of thinking without the support of Phil present in the filmed/performed aspect. Dan acknowledges this intention, which is evident with him shooing away Phil at the beginning of “Gay and Not Proud” to process it alone.

It is also evident with the ending of “Daniel & Depression” and the WAD end credit of remote crisis manager showcasing the caretaking role Phil often plays in Dan’s life. But we know that caretaking is reciprocal, considering Phil's tactics with glue as well as his continuing health issues and anxieties. Dan has seen who he is without Phil by his side everyday in the public eye & has no interest in maintaining that Phil is absent for public projections.

I obviously do not know Dan Howell, or anything about him outside what exists on the internet. But in performance studies, there is a foundational understanding that there is no way to not be performing in some way during your day-to-day. Performing is not inherently a bad thing, as there are different roles you take on in your life, where how I engage at work is different from how I am hanging out with friends. This also has basis in gender studies, such as ideas that you can perform your gender "wrong". What has been so interesting to me in this phandom renaissance is the way Dan and Phil each perform as themselves in front of the camera now. What they share out and the layers they include--or choose to not remove--have been stated by them explicitly to be the most authentic they have ever been, without obviously removing their right to privacy. During the height of the glass closet that was their 2018 content, I remember thinking that it was going to be the most they would show us in the vain of "if you know, you know, and we know who will know". After the coming out videos of 2019, obviously that's not true, but the return of dapg has signaled a message of "we know you know, if you've been in the know" while veiled in a way that is not immediately perceivable by those who are casually engaging with their content. It is an authentic portrayal of themselves without filter, while also providing themselves space to not have to announce everything to the world. When you are in the know, it definitely targeted and causes psychic damage, but I am ready for anything and everything they throw our way.

#we’re all doomed #wad spoilers #daniel howell #danisnotonfire #dnp #dan and phil #dan howell #theatre analysis #performance studies #theatre director

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lianaisabsent · 11 months

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BSD men when their s/o gets jealous

A/n: might be a little different from exactly canon reactions but technically it includes my hcs so..

CHARACTERS: dazai, chuuya, atsushi

Dazai:

with dazai it's like you're confused and amused more than jealous.

He flirts to get information, it works greatly is what's more annoying to you.

This one time you both were set up on a mission and not even two seconds in and he flirted with the prime suspect and deemed her "incapable of doing murder"

When asked why he responded “I would frame her too, she's too afraid and cowardly and she's lacking financially so her motive would've been perfect to kill.. however, the way she trembles and speaks and responds is a way no killer would be able to.. She could be an actress but her hands are of those of the abused. Meaning she was purposely planted to distract us.. That's something I would do if I was the killer" (plot holes in this but I'm not a detective so excuse me if I get any thing wrong)

You were just gawking the whole time over how much he analyzed from touching the ladies hand and speaking to her softly and sweetly.. It was a mask yes but still it made you jealous.. Not like you were to admit that.

He might have.. He definitely noticed it. Dazai wanted to tease you over it but you were in a professional setting although nothing about dazai can be called professional at times.. Most times..

Bro would tease you so much so so much

You both were on a mission together, a mission to investigate a murder in an art museum. You inspected the places, found some clues and when you came back you saw your boyfriend speaking, no flirting with the staff members.

You knew it's for work, but it still makes you feel a twisting feeling in your stomach. You're not much of a doubting and possessive person with him but it's still annoying how good he is at this a natural some might even say.

You just inhaled and exhaled before rolling your eyes and walking towards someone else for their statements on what happened. They all have roughly the same statement “he was a kind man, a kind man the manager was, the manager was a nice kind man he didn't deserve this” almost led you to think this was some sort of mystery novels cassette tape on repeat.

A few minutes pass by and you feel someone hugging you from behind, you flinched and pushed the person away, person being dazai who was very wounded (dramatic is a better word) “my love! How could you!? First you get jealous and glare at the staff member and when I came to comfort you like the amazing partner I am, you pushed me!”

You could only sigh at his theatrics, 'how is he not an actor?' you thought. “don't bother dazai I know it was for work..” you sighed looking through the information you gathered. He did tease you but he ultimately didn't really know how to respond to that. As he's told you before he cant really respond with that exact emotions you want. He tried though.

“well.. I only 'flirt' for work but ultimately who do I go home to and for? You” it did make you internally embarrassed because he just said that loudly in a silent hall with people.

Chuuya:

He isn't a flirt, his thing is more of actions speak louder then words but he does get flirted with. He doesn't respond to it but it does annoy you a little.

he isn't going to say much just “oh okay-wait what”

I think he'd be dense when it comes to recognizing jealousy, he'd just think everything is fine unless you directly tell him it's not

“chuuya, I'm jealous” “of what? My charm?”

How did you even end up with him..

One time, at a café when you were both off of your work and getting something to drink while you caught up for the week a woman came up asking for your boyfriends number.

He was about to say something before he saw a book in her hand, he did mention he'd been reading a few books recently and that you should check them out if you have time but you didn't have time. You were regretting it now for sure.

“oh you like that book?” “yes!” “oh what was-....” their words were no longer being heard by you when all you did was stare down at your drink counting till when she would leave him. But to your disappointment it was like chuuya forgot who he came to the date with. After what felt like 30 minutes she smiled and left with his number as you glared at him and picked up the butter knife.

You stared at him and he only smiled at you in return, it wasn't intentional you could see it but it annoyed you so much “so you just give away your number to random people huh?” you asked earning a confused look from him, “what do you mean darling?” “you know what I mean, the girl the book ring a bell for you yet Einstein?” he nodded before pausing “oh wait what? You were jealous!?”

He, instead of sitting across came to your side and sat beside you lightly hugging you “sorry if it made you jealous I was just kind of happy because we had similar interests is all, you're the one I'll take to dinner and you're the one who I'll plan to spend my life with along with wine”

It made you smile.

Atsushi:

He is more dense.. He's oblivious, he doesn't even know you were jealous.. Why were you jealous? That's his thought

We all know atsushi has a thing for saving people but people do tend to over think interactions. You have witnessed multiple times where people who atsushi saved tried flirting with him. As your oblivious partner just kept being dense.

“jealous?? You? YOU WERE JEALOUS?!”

He's confused, he doesn't understand

You knew atsushi saved a girl from the guild and you knew she was his friend (?) if you could call it that because from what kyouka told you she just seemed like a shy girl who hates social interactions.. That was until you visited the café yourself and saw her upset seeing you. Had you done something to wrong her? No, you hadn't ever met the red head.

“um atsu.. Is your upset with me?” you asked to which you received a shake of his head and a small "no"

As you say down she came and threw the menu in front of atsushi and placed it carefully to you.. You were shocked to say the least. She the started bantering and you noticed a blush and thought 'oh. She likes him..' it wasn't until after she left that you felt an annoying twist in your stomach and a voice saying that they've known each other for longer then you and him have been together but you choose to ignore it.

Lucy, he told you was her name, came back with the orders placing it and when he called you 'love' which wasn't often unless he noticed something off about you that her eyes almost bulged out “YOU HAVE A GIRLFRIEND!?” she shouted at him not that loudly to disturb everyone but still nearby customers did hear it. Atsushi nodded “oh yes, I thought I told you last time me and kyouka came” they started bantering again.

You felt jealous and annoyed, she seemed sweet.. But jealousy just made you feel angry and annoyed at her. After your café trip you walked out of the café not waiting for him to catch up. He grabbed your wrist asking what's wrong and you could only sigh "jealousy, I'm jealous, you've known her for longer then our relationship and she even could have feelings for you!” you said to which his response was shutting down literally he tried to process what you just said..

"you're jealous? JEALOUS??” he was shocked and in comparison to his obliviousness you only kissed him. It made him redder then red paint could even get. He was confused as to why you were jealous but he reassured you that he only likes you and lucy is a good person and friend of his.

#dazai fluff #chuuya x reader #dazai x reader #bungou stray dogs #bsd fluff #atsushi nakajima #atsushi x reader #dazai osamu #bsd season 4 #chuuya fluff #chuuya bsd

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accio-victuuri · 3 months

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XZ’s GQ February issue candies 🍬

now that we all had the time to appreciate the lovely photos and videos from that cover & collab — which is honestly a whole meal on it’s own, now is the time for some sweets. 🫶🏼 nothing too extravagant, a few similarities and clues we have connected only. i think the best candy still is the fact that it’s now confirmed that zz & wyb both have a good relationship with gq. even rocco going as far as choosing xz to start having simultaneous cover releases with other countries. sit tight and wait for all the toxic narratives to be proven wrong. don’t sweat it. the road ahead is long. let’s enjoy life and support the boys! 🫶🏼

One thing i noticed, and was actually surprised about was WYB posting an ad for Super X as early as 8:00 AM. Tho he may post at 8:05, which is rare, he usually does ad posts at 10:00. The 8:05 is mostly done by the brands. We have talked about them trying their best not have work overlap, this is a minor one, but as soon as GQ posted at 9:30 i feel like i know what’s happening. Then it didn’t stop till 12:00 nn. It doesn’t help cause i’m clowning that the short film feature for this cover was assigned Chapter 8. WYB posted at 8, the full short film is 8. What a nice coincidence!

Knowing WYB is not a stranger to doing short films with GQ and their love for movies! It wouldn’t really surprise me now if GG does a full feature about LOCH with them. These two really chose the same publication to do exclusive for their projects 😌😌

the similarity that i love is them in the bathroom and then looking at the mirror. tho wyb’s are scenes from HB, these stills were first seen @ GQ.

there is a story here 👀👀

it’s nice too how GQ used ZZ’s photos and put them in the frames. what a nice touch! since this is essentially his dream 💭

+ peter pan pop up art book on the bed too!

overall, there is really not that much we can clown about when it comes to photos alone. tho what gg is wearing has an interesting story as shared by @rainbowsky here. some may say it’s the stylist and magazine’s choice but we still love seeing the association. In addition, the clothes were inspired by Nicole Kidman’s clothes in a Chanel perfume ad. i love the unconventional wedding dress choice here, it fits them! <3

moving on to the biggest way we can cpn tho is the interview & cover story.

i especially liked the questions, it wasn’t cutesy. it asked what needed to be asked.

here are some of the similarities i found with them and their outlook in life and career. 🤍

First of all, being professional is an unavoidable topic. You can have a non-major background, but you must have excellent professional skills. This is what I want to do, this is who I am. I feel that I am not enough, and i’m too far behind.

I think (improving acting skills) is a cumulative process. You can’t make a big step forward with just one movie. This is difficult for me to happen. So you have to keep filming, but you have to keep filming good films and don't consume yourself.

It’s the intent to be a better actor and the self awareness of not having that “background” people expect them to have. However, they can compensate by being professional. by being the hardest working person in the room. Sometimes I feel like it’s okay for them to praise themselves and not always be this critical, but i guess that’s what make them the best too cause they have high standards for themselves.

At present, I want to be an actor who makes the audience like you. Maybe everyone is not your fan, or even not particularly interested in you, but you know that he has a drama, Do you want to watch it? His dramas are all good. I want to do this. This is my current goal. Is it possible to become the actor I like? This is a rule.

THIS. This!!!!!! I feel like they both have this outlook. They don’t need every single person to be their “fan” but the goal is to become known and liked by the general public. That people are familiar with them as good actors with excellent works. It’s why there is absolutely no need to beat yourself up on who is the better fan. It doesn’t keep the boys up at night. Lol.

There are many. For example, Zhou Xun has always been my favorite actor.

Zhou Xun! Who has worked with WYB in various projects, primarily with Chanel! I hope ZZ gets to work with her too.

I used to take the subway every day. for me there’s nothing I can't do. What do you think I can do? Say hello and leave. It’s just that I don’t want to cause confusion and trouble for everyone or cause a bad reaction.

The two of them have the same intention of not wanting to cause trouble to the people. That means making sure their fans do not cause unnecessary public issues like gathering in certain places.

Everyone has their own boundaries, and some people have no sense of propriety. I stay away from such people, but when the boundaries are broken again and again and the bottom line is touched, I will get very angry.

Chongqing pepper is here! lol. I see them being very patient and understanding cause they know what people expect of celebrities. But they won’t also take things lying down. They will fight if need be.

In principle, I am a very rigid person. If I insist on something and I think it is right, it will be difficult to be convinced. For example, if I want to be an actor, I don’t want to do anything other than being an actor.

I just want to do it well, just try my best right now. Maybe the result is not good, but what should I do? This is all I can do.

Sounds familiar? Especially the part that says I want to do it well? They have the same braincell 🙃

Now let’s look at the cover story. First, i wanna point out the comment of the interviewer about ZZ: “Before meeting, I thought Xiao Zhan would be very cautious about interviews. To my surprise, Xiao Zhan had a rare sense of relaxation, answered all questions, and even had some humor.”

Which is actually a common misconception about XZ or — you know what? he was kind cautious before but as time goes by, he became more relaxed and candid with his answers. It’s still insightful, but not as practiced. In the Q&A, he mentioned that there are things that cannot be said. Setting boundaries like that. Similarly, WYB is the same. We’ve heard stuff saying that he is in a more relaxed state now. I love that for them!

I still sneak out to ride a bicycle, take a walk, and do a CityWalk. Only once, just now in after walking in the alley for 5 minutes, I was recognized. I also sneaked into the cinema to watch a movie. No one will care about you, really. after leaving the Internet, many things will be solved easily. Sometimes the world is right in front of us.

This goes out to everyone that says how can they go out? How are the CPNs of them spending time together be true? Well this is the answer. Sneaked into a cinema to watch a movie? I hope they do that together too ^^

When he goes to different cities, Xiao Zhan will bring the same type of pillows and quilts. "I will bring everything that can help me sleep well." He has also tried aromatherapy lamps, lavender essential oil, and various other products that make him fall asleep when applied on his body.

This is such an easy cpn for us. Remember that time DLS clowned WYB about the aromatherapy candles? HAHAHAHAHAHA!

-END.

#yizhan #bjyx #there is no science here i’m just clowning like i always do #sorry this is so late i was so exhausted lol

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onlyseokmins · 9 months

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Thinking abt solo pornstar!mingyu and the pretty director of adult videos who's his favorite to shoot with...

You always get the best angles of him but you're constantly saying it really doesn't have much to do with you doing anything above your normal job duties - he's literally just perfect.

"Look at how your big, chunky hands make your weeping dick look even bigger and chunkier. That's all you."

But ofc he insists it's truly thanks to your talents with a toothy grin.

He really is perfect though, you're just working with the art given to you... chiseled muscles, defined abs, sharp jawline, thick thighs, bulging biceps, veined forearms, long dark hair, and a perfect fucking cock - curved, girthy, and long in all the best ways. He's even got a sweet personality outside of whatever dirty character you'll assign to him.

"Am I doing things right? Being good enough for you?"

Oh yes, he is.

Zooming in on his cock all the time is insanely torturous. Adjusting the camera in all directions to get the most appealing view (which is hard to decided when there are so many) and directing the movements as he basically eye-fucks you while fisting that nice dick of his at the rhythms you're dictating.

You keep things professional bc that's what you are and you have many clients, actors, and sponsors... In fact, you're well respected in the porn community and frankly, you're not going to ruin that reputation with a momentary fling between one of your best stars. A crown you wear that, while burdensome, was earned through years of hard work, bad and good experiences, tough lessons, unsavory people, and long hours upon hours.

However, that all changes the night you come home to your boyfriend - after he visited you earlier on set with a different actor - stroking his cock to mingyu's latest video. His steamy glasses reflect the glaring shot of mingyu's beautiful cock and the fleshlight nearly falling apart with how hard his strong fingers squeeze around it.

Your shared bedroom is filled with the slick sounds of wonwoo's pants and the sinful moans coming from his huge speaker set-up. Thanks to the insane amount of lube you'd instructed mingyu to use while he bullies his way inside of the slippery toy, it's messy, wet, and loud. His whimpers and grunts echo and echo while all you can do is just re-envision his abs flexing and jaw clenched. Seeing them in real-life is different to the image on your partner's computer screen.

That moment goes back when you were wondering if behind those lust-filled eyes, mingyu was thinking of you and what your pussy might feel like. Knowing you were probably soaking your panties watching his hips thrust at erratic speeds but unable to do anything about it.

Luckily, wonwoo is always more than happy to assist you like the sweet, caring man that he is. His older audio streams were still popular, framed as the "cool-headed man" that had incredible stamina and could edge himself for hours on end. Yet, he crumbles beneath you, especially when you ride his tense thighs enthusiastically and then bounce on his cock even more enthusiastic whenever you're all riled up after an intense day of (mostly) well-endowed, cock filming.

And he knows you need to use him more than ever on days with mingyu. And his eyes sparkle at the tentative suggestion you make. Your boyfriend is no stranger to the adult videos you create, it's not unusual for him to watch and/or masturbate... you're just that good at your job - you weren't lying to mingyu.

Yet this is the first time he's show interest in the actor themselves starring in your camera lenses and not the premise alone. So, of course he's down to invite mingyu to bed... And even more obviously... the man in question himself is more than eager to agree.

Yeah, maybe one day it's no surprise when they suggest a scandalous script of a director fucking themselves on two pornstars and their cunt-destroying cocks... And who better to star in it than you, mingyu, and wonwoo?

#:)#I thought of this while half asleep at 1am last night.........#Finally wrote it down hehebe #ez.thots #gyu.thots #wonu.thots #svt.thots

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ihopeinevergetsoberr · 22 days

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the counterpart

chapter 6 — done it warning, done it now

art cr: @zaunitearchives our most faithful viktor lover <3 (can you guess which one of the inspo pics belongs to me?because i wasn’t joking when i said i might start using my pictures for these silly frames — I‘M DEDICATED to this fic okay)

word count: 2,2k

VERY nsfw, horny idiots in love, dialogue dialogue dialogue, explicit language, public masturbation, vehicle sex if you will. some porn to prepare you for the chaos i may or may not cause in the next chap 🫣

—

“Do you ever feel like a pawn?”

He turns around and his weary head tips deeper into what little comfort an old bus seat could provide, honeyed eyes a confused reproach pointed at your sheepish smile — had you dawdling over the halo of sun rays slipping prettily into the dark scatter of his hair, turning chestnut into rich, warm bourbon.

“Since when are you interested in philosophy?”

It makes you stumble over an innocent chuckle; fingers grow flush and hot against his, threatening to slide out of the warm press of hands — to satiate the sudden whim of cradling his face and dipping your thumbs gently into the sharp lines of defined cheekbones.

“Answer the question, Viktor.”

Oh the forwardness. Always gives him the urge to comply no matter how ridiculous the request is — be it a hypothetical silly ‘what if’ or an actual firm demand.

“I don’t project on inanimate objects, milackú,” he maneuvered smoothly out of your prudent trip, placing a cheeky kiss on the curious arc of your mouth. “But, in order not to digress — yes, I suppose I do. Quite occasionally. In your arms.”

“Smooth. Bravo, Viktor — that was so sweet I might have to see a dentist now.”

“Don’t forget to send me the bill.”

You gawked at the tooth gap in his proud grin with a hopeless sigh, leaning closer to tuck your face into the crevice of his slender neck. Couldn’t care less about the other passengers — nor did they care about you, to be frank: your seats were hidden in the back corner securely enough. Lips pressed to the fresh love bruise, so poorly covered with a mess of his unbuttoned collar — a not so humble possessive remnant of the morning tryst in his room. You craved a change of scenery: ravishing only one bed quickly becomes boring and unfair to its just as much ravished owner.

“No, but seriously,” you kept prying, words a muffled mumble against the slim of his skin — had you smiling when you caught the subtle scent of soap on the barely exposed collarbone, and his hand found tender leverage in your hair as thoughts drifted to the delicious things he did to you in that bathroom this very morning. Even longed to hold him there for a little longer — if not for the damn bus, that was now rapidly moving towards your opportunity to flaunt. Or to become a pitiful disgrace. Unfortunately, so far you were only leaning towards the latter.

It was Viktor’s idea. To play a local tournament — a somewhat silly for a person of his rating gathering, that he had no valid reason to attend. And yet he was so insistent on taking you there, held your hand so securely tight as you tried to fruitlessly convince him of your incompetence. Well, not incompetence, per se — you were simply a tad bit rusty, with a long forgotten dream of ever turning your passion into something professional. Endured a lengthy back and forth filled with his soft persistence and your capricious reluctance (which was secretly just a failed attempt to cover your incitement).

Because you loved the competition. Used to live off the thrill of having people at the edges of their seats, consumed their defeated groans alongside each captured piece, and forcibly swallowed the spiteful comments spinning at the tip of your tongue during each bitter post-defeat handshake. Adored the elegant gall-spitting on the checkered board, and loved hearing people whisper malicious things whenever you entered the room.

What happened to that version of you? Was it still there — a sharp tiny warrior, or ‘that pretentious little cunt’ — a title you wore proudly after a certain querulous opponent had revealed it to you generously all these years ago?

Well, certainly. Angry girls grow up shaped into furious women, but your fierceness was now imposed on men, poetry and lechery. Anything but tournaments.

And — while chess still owned your heart — you had to bow your head to the countless obstacles of life, aiming for stability; fed the vigorous child inside you countless books and analyzed hundreds of games, hoping that, eventually, that stupid yearning will be sated.

But now you had him — your bright opponent, rated strong intermediate and highly respected in narrow circles. A player of great potential — he was everything you could’ve been by now, a living proof of one’s passion and major coexisting peacefully. Your personal Czech serpent, the gentlest hangman of your fortitude — eager to get you rated, to make you see your skills through his meticulous eyes.

So here you were. Entwined with him in the contentious privacy of this backseat, harried with occasional chokeholds of your nervousness. Viktor was waiting for your point, all flushed ears and uneven breath.

“What I mean is,” you sighed again, tongue dancing skittishly over the front row of teeth, “don’t you ever feel so small and utterly unimportant? Like everyone else is so much more valuable?”

“But pawns are very important,” he protested, coaxing you to quit hiding from his acute eyes, “I delivered checkmates with pawns countless times before. And so did you.“

You couldn’t argue with that logic. Just sank deeper into his arms and watched the light run through his dilated pupils — the slipping boredom of the city both of you were getting out of today.

“Yes, but would you rather lose a pawn or… say, a rook? Or a knight? Or quite literally any other thing?” reluctant to bend to his attempts at soothing your restless mind, you refused to retreat and sweetly troubled him further. His smirk curled atop yours in a curt little touch — but one can’t kiss away a worry that excessive. Even as determined as he was to try.

“Depends on the circumstances. Surely, choosing to lose a powerful piece over a less significant one sounds unreasonable when you put it that way — but we both know it doesn’t exactly work like that.”

His sigh — or was it the rough scorch of the sun? — was making you melt; took care of your misery like the acidic little thing it is. Big palm stirred over the hem of a cotton dress, tracing it with a tremble, then slipping cautiously underneath — to curl around your thigh and pin it to the seat like a gentle shackle. You could still make out the grip through the sheer restraint of fabric; had your legs clenching together to trap it viciously into a crate of skin and soft little hairs: they stood on their ends oh so treacherously, each shiver palpable under the calluses of Viktor’s fingers.

“Moje laska.” There it is again. Turning you into a dumb pile of freshly discovered weaknesses — he could burn you to ashes that very moment and you’d gladly let him get away with it, as long as that hand stayed so close to home, damp from your sweat and whatever beads of slick seeping through the soaked ruin of your underwear. If only he could reach down and throw а quivering thigh over one scrawny shoulder, tongue a trail chasing the wet deliciousness of your lust after him — just how he likes it: sweet, slow and salacious. The holy trinity of your fervent undoings.

“You’ll make them all feel like pawns,” you felt him sting the shell of your ear in a tortuous whisper, his caress tenderly cruel against what little composure left between tense legs, “I can promise you that much.”

“We have a tournament to play, and that’s what you’re thinking about right now?” you tried to snatch the power out of his hands, but tripped over his long middle finger — so viciously close to the swollen folds. He could’ve grasped the shape of them through the obstacle of fabric if only you approved of the mischief.

“We have a tournament to play, and you’re wasting our precious time on baseless self-consciousness. I am merely providing a pleasant distraction,” he explained, then resigned to offer you a moment of hesitation. “Unless the setting is too public for you, of course. I don’t mind proceeding in private, with less prying eyes nailed to your potential, eh… agony.”

“My, you’re shameless.”

“You’re one to talk. So? May I?”

Gaze quickly flipped through the row of potential witnesses, failing to notice a single giving a fuck one. Viktor waited for your permission with patiently bated breath, watching your throat move when you gulped, slightly strangled.

“Please.”

Lips protruded into a line — a show-off of a smirk at the eroded crumbles of your sanity. Because, indeed — your writhing was needy to its very core, legs tumbled in to coax your salvation out of him. Impatient, fitful, stubborn — your demand was impeccable in its tacit delivery, emphasized the urgency when a single fingertip brushed the entrance soft and languid, then found the wet, laced at the edges barrier. White and see-through, with a silly bow sitting prettily right on top — he watched you put them on fresh out of shower, all damp-skinned and weak-kneed, the swift slide of light fabric over the divine thick of your thighs. It’s a shame he couldn't see the mess he’d made out of them.

A well-rehearsed route: a casual slide inside the delicate garment, a timid swipe over each plush fold. Immutable, but you liked it — begged for more into his rouge under the white shirt shoulder. It matched you so effortlessly. Though his attire was sticky only from sweat.

Torturous. Purely, perfectly, obscenely tortuous — that’s how his finger felt, hot and slick, in a precious little roll against the swell of your clit, and you found hold of his lean thigh, nails a sharp anchor in the gentle flesh of it — squeezing hard enough to cut through his pants. And his little chuckles — these warm brisk spurts of muffled laughter. They had your free from gnawing at him hand pressing tight against your mouth, pushing the debauched whine back into your throat until it was practically strangling you, swallowing hard to keep everyone present unaware of the stage of bliss you were going through in that damned seat. As tempted as you were to scream at the top of your burning lungs — it was best for your audience to remain unconcerned.

Don’t get caught, don’t attract attention, don’t fuck it up — but god was it difficult when you needed so much more than just these restrained, demure cirles against your aching clit. Glassy-eyed and so tense, you silently pleaded him to keep going — a second away from rolling into his lap to fall strung up on his just as much aching cock and have him thrust your heart out in that very grimmy seat. And he would do it, always so happy to please — no doubt muttering swears towards the oblivious handful of other passengers, mourning the urge to tend to as you deserve it — full-course and thorough.

He probably won’t fuck you in public ever again. Not where he couldn’t pay you every last neck kiss and every last lewd little word, at the very least.

But for now he tormented you meticulously towards the sweet climax — clockwise, calculated, gentle. With an occasional flick of darkened eyes over each potential witness: to make sure he’s the only one to savor your collapse, the ever thoughtful protector of your pleasure. And there he was in your ear again — with a filthy helping of pleasantries spoken softly to ensure you get what you want.

“You’re so beautiful.” Voice satin, motions timidly flawless. He had a bit of a hard time pronouncing it, choked on a humm so utterly awe-struck. “Oh, the things I’d do to you if only we were alone. The things I’m tempted to do to you — to hell with privacy. Being quiet doesn’t suit you, milovaná.”

And you finally spilled. Heavy head dropped back in what could’ve been a loud lustful moan — mouth formed an eager O under the slam of your sweaty palm. Buckled knees and tiny convulsions — you came not nearly hard enough in comparison to what he usually puts you through, yet it still lanced through you and turned limbs numb, clit was sore from the remnants of your dissolving arousal, throbbing under the generous stroke of his fingertips.

A slow orgasm — both in delivery and departure, a taunting treat that left you delightfully dizzy. You captured the warm sight of him through the fluttering cover of lashes, myriad white dots biting roughly at your vision, rubbing rudely into a sunny line that melted the ends of his wild hair into a lighter shade. His hand slid away, tremulous. Left a glossy trace all the way up to your shaking knee. Thin wrist caught a little cramp.

“Breathe.” A sultry reminder upon the slope of your shoulder as his lips found some skin in a brief kiss. Cheeky. Self-pleased. Had you nearly sobbing in fresh desperation when he wiped two glistening fingers to a fetched out handkerchief ostentatiously. Absorbed every drop of you and tucked it back into his breast pocket — to wear you there lewdly next to his heart.

You’ll need a few cigarettes back-to-back to recover from this.

The bus needed fifteen more minutes to spit you out gently into the hostile arms of the competition.

—

tags: @thehistoriangirl @zaunitearchives @blissfulip @queen-of-elves @vyshnevska

#viktor x reader #viktor arcane #viktor fanfic #viktor smut #viktor x reader smut #viktor x f!reader #the cunterpart

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itsmaferart · 1 year

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Twiyor parallelism • Romantic approach

One great thing about Spy x Family is the way Endo tries to frame his own idea of what "a romance" is. I'm not sure if this is a deliberate decision, as he prefers to focus on denser and more influential themes, such as war, consequences and the search for peace in each character…. Or if simply, Endo is not so comfortable and sees the typical romantic moments as a forced construction of a relationship between two characters….

And it's in the way it draws a linea between idealized fantasy and the genuine feelings (of love) of a family. This is not only a difference you can notice within the SxF universe, but also as a viewer.

If we analyze Nightfall and Becky's perspective a bit we can clearly see that their idea of love/romance for Twilight/Loid are actually projections of their own desires on a person who fits perfectly

According to Nightfall logic, she will prove that she is perfect, to the extent of being the only woman worthy to be at Twilight's side. She has been his student and comrade on missions, so she has been by his side, has examined multiple roles, memorizing his exemplary 'fake smile'. Nightfall loves Twilight, the perfect spy, the man of a thousand faces, a professional in the art of espionage who foresees a thousand scenarios in his head long before they happen.

Then, Twilight would suddenly discover how perfect she is, having an epiphany of feelings that make him fall madly in love with her (?)

Which makes Nightfall unaware that the man she's in love with (or at least, his spy side) is totally removed from that illusion.

That is a FANTASY

The initial Twilight (her teacher) is a cold, distant man who is not interested in having a relationship because he has discarded that kind of personal happiness, much less would he do so with a WISE colleague.

Twilight is someone with many emotional conflicts, due to the barriers he has created for himself because of his own past. Nightfall wants to awaken those buried feelings while pushing the distant Twilight fr to love, and who has always told him to isolate himself from his own personal desires and feelings.

So… Nightfall's love for her master may be genuine and born out of her genuine admiration for Twilight's motivation to create a better world. But it is unsustainable when it comes to building that love into a marriage, because the Twilight that Nightfall dreams of doesn't really exist, rendering her efforts to impress him futile.

After all, this is not what Twilight is really looking for (at least, his true self).

In itself, Nightfall loves the perfection of Twilight, the perfection of the spy. Because that's what she longs for the most, a love story where she is perfect in someone's eyes perfect.

And well…. Is it necessary to talk about Becky? I think it's much more obvious how everything Becky dreams of is a much more exaggerated fantasy, a love story where she fights with her rival to get the heart of her prince charming (for starters, Twilight could literally be her dad xD).

It is here that Endo's joke about romance becomes more blatant and obvious. The perfect romance is a childish fantasy straight out of a soap opera.

We know that Becky does not love Loid. She loves the fantasy she has created around him. For her, romance is synonymous with maturity, and Becky projects herself as a more mature child than the rest of her age group. At the same time, she wishes for a love story full of drama and happiness.

In contrast, the relationship Loid (Twilight) and Yor build is perhaps the most mundane. (in a good way).

Yes, they are an assassin and a spy, who got married each other to the sound of a grenade. But at the end of the day, it's the two of them sitting comfortably in a living room, on an armchair, drinking a cup of hot tea/coffee.

Endo shows us that many times, that real and genuine love is made of those small moments of intimacy, where nothing big is happening. Just two people talking from the sincerity of their feelings, two people supporting each other, remembering that "you don't always have to be perfect", "being yourself is what matters".

It's wrong for romance to be fantasy?

No, of course not!!

It is natural that the first desire you have with a partner is to have an approximation, especially if it is physical. Like the idea of him holding your hands while he professes his desires of you (As Fiona and Becky would say, "make a move.")

The problem with idealized romance, is that it creates a sweep that prevents us from genuinely getting closer to the real person we love. There is so much focus on personal wants and desires that we are blind to the true needs of the other person.

Nightfall's biggest drawback is that she is so focused on what she wants and what she thinks Twilight needs that she is not able to see the emotional needs that her master has (although, being fair… He doesn't know either, right?). The funny thing about Becky and Nightfall's love is the huge contrast to Loid (Twilight) and Yor's real relationship. Both are constantly looking for perfection in Loid /Twilight's actions, forgotten that there is only a tired man with stomach aches from his ulcers.

The difference for Yor, is that she is not expecting greatness in Loid, or if she really dreams that he is an idea man she is looking for. He is perfect, just the way he is. Twilight and Yor may not be very intimate for many, because of the lack of physical closeness between them, and because every time something seems to happen, someone gets hurt (sometimes Yuri, sometimes Twilight)…. or because we don't see them caught up in these fantasies for each other.

But …. is it really like that?

The amazing thing about the fake marriage between Loid (Twilight) and Yor is that the kind of intimacy they have is perhaps the most difficult to achieve but the most valuable in the long run. And that is being at peace with each other, talking about those things you would never talk about with anyone else, enjoying each other's company only, speaking from the sincerity of your feelings and affirming a thousand times that you would never change anything about each other and would choose them as your partner again and again (for life).

This is the true romance within a marriage.

So… we haven't seen progress in their relationship?

Sure we have, lots of times. But these are much more subtle and simple than we expect. We know that they both cook dinner together (as a couple), and have selected the stores to buy what they need for the house (as a couple), they buy the ingredients for dinner or cleaning products the other asks for (as a couple), Yor takes her husband's clothes to the dry cleaners, Loid makes delicious food for his wife,They say goodbye at the door (as a couple).... both look at each other as if they were the most wonderful people they have ever met in their lives.

(If these two have not kissed it is because they are basically two idiots).

Every time a romance is forced between them, something bad always happens, simply because it is not the right way it should happen. Unlike when the two approach each other being authentic.

I don't think that in the future, these two will have problems with physical intimacy. We're talking about a man who took a second to REALLY ask his fake wife to marry him (I'm sure if Yor didn't kick him to the curb he would have asked her for a wild honeymoon that very night)...Or that Yor in a fit of confidence pushed her fake husband, cornered him, and climbed on top of him.

I'm serious, these two are craving for physical love, what they want to admit!!

In the end, the engine of a true couple is not in the touch of their hands but in the touch of their hearts.

#twiyor #spy x family #yor forger #loid forger #yor briar #loid x yor #anya forger #twilight #sxf #spyxfamily twilight #agent twiyor #yorloid #becky #nightfall #fiona frost

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sugar-omi · 3 months

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I came here to ask for Rockstar! Cove rambles and saw the Rockstar! Baxter art you reblogged omfg it's so good.

Please can we get some of your Rockstar! Cove (and/or Baxter if you feel like it) rambles 🙏

(Hope your holiday has been great 💖)

this is more. rockstar!cove backstory but YKW ITS FINE BC ITS BEEN WHATS ON MY MIND LATELY we'll have to talk abt him again bc this post was getting LONG especially w baxterrr

tags : SFW, headcanons, step 2-4, rockstar au, so ooc, bullying mentioned, fighting, baxter's tags are below before his hc's

listen....

im ngl. i want him to be maybe a little toxic. a lil crazy.

or into things he's not canonically into/does often

at least he's rough n impulsive at first

whenever he can get away with it, and before he got famous, he loves taking a long ride on his motorcycle

compared to when he was a young teen, he tries not to take drives when he's angry

bc when he was young, he'd put on some music and blast it as loud as it could go, and he'd drive and drive and drive...

ended up with a few warnings and speeding tickets that way because he'd get lost in riding n his thoughts n the music

but now that his life isn't so turbulent, he doesn't do that anymore

i wanna imagine he doesn't grow up with you next door n you didn't know each other until junior year of high school

he sees you n he's sold...

thinks you're so fucking beautiful/handsome and he sees you laughing n smiling w your friends n he's so, so whipped for you

he's still a sweet shy boy, so it takes forever for him to talk to you

n it's terry who introduced you two!!!

he's all flustered, bc you're even more lovely up close

n if you're all bubbly n extroverted, he thinks you're like sunshine

if you're more reserved, he thinks you're very cool or that it's amazing how calm you are all the time

if you're shy/easily flustered, will sometimes (and now that he's grown, always) mention out loud he thinks it's cute when you blush...

either way, just loves your personality n thinks you're amazing n cute

you actually calm him down. you ground him.

he used to get into fights kinda often.

i like to think rockstar!cove got like this bc his parents stayed together longer than they did, n there was no brilliant neighbor to reach out to him

he n his dad were still like oil n water, and the kids at school were less than friendly but usually didn't dare fuck with him

key word is usually.

just had a thought actually... cliff's family living nearby

not his parents. he moved as far as he could

and with him n Kyra on the brink of divorce, her moving out the house, n all cliff has to do to keep them afloat..

he didn't think his equally shitty cousins would be a problem.

but surprise!! they're a few doors down n too happy to "catch up"

cove n cliff avoid them pretty well, n cliff really didn't need to tell cove to avoid his cousins bc he was already 2 steps ahead of him

but his cousins dont get that message, they also think its a good idea to pick on cove...

so between the short patience of most hormonal 13 year olds, his parents (finally) separating, cove's intolerance for bullshit....

cove ends up rocking his 2 cousins shit when they snatch his glasses off his face, bending the frame

ignores his cousins mom yelling at him n cliff to apologize for hurting her kids. feels a bit warm when his dad tells her his son is more well mannered than both her kiss combined, even laughs when he says a rabid raccon has more sense n poise

but is even happier when his dad, after a moment of silence in the car, asks him if be used the right hook he taught him

n tries to hide his smile when his dad ruffles his hair n goes "that's good. good job son."

he does hear the whole, "violence isn't always the answer" and "pick your battles" thing

but he shrugs off the lecture when he and cliff have a tub of ice cream each n cliff holds a bag of peas to his face

anyway.

he fights like a DOG. he arGRHHH HE HAS EVERYTHIGN TAKEN CARE OF. TRUST.

professional at sneaking out n sneaking YOU out

cove at 4am: wanna get mcd's?

dont even bother saying no bc he's already outside

dont pretend to be sleep either bc he FUCKING SEES YOU.

will leave you alone if you genuinely don't wanna fuck around in the middle of the night, but how can you say no to him?

ah. before i forget

Will kiss you if you're bandaging his face

asks you to ice his bruises...

SINGS YOU SONGS N SHIT

kryptonite. creep. p!nk and lady gaga PERIOD. all of it

serenades you with his guitar and/or voice

sometimes he's just fiddling with the strings, switching between cheery beats and trying to rick roll you but the beat is wayyy off

loves when you fall asleep to his music too, plays the sleepiest tune he can think of

you being his biggest supporter is what makes him fight to make a name in the music industry

after supporting him in his personal life, through all his lows and highs, then supporting his music that he was too scared to go for

he puts his best foot forward for his sake and yours

+ TAGS: mention of FWB, toxic baxter <3, so ooc ofc, mm implied partying/drinking

now rockstar baxter....

i want him to be a problem. he's the toxic one here

compared to cove, who is soft n sweet but impulsive and always willing to fight, rough but well meaning...

baxter is your situationship

your friends with benefits

friends if a loose word, since you hardly ever talk since you've met and unless arguing, bickering, or sexting counts as getting to know each other...

than you're best friends!!!

he's the big headed musician who always asks "wyd" and "u up?" whenever he's in town

at least he sends you money to doll up or eat, or whatever before he gets in town

"make sure you eat before i come. bc im not letting you go once i get there"

so.... if you want commitment. he's not it...

just saw *this tweet, and rockstar!baxter IS the type to email you after you block him

omfg. if any of yall have read armin x reader fanfics... yk how he is in those fics? all toxic n shit?

thats baxter.

not THAT bad. like baby trapping bad or cheating on you, manipulating you etc.

but he's bad

definitely the dumb choice you make at 18-20 smth years old n once you mature, you drop him because he doesn't grow up quickly...

he won't even have the realization that you're the one until he's MINIMUM 37-40+ YEARS OLD. AND FLYS UP FROM THE BED LIKE HE'S SEEN A GHOST

curses n curses himself to high hell and low heaven

now depending on how bad he's fucked you over, or you've moved on, etc... he understands if you don't wanna try being together, bc he was a fucking mess

at least, if he sees you catching feelings or himself, he does break it off

but there's still good times between you!!

he sends you things for your birthday

and when he's not on tour showing his ass, he comes to spend it with you

is very happy if you come to spend his birthday with him!!!

starts to look forward to it, but he doesn't really show it

although after the first time, he can't help crying, thought the first time was just a one off thing

unless you make the first one a big thing, than he cries then

even if all you did was get/make a cake and decorate your small apartment, he's so so happy

mm i started thinking abt smth

i don't think he's that bad, impulsive, etc. before his career

before, he's pursuing music because his parents hate it. its "not a useful career" and "embarrassing"

but then he starts to love it, its an outlet for him and then it's become a passion

but once he gets a deal with a record label, it's just a downward spiral

puts everything into music, ignores everything else and doesn't take breaks like he should

i think what breaks your "relationship" is him getting caught up in the darker side of the music industry, and losing himself.

he doesn't laugh or anything like before

doesn't make random trips to see you anymore

in fact, probably ends up flaking on you or suddenly canceling, or going weeks without talking to you

its rough. and you two definitely need time apart for him to grow and realize that this is serving anyone besides the companies pockets well

#our life: beginnings & always #olba #cove holden #cove holden x reader #baxter ward #baxter our life #baxter ward x reader

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