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prince-kallisto · 9 months

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Complete Guide to the “Crowley is Levan” Theory

Hello, its the self-proclaimed Crowley/Levan theory expert, back at it again! (*ﾟ∀ﾟ*) I’m really shocked at Book 7’s recent update, and I’m seeing more and more people get into the Crowley/Levan theory.

But for everyone who is new to this theory, people who aren’t yet convinced, or anyone who just wants the major points in one document, I decided to write everything I know about this theory, with the help from posts from my fellow theorists! Of course, at the end of the day it’s just a theory, so make your own conclusions! ^_^

Buckle up everyone for a very long post rife with lore! I worked hard on this one, as it is a culmination of ALL my previous theories, so sharing is appreciated haha. Heavy Book 7 spoilers ahead!

This theory revolves around the idea that Headmage Dire Crowley is actually Duke Levan, the father of Malleus Draconia. Before we get into the nitty-gritty details, let’s go over everything we know SO FAR.

Levan (Revan, Levaan, and Revaan is also a common spelling) is the husband of Meleanor Draconia, who is the Princess of Wild Rose Castle. Levan is a Duke, Diplomat, nobleman, and the left-hand war general. He had control over the Eastern Fort while Lilia had control over the Western Fort. His title is “Ryūgan Duke Levan,” or 竜眼公レヴァーン in Japanese. The characters imply a connection to the Chinese Long, and Ryūgan very roughly translates to “Dragon eyed,” although it is uncertain if Levan is a Dragon Fae, or if this is just his title. Levan is referred to as Meleanor’s “eyes, limbs, and husband,” so perhaps “Dragon Eyed” refers to his connection to Meleanor? Due to his name, people also suspect he may be a bird Fae, specifically a raven.

He seems to be based of Diablo, Maleficent’s raven. From what we know from Lilia, he is slightly meek (according to childhood stories) and gentle, always with a smile on his face. However, he is also extremely dependable and strong. Rumor has it he fought against the Dawn Knight, a figure that the night Fae fear for his power. Despite Levan’s clumsiness, Meleanor is very enamored with him, praising him for the smallest of things while punishing everyone else. Meleanor refers to Levan as “beautiful,” although we have no silhouette or voice for him currently. Levan grew up with Meleanor and Lilia, and was very close with Lilia, who was the right-hand general.

When Lilia ripped up his invitation to NRC, Levan painstakingly took all the pieces out of the trash and pieced them all together, storing the invitation in the Royal Archive for Lilia to come back 500 years later. Lilia wonders if Levan somehow knew that he would go to NRC with Malleus in the future. Levan is also very willing to start relations with humans compared to the rest of Briar Valley, as he taught Lilia the human language, and has said that he hopes one day, the humans and Fae can share a common language to exchange culture and history together in peace. This positive attitude and willingness to teach is likely what made him such a good diplomat.

However, Levan went missing in the Silver Owls vs. Briar Valley war when leading a mission to deliver letters to the Eastern Fort. Meleanor is heavily implied to be dead, but Levan simply disappeared and never returned. In Briar Valley history books, he is assumed to be dead, but little information of him is known.

But what does all this backstory have anything to do with Dire Crowley? He’s unreliable, manipulative, and never does more work than necessary, even with all the student Overblots. He sounds nothing like Levan. Well, let’s go to the birthplace of this theory to see what’s up:

Crowley and Malleus Parallels

Black hair with a green-ish tint, pale skin, pointed ears, dark lips, and a similar tall stature. No other character besides Meleanor resembles Malleus to this degree.

Although no dialogue has confirmed it, it is heavily, HEAVILY implied that Crowley is in fact, one of the Fae. He’s been Headmage at NRC for at least 100 years and several of his features imply a Fae heritage. He even gets offended when the Ghost Camera, that was invented in a great-great grandmothers time, is referred to as “old,” as if he took offense to the implication that HE’S old. He’s likely a bird Fae, as he may transform into a raven/crow in the opening animation, and his voice lines show him with bird-like habits. Crowley also refers to his “wings” several times as a part of his anatomy.

@twisted-tech shows that in the Glorious Masquerade event, Malleus wears an costume that’s startlingly similar to Crowley’s outfit, down to the detailed vest to the feathers on his shoulders. In the animation announcement for GloMas, Malleus stands in front of the light the same exact way Crowley does in the opening prologue animation.

The 2nd anniversary animation also has a strange moment between Crowley and Malleus, with Crowley appearing for a quick moment, before a light shines over him, revealing Malleus.

In Malleus’ birthday-boy interview he mentions how black is the color of nobility in Briar Valley, thus his tendency to wear all-black attire. Isn’t it interesting how Crowley’s main outfit color is black? On a similar note, when an Alchemy Special Lesson is triggered, Malleus says “He’s [Crowley] is far from ordinary.” Malleus, who prides himself for being extremely powerful to the point he thinks less of others, thinks Crowley is unusual? Does he sense a type of power from Crowley, or does something seem uncomfortably familiar about him?

And last but certainly not least, Crowley’s secret concept art. This in-person event was very exclusive, so many obscure concept art pieces of the characters were only shown here. Crowley seemed to be grouped with the Diasomnia cast with the same color palette, and his purple cape is highly reminiscent of Maleficent’s. He even has briars climbing up his leg. He even has the stamp of the three good fairies on his paper, just like the beta designs for Lilia and Malleus. Of course, concept art should not be used too heavily as a source, but this is certainly no coincidence, and don’t you think it’s odd how secretive this image is? Most fans have no idea this concept art exists.

These two must have some type of connection with each other- this evidence alone is what convinced me in the first place. However, this is just the beginning:

Ravens & Crows Symbolism, Levan vs Crowley

Levan and Crowley have a shocking amount of similarities too! Ravens in mythology were considered to be messengers of the gods, and were especially connected to Apollo, the god of Prophecy. I think that Levan’s unique magic was the gift of Propechy, as in he could see future events. Bringing back Lilia’s line of if Levan somehow knew he would go to NRC with Malleus 500 years in the future, I say yes! He knew many things about what the future held due to his magic, and it makes sense with Raven symbolism. Crowley also has a strange knowledge of future events, from the STYX invasion to Grim’s magestone collar. @rayroseu has also pointed out the Malleus’ egg heavily resembles a Black Opal, which symbolizes death and destruction, and was used to “gaze” into the past, present, and future. Hmmm

What if as a way to reunite with Lilia and Malleus, Levan became the Headmage of NRC? He would have every skill necessary to do so, and Crowley has many connections to the school board, STYX, the Asim’s, Jupiter Conglomerate, etc. He’s not as much as fool as he’d like you to think- he’s in charge of the prestigious school for a very good reason. He knows the perfect balance of manipulation and sweet-talking, just as expected of the diplomat and envoy, just like ravens were in mythology.

Ravens have symbolized death and destruction for a very long time- and isn’t it interesting how Crowley’s first name is “Dire,” as in ‘disastrous’? Yana Toboso has confirmed that “Dire” is actually pronounced as the English word “Dear,” like ‘beloved.’ @sote-forever has pointed out that the origin of Levan’s name means “gracious/merciful,” which feels oddly familiar to Crowley’s catchphrase of “I am so kind/Watashi yasashii no de.” The EN translation uses “gracious” instead of “kind” a lot as well 👀

Speaking of his catchphrase, in Book 7 when Grim hears more about Levan, he says that Levan sounded like a “kind man.” He even uses the same exact language as Crowley uses, ‘yasashi,’ meaning gentle and kind. Just like the meaning of Levan’s name. For reference:

私優しいので is Watashi Yasahii No de “Because I’m kind.”

優しかった is what Grim said: Yasahikatta (?) meaning “He was kind”

Back to the death symbolism, I mentioned that ravens were Psychopomp. In mythology, ravens were said to guide human souls to the underworld by the will of the gods. And isn’t it interesting how NRC is FULL of death and underworld symbolism? Technically, Crowley IS the Psychopomp, because he is responsible for transporting the students and is the only one with a special key to unlocking the students coffins. He even says in the prologue that the coffins were designed to represent the “departure of your previous world, and rebirth into a new one.”

As a side note, crows and ravens fall under the same exact word in Japanese: karasu. There are some instances in the EN translation where crow and raven are mixed up, as Diablo, Maleficent’s raven, is referred to as a “crow” in one of Malleus’s chats. Hmmm

Crowley’s cane is also interesting. Not only does the bottom key part spell out “Raven,” the top of his cane looks exactly like Diablo when he was turned into stone at the end of Sleeping Beauty. Although I do agree that Crowley has connections to the Evil Queen’s crow, I think he could be inspired by both. Similarly, NRC’s logo is a raven with a crown above his head. Levan WAS royalty, after all…

Levan also has a special acceptance of humans. His wife DESPISES humans, but he learned a common language of the Fae and humans in order to communicate, and even taught other Fae the language himself. And once again, he saved Lilia’s invitation to NRC. Doesn’t he sound like someone who wishes to share knowledge? He wants peaceful communication between humans and Fae to share culture and history, just like what NRC is like today. It feels a lot like a Headmage’s behavior, don’t you think?

From the way Meleanor treated Levan, Levan’s behavior sounds oddly like Crowley’s. Meleanor praised him for the most basic things, and seemed to dote over him a lot. Crowley is incredibly egotistical about doing literally the most basic shit ever lmaoo, but I can’t blame him for getting a big head if he used to be always praised for it. Lilia also says that Levan would probably return with a big smile on his face. In every single animation that Crowley is present in, he always has a smile on his face, watching carefully over the events.

Levan also seemed to be a bit of a crybaby in his childhood, as Lilia said that when they got lost in a forest, he “could never forget Levan’s pitiful expression.” Crowley definitely has an aversion to death or people getting hurt, and has cried several times when he gets overemotional.

In the prologue, Crowley claims to be intimately acquainted with every single students homelands. Yes, his hobby IS vacationing, but I think he knows the lands way more intimately than simple sightseeing. Again, Levan was a diplomat. He would have a vast amount of knowledge about the inner workings, culture, and history of many different foreign lands.

Edit: We also have NO IDEA of Crowley’s homeland. If I remember correctly, he’s the only character where his land of origin is unknown. Why would TWST do this, unless this was a huge spoiler? Like…say if Crowley’s homeland was Briar Valley???

And finally, I think it’s EXTREMELY suspicious that we have not seen at least a silhouette of Levan, despite his name coming up in conversations several times. Why would his silhouette not be revealed, unless his silhouette is a dead giveaway to a character we already know? Same reasoning for why we haven’t had a flashback with his voice- his voice would just reveal the truth. Additionally, NRC seems to lack books over the history of Briar Valley and what happened to Levan and Meleanor. In one of the History Lessons, Malleus mentions a photo of Lilia in a history book. Perhaps there are history books with a painting/photo of Levan? It would explain why the history is so lacking, because Crowley doesn’t want his past self to be seen.

Meleanor, NRC & Other

Whew, we’re almost done! This is the miscellaneous category, but just as important as the above points.

Meleanor, OB Malleus, and Crowley have many many similarities. I go into more detail in the linked post, but Meleanor’s and Crowley’s features definitely “combine” in Malleus’ features. Take for example, Meleanor’s straight dark teal hair and Crowley’s wavy black hair with a slight greenish tint. It merges perfectly into Malleus’s hair. There are many similarities in their outfit designs too, so I recommend looking at this post!

This is very strange, but the coliseum and Diasomnia’s dorm hallway have the SAME EXACT DESIGNS as the passageway in Briar Valley (converted into a Silver Owl hideout) and the hall in MELEANOR’S castle. No one could have this punt of knowledge of these locations, especially Meleanor’s castle that was covered in briars and abandoned. Unless…someone at NRC was intimately acquainted with both of these locations. Perhaps a noblemen like Levan would know? Meaning, Crowley?

Crowley in the prologue talks to his “proud, beautiful flower of evil” in the mirror. I highly recommend rewatching the part, because Crowley’s voice just shows how much love he has for this flower of evil. Lili refers to Meleanor as the “most evil Princess,” and she is also the Princess of Wild Rose Castle. Rose like a flower 🌹 \(//∇//)\ She is also an extremely proud person, and does not hesitate to strike people down for disagreeing with her.

Many people ask why Levan would abandon Meleanor, especially when he loved her. I don’t think he willingly abandoned her at all! If my theory of his prophecy magic is right, he knew that there was nothing he could do to prevent Meleanor’s death and the fall of their castle. And who knows, what if Levan Overblotted when he went missing? He led a GROUP of messengers to the Eastern Fort, so what happened to these messengers? Did they die at his hands when he Overblotted? It’s a common theory that Crowley is under the influence of blot, as his mask and gloves would cover Overblot markings.

@ventique18 has also mentioned that a dark Fae’s love in literature is depicted to be OBSESSIVE, as in the couple can drive themselves mad over their love for each other. I think Crowley was a much kinder and genuine person as Levan, but Meleanor’s death permanently scarred him. Plus, as much as we don’t want to admit it, it’s been 500 years. Look at Lilia: he’s changed SO MUCH over the years since his time as general. Why can’t Levan do the same? Longing to reunite with his loved one for CENTURIES isn’t healthy at all, but he desires it so much that he’s willing to hurt innocent people in order to achieve it.

This is out of the TWST canon lol, but there’s potentially a lot of connection to Edgar Allen Poe’s “Lenore” and “The Raven.” Lenore mourns a “queenliest dead that ever died so young” before her wedding, which could parallel Meleanor dying before Malleus’ birth. The Raven represents the pure desperation, grief, and insanity of him wanting to see his lost love again: Lenore, and how he’s unable to cope with her passing. UM??!!!

FINALLY, as the saying goes: Malleus had to get his loser genes from somewhere. Hope this helps! 🤪

Jokes aside, I’m exhausted but I feel very happy to have made this guide! Many thanks to all the blogs I’ve mentioned above, and to Gasmask on Youtube, Otome Atui on Youtube, and MoonlightEquin1 on Twitter for translations!!! It really helped me out my thoughts together in this theory, and I hope it can serve as a reference guide to everyone else!

I had to link a lot of my separate theories just because there is too much to go over in one post, and I’m very limited with photos on mobile ｡ﾟ(ﾟ´ω`ﾟ)ﾟ｡ If yall can think of anything else to add, it would be greatly appreciated! Thank you to everyone for your support, it’s so fun theorizing with everybody!! 💞💞💞

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artist-issues · 7 months

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I Saw Wish

And it was the worst animated Disney movie I’ve ever seen. I have to watch it again before I can get into the nitty gritty details. But I don’t need details to sum it up, because my dad actually said it perfectly as we left the theater:

“It was like someone who didn’t really understand Disney movies tried to make a Disney movie.”

Both the form (the technical arts of filmmaking) and the content (the morals, values, and themes of the movie) were totally horrible.

I don’t know who’s fault it was. Jeremy Spears was in the storyboard room and Mark Henn and Eric Goldberg did some 2D animation. But they must have gotten outvoted, or they must not care anymore.

Because holy cow. Here’s some stuff that’s just off the top of my head.

SPOILERS. Not that it matters, because nothing interesting happens in this movie.

The writing? Terrible. Ninety percent of it feels like the characters are filling time with quirky one-liners that are trying too hard to be appealing, then failing, then taking you out of the movie. The jokes aren’t funny. The characters just respond to each other in conversation to check a one-liner box. The other twenty percent is whole conversations repeating tell-don’t-show exposition that has already been covered, usually twice, in previous scenes. Like if in Tangled, every scene had included some variation of Rapunzel saying to friends and enemies alike, “I have to see the floating lights so I’m sneaking to the castle with this thief who wants a mysterious tiara I hid from him. Don’t tell my mother, she’s a bit overprotective!” Over. And over. And over.

The character motivations are way too broad. Asha? Her dream is just “that everybody around me gets to be happy.” That’s it, in a nutshell. No deeper exploration of that. Nobody asks, “why do you care so much?” Nobody tries to convince her she should look out for herself, and then she proves she was right all along. The King? We are told (not shown) that he doesn’t want anyone else’s dreams to be “destroyed.” But he in no believable way expresses that that motivation is still what’s driving him during the movie—what’s driving him is just a plain old lust for power, no nuance.

By the way, the whole premise of the movie? Undercooked. Half-baked concepts strung together with no definitive meaning. Therefore, it’s not believable. Example: The characters act like the wishes are beautiful—well, actually, no, this movie doesn’t know how to show, so there’s not a lot of meaningful acting—the characters just tell us that wishes are “the most beautiful part of someone,” and that’s why it’s worth going through this adventure to give their wishes back to them. But there’s no proof of that in the movie. In fact, it directly kicks it’s own legs out from under that idea, because it has every character who gives up their wish forget that part of themselves. Asha’s grandfather has forgotten his wish, but that doesn’t make him any less “beautiful.” She, and everyone, still treats him like he’s this wonderful old man who deserves the world, who everyone loves…but why is he so appealing? If he “gave up the most beautiful part of him?” The only character who is changed by their lack-of-wish is the Sleepy-analogue character…who is just sleepy, which is described as “boring.” But nobody else who’s given up their wish in the whole kingdom acts like that. It’s just him. Also, the King acts like it’s so important to protect the wishes from destruction. But what does destroying a wish look like? That actually happens to Asha’s mom. Her wish-bubble is broken, literally, and she just says she feels grief. But like. Why? She never remembered it in the first place; it had been missing from her life for years. Also, what the heck is a wish?! It seems to range from broad concepts like “inspire people” to “fly.” Just “fly,” like a bird. The desire to levitate off the ground is the most important, beautiful essence of one background character. Like, what?! But no character ever has the why behind their wish to make us care.

I could go on and on about that point. Like, think about Disney movies that wrote the book on how to make movies about characters with wishes. If Ariel were in Wish, her bubble would look like “dancing and learning and exploring on the Surface with someone who understands her.” But we believe that that is her real, genuine wish, and that it matters to her, because we are shown why being understood is so important to her. Because it’s missing from her life. There’s a scene where she explores a boat alone, and even her best friend doesn’t get excited about it with her. Her dad won’t listen to her point of view. Her siblings don’t ask her about her life even when they think she’s in love. She wants what she wants because of pieces of her life that we are shown.

We are never shown why Asha’s grandfather is obsessed with inspiring people, so we have no reason to believe it, or care whether he gets it or not. We can’t feel disappointed when his wish is said to “never come true,” like we did when Quasimodo was abused by the people he wished to join. We can’t feel elated when he finally “gets” his wish, like we did when Simba smiles on Pride Rock remembering the same way he used to as a cub and claims the crown with a roar. We don’t have anything to hang on to, nothing to relate to, nothing to grasp and feel with the characters. So we don’t feel, because they didn’t put the work in to help us feel. They just say, “the mom’s feeling grief. Feel grief.” And expect us to do the work ourselves. I have to stop harping on this point and move on.

But The main point of the movie is very broad because of that lazy premise, and it’s barely reinforced by any kind of appealing storytelling. If I had to guess, the point would be “Keep wishing for more even when it’s hard.” But the story they told to communicate that meaning was so unimpactful. Asha doesn’t have a dream of her own that’s such hard work to accomplish! (Neither does her grandfather; his wish is “to inspire people.” And at the end, we’re supposed to see him strumming a guitar and believe it’s inspiring? We were never shown how he worked hard to learn how to play the instrument. Or that he carved it with his own hands, or anything like that. So there’s no meaningful demonstration of working hard for it or achieving your wish even if it’s far out of reach.) And nobody except the king is trying to take wishes away from anyone, and he just does it literally, after they voluntarily give them to him, so there’s not even any impactful demonstration of “don’t let anyone tell you your wishes are dumb or unachievable, or stop you from reaching them.” Even when he takes them away, it’s just because they…could, someday, be used to threaten his kingdom in a vague, really unlikely way. There are so many things you could do with “keep wishing for more even when it’s hard.” For instance; you could say the main character has always been afraid to dream (wish for more), because maybe when she was a kid something wonderful almost happened but ended in tragedy, so she keeps her head down and doesn’t want much because if you don’t dream you’ll never be disappointed. She takes no risks, and has to learn that sometimes trying and failing is worth more than slogging through life all self-protective. I mean, the pieces were right there. She has this line about her dad, and how she wished he would get better but then he died. She has lines about how nobody should have to live with grief?? Then that’s never addressed again! It’s just a throwaway emotion-moment with no buildup or follow-through to tie it to and support that main theme.

The compositions of too many shots were so terrible. Characters got cut off in weird places. One shot has Asha dead center, with her grandfather on the left side of the table and her mother on the right, having a family dinner with a super exposition-heavy conversation that is meant to be emotionally charged. But despite everything else being perfectly centered, half of her mother’s body is chopped off. The movie’s shot like someone’s mom who doesn’t understand technology tried to take a video with her phone.

The charm of the art “style” wears off basically immediately. I know what they were going for. I see the sketch lines and watercolor textures. This is maybe the first time Disney ever failed to accomplish a visual “look” that turned out good. Everything looks dull. Muted. De-saturated. Slightly out of focus, but not in a cool Spider-Verse way. The sets or backgrounds are lazy; at no point does the scenery look complete; big, empty, boring spaces that do not create any kind of “stage” for impactful moments. The rendering looks unfinished. When Asha’s hair moves during her belting of the “I Make This Wish” song, it’s bad. It’s unnatural. It flops in a way that doesn’t make sense for the weight of her hair. The most impactful visual moments come from the villain, and they’re moments when he looks way too unhinged for the kind of line he’s saying.

There is no interesting character development. Asha goes from believing everyone is basically good and their wishes deserve the chance to come true , to….that, again. That would be fine, she could be a static character, if she proved contrast-characters wrong, in a believable way. But she never does. Because no other characters argue with her except the King. And it goes no deeper than “everyone’s wishes are basically good and they deserve the chance to make them true” vs. “nuh-uh, because I get to decide what makes them deserving.” The King doesn’t have any kind of interesting development, either. They don’t expand on his tragic backstory—it consists of one drawing of him near a broken boat, and a few images of the corner burned off of his family taoestry. They never say “King Magnifico wished for _____ and it was taken away!” They literally never tell you what his wish or dreams were, or what motivated him to create the whole kingdom that the movie’s premise sits on. So there’s no convincing sense of progression, how he got this way, why he’ll keep going “so far.”

The pacing is weird. It undercuts every moment that could have any kind of emotion behind it. One minute Valentino is suavely bouncing around, then he’s given a two-second beat to blubber with badly-animated tears that he’ll miss Star—then he instantly gets to have another funny one-liner so we forget he might’ve been sad a second ago. We’re clearly supposed to believe that the King and his wife are devoted to each other, and his turning evil was such a big betrayal, but there’s no time and no impactful evidence for us to believe either of those things. And even if we did, the moment he’s defeated and trapped in a mirror, and begs to be let free, the Queen kind of shrugs it off, makes a forgettable one-liner, and tells them to throw him in the dungeon. And he doesn’t look remorseful. And we don’t even get to assume he’s embarrassed or emotionally devastated that he’s come to this—because the last thing he says is “nooo, the dungeon is so smellyyy!” Like this is a half-baked LEGO short that can’t get emotionally deeper than what an actual 3 year-old’s parents might be okay with.

And that’s the worst offense: The movie is not genuine. It works hard for nothing, and it has no vulnerability. It just uses old Disney standbys to pretend to be vulnerable. Have the music swell and the characters gasp and the songs drip emotion when characters are meant to be saying or doing something emotional.

But truthfully, think of all the Disney movies you’ve ever seen with the hardest emotional moments. The sheer joy of Genie when he realizes he’s free. The anguish when Elsa thinks Anna’s been frozen forever, or when Anna thinks she’s dead. The trauma when Simba loses Mufasa. The longing and dreaming of Ariel when she reaches up out of her grotto. The sense of foreboding when Mother Gothel says “fine, now I’m the bad guy” or the heartbreak in Rapunzel’s eyes when she thinks Flynn has abandoned her, or the shame on Aladdin’s face when Jafar reveals he’s a street-rat, or the horror of cruelty when the stepsisters rip up Cinderella’s dress, or Kala’s tears when Tarzan leaves her in the treehouse, or Sarabi’s tears when Simba comes back, or Mulan’s father tossing aside the sword and token of the Emperor to embrace Mulan, or heck, even just Lilo pushing Stitch in the woods and telling him “get out of here.” This movie has no moments like that. It has moments you can tell that the filmmakers wanted to hit like that—but they don’t.

Because no work is put into building them up. You know how much Simba loves Mufasa, because you’ve been watching their chemistry more than any other character all the way up till he dies. You know how much Mulan wants to please her family because she spends all of Act I desperately attempting to do that. You know Quasimodo believes the world below is beautiful and wants them to accept him because he has interesting things like—talking to gargoyles, convincing us that he’s lonely; building a scale model of the townspeople, convincing us that he sees them in a beautiful way and wishes he were beautiful in more ways than one like them, too.

Right down to the facial expressions, none of them are as anguished, happy, sad, excited, silly, in any convincing way like all of Disney’s other movies. Asha’s “low moment” when she’s afraid her “wish” hurt everyone else (still vague on what that wish ever was) lasts two seconds, she’s not crying, she’s barely sitting with slumped shoulders, and her family barely spend two seconds comforting her. They basically just say, “aw, no, it’s not y fault, it’s the king’s.” And she’s like, “yeah okay” and that’s that. It’s like the animators we’re afraid to animate really intimate emotions on the characters’ faces. The voice actors, too.

And the whole movie is peppered with Easter eggs to past Disney movies. But all that does, if you really know Disney beyond the visuals, is make you think of how hollow this movie is in comparison. How much you wish you were watching Cinderella or The Little Mermaid or something with depth and vulnerability instead of Wish.

#I’ll talk more in an organized fashion later #wish #disney’s wish #wish Disney #wish 2023 #critique #spoilers

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killakalx · 23 days

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do u think jason or dick have breeding kinks?? cause the thoughts i’ve had about a full mating press, their full weight on you, whispering in your ear about filling you till you can’t take anymore- 🤤🤤

YESSSS yes yes yes they both got it bad. but somehow jason has it worse. i needed a while to think about the details but i’ve got it now 💪🏽

dick grayson loves intimacy, and cumming inside you with your body flush against his is the closest he can get to that intimacy he craves. it’s kind of domestic if you think about it like that. he wants to start a family with you, take care of you and all that, but he doesn’t have the mommy daddy type breeding kink. not unless you introduce him to it but that’s another convo 🫠 like i didn’t even think about that idea until just. now. i will be expanding later. but my point is: dick grayson wants to fill you up because it makes him feel so much closer to you, like he’s really sealing the deal, but he also loves cumming on your tits/ass/face just as much

jason todd is so nasty though. he can definitely be soft and intimate during sex but when you let him get to the nitty gritty? he gets that “let me fuck back to back creampies into you” type breeding kink. he’s using you like a fleshlight and his cum is leaking around your pussy and the base of his fat cock and he’s still fucking more inside of you. dick likes pulling out and watching his cum leak out of you, but jason? he’s telling you if you waste any of it then he just has to fuck another load into you. after three different positions with at least four loads inside of you, he might let you sit and cockwarm for a little bit <3 (and i want to clarify that technically i don’t think you’re supposed to do that. but i think it’s hot and i’m sure someone else out there agrees)

and neither of them are opposed to eating their cum out of you. dick likes it more and he’s very transparent about it, he simply wants to make you cum on his tongue while your pussy’s already soaked. jason’s an evil mother fucker though so he insists he’s gotta clean you up or some shit, wants to eat you out while you squirm under the grip he has on your hips because he just loves that you think he’ll ever be done with you. jason wants to fuck you until you’re practically running from him but i’m getting off topic now

#kali ;; thirst tweeting #kali ;; dg #kali ;; jt

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ew-selfish-art · 9 months

Text

Dpxdc AU: Danny can’t fix Jason’s whole…deal… and doesn’t want to answer any questions on ectoplasm but he can get Jason to the best therapist he knows! Jason mistakes Danny constantly pushing Jazz his way as an awkward little brother move to set them up romantically- which uh, isn't necessarily a bad thing? Jazz has her own vested interests.

… heads up that this got long...

Jason ran his hands through this hair, relieving them from their previous position of cradling his face in embarrassment. Why was he sitting in a nice cafe with Danny’s redhead sister and a five dollar chai latte? For all the awkward live wire feelings he had, at least she was calm and composed. How many times had this happened already?

“So… the green stuff again?” Jazz asks, taking a sip from her own stupidly expensive drink and giving him eyebrows that beg for his explanation.

“Yeah. I was trying to get your brother to explain stuff without all the science mumbo jumbo. I just, I guess that means he defers to you.” Jason sighed, and tried to not think about how pretty her eyes were as she observed him.

“Not likely. But is the search for your answers helping you cope from day to day or making you climb an impossible mountain?” Jazz asks and it makes Jason fluster.

“It’s a moving goal post, sure, but I need answers if I’m going to fix my-“

“I think it might help you to realize that people don’t need to be fixed, they just need to grow.” Jazz interrupts.

They finish their drinks in a comfortable nonchalance, the rest of their conversation doesn’t go anywhere beyond their mutual hobbies and he’s grateful for that.

Jason's been doing a lot of introspection since this all started.

——

The first time it happened was months ago.

He confronts Danny after a mission, just wanting a simple answer on whether or not Danny thought the Lazarus pit contained ectoplasm? Could ectoplasm be separated from blood? Danny looked a little uncomfortable.

“Look dude, I know you want to know more but like, having this info isn’t going to help you. You need to talk it out.” Danny sounds sad and his eyes are filed with something adjacent to pity. It riles up the pit inside him.

“Oof. See that whole reaction thing. That’s not ectoplasmic, that’s something different. C’mon follow me.” Phantom cringes as he talks to him, and then floats across the rooftops, going slow enough that Jason can keep up on his grapple.

The arrive at a modest apartment building, not too far from his territory but clearly outside of it. Danny opens a window and slides in ahead of Jason, and all of a sudden he’s seated at a kitchen table with hot chocolate and teal blue eyes peering into his soul.

“Danny, some warning next time you’re bringing a crime boss to my apartment.” Jazz sighs and its not said with any malice or sarcasm. Danny gives her a grin and a peace sign before disappearing.

“So you want to talk about it?” Jazz turns back to him and asks.

“About?” Jason’s deep voice is going through the modulator and it sounds more sinister than it should.

“Death. Dying. The afterlife. Those are the normal things Danny brings people to me for.” She blinks.

“There’s a misunderstanding, I don’t need to talk, I need answers on Ectoplasm.” He grits out.

"Hm. Well that's not my field of study, but I can tell you that however your feeling is probably a valid response towards the trauma you've faced in life. Do you think showing yourself some kindness might lessen your desire to know the knitty gritty details?"

Jason scoffs.

"Oh. You're serious. No. I don't think being kind to myself is a valid approach to dealing with an infection that's cost me a lot of family relationships." Jason rolls his eyes. The woman looks contemplative for a moment and Jason can tell that while the dim kitchen lights are doing her no favors, she's incredibly beautiful. He pockets that information and refuses to think about it.

"So...Lets take this a different direction. Do you think successful people know what they're doing or do you think successful people need help to get where they want to go?"

"Most people are dumb and trying to get by." Jason grits out.

"So, accept that you're dumb. And then get by." Jazz replies, and then sighs and leaves the room.

Jason however, is now pissed off. Who the heck was she to say that to him?

____

The next time he finds himself across the table from Jazz, he's been on a wild goose chase with Danny and lands himself in a fancy restaurant. Why the hell was she here?

"Uh, it's called self care." Jazz replies, because apparently Jason asked that out loud. But he's not going to let this lead get away from him.

He takes off his helmet, years of muscle memory make him check that his Domino mask was in place, and sits down across from her. She raises a brow and then sighs.

"You think Danny might give me answers if I hold you hostage over, what is that, some kind of gnocchi dish?"

"Mm. Probably not." Jazz says, taking a bite and pulling out her phone.

"You're just going to ignore me then?" Jason finds himself a bit flabbergasted, he was a fucking crime lord, not someone to be ignored! Like he's just- just some bad blind date!

"Uh huh. You don't want to work on your issues and it's not my job to lead a stubborn horse to water."

"The expression is that you can lead a horse to water but you can't-"

"Can't what? Or are you still going to tell me it's not a huge waste of my time to tell you that you need to accept and forgive yourself to be able to move on. Find peace. Rest." Jazz is taking bites between her last few words but her glare remains unshakeable.

Jason is about to get up and leave when a terrified waiter comes over: "A dish, as compliments from the chef. Your guest's meal as well." He's shaking as he speaks and it makes Jason feel bad.

"Thanks." He grits out.

"...Is that the lasagna?" Jazz is looking at his food curiously, and Jason pushes it forward to indicate that she can take a bite. Probably not the safest thing for a civilian to do considering people regularly try to poison Jason but, meh. He's kind of pissed off at her still.

"It's pretty good. I was debating between that and the gnocchi- Okay let's think about this differently. You want to know about the green stuff, Danny is never going to tell a mortal about it and you keep denying yourself basic self-respect. What does your support system look like?"

"You're really pushing my buttons lady-" Jason can feel the green, but after a breath and seeing her unimpressed gaze "-I have a few friends who know what my deal is, I have an older brother who claims to forgive me, and a merry band of goons that I call my henchmen."

"Henchpeople?" Jazz asks.

"I mean, sure. That's more accurate."

"What do you do for fun?" She asks.

"I take down crime syndicates-" she levels him with another glare, he wonders why its so effective on him "-I read."

"Yeah? What genres?"

"Classics." He can admit only that much.

"Nerd. Are you going to eat any of that? You really shouldn't let food waste like that when it's not even fighting back."

"I don't know why I'm even bothering to talk to you right now." Jason spoke plainly.

"I dunno either but it's easier to tolerate you without the stupid helmet speaker. Anyway, If you like to read, hopefully that means you like to see new scenarios, new plots, stuff like that. You ever think to put yourself in side-character mode and contemplate what your whole deal is bringing to the table?"

"...How so?"

"Like, if you don't think it's worth it to treat yourself well, how do the main characters feel? Or, you know, if you were a child reading your story, what would you shout at them to move forward differently?"

"... I've decided that I only read poetry." Jason grumbles, trying to deflect with humor the fact that he does have some thoughts about what she's saying. She actually laughs at his joke though- he hadn't anticipated that.

"Uh, what is the Dr. Suess line? Stop telling outlandish tales, stop turning minnows into whales? something like that."

"Dr. Suess? Really?" Jason laughs.

"Sorry Mr. Classics, I spent most of my childhood raising my brother, forgive me for not knowing any fancy poetry." She huffs but he can tell she's laughing with him still.

They get off the topic of his mental health crisis and it turns out the Lasagna isn't half bad.

----

Jason keeps chasing Danny. Danny keeps leading him to Jazz. It goes for a few rounds before the ghost kid makes a joke about Jason liking her better anyway. Jason asks what the hell Phantom means by that, but Danny just laughs and says that Jason should just ask for her number.

...This does not sit right in his gut all of a sudden. Does he think that, that Jason is only pursuing this knowledge to keep talking to Jazz?? Does Danny want him to pursue Jazz? Does HE want to pursue Jazz???

----

He spots the Replacement in the Cave's lab before he heads upstairs to grab a cookie and leave as a civilian. The reason he even looked that way being that Tim is holding glowing green vials.

"Is that-"

"Yeah. They're literally the same except for the magic mumbo jumbo that Ra's has mixed in with the pit. Leave me alone now."

"So there is a way to heal it or, or extract it or-" Jason can feel his heart racing, but his constantly-exhausted sibling is looking at him like he's grown a second head.

"Dude. You're not gunna be able to flush it out with like, a juice cleanse. You're probably better off trying to find a magic user to deal with the curses and a therapist to do the rest." Tim looks like he's trying to be patient despite being deeply, deeply vexxed.

"Therapist- why in the hell would I-"

"I mean hasn't that been Danny's entire solution for you? He's only had one strategy the whole time he's lived in Gotham." Jason rolls his eyes.

"His solution is setting me up on dates with his sister not-"

"Dates!?! His sister is THE break out psychologist, she's done more for Arkham in the last year than decades of political reform! You've been goin on- wheez- oh my god I have to call Danny-" Tim is cackling, the lazarus water all but abandoned.

"Don't you fucking dare!"

After a (from both brothers) number of punches, a few headlocks and a large portion of threats, Jason agrees that Tim can tell his boyfriend but no one else.

Kon can keep a secret right? That's why he's the favorite?

----

"So... You and Jazz huh?" Danny looks amused as he floats by- Kon could not be trusted. The entire Justice league knows. Jason might have to die again. Apparently he said as much.

"Oh buddy, it's okay! You don't have to die again! I'm sure that if she likes you, she likes you just as you are, weird little zombie boy." Danny teases, turning intangible as Jason swings a punch at him.

"What do you mean if she likes me?" Jason asks, swinging with his grapple, trying to keep up with Danny.

"You think I read her diary or something? Weirdo. You need to talk to her about it tho, it's funny and all but I'm sure she's not a fan of the JL hot goss."

"I didn't start any of this-"

"My guy. Chill. I know, but uh, I did definitely tell her about it so... Oh look! We made it all the way to her apartment! BYE!"

Jazz is standing in the window and she looks like an absolute vision. Her glare makes him want to shit his pants however, and he knows that it's going to take all of his brain cells making contact to survive this encounter.

He sits on the fire escape when he realizes that she's not moving from her spot in the window, blocking his way. Ouch.

"So let me get this straight, you thought this whole time-"

"I thought Danny was being annoying and trying to set us up! I didn't know you were a shrink!" He tries to defend himself.

"...Why should I date an idiot?" the like yourself goes unsaid but he can hear it. Jason is scrambling.

"...I can make even better lasagna than that fancy restaurant you like." is what he lands on. Jazz bursts out a laugh.

"I was just fucking with you, but honestly what a great response." She's wiping tears of laughter from her eyes.

"Just fucking with me?" He grins a bit, unable to stop himself from getting excited.

"Yeah, I've been telling everyone at work that I'm dating the Red Hood for like, months now. It's been stellar for my hostage record, I haven't had an issue since I started the rumor!"

"We're dating?" Jason asks, a bit bewildered but charmed.

"I wouldn't give free therapy to just anyone! Now about that Lasagna-"

Something, something, something- they seal the deal with a kiss.

#dcxdp #dpxdc #dc x dp #dp x dc #dc crossover #dp crossover #anger management ship #hardcover ship #jasonxjazz #jazz x jason #long post #phanfic #jazz fenton

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sixeyescurseuser · 4 months

Text

Imagine teachers Goge. First years Yuji and Nobara have just enrolled and they only know Gojo as “Gojo-sensei.”

Then they meet Geto-sensei who is in charge of the second years but handles a lot of the first years’ classroom lessons.

Geto-sensei keeps referring to a “Satoru” as if Nobara and Yuuji should know who that is?? 🤔

“I know this is a lot of information to memorize, but trust me that diligent studying with methods that work for you will help you tremendously on your exams,” Geto explains. “Not all of us can learn all of this from a young age like Satoru. Lord knows he’s also been gifted photographic memory.”

Megumi sighs dramatically.

Nobara is focused on her phone and Yuji is nodding like he actually understands these "Satoru" references.

It’s partially Gojo’s fault because he just introduced himself as “Gojo-sensei” and partially Geto’s fault because he assumed the new students knew Satoru was their Gojo-sensei…😭

One time, Geto’s phone rings and he quietly answers it: “What is it, Satoru?”

Oh, context clues! Yuji and Nobara at least know their Geto-sensei seems to be close to this Satoru.

Are they…??

Is Geto-sensei in a relationship?

Nobara brings it up to Gojo on one of their missions.

“Gojo-sensei, is Geto-sensei in a relationship?” She asks.

Gojo visibly glitches, choking on a piece of daifuku. Nobara and Yuji give him puppy eyes, pleading for an answer, while Megumi has gone MIA.

Gojo: “What makes you ask that?”

Nobara: “Believe it or not, Geto-sensei is quite a catch! He’s very well-spoken and polite. Super knowledgeable, handsome, and also a special grade! Who wouldn’t jump at a chance for a piece of that?”

Megumi: “Hold on-“

Gojo: “Interesting observations-“

Yuji jumps in: “Yeah yeah! But we also think he’s taken! Erm, well, he always mentions a ‘Satoru.’ Maybe that’s the name of his girlfriend?”

Megumi, under his breath: “A guy’s name?”

Gojo lasts about five seconds before he bursts into uncontrollable laughter.

Gojo: “How scandalous of Geto-sensei! Oh ho, a girlfriend indeed…You know, with news as groundbreaking as this, I believe you should ask him yourself. Get the nitty gritty details and all that.”

Yuji and Nobara: 🫡🫡

The next class period, before Geto can even rattle off the introduction to their lesson, Nobara’s hand shoots up into the air.

“Geto-sensei, I have an extremely dire question that cannot wait!”

Clearly taken aback, Geto holds his spot in their textbook with his finger on the page.

“Yes, Kugisaki?”

“Do you have a girlfriend? And if yes, is it this Satoru person you keep mentioning?” Nobara asks.

“I- excuse my language, but what the hell?” Geto blurts out, snapping the textbook shut. “Are you serious?”

Nobara snaps out a “How dare you think I’m never serious!” while Yuji comes in as back up.

“As serious as Fushiguro takes his academics, Geto-sensei! We recognize that you are a very attractive and capable adult, and hypothesized that the ‘Satoru’ you keep bringing up must be your girlfriend.”

Nobara nods along.

Megumi is trying to melt into the ground.

“We don’t mean to offend you, sensei. Just an honest question,” Yuji finishes. He then stands up and bows 90° for damage control.

Geto: “Okay guys, I hate to disappoint but I’m not answering this right now. Moving on to our lesson, which is what we’re all here for…”

After class, Yuji and Nobara are a bit bummed because they did exactly what Gojo-sensei suggested and they were left with nothing. No confirmation or denial. No answer at all.

Megumi has gone back to his room, leaving the other two first years to their own shenanigans.

Having had enough of classroom thinking for awhile, Yuji and Nobara decide to get some last-minute training in.

Except by the time they get to the training fields, they see two people already sparring like their lives depended on it - causing quite a ruckus.

It’s Gojo-sensei and Geto-sensei!

They’re so busy fighting that they don’t notice Nobara and Yuji, who quickly hide behind a tree.

Geto-sensei is yelling at Gojo-sensei too, something about putting dumb ideas into their students heads? And spreading false rumors ?

Finally, Geto-sensei manages to pin Gojo-sensei down in their hand-to-hand combat.

Geto sits on top of Gojo’s abdomen, restraining Gojo’s wrists to the ground. It’s here he leans down to boldly slip off Gojo’s blindfold, revealing bright blue crystalline eyes.

“You owe me, Satoru. Dinner’s on you tonight.”

Gojo just laughs, loud and happy, and says: “Fine. Whatever my dear Suguru wishes.”

He wiggles one of his hands free to tug Geto down by the nape, and their lips press together in a passionate kiss.

***

TBC

w/ @no-one-says-hi

#jjk #satosugu #geto suguru #gojo satoru #satosugu fluff #satosugu headcanon #jjk headcanon #satosugu fanfic #yuji itadori #nobara kugisaki #megumi fushiguro

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princessbrunette · 3 months

Note

deer!reader wanting to learn how to please pope bc all of her friends are doing it. he’s teaching her how to give head & pope is just like the best hands on teacher everrrrrr

may i be ur 🍰 anon?

⊹ . ⁺ 🩰⋅˚₊𐙚

“i can take like, notes? if you want?” pope offers unsurely, staring down at you.

“no popey, s’gonna ruin the moment.” you push your lips into a pout, staring up from your knelt position on the floor between his legs — two hands wrapped around his leaking cock.

he’d noticed something was on your mind when you came back to his house in the evening after spending the day hanging with your girl friends. they’d gotten to the nitty gritty of discussing boyfriends and relationships — and you recall sitting up straighter in your seat, finally feeling like you were able to contribute something now that you were in a relationship with pope that was growing and transforming every day.

however, as the conversation progressed — you began to realise you still had lots to learn, listening to the girls discuss in detail the sexual acts they’d performed on their boyfriends, things you hadn’t got to do with pope yet. you wondered if he wasn’t satisfied with you, the insecure thought bouncing round your head and leaving you quiet for the rest of the day.

after communicating this to your boyfriend, he’d done his best to reassure you verbally that he was more than happy, and he was totally okay with moving at your pace. you did feel reassured, and you were glad the two of you were such open communicators — but he knew there was only one thing that was going to make you feel fully better, and that was to teach you.

which is how you ended up kneeling, staring up at him in the cream and white frilly bra, the one that reminds him of a baby deer. you’re a natural, twisting your hands as you slowly and unsurely jerk him off — pleased with yourself when he spreads his legs a little wider, adjusting his hips on the seat and wincing.

“god, okay— yeah, just like that.” he blinks rapidly, body heating up at the way you stare up at him so needily, desperately seeking praise.

“can— should i kiss it? my friends said they like to—”

“yes.” he blurts out, louder than his previous gentle tone making your eyes widen slightly. “sorry, yes, please.” he rephrases, thighs tensing as he watches you lower your face, pressing pouty kisses all on his tip and gingerly flicking your tongue through his precum. “oh my god.” he moans.

you keep doing what you’re doing, and he resists the urge to be a head-pusher, knowing that was a brutish act that only someone to the likes of his best friend jj would commit. he strokes your cheek instead, taking some deep breaths before further instructing you. “so…so if you want, you can take the tip in your mouth— jesus, good girl — and start to suck on it? you can move your… move your head back and fourth as you… wow, you’re really good at this.” he finds it hard to concentrate as you quickly and eagerly take his advice as he speaks, watching you through hooded eyes and a slack jaw. “fuck.”

he knows he shouldn’t but he discusses it with his friends the next day, foolishly thinking they’d have any words of wisdom to bestow upon him. instead, he got a clap on the back from john b and an excited laugh from jj.

“dude, this is great. she wants to learn, and you get so much out of it. think of it like — she’s the jedi, and you’re the master.”

“that would be a gross abuse of power, logistically.” pope retorts, shaking his head at the boyish response.

“dude, whatever. don’t be a dork. i’m saying you’re hella lucky.”

he smiles, because this was definitely true. with you, he always felt lucky.

⊹ . ⁺ 🩰⋅˚₊𐙚

#🍰 anon #pope heyward prompt

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m1ckeyb3rry · 6 days

Note

CHAPTER FOUR WAS SO GOOD UGHH literally the only fanfic I have ever loved so much and wait for updates like this. Am so excited for the next one!!!

On the topic of finally opening requests, I was wondering if I could ask for head-canons of what a relationship with Seishiro and a female reader would be like. If we want to be specific, maybe related to the fanfic? Like, how you would imagine their relationship would have been like back when they were still in high school, young and with Nagi’s past soccer career and all. Don’t feel pressured to write this, and good luck with everything!😽😽

── DATING NAGI!

Synopsis: Headcanons about having Seishiro Nagi as your boyfriend.

Event Masterlist

Pairing: Nagi x Reader

Word Count: 0.9k

Content Warnings: none really, just generally fluffy and silly

A/N: AHHH THANK YOU SO MUCH ANON i hope you like where i go w the story in the future!! and hehe now that we’re in the past arc of peregrine you will actually get to see all of the nitty gritty details of their relationship in the fic itself so i won’t spoil it 🤫 but i love nagi ofc so i’ve added some general headcanons on what i think he would be like as a bf

Additional: part of my 500 follower event! see the event description and rules to make a request of your own.

no matter how the two of you get together, reo is somehow involved LMAOAOAO like bro is ALWAYS at the scene of the crime in some way shape or form just because i don’t think nagi would really pick up on the fact that he has a crush on you without outside intervention

it would also definitely be a jump scare when he confesses!! you would have zero idea it’s coming because he literally hasn’t changed how he acts towards you whatsoever

canonically he doesn’t really interact with a lot of people or have a lot of friends and he’s not aggressive with romance so i just don’t think he’d really know what the appropriate method of telling someone you like them is

would probably say some shit like “reo says i have a crush on you” and would be so nonchalant about it meanwhile you’re like “???” because you did not even realize he knew your name and also why is reo being brought up

i honestly think he would not be a bad boyfriend. yes he is lazy and unmotivated but he does what he needs to do and if something is important to him he generally puts in effort for it

that’s another reason why it would take him foreverrr to ask you out — he would have to like you enough that he realizes he does in fact want to have a relationship with you even if it is a hassle

he doesn’t have social media though so don’t expect there to be an official announcement that you guys are together or anything like that HAHA

he would probably forget to tell anyone that the two of you are dating and it’s not because he’s ashamed of you or is trying to hide you or anything he literally just does not care what other people think and would prefer not to talk them if possible so it never comes up

you’ll show up to an event with him and everyone’s like “omg nagi who is this” and he’s like “this is my girlfriend” and someone (probably otoya tbh) is like “since when have you had a girlfriend” and he’s like “it’s been two years 😐”

i think he would be fire at insulting people just because of how many video games he plays…that man has seen some of the worst sides of humanity

the world is lucky he’s a pacifist and avoids conflict because he has some vile stuff stored away (i will never be over him asking barou if he practiced kneeling because he’s about to make him his servant)

this particular quality makes him the BEST person to talk shit with

he’s not a gossipy boyfriend in the sense that he doesn’t have anything juicy of his own to contribute to the conversation but i’m pretty sure he mentioned he watches dramas at one point so you know he’s locked tf in if you need to complain abt someone

he will sit there and be so invested in the tea…def would not give any useful advice but he will make fun of anyone bothering you so you still end up feeling better

i don’t think he would get jealous honestly

the thought of you cheating on him doesn’t cross his mind at all because why would he date someone he didn’t trust fully???

i would say he expects the same from you because he would but at the same time he voluntarily talks to one (1) other person besides you and that’s reo so the opportunity for you to be jealous just wouldn’t even crop up

definitely super clingy and cuddly

loves being babied too

according to epnagi he has this whole automatic system in his apartment to clean and do laundry and i think he’d be fine if you appropriate that so no more cleaning!! but you will have to cook because that man literally only eats fruit jellies

genuinely how is he so built and not dying of malnutrition SKJFDSHKJ

he probably is terrible at coming up with date ideas so it’s up to you to plan things

again it’s not malicious i think for him just spending time with you is his ideal date!! like he doesn’t see the point in getting dressed up and going somewhere fancy when you could just eat at home and be comfortable together

but if it’s an important day or you tell him that you want him to suggest something for once, he WILL go all out (which means calling reo for advice and doing what he tells him to)

overall communication is key with him. he’s not particularly sensitive or in tune with other people’s emotions so being passive aggressive or expecting him to read your mind will honestly just end up making your mood worse because he will not pick up on the fact that something is wrong

but if you tell him what you want him to change he will happily do it!! he just needs to be told very clearly if you’re upset or need him to do something different

honestly it would be very refreshing. there are zero games with nagi and he doesn’t really try to hide anything — what you see is what you get 100% of the time

overall 10/10 would date idc haters dni he’s a sweetheart and he’s doing his best

#nagi x reader #nagi x y/n #nagi x you #nagi seishiro #bllk x reader #bllk #blue lock #reader insert #headcanons #m1ckeyb3rry milestone #m1ckeyb3rry writes

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once-upon-an-animation · 4 months

Text

Things I would like to see fixed in PJO S2:

- More worldbuilding, but do it in a way that isn’t heavily reliant on dialogue. Show us more of the camp, maybe let us meet some of the other characters.

- More humor. PJO is supposed to be a fun adventure story where the dark and serious elements are balanced out by the humorous moments. S1 felt so somber and cynical, and I feel like that isn’t the right tone for Percy Jackson.

- More whimsy/campiness! Mr. Riordan, your books got really weird and silly sometimes! Let your show be weird and silly sometimes too! Not everything needs to be dark and gritty. It doesn’t have to be super childish, but there needs to be more magic and charm in this world.

- Let the trio be vulnerable to traps. Yes, I know it makes sense for them to know the myths or whatever, but if you want the monsters and traps to feel like they’re a serious threat, you can’t have them be this easy to explain and maneuver. Conceal them better; make them tougher to figure out. In addition, show off more of Percy’s street smarts. We love this character because of his ability to think fast and improvise a bad situation even if he doesn’t know all the details of the relevant myth. Emphasize that more; it’s not everyday that he needs to be a walking encyclopedia.

- Luke and Annabeth’s relationship needs more oomph. Their relationship felt kind of hollow in the first season, and y’all need to tighten that up in future seasons because their relationship is only going to get more integral to the plot. It’s okay if you want to leave out the crush, but man, you should have given them something.

- For a story that was inspired by a boy’s struggles w/ ADHD and dyslexia, the impact of these conditions felt kind of absent during the actual quest itself. I’m not saying that they need to go overboard with this or anything, but if you’re going to do neurodivergent representation, I feel like it should have a stronger presence during the actual quests, yes?

- The action scenes are kind of weak. Sea of Monsters has a lot of action going on, so y’all will have to really think out those action sequences so you can capture the excitement within them. I’ll be disappointed if the action in S2 feels as flat as it mostly felt this season.

- Annabeth is not a stoic character. She’s actually quite expressive; she’s just selective about what she discusses, and sometimes she chooses to convey emotion through action, behavior, or cryptic words instead of explicit words. But she was never stoic, so please allow her to actually show more of this emotion. It’s okay to let her be vulnerable; that’s what endears most people to this character in the first place, and that’s why that chair scene stuck with people. Therefore, this need to make her this mostly unshakeable girl boss should go away. The girl is a sentimental character; let that stay.

- Please fix the dialogue. Less exposition, more characterization.

#rick riordan #annabeth chase #percy jackson #pjo #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo hoo toa #pjo series #pjo tv show #grover underwood #pjo tv crit #anti pjo #rr crit

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sissy-tyler · 11 months

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Today was the day; Sissy Graduation! Today was the day when dozens of wayward men officially completed their sissy-training and graduated as full-blown sissy, baby girls. Sissy Jacquelyn, formerly Jack, was one of this class’ hardest men to break, but once broke she became not only a model student and graduated top of her class, she also became one of the proudest sissies you’d ever meet.

As all the sissies scurried around the meeting area excited to finally get reintroduced to their former wives, now mommies, Jacquelyn spotted her mommy and hurriedly waddled over to her. Her mommy, Stella, gasped, taken aback by just what they had turned her former husband into, and she was overjoyed by it.

Stella embraced the little sissy in a loving hug as Jacquelyn made the cutest whimpering sounds she’d ever heard. Never did she think her husband would be excited to see her, let alone so excited that he’d start making whimpering sounds. She took a step back to analyze her sissy; pigtails, dress, tights, and all. She loved how cute, innocent, and pathetic Jack looked, and she intended on keeping him this way.

Stella heard footsteps behind her and before she could look back there was a quick, loud snap that immediately made Sissy Jacquelyn stand at attention. Stella, with her mouth agape, identified that it was one of the sissy school’s mistresses. Stella was dumbfounded; Jack was always hotheaded and didn’t take orders well, yet with the snap of her fingers this mistress had gotten him to stand at attention.

Stella took a breathe in order to ask the mistress how she was able to keep such control over Jack, but before she could get the words out the mistress spoke, “Sissy Jaquelyn,” her voice was stern, “You know what to tell your mommy.”

Jacquelyn swayed her hips back and forth as her dress danced, she looked embarrassed and sad, but finally said, “Mommy, I sowwy fow da way I tweated you when I was a man. It was such a good idea fow you to send me to da sissy schoow whewre I been wearning how to be a weawwy good girl. I pwomise I do better as your sissy!”

Stella was dumbfounded and didn’t know how to reply, so all that squeaked out was, “It…it’s okay baby girl,” followed by an awkward pause.

The mistress took this moment of silence to answer many of Stella’s questions about Jacquelyn, “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Stella, sissy Jacquelyn has talked about you so much. Now, I’m sure you’re quite shocked to see Jack in this state, but I guarantee it will make more sense over time. I can’t get into the nitty-gritty details of how we made her like this, but let’s just say it was a lot of hypnosis and some drug therapy. All you need to know right now is that Jack has been turned into the beautiful, baby girl you paid us to make him into.”

“D-does he like being this way?” Stella asked.

Without missing a beat the mistress pulled out her phone and it looked like she was getting ready to take a picture. Before Stella could ask what she was doing the mistress looked at Jacquelyn and said, “Sissy, pull up your dress for mommy and the camera. We all want to see what a pretty, diapered princess you are!”

Without hesitation Jacquelyn shouted, “I wuv being a diapewed pwincess!”

The subdued sissy clumsily grabbed the hem of her dress and pulled it up, putting her diaper on display for everyone. Stella, still in disbelief, reached out to feel the diaper. “Say cheese!” The mistress said.

“TEEESE!” Shouted Jacquelyn in reply.

Find more, exclusive captions at my Patreon!

#diaper captions #humiliated sissy #humiliation sissy #sissybaby #ab/dl mommy #diaper bulge #mommysprincess #submisive sissy #diaper sissy #diapercuck #mommys little girl #mommy k!nk #hypnosis

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strawberry-jan · 1 month

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Back in late 2022, I started working on a long story about Ishin: a tale of two dummies whose weird one-night stand blossoms into a surprisingly caring relationship even as a (mostly) canon-compliant series of tragedies plays out around them. It’s a now-complete series in approximately 125,000 words and three parts, and you can read the whole thing right now on AO3: The Glorious and Bloody Deeds of Okita Soji, Volume 1: Okita Soji Versus the Scoundrel Saito Hajime; The Secret History of Saito Hajime, Volume 2: The Shiraume Incident; and, finally, Brief Notes on the Domestic Life of one Saito Hajime.

Taken as a whole, it's a story about identity and history and the stories that people tell each other and themselves about those things. And it's a story about one guy getting way too into weird Edo-era egg dishes, and another guy finding himself embroiled in an extended detective sequence, and a third guy composing a series of corny haiku that (almost) nobody wants to read. And, of course, it's also a story about people who are shamelessly and sometimes explicitly in love (so you probably shouldn't read it at work).

This whole big, sprawling thing has been a labour of love on my part: it turns out that I adore writing historical fiction and finding excuses to read books and journal articles in order to write it better. In addition to making not one but four little illustrations to celebrate the fic's completion (and please look at them up-close; I hand-inked all those kimono patterns), I've drawn up a list of some of the sources that I consulted for my writing, and you can find those under the cut.

This is not an absolutely exhaustive list of sources; I don’t think it’s super useful to catalogue the extremely nitty-gritty stuff, like that time that I felt compelled to find out what the state of strawberry cultivation was in 1860s Japan, or when I needed to picture exactly what it looked like when Haruka was repairing Ryoma’s kimono. That being said, I’ve added a couple of things that are really particular to my stories but that I thought were cool enough to share.

Foster, Michael Dylan. The Book of Yokai: Mysterious Creatures of Japanese Folklore. U of California P, 2015. (This one was a really fun read – it combines a short history of yokai in folklore with a little catalogue of yokai.)

Jansen, Marius B. Sakamoto Ryoma and the Meiji Restoration. Stanford UP, 1971. (Super useful as an introduction to the Bakumatsu era and for biographical details about Ryoma and the figures around him.)

“Japanese Wiki Corpus.” https://www.japanesewiki.com/. (This is a machine-translated collection of articles on the Japanese side of Wikipedia related to Kyoto. As with a lot of things on Wikipedia, the citations on these articles tend to be poor or nonexistent, but it’s a useful starting point for information on figures and events that don’t have an English wiki equivalent. Definitely more useful if you can then head over to the original wiki articles and parse them out yourself.)

“Kabuki21” and “The Noh.” https://www.kabuki21.com/section.php, https://www.the-noh.com/en/plays/index.html. (I’m lumping these two together because I tended to consult them in tandem. Without getting too much into my personal details I am – among other things – a non-practicing theatre scholar, so whenever I wanted to have characters in my old-timey fics refer to something cultural, my first stop was old plays. These sites have, respectively, summaries of kabuki plays and full texts of Noh plays available for you to browse. If you’ve read my other fics you will probably have seen that I referred to the kabuki play “Fuwa” in 亀が如く.)

Katsu, Kokichi. Musui’s Story: The Autobiography of a Tokugawa Samurai. Translated by Teruko Craig. U of Arizona P, 1988. (A book that needs to be taken with a grain of salt because it’s an autobiography written by a guy who sounds like a real blowhard, but it’s still a really fascinating look into the daily life of a low-ranking samurai.)

Leupp, Gary P. and Tao, De-min. The Tokugawa World. Routledge, 2022. (Of particular interest is Kimura Sachihiko’s essay, “The Shinsengumi: Shadows and light in the last days of the Tokugawa shogunate” [1104-1124], which gave me a bunch of incidental details about the Roshigumi that I incorporated into the sections of this series that were told from Inoue and Hijikata’s perspectives.)

“Old Photos of Japan.” https://www.oldphotosjapan.com/. (Pretty self-explanatory. Very useful as a resource for picturing scenes!)

“Shinsengumi Archives.” https://shinsengumi-archives.tumblr.com/. (A long-running tumblr dedicated to cataloguing resources about the Shinsengumi. There’s an absolute wealth of information collected here, and best of all, the creator cites their sources and even provides links to the original texts. Although it’s focused on the Shinsengumi, it’s impossible to overstate how useful this site is for prospective Bakumatsu-era fic writers in general. The collection of Hijikata’s poems with links to others’ translations and commentary is here: https://shinsengumi-archives.tumblr.com/post/683071924948058112/hijikata-toshizos-haiku-poems. The creator of the blog also links to a translation of Nagakura’s and Shimada’s diaries, and while the document is machine-translated, it’s still a great source of historical details: https://shinsengumi-archives.tumblr.com/post/678083336614428672/where-can-you-read-the-memoirs.)

Smits, Gregory. “Warding off Calamity in Japan: A Comparison of the 1855 Catfish Prints and the 1862 Measles Prints.” EASTM 30 (2009): 9-31. (Okay, this one is highly specific to my fic – it comes up in Part 2 when Okita tells his story about Kashima and again a couple of chapters later when his pile of remedies includes a crudely-drawn picture meant to ward off indigestion – but I love little details like this so I did want to make a point of sharing it here.)

“Tamago Hyakuchin” and “Tofu Hyakuchin.” http://codh.rois.ac.jp/edo-cooking/tamago-hyakuchin/recipe/, https://toyama-tofu.jp/tofuhyakutin.html. (These are collections of Edo-era egg- and tofu-based recipes. They’re two of the sources cited in Cookpad’s collection of modernized Edo-era recipes: https://cookpad.com/recipe/list/14604664.)

Vaporis, Constantine N. “Linking the Realm: The Gokaido Highway Network in Early Modern Japan (1603-1868).” Highways, Byways and Road Systems in the Pre-Modern World. Ed. Susan E. Alcock, John Bodel, and Richard J. A. Talbert. Wiley-Blackwell, 2012. 90-105. (Some of the works cited in this article also sound interesting, but I didn’t have a chance to dig any deeper as I just wanted to know a bit about the Tokugawa-era roads. Also interesting in this vein is Jilly Traganou’s book The Tokaido Road: Travelling and Representation in Edo and Meiji Japan [2004].)

Wert, Michael. Meiji Restoration Losers. Harvard UP, 2013. (Not directly useful as a source for writing about Ishin – it’s about later events and it mostly tracks the posthumous construction of one specific Tokugawa magistrate’s history – but it was an engaging read and I found it interesting as an exploration of how people continue to look back on the Bakumatsu era and the Meiji Restoration, which is something that the game is, of course, also doing.)

Yamakawa, Kikue. Women of the Mito Domain: Recollections of Samurai Family Life. Translated by Kate Wildman Nakai. U of Tokyo P, 1992. (Another one of those bits of essential reading on everyday life for low-ranking samurai, this time with a focus on women’s lives and households more generally. I didn’t use a lot of from this book in my fic, but it has everything from translations of songs to records of families’ financial transactions, and it’s fascinating to read about all the turmoil in Mito playing out in the background of these families’ lives.)

“Yokai.com.” https://yokai.com/. (The creators of this site make a point of not going into detail about their sources, and they’re very careful to state that they don’t intend for the project to be “the final authority” on yokai, but I enjoyed browsing the site to get some ideas for Okita’s stories – and once you know the name of a particular yokai that you’re interested in, it’s easy enough to go look up other sources on them.)

#like a dragon ishin #crime boys #my art #I know I said I was going to turn my attention to the mainline games after wrapping this series up but #what if I just never got off the ishin train #I mean there's pretty much nobody writing ishin fic at this point and I can't figure out why #it almost feels like I have a duty #anyway I hope if you read this fic you also find yourself thinking about my extremely cringe ishin rarepair

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borzoilover69 · 1 year

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ULTIMATE JAKE: an idea and an execution

iA I Aka the post where borzoi talks to the crowd how awesome Lord Jake English is, the guy that everyones seen around, but have no idea who he is. Pull up a chair, this will get long.

If Ultimate Dirk can be summarised by the mask of tragedy in theatre, LE Jake, AKA Ultimate Jake, could be summarised by the mask of comedy. I’ve barely read HS2, but from what I can see, Dirk wants to make a serious nitty gritty tragedy of serious and epic proportions. But he tries so hard that he ends up making it almost laughable.

Jake wants to make a thighslapper huckshaw comedy where everyones having a grand old time but there is such deep and hollow tragedy hidden within the folds of all those pretty smiles.

If anything they abide a lot by aristotles theory on comedy and tragedy. While tragedy imitates men better than average, comedy parodies those who are worse.

Aristotle stated that those of a more serious type that may have once been inclined to celebrate the actions of great heroes in poetry and prose turn to tragedy, while those who’ve been dishonourable, humbled, turn to comedy. It comes down to duality, tragedy viewing duality as a fatal contradiction forever a fault in things, while comedy views it as natural, but something that everyone must live with the best they can, enjoy. Do you see where I’m going here? Dirk, who praised Aristotle and read the epics turned to tragedy. Jake, dishonourable and hiding from those who he care about, turning to comedy. They line up well with the cognitive psychology of the tragedy and comedy visions, which you should totally look into when you can.

Tragedy is idealistic, stubborn and serious. They long for something higher and greater than common existence. They value heroism, hierarchy, and finality.

Comedy is pragmatic, adaptable, and playful. They consider the self, comfortable in their own skin. They’re anti-heroes, valuing situation-based ethics and reversal.

With that out of the way, lets keep to philosophy like it’s a boat in the atlantic. If Dirks look in life upon going ult is one of pessimistic realism, Jake is an absurdist.

If life is a cruel joke to jake, and it has been, then in his ultimate form hes acknowledged it, and given the cruel void, hes decided to seek out his own meaning. And it just so happens to be his best friend.

Misc details

- Capitalist

- He wears old 3D movie glasses because he’s that idiot.

- He collects a lot of things. He has plenty of things hes shot killed and stuffed in his collection.

You could say he’s rather past oriented, taking care to document it all out of interest and perhaps a subconcious pursuit to figure out the future.

- Very apathetic. He may be charming, but he’s still a jackass. He thinks existence itself is funny, he’s an absurdist; but he’s also a guy who realises he’s been kicked to the curb too many times and started shooting people. - His crew consists of John/June, (in place of rose. They have a lot of movie nights!), Karkat, and one (1) dead dave.

And finally some thoughts about ult Dirkjake: Maybe Dirk wants Jake to just kill him. It’s a game of cat and mouse, and perhaps it’s love for someone who deems himself unworthy, no, incapable of doing so. What better love than to kill someone? To trust and know they will kill you. Feeling safe in the knowledge they’ve known you in every universe and are here to kill you. Not that Jake would let him. I like them.. I think it’s my fave brand of dirkjake besides the original.. they’re dysfunctional, intolerable, and they hate each other, but it’s just interesting. For better or for worse, they’re stuck, and they’re not afraid of the fact they suck. If anything, it’d spur them to be worse.

“Oh yeah. I find the other guy fucking annoying and I’d gladly take a moment to rip his guts out and walk him around a tree until they’re all out and he's calling me every bad name he can think of, but if anyone tries doing this shit with him without my consent, I’m going to be hells of more pissed off.”

Look. It’s funny in the way that realistically, they could probably do a lot of damage to everyone else but due to the fact they know the other guy exists, they’re too busy trying to kick the others ankles out and then beating each other up to become dangerous.

Oh you bet your nanny it’s the gayest most fucked up kismesis known to man. Ultimate Dirk hates LE Jake, because he doesn’t give a damn. Because Jake makes him feel things he denies feeling. And that ridiculously, somewhere in paradox space, Jake went ultimate and decided he was going to man up and pursue Dirk to the ends of the universe. Ultimately: “My soul is bound to you in explicable ways. Our bonds cross the multiverse and wherever you are, somewhere I am by your side. Even in a hundred universes, maybe even a million. I will still find you.”

Perhaps the greatest thing and a closing note is that given they are the ascended versions of themselves, they’re aware of the fact that they’re aware of every time the other guy screwed them over, kicked them in the balls, etc. But they’re also able to see everything else. So what’s with a little hatelove eh?

#homestuck meta #dirkjake #ultimate dirk #ultimate jake #homestuck #ultimate rose: ive seen the light and you two either need to get laid or die #jake english #dirk strider #a lot of philosophy/#borzoi talks #borzoi meta

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reminiscingtonight · 1 year

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Dreams

Ona Batlle x Reader

Word Count: 942

A/N: Had to get this out of my head.

[WOSO Masterlist]

It’s cliché, saying you fell in love with your best friend.

But you did. And it honestly wasn’t as horrible as some people like to make it out to be.

Actually, maybe it was more so that the person you fell in love with somehow became your best friend in the time you’ve been intimate.

Neither of you really remember what came first, the friendship or relationship, but neither you nor Ona really cared about the nitty gritty details. All that mattered was you, her, and the love you had for each other.

In the two years you’ve been together, Ona’s managed to infiltrate every part of your life. For two years the two of you shared everything. The same friends, the same home, the same love. The same hopes, the same dream.

It all started and ended the same. You and Ona, taking on the world together, facing every challenge in your way. It didn’t matter how big the hill you had to climb, as long as you had each other, it would be worth it.

You and Ona. Ona and you. No matter which way it was spun, it always turned out the same.

That’s why you’re not expecting it when she utters the words.

“I’m going back to Barcelona.”

All it takes is five words for your whole word to come crashing down.

Obviously you knew Manchester wasn’t forever. Not for Ona. Late nights spent talking about your future, about your hopes and dreams always led to the same place for the Spaniard. Barcelona was where everything started for her. It was where her heart laid, no matter the time spent away or distance apart she was from the club.

It’s quiet in your shared apartment, the only sound being the breaking of voices as you try your best to remain optimistic.

“I guess I could try to find a club in Spain. Nowhere’s too far for a Lioness.”

You can tell your joke falls flat by the way Ona’s eyes drop to the floor.

The longer the silence drags on, the more the truth sets in. Ona doesn’t have to say it, but you know exactly what she’s thinking.

“You don’t want me to move to Spain.”

Somehow your own words hurt more than what Ona had started with. You feel numb. Sick to your stomach.

You shut your eyes, ignoring the painful stab in your heart. “Just say it, Ona.”

The masochist in yourself needed Ona to say it, otherwise it wouldn’t count. If she didn’t say it, maybe she wasn’t going to do what you know she’s going to do.

“(Y/N).” Ona’s gritting her teeth, hands balled up in fists. It’s easy to see your pain reflecting in her eyes. It’s cruel, you know, but you needed Ona to say exactly what she wanted.

“Say it, Ona.” It’s the way your voice cracks that causes the first tear to fall down Ona’s cheek.

She angrily wipes at her eyes. “(Y/N)--”

“Say it!”

Your voice echoes in the hallway.

If you tried hard enough, you could see the ghosts of Ona chasing you around the house. You could hear the way she would laugh as she caught you trying to sneak a midnight snack.

You could feel the way her heart once beat for yours.

“I’m breaking up with you.”

---

“Why Manchester?”

Ona’s sprawled out on her back, head tipped towards the sky as you study her side profile. It’s the night after your first game as a Red Devil. You’re still wide eyed and star struck by the talent before you, but the shy grin she gave you before she agreed to a night of stargazing still made your heart beat out of your chest.

She turns her head, catching the lovestruck look in your eyes. Ona chooses not to say anything as you instantly flush pink, embarrassed at being caught. She shrugs, a lighthearted smile on her face. “Why not Manchester?”

“I just… I’ve heard the way you spoke of Barcelona as the place to be. As the dream.”

Her eyebrows raise in surprise, not expecting you to have watched her past interviews. “Barca is the dream,” she nods. “But dreams don’t always work out the way you want to. What’s passed is past, and Barcelona, it was great while it lasted, but it is the past.”

Humming, you settle back down onto your back, more than content with Ona’s answer. From the corner of your eye you can see Ona still staring at you, a soft smile on her face.

“You didn’t ask me what Manchester is.”

You tilt your head in question at the brunette, not saying anything but waiting for her to continue.

She doesn’t.

Ona stares at you for a while until she realizes you’re not going to say anything. She nudges you. “Well, go on.”

You roll your eyes as she gestures for you to do as she says. But even you couldn’t stop the automatic smile from forming on your face. “Fine. What’s Manchester if Barcelona’s the dream?”

“Well that’s easy.”

You raise an eyebrow at her teasing grin.

“Well Manchester’s the present.”

---

You should have listened to Ona all those years ago.

Manchester was only one place in time, neither the dream nor the future.

Barcelona was both.

You shouldn’t have expected her to give it up just for you. (You never asked her to)

Sometimes the past is worth letting go to get to the future. (When did Manchester become the past?)

Barcelona was the dream.

Ona was your dream.

Barcelona was the future.

Ona was your future.

You just weren’t hers.

#ona batlle x reader #ona batlle imagine #woso x reader #woso imagine #muwfc x reader #muwfc imagine #espwnt x reader #espwnt imagine #Ace writes

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nexility-sims · 1 month

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𝐍𝐎. 𝟕 ❛ 𝐡𝐨𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐚𝐬𝐭 ❜ | AUGUST 1991

❧ 𝐝𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 / 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 / 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 / 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭.

Trish Fitzpatrick wore many hats, but her favorite was ��freelance journalist.” Her area of expertise grew directly out of myriad side gigs: what she called portrait pieces of interesting people. Outlets clamored for them—or, they had since she’d buttered up famous, neurotic opera singer-turned-starlet Prudence Boone into revealing she had a glass eye, a secret runaway daughter, and a hair-eating habit. Of course, Prudence was basically a stranger. They had once had a fifteen minute conversation on the deck of a yacht, bonding over the fact that neither actually knew to whom the vessel belonged. Prudence thought Trish’s outlandish suggestions were funny enough to remember her when she called to pitch the piece. It had gone the same way with Renzo. Of course, they had met while fighting over a scarf in a vintage clothing store. Trish considered letting him win to be a debt, one for which she would demand recompense at the ideal time. Opportunities passed, and then August 1991 proved to be the time.

❧ i got the irresistible urge to do renzo backstory, which was meant to be an outtake, but then i was like, "uh, no, this totally works as story proper if i put leonor in it," so here we are ! context and such. given the amount of work, this might be my magnum opus until further notice ... it was also just fun to do :^) checked off the sex, drugs, and rock-n-roll boxes ?? where's my prize. in conclusion, i love my white boy of the week or whatever

𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐭 ↓

I grew up in a tiny town—Petunia. Petunia? You say it differently. It’s the country coming out, I guess. Not “pee-tyoon-ee-ah,” it’s “puh-toon-yuh.” Petunia. That’s it. So, how was it? Fond memories? In retrospect, maybe. I wanted to get the hell out of there from day one. What I remember is being very unhappy—dispositionally sullen, not just a pouty kid, but fully down and out. Born that way, probably. And your parents? My parents … Life had the upper hand, man. They were good at losing. I didn’t want that life.

My dad professed to be a traveling salesman—What, he wasn’t? I mean, he didn’t know jack shit about vacuums or whatever the fuck. I don’t know. But, he wasn’t around a lot, it sounds like? Gone for weeks at a time. Just me and my mom. How was she? Not really there either. When I got home from school, she’d pop her pills and be gone until morning. She wasn’t avoiding me; she was avoiding life. She did what she had to do in the mornings—you know, I had what I needed, the bare essentials—but she was checked out. You had a lot of unsupervised time, then. Oh, did I. Too much. I mean, I had books to read, and I got into music early—From her? No. My dad’d blow into town and bring pity gifts. Not kid-appropriate shit, now that I think about it. Heavy, gritty stories. A guitar I was too little to use. Flip lighter. But, you know, I was a kid. I wanted to run and play with everyone else, too. Of course.

Here’s the thing: it was hard to be a scrawny kid named Lorencio in Petunia. Shit, I can imagine. What was that like? … Hard, like I said. Well—Details? I got the shit kicked out of me. Regularly. What do they call it—um—“school of hard knocks”? Yeah. I remember, one time, I limped home on a Saturday. Mom was out of it, but she leapt up when she saw all the blood. Cleaned me up. It’s like I’m there now—in that bathroom with the dirty tile, her burning me with peroxide … She didn’t really talk, you know, not in a serious way? But she did then? She said, in Uspanian, “‘Don’t roll over for anyone.’” Interesting. So, that’s the lesson? Part of it. I realized that summer it didn’t matter if you were scrawny, if you talked funny, if you were poor. What mattered was not being a pussy. [Laughs] Oh, yeah? If you want credibility, if you want respect, sometimes you gotta be able to take a beating. Don’t roll over. That’s right.

I think it also helped when the growth spurt hit. You must’ve still been scrawny. [Laughs] String bean. So it goes. Adolescence . Now, you grew up fast, is what I’ve heard. You could say that. My life changed when Marty got out of lock-up—Sorry, what?—for “teen offenders”; he set his grandparents’ car on fire—oh, I see, regular kid shit—Uh huh. We hit it off. He introduced me to other guys, including Jesse. They’d huff gas together. Oh my God. Not whippits? Sure, but less convenient. That’s—No good, yeah. Fun though. Have you—? I’ve tried everything, Patricia.

Jesus! So, Marty and Jesse…? We got on like a house fire. [Groans] They were into petty crime for the thrill of it—Now, Renzo, is arson petty? He did it one fucking time. Everyone overreacted. They got into trouble for fun, and for you it was—? Money. Not a lot. I was too dumb to consider the risks. But, you did other things for money, too? Don’t say it like that. I wasn’t hooking. [Snorts] I worked a lot. I was cutting school to work, getting paid under the table, all of that. Maybe—hear me out—some of it was thrilling for you, too? I won’t tell anyone. [Chuckles] What can I say? Credibility.

I feel like I’m mischaracterizing … I love Marty and Jesse, to this day. Jesse’s daughter is your godchild, right? Yeah. Marty went back to Petunia in … ‘88? Jesse and I had better luck, or maybe we were just more desperate. Either way, my point is that delinquents get a bad rap—With good reason! Sure, okay. Both of them were deeper and more complicated than that. You’re not an outlier. No. We’re a dime a dozen. No one gives them the chances you got. Uh huh. So, we bonded over that—feeling down and out, like I said, but also the fact that we loved music. Marty’s family had money, so they’d bought him a nice bass guitar. But, Jesse’s mind … He’s so fucking creative. He wasn’t a reader, but I could tell him about something I’d been chewing on, and he’d have a song inspired by it within the hour. He has an incredible voice, too. He does.

I guess it’s not surprising that you guys did what you did. There was nothing for us at home, you know? Packing up and heading out west didn’t feel like a risk. And your mom understood that? Better than anyone. I know people judged her—shit, I judge her, too—but I always knew she was trying. That’s sweet. Is it? I mean, I think so … She met my dad at a bus stop three weeks after she arrived in the country and made the mistake of getting off at his stop. That’s it. That was her crime. Well, I’m sure she’s doing better now, huh? She lives in a nicer house in a nicer city, but that doesn’t cure depression, now does it? I suppose not. There was this woman whose lawn I’d cut all the time … A real bitch, but she was extra nice because she felt bad for me. Hated my mother. I think she was just jealous because my dad was her high school sweetheart. Isn’t that just how it goes? Damn foreigner stealing a real catch from her. [Scoffs] Sticky fingers when she invited me inside for lemonade—cigs and quarters from her purse, Valium from the cabinet, that kind of thing. [Laughs] Casual. It was pretty brazen, honestly. Fucking dumb kid.

Alright, so, you come out here with Marty and Jesse to make music, and now you’re a serious actor with a name and a big career ahead of you. How’d that happen? It was completely accidental. While we waited for a record deal, I did odd jobs, like auto work—you know, in a body shop. It was decent. Had you worked on cars before that? So, I got familiar, uh … [Chuckles] We’ve established I was a rascal. We could get under the hood of a parked car and make a few dollars off parts. I can get you in so much trouble, Renzo! [Laughs]

Don’t tell anyone, come on! I was a kid. Have a heart. I guess it paid off. But, alright, body work? What’s the connection? It’s kind of convoluted. When business was slow, the guy I worked for loaned his employees out to another mechanic. This guy, long story short, brought me along to assist him on a movie set. I guess he was a known quantity? Everyone knows the right guy! That’s everyone’s explanation for where they end up. Me, too. Uh huh. I don’t know why they let me do it, but—Somehow it worked out. Yeah, it did. Right place, right time.

You’re in the spot. How did you get into it, though? This is embarrassing as hell but, fuck it, I’ll be honest. Please. Don’t stop now. [Chuckles] I got a shot because I’d been chatting up this girl who, as it turns out, was the director’s kid—or, in fact, she approached me. I had no idea who she was or why she was there. Of course she did! That’s not surprising, is it? I think I was the most disinterested person there. I don’t know. Anyway, we talked a couple times, then—out of the blue—someone asked me if I wanted to hop into a scene, say a line, ten seconds flat. She did that for you? I don’t know what she did. No one mentioned her. Maybe she thought you looked like a movie star. [Snorts] Fuck. I hope not. Did you want to do it? I wanted to make music. I wanted to finish reading my book. I wanted … I mean, I said yeah. Can’t decline that. Makes a good story, right? What happened with her—? Oh, hell. Sorry! Moving on, for now. [Groans]

I got a call several weeks later about an audition. How did that feel? Bizarre. We’d done a demo for a producer once, but this was different. Were you excited? I was terrified. But, I went. Didn’t get that part, although everyone was perfectly nice to me. How disappointing. You always remember your first … But, hey, you have to look at it this way: I didn’t want to be an actor. I thought it was cool, but it felt like … ? Go ahead, give me a good metaphor. Like when you’ve been craving your favorite food, but then someone offers you a helping of something different, new, appetizing. How’s that? Passable. C-plus. [Laughs] Fuck you, Pat.

Okay, so the road didn’t end there. No, it didn’t. I got another call, and that one went well. This was for … Sugar Sweet? That’s the one. Cornball, but I love that movie. Never seen it. What! How is that possible? You were in it. You went to the premiere screening. There are pictures. Saw my first scene, excused myself to go piss, didn’t come back until the applause had started. Wow. Everyone has opinions about that movie these days—very contentious, whether or not Alicia was in the wrong when she left me and stole my lifelong dream. What do you think? Me, Renzo? Good for her. I thought it was kind of bitchy. It’s peculiar how many women say that. I wonder why … ! Billy’s so dreamy. Please, ask me about something else, Pat. So, this romantic comedy is your launching pad. It leads to the television show. The television show blows up immediately. Walk me through what that felt like?

Also terrifying. I really cannot emphasize enough that I didn’t want attention. I wanted money and time to support my music, and acting seemed like a good way to do that. Just didn’t account for the side effects. Like fame? Uh huh. I was a nobody in Sugar Sweet, and the pay was shit, but it felt like a miraculously good deal at the time. What it did is put me in the running for more serious work. I think, even then, sometimes the casting folks were hesitant to take a risk on someone with no experience whatsoever, even if they had—A spark? Talent? Sure. It was unsettling, the idea that I was some kind of “natural,” and I compensated by working really hard. Well, you’ve established yourself as a hard worker. Sure. I guess they saw that—the improvement, in addition to the fact that I had a resume to speak of by then. Or, eh, they saw that you were pretty. Right, of course, you don’t need talent if you have Teen Mag’s favorite cheekbones. [Snickers] I joined a cast with other people who had very little experience, and we bonded over that. I just didn’t expect to be … What, the center of attention? That, yeah.

You know what’s fucking weird? Huh? Signing your name on a picture of your own face that belongs to someone else. That they’re going to take it home and pin it to their fucking wall or frame it on their bedside table. Someone’s kid treating you like their school crush, blushing and shit while they’re asking for you to do it. That does seem like a strange experience. Over and over again. Teenyboppers, goddamn. You were in the magazines for them. I read a couple interviews. No the fuck I was not. I did not do those. No? What they do is take quotes from actual, consented conversations and stitch them together for their own use. It’s legal. That’s fascinating. Maybe I should try that. Less work. [Laughs] Yeah, alright, flush your “exclusive access” privilege right down the toilet.

But, look, I’m not disparaging the fans wholesale. That’d be unfair. And, ouch, ungrateful? Yeah. The initial couple years were fucking insane, but I was with people I liked, and a lot of the fans we actually met were … Normal? Uh huh. Not a hysterical, handsy, screaming blob. You got grabbed? Groped, Pat. Oh boy. We don’t like grabass, I guess. Well, hold on now, just not like that—You keep sidetracking me. What kind of interviewer are you? I’m having fun with my buddy! Sue me. [Chuckles] You got it, baby. What was I saying? The fans? Yeah. The ones we met one-on-one were cool, usually. They had deep thoughts about the show, you know? Ideas about the characters, the plots—filled in holes in the shitty writing. No offense to Jack and Reuben, I hope! Don’t print that, Pat.

If I’m being honest, having to answer their questions made me think deeply about the role. That’s stayed with me. I don’t like being walked up on in public, but sometimes it’d go fine. The first time someone came up to me in the wild, her mother looked so fucking apologetic that I decided, “Cool it, don’t be a jackass.” She wanted to talk about the book I was buying. Same thing would happen to Frank, Perry, Vicky. How about the show itself? That was a three year commitment.

It was alright. In retrospect, I understand that television isn’t for respectable actors, which made the transition hard. Harder to have been on a show for teenagers. But, you made that switch in Uspana. So, did that play into the calculus at all? I lucked out, in the sense that the show was co-produced, and I got to do the dubbing for the Uspanian version. I wasn’t a total unknown, even if they thought my Uspanian was shitty. Is it? Losing an accent is hard, in my defense.

When my contract ended, I hit the road. You didn’t think about staying on? I thought about it with horror, yes. [Laughs] You’d keep shit-talking the whole production if I let you. Maybe. So, in Uspana? It was like exhaling for the first time in a while. I did nothing for a couple months. All that hard work, being a beloved TV star … Throw me a bone, Pat. But, anyway, I didn’t even see my mom’s family again for a few weeks—You knew them, though? Yeah, we’d met, during the press trips. Beach life by yourself. Luxury.

You know, I needed to reconnect with myself. That’s how I felt. I felt like I had been an imposter, then I felt like I had to be someone I wasn’t, and now … You could go a different way. A fork in the road, for your career. Your life, really. Right, yeah. I went to Canarís like any good tourist. I had more money than I’d ever had in my life. I had no plans. Sounds like a dream. It was.

Crucially, I was out of my mind most of the time. Kite high. So fucking high. I swear I almost drowned twice, at which point it was politely suggested that I stop using the pool. Did you politely agree? Fuck no. [Laughs] Troublemaking aside, I ended up taking phone calls, making plans with people—Industry people? Yeah. There were people I knew already, but meeting the ones I really wanted to work with happened kind of organically—parties, premieres for other films, cafes. At the Morningstar Cafe in Canarís? Right, exactly. Same way I ended up finding The Den. Someone at the cafe had worked with Karolina Teague, and she took me there one evening after we all got tossed out of some poor son of a bitch’s house. Sounds rowdy. Can’t blame him. It was after midnight. And? Well, it was a lunch that’d started at eleven in the morning, so. [Chuckles]

So, I have a question. You’re pretty consistent—in terms of behavior. “Behavior?” [Snorts] Yeah, okay, I understand. What was that like, with cameras on you? The photographers in Uspana definitely aren’t less aggressive. That’s part of it. I don’t know if I’d call it an epiphany, but I left Canarís for Nakawe with the understanding that I was going to just do what I wanted to do. Oh boy. Within reason, fuck. Reason. Sure, yes. You didn’t feel like a dumb kid anymore. I mean, I guess I have more fun with the camera guys here. They can get away with more, ergo, so can we.

I distinctly recall you got arrested for—I barely touched that guy or his fucking camera. Did him a favor, if I did. Dogshit quality device. [Chuckles] Not sure he saw it that way, but the charges were dropped. I mean, don’t get me wrong, shouldn’t have reacted that way. I kept thinking about my mom seeing those pictures … The one time I got picked up, she backhanded me in the middle of the station, right in front of the cops. Jesus. In the car, she goes, “If you get caught again, I’m going to rip your ears off.” Empty threat, I guess.

The Den—I want to talk about that. Please, let’s. Your first time there? It was with Karolina, like I said, and there was a local band playing that night. They’d wrapped up their set by the time we arrived and were just … jamming on the stage, taking feedback and requests from the people who were still there. Some kind of funky jazz mash-up. I liked it. How did it come to you? It opened in ‘57 as a bar and, at some point, it turned into more of a music venue open to a certain segment of Nakawe. The guy who owned it gave exposure to a lot of people who went on to really do something with their art, and that’s why it ended up being a somewhat exclusive spot. Celebrities already knew it and brought their friends. Uh huh. I could stroll up, and the cameras weren’t with me because they were already there. He got tired of that, I think—He was an older fella, right? Yeah. But, really, he managed other properties, and The Den wasn’t his passion project the way it’s become for me. So, you had the money and took it off his hands.

What goes on in there? [Laughs] Pat, you’ve been inside. Well, not for me! If I’m going to describe it to people who’ll never go inside, what would I say? I mean, it’s a hangout spot. It’s a performance venue. We had, uh, mimes last month. Truly gifted, those people. [Laughs] Really? I don’t come up with all of the ideas myself, but I only agree to the shit I’m interested in. It’s kind of selfish, but I guess I’m lucky to know a lot of people who’ll toss in five dollars to enjoy it. It’s something. Compelling. I mean it. Thanks. That’s not all, though. I mean, you describe it as a “haven.” It’s very private. Some of your regulars are troubled individuals. Damn, Patricia, just say it. I feel like a cop! “Do you condone drug use in your establishment?” nonsense. But, well … I’m not explaining it. Either you—they, whoever the hell—get it or don’t. Come for the music, come to unwind however you like, doesn’t fucking matter to me as long as you’re coming with an invitation. I like to go in the back room, close the door, let the music and noise seep through. Muffled. You don’t really strike me as a partier, frankly. You never have. I wouldn’t argue with that. I like parties, but I don’t need to be at the center. Some do. That’s fine. This place is for us all.

Maybe it works out because of that, that you’re curating this space but not necessarily always in it? What do you mean? Well, you reopened it and then, if memory serves, immediately went off to do a film. The party kept going. You just like to know it’s happening. Alright, sure. That’s true. Knowing it’s there … Yeah. I like it. I was in that back room, thinking about the script, when I decided to do it, actually. Life felt like it was falling into place. It was a good time to take a leap. “’You are going to be a cowboy?’” “’No, I’m going to be a farmer.’” I had that conversation a thousand times. Reporters, man. Hey! Everyone was so surprised. I think they thought the premise was … I don’t know, that it just wasn’t something I would want to do? Or, worse, that the filmmakers wouldn’t want to work with someone like me? Unflattering assumptions, sounds like. Can’t blame them. I had a lot to prove. Still do.

How was six weeks in Texict? Fucking heaven. I loved it. My mother’s from the northwest so, even when I visited family, it wasn’t anywhere close. No reason to visit until we dropped in to do the film. Every day, I woke up happy to be alive. Happy to be doing this job. Gorgeous. I’m gonna go out on a limb and guess it wasn’t just the location, was it?

No, you’re right. I felt like I was really acting—for the first time, seriously. Maybe the cast helped? I’d worked with established actors before. The leads in Sugar Sweet were—well, you know who they were. I learned a ton from them. But, yeah, I guess Sasha was the first person I’d worked alongside who had me sweating. Oh? I wanted to impress her so fucking badly. I wanted to keep up, you know? So talented. So raw. She rips every line out of her chest with her bare hands. Bloodbath of emotion. The premise was new, too. Not a lighthearted romance this time. No. We were young parents of a ill child—stressed as fuck, trying to make life work, struggling separately to be together. Can’t lie, I ate that shit up. So did the critics. Hell yeah.

Every nomination felt surreal. The recognition was incredible. Validating. Sasha and some of the others swept up. I was just honored to be up there with them, honestly. Okay, well, let’s talk about Sasha. Do we have to? Yes. Indulge me! [Grumbling] I mean, all I can really say at this point is that I was obsessed, and it wasn’t until it was over that I had the clarity of mind to really wonder, hm, “Was I in love with Sasha, my coworker, or was I in love with Sasha playing Lucy, my wife?” That seems like an occupational hazard. I wouldn’t describe it that way. You take sensitive, delusional, beautiful people, pay them to get vulnerable and intimate with each other … It’s special, even if it’s … Not genuine? No, it is that. It’s not real, but it is genuine. How else can you say, “Well, our schedules don’t line up anymore, but I’ll have this scar of our initials forever?” You do not! No, I don’t. The letter S is really hard to cut without fucking up. Not a sober man’s idea. No.

Since I have you on the topic—hey, no, absolutely not—I’m obligated to ask if there’s anyone in your life right now. How’s that? Women’s magazines can snap this up and stitch it together for themselves. This is a public service. Patricia … Yes, Lorencio?

Look, I know you do your research. I do. I’m very good at it, too. What’s that like, princess pus—Pat. Pat, I’m begging you—Are you obsessed? The letter L is easier, I bet. It is. Would you go with another L or an R?

I’m not talking about this—not for you to print, anyway. Well, talk to me as a friend, then? I’m not just professionally nosy. We’re friends? Who else calls me Pat and gets away with it? You haven’t been Trish in a long time, it’s true … [Sighs] Fuck. Someone can be precious, right? Lovable. You can hold them in your hands and think, “This person matters to me. They’re special. I like to be around them; I like to listen to them; I want their affection.” You can really, genuinely cherish someone.

But? Maybe you find their life to be completely fucking repellent. Unbearable. … Damn.

There’s parallels, though, right? I mean, fame is fame, there’s got to be value in relatability, and—There’s an open mic going on downstairs in the hotel bar right this minute. Let’s take a break, Pat, what do you say? Let’s just go watch some of it. I’ll let you print dick measurements and my deepest, darkest secrets if you say yes. [Laughs] Well, if that’s on the table—

#just gonna toss in a cw #cw drugs #long post #ts4 story #sims story #sims 4 story #royal sims #simblr #ts4 legacy #1992.story.post #1992.a1 #1992.e04

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notmyneighbor · 25 days

Text

here is the news | doppel! izaack gauss x female reader

words | 4k

cw | explicit sexual content, fluff and smut

ao3 link

Everyone in the city knows who Izaack Gauss is.

The famed news reporter for the local tv station has won countless awards for the journalism considered brave, gritty, unflinching and detailed. Always on the cusp of a breaking story, it was uncanny how often the man seemed to be at exactly the right place at exactly the right time. He was a household name, a favorite with a variety of age groups. Handsome and compelling. A face you couldn’t stop staring at, a voice you couldn’t stop listening to. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t gotten off to the sight and sound of him on more than one occasion. A girl has needs, right? And it’s not like guys don’t do the same thing all the time. You’re just…evening the score a little.

Now, that man you’d daydreamed about and climaxed to was in your booth inside the apartment building you both lived in, about to conduct an interview with you, the guard, responsible for screening for sneaky doppelgangers trying to trick their way into the building to harm the residents.

There is a lot of preparation that goes into the event. There are multiple cameras you’re constantly told to turn to. Pauses midway while hair and makeup is touched up. The attention is overwhelming, but at your young age, you’ve got a flawless track record for correctly identifying the doppels and it’s caught the attention of many, including your intrepid journalist neighbor.

Once the dust has settled, once there are no more set lights shined in your eyes or powder applied to your nose or Izaack’s rich voice bidding you to smile again for the camera, the sudden quiet is a relief. The crew has gone home. Everyone has left, save you and the news reporter.

You’re not quite done for the day, though. The segments you’d just filmed would be edited down. In truth, probably very little of the footage would even be used. But you guessed that’s just how the magic of television really works behind the scenes. The last chore for you today is to do a dry run through the interview you’ll be participating in live on air tomorrow night. You’re still seated in the swivel chair behind the desk inside your security booth, leaving the reporter to perch on the corner of the desk, one hip cocked over the edge, the lifted leg so long it still nearly touches the floor. Izaack is six foot four, and broad shouldered, an intimidatingly large figure. It’s no wonder, considering he’d played football in highschool and college.

He hasn’t lost any muscle mass in spite of his cessation of playing sports, the considerable physique still apparent even within the confines of the charcoal suit he’s wearing. You’re willing to bet he exercises to keep that appearance, to maintain his appeal with his adoring fans. His skin is smooth and unblemished, his raven hair always styled in neat waves. He’s got a strong jaw with a cleft chin just below a pair of full lips so generous they’d make any woman envious. They part often to flash brilliantly white, even teeth.

Those teeth are dazzling you right now. Trying to make you feel less nervous, no doubt, but you find the gesture intimidating instead. He might not be a Hollywood movie star, but he was still a local celebrity, and the source of more than one successful late night round of self pleasure. You squirm nervously in your seat and it squeaks, making your cheeks flush.

“You can relax, you know. I’m not going to ask anything you don’t know the answers to.” His voice is rich, deep, velvety. You nod and swallow thickly, waiting for him to begin.

He doesn’t even look down at the pad of paper clutched in one hand, nor the ballpoint pen seated in the other. His azure eyes are locked on your face and the color reminds you of the tropical ocean you’d seen on a poster in a travel agency’s window once, some exotic destination that you’ll likely never get the opportunity to visit.

“Why don’t we begin by you telling our viewers what you do each day.”

You clear your throat. “Well, the shift begins with a list of expected visitors to the building handed to me by an official DDD staff member, which I keep posted on this wall here,” you say, gesturing to a now blank spot to the left of the window. “I have a checklist of things I should be expecting from each person. This includes their appearance, their identification card, their entry request form, and, as I’ve just mentioned, the listing on the day’s expected visitors.”

Gauss nods. So far, so good. “What are some of the things that are a tip off about the identification card being incorrect?”

“One of the first things I look at is the serial number. We have a complete record of all the inhabitants of the building, complete with their photographs, their distinguishing facial characteristics, their addresses, professions, and relatives.

The next step is to compare the image on the card with the image we have on file, paying close attention to those unique appearance details. For example, someone may have a mole on one cheek, or have freckles spread across their nose.”

“I see. Anything else?”

“The DDD logo must be present. This is something that gets missed quite often. It is required on both the ID card and the entry request form. The expiration date on the ID is the last thing that needs to be verified. Seems simple, but you’d be surprised how many doppelgangers ignore the importance of a valid date that hasn’t expired yet.” You point to the calendar tacked to the wall.

Izaack taps his pen against the pad of paper thoughtfully. “What about the entry request?”

“Well, that’s similar in some ways, and different in others. It, like the ID card, needs to have the DDD logo. It also features a photograph of the resident, along with their name and address. These names can be misspelled or the apartment numbers incorrectly labeled. The final piece of the puzzle is the reason for travel. It can be very obvious when a doppel is using a forgery. Some are more astute than others, but a lot of them lack the knowledge of a plausible reason to explain their absence. I once saw one state they were going out to do ‘human things’” you say with a little chuckle, and the dark haired reporter smiles indulgently.

“It certainly seems like you’re quite the expert. No wonder the residents of the building feel safer with you around. A perfect safety record thus far, I understand.”

You lower your eyes, blushing, feeling a little blossom of pride blooming inside of you. “I try my best.”

Izaack slides from his perch, straightening, the pad of paper and pen disappearing back into a deep pocket of the trench coat he’d left draped beside him. “That’s basically how the interview will go. You’re a natural. Just replicate that same confidence and you’ll do fine.”

“Thank you.”

“Oh, there is one more thing,” he says as you stand. “If you wouldn’t mind indulging just one more question. Off the record, as it were.”

“Sure, go ahead.”

“What if the paperwork looks correct, and the doppel’s appearance is a perfect match?”

“Oh, that reminds me. I forgot to mention it. I call the residence to verify the identity, either by a family member, or—”

“—But supposing there was no one home to answer. The visitor is on the day’s list. They’re expected to be out and returning home. They live alone. There is no one to vouch for them one way or the other. And every other detail seems correct. What do you do?”

You draw in a deep breath. “Well, thankfully, my instincts have helped me in those rare situations when they occur.”

“I see.”

You step forward, thinking the older man will be exiting the office, but he remains where he is, blocking the doorway.

“Um, Mr. Gauss, if you don’t mind, I’d like to be getting home now.”

“Oh, I do mind. I mind very much. You see, my dear, your so called instincts, those ones you’re so proud of, have failed you.”

Your blood runs cold. You’d been tricked by a doppelganger. You back away now, your hand reaching for the alarm. It’s too late to worry about shuttering the office, but it will still alert the residents that something is amiss.

“Don’t even think of touching that button. Or the phone, either. Your DDD pals won’t be coming to your rescue tonight.” The tall mimic smiles, gesturing towards the chair beside you. “Why don’t you sit down, get comfortable.”

“Why? You’re just going to kill me. Eat me, or whatever.”

“No, I don’t think I’ll be killing you. Eating you though, now that is an idea.” His teeth flash again, and this time they are no longer the perfect pearl white specimens you’re accustomed to, but pointed, slightly yellowed teeth. The turquoise eyes are now black, the white orbs bloodshot. “Sit down,” he says again, “before I change my mind about the not murdering you part.”

You sink back into the swivel chair, your heart pounding. How had you not known? How long has he been pretending to be Izaack for? Where was the real version?

As if reading your mind, the creature elaborates about the fate of the male human he’s pretending to be. “He’s not dead. Someone like that is too valuable to waste. Let’s just say we’re keeping him tucked away safely for now.”

You wonder if the new reporter’s capture is truly a better fate than a swift passing. “Don’t hurt him, please.”

“Why? Isn’t he a virtual stranger to you?”

“He’s my neighbor.”

The wide shoulders lift and drop in a shrug. “You have plenty of others. Or was there some other reason making you so concerned about this particular individual? Something a little more personal? A touch more…intimate, shall we say?”

It’s disconcerting how transparent your thoughts and feelings seem to be. The invader’s hands, now tipped in dark claws and studded with jagged veins that look ready to burst through the skin, curl around the armrests and tug you closer, the wheels bringing you right up to the doppel. “I can guarantee you if I was the real Gauss right now, he wouldn’t have spared you a second glance. He’d never have gotten this close. He’s arrogant and obnoxious, so nauseatingly self absorbed that I wager you wouldn’t be nearly so taken with him if you got to know him as well as I have. I’ve done you a favor, trust me.” The irony of that last utterance is not lost on you. A master of deceit imploring you to believe his word. Insanity.

The replicant’s mood shifts and his voice softens, drawing you out of your reverie. “I bet if I were to just peel this off of you, I’d find something very sweet and tasty beneath it.” The sharp tip of one digit sinks midway through the fabric of your skirt, dangerously close to your thighs, and splits it wide open. He grabs each flap and tugs, tearing the material further until it’s completely separated. You wince when you feel his hand seat on one leg, the claws scratching but not piercing the skin. It doesn’t take them long to shred your panties, leaving your lower half bare save for your shoes and stockings. “Spread your legs for me.”

You resist, shaking your head and clamping your lower extremities close together.

“Do not make me repeat myself.”

A choked sound escapes you as your legs spread open.

“My, my. That does look delicious. So pink and pretty. Just a perfect little pussy to snack on.”

You hate that your body responds to his words, your sex throbbing from the attention, from being bare in your work space. The fake reporter kneels down, but his presence is still no less initimidating even at this reduced height.

“A lot of people would be glad to trade places with you right now, you know. So many of you humans lust for this face, this body. Are you one of them?” The claws have vanished, the only bit of relief you find, gasping when those human looking fingers stroke right over your damp sex. Your clit pulses needily and the movement is not lost on the doppel. “I think the answer to that question is a resounding yes.” His thumb massages that sensitive pearl while his middle finger spears your drooling entrance. You are soaked. You can hardly believe your body is betraying you like this.

“Oh, look how wet you are. Tight, too. It’s a good thing I have the right tool for the job to pry you open properly.” A tongue emerges from between the rows of sharp teeth, a dark maroon colored tentacle looking object with a pointed tip that flicks your bud and has your hips involuntarily lurching, seeking more contact with the foreign muscle. “Delicious,” he murmurs. “Best fucking thing I’ve had to eat so far on this miserable planet.” Then his mouth crushes against your pussy.

You need something to hold onto, and that something becomes the carefully coiffed hair of the news anchor, instantly sending the coal dark tresses into disarray. He sucks so hard you think your clit is going to be pulled right away from your body. He adds a second finger and, at times, that wicked, alien tongue into your channel and you no longer care that you’re getting your cunt eaten out by a doppel. Your throat burns from how rapidly you’ve been searching for air. You feel like you’re going to cum, but that something else is about to happen, too. There’s a pressure inside, similar to needing to void, but slightly different. That bizarre, wonderfully obscene tongue of his keeps touching your g spot and it’s doing things. Things you can’t control.

His eyes lift and they’re that pretty teal color again, the hair you’ve mussed tumbling across his ivory forehead, and you fall apart against that Adonis face, the orgasm so intense you find yourself squirting, splashing fluids into the waiting mouth that sucks and swallows and laps every stray droplet, seeking more.

Your legs are shaking violently and you’re embarrassed and you’re afraid, too, but the lust is doing a nice job of muting that last feeling somewhat.

“Absolutely fucking delectable. That was a pleasant surprise, dear.”

“I didn’t know…I…”

“First time for everything, isn’t that how the expression you humans use goes?” He licks his lips—fully back to the human features again, normal tongue, teeth, eyes—and rises to his feet. “Perhaps you’d like to continue this elsewhere? Somewhere a little more comfortable?”

“Um…” You’re still coming down off your post orgasmic high, the nerves in your legs firing and tingling. You’d just squirted in a doppelganger’s mouth. Had a mind blowing climax, the best of your life. With an imitation copy of famed news reporter Izaack Gauss. Fuck.

“Or I can bend you over the desk and fuck you right here. Your choice, dear. But make up your mind quickly, or I’ll choose for you.”

The brazen declaration strikes you iron hot in your core. Either offer sounded tempting. “Um…” You repeat helplessly.

The replicant clucks his tongue softly. “Cock dumb already, are we? And you haven’t even seen it yet, let alone felt it.”

“Upstairs,” you manage to blurt your decision.

“Fine. My place or yours?”

“You mean Izaack’s?”

“I mean mine. He’s hardly in a position to use it at present.”

“Oh. Yours, then.” You suddenly realize you’re naked from the waist down and you no longer have any intact garments to cover your nudity. “My clothes…”

“Use this.” He lifts his coat from the desk and tosses it at you. It’s absurdly long but it does the trick, shielding your naked body from view.

The doppel says nothing to you on the elevator, seemingly unconcerned if anyone were to run into you now, or if you had any thoughts of trying to escape. There’s a slight delay when he realizes his apartment key is still tucked into his coat pocket, shoving his hand into the outerwear he’s loaned you, the sudden warm press of him inviting, in spite of everything, and then you’re ushered inside.

The reporter’s living space is modernly furnished, and neat as a pin. You’re guided to the bedroom, a large portion of which is occupied by an enormous closet full of clothes—necessary for the job, you suppose, although to your eye one suit is much the same as the next—and a king sized bed covered in a steel gray sheet set and comforter.

“It’s, um…your place is nice,” you say, feeling a need to fill the sudden silence.

The doppelganger grunts at the compliment, thumbing open the button of his suit jacket and tossing it over the back of the chair in front of the desk placed before the window. He tugs on his tie, a silk item that’s a few shades lighter than his eye color, and this joins the blazer. His fingers move briskly over the cuffs of his shirt sleeves, then unfasten the row of buttons draped over his torso. He sheds the shirt and the undershirt unceremoniously and you have your first glimpse of the body the copycat has adopted.

There were a few paparazzi photos snapped here and there that had circulated the tabloids, so it’s not as if you’ve never seen the man on one of those glorious resort beaches you know you’ll never experience in your lifetime, but seeing those muscles in person is much, much different. You can’t help but appreciate the beauty of the figure in front of you, even if it is a phony.

“Like what you see, do you?” There’s a little smirk on the imposter’s lips now as he begins working open his pants.

You stare open mouthed, gaping like a fish out of water as he continues shedding clothing. He hadn’t been exaggerating about his cock size. At all. If anything, he’d been too conservative. He was going to break you in two. You’d be slain after all.

His gaze sharpens, piercing you after he finishes undressing. “You’re not going to clam up like this during the interview tomorrow night, are you?”

“I…what? We’re still doing the interview?”

“Of course.”

“But…but I thought…” You can’t stop staring at the massive erection saluting you.

“It’s a hassle changing faces sometimes. I’ve got a good thing going here. Good job, nice place to live. Appreciative viewers,” he murmurs, his fingers tucking under your chin. “So I'm not keen to do anything to draw attention to myself. You keep my secret and I’ll make sure you’re…compensated. Deal?”

You nod, unable to form words. If you declined, you feel certain the consequences would be dire.

“Good. Now get out of that coat—mind you place it nicely on the chair there until I can hang it up later, I do like this human’s wardrobe—and I’ll see about making some more of those fantasies come true, hmm?”

You’re blushing again. He’s already seen your pussy up close; is removing the rest of your clothes after the borrowed coat such a hardship? You let the blouse and brassiere fall to the floor, about to peel the stockings off but he bids you to keep them on, pushing you gently back onto the bed after he drags the comforter off. “In case you have another…episode.”

He’s talking about the squirting. You glance away hurriedly.

“Look at me,” he says, drawing your gaze back to his features. His knee sinks into the mattress, joined soon after by the other. He climbs over you and you’re struck again by how large the creature is in every single way. His face dips to yours and he kisses you for the first time and you forget all of your earlier misgivings in an instant. Those plump lips were made for this, for stroking and brushing against another’s. Your own part and his tongue slides between them, nudging yours, trying a little sample of the taste of your mouth. Ink smudged fingers caress your breasts and smooth over your ribs. Everywhere your own hands touch meets firm, muscular flesh. Everything is toned, lean. You knead his shoulders and stroke his chest and squeeze his biceps, marveling at how massive his arms are, far more than your fingers can stretch around. You’re still not brave enough to explore further south on your own.

“Touch me,” he whispers beside your ear before nibbling on it, and your hands collide with something scalding. You’ve found his cock. Wet at the tip. He groans a little, his hips pushing that erect organ through the circle of your fingers, effectively fucking them. “Good girl,” he praises, and you feel a fresh flood leaking from your sex. “Let’s get you nice and filled.” His hand wedges between your thighs and you instantly spread them open. He strokes the head of his prick over the moist petals and then pushes at your opening and oh, it burns, it’s too much, too much but not enough, you want more, rolling your hips up to help him sink in further. “Hungry little thing, aren’t you? Just like a doppel.”

At the utterance of this final word his face changes again, his true form once again asserting dominance, revealing itself. You can’t kiss him like you had earlier, not with those razor teeth, but his tongue reaches your mouth easily, twining around inside, poking and prodding. His hands brace against your thighs and fold you over and he goes in even deeper, sinking into your wet cunt that sucks at him, throbbing, already trying to milk seed from the alien.

You can feel him burrowing inside—feel him from the outside, even, the bulge palpable through the exterior wall of your abdomen—and the ache starts to become more pleasurable. Your body wants this. It wants to mate with this imposter.

The gentle introduction completed, Gauss’ replica starts pumping faster. You’ve still got one orgasm up on him and he wants his now. “Fuck, you feel so good. Are you going to cum on my cock this time? I’d love to feel that hot, wet cunt of yours spasming around me.” He snakes a hand between your bodies, stroking your clit again.

“Mmmm…Izaack….” You realize you’d just addressed the clone by his human name and your tongue freezes against his, your rocking hips halting.

“You can call me that.” Softer mouth again. Human lips. Wet against your throat. “Let me hear how much pleasure I’m giving you.”

The permission relaxes you, draping you in warm comfort. You card through his hair—now a tangled licorice shaded mess—and gaze into aqua eyes, moaning his name over and over. His hips slam into yours roughly, at odds with the gentle circles he’s still tracing along your nub, and it pushes you over the brink. The smirk is back, that satisfied curve of lips followed by a Cheshire Cat grin that fades as his own release builds.

“Here it comes, get ready for it…fuck, it’s so good…”

A series of jets of hot liquid fill your womb and you shudder as the invader fills you with his cum. His teeth sink into your shoulder—human ones, but biting hard enough to leave temporary dents—and then he collapses beside you.

“That was, um…”

“Good?” He supplies, still sounding a little breathless.

“Yeah. Really good.”

“Mmmm.” He folds his hands behind his head, staring up at the ceiling while he recovers. You shift on your side and he glances over at you. “You’re sure you’re good for the interview tomorrow? Remember what you’re going to say?”

“Yes.”

“Don’t want to rehearse it again?”

Ah. A concealed invitation. “Maybe we should. Just to be sure we have all the details just right.”

“My thoughts exactly.” The doppelganger pulls you into his arms.

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