Daemon/Deenah is an obvious trans metaphor but I think of them also as a very strange-yet-effective disability metaphor, especially for progressive disabilities. Memory issues, jumbled thoughts and actions, etc. but just the way he despises his "old self" (Deenah) yet at the same time you can tell he wishes for her back. Just to experience a life without struggle. It's that feeling one experiences when they remember how much more able they used to be. Feels like an entirely different person. Deenah's all dressed up with her long trenchcoat and glasses and a cultivated aesthetic but her sprite is marred by pixels like the very thought of her has been corrupted by Daemon knowing what's to come. He wears a variation on her outfit, but it's so much harder to make out beneath layers of pixels - it's Daemon, in the end, but he hides from us players. He's uncomfortable knowing we can see right through him, pick out the turmoil. The sometimes-feeling of being trapped in a conversation with him, not so unlike how conversations feel nowadays - you end up going in circles just complaining about your problems or saying something that only makes sense in your head, not realising you make no sense until after you've spoken.
Interactive Yandere!Lucinda Lavish x Reader (with some background Yandere!Daemon x Reader)
( A/N I’m just gonna forewarn that Lucinda is going to be really mean here! She’s jealous and pissy and full context is here. This is something a little experimental based off of things that actually happen in her route for the most part. )
Your fingers had just barely brushed against the bedspread you had been intending to awaken (Betty had said she wanted to speak with you tonight, just before bed) when you were interrupted by the familiar head of blazing ginger hair igniting your vision. With a burst of orange and gold Lucinda took centre stage with all her usual flamboyance… but there was an air of hesitation about her. Her eyes lingered a little too long, the way she bit her lip was not sultry as she usually intended, but apprehensive.
“It’s me!” She seemingly steeled her nerves, and launched forward with all the drama and flair of a trained actress, one hand balanced on her hip. “The best character in the whole goddamn game! Not to mention your favourite, right~?”
You sighed, somewhat fondly.
“You know I can’t pick a favourite, Luci. I love all of you way too much.”
She deflated at this a little, irritation working its way into her typically flawless complexion in the upturn of her lips and the gentle crease of her eyebrows. “Of course I am! After all, ✨I can do this! Which other dateable have you met that can do that?”✨
You blinked. “What the hell is that?”
✨“Just another demonstration of why I’m the best! But hey, you don’t need to hear it from me.✨ Just look at this loser!”
Dorian’s rigid posture and stern demeanour startle you as he materialises by the two of you. He looks equally confused about how he got there as Lucinda continues to gesture at him like she’s giving a TED Talk on doors.
“Do you know how popular this guy is? It’s ridiculous how many people are head over heels for him. He’s so stiff he cant even move his body normally! He only has four poses, and I have five.”
“What in the– what are you on about?” Dorian’s tone is aggravated, and slightly incredulous.
“And between you and me, it’s not just his poses.”
Dorian frowns, and you’re about to interject with the fact that he has a bunch of different sprites for different doors in the house when she seemingly dismisses him, making him blink out of existence before your very eyes. “But fine! Maybe you like the strong, silent type or whatever. Maybe a lot of people like it. Maybe 6.6% do. I’m still objectively better than him.”
Just as you’re making a mental note to apologise to Dorian later the sweet scent of lavender and feather down makes it’s way over to you as she produces Betty, who is at least slightly easier to wrap your head around given you’re in your bedroom. She blinks sleepily, looking around hazily.
“And this! Can you believe this?! Well– okay, maybe I can. But she was voted sexiest character in the game! A title that should have gone to me. I’m literally Lucinda Lust. It’s in my name!” You glance down at her namecard, and– yep, it totally is.
Betty rubs her eyes, hugging her pillow to her plush chest. “My love? What’s going on? Who is that you’re talking to?”
“…okay, fine I can definitely see it. But not any more than I do in a mirror! And I don’t mean Amos or whatever his name is.” You cast a sideways glance at Amir, hanging above the dresser.
“I’m sorry, I’m a little puzzled– What’s going on…?” Betty lets out an adorable yawn, still clinging to the edge of sleep.
“Nothing, you’re just… dreaming. Yeah, dreaming! Alright that’s enough of you.” Betty, graciously, is allowed to return to the land of slumber with little fanfare.
Lucinda lets out a mocking gasp of faux excitement that’s a little more cruel than you would have expected from her. “And hey, who could forget this guy!”
She pulls Timothy out from heaven-knows-where with a surprised ‘mrrrp?’ his paws still poised midair as if he was in the middle of grooming himself. “Timmy–! or Tommy…? I don’t know! I forgot!”
Timothy looks thoroughly befuddled, tucking his hands back against his chest hurriedly. “I do say– what is going on?! This wasn’t in the schhhedule!!”
“Yeah, yeah– schedule this, schedule that.” Lucinda dangles him by the collar like a scruffed cat, she’s barreling forward like a loose canon, and definitely has to be worked up about something specific to be this mad. “This random catboy has twice as much engagement as me and he’s not even self aware! He doesn’t even know who you are!”
You’re slightly afraid to stop her continuously insulting your friends at this point. Not to mention some small (probably sadistic) part of you finds it just a little bit funny.
She unceremoniously lets go of the smaller catboy’s scruff as he lets out a startled hiss, and you watch in amazement as he powerpoint-presentation-transitions away.
Lucinda crosses her arms. “And despite everything I’m not even mentioned once in the most popular series on the blog right now!” You can feel the author shrugging apologetically.
“For some fucking reason there’s just no demand for this beautiful face and gorgeous body…” Her voice quietens, losing all its usual dramatisation.
“I’m just… Lacklustre.”
Another quick glance at her nametag tells you all you need to know. She wraps her arms around herself self-consciously for a few seconds, looking away.
“None of them know who you are. They don’t even know they’re in a game– but I know.” She perks up, the other dateables forgotten as she looks at you with wide eyes the colour and richness of chocolate.
“When the game ends– when you’ve realised them all, they’re all gonna forget about you, baby. That’s just how the game goes.”
She takes your hands in hers, pulling them up between you two as she looks into– no, through you.
“But I’m yours forever. When you’re gone they get to disappear. When you’re gone I wait for you to come back. Don’t you see?” She hums, rubbing small circles into your palms. “I only exist meaningfully when you perceive me.”
“I’m nothing without you, baby.”
She smiles melancholically, unblinking.
“That’s why I’m the best. I’m the only one who really knows you.”
“Yeah, you are the best.”
“Sorry Lucinda, I still can’t just say you’re my favourite. It’s unfair.”
(I wasn’t too sure if you meant Daemon as giving/receiving, sorry!!)
On one hand I do think Daemon calling you as such in their own glitchy, distorted way would be very sweet… he deserves that kind of comfort, cradled close as you ignore the fuzzy feeling their static gives you of a million pixels held close against real flesh. I think they would be very confused at first, so it might take quite some time before they learn to let their head recline a little awkwardly against your shoulder. You might have to explain the purpose of a maternal figure in this context to them before they loosen up enough to call you mommy directly. She enjoys the sensation nevertheless, and you can feel the buzz of their edges smoothing as you take care of him, letting out a quiet sigh as you hum and run your hands through the white noise of their hair.
On the other hand, she would be very accommodating about it if you asked to call her mommy. They’d tilt their head at first, maybe considering it, maybe just trying to keep you on edge before agreeing. You can call it what you like, they don’t care. Still, their eye would crease in what might be amusement as the layers of their static voice take on a honeyed tone. They might not be what they were originally conceived to be, a dateable, a dresser, an anomaly, but maybe they can be what you want her to be, just for tonight.
