#I dont know what possessed me to write this

[elizakai]

hi hello rant time feel free to ignore this i’m just going to explode and it’s not the end of the world

the amount of times i’ve seen people go off on someone for stating canon facts about media, and they say “oh that’s not true! where’s the source! grrr! you’re pulling that out of your ass!”

and then immediately be like “i haven’t really read the canon ✌️”

…AND IT SHOWS.

y’all listen. i love canon and fanon interpretations. it’s a playground and it’s free space and don’t let canon puritans ruin the fun.

THAT SAID. CAN WE. NOT. pretend we know the canon of something if it’s blatantly being ignored?

i was just reading a post where this was happening, this specifically happens a lot with dreamtale (WHICH FAIR ITS CONFUSING) but for the love

pls pls pls pls don’t say something is wrong and fake and made up when you don’t know the canon?

JUST READ THE CANON. OR DONT, AND BE OK WITH SAYING YOU DONT K N O W THE CANON

you don’t HAVE to know it but YOU CANT PRETEND TO BE INFORMED THEN

don’t call a story bad that you haven’t read yet, don’t label a character as shallow if you’ve never explored them!

i’m kinda a “know the rules to break the rules” person when it comes to fandom spaces, but i digress, and i re state that if the canon doesn’t interest you that’s fine. ITS FINE. IM FAMILIAR WITH MOST OF THE CANON STORIES (to me knowledge😏😏) AND SOMETIMES I CHOOSE TO MAKE THE CHARACTERS FANONIZED BCS ITS F U N

THATS NORMAL.

but i hope that someday i’ll see more respect for the place original works will always have even amongst all of the fun and PERFECTLY VALID fanon content 😁 like the canon creators making that media is the reason we have the characters, it’s a peeve when people try to “do it better” instead of just “have fun with a new interpretation ” (this happens with character designs and art a lot as well)

hating on fanon content is cringe

being disrespectful to canon content is also cringe

and the MOST CRINGE THING I SEE SO OFTEN

is people who say they only respect the canon, or hate on and shit on fanon content, only to turn around and CLEARLY KNOW NOTHINGGGGG ABOUT THE ACTUAL CANON THEY ARE “SO AWARE OF”

aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa*screams so loud and dances seductively*

like yes good sir. mr nightmare sans from dreamtale WAS essentially possessed by a corrupted human man.

yes good sir. this is on more then just a wiki this is actually canon

this is canon. it’s an integral part to their entire story. i will literally write it all out for you if you so desire, but instead your gonna try to ridicule this random person in your comments mentioning it

unless it gets changed in the future that is an example of a canon truth, it’s fine to not know, BUT DONT. PRETEND YOU KNOW.

like i know not everyone has done lore digging but pls i can tell you’ve based your “canon take” off of tht one shitty stolen art dreamtale video we’ve all seen (pls for the love of god if you know what i’m referring to don’t use that as an up to date canon source i’ll cry so hard) just go ahead and say you don’t know the whole canon

jus accept your interpretation will always be fanon ALSO (again which is fine???) unless you KNOW a general amount of knowledge about the canon!?!???!!? it’s not that DEEP EUEUEUEU

again that’s just a minor example of this happening so often everywhereeee😫😫

someone will critique and hate and call a narrative 100% trash and then turn and say it’s “not their thing so they never read it”

OK? THEN DONT TALK ABOUT WHAT YOU HAVENT READ

you can choose to like or dislike smth sure but don’t be so convinced you know something you’ve never looked at. don’t think you can judge an entire book off of the cover just say whether or not you liked the cover

how would you feel if your favorite movie in the world , the one you have so many intense deep feelings and thoughts on, was trashed and hated on by some critic who watched the first five mins???? and then they went off on you abt how ass your take is on this movie you’ve completed and they haven’t given a second thought? they are gonna tell YOU what you aren’t and are allowed to get out of the movie??? HUH???

anyways. seeing that post ate at my guts bcs it was so mean to the other person and outlandishly WILD in so many ways and i’m not specifying who or why bcs that would be immature and dramatic imo

IF YOU READ THIS, 1. WHY, 2. LOOK AWAY FROK YOUR DEVICE FOR A SECOND AND REMEMBER THAT THIS ISUNIMPORTANT and just some rando fandom mutt who’s crying about hate culture and it’s not that deep at the end of the day :)))

drink water and remember it’s ok to not know things and that it’s not bad to ACKNOWLEDGE THAT😭

also don’t let haters talk down to you fandom is for fun and RESPECT that is all GOOD DAY 🫡🩷🩷💞💞✨✨💜💥💜💜💥💥💥💫🙂‍↕️

[noctude]

Alright, the boys back at the lab finally came up with results from all that testing. Turns out using the Aperture Science Quantum Tunneling Device for an extended period makes you gay. Yep. Couldn't explain why for my own life, but you can't argue with science. And hey, if anything, you came out improved – check out that arsenal of fancy new slurs at your disposal! So… keep "slaying cunt" all over those tests. And that's an order. What? Okay, the lab boys just informed me that you still can't say "faggot." Too bad. Anyways. You also have radiation poisoning

[nhescio]

Okay I have a visceral need for a hannigram time travel fic but instead of the typical Will or Hannibal fix-it, the person that time travels back is none other than Frederick fucking Chilton. Like imagine Chilton wallowing around all crispy and stuff after being human torched wondering what he’s done to deserve everything he’s been through. And when he’s finally okay enough to be discharged from the hospital to go home, an anvil falls on him or smth. And as he’s lying there incredulously, he’s like, yknow what? Im not even upset about this. I think Ive suffered enough near death experiences. Please just let this one put me out of my misery. And as his eyes finally drift shut, he hears an alarm blaring in his face. An alarm from his phone. His phone which, when he goes to shut it off, displays an impossible sequence of numbers— the plastic screen shinning with a date from four years past.

So after freaking out and confirming that he is indeed in the past, (and weeping in joy over his unmutilated body) Frederick does the obvious— he packs his bags, pays a visit to the bank, and gets on the next available flight out of the country.

And then his plane crashes and he dies.

But of course he doesn’t die because that seems to be a common theme in Frederick Chilton’s life!

So he’s jolting out of bed again to that same alarm and he tries not to tear his own face off (not that he would ever actually do that cause he knows how easily he could lose that precious face). And (after a few more tries) since this time loop bs isn’t letting him run away, he does the next best thing— phoning the FBI with a tip so that they would investigate Hannibal Lecter and put him behind bars for good. But of course Hannibal somehow finds out and discretely shakes the FBI off his trail while simultaneously sending one of his murderer protégés after Frederick. And so not even a month passes by before Frederick finds himself dying and waking to that infuriating alarm again.

And he keeps going through different loops trying to avoid being “murder tableau of the week”, but failing miserably every time. After dying for what feels like an infinite number of times, he’s realized two main consistencies. Number one, he can’t personally expose Hannibal Lecter as the ripper if he doesn’t want to be gutted, and two, the sooner Will Graham and Hannibal Lecter begin their weird courtship, whether from Frederick’s deliberate meddling or from ripples of unrelated actions, somehow he’s left with much less blood and chaos in the aftermath. In one incredible timeline, Frederick even managed to only sustain one life threatening disembowelment for three years before accidentally making a rude comment about Will Graham’s lack of a social life, thereby leading to a cold death in the Atlantic.

After this revelation, he vows to get Will Graham and Hannibal Lecter to bang each other as soon as possible for the sake of his own self preservation— going through elaborate plans like befriending and recruiting the FBI’s forensics team, or snapping Jack Crawford out of his obliviousness so he’d bluntly give them a nudge, or even once flirting with Will Graham himself to get Hannibal Lecter jealous (note: that attempt did NOT end up well).

And one day, after a shocked text from his “Sassy Science Matchmaking Squad” group chat proclaiming that Hannibal and Will, lovingly dubbed Hannigram by the group, had spontaneously quit their jobs and run away to Europe together, Frederick suddenly realizes he hasn’t been stabbed or burned or maimed or drowned or disemboweled once! He thinks back to his early success in this timeline— silently high fiving with Beverly and Jimmy (Zeller, the spoilsport, had refused to partake) while voyeuristically watching Will and Hannibal shyly having their first kiss in the shadows of a filthy crime scene. In fact, he didn’t think anyone in their immediate circle had been stabbed or burned or maimed or drowned or— well you get the point.

And as one year turns to two to four to eight with no word from Hannibal or Will except the occasional postcard, a sort of cautious optimism starts building in Frederick’s heart. The years continue to fly by until one day, Frederick finds that his hair has turned a snowy white, and that his legs are too weak to support his aching body. He tries to take in a breath to laugh but it comes out as a wheeze. He’s at the end of the line once more, but this time at the end of a healthy, fulfilling life. His only wish is that he’s finally allowed to move on. And as he feels his life slowly drifting away from him, Frederick wonders if he’s accomplished whatever divine mission that godforsaken time loop had wanted him to complete. It really feels like he did the best he could this life, preventing every possible death on the East Coast by sending Hannibal and Will packing early. Sure, he feels bad for the poor suckers in Florence or Paris that were probably flambéed for a pretentiously fancy brunch, but realistically, those two would always leave a body count no matter where they went.

All Frederick wants now is to pass in peace. With a heavy sigh, Frederick willingly closes his eyes one last time, content to move on into whatever lies in the beyond.

And he dies. For real this time. Woohoo!

The End

[spookednsaucy]

Eddie is sick...

(first time I've written something, not sure if it will become a regular occurrence or not but, I hope its got a good mouth feel for ya)

AO3

Steve and Robin were in the middle of a heated debate over what movie they were going to watch tonight when the apartment door slammed open, rattling the poorly hung picture frames on the wall.

Steve immediately moved into a defensive position as Robin grabbed the closest thing to her that could be used as a weapon. They crept down the hallway, ready to pounce on whomever, or whatever had barged into their haven.

They heard the intruder before they saw them. Quiet grumbles and groans came from the entryway; the sounds of items being tossed about and the door being thrown shut. Steve and Robin only relaxed once they recognized the voice rounding the corner.

Eddie chucked his shoes into the corner, pointedly ignoring the shoe rack that Steve had put by the door. He kicked the door shut and trudged down the hall, prepared to shower and collapse in bed, when he saw two dark figures watching him in the darkened doorway. He let out a small shriek as he lunged for the light switch.

Before him now illuminated by the weak overhead light was Steve, phone receiver in hand raised and ready to strike; behind him was Robin, with a deadly look in her eye, holding a plastic ladle like it was a baseball bat. 

Eddie began to laugh at the ridiculous sight when he was cut short by Robin tossing the ladle at his head.

“Hey! What was that for?” he grumbled as he rubbed the sore spot on his head.

“You know you can’t just barge in like that!” Robin practically screamed at him. Steve moved forward to check Eddie’s head, “We didn’t know it was you! We could’ve hurt you!” Steve said as he went to lock the front door and check for any damage to the cheap plywood structure.

Eddie puffed his chest up, “Well I’ll have you know, I’ve received terrible news, that which has left me in a dreadful mood, I fear that you have only exacerbated the issue with your large spoon throwing!”. Steve rolled his eyes and met Robin’s equally amused stare.

“It’s a ladle, not a spoon,” said with all the bitchiness Steve could muster. 

Of course, Steve would know the particular cookware vernacular. 

Eddie, seething with annoyance, prepared his retort.

“Well you would know, wouldn’t you?” He shoved passed the two of them moving to collapse on the couch in a dramatic flourish.

“The hell does that mean?” Steve said as he tossed his hands in the air. He looked at Robin, gesturing at the metalhead who has now become one with the old musty couch.

"Can you believe this?” Steve looked to Robin for a response. She shook her head and released a small sigh, as she shoved Eddie over so she could sit.

“What’s the bad news Eddie?” Robin tried to be comforting in case it was a serious situation but kept a healthy amount of suspicion in her mind since it was Eddie after all.

Eddie half-heartedly rolled over. “I dare not say it aloud, for fear may consume me whole”, his lip quivered as he spoke. He doesn’t know if it was the trembling lip or the small strangled noise he made that softened Steve up, but here he was leaning over Eddie with concern all over his face.

“What’s going on? Is it code red?” Steve glanced toward the counter where the walkie was placed, panic overtook his tense frame. Before he could move to grab it, Eddie was grabbing his wrist, yanking him away. Steve crouched down, petting Eddie's hair and making concerned eye contact with Robin.

Eddie cleared his throat before he spoke, “‘Fraid not Steve-O. It's far worse!” He moved his hand to dramatically drape it across his forehead. Robin grabbed his hand to look him in the eye.

“I need you to cut the drama act and tell me what's going on,” she said frantically. “Like on a scale of failing senior year again” (“Hey!”) “To Vecna zombies, what are we talkin’?” She spits the last sentence out like it was demobat flesh.

Eddie looked toward Steve ready to crack another joke, but the damn Ken doll of a man was rooting through the closet pulling out the emergency bags and his bat. 

Shit, shit, shit.

Eddie sat up quickly, jostling Robin who was manically chewing her nails, eyes flicking between the two men like she was trying to decide which fire to put out first. 

Before Eddie could even get a word out, Robin tackled him to the floor. She began shaking his shoulders. “Just tell us what’s happening!! I can’t take it anymore!” She managed to yell out between her shaking assault on Eddie's shoulders.

Eddie squawked, trying to wriggle out from under Robin. “Steve! Are you just gonna stand by while she gives me shakin’ Eddie syndrome?!” Man, Robin was stronger than she looked.

Steve took one look over his shoulder and dropped everything, deeming Robs the more dangerous threat. The frazzled metalhead grinned up at his personal knight in shining armor, well at least until Steve joined in on the Eddie abuse.

With Robin violently shaking him by the shoulders and Steve manhandling his face like a stress ball, Eddie was preparing for his imminent death.

“Eds, I need you to tell us what's wrong or else I’m grabbing the walkie and radioing the whole party. So, you can tell us or you can tell the six children with severe PTSD reactions.” Steve spoke with a deadly calm that rattled Robin enough to stop her assault. 

Eddie swallowed, trying to digest the threat without choking. ”Fine, fine. I surrender! Release me!” he gasps, attempting to catch the breath that was punched out of him the moment he was shoved to the floor.

Without Robin’s steel grip on his shoulders, he was able to squirm out from under her and escape the two beasts he calls ‘friends’. Eddie stands, attempting to smooth out his hair; across from him, the shining twins stood, arms crossed and hips popped out in motherly disapproval. 

Steve’s expression held a sternness that was rivaled only by Robin’s next to him. 

Never one for a moment of silence, Robin spoke first. “Eddie. Tell us what’s happening. Now”. The air seemed to thicken in the room; Eddie’s skin felt itchy and uncomfortable. The tension was nauseating, he knew he was in trouble, and he was uncertain if he could peacock his way through this.

Rubbing his hands over his face and groaning, he falls on the couch once again. “Ok, ok, I’m sorry.” Eddie’s face was grim and cold, lacking the sunshine he normally exudes. “I got diagnosed with something, but before you start worrying, it's not contagious like that. So, you guys are safe and all…” He took a deep breath in, “But if you want me to move out, I get it. I don’t want to make either of you uncomfortable”. 

Steve’s eyes are glassy with unshed tears; Robin’s lip is quivering as she blinks rapidly. They both miss the small spark of mischief that flickers in Eddie’s eyes. Before Eddie can even come clean and get to the punch line, they pull him up and wrap him up in a suffocating hug. His face shoved into the warmth of Steve’s chest and his side compressed against Robin. Both their arms were like vise grips around him, locking Eddie in place. 

Eddie was quiet, not for a lack of words, but a lack of air; he couldn’t fucking breathe. Robin loosened her grip and Eddie gasped for air as she tried to speak through sniffles. “We love you Eds. Of course we don’t want you to move!” Steve nodded vigorously in agreement, “Yeah we want to support you, man. This is scary, but we’ve handled scary before”. 

Steve pulled him close for one more squeeze before letting him go, Robin still clung to his side. She pulled back a bit before she said, “Did you really think we would let you deal with this alone? You’re our friend, Eddie”. Her voice was full of hurt and anxiety, Eddie wanted to soothe her and fix it. 

“Well, no I didn’t think that, bu-”

Steve interrupted, unable to let Eddie finish his thought. “Look I know what you’re going to say, but Eds, it could’ve been any of us! Your sexuality doesn’t make it your fault, ya know” Steve was earnest as he spoke, which made Eddie even more bewildered. 

What did his sexuality have to do with anything?

He stepped back, hoping the small distance would help bring clarity to the situation. “Ok, I think there’s been a mix up here, 'cause I’m lost” he holds up his hands in innocent surrender. Robin and Steve, the terrible twosome, stare back at him in equal confusion.

“You’re confused? I’m confused!” Robin throws her hands in the air, Steve stares blankly at the floor trying to puzzle out what the hell is happening. Robin spun on her heel, “Wait, Eddie, what were you diagnosed with?”. She had a gleam in her eye, she figured it out.

Eddie pulled his hair in front of his face, and shamefully flopped back onto the couch, shoving his face in between the cushions. 

“Mhmnngmhhn” his words too muffled to make out from under the mess of hair and old couch stuffing.

Robin exasperated, looks at Steve, tossing an awkward gesture in Eddie’s direction. Still confused, Steve leaned forward to pull the grumbling mop of hair out from the cushions. Eddie released a loud groan, squishing his eyes closed so he didn’t have to look at Steve’s concerned face. 

Steve squished Eddie's face in his hands and looked him in the eye to say, “Hey can you repeat that for me? I don’t speak couch.” Eddie’s mask of perpetual sorrow and shame broke for a moment to let out a small chuckle. Robin rolls her eyes and plops down next to Eddie, “We just wanna help” she says tentatively like she might scare him away. 

Shoving his head back into the couch crevasse, Eddie screams “I SAID… mnhngnmmh”.

A loud clap breaks through Eddie’s pitty fest and makes him sit upright. Steve is standing before him, hands on hips. “You’re killin’ us Eds. I’m calling the party.” 

He grabs the walkie, “Hey guys-” 

“I SAID I WAS DIAGNOSED WITH GIGANTICUS GENITALIUS!” Eddie’s face was red, the vein in his forehead ready to pop, panic and guilt in his eyes visible. Once the words leave his mouth he lets out a scream and tries to crawl underneath the couch, a space that obviously would not fit a grown man. In a whimper of failure, he falls back on the couch hiding his face behind Robin’s shoulder.

After an uncomfortable silence, he only peeks out when he feels Robin shaking next to him. She’s laughing, “She’s fucking laughing!” Eddie was angry, no wait, he was relieved? 

As he went through the 5 stages of grief, he spun around to look at Steve. Steve whose face is bright red and his eyes tearing up as he holds back hysterical giggles. And Eddie just stands there, baffled, as he watches his two friends collapse onto the floor in a cramp-inducing fit of laughter. Once the shock passed, Eddie fell apart and joined them on the floor, his bright smile and dimples out in full force. 

“Giganticus Genitalius”, Robin squealed in between hiccuping breaths of air. Eddie smacked her arm only for Steve to retaliate by giving him a vicious noogie. They spend way too long laying together on the floor, repeating the awful joke back and forth until their stomachs hurt from the laughter. 

“We thought you were dying!” Steve manages to choke out. Robin soberly sits up and looks at Eddie, “I thought we would have to have the safe sex talk again”. Her serious attitude was met with a pillow to the face and a screech that sounded a lot like Eddie saying “We said we would never speak of that again!”.

Once the laughter died down, and they were breathing hard, Steve spoke quietly. “Really, we’re glad you’re ok Munson”.

[weepingwitchkingdom]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Wilderlore - Amanda Foody Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Audrian Keyes & Yasha Robinovich, Cyril Harlow & Hasu Mayani, No Romantic Relationship(s) Characters: Audrian Keyes (Wilderlore), Yasha Robinovich (Wilderlore), Cyril Harlow (Wilderlore), Hasu Mayani (Wilderlore), Motya (Wilderlore), Barclay Thorne (mentioned) Additional Tags: Hurt No Comfort, yet - Freeform, Heavy Angst, Angst, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, And Then It Gets Worse, Much worse, Emotional Manipulation, Manipulation, Manipulative Audrian Keyes, Audrian Tries to Be a Good Mentor, keyword is tries, Hopeful Ending, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Audrian tries to help Yasha by manipulating him, It goes exactly as you would expect, a small bit of fluff, because Hasu brings fluf by just existing, graphic depictions of burns, and the pain they cause, Yasha Leaves Audrian, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I Wrote This While Listening to Forth of July, I do not agree with audrians methods, but he is trying, and genuinely wants whats best for yasha, in this fic - Freeform, Why Did I Write This? Series: Part 1 of Audrian Tries (and Fails) to Be a Good Mentor Summary:

Audrian cared about Yasha and wanted what was best for his apprentice. So, if making Yasha think that his mentor hated him and making it seem like Yasha was being manipulated or not doing this out of his own free will was the only way to let Yasha keep his friends and stay out of prison. Then, Audrian would do just that. Sure, he hated every bit of it, every time he scolded Yasha for something that wasn’t Yasha’s fault, every time he acted like Yasha’s presence annoyed him, every complaint that Yasha wasn’t learning fast enough, even though Yasha was learning faster than Audrian did. He hated it, but it was the price Audrian had to pay for dragging a child into a petty fight between Audrian, his past friends, and mentor. Because the thing about being able to create yourself anew without any warning is that it eventually becomes second nature, something that you can do as easily as breathing. So, Audrian did what he did best, he manipulated.

[thatoneconfusedcitrus]

auh mein gott! a penos!

[charliesinfern0]

the alpha kids are all hanging out at jake’s house and jake says something completely normal like “hey, im going to pop in the shower, be back in a jiff” and all they hear is “I’m going to go take a rinky-dinky power shower~! I will be back in a jiffy-loo, hoo hoo hoo!!” and theyre just like “haha oh yeah, classic jake”

[insertcommonnoun]

What if someone you knew and loved became a pot plant and you had to care for them. You watered them everyday, trying to keep them healthy as possible. One day, you get home from a shit day at work. Nothing went right. You look to your dearest friend's little corner. They're not there. Muddy footprints are in your friends place, leading out of the door.

You follow them for miles. And miles. And miles. Eventually you slowly forget your old life, your thoughts being replaced by the dirty marks on the ground. You don't even notice your fingers becoming green. You haven't eaten in 5 days. The face you once had is obscured with newly budding leaves. Your body slowly becomes more plant than animal, but you don't care, the footprints are more important. Your phone screams with hundreds of missed calls, but you abandoned a long time ago.

You find your friend. You look just like them.

[choccy-milky]

oh boy anon, you’ve activated my trap card. GET READY FOR A SEBASTIAN CHARACTER ANALYSIS ESSAY BELOW LMAO

ok so first off I know im obvs biased, but I don’t actually think my seb is that ooc, AND PUT DOWN YOUR PITCHFORKS IMMA EXPLAIN WHY. but im also gonna explain why I don’t think the other more friendly and lighthearted renditions of seb are ooc either. bc theres so many aspects of seb we get in the game that can be interpreted in so many diff ways, and so this is how i see it/landed on MY rendition of seb:

PROTECTIVENESS/POSSESSIVENESS: this is one of the main aspects of him, imo. his entire questline is about wanting to cure anne, and how he’s not giving up, and how he believes that HE is the only one that can do it, because “she’s MY sister!” seb is super tunnel visioned and has a one-track mind when it comes to this, and I headcanon that he’s this way because of their parents deaths. he’s the brother, the boy, he’s gotta be strong for his sister, and ofc when their parents died, he tries to comfort her and be there for her/be the rock, and it happens again when she’s sick. shes his sister, his responsibility, and he’ll die before he gives up on her and her safety.

SO, I just transfer all those aspects over to a romantic relationship instead. you just replace “shes my sister” with simply, “she’s mine/my gf/my wife/etc.” and in the same way I think seb tries to be strong and reliable and protect anne because he’s the brother, I think seb would be the same way in a relationship, because he’s a boy and she’s a girl and its 1890 and he’s chivalrous and he just sees it as his responsibility. I think the death of his parents and his dynamic with anne has baked this sort of mindset into him, and its even MORE intense in a romantic aspect, because then hormones and puberty and sexual tension and attraction is involved (plus the fact that seb in my fic is 17, so he’s older and has even stronger raging hormones and testosterone LOL.

JEALOUSY: who can forget the lines “between the two of you, I’m starting to feel left out” and “ominis simply needs a moment with you and he’ll change his mind. is that it?” the first one is more playful but I feel like the second one really showcases sebs brand of jealousy, and how biting and uncharitable it can be.

AGGRESSION/VIOLENCE: yet another iconic line with: “fine. but ominis knows, I won’t step back from a fight.” LIKE... the fact that apparently ominis knows this means its come up more than once…and im not saying seb is some unruly aggressor who flies off the handle at anything, but he defs has a capacity and is willing to get violent if HE believes the situation calls for it—basically the same way he feels about the dark arts. he felt justified using imperio to protect anne, and taking the relic to save anne, and so he would have fought ominis to get out of the catacomb. and with MY seb, while he doesn’t go picking fights with any boy who looks or gets close to clora, he’ll definitely be willing to beat up or lay hands on a creep who bothers clora/who is in the process of bothering her LOL.

SO YEAH, that’s pretty much it, and I’ll be the first to admit I definitely ramp up these traits further because he’s older in my fic and i think these traits would only get more intensified with age + being in love and also bc IM A TWILIGHT GIRLIE!!! what can I say. there are so many moments in my fic where you can just replace seb with edward and it wouldn’t seem out of place tbh LMAOO so blame twilight, it was a formative experience for me BAHAHA

BUT like I ALSO said, I don’t think peoples more lighthearted interpretations of seb are ooc either. because even all my earlier above examples, you can just focus on diff aspects of them. like his tunnel vision and obsession to cure anne? instead of seeing it as over the top protective and possessive, you can just view it in a more wholesome determined selfless sort of way. like I said we got so many nice little bits and ingredients of his personality that we can turn into anything we want, really👌just pick which flavour of seb u like best and use what we got in game to create it HAHA

AW TYY QUEEN BAHAHA💖 and aw im always so honoured when ppl tell me they consider my stuff canon that’s like the best compliment I can get, tysm 😭 and im glad you like my fic and art so much (enough for your friends and family to unfortunately know💀 LMAOO)

im adding your ask to this because it kinda ties into my seb essay. LETS GET INTO WHY A SWEET BABY ANGEL WOULD LIKE SOMEONE LIKE SEB. the answer ISSS: the same reason WE’RE also all into him I guess?? BAHHA

ok but to start off im gonna defend my seb, not only cause of what you said anon (i dont want you to feel like this is targeted to you!) but also bc I got an ask recently asking me to summarize seb and clora’s relationship since all they see from my art is that “they fuck and seb is possessive” LMAO, and I feel like ppl who JUST see my art and don’t read my fic have a warped image of my seb.

this may be shocking but I don’t consider my seb a red flag LMAO. I joke about how hes more of a pink flag tbh, but even THAT i dont even really believe, and don’t even consider him overly possessive. like yes he keeps an eye on her when shes hanging around other boys, but I feel like that’s normal (esp for 1890) and all of his most possessive moments have been when theres been a threat to cloras life/coming from a place of love and protection (especially since clora is so self-sacrificial, she’d have killed herself by now if not for seb LOL) so to me id actually put Sebastian as being PROTECTIVE as his first and foremost trait, followed by the possessiveness.

and yeah he gets jealous, but unless a dude is actively trying to get with her/hitting on her/harassing her, he’ll otherwise just kinda be unhappy about it/let it play out/ watch on unhappily LOL. and even when lawley was blackmailing clora and getting in between her and sebs relationship and lying about how close he and clora were, seb demanded answers from CLORA on what was happening between the two of them, but he didn’t touch lawley or tell him to stay away. bc seb thought that was what clora wanted, so he let her drift away. if he was TRULY a red flag, in this instance he would have just beat up lawley for taking what was "his"/not allow clora to leave him/immediately go to lawley instead of clora, and tell him to stay away despite what clora might want. (and clora even WISHED seb had interfered and done this. she was like 'why is he letting me drift away and go off with lawley i WANT him to fight for me...but she couldn't actually say anything thanks to the blackmail)

clora doesn’t just 'put up' with sebs more possessive and protective behaviour though, she actually likes it HAHA. just bc shes a precious baby angel, we all like a bad boy, even back then. just look at jane eyre, and how popular the dark and brooding and assholey mr. rochester was.

she tells seb at one point that she likes those things about him, even his immature competitive side, and his darker sides, and that he shouldn’t try to hide them or change himself because she accepts them. and even putting aside all of the stuff they’ve been through together that has bonded them (like the main canon quests + annes curse and then CLORA being cursed, and then clora being kidnapped and seb saving her) clora thought seb was roguish and charming and witty and intelligent and good looking from day 1. add to the fact that he’s just so devoted to her in everything he does, that even if he CAN get a bit overbearing at times, how could you NOT fall for someone like that😩 someone whose possessive behavior just stems from wanting to protect you and love you and want to keep you safe and cherish you like DAMN…. GET ME A SEB, TOO. WHERES MINE!!!😭😭

clora also realizes in ch 32 WHY seb is so protective of her (the trauma with his parents and wanting to be there for anne) and that she accepts it, and enjoys it, and that she might even MISS it if seb were to ever get less protective of her/might get lonely LOL, and then sebs like "i’ve "spoiled you, have i?"

so YEAH I don’t think sebs protectiveness and possessiveness goes into any toxic territory or red flag territory PERSONALLY (and the time that it DID get toxic was because of the relic, and clora DID put her foot down)

but my normal seb? whose dream in life is to whisk clora away into a tower and lock her up to keep her safe and keep her all to himself, but that he’d never ACTUALLY do because he knows its insane and unreasonable but jokes about wanting to do it anyway bc he would if clora agreed? clora finds that endearing and cute and is touched by how much he loves her and wants to keep her safe.

IN CLOSING: I LOVE THEM YOUR HONOUR AND THEY LOVE EACH OTHER👩‍❤️‍💋‍👨👩‍❤️‍💋‍👨👩‍❤️‍💋‍👨

[ecstarry]

@jegulus-microfic / shiver / 113 words

Each year contains the exact same days and months. Calendars are adorned with circled dates marking birthdays and anniversaries, eagerly anticipated moments that punctuate the passage of time. Yet, amidst these well-known occasions lie nameless dates; unassuming and unremarkable, until suddenly they are transformed by an unexpected event.

Today, March 28, marks the occasion of Regulus’ Black first kiss.

Today, March 28, will forever be remembered as the day James Potter first sent shivers down Regulus' spine.

Today, March 28, marks the beginning of a new chapter in Regulus Black's story.

The date will never need a written reminder on a calendar; it is etched into the very fabric of Regulus’ consciousness.

more of euge's february microfics here

[bitchwholikesshitposting]

Wheatley is an awkward finger guns bisexual mess of a man and you can't convince me otherwise

He gets no bitches. He is fucking atrocious at dates. My man arrives late, makes like 50 bad puns and then forgets his wallet so he just dives out the window and runs for it hoping that the cops don't get called. He then proceeds to fall over into a trash can and you have to pull him out but oops the restaurant owner is after you so you have to climb into a tree and he gets sticks in his hair and gets distracted by a fucking bug and then you go to jail but it's okay he has a brilliant plan to get out he's gonna punch the fucking crack in the cell wall until you escape. Which actually somehow works because you know robot metal hands are stronger then they look but it takes like a week and the prison guards keep checking in so in a panic he jumps over to you away from the crack to not cause suspicion and ends up crashing right into you which makes the guards angry at you because "no roughhousing" but hey you're out now. And he immediately sets off an alarm which in HIS defense yeah he saw the camera but like the red light wasn't blinking like it does in among us so how was he supposed to bloody know it was on and then you have to break into a cop's car and he says he's gonna "hack" it but he actually just knocks a guy out and steals his keys and then proceeds to break like 50 buttons trying to get directions from the car and now you're being chased by the police and he starts throwing like the donut box in the car at the other cars and at some point throws the entire ass car door but falls out himself and then you have to get out to get his ass up and hide in a grocery store and get in the vents but he's talking the whole time which is very echoey in there so now there's cops trying to get in the vents so you pull a three raccoons in a trench coat trick to walk out which SOMEHOW works and you proceed to drive off of a cliff because wheatley doesn't know how to drive but like luckily he's waterproof so he manages to drag you out after which he's pooped and he like buries himself in sand and curls up like a cat to sleep and then you carry him away and the next thing you know you're on an airplane to the other side of the fucking world to assume new identities and he's like "uhhhh same time tommorrow?"

Edit:

Well fuck why would you tell me that.

Now I have to make the most unhinged x reader fic known to man. Thanks a lot /j

[stuffeddeer]

i came across your blog a few days ago and all i could think of is deerlike/fawnlike darling 😭 someone who’s sensitive and shy, a bit vulnerable !! would go so well with any of the dazais omg

YOURE SO RIGHT imma delve into a few different variations :)

Deludedly obsessed Dazai would view your deer-like traits as something inherently weak. It’s something that makes you sensitive and ill-equipped for the cruel world he grew up in. Since he’s well versed in the cruelties of life, Dazai can make sure you stay safe, right? He takes it up as his job to look after you and keep you safe, remaining close at all times when he can be. If you work in the agency alongside him, he makes sure to pull you onto missions that he’s already leading or will pawn off whatever he’s working on to join yours. He works at the agency, sure, but his job is to look after you. If you find him scary, that's merely because of how many people must have been able to wrong you in the past! It's not like it's hard to, in fact, he could easily— no.

That's why he needs to protect you, to keep you away from people like himself. Oda would want him to help out the poor and defenseless, right? Even if you can't accept that yet, you'll understand in a matter of time. Or you won't, and Dazai will have to take more... drastic measures.

-

Dazai who knows his obsession for you is wrong will start out thinking similar things — how easy you would be to manipulate (he hates that that’s his first thought), how much he should make sure to keep you safeguarded and out of harm’s way — but try to put a stop to it. If you work in an office job or something similar, he’ll be sure to remind himself that you’ve made it this far, and it’s not like you’ll be stumbling into trouble any time soon. To keep his mind from unraveling and his obsession and anxieties from worsening, he’ll follow you home after work under the blanketed night sky, reminding himself the whole time that you’re safe. And if anyone tries to harm you? …

He’d have such an urge to just keep you at his home, safe and away from the cruel outside, but he knows that’s wrong; Dazai knows how sad you’d be and while you’d have no way to fight back, he’d feel so guilty watching you break down in front of him. Looking after you is all he wants to do, including emotionally. But maybe feeling a little sad at the beginning is better than someone hurting you…

As much as he tries to fight it, Dazai knows you’d be better off staying by him all the time.

-

Manipulative and harsh Dazai who gets some sick joy out of your timid demeanor. He’ll want to crush your spirit, prove that your invulnerability is nothing more than a weakness he intends to exploit. You work in some sort of cozy shop mainly by yourself (ie coffeehouse, flower shop, something cutesy) and it almost makes him sick - how can someone be so sweet and innocent? He wants that for himself and you make it far too easy to obtain. A few kind words and polite smiles and he knows he’s become your favorite customer, even if he never buys anything. He brings you a coffee one day out of the goodness of his heart and Dazai swears he sees hearts in your eyes. He builds up a rapport so quickly and smoothly you don’t notice the red flags (how he always seems to know your schedule, favorite coffee..) and dismiss your co-worker’s worries. There’s no way he could be so rude and flippant with them, it’s not in his nature!

And when you get fired after some anonymous customer continuously claimed you were horribly rude to them, Dazai was there to console you. You find yourself at his place much more often, spending time solely with him as your friends begin to ghost you. As thanks to the man who kept you afloat during all of this, you’d stay and help around Dazai’s apartment, cleaning up and bringing him food… and when he mentioned how lonely it gets, well, what kind of friend would you be if you didn’t stay the night? And the next one. And the next…

Once you’ve all but entirely been kidnapped moved in, Dazai reminds himself that the world out there is cruel. So, if you miss being outside so much, then he’ll gladly bring the harsh world to you.

-

Possessive loser Dazai who doesn’t want your vulnerability and (as he views it) “pureness” tainted by someone else, but is happy just watching you stumble from afar. He swoops in during your date with a friend, dragging you out claiming that they were planning on hurting you! He just wants to keep you safe, don’t you understand that? And you do. You so pliantly nod as you thank him, letting out a sigh of relief that Dazai saved you yet again. How do you keep picking these horrible people?

One night, last minute, you went out with a few friends, and Dazai found out the next day. He spent all day avoiding you, angry beyond belief that you could be so stupid! Don’t you know they’re all the same?! He’s just trying to keep you safe! You’re so sensitive, so malleable; the last thing he wants is for some assholes to make you do something you don’t want to (never mind you saying you had fun). You apologize profusely, because of course you do: Dazai is your best friend.

-

Port Mafia Dazai whose only basis for relationships comes from Mori and his ability. He knows it’s wrong, right? But when he sees you, so shy and easy to scare, his mind is made up: You are too good for the Mafia. He takes you back to his small shipping container and decides he’d be the one to take care of you, like Mori does with Elise. His paychecks begin to go towards frilly outfits and soft pajamas for his darling, expensive cakes he wants to see you try and the same kind of crayons he saw Elise forcing the Boss to buy a few days ago. You’re well pampered and still so shy and polite, which is why Dazai is so aggravated when you finally ask to feel the sun on your skin once more. He’s sacrificed so much to keep you happy and spoiled, but you still ask for more?…

…He buys you a big house away from Yokohama’s port with big glass walls for you to enjoy the sun.

-

I imagine a more work-oriented or apathetic Port Mafia Dazai would be the only rendition that doesn’t treat you like a frail doll. Your vulnerable and shy side is cute, sure, but that can be a skill. He’d send you on missions to lure and attack like Kyouka or undercover, as no one expects such a shy person to be apart of the feared organization. He would spend his time training and mentoring you like Akutagawa, but he wouldn’t be nearly as harsh. You don’t have the ability and skills Akutagawa does, but you still should know basic self defense. Who knows? Maybe one day he’ll wrap you up in bandages and train you to follow in his footsteps.

[tunastime]

no place for strangers

in which BigB realizes that there are a significant number of difference sbetween him and his friends, and in which BigB decides he doesn’t really care that much.

(2333 words)

A portion of the night sky, night for only a fraction of time, is blotted out by the shape of two dark, mottled-grey wings. 

He supposes he's a little jealous of that, the wings, how they shed loose feathers, how they flutter and swish and practically make no noise at all when extended. He's a bit jealous of Grian, known Watcher, much more powerful, hands twisted in the reigns of his own creation—the games. He's as much a pawn in this one as he has been in the others. But unlike BigB, he's hungry. The killing doesn't do it for him. Neither does the dying. Grian’s new—the Watchers don’t let him stay full. They chastise him for a million things and make sure he suffers, and at this point, BigB watches it happen. There isn’t much left he can do. He does less Watching and more supervising.

Maybe he's jealous of Pearl, with thin black and gold wings like a moth, ears wispy and pointed up toward the sky. The way her drooping eyes never dim, the way they both glow, silver and gold. She’s got it just as good as him, doesn’t she? Secretive and distant. Away enough to matter but not enough to cause a fuss.

But maybe he isn't. Isn't there something lurking behind his eyes when he stares at his reflection too long? Wouldn't redstone glow in his presence? Wouldn't the forest go silent and the earth hold its breath as he waited, as he watched? Wasn't there the purple remnant of where he once stood?

It doesn't matter. BigB stares up at the messy splotch that is Grian against the night sky and sighs something profound. He tried to understand him. To love him. But Grian is a widow, and everyone that loves him suffers the same. They just have, actually. Joel and Jimmy. And now Grian perches and watches and BigB watches him and there's a muted sting behind his eyes as he does. Grian doesn't turn. But his wings flutter.

"Good to know that some things stay the same," BigB says, cutting through the warm night air with a voice he hopes matches it, but he isn't sure. Grian hums, mostly questioning. His feet stay planted. BigB starts to scale the wall.

"Don't know what you mean by that," Grian questions. He turns his head slightly to the sound of BigB climbing the ladder to the top, but doesn't do much else.

"You," BigB huffs. He rests his hands on the top of the wall, pulling himself over the flat edge. He swings his legs over, and his heels bounce against the cobbles. It’s an uncomfortable resting place. He watches Grian shift from foot to foot, and wonders if the same cobbles are digging into the soles of his feet, the same way they dig into the underside of BigB’s thighs. 

“Me?” Grian parrots. His eyes flick over to BigB, quick, but not so quick that BigB doesn’t catch the nervous glint of them. He rests back on his hands. The rough rock presses back against his palms, cold and uncomfortable. Luckily, the air around them is thick with humidity, heat, and a faint metallic smell. And the hum of cicadas. Their drone blocks out everything else, except the words bouncing around in BigB’s head.

"You're still no good at the emotions thing, are you?" he asks. He tilts his head as he says it, cocking it to one side as he looks over at Grian. He watches Grian’s nose wrinkle, the beginnings of his teeth baring back, as if he could bite and make anything more than an impression. BigB almost laughs. He gets it, he really does. 

The thing about Grian is that he’s not an easy shape to love, and an even less easy shape to hold. Like every bird, he fears being caged, and arms are no more than a cage, and someone holding his heart is no more than a cage, so he can’t sit still, even now, even on the edge of a wall. BigB watches his wings twitch. They’re gorgeous, but there’s a sharp line through them where the flight feathers should be. They’re not much more than deadweight. Anyway—where was he? Right. Grian. Impossible to love, impossible to hold. A widow, of sorts. The words tumbled out of Scar’s mouth one time, scorned and scoffed. Grian was no more than a widow mourning the first partner he took—Scar—trying to find someone who fit the hole but wasn’t him. 

But Grian kills. Who could say it was even his fault? Scar. BigB. Jimmy. Joel. Everyone he tries to love, in any shape, dies. He’s forced to starve. He’s forced to feed a higher cause. 

BigB can see Grian’s calloused fingers from here, at least the pale shape of them, balanced over his shins as his wrists drape over the sharp edge of his knee. He studies him in the dim lighting before he looks away, feeling something curdling in his stomach. BigB knows his time is short. Unremarkable. And normally forgotten. That doesn’t really bother him, though. He knows the importance of his impression, here. But he wants to tug this string, just once. He knows where all the strings lie—even his own, unfortunately. Maybe that’s the one thing he knows better than Grian—he’s aware of the outcome before it happens. He doesn’t have to stop to wonder what his odds are.

“That’s not nice,” Grian begins, and BigB shrugs. The cicadas stop singing. BigB’s voice cuts through the night like a knife, cool and even.

“I’m just being honest,” he starts. He watches the stone of the clock tower for movement, eyes flicking over the shape in the dark. “Jimmy and Joel just died and you’re already trying to replace them.”

Grian huffs. He sounds indignant, almost twinged with hurt. “I don’t know what you mean by that.”

BigB raises his eyebrows, tilts his head again. Grian catches his eye for a second longer, this time, and his eyes are dark and wide. His jaw is tightly set. He looks like, at any moment, his lips might curl back and expose blunt, powerless teeth. BigB wonders what that might feel like—surely unpleasant, to have someone bite down on you with the intent to do harm, but he wonders if Grian could kill him on purpose and if it might rid him of anything. It might make the smell of guilt worse, actually.

“I think you do,” BigB says.

“Enlighten me, then,” Grian grits out, teeth closing around the words with a sharp snap. “Since I can feel you trying to figure me out.”

“Not me,” BigB says. Grian shuts his eyes, pinching his eyebrows together, before he twists his body around, fast enough to hear the slight pop of his spine as it cracks. BigB can feel the hair rise on the back of his neck as Grian searches, eyes scorching the earth for any sign of—

“Pearl—”

BigB hums, but it sounds more like a laugh.

“You’re just no good at it,” he says after a beat. Grian resettles, but his wings stay fluffed, body tight with tension. He radiates energy like a coil tightly wound. BigB can feel it seeping into the seams of him, and shifts as it prickles over his skin. He leans back on his hands a little further, hoping they can carry the weight. He shrugs. “I don’t know.”

“I don’t know what that means, BigB,” Grian sighs, short and through his nose. His hair blows into his face. “What d’you—” He sighs again, cutting himself off with a wave of his hand. 

He seems annoyed about the whole prospect of their conversation. It’s not unfounded, honestly. BigB did just climb up the ladder and start unpacking years worth of issues in front of Grian, trying to dig at the soft, bleeding center of the thing. He’s pretty sure Joel’s blood is still under his fingernails. He’s not sure if he saw it all happen. He definitely didn’t see Jimmy’s body hit the ground. Lucky, that. He’s not sure if he could watch people so used to flying be unable to use their wings when they needed it most. He thinks he might’ve seen Joel in the moment before Jimmy disappeared—Joel who was never one to let fear and grief trump anger. Or maybe the anger was his grief, like it was Tango’s, or Scar’s. Not that he saw much of that, either. Stories, mostly, things that get passed around a dim campfire at the end of the world. 

Jimmy was probably just a near-lifeless body in Joel's arms, right before he was gone. Poor guy. Grian didn’t even get to them in time before it was too late. He was too late for Joel, too. Joel was ash before Grian could even make his mouth into the shape of his name. BigB wonders if they got a grave. Grian was good at building graves, so he’d like to think so. It only made sense. Grian seemed to get over it faster when there was something to mourn to.

BigB takes a second to think, pressing his tongue between his back teeth. The air is quiet around them, still, like it, too, holds the tension in Grian’s spine, like it might be twisting it taut. 

“You just don’t understand how it works, you’re not good at grieving, and you’re not good at the whole grief thing, either.” BigB shrugs again, shoulders lifting just enough to be visible. He’s still not watching Grian, as much as Grian isn’t watching him, aside from the hum of them both, something wholly inhuman brushing shoulders with something that craved humanity more than anything else in the world, but could never figure out how to get it. 

“You don’t get it.”

“I do.” Grian starts.

“No, you don’t,” BigB turns toward him, finally, furrowing his eyebrows. “Grian, dude—you’re faking this whole human thing to begin with, and it’s not working—”

Grian whips around to face him. His face is sharp, jaw set. “Stop—”

BigB waves him off. His voice, unlike Grian’s, stays level, twinged with annoyance, rather than anything else. 

“You don’t understand what you should be guilty of, but you’re feeling it like it’s like…rotting something inside of you but you still don’t know why, and jeez, Grian, you’ve made it a crime for you to feel something.” 

He sighs, waving his hands around as if it could help bolster his point any further. He feels something ache in his chest—something aching to explain it in a way that Grian could understand, in a way that he wouldn’t just fight. Grian visibly bristles, feathers on his ears rising, the red and yellow tips of them stark in the night, even in the lantern light. 

“You’re on this planet too, you know, you’re allowed to let yourself feel. Messy and gross as it is. I mean, they died, man, is that anything?”

Grian swallows. BigB doesn’t watch the bob of his throat, or the way his feathers are still raised in alert as he jerks his head away. He follows Grian’s line of sight down the clock tower, where Bdubs and Cleo are talking. Bdubs looks over after a second. BigB feels a cold line run down his spine, but refuses to break his gaze. There are no sounds now, not even of his own heartbeat.

“No,” Grian manages.

BigB relaxes. Something of an easy smile finds his face, softening the shape of his eyes and the line of his jaw. He shakes his head. Grian shies away from him, but his feathers lower, and his posture sinks. He finally lowers himself to a sit, throwing his legs over the side of the wall. His hands cradle in his lap, and he stares into the palms of them. BigB remembers them as calloused, cold, and hard to hold properly. But he’s sure someone out there enjoys them. 

“You’re a really bad liar,” he laughs. Grian shakes his head. His voice is much quieter as he speaks.

“I don’t care. I don’t care.”

BigB turns his head. There, for a short moment in the moonlight, he watches the shape of Grian’s left shoulder turned toward him. They rise and fall as he breathes, shudder when he sniffs and sighs, move as he shifts his body, likely feeling those same, cold, hard cobbles pressing into the soft back of his legs. He sees where the back meets the wing, where the wing relaxes down and where feathers brush stone. He sees where they rest against the cobbles, half held and half upright, as if he wants to be ready to leap at a moment's notice. As if he doesn’t know that he, too, would die on impact. BigB reaches out, settling one soft hand on his shoulder. Grian tenses, but does not jump. 

“‘S alright, buddy.”

Instead, Grian deflates. BigB runs his thumb over the side of his shoulder, a friendly, comforting thing, as Grian leans back to his hand. His posture sinks to the touch, muscles weakening, wings folding back and down. Every molecule of his body, and BigB almost feels this in the air, grows heavy and tired at the subtle comfort. Grian draws what he can from it before he speaks. His voice sounds even, now, and tired.

“I miss them…” He starts. He swallows. “I missed you, too. I missed Scar.”

BigB sighs, giving Grian’s shoulder a long, warm squeeze before he lets go. Grian sways but catches himself on his hands. His body stays curved into itself. 

“I know,” BigB says. “But you’ll never be over it if you never break that cycle.”

Grian shrugs. The steel starts to slip back into his voice, firm. 

“I will when I win.”

BigB smiles.

“Maybe,” he says. He’s not sure he can see the end of that string yet, but the results don’t exactly look promising. “Who knows what’s in the cards?”

[cnidarianrui]

A random headcanon of mine is that Tsukasa is afraid of the dark, even more so when he's regressing.

🌟🌟🌟🌟

The darkness can turn even the most comforting of rooms to a scary, intimidating void. No amount of hiding under covers and snuggles with stuffies can brighten up the room, ridding it of any monsters, sadly.

This fear, unfortunately, has led to several restless, fearful nights of uncomfortable sleep.

Well, eventually this would catch up with him at one of WXS' practices, after all using so much energy to put on the best performance is hard when you haven't slept well.

And, to no one's surprise, he ends up regressing, and spilling everything to his dearest troupemates.

But of course, how could they let their littlest star suffer this fear? How could this be remedied?

In an attempt to provide some comfort for Tsukasa, Rui and the others work on building a nightlight, a special nightlight!

This nightlight is a small replica of the starry sky, illuminating Tsukasa's ceiling with constellations.

Of course, Tsukasa absolutely adores it! His room is no longer a dark void, with monsters lurking in every nook and cranny, now a beautiful night sky!

With it being such a success, whenever the little sun's dearest friends (or carers, in this scenario) are over for a sleepover, the lights fade out, revealing the stars. The troupemates gather around their little star, listening eagerly as he points out constellations, drifting off to a comfortable dreamland in his carers' arms.

🌟🌟🌟🌟

[why0should0i]

If Regina George was in blue lock she would be the supreme winner, the true egoist, the one standing on the top... She would wipe the floor with everybody's asses...

[fagdykepearlescentmoon]

call it the cuntryside with how much I'm serving