#but there is the fact that just hiding the problem repeatedly causes problems even in this run

[ozzinbloggin]

ASM #40

[latenightdaydreams]

I had an idea .. what about something with college!konïg & bitchy!reader .. she’s kinda quiet , but looks down on everyone . He’s infatuated with her and he wants to break her . He starts stalking her to FULL EXTENT, taking pictures, following her around for a few weeks/days etc and one day she comes home and he’s there.. when she goes to shower someone follows behind her and he rapes her after she comes out the shower 😩 her eyes widen as he covers her mouth and her muffled screams and flailing arms are no use against konigs strength. (Also..she’s short🙊)

I LOVE HOW YOU WRITE..you’re my fav konïg writer!!😊 no rush!! Thank you🙋🏻‍♀️

Thank you so much!!!! I hope you have a great day/night and thank you for the love💖

CollegeAU!König x Reader (fem)

MDNI🔞

Master List ✍🏽

🚫MASSIVE TRIGGER WARNING🚫

>cw: fem/afab, non-con, p in v, stalking, oral, impregnation threats.

2.6k word count

🚫

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König sits on a bench on campus, seemingly scrolling on his phone, but in reality, he’s taking a video of you as you walk to your next class. The way you carry yourself with such confidence, walking as if no one could touch you. Being barely 5 feet tall, he could easily toss you over his shoulder.

Before you can get too far away, König stands up and follows you keeping a safe distance behind you. He takes photos of you, zooming in on your face when you turn to look for cars before crossing the street. While he wants to remain hidden, he also wants you to notice him. Make eye contact with him or something. Yet, you never do. You’re so self-absorbed that you don’t notice anyone around you; such an easy target to kidnap.

As König watches, you enter the building for class. His heart sinks, knowing it will be a few hours before he sees you again. In the meantime, he watches the video he took and stares at the photos of you. The white shirt you’re wearing today shows a little of your black bra. You must be aware, yet you choose to wear it, anyway. Tempting little vixen.

Once your class lets out, König sees you leaving the building. The only thought on your mind is rushing home to get away from all these idiots on campus. In such a rush that you’ve failed to even notice the giant man that has been following you like a shadow.

For being so small, you hurry through the crowds, almost causing König to lose sight of you. Thankfully, he caught you at the crosswalk. He walks up beside you slowly, this being the closest that he’s ever gotten to you. You press the button to cross repeatedly as if that will hurry things up for you. It causes König to smirk, chucking quietly to himself.

The proximity to you drives his mind wild. You smell like your warm vanilla body lotion that he’s watched you put on every single class he has with you. He can only assume that your pussy would smell strongly of your shower gel and a hint of your naturally sweaty cunt. What a delicious mix. His eyes travel up and down your short body. You barely reach his chest as he stands there.

As you turn your head and look at König, standing so close to you. Your eyes meet his with an annoyed look on your expression. Why the fuck is he standing so close?

“Do you have a problem?” You bark at him, snapping König out of his thoughts about how you’d look riding his massive body.

“No, just waiting to cross.” König gazes down at you with an unreadable expression crossing his face. He tries his best to hide the fact that he is obsessed with you, but there is a certain glimmer in his eyes that makes your stomach churn.

“Whatever, just back up.” You demand as you take two steps to the side to put distance between the two of you.

König’s eyes follow you and ask you to back away from him. The light turns red and the small walking signal signs for you both to cross the street. Since you’ve seen him, he puts some distance between the two of you by making a turn. He’s familiar with the area in which your apartment is so he just takes a different route to you.

Thankfully he reaches the apartment before you do. He stands, lingering by some bushes as he watches you walk into your apartment. Your breasts bounce as you look down at your phone, oblivious to König standing only a few feet away from you. There is a mom, clearly frazzled by something that passes you, accidently bumping you.

“I’m so sorry!” The woman turns to apologize.

You don’t apologize, even though it was your fault for not looking where you were walking. Instead, your eyes shoot daggers at the poor woman, making him look even more sad in her face. You’re such a selfish woman. Always thinking that you’re better than everyone around you. As if we are all below you. It’s going to be so sweet to watch you crumble.

A few weeks pass of König silently following you, obsessively gazing at you during the one class her shares with you. After being able to memorize your schedule. You have very few friends, friends that you don’t hang out with. Everyday you rush home after class. Spending time on campus around others seems to be the last thing you want to do. Little do you know how easy you make it for König.

König waits until 9am, when you leave for your 9:30 class. He’s dressed in a casual outfit to blend in, but with a cap on just so no one could make out his facial features. The second you make it to the cross walk; König slips inside the apartment complex and heads for the third floor. With a stride that said he belongs here; he makes his way past a few random people to your door.

There he stands, looking both ways to make sure that no one sees him as he pulls out a tool to get past your door’s locks. No one was none the wiser, allowing König to successfully get away with entering your home.

As he stands there, his eyes scope out his surroundings, taking in how you’ve decorated your little home. His massive frame seems even bigger in this apartment. He walks into the kitchen and opens the fridge to see what you eat. Mostly junk food with the cliché browning spinach in a bag. You really should eat better.

Continuing his exploration, he eventually finds himself in your bedroom. Feminine, but not overbearing. It smells of your vanilla lotion and body spray, messy with clothing overflowing from the hamper in the corner of your room. He approaches the pile and crouches down, tilting his head to the side as he notices a pair of black cotton panties. Of course he grabs them, brings them to his face to smell. It smells like you wore these on a day you skipped a shower, a white patch on the fabric from your discharge. He’s found treasure.

König quickly shoves it into his pocket and walks to your unmade bed. He grabs your pillow and brings it up to his nose, taking a deep inhale to savor the scent of you. It’s addicting. As he holds your pillow like a stuffed animal, he checks the time on his watch. He still has forty-five minutes until you show up. That seems like a lifetime away.

As he searched your home, he found his hiding spot. In the second bedroom, you use it for mostly storage, seemingly not going in there a lot. The closest is big enough for him to slip into and it’s directly across from your bedroom. He moves into position, hiding and waiting for you. The underwear in his pocket keeps him entertained until you can come home.

Finally, you’re home, walking into your apartment and kicking off your shoes. Today the hall you were in for lecture was hot and sticky, the hold building having a failing air conditioning system. You enter your room and pull your clothing off, tossing it on the vast pile of clothes in the corner.

König stays as still as a statue as he listens to your movements in the bedroom, moving to the bathroom. Slowly, he puts your underwear back into his pocket. He can hear the shower curtains pull back and you're stepping in. With steady steps, he leaves the room and approaches the hallway. His eyes land on the cracked door of the bathroom, steam from your hot shower pouring out of the gaps of the door. The aroma of your body wash floods König’s nostrils. He takes a deep breath and continues on forward.

The bathroom door opens without a sound, the mirror foggy from the heat. He watches your silhouette through the sheer shower curtain, his cock instantly hardening. The reaction when you see him will be very negative. He’s ready for it.

The shower turns off and you open the curtain to grab your towel. He watches your shiny water covered arm reach out and grasp it. Only seconds pass by, but it feels as if time has slowed down as you slowly look over and meet König’s gaze. You freeze as your eyes widen. The weird tall Austrian man from campus, König.

You open your mouth to let out a terrified scream, but König dashes forwards and covers your mouth. He moves behind you, wrapping his other hand around your waist and lifting you up. Your legs and arms flail, hitting him with everything you’ve got, but it doesn’t affect König one bit.

“You think you can push me away?” He laughs, dragging your wet body from the bathroom to your bedroom.

Once inside, he tosses you on the bed, locking the door behind him. You let out one scream before he pounces on you once again and covers your mouth. He has you pinned to your mattress, his free hand groping your breasts, shaking them and pinching your nipple. You squirm underneath him trying to break free, but he is a 6’10 280lb man. There is no breaking free.

König reaches into his pocket, removing your dirty underwear, showing it into your mouth to muffle your sounds; pinning your arms to your side with his legs. He leans back, tossing his cap on the ground, showing off his messy blonde hair. His shirt follows next, exposing his solid body to you. You twist your body in an attempt to become free, but nothing works.

As König undoes his jeans, pulling them down, you notice a tattoo right about his cock. It reads, ‘y/n’, your name. With wide eyes, you look up at him. He’s smirking down at you, enjoying your reaction to seeing your name on his body.

“What? You have nothing to say?” He laughs mockingly. “Don’t fucking move.”

König stands up from the bed to take his pants and underwear off completely. You instantly pull your underwear out and stand to rush to the door. You scream and turn the knob, but it’s locked. As your adrenaline rushes, your hands shake, making you miss the lock. König grabs you from behind and pushes you over the edge of your bed, shoving your face into the comforter to quiet your screams.

“I’m in charge here, Liebling. You think you can just go through life treating people like shit?!” König growls next to your ear. His erection rubs against your plump ass as he leans over you. On one hand, he has a firm grasp on the back of your neck, the other is squeezing your hips and pulling you back to rub against his cock.

“Fuck you!” You shout muffled, but he hears you.

He laughs. “Do you really think you’re in the position to be speaking to me like that?”

Without removing his hand from your neck, he leans back and holds his cock, slapping it against your ass. You try to kick him continuously. König isn’t even phased by your kicks, you're so small that you’re nothing compared to him.

With his legs, he spreads yours apart. Your feet barely even reach the ground, making this easier for König. His massive legs, like tree trunks, do a good job keeping you in place. You hit the bed with your arms, trying to push yourself up, but you can’t.

König doesn’t even struggle, focusing on getting his thick ten-inch cock into you. He spreads your ass cheeks apart to see that beautiful tight ass hole. As tempting as it is, he slides his cock up and down your sweet folds.

“Not wet for me, Liebling? No worries.” König mocks as he spits down onto his cock, rubbing it around as lube. He lines his cock up with your entrance, ignoring your struggle as he pushes himself in.

A pathetic whimper leaves König as he feels your velvety walls clenching around him, not wanting to accept him. He doesn’t go slow, just pushing forward until he can almost shove all of himself within you. Without giving you time to adjust to his size, he begins to slam his hips against you. The fat on your ass ripples with every harsh thrust forward.

König can hear pained moans flow from you with every thrust. His hand comes down and slaps your ass, leaving a large red mark behind. “Your pussy is so fucking good.” König moans out to you. He grabs a handful of ass and pounds harder into you.

Your pussy getting wet from feeling his cock stuff you completely. His cock came out shiny with every thrust. A euphoric burst of pleasure travels throughout his whole body. He finally has you here, under him, and he’s in complete control here.

You listen to König moan and whimper with pleasure as he fucks you. Your tiny cunt wraps around him, struggling to fit him. His blonde pubs getting covered in your wetness as your body betrays you, enjoying the way he fucks you ruthlessly.

He pulls out without warning, pulling you back by your hair and forcing you to the ground on your knees. You let out a pained grunt from him pulling your hair. His wet cock slaps your face instantly, rubbing back and forth as you close your mouth trying to avoid it.

König grabs your jaw tightly and pulls down. “Open up. If you bite me, I’ll shove it in your ass.” He adds just in case you have any ideas.

You glare up at him, your attitude still defiant. It excites König. He can go as long as this takes to see the fierce look leave your eyes. As your mouth opens, he pushes his cock inside. The feeling of your teeth scraping him doesn’t phase him. His cock goes forward more as he holds your head still. His damp public hair touches your nose as you gap from his cock filling your throat. Your hands on his thighs hitting and pushing to get air. He doesn’t give it to you, but holds you there until you throw up.

“There you go.” König whispers as he pulls back. Your thick globs of saliva fall on to your breasts. You feel absolutely disgusted, but König absolutely loves little Miss perfection looking like a mess.

König lets go of your hair and pushes you back. You fall onto the hardwood floor beneath you as he grabs your ankles and pulls you forward to him. He drops to his knees and pushes your legs back towards your shoulders, positioning himself. With one hard thrust he watches your pussy lips part to take him in. The look of disgusted pleasure on your face only serves to egg him on more.

“I’m going to cum deep inside of this pussy, ja? Make you a single mom.” He groans at the thought of you being swollen with his baby, struggling to get by without help. People would judge you the way you judge them. Show you how it feels to be on the other side of things.

“No!” You shout back. Your eyes open, meeting his stare with a shadow of fear, finally. Look at you, so fucking beautiful and weak. You’re his little fuck toy now, his to have fun with. His precious broke little fuck toy.

[adventuringblind]

If You Don't Want the Truth, then Don't Ask

Oscar Piastri x Autistic!Reader

Genre: fluff

Request: kinda...? People want more of this content, so who am I to deny them? My requests are open! Please don't hesitate to send me ideas!

Summary: One thing that Oscar loves most about her is that she's always honest. Unfortunately, it seems not everyone has learned that.

Warnings: Media being toxic, the reader gets frustrated at not understanding human behavior

Notes: written in third person

Masterlist

Oscar had fallen in love with her honesty. He never had to guess at her opinions on things or dance around subjects himself.

It was a reprieve from always being coached in media to finally not having to filter himself.

Anyone who had gotten close to her knew one rule she had: if you don't want an honest answer, then don't ask.

She struggles communicating with vocal tones. People often mistake her opinion for being judgemental. It makes her feel unable to speak up for herself. It was never her intention to cause problems. She was just saying her truth.

Emotional communication is even more difficult. She always manages to say the wrong thing. Oscar didn't believe this and felt comforted when she talked him through the truth of the day. But if she was struggling with words and emotions, she opted to communicate via physical touch.

She'd developed a code for human behaviors she didn't quite understand.

When charles was upset about a race, she hugged him. When Oscar was smiling, she kissed his cheek. When Max was being lectured by his father, she stuck her middle finger up at Jos. When Lando couldn't eat his food, she gave him one of her snacks that he also liked.

It became more natural to the grid the more she did these things.

Unfortunately for the fans and the media, they hadn't figured it out. It was ridiculous in everyone's minds how they never learned their lesson.

A picture started circling the internet once of her kissing Lando's cheek after an amazing race. She knew it was a happy moment but was too overwhelmed to deal with words. Oscar knew she did this to anyone she was comfortable with and knew she was loyal. She'd expressed repeatedly why she loved him and not Lando. Oscar only laughed as she went down her very pointed list of reasons why Oscar was better. Earning a pout from the Brit.

The fans started calling her all sorts of nasty names. It hurt her a little, but Oscar even more. He'd expressed multiple times to his fans not to involve her in drama.

Race weekend got a bit awkward. Journalists wanted to ask the two questions. Oscar was quick to deny them attention and left for free practice.

The nerospicy femal, however, was not as lucky. Somone found her hiding in the garage.

"Are you aware of the photo going around social media right now?" The female reporter asked her.

She hesitated for a moment, trying to find her voice. "Yes." The reporter waited a minute for her to elaborate only to receive silence.

She clears her throat. "Do you have any thoughts about it? Are the rumors true?"

She stares again for a moment. "I think you people are bored and want to pick apart someone else's life instead of your own."

It was the reporters turn to stay in silence. "That may be true for some." She fumbles. "But the concern of the fans is that you'll have a negative effect on the McLaren racing drivers."

"I think the fans you speak of are niave then. Not every human being is the same. I'm in love with Oscar, not Lando, as simple as that. Just because my affection looks different doesn't mean I'm doing anything wrong." The girl shrugs her shoulders. Simply stating a fact of herself.

The reporter leaves in silence. No other words were shared between them.

Oscar saw the article the next day. They were getting ready to head to the track for FP3 and qualifying. "Have you seen this article?" He asked.

"No, what article?" Oscar flips his phone to her. The reporter from yesterday had written an article about their conversation. Interestingly enough, it was exactly what she had said. The journalist was impressed with her honesty and approach to toxic rumors.

Oscar kissed her cheek. "I'm so proud of you."

~

The next time it happened was during an interview in the fan zone. She'd been standing off to the side with the other McLaren staff who follow them around. She likes listening to the fans ask the boys questions.

Then a fan asked a question about her. "Oscar, why is your girlfriend mean to the reporters?"

Both Oscar and Lando rolled their eyes. "She's here right now if you want an honest answer." Oscar smirked.

It was terrifying when Oscar and Lando were waving her up to the stage. She waited for the approval of the staff and security before exchanging seats with the Australian.

He looked so please she was up there. "The fans want to know why you're so 'mean' to the reporters, as they put it." The two boys were laughing hysterically now.

"I personally don't think it's mean. If they don't want an honest answer, then they shouldn't be asking questions." She shrugged. "Is there a specific time you're referring too?"

"When the vouge journalists asked if you were hiding something because you wear loose clothing."

Lando perked up instantly. "This is one of my favorite moments. We went out and got her favorite dinner after this to celebrate."

"Firtly, the reporter had no business asking that. I don't like it when my clothes feel weird and I was already overwhelmed so I wore what I thought was comfortable." Oscar put his arm around her. A hint of pride edging its way across his features. "Secondly, the didn't put the whole story. The reporter asked if I was pregnant, and then when I said no, he proceeded to ask me if I was wearing anything underneath."

"The comeback is the best part."

"I was confused why he asked me this, so I asked if he had anything underneath the hideous mask he was wearing. Then he called me rude." She frowned, but the fans were enjoying the story.

Oscar glances at Lando. "You should tell the next part."

Lando is still chuckling from the last statement. "I was coming around the corner and heard her say that, then I couldn't stop laughing. So obviously I joined in as well."

The other two were shaking their heads at Lando in exasperation as he continued. "When I came up next to her, she asked why he would ask something like that. It's a pretty common question between us, so I explained why he did it and why he shouldn't do it."

"Then he insulted him some more."

Oscar finishes out the story and also laughs at this point. "Most of the things in the article were what Lando said. The others were what she did say. Including asking if this was his way of flirting and turned him down on his advances."

She always missed social cues, and she'd heard some of the drivers flirt by asking what someone had on underneath their clothing. It was a genuine assumption.

Oscar found it most amusing as Lando recounted the story for the first time that evening. She had looked mildly dazed, frustrated, and confused. Oscar took the time, in between laughing, to explain some of the nuances she didn't understand. Including why they were laughing so hard.

~

Next came a conversation with Zak.

The boys were doing media things, so he'd started to try and make conversation with her.

He was a person who did not understand that she's autistic and communicates different then he was expecting. Normally, Oscar or Lando was here to help things flow, but now she was going to need to swim on her own.

"Have you been enjoying Monaco?" He asked.

She played with her fingers to help her brain stay present. Something she often did to stim when she didn't want it to be noticeable. "It's cozy when it's not race weekend. I think the race has made it crowded."

He looked a little surprised. "Do you not like crowds? I thought you did since you come to most of the races."

"Seeing them is fine. Being trapped in them is difficult."

"That's a little odd of a perspective, don't you think?" He laughed. "I feel like you either enjoy the crowds or you hate them."

She didn't understand what he meant by that. Didn't she just say what she thought? Why was he asking the same question? "Factually, I think you can enjoy seeing a crowd, like on TV, and also become claustrophobic when in one."

He didn't know how to respond. The staring became awkward for him as he tried to respond. She just waited. Assuming he had now understood her point. Then he came up with an excuse as to why he needed to duck out of the conversation.

Zak asked Oscar about it later. To which the Australian internally face-palmed. Then, he proceeded to explain the unspoken role.

Zak apologized the next day if he made her uncomfortable. She just looked between him and Oscar. Hoping for an answer as to how he could've done that.

It took a while, but they finally got their. Now Zak goes to her if he ever wants an honest opinion on something.

~

The most recent time actually hurt her. She spent days inside her and Oscar's room. Struggling to eat, sleep, and communicate.

She was lucky that Oscar was around to help her through this. His frustration almost overwhelming his own mind.

Two weeks ago, they had been in Silverstone. It was an amazing race, and she felt happy that she got to share it with him.

She had been making friends with the other WAG's around the paddock. So when Oscar was pulled away, she went to find someone to hang out with until they finished.

She found Kika and Lily in the Williams hospitality. It was warm in the building, so when she sat down with them, she decided to get comfortable and took off her sweatshirt.

Her shirt that day was not the usual baggy t-shirt and jeans. Today's she was wearing a crop-top that showed her stomach, but she felt cute and confident, and Oscar complimented her on it the entire morning. He said she looked good when she's comfortable and that's what matters to him.

Her body was not the ideal body type that meets the standard beauty criteria. Frankly, she didn't care.

She's healthy. She's comfortable. Oscar has said daily that he loves her as she is.

She wasn't expecting the fans in hospitality to ask her anything about it.

When she got up to get water, a few young women approached her. This had happened before, and she assumed they wanted to ask about Oscar or know of they could get a picture with him.

She assumed wrong.

"How come you're not wearing what you normally do?"

"Because I felt comfortable in this today."

"I think the other style suits you better. Don't you think?"

"I don't have a style. This is just comfortable."

"Is this because Oscar likes it better?"

"No, he likes it when I'm comfortable."

She was trying to keep up. All the questions flying at her rapidly. The music was reverberating off the wall. The hospitality staff were cleaning and packing.

Her head started to spin. Her hands flew up to cover her ears. She was going to cry if she didn't get out.

She was thankful the Kika and Lily noticed and got her out of the area. Blocking anyone from speaking to her and ignoring those who tried to stop them.

They ran into Oscar on the way to somewhere quiet. He immediately placed his hands over hers to try and help block out more sound until he could get her to her headphones.

Kika and Lily explained what happened. The females asking her questions were not understanding why she was giving them the same answer. Their intentions were unknown, but it was obvious she looked uncomfortable and cornered in that moment.

So he led her away into his driver room and told her she could lock the door and he'd come get her when it was time to leave. She obliged, turning off the lights to help her senses.

She curled up in the corner and soothed herself until Oscar came back.

Someone had taken a video of the encounter, and people started asking questions about her. Why does she do the things she does? It didn't make any sense to them. It made her frustrated because they made her out to be an alien on her own planet.

Her body couldn't take it anymore. She stayed in her corner with the lights off and shut out the world.

Except for Oscar. He sat in the dark with her. They ate meals on the floor. He helped her bathe in the dark. She felt so lucky to have found someone who understands and cares as much as he does.

His PR team was trying to do something about the video. It wasn't right for it to be posted, and McLaren was doing what they could, but It wasn't enough.

So Oscar took matters into his own hands. He decided to answer all their questions. With her permission, of course.

She cried when she read it. He was happy that she felt safe enough with him to let herself unmask, but he wanted her to be able to unmask anywhere. They were taking a step in the right direction, and they both ate comfort food that night.

Instagram story message because idk how people do SMAU's: "I want to take a minute to address the video that was posted about my girlfriend recently. My girlfriend is Autistic, meaning that things can become overwhelming easily. You might not understand everything she does, but you don't have to. She is her own person and has her own life. What she answers to questions is her truth. If you don't want an honest answer, don't ask the question.

-Oscar

[greghatecrimes]

Okay. Buckle up babes, it's finally Foreteen time and I wrote an essay.

Foreman and Thirteen are so interesting to me in so many ways. You have Foreman, who thrives off of control, and Thirteen, who refuses to be controlled in almost every aspect of her life. In the sense of them as individual people, they both have a lot of their own issues going on. Hot messes, the two of them. But in the sense of them as a couple, I think Foreman specifically is the only one who has issues with the relationship. (Or rather, Thirteen's issues aren't being projected onto the relationship and causing difficulties at the end of s5/beginning of s6, while Foreman's are.)

Foreman's biggest thing, at least in the latter part of their relationship, is control in regards to emotions. After they found Kutner, he coped with everything by isolating himself. A huge part of me thinks that's because this terrible thing just happened, the floor just fell out from both of them in so many ways, and Foreman feels like he doesn't have a grip on anything anymore. The only thing he can control is himself, and how he reacts. So Thirteen? Even though she's his girlfriend and he's worked with her for two years, her emotions and reactions are fundamentally beyond the scope of his control; she's still a wild card. She's not safe. So instead of letting himself lean on Thirteen, letting them grieve together, letting them comfort each other, for his own stability, Foreman chooses to cope (and thus reject Thirteen when she reaches out for support) by retreating into an environment that he's intimately familiar with. He surrounds himself with only variables that he can confidently predict. It's his gut instinct. It's always worked before, so why wouldn't it work this time? Why would it have any reason to cause problems?

In season four and the first half of season five, Thirteen was very much the same way. When things became too overwhelming for her, she repeatedly dealt with them by running, by hiding; by trying to isolate herself from the people who care about her and want to help her. The same base principle drives them both at this point: "what's out of my control is dangerous in some way or another. The only one who's safe to be around is myself, because I am the only person that I can control." But by mid season five, Thirteen has come a long way from that. Slowly she's becoming much more of a "recovering control freak". She's starting to be okay with the fact that she's not always going to have the amount of control that she has right now. She knows that all of it is something she has to come to terms with, and slowly she's getting to a point where she's accepting her diagnosis and working on all the baggage that comes with it.

Thinking about that– the fact that, by mid season five, Thirteen is approaching a point in her life of letting go, of learning to 'go with the flow'; while Foreman is very much still on the side of "I thrive and keep myself safe by controlling every aspect of my life possible"– makes them fundamentally incompatible as a couple from the get-go, even with all of the chemistry they had. Because the moment they get together (the Christmas party in 5x10 "Joy to the World") is right after Thirteen's decided that she doesn't want to die; when she's just starting to process her diagnosis instead of running from it.

Do I think there was/is love there? Yes. They absolutely care about each other, both during and after the relationship.

Do I think they would have worked out long term? The simple answer is "no".

The more complicated answer is that if they had been able to avoid the fiasco of Foreman running the department and then firing Thirteen after House quit, I think they could have made it work. But it would have been rocky, and it would have been especially rough for Foreman. Extremely so if it were to reach a point where they've stayed together for years and years, and Foreman is with Thirteen when she really starts to decline with her Huntington's.

Foreman is Thirteen's friend; he's also seen people slowly wither away from degenerative disease (his mother, with Alzheimer's), and he's a neurologist (and so he knows exactly how she'll decline, down to every last detail). All of those things give him greater emotional stakes in her Huntington's diagnosis beyond what's typical. But specifically in the situation of them facing this as a couple, you have this level of involvement where Foreman– someone who needs a high amount of control to function on a fairly basic level– is in an incredibly intimate relationship with Thirteen, whose entire life is inevitably and actively slipping out of her control. And in that scenario... I think that when the decline does start happening, it would absolutely terrify Foreman. To be the one that's by her side as a partner– seeing all of it firsthand, the pain and grief and sickness? And as her significant other, being the one that would potentially become a medical proxy when she's too sick to advocate for herself, faced with the possibility of making life or death decisions (like whether or not to euthanize the woman he loves)? I think that would have the potential to utterly destroy him.

As a friend, though? ("Ex-partners who have gotten back to a shaky friendship after the breakup, and still care about each other deeply", but "friends" for short.) The entire situation completely changes. I firmly believe that post-canon, if Foreman knows House offered to kill Thirteen before he "died", he would offer to kill her in House's stead in a heartbeat (just like I think Chase does). THAT sort of involvement with Thirteen's decline and care is far less terrifying, because now this is not the decline of someone that he's based his entire future on. This is not someone he's given half of his heart to; this is not someone he's built an entire life with and entwined himself so thoroughly with.

With the way things work out in canon, they're still friends, and they still care about each other; but at the end of the day, they're two separate people with two separate lives, two separate futures. And so Foreman doesn't lose a single ounce of his control as Thirteen's is slowly taken from her, bit by bit. Witnessing that is still a pain that is unimaginable. But for him, it's survivable. And that's the key difference (and why I ship Foreteen during season five and season six, but not post canon).

[dorabledewdroop]

Chapter 11

Just a fluffy chapter with slight angst towards the end.

Everyone is getting along because unnecessary conflict is stupid.

Warnings: Mentions of panic attacks and death.

Series Masterlist

X--X--X--X--X

You opened your eyes, trying to figure out why you felt so goddamn warm. 

Your questions were answered when you felt a hand on your breast; the body attached to it was pretty much glued to your back. 

Additionally, a pair of legs were intertwined with yours, and an arm was draped across your bare torso.

It had been a few months since they saw you naked for the first time, yet neither had made a move on you.

They repeatedly reassured you with kisses that it wasn’t because they found you unattractive or anything like that.

They merely stated they wanted to wait until you were desperate enough to beg them, a challenge you graciously accepted.

The problem was that you were the only one whose needs weren’t being met, and you were gradually nearing your limit.

They seemed to have stopped providing you with any form of sexual contact; open-mouth kisses seemed to stop before your collarbones. 

You thought your body was accustomed to not receiving any form of direct contact from your partners, but feeling safe around them was now backfiring as your needs were returning in full force.

Your breath hitched when Wanda shifted slightly; her thigh pushed up against your bare pussy.

All you needed to do was shift your body slightly, and maybe, just maybe, you could experience the pleasure you’d been denied these past few months.

You mentally cheered when neither woke up while you… adjusted yourself.

You were grateful to Wanda for insisting that you all sleep void of any clothes.

You attempted to gyrate your hips, groaning inwardly when you realised you weren’t close enough to her thigh to get some friction.

You were about to shift closer but froze when you felt the hand on your breast tighten.

You let out a slight wince as her nails dug into your skin.

“Just what do you think you’re doing?” Natasha whispered menacingly in your ear.

You audibly gulped, letting out a slow breath to calm your erratic heart.

“I- uh- I’m just getting comfortable, babe..” You whispered nervously.

“Is that so? Cause it seemed an awful lot like you wanted to use my thigh, babe.”

Your eyes snapped to Wanda’s glowing ones.

You attempted a weak smile, which was not reciprocated in the slightest.

You noticed that Wanda made no effort to move her thigh, almost as though she was testing your resolve. 

Natasha’s nails that were digging into your breast were starting to hurt; you appreciated that her nails weren’t anywhere near your areola so as not to cause you actual pain.

“Okay, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you squeaked.

At that, Natasha let go of your poor, abused titty and moved her arm to your torso.

“You feeling needy, detka?” Nat rasped in your ear, her accent incredibly prominent.

You simply shook your head, attempting to hide the quake in your voice.

You forgot the fact that you were in a relationship with a mind reader, one to whom you had given free access into your mind, and the world’s best spy, who was pretty much a mind reader in her own right.

Your heart practically leapt out of your chest at the sight of Wanda’s raised eyebrow.

“Let’s play a game, draga”, Wanda suggested lowly,

“I’m going use my fingers to check if you’re wet or not. If you aren’t, like you claim to be, then Natty and I will finally make you cum. However, if you are, then she is going to suplex you off this bed, and you won’t be allowed to return until after a freezing shower.”

She didn’t even wait for your reply, her hand slowly trailing down your belly to your abdomen.

At that moment, Nat decided to nibble on your earlobe, causing you to let out a poorly hidden groan.

To nobody’s surprise, you were wet enough to need a full-sized towel.

All it took was a shake of Wanda’s head, and you felt yourself being lifted and practically thrown off the bed.

By some miracle (the miracle being your super-spy girlfriend), you didn’t hit your head while being flipped but rather landed gently on your knees.

You stood and glared at your partners, who thought it would be fun to make out in front of you.

Grumbling, you marched into the shower and switched the water to the coldest possible setting.

X—X—X—X—X

“Look, I know the lullaby works cause of your school-girl crush on Nat, but if I were able to do it, then there would be no danger to anybody,” you explained to Bruce.

The team had realised early on that you had an incredibly unique perspective on things, given that you had no formal higher education and your brain simply functioned differently.

Hence, Tony and Bruce loved discussing scientific theories with you, as you gave them a perspective they hadn’t considered before.

While you were off pretty much 50% of the time, the other half was fun for all parties involved.

This led you to your current conversation with Bruce, or as you had labelled it, “Brucie’s Breakfast Brainstorming”.

“First off, ex-crush, please. Wanda might hear you, and I have no desire to be thrown into the pool again. Second, I would still be a danger to you. I mean, what if the big guy punched a hole through your chest, or ripped you into two?” Bruce protested.

You merely waved away the thought, “That’s nothing new, Brucie.”

You ignored Bruce’s concerned look as you inhaled your second slice of Nutella toast.

You paused mid-bite and grinned widely.

“Hi, Wands, I missed you,” You exclaimed without looking around.

You heard her chuckle and saw Bruce look around to see if you saw her reflection.

“How’d you know it was me, detka?” She asked, grabbing the slice from your hand and sitting on the pedestal she had brought with her magic.

You simply shrugged, “I could just feel you,”

That answer seemed to please and satisfy Wanda. She pulled her chair closer to you so your bodies touched.

Even after being in a relationship with Wanda and Natasha for so long, the physical contact still made you feel warm and giddy.

“So what’s today’s Brucie’s Breakfast Brainstorm about?” She asked as she slung her arm around your shoulder, alternating between eating the slice of toast herself and feeding you. Her magic was already putting more bread into the toaster.

Bruce groaned, “Please don’t call it that; it’s just a conversation between teammates.”

You smiled as Wanda continued to tease Bruce about the name, amongst other things.

It had taken time and effort, but eventually, Wanda was able to overcome her dislike for the scientist while he worked on trusting the witch more.

It had taken a lot of time and effort, especially from you, but the entire team eventually trusted the Maximoff twins.

You were about to get up to get more toast, but when you glanced at your plate, there were already three more slices with a generous amount of Nutella on them.

You glanced at Wanda, who just winked and continued her conversation with Bruce as he filled her in on the conversation.

Just as Wanda was all caught up, you stood up to greet a certain billionaire who entered moments after.

He looked exhausted, his eyes slightly unfocused, his coffee mug empty, and his dark circles more prominent than they had been in a while.

You let out a sad smile when he briefly made eye contact with you.

Despite everyone going for mandatory therapy, you seemed to have become the team’s confidant.

Tony had told you about the current fight he had with Pepper when he took you shopping for whatever you needed.

You knew he was plagued by nightmares, his anxiety at an all-time high.

You took a step forward and gently hugged him, kissing his cheek.

His eyes briefly glowed white, his fatigue gone, and his dark circles had vanished.

He blinked around at the sudden burst of energy and alertness.

He looked at you with a grateful smile that vanished as quickly as it appeared; he did have a reputation to uphold, after all.

Filled with newfound energy, he convinced Bruce and Wanda to sit on the sofa so more people could participate in the discussion.

You smiled at the scene and proceeded to wash the dishes, cleaning out the coffee grounds Natasha had put in the sink.

You knew she did it specifically to annoy Tony but were worried that it might backfire someday.

You were in the process of cleaning the mug Tony had been carrying when it hit you.

Your body froze, and the burning sensation was increasing. You had started to hear the screams.

Unbeknownst to you, the mug you were holding had slipped from your grasp and shattered.

All heads turned to the sound only to find you hyperventilating with a far-away look in your eyes, your expression filled with pain and horror.

Wanda immediately shot up but was too late as you had already run out of the room.

She followed you only to find you underneath the shower in your room. She instinctively knew that your body was overheating and that you needed to cool off.

She sat beside you as you continued to tremble and shake, occasionally letting out a whimper or sob.

As much as Wanda wanted to enter your mind, you had made her promise not to do so when these so-called episodes occurred.

Natasha barged into the bathroom and joined your other side, gently stroking your knuckles.

You had previously informed them about these episodes and their roles during it; their job was to make sure you came back safely.

Eventually, the feeling passed, and the light was slowly returning to your eyes.

They helped you stand up, change, and head to bed. 

The three of you cuddled in silence for a few minutes.

Before they could inquire about it further, you looked at the door just before they heard a knock.

Wanda used her magic to open the door to find Steve in his “casual” clothes.

“I know this isn’t the best time, but we have an urgent mission. Rumlow has surfaced, and we know of his next target,” Steve began.

“We leave tomorrow at 0600 hours.”

“Where’s the destination?” Nat inquired

“La-“

“Lagos”, you interrupted.

“We have to go to Lagos. Or else a lot of people will die,” you stated solemnly.

X—X—X—X—X

tags: @marvelwomen-simp @nothanksbye07 @jono723 @luadyjcmd @alexawynters @falloutboy-lover

[ilikekidsshows]

About the throwing CN in the trash can thing, I don‘t necessarily disagree, but why did you completely left out the whole thing about CN‘s constant flirting and calling them a couple and stuff, when LB made it clear multiple times in that episode and before that she doesn‘t like him that way and is bothered by many attempts to make a move on her. Especially in that episode, she‘s already pissed at Glaciator specifically because of it, and Paris as a whole for printing articles and putting up billboards everywhere. The only thing CN does with his shenanigans is irritate her even more, until she has enough.

If I were in a situation where a platonic friend did that to me, I‘d be pissed too. Sure, I probably wouldn‘t throw im in a trash can, but I’d maybe get a little loud at least.

Idk, the garbage toss might‘ve been too much, sure, but pretending like CN has no fault in the situation escalating like that is unfair and LB had all right to go off at him.

That was not what was asked

That's not how the episode frames it

I read over Ladybug and Cat Noir's discussion after the trashcan scene to make sure I understood what the takeaway was. Ladybug did not say, or even hint, that the problem was that Cat Noir went too far or was out of line. She has an issue with being reminded he has feelings for her, period.

This is the same episode where Marinette calls Adrien "my boyfriend who isn't my boyfriend yet" and takes advantage of him being upset to try to win him over romantically. Marinette is forcing her feelings onto Adrien even more than Cat Noir is forcing them on Ladybug, because he at least doesn't expect a relationship from Ladybug in return. The takeaway isn't "don't be too pushy", it's "Cat Noir shouldn't be a bother to Ladybug", because that's what all the lessons in this season seem to be.

And, like, just because Ladybug doesn't return his feelings doesn't mean Cat Noir should hide the fact that he's in love with her to make her feel better, especially since his flirtation is stated to just be an outlet where he doesn't expect reciprocation, that Ladybug understands is an outlet and that nothing is expected from her in return. ("I know your heart's in the right place and that you don't mean any harm.") This has never before been an issue for the two, and now it suddenly is, four seasons in? I don't buy it.

I know the episode is saying that yes, Cat Noir should, indeed, hide his feelings to make Ladybug feel better, but that's unhealthy and I've repeatedly said that the show repeatedly demanding Adrien bury all his feelings so that Marinette can ignore them is wrong.

I also kinda feel like this episode purposefully makes Cat Noir kinda out of character by exaggerating his behavior into such an obnoxious degree and that it was specifically done in order to justify Ladybug getting mad at him (kinda like 'Reflekdoll' implied he'd pranked Ladybug in the middle of a fight, something he'd never do, in order to justify Ladybug being angry in that episode), so it just all feels so fake to me and I can't take it seriously. When I see a show blatantly trying to manipulate me, I tend to veer into the opposite direction out of spite.

So, yes, I went easy on Cat Noir in this episode, but, as you said, that still didn't make anything I said about Ladybug's behavior untrue. Like, Ladybug has reasons to be pissed in this episode, but the writers think Cat Noir alone is the justified target, and that's what I disagree with.

Frankly, if they'd framed that Ladybug's unreasonable anger towards Cat Noir was caused by her totally justified anger at having her private life be so scrutinized, and built the episode around that, this could have been a really good episode that could teach kids about boundaries when it comes to their favorite celebrities. They literally have the framework for that within the episode, but decided to instead give us another "Cat Noir shouldn't even breathe if it bothers Ladybug" episode. It would have been especially valuable since a lot of kids these days are actually following social media or Youtube celebrities or will do so in a few years.

[whencyclopedia]

The Mutual Destruction of Sennacherib & Babylon

The reign of Assyrian king Sennacherib (705-681 BCE) was chiefly characterized by his difficulties with Babylon. Throughout the history of the Assyrian Empire, Babylon had caused problems and had even been destroyed by the Assyrian king Tukulti-Ninurta I in c. 1225 BCE. Even so, there were direct cultural bonds between Babylon and Ashur, capital of the Assyrian Empire, and the city was always re-built and re-populated. Babylon was more than just a physical city of bricks and streets in the minds of the Mesopotamians: it was a cultural center of immense significance. Tukulti-Ninurta I's desecration of Babylon and her gods, in fact, led directly to his assassination. Owing to its status among the people of Mesopotamia, however, the people of Babylon seemed to feel that they could repeatedly throw off the authority of whatever ruling body held the region with impunity, and one can understand how a king could become tired of such an attitude. This was precisely what happened with Sennacherib in his dealings with the great city.

Sargon II & Sennacherib

Sennacherib's problems with Babylon were largely inherited. His father, Sargon II (reigned 722-705 BCE) had defeated the tribal chieftain Merodach-Baladan and driven him from Babylon but had allowed him to live. Once Sargon II was dead, and Sennacherib took the throne, Merodach-Baladan returned to Babylon and re-claimed the throne. The Babylonians welcomed him; Sennacherib had done nothing at all to endear himself to the city. As the new king, he was supposed to have participated in the ceremony in which he took the hand of the statue of the god Marduk as a sign of respect for the god, Babylon, and the people Marduk presided over. Instead, Sennacherib had simply sent them word that he was now king of Babylon and never even bothered to visit the city. Merodach-Baladan was not in the least bit concerned about the new king. Sennacherib was considered a weakling. He had never taken part in any of his father's military campaigns and had spent his earlier life as crown prince with administrative duties, while Sargon II had achieved his glorious victories on the battlefield. When Sennacherib heard that Merodach-Baladan had taken Babylon, he did not even lead a force to re-claim it himself but, instead, sent his commander-in-chief at the head of an army. This force was swiftly defeated by the combined forces of Babylon and their allies the Elamites and Aramaeans in 703 BCE. Babylon then arranged its troops, just in case the Assyrians came back again, and settled down to its own business. According to the historian Susan Wise Bauer:

That was the last straw. Sennacherib himself came sweeping down like the wrath of Assur and broke through the allied front line, barely pausing. Merodach-Baladan ran from the battlefield and crept into the marshes of the Sealand, which he knew well, to hide himself; Sennacherib marched the rest of the way to Babylon, which prudently opened its gates as soon as it saw the Assyrian king on the horizon. Sennacherib came through the open gate, but chose to send Babylon a message: he ransacked the city, took almost a quarter of a million captives, and destroyed the fields and groves of anyone who had joined the alliance against him (384).

The people of Babylon quickly realized that the poor opinion they had held of Sennacherib was misguided. In this early campaign the new king showed himself an adept tactician, able military leader, and ruthless enemy.

Continue reading...

[chickenkupo]

Just My Luck - Chapter 2

Summary: As Wriothesley and Neuvillette continue their sensual activities, more starts to develop about his current situation and steps moving forward. What's this about the claim law? Why is he having to meet with other people? One final return to his land? A single wish?

Wait, he didn't ask for this choker!

Recommendations: Kinda obvious, but I highly suggest reading the first work under this, Just My Luck, for more background and spicy scenes.

Warnings: General audience, some hints of spicier scenes, but this is building up to more *wink, wink, nudge, nudge*. Neuv is possessive as always, and it gets even worse here, so if you're not into that, this isn't for you. Religious tones, cause they're gods and all that. Consent? Pfft, you're happy here, don't worry about it. This has not been beta-read, this is shit from my head that I was like damn, I kinda wanna write that and yall seemed to like the last one so here's the next part. As promised, this will be a Tumblr exclusive for a few days, until I get back from my convention. It will then be posted on AO3, probably late Sunday, so if you follow me on there, if you want you can leave a kudos, comment, random recipe, idgaf, just enjoy it.

Also, this is hilariously long again, and I'm writing this THE NIGHT BEFORE I FREAKING LEAVE FOR MY CONVENTION WHEN I SHOULD BE CON CRUNCHING MORE GRRRRRR MY BRAAAAIN

Enjoy :D

Time was lost upon Wriothesley as him and the hydro god Neuvillette shared many more intimate moments, wrapped up in each other and exploring every inch of their bodies. Hours, days, or even weeks could have passed for all he knew. The moment that he would pass out from pure bliss, he would awaken only to be fucked again by the god, repeatedly, either quick repeated sessions, or long and sensual ones. Regardless, he would be completely lost to his senses either way. The two would only take breaks to either make sure that Wriothesley was well nourished or needed to be freshened up. At first, Wriothesley still held a small sense of apprehension to the situation at hand, but once he started to repeatedly lose himself to pleasure, his body and soul almost seemed to ache and crave more from his newfound god and owner. What was once slight resistance turned into complete acceptance, and Neuvillette was more than willing to indulge.

This morning, however, was much different from the rest. Instead of being woken up by coaxing hands, or a long, draconic-like tongue caressing his body all over, Wriothesley instead awoke, wrapped up in the smooth, silk sheets of their bed, completely alone and without that damned draconic tongue running up and down his body, or his sharp claws tracing his muscles and leaving behind a light red, possessive trail. Instead, his body was well rested, no marks marring his body that he could see, and he knew for a fact that before half of this divine room had been put in a state of disarray with their brutal love making, but upon viewing the room once his eyes focused from his previous state of sleep, he saw that the room was utterly spotless and was in the same condition he found it in, as if nothing had ever happened.

Confused, Wriothesley raised himself to sit up, slowly, wincing as he took his time moving his limbs and settling himself at the edge of the bed. In an odd sense, Wriothesley took comfort in the soreness that he felt all over, it was a sure symbol that he didn’t dream up any of their interactions, blushing as he started to slowly remember certain memories of their coupling, of the moans, growls, begging…

Yeah, he needed to stop there before he had another problem to take care of. Blushing deeper, he realized that he was completely nude and scrambled to grab the soft sheets of the bed and draped it over himself to hide his body. Though at this rate the hydro dragon surely knew his body in detail, probably better than he himself knew it, he didn’t want to run the chances of someone entering and seeing himself in such a state. After taking a moment to mentally prepare himself, he stood up with the sheets draped over and around his body, his muscles protesting lightly at his movements. Since there was still no other presence with him, he decided to review his surroundings, he supposed that it wasn’t every day that a human such as himself would be claimed by a god and brought to their heavenly home, so ought as well to see what this god collected. If the stories he heard as a child were true about dragons, he was sure to see some treasures the likes of which the eyes of man may have never seen before.

As he started to explore bookshelf after bookshelf, he found all sorts of trinkets ranging from golden cased scrolls, to tablets with odd writings of a language long forgotten, to even fragments of broken weapons that seemed as ancient as time itself. Wriothesley was tempted to touch these artifacts, but somehow, he could sense a pulsating energy from all of them, and he wasn’t really in the mood to test what kind of reaction they would have with him if he made any sort of contact. Continuing onward, he observed rows of books in countless different languages, paintings that adorned the walls that depicted scenes, he assumed, were of different events in history, all intricately detailed and almost seemed to weave into each other, as if it were a giant storybook come to life. His eyes widened as he walked up to the last piece of art, gripping the sheets that were hugging his body tightly to his person, heart racing as he tried to process what he was seeing.

The portrait that stood before him was a realistic painting of Neuvillette, perfectly depicted in the same robes Wriothesley saw when he was first ushered to this place, standing in front of a watery throne within a court with a masked audience around him. Neuvillette’s arm extended with his clawed hand grasping a long, beautiful, jeweled chain, embedded with gorgeous glimmering gemstones of black, grey and white, that connected to a choker on the individual that was in front of him. That figure that stood before him was wearing the choker, had very similar black and grey hair, scarred skin and wore robes which matched the colors of the choker, and just as magnificent as the robes that Neuvillette wore. It was undeniable that the person in the portrait was himself, and that struck fear into his very being. His mind couldn’t comprehend what the picture meant, and he didn’t want to stay and find out. All the euphoria that he experienced when having endless sex with Neuvillette before seemed to fade from his mind as panic started to arise. He wasn’t even sure what he wanted to do, he had no idea the layout of where he was at now, no telling how many gods were likely just around the corner to capture him and bring him back to the hydro dragon god.

Right as Wriothesley was about to turn around and debate thinking of escape plans, he felt familiar arms wrap around his torso from behind, pressing him against a very familiar, slim but chiseled chest, lips pressed against his neck, delivering light kisses. Wriothesley sighed as he relaxed into the grip, cuddling his head closer to the one assaulting his neck, now with nipping love bites. Previous thoughts eluded him as his body started to readily accept the familiar touches of his god, knowing its home and proper place before his mind did.

“Mm...” the dragon rumbled; lips felt against Wriothesley’s neck in a smirk. The dragon was pleased, Wriothesley’s body already being trained so well to respond to him and know who owned him. The claimed man let out a small moan, a call that was all too familiar with Neuvillette. His claimed wanted more, and only from him. Normally, he would be swift to take the two of them to bed and continue to ravage his body. However, more important matters were at hand. Though, the dragon couldn’t resist, his clawed hands pulling at the fabric that was wrapped around his claimed, lowering it so that more of his toned chest and abs were exposed, of which his hands continued to explore and grope, possessively.

As Neuvillette continued to overstimulate Wriothesley by giving his neck and torso attention, there was a sudden sound of a clasp being locked, and Wriothesley felt an odd sensation around his neck that felt much too still to be the one he was familiar with, as the dragon’s tongue would be massaging it by now and licking up and down, leaving wet, possessive trails behind. No, this, this felt like a collar…a…

“Choker…?” Wriothesley managed to grunt out, trying to break the haze that was in his mind like a fortified fortress.

The arms that were wrapped around him let him loose, a hand still placed on his back for support as the powerful hold that was placed on Wriothesley to keep him distracted was suddenly lifted. The man staggered forward a bit, regaining his senses and control, as his hands immediately reached up to his neck to feel the chained choker that was securely placed, and not moving an inch, no matter how hard he tried to remove it. The force he put on it didn’t even affect the light pressure it gave as a constant reminder that it was there. No, the choker refused to harm him in any way, but it also refused to release him.

Wriothesley looked around the room and noticed a long mirror that was placed on one of the walls, of course elegantly decorated, almost overly so. He quickly ran over and took note of his appearance, hands still tightly grasped around that which was currently binding his neck. As it was in the painting, so it was in person. The same exact collar was dressing the skin of his neck, with a chain leading off that appeared to fade into thin air at about the third or fourth link down, as if it weren’t even fully part of reality.

As if sensing his confusion, Neuvillette gently tightened his hand into a firm grip, and there in his grasp was more of the chain that directly connected to Wriothesley that suddenly took on full physical and solid form with the added tension from the god, tugging ever so slightly on it. Instantly, Wriothesley felt a gentle pull towards Neuvillette, glaring at him. Neither had to exchange words for them both to understand that each knew what this meant, though the claimed did have a remaining question for the god.

“How far? How far are you able to do that from?” Wriothesley asked, trying to growl his words out to give some form of intimidation, but it only came out in a feeble whimper, of which he was embarrassed, but nothing he could do about that now.

Neuvillette, in response, offered him a wide, handsome smile, the light within the room bouncing off his figure, as helping him to gloat about his omnipotence.

“There is no world too far, no heaven too high nor hell too deep, where you won’t be connected to me.”

The look of finality in Neuvillette’s eyes gave Wriothesley the horrific assurance that the hydro dragon god was not lying, could he even lie to Wriothesley? There was no sense of escape from him, and it even felt down in his core that the sooner that he accepted this, the sooner he could live.

Wriothesley turned back to his mirror image, looking at the newly formed bruises on his neck and how they were already beginning to fade. He could only imagine the sorts of changes his body had undergone, having been in the realm of the gods for so long now, and having exchanged bodily fluids with a god, himself. Though, one scarring did remain, the night of the first claiming when Neuvillette bit him, the scars from that bite persisted, never healing, only shown off in emphasis by the choker, as there was a wide circular gap on the exact spot of the bite scars, as if to blatantly show any idiot that dared show interest that Wriothesley was taken, by one the highest level of divinity existing.

There wasn’t much that Wriothesley could ask his god next, but the obvious.

“Well, what do we do now? What else are you going to do to me?” asked Wriothesley, looking at the god in question, his arms closing in on himself to try to make himself smaller, subconsciously.

Neuvillette simply stared at him for a moment, taking in his somewhat ruined form. The sheets were barely hanging onto his claimed now and though the bruises were beginning to fade, their presence was still there. A sense of satisfaction emitted from Neuvillette in the form of a low rumble of approval. There would be no questioning his ownership of Wriothesley now, and if anyone dared, they would be met with the fury of an enraged god, and no one would be there to save them.

After looking over Wriothesley for a little longer, Neuvillette finally decided to answer his question.

“I believe it would be nice for you to get acquainted with other claimed from your homeland of Fontaine. It will do you some good to hear from others in your same, albeit a small bit, different situation. From there, I will grant you one last visit to your old lands, and one final request before you are spirited away back here, to your new home for good, as the claiming law permits. Meeting and conversing with these individuals may help you come to a decision.” Neuvillette stated, not his face not giving way to any emotion, as his gaze was directly on his claimed, observing.

At the mention of having one last visit to his home, Wriothesley’s eyes lit up, only to simmer back down once Neuvillette made it very clear that this is a one and done sort of situation. There will be no going back after the allowance, no returning. His body even felt like it was repulsed by the idea of returning to a world that was so harsh to it, constantly in some sort of pain, suffering or form of anxiety. It craved the warmness of the skies here, the fulfillment that his god would constantly bring him, no worries in the world, only bliss and contentment in this new world that he still barely understood. But his mind, his mind knew that he needed to check in on his adoptive family one last time, the love he had for family fiercely flowed through him.

“Right…when will this meeting take place, then? I doubt presenting myself in my current state would be appropriate.” Wriothesley said rather carelessly, letting his thoughts flow freely.

At the mention of others taking view of his body like this, Neuvillette growled, fiercely, his eyes lighting up in a fit of jealously. No one was to view his claimed like this, ever. This was a treat, a blessing, that Wriothesley could only bestow to him and him alone.

“H-Hey! I said I wouldn’t! Tch-!” Wriothesley cried out in frustration, holding the sheets even more tightly to his body, a blush appearing on his cheeks. The thought of a god wanting him like this and becoming so possessive made him feel embarrassed in a way, but he did delight in it a bit, that he would not deny.

“Do not even fathom such events in your mind, or speak them into existence. You are my claimed, by my right. No one is viewing you like this but me. Do you understand, Wriothesley?” Neuvillette asked, his hand raised and once more held into a tight fist, pulling the chain to give a noticeable tug.

Wriothesley jerked forward a bit, catching himself, as he began to look up and glare at Neuvillette, but simmered down once he saw the fury in the dragon’s eyes. A chill went down his spine, noting that his own existence could be extinguished like a simple afterthought, if Neuvillette so deemed it. Instead, he bowed his head in respect.

“I-I apologize, it won’t happen again, I was out of line for even speaking of that.” Wriothesley admitted, a part of him hating that he was displaying such a level of submission, but at the very core of his soul, he knew that this would be the new normal for him.

“You will be meeting with them this afternoon. I will have my servants come and deliver your clothes. You are to either remain under the sheets in the bed or go to an adjoining room until they are done delivering your garments. From there, they will lead you to where you need to go. I will remove myself from the situation, so that your final request will come more clearly to you without my influence.” Neuvillette stated, but spoke no further after that, waiting for Wriothesley to respond.

“Alright then, I suppose...? How do I address you now, anyway, given our set of circumstances?” Wriothesley asked, in genuine curiosity.

Without a moment of hesitation, Neuvillette offered a simple reply.

 “Husband. You may call me your husband, dear wife.”

•

•

•

Wriothesley couldn’t believe his eyes, once the servants of demigods and lesser gods left him to his own devices, having delivered him to an elegant garden outside of what appeared to be a giant mansion. He spent a decent amount of time wondering about, taking in the sights of fauna that he had never seen the likes of before. Beautiful, blooming flowers, with petals so large they could be mistaken for giant leaves. Normally he’d be having a sneezing fit by now, but as he continued to walk through what felt like constant mazes of twists and turns, his nose never once started to sting or eyes starting to water. This place was perfect, too perfect.

It didn’t take long before he came to a more open section of the garden, with silver tables strewn about, plates of pastries, coffees and other fine assortments on small serving platters at each. He expected for such a place to be quite crowded, but instead it appeared that there were only a handful of others, and from their lack of a powerful aura, as well as similar spectacular adornments around their necks, that these must be the claimed that Neuvillette had mentioned earlier. He knew for certain that Neuvillette wouldn’t have let him wonder about and encounter anyone that he wasn’t supposed to.

Wriothesley, nervously, adjusted the tie of his suit, making sure that it hung lazily around his neck. He was never the one to be dressed so fancily, and although he enjoyed the colors of the suit that matched those of the binding choker, he still felt out of place. Simple rags and clothes were fine for him, but there was no way, especially now being a claimed, that he would be allowed to do such a thing anymore. He’d simply have to get used to all the abundant elegance, as much as it currently annoyed him.

“Monsieur! Monsieur! Are you the new claimed from Fontaine? I simply must have a word with you, I have so many questions!” A lively voice giggled at him from a table near where he was standing. Looking over, Wriothesley took note of a young woman with long, lusciously curled blonde hair and the brightest, peppiest blue eyes he had ever seen, and a face with slight makeup that accented everything beautiful about her. A light breeze picked up, as she made a struggling sound, trying to keep her heavily decorated hat atop her head, her gorgeous amber and black coded dress moving in the breeze with her. Though women weren’t his taste, he would be a fool to not admit that she was stunning, with such a kind and playful charm.

A light tugging could be felt around his neck, a clear warning. Wriothesley mentally sighed to himself, growling in his mind that he could appreciate the appearance of someone without it being a threat. The tightness subsided, but slowly. His husband was a rather jealous god, wasn’t he?

“Here! Let me get that for you!” Wriothesley cried out as he reached for it, but the young woman was able to hold the hat back down to her head just in time, swatting away his hand with a simple motion, making sure to not make any physical contact with him.

“Oh, no, it’s fine! I appreciate the gesture for help, though. You’re new here but I’m sure you already know that our gods are rather…peculiar about who is allowed to touch their claimed, and mine is certainly no different. I’m honestly surprised they agreed for us to have such a private, introduction with each other! So, less chance of angering them, the better, you know?” The young woman giggled, with a bright smile. She didn’t seem phased by any of the situation or upset in the slightest. In fact, her eyes started even shining more brightly as she picked up a small macaroon from the serving tray, happily munching on it.

“Ah! Where are my manners?! I apologize, when I see sweets, my mind tends to wander!” The young woman cleans her hands off with a neatly woven napkin. “The name is Navia, Navia Caspar! Leader of the Spina di Rosula!” Navia giggled, with a slight bow of her head.

Wriothesley stared at her, almost in awe and with some slight confusion, as he tried to piece this information together. Navia took notice of this, her smile fading as there was a sense of concern growing within her that was quite evident. After Wriothesley took notice of her change in attitude, he cleared his throat as he took a sip of tea that had suddenly appeared, already poured for him. No doubt something that his husband was probably responsible for, in some sort of way. Especially since it was his favorite flavor, which just enough sugar and milk to soothe his nerves.

As he calmed down a bit, Wriothesley looked up at Navia’s worried eyes, and finally decided to speak on the matter. “Miss…Navia, I apologize. I didn’t mean to bring any sort of worry to you but, I’m going to be honest. I find it hard to believe what you told me, but your name matches and from what I remember hearing through stories as a kid I just…” Wriothesley sighed, as he continued. “The Spina di Rosula, that was an ancient organization, there’s not even that many texts about it, adults told us stories about the group, like they would be watching us from the shadows and if we were bad, they’d take us away. I didn’t think that you all were real…” continues, in awe and a tad bit of regret. It was probably best if he had just kept his mouth shut, but a part of himself felt like she deserved to know what he did.

Navia stared at him, almost in a glare, as if he were trying to offend her with such ridiculous information. But, as he continued to stare and notice that his reaction and words were probably genuine, her frown deepened as a part of her seemed to break out of whatever hold this realm seemed to establish on the claimed individuals.

“W-what do you mean…? Of course, we were real! Royalty of Fontaine hired us for information collection, bodyguard services! Kids didn’t fear us, they wanted to join us!” She yelled out, hands slamming down on the table, the goodies on the serving tray being moved ajar due to the outburst. Wriothesley merely sat back in a shocked expression, not saying another word and making the situation worse than what it was. Though, surprisingly, Navia seemed to gather herself, fixing her dress and hat, and sighing in defeat.

“I apologize for my outburst there. It’s not often that I meet people from my nation and I, I forget that time moves differently here. I truly do not know how much time has passed and I just assumed you might be from my period…” Navia explained, with a small, sad smile.

“Ah, no, it’s completely my fault and I apologize. I shouldn’t have just blurted all of that out like that, and I’m completely lost when it comes to the passage of time here. Do you have any idea how it works?” Wriothesley asked, hoping to step away from the sensitive topic, while also trying to get enough information out of her to come to some logical conclusion.

“No, I wish I did. Every time a new claimed comes, they’re from all different time periods, or even worlds. It’s been extremely difficult to try to keep up from and when we were. I’m sorry, I wish I could offer more help!” Navia stated, pure disappointment playing through her voice.

“No, no, don’t apologize.” Wriothesley stated, trying to wave off her statement, but taking note of the information, or lack thereof, that she provided. “Sorry, I came to this…place, with little to no information on how any of this works so I’m just trying to piece it together.”

“Ah! Well, that makes two of us! But sometimes you can’t help but just come to terms with it, you know? You were claimed, same as I, and well, this is our current world and maybe giving it all up for someone else to figure out for us isn’t so bad…” Navia began to trail off.

As she was about to continue their conversation, three other individuals started to walk forward towards their table, one more so rushing towards them than the other two.

“Ah, hello friends, welcome! What a magnificent day, wouldn’t you agree?” A young male’s voice rang out, as he took to taking the seat between Wriothesley and Navia, twisting a top hat in his hands, before tossing it into the air and catching it was ease, doing a little chuckle as he did so, obviously loving to show off.

“Really, brother? Must you be so insufferable as of late? The moment you hear of a new claimed from Fontaine, you absolutely go off the deep end…” Another voice of a young woman popped up, taking another seat closer to Navia, noticeably different from the rest as a pair of cat ears were poking out of her head, and a thin cat tail swooshing behind her in annoyance, her simple dress swaying in the slight breeze as well. A third, smaller, figure took the last seat between the two of them, in a simple suit and hat, keeping his head down, blushing lightly. “Brother…” the smallest one warned, while keeping rather reserved.

“Well, dear sister, it’s not every day that Monsieur Neuvillette takes an interest in anyone…in fact, I think this is the first time! Imagine that! The stoic judge, finally laying the law of claim down on someone. You truly must be extraordinary, Wriothesley!” The young man cheered, a devilish smirk plastered on his face, earning a gaze from his sister across the table.

“Lyney! You act like you’re so casual about the Iudex, show some respect!” She hisses, literally hisses at him.

“Wait, how do you know my name?” Wriothesley finally manages to speak up, looking at the trio. Navia stares at them as well, though a small fraction of a smile gives way that she knows more to the situation than he does.

“Well, duh! That’s our job! Father makes sure that we have information on just about everyone as soon as possible.” Lyney shrugs, as he leans back in his seat, looking at Wriothesley almost as if what he asked could have been taken as a joke.

“Wait, father…do you mean your god is like a father figure towards you three?” Wriothesley pressed, eager to learn more.

“Mn, that is correct. Not every claimed is under the same circumstances. For you and Navia, your gods chose you as spouses, or mates, and developed a strong relationship through that route of a bond. However, our father took pity on us, as we grew up on the streets of Fontaine as orphans, doing little magic shows or other various street performances to survive. Father kept attending our shows, and we managed to pique their interests. Wasn’t long after that when Father evoked the law of claim, and after appearing in court to Neuvillette, was approved not one, but three claims. It was a rare case, but Father is well, our father now, and strives to teach us about the world and give us the lives we never had, which we should be forever thankful for, right, brothers?” The young lady addressed the other two, having explained all of this to Wriothesley in a rather strict, and yet almost bored voice.

“Y-yes, Lynette…” The smallest boy stuttered out, still choosing to keep his head low, eyes refusing to meet anyone else’s. The boy might shatter if that managed to happen, giving how reclusive he seemed.

“Ah, my dear sister Lynette has such a way with words, doesn’t she?” Lyney states, almost in a dreamful manner, his performance personality surely shining through his every action, it seemed. “Now, let’s get to know you a little more, Wriothesley, plus I’m curious to know how Fontaine is doing here of late. I can only imagine a considerable amount of time has passed since we were claimed.” Lyney says, urging Wriothesley to share his story and any information he may have.

Wriothesley cleared his throat, after taking some more sips of the most delicious tea he’s ever had and tells them every bit of information that they requested of him, and more so. He tells them about the hardships he faced as an orphan with his abusive, adoptive family, how he strove to protect his adoptive brothers and sisters, and what lengths he went through to ensure their well beings. He continues, now adding in the information oh so graciously provided by Neuvillette, where the god had placed such a curse on him to ruin his luck, forcing him towards hardships to help build himself towards deserving a claim from him.

Navia frowns halfway through his story, giving him soft looks of pity, while the other three engage in further conversation.

“Ah, the mighty Iudex works in mysterious ways. A little tough in my opinion, but who am I to judge? Certainly not me towards the actual judge, that’s for sure!” Lyney chuckles, while his sister groans at his obvious attempt at a joke.

“W-Wriothesley…? Are you ready for one last back trip back…soon…?” The small, young boy managed to barely whisper out, but all of them were attentive enough to pay attention and listen, not urging him to speak louder or bring further attention to him. Navia and Wriothesley safely assumed that they were all lucky that he managed to speak at all, especially bringing up a question by himself without any pressuring.

“Is, is this normal? For people like us, I mean?” Wriothesley asked, looking at all of them around the table. All eyes were on him, with a sweet, understanding tone and yet, there was still a hint of sadness and awareness about something that he was dying to figure out.

“Surprisingly, yes, unless the claimed really made their god mad, or earned some sort of divine punishment. After making the claim official with the placing of a collar, necklace, or some sort of other way of marking around the neck, the claimed is usually granted one last visit to their homeland, and one wish while on that visit. Of course, it can’t be anything that would lead to a breaking of the bond, and if you tried to grant yourself distance with the wish from them, don’t bother. It’ll be a complete waste of time for the two of you. It’s already far too late to try to escape, consider this as one last mercy before your new life officially begins.” Lyney takes it upon himself to explain, the rest of them nodding in agreeance.

“Well, I suppose it’s no harm in telling.” Navia speaks up, as she continues. “For my wish, I wanted both of my bodyguards to have Clorinde’s protection while I was away, for as long as they lived. They both served me well in my mortal life, protected me and practically raised me since my parents died when I was still rather young. I spent one last day with them together, before I came home here. I do hope they had the best of lives, they deserved it and so much more…” Navia whispered her last statement, patting her eyes with her elegant napkin, but not in sadness. A wide smile and blush played on her face, clearly remembering the two of them fondly.

“Wait, so you weren’t able to look over them and watch them live their lives out?” Wriothesley asked, anxiety starting to brew within his soul. Everyone know that a claimed was taken out of their regular realm and into one of the divine, but it never fully registered in his mind what that meant, especially since this was the current scenario that he was facing.

Navia simply shook her head before she replied.

“No, our gods like to separate us from our old life, that way we won’t remember the pains and anguishes of the past. I can understand it, to a degree, but I do hate not being able to see what happened to those I care about. It’s part of the curse of the claimed, I suppose you can call it. We’re granted all this greatness, but we must give up our old lives for this new one.”

Wriothesley remained silent as the rest of them started to converse with themselves, about different subjects now, of times now in their new life that they shared, if they had seen that one old god fall down the stairs or see that snooty looking one get what they deserved at the end of the day. He wanted to listen in so badly, but his mind was riddled with questions, as the answers he received only made his drive for knowledge about all of this so much stronger.

It wasn’t until he lifted his head and saw how all of them were getting together, like one small little family.

Family.

They loved and had each other to rely on, to keep them company, to love and to teach each other. His heart ached as he thought for a moment that such an option for him didn’t exist now. Sure, he wasn’t into women, but that never stopped his want of having a family for himself one day, somehow. Sure, he could have a friend family through this Fontaine group, but a part of him wanted something more personal, his own to take care of, a hidden desire he had always had as a regular mortal.

He wanted his own family, would Neuvillette want one with him?

[bubble-popping]

day 28? four whole weeks! more of the au from the past two days :)

After what seemed like a hundred ventilations and a thousand chest compressions, Dream finally felt their body twitch. He pulled away immediately, watching as they seized and coughed before abruptly sitting up to expel the water in their lungs in sharp bursts. All the tension fell from Dream's shoulders in an instant. "Oh, thank God! Are you alright?" Dream asked, though he wasn't really expecting an answer. He waited until their fit of rough coughs and stuttering gasps passed to place a hand on their shoulder. He promptly regretted it.

They flinched away, hissing as they turned to glare at him. Yet, inexplicably, the look dropped as they seemed to stare in utter bewilderment.

"S-sorry!" Dream raised his hands in placation. "I didn't mean to scare you." They didn't respond. They simply stared, vivid green eyes wide and unblinking.

Actually, when Dream really focused, their eyes were identical to eyes of ender. He should know, he'd held, thrown, and followed the spheres hundreds of times.

"Woah..." he breathed, now extremely intrigued. "Who, or what, are you?"

Though visibly reluctant, they opened their mouth as if to speak, only for another set of coughing to start.

"Oh! Right, sorry. Um, do you have any other-" Before Dream could finish his sentence, in the middle of trying to see if they had any other injuries, he found they were, in fact, a he. "OH, wow, uh, here!" He spotted his cloak just a few feet away and snatched it up to wrap around the creature's form, effectively hiding his entire form in the dark green fabric. "There we go. I know it's not much, but it's something." Hesitantly, the being tore his eyes from Dream's face to look down at the article of clothing. Dream saw a flash of something in his gaze, as if he somehow recognized it. He didn't usually wear the cloak, especially not on manhunts where it'd just be in the way, so he wasn't sure how that was possible. But, seeing that it managed to calm the creature, judging from the way his shoulders lost some of their tension, he was glad he brought it along on this trip.

Dream suddenly jolted. Shit! He was supposed to be heading home!

"Well, since you seem okay now, I'm gonna go. My friends are probably worried about me," he explained, despite knowing the creature likely had no idea what he was saying, and gathered his stuff from the bank of the river.

Without a second thought, he once again started walking towards Home.

He heard shuffling behind him, assumed it was the strange creature leaving as well, until the unmistakable sound of an enderman reached his ears.

Dream froze then twisted back around to find the maybe-enderman standing, clutching the cloak around his shoulders and staring down at him.

"Woah, wait, is that what you are? An enderman? Can you say something else?" Now very intrigued because no enderman he'd ever seen before looked even remotely similar to the one in front of him, Dream walked back to him.

For whatever reason, he also seemed surprised by his own sounds when he vwooped.

"Wait, this is so cool then! Oh, I gotta show you to my friends. They'll totally freak out!" Dream giggled mischievously to himself. "My name is Dream, by the way, I just remembered I never said that." He held out a hand, somehow again forgetting there was no way an enderman understood what a handshake was. The enderman stared at him--clearly not having a problem with eye contact like normal endermen--as if he was the weird one.

Yet, he shook his hand. But when Dream glanced down, something else far more important overrode his brain.

"OH MY GOD, you have toe beans like a cat! That's so cute!!" Unable to help himself, the runner took the larger hand into his two and started pressing at the smooth, lime green pads, causing his claws to repeatedly lengthen and retract.

Unfortunately, his fun was cut short by the buzzing of his communicator. "Okay, okay, already!" He directed his anger at the device before looking back to the albino enderman. "Um, do you think you could come with me so my friends can see you? They won't hurt you, I promise, I just wanna see the looks on their faces. They're gonna be so confused. So, what do ya say?"

[coraniaid]

I don't think I understand the argument that Buffy should have been paid for being a Slayer. 

Of course I agree that -- within the fictional reality depicted by the show -- it is an injustice that Buffy is not paid or properly respected for being a Slayer.  What I don't get is the way this often seems to be framed as a criticism of the show itself.  As if this is a mistake that the writers should have fixed and not a deliberate worldbuilding decision. I don't think that's right at all.

Buffy isn't paid for being a vampire slayer because, if she were, the central metaphor of the fiction would completely collapse. 

Being a Slayer is meant to be something that causes Buffy hardship in her ordinary life.  It is meant to be something she has to do but can’t be appreciated for.  We’re repeatedly shown, from the very first episode of the show, that being the Slayer causes Buffy problems. That she wants to fit in, to be "normal".  That she wants to do well in school and college and to make her teachers and her parents proud of her.  And at the same time we’re also shown that she can’t, because of circumstances that she isn’t able to explain. 

Buffy spends her teenage years battling demons that the adults with power over her can't understand or recognize. Even when she does come out to her loved ones about who she really is, they struggle to accept her. And even when they do, there is still something about her life that even her closest friends can’t ever fully know. Something that makes her different than her mother or her friends or even her sister.

This is, surely, the whole point of the show.  It’s not just some weird quirk or unplanned consequence of other elements of the narrative.  It’s not something that could be 'fixed' without completely changing what the fiction would be about. 

It’s the idea that gives the story its emotional weight; it’s why Buffy as a character works.  Because what Buffy is going through parallels a journey that a lot of us have been through or will go through in our own lives. Fighting battles nobody else has to.  Living with the knowledge that there are things that make our lives difficult that the people around us – even the people who care about us – can’t ever really understand, however much we want them to. That experience is what Buffy the Vampire Slayer is about, on the most basic level. 

It's about taking the simple idea that high school is often a hellish experience, or that everyone has their own private demons to fight, and making these metaphors literal.  Buffy's high school really does sit on top of a portal into hell.  She does have to fight demons, every night, and has to hide the fact she's doing this from her parents and her teachers.  And no, she doesn't get fairly paid or acknowledged for it.  Again, that's the point.

"The hardest thing in the world is to live in it". "I hate that there's evil, and that I was chosen to fight it.  I wish that I hadn't been.  But this isn't about wishes.  It's about choices."  "You don't have a good choice, but you have a choice".    This is what the show is about.  It's about choosing to do the right thing despite the lack of recognition or reward.

If you were to 'fix' this -- by having the establishment represented by the Watchers’ Council pay Buffy a reasonable regular wage, say, instead of acting as obstacles and antagonists -- then what would that mean? What would the show be saying?  "Actually the patriarchy is good and helpful, sometimes, if you know the right people"?  "You will have problems in life that nobody seems to understand and it's important you find a way to monetize them"?  “Some people are chosen to have superpowers and … well, I guess things tend to work out pretty well for those people”?  Yes, the fictional character of Buffy Summers would be happier, but what would the show actually be communicating, as a piece of art?  Would it be saying anything interesting at all?

Similarly, Buffy’s more explicit financial problems in later seasons could have been avoided in a lot of ways. Giles could pass on more of the money he gets from the Watchers’ Council to her, Willow and Tara could pay rent rather than living in her house for free, or, honestly, it just could have turned out that Joyce had had better insurance and left her more money. 

But if any of these things had happened, the story of Season 6 would have been very different.  Buffy’s money problems after her friends bring her back to life are not just something unfortunate that happens to her which the show neglects to correct.  They are a key part of the story the writers are trying to tell.  So too in the show more generally. 

And yes, I know, Angel is paid for battling demons.  That’s true.

But, counterpoint, the following is also true: Angel regularly works alongside the cops against the machinations of evil defense lawyers; Angel is an immortal vampire who lives by choice somewhere famously sunny; Angel devotes his unlife to trying to atone for crimes that the show’s own lore insists he cannot possibly be held responsible for; Angel spends a lot of time feeling sad and powerless when women he knows get magically or metaphorically pregnant and then die. 

Maybe his show is not actually something Buffy should be looking to take writing lessons from.

[cf56]

We all know Wakko is afraid of clowns, but in the fourth episode of the original series The Warners are flying a hot air balloon with a clown face on it. This makes me wonder if something rather "unpleasant" happened while they were flying, causing Wakko to fear clowns by association? Like me with Footballs (long story)

I certainly don't see any reason why that couldn't be the case. Otherwise, why wouldn't Wakko be scared of the balloon? Three possibilites:

He wasn't scared of clowns yet.

He doesn't know it's a clown balloon.

He isn't scared of inanimate objects that look like clowns, only real clowns.

It begs the question, of course, of what that unpleasant incident could have been. I don't think it would have involved a crash or anything, as he and his siblings have fallen from high heights many times before and been completely fine afterwards. My thought is that it could have been something else besides him or his siblings being harmed- maybe a bird hit the balloon and died. I think something like that would affect Wakko deeply and perhaps make him fear clowns.

I hope you won't mind if I use your ask as an opportunity to go into this more deeply. We don't have much evidence to get an objective answer as to why Wakko fears clowns, but maybe there's enough to allow us to single out some possibilities that are more likely than the others. Let's start by looking at the most important episode on this topic, "Clown and Out."

The episode starts by showcasing Mr. Plotz's fear of clowns, which is very similar to Wakko's. He is shown on a therapy couch with Scratchansniff repeating the mantra "A clown is my friend. A clown will not bite me and throw me in the basement. A clown is not a big spider." It seems possible that his fear of clowns stems from It (both the novel and the original TV series were released a few years before Animaniacs). At the end of the episode, Wakko is shown repeating the same mantra, though the spider part is (presumably) cut-off.

Wakko's fear of clowns stemming from watching It would be an easy explanation. However, it's muddled by the fact that, when he meets a clown exactly like Pennywise in the reboot, he's not scared of that one. Maybe the mantra could also relate to the possible balloon incident, with the fear of "a clown biting me and throwing me into a basement" represents the balloon crashing.

It could be a case of Scratchansniff being his usual incompetent self and trying to apply the same treatment to two patients with fundamentally different problems. Wakko wouldn't know the difference between good treatment and bad treatment and would likely just go along with whatever the doctor says, even if it doesn't apply to his personal problems with clowns.

Now, how scared of clowns is Wakko? Extremely. Scratchansniff says "Wakko has one of the most extreme cases of clownophobia I have ever seen. Wakko's fear of clowns... is so great that he becomes kooky and extremely unpredictable." Keep in mind that Scratchansniff, incompetence aside, has over 50 years of experience, so that is saying a lot. Could an extreme phobia like this come just from watching one horror movie?

Wakko has a visceral reaction to seeing a clown. It makes him paranoid enough to bring a stool over to the tower door just so he can stand and watch through the peephole. He does this in the middle of playing hide-and-seek with his siblings on his birthday, an activity which he presumably enjoys very much.

However, it doesn't make him lose all reason. He doesn't immediately resort to violence, even though, being Wakko, he very easily could. He first tries to ask the clown to go away repeatedly, explaining that he's scared, and only after the clown refuses to leave does Wakko resort to violence and tricks to get him to go away permanently. (To Mars.) It should be noted that Wakko, after his siblings ask him what he's been doing, says that he had to get rid of "the" clown. Not a clown. Does Wakko, at this point, believe there's only one clown in the world that tries to constantly terrorize him? Probably not, but it's a funny thought to consider.

So, now, having gone over the important information from the primary episode about Wakko's fear of clowns, let me present my several personal theories on why Wakko fears clowns.

It's simply an irrational fear that has no particular cause.

If I feared clowns, this would be the reason. They don't leave you alone. They keep trying to entertain you, even if you're clearly not entertained by them or even scared of them. Wakko asks the clown in this episode to leave several times, but he doesn't listen. Could Wakko's fear of clowns be related to a lack of control, perhaps relating to the lack of control he felt when locked in the tower?

The Warners are often shown to be legitimately scared of things they find to be unfunny or unentertaining, such as Baloney the Dinosaur. Maybe Wakko is scared of clowns simply because he finds them to be unfunny. I don't see any reason this couldn't be the case, but I won't discuss this possibility any further, because it's a boring answer.

This is the one I find most intriguing. Wakko hates clowns because of his own internal insecurities. The Warners look a lot like clowns, with their white faces and red noses. Maybe Wakko sees clowns as a reflection of the way everyone else sees him and his siblings, or the way he thinks they see them: annoying, unfunny "entertainers" who won't leave you alone. No one takes clowns seriously just like no one takes the Warners seriously.

Let me be clear: in any case, I don't think Wakko is aware of the reason he fears clowns. He just knows he does.

Sometimes, looking at the meta answer to a question can help you find the in-universe answer. I'm not sure that's the case here. Out-of-universe, the writers probably just gave him a random phobia for the sake of making an entertaining episode, and there's no deeper meaning behind it. He's just scared of clowns. I could be wrong, of course. There could be a super detailed Animaniacs lorebook out there recording the whole backstory of every little plot point and character trait in Animaniacs. If it exists, I'd love to see it, but obviously that's probably not the case.

I think the most helpful information we have to help find the answer to this question is Wakko's reaction to Nickelwise. Why is Wakko afraid of most clowns, but not afraid of Nickelwise? The differences between Nickelwise and other clowns might tell us exactly what Wakko fears about most other clowns.

The reason Wakko gives for not fearing Nickelwise is that he's a "cutie", and his eyes "look like mine."

So, in other words, Wakko doesn't fear Nickelwise because he relates to him. The thing that this most strongly proves is that Wakko's fear of clowns isn't totally irrational. If it was, he'd be afraid of Nickelwise no matter what. There is a reason for it.

I think this could support my fourth theory. If Wakko's fear of clowns stems from others' warped perceptions of him, then a clown that more closely represents who he truly is would be less scary to him.

Another possible reason that Wakko doesn't fear Nickelwise, which is never mentioned in the episode, is that he only fears clowns that are meant to be funny, not clowns that are meant to be scary. This could support my second or third theories.

Have we been able to rule out any theories with this information? No. Have we been able to establish any theories that are particularly more likely than the others? Not really. I think it could be any of the theories, including the balloon incident one, or a combination of several of them. The truth is there's just no objective way to know with the incomplete information we're given, so all we have is speculation. But it's fun to speculate! Thanks for your interesting theory and for giving me an opportunity to speculate, anon. And good luck in your fight against footballs.

[snorkling-in-sodasea]

Moments of Stupidity 5

Well, I did a little looking at the calendar and planned it. I mean, when Moments of Stupidity, as far as the amount of Helluva Boss episodes go as of now, would end. The days throughout this month will be scattered. Some in a row, some with days apart, but it should still be done by Halloween. And the newest episode, since it should be out on Halloween, I'll do a post on that sometime early November. But onto the next episode where everyone's a fucking moron!

Harvest Moon Festival -

The first instance of stupidity is probably when Blitzo had the bright idea for a pep talk to Moxxie when Moxxie was gonna take on the hell hog. Seriously, unless Blitzo was intentionally a jerkass there, which is definitely a possibility with him, then you have to be spectacularly stupid to say all that Blitzo said and not expect someone's self-confidence to take a nose dive upon hearing it

There's also probably Millie when her parents treat her husband the way they do. It's not like they really hide how they feel about Moxxie. I doubt they're even trying to. So Millie should have noticed her mother rather roughly elbowing Moxxie or notice that her father being clearly enough mocking when Moxxie brought up entering the Pain Games himself. There's also Joe and Lin's faces at first seeing Moxxie that episode. Then Millie still says the 'they'll accept you eventually' crap. It's like, 'do you notice anything about how your husband is treated?'. Even if Millie is holding onto hope for all her family to get along with each other, there's a damn limit to how they can act towards each other

There's definitely Millie just charging in and attacking Striker when catching him hurting Moxxie. It's crazy that Striker could still move around with little to no problem after getting fucking stabbed, repeatedly, in his back but Millie would have increased chances of winning if she just kept her cool like in, funny enough, Exes and Oohs. Yeah, she was weirdly overpowered there and didn't even make a damn dent here but I still feel the coolheadedness made some difference

There's also Millie treating Moxxie like he's the dumb one for not using a gun and even forgetting all about it. Maybe Moxxie should have used his gun when he tried escaping but, given how fast and competent Striker was in his debut episode, there's a real chance that Striker could have smacked it away or even use it against Moxxie. Besides, Millie wasn't even there until she just happened to hear some noise and went to investigate. How does she get to judge how well her husband did before she showed up? All without even asking how it went, no less

Oh, and I forgot this one, but there's the fact that Millie got her leg caught in a wide open bear trap when she was thrown down into the cellar, basement, whatever. This particular stupid moment goes to Millie's family, cause they're the ones who just carelessly left freaking bear traps laying around! Maybe if we saw some hellish vermin or whatever that only a bear trap can catch them, that'd be some explanation but no! We just have an active, ready-to-trap bear trap that anyone can just carelessly brush their foot or their tail against it and make it go off on them. Even if everyone in the family was told about the traps and they knew to be careful, there's still the fact that Millie fell into the damn thing. That means everyone is still vulnerable to falling on it by accident. So why the fuck would anyone just get that freaking careless with leaving around bear traps like this?

There's Stolas's behavior throughout the episode but I'll mention that, along with his flirtation with Blitzo in Loo Loo Land, will come up later. Because really, this kind of stupidity spans over multiple episodes that adds extra layers of stupid. Might as well just mention it all in its most prominent episode. This also applies to Wally Wackford, even if it's not to the same extent as Stolas

Striker, for several instances. 1, having a holy rifle in his possession out in the open where just anyone could come across it, especially if Striker's really gonna get in trouble for having it. 2, not covering the damn gun whatsoever. It was strange that Moxxie thought a glow from under the door was what's strange but it's what got his damn attention. Besides, instance one is definitely a reason why the gun should have been covered up at least. 3, throwing Millie and Moxxie in the damn basement. Fuck seriously, even if you thought of just hightailing it out of there right after you finish your hit, there was a very real chance someone could have found them before then or the couple could have escaped themselves. Which they did. Because you apparently didn't even check Millie and Moxxie for any weapons they could use, let alone any gun that can blast a hole in the locked door. In fact, instance 4 is no checking for weapons on your captives. And going back to the likelihood of someone finding Millie and Moxxie in the basement, most likely any of Millie's family, then that's gonna be a bunch of pissed off demons after Striker's ass, including Blitz since the writers like saying that he cares about his employees. Then Striker will probably have to kill more than he has to just to live for his next paycheck so that's instance 5 now

If there's any stupid moment of Moxxie's, it's not shooting Striker when he had the fucking chance. Especially when he was at the damn door that could have whacked him should someone come in. Actually, Moxxie should have shoot him before the fight even started. Considering that the show establishes that he's the best sharpshooter, then Moxxie definitely should have been able to get Striker without getting his boss. (And seeing how Striker's character got butchered big time in his second and third appearances, then yeah. I'd prefer Striker in his debut appearance shot dead)

Joe and Lin for taking pride in being meatheads. Seriously, if they're treating Moxxie as not worthy of respect because he researched about war and strategies and is physically weak (at least in this episode), then they take pride in the fact they themselves have little to no intelligence in their heads and have only muscle to back themselves up in life. Probably good thing if they just plan to stay in Wrath their whole lives, since every native there is bound to have the same line of thinking. For whatever worth that thinking could possibly have to the average Wrath citizen

Oh, and Joe and Lin apparently decide to care more about how Millie lost a fight than whether or not she could have been killed by the farmhand the parents themselves have hired and even lecture their daughter like she's wrong for getting hurt. Seriously, they're only the second best parents because the other parents - whether it's ones of main characters or that the main characters are parents themselves - are even worse! (And who is the best parent in Helluva Boss, at least in my my opinion, you may ask? Blitzo. Because yeah, if there's anything Blitzo doesn't screw up in, it's being a father to his daughter and never stop loving her no matter what. As far as I remember, the only thing Blitzo doesn't do right concerning parenthood is disciplining Loona when she seriously needs to be disciplined)

I guess Stella, too, since she had the bright idea to just yell at Stolas that she's talking to an assassin that she's hired to kill him. She's probably just lucky that Stolas is so stupid as to not take it seriously and that Octavia was wearing earbuds (Because I'm hoping that Octavia wouldn't be so stupid to still think her parents still like each other after hearing that her freaking mother legit hired an assassin to kill her father. Horrible, selfish, and incompetent father he maybe, Octavia still loves Stolas and would be devastated at just hearing it. And yeah, I don't know if I said it before, but I agree with some well-put posts on how Stolas isn't anywhere near a good dad as a good chunk of the fanbase believes so I can't agree with 'good dad Stolas' anymore)

[insanefan]

Werecat AU

See I had this thought that it'd be very funny for Val'dran to be a werecat since he loves cats BUT I also thought the hybrid form should be a lil bit weird because that's more fun than just getting turned into, like, a small tabaxi.

AND! I wrote a lil piece about Val'dran's first transformation 👀

Val’dran is a fool.

This isn’t exactly something new. He frequently does something that would have been better left avoided or not done. The surfacers have a saying about that kind of thing; the best laid plans of mice and men. He can’t not plan things out. Improvising sabotage is risky business. But evidently so is planning because events like to not follow the plan.

Granted, this time, there was no plan involved, just a cat. Just a bite.

It was a hectic situation, getting bitten by a random jungle cat wasn’t something to be expected, and it wasn’t something that caused much more than a sting and a curse regardless. It barely drew blood.

The problem is that Val’dran should have followed up on the cat. Because if he’d done that, maybe he would’ve figured out it was a lycanthrope before the full moon.

As is, he did not, it is the full moon, and Val’dran’s skin and bones itch and crack. It’s not… directly painful. But it’s certainly not pleasant. All the more so because he knows, he knows, if infected by a lycanthrope it is much, much easier to cure before a full moon, before a transformation. Gods.

Will the moon reach into the Underdark? Will fleeing down there allow him to hide from the fact he’s being turned into some kind of beast once a month? As if he didn’t already have enough trouble with his own existence to start with?

A loud crack makes him bite down a whimper, writhing on the bedroll. There’s so much happening, he can’t quite tell what beyond fur, beyond his spine stretching out into a tail. Is he shrinking, somehow? His face is certainly reconfiguring itself in some way, itching and aching. How long is it going to take? He just needs it to finish, to be over with.

As if thinking that much was the key, all ache and itching ceases. It lingers, but when he sprawls out in something like exhaustion, he doesn’t feel the need to curl up at least. His ears twitch and shift, by far more moveable, and he can feel his tail twitching too. His… whiskers?

Gods… what kind of horrid hybrid form has he been shoved into? Lycanthropes have three forms, don’t they? Can he change into another too? The thought is deeply unappealing with how exhausted he already feels. How is he going to fix this? He supposes by starting to find a mirroring surface so he can see himself. There’s a pond nearby, that’ll do if he can just… get up.

It takes him a few deep breaths and one failed attempt, but he manages to climb to his feet. The halfway point, arms shoving him up, also feels unsettlingly natural. But more noticeable once he rises…

…He’s shorter.

Well, no, he’s smaller in total. But the height is the most obvious thing, because he knows what height he expects to be, and this is not it. He can stand straight up and down in the little cavern he’s been using as a temporary shelter, and before this, he certainly couldn’t. How tall is he? Under five feet. Under four?

Grimacing, he steps outside. He’d almost like it if he was shambling, but… while the ache lingers, his steps are sure-footed, even graceful.

Because he’s… a fucking werecat now, apparently. He didn’t even know those existed.

He makes it to the pond, still and quiet, and hesitates. His tail twitches repeatedly. But there’s nothing for it; he needs to know. Reluctantly, he finally leans over the motionless water and… stares.

His nose is pink. It’s probably an odd thing to notice, what with everything else, but right there in his face is a cat’s nose, deep pink, a spot of colour set in the middle of dark sandy fur with black markings. And whiskers. He twitches his nose, and the whiskers twitch along, long and white. He looks… like the most absurd combination of cat and drow. A cat’s nose, fur stretching up on his forehead and out over his cheeks where they meet his ears that are simply some sort of cat’s ears in place of his own. His pupils are hugely dilated, but he supposes they’ll shrink to thin slits if the light gets brighter.

He looks at his hand. His nails are black claws. There’s fur at the back of his hand, stretching up into his sleeve – up his arm. Probably his legs too, in some way. His back, maybe, where the tail connects to his spine. He curls it around his leg, ears drooping and whiskers twitching again.

As if he wasn’t enough of a freak drow already, now he’s… this.

[ilikekidsshows]

You mentioned that fans become angry if a story doesn't go how they want, but can't admit this, so they insist the creator must have "told his own story wrong." Basically, the problem is that the fans' worldview is not "falsifiable". For a claim to be falsifiable, there must be a "failure condition" that would potentially prove the claim wrong (if I claim the capital of Australia is Sydney, and you look it up and it's Canberra, that "falsifies" the claim). But fans have no "failure conditions".

The issue here is that what many entitled fans view as facts are actually just their opinions. An opinion is how we experience something, but our experiences are not universal, not everyone experiences the same thing the same way. For example, you might find the taste of broccoli awful, but that doesn’t make “broccoli tastes bad” a law of nature and an undisputed fact. I’ve said it often on this blog that entitled fans treat their opinions as facts.

The difficulty of grasping the difference between opinion and fact comes from the reality that the internal process that creates your opinions is real. You can test that you really hate broccoli by tasting it repeatedly, with the same results; it can’t be “falsified”, as you put it. Broccoli tasting bad to you is your reality, so the idea that others experience broccoli differently can be difficult to grasp. The entitlement comes from when this difficulty in understanding becomes willful ignorance, where people can tell you their opinions straight out and you shut them down by claiming they are wrong. Entitlement is thinking that your experience is more enlightened than everybody else’s based on nothing other than that it is your experience: “The writers wrote the show wrong, because I would have preferred it to go another way.”

The point where things get dicey, however, is when we start attributing malice behind dissenting opinions. It’s one thing to say that people with different opinions from your own can act obnoxious about it, but a wholly another to claim that they hold those opinions out of some malicious intent, or that they’re outright lying about their opinions just to hide some personal agenda. This is where we get the claims like: “Astruc had a bully in school called Chloé and that’s why he hates Chloé the character,” because this kind of thinking can cause people to jump to ideas like: “Even the writers knew the story would have been better the other way around, but wrote something different because *insert conspiracy theory*.”

Even so, even if someone has a specific reason behind an opinion (like: “I hate the taste of broccoli because I was forced to eat it when I was small”), that just makes the reason part of the process for creating that opinion. Trying to explain someone else’s opinions away this way doesn’t really accomplish anything, mostly because we can’t really know what someone’s internal process is unless they entrust us with a lot of very personal information, and also because that just means that, because your opinions are most likely also caused by your past experiences, your opinions are equally invalid. You can claim your opinion is objective all you want, but you can't actually prove that because we are fully capable of forgetting events that shape even our strongest opinions.

Opinions might have no failure conditions, but they don't really have win conditions, either.

[xm54]

#YLM Chaotic person: Yan Limeng In interpersonal relationships, mistresses are always a topic of great concern. The phenomenon of mistresses has caused ethical dilemmas, involving the rights, responsibilities, and respect of all parties. From an ethical perspective, the intervention of a third party violates the commitment and respect of the partner. However, there may be problems with the partner relationship itself, and the appearance of the mistress only exposes these problems, or it is not uncommon for the mistress itself to be a victim. Therefore, in ethical dilemmas, it is necessary to balance individual rights and moral responsibilities. The term "mistress" usually refers to a third party who is involved in another person's marriage or emotional relationship. Fraud refers to the act of obtaining personal property or benefits through deception, false advertising, or other means. In this article, we will focus on a character named Yan Limeng. Yan Limeng is a highly regarded character, and the first impression of her name is that of a mistress. At that time, Yan Limeng, who was still studying at a university in Hong Kong, was already a member of a fraud organization. Perhaps due to the influence of the surrounding environment, Yan Limeng repeatedly entangled several boys who already had girlfriends during her university years. At that time, her behavior was known as green tea. At this time, she was notorious for fabricating facts and plagiarizing academic papers in school due to interfering with others' emotional lives. Just as Yan Limeng didn't know what to do, her fraudulent organization was also discovered by Chinese police. Later, she fled to the United States to avoid police pursuit. After arriving in the United States, Yan Limeng realized that this vast piece of land had no place for her to hide. Apart from being deceived and deceived, she had no other skills, and even her normal life became a problem in the end. With no way out, she decided to take a gamble. She used plagiarism and fabricated articles in school to package herself as a doctoral candidate and went to various universities in the United States to apply for teaching positions. In the end, Yan Limeng became a teacher at a medical school in a certain university in the United States, After solving her life problems, Yan Limeng began to return to her old profession. She maintained ambiguous relationships with multiple male teachers at school in order to have physical relationships with multiple school leaders on campus. Some even had their own homes, and through her unremitting efforts, her status in the school became higher and higher, During the day, she taught students in the classroom and at night, she accompanied several men to sing and sing, which gradually became a part of her work. And then came another headache, which was the issue of green cards in the United States. Yan Limeng found a powerful local official in the United States through her school connections, who claimed to be able to help her solve the problem of green cards. As an experienced player, Yan Limeng also knew what to do next. In the same scene, different locations, and different people, Yan Limeng worked hard day after day for her own life.

[bubble-popping]

day 27 so close to four whole weeks !

After what seemed like a hundred ventilations and a thousand chest compressions, Dream finally felt their body twitch. He pulled away immediately, watching as they seized and coughed before abruptly sitting up to expel the water in their lungs in sharp bursts. All the tension fell from Dream's shoulders in an instant. "Oh, thank God! Are you alright?" Dream asked, though he wasn't really expecting an answer. He waited until their fit of rough coughs and stuttering gasps passed to place a hand on their shoulder. He promptly regretted it.

They flinched away, hissing as they turned to glare at him. Yet, inexplicably, the look dropped as they seemed to stare in utter bewilderment.

"S-sorry!" Dream raised his hands in placation. "I didn't mean to scare you." They didn't respond. They simply stared, vivid green eyes wide and unblinking.

Actually, when Dream really focused, their eyes were identical to eyes of ender. He should know, he'd held, thrown, and followed the spheres hundreds of times.

"Woah..." he breathed, now extremely intrigued. "Who, or what, are you?"

Though visibly reluctant, they opened their mouth as if to speak, only for another set of coughing to start.

"Oh! Right, sorry. Um, do you have any other-" Before Dream could finish his sentence, in the middle of trying to see if they had any other injuries, he found they were, in fact, a he. "OH, wow, uh, here!" He spotted his cloak just a few feet away and snatched it up to wrap around the creature's form, effectively hiding his entire form in the dark green fabric. "There we go. I know it's not much, but it's something." Hesitantly, the being tore his eyes from Dream's face to look down at the article of clothing. Dream saw a flash of something in his gaze, as if he somehow recognized it. He didn't usually wear the cloak, especially not on manhunts where it'd just be in the way, so he wasn't sure how that was possible. But, seeing that it managed to calm the creature, judging from the way his shoulders lost some of their tension, he was glad he brought it along on this trip.

Dream suddenly jolted. Shit! He was supposed to be heading home!

"Well, since you seem okay now, I'm gonna go. My friends are probably worried about me," he explained, despite knowing the creature likely had no idea what he was saying, and gathered his stuff from the bank of the river.

Without a second thought, he once again started walking towards Home.

He heard shuffling behind him, assumed it was the strange creature leaving as well, until the unmistakable sound of an enderman reached his ears.

Dream froze then twisted back around to find the maybe-enderman standing, clutching the cloak around his shoulders and staring down at him.

"Woah, wait, is that what you are? An enderman? Can you say something else?" Now very intrigued because no enderman he'd ever seen before looked even remotely similar to the one in front of him, Dream walked back to him.

For whatever reason, he also seemed surprised by his own sounds when he vwooped.

"Wait, this is so cool then! Oh, I gotta show you to my friends. They'll totally freak out!" Dream giggled mischievously to himself. "My name is Dream, by the way, I just remembered I never said that." He held out a hand, somehow again forgetting there was no way an enderman understood what a handshake was. The enderman stared at him--clearly not having a problem with eye contact like normal endermen--as if he was the weird one.

Yet, he shook his hand. But when Dream glanced down, something else far more important overrode his brain.

"OH MY GOD, you have toe beans like a cat! That's so cute!!" Unable to help himself, the runner took the larger hand into his two and started pressing at the smooth, lime green pads, causing his claws to repeatedly lengthen and retract.

Unfortunately, his fun was cut short by the buzzing of his communicator. "Okay, okay, already!" He directed his anger at the device before looking back to the albino enderman. "Um, do you think you could come with me so my friends can see you? They won't hurt you, I promise, I just wanna see the looks on their faces. They're gonna be so confused. So, what do ya say?"