#crawl into your sleep

[merakiui]

get ready mera tomorrow is the day you will expect me camping in ur inboxes bcs the horny demons WILL have me by the neck

being made into a marionette/puppet/doll by the fellow guy and having all emotion draining in poor reader’s eyes!! they’ll be so pretty!! the “princess of the circus” !! an eye candy for the audience (and the boys especially) and at the end of the show, you will be giving them “special services” fellow being paid to have you give all the boys head!! heck have your holes stuffed to the brim by ALL of them at once!! and maybe behind the scenes, fellow will have a taste himself 🤭

HAVE A GREAT DAY MERA AAAA WILL COME BACK TO SCREAM SOME MORE!! 😫🫶🏻💕💕❤️❤️❤️

HI HI, LOVELY ANON!!!! 💖💖 omg,,, your thoughts are so good. I am ready for you to camp in my inbox. I will set up the tent for you and include many luxuries so the camping experience will be enjoyable!!!!

But omg the thought of being turned into a mindless sex doll for the boys and you can't complain or fight back. You're so pliable and obedient; it's in your nature to serve them and be fucked by them. <3 since Playful Land is a place in which you can indulge in fun day after day, why would any of the guys ever want to leave? Some of them (Trey, Leona, Cater, Jack, etc) are hesitant. Of course they want to use you, fuck you, kiss you, stuff you full, and do so many things they may not be able to do at school, but part of them knows this isn't the real you and you're just being controlled by Fellow. But time passes in Playful Land and eventually, whether they wanted to resist or not, they'll fall into Fellow's palm and indulge in you and your body. :) it's only a matter of time before the obsession wins out over restraint.

I think Fellow likely fucks you way before the rest get their chances. >:D he wants to have his fun first. Omg just imagine how many possibilities that opens up for Leona and Fellow rivalry. Two beastmen, one of them a sly fox and the other a protective lion, and they both want you. 😵‍💫 Leona respects you, of course, but he has to stake his claim to ensure that Fellow guy won't take what rightfully belongs to the king. >:(

[sppacedoutman]

I said I’d do it.

[mcuxhp777]

Ed: Is this yours

*Damian clinging on his leg*

Bruce: Yes, I was wondering where he went

Ed: *Sighs* It's the third time this week

Bruce: You try raising four children

[mamawasatesttube]

having a migraine is fucked up and evil because my dog is conked out on the floor behind my desk chair, wagging his tail in his sleep, and my brain is like "oh actually the Thump Thump noises are too loud and it hurts now." excuse me. brain stop being a bitch he's having happy dreams

[prettyflyshyguy]

He's a monster, and he's hungry.

Wrote this over a few days because I'm. Not ok about this. It's on AO3, and under the cut cause it's a short one. Not super edited, just got desperate for more content exploring when Dean was a vampire and when I found none I was like "well alright. Guess I'll make it then."

“I can’t believe it.”

Dean paced the length of the hotel room, passing back and forth by the table where his brother sat, prowling like an animal in captivity.

“You just stood there and watched that freak turn me!”

He stared at Sam, hoping for a change in his reaction, a look of sympathy, an admission of guilt, some form of recognition that something fucked up happened in the alley. Sam’s face was blank, his heartbeat steady, and frankly he just didn’t seem to care. In fact, he hadn’t seemed to care about much recently. He was a cold, lifeless, empty husk and Dean was tired of it. His usual quips brought no frustrated response, no snappy replies, he was simply brushed off. There was no banter, no anger, simply complete and utter apathy no matter what he said. Sam had his moments, everyone did. Dean knew he had a tendency to push his luck, many people had told him this. But Sam was different, they were siblings. Sam putting up with him being an ass was just how things were, and would always be. At least it's how it should be. After everything they’d seen and done together… If Sam held any resentment, he’d have made it clear by this stage. He was a good liar, but Dean could always tell. They both knew each other too well. If he had any doubt something was off about Sam, it was quickly disintegrating as he stalked the room, watching him blankly staring up at him from the small table. Not even fidgeting in the slightest. 

They’d been pushed to their limits before, and Sam was always the first to speak up when something was wrong. 

“Dean.”

His lip curled at the sound of his name. It was so hollow. So static. It reminded him of school, when his teacher would check the roll call. It was an obligation and a requirement, not something done out of genuine care. 

He decided to push a little harder.

“I mean what the hell was that all about Sam? Revenge? To get me back?” he growled. 

“You know you’ve talked so much shit about me taking risks, is this all just some master plan to show me the error of my ways? A jab back at how you still, somehow deep down, think I’m Dad’s perfect son?”

He stood still, observing for a change in reaction. Dean desperately wanted to find a tiny shift in body language, a subtle twitch in his eyes or mouth, that sad glint in his eyes.

He breathed out slowly as Sam once again stared back with soulless eyes and a steady heart.

Not enough, Ok, he thought. He was an expert at this. Maybe Sam had steeled up after all these years. 

It wasn’t a completely unreasonable possibility. 

“I almost hurt Lisa and Ben, Sam! I came so close, I could have killed them and no one would have been there to stop me, but you were!”

He took a step towards Sam as he spoke, the venom of the accusation lingering in the air.

Sam breathed out and shuffled in his seat. Finally, a response. 

“Dean, you need to calm down.”

You calm down.

He took another step closer, noting the slight increase in pace of Sam’s heart. Progress, hell yeah. A smile tugged at the edges of his lips though Dean’s eyes were as cold as Sam’s.

“Oh, that's rich coming from you! That’s easy for you to say when you’re not being assaulted by noise like you went to the movies and an intern did the mixing.”

He took another step closer. 

The thrumming beat increased in speed once more. 

“Dean.”

“S’matter of fact,” Dean slid his fingers across the tabletop, tracing the grooves in the rough wooden surface, “you’re exceptionally calm given I’m now stuck doing a bad David Boreanaz impression for an indefinite period of time, with no guarantee this Campbell special will even work.”

He looked up from where his hand slid along the table to match Sam’s unwavering gaze. His brother tilted his head to look up at him as Dean hovered above, adjusting in his seat. Sam slipped his left arm over the backrest of the chair. 

Dean’s expression turned cold once more.

“And I’ve been thinking, Sammy. It’s ironic. Between that creep, you just standing there and watching, and…” jabbing his thumb back towards himself he gestured “... me…” 

Dean slammed his hand back down on the table, leaning in closer. The headlights of a car flickered through the slim gap in the middle of the window curtains drawn behind them. It reflected off of Dean’s eyes for a split second, making Sam flinch. It reminded him of the animals on the side of the highway, peering at them through the bushes before darting away when they drove late at night.

“Begs the question,” Dean continued. “Which one of us is the real monster?”

Sam swallowed. The first real visible sign of him showing some nerves. He’d finally cracked him.

“Since you can hear my heartbeat,” Sam spoke slowly, “what does it say about me now?” 

His tone was outwardly calm, but Dean could hear through him. 

“It says you’re shit scared, Sammy.”

Sam waited for a few seconds before opening his mouth to respond. Whatever he said, Dean didn’t seem to notice, as his gaze began to shift from Sam’s face down to where the light of the window caught the curve of his exposed bare neck. A pang of hunger swelled in the pit of his chest as the noise and light and intensity of the room faded away until all that was left was the steady sound of the beating, beating, beating. 

A sharp, intense pain stung the side of Dean’s neck breaking him free of the trance as he collapsed to the ground groaning and twitching in pain. Through fading vision he looked up to see Sam still sitting on the chair, slouching back, but holding a syringe in his left hand. The contents empty. 

“You… sonof-abich…” his words formed a slurry as his body went limp.

-

“Nice of you to join us Samuel.”

“What the hell is going on here?”

“Sam’s showing me what all those years of boy scout training taught him to do.”

Dean sat on a chair, his legs, arms and chest bound with thick twine rope. Smiling at Samuel for a moment, he motioned with what little mobility he had in his hands to indicate. Samuel glanced at his brother with a questioning look.

“You did this?”

“He shot me full of dead man’s blood, and I gotta say, that’s one hell of a drug.” 

Dean’s tone was dry and unimpressed. Samuel assessed the room, looking as though he wanted to ask more questions, but decided against it. 

“Anyway you said you were getting something to help?” Dean’s voice broke the silence.

“This is help.”

Samuel pulled a glass jar out of a brown paper bag, setting it on the table. The contents was dark and viscous. It had sloshed around in transit, coating the airgap at the top of the jar. The light pierced through the clear glass and bright red light danced across the varnished wood tabletop.

“Wh- what is that?” 

“Cows blood.” Samuel said curtly.

“That’s help?”

“It’ll keep you alive.”

As he twisted the lid open Dean’s eyes flicked between the jar and the two men.

“Well can you at least untie me first?” he pleaded, his voice straining. 

The rope dug into his wrists and the thought of being spoon fed cows blood was sending his mind to a dark and violent place.

“Dean, it's just a precaution.” Samuel attempted to be reassuring. 

Dean clenched his jaw. Precaution for what. You weren’t even here to see Sam attack me.

“Oh cut the bullcrap!” Dean spat, pulling against the rope binding his arms and legs. “C three P O over here was a bit too cautious back in the alley and look where it got us!”

Samuel stared at him tensely. Dean winced as a spike of sound ringed in his head from a car horn outside. 

“Look I’m fine, Samuel. Really. Just untie me.”

The older man hesitated.

“Please?” Dean cracked a smile that usually got him whatever he wanted.

Usually.

Samuel watched him carefully while he placed the jar lid on the table. The unmistakable smell of iron, meat and death began to waft through the room. He leaned into the scent as he realised just how hungry he was. How dry his throat was. How much the deep, dark red called out to him.

“Samuel I will kill you if you try and hand feed that shit to me.”

The older man raised an eyebrow in response, unimpressed, and picked up the jar.

“Wait!” 

Dean grimaced and hissed through gritted teeth as Sam called out from the other side of the table.

“One drop of human blood is enough, are we sure that cow’s blood is clean?”

“Oh you gotta be fucking kidding me Sammy…” Dean groaned.

Samuel paused, running it through his mind, blinking a few times, he contemplated the risk and the chance. Looking back, Sam shrugged silently.

“Sam has a point. If any human blood, from a cut or a scratch, got into this at the abattoir, you’re done.”

Dean ignored him and glared at Sam.

“God I can’t listen to you right now.”

“I didn’t say anything!” Sam blurted in frustration. 

“Your fucking heartbeat man! It's so loud, it's so monotonous it’s killing me! Look, Samuel, just cut this fuckin rope and hand me the fuckin jar.”

Reluctantly, and cautiously, he pulled out a hunting knife from a holster on his belt. Staying as far from Dean as possible, he nicked part of the rope on Dean’s right arm just enough for him to wiggle it loose. Waving it in the air and stretching the fingers, Dean looked back to the two who were eyeing him off.

“See that wasn’t so bad now was it.” Dean’s tone was sarcastic and he tapped the armrest with his index finger.

“C’mon guys don’t look so nervous.  You can just drug me up again, it’s not like that's off the cards is it Sammy.”

Sam glanced away at the mention of his name, Samuel grunted in frustration as he reached for the jar and took a step towards the chair. In an instant the background thrum of his heart filled Dean’s mind, it was faster, full of nerves and fear compared to Sam’s horribly persistent flat tone. As he approached holding the jar out, Dean felt something shift under his lip.

“NO.”

His voice boomed as he jerked back in his seat, the legs scraping against the floor. Breathing sharply, he tilted his head down avoiding the stares of his associates. 

“Get away from me.”

Grunting and breathing through gritted, sharpened teeth, he glanced up. 

“Sammy, drop the machete.”

They’d both instinctively reached for their weapons. Brandishing them high, already poised for a clean decapitating swing. Dean growled and heaved deep breaths of air, flexing the remaining restraints. He could break free, if he wanted to. With one arm loose, he could easily rip the remaining rope off. He contemplated the thought, reveling in how powerful it made him feel. 

“Dean?”

Samuel’s voice snapped him back to reality. He’d placed his machete back on the table, Sam had lowered his but still gripped it. 

Dean extended his free arm out and flicked his hand towards the table.

“Just hand me the fuckin jar already.”

Samuel was quick to oblige, and quicker to back away once Dean had it in his grip. He tried to not dwell on the way his companions looked at his mouth instead of his face. He could feel the second set of teeth against his lips, his tongue. The smell of blood was suffocating him now, a mixture of alluring coppery tones and the stench of raw stale flesh. He wasn’t sure which was making him feel more ill. The pungent aroma or the fact he liked something in it.

“So you two just gonna watch like this is some sort of peep show or what?”

Neither responded, still fixated on his every move. Pulling a face, Dean limply held the jar up as it to toast before bringing it to his lips. Taking a tentative sip, he recoiled as blood spilt down his chin. Groaning and sputtering he violently spat it out.

“Augh, god this tastes disgusting–”

“I promised you help, I didn’t promise it’d taste nice. Now drink it.”

[willowser]

bakugou is at your apartment, when you get home.

you recognize his car in a spot that's usually vacant, over by the mailboxes in the back lot no one ever parks in. it's the only one he ever uses when he comes over, the only time it's ever used, and the sight of it has something tingling in your belly. he didn't tell you he was coming, no text or missed call, and your first thought is one of worry.

maybe he’s here to break up with you, in person because he's not a coward, or he's getting the few things of his to take back to his house. maybe he's not all that interested in you anymore. he's a busy guy, busy life, probably meets all kinds of beautiful people on the daily. he just got back from a three week case a few days ago; maybe he met someone new.

maybe it's not even him. maybe it's deku or kirishima in his car because something's wrong—

when you fling the front door open, bakugou is standing in your tiny kitchen. shoulders raised. popping the joints of his knuckles as he glances from the tv to you. he's alive and fine and he's kind of glaring at you but he's kind of always glaring at you, and it's not the kind that makes him look actually angry.

"hey," you breathe, and he nods once, mouth in a stiff line as he scratches the back of his head.

it smells—good. you realize it delayed, but once your mind catches up with the sound of a sizzling pan and the sight of him in a pair of soft sweatpants and the garlic fragrance in the air, you smile so hard that your cheeks hurt. bakugou squeezes a fist at his side, but drops it just as quickly.

you dump your bag on the ground and shuffle out of your shoes, moseying up to him to plant a fat kiss on his cheek, that he accepts with little reluctance. he runs a palm down your back firmly, quickly, before pressing his mouth against your hairline as a silent greeting. so close to him, you can peer over the curve of his shoulder to see the plates that are already made and waiting on the counter, and when you step back, he turns before you can ask any questions.

the few veggies he'd been finishing get served into the second plate and he makes you sit at the shoddy dining table before placing the food in front of you, without a word. he still hasn't really said anything, and so you ask, "is this for me?" and it's not about the food. it's about the act, whatever this is. him, being here unannounced. waiting for you after work, looking soft and cuddly and kissable.

bakugou grumbles, "who else?" before shoving a steamy carrot into his mouth and any leftover fear about getting dumped is tossed out the window. he still doesn't say much, but he listens to you prattle on about work, shakes his head when you recount the ugly thing a customer said to you—trying to hide his smile when you tell him how you clapped back at the dirtbag—and he asks you, once, if the food is any good.

"of course," you smile and it drops his eyes back to his plate. "always is. thank you for doing this, by the way, it's—i'm so touched. seriously. thank you."

you two haven't been dating all that long, a couple of months maybe. four or five; it's hard to say exactly when you crossed into this territory, going from texting every other week to getting drinks on his off days to sleeping at his house more than you probably should. nothing really official happened, just one day you decided to visit him at work and when the receptionist asked who you were to him before buzzing you in, you'd said,

"i guess i'm—we're sort of, uh, seeing each other, maybe. i guess."

and she'd called his office and told him, "dynamight, sir, your girlfriend is here to see you."

and he'd come down, looking more surprised than you'd ever seen him, and he said, "yeah. she's—let her in, or whatever. she's—my girlfriend. yeah."

and that was it.

now he's in your apartment, unannounced, cozy and sweet, shooing you away so he can do the dishes.

"'s my damn mess, so get out and lemme clean it."

when he finishes, he comes to sit on the couch at the opposite end, snorting when you bounce your way into his lap, back against the arm so that you can lay your legs across him, and he pretends not to notice all the attention you're giving him. you think it makes him uncomfortable, something that always surprises you, but he's been like this before. unable to look at you, stiffening almost imperceptibly every time you touch him.

you run a hand through his hair, pinching at the thin skin of his ear until it makes him flinch, and then you whisper, "hey," for him to finally look back at you.

he's frowning, and he doesn't say anything.

which makes you frown, has that worry coming back. "everything okay?"

bakugou huffs. "somethin' gotta be wrong in order for me to come see you?"

you press your lips together, because you don't want to rile him up. you're learning that it's easier to do when he's soft like this. as if he's exposed and expecting a fight. he must realize what he's doing, the defensive act, and he sighs, returning his gaze to the tv as he squeezes your thigh.

"'m fine."

doesn't sound like it, but maybe that's just him. it feels like there's so much you know about bakugou, and yet as if there's still much to learn. it excites you in a girly, giddy way, getting to meet all his different sides. "hey," you grab his cheeks in your hand tightly so that his lips pucker, turning him to you again. his eyebrows pull down hard and you can tell he's getting ready to thrash out of your grip, so you give him a quick kiss that turns him red when you pull away.

you tuck into the curve of his neck, kissing the thick vein there, and you laugh when he squirms. bakugou squeezes you again in quick succession until you're squirming, and you aren't looking at him, but you think he might be smiling. playful.

the tv plays on for a while before he finally clears his throat. "case lasted three weeks, or whatever." you hum in acknowledgement and nestle further into him, into his warmth. "felt like for-fuckin'-ever."

"i bet, you're probably worn out, huh?"

tch. "no, 'm fine. just sayin'. it's—been a while."

you sit up to look at him, though he's purposely keeping his eyes elsewhere. anywhere that's not you, as the heat on his face burns to the tips of his ears. he must be able to feel how intently you're watching him, because the longer you look, the deeper his frown gets.

the bigger your smile gets. "what, d'you miss me or something?" he scoffs, but doesn't say anything. doesn't disagree. against your leg you feel him again, making that fist just to drop it. your smile melts down into something real. soft. "bakugou," you poke at his cheek until he jerks his face away, scowling. it makes you laugh and he tries to disentangle himself from you, but you just wrap your arms around his neck to hug him tighter, pressing your lips to his hair. "i missed you, too. i was so excited to see you here, i love having you over."

it takes a minute, but he finally relaxes into you, turning his own face into the curve of your shoulder, hiding. you feel his lips right under your ear, slightly damp from biting them too much. all he says is, "yeah" and you don't know exactly what he's answering to, but you think—when you feel him smile, just a bit before nipping you—that he might love being over too.

[insurged]

if you want a little something from the stupid asshole astarion ( he has a modern verse *squinty eyes*) , feel free to like. if you want someone else from the roster, you can comment !

[scoliosisgoblin]

Peter and Jay doodles feat. T.K. and Lucy (headcanons for what I think they'd look like as humans.. gonna change their designs though)

[wormsdyke]

whenever my epilepsy flares up i fully understand why people used to treat it like demonic possession because fucking feels like it. the genuine most realistic description i can give of my symptoms right now is there is an evil girl inside of my body made of salt and she is forcing herself out through the space between my eyelids and my eyes

[transfemmes]

Where's that post about the most normal Lemon Demon protagonist being the guy obsessed with model trains wishing he was small every night not so he could ride his model trains but so he could crawl into the ear of the guy who kicked him out of the train club

[hatkuu]

okay so i've discussed step bro kylar letting you into his room n his bed but. but what about step bro kylar sneaking into your bed at night :)

he promises that he won't be weird like last time!! this time he'll just grope you after you fall asleep instead of thinking you're just as needy for him as he is for you... and he knows you have trouble sleeping, so why don't you just let your brother take care of you?

[yeelincolnha]

Reigen is so real for having a bug phobia, I must say.

[anhedoniashoujo]

i need an 18 month coma that robs me of all muscle and fat and everyone forgets about me

[calibrationneeded]

What if the reason Stanford Era Dean had so many one night stands was because he’d rather wake up in a stranger’s bed then be alone with John?

[nemurenaivoron]

examples of orange cats exhibiting the signature zero braincell orange cat behavior:

"ah yes, the entire camp is very noisy and on high alarm because of a MASSIVE FUCKING RAMPAGING DRAGON yea Imma just stay there right next to him and dissociate"

[ckret2]

@actuallyaltaria said: You could probably get away with something newer still like Steven Universe! They sing about their feelings!

This is gonna be a long post because every time I go "man it sucks I can't mention [some kids' cartoon] lmao" I get multiple people trying to suggest ways I can include some kids' cartoon, so I think I need to explain myself.

"Use Steven Universe instead" is a solution if you're assuming I'm coming from a position of "my ACTUAL GOAL is to reference a TV show, any TV show, that people know about, I'm just struggling to find one that's universally familiar." So let me clarify: my "alas, if only everybody knew the plot of Rainbow Brite" theatrics are me being funny for my own entertainment.

I want, very specifically, to NOT reference a real TV show, no matter how well-known it is.

I've mentioned before that I don't want any part of this fic to be dependent upon the audience knowing some other series. I'm extremely firm on this. It would be alienating to any readers who aren't familiar with the property, it would be alienating to readers who ARE familiar with the property but dislike it, it would be distracting to people who know the property TOO well—and it doesn't fit into the Gravity Falls universe.

Gravity Falls doesn't make references to real world pop culture! The hit rap song of the summer isn't attributed to a known rapper like Lil Jon or Snoop Dogg, it's Lil Bigg Dawggg. The biggest boy band isn't NSYNC, it's Sev'ral Timez. There's no Dungeons & Dragons; there's Dungeons, Dungeons, & More Dungeons. There's no Fun Dip, there's Smile Dip. The master of claymation isn't Ray Harryhausen, it's Harry Claymore. Hoo-Ha Owl substitutes for Chuck E. Cheese, Fight Fighters for Street Fighters, BABBA for ABBA... for Journal 3 they even made up a dimension named Exwhylia so that they could avoid canonically mentioning Flatland.

Almost every song, show, cartoon, band, movie, food product, chain business, or other brand name that gets mentioned in Gravity Falls is either a parody of a specific real-world equivalent or a broader parody of a whole category of pop culture.

In a universe where some of Mabel's favorite series are Believe in Yourself and Dream Boy High, it would be weird and jarring to throw in something real like Care Bears.

Honestly—putting my jokes about forcing all of tumblr to watch a cartoon aside—gun to my head if I was forced to include a reference to a real world cartoon, I'd probably be less likely to use Steven Universe than something like Care Bears or Rainbow Brite. Steven Universe would be even MORE jarring. Like, most of the people who are inclined to read Gravity Falls fanfics probably haven't seen Rainbow Brite, so—even though it still has the "this is a Real Thing so it feels like you're expected to know about it" stigma that adding ANY real thing to the fic would have—it's at least is on equal footing with Believe in Yourself and Dream Boy High in that it's still the name of something distant and unfamiliar to most readers, and therefore I could say anything I wanted about it and most people would be like "sure, okay."

On the other hand, Steven Universe? This is tumblr. SU and GF are plot-driven kids' sci-fi cartoons about kids caught in supernatural shenanigans and complicated family relationships that were airing at the same time. The audience overlap between Gravity Falls and Steven Universe is almost a circle. Anybody who sees Steven Universe get name dropped in a Gravity Falls fic is NOT going to see it as some distant unfamiliar story-within-a-story being introduced as a lighthearted narrative device for a goofy "Mabel thinks showing Bill children cartoons is a valid form of therapy" scene. It's going to be the heavy handed insertion of a MASSIVE fandom that a LOT of readers will already have EXTREMELY STRONG IN-DEPTH OPINIONS about—and any that DON'T have such strong opinions are probably the ones who are sick to death of seeing Steven Universe everywhere and are just gonna be irritated that now, apparently, knowledge of that show is necessary to read this Gravity Falls fanfic??

If I said "Bill thinks he's totally exactly like Rainbow Brite" a few readers would politely chuckle and the rest would wait for me to explain the metaphor and why it matters to the storyline. If I said "Bill thinks he's totally exactly like Rose Quartz" I'd have dropped one hell of a bomb of a hot take into a fic that isn't in the LEAST BIT about any alleged character parallels that might exist between Bill Cipher and Rose Quartz. Anyone who's seen the show will immediately start thinking VERY HARD about the comparison and anybody who HASN'T will assume that, because SU is so big, I'm expecting them to know enough to understand the comparison.

If I were to put either of those comparisons in the fic, the point I would be trying to make is "Mabel makes Bill watch a kid's show hoping it will teach him to be a better person, and is surprised that instead of taking away moral lessons from the viewing, he's concluded he's basically the same as the idealistic young hopeful rebel leader fighting against oppressive conformist forces and protecting the people of earth." My authorial intent would be at least partially drowned out by any reference to another show (especially for people who don't get it), but it would be SUPER drowned out by a reference to an extremely well-known show.

The only way to avoid distorting that authorial intent is to not hinge part of the story on some other show.

So am I melodramatically sighing and lamenting over how tragic it is that I can't directly reference The Last Unicorn or whatever in the fic because it would be so totally perfect and very funny and absolutely has valid narrative parallels to stuff that's gonna happen in the fic? Yeah. But my problem wouldn't be solved if TLU was universally watched, or if I substituted something that is universally watched for TLU, because the root of my problem is that TLU is a real cartoon in the real world.

I accept that the specific comedy that can ONLY come from saying "[character from Show A] is EXACTLY like [character from Show B that's jarringly incongruous with Show A]" is comedy that I'm not going to have in my fic, and I cope with this by comedically kvetching about it.

And I'm gonna make up an imaginary girly 80s cartoon for Mabel to force Bill to watch.