#he doesn't like talking about his nightmares

[stiffyck]

Okay okay okay so I have THOUGHTS about elven duo.

Gem getting progressively more uncomfortable in her base. She doesn't know why. She doesn't know why it just feels so wrong.

There's something wrong with her base and she doesn't know what.

She can't sleep properly, she's been having trouble working on her base because it just feels like something is wrong and she can't figure out what.

She starts getting nightmares, she gets more and more paranoid as time goes on, she's tired and she's anxious all the time.

One night she wakes up from a nightmare. She can't remember anything but she can just feel the terror. She has a panic attack and goes to Scars base. She would go to grian but his base is too close to her own and his vibe is similar to hers and she just needs to get out. She just needs to be out of her base for a while. She needs someone to hold her and she needs someone to comfort her. She needs someone to watch her back because she feels like she constantly on edge, waiting for something to happen.

She comes into his train which wakes Scar up and he asks her what she's doing at his base in the middle of the night when he notices she's having a panic attack.

He tells her to come sit on his bed and he guides her through it. He helps her with a breathing exercise, he tries to ground her in the moment and he offers her a hand so she can squeeze it if she wants to.

Scar then asks Gem if she had a nightmare or if something happened and Gem just says she had a nightmare. When he asks if she wants to talk about it she says she doesn't actually remember what it was about.

She asks him if she could stay over for the night because the though of going back to her base makes her nauseous. Scar of course says yes and offers to give up his bed if Gem needs.

She instead asks if they could share the bed and Scar immediately says of course.

Anyway they end up cuddling and Gem finally sleeps well for the first time in weeks.

[chosokamosbf]

ᑎIGᕼT ᒪIT ᗪEᔕIᖇE.

☆ 18+ only/no minors. | jason todd x gn! reader.

SUMMARY: a nsft fic waking up jason from a nightmare by bringing him to the edge

WARNINGs: 18+, (consensual) somnophilia, gn! reader, (jason receiving) oral, nightmares, minor mentions of blood and scarring.

WORD COUNT: 1600+

NOTEs: second person & no plot. ["babe/baby," and no pronouns used to refer to the insert/reader.]

Sprayed over silk sheets of a bed with more than enough space, in your all-consuming unconsciousness, your body managed to wedge itself in close to your boyfriend, where your head is settled right in the empty space of his shoulder. The weather hasn't been kind of as late, and so all fabrics other than the blankets pushed to the very edge of the mattress hours ago are short to combat the heat.

It hasn't helped much. The fan Jason had set up on your side to turn in place is losing the war as you're both covered in sweat. It isn't made any better by the fact he's been using that shoulder to cradle your head from underneath, the rest of the arm resting over your chest.

The deepening of this velvet night is broken to a steady close as he stirs hard enough to knock you out of that position.

You slowly blink the fog from your mind and rub the crust from your eyes with the one arm that isn't being partially buried under his weight.

The city pours in through even the smallest cracks between the curtains, enveloping their own designated areas in multicolored amalgamations of beams formed from sirens and electrified billboards nearby. It seeps over the sheets until it's reached the ceiling, leaving Jason's arms painted in its light, giving a full show of just how much they're twitching.

The other couple in the complex, whom you have gotten to know real well from their screaming matches (as muffled as they may be), seated only a few apartments away, have nothing on how loud his heaving is getting.

His face is turned away now, and you get up on your elbows to find pale lids pinched tightly together, brows in a deep, settled frown. It's not a far cry from what usually makes him intimidating under the helm, but there's a pout pulling at his lips all the while.

Recently, there's been no notable injuries, but his hands have found either one of his arms just to hold them steady and prod his fingers into anyway.

Sometimes your voice is enough alone to call him out of his head with how much he loves it. "Jason?"

He stays in place, and you sit up to speak his name into the night again while your fingertips trail down an arm.

This time around, a groan answers your inquiry.

His forehead is slick with a growing layer of sweat. The white tank top he was just teasing you about after catching wandering eyes earlier in the night is stuck to his broad chest, and barely is it settling with every pant. 

"Jason, you okay?"

It's always an uphill race with the few hours of rest he's allowed in between 'work.' Some days are better than others, and this clearly isn't one of them.

If plain intuition is serving you well, it's another nightmare.

Your teeth catch on your lower lip. "Baby?"

Rationality by damned, your voice stays weak as the thought of waking him up properly stays just that, a thought.

At worst, Jason's going to get moody if you interrupt his sleep, and he'll carry that over into the morning. Sure, he's trying to get better at communicating, but leaving behind the go-to of never doing just that has given way to taking hours to open up. Still, he doesn't seem like he's enjoying the dream.

There are a thousand or so possibilities as to what this one is exactly about, and you don't need to be a genius to know that he might head straight to the bathroom to get rid of the nasty pit in his stomach by the end of it. As much as you'll usually do your best to help out yesterday's dinner and hold his hair up if need be, there has to another option.

And there is.

Unconventional as it may be, you've talked about it before. When exactly is a fuzzy memory. At best, it stirred from another night of endless rambling, something to fill the silence when you both were left awake.

Most others he's all by himself when he gets back. It isn't the worst, as long as he isn't bleeding to death. Put away everything and make sure nothing gets on the carpet—a steady tradition. Sometimes, he's left with excess energy, though.

He mostly took the offer with little chance in his mind that he'd use it. The rules were set, and Jason made it clear that it was allowed on either side. Wasn't like he was going to make much use of it anyway.

And technically, he hasn't. Three times over a year or so ago, and each one was a gentle transition back into consciousness before he'd shown just how much he appreciated it: appreciated you.

Carefully, you get his nails to pull away from his skin and settle him on his back again. His shirt has etched up over the night, leaving his stomach and the happy trail growing across to the melt-worthy temps.

Trying hard not to wake him up, you press your head onto his chest, slowly rubbing down on his belly. 

Instantly, his breathing stutters.

Even in sleep, he's so gorgeous it hurts to even look at him, not in spite of the stubborn scowl still hanging on his mouth. Those thick eyelashes frame closed eyes. Instead of them blinking awake, his head rolls back over to the side, and the long-since healed gash sprayed over his neck gets stretched into the light peering into your two's home before he's yawning.

And you exhale softly. It feels as if you're breathing in nothing. You swallow hard—once, then twice—and inch your hand past the waistband of his boxers.

He's warm in your palm, and then his breath hitches while you freeze in place.

But Jason doesn't make a move to break your hold on him.

In slow strokes, your hand wrapped around the thick of it glides across, using the pre-cum to make it easier on the both of you. It's not taking much for his cock to start holding up on its own at the attention, but it's taking up the space you need. Your wrist is going to sting in the morning either way, but still.

Gaining more courage, you dare lift your head and softly kiss his cheek.

You form a better grip around it, continuing to kiss every scar and the edge of his lips while your thumb circles the cockhead. A leg swings over another, and the purrs he's basically humming out by now—his lips sealed in his sleep—nearly muffle how the bed creaks when you move to take place between his.

After grabbing the elastic band of his underwear, you slowly pull it down enough for the length to slip free, already drooling and half-hard.

You lean down to slide your tongue down the side to see if that wakes him up, and it doesn't. 

The taste of him coats your tongue, and you hollow your cheeks, gradually taking it down till it's almost hitting your throat. The second a groan slips, undiscouraged even through the girth, your hands come around his hips to settle them back down more gently after they subconsciously jerked forward.

Musk overwhelms your senses. Your head tilts up to find through lashes that an arm's moved to rest over his forehead.

Bobbing your head in tune with the same shaky movements moments ago, you suck on the flushed tip, the nib throbbing hot and insistent, pinning your tongue down. 

It starts off quiet, but then the breathy moan filling your ears begins to overshadow the whirling fan. What you can't fit down your throat, you use your hands to give equal attention to. Your face slots closer to his taint to kiss at his balls with spread lips.

Thighs flex over and press against either side of your head, clenching and undoing their tense stances every few seconds while the sheets shift with the writhing further up the bed. You grant yourself time to breathe before kissing the head and then trying to take his thick cock back inside.

So deep into the intimacy, your eyes close just to feel a hand in your hair. A sharp tug pulls you off to see the dark curled back over you.

Seeing him from your angle below, there's a thousand things he could do—instead, his nose scrunches up, and rather than rub his own fluttering eyes open, he holds up a hand to block out the stream of light poking through into his space. The other is laid aside as he props himself back onto an elbow.

His voice isn't anything but a slur. "What're you doing?"

"You were having a nightmare, so I woke you up."

Jason's exhaustion rings through the growl that slips. He doesn't need to look at you for long to tug you towards him and press his lips to yours. In a messy drawl, both of your jaws end with salvia glistening over the skin.

They crash insistently onto yours in heated breath.

Although you're definitely going to remember to clean out your mouth in the afterglow of tonight due to the morning breath.

"Don't remember asking for a wake-up call." His breathing stays the same as it has been: heavy while he's pulling you closer to rest his head over one of your shoulders. "But thanks, baby."

White strands of curls stick to his forehead and roll against you. Meanwhile, he's making use of the little space to trace the muscles of your back with the rough pads he has for palms.

He talks against your lips, refusing to pull back even while the edges of his tug at his own.

"You wanna use that mouth again and finish what you started, babe?"

[duckies27]

Some pre-season 2 headcannons for Dndads

Spoilers for both seasons ahead!

Read at your own risk!

- Ron retwists Terry Jr's hair while in the forgotten realms to the best of his abilities. Afterwards, Samantha would teach him how to do it better and it becomes a bonding experience for the two

- Lark and Sparrow would notice one day randomly they have pointy ears. Henry would have to explain to them that they always had pointy ears, they just thought it was normal because Henry had pointy ears. They're actually, y'know, half elves.

- Nicky would call Glenn "Dad" half the time on accident. Pisses Jodie off but Glenn would just shake his head and be like "just cuz I'm cooler doesn't mean I'm your dad, ayeeeeee". Makes him a little sad in the beginning but it becomes a running joke between them

- Terry Jr and Grant 100% had a short dating stint in the forgotten realms but both of them said "Nahhhh" after

- Darryl realized he's bisexual post forgotten realms. He goes to pride parades with Grant wearing little pins but he keeps it in the down low.

- Lark is on the aspec spectrum, Sparrow is pan like his father. They wear shirts that way "All or Nothing" with both flags as a joke.

- Ron takes up fishing with Terry Jr but half the time they just would go feed the ducks instead of catching any fish. They use popcorn instead of bread

- Henry, Darryl, and Ron have a weekly get together where they hang out and sometimes talk about what happened in the Forgotten Realms. It's a lot of trauma on them all so they confide in each other

- All the dads were at Sparrow's wedding and definitely cried more times than anyone could count. Henry and Darryl danced like idiots while Carol and Mercedes talked over a glass of wine

- All the wives have book club every week, which often turns into just them talking together and enjoying each other's company

- Ron has nightmares a lot of the time about Willy. Henry has nightmares about Barry. Both often spend time post nightmare together, with the other dads as back- up if needed

- Henry has a giant fear of throwing up post doodler, to the point he only throws up if his body forces him to. Otherwise he swallows it down.

- Grant met Marco on Fortnight

- Lark and Sparrow got their tattoos updated when they were 18 to fix them. Because, y'know, child making the tattoo wouldn't last long. Sparrow adds Normal and Hero's names to his other arm after both of them are born.

- Normal and Hero used to play with Lincoln during the summer. Hero and Lincoln play one on one while Normal would cheer them on!

- Taylor would be the one guy in summer wearing a full jacket and long pants and boots because he's constantly freezing

- Hero has round ears, Normal has pointy ears post church of the doodler

- Hermie had a crush on Normal pre-joker story but he had to drop it for the ✨ character✨ of it all

- Normal is trans (duh), and most of his binders were handmade by Lark

- Taylor has a ton of different arm crutches, mainly decorated, but he only has one sword cane.

- Grant is in therapy and on antidepressants but his true antidepressant is his family (he says this and it is not true, he's just cheesey)

Hope you enjoy

[derangedanomaly]

okay okay weird request, and slightly embarrassing to ask for, but no one does it

A fluff headcanon with Dust, Horror, Killer, Nightmare, and possibly Error, where the reader is a really REALLY short adult. Im talking like so much shorter and smaller then the guys that it’s actually kinda crazy?? like, you can still tell their an adult, but their just really short.

i have a love for height differences, especially with the boys. i have a different type of love towards these skeletons ❤️

i won’t be mad if you don’t do this, and im really sorry if this request is annoying, or give you second hand embarrassment, or if your not taking requests right now 😭

I actually think that this is a pretty cute request! I have a thing for height difference... So I might've made this a little spicy... Hope you'll enjoy!

Warning: A lil spicy

MASTERLIST

BAD SANSES X EXTRA SHORT READER (+Error)

Nightmare:

He's so smug.

He's a little shocked about your height... How can you be so small??

He's honestly such a bully.. he's literally bullying you because of your height 😭

He'll literally use your height to his own benefit (somehow)

He's manipulating his way into your heart fr.

You'd have to show him, that your fighting are GOD TIER, for him to actually treat you... Somewhat normally.

Likes to wrap his tentacles around you.. he just likes how big they are compared to you. (SIZE KINK 😦)

Killer:

He's definitely one of those people that yell "LMAO, LOL" out loud. So this'll pretty much be his first reaction.

He's the shortest of the Bad Sanses, so having someone that's SHORTER than him around?? A blessing frfr.

He'll constantly use flirting puns on you, that involve your height.

"The best part about being this tall, is how easy it is to see cute people like you in the crowd."

Overall, thinks your height difference is cute.

He'll definitely give you piggy back rides, if you ask for them.

He loves looking down at you....and he also likes you looking up at him.... (Kink check?)

Dust:

He's kinda surprised at your height.. he studied humans awhile back, and he doesn't understand how you're so short.

He probably won't joke about your height. But he will snicker when others say something. (He just can't help it lmao)

He doesn't have much thoughts on your height, will never really fully mention it either.

Will treat you as if there wasn't ANY height difference between you two.

But he does have a growing need to.......... manhandle you.

Horror:

He's used to people being shorter than him. So it doesn't faze him.

He probably won't even know that it's uncommon for human adults to be this small.

At first, he'd kinda avoid you... because he's afraid of accidentally hurting you, but after you establish that you're ok, and can hold on your own, he'd be stuck to you like a glue.

He wants to help you as much as he can!

He also likes praise.. so he'd get really excited when you tell him he's a good boy for helping you reach for something.

He likes to carry you around on his shoulders. :)

Error:

He can't help but smile sweetly at you when he notices your height difference.

He loves romance, so he'd probably find it actually pretty romantic that you're shorter than him.

Likes to staré at you. A lot.

Literally analyzing you and everything lmao.

You don't even have to ask him for help, he already knows you need it before you ask.

Likes to wrap you in his strings and bring you along wherever.

Bondage kink?

He gets a little giddy, seeing your height difference.

[guywrestlingaddiction]

That Wresting Moment: Exotic dancer v dancer - Jose v Gino Ponti (bgeast.com)

Gay wrestling has searched far and wide for the elite and today we continue our journey looking at the type of wrestler that does it best.  Last time we looked at models, so this time we'll find out if Male strippers/exotic dancers do it best with Jose v Gino Ponti (bgeast.com).

Jose v Gino Ponti (bgeast.com)

SPOILER ALERT: I highly recommend viewing this match in its entirety before reading this post.

The Backstory

One of the many things I love about Bgeast is that they provide a ton of context and background for their fighters.  Is there a rivalry at stake?  Were our wrestlers best friends?  Often this exposition took place during some trash talking or pumping weights or in some of the earlier matches - in a erotic dance off...

Gino, the construction worker, is ready to build you up?

Okay that was lame, how about this - Gino, the builder, has really nailed it? 

Jose has no costume really, the man is just a sexy bad-ass

Remember that dog collar, it'll come into the picture later on.  

The Action

Around the 10 min mark, we are finally introduced to the fight and what would wrestling be without a bit of trash talk.  

Jose talks a lot of shit.  Jose: You want to touch me? Touch my chest.  You're making me horny [sarcasm]

There's something particularly satisfying about watching aggressively hetero Jose get taken down a notch.  

And yes, at times however, the moves can be a bit questionable...

The action can still be pretty hot nonetheless.  A straining and struggling Jose being held down like a punk was definitely hot. 

But what really makes this match is less dancing and more wrestling, especially your classic Heel-Jobber dynamic.  

How can you not love this?

Gino fights back with all he's got but it doesn't even dent mighty Jose; The guy simply bushes himself off.  I mean, could we ask for a better 'moment' than this?

The Moment 

But eventually Jose comes to dominate as we all knew he would.  The guy is built like batman and whatever resistance Gino puts up is simply no match for him.  Ultimately it comes down to a battle of personas and Jose simply has Gino beat on all accounts here.  To me, this is when things really begin in all it's gay wresting glory and it's this moment, when Jose takes control that truly makes this match.  

I've always thought that the thing that separates 'wrestling' from 'fighting' is the fantasy and over-the-top nature of it all.  We are talking about a serious matter - getting hurt - and turning it into something more.  It's clear to me that the male exaggeration, the almost silliness of it all, is something that exotic dancers have in spades, and absolutely why I love gay wrestling.  

Gino, controlled and collared

A sweaty, destroyed Gino is forcefully brought to his feet - only to be taken down once again.

Did I say Jose was built like Batman?  He's actually more like the ultimate supervillain of your nightmares in this match.

[the-bad-batch-baroness]

Alright, and here's request #2

May I ask for Fives and Fox

with Prompt 14: Last Words

Where Fives is haunting Fox after his death. Where "the nightmares are over" is twisted to "the nightmare has just begun".

Girl, you helped me come up with this, you know what to write, lol

❤️ - @vodika-vibes

In Your Head

Fox

Summary: Fox has a hole in his memory that he can't seem to fix, and when he starts hallucinating about the clone he killed, it leads to dire consequences.

Pairing: none

Characters: Fox, Thorn, ghost!Fives

Tags & Warnings: character death, alcohol, drunkenness, hallucinations, paranoia, minor suicidal ideation, violence, whump

Word Count: 6.2k

Author's Note: First of all, I'm going to apologize for how long it's taken me to write one of these requests. Second, all of the requests are still sitting in my ask box. I haven't gotten rid of any of them and I still plan on writing all of them. It's just gonna take me a bit. To be honest, this fic is more Fox whump than Fives whump, but eh, it's still whump and it still includes one of the 501st boys, so that counts, right? As always, please enjoy 💚

Beta: @beating-a-dead-plot

Fox sits hunched over his desk and anxiously raps his stylus against the side of his data-pad. He's read the report five times now and each pass yields the same results. His CC number is littered throughout the paragraphs, but for the life of him, he can't remember any of it. He looks up at the chronometer again and shakes his head. Time has moved, but he hasn't. He's been sitting here at his desk doing flimsi-work since early morning, but the report states otherwise.

It's not just the strange lost time that concerns Fox either, or the fact that his CC number is in a report. That's normal. What bothers him about this report is the fact that it clearly states in paragraph four, line six, that he shot and killed a clone. And no matter how hard he racks his brain, he can't remember it. He hasn't moved from his desk, and yet, the timestamp puts the incident at an hour ago. An hour ago he was at his desk. An hour ago he was doing flimsi-work.

Fox raps his stylus faster and taps his foot to match the rhythm, the nervous energy in his body escaping through the repetitive movements. He wouldn't shoot a clone without a reason, would he? The Coruscant Guard has stunned countless rowdy and reckless, and even dangerous clones, but a brother doesn't shoot another brother with the intent to kill. That's not part of their culture. Even bad clones deserve to explain their actions, but those are few and far between.

It must be a mistake. A typo. There has to be a logical explanation as to why his CC number is in the report even though he wasn't there. Still, he has this odd sinking feeling scratching at the back of his mind that it might not be a mistake. The clone he allegedly shot was from the 501st, from Torrent Company. One of Rex's men. Fox sent a simple comm message to Rex, offering his condolence, but Rex's silence worries him. It's not like Rex to leave a comm unanswered.

Fox drops the data-pad onto his desk with a loud clack and his chair creaks when he leans back. He wipes the sweat off his forehead and brushes the damp curls out of his eyes. It must be a mistake. There is no other explanation. He doesn't have an explanation for the lost time, but there must be a reason for that as well. Maybe he fell asleep. It's not impossible since he doesn't get the best sleep. His caf is cold, so obviously time has passed since he last filled it.

The data-pad dings and Fox leans forward to see what the notification is for. He sighs and taps on the icon to open it, and his brows furrow as he reads the new information. A surveillance holo-recording of the incident is now available and has been attached to the report. Fox huffs. This should clear up everything. He taps the icon to play the recording and watches intently. It was probably some trigger-happy shiny that he'll have a stern talking to later on… but it's not.

Fox's breath hitches and his eyes widen. That's not some random corrie. That's him. That's his armor. He has the fleeting thought that someone stole his armor and impersonated him, but he quickly realizes he's still wearing it. He hasn't taken it off since he put it on this morning. Panic rises in his gut and he continues to watch the recording. He flinches at the moment he pulls the trigger. A blaster bolt leaving the barrel instead of a stun bolt. He killed him. He killed a brother.

That explains why Rex never commed him back. Rex's emotional plea, Fox don't, stabs him in the heart, turning his innocent condolence message into him just rubbing salt into an egregious wound. The report noted the clone killed as ARC-5555 – Fives – one of Rex's best. Fox only remembers the name because Rex sent him a holo-photo of his two new ARC troopers when they graduated. Rex was so proud. Then he lost one on Lola Sayu, and today, he lost the other.

Fox has seen and read enough. It was him, he knows that much, but he still doesn't remember being there. He doesn't remember aiming his blaster, or flicking the safety off, or giving a warning, or pulling the trigger. It's like he was sleep walking, even though not a single clone out of millions has ever been noted to do so on record. He finds it even more odd that he was on scene for the shooting and then left. It's not like him to leave a scene without getting statements or starting his report. Now that he thinks about it, he didn't even write this report. Who did?

Fox yells in frustration and kicks the leg of his desk. Why can't he remember? How could he forget he shot and killed a brother. How could he forget Rex's voice begging him not to? How could he forget leaving his office and coming back? Fox feels sick. Not only did he kill a brother, he killed one of Rex's. A beloved brother. With Rex's radio silence, he probably lost Rex too. Fox doesn't blame him. Not after watching the footage. He would hate himself too, and he does.

Fox pulls a ring of keys from his belt pouch and inserts one into the lock on the bottom desk drawer. It clicks and he pulls it open, revealing a small stash of alcohol resting against the back. The glass bottles clink as he searches for a specific one. Finding it, he pulls it out of the drawer and places it on his desk. He leans down to grab a glass, hesitates, then closes the drawer without taking it. He twists the cap off the bottle, grabs the neck, and tilts the opening to his lips.

"Fox?" Thorn whispers as he peeks into the dark office. "Are you in here?"

Fox groans in response. His torso rests on top of his desk and the side of his face lays on the cool surface with one hand loosely wrapped around an almost empty glass bottle.

Thorn sighs and shakes his head. "What are you doing, Fox?"

"Go away," Fox slurs. His body twitches at the sudden exertion.

Thorn ignores Fox's inebriated order and pulls up a chair to sit opposite Fox's desk.

"Talk to me," Thorn says.

"Nothin'... to talk about," Fox answers.

"You're drunk while on duty," Thorn says. He grabs the bottle out of Fox's loose grip and sets it out of reach. "Why don't we start with that?"

Fox slowly picks his head up to look at Thorn, and he struggles to keep it steady. "Usen'ye," he says, then lays his head back down onto the desk making the room stop spinning.

Thorn taps his fingers against the desk's surface next to Fox's head and Fox flinches at the magnified sound. "I read the report."

Fox groans, but this time with more indignation.

Thorn crosses his arms and sits back in his chair. "I've got all night."

"You're so… annoying," Fox slurs as he slowly picks his head back up to look at Thorn. "You know… that?"

Thorn smirks. "Part of my charm."

"Karking… banthas… have more charm," Fox says, his head swaying as he tries to keep it upright. "You're ugly… too."

Thorn rolls his eyes. "You're getting off topic."

"Why… are you… even here?" Fox asks. He reaches for the bottle and Thorn leans over to move it again.

"You killed a vod," Thorn says.

Fox huffs. "What... do you… know about it?"

"Nothing," Thorn says. "That's why I'm here. To talk to you about it, because clearly it's affecting you."

Fox reaches for the bottle again and Thorn moves it. "I'm… not effective."

"Yeah, I can see that," Thorn raises an eyebrow. "You can't even talk straight."

"Blow it out your… exhaust port," Fox sneers, then reaches for the bottle once more.

"Really?" Thorn asks, as he lifts the bottle up out of Fox's reach. "If I give you the bottle back, will you talk to me?"

Fox smirks through hooded eyes. "Sure."

Thorn places the bottle back down onto the desk and pushes it towards Fox. Fox grabs it, sits back in his chair, and shoots the last burning drops down his throat, then slams the empty bottle down onto the desk.

"Talk," Thorn says. "Why'd you kill a vod?"

Fox chuckles. "I don't know."

Thorn's eyes darken. "This isn't a game, Fox."

"Nah," Fox says with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Games… are fun. This... This isn't..."

Thorn tilts his head to the side and studies Fox for a moment. Even drunk, Fox usually makes some sense, but this particular time he's making zero sense. It's not that hard of a question, but his avoidance in answering it is making Thorn worry. There's something Fox isn't telling him and he needs to know what it is in order to help him get out of this slump and back to normal. Having a drunk Marshall Commander leading the Coruscant Guard is going to get them nowhere fast.

"Fox," Thorn prods.

"Don't Fox me," Fox spits in response. "How'd you… like it… if I said your name? Thorn. Thorn. Thorn. Thorn–"

"Alright, I get it," Thorn interjects. "Just tell me what happened."

"I don't know," Fox lazily shrugs.

"What do you mean you don't know?" Thorn asks.

"I don't remember," Fox says.

"You don't remember shooting a vod?" Thorn asks, narrowing his eyes.

"Nope," Fox says, making a popping sound on the second consonant.

Thorn pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. "You have to remember something? You killed him. Don't you remember that? Were you drunk then, too?"

"No, I wasn't drunk," Fox says, his agitation growing at the continued questioning. "I just don't remember!" He pounds his fists on the desk, making Thorn flinch.

"Easy, vod," Thorns soothes and reaches out a hand to try and calm him down. "It's okay."

"No!" Fox yells with a jerk as he weakly bats Thorn's hand away. "Is not. I shot… a vod. I killed… a vod, and I can't… kriffin' remember!"

Thorn realizes he's not going to get anywhere with Fox being this drunk and worked up, so he decides to cut his losses and try again later. "Get some rest," he says before getting up from his chair. He looks down at Fox's dilapidated state, shakes his head, then turns to leave.

"Bring me… more booze," Fox demands.

Thorn turns around and scoffs. "You don't need any more of that."

Fox grabs the empty bottle and throws it towards Thorn, but it hits the wall by the door instead and shatters into a million pieces. "Shabuir," Fox snarls.

Thorn sighs. "We'll talk again when you're sober." He turns back towards the door and leaves Fox alone in his office.

Fox grumbles and lays his heavy head back down against the cool desk. He's not really angry at Thorn, as annoying as he is. No. He's angry at himself. Angry that he can't remember what his own two hands did. Angry that he can't remember where his own two feet took him. Angry that his brain won't put all of the pieces together or fill in the blanks. Where did his memory go? Did it grow legs and walk away from him? Did it leave him or did he leave it? Is that even possible?

Fox would stay laying against his desk all night if he could, but the ache in his back is beginning to overpower his drunken haze. Part of getting old, he guesses. He needs to try and make it to his couch where he can stretch out and fall asleep. At least while asleep he won't have to think about it. That was the idea behind the alcohol in the first place; drink to forget, but it didn't have the effect he was hoping for. If anything, it only made it worse. Then Thorn butted in and ruined it.

Fox tries to peel himself off of his desk, but his body is heavy. He manages to sit up, but then slumps back into his chair, whacking his head against the back of it. He groans at the pain and rubs the spot. When he opens his eyes, the room is spinning, and it makes him feel sick. Well, sicker than he already felt before he was drunk. He chuckles to himself. The good stuff was really good. He hasn't been this drunk since he was a shiny new commander hot off Kamino.

Trying again, Fox plants his hands squarely on his desk and rocks to push himself out of the chair. He tries once and can't get it. He tries twice and still can't get it. He tries thrice and finally he's on his feet, although he uses a little too much force and falls forward onto the desk. Maybe it's better if he crawls to the couch instead of walking there. He lets the weight of his lower body slide the rest of him off the desk until he's sitting on the ground and leaning against the desk.

He leans past the desk and turns his head to see where the couch is, but he leans a little too far and slumps over onto the ground. He groans. This was a terrible idea. He wishes he could get Thorn to come back and carry him to the couch, but that would bruise his ego into an irreparable state. No, he has to make it on his own. With a little wiggle of his hips, Fox rolls himself onto his stomach and crawls towards the couch. Usually, it's closer, but right now it feels klicks away.

Maker, he's tired. Why did he have to put the couch so far away from his desk? Or better yet, why can't it come to him? You'd think someone would've invented a moving couch by now, but no, the Galactic Republic is too busy making clones to do anything of real use in his lifetime. And yet, Fox continues to crawl towards his couch, cursing it every time he scoots closer. With one final push, he makes it, but accidentally bumps his head against the leg. He curses it again.

Now, it's just a matter of hoisting himself up onto the stupid thing so he can finally go to sleep. Once again, something that used to be so trivial is causing him grief. Why is it so high up? Why is the floor so far down? Why won't the room stop spinning? He wishes he could steady himself long enough to get a grip, but his body is heavy from the alcohol. However, with a little more effort and a lot more cursing, Fox grabs one of the cushions, pulls himself up, and flops onto the couch.

Thank the Maker, he finally made it. Fox rolls off of his stomach and situates himself with his back against the back of the couch so he doesn't suffocate himself within the couch cushions. Although, at this point, that doesn't sound like such a bad idea. He chuckles to himself about the thought. Thorn would kill him. He would find some way into the afterlife and kill him again for being such an idiot. Although, to him, it's a comforting thought; Thorn coming after him like that.

Even if Fox hates to admit it, Thorn is still his best friend. Some days they absolutely can't stand each other, but when push comes to shove, there's no one he'd rather have his back in this war. Perks of growing up together, he figures. Fox releases a wide yawn that makes his stomach churn, but he's happy that his body wants to rest. With a few slow breaths, he lets himself drift off to sleep, wondering if he'll wake up and finally remember or if his memory will still be adrift.

Fox groans as he stirs from his sleep. He slowly opens one eye and sees that it's still dark out, which means either he slept until the next evening or he barely slept at all. He doesn't feel drunk anymore, so maybe he did sleep for a while; an absolute miracle. Even more surprising is the fact that no one bothered him while he slept, which also means Thorn kept everyone away and covered for him. The idiot. He'll need to apologize and thank Thorn the next time he sees him.

Fox carefully shifts to sit himself up, holding the side of his head as it pounds from the hangover. He hasn't had a hangover like this in a very long time. He'll have to look at the label on the bottle and get himself another one of whatever it was. Blinking a few times to get rid of the glaze over his eyes, he looks around the room, but frowns when he sees the broken glass by the door. Oh yeah. I broke it. Guess he won't be buying another one of those anytime soon. What a shame.

With a deep breath, Fox hoists himself up off the couch and grabs the arm to steady his shaky legs. He doesn't feel woozy, but his body still feels heavy, like there are rocks in his head weighing him down. He rolls his neck, then his shoulders, and then arches his back to stretch it out. One of his vertebrae makes a popping sound and he groans. Even though he tried to lie down in a good position, couch-sleep is still not as nice as a bunk. He needs some ibuprofen.

Fox hobbles his way to the refresher connected to his office, and is, once again, thankful for the amenities he has access to as the Marshall Commander of the Coruscant Guard. It would be embarrassing to walk down to the guard barrack's communal refresher to compose himself. Thorn would get a good laugh, though, the jerk. He'd say something stupid just to piss him off. But that's the game they play, because Fox has embarrassed Thorn on multiple occasions too.

Fox steps into the refresher without flipping the light switch on, and twists the faucet knob to run the water cold. He cups the rushing water in his hands and splashes it onto his face. The cool water feels good on his hot skin and soothes his throbbing headache. He does that a few more times, and then one last good splash that he smooths over his unruly curls. He pats his face with the towel and stares at himself in the mirror, except something about his reflection is… off.

Fox rubs the towel across his face again, thinking he has some water stuck in his eyes making his vision blurry, but the reflection still looks odd. He then uses the towel to wipe down the mirror, leaving small streaks of water where he swiped, but that doesn't clear it either. Refusing to play with it any longer, Fox opens the mirror cabinet and grabs the bottle of ibuprofen. He pops a few and swallows them dry, wincing as he feels them go down his throat, then closes the cabinet.

Hi Fox , a voice says.

Fox startles and stumbles back, crashing against the opposite wall with a loud thud. "Kriff, Thorn!" Fox exclaims. He turns his head towards the refresher door to rip Thorn a new one, but he's not there. "Thorn?" he calls, but there's no answer. He peeks his head out of the refresher to see if there's anyone in his office, but it's still dark and empty. It's just him. He's never had a hangover that made him hear things before… he thinks. Fox's heart races with adrenaline.

Fox , the voice says.

Fox flinches at the sound of his name, and whips his head around to try and figure out who's calling him, but there's still no one there. "Thorn," Fox says. "I swear to the Maker, I will kill you."

So, you like to kill, huh? the voice says.

Fox freezes, his blood running cold. He didn't just hear that, did he? The sound of another clone talking to him, but he's still alone in the refresher. His instincts are screaming for him to run and find Thorn, because clearly he's hallucinating, or sick, or dying, or all three at once. He shouldn't be hearing voices, or at least he doesn't think he should be hearing voices. Fox closes his eyes and takes a couple deep breaths to calm himself and just hopes that whatever it is will go away.

It's rude to ignore people, you know , the voice says. Especially dead people.

Yup, he's crazy. He's one hundred percent certified crazy now. Not only is he hearing voices, but he's hearing voices of the dead . What did he do while he was drunk and asleep? Conjure a demon? Summon a spirit? Invite a deity to chat over some caf? How did he even do that? The other option is that he's still plastered and is hallucinating being sober. Honestly, both ideas sound equally as insane, but do they really make any less sense than him hearing voices?

"Whatever you are," Fox begins with a nervous voice, "I'm sorry for bothering you, but I'm going back to bed now."

Fox pushes himself off the wall and walks towards the refresher door to leave, but it slides shut before he can exit. He stares at the closed door and takes another deep breath, then releases it slowly. He slides his hands over his holsters, but the blasters are missing. They must have fallen out while he was sleeping and he didn't notice. He kicks himself for being so absentminded to leave them on the couch, but in his defense there aren't many who'd attack him in his own office.

Fox runs his tongue across his teeth and puffs his chest out before turning around to face whatever it is that's messing with him, but when he does, there's no one else in the refresher besides him. He bites his lip and nods his head. It must be a dream. He's living in a dream and he can't wake up. That has to be the answer. There's no other explanation. Once he wakes up, he's going to find Thorn and make him get rid of all of his liquor, because this isn't worth the trip.

I'm still waiting , the voice says impatiently. Are you gonna answer me or not?

Fox grits his teeth and thinks for a moment. If he answers the voice of the dead, is something bad going to happen to him? It's not like his life could get any worse. He's a dog of the Republic, he's shot and killed a brother, and he's probably the most hated commander in the GAR. There's not much else they can do to him. Fox startles at a sudden realization. The voice of the dead… a dead clone. Voice of the dead… killed. Fox's heartbeat pounds ferociously in his ears.

He takes a few steps towards the sink and peers into the mirror, the same mirror where his reflection didn't look right. He was so groggy when he first came in the refresher that it didn't dawn on him what in the reflection was off, just that it didn't look right. He stares at his reflection, and tilts his head to the side, furrowing his eyebrows as he studies the image, but his eyes grow wide when he realizes that the reflection didn't follow the tilt of his head. He moves in closer.

Boo , the reflection says with a smirk.

"Kriffin' osik!" Fox screams and out of reflex he punches the mirror, cracking it. He heaves in his breaths and pulls his fist back from the mirror, his glove protecting his skin from getting cut by the broken shards.

The reflection sighs and side steps into the part of the mirror that isn't as broken. Really? the reflection asks.

Fox is on the verge of hyperventilating. Fear and adrenaline taking control of every muscle in his body. His reflection is talking to him. It's moving without him. But it's not even him. He can clearly see that now. Fox takes a moment to study the image in the mirror. The armor is white, like a shiny's, their head is shaven, they have a goatee, and an Aurebesh tattoo on their right temple not far from a small linear scar. Fox's jaw drops. It's him. It's the clone he shot and killed.

Figure it out yet? the reflection asks, almost bored.

"You're…" Fox tries to speak, but he's still unsure of what he's actually seeing.

The name's Fives , the reflection says while tapping his Aurebesh tattoo. You should remember, since you killed me.

Fox is speechless and wide-eyed. He feels sick to his stomach. He knows who Fives is, but he still doesn't remember shooting him. He's never met him, and the only images he has are of him in his ARC armor, not whatever it is he's wearing now. Fox thinks back to the recording that was attached to the report, and remembers seeing himself shoot the white-armored clone. He did find it strange at the time, and it made him wonder why, but not enough to hallucinate about him.

"This isn't real," Fox says as he backs away from the mirror. "You're not real! You're dead !"

The reflection snorts. What? No remorse? No, sorry I killed you?

"I don't remember killing you!" Fox yells, half in shock and half in self-defense. His back touches the hard durasteel wall and he slides down it until he's sitting on the floor.

Don't remember? the reflection asks. You shot me! How could you forget that?

Fox pulls his knees to his chest, clasps his hands over his ears, and squeezes his eyes shut. "Just leave me alone!" he yells again, trying to make the voice go away. "I said I don't remember!"

I'm not leaving , the voice says. Not until you remember what you did to me.

"Go away!" Fox practically screams. "Leave me alone!" His breathing becomes labored and he feels like he's going to pass out. "This is… a nightmare."

Oh, Fox , the reflection chuckles, then pushes out of the mirror and folds its arms to lean on the edge of the sink and stare down at Fox. Your nightmare has just begun.

The next rotation has Fox feeling insane. The voice inside the mirror isn't just a voice anymore. It's a full body apparition that follows him around wherever he goes. He can't even take a piss without that thing watching him. He still wonders if it's the actual Fives or if it's just a figment of his imagination; maybe the subconscious part of his brain conjured it up because of the guilt he feels for killing the clone. He wants to tell Thorn about it, but even Thorn has limits on disbelief.

Hour after hour, the apparition asks if he remembers killing it yet, and hour after hour, Fox still has the same answer – no. Maker, he wishes it would just take a hike and go haunt someone else, even if it's just for a couple of minutes. There's nothing worse than trying to work or sleep while it watches him from across the room with its dark, cold, dead eyes and smug expression. If this is the real Fives, then he doesn't understand why Rex liked him so much.

Although, today has been strangely quiet. The apparition is nowhere to be seen, or heard, and Fox is taking the much needed alone time to catch up on the reports he's been neglecting since it first appeared. It must have been a figment of his imagination brought on by stress or something along those lines. There's always a logical explanation for everything, or so he thinks. Fox looks up from his data-pad when he hears a soft knock on his office door frame.

"I brought you some caf," Thorn says with a friendly smile. "Can I come in?"

Fox nods.

Thorn walks into the office, places the cup down in front of Fox, and sits on the corner of his desk.

Fox grabs the cup of hot, black caf and deeply inhales its alluring aroma. "Is this a peace offering?"

Thorn snorts. "You should be bringing me a peace offering for all that name calling."

Fox winces at the vague memory, then takes a sip. "Sorry."

"Apology accepted," Thorn says. "You're still a di'kut, though."

"So are you," Fox smirks.

Is he a friend of yours? the apparition asks as it appears next to Fox.

Fox startles and accidentally drops the cup of caf onto his lap. "Kriff!"

Thorn also startles and jumps off the corner of Fox's desk. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah," Fox sighs. "Just grab me a towel, will ya?"

Thorn walks off towards the refresher to grab a towel.

He seems like a nice vod , the apparition says as it watches Thorn with interest. Is he your best friend?

Fox chooses to ignore the question and the ghost.

You know , the apparition continues. It hops up on the desk to sit in front of Fox, its legs dangling over the edge. I had a best friend once – actually two. They're both dead, now… Like me. Must be nice to have yours still alive, huh?

Fox glares at the apparition and snarls. "Don't you touch him!"

The apparition chuckles. I'm a ghost, remember? I can't even touch you. The apparition reaches out to touch Fox, but its hand goes straight through him. See? I'm not going to hurt your friend.

Fox continues to glare, not fully trusting what the apparition says. Thorn is his best friend, but this is his issue to deal with, and he's not going to drag Thorn down this insane hole of guilt and self-loathing with him. Even so, it would be great if Thorn could see the apparition too. Maybe then, he wouldn't feel so crazy about the whole situation. A little validation goes a long way in his mind. He just needs Thorn to see it once, then he can feel safe again, feel normal again.

"Fox?" Thorn asks in concern while handing him the towel. "Are you sure you're alright?"

Fox grabs the towel and pats himself and the chair dry. "Yeah, I'm fine."

Thorn isn't convinced, but doesn't argue.

I'm not fine , the apparition says. I'm dead .

Fox wants to say something in rebuttal, but Thorn's lack of comment about the elephant in the room makes him wonder. He turns his head to the apparition and then to Thorn, and then back again. "You don't see it, do you?"

"See what?" Thorn asks, a confused expression on his face.

"Nothing," Fox sighs and tosses the towel onto the desk before slumping back into his chair. "Nevermind."

"Fox," Thorn begins hesitantly. "I think you should see a medic. You've been acting strange lately and I'm worried."

Yeah, Fox , the apparition adds. You should see a medic for that missing memory issue . Maybe they can tell you why you killed me.

"I don't need a medic!" Fox exclaims. Thorn flinches and Fox bites his tongue. "Sorry. I'm just tired is all."

Thorn still isn't convinced, but he sighs and shakes his head. "Alright, I trust your judgment."

I don't , the apparition says. You shot me .

"Thanks," Fox says. His eye twitches. It's hard enough to keep his thoughts straight, but it's even harder when he has two people talking to him at once and only one of them is actually there.

"I'm here if you need me," Thorn says as he places a hand on Fox's shoulder. "Even if you just want to talk."

You can talk to me too , the apparition says.

"I appreciate that," Fox says, trying to give him his best fake smile.

Thorn throws Fox another look of concern, but turns and leaves his office all the same.

Fox immediately turns his attention to the apparition. "Can you just shut up?!"

No , the apparition says. That's the whole point of haunting. I'm supposed to be annoying.

Fox drops his head onto his desk and yells in frustration.

The apparition hops off the desk and kneels so it's face is on Fox's level. Just tell me why you killed me, Fox, it whispers. And I'll go away .

Fox clutches the sides of his head. "I'm trying," he chokes out. "But I can't remember."

It's been a week and Fox is on the verge of losing himself. He can't sleep. He can't eat. He can't do anything. The reports are piling up and questions are being asked. Thorn continues to check on him, and he appreciates it, but he wishes he'd stay away from him. Every time Thorn comes into his office, the apparition stares at him like he's a piece of meat. Fox knows the apparition can't hurt Thorn, at least, that's what he's been made to believe, but what if he's wrong?

He can't let it get Thorn, too. It can torment him all it wants, actually, it can even kill him if it wants, but he will not let anything happen to Thorn. Thorn is too good for this kind of torturous hell. Thorn hasn't killed any clones. He probably hasn't killed anyone . There's no reason for Thorn to be brought into this. It's him that the apparition wants. Its blood is on his hands, not Thorns. Thorn has nothing to do with any of this and Fox will do anything to protect him.

Hi Fox , the apparition says while leaning against the door frame of the office.

"What do you want?" Fox sneers from where he sits behind his desk.

The truth , the apparition says with a smug grin. You've been keeping it from me.

"Like I've said," Fox says. "I still don't remember."

Not good enough , the apparition says as it pushes itself off the door frame and approaches Fox's desk.

"I won't let you hurt Thorn," Fox says as he stands up.

What are you talking about? the apparition asks.

"Don't play dumb with me!" Fox exclaims. "I know you're going to hurt him to get back at me."

Are you alright, Fox? the apparition taunts. You seem a little off today.

"Get out of my head!" Fox yells as he clutches the sides of his head. "I know what you're doing!"

What's the matter? the apparition taunts. I've never seen you so unhinged before.

"Leave me alone!" Fox yells.

C'mon, Fox, the apparition walks closer. Tell me.

Fox draws one of his blasters and points it towards the ghostly figure. "Get away from me!"

Whoa, there, the apparition says, putting its hands up and taking a single step back. There's no need for that.

Fox breathes heavily. "I'm warning you!"

You won't shoot me, the apparition smirks. You have no reason to shoot me. Put the blaster down, Fox.

"I won't let you hurt him!" Fox yells, then fires a single bolt through the same spot as before, on the apparition's chest, through its heart. He watches as the apparition falls to its knees and clutches at its chest. That'll stop it. That'll shut it up. That'll make it leave him alone. That'll keep it from hurting– Thorn?

Fox pants with exasperation as his senses begin to clear. The vision of the apparition slowly dissipates, leaving behind the image of Thorn grasping at the hole in his chest. A look of pain, shock, horror, and confusion painted on his face as he looks at Fox. No. No, this can't be happening. He didn't. He couldn't. Did he shoot his best friend? It was the ghost. The ghost was right there. It was talking to him. It was taunting him. It was going to hurt Thorn.

"Fox," Thorn gasps. "Why?"

At the sound of Thorn's voice, the gravity of what Fox has done hits him like a ton of bricks. His eyes widen and his voice quivers. "Thorn."

Thorn collapses forward onto the floor and Fox rushes to his side.

"No, no, no, no," Fox rambles as he pulls his brother into his lap and applies pressure to the wound. "I need a medic!" he yells. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I… I didn't know it was you. There was a ghost and it was in my head and I couldn't remember." Tears begin to well in Fox's eyes as he tries desperately to explain.

Thorn reaches up a hand to touch Fox's cheek and Fox grabs it with his own.

"I'm… sorry," Thorn says weakly. "I… wish… I… could've… helped… you…" Thorn's hand drops as his body goes limp and he breathes his last breath.

"Where's my medic!" Fox yells, tears now streaming down his face unabated. "Hang on, vod." He pulls his brother's lifeless body close to his chest and rocks him back and forth. "Please, don't go. Don't leave me."

The apparition appears once again, crouches down in front of Fox, and looks apathetically at Thorn's lifeless body. It shakes its head. And to think all of this could've been avoided if you would've just told me what I wanted to know.

Fox looks at the apparition with murderous intent.

A vod for a vod , the apparition says with a smirk. At least you'll remember this one.

Event Masterlist

Masterlist

AO3

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[black-butler-meta]

Analyzing Book of Circus: Sex, Attraction, and Physical Touch Are Simply Tools for Sebastian

There are two things we know for certain about Sebastian. One, he is a demon, and as such, isn't bound by silly things such as human morals and human standards of right and wrong. Two, he's hot as heck and everyone knows it. This is intentional, of course... it's a key part of his design and a big part of what makes him such a desirable character. It's a theme often found with dark supernatural characters (vampires, demons, werewolves, fae, etc.) and it's that call of temptation, exploration of sex and sexuality, looking taboo in the eye, and following that dark lure of danger that makes such characters so enticing for so many of us.

So, of course we see how this comes up and presents itself throughout Black Butler. Specifically, this post is looking at how Sebastian utilizes his attractiveness as well as physical touch to manipulate those around him.

So, first, let's look at how he seduces Beast and manipulates her to gain information. He manipulates Beast's loneliness and pain combined with her attraction towards him to sleep with her and get the name of "father." It was a few heavily spoken words, promising relief from the ache she felt, and choice hand placements. Gripping her wrist, a hand on her hip. But every moment of that entire scene, from the moment he approaches her to when they are in her tent, was him being calculating and emotionally barren. There was no kissing, hardly any face to face positioning. Even when he first comes onto her, he's behind her, with eye contact at a minimum. The parts that we do see of him touching her during the act are primarily when he's undressing and touching her prosthetic rather than her actual skin. Even the shadows on the wall are only of her and her reaction to what he's doing to her, symbolizing how he's really not "there" with her. He's removed entirely from the exchange, and he talks through the entire thing. It's just another work day for him.

It's not the first or last time that Sebastian uses his attractiveness and sex appeal to manipulate. There are other points throughout the series where it happens as well, and with good reason - his entire characterization is centered around his sex appeal. He's meant to be irresistible, attractive to the point of distraction, possessing an otherworldly beauty and air of mysterious allure that humans are particularly susceptible to. William describes him as much in Book of Circus. He's a predator specifically designed to lure his prey into a false sense of security before striking, and his prey are humans. It doesn't matter their age, gender, sex, or race. Souls are souls, and they are made for devouring.

Which brings us to the PTSD scene where Ciel is having a full on panic attack/mental breakdown, drool and all. Sebastian is very close to him, grinning like the cat that caught the canary, and the entire vibe of it is uncomfortable due to how close and intimate it feels, all while Ciel is suffering and Sebastian is looking and nefariously seductive. Every action and angle of him in that scene is sensual and intimate (his finger swiping Ciel's lip, untying Ciel's eyepatch, etc.), while Ciel is obviously not. His eyes are closed, his face contorted in misery, drool/vomit down his chin… this moment is about his suffering. In fact, he hardly registers the way Sebastian is touching him, which makes this scene verge on noncon; after all, how would Ciel react to having his lips touched if he wasn't in the middle of a panic attack? It's this crossroad of Sebastian's predatory sex appeal and Ciel's trauma that makes this scene so uncomfortable. This is exacerbated even more so by the fact that Ciel is a child which is made even more obvious during this scene. Ciel is having flashbacks of his trauma from years prior, when he was younger and smaller, and he is pleading for Sebastian in the way a child may call for their parent during a nightmare. Ciel in that moment wasn't "13 year old going on 30" as he often portrays himself. He was a small little boy, once again trapped in his cage.

Meanwhile, Sebastian is simply relishing in Ciel's suffering and seizes the opportunity to change the power dynamic between them. Ciel may be his master, but Sebastian is the one pulling the strings in this moment. Sebastian's gentle, his voice is smooth, his touch is soothing. He holds his outstretched hand, wrapping his arms around him. He fills up Ciel's vision, making him focus on the demon's physical presence rather than the horror that's unfolding. And Ciel allows it, even the touching of his lips, unaware of the boundary it's crossing because he's literally in the middle of a panic attack and needs to be saved. It's manipulation, plain and simple; Sebastian is fostering codependency as a tool to further corrupt the soul he will eventually get to devour. He's using this close proximity and intimate contact to push Ciel to call on his demon and slaughter everyone. Sebastian may be the sword, but Ciel is the hand, and in the end, this act of violence falls on him. In the end, it's his soul that suffers, which is just how Sebastian wants it to be.

Even the touch of Ciel's lips is a predatory one; it may seem to drip with sexually charged energy, especially since the lips are an erogenous zone (imagine if he did that to an adult… tell me that wouldn't immediately seem sexual); however, this sexual presence is largely in part to that just being a part of Who Sebastian Is. As stated before, that allure is a part of his design as a hunter, so of course it will be the strongest/most noticeable when occurring in the presence of human weakness.

The way he draws his thumb along his lip is like checking the ripeness of fruit. The way he stares down at him is like a chef checking a pot of stew simmering on the stove. It's almost as if he can smell the corruption brewing through Ciel's open mouth. (Also, I'd bet money that the soul is "removed" from the body through the mouth, as this was also implied at the end of season 1, even though that episode wasn’t technically canon). This doesn't really surprise me, because creatures of the night devouring their victims through physically intimate situations is a pretty common theme (e.g., vampires biting necks/thighs). It all ties into Sebastian's dark nature. Once again, it's intended to be uncomfortable.

And once he gets Sebastian's permission, the discomfort of the scene immediately ends, Sebastian’s predatory sex appeal is muted (but still present - always present). Ciel is carried in Sebastian's arms like a child being carried off to bed while Sebastian slaughters everyone. Sebastian's manipulation worked; his food gave into the rage and Sebastian gets to kill for him, thus bringing him closer to completing his contract.

Contrast this with the times when Sebastian is not trying to manipulate Ciel, and his touches are far more tame and appropriate. Wiping the water off of Ciel’s body, feeling his forehead for a fever, etc. It’s usually when he’s fulfilling his butler duties, or when Ciel’s life is in danger, that he almost forgets his predatory nature and behaves almost normally. Perhaps it’s through these gentler, everyday interactions that helps Sebastian gradually grow an attachment to his young master. He still sees him as food, but less predator/prey and more farmer and his livestock, a steward for a broken soul until it’s ready for slaughter. But I feel like if there’s any chance of Sebastian growing beyond his demon nature, it’ll be through these mundane but meaningful moments.

[waters-and-the-wilde]

hehe scenario. jupeter coming out the other side of All That with a bit of 'wow you're just straight up a bit codependent but maybe that's actually the best-case scenario for you right now carry on fellas'

oh they've Had Their Talk in the aftermath, and, okay, it's agreed that they are Not Doing Romance because Nureyev needs Time To Grieve and it would be better to Take The Pressure Off Of Being In A Relationship and they will Reevaluate when Nureyev's had a chance to be a guy who doesn't have to worry about where his next meal is coming from. but also Like Hell is Juno just going to Leave Him Alone after all this. and the result is that they spend the Big Crash just. completely unhinged about each other. Nureyev's shot past 'feeling vulnerable around Juno scares the shit out of him' and well into 'raw nerves and gaping wounds and compound trauma and feeling vulnerable about literally anything and everything all the time and being around Juno is integral to not spiraling into the abandonment hell vortex'. meanwhile Juno's like 'holy shit Nureyev is letting me be there for him. this is already incredible progress'

u think they were insufferable on the Carte Blanche well. on the Carte Blanche Nureyev was still working on things like trusting Juno enough to let him back in at all and he Had An Image To Maintain and lots of Private Stuff to Deal With and Juno was still figuring out how not to be a prickly ass all the time and 'when is it appropriate to give your bf his space when your default mode is to Investigate Shit' and none of that is a going concern right now

'sometimes you gotta be a little bit mentally ill to handle the mental illness' they have so much separation anxiety and they are clipping their carabiners together. hooking pinky fingers and following each other when one needs to do something in the next room. where's Nureyev? sitting in Juno's lap again. his ass is experiencing 'nervous system doesn't know how to respond to the sudden removal of constant crushing dread and just goes fucking haywire at unpredictable intervals'. he gets random-ass panic attacks and there's only so much the breathing exercises and the grounding exercises and self-soothing techniques can do compared to 'Juno is here and he's fine and he's safe and he is more than happily providing prolonged physical contact' to get him to calm down on a physiological level

meanwhile Juno's like 'i chased this idiot across half the galaxy because he wouldn't ask for help and had to deal with him being all stone-faced and cold about it, do I look like i mind that he's clingy now? a lady does not need his personal space at this time. a lady is living for this. a lady is also maybe feeling clingy have u considered that'

everyone who isn't rita (idek who. melee? the other vivopolis refugees??) is assuming they are just getting a very bad grade in taking it slow and are barely humoring them about it. and neither bothers with denying the boyfriend allegations but it's not bc it's true it's they're just. too exhausted to get defensive about it

rita: and i mean they ain't actually smooching too loud in the kitchen or whatever

melee probably: he just came out of Juno's room wearing Juno's shirt

juno: he's a thief that's his shirt now

(12 hours earlier:)

nureyev: (shows up to juno's room at 3am) im sorry for waking you i had nightmares about [the bomb/the carte blanche raid/dokana capturing you] i just needed to see that you were alive and make sure im in the reality timeline and then i will go back to-

juno: get in loser we're watching bad cops

rita: hi mista' n do you want some of this blanket

nureyev: that's very kind but im afraid im

juno: yeah hold up he's like really sweaty im gonna get him a clean shirt

nureyev: you really don't need to-

juno: how are you even still standing up when you're shaking like that

nureyev: that is. an excellent question

juno: anyway welcome to the club i fired rita like an hour ago bc i had nightmares about her dying on the asteroid

rita: i had one where i was gettin chased by this big stompy plant monster with lotsa teeth and i had to distract it by throwing all my snacks behind me and then i was outta snacks and then i was up getting more snacks when mista' steel fired me

rita: you know i think only reason i ain't got separation anxiety about mista' steel is because we spent all that time in the ruby together while we were chasin' after you and that gets a gal over it real fast

juno: thanks rita :P

[soaked-ghost]

sooooo I had the idea of nightmare being a merchant and I have a lot to say about it hihi (see tags)

(comic under cut cuz it was getting too long)

[spielzeugkaiser]

I just had the image of Jaskier coming back from a long day of work, and maybe just collapsing in bed from exhaustion, only to wake up and see lil Roachie tucked in with him and lil Milek tucking blankets around him because ‘papa always does it for him! He can take care of papa too!’ I love your art SO much!!! It gives me all the feeelssssss🥹👏🏼❤️❤️❤️

[MASTERPOST]

Excuse me while I cry, this was just too cute to not draw, thank you for sharing that adorable image with me!

[throttlegainwell]

Have I mentioned how much it haunts me that that guy calls Will "Lonnie's boy" when Lonnie has been gone for four years, has a shitty reputation, and the town obviously has at least some awareness of what went on in that house (though zero compassion for it)? MEANWHILE Joyce has been there all along working her ass off and as involved in Will's life as she's able to be (which, granted, isn't as much as she'd like, but is obviously way more than Lonnie ever was). It's Joyce in Hawkins, distraught and losing her mind with worry and desperate to find him. They probably see Joyce reasonably frequently, when they pop into Melvald's or when she goes on an errand; they probably haven't seen Lonnie in years.

But that's Lonnie's boy.

[sciderman]

sci let's say you could right, like it had to happen, if you could date either Peter, Wade or Nate, but the other two get heartbroken and are miserable. Who would you chose? you get to date and marry one of them, but it means the other two have to live in misery.

i'd marry nate (wade and peter can live in misery together)

[backroadboy]

okay, but writing this stanford fic is actually so much fun!

[kiwiwinjindouche]

thanks to the horror!au Jindosh is no longer a rat or a cat or whatever to me

but spider

[insert Spider Dance from Undertale] (it doesn't help!!!!)

[pinkyjulien]

I can't believe I captured your heart Oh, I can't believe I captured your heart

Valentin & Mitch | 603/?? 🧡

[ihatebnha]

I am here to drop more nudist Bakugou in your lap that somehow converts you into being a nudist yourself and then somehow has a baby w you that also never wants to wear clothes either. hm. hi caitie ily mwah

oooooh my god... (sorry to diverge immediately but) I'M ALWAYS THINKING ABOUT BAKUGO'S LITTLE NUDIST BABY!!! I think I mentioned it in the tags of one of my barbarian!Bakugo posts... how they'll always be running around, having all this fun in the nude, and when you go to try covering them up... Bakugo is literally trying to stop you LMAOOO.

Tbh, though? Yeah, he is probably like that in every universe. Gets all pouty when you even just mention a shirt or something, because "they don't need that. Lookit, they're having fun," or even, "we're at home. Stop."

...which just fuels your kid to be bare even MORE, since daddy is always on their side and supportive of it.

("But daddy says it's okay," while glaring at you smh.)

And I'm crying laughing at the thought of... having a kid who knows how to take off their own diaper, too. Like idk, maybe they spill something on themselves, or it's hot out, right? So you let them strip down to their undies... only for them to, five seconds later, rip off their diaper and try to hand it to you, too.

Big "I had an accident" vibes except... without the accident. It's just, "mommy, mommy... here. I dun need," and then they're running back off to do whatever wearing ONLY their little sandals LOL. It's the same with clothes, too... but the diaper always goes eventually.

(Thank god Kiri isn't bothered by this and his kids probably do the same LOL. Makes playdates so much less awkward, even if your kid is the bad influence in how they're always the first ones to do it adkjfaksd)

BUT LMAOOOO... gotta be like, "no, baby. Go and give that to daddy." (since he's the reason you're like this). That being said, however... Bakugo's probably all for it and doesn't even mind. Letting the cheeks get some air... "healthy," as he calls it.

Besides, what is life's purpose (not really) if not to watch your offspring run around nakey...? For Bakugo, at least: ACHIEVED. And he's so contented by it. His own lil nakey buddy.

(God... and the first time you're finally comfortable enough to walk around fully naked in front of him... boner immediately. He has to fuck you. It's honestly sorta concerning how caveman-y it makes him LMAOOOO. Love it though.)

-

anyway, boo bear :((( tysm for this + i love u, too!!! how are u doing? good, i hope!💕💕💕