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dilvuc · 2 months

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╰┈ chapter ii. | bonding.

note: i haven't reached fontaine because of inazuma, forgive me for this.

“This is Café Lutece, the main restaurant in the city.” Neuvillette introduced the restaurant to the taller male. [Y] looks up at the sign that reads “Café Lutece” just as Neuvillette says, is it possible to tell Neuvillette that the pyro dragon couldn't read? Nah. He won't notice, right? The hydro dragon led the taller male to a table. Once they were seated at the table, they were handed a menu.

“What's this?” [Y] asked, trying to read the menu. Neuvillette explained, “It's a menu. You just have to choose what you like that is written on the menu.”

The taller male squinted his eyes at the menu before giving it to Neuvillette, “I'll stick with anything with meat.”

“...?” Neuvillette looks at the taller male with confusion, “Do you prefer Barbecue Ribs? Steak Tartare? Or Bulle Sauce Duck Breast?”

[Y] didn't even know that it was on the menu and didn't want to admit that he can't read, so he picked them all, “...I’ll…I’ll take them all.”

“Are you sure?” The hydro dragon tilted his head, staring at the male, who looked away.

“Yes…”

The chief of justice handed the menu to the waitress. That was odd? Why handed him the menu? Was he nervous or something? Maybe he has bad eyesight…? The look on the pyro dragon's face, it tells the hydro dragon what's up.

“Monsieur [Y]...” Neuvillette called, grabbing the taller male's attention. “I only just realized, since this is the first time in your human form…you can't read, can you?”

[Y]’s eyes widened when the hydro dragon caught on what's wrong with him. The pyro dragon stood up and about to leave in embarrassment, but Neuvillette stopped him by grabbing him by the wrist, “Wait.”

“Are you gonna laugh at me because I can't read or write?” [Y] furrowed his eyebrows, feeling his hair lit up to pink flame. It shows signs that he's flustered.

“...No, I'm not gonna laugh at you. It's ok if you can't read or write.” Neuvillette said, allowing the taller male to sit down. “It's understandable since I had a similar experience when I first entered the human society. So, I shall teach you how.”

“...T…thank you…” [Y] mumbled. Neuvillette notices the male's hair turned from pink to bright [c] hair. It is pretty impressive how his hair could change colors, it even captures the interests of the citizens who were walking by.

“Now that we’re waiting. Let us begin our bond.” Neuvillette leaned back slightly against his chair. “But I have a question for you: Your hair can change colors? I have noticed how it changes colors. It's now brighter than before.”

The pyro dragon has a stoic expression, but his hair can easily tell how he feels. The dark-skinned male responded, “It changes based on my emotions. However, this is just a flame that made my hair longer, it'll disappear when it gets wet, but return when it dries up.”

“Change based on your emotions? Interesting…” Neuvillette mumbled. “Also about the “not real hair” part, when it blow out, will you—”

“I'm not gonna go bald. The part that isn't braided is my real hair. They can turn into flame whenever it needs to.” [Y] explained, fiddling with his side loop. “I didn't want to remove it now since my hair is braided. I'll keep it this way.”

“I understand. Your hair…is rather amusing and endearing.” The chief of justice praises the pyro dragon's hair with a soft smile, causing [Y]’s hair to turn into a mixture for some reason. Neuvillette tilted his head, “Oh? What does that mean? It's turned into a rainbow.”

“Sorry, it happens when I'm confused with my emotions.” [Y] apologized, stopping his hair from changing colors. He's confused. Very confused. He has never felt this way. The dark-skinned male has been praised before, but why does this feel different coming from Neuvillette. If the hydro dragon compliments his hair, then he will compliment his hair, but [Y] thought it might be weird if he tried. His hair started changing into rainbow colors again as he thought about how he would compliment Neuvillette’s hair.

“Are you alright?” Neuvillette asked the male. [Y] sighed, “Trying to think of a way to compliment your hair, but now I genuinely can't think of words to compliment your hair. Although, it suits you.”

“Hm?”

“I was almost stunned by you…” the taller male admitted without hesitation. Neuvillette raised his eyebrows, “Stun? And you're saying…?”

“I was stunned by your beauty. When I first saw you again after 400 years, I couldn't help but stare at you during the whole conversation…” [Y] stated, catching the chief of justice by surprise. Is he saying these words without realizing it? He's just that much of an airhead, is he? “...I was able to stare into your eyes for the first time. We rarely make eye contact. Your dark blue-shaded slit eyes. You look more beautiful and pure the moment I see you again—”

The taller male stopped his words realizing that he was talking too much instead of trying to give Neuvillette’s hair a compliment. He groaned, ruffling his rainbow hair, “I've been talking for too long that I've forgotten to compliment your hair…”

The pyro dragon’s pointed ear perked up when he heard a chuckle. He looks over to see the hydro dragon chuckle with soft blush, “What's so funny…?”

“Apologies. I just find you amusing. You are an honest yet confusing gentleman.” Neuvillette smiled fondly. “Have you realized what you just said a second ago?”

The taller male’s hair bursts into a pink flame when he finally realizes what he says. He held a stoic expression, but his hair had failed to hide his embarrassment. “I see…How embarrassing. I apologize if it comes out uncomfortable.”

“No need to apologize. I think it's quite appealing. Thank you.” Neuvillette blushed.

“What's the deal with water tasting? Can you tell the difference?” [Y] inquired.

“Indeed, I can. Water comes in many flavors to the discerning palate. Mondstadt's water is crisp and pure,” Neuvillette began while the taller male listened in, “While water from Liyue has an enduring aftertaste. In Inazuma, the water possesses a depth of flavor unlike any other.”

“Sumeru's water, meanwhile, has a rich and complex flavor profile, but it must be savored patiently to fully appreciate it.”

“Ah? You have a weird hobby there. I guess my hobby is a lot weirder since I bathe in lava and boiled water.” [Y] mumbled, crossing his arms. Neuvillette tilted his head, “Does it not burn your skin?”

“My body can handle the heat. I can eat them without any burn, same with magma which gives me more power.” the taller male explained. “There are creatures in Natlan that swim in lava. I usually hit them up with a race and lose on purpose.”

“I’m not surprised you can handle the heat.” The hydro dragon said, placing his hand on his side. It didn't go unnoticed by the pyro dragon. The dark-skinned male remembers that he left a third degree burn on the hydro dragon. Perhaps he could apologize for the damage to his body.

“Hey—”

“Your lunch is served.”

[Y] was taken back when three plates of meat were placed in front of him. They sure as hell look good. “These are the meats humans have been eating?”

“Indeed.” Neuvillette nodded. He noticed the taller male about to use his hand to grab the meat, but he stopped before he could. The hydro dragon grabbed a fork and butter knife then handed them to the pyro dragon, “You use a knife to cut and a fork to pick.”

[Y] grabbed the silverware from the chief, looking at the male, curious on how to use it. Neuvillette showed the taller male how to work it, “Just do it like this…”

The pyro dragon followed the hydro dragon’s steps, but only failed to cut it, turning his hair orange. Neuvillette decided to help him out by supporting the taller male into cutting the rib, then holding the rib up to him on a fork, “Here.”

“...” the pyro dragon gave it a sniff then took a bite out of it. [Y]’s hair turned bright [c] after the flavor kicked in, “What's this?”

“Barbecue Ribs.” Neuvillette responded, giving [Y] another piece of the rib. [Y] pointed to another meat, “And that?”

Neuvillette smiled, “Steak Tartare.”

The taller male then pointed at the last meat he ordered, “And this?”

“Bulle Sauce Duck Breast. Enjoy.”

The pyro dragon was practically drooling over how delicious the food was, much to Neuvillette’s amusement. “Remember to use silverware.”

[Y] continued to follow Neuvillette during a tour around the city, but his attention landed on an orange cat, causing him to pause. The taller male stares into the cat's eyes, almost like they are communicating. The pyro dragon kneeled down before the cat. As a pyro dragon, he has never seen a cat before.

“Meow…” the cat meowed, catching the taller male by surprise. He was wondering if that's how he could communicate with a cat, so he responded back with a meow, “Meow…”

“Meow~”

“Meow.”

“Meow~”

“Meow.”

“Monsieur [Y]?” Neuvillette called to the male in question when he noticed that the pyro dragon wasn't following him. He spotted the taller male communicating with a cat by meowing.

“Meow.”

“Meow~”

Neuvillette stifles back a chuckle when witnessing the cute scene before him. [Y] lifted the cat and held it up as if it's a child, “You are now my worthy companion, Citali…”

“Meow~” the cat known as Citali, meowed. Neuvillette placed his hand over his mouth, trying not to show much emotion, he then cleared his throat, “I see that you made a companion.”

“Indeed. Citali will be my loyal companion. I respect his words.” [Y] nodded.

“For a pyro dragon, he sure is darling…Perhaps I could create a new law for this lil’ one if Monsieur [Y] wants his companion to stay by his side.” Neuvillette smiled. “Shall we?”

“We shall…” [Y] nodded.

The melusines were secretly spying on the two dragons having their bond. Judging how close they become, the girls wanted to make them closer.

╭ ⁞ ❏. facts

┊ ⁞ ❏. neuvillette is willing to create a new law where citali is allowed inside buildings as [y]’s support animal

┊ ⁞ ❏. [y] has never seen a cat before, yes there's some cats in natlan, he just never encountered one before

┊ ⁞ ❏. neuvillette thought the new side of [y] was cute

┊ ⁞ ❏. the daughters wanted to put their father and [y] together

previous.

next.

#genshin impact #male reader #neuvillette x male reader #neuvillette #fontaine #genshin impact x male reader

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arealphrooblem · 2 years

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Deathtouched Part 2

I had no idea people would like this so much! Thank you guys! Here is part two early because I got inspired!

Warning: this contains serious kissing/making out.

Synopsis: Hero, a person who's power nullifies other powers, is the only person who can touch Villain, a person who kills whatever he touches. When Villain shows up at the Agency hell bent on revenge on Supervillain, Hero is the only one who can stop him.

Part one here:

They kept Villain in one of the interrogation rooms, hands taped into his gloves and shackled behind the chair. A black hood covered his head. Agency took no chances.

Hero sat in the chair across the table from him and waited for him to wake up.

It did not take long. In fact, it did not take as long as the amount of sedative should have given him. The Villain came to with a violent jerk, the chair scraping over the floor.

“It’s okay,” Hero said. “You’re safe. You’re in the Agency’s custody.”

He stilled at the sound of their voice.

“Safe?” he asked, sardonic.

“For now. So long as you answer our questions. And you don’t kill anyone else.”

He pulled at his bonds, cocked his head to the side. “You’ve made that second one exceedingly difficult. But it wouldn’t have worked on you regardless. . . .would it?”

Underneath the cold exterior was a thread of . . . yearning. It had been a calculated risk, kissing him. But if someone had the power to kill everything they touched . . .when could they have ever had anything resembling affection?

“I am a Nullifier,” they explained. “No one’s powers work when I touch them. And what about you? How does your power work?”

“What do I get for answering your questions?”

Hero cleared their throat. “Um . . .you’re not really in a position to negotiate.”

Honestly — neither were they. Hero was not trained for interrogation, but today was a day for firsts.

“Then kill me. I have one purpose left in me, and if I cannot fulfill it, then I have no need of this world. I owe your Agency nothing.”

Hero nibbled on their lower lip as they weighed their options. They didn’t want to see Villain killed. He didn’t attack out of the need for chaos or senseless violence. He had tried valiantly to let Hero, a perceived innocent and weaker party, escape. And the Agency needed to know what kind of heinous actions would fuel a man like this to such single minded revenge.

Taking another calculated risk, Hero stood up and walked around the table to Villain. His head cocked to the side, following the sound of their footsteps. Hero reached out and pulled the black sack off, revealing a mess of dark hair and that fathomless stare of his.

“If you answer my questions . . .I’ll touch you.”

His face spasmed from yearning to guarded in an instant. “ . . . How so?”

This was the gamble. Slowly, so as not to startle him, Hero climbed into his lap, settling hesitantly sideways with their legs dangling over his thighs. One arm looped over his shoulder and gripped the back of the chair for balance.

The other cupped the side of his face. Their thumb brushed back and forth over his cheekbone and his eyes fluttered closed.

“Like this.”

They skated the back of their knuckles down his cheek and then traced their thumb down the sharp line of his jaw. The Villain’s breath stuttered out in a shaky gasp. Hero could feel his chest heave with each breath, like a frightened horse.

“What — what do you want to know?”

Through light caresses and gentle scrapes of fingernails over scalp, a dark, tragic story unfolded. The Agency knew Supervillain had experimented on powered individuals, but they didn’t think any of them had been successful. According to Villain, however, one experiment proved very successful. After multiple agonizing gene therapies, Supervillain had created the ultimate weapon of a human being.

And then he had disappeared, leaving the weapon behind to face a world he no longer belonged in alone.

Of course, Villain didn’t know for years it was because the Agency had finally caught Supervillain and locked him away. Only recently did he learn, through the shattered network Supervillain left behind, what really happened.

It made Hero’s heart ache to hear how young Villain was when the experiments first started. How lost and afraid he had been for so long before it all hardened into cold, calculating rage. How worthless he viewed his own life when compared to his purpose.

It made their touches grow more and more . . .affectionate. They played with his hair, they traced the shape of his ear, his jaw, felt his throat swallow roughly under the pads of their fingers. They smoothed the frown lines of his brow, brushed over the faint traces of freckles on the bridge of his nose, and once, allowed their lips to brush over the thudding pulse of his neck.

That had caused him to choke mid-sentence and Hero had to pull reluctantly away to allow him to continue.

They were the touches of a lover and it felt addictively dangerous, like running your fingers over the flame of a candle. It didn’t help matters how Villain reacted so deeply to every touch — every hitched breath, every flutter of his eyes, every hard swallow only drew Hero more to him. For the first time, they felt like they had power, rather than the void of power.

Finally, Hero had only one question left. They asked it with surprising reluctance.

“What plan did Supervillain have for you when he made you?”

“I’ll tell you,” he said, swallowing, “ . . .if you kiss me. Again.”

Just like last time, Hero did not hesitate. Though this kiss was much sweeter, slower. They cupped his face in both hands, fingertips buried in thick dark hair. Unlike last time, he kissed Hero back with a soft inexperience that made Hero’s pulse thud loud in their ears. They licked into his mouth in short, teasing passes of their tongue until they felt a groan vibrate from his chest to theirs, until the hesitancy of inexperience quickly melted into bold slides of tongue, until —

Until the power shuts down, plunging the windowless room into pitch darkness.

Until gloved hands came from around the chair, cuffs dangling from one wrist, to wrap around Hero in an iron grip.

Part 3 Here

Tagging: @those-damn-snippets @harpy-can-read @puddleslimewrites

#my writing #not a prompt #hero x villain #heroxvillain #touch starved villain

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pagodazz · 27 days

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What do you personally interpret the emh ending as? Like what was habits goal and what did he accomplish?

OKAY SO I'm actually kinda nervous with this question bc I fear I don't have the same interpretation everyone else has for this ending, and I mean this is just what I'VE chosen to believe. and habits ending is NOT the same as everyone else's and I don't really think he "won" anything and I'll explain why. Also I will be rambling so I'm so sorry LMAAOOO

I'm so sorry for typos and stuff I'm dyslexic and I type really fast so I might've messed up a bunch of things 😿😿😿

@freezingmcxn

What it means for habit:

It's said in one of the canyouseethewords entries that it seems like habit is trying to make himself the perfect vessel, and we see habit over and over again bash Evan, and hate who he is, doing everything he can to rip him apart (literally and figuratively) and hide him and push him down and never let him see the light. He even says in half acre of ash, "Empty... unstoppable ..."

I firmly believe that habit's goal is to hollow Evan out until there is nothing left and habit gets to wear his skin and experience life as something he could never even be. Habit is stuck in this loop just like everyone else, he just had to live with the memories. He got bored he decided to torture humanity and force them to deal with the suffering that he feels like he goes through everyday, he doesn't care about humanity because humanity doesn't care about him, why should THEY matter when HE doesn't, nothing they do will matter when the loop resets, there will be new people and new ways to kill but if he could experience life as something new if he could CHANGE. He needs something fresh something he's never had before in his life.

Habit has never been human, he could never be human, and so he'll wear their skin and ruin their lives because they'll have something he could never have, and I think that's another reason why he latches onto Vinnie so much. Vinnie has a lot of humanity and he even thinks there is good in habit, he ACTUALLY believes habit could change and while habit knows he won't he wants to continually be reassured that HE CAN CHANGE. Habit himself is a very lonely entity he says in a summoning that his only friends are slenderman and the rake and they don't make for good conversation. And Vinnie summoned HIM because habit could talk, he was willing to sacrifice his life just because if he died, he would atleast have someone there to talk to him, atleast he wouldn't die alone. (I'll come back to that)

Habit very clearly needs the north star which is something only Vinnie is able to create, obviously others can draw it and use it but it's VINNIE that needs to do it in order for it to have any true power. I think that Habit had gotten very attached to Vinnie and wanted to keep him from making it because he just... wasn't ready for Vinnie to die yet, he wasn't ready to TRULY change yet. But Vinnie needed to move on and he left and the north star was drawn. While Vinnie does all that Habit goes through his crisis, the fact that no matter what he does it means NOTHING. I mean the emh kids found a FATHER they got LOVE they have the plot armor HE DOESN'T GET TO HAVE. where is HIS good ending?? where is everything HE wants??? He thinks he deserves to get everything great and wonderful even though all he is is awful. So he decides that maybe death is the only way. Maybe if Vinnie kills HIM for a change, and starts it over, maybe it Vinnie kills Evan with the north star, in the next life habit could either come back and there would be less of Evan left and he would be even more wild and animalistic and habit would be able to just completely push him out and take over his body and become him. Yet he doesn't want to be Evan, he just wants to own his body, he wants Evan dead he thinks Evan is hogging something he could have almost. Or maybe, maybe habit just wanted to die.

Although we see him "leave" Evans body, I don't think he actually went anywhere. I think he just gave Evan control and fed him memories in order to keep Evan fueled with anger, enough to fight. Habit knew Vinnie wouldn't wanna do it, he knows Vinnie wouldn't want to kill him, so he brings out Evan who he KNOWS will want to kill VINNIE. He needs to push Vinnie to do something he would never wanna do in his life, which is HURT Evan.

The entire ending of everymanHYBRID is supposed to show that everyone is the worst version of themselves that they could be. Evan had lost sight of who he truly was letting himself be completely taken over by the violence within him and he couldn't bring himself to feel any sympathy for Vinnie because in his head, Vinnie hasn't been through ENOUGH to feel bad. And then he learns Vinnie is numb after everything he can't even bring himself to say Vinnie is NOT a monster. Vinnie goes out of his way to make Evan feel better and Evan can only reciprocate by asking Vinnie to play videogames, WHICH it's the same exact thing habit asks to do in breaking the lease when he realizes Vinnie is clearly upset about something.

and Vinnie let himself get so obsessed with learning more and fixing things that he completely lost himself. He wanted to make things better so bad but no matter what he does he just makes things worse because that's just what he's supposed to do. He is not good but he so desperately wants to be. He'll convince himself by going "I did what I had to do" when he really NEVER had to do any of it. He was convinced he was going to save everyone but while doing that he literally got them all killed. Vinnie believes that he too can change for the better, but in reality he's only going to get worse. I feel like a lot of people don't see it this way but thanks to habit and everything he put him through and taught him, Vinnie was able to kill Evan. It was just when he let his guard down Evan took his chance.

Evans ending is him viewing himself as the hero, He thinks got betrayed and Vinnie is why everything bad has ever happened. Like of COURSE!! Vinnie was behind it all, Vinnie is who put the cameras up, Vinnie killed Alex, Vinnie summoned habit, it all connects. He is so hurt and betrayed that he knows he has to kill Vinnie in order to start the life all over. He even says he doesn't want to but he DOES IT ANYWAY. And he's not kind with Vinnie either, for most of the fight Vinnie just lets Evan beat him probably because he thinks he deserves it. Evan lost everything and he needs someone to blame, someone he can actually kill because he can't kill himself and he isn't willing to blame himself so it's just easier with Vinnie. Evan is killed while trying to kill Vinnie, he's literally everything he never wanted to be. Would the Evan in the early emh blame Vinnie for everything?? would he attack him on site and strangle him and beat him?? no. He would've done everything he could to understand why Vinnie did what he did. But unfortunately, Evan wasn't willing to listen and he acted on impulse and it's what got him killed. But he didn't lose, To Evan, he got the last laugh. He threw the knife he cut Vinnie's throat (the voyuer shall swallow justices sword) and he knew they'd atleast die together. He won. He killed Vinnie.

To Vinnie this ending was a victim finally shining through, after all of this abuse for years, not just from habit but from Evan too, habit barely hurt Vinnie physically he left bruises but it was nothing in comparison to the psychological damage that he had to go through. And Evan brought no solace, when Evan was around he'd look to Vinnie for comfort and immediately get bothered when Vinnie has the audacity to look to him for comfort and angry when Vinnie knows something he doesn't. Because why does Vinnie get to be special?? why does Vinnie know but Evan is left in the dark??? Vinnie has never once acted out against Evan or habit, even after Evan had attacked him in one of the videos, even after he watched the videos of all their friends being killed by habit using Evans body, he stood by Evans side and he loved him. Every minute of everyday he loved him. He loved habit too in a way, he was a constant, he was reliable and vinnie needed someone to tell him what to do and he needed someone to tell him he's good.

(proof lol)

He wants to be reassured just like habit. And what does habit do?? he constantly reassures Vinnie that he's a GOOD MAN. It's only when habit is upset with him that Vinnie is called a "bad little boy." And vinnie didn't step out of line for so long.

It's only after EVERYTHING he's gone through, he sacrificed everything JUST FOR EVAN TO TRY AND KILL HIM IN END??? he was so devastated, and he knew deep down that he deserved it too for what he had done. But when Evan had started calling him a monster it was personal, because after all they went through he NEVER thought of Evan as a monster and for Evan to just ???? turn on him like that??? it had to break his heart. He needed to fight back because he was DONE letting people walk all over him finally, he was DONE letting himself get hurt if he was gonna die, he was gonna out out fighting. And he did it, he stabbed Evan, he shot him he put him down like the sick dog he was, and Evan put him down too, they're both a couple of sick cage fighting dogs who have nothing other to do than fight until they die. Vinnie crawled to Evan, he sat with him and he talked to him even though evan was gone and he says maybe they were just a couple of unlucky bastards... maybe they weren't monsters at all. They were just people who went through the most awful things and came out reacting to the trauma differently.

When Vinnie wakes up, everyone is walking to him, he's greeted with warmth and love and he acknowledges he messed up and no one is mad at him, they KNOW he did everything he could because they too did everything they could. They have their moments but even in the end they'll always have love for each other and they're just glad to have each other. Which is when Vinnie says he doesn't need the camera at the end. He doesn't want this to keep doing. If this life is going to restart, this time he won't document it. this time it'll be different.

It's even said in the tapes that they never know when the cycle will end but ONE DAY it will end. and you know what??? maybe that day came early. Maybe they're free. Or maybe they're able to start all over again and slenderman will find his way back to Vinnie, since vinnie is his favorite. And maybe habit is dead for good, or maybe in the next life there is no Evan, and there is only habit.

To me the ending is open ended on purpose to let the viewer decide what it is and it all depends on what character your attached to is too. Like if you only care about Evan, Vinnie is clearly the bad guy with habit, but if you're a Vinnie fan you'll know that Slenderman is to blame for so much more than Evan even knew about. They're all bad people but they're people at the end of the day. They aren't going to perfect, and they aren't going to honest or kind they're going to be flawed and mean and they're gonna lie.

BUT EVEN IF THEY ARE AWFUL PEOPLE they're awful together and they love each other more than anyone else ever could. They are a family and families fight but usually, they'll find a way back to each other. And they're not family by blood, they're just family in their hearts which to me is far more beautiful than anything else.

Their dad loves them. What else could they want? they have family waiting for them. Even after it all there is love and I think it's perfect. We as people deserve love even if we are awful in some ways.

people bash the ending all the time but it's by far my favorite one and I think it's so beautifully executed. I HAVE TO STOP RAMBLING THO SO IM SO SORRY I LET THIS GET SO LONG. I have a lot of thoughts and I'm sure I didn't even get to them all. If I need to elaborate more lmk 😭😭😭

#everymanhybrid #slenderverse #emh #vinnie everyman #habit emh #vinny everyman #evan myers #god im so autistic #🐍 ⦻

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tj-dragonblade · 9 months

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[FIC] I've Got My Love to Keep Me Warm

Fandom: The Sandman Pairing: Dreamling Rated: M Word Count: 6949 Tags: fluff, sap, most of this only warrants a G-rating honest, the M is for mild and largely glossed-over spice toward the end, esablished relationship, winter, cold weather, christmas market, ice skating, sleigh ride, cozy cabin getaway, mulled wine, hot chocolate, a couple of things from last Fluffbruary worked their way in here oops, Dream of the Endless | Morpheus loves Hob Gadling, Hob Gadling loves Dream of the Endless | Morpheus, mild and inexplicit temperature play

Notes: Written for the magnificently talented and absolutely lovely @rooftopwreck as part of the Dreamling Nation Winter Exchange. Surprise, Vi! I hope you like it! You're such a warm and friendly person, a delight to know and talk to and you can always manage to make me laugh. I'm so glad I got the opportunity to write you a fic! Working with your prompts warmth, hot chocolate, and hearth (which I didn't quite get to but there is a fireplace)

Summary: It's winter in London and Hob is interested in sharing various cold-weather human experiences with his distinctly-not-human boyfriend

On AO3

"That's cheating, you know."

Dream turns to peer at Hob beside him as they walk down the street. "'Cheating'?"

Hob gestures broadly at Dream. "You," he says with a warm smile. "Your whole outside-the-bounds-of-humanity thing, just wandering around like the cold doesn't bother you."

Dream turns his gaze forward again. "It does not."

"But you could let it if you wanted to, right?"

"Is there a reason I should want to, Hob Gadling?"

"Well. I mean. You'll stand out less if you're dressed for the weather—"

"I can alter my clothing to blend in if it will assuage your concerns," Dream interrupts. He is uncertain of Hob's purpose in this line of conversation, or what any of this has to do with him accompanying Hob to buy groceries.

"Still missing the point, duck."

"Please. Enlighten me."

Hob blows out a breath, which clouds prettily around his face in the grey winter daylight. "There's a lot of really fun cold weather things we can do, human experiences that I, a humble human, would like to share with my more-than-human boyfriend. Things that just aren't quite the same if you're immune to the cold." He grins at Dream. "And then some other things that are purely selfish—how can I chivalrously offer you my scarf to stay warm if you don't get cold, for instance?"

Dream gives a put-upon sigh. "The weather is so frightfully cold," he intones, little better than deadpan. "If only some kind individual were to offer me his scarf, that I might warm myself."

"See I know you're just faking," Hob laughs, but all the same he unwinds the scarf from about his own neck, stopping to face Dream and drape it about him gently before continuing, shoulders hunching into his own coat. "It's not just about appearances, though. Isn't your sister always telling you to take more interest in humans and the 'human experience'? Isn't that how we met?"

"It is." Dream has buried his nose in the loop of scarf about his neck; it is pleasantly warm with Hob's body heat, whether or not Dream truly feels the cold as Hob does, and it smells enticingly of Hob as well.

Perhaps there is. Merit, to Hob's suggestion.

"Well, then…let me help you have some human experiences?" Hob is looking at him hopefully. "It'll be fun."

"I am quite pleased by the 'human experiences' you share with me already, Hob." Dream lets his mouth curl smugly above the scarf, tilts his head to glance at Hob through his lashes.

"Additional experiences. Cold weather experiences, outside the bedroom." Hob shakes his head, mock dismayed, betrayed by the smile in his eyes that's fighting its way down to his lips. "Can't believe you're making sex jokes outside Sainsbury's. What even is my life."

"I will. Consider your suggestion," Dream allows, as they enter the store, and no more is said on the subject that day.

~~~ When next Dream visits Hob in the waking world, he manifests his form in much greater human detail than usual. He pays special attention to making certain he has the appropriate body temperature and all of the internal intricacies to regulate it; he releases a breath, and it clouds the air before him.

He shivers.

His usual attire is indeed insufficient in this weather. He will trust that Hob can provide him something warmer.

Just as soon as Hob returns home.

Dream could let himself into Hob's flat, or wait for him inside the New Inn even; he chooses instead to wait outside, in the cold, that he might have the full effect of whatever it is Hob wishes him to glean from the experiment.

It is only a short time later that Hob returns, and his eyebrows shoot up beneath the cuff of the hat he wears to see Dream shivering outside the door at the back of the Inn. "Dream? What are you doing out here, you look like you're freezing!"

"Observant," Dream grits out, teeth clenched to still their chattering, arms tucked tight around himself. His mood has soured considerably in the interim.

"You choose the most peculiar times to take my suggestions to heart." Hob moves close, unlocking the door. "Did you miss the part where I mentioned wanting to share things with you?"

"Hence why I am here, waiting for you."

"Bloody obstinate git, you are," Hob chides fondly, opening the door and ushering Dream inside. The warm air is a relief, and Dream unclenches slightly.

"This is. A miserable experience so far," he says, uncharitably perhaps, but 'the experience' was Hob's selling point and Dream has yet to see what so enamours him of the cold.

"Ah, well, being cold is generally miserable, yes. Which is why you bundle up to enjoy the weather, and why you don't stand about waiting outside without a proper winter jacket when there's a nice heated pub right there, you numpty. Or just let yourself into my flat next time, honestly. Come on up, I'll get you sorted before we head out."

Dream is displeased by the thought of going back out, into the cold, but he is. Trying. Very hard, to be adaptable, to flow with change, to be open to whatever joy Hob thinks he might be shown. He recalls the way Hob's eyes had sparkled when he spoke of taking Dream round to the Christmas market, he recalls the dreams he has touched of such things over the centuries and he finds that he is able to muster a modicum of curiosity to see firsthand how they have evolved in the current era.

Most importantly, he does not wish to disappoint Hob.

It is much easier to brave the cold once Hob has bundled him into a jumper that is only marginally oversized (Hob is slighter than he tends to appear) and a scarf that is softer than the dreams children spin of summer clouds, and thrice as warm. Both smell faintly of Hob, which is delightful, and does a fine job of lifting his mood again.

"Hat, or earmuffs?" Hob holds out both options; after a moment's consideration, Dream chooses the earmuffs. A thick quilted overcoat ('puffer jacket', the collective subconscious supplies) and a fashionably slim pair of warmly-lined gloves finish off the ensemble, and Dream is nearly too warm thus arrayed.

It occurs to him as they leave Hob's flat that everything Hob has dressed him in is black, in keeping with his own preferences, and the realization sparks a different, softer sort of warmth in his chest.

~~~ The Christmas market is a lively, bustling affair, bright with voices and possibilities and fairy lights twinkling in the late afternoon dusk, robust with soft snatches of daydreams that twine and brush against him the way a cat might wind itself about one's ankles. There are children dashing about, parents tugged along behind them, flitting from one booth to the next in a flurry of contagious excitement; young couples and old, solitary visitors enjoying the time alone, groups of friends laughing together and Dream finds himself smiling at the wisps of half-formed fancy that reach him in the wake of everyone who passes by. It is easy to understand, immersed in this festive atmosphere, why so many humans have such love for the holidays.

"We're gift shopping for my staff at the Inn," Hob says, "and a few friends at work too. I like just wandering around to see what I can find—easy to make it personal that way." He gives Dream a wink, rakish and cocksure with the smallest edge of uncertainty hiding beneath it. "I know you're ruler of your own realm, unfathomably More Than Human etcetera etcetera, but if you see anything here that strikes your fancy? Just say so." He tugs lightly on his ear where it peeks from beneath his knit hat, glancing up and away for half an instant. "I'd be happy to buy you anything you like."

"A kind and gallant offer, Hob Gadling." Dream lets his smile curl into a smirk, leaning into coquettish charm to cover how genuinely pleased he is by Hob's generosity of spirit. "You would woo me with gifts, with tokens of admiration, when my affections have already been won?"

"Got to keep the romance alive, haven't I?" Hob shrugs, hands stuffed into his coat pockets, mouth curved in a smile that is brilliant in its sincerity. "I'd woo you a thousand times over if you wanted. Eager to please, always seeking for more, you know me."

"Intimately," Dream purrs, leaning in for a kiss. It's soft and short and chaste, as not to scandalize the other shoppers; Dream's lips and nose are mildly chilled, as are Hob's, but his heart is very warm when Hob returns for another peck before they part completely.

They browse the stalls at leisure, Hob selecting gifts carefully for each of his recipients, Dream rifling through what he knows of their dreams to help Hob choose when he has difficulty deciding. The tote bag Hob brought along slowly fills with packages and Dream has no trouble admitting that he is enjoying their evening, despite the cold.

There is a brooch that catches Dream's eye, a pair of poppies masterfully worked in silver and transparent red enamel, set with tiny black and white 'gems' for the center of each. It is a far cry from the sort of jewelry one might expect of his station, but Dream can feel the care, the dreams, the love of the craft that have gone into the creation of the piece, and it is striking. Hob buys it for him, gifts it to him, fixes it to the folds of the wonderfully soft scarf about his neck, and Hob's regard and affection, his care, seep into the brooch as well.

"Suits you," Hob says, dimpling sweetly, warmth simmering in his eyes, and Dream smiles back with equal affection. Certainly he might have simply manifested himself something similar, grander; the value of this piece, however, lies not in jeweled splendor but in the intent that went into its gifting.

~~~ "I am enjoying our time together," Dream says, while the mulled wine vendor is filling their commemorative Christmas Market mugs and adding clove-spiced orange slices for garnish.

Hob smiles, brilliant, beautiful. "I'm glad." He reaches to flick a light touch to Dream's earmuffs. "Staying cozy?"

Dream considers. Next time he will take the hat, he decides; his ears are warm but he has seen now where he would benefit from full coverage of his head. And perhaps thicker trousers as well; his jeans do not hold heat in any substantial fashion. The cold is not so bothersome to his legs as it is to his core and his extremities, but something warmer would not go amiss.

"The cold is far more tolerable when dressed properly," Dream admits, "for which. I thank you. However—" He pauses while Hob collects the prepared drinks, then continues. "I fail to see how letting myself feel the cold enhances the experience. I would be just as pleased with our evening had I not undertaken your suggestion."

"That's fair," Hob allows, contemplatively. "Thing is—" he offers a steaming mug to Dream "—if you weren't bothered by the cold, you wouldn't appreciate this half as much."

Dream accepts, cradling the mug in his gloved hands, letting the steam rise into his face. The warmth is pleasant but the aroma is utterly intoxicating, heady and fruity and laced with an assortment of spices that bloom behind his palette as he breathes it in. He can feel how his pleasure lights his face, and Hob's chuckle confirms it a second later.

"Try it, I promise it's everything you're hoping for there. Mind, it's hot—"

Dream raises the cup to his lips, heeding Hob's warning; he blows gently across the surface and sips carefully.

He makes a sound that is very nearly indecent, eyes fluttering shut for half an instant despite himself. The flavor is exquisite, bright notes of citrus and cloves and cardamom bursting on his tongue, but the warmth—it suffuses his mouth, flows down his throat with the wine, spreads softly throughout his body. He sips again, a careful slurping mouthful, and the soft heat chases through him delightfully.

"Exquisite," he murmurs, both hands wrapped around the cup, entranced with the steam rising softly into his face.

"See?" Hob's grin is bright and wide, eyes sparkling like the fairy lights around them, and Dream cannot even begrudge him the thrill of triumph that radiates from him. "Sometimes feeling the cold is worth it."

"Perhaps," Dream allows, and sips the wonderfully warm wine again.

~~~ Hob takes him ice skating on his next visit; this time, he manifests inside Hob's flat with warm cable-knit leggings, black with hints of silver threaded through, and a slim knee-length skirt that is quilted and layered for warmth. The poppy brooch Hob gifted him at the Christmas Market is tucked into his hand and his usual grey t-shirt is all he wears above.

Hob raises an eyebrow at him. "Got it half-right, at least?"

"I would. Borrow, from your wardrobe, if I may," he explains somewhat hesitantly. "I enjoyed wearing your clothing, smelling you upon me the entire evening. It is. An experience I would like to repeat."

The slow delight that brightens Hob's face as he says it is entirely worth the squirming discomfort of speaking the admission aloud.

"Okay then. You're in luck." Hob beams at him, all but heart-eyed, and goes to rummage through his wardrobe. "Same black jumper as last time, here's the scarf, had them both on for a bit yesterday, aaaannd—earmuffs?"

"Is the hat still on offer?"

"'Course it is. Here." Hob tosses him the hat instead, a black and silver cable-knit thing with a wide cuff and a large and fluffy pom pom on top.

Dream is pleased to have recalled its appearance accurately when manifesting his leggings; they are a perfect match.

He delights in the soft lingering scent of Hob as he pulls on the jumper, as Hob winds the scarf about his neck and pulls the hat snugly down to cover his ears. Dream hands Hob his brooch to pin to the scarf (the delight in Hob's eyes to see it makes Dream doubly-glad he had brought it), and then Hob curls those warm and wonderful fingers lightly around the back of his warmly-wrapped neck and leans in to kiss him, short and soft.

"You look adorable," Hob breathes, and while that is not a word nor an image he cultivates of himself in most circumstances…this is Hob. And Dream does not mind.

"Puffer jacket's in the entry hall," Hob says then, dropping a kiss on the tip of his nose. "Let's get you bundled up and head over to the pond."

~~~ "Have you skated before?" Hob asks, while they are lacing on their rented skates at the chalet.

"I am the king of all dreams and nightmares, prince of stories; I am the entirety of the collective human subconscious. All skills are within my grasp."

"So that's a no, then." Hob grins at him brightly. "That's alright, I'll teach you."

"I do not require instruction."

"Does his majesty know how to skate after all, then?"

Dream opens his mouth for a haughty retort to Hob's impertinence and pauses; certainly the necessary skill is available to him with minimal effort, but the idea that Hob would like to teach him is…appealing. "Perhaps," he hedges, with just enough of a pout to imply that he truly means 'no', and Hob smiles, warm and brilliant.

"Then let me help you out, duck. I promise I'm a very good teacher."

"I did not say that I do not know how," he protests, for appearances, while something in him swoons at the idea of having all the skill that Hob has honed in his chosen profession focused solely on himself.

Hob chuckles brightly. "'Course not. Still. Humor me? Let me feel useful."

"Very well," Dream concedes, concealing his delight, and allows Hob to lead him out onto the ice.

Hob is indeed a good teacher, and Dream basks happily in the casual intimacy of his unnecessary instruction, the focused warmth of his attention. Gliding over the frozen pond with Hob's guiding touch at the small of his back and Hob's other hand clasping his—he feels carefree, lighthearted, happy, and can easily understand why countless stories of young romance have featured this same activity.

Hob leads him about for a good while, offering guidance as he feels appropriate, but even when he deems that Dream has mastered the requisite balance and coordination, Dream is not at all inclined to sally forth on his own. Skating with Hob is the entirety of the appeal, after all; hand in gloved hand they glide and twirl about together, faces rosy with the cold, until the weak afternoon sun slowly relinquishes its place on the horizon to the encroaching evening.

~~~ "Here. Have some hot chocolate; it'll warm you up and the sugar will boost your energy," Hob says, as Dream is tying his boots back on. Hob had taken their rented skates to the return counter and come back with two takeaway cups, one of which he is offering to Dream.

"I do not require sustenance."

Hob rolls his eyes fondly. "Yes yes, I know, but you liked the mulled wine well enough last time, didn't you?"

"Wine is drunk for pleasure, not for sustenance."

"Same with hot chocolate. Well. It's sustenance for the soul, maybe, but not for the body." He presents the insulated cup again, waggling it slightly. "C'mon. Stop being contrary and take it. It's a vital part of the experience."

Dream is being contrary, simply for the pleasure of the way Hob pushes back. He is accustomed to the deference he receives from others as is due his station, but he very much appreciates that Hob treats him no differently having learned who he is. He is both friend and lover first when he is with Hob, and he delights in the many small ways that he can prove to himself over and over again that Hob values him over his function.

But the chocolate does smell enticing, and the memory of how a hot drink warmed his body last time is compelling; he accepts the cup with no further argument.

"It's the common dry-mix stuff, not real hot chocolate, but it's got its charm. 'Specially on the go like this," Hob offers as Dream takes a sip, and he is correct. Dream had tasted what Hob had ordered for them in the back room of the White Horse in 1789; he has encountered enough dreams to know that this is a pale version of the concoction but all the same, it is pleasant enough in its own right. It is a component of the experience he has shared with Hob and is enriched by that association; Hob was correct in this as well.

The warmth suffusing throughout him is as delightful as he recalls.

~~~ "I am. Enjoying, these cold-weather human experiences, with you," he admits as they stroll toward home. He had quietly taken Hob's hand as they left the pond and Hob has made no effort to reclaim it, carrying his drink in the other and sipping from it occasionally. Dream is doing the same, and his admission comes forth with suprising ease.

Hob grins. "It's the pleasure of my sparkling company. I enhance every experience."

"Perhaps," Dream allows with a smile, and Hob's gleeful expression softens.

"I'm glad you're having a good time, love. Thanks for trusting me."

The words warm Dream as deeply as his next sip of chocolate. You are worthy of my trust, Hob Gadling, he thinks, but what he says is, "Of course."

"I've got a great idea for our next date," Hob says then, beaming brightly again. "I'm very excited about it, but I need to make sure—" He squeezes Dream's hand gently. "Would I be able to keep you two days? I mean, I know you don't sleep and you'd probably want to check in on your realm while I'm sleeping instead of just watching me snore but there's an overnight trip I'd really love to take you on, if you're amenable? If it works for you?"

"Watching you sleep would not be the dull experience you believe it to be," Dream says first, which leaves Hob flustered and tongue-tied long enough for him to gather the rest of his words. "I would. Delight, in keeping your company overnight, in spending. More than one day at a time, with you." Lucienne would gladly see to his realm for far longer an absence, he is certain, particularly if she is made aware of why he must be away—her quiet approval of first his friendship and then his romantic relationship with Hob have been a steady source of reassurance as it progresses.

"Fantastic! Alright. I'll get it booked for a couple weekends out." Hob grins, absolutely glowing with his pleasure, and Dream is deeply warmed by the knowledge that he is responsible for putting that happiness there.

~~~ They drive a good long while out of the city when the weekend comes, the heater in Hob's car keeping them warm enough without heavy jackets for the duration. Hob eventually pulls into what looks like a farm in the countryside, and when they exit the car Dream dons the long fur-lined coat that he had manifested at Hob's direction. His boots are tall and fur-lined as well, warm and comfortable; his hands are buried in a cozy fur muff and a warm fur-lined hat covers his head. Beneath it all he has once again borrowed Hob's jumper and scarf, with the brooch Hob had gifted him pinned on, and he deems himself adequately prepared for whatever Hob has planned.

It is a sleigh ride.

They are ushered to a not-quite-traditional one-horse open sleigh, the bed of it still built to accommodate two passengers but an extension in front for a separate driver, allowing for the passengers to simply enjoy the ride. Dream very much intends to do so.

"What other surprises do you have in store for me?" he asks Hob as they settle into the sleigh. The driver flicks his reins and they lurch smoothly into motion toward the open snow-covered field.

"Just a quiet winter getaway," Hob answers, sitting up straight and laying his arm over Dream's shoulders. "We've got an hour or so to ride, and then we'll get to a little cabin in the woods where we'll spend the night. Then we'll catch another ride back late tomorrow."

Dream slouches on the plushly-padded seat just enough to fit comfortably beneath Hob's arm, leans into him with a smile. "You spoil me, Hob Gadling," he declares, soft and sincere, and Hob's laughter drifts away behind them as the horse moves from a slow walk to a lively trot along the groomed trail.

The weak winter sun is making its descent across the watery-blue afternoon sky as they go; the breeze is sharp against Dream's face, but his body is warm. His hands in the thick fur muff are warm, as are his ears and his head beneath the warmly-furred hat. His eyes sting marginally and his nose and cheeks are chilled, which is easily remedied by tucking his face into the folds of the soft woolen scarf Hob had wound snugly about his neck. It blocks the mild wind, holds the heat of his breath quite pleasantly, and most importantly it carries Hob's scent still. Dream inhales deeply, smiling, and leans further into the comfortable weight of Hob's arm around him.

The sleigh ride is uneventful, and quite pleasant for it. It is easy to feel the romantic shape of the story about them, bedecked in such finery, snuggled close against Hob, the air crisp and lively as they move from field to forest on their journey to a cozy private hideaway. There are many stories such as this in the Library, and Dream is unspeakably pleased that Hob would choose this sort of tale to spin anew with him. There will be lovemaking when they reach their destination, Dream is certain of it.

The thought warms him in more ways than one.

~~~ "Here we are. Proper hot chocolate, freshly made," Hob announces, turning from the stove in the cabin's kitchen with two steaming mugs in hand, carefully making his way to the main room. The fireplace is crackling cheerfully, bleeding wonderful heat into the space around it. Evening is falling outside and with it, new snow; Dream, cozy in Hob's borrowed jumper, is only too happy to accept Hob's offering.

The warmth is again exquisite, and the flavor is indeed far richer and creamier than what they had consumed after ice skating. Dream sips at it with relish and Hob settles on the couch beside him, smiling. "A whole night with the Dreamlord all to myself," he says, eyes twinkling. "What sort of cosmic favors does one normally have to offer to lay claim to your attention this way?"

"Great boons of significant value," Dream replies loftily, in keeping with Hob's teasing tone, but he is thinking of former lovers and their laments of his inconstant attention, and how Hob is always welcoming and delighted to see him whether it has been a week or several months. How Hob is considerate and respectful of his duty even when he is irreverent to Dream himself, how he had assumed that this overnight trip might easily involve Dream slipping away to attend to his duties while he himself slept. How happy he had been that Dream agreed to his request.

"And yet you give it to me just for the asking," Hob says then, soft and wondering and utterly devoid of teasing. "I really am the luckiest bloke."

Dream would like to say something equally heartfelt and besotted, but he is overfull of affection, of soft adoration, and his words will not make themselves known. Instead, he sets his mug on the coffee table, unfolds himself from his corner of the couch, lets himself flow into the tidal pull of Hob Gadling until his arms are around Hob's neck and their lips have met.

Hob makes the softest, sweetest sound, sets his drink aside, settles his hands on Dream's hips up underneath the warm bulk of his borrowed jumper. Dream pulls back the slightest distance, brushes his nose along Hob's, tilts his head and takes Hob's mouth again, sweet and cocoa-warm. He brings a hand to cradle the corner of Hob's jaw, licks softly between Hob's lips, kisses him with all of the words that stir silently inside him. Hob wraps him close, touches him with gentle reverence, kisses back with the same quiet intensity; and as they kiss, and kiss, and kiss, the warmth between them blossoms slowly and steadily into a familiar and welcome heat.

Dream wants, with intensity, ensconced in Hob's lap and secure in Hob's arms around him; Hob so easily, so often inspires him to such wanting and it would be maddening if he did not know that Hob will always and eagerly provide.

"Got an idea," Hob gasps presently, breathless, when Dream's building tension has thoroughly infused his touches and his kisses have grown fevered and urgent. Hob extricates himself gently from Dream's embrace, slides to his knees on the rug before Dream.

The heat in Dream's core curls sharply and he turns, unfolds so that his thighs bracket Hob's shoulders. "I do not believe the proprietors of this cabin intend for sexual activities to take place on the couch."

Hob laughs, bright and beautiful. "You started it, love."

This…is not untrue. "Perhaps."

"Well, I'll just have to be careful not to spill anything, won't I." Hob winks and pulls Dream's hips forward and Dream lies back, willing and wanting as Hob opens his trousers, nuzzles him through his underwear. Hob sits back and works Dream free, then reaches for his cocoa on the coffee table behind him and takes a sip.

And then he takes Dream into his mouth and Dream jerks at the sheer heat of it, makes a stifled wanton sound as Hob's tongue strokes heavy against him within the cocoon of his mouth. It is not the simple human-sex-warm that he is accustomed to; it is hot with the drink Hob has just consumed and the difference is striking.

"Good?" Hob asks, pulling off, and Dream shivers, delighted, aflame with his wanting.

"Yes. Hob—"

Hob takes another sip from his mug; Dream holds his gaze as he swallows and when Hob's mouth closes around him again after, Hob's eyes steady on his as the heat sinks in, Dream cannot help the whimper that escapes him.

Hob smiles around him and Dream is lost. The next few moments pass in a haze of pleasure, the ebb and flow of Hob's heated mouth, Dream combing trembling fingers through Hob's hair as he goes back down after every drink, the renewed heat bringing Dream closer and closer to his peak. He makes no effort to restrain his voice; Hob has told him repeatedly that he loves to hear Dream's pleasure, loves the affirmation that he is 'doing something right down there'. So he pants and moans, clinging loosely to Hob's head as Hob's heated mouth and clever tongue bring him up to the precipice, cries out as Hob tips him over the edge.

Hob spills nothing, true to his word; when the tension falls out of Dream Hob sits back and swallows, chases it down with the last of his hot chocolate. He then tucks Dream back into his clothing while Dream lies boneless and drifting, awash in the warmth of his satiation and the warmth of Hob's affections and the warmth of the fireplace and he is. Warm. And content.

Hob touches his face, gently, and Dream returns to himself, blinks into the bright warmth of Hob's smile.

"Still with me, duck?"

Dream manages a very loose, very satisfied smile of his own. "Perhaps."

"I will take that as a compliment," Hob grins, and levers himself up onto the sofa, settling into the corner. He reaches an arm toward Dream. "C'mere."

He is beckoning Dream into his embrace, to lie against him, which. Is not the next step Dream had expected.

"Do you not wish—?"

"Later," Hob assures him, smile soft, eyes gleaming warmly in the firelight. "Right now, you're so soft, so relaxed—I just want to cuddle you, maybe read to you for a bit, let you tell me the stories behind the stories and such. And let you finish your chocolate, of course."

And so Dream settles himself between Hob's legs as Hob stretches them the length of the couch, leans into the solid warmth of Hob's body behind him, cradles the mug that Hob passes him in both hands while Hob reaches for the book on the coffee table. It is a collection of poetry and folktales from around the world, and Dream offers anecdotes from his own memories of Aesop, of Hans Christian Andersen, of Bharavi in between Hob's readings. Once he has finished his drink, he snuggles in closer, turns a little, tucks his head under Hob's chin and his arm around Hob's waist. Hob wraps an arm around him in turn, drops a kiss to his hairline, continues reading, and Dream allows himself to simply…drift. The warmth of Hob's embrace, the gentle lull of Hob's voice in Hob's chest beneath his ear, the silence of the falling snow out the window—it is all of it so quietly serene, so comfortable, and Dream cannot recall when last he felt such tranquillity.

~~~ When the book has long been put aside and the fire has burned low, and he has lain in the comfort of Hob's arms for long enough that sleep has crept over Hob some time ago, Dream stirs, and Hob wakes.

"Duck? 'M sorry, didn't mean to fall asleep—"

"I do not object."

Hob chuckles. "Naturally the King of Dreams does not object to a little nap."

Dream feels himself smiling and does not resist it. "It is no hardship to lie with you while you sleep, Hob, but your back will not thank you if we spend the whole of the night thus."

"Right you are." Hob shifts beneath him and turns; to Dream's surprise, Hob pulls him closer, wraps an arm behind him and hooks the other beneath Dream's legs before he rises, lifting Dream in bridal fashion as he stands. Dream clings around his neck obligingly, amused and warmly delighted.

"Such gallantry, Hob Gadling," he breathes, as Hob moves toward the staircase.

"Always did wanna carry you to bed properly," Hob grins, and Dream absolutely must kiss him without a second's delay.

He leaves off so that Hob may climb the stairs safely to the loft, where the bed stands laden with a thick fluffy duvet over a velvety-soft blanket and flannel sheets, a sumptuous promise of comfort and warmth. Hob sets him down, undresses them both, ushers Dream beneath the covers and snuggles in after him.

The cabin is cooling down with the fire banked, but that only makes the cozy layers of the bedding and the heat they make beneath them all the more precious. Hob has him slow and languid, ardent and tender and vulnerable in this cocoon of warmth and closeness; Dream holds to him steadfastly, clings fiercely about his shoulders, lies back and lets Hob love him.

For he knows: that is what this is. There is no doubting Hob's affections for him, nor how deeply they run. The way that Hob moves atop and within him, kissing with relentless adoration all the while, stroking reverent fingers through his hair and whispering heartfelt vows and endearments against his lips—it warms Dream through, leaves him grateful and marveling. Hob, who time and again chooses life and living, has chosen him, despite all forewarning that choosing Dream was choosing poorly. Hob loves him, wants him, wishes for his company and his happiness and goes to whatever lengths are needed to ensure both.

Hob, who clings to Dream in his sleep now, after, head pillowed on the dubious cushion of Dream's chest, smile resting soft on his lips, arms comfortably close about Dream's waist and hip. Hob, who waited faithfully when Dream missed their meeting, ensured Dream could still find him when the White Horse closed, welcomed his return without judgment or recrimination of any kind; Hob, who treasures him, warms him, looks to his well-being and wishes to share favorite experiences with him.

Hob, who seeks no power, no boon, has never asked more of him than his company when his duty allows it.

Dream looks carefully at the glowing warmth in his own approximation of a heart, in the whole of his being; tentatively, he names it for what he knows it to be, and trusts that calamity will not follow. He cradles Hob's sleeping form close, strokes through Hob's hair again and again, traces the shape of his smile with gentle fingertips.

Warm, content, he holds Hob and he drifts in his happiness.

~~~ The morning comes slow and lazy, and they are both very cozy in the bed, but eventually Hob must get up to relieve his bladder. Then, with the chill of the cabin made apparent, he starts and stokes the fire before returning upstairs and diving back beneath the covers with Dream. The rest of the morning is decidedly less lazy and quite immensely satisfying, and by the time they leave the bed the cabin is comfortably warmed.

"Shower with me," Hob offers, and Dream agrees instead of simply willing himself clean. The cascading warm water, the simple pleasure of soaping Hob's body and being lathered up in turn, the intimacy of washing Hob's hair, of Hob's fingertips then massaging his scalp and Hob's hands gently tilting his head back into the spray to rinse, these all constitute yet another wonderfully human experience that he can fully appreciate, because Hob wishes to share it.

Hob cooks them brunch once they're dried and somewhat dressed, scrambling eggs and toasting bread in only a pair of low-slung joggers with a short towel draped behind his neck to manage the ends of his damp hair; Dream watches him work, smiling, cozy in Hob's jumper and a pair of fluffy grey socks with his bare legs tucked beneath him on the barstool at the kitchen peninsula.

"Here we are," Hob says, plating him a beautiful omelette laden with spices, peppers, and roasted tomatoes alongside a slice of buttered toast slathered with strawberry jam, and Dream accepts it with equanimity. He does not need to eat in the waking world, it provides no sustenance, but the ritual of sharing meals with Hob is entirely pleasant. Hob goes to great effort to prepare things that Dream will enjoy, and Dream. Is not inclined to see those efforts wasted.

The food is good. Hob's food is always good, and especially when infused with his warmth and love, as this is. Dream savors the omelette, lingers over the sweetness of the toast—Hob has spread it with 'far too much jam' just as Dream prefers—and smiles his pleasure at Hob, who beams back with his mouth full, which is far more endearing than it should be.

~~~ "I'm so glad you let me talk you into feeling the cold," Hob says later, once they've cleared the kitchen and resettled on the sofa. Dream is in Hob's lap, hands stroking through the hair on Hob's chest, bare thighs splayed to either side of his hips. He is kissing up the side of Hob's neck, very much in pursuit of a particular goal; he forewent trousers for a reason, after all. But Hob is still talking. "Gave me a great excuse to ask you here, after all, and I'm very much enjoying all this cozy cabin sex."

Dream draws back and looks at him, amusement plainly evident in his tone. "Hob Gadling. Has all of this, your insistence on sharing cold weather experiences, been merely an elaborate ploy to convince me to come away to the woods with you for 'cozy cabin sex'?"

"Perhaps ," Hob replies, with a ridiculous waggle of his eyebrows, and then he laughs. "No, love, everything we've done has been for its own sake. Including this mini holiday. I'm…" He trails off, tilts his head and tugs briefly at his earlobe. "I'm really glad you agreed, to all of it. I like doing fun things with you—I like spending time with you, full stop, whatever we're doing. But it means a lot that you've gone along with my plans and suggestions and that you've had a good time too." He grins, bright and beautiful. "The Dreamlord, Prince of Stories, King of all Dreams and Nightmares and Entirety of the Human Subconscious lets me take him on dates. Ordinary mundane cozy little human winter dates, and he even enjoys them. I am truly the luckiest bloke in existence."

His pure simple authentic joy is infectious; it seeps into Dream's body and settles warm around his heart, leaves him aglow in happiness, a soft smile on his face as he leans down into Hob to kiss him again.

He loves this man, fiercely, completely. It is he who is the lucky one.

~~~ The morning passes into afternoon and stretches closer to evening before they deign to part from one another, and then only because their transportation will be arriving soon. They dress, pack, tidy up, and Dream employs a measure of power to ensure the cabin is presentable (and sanitary) for the crew who will be coming in to clean and prepare it for the next guests.

The sleigh arrives as scheduled and Dream shrinks his form slightly as he climbs into it, the better to fit beneath Hob's arm. He settles comfortably in the warmth of his hat and his coat and Hob's scarf, the warmth of Hob's embrace, and Hob cuddles him close, tips his hat up enough to drop a kiss to his forehead and tugs it back down as the driver sets out.

I know what it is, to love Hob Gadling, Dream thinks as they go, but does not say. He is brave enough to accept the truth of it, but not yet brave enough to speak it aloud. He knows, on some level, that keeping it unspoken does not change the fact of its existence, but there is power in words all the same. Perhaps it makes no difference; Hob is technically no longer mortal, their love has existed for some time whether Dream has acknowledged it or not and no disaster has yet befallen them or humanity.

Still. Dream is nothing, if not cautious.

He moves just enough to glance up to Hob's face, and finds Hob gazing down at him with love shining plain in his kind depthless eyes; he smiles, knowing full well the same shows clear in his own face, and settles, snuggles back into Hob's shoulder to enjoy the remainder of their ride back.

The air is crisp, cold, invigorating, in a way that can only be appreciated when one has bundled up properly against it. Hob has ensured that he is, and so Dream can enjoy it.

He is. Content, warm in his love for Hob, warm in Hob's love for him.

Perhaps, one day, one of them will say it.

Then again, perhaps there is no need.

=== Started: 12/8/23 Drafted: 1/5/24 Posted: 1/8/24

Title taken from I Love the Winter Weather/I've Got My Love to Keep Me Warm by Tony Bennett, which dovetailed too perfectly with the themes that developed in the writing for me not to use it

I love the winter weather So the two of us can get together There's nothing sweeter, finer When it's nice and cold I can hold my baby closer to me And collect the kisses that are due me I love the winter weather Because I've got my love to keep me warm

#Dreamling #Dream of the Endless #Hob Gadling #Sandman #Dreamling Nation Winter Exchange 2023 #TJs Fics

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yuri-is-online · 1 year

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And Your Name Is? (Malleus and Ace)

Synopsis- After successfully resolving whatever was causing NRC to be trapped in an endless time loop of overblotting and disaster, one last reset should give him a chance to experience a normal school year with you. But instead you find yourself trapped in the here and there, appearing as a vague shadow around the school that vanishes as soon as he catches up to you. The kind thing to do would be to allow you to be forgotten in the chance it lets you return to your world.

But this is Twisted Wonderland where the kind thing is seldom done, and he wants you back as much as you want to find him again.

a/n: The first version of this can be found on my masterlist here (x) . I have been thinking of a million scenarios for each of the boys because I am real attached to this sort of trope and will probably write more in the future.

notes: they/ them pronouns used for Yuu, angst with the intent of comfort. Everyone in this post is a wee bit pathetic but then these two kinda are. The love triangle of all time I tell you /j

Malleus Draconia

Malleus is a king, his rule is absolute and his word commands the reality around him. Literally sometimes, it would appear, as he looks up longingly at the ramshackle window. A shape flickers there, one he has flown to greet many times before. For memories that don’t exactly belong to him they are vivid, the shape and feel of your hand weighs heavy in his as he wills himself to remain on the ground; there is no guarantee the night sky will remain cloud free if he is forced to watch you disappear now. He used to think the thought of a power beyond him laughable, but when he sees you now, this strange colorless void that refuses to fully leave his world, he is almost certain that there must be. There must be some divine force in the world that is punishing him for his hubris in thinking that he could stop the wheel of time; punishing him for refusing to treasure the time he had to spend with you and thinking he could spend your life as he pleased.

It was ironic really, how powerless he felt when you disappeared from view. Like you were the god and he was the child of man groveling at your feet for a chance at salvation. An introspective part of him wonders if this is how his people see him; it is most displeased with how little he cares, all regalia abandoned at the foot of a human that cannot be saved with any magic he can weave.

“Lilia says I should see this as practice for when you are older.” His guardian had decided to be considerate of his feelings when he came to him for advice. If Lilia had been acting only as an advisor, it hurts his heart to think of what he would have said. “I wonder, would you prefer me if I was human? Would this be easier, could I have made you stay?” You do not immediately appear to reassure him, no one does. He supposes no one could, Malleus Draconia is not above wishing for things despite what Sebek might think. A light layer of frost covers the walls of the old mansion, it is becoming harder to focus on the stars. “It is cruel of me to wish to keep you here with me, children of men do not belong trapped in the dark; but what a sight you would be.” He can picture you clearly, time is cruel but this re-set timeline is much crueler. Your face and the sound of your voice are still his to cherish, but he has no pictures or records to refresh his memory when it inevitably begins to fail.

“Tsunotarou?” Yes, the frost begins to retreat as he resigns himself to his grief, that is what your voice sounded like. Someone reaches to touch his face, and to his surprise he allows them. Yes, he takes in a deep breath that goes on for so long it almost hurts him, this is your scent, your appearance filling his vision and blocking the stars from view. “You look so lonely.” And you look so confused, but more importantly you look unafraid as he takes your hands from his face and intertwines your fingers.

“And if I am?” He tries to give you a charming smile, one that he knows will only work on his family and you.

“Then…” you look confused, like you are searching his face and recognizing him but unaware of what you are looking for. “If you are my Tsunotarou, then I wouldn’t want you to be lonely.”

“Then stay.” Stay here and keep him company until you are nothing but the dust you were born from and allow him to stay by the side of your grave forevermore.

Ace Trappola

This was unfair. Infuriatingly, ridiculously, beyond merely mildly unfair. Ace had never been more enraged with the way things work at Night Raven College. “The strong bow to the weak” his ass, how many of these housewardens (and Jamil) bowed to you only to dismiss your current status as not their problem? It was their fault, and as far as Ace was concerned they were well beyond needing to take responsibility for their actions. He had no problem telling you as much, pretending the way you were constantly out of his reach was not his problem. That it didn’t bother him to run after you for hours, chasing you down hallways, through the rose maze, anywhere you went Ace Trappola followed. If you were not made of memories and mist it would be just like it was before. You went and he followed, if it would bring you back to life he’d crawl. Riddle had said his behavior was unbefitting of a card soldier. Ace had told him he was one to talk.

And just like that he was back on a couch in Ramshackle, a collar around his neck he swore up and down didn’t belong. But you were not here to see it.

“Honestly, who does Riddle think he is?” He grumbles as if you could respond, sometimes he swears you do. Deuce thinks he is losing his mind, Riddle probably does too. They might be back in the past, but Riddle remembers his mistakes and what little growth he’d squeezed from the stone cold loop of time. He is strict, but seldom tyrannical, if Ace wasn’t in the middle of a spiral he would be willing to acknowledge his housewarden’s willingness to try and help you. “Hey-” the door doesn’t open for you when you appear, Ace doesn’t think you can interact with objects the way a ghost can but that doesn’t stop him from talking to you like you are one. “Bet this looks familiar. Honestly, how many times am I going to have to show up like this before you let me take the bed? I’m super skinny and you’re not- you’re not there.” Memory isn’t like a video Ace can replay, but from the timelines he’s spent chasing after you he is almost certain this shade of yours is simply following an echo of your routine. It has a set path, if he gets too close you will evaporate from view, but still he reaches when you approach, praying that this time his hand will find purchase. “Just what is it you wanna hear huh?” He finds something, cold and slightly wet like this shimmery shape is made of melting ice. “That I didn’t think you would be my type because I already knew you were? That when I said what was really important was finding someone you could laugh with I thought of your face? That I’m a coward who couldn’t reject a girl he didn’t like and who couldn’t face it when he saw what he actually wanted?”

“I want Ace.” He feels it more than hears it, as much as he wants to smile and hide behind himself Ace Trappola is smart enough to know he can’t. Not this time, he has to watch you fill in your outline, eyes unhurried and unfocused but locked solely on him. If he doesn’t watch you come to he will never believe he is looking at you again. “I want to stay with Ace.” Your arms are around his neck pushing him back onto the couch with a thunk and he wraps himself as much around you as he can. “Just what am I going to do with you?” He tries to laugh but between the collar and you it’s hard to breathe, but he can’t bring himself to move. “I guess I’ll have to make you happy for the rest of your life.”

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #malleus draconia x reader #malleus draconia #ace trappola x reader #ace trappola

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terezicaptor · 8 months

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i have an offering. i was inspired by the post you made... about tubbo and pac... wrote this at work so it migth be a bit messy

A grin split across Pac's face as he finally spotted the person he had been looking for during the past hour. Shooting his hand up into the air he waved it until he got the bear's attention. Fred turned to him with a tilt of his head, the perfect picture of pure confusion.

“Is Tubbo a good kisser?” He asked, jumping straight to the point with what he knew was a stupid grin on his face.

Fred stared at him blankly. Although, Pac thought, he wasn't quite sure they could make any expression that wasn't blank due to the lack of human features that usually signified emotion.

“Why?” Fred signed.

Pac bounced on his feet, energy coursing through his body. “I'm curious. He seems like he would be a good kisser and I figured you would know since you two are…” he trailed off, not exactly sure what to call them. “You know.”

Fred stared at him a long moment before signing, “I do not know. We have never engaged in that particular action.”

Pac gasped, his hand instinctively flying to his mouth. “You haven't?? Wow. That's okay though. Fit hasn't kissed me yet either.” He laughed. “I would kiss him but I'm waiting for him to be ready. Take it easy take it easy you know?” he said in a humorous attempt at Fit's voice. “Hey I mean I could find out for you?” He offered, flinging his arms around to try and seem casual. Trying to not let any of the eagerness threatening to burst out of him shine through.

“Yes.”

Pac grinned, not being able to stop himself. “Sim, sim, great. I will find out for you, Fred.” Without another word or glance at the worker, he bounced off, pulling open his map to find out where Tubbo was.

Tubhaus was loud, machinery whirring loudly from all different parts of the man's factory. Tubbo stood in the middle of the main building next to a laughing Sunny. Pac bounded over and called out to them both. They both turned with matching smiles on their faces. “Oi!”

“Oi, Pac. What brings you here today?” Tubbo asked, one hand looped in the belt carrying his tools around his waist and the other dangling by his side.

Pac grabbed the one dangling by his side and lowered his voice, steeling his expression. “I'm doing a very important experiment.”

Tubbo's eyes lit up. “And you need my help?”

Pac nodded grimly. “Sim, sim, your help is exactly what I need.”

“Okay,” Tubbo said nervously, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “What do I do?”

The serious expression on Pac's face was finally broken by that. “Just stand here.”

Tubbo's eyebrows dipped down in confusion before Pac pulled him flush against his body with their connected hands and kissed him.

Pac wasn't quite sure what he expected but this, Tubbo grabbing his face with both hands and pulling him deeper into it, was not it. A noise of surprise escaped his mouth and he reached out to grab at Tubbo's waist. It was more passionate than he had expected, desperate.

They pulled apart with loud gasps from both parties and Pac felt dizzy looking into Tubbo's gorgeous swirling eyes. He hated water, that green and blue of waves but inside of Tubbo's eyes they were heavenly instead of scary.

“What the fuck,” Tubbo said with a slight laugh.

Pac pulled back giggling. “Oh you know research and stuff.” Out of the corner of his eye he noticed Sunny staring at him with wide confused eyes. “Anyway, bye Tubbo, bye Sunny!!” And before either of them could protest he was warping away.

THIS IS SO GOOOODDDDDD OMG

Fred just being like "??? OK you can go find out what kissing my not boyfriend is like ig" is so funny to me. Their ass does Not care.

And Pac's like it's cool my bf wants to take it slow too ^^ and then he's like time to go kiss this guy's not bf

Tubbo being sooo happy that Pac is there and then acting like Pac is acting wild like he wasn't the guy definitely trying to get some tongue in there okayyyy. the internalized homophobia is alive and real in tubchunk

THEN PAC JUST DIPPING LMAOOOOOO

You know Tubbo's ass is bragging to Fit later about kissing his boyfriend before he did.

#Fic #Mcyt fav tag #asks #qsmp #Pacbo #Tubpac #poly morning crew #frubbo #keirawantstocry

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thevulturesquadron · 5 months

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THAT LATEST EPISODEEEE

Okay okay I have many thoughts and I apologise if this is gonna end up very incoherent and disjointed but I NEED TO TALK ABOUT IT BECAUSE AHHHHH

You know what the episode did very well (the writers, man)? Make the audience feel like they're taking crazy pills. There's this almost cognitive dissonance from the rest of the squad (Charles esp) with the way they say and behave because as Rogue stated "none of you were there". This is SO good in showcasing that you can be as understanding as you want, be literally a part of the same group... and STILL it's not enough because you didn't have the (in this case unfortunate) exact experience. The previous episode is a great addendum to this. The rest of humanity's (majorly the big wigs of course but you get what i mean) scared and at worst callous and apathetic reaction to the genocide. They're not scared because of what happened to those mutants, they're scared because of what Magneto would do in retaliation. Cooper is another example of how much actual experience can wholly change a person. She's not a mutant... but she was THERE. Erik and Rogue were there... right in the middle of it. How does anyone expect SOMETHING to not happen. You know who else saw what happened? Us, the audience. The latest episode felt frustrating and cathartic in the best way. It felt like decades of repressed righteous anger spilling in the most messiest manner, but it's OUT there. It needed to be said. Rogue's rant at the group before joining Erik, Erik's iconic "SHUT UP" line (yo lemme tell you istg i said the EXACT thing after that drivel Charles said). That's another thing that was so well done. Showcasing that no matter how well meaning Charles is... sometimes it feels like the dude's not LISTENING (Erik talks about watching a child be eviscerated in front of his very eyes, and I feel like all he's getting from others is an 'aw im sorry thoughts and prayers now can you please CHILL out') and does need this slap in the face. And the consequences keep piling up (the last big thing being what happened to Logan). Nothing will ever be normal and it's sad and scary and I'm very much looking forward to what comes next.

On a small note, showing how Roberto's decision was unsure with him trying to apologise to Jubilee and then his shocked reaction at her not wanting to hear him was so sad. It truly felt like a boy who only realised how massive of a consequence he's facing but just wanting his friend back.

I'm pretty sure I had more things to say and a more thoughtful way of saying them but anyway... 10/10. VERY ANGERING AND FANTASTIC. I CAN'T WAIT FOR THE LAST EP!!!

HI!!! ✨SAME!! 💜💜💜💜 thanks for coming in kicking the door down and shouting my way cause I needed that!! My brain has been stuck on a loop with the events in E9.

I love, love, love this episode exactly because of the strong emotions it made me go through. To see the division, to see where everyone stands, to see what matters most to them: what they are going through or an ideal? It. Was. So. Good! It was skin itching to see it at the same time. Each episode has continued to take me by surprise and go beyond my expectations.

I love how well the writers have been able to portray the difference between people who have been through horrible events, and those who have seen them ‘on screen’. Remember in episode 7 when Amelia said 'a survivor is the last thing I’d wanna be.’? Now it resonates even more than ever. It’s poetry. And yes, Cooper isn’t just someone who ‘saw it Magneto’s way’. No. She was one of the perpetrators caught in the middle.

So that when Scott goes around saying ‘Magneto is responsible for this.’ When Wolverine is out for blood - it should make you angry cause it feels like the crimes that Bastion has orchestrated are secondary to the X-men's agenda of 'righting a wrong'. Bastion is just a battle, another villain they need to defeat. But the call was coming from inside the house all along.

I’ve seen people online saying that this episode did Magneto dirty. But I think it’s the opposite. Magneto had always been capable of awful things in his pain and anger, but that’s not the point the writers are trying to make. The name of the episodes is ‘Tolerance is extinction’ - the whole point is to put the viewer in the uncomfortable position of understanding Magneto’s anger, but knowing his actions have big consequences, all the while making you lose your mind at how backwards and ignorant Charles' side seems. People are dying because ultimately his dream is more important than the people the dream is made for. And Rogue and Magneto are calling him out on it. The beauty of it is that Charles is preaching an ethical way where everyone matters, but how entitled and arrogant he must come across when everyone else around him is just ‘sacrifices he is willing to make’ for the sake of an ideal. It’s beautiful and awful that the cry for battle and survival is coming from the mouth of those that have nothing left but violence in them, while the champions of the just offer shackles and tell those that suffer to endure more for the greater good.

Yes this episode is supposed to make people angry and confused. And I think it succeeds.

If there is one less positive thing to say about the show, it's the pacing. You can feel that they were forced to put everything in just 10 episodes because there are a lot of moments throughout the show that are either missing or rushed. (For ex. in this last episode I would have liked to have scene with Rogue and Roberto on Asteroid M, in a similar fashion to what we got for the two X-men squads; just a glimpse at how things are impacting them instead of immediately seeing them in a 'villain guards' roles.) But I am not going to hold it against the show; from what they've delivered it reads a lot like cuts that they needed to live with.

#x men 97 #x men #x men ‘97 #x men 97 spoilers #magneto #erik lehnsherr #max eisenhardt #rogue #charles xavier #wolverine #roberto da costa #anna marie #anna marie adler #textpost #marvel

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permian-tropos · 9 months

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my opinions on bachelor route will obviously mostly be reserved for when it comes out but

I love classic daniil and everything that's being lost in p2 daniil, I love that he had to go through the same survival grind as the other characters, I love that he also had to learn the town by his feet, I love that he is a impulsive heroic type rather than the administrator the town asks him to be

that being said, the new route does feel like it's trying to make good on promises of gameplay from classic that were cut in favor of the survival elements. this time he really will be an administrator. this time he really will get to play with miraculous elements of the town's existence. this time he really will progress his quest of defeating death

the first game is incredibly compelling bc of how it defies expectations and forces a video game protagonist to exist outside of the genre he thinks he's supposed to be in. now this second game feels like daniil in the genre he expected

I hope Daniil isn't flanderized in the sequel game. in the first game he felt like a guy trying to be an archetype and not quite succeeding, which gave him a lot of humanity

the time travel stuff was hinted at all throughout P2 and even in Marble Nest so like it or not people have been forewarned for years

there is a metacommentary on video game experiences in the trope of time travel, because most video games are about experiencing the same events over and over until you find the correct path forward. a lot of my favorite games are time loops—outer wilds, slay the princess, the sexy brutale. I actually think it can be used to great effect in communicating what a video game even is and why it has an emotional effect on you

idk ran out of commentary. yeahg

#pathologic

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ernest-frankenstein · 3 months

Text

Okay, I don't remember the exact episode, but at one point the Night Nurse said she's spent, "Over two million hours on the job". And I did some math about that.

I'm working from the assumption that if the Night Nurse had spent three million or more hours on the job she'd have said, "Over three million hours on the job," so she's worked for fewer than three million hours and I have a hard upper limit.

She seems like the kind of person to spend as much time on the clock as possible, which for her is all of it. If she works 24/7, she has been on the job for somewhere between 228.31 and 342.47 years.

If she works a more reasonable 40-hour week , she has been on the job for somewhere between 961.54 and 1442.31 years.

Her first day on the job would have been in, respectively, 1796, 1681, 1062, or 582. (I'm using 2024.33 for the current year because the show was released at the end of April.)

Either way, she is incredibly young for an "eternal, transdimensional being", for someone who works for the Afterlife as some sort of quasi-demon/angel thing with supernatural powers. The most generous estimate of her age makes her first day after the Fall of Rome and King Arthur. More likely estimates make her first day somewhere towards the end of the 17th or in the 18th century -- it's possible she's younger than the US.

Was she a human who was granted supernatural powers in exchange for doing a job? Was she only created a few hundred years ago? What's her deal? Why is she so young (comparatively)?

I'm prepared to accept that time works differently in the Afterlife. But one of the people working for her said they'd been looking for the Devlin girls for 29 years, which is concurrent with the time they'd spent trapped in the loop so it seems like time works the same way in the Afterlife and on the mortal plane.

Whatever the case, the Night Nurse does not have nearly enough experience to have as much power or authority as she thinks she does.

#dead boy detectives

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wolfofcelestia · 2 months

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Idk if u have seen this one yet but i need to hear ur thoughts :D

I hit the ask button to early but i thought of u when i saw that post on twitter since it'sabout zayne! 😭 🤭

Thanks for thinking of me!! And giving me a reason to yap lol 😭

Right off the bat, I need to say that I think I'm an outlier in the fandom because I do not believe Astra exists in any world except Foreseer's world so I am going to disagree with a lot of things in here lmao

Warnings: Long post, me being kind of a bitch when I defend my man asdflakdfj

Don't take any of this seriously because this is just one fan theory vs another fan theory but. My theories are better because I don't discredit Zayne's feelings to fit my narrative

I don't believe it being our "first" lives or not really makes a difference because... if you look at time and space and all that, time is irrelevant. It's a loop that feeds in on itself. One life could be considered a first or a last life. History will repeat itself again and again, so our Zayne and our MC are just one drop in a whole ocean of time and space

The LADS music video included the mobius strip prominently and what it symbolizes seems to align with this train of thought

Regardless, to say that Zayne's feelings for MC are only because of their past lives discredits why he fell in love with her in the first place. This seems to be a reoccurring thing with this person's Zayne theories - they discredit Zayne's feelings.

He is his own person with his own feelings, not just a plot vessel for other versions of himself.

I believe Zayne was born a normal human being. Whether he stays that way is yet to be seen. MC may have something special about her that prompted the scientists to experiment on her, or she, as an orphan, may have just been an easy target. But again, I don't believe this has anything to do with Astra.

Like I said, I don't believe Astra exists in every world. But let's step back a bit

Foreseer isn't allowed to love because he has a duty to carry out as Astra's mouthpiece. He can't get distracted from his duties by falling in love. Astra sees Foreseer getting distracted as him deliberately going against him. Thus, he's punished.

But why would Zayne falling in love in any other world receive punishment? Even if Astra does exist, if Doctor Zayne falls in love, what betrayal has he committed for him to receive divine punishment? It does not make any sense

Take Master of Fate. He IS a god. Him loving MC is akin to him loving something he must destroy for the good of the world, but it is not forbidden. He would not be punished for loving her. The worst that could happen would be MC being killed by the other gods, so (another theory of mine that contradicts this person's theory), him sealing her away to hide her in their own private pocket dimension was the only way he could both keep her safe and love her

Take Dawnbreaker. He loves MC uncontrollably, but where is his punishment? She was separated from him from the beginning. This is not an active divine punishment

Astra does not exist in every world, nor would he punish any and every Zayne for being in love if Astra is not directly slighted

The first actual facts in this list of "Facts" lmao

Clarification though: Zayne cannot connect to Dawnbreaker at will, nor vice versa. Zayne is not even sure who he is

If Dawnbreaker could connected to Zayne whenever he could, he'd be a lot less depressed, but as of this point in the story, all he can do is hope that he dreams of her whenever he falls asleep

This person's wording is a bit hard to understand, but if they mean that Dawnbreaker and Zayne exist in alternate universes like two sides of the same coin, at the same time, then I agree with that, especially since Dawnbreaker isn't considered a myth.

I really don't understand why people keep pulling Astra in here. Zayne, as in Doctor Zayne, doesn't want MC to be near him because his evol can go berserk when he can't control it. This is due to him overworking himself

But Zayne loves MC and she is the only cure to calm his evol and convince him to take breaks from work when he otherwise wouldn't, further calming him down and keeping his evol under control

Things don't always have to be super cryptic. Sometimes a doctor just wants to keep the person he loves safe, regardless of his own feelings

I don't remember anything in the story that mentions anything about that last sentence. But this world does seem to revolve around protocores, what they can do to people, and what they can do to the world (see: that big hole in the sky)

I have not read or seen this article? This section seems to just be taking the Jungian idea of the collective unconscious and throwing "energy" into the mix. This is a whole nothing burger to me tbh. I don't know what they're trying to say here. MC and Zayne are going to change the world?

Or Zayne and MC just love each other in their current lifetimes. In the myths, they never mention either of them feeling familiar with each other

Scanning through the rest of this section gives me nothing else.

Is it that hard to believe that Zayne and MC would fall in love with each other despite not knowing, or even having, a past with each other? Sure, they would fall in love in every lifetime, but it's not because of that repetition that they fall in love. Down to their cores, they just fit together.

An interesting thought, something I don't agree as canon but it's a nice idea.

I agree with this section up until this point. Which is like 2 sentences into the theory lmao

If I'm understanding this person correctly, their theory is that MC is the personification of Life, and Zayne is the personification of Time, like gods. Yeah, it's an interesting thought, but I don't see it as canon

There are many allusions in this story to various mythologies (notably Greek mythologies) so LADS's story reflecting that isn't that wild of an idea. But until we get confirmation of any of this, I just see this as fanfic

I agree that the aether cores are special, but the aether cores belonging to MC? That's pretty farfetched to me

And, as I've said, the way I read Master of Fate's ending is completely different to how this person read it, so I just stopped reading this section here.

Is it?? So hard?? To believe that Doctor Zayne loves MC because?? He just?? Loves her??? He loves her for who she is?? And not because she overcame these wild stories in her past lives??

I don't agree with the first part but I can see Dawnbreaker and Zayne collaborating

One of my theories I've written about before was that Dawnbreaker may be the key to saving MC, in every world. Because he doesn't have an MC of his own, his desperation to reach her would lead him to finding ways to transverse time and space with the intention of helping her. He may not be able to control where he lands up, so wherever he lands, he looks for MC and helps every version of her until he can reach the girl he loves

Oh boy, we're going off the rails here. Okay...

If Zayne had an aether core, he would know eventually because through his medical training, there would be no doubt that he, his classmates, or his professors would've noticed. Maybe they practiced using the medical monitoring machines on each other or maybe Zayne got a test result one day that told him he had a core in him that was doing some crazy things to his insides, but I don't believe that someone could go their whole lives without knowing they had a core in them. He is just another human with an evol, so I agree with this...one sentence.

The aether core is something we have to sacrifice? I don't think so. It was put into us against our will. Who exactly are we sacrificing it to? If anything, it was sacrificed to US. Regardless of all that sacrificing thing, the aether core is not a singular item anyway. It's a class of powerful cores. If protocore = prototype, then the aether core would be the finished product

If Zayne is Astra, why is Astra just using himself as a pin cushion when Foreseer catches feelings? If Astra loves MC, why would this warrant punishment? Zayne would want Foreseer to treat her well and give her the love she needs, and in turn, he would want to see Foreseer be loved in return

If Astra is the collective consciousness of all Zaynes, that raises even more questions as to why he's punishing Foreseer for catching feelings

This whole idea of Astra = Zayne makes absolutely no sense to me tbh

The idea of a higher being reaching into every possible reality is something I'm not opposed to but I still don't believe that Astra exists in any world besides Foreseer's. Outside of his myth, there's been no mention of Astra, so until we get confirmation of that, I just don't believe that EVERY ZAYNE IS FORBIDDEN TO FALL IN LOVE

Because again... if Astra = Zayne, why the fuck would he punish himself and keep both him and MC from being loved?

So lmao... yeah I'm sorry for dunking all over this, but a lot of this just does not make any sense to me. There were mentions of an article and things being claimed as "fact" that I've never heard of so if you have any proof of this, feel free to send it my way

But I mean. If someone has to discredit an entire main character just to claim something as "fact" and build an entirely new story around him, I just can't agree with it

Anyway, here's a Zayne lmao

#love and deepspace #zayne love and deepspace #shut up elara #headcanons #asks

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xenodelic · 4 months

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Actually curious about your take on this. I have been bothered by MUD because I feel like it is the antithesis of antipsychiatric thinking, where disorders are coined based on new patterns of behavior to be pathologized -- and this pathologization is glorified, like in the case of the most popular one (fantasy personality disorder) taking what seems to be benign, if not normal, traits or traits of other conditions like MADD and explaining them in the frameworks of symptoms of a disorder as if it's a DSM entry... Many of these coiners don't seem to have a real understanding of how psychiatry works as a social system rather than a fun hobby. That's how I've been conceiving of it but I admit I really haven't looked into it too much (I think the tag "mud" is banned on Tumblr for unrelated reasons) so I'm curious to see if you all can help me understand it better?

Actually I think your observation/ critique is a very valid one. I do think many of the people participating in the coining of MUD (medically unrecognized disorders, for those out of the loop), are fundamentally upholding the structure of the psychiatric industry in the sense that they find new ways to pathologize human behavior.

However, we don't necessarily condemn MUD as a concept or community. We think that many folks in it are people who have been done harm or neglected by psychiatry, which is what has led them to coining new terms in the first place. I really doubt that someone who would identify as having Fantasy Personality Disorder, isn't genuinely struggling in some way that they feel isn't adequately addressed by whatever frameworks are currently avaliable.

We sympathize with that. Despite ourselves being heavily antipsych, we still strongly identify with the term DID because we feel it adequately labels our struggles with dissociation. For one reason or another, these individuals feel that in some way, the psychiatric industry has failed them. And their response to that is to create new terms within a similar framework to make up for those gaps.

We think that even in a hypothetical post-psychiatry world, people will still likely come up with terms to describe clusters of behaviors. If the term DID didn't exist, we'd likely try to come up with something to describe our struggles, because terms like "disordered plurality" don't cut it for us personally. There is an undeniable usefulness in being able to put a word on your experiences, even at risk of being reductive.

So overall, while I do agree that the MUD community has some issues with continuing the same patterns of pathologization. I think that it stems from the same issues that antipsych thinking does - that they've been failed and neglected psychiatry. I think they've simply chosen a different direction for how they respond to it.

In a way, one could consider the community based coining of new diagnostic labels as a criticism in and of itself. In the way it makes a parody of the supposed scientific, peer reviewed construction of diagnostic terms. It forces one to question what makes an "official" diagnostic label legitimate, as opposed to a MUD term. To us, turning it in a social activity is actually much closer to what we'd want to see in a post-psychiatry world. Where the creation of new mental health terminology falls to the community and the people experiencing it, as opposed to the hands of a beauracracy.

We do hope that those in the community read up more on antipsychiatry, and stray away from intentionally trying to copy the format and rhetoric of diagnostic manuals. I think they do this in an attempt to seem convincing in their legitimacy, but as you said it does unfortunately recreate some of the same problems that the current psychiatry industry has.

We think there's a lot of potential here for opening up questioning of psychiatry and pathologization in general, but there's a lot of work to be done for sure.

#antipsych #antipsychiatry #we responded to this at 4am so i hope this is coherent lol

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butterflydm · 6 months

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Hi! I just watched Dune pt 2 and was thinking about the Aiel-Fremen similarities amd was wondering if you had any thoughts about the comparison because I love the way you write about WOT?

Thank you!

Oh, yes! There are tons. Watching Dune Part 2 definitely reminded me of how much the Fremen and the Aiel have in common -- Jordan had said that any similarities are unintentional, which I'm guessing is true, because Jordan was very open about how much he used other sources as inspiration when he was building his world (given the premise of the world -- that time is a wheel and everything that happened in our world also happened in WoT, it makes a lot of sense that he would do that -- Dune is also set in the far-future of our own world as well, so they share that root in common too).

From what I've read in various places, it's more that Herbert and Jordan were drawing on some of the same real-life sets of historical societies (there's a run-down here, though unfortunately it looks like the page doesn't exist anymore outside of the wayback machine) to inspire their desert warriors, which led to a lot of their similarities.

But something that's really interesting to me are the ways in which Dune being sci-fi and Wheel of Time being fantasy had an impact on the creation and the writing of the two societies. (some of my thoughts below do contain spoilers for the later books in the Dune series!)

Dune is sci-fi -- prophecies aren't real (for the most part). So the prophecy that the Fremen believe in was actually seeded by the Bene Gesserit centuries ago as a 'surprise tool to help us later' for any Bene Gesserit who might find herself in trouble on the planet.

WoT is fantasy and prophecy is very real, though not always interpreted correctly. The old Aes Sedai who tells the Aiel their prophecy for the future was very much on the level and trying to do her best to protect and save the Aiel rather than setting them up to be manipulated centuries down the road.

The Aiel (at least the leaders of the Aiel) are also very aware that they are meant to be tools in the hands of their prophesied figure and that only "a remnant of a remnant" will survive. They have been explicitly setting up their society as a tool, I would argue, by telling their people that the Three-Fold Land's purpose was to shape them to make up for their 'sin' against the Aes Sedai. So there's a self-awareness to their choices, even in the beginning. They know that their savior is also their doom and walk into it with their eyes open.

This is also a big difference in Paul himself and Rand, in that Paul is a manufactured savior and Rand is a real one -- a large part of that lies in that Paul is a sci-fi protagonist and Rand is a fantasy one (though we could always bring up Paul's son, Leto II, who becomes monstrous in order to try to save humanity from an existential threat).

Paul is a critique of the white savior trope -- he is a complete outsider to Fremen society, takes them over using lies that exploit their religious beliefs, and uses them to further his own agenda, destroying them in the process.

Rand is half-Aiel, so that makes him more akin to Paul's children with Chani than to Paul himself in that regard, in that he does have that blood connection to the Aiel (which lets him experience their history through the glass columns), but he wasn't raised by them, so there's that distance too.

But both Paul and Rand are very aware that they are using the Fremen-Aiel as a tool for their own plans (but again, here I loop back to the intentionality -- not only do the Aiel leaders know this all along, but Rand reveals to all of the Aiel the truth about their past, which means that they immediately fracture in a way that takes the Fremen years to begin doing), so they have that in common.

In addition to the difference between sci-fi and fantasy, we also have a big difference (in the books) in how the two sets of books examine religion. Religion is a much bigger and more explicit thing in Dune than in WoT -- Paul is able to build his following by exploiting his followers' religion to turn them into fanatics. Now we do have an example of some of Rand's followers turning into fanatics, but it's not in the Aiel but in Masema and what he does on the west coast, and the Dragonsworn are mostly not focused on, especially not in Rand's actual plotlines.

But, yeah, Paul Atreides, Rand al'Thor, (and I add Anakin Skywalker) kinda all exist in this sort of venn diagram in my head that I'm going to try to plot out:

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jaggedteeth · 2 years

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as the u.s. tour comes to a close, i want to take a moment to talk about a phenomenon i’ve seen taking place within mcr internet fan spaces these last few months, my thoughts on it, and how i think it relates back to digital media literacy.

(before we start, i want to make it clear that i’m just some guy and i am definitely not the most qualified person to talk about this, but i think some of the things in this post really, really need to be said. my hope is not necessarily to change your mind or to “get you on my side,” but to encourage you to think critically and independently, even during your daily scroll on social media.)

————

so, what is this ominous phenomenon i’m talking about? i’m referring to some of the comments i’ve seen mcr fans make regarding gerard’s gender—specifically the public, speculative, and seemingly unironic ones that attempt to put a label or a semblance of a label on his gender nonconformity.

(i think now’s a good time to mention you should read this entire post before engaging with or commenting on it. stay with me. we’re in this together.)

here is a post that i think does a good job of explaining this a little more in-depth for anyone who’s out of the loop.

regardless of my personal opinions on all of this, i understand why it’s happening. much of mcr’s fanbase is trans and/or non-binary, and seeking out representation from familiar, comforting figures is not out of the ordinary. i don’t think anyone involved means harm, and this isn’t a callout post. i’m just adding to a discussion i think has been largely one-sided up until recently.

————

what is the point of me making this post? to put it bluntly, i disagree with how much of the discussion around gerard’s gender identity and expression is being conducted.

(again, please stay with me.)

what is it, specifically, that i disagree with? is it the celebration of gerard’s gender nonconformity? is it the possibility they might not identify, partially or wholly, with their gender assigned at birth? is it the joy their gender expression has inspired in many mcr fans?

no. it’s none of those things; not even close. i can’t even put into words how i, a gender nonconforming trans man, felt when gerard wore his cheerleader dress in nashville. it was a special moment and i was so happy to see him happy.

but something that bothers me about the “gender wars” narrative is the idea that anyone who’s not all-in is, if not an outright transphobe, someone with deep-rooted biases they need to work through. i haven’t seen this from everyone, but it’s floated around here and there.

nuance in conversations like this is incredibly important. the human experience is rarely black and white. and i believe the notion that it must be, especially when it comes to topics such as queer identity, largely stems from closed-mindedness and fear, conscious or unconscious.

i have certainly witnessed people online assert that gerard must be cis, and there’s no way he can’t be cis, implying if he ever identified as anything other than cis that would be bad and gross and weird. i strongly disagree with that viewpoint because it’s transphobic and gerard is a real person who none of us know personally who can do whatever the fuck he wants. in the same way, i disagree with the viewpoint that gerard must be trans, and there’s no way he can’t be trans, implying anyone who disagrees is a transphobe who refuses to pay attention. because gerard is a real person who none of us know personally who can do whatever the fuck he wants.

i’m aware gerard has also made comments in the past about his journey with gender identity, the connection he feels to women and femininity, and even his experimentation with drag while he was in college. he’s said he should be referred to with either he/him or they/them pronouns, he’s an earnest supporter of the trans community, and he’s historically rejected the sexist shithead rock-dude stereotype.

i’m not here to downplay any of those things, nor am i trying to invalidate anyone who has taken comfort in or identified with those things. just a couple of points i would like you to think about, though:

some cis people also question their gender identity and/or use multiple sets of pronouns for a multitude of reasons (i’m not saying gerard has to be cis, i’m just giving you an extra viewpoint to chew on);

i’ve personally met plenty of men or male-aligned people who strongly identify with women and femininity. i strongly identify with women and femininity and i’m still 100% a trans man and will throw anyone who tries to tell me otherwise directly into the sun (again, i’m not saying gerard must be a man or male-aligned);

gender nonconformity and transness are complex, nuanced topics. labels can be useful, but they are not a be-all-end-all;

and i’m going to be blunt here—assuming and/or declaring someone is transfem when they haven’t publicly referred to themselves as such, just because they are comfortable discussing their own femininity and sometimes have a feminine presentation and feminine mannerisms, is basically an upgraded form of gender essentialism and completely disregards the existence and experiences of amab cis-passing queer people and gender nonconforming people. i understand it’s a tough pill to swallow, but intent doesn’t always equal impact, and just because someone may not see it that way doesn’t mean that’s not what they’re doing.

even if gerard is transfem, he’s still a real person who has a right to privacy and autonomy, and he never has to publicly label himself if he doesn’t want to. no one is entitled to seek out the details of his identity, but least of all us, a bunch of strangers on the internet who will probably never have a full conversation with him.

not one of us is an “authority” or “expert” on gerard way or my chemical romance. we can learn about the band’s history and public personas or laugh at the funny, quirky parts of their lore or cry when we think about how far they’ve come in the public eye, but what gives us the right to dig into every tiny crevice of gerard’s work and interactions and public existence searching for “clues” as to whether or not he’s trans? what gives us the right to label his gender identity for him—a process that is incredibly personal? i know “parasocial” is basically just another hollow internet buzzword at this point, but let’s not forget the very real consequences that parasocial relationships can certainly have.

do i think it would be fucking awesome if gerard came out as trans tomorrow? absolutely. do i also think it’s fucking awesome that they’re an older gnc person? that so many queer people have discovered and accepted themselves in part because of them? that they now exude joy onstage and bravely dress and act the way they do? one million times yes. and we can celebrate those real, concrete, factual things without tinhatting, overstepping boundaries, or jumping to conclusions. if they were to come out as trans tomorrow, that wouldn’t invalidate any of my arguments or make the behavior i’m critiquing acceptable, because the point isn’t about whether or not gerard is trans, the point is about how some of mcr’s fanbase is treating them.

gerard has uplifted and respected us time and time again without even knowing us as individuals. so i want you to take a moment to sincerely reflect and ask yourself this question: where is our respect for him?

————

alright. i’m glad you’re still here. let’s talk about what can actually be done about this.

i think a lot of this problem boils down to a lack of critical thinking. yes, that’s thrown around a lot as a clapback on this website, but i don’t mean it as an insult. we’re all guilty of not thinking critically, myself included. especially in the age of the internet, it’s impossible to be perfect all the time, when we’re bombarded with information from every angle.

this is why learning about and consistently practicing media literacy is so important. it’s something i’m passionate about because i’ve seen firsthand, time and time again, how it can make or break a person and their worldview, to the point that i spent hours writing about it for my upper-level journalism courses (before i dropped out lol) and worked for two semesters as an editor for a college newspaper.

if these conversations about gerard were happening in private group chats between friends who already know one another, my opinions on the topic itself would still stand, but it wouldn’t be any of my business and i obviously wouldn’t think to write an entire post about it. but everything changes when these discussions are had on a public platform with little regard for nuance.

“misinformation,” or the unintentional spread of false information—not to be confused with disinformation, where the person spreading it knows what they’re saying isn’t true—might not be a totally accurate descriptor for some of what’s going on here, honestly. none of us can prove what gerard is thinking or feeling. but based on what we do know, what he’s publicly and concretely shared with us, i think it’s as close as we can get. a lot of the posts i’ve seen don’t read to me as “hehe funny celebrity headcanon that’s obviously just for fun.” or even “i relate to this person’s art and/or publicized experiences, but i understand i don’t know them and at least some of that is just projection.” rather, they seem to make invasive leaps and use inaccurate vocabulary while simultaneously taking themselves very, very seriously, and that concerns me more than if a random tumblr user was just trolling to start fandom drama or something.

to put things into perspective, this is why every single one of my journalism professors drilled it into my head that you have to get your news from multiple sources. those sources must have differing perspectives and you need to look at every single one with a critical eye, no matter how trustworthy they may seem (listen, i get it’s way more complicated than that and i could go off on a whole other tangent about the glaring problems with mainstream news media in the united states and not in a cringefail right-wing way, but this is an mcr blog, so let’s just focus on the basic principle here).

obviously, i don’t think anyone should engage with transphobes unless it’s for the sake of making stronger counter-arguments, because their beliefs are provably harmful and false. but someone making good-faith criticisms of speculating about a stranger who has not publicly come out as trans and/or non-binary is markedly different. i’m not the only person who’s written something like this, and i encourage everyone to seek out similar posts and think about the points they’re making, even if you don’t agree with every single one of them.

this speculative commentary on gerard’s identity has spread like wildfire and created a polarizing echo chamber, from what i’ve seen. i understand why. but it’s still deeply worrying to me. seeing as this is primarily happening on tumblr, i’m concerned less because i think gerard will ever see or care about these posts (that’s obviously still important, though), and more because of what this says about how people in mcr fanspaces view celebrities they feel strongly about and engage with information they see online at large.

please do research on digital media literacy, and please use reputable sources with authority on journalism and communications to do so. don’t take what you see on social media at face value. don’t trust any one social media user to feed you commentary or shape your viewpoints, and that includes me. read with a critical eye. think about the possible implications and intentions behind the words other people use, big or small, and why those might be there. be aware of your own biases and blindspots. remember that you’ll never be perfect, not even close. and while you’re at it, learn more about the experiences of gnc people, and the experiences of queer people of all different ages, backgrounds, cultures, races, identities, perspectives, lived experiences, etcetera. if you can, engage in diverse irl lgbtq+ spaces. they put things into perspective in a way the internet never will.

but i still use tumblr in 2022, so what do i know?

————

if there’s anything you think i overlooked or misconstrued in this post, tell me! i want this to be a living, breathing conversation, not a monologue. these are important issues and they deserve our time and attention. thank you so much for reading.

#terfs and truscum don't fucking touch this post btw you're not welcome in this conversation or anywhere near my blog #tumblr like fucked up the spacing between words for some reason but man idc anymore i've already been working on this for way too long #mcr #my chemical romance #gerard way

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