#there's mess here there's the pressures of a violent world

[rotzaprachim]

kissing andor the show on the mouth for not only giving us space lesbians but making them messy and dysfunctional 

[starrclown]

I've see ALOT of LMK angst and I have nothing better to do (cause it's late at night) and I'm not working on my LMK apocalypse au right now sooo-

LMK ANGST HEADCANNONS

Triggerwarning for Violence, Blood, Suicidal thoughts, and other general upsetting topics.

(Feel free to leave yours below. Let's make these characters sad together!)

:D

Pigsy gets upset when people joke about Wukong being Mk's dad. It's insulting to him, the one that raises Mk since he was so little.

Wukong is someone that craves physically touch but also can't stand it. It stems from all the violence he's been apart of + the crown messed him up alot. He was SUPER uncomfortable with Mk touching him in the beginning. It has to be on his terms if you wanna touch him.

Macaque doesn't have a heart beat anymore.

Because of Macaque never coming back when Wukong needed him, Wukong had no trust that Macaque will come back if they have a argument. He assumes that Macaque is just gone and gets upset about it. Eventually Macaque comes back and realizes Wukong's upset but he doesn't bring it up cause he doesn't know how.

Redson doesn't really understand why his father doesn't seem to like him. He assumed that his dad would be overjoyed to see him again, not how he's acting now.

Mei had many breakdowns because of her grades and the pressure to be a spectacular student.

Pigsy got bullied alot in school for being a pig demon. It wasn't everyone, most people liked him, just a specific group of kids.

To add on to #7, Tang used to beat himself up over not being able to help Pigsy. He HATED seeing Pigsy getting bullied but he knew that if he tried to start a fight he would either get beat because he can't fight or get himself kicked out of school.

Mk gets nightmares of Wukong getting forced into the scroll. Sometimes he wonders what would of happened if Wukong never got out. He usually ends up crying.

The closest thing Sandy ever got to being violent is when one of his cats scared him and he accidently dropped Mo. He cried. Alot. (Mo was fine but he just hates his cats being hurt.)

Sandy still doesn't know Hunstman is dead. He just thinks that Huntsman was scared of him so he never came back. (Guess Hunstmans my favorite and he's dead and i hate it here god dammit.)

No one can say anything about Azure or Azure's death around Wukong because he will get upset. Macaque made a joke one time and Wukong lost his shit. He's still kinda shooken up about it.

Some of the baby monkies recognize Macaque as the one disguised as Wukong that ate the monkey and passed it around. Those monkies REFUSE to be around him. They get violent if they have to be around him.

Nezha wants to see Wukong, Redson, and the others more but his job is so demanding he barely gets to leave.

Wukong physically couldn't be around Tang for long periods of time when they first met. He got more comfortable with him over time but Tang reminded him to much of Tripitaka and he couldn't handle it.

Mei doesn't yell out of anger, like serious anger alot. When she finally yelled at Wukong because of the fire, all Wukong saw was Ao Lie screaming at him. (Stole that headcannon from a friend of mine. Thanks Ainnur you ruined my life.)

Mk brought up the fact that Wukong was willing to put the fire into himself and sacrifice himself, almost certainly killing himself in the process one time. Wukong kinda laughed and just said "Yeah, had to save the world bud. It's a shame Macaque messed up my plan, the world woulda been a little bit more peaceful if me AND Lady Bone Demon died." He wasn't even trying to admit suicidal feelings, he was just being honest. This scared the SHIT out of Mk because Wukong just admitted that he can and will kill himself if he feel he needs too.

Sandy often feels left out of the group and not as important but he doesn't wanna ruin everyone's fun so he stays quiet.

Bai he was ready to die when she was found by the Monkie Gang. She wasn't scared of death anymore.

Bai he was scared of Wukong when they first met face to face. Wukong apologized and explained himself. Over time she got a little more comfortable with him. She understands why he's apologizing but at that point she was so ready to die she didn't care who did it.

Redson wants to be around Sun Wukong again but he doesn't know how to start the relationship again. Same on Wukongs part but he's a bit more forward.

Macaque gets physical in fights fast. Partly cause his fights with Peng, Partly cause of his life before Wukong, Partly cause of Lady Bone Demon. If Macaque thinks a situation will get rough, he'll try to fight but if he thinks he'll lose he'll dip.

Princess Iron Fan unintentionally critiques Redsons's looks all the time. It messes with him alot so he's quite insecure.

Mei feels the need to always be upbeat and cheerful so Mk doesn't sink to far into depression. She can tell when he does this for her but she doesn't bring it up.

Pigsy's worst fear is that Mk won't come back home. The nightmares he's had of this is brutal.

I could make more but I'm sleeeeepppy. I'll make a part two one day though. Leave your own headcannons cause seeing other people break down these characters is so fun.

(How some people think Mk will be in season 5)

- ⭐️StarClown⭐️

[jubileemon]

Orihime's Powers and Representation

Orihime's power in regards to her characterization. Orihime is an idealist. She exists in a very violent world, yet refuses to fight unless she's under really terrible pressure. She used to see Ichigo as her Prince Charming, her Knight in Shining Armor, until she realized that is simply wasn't the case. The girl was pretty much living in her own little fantasy world to cope with her HUGE troubles, which is why yanking her out of it and making her face a reality so stange to her own left her so distraught. So what do her powers do exactly? Reject reality.

Also in regards to Orihime, the reason why Loly and Menoly hate her even more after she uses her Reality Warper powers to bring them back to life. is more complicated than just being two ungrateful sadists. To start, Hollows/Arrancar/Espada as a whole are beings that are born when souls don't cross to Soul Society and stay in our world, becoming corrupted with supernatural energies. And here, two Arrancar girls (Hollows who have removed their mask and gained Shinigami-like powers) have witnessed how a lowly human has the power to undo death, pretty much messing with everything they know about their own existence. What is a crowning moment for Orihime, in the view of these two girls (and especially Loly, who had a better look at all of this than Menoly since she was horribly mutilated by Grimmjow yet she was not dead) is like catching view of an abomination, which explains the whole "she's a monster" deal.

Hollows, beings that are born from death, despair and fear, are being faced with a being who can literally rewrite reality so that events do not occur. Taken in this context, Orihime is less like an angel of mercy to these two and more like a God from their perspective. A being whose nature and abilities are so alien that they outright defy explanation. Considering this, its understandable that they would react less than pleasantly to what happened to them.

Further to the above point on Orihime's character in relation to her powers — there's a very specific reason why Orihime actually used to be useless on the battle field, and it's not any kind of limit on her power. It's been heavily alluded to that Orihime's power is pretty much limited by her own imagination. Naturally, when it comes to helping people, her healing powers can reverse pretty much anything. However, think about who Orihime is. She wouldn't hurt a fly if she could help it. She can take down random Hollows like that mook that was attacking Tatsuki in the school because it's monstrous in appearance, and they'll hurt more people if she doesn't attack. Place a humanoid enemy in front of her, and will take her a while to see that she should consider them an enemy, and she simply cannot attack them unless it's really needed. This is why Tsubaki's power will always be the most limited of her set.

Actually, about Tsubaki... think about the Shiten Koushun aka Shield of Four Heavens' Resistance. How is it formed? Via adding Tsubaki to the Three God Reflection Shield, thus making him turn a defensive barrier into an offensive weapon. Tsubaki is the weakest of the six Rikka spirits as well as the one who's less like her, personality wise; and the ones forming the Reflection Shield (Hinagiku, Lilly and Baigon) are relatively similar to her in character. This means that, if she wants to join the battle effectively, Orihime must accept to use Tsubaki yet not by simply sending him off towards the enemy (like many of her haters want her to), but by integrating him to the side that she dominates the most. Only by using Tsubaki in combination with Hinagiku, Lily, and Baigon can she draw his attack potential... mirroring how Orihime must now fight alongside Ichigo, Chad, and others if she wants to not stay behind. Also, when was the Shiten Koushun seen first? When she and Ichigo were attacked by Ginjou. Who was actually a humanoid enemy (more exactly the formwr Substitute Shinigami, but we didn't know that back then, and neither did she). This means that Orihime either is working on the issue mentioned above or has already gotten past behind it.

As for her Santen Kesshun (Three God Reflection Shield)? It too, is not the fragile thing it seems to be. It is specifically stated to Reject an attack and its consequences. It stands to perfectly good reason that it doesn't matter if the shield shatters instantly or not — another can always be thrown up. What matters is that whether the shield shatters or not, it genuinely DOES reject the attack that hits it.

Furthermore, it actually makes a ton of sense that it shatters so easily, too. Orihime's powers are a form of reality warping, after all, being what Aizen calls "the Rejection of Events"; she's essentially the Queen of Retcons. When her base shield blocks an attack, it also retcons that attack out of existence. But then, that raises the question... if there was never any attack to block, then why would she even make a shield in the first place? The reason it shatters isn't that it's fragile; it's the shield disappearing in a Puff of Logic because the attack it was meant to block suddenly never existed in the first place.

As for her Santen Kesshun (Three God Reflection Shield)? It too, is not the fragile thing it seems to be. It is specifically stated to Reject an attack and its consequences. It stands to perfectly good reason that it doesn't matter if the shield shatters instantly or not — another can always be thrown up. What matters is that whether the shield shatters or not, it genuinely DOES reject the attack that hits it.

Furthermore, it actually makes a ton of sense that it shatters so easily, too. Orihime's powers are a form of reality warping, after all, being what Aizen calls "the Rejection of Events"; she's essentially the Queen of Retcons. Logically, when her base shield blocks an attack, it also retcons that attack out of existence. But then, that raises the question... if there was never any attack to block, then why would she even make a shield in the first place? The reason it shatters isn't that it's fragile; it's the shield disappearing because the attack it was meant to block suddenly never existed in the first place.

[happysparklingshadows]

𝙽𝚊𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚎 𝚂𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚌𝚌𝚒𝚘 + 𝚈𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝙰𝚕𝚙𝚑𝚊𝚋𝚎𝚝 (’96)

Warnings: Gore, Drug use, Being high and having sex, Smut, Mentions of threats of suicides and self hard, Cannibalism, and mature themes.

Note: So sexy and so hard to write for lol! I hope you like this! @zhivaxo​ @g1rlsriot

*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*

Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?

Natalie is such a simp. They will hug you randomly, hold your hand while walking, kiss you when you aren’t paying attention, and draw shapes into your arm while you go to bed. Natalie will do anything for you if it would make you happy and make you stay. Natalie is very intense when she wants to be. Nat doesn’t care if it’s too much, she knows you understand her as she understands you, and she doesn’t care if it scares you. Nat whispers sweet nothings in your ears while you cuddle or when she holds you while you want the hunt beside her. Natalie is a huntress and will fight for you and with you to understand that she is your protector and provider. I just want you not to get worried if Natalie comes to you with wide manic eyes and tells you how much she loves you, how pure you indeed are, and how good you are. You are her purpose. 

Blood: How messy are they willing to get regarding their darling?

Natalie isn’t afraid to do anything to protect and keep her favorite person. But Natalie wouldn’t want you to see her like this, violent and ruthless, so she does any fights or killing behind your back. Nat is more willing to control the situation to keep you than to kill someone. Natalie is the one who comes up with the tiger pits and how they will hunt each other in the wilderness, she doesn’t mind if you are fed and full. 

Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them?

Fuck no. Natalie wouldn’t kidnap you but keep you in an invisible cage beside her. You can’t leave her. She doesn’t mock you because she doesn’t want you to leave her. She doesn’t want to give you a reason. 

Darling: Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will?

She would pressure her into having drugs with her. I can see her making you take acid and have a wonderful time and telling you in a vulnerable state that you two were born for each other and were meant to be together now. And you would believe it wholeheartedly, and it would lead to having some awesome high sex. 

“You’re so beautiful…” You sigh as you run a finger down her nose to her lips. An aura shines off of Natalie that is like a rainbow of love radiating off of her. Her baby blue eyes stare into your face with a soft fondness. “God, princess, you are so fucking gorgeous.” 

She rolls on top of you on the bed, and you giggle as you wrap your arms around her neck to kiss her lips. It felt like heaven to touch her. It tingled your fingertips to feel her; it felt like you were in the best place in the world in her arms. Natalie kisses you and lays her body weight onto yours, her pelvis against yours. 

She rolls her hips against yours and sighs; she looks into your blown-out eyes and says as she rubs against yours deliciously, “You were born for me, do you feel it? We were meant to be here.” 

“Yes,” You moan and kiss her lips sloppily as your hand claws into her shirt to let you feel her skin against your lips. 

“Fuck, yes.” Natalie whimpers as she rocks her hips and hitches when you roll back against her. 

Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?

Teen Natalie would expose her whole heart to you, and she would just love you seriously as she does with Travis. Because Travis isn’t messing with her heart, Natalie feels safe with you and lets you express everything. Everything in the relationship is codependent, and every thought, feeling, and sense is shared. 

Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back?

I feel like Natalie is not pretty in a fight. I feel like Teen Natalie has an extremely anxious attachment style and will do anything to keep you by her in a fight. If you leave for air, you are abandoning her. If you sigh, you don’t care anymore. If you look away, you don’t want her. She will say some evil shit in a fight to keep you in front of her fight because at least you are still engaging with her. I see Natalie have tears in her eyes, wrapping her arms around you to stop you from leaving and begging you to stop, begging the world to stop. 

Game: Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?

No, she is very deadass about everything with you. You are her world, and she doesn’t think you even moving an inch is a funny matter. 

Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them?

She will export her mental illness and threaten to harm herself to various degrees to keep with her. She knows it's fuck up, but it doesn’t fucking matter if you are still with her. 

Lies to you about where the meat came from. It came from your best friend, and she fed it to you in the eyes of it being deer meat, that it was nothing to worry about. You were losing too much weight. You would learn in the morning the truth, and it breaks something inside of you.

 “Get the fuck away from me!” 

“I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry! Please, listen to me!” 

“NO! HOW DARE YOU!” You sobbed violently out in the winter air. The scraps of your best friend on top of a pile of burnt wood and a dead fire. She was cooked. The one who braided your hair, let you cry on her shoulder, talked to you about boys and gossiped about girls with, laughed with, grieved with, the girl you went to pre-school with, and survived a plane crash together. She is gone. You told her goodnight, and now she is dead and gone in the morning like she was nothing but a deer in the woods. 

Gone into your stomach and is digested. You broke her down in your stomach and carried her life inside you. 

“Please! You were starving, and you were going to die!” 

“I WOULD HAVE RATHER DIED!” You cried hysterically as the other girls circled the porch, watching as you died inside. 

Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?

Natalie doesn’t have a clean-cut plan because she doesn’t have one for herself, let alone her life with you. I see her getting with you in the wilderness, it allows her to be gay and let go of a lot of her comfort, so she just wants to live to see the next day. She doesn’t want to live without you, but it is too painful for Natalie to think about a life IF they get rescued, which is getting bleaker by the minute. 

Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?

Natalie gets jealous, but she copes pretty well. I think Natalie would just try harder to get your attention because, of course, others want you. You are you. It doesn’t feel well, and she wants to fucking cut them open, but she just moves on from it quickly because it’s her that you sleep with at night. 

Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling?

Being with Natalie is like that puppy dog “us against the world” love; she treats you like this precious person. You are her favorite person and her only comfort. I believe Natalie has Bpd and would put her partner on a pedestal, always returning to them repeatedly. 

Love letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

You and Natalie were always friends on the team, and you were friends with Shauna and Jackie more than her. And when the crash happened, and you two were the best shots in the team, you two naturally become closer when you are hunting together. You smoke some pot, and things just happen from there. 

Sitting in the plane that almost killed you doesn’t seem to have the dreading and glooming aura it usually does, all because of the girl in front of you rolling a joint. 

You giggle as you watch her lip the paper. You watch her twist the paper gently to close it up for you both to smoke it. She lifts and places the joint to your lips and smirks slightly.

“Okay, pretty princess, take it easy and suck in slowly.” She rasped to you as she lit the end with her lighter, her eyes flicked back up to your eyes. 

As she said, you suck in the joint with your eyes looking down at hers. You wanted to kiss her and have her eyes on you constantly.  

Mask: Are their true colors drastically different from how they act around everyone else?

No, Natalie is just Natalie. She doesn't like masking and acting “formal” or “professional” because it is just not her vibe. Natalie is straight up with her feelings, and Nat would never act out of line. She just does her own thing. 

Naughty: How would they punish their darling?

Natalie is into spanking her partners, and she wouldn’t be above tying you up if you were very rotten. But if it was something small, she just rolls her eyes and makes a snarky comment but gets over it. 

Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling?

None, except your free will to leave the relationship. She will do anything and threaten anyone to keep you. 

Patience: How patient are they with their darling?

Natalie usually needs to be more patient, but she tries her hardest with you. She gives you time to figure out her instructions, or when you're lining up a shot, or you try to figure out how to grab the antler of a buck you have killed together. Inside Natalie, it feels like a little kid stomping their feet, begging you to hurry up with things in your relationship. She wants to say I love you in the first few days, she wants to have sex very soon, and she wants to have some proof of devotion to your relationship very early. But she understands, and it happens when you are ready to do anything like that with her. 

Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?

I believe you and Natalie made a pact to never kill yourselves no matter what happens because you two must live together and keep going on. If you die, she would have to move on because of the pact, but she would never find someone again because of all the trauma of losing you and probably eating you.

Regret: Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go?

Natalie would feel bad for how she acts sometimes because she can’t control herself. She feels like a fucking weird imperfect freak that can only fuck things up. That said, Natalie will never let you go because of that. You are the only thing she hasn’t fucked up. 

Stigma: What brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)?

Childhood. I think that Natalie growing up in an abusive low-income home, with parents beating each other and being the worst versions of themselves, really affected Natalie’s idea of love. She always knew her parents were horrible to each other. She would watch princess movies with her parents' screams echoing in the kitchen. Nat always wanted to find an escape, someone to save her, some kind of Prince to come by and save her. As she grew up, she grew bitter at the idea and didn’t even like men if they were anything like her dad. Most are like her dad in her eyes. It became more significant; Nat needed something bigger and more consuming than just being together. Marriage meant nothing to her, but being stuck and interconnected with someone else was all she wanted—someone who couldn’t leave her and someone who would love her. 

Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?

Horrible. Terrible. Natalie would start to cry and try desperately to fix the issue, explain herself, anything. If it were just out of a need to release a feeling, she would be beside you, letting you vent anything you need with a hand on your back. She loves you so much, and it hurts her to see you cry. 

Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic Yandere?

I think that Natalie is not all that uncommon, and her tendencies seem more like a more extreme relationship with someone with Bpd (as someone with bpd), and it would be something that Natalie would try to suppress as much as possible. 

Vice: What weakness can their darling exploit to escape?

Boozes, weed, and her fear of abandonment. She would fold to what you wanted her to do if you mentioned or implied any of them. You can leave her if you need to “escape” from her, but she will always find her way back to you and her together. 

Wit’s end: Would they ever hurt their darling?

Emotionally, never physically. Natalie would though some things from her past, how you don’t love her enough, and she would just though things you would never want to hear from someone you love. She has terrible impulse control.

Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over?

The ends of the fucking earth. She would do anything for you and fucking hurt, burn, stab, and destroy whatever has to do for you. Nothing will stop her. No morals, laws, or ethics could make her slow down with her goal. 

Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

It takes a couple of days to realize and then act on her urges. 

Zenith: Would they ever break their darling?

Co-dependence and drug use. I feel like weed and alcohol, and more profound drugs to exploit your vulnerability and love. The events of the wilderness make it impossible for you two not to build a codependent relationship because it is us against the world. 

Yandere Level

 8/10 (You are very aware that you are in a codependent relationship that leads to the toxic side sometimes, but you don’t know how far Natalie will actually go for you) 

Freedom Level

8/10 (You have your own life but Natalie would like to be not that far behind. She doesn’t overstay her welcome but is always at a arms length distance for you to have her)

Lottie  ✿  Misty  

[wanderingblindly]

nr 30 landoscar

Hellloooooooooo the kiss is small but trust that it's there! And comforting! here's the link for more prompts <33333

Soothsaying

He's just – you know how Lando is.

He slams the door behind him, the sound echoes through his driver room. He's nearly vibrating, shaking from the adrenaline and shaking from the frustration – sweat cold and tears hot. With a resounding knock, he rests against the door, head knocking back against it.

Thud.

Like his car spinning out on the track, smashing against the walls until it comes to a pitiful stop – tapping against the final barrier with just enough force to jerk Lando's head back.

Thud.

"Fuck," He hisses, pressing his palms into his eyes. His fingers are unsteady, they feel detached from him. Hot and cold, hot and cold, like he left al the parts of him that make sense back in his mangled car.

He's got the speed, but the mental strength. He's always his own worst critic

Lando takes a heavy step forward, staggering and uneven, before giving up; he makes a noise – some confused mix of a choked sob and a shout – and crumples to the floor, head between his knees.

He can't breathe. His lungs are spasming, tight like he's still careening towards the wall, tight like Will Buxton has his fucking hands deep in his chest and squeezes with each fucking word.

But you know Lando. Is he really world champion material?

Tears fall freely to the floor, Lando's unable to stop them. It's like he can't control his face, contorted up into some snotty, fevered, panicked mess, as he stares blankly at the short carpet between his feet.

Weakly, like a last attempt at feeling the world around him, Lando digs his nails into the floor; he tries to focus on the sensation, the scratchy-rough texture on his fingertips, bitten and picked raw since the season started. In the back of his mind – where he sits as a viewer, an occupant – he's aware of his uneven gasps, of his violent sniffing and coughing as he chokes on his own tears and spit.

It's not the look of a champion, a would-be champion. A couldn't-be champion, a never-be champion.

The door opens silently, closes with a gentle click.

Oscar doesn't say anything as he lowers himself next to Lando, sat patiently by his side, hands curled in his lap. But Lando can feel him, radiate solid warmth alongside the scratchy-rough carpet pressing into his legs. He feels like a lighthouse to a man drowning – stable upon the shore.

"I –" Lando hiccups towards the floor, any other words lost in the painful jerks of his diaphragm. "I-it's –"

"There's no rush." Oscar says simply, just like he always says simply. He leans slightly to the side, his shoulder resting against Lando's side; the pressure feels safe, restrictive like a harness as his ribs ache.

"B-bu –"

"Shhh," Oscar shifts further – adjusts until their sides are completely aligned, touching as much as possible without Lando unfurling. "Just breathe with me, ok?" He whispers, turning his head to press a gentle kiss to Lando's slumped shoulder.

After a shaky, desperate inhale: "Ok."

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

So, the Miraculous Ladybug TV Tropes page recently added this under the Broken Aesop section on the YMMV page:

Adrien/Cat Noir had many instances where he could have discovered the identity of Ladybug/Marinette, but always respected the private life of his beloved, despite knowing that learning it would bring them closer (The only time when he learned it accidentally, Adrien was punished with the apocalypse, no less, and a Retcon.) His attitude was presented as the right thing to do. In the meantime, Alya has been akumatized on the fact she wanted to know Ladybug/Marinette's secrets. Both times, she tried to violently force the issue with her powers and the second time was after she tried pressuring her into revealing them. But, as a reward for her pushy behavior, Alya has been entrusted with Ladybug's identity and the secrets of the Miracle Box. And Adrien's reward for respecting her privacy? He's still (and more and more) left in the dark, and will very likely be the last one to know.

Any thoughts?

I don't fully agree, but it's also not exactly wrong.

I love Alya, but I've never been a fan of the fact that she learned Marinette's secret identity, especially because the episode where it happens - Gang of Secrets - really failed to make the confession feel like a wise move. It's one of the many episodes with a wacky moral.

For those who don't remember, the episode has most of Marinette's female friends worrying about her. They know that she's keeping secrets because, for some reason, Marinette didn't tell anyone about her breakup with Luka:

Rose: They were so cute together! Alya: Yeah, except they broke up. Juleka: He was like super sad when they did. Alya: But the real problem here is that Marinette never told us anything. If Luka hadn't told Juleka, who told Rose, who told Mylène, who then told Alix, who finally told me. Then I, her BF in the whole world would still be in the dark! Yesterday I was in the restroom and I heard her crying.

This is... really weird. Why didn't Marinette tell them? The episode never explains and I can't figure out her logic because they'd obviously learn the truth. There's no way that Juleka wouldn't know!

My best guess is that the writers wanted a conflict over secrets, but they didn't want to have Marinette's girl friends pick up on her Ladybug-based lies as that would invite a level of complexity that they really can't resolve. But that's a meta reason. As far as the actual text goes, there's nothing to explain this baffling choice.

What's even more weird is that making it about the Ladybug secrets would have worked if Alya was the only one worried because the episode ends with Alya learning the truth. Having the episode only be about Marinette and Alya would make a lot of sense. Instead, it's about the whole, rarely-seen girl group so we're stuck with the Luka conflict. Yay.

Either way, I'm not wild about the actions Alya and Co take. Their first choice is to call Marinette. When she doesn't pick up, they leave a very sweet message. If things ended there, then we'd be fine, but right after that, we get this:

Alya: Maybe we should go to her house. What do you think? Mylène: We'll give her an eternal friendship bracelet so she never forgets that friends can tell each other anything and that we'll always be there for her.

This isn't a terrible idea. Checking on a friend when you're worried about them is a reasonable thing. The problem is the way that check up goes down. The girls basically invade Marinette's room and start messing with her stuff like this is some fun little hangout session, almost discovering the miracle box in the process:

Marinette: What are you doing here? Alya: We're just checkin' in on you, girl. Rose: Aw, it looks just like a real house, look how the roof comes off to show the inside! Marinette:(frantically) No! No, don't touch that! Move away! (As Rose opens the roof, Marinette gets down, pushing past through her friends and Rose as she hides what is inside of the dollhouse, while Rose accidentally drops the roof, which cracks. The girls gasp in shock.) Rose:(kneels to pick up the cracks) Sorry, Marinette! Marinette:(angrily) Will you please leave my room?! Alya: Chill out Marinette, it's just a doll house. We'll totally help. Marinette: No you won't, please go! Alya: Okay Marinette, there's clearly something wrong and we're not leaving you like this till you tell us what it is.

The scene goes on like this until Marinette lashes out and tells them to get out even if it means ending her friendship with them, which is a response that I find totally justified. Marinette is quite obviously very distressed by her friends' presence and they are refusing to listen to her pleas to leave. They're also giving that refusal in a highly confrontational manner, which is the completely wrong tone for conveying concern. They do not come across as caring. They come across as demanding.

Marinette has every right to be upset by that. It's okay to not want people to invade your room, touch your stuff, and demand to know you're secrets. It's also okay to get upset when people keep ignoring your clearly stated and perfectly reasonable boundaries.

While I fully support wellness checks, this is not how you do them. It's like a variation on the scenes where people confront Gabriel in Adrien's name. They're all impressively terrible examples of how you handle a very complex situation. Worst possible way you could go about it. Children, do not try this at home!

Of course, Marinette's justified reaction leads to the girls getting akumatized, leading to a fight, leading to Ladybug saving the day, leading to everyone being friends again even though the girls never apologize for how they went about their wellness check. Rose's quick sorry for breaking Marinette's doll house is the only one we get in the entire episode. Then we get this:

Alya: You go ahead girls, I just have one last thing to say to Marinette. (closes the door to Marinette's room) You didn't tell us everything, did you? A journalist and a BFF can tell these things. I won't try to figure it out or force it out of you. (sits beside Marinette) If you can't tell me what's in your heart, it's your right. Marinette: Will we still be friends? Alya: Marinette. I'm your best friend, and I'll always be. That's why it kills me that I can't help you with whatever's making you feel so alone. (Alya sighs, and is about to leave Marinette's room when Marinette grabs her hand.) Marinette: Alya, wait! Stay. You're right, I am alone. (grows increasingly emotional) More than ever before. I can barely take it anymore! You know why I broke up with Luka? Not because I don't like him, he's amazing! It's 'cause there's something that I can't tell him. You know why I have to forget Adrien? For the exact same reason! You're right, I keep secrets, I lie all the time! I lie to my friends, to my parents, to everyone and the worst thing is, I can't do it any other way! Alya: There's always another way. Marinette: No, not this time. I have no choice. All this is bigger than us, Alya. Way too big. Alya: If it's too big, two of us can handle it better than one. Marinette: If I tell you, things will never be the same between us again. (shakes her head) It'll mess up everything, maybe even destroy it. Alya:(voice breaking) Marinette, I'm your very best friend. Marinette: And I… I'm Ladybug.

Maybe this is just me, but this doesn't feel like Alya respecting Marinette's boundaries. It's certainly not as bad as the earlier scene. In fact, I like a lot of this in a vacuum, but because of that earlier scene, this one feels uncomfortable. Once again, Alya is so sure that she knows what she's talking about even though she really doesn't.

In the first scene, Marinette was right that they all needed to get out so that she could protect the Kwamis and in this scene she was right that the Ladybug reveal wasn't the kind of thing where sharing was the clear right choice. This would all play so much better if Alya said her first few lines and then actually left, only to be called back by Marinette several hours later. Then we'd really feel like Marinette was making an informed choice instead of revealing her identity in a panic.

Another option would be to have Alya offer comfort without needing to know what is upsetting Marinette, maintaining the secret identities while also giving Marinette some much needed support. Saying she'll support Marinette no matter what and then getting up to leave just doesn't feel super supportive to me. It feels like Alya is (unintentionally) making Marinette panic by saying one thing while technically doing another.

Remember, Marinette just had a really stressful day where she almost lost all of her friends, making this an incredibly charged moment that ends with Alya leaving while clearly disappointed. Of course Marinette would try to salvage that! Her brain isn't focusing on Alya's genuine words. It just sees Alya leaving and panics. It doesn't help that this opening line would put a lot of people on edge:

You didn't tell us everything, did you? A journalist and a BFF can tell these things.

"I know you're still keeping secrets, but I respect that" is not the best way to start a conversation with someone who is clearly struggling.

Because of these issues, I don't feel like Marinette truly decided to make this serious choice. I feel like she blurted it out in the middle of a panic attack, so this scene never gave me a warm fuzzy feeling. This is especially true because we never get to truly see the fallout of Alya processing the reveal and comforting Marinette. The scene just ends and the next episode has them back to their usual dynamic, just with the bonus element of Alya knowing the whole Ladybug thing.

To be fair to Alya, a lot of this comes back to our oft-discussed issue of Miraculous trying to speed run major story lines in 20 minutes because it's a formula show so it can't let things play out properly. That doesn't change the fact that this feels rushed and unsatisfying. It's not the natural conclusion to an episode where Alya learns to respect Marinette's boundaries, but I don't think that's actually the lesson here. The lesson seems to be that Marinette should share her secrets with her friends to lessen her mental burden.

Once again, that's a lovely lesson in a vacuum, but a really weird one for the show that gave us Chat Blanc and Miracle Queen in the previous season and that will include Sentibubbler, Ephemeral, and Nino accidentally outing Alya to Gabriel in the exact same season. Season five will even see Luka leave the country because he knows the secret identities!

Writers, when it comes to secret identities, you really need to pick a lane. Are they good or bad? Is sharing them a No Good Very Bad Thing, an act of trust, or no big deal? The inconsistency around this topic is a major issue for the show as the Alya reveal really undermines everything going on with Ladynoir. While there's solid logic for Ladynoir not sharing, similar logic applies to Alya at this point because Gabriel literally knows her secret identity! Through no fault of her own, Alya is not a safe person and that makes it really hard to watch Alya get the reveal while Adrien stays in the dark. I can justify him not knowing. I can't justify Alya knowing.

I'll wrap this up by saying that I don't agree that Adrien has respected Ladybug's boundaries to the point where it feels like he should have been rewarded (narratively speaking, of course. This is a story after all). He may not be all that pushy about an identity reveal, but he's pretty freaking pushy about Ladynoir becoming a thing, so Ladybug not being ready to trust him does feel earned. Plus, as I said above, it's not like there's no logic behind them keeping their identities a secret. We know that they're dating on the civilian side, but as far as they know, they're total strangers.

If you look at it from that perspective and ask, "what are the benefits of a reveal," you'll find that they're not overwhelming, especially when compared to the risks that come with a mind-controlling super villain on the loose. I totally get why Marinette isn't telling him a thing, I'm just not really sure why she needed to tell Alya. The more logical route here is for Marinette to keep her secrets and look for support on the Ladybug side of things. Ideally that support should be Chat Noir or Su-Han, but it could be Alya, too. I still think that's a bad call since Alya's identity is in the villain's hands, but it would still make more sense than Marinette telling Alya all of her secrets. Another route would be for Alya to learn by accident. She walks in at the wrong time and, ooops, no taking that back. That's the only way I'd personally write Alya learning at this point in the story.

Sorry if this one was a bit of a ramble, the writing around the topic of secret identities is one of the elements I truly don't understand. I have no idea what the writers are doing here. It's not even a "you didn't think this through" thing like the sentimonster stuff. It's a "you spent all of last season telling us that identity reveals are bad and you're about to spend all of this season also telling us that, so why do we randomly get an identity reveal that's magically okay? Rena Furtive doesn't even do anything useful for the plot, why make her a thing?? Are you even trying to tell a coherent story???"

[fairyniceyeah]

💎🍚Stay here with me

Title from Kidult (Seventeen)

Part One: @sickiecloud’s amazing Sick in the Soop 

Summary: After staying up with a sick Hoshi during In the Soop Jihoon catches his stomach bug, which causes a very unpleasant ride home.

CW: emeto

Sickie. Jihoon/Woozi Caretaker: Soonyoung/Hoshi

Jihoon didn't even have the luxury to fully wake up before he was throwing up.

His throat contracted and, without warning, vomit spilled from his lips. He whined at the disgusting feeling. His mind was still fuzzy with sleep and he couldn’t comprehend much more than the fact he was feeling awful and his breathing was compromised. 

He groaned as his stomach lurched violently and a hiccough brought up another wave of sick. Warmth spread over the front of his shirt and lap. He wrapped his arms around his aching organ, ignoring the sticky feeling on his arms. Then he leaned forward only to be stopped by something that restricted his movement and put more pressure on his stomach while simultaneously wrapping itself around his throat as well. He reached up and clawed at whatever threatened to choke him, whimpering.

A loud yell rang through his panicked mind.

“Jihoon-ah? Shit, Cheollie, pull over now, no, it's Jihoon-ah, he is throwing up. No, baby, careful. It’s just the seatbelt.”

A soft hand grasped his own in theirs and then the constraint was off his throat. He took a relieved breath, struggling a bit still. But then Jihoon dared open his eyes, blinking against the harsh, blinding light. He took a moment to orient himself.

He was in a car, in the backseat. The group had been somewhere? Right, yes, the In the Soop filming. Hoshi had been sick two nights ago. Said member was staring at Jihoon with wide eyes, turned around in the passenger seat. He’d been placed there just in case though he hadn’t been sick again since that night in the camper van. Next to Jihoon Jeonghan sat, having wanted to stay close just in case and now arguing with Seungcheol in the driver’s seat.

Just in case had paid off. Just with the wrong member.

“Jiho… what? Shit. Han-ah, I can’t pull over here, we’re on the freeway”, the leader called, meeting Jihoon’s eyes through the rear mirror before Jihoon had to duck down, more vomit falling into his lap. God, it hurt. His throat felt like it was on fire and his stomach seemed to act more appropriately for a rollercoaster than a simple car drive. As he gazed down, unable to look away from the orangish puddle on his lap, he realized where the vile feeling on his legs came from. Everything below his chest was coated in vomit. It was enough for Jihoon to gag again.

“Then find somewhere. Being covered in puke doesn’t do him any good - and I’m going to add to that soon too if we don’t stop”, Jeonghan argued back and then placed the hand he wasn’t using to hold Jihoon’s to rub calming circles on the sick member’s back. The producer was too tired to figure out what his hyung meant with the least sentence but he also couldn’t care less at the moment.

“Jihoon-ah, it’s okay, it’s okay”, the second oldest whispered as Jihoon’s retch turned into something that was more resembling a whimper.

“Hyung?”, he gasped, not even knowing which hyung or what exactly he was asking for. He just wanted all of this to stop. The nausea that was heavy in his stomach, still a threat. The pain all over that probably meant he was running a fever. There was vertigo that made his world spin and amplified every other symptom. 

“Shh, baby, it’s okay. Do we have a bag or anything? And Soonyoung-ah, please find a place to pull over”, Jeonghan ordered, totally in his element as eomma-hyung.

Jihoon appreciated the effort but just then his stomach was starting to calm down. That wasn’t to say he wasn’t still unbearably nauseous and the stench of his … mess wasn’t making it better. The cramps in his stomach didn’t let up and he was feeling so cold he was shivering in his seat. But the vomiting seemed to be over for the moment.

“There is a plastic bag in my backpack, I used it to secure my lunch box since the clasp is broken”, Seungcheol said. As Jeonghan leaned down to find the item in question in the backpack in his footrest, Jihoon dared look up. Seungcheol was white-knuckling the steering wheel, seemingly trying to drive fast and safe and steady at the same time. Soonyoung was on his phone, likely researching as Jeonghan had asked him but from the tight clench of his shoulders Jihoon knew he was upset.

It wasn’t like it was Hoshi’s fault. Sure, Jihoon probably had caught what he had had but it wasn’t like Hoshi meant to get him sick. It was just unlucky with the shared sleeping space and the cuddles. When he had woken that morning with a sour stomach and tiredness that didn’t come from lack of sleep Jihoon hadn’t been surprised. Unhappy, sure, but not surprised at all. He had just hoped he could make it home before it hit. 

But now he felt pathetic and more than disgusting. While he was covered in his stomach contents (which was a terrible, horrible, nauseating and disgusting sensation) he didn’t doubt the others were very happy with the situation either. 

His stomach cramped anew. Maybe he wasn't done yet after all. Before he could beg Jeonghan to hurry up with the bag, he heaved and more sick spilled into his lap, splashing into the puddle. The car seat was probably ruined anyway. 

He didn’t know why but it was what caused his eyes to turn misty. His members would have to clean that up before they could continue because, honestly, there was no way Jihoon could do it in his state. The company, too, wouldn’t be happy with the soiled car.

“Oh, Jihoon-ah”, Jeonghan cooed, very much crossing the line to patronizing. Jihoon was too exhausted to care. He blinked up at his hyung, who seemed to have given up on finding the bag, and moved to look up when the seat belt slipped from his arm up against his throat again. 

He ripped his hands from Jeonghan’s grip and pulled at the black fabric with force, trying to dislodge it from the holster to gain more freedom but it had locked itself. Frustrated, he pulled at it, just wanting it loose. Frustrated, tears started to fall. Frustrated, he moved his leg and the mess that had been contained on his lap dripped onto the floor before he could stop it.

With a bitter yell he gave up and sobbed.

“Jihoon-ah”, Jeonghan mumbled and reached over. Somebody was talking but over the loudness of his sobs Jihoon couldn’t tell if it was Seungcheol or Hoshi. All he could gather was the reply from Jeonghan: “I don’t know. Just, call the others and let them know we need to stop asap.”

Jihoon did not, under any circumstances, want the other members involved. He was horribly embarrassed, a mix of sickness and tears. He was an adult, part of the hyung-line, and still he had thrown up all over like a carsick child. And he was crying about it. He didn’t want to be seen by anybody like this.

He sobbed, hiding his face in his miraculously clean hands. 

“I know, I’m sorry, baby”, Seungcheol said, his deep voice comforting, ���I know you don’t want the others to see but we need to clean up and maybe somebody has meds against nausea. Even if not, they will be worried if we just stop without warning.”

That was what Jihoon feared but he was too exhausted to fight. 

So he silently just listened as Hoshi called another member.

“Hey, hyung?”, Hoshi started. So it was likely Jun he was calling with Joshua driving the car with Vernon and Seungkwan. “Yeah, no. Jihoon-ah is sick. Hm, yeah, he’s throwing up - don’t ask. There is a small parking lot coming up in about six kilometers on the right. Can you start a call chain so we can regroup there? Thanks.”

It was humiliating hearing Hoshi tell Jun like this but deep down Jihoon didn’t even know why he cared so much. It wasn’t like they hadn’t seen each other sick multiple times.

💎

They were the last car to arrive, having taken up the rear when they started and Seungcheol had slowed down considerably as he was a bit too distracted with his sick member. The lot was empty, barely even deserving the name but rather just a dirty road by the main road that they could stop at. Still, the other cars were parked in a way that as Seungcheol pulled up they had a free protected area in the middle, hidden from the public by the cars.

As soon as they came to a stop, Jeonghan stumbled out of the car, practically falling against the waiting Joshua. “Sorry”, he said, barely loud enough for Jihoon to hear through the open door, “I just started getting car sick, don’t worry.” Jihoon’s cheeks burned with embarrassment, he should have remembered the older’s motion sickness. But he hadn't even noticed. Not that he could have done anything to help it but, nevertheless, he felt terribly inconsiderate.

“Hey, don’t blame yourself”, Seungcheol said, having rounded the car and opened Jihoon’s door for him. “Han-ah already asked to pull over before you got sick. I’m surprised he held out this long.” Then he stopped, taking in the sight of Jihoon completely covered in his vomit. 

“Oh, baby, you really did a number on yourself there”, he mumbled with a sigh. Jihoon couldn’t do anything but nod. With every minute he was getting more aware of the disgusting warmth covering him. Already his stomach was starting to somersault again.

“How about I try to get this cleaned up?” Seungcheol gestured to the car with a poorly concealed wince and turned around. “Soonyo… Wonwoo will help you get cleaned up, okay? Are you still feeling nauseous, Jihoon-ah?”

When Jihoon lifted his eyes his view was blocked by the two tall rappers, Wonwoo frowning in worry but giving Jihoon a lopsided smile when their eyes met and Seungcheol was holding a plastic bag. Looking to the left, there were Jeonghan and Joshua but also Seungkwan who had an arm wrapped around Hoshi. Jun seemed to be distracting the more sensitive (read: emetophobic) members further away.

“I don’t feel good, but I really want to get clean”, Jihoon admitted as he unfastened his seat belt. He already felt like crying again - he didn’t want help, he didn’t want to be vulnerable. But he had no choice and Wonwoo was a calm guy and the person Jihoon would seek out if he needed some peace and quiet. 

“Alright, how do you want to do this?”, Wonwoo asked gently. That’s what Jihoon liked about him - he would ask what a member wanted and not assume. Not that Jihoon knew what he wanted. They stepped further into the protective circle of cars, giving Seungcheol access to the backseat and still protected from unfriendly eyes.

“Can I … can I take the clothes off now?”, the producer timidly asked. Wonwoo nodded and stepped forward, reaching out to help. He was wearing gloves, Jihoon now noticed. It deepened his embarrassment even more but he was also glad.

“I sent Dino to find you some clean clothes, probably not yours though. I have no idea whose bags are in the trunk of the car I drove, I just know they aren’t yours. Not that it matters really”, Wonwoo explained then and his hands hovered by Jihoon’s chest, shy of grabbing his shirt.

Jihoon sighed. “Thanks.” Then he looked down at himself. He really, really didn’t want to touch his puke and Wonwoo was wearing gloves. Disgust and nausea overruled the humiliation of his hyung undressing him. “Just do it.”

As carefully as he could, Wonwoo pulled the soiled shirt over Jihoon’s head, managing to contain the mess and placed the whole thing into the plastic bag he must have gotten from their leader. That was when Dino and Vernon appeared in Jihoon’s peripheral vision. The maknae looked into his direction, shook his head, pressed the stack of clothes he was holding into Vernon’s arms and then scurried off in the direction of Jun. Jihoon winced.

Vernon, however, decided to brave the vicinity of sick member and came to stand beside Wonwoo.

“Hi, hyung”, he said and smiled a bit sadly, then continued to ramble, “I’m sorry you’re so sick. Don’t worry about Dino-yah, please. He’s fine. I got clean clothes though. And I came to say that some managers are driving back to that one gas station to buy cleaning supplies and medications. The rest are gathered over there. They want to give you privacy but insisted I tell you they are always available for us...” It was horribly humiliating for Jihoon, which Wonwoo - praise his soul - seemed to get.

“Thanks, Vernon-ah”, Wonwoo interrupted him, “can you find a wash-cloth or something so I can wipe Jihoon-ah off?”

Vernon nodded and hurried off again.

“Thank you”, Jihoon mumbled, “I love him but I … I guess … I’m …”

“You’re sick, tired, feverish and very overwhelmed. Nobody blames you for that”, the older soothed, “pants?”

“Yeah.”

First Wonwoo bent down to take off his shoes so he could pull the jeans over his feet. Careful not to land in the dirt, Jihoon balanced on the mostly clean shoes, holding onto Wonwoo’s upper arm. Then came the weird part, and already Jihoon could feel himself turn red. Wonwoo opened the buttons to his jeans and tucked them off, since again Jihoon did not want to touch. In fact, he was feeling really really nauseous again. He watched as Wonwoo put the dirtied clothes into the plastic bag, feeling his stomach turn.

“Won…”, he started, cut off by his throat working against him. He hiccoughed and then Wonwoo held the bag under his chin. The same bag his clothes were in. It was so wrong..

As if he could read his mind, Wonwoo reassured: “Don’t worry about it. You didn’t plan on wearing that outfit ever again, did you?”

He most certainly did not. That thought was enough to make Jihoon retch harshly, sick falling from his open mouth on top of the clothes, getting soaked into the material. Jihoon pressed his eyes shut, trying to keep his balance on the smushed fabric of his trainers. As he kept getting sick a hand came to rest on the small of his back, steadying him, and somebody brushed back his hair.

He couldn’t very well turn around to check who it was - it couldn’t be Wonwoo who was holding the bag open with both hands. As Jihoon regained his breath, he found Vernon behind him again. The younger gave him a tight smile and kept a hand on his shoulder while Wonwoo took off the gloves, threw them into the bag and tied it off to dispose of everything.

Now standing in the cool air in nothing but his - luckily spared - underwear, Jihoon really started to shiver. There was the fever. He hissed as Wonwoo touched the wet cloth Vernon had brought to his sensitive skin, running it over his pale body to clean him off properly. Goosebumps rose on his arms and Vernon, being the best dongsaeng ever, noticed. Gently he rubbed his hands up and down Jihoon’s arms. While it was overstimulating with his fever and general aversion to touch, Jihoon appreciated it a lot. The friction caused wonderful and sorely missed warmth to spread over his skin, a stark contrast to the cold cloth cooled down even worse by the rather frigid outside temperature.

“Dino got you the warmest clothes he could find”, Vernon whispered into his ear. Jihoon nodded in thankfulness, too exhausted to speak. He had, however, not anticipated the dizziness that washed over him and left him reeling. He stumbled a bit, losing his footing on top of his shoes but quickly he was wrapped in a warm back hug. Vernon was easily able to hold him up, tight and cozy and blessedly warm. With a sigh, Jihoon let his head fall back against his shoulder, suddenly too tired to keep his head up.

“Nearly done”, Wonwoo promised and, true to his words, only a few strokes later he stepped back, putting the washcloth aside. “Alright, let’s get you dressed. You’re really shivering.”

“No shit, Sherlock”, Jihoon groused, not a hint of spite in his tone. He just wanted to be warm and then sleep, preferably for the next week at least. Maybe, despite their full schedules, he might be granted at least a day to recuperate from today. Otherwise, he’d make sure to throw up on a manager next.

Wonwoo ignored him, instead handing him a pair of Dino’s warm sweatpants. With Vernon and Wonwoo steadying him and Jihoon still nearly threatening to fall over again, he managed to pull them on. They were only slightly too long. Small mercies. He did not want to face the added embarrassment had somebody handed him Mingyu’s clothing. 

Okay, he stood corrected. Mingyu’s sweatpants would have been awful. But his huge sweater which nearly swallowed Jihoon whole and went down to his knees? It was pure, warm heaven. 

“Better, hyungie?”, Vernon asked, his hand sneaking around Jihoon’s waist to put it against Jihoon’s cramping stomach. It felt nice though he never would admit it.

He nodded, the motion half-way cut off by a yawn.

“Let’s get you back to a car, so you can lie down. We’ll probably need to stay a bit to, uh, well, get everything cleaned up”, Wonwoo said, awkwardly scratching the back of his head. 

Apparently Jihoon’s body was even too tired to flush. Instead he let Wonwoo lift him into his arms - walking sounding too much of a task and shoes not a priority at all - and carry him to a different car. Vernon opened the door and helped position Jihoon across the backseat. There was the advantage of being so short - he could lie nearly stretched out, much more comfortable than any of the taller members. 

“There is a bag in the footwell by your head”, Vernon explained, his hand running through Jihoon’s hair. The producer sighed and closed his eyes.

As he dropped off, he could have sworn that his head was lifted into somebody’s lap but then he was asleep. 

💎

The next time Jihoon woke up it was much more pleasant than the first time. His stomach was still sour and aching - cramping - terribly and he knew he was also still running a fever judging by the cold, dried sweat he felt everywhere. But everything was better than waking up to the sensation of vomit being forced out of your mouth.

A warm hand was running through his hair and he sighed in content, rolling over slightly to bury his face into the stomach of the person who’s lap he was laying on. If somebody asked him - he would love to stay like this until the sickness passed, thank you very much. But he was not asked and the person whispered: “Jihoon-ah, you awake?”

Soonyoung. 

Jihoon turned his face and blinked open his eyes to look up at his best friend. “I am”, he confirmed, a bit unnecessarily. 

“I’m sorry”, both of them said in unison, then laughed a bit at the absurdity.

“What could you possibly be sorry for?”, Soonyoung, always so quick with words, asked.

“Hm, maybe the fact that I threw up all over the car and caused unnecessary delays? I know you were longing to go home and back to work. What are you sorry for?”, Jihoon asked, a bit blearily. His fever was making thinking hard - it was like paddling through honey or mud or peanut butter or something. He couldn’t figure out why his chingu would be sorry.

“Hm, maybe the fact that I am the reason you threw up all over the car and caused very necessary delays that nobody blames you for? By the way, I think Jeonghan-hyung is actually pretty happy we stopped and - according to Shua-hyung - Minghao had been begging for a bathroom break for the last twenty minutes before we stopped. Anyways, if I hadn’t been cuddling you when I was sick maybe we could have avoided all that - don’t lie, I know from experience you feel awful”, Soonyoung answered, his signature smile gone and replaced by an unhappy frown, lips jutting out in a pout. 

“Well, what was I supposed to do - abandon your sick ass in a camper van?”, Jihoon asked rhetorically, raising one eyebrow, “I’m not that much of an asshole.”

“You’re not an asshole at all, Jihoon-ah. Stop this self-deprecating nonsense. You helped me when I was sick, which I am very grateful for even if it didn’t sound like that just now. I do feel a bit bad for giving this to you, nevertheless, I really thought only my immune system after promotions sucks,”, Soonyoung replied with a sheepish smile, “guess we’re kinda even now though.”

“Guess so”, Jihoon replied and shifted to curl up closer to Soonyoung’s warmth.

“How are you feeling, Hoon-ah?”, a new voice asked and both of them jumped at the sound of Seungcheol’s voice. The leader had stuck his head into the car through the open passenger seat window. “If you think you are ready we could go on. If not, we’ll wait.”

Jihoon angled his head so he could look at the older while he took a deep breath and tried to concentrate on how he was feeling. He wasn’t as painfully nauseous as earlier, so much was true, but he also didn’t trust his stomach at all. Even sitting up seemed like it might make him sick again - resting in Soonyoung’s lap for forever sounded like the best idea. But he also wanted to go home.

“I don’t think waiting it out will help much unless we want to spend the next hours or days here”, he mumbled.

“If you …”, Soonyoung started but Jihoon pushed himself up.

“No”, he said and swallowed heavily, the movement upright making his vision swim for a moment. He was still so dizzy and now in a sitting position he was shivering again. At least his stomach didn’t seem as affected by the motion though it also had been feeling precarious earlier. “No, let’s go on.”

“Alright”, Seungcheol agreed. “Vernon is going to drive you and Wonwoo is going to be the passenger. I wanted to come with you but the managers said we shouldn’t risk contagion with more members. As if I didn’t literally just came back from cleaning the car.” He sounded a bit salty about it but continued gently: “Sorry. There is no use in moving you to a different car, our previous car is taken care of. Just relax. Also, the managers brought gifts from the gas station.”

He pulled back and opened the back door at Soonyoung’s side. Seungcheol was holding a bright red bucket in his hand and then one thing after another he pulled out medications, motion sickness patches and lastly - to Jihoon’s absolute joy - a fluffy blanket and one of those small, cute pillows.

Within minutes they were ready to go. Jihoon was wrapped in the warm blanket, only his face and hands sticking out, and deliciously warm. Motion sickness patches were stuck on his wrist - according to Seungcheol Jeonghan swore by them and if they only relieved a bit of the nausea Jihoon would take it. Lastly the bucket was placed in the footrest.

Jihoon grumbled a bit at seeing it - not wanting a constant reminder but also sensible enough to know that it was a necessity and much more accessible than plastic bags. Soonyoung who had used the time that Seungcheol was helping Jihoon get set up as a bathroom break now strapped the younger - trapped in his blanket burrito - in. 

Annoyingly the seat belt, as always, slipped up right to Jihoon’s throat - his most sensitive body part at the moment - and caused a slight gag at the sensation. Soonyoung looked panicked at that, already ushering Jihoon to lean forward but nothing more happened. 

Exhausted, Jihoon leaned back against the seat. “The seatbelt is at an annoying height - nothing to do about it but push it away when it becomes overwhelming.”

“Actually, you can adjust the height of the seatbelt, hyung”, Mingyu, who had arrived to apparently gather his stuff from the passenger seat, explained. “I’m surprised you don’t know that. The part where it comes out of the wall is able to be moved up and down to accommodate different heights.”

“Oh”, Soonyoung said and immediately tried it out. The seatbelt was moved down and now sat snugly against Jihoon’s shoulder like it was supposed to do.

Surprised by the unfolding events and maybe also affected by his fever, Jihoon blurted out: “I love you, Kim Mingyu. Where was this knowledge all my life?”

Mingyu, Soonyoung and Seungcheol laughed at him fondly. Jihoon pouted. It would have been very helpful knowledge earlier.

“Do you want to try some fever reducer?”, Seungcheol then asked, holding out a bottle of medication. “You’re burning up badly.”

“I think if I swallow anything it’s going to come back up”, Jihoon admitted, “especially with the motion of the car. I’ll take some later when we’re home, okay?”

The leader nodded, looking concerned but understanding. 

“Alright, are we ready?”, Vernon questioned, appearing with Wonwoo behind Seungcheol and Mingyu.

“Yeah.” Jihoon sighed.

“Feel better soon, Hoon-ah”, Seungcheol said with a tiny smile, patting his shoulder. “Rest and let them know if you need anything.”

💎

Ten minutes later they were on the road again. Jihoon was fast asleep against the window again, all of them hopeful he would soon feel better. 

Notes:

Please check out @sickieclouds fics if you haven’t yet! They are an absolute joy and the reason I am writing myself on tumblr!

Also, I am about fifteen centimeters shorter than Jihoon and still, nobody taught me that seat belt trick until I was like twenty. The more you know - I am telling you, having the seat belt on your throat all the time sucks…

Masterlist links: Fairy's Full Masterlist Fairy's Masterlist - SEVENTEEN

[kiwibongos]

warning for ab/se & toxic relationships. and sdr2 spoilers duh

im thinking abt the remnants of despair. cause i hate how it just seemed to be like, "theyre suddenly brainwashed and then they turn evilll and they kill because they dont feel anything" like, i hate that. it feels so underdeveloped. it cant just be despair, it has to be deeper than that, i think it'd take personal angles and link with a lot of their own trauma, leaving them really vulnerable and deranged. so heres my own interpretation and headcanons for some of them

contains mikan, nagito, fuyuhiko, peko, akane, kazuichi, and brief analysis of the rest. keep in mind i havent seen the animes yet lol so this is a basic layer of it, but i just rly wanted to let this out cus i dont see it talked about. storing my brainrot here for later moments.

first of all i feel like the brainwashing would be a very slow process bc junko would definitely just manipulate everyone in her way to get what she wants. and by the time the world was plagued basically, all the remnants clearly had really unhealthy feelings related to junko specifically. they all love her, hate her, or praise her, but its all in very different ways that would be bc of their own personal backstories

we all know how mikan and nagito feel. mikan was constantly hurt by other people before junko herself, itd make sense for her to develop a very unhealthy attachment to her. mikan was extremely vulnerable and controllable, she would do anything for anyone and especially junko, just so no one is mad at her, hence why it got so twisted to the point where she wanted to keep a part of her inside forever. she wanted to be loved so badly, she would take whatever form of it she could. thats why it was so easy for junko to get her under her boot. now nagito has an odd love-hate relationship with junko imo (his mind is so messed up man) even if he praises hope in such a grossly obsessed way, the mf still TOOK her arm. i know he did it because he hated her so much and i guess to take power back, but i feel like because nagito had never really been loved, he wanted to try and feel what it could've been like out of some kind of confused desperation and fondness for her in a way, because his mind has no idea what those feelings truly are or what they mean, as hatred and love often get mixed up in his head and form this horrible amalgamation with whoever he meets, which is clear towards the survivors in the nwp anyway

fuyuhiko put junko's own eye into his own socket, and i feel like his relationship with her while in despair would be familial and extremely unhealthy. he is definitely one of the most fucked up to me. id say by my own headcanons though its heavily implied in his fte dialogues, is his parents are very ab/usive right from the start. fuyuhiko is messed up to all hell, he was constantly struck and under pressure but he had to be strong and perfect because he was the head of his clan, hence like his insane tolerance for pain. he had to make his clan, or more importantly his parents proud, or else he was a failure forever. so he clung onto that and did his best trying to be good enough for basically anyone. and even before despair he was in a really bad stubborn, mean, depressive state, leaving him far more vulnerable and more open to violent, impulsive actions as long as junko was smart enough to get him under her finger. fuyuhiko never knew what true love felt like (platonic or not), and when junko took advantage of all of that and he slowly fell into despair, shit hit the fan. he lost morality and he had come so attached to her to the point where junko was like a mother figure to him. he wanted her to notice him and be proud basically, it was moreso the idea of someone-- anyone-- being proud of him, but junko was his main focus of that by now, given his state. to him she was like the mother he never had, who seemed to be on the same terms with everything he had believed, someone who approved of him, so he wanted to make her proud, even if it was hurting him. fuyuhiko would keep digging himself a hole of desperation and self destruction, seeking more and more pain to test his endurance because it's what she wanted, and that became what he wanted, too, because pain is all he's used to. and because of that, makotos guess was right; he wanted to see her despair. it'd make sense he'd want to take a part of her, to see horrors she had witnessed so he could understand it, so she could be proud of him and part of him forever. he felt like if he did that, he would finally succeed, he'd achieve perfection, and he did. he'd done everything junko wanted him to do, while quenching his own thirst for violence itself, all via his own delusions. that was love to him and it felt real

as for peko she was definitely also treated the same in the kuzuryu family but more dehumanized obviously, so i think she'd feel a similar way; always needing to be good enough, but more specifically protecting the ones she cares about at all costs even if it results in bloodshed. i think she'd be a lot colder, forcing to suppress her feelings since she just has to follow fuyuhiko wherever he goes, and she was pretty much as insane as him as well so anything slid. i know peko doesnt want to be a tool, but she'd definitely succumb to the fact that she has to be one when they're under despair at the same time, and if she was going to be his tool, she has to be like a robot and just do what follows, because she didn't see herself as a person, her chance of being her own human was ripped away

as for akane, she grew up very poor, and didn't live a good life at all either (w/ definitely bad parents) but she always tried her very best taking care of her siblings in the past, despite everything. i think there was a lot of twisted familial love with junko whom she started to see as a sister despite being unrelated, just because of being a caretaker all her life, its just kind of instinct to protect anyone, but that just got mixed up as she fell into despair, and she would only protect junko, while chaotically killing anyone else in her way. she'd fight for her endlessly, she was one of the strongest, at least for a while, im thinkin she found her body and wanted to preserve it as much as possible by the end of everything, she still wanted to take care of her and do everything for her even if she had been too late. and with that, and barely any food in an apocalyptic world, the inevitable happens. akane would fall into a very hurtful spiral of self hate, that her starving was a sacrifice to junko so she could prioritize her first instead of herself, while also it being like a punishment to herself for her own failures and how she was failing to preserve junko

kazuichi always hated himself. he was bullied often, didn’t have a lot of friends going into high school, and he was very desperate for attention, especially from women. he’d be very notably attached to junko which would eventually evolve into romantic feelings, similar to mikan. he craved attention and validation so much, it left him very vulnerable, and kazuichi often grows attached to people who show him a sliver of kindness anyway, so junko would likely personally manipulate him and praise him, and they’d grow close, and he’d develop a very strong attachment towards her that derails into love and lust. and once he was influenced by her under despair, he would do anything for her. so, he’d get his hands on a lot of weapons, and go on mindless killing sprees, causing havoc 24/7 just to please her and keep her memory alive through despair. and deep in his mind, he probably truly thought that junko was his soulmate, that they were destined to be together, and he was fulfilling missions just for her, and in the end, they could be together

extra stuff i guess? as anyone would expect, sonia just became a corrupted leader and took advantage of her power under despair. her kingdom would try to keep her above it, but she’d fall into it somehow anyway, and probably had already been plagued by corrupt/unjust views by junko before, so she’d lead her people to worship junko the same way she does, and anyone who stood against it would be punished severely. mahiru falls into morbid curiosity because of junko and gets worse, given what she does with her camera, also both mikan and gundham would try to stitch junko up a little, and try to keep her from falling apart as long as possible. mikan is more likely to do that for her own twisted romantic purposes, but if gundham gets a hold of her before or after mikan, he would take her blood for himself, and most likely start a cult to worship her, all for like weird satanic purposes involving rituals and stuff. he’d also encourage his members or the other remnants to indulge in certain activities for the sake of praising her. gundham would probably even believe she was some demon from the underworld who granted him powers and chose him to carry on her legacy

also teruteru was just a little hungry. boys gotta eat

[theres-a-body-here]

Scumtober- Day 27 (Breathe Play)

Alexander Nox x Male!reader

Alexander couldn't help but feel irritated by how needy you seemed today. Yet, despite his frustration, your constant teasing had managed to arouse him — something he hadn't expected to feel in the middle of a game.

Now, here you both stood in one of the buildings at World's Edge; him pinning you against a wall while trying to hide his obvious erection beneath his pants. You could tell he was irritated behind his gas mask as he held his gloved hand to your throat.

"Aww, come on, Gas Daddy. I was just messing with you," you cooed playfully, referring to that little incident involving a cheeky slap on his rear earlier. Hearing those words sent chills down Alexander's spine – not because they were endearing, but rather due to sheer annoyance. His grip tightened around your neck as he let out a low growl.

A soft moan escaped your lips as you felt his hold on your neck increase. Watching your reaction brought forth a mix of discomfort and pleasure within Alexander – causing him to grit his teeth while simultaneously feeling his member twitch inside his pants.

Noticing his conflicted demeanor, you smirked before whispering softly, "You like treating me like this..." Pausing for effect, you added, "...Alexander?"

At the sound of his name spoken so intimately, he reacted instinctively by slamming you harder against the wall, eliciting yet another moan from deep within your throat.

Frustrated beyond belief, Alexander muttered a series of profanities underneath his breath while roughly tearing away the clothing that hung past his pelvis using his free hand. With the other still firmly grasping your neck, he quickly undid his buckle and pulled open his pants.

Alexander reveals his hardened member, its pale color standing out starkly against the dim light filtering through the windows.

Unable to resist taunting him further, you manage to choke out a sarcastically flirtatious comment, "Oh, what a pretty white cock!" This only fuels his frustration even more, resulting in another violent slam against the wall.

Alexander snaps back at you, "Keep it shut!" His voice sounds menacing even through the muffled filter of his gas mask. Complying with his order, you remain silent as he continues to apply pressure on your windpipe. Meanwhile, he presses his head against the wall beside yours, letting out quiet grunts of pleasure as he starts stroking his erection in earnest.

Determined to take control of the situation, you beg him, "Come on, let me help!" However, Alexander refuses to relinquish any power over the scenario – instead choosing to keep his grip firmly on your neck as he continues furiously stroking himself.

Through ragged breaths, Alexander informs you, "Consider this punishment for being such a pest throughout our entire game." His tone leaves no room for argument, making it clear that he won't tolerate any further interference from you.

Ignoring his warning, you continue to squirm and buck your hips into the air, desperate for some relief from the building sexual tension. But Alexander remains unfazed, focusing solely on achieving his release while maintaining his vice grip on your vulnerable throat.

In the silence of the abandoned building, the only audible sounds are your strained, moaning breaths and the wet, squelching noises emanating from Alexander's rapidly moving hand upon his swollen cock.

Unable to resist touching him, you gently caress the hand wrapped around your neck. This small gesture sends shivers down Alexander's spine, causing him to groan deeply and pick up the pace of his already frenzied strokes.

Summoning every last bit of strength left within you, you call out his name. "Alexander....". You sounded both strained and intimate.

Without hesitation, he lifts his head from the wall and presses his body flush against yours – ensuring every curve and contour align perfectly together. Then, he leans in closer, pressing his gas mask against your face.

Finally allowed some reprieve, you let out a whimper of relief and immediately start to buck your hips against the solid warmth of his body. Alexander obligingly adjusts his position, turning slightly to the side so he can continue stroking himself while gazing upon your beautiful, struggling expression.

Granting you a brief respite, Alexander releases his hold on your neck just enough for you to catch your breath. "Breathe," he orders, his voice low and commanding. Obeying without question, you suck in several deep breaths before feeling his hand constrict around your throat once more.

With renewed vigor, you resume thrusting yourself against Alexander's body while simultaneously battling for air as his hand tightens its grip on your throat. All the while, you fixate your gaze on the erotic sight of his slick, pulsing cock gliding across your trembling, clothed thigh.

Reaching the peak of his arousal, Alexander releases a guttural groan as he ejaculates onto your clothes, his gas mask remaining firmly pressed against your now teary face. As he reaches his climax, his grip on your throat tightens almost unbearably, threatening to cut off all oxygen supply completely. Just when you think you might pass out, he finally relaxes his hold, allowing you to regain consciousness and draw much needed air into your lungs.

Silence descends upon the two of you as you both recover from the intense experience. Still panting heavily, you lock eyes with Alexander, unable to look away from the intensity burning within his cold gaze. Suddenly, he reaches down and cups your swollen erection through the fabric of your pants.

Before anything can happen, the sound of footsteps echoes through the building from somewhere below. Startled, Alexander quickly withdraws his hand and begins tucking his spent penis back into his pants.

Frustrated by the abrupt interruption, you emit a frustrated whine, still desperate for release. Hearing your disappointment, Alexander grunts in annoyance before gruffly speaking, "I'll deal with you after the game is over."

Accepting his words as a promise, you allow yourself a triumphant smirk as you retrieve your Alternator. "So, it's a date then?" you teasingly ask, relishing in the slight blush that creeps onto Alexander's cheeks from behind his gas mask.

Briefly thrown off by your bold declaration, Alexander regains his composure and scoffs dismissively. "Insect," he mutters, though this time his usual derogatory term seems laced with something akin to affection.

Seizing the opportunity to escape the awkwardness, he snatches up his Nemesis and storms out the door before you can respond.

You shake your head and laugh before following him to face who's downstairs. You wonder what he'll do to your in his bedroom. No point in imagining now. Its time to win this game even if you have a rager the whole time.

Scumtober 2023 Masterlist

[stcries]

I’ve been totally normal ever since I made my headcanon drabble for stan yesterday about his love for animals. however, me and some friends have been cooking some stuff up on discord and well, let’s just say that he may finally have a pet of his own.

shoving all this info under the cut because oh man, I could ramble on about this for hours on end.

meet caryn, stan’s dog! I’m still building up her info, but here’s some need to know tidbits written below.

he only officially adopts her after the events of weirdmageddon. she’s already at least 1-2 years old by the time he first meets her. she’s a mutt, but she’s most comparable to that of a pitbull or mastiff.

caryn was a stray that roamed the streets of gravity falls, often getting into mischief, although not out of malicious intent. she’d often steal food, sometimes directly from people’s hands, knock things over, and was all around seen as a general nuisance by the public. however, caryn wasn’t a violent dog, only lashing out because of fear or pain most of the time. she’d often get picked on by the other strays which in turn lead to her scars, only painting her image as more dangerous and not to be approached.

not quite sure how they’d first meet, maybe stan was cleaning up after some event at the shack, throwing out some leftover scraps of food and that attracts her? he probably chased her off at first, but then she kept coming back for more food. eventually I think they got comfortable enough to a point where caryn would follow stan everywhere much to his dismay at the time.

also serves somewhat as a therapy dog for stan. his memory problems can lead to him becoming very confused and anxious very quickly, but caryn will always be on the lookout for these episodes. if she notices him getting worked up, she’ll use her own body to apply pressure and use that as a form of comfort.

she’s a big sweetheart, she wouldn’t hurt a fly. however, she’s very protective of the pine’s family, so mess with them and she’ll quickly hop into defensive mode.

yes, she is named after his mother. her dark fur and kind eyes really reminded him of her, how she was the only real supportive woman in his childhood, and to honour her, he decided to give his dog her name.

she’s stan’s entire world, he spoils her rotten. and believe it or not, he’s taught her some pretty interesting tricks. the most intriguing however? he’s taught her how to pickpocket things, yep that’s right. if you aren’t watching your back, she might just steal your wallet out of your pant pocket.

[liroutrozenberg]

Violence. Just banal violence against a Na'vi reader who suffered during the war? Perhaps support/care for him after? Injuries of your choice. If this is unacceptable, then ignore my message.

Jake Sully/Na'vi! Reader

Warning: Violent actions; affected characters and care for them. If you can't stand that, then don't read it.

Shit… it's actually quite interesting. I haven't seen anything like it (or maybe it just didn't come across in the feed), so why not.

"Yes, everything will be fine." - With these words, you tried to land an out-of-control bomber, while the connection was still available and you could hear the muffled voices of your friends, which were quickly replaced by engine noise and a whole cacophony of sounds and it was simply impossible to shout them down, no matter how hard you tried.

From here everything went into the erotic on foot.

It was only by a miracle that you were able to fly in such a way that a collision with the Tree of Voices could be avoided, except that the wind stirred up long branches. The chill that had haunted you on an ongoing basis has finally faded away, lagging behind you - this was the most important thing in what you wanted to do, this place played too much importance in your life.

The consequences of your choice were obvious, but life is not so simple - retribution overtook you quickly. The completely out of control vehicle crashed into the rock at high speed with a deafening crack, so that you could not react in any way before you were deafened by hellish pain in your body.

Falling through puffs of burning fuel was like being in slow motion, the images in front of my eyes replaced each other at breakneck speed. Scattered in all directions, pieces of the skin of what used to be called the components of the heavenly rocks beat on the body, crashing at breakneck speed and flying off with a ricochet. It was hardly possible to feel something in the full medley of sounds and colors that spread before the eyes, the brain stubbornly continued to block external damage in order to save the body from shock and itself from sudden death. All you feel is heat in your skin and gut, but the blast wave could not reach it, devour the cold flesh and gnaw at the bones with its dense ring - the form protected like armor, only now it is not endless. As soon as you gave in under the pressure of temperature and flew out of your seats, you felt as if you yourself were being torn apart. The fabric flaked off, torn off in hot lumps - a burning pain pierced the spinal cord, instantly swept in waves throughout the body. It seemed that each nerve was torn out of your body one at a time, and it was impossible to understand what pain was now the most, in this cacophony, more like delirium from reality and a nightmare, nothing could be clearly distinguished. A back blow against an iron surface knocked out the last oxygen from his lungs, and a change in flight path betrayed the acceleration of the fall, partially removing him from the main defeat zone, but not so much that the idea of ​​minimizing damage became a reality. The world turned over and swirled around in some kind of hellish dance, smeared into one black and orange mess. A wave of scalding heat collided with a wave of cold and finally let go, giving way to the weakened body of the water. The ice trap closed over the fair-haired man's head and rushed down his throat, pulling him deeper into his abysses. Consciousness rapidly fell into darkness, the echoes of the explosion were still buzzing in my ears. It turned out to be simply unbearable to figure out where the top is, and where the bottom is, the forces began to leave the injured body.

"It can't end like this." - Only this thought gives you strength. Your hands worked convulsively, pushing your way to the surface through the icy water, driven by aching lungs, before the possibility of survival no longer escaped through weakened fingers. The bay blazed and seethed from falling debris like an awakened volcano. Having emerged, they greedily sucked in the air with their mouths, immediately coughing from burning, unbidden tears appeared in their eyes. A few jerks and a solid bottom appeared under my feet, which allowed me to stop and understand where to go next. Trying to catch their breath and spitting out the blood that had accumulated in their mouths mixed with salt water, they touched their lips with their fingers - they were cut across, realizing where the partial burning came from. Chest again squeezed in pain and caught his breath.

There is so much blood around. Even the water in which you stood waist-deep, having crept up to the shore, turned burgundy.

"Y/n!" - The last thing you hear before the forces completely leave you.

---

The first thing you felt when you started to come to your senses was a strong thirst and a feeling of heat in the neck and left shoulder, as if hot metal was applied to them and left for a very long time, in general, it did not differ much from what you experienced on yourself before you pass out, you can live, albeit with varying degrees of success. The eyelids did not give in immediately, but when they nevertheless managed to open their eyes, they saw a wooden ceiling. It took seconds to understand that in the room where you are, the light was almost completely turned off and the darkness was scattered by a very small table foot on the bedside table. The question of location popped into my mind as quickly as it had vanished, after all, waking up in strange places was something of a habit given recent events. Strength, surprisingly, and unnecessary questions simply did not remain with time. Instead, a completely different person got up. Where to find water, preferably in large quantities.

Bending your arm at the elbow and using it for support, you did not the first time, but took a sitting position. You head began to spin immediately, and multi-colored spots floated before eyes, from which the picture merged into one illegible mess. You was glad only that the colors in it were no longer bright.

And immediately your actions were met with resistance.

Your right hand was held by a weak, but nevertheless very tangible grip, which attracted your attention.

Jake. Injured, though smaller than you, the Avatar sat on the floor, legs crossed under him, head resting on the edge of the bed. It was obvious that he was exhausted and it was not at all surprising that he fell asleep just like that, in a rather uncomfortable position for his size.

When you attempt to wake a man, you run your free hand through his hair first and only then down his cheek to his neck and shoulders, gently running over tense muscles, which had some success because he began to wake up, or at least try to do it.

Initially, you heard only an unintelligible buzz, but soon it was replaced by more understandable words, followed by the full awakening of Jake, blinking in confusion, still trying to shake off the remnants of sleep from himself.

For the first few seconds, he was in confusion, watching you, while you continued to gently run your fingers through the locks of your hair. He looked shocked and surprised. And then there was a reaction. Damn it, you've never seen such a storm of emotions on his face as now. Golden eyes swept over your body several times before he jumped up from his seat to hug you, pulling you to him whispering whatever came to his mind. Apologies mixed with fear and everything else as his palms carefully ran over your body, trying to be as careful as possible with the areas where the bandages were applied.

Affectionate kisses rest on your cheeks, gradually moving to your neck and shoulders, interspersed with whispers as Jake holds you close to him, as if he was afraid that you would disappear into thin air right now.

"My love. How you scared us." - Hiding his face somewhere in the bend of his shoulder and neck, the Avatar spoke more clearly, scorching the skin with warm breath, which made goosebumps run through the body. - "Damn, how I love you."

Rest assured that he will not leave you just like that. He will accompany you everywhere and you can more than count on him to help you with anything you ask for. Literally. Just know that if you want him to pick you up, just say so. The real question is how soon you will be released. And will they be released at all?

[disastrous-table]

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

————————————————————————————

A/n: The “random” ahh drabble I came up with all on my own…definitely not someone else’s. (Shoo go away). Also yes there is a Nod to Deadplate bc this is basically inspired by it lol. Sue me.

Warnings: GN! Reader, G/t (Giant/Tiny), blood, injury, canabalism(?), Yandere-ish behaviour, obsessive behaviour, implied canabalism, implied romantic/platonic relationships with tiny and giants, trauma, not proof read, written at 4am, and more that might have been missed

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

————————————————————————————

“Just a taste~”

How could things get any worse than it was…a question you found to be stupid to ask in the first place. You thought all was well in this wacky world you live in, managing to find a nice paying job that would go down the career path you wanted.

It was here that you met your boss, a very, very, very,tall man who looked to be around his late 20’s. He was kind enough to offer you a job when most places turned you down because of your height? (Sizeist much?) thinking you incapable of managing on your own as well as being more of a liability rather than any help.

Rather your boss saw you as any other employee, already having a few others at your size (a mere 4 1/4 inches). The kitchen being accommodated for their size such as mini elevators or ramps/steps to reach higher areas and if anyone needed some extra ingredients they would as a larger member of staff to go grab it for them and they would comply. It was…new and refreshing for a start, a nice and healthy workspace.

So why was it that you was caught up in this mess? Why was he doing this?

…Then it hit you. The many red flags that started to appear: the lengthy stares he would give you, showing more of an interest in you than your fellow co workers, the whispers amount co workers about a sudden change in behaviour…

It all started to make sense now! You were too blinded by this new job and a false hope of a happy life, you failed to see the alarming mannerisms of your boss within 6 Damm months! Thinking back, you only wish you can go back and reverse the damage, yell at your past self to get out while they can.

You wanted to sob, to scream but doing that would do no good other than aggravate your now ex-Boss. You suddenly hissed as phantom pain hit you in where your leg should have been, the wound still being recent—fresh, even!

That fucking psycho bit your leg off! You don’t wish to remember the scene…the sound of bone being crushed under blunt pressure. The only thing keeping you from dying due to blood loss is a mini version of a tourniquet which was just a zip tie. Being locked in a cage of sorts while he’s away put you on edge, obviously enough. You don’t know when he might pop up or if he could be testing to see if you would make some sort of stem or to get out or scream for help.

You wished that he would just give you a speedy death. You feel helpless to do anything.

…

A few hours passed by, maybe even more than that before you heard the sound of a door lock shifting…right, you was kidnapped and taken by some possible serial killer canabal! Each step your captor took, getting closer with each stride, awakened your fear again and you scrambled to get away from the front of this rodent looking cage into a corner to only shrink in on yourself more. You hated feeling this weak, you didn’t want this—no one should go through this, ever!

thud…

Thud…

THUD…

The steps only grew in volume. You swore that the ground shook so violently your head started to spin making you see stars. Your breathing picked up in an irregular pace as you started to hyperventilate.

“This was it.” You thought to yourself as tears made your vision blurry. “I’m going to really die aren’t I?…to some stranger who basically kidnapped me.” You could only let out a dry chuckle at the thought. You didn’t feel like strangers before all this, you would dare to consider yourself friends at some point but that was all. Oh, how laughable this all is.

Suddenly the door opened to a familiar face. He walked over to the light switch to the room and in an instant the room was suddenly bright causing a small hiss from you as your eyes felt as if they were burning from the brightness. Being in the dark for so long can do that to you. A smile grew on his face as his body straightened up from its previously slouched position as he looked at you.

His eyes felt as if they bore holes into your very being, never leaving your ever shrinking form as he approached the cage and bent down to be eye level. “No hello? No welcome home? My, I thought you would be more welcoming than this dear [Name].” He said though his tone made it seem like it was more of a playful remark than actual pouting or any feeling of offence. You only stayed silent trying to even your breathing to stay as calm as you could though images of his more…darker side showed up in your head and that scene, proved to make it difficult as you could only whimper at his words.

His smile faltered as he let out a small sigh before he stood up to his full height “No matter. Not like I expected much, especially the state you’re in. I was surprised that you’d don’t just pass out from shock after what I did.” He said as he pointed to your missing limb. Your only response was silence followed by shaking. His presence intimidated you and rightfully so! That bastard is just talking so calmly about all this!? Sure it pissed you off to know that he didn’t feel guilty about his actions but to just hear him sound as if this was normal?

You gripped your sleeve of your shirt tightly in anger as you grew a tad bit irked over all this. He seemingly took no notice of this or he didn’t care to make it known. “Have you ever wondered, [Name], what life would be like for people like you and me?” He started, which caught caught you off guard a little. What on earth could he be going on about? “Don’t get me wrong, I know there are couples out there that manage despite this size difference, but… A relationship like that could never truly be whole, could it?” He said before grabbing the cage making you wobble and a small yelp coming out form your vocal cords. Now his little monologue was making so sense at all, probably some more crazy talk.

While holding the cage his brought it to his chest and held it there as if he was trying to do a hug of sorts as he sat down on a bed. His bed. “I always thought it would be impossible to have that final piece, the missing ingredient of such a relationship. Then when I laid my eyes on you…I had begun to realise that I had a deep yearning, a desire to hold you close , to keep you at arms length.” He continued on as you only sat there confused where this could be leading. It was all unclear with his motives, that and the facts he’s acting as if he’s confessing to a childhood crush he’s been holding in for years. “It was all so sudden but not exactly unwelcome. I thought that it was simply a one-off thing and that these weird feeling would go away. Haha but you know that isn’t the case, hm?” You could hear a soft chuckle at his own words making you cringe internally. If he is going to confess his undying love to you, then you would rather choke on poison as you stepped on hot coals bare foot than hear what he has to say, wether it be to justify his actions or his own sick twisted way of showing “affection”.

“You see [Nmae], these feels spiraled out of control, I went from wanting to keeping you at arms length to wanting to be closer—to be one of the same. That was what I found out what was missing, specifically for us. To be whole is to be one after all. And I’ve only just completed the first step to this journey for us!” He purred out in a sickeningly sweet tone as he held the cage closer you thought he was going to crush it making you yelp again. As he said those last words though, you notice one of his hands travel to where his stomach was, making you cringe, and paying it softly.

“Having a part of you feels rewarding for this effort, [Name]. Just having a taste of what we could be? It just sends shocks to my very core. Don’t you feel the same?” The question felt rhetorical but still, you didn’t feel inclined to answer this deranged man.

“It saddens me when you stay silent [Name]…I thought this would work, that you would warm up to me…” saying those words to himself must have made him realise as he looked as if something struck him. As if that something was supposed to be obvious.

“Of course, of course how could I forget my own words!” He laughed out, jolting the cage as his hand that patted his belly lifted up to cover his eyes. “To become whole we have to become one.” Sending the danger of those words and tone you attempted to pushed yourself against the bars of the cage, painfully so as he lifted the cage to eye level. His eyes filled with a crazed look, an obsession taking over it seemed as he pondered over the thought and was thinking deeply.

You weren’t sure if you would make it out alive, whatever it was…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

———————————————–

Decided to call quits because 1. I’m getting eepy and 2. I was starting to lose inspiration as well as motivation. Didn’t go as planned since I wanted to open with the whole biting leg off scene but idk how to open up to lead up to that so meh. It is what it is. Hope you enjoyed since this is my first piece of writing since like early 2022 :p

[pierdutaintimpsispatiu]

THE BEGINNING OF THE WORLD - romanian edition

There can be no religion without culture and no culture without religion

(that being said, all cultures around the world have their own myth of creation, pre-christian or any abrahamic religion that has spreaded around the globe)

Our myth speaks of a primordial sea... or, rather a primordial ocean, seeing how big it was. In the darkness of the universe, two beings (twin brothers, most oftenly regarded) watched this sea of nothingness and became inspired.

It's worth to mention these beings names: FÂRTATUL and NEFÂRTATUL (yes, if this second one seems.familiar, it is because after christianity was adopted in the region, it became a nickname for the devil, as it was bad to call the fallen angel by any of his given names: devil or lucifer). But mistake not the paganism, so vague in its lines between good and evil that these notions barely existed as well shaped concepts, with its predecesor. None of the twins is supposed to be seen as purely good or purely evil in romanian mythos.

Fârtatul asked the primordial frog, the first animal he encountered in the vast sea, to swim to its bottom and pluck out some mâl (wet sand). Hence, the land came to be.

But there was just a plain terrain, dry and unlivable. So Fârtatul talked with the primordial hedgehog, the first creature to roam the newly made earth. And it became to walk around, digging with its small paws and claws until water sparked to the surface: rivers, lakes, seas and such on. Where the land creaked under the pressure, valleys formed and the puddle of earth the hedgehog threw behind in its search for water became mountins.

However, the twin brother, Nefârtatul, mumbled about the darkness around (for he kept bumping into things in this new world and couldn't see a thing). Therefore, he made the Sun and the Moon, and so the day and night appeared, lighted more or less by their patron own.

Yet, something still was missing. And both Fârtatul and Nefârtatul tried to fill the gap they felt existed. Each made creatures they soon deemed imperfect. First were the giant CĂPCÂNI (later known in our fairytales as căpcăuni). These were humanoid beings, tall enough to catch their feet into the mountains and fumble to the ground. They had half of a human face and half the one of a dog and they were bad for they were violent and mean.

So the brothers raced again with each other and created the BLAJINI. Cute, sweet, dwarves, as the name enables (blajin in romanian means kind, nice). But they couldn't fetch for themselves and the primordial twins took them into their own realm.

Next came the beings with multiple arms, and even later, the halves/halves (half human, half other animals). Until humans were created.

Legends say both Fârtatul and Nefârtatul created humans at the same time. To be like them in all aspects. Therefore some humans are more like Fârtatul and some, like Nefârtatul (remember, there is no good vs. evil concept here).

<<<<<<<<<<●>>>>>>>>>○<<<<<<<<<●>>>>>>>>>>

more will come soon :)

and also soon i shall find in my mess of a computer and link the sources 😔😪

[bazzybelle]

In These Violent Days, I'll Be Where You Are - 2K - Teen

For Dreamling Week - Day 1: Bar Fight

I'm Baaaaaack! I've been working on longer stories, both for the Sandman and Carry On Fandoms, BUT today is the first day of Dreamling Week. I have been working on some smaller fics, which I will be posting throughout the week. I will also be bombarding my feed with Dreamling posts from the INCREDIBLE writers, artists, and general chaos demons this amazing fandom has produced.

I hope you enjoy the beginning of my journey into writing Dreamling. I've been having so much fun in this fandom and I'm glad to share my joy with you all.

Thank you to the amazing mods and humans from the @mr-sadman server who have been so supportive and kind. You guys are amazing for putting together this awesome fest and for bringing us wild people together.

You can read the story below the line break or you can check out the story on AO3, by clicking the link!

Click here to read on AO3!

“Duck, that really wasn’t necessary.” Hob had been struggling with the lock to his flat above the New Inn. That is, until his overly protective and overly concerned boyfriend, fashioned another key from out of thin air and slid it into the lock with ease. Really, he was fretting over nothing. Sure Hob was nursing a black eye, and a few cuts and scrapes to his face, and come to think of it, he’s pretty sure his nose is also broken. But he can take care of himself. He’d been getting into barfights since he was a young’un, barely any meat on him. 

“I will not have you suffering any more for the remainder of the evening.” Dream slid an arm across the small of Hob’s back and carefully guided him inside the flat. Once inside, Hob kicked off the stupidly high stiletto heels he’d been wearing that night, and groaned at the sight of a dangerously purple bruise covering the better part of his left ankle. 

Right, add a sprained —possibly broken— ankle to the list of injuries he’d sustained tonight. 

Dream carefully manoeuvres the both of them into Hob’s bedroom, and it is at this moment where the adrenaline he’d been feeling for the last few hours decides to fade. Hob winces as he puts too much pressure on his fucked up ankle. 

“My point exactly,” says Dream, as he helps Hob settle onto the bed, before helping him out of his outfit (a skin-tight, sequined fiery red number, adorned with roses of varying sizes in black and shades of red). It’s probably dotted in bigot blood, but Hob doesn’t find he cares too much about spilling blood. He’s more upset that he’s ruined the outfit. He paid a pretty penny for it. Granted, it was well worth it, and he was helping one of the fashion design students at the university to showcase their work. But still, it is rather unfortunate that it had to get ruined. He would have liked to be able to use it again. 

“Love, I’m going to have to stand up again to get this off.” Hob attempts to get on his feet once more, but yelps as soon as his injury makes contact with the floor. 

Dream looks unimpressed. 

“Allow me to help you,” Dream says as he carefully undoes the zippers and clasps, removing the layers that allow Sherry Punch to show the world who she is. It takes a bit of time and a little elbow grease —or possibly, some dream magic— but they manage to get the outfit, and undergarments off. Dream carefully hangs the ensemble on Hob’s closet door, before grabbing a pair of his softest pyjamas. Hob, in the meantime, takes off the large, cherry-red wig adorning his head (styled in perfectly coiffed victory rolls, thank you very much) and hands it to Dream. 

“We still have all this to deal with,” he says gesturing to the mess of makeup, glue, and blood on his face. A corner of Dream’s lips quirks up, before he gently moves some of Hob’s hair away from his eyes. 

“I shall be back with your tools to remove your makeup, as well as your first-aid kit.”

“Third time this month I get to use it!” 

Dream’s not amused with the cheeky grin Hob gives him, but he chooses not to respond, exiting the room like a shadow. Once he’s gone, Hob sighs and leans back against the headboard. As much as he jests about fights in his pub, he had truly believed tonight would be different. 

The political atmosphere in London has been less than desirable— No, who is he kidding? It’s been absolute shit, is what it’s been. Protests in front of libraries, bloody wankers screaming at children and innocent drag queens who really have done nothing wrong. Politicians pandering to the absolute worst of society, by targeting the most vulnerable in his community. With each passing day, more and more safe spaces are removed due to threats and intimidation, and Hob for one was beyond fed up with it. 

The New Inn, from the moment of its birth, dedication, whatever you wish to call it, has been a place for marginalised people. From its poetry smash evenings, to its Fab in Drag nights, The New Inn welcomes any and all who wish to learn more about the LGBTQ+ community, and especially those who wish to explore their gender and sexual identities (or lack thereof) in a judgement-free environment. Hob worked hard to ensure it would stay that way, with the turmoil of life outside its doors. 

But of course, bigotry knows no bounds, and a few months ago, the protests found their way to The New Inn. Tonight was not the first time Hob had been forced to manhandle someone who had gotten too close for comfort. Tonight though, tonight was the first time a few of them had made it inside the pub. The event was ticketed and supposedly heavily vetted (though clearly not enough). Hob had felt comfortable enough to perform tonight as Sherry Punch. Sherry had become an important part of his life since the early 2000s, and she’d come out to play whenever Hob was feeling especially confident. Lately, Sherry had been forced to take a mini retirement, so that Hob could make sure any other drag performers were not harassed, or hurt. 

Tonight was supposed to be secure. For the first time in almost a year, Sherry Punch was coming back to the stage, refreshed and ready to slay. She had barely had a chance to get through her set before the heckling and harassment started. It didn’t seem to be too big a deal at first, and Sherry was used to a bit of heckling. She’d dealt with worse in her hey-day, and was able to shame a few of them enough that they left the pub in a huff (escorted, of course, by some of the bartenders working tonight). 

One particular tosser, a big, burly, monster of a man had managed to get close enough to the stage. Close enough, that when Sherry reached out to the crowd, he’d jumped out at her, attempting to pull her down to the floor. The thing was, Sherry wasn’t the type of queen to allow herself to be dragged down like that. So Sherry fought back, yanking the man by his coat lapels and kneeing him in the groin. 

Things escalated from there, and Sherry had to make a hasty retreat and Hob had to come back, practically tossing the bastard through the window. It would have turned into an all out riot, had Dream not been there to influence the crowd to peacefully, and safely disperse. One of his bartenders did end up calling an officer who thankfully apprehended the man. But Hob would have to go and formally make a statement and press charges (not that it would do anything). 

But all that could wait for tomorrow. For now, Hob slowly eases into his pyjamas as Dream returns to the bedroom. He smiles fondly at him, noticing the full tray. Hob can make out his makeup remover wipes, some peroxide and bandages, as well as an ice pack and a glass of water. 

Gods above, but he does love this man. Being. Anthropomorphic personification of a concept. He loves Dream, is what he means.

“We should be doing the cleaning in the bathroom.” 

“It is unwise to move you. I would like to prevent further injury to your ankle.” Dream places the tray on the bed and grabs a few pillows to stuff behind Hob. And he does like to be taken care of every once in a while. But honestly he feels disgusting and bloody, and he really should have insisted they go into the bathroom instead. 

“You know,” Hob says, moving to the edge of the bed, “this isn’t even the worst of the injuries I’ve sustained in this month alone. Remember that protest in front of the library near the park?” He doesn’t get far, the throbbing pain in his ankle keeping him rooted to his spot. 

Dream doesn’t respond. He doesn’t need to. He simply rolls his eyes, while pushing Hob back against the headboards. 

“If you weren’t so strong I would— oh, fuck. Love that feels amazing,” Hob moans as Dream places the ice pack on his swollen ankle. Ice packs, definitely a top invention from the last hundred years. And they only got better as time went on. The ones he has in his flat, for example, can be frozen or heated up. There are days where Hob’s old war wounds make it near impossible to get out of bed. Those are the days he makes the most use out of the several packs he’s got laying around. 

A corner of Dream’s lip quirks. He gets to work, slowly removing the makeup from Hob’s face, careful not to agitate his swollen cheek and bruised nose. Hob closes his eyes and all but leans into the gentle touch. As long as he’s held a torch for the person taking care of him, Hob never really imagined this would be his reality. 

He definitely didn’t expect this to be his future when he was a scrawny, gangly little thing at twenty-two, fighting and killing to survive long enough to either find work in a field, or a war in which to be a soldier. 

Hob’s life, if he’s being completely honest with himself, has been painted by violence. Sure, he could justify some of his actions, especially in the beginning. Some of the murders were accidental, or a consequence of fighting to survive. You had no choice in the “good ol’ days”. Back then, a show of mercy could mean a knife in your back. Back then, it was kill or be killed. Hob could barely remember, after over 600 years, the faces of the men he’d killed. They’ve all blended together at this point, as a generic bloody-faced man that will haunt his dreams from time to time, reminding him of the red in his ledger. 

“Penny for your thoughts?” Dream applies some gentle solvent over the glue lingering on his face. 

Hob smiles ruefully. “Just admiring my brilliant boyfriend.” 

“Your flattery will earn you no favours, Hob Gadling.” 

“Oh come on. Not even a small one?”

“Hmm. Perhaps.” Dream leans closer into Hob’s space, slowly wiping a smudge of cherry-red lipstick off of his lips. He traces his fingers over their chapped, rough edges, lightly teasing them, before placing a soft kiss. 

“Will you share your thoughts with me, beloved?” He whispers, caressing the side of Hob’s head. He can feel the light fluttering of Dream’s breath upon his face. Forever the greedy, touch-hungry bastard he is, Hob is weak to every sweet intimate moment that Dream initiates between them. He’d give the world and more for a second of Dream brushing his fingers over his cheeks, or carding his fingers through his hair. 

“I was just thinking back to when I was first getting into bar fights. I never would have thought my life would end up like this.” Hob picks up one of the wipes and rubs it distractedly over one of his eyes. Dream places his hand over Hob’s, steadying and guiding it over the makeup still left on his face. 

“You have had the privilege of 600 years of experience. You are hardly the man I met in 1389.”

“Still just as charming though, right?”

Dream huffs a small laugh. “Always, agapi mou.” He reaches for the bottle of peroxide and starts to clean the scratches and minor cuts lingering. Immortal as he is, Hob still needs between a few hours and a few days to heal from injuries (depending on how severe they are) (he once spent nearly a week laying in a ditch somewhere in Ypres after a brutal battle in 1916). 

“My life has been an endless, pun unintended, streak of blood. It seems I cannot help but give into my violent nature. No matter how things change, or get better.” 

“Your penchant for violence cannot be denied.” Dream isn’t one to pull back any punches, and Hob is grateful for that. He doesn’t need empty platitudes, not from the person who knows him better than anyone else. 

Dream brushes a cotton pad over a small gash above Hob’s eyebrow. Hob’s eyes flutter shut, as he exhales deeply. 

So soft. 

So gentle. 

“But your reasons for engaging with the violent facet of your personality have changed, have they not?”

They have. They started changing in the 1500s with the smile of his beloved Eleanor. They changed further with the squalling cry of a precious babe in his arms. Hob had wanted to protect Robyn from any sort of violence, and as such neglected to teach him how to fight. To fight like you had nothing to your name and everything to live for. 

A mistake he carries with him to this day. Though it isn’t as heavy a burden as it was centuries ago. 

One of many mistakes, his brain helpfully supplies.

No, he doesn’t fight for selfish reasons anymore. Not since being scolded for participating in something as dark and disgusting as the slave trade. He will never make amends for the pain he was party to. And he doesn’t deserve to feel better about the mistakes he’s made. He just chooses to keep learning and doing better day by day. 

“I fight for those who can’t,” he says, looking into the sparkling blue eyes of the man he loves above all others. 

“You do,” he says, pressing a small kiss onto Hob’s eyelids. It never fails to bring shivers to his spine, all the while warming his heart right up. 

“It is something I love about you, amore mio. You do not hesitate to protect those you care about. Even if it means you wind up with a broken nose, and a sprained ankle.”

A small, but smug smile makes its way to Hob’s lips. “Can’t deny I looked good kicking a bigot’s arse.”

“I’ll admit, watching you fight is always exhilarating.” Dream leans over, whispering in Hob’s ear “However, after your impromptu performance, I felt the need to restrain myself.”

Hob reaches for one of Dream’s hands, intertwining their fingers. “Did you now? Maybe I should let Sherry Punch out to play more often then, I reckon?”

“She truly is, what you would call, a sexy bitch.”

“You did not just say that!” Hob cries out loud, arms wrapping around his stomach as laughter peels out of him. 600 years he’s known Dream and yet he keeps on surprising him. Dream. The Prince of Stories. Shaper of Forms and the Lord of Dreams and Nightmares. His Dream, just referred to Hob’s drag persona as a “sexy bitch”. 

And in that deep, sonorous voice that never fails to drive him mad. 

He loves him. So fucking much. 

“God’s wounds, duck, if I wasn’t in this much pain, I’d have you here and now.”

Dream waves a hand over the tray and its many contents, vanishing them away from Hob’s bed. His black cloak, grey shirt, and dark jeans change into a soft t-shirt and dark flannel pants. He helps Hob get settled into bed, before nestling behind him, wrapping his long arms around Hob’s waist. 

“Then sleep, and allow me to protect your dreams, as you protected your community tonight. My beloved knight.” 

Warmth spreads from Dream’s fingertips like sweet treacle, coating Hob’s veins and numbing any lingering pain he feels. A part of him still wants to think about the continuing presence of violence in his life. A part of him wants to vent and rage about the way the night was ruined for everyone involved. 

But those are worries for the morning. When he’s not comfortably nestled in the arms of the man he loves. They are worries for when he is able to make it out of bed without howling in pain. When Hob is healed and ready, he’ll pick up the fight once again. He always does. 

But for now, it’s enough to close his eyes, and follow Dream into his Realm for a night of peaceful sleep. 

[amphiptere-art]

I'm going to take under the stage blood moon and make it its own thing. It was a relatively small au. It can stay that way. I'm not worried about putting it into arcade because I don't want to concern myself with that. Again small juice AU. So we're going to do something with under the stage that have wanted to do since I called it under the stage.

Under the stage.

It's going to become a theater AU.

Here's the premise. The DCA never became the DCA. They are simply the theater attendant. They do stage work and acting. Moon and Sun are two animatronics because they realized that the combined robot couldn't do both at the same time. The two do their job fluidly if not with a bit more pressure. As of course they have to swap out frequently. But it works. But here's the kicker.

There was a third robot. This is the beloved under the stage Blood Moon. Who will be renamed vibrant. He was an animatronic in a single body that they attempted to make do both. It did not work. Vibrant sort of died when he attempted to change out a prop while on top of it acting. Resulting in the other prop coming down and smashing on him.

This resulted in him becoming some sort of robo ghost. He can control most electric machinery, And of course can mess with robots. Only sun and moon can really see him. And they can only really see him when he wants to be seen. Which is usually when they're trying to frantically communicate with staff that there is somebody messing with their equipment. And vibrant is just behind the staff member making silly faces.

To add in a little bit of the original story. Which was that under the stage blood moon was a cut off world where Blue Moon killed the eclipse early. Essentially fasco rebuilt vibrant. I'm going to call him vibrant 2 in here. He was just as bitch as a tad more cocky and snippy as vibrant is. So Sun and Moon didn't exactly like this vibrant 2. But Vibrant became furious over them rebuilding him. Causing sun and moon to witness Vibrant 2's murder. As vibrant causes some machinery to glitch out and fling Vibrant 2 into a splattered mess.

Unlike Vibrant, Vibrant 2 doesn't come back. They were decommissioned the normal way. Having been intact enough to fix but not to care to fix. So now Sun and Moon are once again alone with trying to handle the theater. All the while mayor terrified of vibrant now thinking that he might murder them. Vibrant is still mostly just a chaotic being that wants to ruin their lives because the company replaced him. Although he's definitely violent towards staff, and has caused plenty of machinery to whack out and nearly kill people.

Anyways that's the new under the stage AU. I have been wanting to do this little reprise for a bit. Under the stage Blood Moon was always supposed to be a chaotic theater guy. And this AU helpfully does that. Also I'm shooting a laser towards any under the stage blood moon that is still tsams. I'm eradicating them because they were so small that I think the only one person had them. So early warning @sigery. You're under the stage blood moon is becoming vibrant and is going to lose half his memory and appear in your world for no goddamn reason other than I will it so.

Have fun.

[sickcoughingweakly]

been awhile since I wrote for these two 😭😭 but here it is a little ficlet of Lucas and Aurora! enjoy 💖

(sorry in advance for my grammar lol)

The moonlight flickers gently across Lucas skin, caressing the faint stubble on his jawline. The cold air has him shivering inside his coat, a thin garment of wool and silk. At first, he was trying to suppress the urge to cough but it was so cold.. he couldn't help but let them out. Every cough sends a tremor through his frame, and he holds fast to Aurora, who is beside him. He squeezes her with each hacking wheeze. "The air, --it's-- oh!" His throat clenches with the effort to speak while coughing. "It's... so cold."

"Can't stand a little cold can you?" She teases him with a warm smile.

"But it's freezing." He whines. Every breath tastes like the metallic bite of frost inside his lungs. His throat aches; his head hurts. "I'm so cold baby." Lucas pout.

"I know honey.." Aurora hugs him from the side, running her hands over his body. Lucas is coughing again and before she knows it, she can feel how his body tenses with every single one of them. He sniffs congestedly, pretending not to notice how Aurora is trying not to enjoy this particular fit.

"That cough didn't sound so good.."

"Feels worse than it sounds." With a trembling hand, he lifts a lock of his hair from his forehead.

"Ah.." he sighs. "I don't understand where I get these colds from. It's just the way I'm always getting sick you know.. this sucks." He says, leaning towards Aurora.

This bastard. Aurora knew he was doing it again. She felt so embarrassed about the way Lucas would use this against her on public. Of course he was always sick. For god's sake he constantly gave himself colds for her pleasure. But it was always a veiled move once there were people around.

"Lucas.. please don't-" She couldn't finish it. He was hacking again. A loud barking hack.

"Oh my.." He pats his own chest. "I could be subtle you know.. but then I wouldn't have your eyes so wild as they are right now.." He chuckles only to leads to more ticklish coughs.

It still shocks her how much of a brat he could actually be on his misery.

"I'm gonna need you to kiss me before I freeze to death."

And that was the cue for her to pull him, violently to a wall and pin him. They almost fell near a dumpster. But they couldn't care less. It felt like there were only two of them in the world. She pressed both hands to his neck, squeezing lightly and gently.

The sudden heat of her is reassuring to his trembling limbs. "That's it... that's the way to warm me up."

"You make me wanna take your breath away."

He wheeze out a laugh. "You're getting close to that." A smile stretches his mouth; "Who's to say I wouldn't let you?"

He's breathing heavily-- the cold and the pressure, all too much. "Goddamn." He giggles, a breathless gasp, and then coughs once more. Lucas throat ripples and bulges as he struggle to swallow.

"Do you want me to stop?"

He smiles through the coughs. He's always been something of a glutton for punishment, and it shows. His body arches against her grip; his breath comes with wheezes. "God Damn, that feels so good." He grows, wheezing quietly before he doubles over with another cough. "Too good."

"Let's finish at home shall we?" She command.

"You're gonna have to haul me by the collar. I can barely walk, and I damn sure can't breathe." Lucas is a mess. His coat is rumpled and his eyes are bloodshot. A thin trail of snot clings to one nostril.

"Colds and flu are no joke huh honey?" She says.

"Be my nurse?" He offers her a thin dork smile, witch wavers in the cold air. A hacking wheeze comes from deep within his core and rattles his entire frame.

"I think I can handle such a task." The woman smiles as she guides him away from the alleyway, her hand resting on the small of his back. She's a vision; her hair shines in the moonlight.

And he's so lucky to have her.