#wrote more than I expected there

[written-by-3racha]

Hope you're fine !! For a drabble, how about Sunghoon with a size kink ? I honestly think he has one lol

size kink ft. park sunghoon

note from étoile : AAH MY SIZE KINK IS GETTING WORSE ON THE DAILY... i think I've wrote the most hoonie fics so far but I'm happy abt it! he's my bias and I love writing for him ♡

WARNINGS: MINORS DNI, CREAMPIE (wrap it before you tap it!), PRAISE

Park Sunghoon most definitely has a size kink. He couldn't help it, he was so much bigger than you. You looked so cute beside him. You looked even cuter under him in the bedroom.

"Hoon, it's too big..." You whined. Only the tip was placed against your tight entrance, struggling to fit in.

"I'll make it fit baby, trust me," Sunghoon responded. He kissed your forehead before pushing deeper into you.

He wasn't even halfway in but you still felt full. Tears of pain threatened to spill out of your glassy eyes. Your hands made their way to Sunghoon's back, ten crescent mark shapes on his toned back.

"You're taking me so good, princess. Almost there, be a good girl for me, got it?" His sickly sweet words were such a contrast to the disgusting wet sounds your sex was making. His lithe hands stroked your hair in an attempt to distract you from the big stretch his cock was. His eyes met your teary ones, and you could swear that he grew bigger. Sunghoon kept pushing in until he bottomed out, dick snug against your cervix.

"Hurts," you mewled. More tears streamed down your cheeks.

It took all of the willpower Sunghoon had to not cum right then and there. You looked so pretty crying like this in front of him. So vulnerable. He massaged your thighs, cooing sweet nothings in your ear. "Gonna start moving, baby."

His hips started moving, first at a slow pace but then gradually increasing. His gaze was first at your face, then went down to your tits. He pinched one of your nipples and watched as your face distorted. He then looked lower, at the main attraction: his big cock pumping in and out of your small cunt. You were so tight around him, and it felt so good.

When you were getting close to coming, he felt you tighten up even more around him. Your moans and whimpers got louder and higher in pitch as you approached your climax, and your climax was just enough for Sunghoon to cum too.

"I'm gonna cum inside you and you're gonna take it, you're so fucking hot, princess," Sunghoon grunted as his thrusts got sloppier.

He pulled out after his high went down, watching the cum dribble out your pussy. And that was enough to get him hard again.

"We're not done yet, doll, and we're going to keep on going until you can't walk and the only thing you can remember is my name." You were in for a long night.

[incorrect-hs-quotes]

ROSE: That dream you had is very interesting, Dave.

ROSE: Freud would say it's indicative of intense sexual repression due to dealing with your brother so often, and having little physical freedom.

ROSE: Although Jung would say that it has nothing to do with sex, and simply indicates that you want to be a person with more of a purpose in life.

ROSE: Then Freud would say, "No, that's stupid. Purpose is so vague and hardly means anything about the patient or the dream. The interpretation of the genital fixation makes far more sense."

ROSE: Then Jung would retaliate with, "Not everything is about sex, you idiot! He's a teenager! How much could unconscious sexual desires affect him? And purpose just means that there is a lack of direction in his life. He wants something to do, something to strive for! Shouldn't we try to help him find that purpose instead of just attributing everything to this reductive view of human psychology?"

ROSE: Then Freud would go, "Perhaps you're right. But you can't deny that something is being repressed here. Maybe not sexual desire, but there is certainly a desire for something other than purpose."

ROSE: Then Jung would say, "Not really. What else could it be? Love? That's just an offshoot of sex in your view. I don't get what it could be at all."

ROSE: Freud would nod sternly and say, "Perhaps the patient desires connection. Not necessarily closely tied to purpose, but connection to others in the world is something he needs. That's what the globes in the dream represent. Connection to the world, something other than the living space he is stuck in. That's certainly a major effect of having no mother figure in childhood."

DAVE: rose

ROSE: Jung would sigh and say, "Connection. I see. Maybe that's something we all desire innately. We need to connect to each other and the world in order to understand what we need to do."

ROSE: Freud would take a step towards Jung and reach out a hand, saying, "Jung. We disagree so often that it feels there is no connection in the world. But I know we know each other. We can understand what we mean. If we all desire connection, that includes you and me. Let's try to connect more with each other, okay?"

DAVE: rose

ROSE: Jung would take Freud's hand and pull him close to his face, just inches apart from each other, and softly whisper, "Freud, you know that when I disagree with you, it's more because I envy you. I want to connect with you more, we can satisfy our... deepest desires, as you say... and become the ideal people we want to be if we are closer."

DAVE: ROSE

ROSE: What?

DAVE: shut up

DAVE: i did not sign up for your psychologist fanfiction

DAVE: tell me if im gay or not

[a-witch-in-endor]

Chapters: 19/30 Fandom: Avatar: The Last Airbender Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: The Gaang & Zuko (Avatar), Zuko & the Fire Sages, Sokka/Zuko (Avatar), Yue & Zuko (Avatar), Azula & Zuko (Avatar) Characters: Zuko (Avatar), The Gaang (Avatar), Yue (Avatar), Azula (Avatar), Zuko's Hat Additional Tags: Funny Hat Zuko AU, Fire Sage Zuko AU, Ozai (Avatar) Being a Terrible Parent, Found Family, Fire Hazard Siblings, canon-typical child abuse, Zuko is the Temple's Baby Nerd, Worldbuilding, Zuko Joins The Gaang Early (Avatar), Zuko has never met a hill he wasn't ready to die on, Autism Summary:

High Sage Kenji blesses Fire Prince Zuko with the resilience of the reed, who bends in the wind and never breaks. When he is done, Fire Prince Ozai narrows his eyes, seemingly displeased by this blessing. But Kenji does not speak for himself; he is only a vessel. 

-

The newly-crowned Fire Lord Ozai offers his firstborn son to service in the temple.

This turns out to be a catastrophic mistake.

[sherbetyy]

what if when duck said he “always knew he deserved to be dead” he also (maybe unknowingly) meant he excepts how their world works. like we all know he loves living in that hell hole of a home and love love loves when things go orderly and as planned. and he’s ALWAYS fucking dying so he’s sorta like . “hey. if this world wants to kill me sometimes that’s okay.” duck will just randomly out of nowhere says things like he knows too much about whats going on, but he just doesn’t care bc he believes it’s normal. and if he has any awareness of this thing specifically , i don’t think he minds as long as he gets to come back. because that’s always what happens and he’s okay with that. maybe he just thinks that that place knows what’s best for him, so he deserves what he gets. even if it means making him hurt from time to time

[ultimaratiovaccinium]

Sweets (1/?)

The snugness was barely tolerable. She had overestimated herself. She looked surreptitiously over her shoulder and ducked around a corner. The only thing following her were her bad decisions, but she felt chased all the same.

Okay. Calm down. Breathe (but not too deep). Evaluate the situation. What are your options? Can you loosen anything?

She looked down at herself. Past her swollen breasts, past a fluffy roll of upper belly, she examined her waistline. Nope. The button was the only thing keeping the zipper together, and vice versa. For the millionth time, she lamented her morning. What a bright idea, interviewing for a job with a snack company. She was very well aware of how sweets affected her.

Could she find somewhere discrete to wait out her... little metabolic mishap? She looked around for a discrete nook to accommodate her fresh bulk.

The little atrium she had found had a series of plush benches around the walls. She sighed and headed for the one in the corner. She sucked in as best she could and sat down. Some horny little corner of her mind made note of how it felt as her tight belly shifted against her puffy thighs.

Sitting like this, only barely upright lest bending too far compromise her jeans, she couldn't ignore how her waistband was trying to cut her in half. She thought back to how she had done this to herself. The lovely HR manager had very explicitly pointed out the basket of the company's sugary offerings there in the middle of interview table. The woman had been insistent that she try at least one of each, gushing like any good salesperson about their rich flavors and subtle textures, occasionally even peeling one out of its wrapper and handing it to her.

How could she have done anything but eat what was offered to her? And by a beautiful woman, no less. She knew how her body reacted to food like this, but she had been desperate to make a good impression, to look good and eager and employable. A good girl. She ignored that last thought, and the accompanying shiver through her frazzled tummy.

She closed her eyes and tried to steady herself. Breathe in through the nose and out through the mouth (but not too deeply). All she had to do was calm down, and give her body a chance to do the same. Then she could find a back door to sneak out of, go home and hope that somehow that she hadn't blown the interview.

She opened her eyes again and caught sight of herself in a mirror across the room. Holy crap, she was huge. She had been her normal, narrow self, and her outfit had fit very very normally, when she had arrived. But now? Now it looked positively painted onto her. Her breasts were trying to spill out of her tastefully exposed bra and over the lapel of her blouse. She was more balloon than woman at this point. She ignored another tingle.

As she watched herself in the mirror, she noticed something change. Slowly but surely, the last wrinkle in her blouse smoothed out. Uh oh. That meant... she was still filling out. Panic. She tingled again.

No. No. Calm. Breathe (but not too deep). She closed her eyes again, and could feel her plump body quietly grow. Crap.

Panic. Calm. Breathe (but not too deep). Calm.

Maybe if she didn't look, it would go away. That had never worked before, sure, but there's a first time for everything, right?

As she rationalized to herself, she noticed the sound of heels clacking towards her hiding spot. Panic!

Maybe their owner would pass and not notice her?

No such luck.

The woman who had interviewed her rounded the corner.

"There you are!"

She struggled to stand. So tight.

"You left your purse upstairs. I get it, though. Interviews can be pretty stressful, huh?"

Like nothing had changed. Did this woman not notice that she was currently three times the size she was when she had shown up? Could this woman not hear every seam in her clothes creaking in harmony? Could the woman not see how wide and deep and round she was becoming?

"It's such a beautiful handbag, I almost wanted to keep it for myself!" The woman laughed. "Oh well."

She took the bag from the woman. "O-oh! Thank you!" Leapt out of her.

"Listen," said the woman, "technically I have to review a few other candidates, but I think you're a shoo-in for the position." The woman moved closer. "No one else has shown so much... enthusiasm." Closer still. She basked in the smell of the woman's musky perfume.

"Oh... that's great!" she managed to squeak out.

"In fact," the woman continued, "if you'd like to come back upstairs, we can have you fill out the onboarding paperwork now, so you don't have to come back just to fill out some forms if... when we give you the job." So close now.

"Um! Okay!" What.

The woman placed a gentle hand on the side of her massive, tight, growing belly. "Listen, between you and me, that passion you showed today will take you far with us. Do you feel like the offer is fair? We can negotiate further if you need." The woman's eyes were so sincere.

What was going on here? She could barely think.

The woman placed her other hand on top of her belly, well hidden by her burgeoning breasts. "I do hope you'll say yes."

"Um..."

There was a pop. Her button pinged away across the room from her overburdened jeans. It made a little thwack sound as it hit the far wall. Her zipper flew down, zizzing audibly. Her belly erupted through the breach. Her blouse retreated upwards. The tingling became a roar. All the while, the woman, as though no tectonic shifts were happening right there and then, continued to implore with borderline puppydog eyes.

The world held its breath with her. How had this woman not reacted to any of that?! What? Was the woman still waiting for an answer?

"...okay?" She tried. She wasn't sure if her brain was still working. "Sure?" Best to stick to small sentences.

"Yay!" cheered the woman, "I really think you'll love it here!" The woman launched in for a quick hug around her exposed belly. The woman's arms didn't go even halfway around her. And still the woman didn't seem to notice that anything was wrong.

"Well! If you'll follow me back to the elevators, we can at least get the formalities out of the way."

The woman took her by the hand and pulled, still gentle. She followed, mutely. Even the horniest, shamiest corners of her mind were silent, waiting with bated breath.

As they reached the elevators, the woman pushed the up button and stood to the side. "Please," said the woman, "after you!"

On autopilot now, she stepped into the elevator and... wedged into the door. Stuck. What. Panic? Calm? The elevator dinged again as if to say "I'm waiting!"

The cold of the elevator doors brought her back to reality. She put a hand on either side of herself and tried to pull herself in. As though this were somehow normal, the woman chirped "Oh, here, let me help!"

She felt a gentle pair of hands press into her oceanic bottom. Her horny brain thrilled again. She clamped down on those thoughts. No time to be a pervert.

Between the two of them, they muscled her into the elevator. She turned to face the doors in time to watch the woman press into her in order to let the doors close. Normally equipped for eight full-sized human adults, due to her immensity, it very barely fit two.

"We need floor thirty," said the woman into her barely contained cleavage. She tried to reach for the panel of buttons, but by now there was simply too much of her in the way.

"I've got it," said the woman, reaching behind her without looking.

They rode the thirty floors quietly. She could feel herself still widening, pressing towards the walls of the elevator car. Her embarrassment had burnt out, leaving only a kind of stunned peace in her mind. She tried to will her body away from the woman, but where else could it really go?

By the time they reached their destination, the woman was firmly pressed against the doors, still showing no indication of the extra-ordinariness of the situation.

As the doors opened, the woman stepped back, grabbed her hands, and pulled as she tried to wiggle through the door. Eventually she floomped through, and they set off toward the HR suite.

Full-on waddling now, she felt an inner tension release. She had stopped growing. Relief. If nothing else, at least things had stopped getting worse. Sure, she was almost round enough to roll. Tingle. Sure, her clothing had been reduced to barely covering her... rude areas. Tingle. Sure, a beautiful woman was acting as though this was all perfectly normal. Tingle tingle tingle. But hey, at least it finally wasn't getting worse.

The woman pushed open the double doors to the HR suite and welcomed her in with another glittering smile. They seemed to be the only ones there. The woman led her, patiently, to the front desk area. The woman ducked behind the desk, looking for something.

"Hmm, it looks like I'll need to go print off more some more copies of the forms. Shouldn't take more than a minute or two." Finally she'd have a moment to collect herself.

Then the woman produced a basket, laden with various goodies, from underneath the desk. "Here! Help yourself, sorry to make you wait." Uh.

"Oh, here, allow me," said the woman, picking out a chocolate confection, peeling it, and pressing it into her mouth. "I'll be right back!"

She chewed and swallowed the treat.

Uh oh.

[little-skunk]

Little Shrimpo :3

His biggest fear is being called out for regressing. He does not want a single soul to know.

Does not have a caregiver, and frankly does not want one. He's not really a 'standard' regressor, and he is not a fan of being told what to do by authority figures.

He doesn't have his own little gear. If he wants to play with toys, there are plenty of places in Gardenview with them that he'll just go to after hours. He'll usually borrow his favorite toys and keeps them in his room for a day or two before putting them back.

Oftentimes his reason for regressing is overwhelming anger. For him, regressing helps him process his emotions in a healthier way (like instead of punching a wall and breaking something, he makes his action figures have an epic fight).

He likes to bite and chew on things when little, but he doesn't have something safe to do that with. Even if he did have a teether, he's sure he'd break it within a day. Usually he ends up nipping at his hands, fingers, or arms, and because its his body, he's much more mindful of how hard he is biting.

He doesn't really have a specific age he'd say he regresses to. He's just an older regressor, who doesn't ever really go any younger than five. He's most often around 10-13 years old.

Since he's not a main character, Shrimpo doesn't get his own personal handler, but he does have a handler he trusts and prefers over all the others. He has felt safe enough to regress around said handler a few times, but he would never put a name to it or actually tell the handler what's going on. He likes to play soccer with the handler, and they're both fairly competitive about it (though the handler clearly lets Shrimpo win on purpose so he'll be happy- and Shrimpo's too prideful to notice).

When Shrimpo can't have something he wants, he gets very whiny and annoying about it. But since he doesn't want to tell anyone else about his regression, he's usually just venting out loud to himself in the comfort of his room.

Pretty much the only time Shrimpo lets himself cry is when he's little and alone. If he dared to cry in front of another toon, he'd never hear the end of it. If they ever found out their big bully has a weak spot, his life would be hell! He only cries when he feels really really bad.

Shrimpo is very much prone to having extreme meltdowns. This happens a lot since his main trigger for regressing is overwhelming anger. He still has enough sense to try and be quiet, but he still kicks, punches, and flails around, he just screams into a pillow when needed.

Shrimpo would benefit from being a padded regressor, but would actually die on the spot if anyone were to ever see him that vulnerable. He'd also feel really embarrassed and ashamed for feeling like he needs them. Just generally he does not have good thoughts about wearing diapers.

If he ever were to see another toon visibly regressing, he would most likely heckle and tease them out of jealousy. He doesn't care if it makes them cry or gets other toons angry at him, he wants his displeasure to be known! Overall, he does not do well with other regressors around, especially when he's big.

If he did have someone he was genuinely really close to, he would warm up on the idea of a caregiver. It would just take a lot of patience and trial and error. Sometimes he likes to think about how a big and strong caregiver would hold him against their chest to stop him from hurting himself during a meltdown. That's the only time he wishes he had a caregiver.

[inficetegodwottery]

So. Werewolf 5th Edition.

Werewolf 5th edition sucks. A lot.

Edit- I made some errors in my initial edit of this post that were fuelled entirely by being underinformed and almost insensible with anger, disappointment, and anxiety.

Some very informative responses have been made that I intend to incorporate into a much better and less rambling post with those updates and corrections. I'll probably delete this one soon as I type that one together, so folks only see the updated version.

Sorry for any mistakes I made on this old version, again, I was in an extremely poor place mentally and thoroughly dispirited by the total butchering of what was supposed to be a less shitty and mean-spirited version of a setting I care deeply for despite its foundational flaws and 30+ year history of exactly this thing happening.

I'm still very, very angry. But it's important to be angry and correct. This post was not made by someone informed of all the facts, and I intend to correct that.

Paradox Interactive has made the brave decision to reboot the controversial Werewolf the Apocalypse setting entirely rather than try and fix it, and have somehow done a worse job than the games studio that released an RPG book titled an ethnic slur.

It's taken me almost a month since this came out to be anywhere near mentally prepared enough to even collect my thoughts on it.

Man, it is rare to see an edition of ANYTHING that pisses off old players, new players, players who want to keep the lore the same, players who want to change the lore, conservative players, radical players, and even powergamers.

How do you set out with the intention of making an infamously dated and poorly researched/outreached setting LESS uncomfortable and racist from a modern perspective.... and end up with something EVEN MORE racist and uncomfortable, but also suffocatingly tonedeaf, insincere, and deeply sinister and corporate in its erasure of existing issues rather than addressing them whatsoever.

We made the Get of Fenris irredeemably evil because some of them in the past were nazis and also nazis like Germanic mythology, so the viking werewolves are all nazis now.

Okay, I understand why you did that from a modern political perspective even if its kind of heavy hand-

The Native American werewolf tribes have been removed entirely and replaced with American Murican werewolf tribes. Renaming and rewriting them to be more respectful was just too much work! Now they're more inclusive. :)

The Irish werewolf tribe is now the Nature Werewolves tribe, like every other tribe of Werewolves also is, but also stripped completely of celtic origins.

The Red Talons are openly genocidal ecofascist malthusians and somehow NOT IRREDEEMABLY EVIL like the Get of Fenris are.

Also the feminist all women werewolves are no longer all women or even feminist. AND ALSO SOME OF THEM ARE SOCIAL DARWINISTS AND THATS SUPPOSED TO BE A GOOD THING!?!

Also we entirely dropped the themes about how forcing children to be a part of a war they barely understand while also lying to them about the crimes their ancestors committed that led to the current crisis is fucked up and evil.

Now its actually awesome to be a child soldier born into a repressive apocalyptic death cult with a siege mentality and everything is cool about that actually, you're the Good Guys, and no amount of covered-up historic genocides or internal/external bigotry will ever change that! :)

Also we solved the way people were uncomfortable with the idea that werewolf society is transitioning messily from being horrible ableist assholes that discriminated for centuries against those they view as deformed, disabled, or sexual deviants to new generations that don't care about that stuff, by removing disabled werewolves entirely! Problem solved! No more discomfort or moral conundrums! We are the liberal-est!

There's just something so unbelievably fucked up and suspicious about erasing entire minorities from a fictional universe because they were handled poorly in the first edition, rather than talking to writers and outreach specialists FROM the real world equivalents to those minorities to try and rewrite them.

Don't worry, we removed the group the setting was bigoted against! Problem solved! Just remove the minority!

I've written my own post on why the Metis/Crinos-born should be renamed and probably rewritten, but as a severely disabled individual with multiple hereditary disabilities that severely impact my QoL, outright removing disabled characters in a work of fiction because the prejudice other characters showed them in-universe made people uncomfortable makes me want to tear out someone's throat with my teeth.

Sure, completely remove my ability to play disabled a character fighting back against prejudice and bigotry, rather than rewrite the most uncomfortable aspects of YOUR FUCKING PORTRAYAL OF THOSE CHARACTERS to make it more clear who the sympathetic one is supposed to be.

It's just so unbelievably cowardly and whinging and wretched.

So fuck it, I guess!

Fuck the deeply applicable themes of being born into a well-intentioned but deeply flawed and bigoted society, and trying to create the better world your parents always told you your ancestors fought for, while dealing with the fact that your world is built on mass graves those ancestors helped fill.

Fuck a game that deals with intergenerational trauma and the ethical hellscape that is a highly religious society devoted to the very same ideals it often violates just to win fights against the enemies it created through its own arrogance and prejudice.

Fuck a game that lets you play someone born different, born strange and sickly, bouncing constantly between people who pity you and people who view you as subhuman, before finally finding the people, the family who love and accept and fight alongside you for a world that has never accepted you, but WILL FUCKING KNOW YOUR NAME.

That's not relevant to the real world at all!

There are no kids born in deeply flawed and hypocritical societies, who grew up on stories of the glorious future their society would create, forced then to reconcile the hopeful dreams of a better world with the comprehensive list of horrific things done in the name of that future.

There are no children born confused and alone in their navigation of the maze that is past atrocities, ethnic conflicts, religious prejudice and dogma, or modern propaganda attempting to erase the histories of all of those things.

There are no disabled teens who spent their lives believing they didn't belong in the world, kept going only by the connections they forged with other outsiders and people who fought back against the kind of wretched bigotry that suffocates children to death, who found homes and families they could trust outside the pissant communities they were born into.

Apparently those people don't need a game! They don't need to explore those feelings!

Just throw some more nazis in, so we can pretend we care about social issues or understand the redeeming threads of a deeply flawed gameline, ostensibly so we market it to leftist youngsters, but while we also erase the entire point of a game WHICH IS ALL ABOUT BEING PUNKASS YOUNGSTERS DESPERATELY TRYING TO FIND THE REDEEMING THREADS OF A DEEPLY FLAWED AND PREJUDICED SOCIETY THAT CONSTRAINS THEM, FINDING A WAY TO REBEL AGAINST BOTH THE EVILS OF THE RACIST BASTARDS WHO RAISED THEM AND THE POMPOUS SHITHEADS WHO WANT TO DESTROY THE WORLD OUT OF GREED.

No! We want a squeaky clean, sterile white game that AmericanTM parents can be proud of their kids for playing! A marketable game, that advertisers will gladly pay Revenue to put their products in! Play the good guys, everyone! You're the good guys! Be a big werewolf UwU!

Don't worry about historical atrocities or the flaws of the society that raised you! That's Pentex propaganda!

Fighting bad guys means you can't do anything bad yourself! The Emperor told me so! Deus Gaia Vult!

A hollow, performative, offensive jizzstain that should've been scrapped in its crib. I have no idea how this edition got past a quality assurance team.

Hell I have no idea how it got past a legal team, given the number of real peoples' likenesses they used without permission.

Devoid of artistic integrity or merit.

[lloydfrontera]

male authors, writing m/m friendships: their bond will develop through hundreds of chapters, we will get to see each stage of their budding relationship, they'll constantly be in each other thoughts, their first instinct will always be to reach for the other, their first worry will always be the other's safety, they'll spend every minute of the day together, they'll be complete opposites and yet perfectly compliment each other, they will put everything they ever loved in risk just to keep the other safe, they will give their life without hesitation to save the other's, they will fight and argue and tease and joke around but they will always be at each other's side at the end of the day, they will plan to spend the rest of their lives together, sharing the happy moments and the hard times, the idea of being without the other being unthinkable, the thought of being always together coming naturally, as easy as breathing.

the same male authors, writing m/f romance: she'll like,, smile once at him and he'll start thinking of marrying her and having children with her idk

[eh-whereismycat]

I feel like the fact that Felix is created from the emotion of jealousy explained his behaviour in his first episode to some extent, the way he impersonated Adrien out of jealousy, because Adrien has friends and crush (which he couldn't has neither of those until the death of Colt, stated in Representation, Colt's has the power to control Felix's feelings whenever he is attached to someone)

Yea, at this point of the plot we can all agree that Adrien is abused by Gabriel, but it was not this worse before Gabriel lose his fricking senses, poor parenting and madness asided, he "loved" Adrien when he obeyed him.

In Felix's eyes, even if he's obeying his father, Colt would just beat him up real bad, both mentally and possibly physically. But Adrien could live under a false impression of love and freedom, was able to express his feelings and bonding with his friends occasionally, NOT knowing the fear that his life is bonded with a fucking ring. BUT still, Adrien did not fight for his authority despite he has much more chance than him (Felix clearly doesn't know Adrien is Chat Noir).

Heck, of course he is jealous.

And while he is created from jealousy, Adrien is possibly created from a more loving and positive emotions, talking about identity crisis.

The core ingredient of his soul, the feeling that he is different from all the other humans, and the difference between him and Adrien, the only one kin he has before Kagami, he is filled with jealousy.

Regardless of all of these, he forms a similar understanding with the sweet boi Adrien about parenting and life.

During Pretension, Felix said "your duty is to protect them, love them, help them discover their own meaning to their existence."

During Representation, Adrien/Chat Noir yelled "that have a child is to help them blossom, to grow, to find themselves and to be free!"

As in S5 we see Felix is becoming more soft and sentimental towards his mother, duusu, also Kagami, and how Kagami is helping him to trust and works with Labybugs, this boi is growing up form his past, and I can see he is going to be filled with much more joyful emotions other than the jealousy that created him, I think we are all looking forward for these kids' future. They are breaking their parents' curse.

But still, please get them all into group therapy.

[ohhcinnybuns]

Thinking about AU baker Chuuya and florist Dazai this evening…

Chuuya owns a pâtisserie in a quaint cultural part of downtown Yokohama called “pêches et crème.” He loves to bake French goods to show love for his half-French heritage: Macarons, Éclairs, Chouquettes… Chuuya knew just how to satisfy his patron’s sweet cravings.

All the locals who enter his shop are immediately drawn to Chuuya’s charm and delicious baked goods. They compliment his artistry and use of chocolate and fruits to enhance flavors.

Though, they tell him he should move his beautiful shop because of the ugly ass building across from his potentially scaring customers away. The building looked hollow and devoid of life with its chipped grey paint and haunting ‘for lease’ sign displayed on its window. Chuuya makes note of it and thanks his patrons for their feedback.

And then, one day, the ‘for lease’ sign on the building across from him was gone. Over the next few days, Chuuya notices workers coming in and out of the building to give it a facelift, wondering what type of shop it will become. The grey paint on the building turned into a muted yellow, and the window borders were accented by swirling vinyl patterns of lush vines in the shapes of hearts. He thought it looked nice… or at least, nicer than the run down crap it used to be. He makes a mental note to thank his neighbor when the shop opens for upgrading the eyesore.

Until one beautiful sunny morning, Chuuya walks to work and finds a handsome brunette holding a bouquet in his hands, looking up at the newly renovated building, deep in thought. He seemed to be mumbling to himself, a hand on his chin. Upon further inspection, Chuuya spotted a van behind him with its trunk popped open to reveal buckets of flowers - roses, daffodils, tulips, daisies - flowers of every kind in bloom and filling his senses.

The floral scent overwhelmed him so much that he almost didn't realize he had stopped walking, his nose twitching, and finally, he sneezed. Gosh darn pollen.

The brunette breaks from his mumbling spell and turns to Chuuya.

When their gazes lock, Chuuya can feel his cheeks warm. The brunette was a lot more handsome than he thought… and the smile he gave Chuuya only stirred butterflies in his stomach. Is this what people call love at first sight? ‘Shit! He’s coming this way.’

Chuuya clears his throat and immediately begins to look for his keys to unlock his shop pretending like he wasn’t just gawking at a handsome man across the street. Was he running away? It sure kind of felt that way by the way his hands kept fumbling his keys as if purposely stretching time for him on this particular morning. Chuuya curses under his breath with a defeated groan until he feels a hand land on his shoulder.

Chuuya jumps from the touch; a tint of red highlighting his cheeks. He turns to face the man who towers over him, still clutching a bouquet in his arms with a grin on his face as if reading every thought crossing Chuuya’s mind.

Who are they? What do they want? Am I being robbed? Should I call for help? If he goes out, would he regret it under the hands of this handsome thief? Too many questions and too many scenarios run through his head. Maybe he should be more direct.

“May I help you?” Chuuya finally asks, his hands learning to properly hold his keys without looking like a clown. He shifts his pose to cross his arms over his chest, eyeing for any sign of potential thievery. He’ll kick some ass if he has to.

“Yes, actually. Are you Chuuya Nakahara?” asks the brunette, lifting his hand from his shoulder to twirl a strand of Chuuya’s hair away from his face. Chuuya immediately grabs his wrist and pulls away.

“Who’s asking?” Chuuya glares at the guy. Man, he was pretty but daft to think he could just creep up on Chuuya and start petting him.

“Why, your new neighbor of course!” The guy pays no mind to Chuuya’s glare. Instead, he lifts the bouquet adorned with red camellias, peach peonies, and white with salmon tint daffodils.

“A rose by any other name would smell as sweet as the name, Chuuya Nakahara.”

Chuuya is stunned silent, blushing furiously as the handsome man hands him the bouquet while mumbling to himself again, criticizing his work, “I should have added an orange flower for your hair or a blue for your eyes. Now it all just feels wrong.”

“I didn't see any blue flowers in your van? Wait a minute, you haven’t even told me your name yet or why you know mine!”

The taller man laughs, his head tilted back as if his name was the funniest thing in the world. He leans into Chuuya’s personal space, his hands slipping into his coat pockets and with dazzling smile, he says, “Dazai. Dazai Osamu.”

Chuuya’s throat runs dry. He was starting to feel parched, as if he had just run a marathon with no water for miles. The only thing he's capable of is repeating Dazai’s name as if engraving it upon his lips.

Dazai nods his head and steps away, distancing himself from Chuuya. His gaze becomes soft, and with another twirl of Chuuya’s curls, he says, “I’ll come back with a better one next time, Chuuya. I’ll see you around.”

Chuuya finds himself mindlessly nodding like it is normal to do with someone they have just met on an average Tuesday. An unknown feeling bloomed around him, and he knew it wasn't because of the flowers.

After they part ways, Dazai flashes through his mind during breaks, lunch, and baking sessions. Honestly, the brunette made quite the impression on him, and he blushed every time he glanced at the bouquet. He put them in a porcelain vase next to his cash register so he could see their beauty in full bloom. His patrons teased him about the beautiful flowers that sat beautifully in his shop. They added a floral necessity to the scent of sugar, chocolate, and cinnamon in the air.

Maybe he’ll consider asking for the florist's number and sending a box of his best pastries as a ‘thank you’ for the bouquet. Perhaps he’ll ask for a date or two, and finally find out how the smug bastard knew his name. It’ll make a great conversation starter for the next time they meet.

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

cough hack wheeze who wants a teeny tiny fantasy au snippet with uhhhh laughingstock Tension. it's like... half a scene! unedited & out of context As Is Tradition

~

“Nothin’ much. I think I’ll poke around nearby towns, shake down some travelers - see what falls into my paws.”

“I’m not sure that’s such a good idea, Barn,” Howdy says. He sweeps aggressively, spreading dirt more than gathering it into the usual neat piles. “Who knows if those ne'er-do-wells are still roaming around the woods - if you and Ed couldn’t take them, what makes you think you could alone? Or- or! What if you stumble across those cultists? I hate to think of you stuck in an ambush with no help coming, knowing fully well that-”

A large paw slips the broom out of his grip and sets it to the side, and Howdy stammers to a stop as Barnaby crowds him against the bar with a soft, “Howdy.”

Howdy swallows hard, bracketed on each side by strong blue arms. The look Barnaby fixes him with dries up his well of words and bristles his fuzz. Howdy’s heart hammers against his ribs. He can feel Barnaby’s body heat, and it’s lighting his blood on fire. 

“I’m not gonna be reckless, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Barnaby says. He barely needs to speak louder than a whisper for Howdy to hear him loud and clear. He smells like sweet smoke. “The other day was a one time deal, cross my heart. But, if it’ll make you feel better, I’ll take someone with me. I’m sure Jules is itchin’ to get outta town.”

“What would really make me feel better is if you stay,” Howdy blurts, just barely reining in the with me. He tenses, knowing that he’s toeing a dangerous line. One wrong word, and he’ll make the unspoken spoken - but the stress drains out of him as Barn’s eyes go soft. Perhaps that wouldn’t be so bad. Of course there’s no reason to worry, not about this, not with him. There never has been.

“You know I can’t do that,” Barnaby murmurs. “Not yet.”

Howdy doesn’t need to say that he knows. Not for the first time and with any luck, not for the last, it clicks in his mind that they’re on the same page - he doesn’t need to be a telepath to understand the thoughts behind Barnaby’s dark eyes. 

Barnaby says it anyway. “I gotta get him back. I can’t… there’s no room for anythin’ else right now.”

Howdy sighs through his nose and slumps against the counter digging into the small of his back. He nods and adjusts the lapels of Barnaby’s vest. His fingers ghost over soft blue, and Barnaby doesn’t flinch at the contact. If anything, he leans the barest millimeter into it. His gaze burns into Howdy’s, even if they aren’t meeting at the moment, but it isn’t a bad feeling. Quite the opposite, actually.

“Well,” Howdy says in a low voice, “if you find a good lead, send for the rest of us. I’ll be there as fast as my four legs can scamper.”

Barnaby smirks. “Even if you need to take a boat?”

“Even so, Barn.”

The smirk slides into something that isn’t a frown, but isn’t a smile. It’s too soft for a grimace, but too intense for simple recognition. Barnaby seems to sway forward, and Howdy is sorely tempted to meet him halfway.  

But Barnaby’s claw taps the counter, and he pulls away before anyone’s mind can be made up. Howdy’s hands slip from his lapels, brushing against fur as they fall and knuckles skimming over the smooth, fresh scar cutting across Barnaby’s belly. 

“I’ll be back before you know it,” Barnaby says, his eyes crinkling at the corners. He squeezes Howdy’s shoulder and then his back is turned, and he’s leaving. All Howdy can do is watch. 

And call out after him, “Your table will be open and waiting for you.”

Barnaby pauses in the doorway and looks over his shoulder at Howdy, and his grin is so full of affection that Howdy may just burst. 

“With a free pint?” he asks.

“Hey now, don’t push your luck pal.”

Barnaby bursts out laughing, and Howdy can hear it even after the door thuds closed.

[dingodad]

I know your tags said that the lil cal & Gamzee stuff isn’t worth discussing, but I think a lot of people could actually use someone articulating the problem with assuming that the puppet is what triggered the breakdown/“mind controlled” gamzee. If you’re really to speak on it, I’d love to hear it 

to preface: i'm not unsympathetic to the desire to see a more sympathetic interpretation of Gamzee given how his arc speaks to certain racialised themes within the comic. but this is what's in the text as i see it.

ultimately it comes down to the exact same arguments that apply to Dave's bro. Gamzee is part of Lil Cal, so if Lil Cal were whispering in Gamzee's ear the whole time he was also undergoing all these stresses related to faith and substance, those whispers are Gamzee's own thoughts being reflected back at him. if puppet-Gamzee suggests to man-Gamzee that he kill people and man-Gamzee concedes, all that's really happened is that Gamzee has given in to his own desire to do that. this is what Homestuck does when it pits alternate timeline versions of characters against each other; it simply manifests interactions going on within that character's own self.

more specifically to Gamzee, this is a character who manifests Homestuck's feminist themes very explicitly, especially in regards to how they are portrayed via Alternia's caste system as a member of the patriarchal purple class. it is true and worth mentioning of course that Lil Cal is not just Gamzee, but is also Caliborn, Gamzee's patriarchal god! but then it was Gamzee who raised Caliborn to have those patriarchal principles; because in Homestuck the patriarchy isn't something you're somehow influenced or tricked into participating in, it's something you choose to perpetuate, just as Caliborn chose to perpetuate it in becoming Alternia's patriarch... and so on ad infinitum.

the "tragedy" of a time loop isn't that fate is somehow forcing you to adhere to a course of events that you don't want to adhere to; tragedy is when the person that you are makes it inevitable that you will walk down that same violent path every time. and Homestuck is all about that person that you are; it's a story by and large disinterested with any scenario where a character's actions do not offer insight into their personalities. a Homestuck character has a certain nature, and while on occasion they are offered psychic stimuli, how they react to that psychic stimulus is according to their nature.

there is of course a physical rather-than-metaphysical approach to Gamzee's backstory, which I'm sure is more along the lines of what you were looking for lol, and while analysis of that is not so much my area I feel that the physical approach basically points toward the same kind of conclusions as the metaphysical one. Gamzee is a character of tragedy, who has been shaped by physical stimuli like religious abuse (from all manner of directions!), parental neglect and substance addiction. and my assessment of that is primarily that... this should be enough? like is that not enough to create a compelling character. even if it were not antithesis to Homestuck's themes I guess it just seems to me like it goes without saying that "this character's actions were the result of someone else's will and not of their own unique circumstances" reduces the character. most certainly yes, there are manipulative forces at work in Homestuck, and their name is Lord English, and yes, Lil Cal is Lord English, but Lord English's power lies in the telling of the narrative; and the narrative that turns Gamzee into a villain is already there! English doesn't need to tell Gamzee to make those malevolent choices, because English already established the circumstances that made those choices inevitable. to make Lil Cal into some literal cursed amulet is to make Lord English into Vriska, and that reduces him, because that's not what he is! he's the god of inevitability!

[oceanwithouthermoon]

the way some people straight up have no respect for asou's writing is actually kind of insane to me 😭 like youre a fan of HIS manga, but you outwardly express your disregard for the intentions he had when writing....... disregarding canon can be super duper funsies and cool sometimes, but to straight up say "i dont care what he intended and think my headcanons are more canon than what he wrote because i think he wrote it badly/he sucks at writing this dynamic/i dont like the ship (or whatever) he was trying to imply" is literally just insanely disrespectful IN MY OPINION 😖

i think maybe im just annoyed at how badly people misuse the words "canon", "coded", and "implied" (which im also guilty of occasionally- especially when i first came here) cuz like... "i choose not to acknowledge this thing that is canon or technically canon or implied" is fine (usually). "i know what the author intended but i dont like it or care, so im going to call my headcanon/ship canon and anyone who disagrees is disregarding canon and is stupid because i said so" is NOT fine... ☠️☠️☠️

[serenpedac]

“We belong to the Earth and the sea, you belong to the stars.”

— Zhang Beihai (The Dark Forest - Cixin Liu)

[aspicykazoo]

started thinking about haunted houses in the middle of class and then a thought popped into my head…

tickle haunted houses

just walking through dark hallways and mazes, terrifying sights around you, it would only be more fear inducing to know that there are groups of tickle monsters hiding… waiting…

we’re all aware of the different scenarios haunted houses put you in:

chase scenes, walking through mazes/the dark/fog, squeezing past narrow hallways, etc.

now it’s a rule that you aren’t allowed to touch the actors and they’re technically not supposed to touch you, but we’re gonna change that just for this idea.

here’s a couple scenarios I’ve had in mind—

the chase

classic right? we all love a good chase, especially when it comes to tickles at the end. but isn’t it more heart palpitating when there’s a scary-looking-masked-guy after you? usually he has a chainsaw but this time it’s just his big ol’ hands stretching out towards you as you sprint down the hall. it’s absolutely terrifying but a part of you can’t help but let out nervous giggles with a matching wobbly smile because the only thing you can see are those wiggling fingers coming straight at you. he’s fast and he could catch up to you in seconds if he wanted, but where’s the fun in that? there’s definitely no escaping from his grasp the second he has you in his arms. so you better keep running if you don’t wanna end up forever trapped inside with him tickling you until you can’t take it anymore ~.

hide and poke

i think this is a fun, silly idea that really keeps up the anticipation. you’re walking through an obscure maze/room, either it’s full of fog or it’s just straight up darkness, or even just flickering lights. you’re trying to find your way through with your arms outstretched and waving around, hoping to feel for walls or some sort of guide. unfortunately for you, you can’t see anything clearly… so you don’t notice the outlines of figures and hands reaching towards you. a poke to your side has you squeaking in surprising, jumping to the side as you remember what kind of place you’re in. you move as fast as possible, your hands sporadically shifting from protecting yourself and trying to not bump into things. A squeeze here, a pinch there, even some spidering fingers down your back… the onslaught of tickle attacks has you giggling like an insane person as you blindly run around.. so act quickly or you’ll never find your way out ~.

the wall of hands

probably one of my favorite type of scenarios! the next hallway is kind of narrow, it matches your width almost to a T, with some space given for your shoulders. you decide to take it slow this time, having to rush every other attraction… and you have no idea what else is to come. step by step you move down the long hallway… nothing is coming so far, perhaps you’re in the clear? but what was that? a brush against your arm? a tap on your shoulder? a tug on your shirt? you quicken your pace—or at least try to. suddenly your wrist is grabbed and you gasp in shock to see a hand holding onto you sticking out from the wall. you try to pull yourself free but the hand is surprisingly strong and it seems you were too distracted by that one to notice a second one reach out from the wall across and grab onto your other wrist. oh no, you’re stuck… and now it looks like even more hands were coming out from the walls, stretching out towards your vulnerable body. they don’t hesitate to turn you into a laughing, squealing, mess; your giggles and shrieks bounce off the walls, probably echoing out for all to hear. you have no idea how long they’ll keep you here and there’s no room for you to squirm away. guess all you can do now is endure it until they get tired… get comfy, because this’ll take a while ~.

little bonus idea: i think it would be even more flustering to know that even though they can touch you, you can’t try to grab or push the actors away because of the rule, so you’re just there laughing your head off while flailing your arms or hiding behind your hands not being able to do anything to save yourself.

[average-transdalorian]

Y’know I think all of Char’s divorces could be explained by him being aroallo and trying his best to be alloallo because he doesn’t realize he’s aroallo. But also I’m not sure the world is ready for rep like that