#and I’m working on a lot of different stuff

[sparklingchim]

game on 05 | jjk

pairing: jungkook x oc

word count: 2.9k

tropes: footballer!jungkook, fake dating, f2l

rating: pg

warning: jk flexing his abs (he is just a man😔), sleeping in one bed, mentions of oc flashing her boobs in the past (rumour created by jk), they compare their abs..��, cuddles <3, their parents adore them <3,

summary: the hardest part so far: lying to your parents. a close second: squeezing into jungkook's tiny twin bed with his big body taking up too much space.

a/n: finished this up listening to new lorde n eating pizza at 4am oh how i love life !!!!!

masterlist

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The thing about fake dating is that it works great until you’re sitting across from both your mothers and your dad at your not-boyfriend’s family dinner table, and suddenly everyone’s looking at you like you’ve already picked out wedding venues.

Jungkook had the audacity to look normal. You were barely holding it together, one fake smile and suspiciously warm face at a time.

“I didn’t realise you two were so close these days,” Jungkook’s mum says, smiling sweetly. “I was so happy when I saw the news, but also a little hurt that I had to find out through the internet and not from my own son.” Her gaze slides pointedly to Jungkook, giving him a scolding look. “I’ve been hearing all kinds of things about you through the internet.”

Oh no. Once mums start scolding you for one thing, they bring up every mistake you’ve ever made too. One thing turns into five, and suddenly you’re being reminded of stuff you did when you were a child.

But obviously, Jungkook’s used to this – sitting in the hot seat while his mum lectures him. He doesn’t even flinch anymore. Just lets the scolding roll off and ignores the jabs.

“We’ve been spending a lot of time together lately,” he retorts, voice smooth, hand resting on the back of your chair like it belonges there. It didn’t. But now it does. Kinda? “It just kind of… happened. And it felt right.”

You are going to die here. Choke on your food and perish.

“___ didn’t say anything either,“ your dad pipes up, immediately throwing you under the bus.

“She has a lot on her plate,” your mum cuts in, quick to defend you. “At least she always makes time to call. And she visits when she can.”

Jungkook’s mum gives her son another pointed glare before her face softens as she turns to you. Her tone shifts completely, warm and doting. “How’s university, sweetheart? You’re not running yourself into the ground, are you?”

You sit up a little straighter under the attention, managing a small smile. “Ah, there’s always a lot to do. But it’s not too much.”

She nods approvingly, already scooping more rice into your bowl before you can protest. “Good. You always were such a hardworking girl. Just don’t forget to take care of yourself too, hmm?”

“And you’re joining Jungkook for the world cup?” your dad asks. “You sure it won’t be too stressful with university and everything?”

“It’s just a few weeks,” you say, trying to sound more chill than you feel. “My exams are still far away anyway, I’ll manage. Most of the work I can keep up with online.”

“The only thing I’m really worried about is the flight,” you admit, voice dipping slightly. “Being up in the air for that long kind of freaks me out.”

“Don’t worry about that,” Jungkook says. “It’s really not that bad. We’ll probably sleep the whole plane ride anyway.”

“Our Jungkook will make sure to take care of you,” his mum chimes in, beaming with full maternal confidence. “Right? You’ll look after her properly – make sure she feels safe and comfortable. Especially because she’s willing to keep up with her studies while traveling, which is very responsible.”

You nod, cheeks heating. Her approval has always felt… different. Kinder. She’s not your mum. She doesn’t have to think the world of you, but she always has. She’s been rooting for you since the days you and Jungkook used to sit cross-legged on the living room floor doing homework together.

“Of course,” Jungkook says easily. His voice is light, when he glances over at you, his eyes are all doe-like and shiny, crinkling at the corners the way they only do when he’s being extra sincere. “I always try to take care of her.”

And then, ever so casually, his hand reaches up to rest lightly on your shoulder. His fingers brush your shoulder for a second, barely there, but enough to make you feel it everywhere.

Your lips twitch with the start of a smile you’re trying hard to hide. You shyly look away.

“I wish your dad could see you two like this,” his mum says with a fond smile. She tilts her head, gaze softening even more with pure endearment. “Such a shame he had to work this evening.”

All three of you look at Jungkook and you with adoring eyes. This is probably all they’ve hoped your entire lives long.

You swallow a little harder than usual.

“I’m so glad you two found each other.” Your dad gives you an approving smile. “You’ve always looked after each other. Even as little kids.”

“Finally ___ could bring some sense into Jungkook’s life,” his mum says. “I didn’t like your behaviour at all, Jungkook.” She directly speaks to him. “It’s time to stop behaving like a young boy, hm? Stop acting reckless. You’ve got someone beside you now.”

Jungkook blinks. He probably thought the scolding was over. “Mum...”

You have to stifle your giggles. If his dad were here, the conversation would’ve already derailed into football tactics and match predictions, with your dad chiming in too. But in his absence, Jungkook’s mum is fully in charge and she’s on a roll.

“He’s been good,” you add quickly, defending him. “He’s a very good boyfriend.”

You can feel Jungkook’s stare burning into the side of your face, but you refuse to look at him. One glance and you might start laughing or fumbling your words or blushing or whatever.

You don’t say anything else. But you think he knows.

~

Somehow, Jungkook’s mum managed to trick you both into staying the night.

She started with a sweet suggestion – “Why don’t you sleep here and have breakfast with us in the morning? Jungkook’s dad will be home then too!”

Without much resistance (none), you found yourself smiling and nodding along. Because who says no to Jungkook’s mum?

This is not a regular sleepover, though. This is not popcorn and movies and matching pyjama sets. This is sharing a bed that is definitely not made for two people, in a room that still has posters of football players from 2010.

You’ve been offered one of Jungkook’s old high school football jerseys, which hangs halfway to your knees, and a pair of smallish athletic shorts you had to tie tight around your waist to keep them from slipping – both a little ridiculous, both weirdly comforting.

But even with his clothes on your body, you’ve been granted no special privileges.

Your regular resident monster is hogging the bed.

Jungkook’s broad shoulders stretch close to the edge, and his strong arms don’t exactly make it easy for you to claim your side.

And you’re just. Lying there. Eyes wide open.

Fake dating, they said. It’ll be fun, they said.

“I don’t think I could ever get married,” you blurt out.

“What? Why?” he asks, clearly startled. “You’re too much of a lover girl to be saying shit like that.” You feel him shift slightly, looking over at you.

“Sleeping next to a man for the rest of my life? Doesn’t sound appealing to me.”

“You don’t wanna to spend every waking moment with the love of your life?”

“I want to, but.” You meet his gaze. “What if he snores like you?”

He scoffs. “Rude.”

“It’s a real concern.”

“Your love would be big enough to drown out the snoring?” He fully turns on his side, moving the mattress and making you pray he won’t accidentally push you off.

“That’s your argument?”

“I’m just saying,” he shrugs. “I think if you love someone enough, you’d stop noticing the noise. Maybe even become comforting.”

“That’s… actually kind of cute.” You let out a dramatic sigh. “Okay, maybe I’m not writing off marriage completely.”

“I’m always changing lives.”

“All you did was defend snoring.”

“And love,” he says, pointing at himself. “Don’t forget love.”

You roll your eyes, but your cheeks feel a little warm. His face is close now, his hair a soft mess and his expression sleepy but somehow still handsome. You shift just a bit to make space.

“You can come closer,” Jungkook says, pulling you to him by your waist.

“I’ll just sleep on the couch.”

Jungkook grabs your arm before you can even try to get out of bed.

“No. Imagine my mum catching you in the living room in the morning.”

“I’ll say your snoring bothered me,” you say. “Which would not be a total lie.”

You’re concerned about not being able to fall asleep with his snoring in your ear and the very real possibility of him accidentally pushing you off the bed. The couch sounds like a dream compared to this.

“I’ll be quiet,” Jungkook promises. “But mum would immediately assume we had a fight if she catches one of us on the couch.” He sighs. “Would make us wash dishes side by side like back when we were kids and had a fight.”

“I’m so good at washing dishes now, though,” you say. “I’m thankful for her bonding strategy, honestly.”

“You’re weird for enjoying cleaning up.”

“But it’s so therapeutic!” you defend. “It’s just me, my dishcloth, and a good audiobook. I love it.”

“You’re, like, every mothers dream daughter-in-law.”

Your eyelashes flutter in a tentative, shy way. “You think so?”

Jungkook sniffs a laugh at your reaction. “Studying medicine seals half the deal already.”

“Remember when you had that injury from football in the first year of high school, and your mum called me right after you got back from the hospital to check if the doctors knew what they were doing?”

Jungkook groans at the memory. “She kept bugging me to send you photos of my meds so you could double-check if they prescribed the right thing,” he says. “Like, just because you wanted to be a doctor back then didn’t mean you actually knew anything.”

“She’s cute.”

“She’s overprotective.”

“She cares about her baby,” you retort, voice a little high-pitched as you squish his cheeks together with your hand.

“You know, I was just thinking how I strive to be more like you, but I rest my case.” His hand clutches your wrist. “I don’t want to be someone who does stuff like this.”

“Too tired to be silly?” You let go of his face, dropping your hand on his chest.

“Too much food,” he sighs dramatically, giving his tummy a few taps.

You frown. “There’s no food baby.”

Jungkook lifts his shirt, showing off the rippled lines across his abdomen. “Just pretty abs.”

“I have those too, you know.” You tug Jungkook’s jersey up a few inches, just enough to reveal the soft skin of your belly. “They’re just hiding.” The jersey pools around your ribs, the fabric bunching slightly in your hands.

He chuckles. Then with a grin, he reaches over and gently pokes your tummy, making you flinch.

“They shy?” he says, amused. “Gotta coax them out?”

“They’re waiting for me to pick up my Pilates classes again.” You tug the jersey down again. “I've had a defined tummy for a bit, but I'm just too lazy when it comes to working out. I have zero discipline in that regard.”

Because why would you willingly choose moving your body when you could use your free time to curl up in bed and sleep?

“Lets work out in the gym together,” he proposes. “I'll motivate you.”

“Why do you always try to get me to work out with you?”

“So we can spend more time together?”

“We’re about to spend plenty of time together.”

“It’s gonna give class trip vibes,” he beams. “So excited to be there with the boys and you.”

You’re excited too. You’ve never left the country before, and the idea of going abroad feels surreal, but you wish the circumstances were different. Is pretending going to be easy with so many eyes on you?

You pout a little at the thought, kicking off the sheets as warmth starts spreading across your body.

Jungkook frees himself from the sheets too. “It’s hot,” he mutters.

“Your room’s too tiny for two people in summer.”

Jungkook sits up just enough for his arm to bump into yours. You let out a little grumpy noise.

“Jungkook,” you huff, giving him a lazy shove. “Personal space.”

Only then do you realise he’s pulling his t-shirt over his head, the fabric dragging slowly up his torso before he chucks it somewhere into the abyss that is his floor. It’s dark, but not dark enough. Your eyes still catch on the muscles of his back, the dip of his waist, the way his shoulder blades shift with the motion.

“Personal space doesn’t exist on this bed.” His voice is a bit low, probably the sleepiness seeping through, but coupled with him slowly dragging his hand through his hair it makes it feel like more than just tiredness.

Your eyes flick to the stretch of his arm, the shift in his shoulders. It’s mildly offensive how effortlessly good he looks. Maybe even a bit annoying.

“Why are you getting naked?”

Jungkook laughs and looks down at you. “I usually never wear this much to bed.”

“You can take your sweatpants off too,” you say. “I don’t mind.”

Jungkook tilts his head. His hair falling over his forehead in little strands. “You trying to get me naked?”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“I don’t want to be the only one getting naked,” he shamelessly tosses out.

This absolute freak. Jungkook has to tease you every 5 minutes or else he’ll spontaneously combust.

“This is not 10th grade truth or dare strip version,” you reply, unfazed. But then the memory hits you like a brick. “Oh my god, remember that school trip? When we all snuck into Jimin’s room and someone asked you a relatively tame question, and you took your shirt off for no reason, but everyone knew you just wanted to show off?” You shove his shoulder playfully, remembering his silly antics from high school. “You literally just wanted to flex in front of Hyejin.”

Jungkook sighs dreamily at the memory as he gets comfy on the bed. “Ah, teenage hormones and desperation. Simpler times.”

“I bet you’d do the same thing right now if you had a crush.”

He turns his head on the pillow to face you, smile soft and cheeky. A quiet dimple tucks into his cheek.

“Shirt’s off already.” He raises an eyebrow and lets his gaze flick very obviously from your eyes to your mouth and back.

“Ugh,” you grumble, closing your eyes for a second. “How am I going to tolerate you for two whole weeks during the world cup?”

“Just the way you ignored me during the game when Taehyung dared you to kiss someone, and you refused my offer to just kiss me so you wouldn’t have to take off your clothes?”

You immediately cover your face with your hands. “Don’t remind me.”

“That was the highlight of the night. Taehyung knew you wouldn’t do the dare. Just wanted you to take off your shirt.”

“You said ‘if you’re too nervous I’ll volunteer’.”

“I was giving you a way out! I knew you weren’t gonna kiss any of those douchebags.”

“You said it in front of like ten people, Jungkook. What was I supposed to do, make out with you in the middle of the circle?” You shake your head in disbelief. “Do you think Taehyung thinks of us sometimes?” you ask, curiosity tugging at your words.

“Nah, he’s too busy with his influencer friends now.” He rolls his eyes as he says it.

Taehyung was such a good friend until high school ended, and everyone’s lives drifted apart. He stopped showing up to hangouts and stopped texting.

“Anyway, my offer would’ve saved you flashing your tits at everyone.”

You sit up, glaring at him. “I was not flashing my tits at everyone. I had a bra on!”

He was the one flashing his tits.

“Well then, flashing your cute bra at everyone,” he corrects. He’s got one hand behind his head, looking at you through amused eyes.

You think for a second. “I don’t remember what bra I was wearing.”

“A white one. It had little cherries all over and a little bow in the middle.”

“That one!” you perk up. You click your tongue mournfully. “Grew out of it though.”

Jungkook hums thoughtfully. His gaze drops down to your chest – though there’s really nothing to see, not with you absolutely drowning in his old jersey. Still, his eyes linger with a soft kind of amusement.

“We could buy a new one?”

“No, some things are better left as good memories.”

Without a word, Jungkook wraps an arm around you and gently tugs you down onto his chest. You let yourself go easily, curling into his side, and resting your head on his chest.

“Then I hope you’ll always think of that bra fondly.” His fingers brush absentmindedly along your spine.

You giggle. “Thank you, silly.”

When you start to shift back to your ridiculously tiny sliver of the bed – because someone (the bicep exhibit to your right) is taking up eighty percent of the mattress – Jungkook presses a gentle hand to the small of your back, stopping you.

“You can stay.”

“But I drool.”

“That’s okay. I snore.”

You consider it for a moment. “Fair trade.”

Jungkook chuckles as you settle again, placing your head right back on his chest. His hand stays where it is, comfortable and still.

You wake up multiple times that night.

Each time, you try to inch further toward the edge of the bed, desperate to escape the relentless, blaring noise of Jungkook’s snoring.

But every single time, he reaches for you in his sleep. An arm looping around your waist, a hand tugging you back in.

You stop fighting, eventually. Let the (annoying) noise carry you through the night while you’re half-draped over Jungkook’s chest, face smushed into warm skin, drooling peacefully.

[lilliths-story-studio]

CW: The vaguest of mentions towards self elimination in a conceptual sense and not pertaining to the narrator’s internal thought process. Covering bases just in case it could be a problem though.

The return to the cabin is well timed. The only place to stay dry is just in front of the doorway, under an awning roughly the size of a greeting card. It doesn’t do a ton to keep the rain beginning to fall in swiftly fattening drops from pelting us. But the scent is clean and the water is a blessing in the midst of all this heat, so I lean against my side of the doorframe and just watch.

I only check the treetops twice before I finally relax and enjoy the storm.

“Have you found anywhere else like this?” She asks after several minutes of doing the same.

“Up north, there’s a spot called Kilbourn that reminds me a ton of Corbin. Strong riverside community. You’d like it.”

I’d wanted to take her.

“I remember you mentioned it…”

When she was making plans to come back out on the road with me, once her degree was finished. Something that had been extended twice due to her struggles with chronic fatigue, which are starting to make a lot more sense.

“They get real good rainstorms- but like everyone by a river, they kinda just want the stuff to stop flooding their homes, thanks.”

“You still rank them?”

“They’re harder to keep track of one at a time on the road than they were when I was staying put. Oklahoma gets some best ones, but they also go bad the most often.”

“Mild way of putting it.”

I kill off my beer at the same time she finishes hers.

“I’m grabbing another, want me to bring you one?”

“I’d say I can grab it myself, but now that you’ve offered, I’m feeling kinda lazy today.”

She snorts and takes the can.

“You’re lazy everyday.” She pops the door. “That’s why I offered.”

The door shuts, because at the very least she and I agree on wet hardwood and not wanting to skid to our collective death. The wind is picking up, tossing more of the water sideways into my side. I wipe at the water, like it will make a difference, and hiss as I’m reminded of the stinging in my palms.

Right.

Between the storm, the beer, and the conversation, the discomfort had been forgotten.

I should clean those.

As if reading my mind, Cassy reappears with the drinks and a small first aid kit.

“Let me see your palms.” She sets the drinks just next to the door starts unzipping the pouch. “I know I’m not getting you inside until this,” she waves between me and the storm “is out of your system.”

“It’s energizing and relaxing, I can understand that people don’t like being wet outside of a pool, though.”

Her lips press together on a suppressed bit of laughter. I look instead at the wounds as she goes to work.

“Thanks.” I clear my throat. “Sorry I just kinda…left you to do yours alone.”

“The last time you bandaged me up was very sweet- and I had to go and redo it anyway.”

“Nevermind, I retract my apology.”

“Meh, bank it.”

“I hate that you’re counting on it.”

“You doubt one of us is going to say or do something charged and mean again?” She starts cleaning out the really rather shallow scrapes with a wipe that smells like the Vodka I used to steal from Drew during my first run with his crew. It stings about the same.

“I mean, I’m going to try not to…”

“Like I said. Bank it.”

“So, full seriousness, what are you most worried about in those trees?” I hiss as she scrubs harder than she had a moment ago. “Fuck?”

“Way to lighten the mood.” She removes the wipe. “It’s dark, I really should be doing this inside. Since you’re not moving, however, I want to make sure the dirts out.”

“I appreciate it.”

Once the job is done she hands me the drinks to hold while pops back inside to put things away, then comes back, sticking her hand out.

“Beer, bitch.”

“You wanna get yourself hauled out in the rain?” Her eyes widen the slightest fraction and her lips purse. “Then watch the sass.”

I pass her can to her and she not-quite yanks it out of my hand.

“So the Howler is probably the most boring because it’s the most common story and sighting around here.” She says, popping her tab.

“That’s the Beauty and the Beast stunt double, right?”

“Beauty and the..”

“Giant wolf-cat thing the size of a bear with horns?”

She snorts a laugh, immediately covering her mouth.

“I don’t imagine it would go quite so well for anyone out here as it did in the movie.”

“I don’t know, the wolves would argue it hadn’t gone well at all.”

She laughs, head tilting back and full throat exposed. I can’t see much, only faint details illuminated by the glow spilling from the cabin window just past her. But it’s a kind of perfect I haven’t seen in years.

“I’ve never seen the Howler, but E has. She’s jumped at every elk call since.”

“She’s seen it. In person. For real.” I repeat back.

I know I’ve joked about Bigfoot, but there’s no way demon-bear is real.

“In person. For real- we see enough weird shit that lying is kinda pointless now. I believe her.”

“I can’t imagine it cares about my hair, though.”

I wait, uncertain if I’m going to get any more answer than that. Low, rolling thunder rumbles its way along in the distance while gusting wind sweeps itself into a stronger refrain. The trees bend more than they had and a fresh wave of water pelts my uninjured shoulder.

“Every region has its rules, if you take the time to get to know the wilds of it - and the things the wilds will warn you about.” She turns her eyes towards the woods and whatever she believes to be in there. “You know your rules up north and why?”

“Yeah. Thought he was nuts, but every time we’re up there Drew says something about the trees and whistling after dark, then threatens to beat every ass not inside the encampment borders when the sun goes down. I guess his dad grew up in the area.“

“That’s because those rules keep what lives in those trees from getting up close and personal.”

“Have you seen them?” Our boss had told stories of cannibalism and curses. I’d assumed them to be folktales and no more, same as the ones in these woods.

“E saw it, I only heard.” She taps her toes against the ground, still just watching as the branches dip and sway with more enthusiasm. “Fucked her up harder than the Howler by a lot.”

I give her a beat, nursing my drink in the interim.

“So what does that have to do with these woods and my hair?”

“Your hair is one of the rules that helps keep you from getting up close with the things in these woods. Everything out here is incredibly energy sensitive, and you have no actual wards. Just the braiding we can get done, your visualization, and a bandana. So you can’t afford to skip out on any of them, given they’re all meant to be extra on top of proper protection magic.”

“Weren’t you supposed to teach me that?”

“Do your light exercise tonight and let me re-braid your hair.” She says.

“I guess Imagination was the true magic all along.” I shake my head and take a drink. “And what’s going to get me, then? What’s the boogie man?”

“Do you remember the feeling in the caves? That thick, almost aggressive anxiety?”

Anxiety? That word seems entirely too mild.

“Vaguely.”

We all pretend to be tougher than we are sometimes, right?

“It’s alive. Sentient. And it produces these sort of parasitic little spirits that feed off of the same emotion they were born from. In the case of the caves and these woods - fear.”

“The caves we went diving into with only one flashlight?”

“You’re not gonna let that go, are you.”

Between the drink in my hand and the charge of the storm, I’m in a good mood - and the idea that she knew what was gonna be nipping at my heels when she’d walked off with the light threatens to smash that. I take a deep drink.

One. I don’t want to let this ruin my slightly improved night. Two. She’s laughed twice and I like the sound. Three. The rain soothes both the heat and agitation in me. Four. I need answers about what I think I saw. Five. Going after her stunt in the cave again is just going to restart the arguing.

And I just…don’t want to argue.

“Sometime next century, sugar. Keep explaining before I start thinking about it too much.”

She takes the hint.

“When you don’t have any protections in place, that shit can slip right up like you’re an open bar. It fattens up the meal by swelling all of that unease until it pops. The second the lid blows and all that unchecked emotion goes off, it latches on like a frat boy doing a keg stand.”

“Not great, but is that it? Emotion explosion?”

“How hard to I have to beg for you to never call it that again?”

“Answer the questions for now and we’ll see how benevolent I’m feeling at the end.” I offer a smile.

This time when she ducks her head, I don’t bother looking away.

“They’ll latch on if they like the taste, and if you don’t know how to get rid of them, you’re just going to be in that cycle of inflammation, explosion, and consumption until you’re life is ashes around your ears. Typically they’ll move on then. The host often doesn’t survive the separation.”

“What, it kills them on the way out?”

“It just drains everything out from them before it drops them like an empty bottle and leaves. A not-insignificant number…decide there’s no point in getting back up.”

Well.

Shit.

“Fine, braid my hair before bed.”

“How can I resist such a sweetly worded request.” She raises a brow.

I shrug and look back towards the woods instead of the storm. The owl is back. I blink, and it’s gone.

“What is it?” She asks after a moment of silence.

“Nothing…”

She chuffs a humorless laugh and throws back the rest of her drink.

“I doubt that. Something in the woods?”

“Treetop, I think.” I shake my head. “Mind playing tricks after your ghost stories.”

“Don’t be so sure about that. There aren’t a ton of old treetop legends that I’ve stumbled across out this way, mostly caves, farms, and bridges. But I told you, there are newer things that have shown up lately. One of them hangs out in the trees. So far, we’ve never seen one come down from the branches. It just kinda…watches.”

“Like the bridge just says names?”

“Nothing collects names or follows you through the entirety of the woods for no reason. We noticed it about a year ago - just staring at E. Followed her until we left. Never made a noise - we just glanced up and saw a set of these wide, silver circles on a branch about a foot over our head. It had this dark silhouette that seems both spindly and oddly wet for something that lives in the trees. I screamed, but it just kept locked onto her until we were out.”

Okay. No thank you.

“You just saw the one?” Did it turn into an owl and vanish?

I look at my now empty beer.

Maybe I should leave it at that if I’m hallucinating shapeshifting tree spiders.

“I saw a second one last time we were out here. I ignored our rule and went walking alone - we’d fought. I thought it was following me, but I actually caught sight of it from the back. I don’t know what it was following, but it didn’t pay me the slightest attention. Just sat in the tree and leaned in to watch whatever it was following closer.”

“You didn’t check it out?”

“I had nothing on me.”

“Didn’t stop you today.”

“And I was alone.”

“You can’t honestly count me as backup, can you? Best I can do is tip toe and yell ‘look out’ if we do stumble into a monster movie.”

“It’s still more than I’d have alone.” She tilts her head. “You good to go in? I don’t think it would come down and out, but I don’t really want to bank on a guess.”

I sigh and wipe at the side of my now-dampened tank.

“Yeah, I suppose.”

Inside I make double certain to lock the door, and a point of telling Cassy I’d done so. She gives me an odd look, but otherwise just grabs my empty from me and heads into to kitchen. I pop into the bathroom with my bag to change into black sleep shorts and the oversized black Felix T-shirt I’d purchased to replace the grey one Cassy had stolen.

The same one she’s in when I emerge from the bedroom and find her perched on the couch with two fresh drinks. I slow; smashing a couple drinks on the porch or over cards back at camp is one beast. Sitting and drinking with my ex seems like a recipe for more trouble on my disaster sundae.

“What time are we getting started in the morning?” I ask, taking the drink reflexively as she passes it into my hand.

“Probably about 8.”

“Alright, I should make this it and get to sleep, then.”

I crack the drink because why would I waste it. And I fold down onto the couch because I’m tired of standing. I don’t move when she shifts ever so slightly closer on the other side, because she’s always been a restless sitter. And I turn towards her to converse because there’s no tv, and I don’t just want to sit in silence.

I swear I can hear Drew groan at my justifications.

She’s smiling, and I can see the dimples properly in this light. Between the drink in my hand and the rain we’d just come in from, my good mood has persisted and I just want to enjoy the sight. I don’t want to smash it this time.

It’s familiar and just a little sour. A tinge dusty. But still better than the animosity we’d been trading.

“Do you like the carnival? When you came out here, you sounded like you hated it.”

“I hated Drew.” I scoff into my can. “Asshole was nosy as hell and wouldn’t get off my back about the drinking…”

“It wasn’t even that bad yet.”

“He knew where it was going.” I sigh, throwing the drink in my hand down my throat to spite the man’s inexplicable give-a-shit about my general health and wellbeing. “I’m not the first foster brat that ran off with his gig straight out of eighteen. Sounds like we share certain patterns of behavior.”

“So you’re looking forward to going back?”

“Yeah.” I hold my hand out for her empty as she tosses it back. “I’ve got a pretty good crew of idiots back there. Jax tries and fails to get me to care about anything to do with the fitness nonsense he’s all up in.“

“I could have told him that was a lost cause.”

I shrug.

“I warned you on day one of ‘come do Pilates with me’ that we had different fitness goals.”

“You had none.”

“Which would be different from you having all of them. Statement stands.”

She rolls her eyes and pushes off of the couch. Turns are taken wrapping up in the bathroom, and then I’m back out on the couch after assuring Cassy yet again that nothing had gone wrong the prior night.

The window over the couch is covered with a single copper panel of curtain. The cloth had been pushed to one side for light whilst we’d been outside, but is now firmly back in its location. The desire to wrench it open is at least marginally lesser than the prior night, and beggars have long since learned that implementing their namesake typically results in loss.

Sleep is slow to claim me, a cruel joke considering I should be more wiped than I had been the prior night. But I can’t stop thinking about that owl or the creepy guy at the grocery store. In all likelihood, the later had just been an awkward jerk and the former had been a stress hallucination. I’ve never had one myself, but I recall Cassy having mentioned similar problems in her own life.

Except maybe she can see things.

Not helping me calm down.

I turn to my side, facing away from the window and looking at the sealed door. She’d advised me to knock on the wall if I changed my mind, and I had promised her she could put in her earplugs without fear. Drinking with her had been a fuzzy enough line, but sharing a bed again…that one seems pretty damn clear.

I scrape my fingers through my hair and return to my back. What Cassy had said about doing that light exercise comes to mind.

Why the hell not. I’m just laying here anyway.

At some point in the middle of Felix’s glowing eyes turning into a low-budget force field, I recognize I must have slipped into sleep, given that ceilings don’t typically morph into open sky. The stars are glittering bright as so many dreams caught in the inky expanse of eternity, and soft music teases across the air to reach my ears. Soft, twinkling sounds that remind me of a babbling brook.

I want to go find it.

How handy that the entirety of a dense and ancient wood welcomes me, the sound growing louder. Distance closes in strides or thoughts, it’s hard to keep the means of movement straight in this shifting landscape.

What had started as babbling water turns to whispering giggles.

Rude.

“Hello?”

Who am I looking for? Not who, what, right? I heard water. Or whispering. I’m not sure which, but it’s growing louder as I push on until I finally glimpse a break in the ground. An erosion of soil framing a humble stream of water. My chest sparks and spasms, like it can’t beat fast enough. Or maybe like it tried to beat too fast and tripped over itself?

The meager trickle sounds loud as baying hound in my ears. Just whispering, giggling, and then it speaks my name.

I jolt awake, sitting up on the couch with my ears ringing loud enough to deafen me. It’s a million degrees in this cabin, and the only saving grace is a hastily fetched glass of water. I wrench the tap as cold as it will go, adding ice cubes and hastily gulping mouthfuls. I ignore the faint shake to my hands and the brain freeze begging me to slow down. It wasn’t even a scary dream - just my psyche tripping over all the shit that’s happened in the last 48 hours, easy enough to see.

I just need to get through my water, calm down, and I can get back to sleep.

I watch the kitchen and living space like a hawk as I work through the liquid, slowly calming my pulse. The shadows here don’t move like they did in the cave, but my eyes still swear they see masses shifting. I finish my drink and splash my face with cold water.

All of these stories and witchy talk have gotten to me, and my dreams are just doing what they do to catch up.

The fact that the charm around my throat feels like a hot coal is chalked up to my own body heat and dismissed.

It’s just a damn necklace.

Previous post

Start from the top

Prompt #1180

"I'm feeling kinda lazy today."

"You're lazy every day."

[avelera]

I saw a random post lamenting that there isn’t already S2 Sandman Dreamling fic (it had a tongue in cheek tone I’m not actually annoyed with OP lol) and I just want to say I have good news for those who haven’t read the comic and for whom S2 is their first introduction to the rest of Dream’s story.

There is already Sandman (and Dreamling) fic for you on AO3 that is compliant with S2.

S2 has made some changes so far sure. And there might be some small tone differences to scenes or slight changes that are different in the show.

But overall, a LOT of people who have been writing Sandman and Dreamling fic for the last few years are familiar with the comics and wrote fics with later story stuff in mind and the show ultimately did not deviate so much that those fics don’t work anymore.

So rejoice! If you want a Sandman/Dreamling fic that accounts for Audrey’s existence, those exist! (Though beware some spoilers until part 2 drops.) If you want fic where Destruction plays a role, good news, there’s tons of those! I’m sure the new season will mean a lot fic gets added and I do think there will be some detectable differences between fic written pre and post S2.

BUT since this is an adaptation, and people have known the rest of the story for awhile, there’s already a lot of fic out there that should satisfy S2 watchers because it already includes and accounts for the “new” material.

[ao3commentoftheday]

I just saw your response to gifmaker anon (sending hugs to anon!). First, let me just say thank you for being such a safe space here on tumblr and providing emotionally intelligent advice! It always warms my heart to see your replies to asks.

I am not a gifmaker or videomaker or writer or anything really (although i am tempted to try, maybe soon) and i have also struggled with loneliness in fandom, especially here on tumblr on which i am new. I was wondering if you had any concrete advice on how to reach out in fandom spaces, especially on tumblr? When is it ok to DM someone, and about what? I guess i’m afraid of taking up ppl’s time and energy, and that they think I’m weird or not fun. I have sent asks, but it honestly makes me very anxious, mostly because i never know if the tone carries.

And also how to make others reach out to you — Is it only through creating things, like fics and art? I think i’m a bit scared that what i want to make is not something a lot of people will like, and so i will just have written something i care about and then bare my soul by posting it and then just stand there in silence because no one connects with how i think, or no one understands it.

Lots of love to you!

link to the ask anon mentions

Thank you for the love - and the lovely compliment! 💗

I'm not sure I'm the best person to ask about how to make friends on tumblr. I say that because my perspective on social media is quite different from a lot of folks. I grew up pre-internet in a rural area and so I didn't get online until I moved to a city for university. My first online interactions were using things like ICQ (think WhatsApp without the phone calls) and IRC (think Discord but text only) and mostly with people I knew personally, or friends of my in-person friends.

Because I was introduced to the habit of meeting online strangers through them being friends-of-friends, I kind of have that habit still in place? I don't see messaging someone as intimidating. Sending an ask or a DM isn't scary. It's just waving hi to someone at a party and seeing if they like the spinach dip.

(ironically, talking to someone I don't know at a party IS intimidating to me)

The biggest source of my success when it comes to making friends online has been going into interactions with the friendly force of the extrovert I'm pretending to be. You know how there are some people who just seem to create friendships out of thin air? I pretend I'm one of them. I'll wave hi in a new discord server and as soon as someone replies to me, I'm basically just

Generally speaking, I keep DMs to either conversations with someone I've spoken to before or questions that seem too private for an ask (that can be published publicly). That's just me, though. Other people might have different preferences.

If you want people to reach out to you, reblog ask memes. These are lists of questions that you're wililng to answer if folks drop one of the numbers/questions in your inbox. At least, that's the way they're supposed to work. Sometimes I see people reblog them by just answering all of the questions up front, but that removes the possibility of someone asking you.

One other thing - if you want to prove that you're willing to answer asks? You can always send one or two of those questions to yourself as an anon ask. Just like a busker might drop a few coins into the guitar case to encourage people to tip!

Don't worry too much about taking up space, anon. The internet is a vast expanse with plenty of room for all of us. And if someone doesn't reply? There's a 99.9% chance it's not about you at all. We're all dealing with a lot of stuff on any given day and sometimes answering an ask or a DM falls off the radar.

One last thing in this already long post - Do Not, Under Any Circumstances, Use Creativity As a Means of Getting Followers. I know that's a lot of capital letters, but I feel very strongly about that after years of running this blog. If your primary goal for writing fic or making art is to get followers or attention or make friends, then you'll feel really bad if that doesn't happen as a result.

Make the art because you want to make the art. Share the art because you want to share the art. When you make the creation about the response to it instead of the creation itself? That leads to crushing disappointment.

Best of luck anon! Much love back to you 💗

[emberphoenixisgoingtolive]

PLEASE READ IF YOU EVER WANT OR DO HAVE KIDS

dear parents,

for disability pride month, here are some prompts for how to react if your child tells you they think they might have a disability

thanks for telling me

i can tell it was difficult for you to say and it's super brave of you to tell me

i love you so much, and i will love and support you no matter what

i'm so sorry you've been in pain/sick/dealing with these symptoms. if there's any way i can help you cope with them, please tell me

i believe that you're struggling and in pain and i trust your perception

you're a whole and wonderful person with or without disability

im proud of your disabled identity and all the parts that make you who you are

i don't know everything about this but i'll learn for you, and we can learn together!

if you think [solution/treatment/mobility aid] might help, it's worth looking into

if you're up for it, we'll research this now

do you want to see a doctor about this?

i can tell you're tired, we can talk more about this another time; right now would you like to [insert fun thing your child likes to do]

would you like to continue talking about this?

and here is how NOT to react and what NOT to say (starring things hoes (my parents) have said):

…a mobility aid? /somewhat disgusted

i don't think that will help your joints get stronger

won't it decondition you/make you worse?

*ignore your child and look into other treatment options before considering what THEY think could work best*

*listen to a doctor over your child. doctors are not always right*

*imply you don't want a disabled child, or you'd prefer they weren't disabled (key note: being disabled for a lot of us is a very important part of our identity and there is deep history, culture and solidarity in the disabled community. and even if we don't like being disabled, what message does it give us that YOU don't like a part of us? what happened to unconditional love?)*

assume that it's mother fucking psycho somatic, ahem, DAD

ADDITIONS FROM @slut-4-remuslupin:

"you think this is hard for you? How do you think *i* feel? I have to watch you like this and take you everywhere, and do xyz, and I was supposed to have my own life again after you turned 18. This is way harder on me.” how the fuck do you think WE feel being in pain/having horrible symptoms all the time????

are you sure you’re not just faking it for attention?

I think that you’re exaggerating your symptoms, there’s no way you could feel like that all the time and still do (xyz)

your problem isn’t that you’re disabled/sick, it’s that you’re lazy and you don’t exercise enough

if you just got up and exercised like a normal person you wouldn’t have these problems

If you’re really so sick that you need that [mobility aid], then you have no business going out and doing stuff, so either you do those things without [mobility aid] or you don’t do them at all

*when your child says they feel really sick, or that they’re in a lot of pain* Oh, here we go AGAIN. It’s always something.

there’s no reason why you should need prescription pain medication. When *I’m* in pain I just take Tylenol and it works fine for me

maybe we should just put you in a care home if you’re really so sick that you can’t do these basic things everyone over the age of 7 should be able to do”

EXERCISE IS NOT ALWAYS THE ANSWER!!! OFTEN TIMES IT WILL MAKE US WORSE ESPECIALLY IF WE DON'T EXERCISE IN A WAY THAT SUITS OUR BODIES!!!

ADDITION FROM @disabled-planet

don't assume it's anxiety. often times it is something completely different that gives similar symptoms (postural orthostatic tachycardia syndrome, for example), or it can be something completely separate from anxiety symptoms. either way, trying to convince us it's anxiety and invalidating our problem is NOT the way to go

[mechncheese]

Also writing stuff for the Science Cont. has been such a challenge— I’ve never worked with so many characters before so balancing everything has been wild. I’ve laid out how I want this story to begin and how I want it to end and all that’s left is all stuff inbetween (WHICH IS A LOT)

Within this story, I have many moving components but to sum it up simply; there are two different plots happening at the same time, plot A (simply dubbed “Ambition” because it takes place with the scientists off Cybertron) and plot B (dubbed “Cybertron” because.. it takes place on Cybertron) and eventually the two plots come together

Ambition in a nutshell is more light-hearted; Character hijinks, It’s camp and corny

Cybertron deals with the heavier stuff; it’s more gritty and cruel. Characters go through it big time.

I know it seems like I only ever focus on the scientists since I talk a lot about them and their hijinks though it’s mostly because it’s easier since they’re in One Setting (stuck on a moon) and forced to spend time with each other and there’s only 6 of them vs Cybertron’s bajillion characters with their own intricacies, friendgroups, and dynamics in a setting that changes as it progresses ! I’m leaving most of it as a surprise (code for, I’m still cooking and don’t have the answers to everything)

[writing-for-life]

First Impressions of Netflix Sandman Season 2

Okay, I need to get this off my chest. Some people might know I’m the resident comics geek in here, but I’m not a comics purist. I liked the changes they made to S1 because they all made narrative and emotional sense to me, and despite some softening around the edges, it all felt true to the story to me.

And that was one of the reasons why I went into Season 2 with such high hopes and so much excitement. And I did like S2 as a sort of standalone thing.

But I also have a lot of thoughts about it as an adaptation, and I don’t know what happened there. Well, I guess I do because I expected compressing it so much would lead to some fallout. And I would’ve been okay with that. But it’s the emotional core of the story that has changed, and in my mind not always in a good way (people are obviously free to disagree). But one thing after another. Slight spoilers under the cut…

The Disjointed Feeling

The pacing feels completely off. We’re jumping a lot between storylines without giving any of them space to breathe, especially in Season of Mists. And it felt a bit like checking boxes? As an example, Lucifer’s abdication was rushed through like it was just another plot point. The new Nada arc (I call it new because it has so little resemblance to the original one that I can’t call it anything else) also felt rushed. For me, it was really hard to feel invested in their story, but that’s not just because of the overall disjointed feel, and I’ll get to it later.

Brief Lives fared marginally better in terms of letting the story breathe, but I think that’s also down to its overall narrative structure in the comics, which obviously supports that. And while I loved that we got Wanda, it felt like fan-service but otherwise just… stale? Because we completely scrapped AGoY, and it honestly felt a bit like, “But we need to make sure we still shoehorn in the fan-favourite trans-character somehow.” Honestly, Wanda deserved so much better than being this type of checkbox, and at this rate, it felt like doing her a disservice. But again, people are free to disagree.

I guess what I’m trying to say is: I get they had to condense it and that their hands were tied in a way. But it felt like condensing while still trying to cram in too much? I think volume 1 would have benefitted from cutting certain stuff to give other, more important beats more breathing space so it doesn’t feel like getting whiplash half of the time.

They’re Making Dream… Sorta Nice?

This is the big one for me. They’re softening Morpheus into oblivion (no pun intended), and it’s killing what makes him such a compelling character. In the comics, Dream is actually terrifying and horrible very often and not one bit in touch with his feelings (and for a good reason). I know that everyone loves the sad wet cat meme of Morpheus in the rain, but that’s his theatrics and drama, which are only part of his emotional core. Morpheus hides/supresses his true emotions 95% of the time until he can’t anymore and they burst to the surface in the most maladjusted ways. He also doesn’t talk about them like he’s in friggin’ therapy. That’s all good and well for fanfic, I do it as well because it’s fun, but that’s not his emotional core. That’s us trying to fix him.

And Netflix!Dream in S2 felt like a massive fix-it fanfic to me. Maybe that’s why so many people don’t seem to care because Tumblr obviously laps up these tropes, don’t know. It’s also understandable that people who haven’t read the comics won’t even notice, and that’s also okay. Netflix!Morpheus is a very different character from comics!Morpheus, and that wouldn’t be a problem, but the narrative tension stops working if you still try to cram him into largely intact comics plot. In the show, he gets a million beats where he’s clearly meant to be sympathetic, where the camera lingers on his face so we can see how much he’s hurting™️, where he has conversations with Lucienne that feel like the clumsiest exposition ever to mAkE us UNderStaNd because we’re apparently stupid and can’t figure out stuff or emotional subtext for ourselves (that already annoyed me in S1 btw). But the whole point of Morpheus is that he doesn’t SHOW that hurt. He buries it under duty and pride and quiet rage until it all comes exploding out in the worst possible ways. Netflix!Dream has been cracked open right from the start, and I honestly hated a little how far they took that in S2, despite already getting hints at it in S1. None of this should have been truly visible before the end of act 2 (the end of Brief Lives—that’s where he cracks open), bar a few subtle hints (there are obviously a few bits in SoM that are largely inner monologue).

And even then: Can we talk about the wash bowl scene? Just no, sorry. I had expected that scene to rip me to shreds and turn me into a blubbering wreck because it still does in the comics. But I didn’t shed a single tear, and it left me strangely underwhelmed because I honestly felt�� that’s not Morpheus? Apologies to everyone who loved Tom’s performance there, but I just really didn’t. And I wanted to 🥺 That’s no reflection on anyone’s acting, because the acting as such was great. It’s just a character that’s barely Morpheus anymore. He’s this:

I totally get how it could be argued that the emotional outburst is in tune with releasing grief, so if people prefer that, I can see and understand why. To me, the quiet grief away from everyone was always more powerful though. Because it’s enough. It’s someone who hasn’t allowed himself to connect to that truthful, deep part of himself while theatrics and drama are much more of a an openly acknowledged part of him. That’s why I find the chair scene so powerful (and I’m PISSED we didn’t get it)—because it’s quiet and truthful. The wild scrubbing and howling is much more Morpheus the drama queen for me, but I get that I’ll be alone with that, and I’m okay with it 🤣

Which brings me to: The way they handled his relationship with Orpheus was particularly off for me. Comics!Dream’s guilt over his son is like an infected wound that he never lets anyone see. Netflix!Dream practically wears it on his sleeve after a bit of to-ing and fro-ing. Netflix!Dream is also painted as far more noble than comics!Dream. It feels like they’re setting him up for the heroic sacrifice only, and to me, that honestly stinks a little because I’ll call it what it is: mischaracterisation. But since I also know that screenwriters aren’t that dense, I’ll call it what it really is: making him more palatable for the mainstream audience.

The Emotional Core

The thing that makes Sandman special is that it is about stories and grief and the volatility and instability of dreams and the terrible weight of existing for too long. It is about change and the fear of change and how sometimes the only way is to break everything you used to be. But Netflix!Dream in S2 already is all of what he’s supposed to become, at least in a roundabout way. That’s why the conflict feels forced, because everyone around him still treats him like comics!Dream. It lacks deeper emotional resonance. It’s all surface emotional manipulation and layers it on so thick that for me, it was bordering on corny in parts (I wasn’t too keen on the additions to the dialogue with Orpheus at the end).

Or Nada. Don’t get me started. The whole sending her to Hell for 10,000 years barely makes sense anymore, because it was presented as a genuine choice. He was just “a bit pissy” she didn’t choose him and then didn’t rescue her, but she made the choice herself and basically suggested it first. Of course Hell in the Sandman is a place we send ourselves, and it was also implied in the comics that she could have walked away at any point had she just forgiven herself for the fate of her people. But it was Morpheus who planted the seed for that in the first place. In the show, they basically made it Nada’s choice from the outset.

Also: That he basically proposed and said he won’t bother her any further if she said no? Yeah, about that one. He’s so nice, isn’t he? Not at all the guy who could never take no for an answer, and hunted her down like a crazed stalker when she was both alive and dead.

It was just really weird revisionism of a story that originally had misogynistic and coercive undertones. I get why they removed them, but the problem is that they now fail to connect coherently with the story beats they kept intact.

In SoM, Lucifer’s character work was stunning (Gwen was great with what she was given), but it existed in isolation—it didn’t really connect to the broader themes about power and responsibility and the cost of ruling. It was all a hand wave.

I know that all sounds like I absolutely hated it, which I really didn’t. On its own, it’s okay. But I feel it’s just okay so far, while I thought S1 was great. S2 had many moments that absolutely did connect (I’ll just say Calliope and Johanna—they both made me sniffle), but moments don’t make a season. I’m a tad worried that the show has lost sight of what made the source material so special, in favour of making it more accessible to mainstream audiences (well, it’s Netflix, of course they would, but S1 was so much better). Sandman isn’t supposed to be “accessible”. It’s supposed to be challenging and weird and uncomfortable, and that’s what ultimately makes it beautiful.

I’ll keep watching, of course. I’m too invested not to, and maybe things will grow on me when I rewatch. But right now it feels like they’re adapting the plot of Sandman without understanding why that plot matters.

Maybe I’m being too harsh. Maybe I need to let the season breathe and see how it all comes together. But right now, it feels like they’re giving us a beautiful, well-acted shadow of something that is so much more.

Did anyone else feel like something was missing?

[this-is-intersexism]

Hi!

I’m a perisex person as far as I am aware (I have never been to an LGBT-safe doctor to find out for sure or thought to until recently). I randomly started getting posts from you and another blog about Intersex and Intersexism on my For You page and have reblogged a lot in support.

I am a writer and an artist and I want to contribute to the growth of accurate portrayal of people in the world, whether it’s gender, sexuality, or cultures, and even if I don’t identify the same as them. I like to talk to people, as well as do my own research.

I’m submitting an ask because I saw a post about representation in media and as it is important to talk about what is wrong with it, I’m wondering: How can creators depict intersex people in a more accurate, sensitive, and respectful or honoring way in both fictional and non-fictional worlds? What would Intersex people like to see more of?

If any of this is insensitive of me, please let me know!

Thank you! 💛💜

hi! thank you for listening and supporting intersex people. it means a lot.

about intersex representation in media, here is my takes:

1) choose an actual variation for your intersex character. i mean, they may be undiagnosed, or the variation may fall under "idiopathic" category (when their intersex traits don't fit under any known "condition's" diagnostic criteria), but at least you as a creator should know how their intersexness works. a lot of people see intersexness as some kind of solid "third sex" situation and/or vague thing that makes you more androgynous when, in fact, intersex is a very broad category and intersex people have very different bodies and experiences. it isn't fetishistic or stereotypical if it's something that actually happens with real people.

2) i'd like to see more intersex characters in general. it would be cool if you were able to add several intersex characters in your stories/projects! not all of them have to be the main characters. casual representation matters and helps to normalize things. it's cool when random side character is intersex and just exists. also, it helps to avoid a lot of issues with stereotypes and tokenism. it gives opportunity to show diversity in our community. it also prevents your audience from thinking that the only way of being intersex is [what your only intersex character has]. so it's generally cool for every kind of representation.

3) maybe my personal thing, but give your intersex characters other marginalized identities! i often see this thing in media when the character has one marginalized identity, and it's all. like marginalization is some kind of limited stuff, one thing in one pair of hands. like if character is disabled they can't be queer or POC or even have several disabilities, etc. i mean. give us intersex POC. give us intersex disabled people. give us intersex people with other queer identities. don't limit yourself by only one marginalized identity per character.

4) this is overlapping with disability representation, but. avoid making misery porn. like, when you scroll this blog, you may see a lot of horrible stories of mistreatment and abuse and marginalization. while it's important topic to discuss and depict, it requires knowledge and sensitivity and balance to show respectfully. if your intersex character is constantly mistreated and suffers and is abused because of their intersexness, it may be painful to see for intersex audience and it may accidentally reinforce the idea that our lives are horrible and we should be "fixed" or better dead than living like that. eugenics is an actual problem for intersex community. a lot of people, for example, "consent" on igm for their children because they are afraid that their children would suffer horribly if they got to live with their intersex bodies. a lot of doctors hide diagnoses and medical documents from intersex patients because they think that these people will be terrified and morally crashed if they find out. so there is a fine line between realistic depiction of intersex struggles and misery porn. if you're going to write about intersexism, find a sensitivity reader.

5) i include this because you're new in intersex community. so. avoid popular stereotypes. bigenitalia ≠ intersex (bigenitalia as in two separate perisex-looking perisex-working sets of genitals). your character may have both penis and vagina, but it would be intersex penis (for example, phalloclitoris or hypospadiac penis) and intersex vagina (for example, shallow vagina). so again, look at actual variations and intersex people's descriptions of their lives. in fantasy settings, if the whole species has different sex traits than humans, this species is not intersex as a whole. intersex is about individual variations in sex traits that are untypical for this species. whole species can't be intersex. i personally would like to see nonhuman intersex characters from species with different sex traits (i even have one in my own setting). it can help break the misconception that species with non-gonochoric anatomy are "intersex species" and may actually motivate people to learn what intersex means. but be cautious if your only intersex character is nonhuman and all human characters are perisex (if all your characters are nonhumans, it's fine). because it can accidentally contribute to the dehumanization of intersex people (like this "all asexuals in setting are robots" or "all nonbinary characters in setting are aliens"). this problem can be avoided by adding even one background human intersex character.

other intersex people, feel free to add!

[directdogman]

Heya Doggo, thanks for creating such amazing games. They really make me incredibly happy (I mean other than the canonical DSAF3 ending- I’m never forgiving you for that. /j) Anyways, I’m hoping to create something cool since my life is currently boring—whoopsies. Any tips for getting inspiration? My brain is empty, sadly.

Glad to hear you've enjoyed my work!

As with all creative things, I'm certainly not the most qualified person to give you advice. I could instruct you on how to approach creative expression in the same way I do, but every mind is different. Each creator will have a different approach, which has its own strengths and weaknesses.

When I write stories, I tend to look inwards. You'll never be the best writer, the best artist, or the best anything. But, what makes creative expression of all kinds valid is that we're all living, breathing humans and we live fundamentally different lives. Every experience you have is a part of you and it influences your writing in sometimes noticeable ways, but oftentimes, it's imperceptible. This ambiguity gives expression meaning.

If I told you my life story or what my inner monologue was, you'd be shocked at how closely details from my writing align with it all. The shocking thing is that it took many years for me to even notice it. This is a part of the process.

Again, this is where the broadness of creativity kinda curbs my ability to give universally constructive advice. When I write, I always start with emotion first, then work from there. There's this pure emotion I can see in my mind, and I try to write scenarios and dialogue that evoke the same feelings from the audience, often borrowing details from my own life with changes made in order to try the audience feel the same things. A lot of it is subconscious, learning things without really ever acknowledging or understanding what you've learned. This comes with experience

I remember really struggling with evoking idealized/condensed emotion as a younger writer, y'know, finding the right words to make people feel the same things. But, now I tend to be a bit too effective at it, judging from feedback I get on my work. I'm only speculating here, but it's probably correct to look inwards and ask yourself why it is that you want to create. You said you think your life is boring, but... Why do you feel that way? Is it that you crave adventure/new experiences, do you feel unfulfilled, or is there something in your life that you're missing?

Again, my first response is to always look inwards. Life has meaning, but its meaning is what we make it to be. Few things are coherent unless you understand your own vantage point well. I could give you a paragraph from one of the many unused scripts I have, but it would hamper an essential part of the creative process - realizing what it is about my ideas that you enjoy and then bringing your own perspective on it.

I can only give advice for my own specific process, but this is how I go about it. I wish you the best of luck with creating stuff!

[killerblueeyesxprettybluedude]

derek’s half-dead by the time mom’s satisfied with his responses. for this time, at least. somehow, every full moon is different. but he’s healing, that’s what’s important. that, and that it’ll be almost a month before he has another night like this. but that’s just part of being a born wolf, a hale descendant. you have to be strong, and ready.

mom doesn’t believe in doing anything halfway. 

the anger and adrenaline gets derek as far as stiles’ house before exhaustion and pain take over. he manages a few dragging steps forward, only just grabbing the doorknob in time to keep himself from doubling over. 

but stiles already knows, somehow, even with human hearing. that, or derek’s attempt at a subtle escape was a lot louder than he realized. 

“derek? oh my god.” 

he’s stronger than a human should be, too, catching derek before he can fall through the suddenly opened door, even as he takes in what’s been happening like he’s documenting evidence in his mind, and then shakes his head, just draws him closer. 

"when are you gonna catch a break, huh?" he says, but it’s not really a question, and derek doesn’t have an answer for him. “most-bloodied werewolf award winner! three years running. and literally running! hey.”

the grin lights up his face, derek going warm before stiles’ eyes scan his wounds again, and his mouth goes tight and angry. 

maneuvering derek through the hall, up the stairs, his jaw only keeps tightening.

“don’t even try collapsing on my floor,” he says, when they finally make it to his bedroom. “i think my dad the sheriff might pick up on the recurring you-shaped silhouette in blood on the carpeting. bed it is, no arguing.”

derek doesn’t argue. the less he has to talk at all, the better. now that he’s here, and safe, and healing, there’s not a single part of what happened tonight that he wants to explain. 

but of course, stiles is already halfway there. 

“new big bad wolf in town?” he says. derek says nothing. “no, you’d already be warning me. did someone, like, lose control?” 

derek shuts his eyes. 

“and you would’ve told me if something’s after your family,” stiles says. “you wouldn’t even come here, you’d find deaton. or peter, or someone strong. is your mom out of town again?”

it’s always been easy to lie to stiles about that. derek nods. 

“what is that, like every third week now?” stiles says. “is there an every-full-moon werewolf convention? but like, only for adults.”  

derek shrugs. it’s a very bad idea right now. stiles’ eyes widen too quickly. 

“is your shoulder even attached to the rest of your body? whoa, definitely don’t shrug right now! oh my god.” 

it’s fine. it’s not… it’s healing. 

it helps the healing when it’s worse sometimes. 

“bed,” stiles says. “i need you to lie down, right now. and i’m putting a total moratorium on physical motioning.” 

that’s not gonna work. motioning is a big part of responding. it’s the verbal responses derek tries to avoid sometimes. 

you can’t really get in trouble for moving. 

“trouble, huh?” stiles says. “what’re you getting in trouble for?”

see, and this is why derek tries not to talk. 

“your mom is out of town, right?” stiles says, and derek focuses on trying not to shrug. “not… up to her old tricks, or anything.”

“her old tricks,” derek says, and stiles says, “laura’s told me some stuff.” 

laura. that’s not… no one needs to know about their family. and if mom finds out laura’s been complaining to a human about it? like she hasn’t explained it, how humans see training, and discipline, and exercises to strengthen your control, they don’t understand how bad it’s needed. or that werewolves can heal, anything, and that less damage is more dangerous sometimes. and obviously, if it was happening to stiles, that’d be… but that’s because he can’t heal like derek can. 

it’s just that humans would never see it that way. stiles wouldn’t, he’d be outraged. 

which is why derek has no intention of telling him.

he just needs… a break, that’s all. a safe place. and it’s still the full moon, isn’t it? so he’s still practicing his control. just… a little bit more comfortably, for a while. 

isn’t testing every possible situation supposed to be the point? well, this is another one. and honestly? a way more important one to focus on, in derek’s opinion. staying in control around stiles. in stiles’ bedroom. 

there are a lot of scenarios mom hasn’t even tried to prepare him for. being hunted, fine, that’s the main one, that’s important. except—would it really matter if he shifted, at that point? if he was chained up already. 

but she’s the alpha, so it doesn’t really matter what derek thinks. 

he kind of hides his face in stiles’ pillow for a while. 

“better?” stiles says, and then, “don’t nod. do i have to build you a full-body cast? werewolf-strength.” 

maybe. maybe that’d be better. 

and then… he’d be just as restrainable. without the practice at withstanding torture. not that that’s even been remotely helpful for the times somebody has been targeting him. 

it’s not like you can even really build up a pain tolerance. every time, it’s just as surprising. 

if anything, being constantly ready for it is its own problem. 

“follow-up question,” stiles says. “or no, maybe it’s more of a tangent. why don’t you heal the bags under your eyes? are you just never sleeping?” 

so maybe laura is right about some of it. maybe it doesn’t help, being constantly terrified. maybe that actually just makes you jumpy, and paranoid, and makes every threat and non-threat feel exactly the same, so you just dismiss every over-active warning instinct, and then of course you don’t see the obvious danger that stiles does. that scott can spot in a second, even though he’s spent the last three years of full moons hanging out with his friends, or his human mom, or alone playing video games and studying and having a normal life. 

imagine that! getting to be normal. 

but clearly, alphas just do things differently. 

derek settles in a little more, stiles hesitating at the edge of the bed a few times before turning away, heading back to the chair next to his computer. 

derek was wondering how that was gonna go. 

“you’re gonna sleep in a chair?” he says. “that can’t be healthy.” 

“it’s a twin bed, you know,” stiles says. “and i wouldn’t wanna, like, move weird in my sleep and break your bones as they’re re-healing.” 

“i’ll take the risk,” derek says, and stiles’ eyes go warm. 

“are you sure? it’s really not a sharing bed.” 

there is genuinely nothing derek’s ever cared about less in his life. “one way to find out, i guess.” 

“yeah,” stiles says. “scientific method. you can’t just blindly trust your assumptions, you gotta go in and test things.” 

sure. derek moves sideways a little bit. it only hurts a moderate amount. 

and it’s better, once stiles is close to him. stiles wrapping an arm around him, it’s a million times better. 

“why did we not try this a million years ago?” stiles says, and lays his hand on derek’s shoulder to still it before he shrugs. “this is unbelievably cozy. i regret literally every second of sleeping alone.” 

only stiles’ hand on his shoulder keeps derek from shrugging again. “so, yeah. put that in your calendar.” 

so he does know, maybe. all of it, without derek having to explain. no, it’s not… my mom’s great. i love my family. 

it’s just full moons. he can just not be there for full moons, he can be with stiles. 

it doesn’t have to mean he’s rejecting his pack, or his training. at the end of the day, if he can just prove that he has control… well, thanks for the lessons and everything, but i think i can take it from here, after all that. oh yeah, that was a huge help. definitely. 

i just, i think i’m ready to move on to real-life practice, from now on.   

he’ll figure it out. the right balance of normal teenage defiance and deference, the exact wording. 

and maybe stiles’ll help him with it. if he really does know as much about full moons in the hale household as derek is starting to think he does. 

“is laura okay?” stiles says. “does she have somewhere to go? if it gets this bad. can she even get out?” 

derek almost shrugs again. stiles scrubs at his shoulder, and derek’s eyes burn. 

laura’s usually a little bit better at helping with it. cooling things down, or taking a lot of the attention. 

but, she’s in college now. testing out her control in the real world. 

and derek could’ve come with her, if he wanted, but… that would’ve felt too much like running away. 

and besides, he has ties here. stiles, and scott, and isaac, and… stiles, especially. 

and anyway, he’s not like laura. he loves his mom. just because he doesn’t agree with every little thing she does doesn’t mean he wants to cut her out completely. 

even if, more and more, he’s starting to understand that decision.

somehow, he says some of that. and somehow, that’s enough to go back to not talking. to not having to, and to stiles dipping in closer against him, saying, “i think we should institute a curfew, from now on. at least before full moons. i’ll pick you up at like five? unless you have a game, or something.”

“i don’t understand why everyone in beacon hills is obsessed with lacrosse,” derek says, relieved to be on a safer topic. “can you even name a pro lacrosse athlete? seriously.”  

“you’re preaching to the choir,” stiles says, but even he’s obsessed with baseball. which makes more sense than lacrosse, sure, but it just makes him one more person derek can bore to tears by talking about the sport he actually plays. 

“you should come to a game,” derek says. “i’ll make it interesting.”

“ball in hoop, sounds fun,” stiles says, and derek rolls his eyes. 

“it’s a lot more than that.” 

“sure it is,” stiles says, and derek says, “come to a game. you’ll see.”

“only if i get to talk your ear off about baseball afterwards,” stiles says, and derek says, “you do that anyway.”

“even more, i mean.” 

“deal,” derek says, and stiles says, “i could tell my dad, you know. he’d move so fast… you shouldn’t have to sneak out to get away from it.”

but it’s not gonna be like that. not anymore. 

“with our curfew,” stiles says, and derek nods. “our sleep-overs.”

and once they graduate, derek will go wherever stiles goes. and it won’t mean anything about his mom, hiding from her, it’ll be about stiles. just like it always would’ve been, even if his home life was different. 

derek’s feeling a lot better. a lot better, suddenly. 

it’s barely about the healing.

[projecthipster]

Holy shit, someone else knows Scratch Buffalo?

I attended Chris’s (guitarist) solo show in a neighbourhood church lobby in high school, and I’m a kinda-regular known by Mark (drummer) at his and his wife’s cool vintage shop in the East Village. Mark gave me that exact record, the EP with Shoot Me With Your Camera and Strawberry Soda, for free after I showed him that I had Chris’s home recorded early CDs (from that 2010-ish? church lobby show) ripped to my phone. Hello other fellow Buffalohead! Scratcher? We’ll come up with a name.

I also saw Vivek Shraya give a talk at the Contemporary Art museum. Didn’t even know it was happening, just wandered in.

I definitely don’t have this amazing level of musical knowledge! But for fun I’ll drop some specifically Calgary bands that I like. Starting with Ginger Beef, who are the married couple of a classical Chinese flutist and the official Flames arena organ player, bringing both those crazy disparate influences into… instrumental classic jazz-pop? But it works, it’s like a discotheque in a Shaolin monastery. Why not. These guys are everywhere at local events, walk along the river any summer weekend and you’ll find them jamming on a little outdoor stage.

I’m pretty sure I went to kindergarten with the front guy of In Search of Sasquatch. They’re just very fun. Lots of lil local references in this older track.

I Am the Mountain have been around for years but more recently gotten more psychedelic from their folksy mountain roots. I love both sounds but based on the post above the new stuff fits more.

Ghost keeper have been around for years and honestly every album is different, from the old bluesy stuff to the kinda nutso new dark electronica, varying amounts of Indigenous sound and cultural influence since they’re Cree-Métis. The 2022 album (below) is my fave.

Chad VanGaalen has also been doing his thing for, like, decades. Everything indieish that happens in YYC has some connection to him. He basically boosted Ghostkeeper, and produced Women, who gave way to Cindy Lee.

Oh yeah. Cindy Lee mentioned in the offing. Sort of from Calgary? Also “she’s” sort of American. Also “she’s” a drag persona of Pat Flegel for a musical project that seems to be finished now but climaxed in a pretty famous album last year that topped a whole bunch of best-of-the-decade-so-far lists.

Definitely going to spend a long time going through all the other bands on this post- AFTER Stampede and Folk Fest, when I always have to cram-listen to the new bands coming into town. Yes Stampede can be a great indie festival too, ignore the big country tent and hit the Coke Stage and Big Four, especially the openers.

(I’m gonna kick this over to my “what the hell are hipsters anyway?” sideblog because this is definitely me trying to hipster-flex local music, even if it won’t get any visibility there. That’s not the point.)

wanna make an ottawa/rest of Canada playlist. The Ottawa indie scene is so weird

[justbreakonme]

Whumpee liked many things about Caretaker.

They had a soft, kind voice, with soft kind hands, and even softer, kinder eyes.

They laughed a lot, and made him laugh too, and didn’t seem to notice when he laughed too long or too loudly or too gracelessly.

They gave him food, nice things, and clothes that fit, and a bed (a real bed, just for them!), but… There was one thing in particular that Whumpee liked the most.

See, Whumpee had never needed to be broken. They’d never dare intentionally step out of line, not even in their wildest dreams or most terrifying nightmares. But, they were flawed. Deeply. And made many mistakes.

But, where Whumper had attributed those mistakes to malice, Caretaker merely corrected him, forgave him, helped him.

He remembered fondly (oh how strange to remember anything fondly) the day Caretaker first brought him home. He had tripped over the edge of the welcome mat, and fell hard, knocking the coat rack down with him.

He had been braced for blows, or at best the yelling and screaming that always reduced him to tears, but, instead, Caretaker had crouched down and asked if he was okay. He had stared, blankly (stupidly), at them, covered in coats and scarves, until Caretaker had moved to help him. He’d flinched, and Caretaker still hadn’t struck him. Instead, they offered a hand, and helped him up.

Caretaker smiled, awkward and toothy and more beautiful than anything he’d ever seen, and apologized, (apologized, to him, of all things!) making a little joke about how welcome mat wasn’t very welcoming.

Whumpee had stared for a moment more, still braced for this all to be a trick. Then, it was like something inside him broke, like a rubber band snapping, and he laughed. He’d laughed, hysterical and ugly, till tears came to his eyes, and then couldn’t stop them.

He’d begged through tears that he was sorry, that he was trying to be good (an old habit that had still never died, despite having every reason to), but Caretaker still didn’t raise a hand against him.

He didn’t remember all the details, after that, only that Caretaker had brought him into the kitchen, and given him a mug of something warm and sweet, and sat down across from him. And had let him cry, only interrupting to assure him that he was not in trouble and to hand him a tissue.

Yes, Whumpee liked many things about Caretaker. Their heart most of all.

[thefluxsystem]

Ever since being diagnosed with OCD, I keep wondering how many people are in the same position I was only a few months ago: Believing that their intrusive thoughts are who they are because they’ve never been told otherwise.

I have looked into OCD multiple times over the years— which was why I was so convinced I didn’t have it. I didn’t hear the term “moral scrupulosity” until I was given my diagnosis. I didn’t know that my ceaseless, exhausting mental war over whether or not I’m a good person counted as intrusive. I didn’t know ripping yourself apart for things you could have done or could have said after every conversation, often to the point of tears, was not normal behavior.

Because I didn’t know these thoughts were intrusive, they were confirming themselves. I thought that making myself feel this way was right, as if it were divine punishment from a god I don’t believe in for the sin of being alive. That makes sense, I’d think. I am Bad and deserve to Suffer.

I figured everyone else felt this way too. I figured that they must handle it better than I can, which I counted as another moral failure on my part.

Finding out that no, most people aren’t fighting their own thoughts this hard every moment of every day, has changed my life. It’s still hard not to think that I deserve the suffering I put myself through, but I have an out now. Before, the only answer I had was of course I deserve it. Now, I can think deserve or not, this is a disorder in my brain that’s not meant to happen.

It tortures me. How many people are going through life believing their intrusive thoughts are just their thoughts? And how much would change for them if they knew that wasn’t true?

[turtleblogatlast]

Love the thought of Leo just casually being well traveled to absurd degrees. Like one day they’re facing their new Big Bad of the year and like, Draxum or whoever says that the key to their fight is located somewhere in, like, Latvia or some place, but no one knows where to start.

Then Leo’s like “oh I know a place” and when asked how the heck he could know of one it smash cuts to Leo falling through the ceiling of said place due to a portal mishap.

Also love the idea of Leo, being as accidentally (and then later, purposefully) well traveled as he is, sometimes taking his family on outings to different places all over, maybe to some new Yokai spots he found along the way.

In these places, Leo 100% lets his bros get scammed by tourist traps.

[bleue-flora]

Ok, I recently wrote an essay [here] talking about the definition and duties of civil engineering as well as the ethics because of the brain rot @swordfright gave me with calling Dream Sam’s ultimate engineering project. So, because I actually am a civil engineer I took it upon myself to design the title and summary of quantities sheets just like I do at work for roads but with Dream as the project instead. And in honor of angst day sponsored by @sixteenth-day-event, I figured I’d share it because I feel like it kinda works for the prison of the mind prompt.

“Sam’s “ultimate engineering project” he deemed too damaged like a bumpy road or crumbling building that wasn’t worthy of patching and filling in the cracks or reinforcing, that’s too eroded to be fixed and preserved. So, Sam strived to tear him down to the bedrock so he could remake, remold, and reengineer Dream according to his design for the common safety, public health and well-fair.”

{These are very similar to the actual sheets I make day to day, which I shall not share for the sake of doxing my location, but yea pretty much everything has a significance. Some of it doesn’t necessarily make sense but that was because I was more so taking inventory of what we see in lore (so you know I counted ;) lol)}

[floorpancakes]

if only candy spilled out from the cracks where blood should be 🍫🍬🍭🧡💛💜💙

this is my favourite arc focusing on my favourite character so i had to prepare something while i had some free time between other things! ive been a big fan of higurashi for ages but im only just reading the original material through these streams, so discovering so much more depth about the series i love (especially with your amazing VA work and getting to see newbies' theories and what was cut from the anime) has been an absolute joy!

im not exactly the same as rena but something about her feels so relatable to me in a way i can't quite articulate. the most obvious surface-level aspect is my love for cute things, sweets, and collecting old forgotten things though, so i poured it into this piece. hope the artstyle gives that 2000s VN feel with a little original fancy touch added to her classic design (because i can’t resist the fashion design urge even for fanart lol)

keep up the amazing work, and to the first-timers in chat, I look forward to seeing what you make of the mystery of hinamizawa going forward! It'll only keep getting more exciting from here on out!

-melty