#having a great time with your not-boyfriend in the sort of social events you're both sort of running from

[7-wonders]

Kiss With a Fist

Morpheus/Dream of the Endless x Reader

Summary: Normally, Dream is above mortals and their petty quarrels, but when one decides that he wants to play with fire, Dream is more than prepared to burn him. That is, until you have something to say about it.

Word Count: 4.1k

Notes: I've wanted to write something about you pulling a Hob Gadling and fighting off someone wanting to attack Dream for a while now. Here it is. Basically you're a badass and you fight a drunk guy trying to pick a fight with Dream. Let me know your thoughts!

(Reader is referred to with she/her pronouns)

We begin…in the Waking World, which is not, in his opinion, an ideal place to be.

Though the Burgess lineage has been snuffed out and Dream of the Endless is far too powerful to ever find himself captured by a mortal again, he still feels a touch of trepidation upon his trips outside of his realm. How could he not, after one such visit went so spectacularly wrong and ended up with him trapped for over a century?

Having reminders of the good of humanity certainly helps ease his apprehension, which is why he typically finds himself with some sort of companion when he leaves the safety of the Dreaming. Most of the time, Matthew is a mere stone’s throw away at all times. If not Matthew, then Dream has increasingly found himself seeking the company of his friend, Hob Gadling.

You’re the most “human” of them all; though both Matthew and Hob were, at one point, completely and utterly mortal, that is no longer the case. You, however, are. He would argue that’s perhaps what makes you so fascinating, but he knows that’s not entirely true. There are a great many things that make you fascinating to him, and your mortality is probably the least of those.

It’s his predilection towards you that has landed him here in the first place, at what you called an “upscale bar” for a friend’s birthday party. To be fair to you, it’s not as if you hadn’t given Dream multiple opportunities to decline your invitation. You even bluntly told him, among other things, that it was almost certain he would not enjoy himself at a mortal event such as this and you were perfectly fine going by yourself.

But no, he had to insist that he would play the role of doting “boyfriend” (which he was, though he preferred terms to describe your relationship that sounded much less juvenile) and accompany you to this celebration. After two grueling hours, he can honestly say that he does not understand why anybody would torture themselves by willingly stepping foot into such an establishment. Between the bone-shaking bass of the music that is unnecessarily loud, the patrons whose wildly inappropriate, alcohol-steeped daydreams stick to Dream like molasses, and the harsh lighting that continues to change depending on the beat of whatever garish song is playing, he’s seen enough to last him five human lifetimes.

He tries to hide his disdain, knowing that you’re enjoying yourself and your night. ‘Tries’ being the key word here: after the fifth person who visibly jumps in fear when they see Dream’s piercing glower, it’s evident that this attempt is not working in the slightest. Whether you’ve finally noticed this or you just decide to take pity on him, he’s not sure.

Regardless, you lean into him and ask, “Are you doing okay?”

“I would like to get some air,” he says, being heard clearly by you despite not having to raise his voice above the music. He’s relieved when you nod; Dream was never a particularly social creature, but that desire for solace increased tenfold after he freed himself from his glass cage.

“We can head out, actually. I’ve socialized long enough.”

Dream could actually cheer at this. Since it would be entirely uncouth of him to do so, he continues to look nonchalant. “Do not feel that you need to end your night early on my account.”

“I’m not! I’m tired and I’d rather go home with you now. I’m gonna close my tab, if you wanna go wait outside for me!”

He very much wants to go wait outside for you, and with one last squeeze of your hand, he separates from you and leaves you to finish paying for your drinks.

There’s something inherently calming to Dream about the evening hours. It may be that the world seems to become more peaceful after the sun sets, or that the majority of dreamers enter his realm at this time. It could even be the fact that this is Mother Night’s domain, complicated as their relationship may be. Whatever the reason, Dream is particularly fond of this time of day, and he enjoys the sudden tranquility after such a hectic environment.

Unfortunately, said tranquility lasts only momentarily before a shadow crosses over towards Dream and he meets the bloodshot eyes of a mortal man. He’s average in every way, from the backwards cap to the scuffed shoes stained with unidentified liquids. A ‘frat boy,’ you would call him. Though the shadows warp behind him as he attempts to scare him off as he did to the others inside the bar, this man remains uncowed by his expression.

“Hey, I saw you earlier at the bar.” Dream scowls, for he did have an encounter with this particular human inside the establishment, and he did not enjoy one second of it. “Yeah, I offered to buy your girl a drink, didn’t I? Then you shoved your way in between us, which was rude. I was just trying to be friendly!”

“Silence, mortal.” He’s had enough of this conversation, if it can even be called that, and glances in the direction of the entrance to see if you’re making your exit. In the process, he sees the man’s expression morph into something ugly, something vengeful. He’s not sure why, considering he has not been insulted; after all, Dream simply called him what he is, which is a mortal. 

“The fuck did you just call me?”

Instead of actually bothering with a response, Dream attempts to move away from the wall in order to find you, having had enough of playing this game. The mortal man’s hand lands on his shoulder and stops him from achieving that goal. Dream simply glances at it, deciding that, actually, it has been a good while since he properly frightened a mortal in any realm.

“Why ya tryin’ to leave? I just wanted to have a friendly chat.” The man’s breath reeks of cheap alcohol, and Dream’s lip curls in disgust.

“No, I think not.”

“Hey!” Both heads snap towards the bar’s entrance, where you’re emerging from the door and marching closer towards them. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

The mortal man smirks, finding amusement in the fact that you’re now involved. “Get outta here, bitch. This doesn’t concern you.”

Dream has half a mind to incite his nightmares on this boor of a man just for the crude insult (how dare he even think to disrespect the future consort of the Dreaming in such a way), but you’re speaking before he can properly make a decision. “Yeah it does. Leave him alone.”

The man smirks and rolls his eyes, turning his attention back to Dream. “What, you need your girlfriend to fight your battles for you?”

“I’m trying to protect you here,” you say with a laugh, knowing that Dream doesn’t need anyone to do anything for him. “Take your hand off of him and go.” 

As you walk past him, you knock your shoulder against the man’s, who goes stumbling back with his arms pinwheeling at his sides as he attempts to keep his balance. Either you’re stronger than you look, or the man is drunker than he lets on; Dream is willing to bet that it’s a combination of both.

“I’m not gonna tell you again, dude.” 

Gently, you grab Dream’s hand and pull him away from the wall. He allows you to do so–though he can deny it all he wants, he certainly doesn’t mind when you fuss over him. Sure enough, he watches as you scan him up and down for any sign of injury, seeming to forget that he cannot exactly be injured by a mere mortal.

“Are you okay?” 

Were they in private, Dream would laugh (he’s found himself doing a lot more of that lately–laughing) and assure you that nothing so paltry as a mortal attempting to provoke him had caused him any harm or upset. As it is, he simply nods, taking your hand in his and kissing the back of it.

Unfortunately, mortal men seem to love violence. This should not be surprising, considering his brother is—was—Destruction, but it’s something that tends to slip his mind due to how little time he actually spends among them. When they are robbed of the opportunity to inflict said violence on their intended target, they become enraged. 

This is no different for this mortal man, whose face turns a surprising shade of red in anger. As Dream turns with you to leave, he allows his natural eyes to appear through the blue ones that he wears when in the Waking. Black pits appear in their place, the stars that are normally there completely snuffed out. Petty, but he cannot resist making the last move.

This works against his favor, however, when the mortal man takes a swing at Dream.

For an immortal, anthropomorphic personification, Dream has not found himself in many fights through his long life. He should rephrase that: he has not found himself in many street fights through his long life. Battles, he’s had his fair share. Glorious battles, either those like the Oldest Game where wit is the weapon or those where he was fighting for a purpose, be it love or honor or his realm. 

But battles are skilled; there’s an art to them, an understanding on each side of the formalities and the pomp and circumstance that goes into it all. Though they may be enemies, the foes carry with them a certain integrity that extends to the conflict. In fact, as far as Dream is aware, mortal military campaigns are fought a lot like this as well. Alleyway brawls most certainly do not carry any of this.

Humanity changed, as humanity is wont to do, in the century plus that Dream found himself a prisoner in an English countryside basement. However, the century of imprisonment had to align with one of the centuries that underwent the most societal change. Though Dream very much enjoys watching as humanity evolves, he enjoys watching it as it happens, not learning about it in retrospect. As a result, he has felt woefully behind when it comes to modern standards; a fact which the few mortals or former mortals he knows love to focus on. Not that he wants to sound every bit as old as he is, but before his imprisonment, ladies most certainly did not fight.

All of this is important knowledge to keep in mind for the coming events.

The man’s hit, meant for Dream, connects against your cheek as a result of you shoving Dream out of the way before he can truly process what’s about to happen. He wants to tell you to stop, wants to blow sand in the face of this man and follow through on his silent threat to give him his worst nightmares, but…something stops him. A not-unpleasant warmth in his stomach that begins to bloom as he watches you ball your hands into fists, obviously preparing to fight back against this man. 

A few bystanders audibly wince when you punch your adversary’s jaw, making his head snap back. Curses fall from his lips as he swings again, but you manage to grab a fistful of his shirt collar when you duck and his fist hits your forehead. This advantage means that this will be the last hit he gets on you. 

With a yank of the fabric, the shirt goes up over his head and serves both to blind him as well as to make it difficult for him to move away from you. He’s more focused on attempting to free himself from your hold than he is hitting you again, and when he finally does regain his sight, he sees your fist hurtling towards his face.

The last punch is a direct hit to the mortal’s nose, blood immediately beginning to drip down his face and onto the ground. Both the pain and the shock of it send him falling backwards onto the ground, where he groans pathetically and clutches at his wounded face. From above, you breathe heavily and shake out your dominant hand, a look of disgust on your face as you stare down at the enemy you’ve taken down with ease.

In all, the actual fight lasts less than half a minute. Dream, however, believes that he shall think of said fight for the rest of his eternal fight.

“Bitch,” the mortal spits out again, the insult the only weapon he has left in his arsenal.

“Don’t forget it, either.” You grab Dream’s hand again, this time pulling him away from the small crowd that’s beginning to form on the sidewalk. “C’mon, we gotta get outta here before someone calls the cops.”

Dream demeans himself and actually runs alongside you, but only until there are no more humans in sight. He pulls you to a stop then, taking his sand out of his coat and tossing a handful in the air. Between one blink and the next, he’s safely inside your Waking apartment with you. Shaking your head a couple of times to clear the double vision in your eyes, you finally look over at him.

“I’m so sorry, I really didn’t think you’d get stuck dealing with some drunk idiot who–oof!” 

Dream cuts off your rambling by shoving you against the wall of your bedroom and proceeding to kiss you as though it’s been years since he last laid his lips against yours. You stiffen under him for a moment before your body goes lax, hands curling around the lapels of his coat as you lean into him and attempt to eliminate any modicum of space between your bodies. It’s only when he can hear you beginning to try and take desperate little pants in an attempt to get air into your lungs that he pulls his lips from you, though this doesn’t last for long.

“Do you have any idea,” he pauses to press another series of heated kisses to you, “what seeing you fight that man did to me?”

“...I’m confused. Are you mad?”

“Mad?” Dream scoffs. “How could I be mad, when you defended my honor in such a way. Me, who could have sent the mortal to the Nightmare Realm with barely a glance. I am more powerful than the gods themselves, yet you fought for me without so much as a second thought. No, I am not mad at you. I find myself rather infatuated with you at this moment, in fact.”

“As if you’re not infatuated with me all the time?” He silences your snark with more kissing, which you gladly accept for another few moments.

“Dream,” you finally mumble against his lips. 

When he doesn’t answer, you try again. 

“Morpheus.”

He still doesn’t answer, nor does he make any movement to let you know he even heard you. Finally, you push at his chest to get his attention. 

“While I’d love to continue doing this, my lip is split and it really hurts to kiss you right now.”

Dream steps away from you sheepishly. It’s not often that his control falters in such a way, and it only ever does so when he’s in your presence.

“I apologize,” he says remorsefully. If there’s one thing that Dream hates, it’s causing pain to those dearest to him, of which you are the most dear.

“You don’t have to apologize for anything, you couldn’t have known it hurts. I should probably clean myself up, though.” He follows you into your bathroom, where you turn on the faucet and grab a clean cloth off of the towel rack.

“Allow me to help you with your wounds?” Dream asks.

Healing others is not one of his many powers, and you know that. Still, he wants to be of assistance, and so you point to the closet in the corner. “There’s a first aid kit on the bottom shelf of the closet, if you wouldn’t mind grabbing that?”

Dream hasn’t the faintest idea what a first aid kit actually is, but since he’s trying to be helpful, he simply goes off in the direction that you pointed him towards. When he comes back with the bright red bag (he knows enough from dreams to know that the white cross on the front means medical aid), you’re dabbing blood off of the back of your hand with a damp cloth.

“I did not realize that your hand was injured, as well,” Dream says.

“What can I say? Fucker had a hard head.”

He frowns. “I really wish that you would not use such crass language. It’s very unbecoming.”

“You love it and you know you do.”

Dream’s hands skim over the different medical supplies, unsure of what will help or hurt, or even what each item’s intended use is. This confusion must be rather obvious, for you simply have him hold the kit open as you grab whatever is needed and set it out on the counter next to you. He watches, silently and with utter fascination, while you grab a small cotton round and dab some sort of antibiotic on it before you begin to carefully apply it to your knuckles.

He takes this time to actually catalog the injuries you had sustained while fighting for him. In addition to the webbing of surface-level cuts on your knuckles, two wide bruises are already beginning to discolor your skin, one stretching along your cheekbone and the skin below your right eye and the other on your forehead up into your hairline. The ‘split lip’ as you called it, does look rather painful, and he feels bad to have exacerbated that pain. The skin is quite literally split down both your upper and lower lip, dark red blood pooling on the surface. It’s swollen, and another bruise forms on top of the swelling.

Again, Dream feels his heart, which does not work like that of a human’s, clench painfully. You’ve bled to protect him, injured yourself just to keep him safe. He does not know how he could ever repay you for such a kindness, though you’ll assuredly attempt to convince him that you don’t need any sort of repayment.

For Dream, this repayment starts by being the one to take care of you. Now that he’s watched you care for one wound, he can easily mimic your movements as he takes the washcloth you’re running under the tap water and gently presses it to your lip. You wince under his touch, but allow his hand to remain there.

“Where did you learn to fight in such a way?” Dream asks after you’ve nodded that enough time has passed for him to remove the cloth from your mouth.

You shrug. “I was bullied in middle school and it started to get kind of physical–nothing too bad, just mean girls shoving me around or stepping on my heels so that I’d trip and fall.” It sounds far worse than ‘nothing too bad,’ and Dream almost wants to ask you for the names of your childhood tormentors so that he may give them a taste of their own medicine. “Still, my dad wanted to teach me to defend myself, just in case it got any worse.”

“He taught a child to fight?” Dream scoffs in disbelief, one hand gently holding your chin in place while he uses the other to apply the antibiotic to your lips.

“I was twelve, first of all, and it’s not like he was encouraging me to go up to these girls and knock them out. It was a last-resort sort of thing,” you say when he’s finished tending to that cut.

His hand gently skims along the bruise on your cheek, and you can’t stop your reflexes as your hand darts out to grab at his wrist and stop him. He aborts what he was doing, instead grasping your own hand and pulling you to him as he just barely lays his lips on top of the bruise and lets them linger there. He can hear your breath catch in your lungs as he does so, and it makes him smirk just slightly.

When Dream finally pulls away, your body unconsciously tries to follow him as you mourn the loss of his closeness. He asks, “Might I continue to attend to you, my protector? My warrior?”

“Uh, um,” you stutter, trying desperately to remember how to speak. Dream finds it incredibly endearing. “The, uh, I have ice packs in the–in the freezer. For my face? They’re blue, and they should be stacked on top of each other.”

“Go lay down so that you may rest,” he commands. “I shall be back momentarily.”

You describe items well enough that finding whatever it is you request is an easy task, the ice packs being no different. Perhaps Hob Gadling was right to marvel over human inventions at most of the pair’s early meetings. There is something rather fascinating about the resourcefulness of creating something that can be kept cold specifically to help with injuries. 

When Dream returns to you, you’ve done as he asked as are laying against the pillows of your bed to rest. He’s unsure of how you apply said ice packs, and hands them to you instead and watches as you lay one on each bruise. Though you recoil from the cold at first, you soon sigh and relax under it. 

“Will you lay with me?” you ask. 

Dream is not one to turn you down for most things, and he especially will not deny you of this request. He wraps himself around you, black coat billowing out and covering both of you. He knows that it’s only your face that has sustained the brunt of your injuries, but he still tries to be cautious with you just in case.

It’s not exactly resting when you’re on your phone watching the videos that, while they make no sense to Dream, make you laugh, but you’re safe and in his arms, so he won’t say anything to you about the importance of proper rest. Instead, he allows himself to simply think. About you, about him, about this night.

“You need not have come to my defense,” he says suddenly upon remembering what it is he had wanted to say to you earlier, before he was overcome with the need to kiss you. Distantly, he’s reminded of the last time he said such a phrase, and his lips tilt up at the memory.

“Hmm?” You don’t quite know what he means, his statement coming from out of nowhere.

“I was in no danger, yet you so valiantly defended me from the mortal. Why?”

“Because he was going to hurt you.” You say it as if it’s the most obvious conclusion in the world. The sky is blue, water is wet, you fought the man because he was going to hurt Dream.

“He would not have gotten the chance.”

You sigh. “I know that you’re all-powerful and whatnot, but…when you love someone, sometimes that doesn’t matter. Someone was attempting to attack you, and so I decided that I wasn’t going to let them. You’d do the same for me, wouldn’t you?”

“I very much would. However, it’s a little different for me than it is for you.”

“Why? Because I’m a woman?”

He begins to uncharacteristically stammer in an attempt to explain himself. “No, that’s not–I would never–you–”

You cut him off with a laugh before he can make an even bigger fool of himself. “I’m just teasing you.”

“You are cruel to your monarch, my love.”

“Not my monarch, I’m afraid,” you say cheekily, a smile on your face. “Last I checked, I’m not one of your subjects.”

It will never cease to amaze Dream just how at peace he feels when in your presence. On the rare occasion that conversations start out serious, they devolve into something quaint and full of soft touches and teasing jokes at your hands. Even after he sees you into the Dreaming and has returned the now-melting ice packs to your freezer, he feels this way.

Suddenly, he’s struck with the ‘why’ of it all. He feels at home here. No, he feels at home with you. Being with you is like coming home after a long journey and getting to sleep in your bed again for the first time in months. You’re his comfort, his safe place.

Perhaps, in some cases, the Waking World is an ideal place to be.

[pitinthelanepages]

we need more Juan Manuel imagines !! the one you wrote was so good i loved it💗💗

summary: it's hard for your boyfriend, juan manuel correa, to focus on the movie. especially when you're wearing glasses.

genre: suggestive! fluff

a/n: i am back to keep jm nation alive, again 🤓

here's another jm oneshot i wrote, if anyone wants to read!

As an IT engineer, you have always been passionate about technology and enjoy the challenge of solving complex problems. You met Juan Manuel Correa, the F2 driver, at a social event and hit it off instantly. Despite your busy schedules, both of you decide to pursue a relationship and try to make it work.

Your job involves long hours of programming, testing, and troubleshooting software systems. You often work late nights and are on call for technical emergencies, which can make it difficult to plan activities with Juan. Meanwhile, Juan spends most of his time travelling around the world for training and races, and also has to maintain his physical fitness to stay competitive.

As a result of both of your demanding careers, you struggle to find time for each other. You try to stay in touch through video calls and messaging apps, but it's not the same as being together in person. You often miss each other's calls or have to cancel plans due to last-minute work commitments or travel arrangements.

Despite the challenges, as a couple, both of you  remain committed to making your relationship work. You prioritise quality time when you can, such as planning weekend getaways or attending each other's events whenever possible. You also make an effort to support each other's careers and interests, whether it's by attending a race or sharing updates on the latest tech trends.

Today is one of those days you finally have time for each other so you planned it to be a movie night ahead. As you prepare for the movie, you make some popcorn while Juan sets up the TV. You had decided to watch a classic action movie that you had both been wanting to see for a while. Once everything is ready, you snuggle up on the couch and start the movie. The opening credits roll and you both settle in, munching on popcorn. 

However, you notice the subtitles are too small for you to see them clearly so you disappear into your bedroom before appearing beside him with a set of glasses perched up on your nose. Initially, Juan doesn’t notice it as he is too immersed into the intense action scenes playing on the screen before you two but when he finally takes a glance at you, only to steal a couple more within a minute. 

Though you two have been dating for some time, somehow he has never noticed that you wear glasses. The way they perch on your nose, the lenses magnifying your eyes, make you look even more beautiful than usual.

"Is everything okay?" You ask, noticing his gaze.

Juan swallows hard. "Yeah, everything's great. I just... I didn't know you wore glasses."

You chuckle. "Yeah, I'm near-sighted. I usually wear contacts, but they're bothering me today."

Juan can't help but stare. The glasses make you look somehow vulnerable and sexy at the same time. He finds himself imagining all sorts of scenarios involving you in glasses, and his heart starts racing as he finds himself beginning to sweat in the comfort of his living room where the temperature has relatively been cold.

"You look amazing," he blurts out, his gaze intense yet lost in thoughts.

You raise an eyebrow. "What, in my glasses?"

He nods, feeling his face flush. "Yeah. I mean, you always look amazing, but there's something about the glasses that... I don't know. You look very cute. But don’t worry, I swear my thoughts are platonic."

You laugh. "Okay, now you're just teasing me and platonic thoughts, really?"

He shakes his head. "No, I'm serious. I can't believe I never noticed before. You should wear them more often."

You smile, and Juan feels a jolt of electricity shoot through him. He knows that this is going to be a long night, but he doesn't care. 

What he doesn’t know is that you have been his girlfriend for long enough to notice something is up with him but you choose not to mention it.

Later that night, you get ready for bed, slipping into your favourite pyjamas and running a brush through your hair. As you finish up your nightly routine, you feel Juan’s arms wrap around you in a loving embrace.

"Hey there," He murmurs, nuzzling his face into your neck.

"Hey yourself," You reply, smiling at the warmth of his embrace.

He tightens his arms around you, and you can feel his heartbeat against your back. You close your eyes and lean into him, savouring the feeling of his body against yours.

"I know I swore they were just platonic thoughts," He says softly, his lips brushing against your ear. "But I have to be honest with you. Seeing you in those glasses tonight really turned me on. I couldn't stop thinking about you the whole time."

You’re surprised by his confession, but you also feel a sense of excitement and intrigue. You turn in his arms, facing him and looking up into his eyes.

"Really?" you ask, raising an eyebrow.

Juan nods, his gaze intense. "Yeah. I just can't help it. You look so sexy in glasses."

You feel a blush rising in your cheeks, but also a spark of desire in your belly. You had never thought of glasses as something sexy before, but the way Juan is looking at you makes you feel a rush of heat.

"I had no idea," you murmur, feeling suddenly shy.

He leans down and kisses you, his hands running through your hair. "Well, now you do," he whispers against your lips. The glasses are long forgotten as you explore each other's lips, the warmth of your embrace taking over.

"I love you," Juan whispers, pulling away from the kiss. "And I always will."

"I love you too," you say, your heart swelling with joy and anticipation. "And I can't wait to see what other surprises you have in store for me."

[bengiyo]

Hello hello ~~

Through wen-kexing-apologist's recent post about The Birdcage (which seems to come from your syllabus for baby gays) I got to the original series of reblogs which resulted in said syllabus. I read most of it (not everything because Real Life has my time hostage), and as someone who has seen her fare share of queer media I have now a pretty long to watch list.

As you wrote about how you enjoyed the romance of queer media I have a question.

Recently I have come across a Netflix movie trailer called Love at First Sight. With such a basic trope as a name I checked it out hoping the title to be misleading and to see something surprising in the plot. The disappointment I felt when by the end of it I realized it was exactly what the title sold: the most basic boy meets girl and they have to look for each other throughout the whole movie.

One of the things I really appeciate about queer media (and mainly BL probably) is the possibility to explore different kinds of romances and emotions. Both positive and negative. From Not Me to Heartsopper to Double Mints. I feel that being "out of the norm" they explore such emotions and situations in a more interesting and relatable way (and add to that that I, as a woman, cannot stand women characters making a 360º personality change once they fall in love)

So here's my question: what unusal or out of the ordinary romances would you like to see more of in BLs/queer shows/etc?

I personally would like romances with disabled characters to be more explored (I'm really looking forward to Last Twilight) or polyamory. Also more GL.

I admit this might be a very biased ask, it comes 100% from my subjective view, and I have yet to watch most of the movies in your syllabus for Baby Gays.

Anyway, I hope you have a great day and that this long ask won't bother you ❤

Well look at this ask! Let me get into this!

The Syllabus is on a Google Doc

First, I sincerely appreciate you watching me and @shortpplfedup go back and forth about stuff. For yours and others' convenience, I did put the Queer Cinema Syllabus in a Google Doc for @wen-kexing-apologist

Some Recommendations

If you're looking for a film with a disabled protagonist and also a bit about women, I would recommend checking out Margarita With a Straw (2014), Sleep With Me (2022) (I watched on Gaga), or if you're willing to tolerate hets Isa Pa With Feelings (2019) (currently on Netflix) or Silent (2022) (Viki)

If you're interested in more polyamory, I genuinely think that Quaranthings Season 2 (2021) does some really fascinating stuff worth checking out. We had complicated feelings about Me, My Husband, and My Husband's Boyfriend (2023), but I liked it.

What do I want though?

I think this is a harder question for me to answer than I was expecting. I see myself as a guest when I'm watching a lot of content from Southeast Asia. I will voice my opinion on what I like and don't like, what I'm taking from these shows, and how they're affecting me. However, I don't really consider myself the target audience. I watch the shows as legally as possible and help generate engagement, but the "interfans" they care about are the English-speaking Asians in their region, not really me I feel like.

So when I think about what I want, I don't feel a yearning for any of the BL-producing Asian countries' film industries to make it for me.

I want to see the shit I like in the West get made. I want to see Black queer people presented complexly (Here is my regular plug for For The Boys). I'm a fat black gay nerd. The last time I saw a fat black gay nerd that I liked in an American production was Fire Island (2022).

I'm a 33-year Star Trek fan who still thinks we need more GAYS IN SPACE. I'd like to see more productions like Sort Of (2021- ) where complex queer friend and social groups navigate just existing in the world and finding love and meaning. I'd like to see less of reboots of classic shows like Queer as Folk be about a horrifying mass death event in the city I live in and the spaces I frequent (I refuse to link to it).

I want to see TJ Klune's, Ginn Hale's, or Lynn Flewelling's works adapted to series. I would like to see more wide release queer shit in the West not be overwhelmingly about fit, attractive, young white guys.

I want distribution for queer stories to not always have to go through four years of distribution hell because of the film festival circuit.

I want the West to try to make BL! I don't care if it feels cheap on the front end. I just wish more of us would be willing to throw support behind web shows. We did it for Awkward Black Girl! We can do it again!

This is turning into rambling, so I'll say that I don't necessarily have strong feelings about what I absolutely need to see. I like connecting with the specific humanity of stories, especially if they're about queer people. I didn't know I needed Moonlight (2016) until I saw it. I didn't know I needed Make the Yuletide Gay (2009) or Black Sails (2014-2017) until I watched them.

I just want more people with ideas to get a chance to turn them into something cool for us.

What about the rest of you? Please tag me if you have things you're hoping for.

[rageprufrock]

Just out of curiosity, now that things have developed, what is your current opinion of the BOC "crisis" situation? And what sort of action would you have advised in the face of a possible intentional smear campaign? Is silence still the best option, and does publicly bringing legal charges, etc. help or hinder in that case?

Not to mention you then have the incredibly public "surprise" announcement of another performer separating from the company ...

My instinct would be to say, "there is no crisis right now," because none of the noise actually breaks though to the signal ratio--like the production company is rolling along, concerts are happening, the movie is being filmed, etc. All of the other stuff is just that, noise, and irrelevant to them since the parties are no longer affiliated with BOC in a business capacity. This is where I'd counsel a client to practice forbearance: if you have the stones and the liquidity, you can grit your teeth and keep your head down long enough that you can get through almost anything. Most examples of this aren't great--see: any of the men who were rightfully canceled and now making their comeback after two or three years of silence--but this can also work well for people who just had a massively public disgracing and needed the zeitgeist to move on from having them be social media's main character of the day. (This is also why so much of the advisory on crisis comms is actually just to shut up, because doing so gives people the opportunity to forget about you, and someone else to put their foot in it and move the narrative along.)

But in truth, at this point, I don't think any of us know enough about what's going on to make any wise commentary--which is exactly as it should be. I should be forced to say, "who the fuck knows," when it comes to the inner workings of most things, because it's none of my business!

I'll say that Jeff leaving BOC was an interesting one, but that I most likely would have handled it the same way, and for a couple of reasons:

You can say you're a family, but this is still at its heart a business enterprise, and any one of them should be clear-eyed enough to look out for themselves first and foremost--people leaving to pursue their own projects or make transitions that make the most sense for them is inevitable, and we shouldn't act like it isn't.

That said, they're all trauma bonded from the whole experience of filming KinnPorsche, and clearly friends in addition to coworkers, and to have told them in advance of the show to give them private time to prepare would have seriously affected their performance at that final show, which I think would have been both a disservice to their fans but also unfair to them after all the work they'd put in.

Telling them several days or even weeks in advance--as surely this had been in the works for a while, with at least the seniormost members of the exec org knowing about the transition--wouldn't have worked either, because the more people know a secret, the less of a secret it is. Especially given the recent kerfuffle, it's critical to position it as a friendly departure, and to message it as a bittersweet but joyful next adventure, and not Jeff fleeing from the smoking remains of BOC. Given the timing of everything else going on, holding until it got the main stage at the closing event of their concert series makes sense: it feels deliberate, it feels intentional, it feels cooperatively planned, and it feels like they're sending off a beloved colleague and friend with all their best wishes, and on the biggest stage they can. It projects the right message.

All that said, no plan survives first contact with reality, so even if they've retained the most terrifyingly smart crew of publicists at this point, it still wouldn't protect them from the unexpected. In this case, the literal sweet baby angel child they're raising in that whorehouse being overtired and overamped and crying because his TV boyfriend is leaving and taking Barcode's coconuts with him.

[voiceofduality]

@stormsiris 🌈🌷for Fal of course

"You look almost civilized when you're dancing." He wouldn't expect any less from a man of such nimble feet and gallant charm — and noble upbringing. Fallahan, too, had to learn a few dance steps, first thing after being taken under Bertram's wing, but he's never found that much joy in the act of dancing itself.

Rather, it was more about the company, or the intention behind it. It was about the intimacy, the subtle seduction. Having both parts share a common understanding for once was a surprisingly comfortable change of pace. Brail holds his waist firmly, and Fallahan's fingers play with a few loose hairs on the back of his neck in turn. And though etiquette probably calls for a bit of space between them, none of them seem particularly preoccupied about that in the present moment.

Rather, they use the crowd that shields them against curious stares to share flirtations and touches that many would consider too indecent for a formal ball.

Not that either of them was actually invited, anyway.

They have been playing around for a while, lips dancing around the other's, close enough to feel each other's breath but never quite touching. Fallahan caresses the half-elf's cheek and leans in again, tantalizingly close. He tightens the embrace and sighs on Brail's lips, eyes closed — only to be opened again after the sorcerer finally succumbs and kisses him. The bard chuckles to himself, proud of his small victory.

[mypoisonedvine]

Seeing Red | bodyguard!Bucky Barnes x reader (part 7)

(part 1) (part 2) (part 3) (part 4) (part 5) (part 6)

series summary: bucky used to brag that he didn’t have a celebrity crush, or really care about famous people at all, which is what made him the perfect person to start working for a celebrity like yourself.  except, of course, it’s just his luck that he’d fall for you.  

word count: 2.5k

warnings: um just implied smut and fluff and a reference to bdsm I guess?? but it's pretty chill overall

Liked by starkcosmetics and others

y/n.y/l/n okay first of all, it takes an act of god to get a picture of this guy smiling, but it’s always worth it.  he really changed everything for me and I can’t thank him enough for that.  so happy ❤️ 

View all 9,208 comments

caroldanvers 😍😍😍

flowercrowny/n oh my god this is so sweet i’m gonna cry

1 HOUR AGO

He smiled as he stared down at the post you’d made, remembering how much effort you’d put into finding the perfect picture (in your opinion; he thought he looked kinda dopey in it) as well as writing and re-writing your caption.

The speed at which your post gained likes and comments was inconceivable to him; even more impressive was the speed at which gossip rags were picking up the story.  Sure enough, his phone’s alerts to new headlines about you were not only going off like crazy, but had started to include news about himself as well.  

Y/N Y/L/N Shocks With Romantic Instagram Post, Confirms Dating Rumors

You’ll Never Guess Which Hollywood Starlet Is Dating Her Driver

Who is James Barnes?  Everything We Know About Y/N Y/L/N’s New Beau

Skimming one of the articles, he was impressed at how much information they’d managed to get without actually getting anything from you or him.  Born in Brooklyn, disabled Army veteran, worked a list of odd jobs before becoming your driver and bodyguard.  ‘No social media presence, prefers to keep a low profile’ one of them said; you can say that again, Bucky chuckled to himself when he read it.

He found another from People and didn’t particularly appreciate that it spent half the time going through all your past exes and rumored partners (turned out ‘rumored’ is a fancy word for ‘a bunch of fans deluded themselves so hard that it somehow turned into news without any proof necessary’).  But he still smiled when he got to the part that was actually about you and him.

‘The relationship is pretty new but they’re so happy together,’  a source close to the couple reported.  

Close indeed; that statement came from your publicist, who he’d never even meet.  

‘He’s a very private guy and she’s got this huge following, so they’re sort of an odd couple in that way, but she knows her fans are respectful and will let them have their own life outside of the spotlight.’ 

Bucky wasn’t sure that the respectfulness of fans was such a given here, but he hoped you were right.  To be fair, they’d been very sweet on your original post insofar. 

However, when he scrolled to the bottom of the celebrity magazine articles and realized they had their own comments section, he discovered that they were a little less forgiving than the ones on your Instagram.  

Is this the best she thinks she can do?  So sad tbh :(

a military guy…. yikes, she could get any guy she wants and she goes for a murderer. 

He looks like a hobo that found a coupon for a free haircut lol

I don’t buy it, I know she’ll always love Pietro!

Pietro being your former co-star that so many of your fans were convinced was actually your soulmate.  From what he’d heard from you, those speculations had made things so uncomfortable between the two of you that it killed your friendship.  Those were nothing, though, compared to the comments about someone you actually had dated.

she’s obviously not over sam… they were so good together

He’d better watch out for her ex, he still likes tweets about her and they have so much chemistry

Wait, she’s not still with Sam Wilson??  I could’ve sworn they’d been dating for, like, five years.

You were scrolling through your phone with a smile as you walked past where he was sitting on the couch, and he just couldn’t help himself from asking even though he knew it wasn’t the best idea.  “Do I need to worry about this Sam thing?” he blurted out, trying to play it cool and not sound too anxious.  “People are really obsessed with you two…”

“Sam and I…” you sighed, staring off into space for a second.  He made himself anxious imagining what you were thinking about in that moment.  “I haven’t talked to him in… years?  I think it’s just because our relationship was so public that people are still talking about it.  And it had a lot of gossip material— we did a movie together, people thought it was sweet that we got together during production, it was great promotion for the picture… and from the outside, we made a lot of sense for each other.  But he has his own problems.  I loved him, but… he wasn’t ever going to be a one-girl kinda guy.”

“But you’re not just any one girl.  You’re… you know, you,” he emphasized.

“You’ve been reading too many headlines,” you shook your head as you sat down beside him.  “Please don’t turn into one of those guys who thinks of me as a celebrity first.  Before that—” you pointed to your own name where it was bolded on his screen in the trending topics page of Twitter— “was popping up on movie posters and in gossip magazines, it was just my name.  And I’m not perfect.  Not even close.”

Bucky sighed and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into him and holding you tightly.  “And before I knew you were famous, or rich, or incredibly talented, I was totally obsessed with you just for who you are.”

“You’re too fucking amazing,” you sighed as you held his face and gave him a gentle kiss— the kind of kiss that instantly melted his heart and banished his worries.  When you pulled back and looked up at him with a smile, it was like everything else just… faded away.  “Don’t read the comments, okay?  None of them matter.”

He smiled and brushed his thumb over your cheek, overwhelmed by not only the softness of your skin but of your spirit as well.  In all his life he’d never been handled so… gently, with so much care.  “You’re the best thing that ever happened to me,” he mumbled, not even really realizing he’d said it aloud until you gave him a beaming smile.

“I can’t believe you’re my boyfriend,” you giggled pridefully.

“Seriously?  I can… very easily believe it,” he scoffed.

“I just mean… you’re so…” you searched for the words.  “You’re actually good to me, that’s the thing.  I’m not used to that.”

“You deserve the world,” he assured.  “I’m just gonna keep trying to give you as much of it as I can find.”

He watched his hand trail over your face, down your neck and to your chest where he played with the hem of your t-shirt.

"It's odd to know there are millions of people who are jealous of me,” he admitted quietly, remembering some aggressive comments from some very angry dudes who had apparently also watched your nude scene a few too many times.

"Do you like it?  Do you like how it feels to know you're making them angry every time you touch me?"

"Couldn't care less," he refuted.  "Nobody else matters when I'm touchin' you."

“Do you maybe wanna… touch me a little more about it?” you smirked, opening your legs slightly in invitation.

“Always.”

//

Bucky had, thankfully, not let the newfound fame get to his head.  In fact, he had demanded that the two of you hunker down in the house, since he feared that going out would lead to being recognized.  What he apparently hadn’t anticipated was that that might not be enough.

“Will you get that?” you requested when the gate buzzed, too wrapped up in the book you were reading to answer the intercom.

He hopped up and held down the button to communicate with the gate speaker.  “Who is it?” he asked.

“I’ve got a delivery from Anjappar Chettinad on 23rd?”

Bucky didn’t even reply before hitting the green button and granting access to the driveway.  BEEP BEEP BEEP! you heard the gate signal its opening, and the car pulling around up to the door.  Bucky didn’t open it until there was a knock, greeting the delivery guy with a smile and the necessary cash.

“I’ve got a lamb korma, hyderabadi mutton dum biryani and an order of— woah,” the man suddenly stopped, staring at Bucky’s face.  “Are you—?’

“Hungry?  Yes,” he frowned.

“You’re the guy dating— holy shit, congrats man,” he beamed, smacking Bucky on the shoulder pridefully before leaning in with a mischievous smirk.  “Say, is she a freak or what?”

“She is,” you piped up from the couch, making both men turn their heads; but one was chuckling while the other looked mortified.  “You better not have forgotten my paneer pakora or I’m gonna chain you up and whip you.”

“Uh, I— no, I got it right here,” he promised weakly, handing the bag over to Bucky and starting to dash away before Bucky grabbed his arm, making the smaller man whimper fearfully.

“You forgot the money,” Bucky reminded him gruffly, stuffing the bills into the driver’s front pocket.

Finally, he let go, and the delivery man instantly pulled away, rubbing his arm and looking a bit like a kicked puppy as he went back to his car and drove away.

“You didn’t need to scare him that bad,” Bucky chuckled.

“I could say the same to you!  Grabbing somebody with the metal arm like that will put the fear of God into them pretty fast.”

“I didn’t mean to grab him that hard,” he admitted, examining the prosthetic hand as he came back to the couch with the bag of food, handing it to you while he focused on watching his motorized fingers curl and uncurl.  “I think I need to get this thing recalibrated… it’s been bugging out lately.”

“I dunno, it was working just fine last night,” you smiled, remembering how delightfully cool those fingers felt inside you.

Bucky seemed to miss it entirely, though, as he stared off into space.  “I can’t believe I got… recognized.”

“You’re a star,” you winked.  “And not just with random delivery drivers.  I’ve had a lot of press requests, everybody wants to be the first one to get nice pictures of us together— we’ve had a dozen event invites as a couple.”

“Seriously?!” he scoffed, snapping back to reality slightly enough 

“Yeah, and look what came in same-day mail this morning!”  You leaned over to shuffle through the mail on the side table before finding and handing him a letter in a gold-embossed envelope, watching him read what you knew was inside.

The Hollywood Foreign Press Association extends an invitation to Y/N Y/L/N and James Barnes to the annual Grant Banquet in support of the Young Artists Fund.

“It seems like a good first event for us,” you explained.  “Relatively small and low stakes, it’s for a good cause…”

“Are you sure I’m ready to be, you know… seen?  By people?” 

You scoffed, hardly believing how insecure he could be sometimes.  “You look great, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Will I have to talk to anybody other than you?” he asked, grimacing as if that were a form of brutal torture.

“Probably,” you admitted.

His frown deepened.  “What if I say the wrong thing?”

“I’m not that worried about you,” you smirked.  “You’re a lot better at this stuff than you think you are.”

“I don’t have anything to wear…”

You smirked, a little too proud of yourself, when you remembered the email your publicist had forwarded to you just this morning.  “Hugo Boss will pay you $1500 to wear one of their suits on the carpet.”

“They’ll pay me to wear free clothes?” he repeated with wide eyes.

“Yeah, that’s one of the cooler things about fame,” you laughed.  “I make a grand every time I wear this watch outside!”

“I guess I should send them my measurements then…” he trailed off.  “Any chance I can get in on that watch deal?”

“No, but you can make $50 by getting papped at Jamba Juice.”

He paused for a moment, scratching the back of his neck as he thought.  “Is the smoothie comped?”

“I don’t know.  Do you want me to ask?”

“...kinda…” he admitted with a shy smile.  

“Well, I will, and I’ll RSVP to this invite saying we’ll be there next week,” you decided as you started to open up the food, but Bucky stopped you by reaching for your hands.

“Are we really doing this?” he asked.

“If you want to,” you mitigated.

“Of course I do.  I guess I have to accept that you’re actually willing to be seen with me,” he chuckled.  “It’s just sort of hard to believe.”

You leaned in and kissed him; it was meant to be a casual, reassuring peck but he held you closer and you melted into him, moaning softly at his touch as you started to climb into his lap.

“The food’s gonna get cold,” he reminded you with a mumble against your lips.

Unfortunately, your literal hunger was a bit too strong to ignore, even with the growing intensity of a metaphorical hunger for Bucky.  “Alright,” you relented, getting off of him and returning your attention to the meal on the table.  “Just know that I really, really want to be seen together, in public, just in case anybody missed the news about us already.  I’m not embarrassed by you or afraid you’re going to do something dumb.  I…”

One of those words that can’t be unsaid started to bubble up in your throat and you coughed, banishing the thought.

“I really like you.  I think we have something special.”

He smiled gently, giving you one more kiss on the cheek.  “I think so, too.”

//

Since this was slightly less of a big deal than a premiere or press tour, you had managed to convince your styling team to let you dress yourself, which was why he was laying on the bed and talking to you through the bathroom door while you put on your gown.

“Do you want me to hire a new driver?” you prompted him, voice muffled slightly as he imagined your head covered in the fabric, trying to navigate through the dress.  “I don’t want you to feel… I don’t know, like a servant?”

“A servant?  You’re still paying me,” he reminded you.  “You are still paying me, right?”

“Yes,” you laughed, “but still, I would hate it if you felt like staff.  You’re my boyfriend!”

(His heart still fluttered every time you said it.)

“No new driver,” he decided.  “I can drive just fine, and considering how things went between us… let’s not open the door for anybody else,” he smirked, making you laugh in that way you did when he made a stupid joke but you still liked it somehow.

“Okay, sure, but what about being my bodyguard?  Is that too weird?” you continued.

“God no,” he scoffed, “if anything I’m gonna be better at my job than ever.  As your boyfriend, keeping you safe is my job, but since keeping you safe was already my job… it’s, like, doubled-up now.”

He lost his train of thought when you opened the door.

“How do I look?” you asked as you stepped in and gave him a spin in your new dress.  Your whole body was draped in red silk, with the exception of your back which was almost entirely exposed, as if it were begging him to run his fingers down your spine.

“Like everything I ever wanted,” he blurted out before he could stop himself.

And it was so odd that you questioned his desire to drive you, because those moments where he could steer with one hand and rest the other on your thigh, when he could catch a glimpse of you looking out the window at the city rolling by, when he got to listen to you ramble about something to kill the time during a drive; those were his favorite moments, and he wouldn’t trade them for anything.

After a relatively brief trip, you arrived at the venue, and all of a sudden he was doing what he’d fantasized about more than he’d like to admit: escorting you down a red carpet.  It was almost overwhelming— yelling, chattering, reporters speaking into camera, flashes going off in every direction—

“Hey,” you whispered, bringing your hand up to his cheek and instantly taking all his attention.

“Hey,” he returned.

“Just follow my lead,” you instructed.

“That was the plan.”

[thebookwormfairy]

Maribat Buzzfeed Unsolved AU

Ok so another one. In this au there Marinette is not ladybug or Chat Noir she's just a regular civilian. If you wondering who have the miraculous right now it's a adult, because Marinette deserves to be a child also this takes place around the time Marinette is 16

Also warning lots of curse words used

This idea came from the Maribat Discord thanks to everyone there

********************************

Ever since Lila came to school Marinette has been more and more excluded from class events

Originally it was very rare, like we went to the movies and were going to invite you but then we remembered that you were helping your parents in the backery

We were going to invite you but then remembered you were babysitting

Weren't you working on a design for that contest

Then they stop making excuses and just posted pictures to their social medias

She tried to organize events but for some reason Lila always had something planned then and of course the class can't leave HER out of anything

It got to the point where the class only talked to her if they needed something

Oh Marinette I have a big race coming up can you make me a banner

Oh Marinette can you make some bake goods for me

Hey Marinette can you plan this school dance all by yourself with absolutely no help from us while if you ask for help we'll make you feel guilty about it

Hey Marinette can you babysit the Twins and Chris, when we're suppose to do it, for no pay, while we go out on a date.

It really sadden Marinette that her so called friends who for most she knew all her life only saw her as at most an employee

But there were some bright sides

Her grades where going even higher and now she's one of the top students at school

Marinette was able to put more time into training in self defense something you need with all the Akumas in Paris

And Sabine even taught her everything she knew about martial arts

She was able to study Mandrine (for her mom's family) and English (for Jagged and Penny) and had become almost fluent in both

Marinette had a lot more time to work on her designs

Jagged Stone started to hire her to make and design more and more items

Her business has even spread to Clara Nightingale

Which will really help her in her career later in life

But Jagged seemed to think that later in life was now

One day he asked to have a meeting with Marinette and her parents

Marinette just thought it was to commission another design, but like always Jagged had a way of surprising her

Jagged: Well you see I'm leaving Paris soon to head back to my home town of Gotham, and I was wondering if I could take Marinette with me

Tom, Sabine, and Marinette: WHAT?!?!

Penny: Let me explain, you see Marinette's designs are some of the most popular Jagged ever had, people love her work, and we want to make her Jagged's full time designer. It would be a great opportunity for Marinette's future and would put her on the fast lane to a great career

Sabine: But what about school.

Jagged: Don't worry Sabine, Penny's thought of everything

Penny: It's all taken care of. Gotham Academy one of the top schools in the world is ready to take her the moment she says yes, she would be staying in an apartment right next to Jagged, with all expenses paid for while still getting paid for her work, and of course she can come back and visit whenever she wants.

Tom: It sounds like a great offer, but can we discuss this in private for a moment

Jagged and Penny nodded their heads and left the room

Marinette: Mama, Papa, I really want to take this offer

Sabine: Are you sure honey? This is a big step.

Tom: Not to mention you would be all alone in a big city. What about your friends?

Marinette: I will miss my friends (or at least the old them) but when will I get an opportunity like this and I wouldn't be alone I'd have Jagged and Penny

With some more discussions the choice was made and Penny started making arrangement to move Marinette to Gotham City.

And before Marinette noticed she was settling in to her new life in Gotham city.

And already it was much better then her one in Paris

Her new school was great

She had a lot of great friends and even a boyfriend now Damian Wayne

They met on her first day, when she accidentally ran into him

It sounds crazy but it was like love at first sight

They didn't start dating right away, it would take a couple of months for Damian to ask her out, but Marinette couldn't be happier

So were his brothers who she met soon after becoming Damian's friend

Now whenever Marinette wasn't designing for Jagged or at school she was hanging out in Wayne Manor

Marinette already had a youtube channel but it really didn't have that much content. Until one day she decided to discuss a famous cold case with her boyfriend and get it on camera

The first case she told him was an Australian case called the man from Somertan Beach

It was a short video, with her talking about it with Damian, but halfway through the video Jason (who had been filming them) made one too many comments and Damian decided to just switch places with him

Marinette kept making videos with Jason as her cohost and Damian behind the cameraman

It was relatively popular but not to big until Marinette did a case about the supernatural

When she learned that Jason did not believe in it

They spent the whole video arguing over the ghost at the Cesil Hotel in LA

The videos blew up

Jason: I don't know old building are weird they make all sort if weird noises

Marinette: How does a house creaking sound like get out

Jason: Well nobody said weather this person is a credible witness or not

As the youtube channel got more popular Marinette and all the bat boys (all of them got dragged into helping with videos now) started to go to haunted locations during school breaks and when Marinette had breaks in designing for Jagged

The Winchester

Jason: Man this place is bigger than the manor

Marinette: well if you had to keep building to stop ghost from killing you, your house would be huge too

Jason: Wait is that why Wayne Manor is built so weirdly, Bruce is hiding from ghost

The Sally house

Marinette: Fuck this place omg we're all going to be killed by a demon

Jason: How can something that doesn't exist kill you

Jason: Hey demon come on kill me you mother fucker.

Damian (off camera): Jason stop freaking Marinette out.

Jason: Oh I'm sorry Marinette I was wrong. Demons do exsist, one is our camera man

At the bottom of the screen you can see Damian's middle finger

Marinette (to flashlight): Don't turn on don't turn on don't turn on

Flashlight turns on

Marinette: NNNNNNNNNNOOOOOOOOOO!!!!! YOU SHOULDN'T HAVE MOCKED IT JASON!!!!

Joker's Hideout

Marinette: it said that this place is haunted by Joker's victims, or that it is possible that this place is infested by a demon who drove Joker mad and drove him to kill

Jason: Well that's convenient, you're a crazy murderous clown, it's all because of a demon.

Marinette: Keep it down Jason we don't know if the Joker is here right now or not

Damian: Wait the Joker might be here. Angel why did you want to come here then?

Marinette looking embarrassed: It was a good case.

Jason standing behind something making a grunting sound

Marinette walks by and sees him: AAAHHHH!! WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU HERE SOUNDING LIKE A FUCKING ZOMBIE.

Goatman Bridge

Jason: I'm dancing on your bridge Goatman it's my bridge now

Marinette: He is going to kill you

Jason: See this Goatman I disrespect your bridge. It's me and Marinette's bridge now

Marinette: Stop pulling me into you bullshit Jason!

Jason: If you're not apart of this then tell Goatman

Marinette: I'm not with him.

Jason: You're talking to Goatman now

Marinette: I see what you did there.

Jason: Hey we're here for the cult stuff

Jason to demons: Hey demons it me ya boy

The fans love the twos dynamic

They also love the random comments Damian would make from behind the camera every once and a while

Sometime between breaks in filming at a location Jason would get candid videos of Damian hugging Marinette

When they sleep overnight at places Damian would always sleep and cuddle with Marinette

The fans love it

And they ship it

One case as a joke is The Mystery of Marinette Dupen-Cheng

This one is Jason and Damian doing the video, while Marinette is away on a tour with Jagged Stone

Half of the video is actually stuff that Marinette does and can do that confuse them

They show a video of Marinette yeeting Jason out of the kitchen when he scared her once

Another video is of Marinette stealing Damian's sweatshirt while she passes him

Just one moment it's on Damian the next Marinette has it

A video of Marinette going head to head with Riddler

And her actually stumping him with one

The other half is just Damian gushing about his girlfriend

Damian: She is just the sweetest girl who deserves the world. I would gladly kill anybody who hurts her. She is just my Angel and I would do anything to make her happy.

It ends with Jason saying: Well that is the mystery of Damian's future wife, weather she's actually human remains unsolved.