#how do i tag individual regressions

[orphiclovers]

Hope you don't mind elaborating on the other turns' YJH's relationship with SP and 3rd/1864th turn YJH? I genuinely enjoyed the other posts and wouldn't mind seeing more. ❤️

anon I will NEVER mind elaborating & I thank you for enabling my madness. I love talking about them sm <3

I guess I'll start off with 41&SP since I've been thinking about them and you didn't specify which one I should talk about. and. there's literally 1864 (?) different Yoo Joonghyuks. that's 1,736,316 combinations of pairings I could talk about. I'm never running out of content as long as I'm alive (well I'm not crazy enough to have headcanons for all of their relationships. yet. link to my YJH relationship chart).

this post has PARTS thats how long it got. under read more it goes

41's personality

oh 41, you miserable, miserable man. during the 41st regression, Yoo Joonghyuk had decided to harden his heart into cold, brutal practicality. he would use any means necessary to achieve his purpose, even if he had to sacrifice his companions. (he never called them that during this round, so it would hurt less when they died (didn't work)). he tried very hard to make himself an emotionless machine (see: him carelessly saying he doesn't give a shit, beyond losing tools he could use, when lee hyungsung and lee jihye die).

We get most of this characterization from the Disaster of Floods, 41st Shin Yoosung, who had a deeply messed up relationship with him that's its own post. she was the only one by his side till the very end and had to witness his cruelty, which traumatized her. and then he sent her to the past, abondened her in the labyrinth of the worlds- his ultimate unforgivable act. (quote 'The things done by the 41st round Yoo Joonghyuk were worse than murder.')

but as much as he tried, he couldn't become that heartless monster he showed to the world. (see: him promising Shin Yoosung they would go on a trip together after the scenarios were over. even at his worst, he couldn't help but try to comfort her.)

SP's thoughts on 41

41 and SP spend multiple scenes hanging out one-on-one so we have a lot to go off regarding their relationship. 41 is Secretive Plotter's second-in-command, the one who is closest to him and who spends the most time with him. For SP, this is because he finds 41 the most quote 'similar to himself' (in their ends justify the means, no matter how cruel approach) and thinks he's most likely to understand SP's actions. also since 41 is similar to him, and SP is the peak strongest smartest YJH, 41's opinion is automatically also worth more, right? girlmath (sp is arrogant).

SP relies on 41 as a trusted advisor and subordinate, let's him in on plans and asks for his opinion/advice sometimes, even if he doesn't necessarily take it. gives him commands and resposibilities and expects them to be done competently. even let's him see his vulnerable moments (do we remember the scene where SP woke up from a nightmare and 41 was there. that was to me what lemon candy moment is to doksoo fans).

SP cares for and is fond of and feels mildly possesive/protective over 41, but only the same amount as all the other regressions, nothing special about 41 in particular. SP think's every version of YJH belongs to him (see: n'gai forest's whole existence. see: 'return to me, [999]' see: 'return to me, the place you're supposed to be is here!' talking to 1863. see: 'That guy from the 1863rd should've been a part of me originally. Just like all of you.'). but he takes it for granted when that is true, because we only pine after what we don't have. like 3rd. (and 999.)

41's thoughts on SP

it's clear to me that 41 idolizes SP very much (in a 'he's me if I succeeded' way). when SP calls them similar and 41 says 'what an honor that is' he's not being sarcastic. he sees it as an honor that SP trusts him and thinks it would be better if he only trusted him, and not unreliable people like 999 (quote: [41] spoke with a voice containing a faint trace of rage. "It was a mistake to send him. Send me, instead. [999] is too soft.") and kdj (quote: "It's all because of that fool, Kim Dokja.") (this is partly jealousy. 'SP doesnt need anyone else when he has me' type of vibe.)

he takes his role as advisor very seriously. sees it as his job to point out the things SP doesn't catch or notice, question him, etc. sometimes feels frustrated when SP refuses to see reason (especially regarding 999)

still he is too loyal to ever disobey and the final decisions are always Plotter's. 41 is only subservient to him. ('lowered his head slowly' in acquiescence and submission. 'if thats what you want' im insane)

41 is very protective of SP. sees himself as a loyal knight, the only one capable of protecting his king. (probably literally calls SP 'my king' in his head...) very quick to jump to SP's defence at any point, absolutely hates people who disrespect him or betray him or dare to speak to him... sometimes goes too far and SP has to reprimand him/ make him back off.

this is after kdj provokes SP. see how 41 immedietly jumps to defend him? and how SP calls 41 off with a single word, literally like a guard dog? SP dismisses his concerns regarding 999 in a similar way.

41 also, and I cannot stress this enough, constantly looks at SP with yearning goey eyes. half the scenes hes in he's just...staring. with love. at SP.

41 too, is cringe and in love with someone who doesn't pay him any special attention. this is a yoo joonghyuk's natural state

[piinktearxs]

bunny food

prompts by @raccoonbabey

prompt: Character A is hungry, so Character C spoils them with candy and baked goods. (Bonus: Character B scolds Character C because “That’s not real food!”)

for anon (im sorry it wasn't exactly what you wanted! but you did motivate me to write lol)

pairings: cg!sam winchester, cg!dean winchester x little!OC (munchkin)

warnings: talks of ghosts and graves!

send me more fic asks! :) i love doing these!

tags, as promised: @bunnybeeblog @simpforstefan

It was a long drive back to Kansas, with a case located in Wyoming, 6 hours of route back to the bunker ensued.

Nobody in the crew really minded, by this point it was almost routine, plus this was an easy case, a run of the mill salt and burn - the only particularity being that munchkin had to distract the ghost while the boys digged the grave. So, she was pretty beat after the hunt, the boys knew from experience that, after most hunts, munchkin regressed - it was her way of processing all the emotions that she felt during the hunt, or anything really, plus, the boys loved caring for her whether she was small or big, they all really cared for each other a lot, but when she was small, she was just "so damn cute" as Dean put it.

They were 2 hours in, 4 left to go, they had had breakfast at the motel, only thing was, they had forgotten to get snacks before the drive.

Munchkin was in the back of the car, taking a little nap, when suddenly the car came to a stop, she then slowly woke up.

"Hey sweetheart, Daddy went to the bathroom, you wanna get somethin' to eat at the convenience store?" said Dean, turning to face munchkin from the driver's seat, she was starting to feel hungry, so, she nodded and rubbed her eyes, still sleepy from her nap. Dean went to open her door for her and unbuckle her, she could do this on her own, but he knew that it made her feel extra small when he did little things like that for her.

As she climbed out of the car, Dean offered his hand "What do we do when we cross the street?" He asked "Hold dada, daddy or dae's hand!" She responded chipperly, fully awake by now, as she took his hand "Attagirl" Dean said as they walked to the convenience store, they ran into Sam, who was just exiting the men's room.

"Hey there kiddo, had a good nap?" Sam asked as he bent down to munchkin's level - "Mhm!" She responded "Dada and I was jus gettin' some snackies 'cause we hungry!" She said, looking at the younger Winchester with a big smile on her face. Sam was happy to hear his little princess verbalizing her hunger cues "I think I'll join y'all then, I'm getting the munchies, too" he said as he took munchkin's free hand and started to chat with Dean when they entered the convenience store.

Sam, being the health nut that he is, immediately went for the veg aisle, whereas Dean took munchkin to his favorite aisle, the baked goods aisle- specifically where the pies were.

As Sam joined them, with a basket containing a big bag of baby carrots and ranch, Dean put in some pie and cookies, he then picked some worm gummies and red skittles, munchkin's favorite candy "I think we're all good to go, ain't we, Sammy?" Dean asked his brother, heading for the checkout counter "Uh, Dean I think we need to get some real food in there" Sam said, seeing that the basket was 70% sweets "Seems pretty real to me" Dean responded.

As the two brothers bickered on what was real food and what wasn't ("Rabbit don't equal real!" "OH, and processed does?" "You're such an almond guy" "There's a difference between almond and healthy!" "Yeah but you're an almond" "That's a meme! And I'm so not" "You so are") munchkin went around the store, picking what she was craving, she saw some carrots with hummus, and grabbed those, she then saw an individual bag of salt and vinegar chips and added that one, too, when she returned to the sweets aisle, she tugged on Sam's sleeve "Daddy in how much time are we gettin' lunch?" she asked, "In about two hours, why do you ask, bunny?" he asked, as munchkin put her picks in the basket "ta see if ima be veery hungry or not so much" she said as she took out her gummies and put them back "gotta leave some room for lunch" she said with a shrug "okie now we ready to go!" she said with a smile.

The boys looked at each other, perplexed, what did their little one just do? She never denied candy of any kind, Dean crouched to her height "Baby, is everything alright? You love gummies" he said, concerned "I know dada, but they's not goin' nowhere, plus, I'm craving skittles more today and we're havin' lunch soon, an' i don't wanna be full by lunch, an' i also wanted carrots an' chips" she said, very sure of herself, it did make sense, what she was saying, still, both boys were confused at her sudden vegetable frenzy, when she was small, she usually dreaded those "you can have bunny food AND sweet food, is all 'bout balance, plus I got some hummus because it tastes better than ranch"

The boys shared an "oh well" look, and the argument was settled, they paid for their items and got back on the road, where they shared what each had gotten, and sang along to their shared road trip playlist all the way back to the bunker.

[grays-matter]

okay buckle up little gay monsterfuckers in my phone

MY THOUGHTS / A REVIEW OF VENOM 3: THE LAST DANCE. it only took the whole weekend to gather my thoughts. sheesh. I tried really hard to be coherent and not have any typos but they're probably inevitable.

(feel free to add on / build off this post if you want I WANT TO YAP)

First, the spoiler free portion:

Solid 5.9/10, A good movie, not great for the non-comics fan and also not good for the people ONLY there for the symbrock. This is about their conflicts. If you wanted a queer romance that isn't angst and constant separation and generally a victim of bad writing, this is not the character or movie for you. They're fucked up little guys and that's pretty well conveyed.

The movie doesn't deserve the horrendous tomatometer score it has right now, HOWEVER, it was not as good as the first two. It made some REALLY odd character choices but none that I'm entirely like, furious over although they peeve me slightly. It feels like a plot set up for some sort of spin off or, more than likely, a setup for Spider-Man 4 (elaboration below the cut, and spoilers, duh).

I go into the movie viewing it as just another universe, another set of stories for the character so I can push down the nerd in my brain going "ThAt'S nOt CoMiC aCcUrAtE!!" (he got out anyway sadly)

Good thing I'm not the average fan and run a blog where I yap about Venom!

Extremely Heavy Spoilers for Venom The Last Dance below the cut!!

I'll try to keep this as chronological as I can but I'm more talking about individual characters.

Starting off with a bang, Knull with the voice of Andy Serkis was utterly terrifying, this is the only point I went HOLY SHIT to audibly. I'm surprised by the use of the xenophages but they were quite fun actually I loved those.

YAY YIPEE SAVE THE DOGS

Some of the plane scenes from the trailer were cut :(. This movie needed more of those slightly comedic elements. With the precedent of comedy that was set in Venom and LTBC, I felt like this could have taken itself less serious and still been good, violent and dark (more on that in Vegas).

The relationship between eddie and venom was kinda regressed this movie idk what happened it made me sad. I know they were mad at eachother. Also yeah yeah best friend line whatever this wasn't queerbait to me. They're messy as fuck but I can still be dissapointed without yelling queerbait.

The Travel Sequence besides meeting Martin and his family could have been a montage. (Yes, even you venom horse).

THE KID. THE KID GIVING EDDIE CHOCOLATE AND VENOM TELLING EDDIE HE'D BE A GOOD DAD. <- wrecked me. I'm looking at You Venom War... Let Eddie be a dad at all 2024... This is the gayest moment of the whole movie. And y'know the creation of man shot with eddies hand and venom's tendril.

The only comedy being the vegas segment felt overdone it should have just be peppered throughout the movie. Vegas still could have happened just been less overwhelming. The suit he wore should have been made of Venom instead :/

Dr Payne needed more setup for me to actually care I liked her alot I wish I had more of her in conext of the movie. They could just not make me care about her. Like what are they doing with that End reveal of Agony?? Trying to sell fortnite skins?

I could have jumped out of my seat and climbed the fucking walls with how Rex Strickland was used. WHy did they just turn him into a different character. He's supposed to be a walking symbiote from the Vietnam days of experimentation that absorbed the codex of his original host.

I mean maybe he was but he seemed a little shocked at all that symbiote info and yknow. He bleeds. And more importantly, where WAS HIS MUSTACHE. I liked the Ve'nam book and his intoduction (one of the few stories of KiB and AC that I liked) so I thought the use of him in the movie was just a very odd character choice but I was so excited to be like "I know that guy!" to be really mad about it.

also. My favorite character tag holds so true in this movie. cause that guy??? that guy rex was helping during the xenophage attack??? the guy who got his legs woodchippered off just above the knee? FLASH IS THAT YOU????

*shakes sony by the shoulders* Sony. Sony if you fuck up a Flash Thompson Agent Venom movie. SO HELP ME GOD. I think I'd drop dead of mortal embarrasment that that's my favorite little guy.

I wish Mulligan and Lasher lived longer. Having lasher with actually coherent dialogue was nice. And they looked really cool.

The ending...

Well. If you didn't watch the 2nd end credit scene I can see why your devastated. Also what was that capcut ass montage. Had me cringing cause what the fuck guys. All of our hope is in that silly little cockroach. and that symbiotes aren't weak to acid soooo V is fine.

Felt like agony should have shown up at the begining of the fight. Instead of like. the very end. Shes cool I like her and i think it's funny that they're Payne and Agony. But like I said before they just could not make me care.

The final battle with Hybrid showing up and the other unnamed symbiotes zipping around was really fun actually. The credits were so long cause of all the cgi artists on this movie. Also the venomized animals in the credits were hilarious. WHY PUT GRENDEL IN THERE THOUGH IF REX ISNT A SYMBIOTE???

Unanswered questions:

1. Mulligan was abandonded by his previous symbiote, which we now from the LTBC end credit scene was Toxin. Where is Toxin now?

2. Is Rex Strickland alive? We know he gets his acid burn on his face, will we see his return in another movie?

3. What happened to the glob of venom that got left behind in the mcu when Eddie dissapeared? because we know it happened in both universes. Did Bartender get it? Is Bartender the MCU's Eddie Brock? But as I've posted before Bartender is catholic and has reasons to hate spiderman.

4. Who owes Eddie in New York?

I'll add onto this once I see the movie again but these are my thoughts for now.

[gingergofastboatsmojito]

Scale down

I have been thinking about what this concept in the Sydcarmy universe would look like if played out next season because that's where Carmy is going.

But I have a very hard time thinking of Carmy as a separate entity now, he's eternally intertwined in the tapestry he has been weaving with Sydney since she came into his life, and that's why his story restarted with her, she's his reset:

She's his chance to do it all differently this time around, not like when his relationship with Michael got fucked up. But even though he's trying, old habits die hard, and despite his heart being in the right place, he succumbed to his old default ways because apologies don't cut it anymore.

More about that here:

I believe The Bear's Legacy is about The Bear's found family branching out like Carmy's lines foreshadowed in 03x07 Legacy, because duh!

But in terms of Carmy as an individual, I think he's heading to a place where he will strip everything away and focus on what truly matters for him, which will lead us straight to SYDCARMY ENDGAME and I have already been talking about what this might entail, both in previous meta posts and in my fics:

This doesn't mean they won't get the star, no. In fact, I know they will, but they will get it when they are no longer chasing it and maybe once they do Carmy will decide he has had enough and diversify to other forms of art/outlets for his creativity because he said that "fixing" that restaurant (The Beef) was a way to fix the family

and he expresses himself through creativity.

So I'm expecting Carmy to walk from The Bear post-star either full or at least part-time and I'm also expecting Syd's dream spot to happen, (maybe in a time jump?) where she's gonna cook for people and make them happy

And that will result in them only focusing on what truly matters:

For Carmy that means this:

And this:

For Syd it means this:

And this:

Find any similarities between what truly matters for Carmy and for Syd and therefore what a happy ending would look like for both of them?

Me too.

Remember to follow my tag #Gingerpovs 💋

[takeyourcyanide]

Oscillation, Teeteration; Running From Subjugation!

AO3

Fandom: Soul Eater

Characters: Franken Stein, Marie Mjolnir

Word Count: 1 651

Tags: hotels, (more accurately motels), fluff and hurt/comfort, hurt/comfort, tooth-rotting fluff, madness, age regression/de-aging, (eventual agere), another little idea I had, meisters (soul eater), weapons (soul eater), during canon, canon related

Summary: -Manga Spoilers-

Stein and Marie are staying at a motel whilst out of town and on the hunt for the real perpetrator of Joe’s homicide. Though, there happens to be a little bump in the road, and that would be Stein’s madness. Marie is awoken to a struggling Stein.

Notes: per the usual not quite sure how much I like this as of right now but here goes

they’ve been dashing around me and such the entire time I wrote this and after it’s so fitting

“What? …Shh!”

A disoriented grimace plastered itself onto Marie’s visage, having been thrusted out of her rather deep slumber by the intermingling sounds of soft creaking and shaky whispering.

“Stein?” She rolled over onto her back, pawing the sleep out of her dry eyes. Kicking away the motel’s cheap, thin comforter in which she was entangled, she crawled over to the very edge of the bed, squinting her eyes on all fours at the source of all the noise, vision bleary.

Stein was frantically rocking himself, his face, save for his batting eyes, wholly covered by his hands. He repeatedly whipped his head around, from side to side, up and down, and behind himself. He was still murmuring something under his breath, something that sounded more melodic than the former, though she couldn’t make out more than the occasional whimper.

“Stein? What’s wrong?”

She looked over at the alarm clock sitting at a slant on the nightstand, the red string of numbers possessing a luminosity which stretched outward, albeit in a blurry manner. The clock read ‘02:56 AM.’

“Stein!” And finally, he peeked out from behind his twitching fingers, sneaking a glance at her, though not without jumping; startled theatrics.

“Ma-Marie? I-It’s you and you’re awake, y-yes?”

Her gaze softened upon hearing the rattled stuttering in his speech, as she shifted to cross her legs. “Yes, it’s me and I’m awake, Stein. What’s wrong? It’s three in the morning, did you have a nightmare again?”

“Never fell asleep, unless this is one? They.. uhm.. uh…… crawling and they stare. The i-i-a.. shit. No. The i-i-i-individual, Marie, t-they likely are aware of our arrival, yes? They know of our search. And they wo-won’t go away.. on the walls and on the floor and on the skin and in the corners. All over- everywhere!” He rubbed his hands up into his hair, tugging for a moment before caressing his own cheekbones.

“How about-“

He, then, leapt abruptly off of the bed, fidgeting in excess. He continuously flapped his hands, yanked on his pants, and smoothed his fingers over his collarbones, swaying on his feet like the basic motor function of balance went unlearned for him, as he began pacing circles around the room, every once in awhile jerking away from what she’d perceived to be absolutely nothing. There was a thick layer of glossy tears painted over his eyes, two swirling vortexes unable to plummet and relieve themselves in gradual dissipation.

The only word that came to mind, the only word that seemed befitting whilst she patiently sat and observed him was ‘erratic.’

“The eyes and awareness - they know something I don’t, Marie,” he continued his rambling. “I don-don’t like the walls here, they’ve an air about them.. an air, an air, an air, indeed. Do you feel it, too? I don’t know what to do, feel that it is all off course. What am I even doing here- oh, yes. Yes. Yes. I remember now. I remember nothing. Why want- why them- why do they want me? In a past life, given karmatic formalities, something I’ve did within- I- did I done- did I do something wrong? What I’ve done, what am I being punished for? Nothing. I did nothing, I don’t believe in it. …What knocking clock-of-lone quoth of the rising tension, you know… Bottomless red oceans of madness, is it, yes? Give me something to dissect, please, therapeutic value. I don’t need therapy- not from them, but rather from organic volumes of.. I…”

Mjolnir stood, quietly approaching the male once he’d stilled. Before he’d encased his face in his hands anew, his countenance oscillated rapidly between various expressions - he himself was alternating between various expressions, emotions. It was evident he was a dead horse beaten tirelessly with confusion, the threading of the patchwork splitting and fraying, being torn apart. Despite the tears spilling and rolling over his bitten knuckles, bursts of giggles would barrel out of him at random. He was stuck between bolting violently away and leaning into the sensation of a tender hand in his hair; a brutalizing agitation and a furious, aching desire for comfort were being pitted against one another in an all out war.

Marie found herself glad she wasn’t a meister, for to be able to witness well the teetering of his soul and horrified jumping of his wavelength would only make her feel all the worse for him.

She placed her hand carefully on his back, testing the waters. “How about we go sit down, hm? Try to relax a little?”

“Restless, Marie.. in the limbs, it…”

“I know, I know,” she shushed, leading him back to his bed. Despite his latter comment, he silently obeyed, a little overstimulated. He’d wave her off and mumble “don’t touch me,” only to latch onto her wrist and plead with what was his version of puppy dog eyes for just a little more affection, even just a scrap.

She positioned him back down onto the bed, his back leaning against the headboard. He bounced his leg underneath the covers, biting sores into his cheek and finding solace in the metallic taste of blood he’d garnered. “Where you going?” The questioning words left his mouth in an undeniably childish manner, the anxious grip he had on her sleeve not helping.

“I just figured I’d get you a glass of water,” flashing him a reassuring smile, she ceased any and all movement momentarily.

Stein threw the blanket off of himself, inching closer to her on his knees. “Don’t leave. No-Not while they’re here, please. Leave after? Don’ put nothing in the water, please.”

He folded his aforementioned knees as to cram his face into the warm space between her clavicle and neck, holding onto fistfuls of her t-shirt.

“Are you maybe feeling just a tad bit small now, Franken?” She rested her cheek against the top of his head, hand patting delicately against the small of his back.

It appeared his need for comfort was winning, even if only for a second.

“I can’t tell.. how I feel. Don’t know.”

“I think you might be regressing, honey.” Given how he was swiftly becoming simple putty in her hands over a sappy title, he likely was. “…Do you know how long everything’s been all really.. static-y for?”

“Hours.”

‘Then he definitely is.’

“Why didn’t you wake me up?”

His lips ever so slightly pursed, he fussed, “No more questions.”

“All right, all right,” she placated. “…………I haven’t seen you drink anything in a while, Franken,” drawling, Marie gently nudged him from out of his hiding spot, to which he whined a petulant “no”, more than a little unhappy with having to come face-to-face with his weapon.

“The sink’s right over there, see? I’ll be right back. And then I’m making sure you actually sleep this time.”

“…Fine. But, uh.. les’ they… uhm.. su’ceed, it’ll be your fault.”

She couldn’t stifle the chuckle that escaped her. “They won’t, I promise.”

Stein had his gaze utterly transfixed on her for the entire time she was but a yard or two away, suckling and gnawing on his already tattered bottom lip.

…Perhaps he was regressing.

He felt something within him perk up at the sound of the pouring water ebbing into mere drops, and the shrieking of the faucet’s handle turning. “W-warm o’ co’d?” He stared at the sloshing liquid presented before him with a suspicion-filled curiosity.

“On the warmer side. It’s already pretty cold in here, so I figured you’d appreciate it.”

He reached up towards the cup with grabby hands, muttering, “Thank you.”

“Woah, woah, woah there,” she seized the glass quickly away from him. “I don’t trust those shaky hands of yours to hold this right now. We don’t want to break this, do we?”

Apathetically, he shrugged. “‘Kay.”

She slotted the glass in between his lips, pausing before situating her hand on the back of his head to clarify, “You’re still okay with me touching you?”

Stein hummed in agreement. “Tryna be.”

He leaned back into the soft texture of her palm, attempting to focus his scribble-teeming mind on the balmy sparks of electricity shooting and pulsating from her flesh.

“All right, then.” Marie tilted the cup, buttom up, and listened for the sound of her meister swallowing. She proudly beamed at the bobbing of his Adam’s apple, a stream of encouraging coos and sickeningly sweet sentences billowing from her mouth and hanging in the air - or, at the very least, in the scientist’s fuzzily swelling chest.

“Good… There you go, sweetie. I only want you to finish this cup, okay? Then you can try and sleep. I know you must be really tired, huh? But I can’t let you dehydrate on me.”

“‘M not sweet,” he playfully argued upon taking his final sip, the weapon clanking the glass down carefully onto the bedside table.

“Ohhh.. I see what you’re doing,” she shuffled into bed next to him with a smirk on her countenance and a nodding head. “Fishing for compliments, are we?”

“No. Jus’ sayin’ the truth,” the corners of his mouth twitched repetitiously from their usual state into a mischievous grin, back and forth and back and forth, as he huffed out a single awkward giggle.

“Well, maybe you’re not all that sweet technically, but you’re still pretty sweet to me. …Now lay down, sweetheart, it’s bed time.”

Stein complied, scanning the room again before fully enfolding himself in the mound. “Was bed time long time ago.”

She embraced him, wrapping her arms around his torso and administering a touchy-feely kiss to his temple. He responded with a confused expression, his brows pinching in pensivity. She could see the cogs physically turning within his skull as he tried desperately to wrap his brain around the gesture.

She giggled, touching the tip of her finger to the tip of his nose. “Smartass. …You’re lucky you’re cute.”

[antiproshipconfessions]

TW: Pedophilia mention (but it's in the form of misinformation getting spread about age regression), slavery mention, rape, ableism, gaslighting

So glad a blog like this exists.

I've gotten plenty of bad experiences with proshippers. One of them was identifying themselves as an anti-anti, but for some contrived reasons, they don't allow any proshippers to follow them, was even ok with one person who's a proshipper themselves to get taken down (due to the individual not tagging stuff properly, is a ban-evader, the rabbit hole for that person got deeper and deeper mostly because they admit to ban-evading all the time since they get mass reported. Their white knights fucking harassed the hell out of me by indirectly mocking my dni and even dragged my mutuals into it, most don't even know who tf this proshipper is. It's over making a doc on the person. I had to get my username changed due to this so they can't think of trying to falsely report me and potentially be why my account is banned on here.)

They say they're neutral about the discourse but then here's where I'm doubting their stance on that: they kept excusing people who are proshippers that it's ok to ship abusive ships just because they had an abusive childhood, even though they themselves don't condone toxic/abusive ships and minor x adult. (This part imo doesn't make sense, since they blocked people who use age regression as a coping mechanism and literally believes people who use it is the same as behaving like a pedophile along with it being a kink. I hate how they asked me in DMs to reassure them they aren't ableist for shaming people for using that as a coping mechanism.)

This person was a former mutual of mine because they genuinely believed that I'm acting like a rabid anti all because I answered their questions about what ships I hated to them (cuz one was a real historical figure getting shipped with their slave owner, the disgusting thing about it is that there's a au fic about it that had the guy get what he wanted and the author was 100% romanticizing rape and slavery. They also refused to add a warning and people legit saw it as a love story when it's not), I vent/rant on my blog frequently (I've been at least getting outside help for this, dw).

The anti proshipping stuff hadn't been a reason why they blocked me, it was over something they think is "controversial": I had stuff stating "narcissistic abuse believers dni" in my pinned post and "narcissistic abuse isn't real" in reblogs of people's posts. They think having that shit is "proof" someone's admitting to being a person with NPD. They made that callout post on me for being someone who thinks it's unfair to be ableist towards people with PDs for the majority of it besides claiming I'm a rabid anti (again, makes no sense cuz they linked an article that says shipping discourse is chronically online but doesn't check to read the whole thing through to realize the article isn't siding with an anti-anti like them. They are siding with antis the whole time.).

Really am surprised they still got a following (one thing that made me go yikes is how they got a mutual they recently made that thinks like them. These people got a callout for being blatantly ableist towards people with PDs, evidently obvious with how they think people aren't human beings if they got NPD) despite the shit they put me through, I had to be off of this site for a mental health break around in August-September because it really hurt that they accused me of having NPD, I genuinely trusted them and they in return stabbed me in the back.

Other proshippers I've got don't check my pinned post to realize I'm not on their side to then follow me and get me blocked (hell, even had one like my post then do the usual: blocking time).

With that being said, these are why I refuse to be a proshipper and could you blame me for not being one?

i wanna follow you, and if you need to you can vent/rant in my dms. I'm really, really sorry this happened to you

[xoxiu]

first love of late spring - ot7 x reader

chapter four table of contents masterlist join the taglist discord

summary: falling, falling, falling- that's what you shouldn't be doing as a young intern at hybe. falling in love with your supervisor is frowned upon, especially all seven of them. you'll never learn, will you? guess you’ll just have to be their dark secret.

tags/warnings: intern!reader, poly relationships, stockholm syndrome, age regression, spanking, drug use, sugar daddy au, dubcon, body dysmorphia

taglist: @frieschan

February 1st was your first day starting as a social media manager for BTS. Scratch that- not a manager, but the social media manager. Your new position came with many amazing benefits, and you liked working from home when you weren't with the band. It felt like you were amongst the popular kids at school for once. You followed them around all day, taking pictures and videos for their socials. It almost felt like a dream- your job was to be their friend and photographer. They treated you more as a friend than a staff member. 

Then there was dealing with the fans. Being sneaky and having a secret fan account on multiple platforms allowed you to see what the fans were liking and into, giving you more ideas for the official pages. That meant you were in on all the inside jokes, leaked information, as well as what was trending amongst the fandom. 

Back in your youth, you ran a fan Twitter account for One Direction. You understood the fans better than anyone else because you were in their positions at one time. Times have changed over the past decade (you didn't even want to think about how long it's been), but getting back into the groove of things was easy enough. 

"y/n, you don't have to be so formal with us," Jimin would tease you all the time. While your job was fun, you were still a staff member. The boys would call you out constantly on you referring to them as 'sir', complaining about feeling old, and whatnot. They saw you as an equal and awaited the day you felt like one too. 

Today was the filming for a Run BTS episode. You didn't entirely understand the concept of the game- all you knew was that they were painting something and whenever they asked you to take a photo, you would. It was adorable- they would hold up their paintings like proud little kids. The photos would be posted to their individual Instagram accounts, so you would send each member a copy on KakaoTalk. 

"I think y/n should be the judge!" Taehyung said, standing up from his chair and pointing in your direction. You looked up from your phone in confusion, only having heard your name and 'judge'. The boys noticed your deer-in-headlights look and let out an endearing laugh. 

"Just tell us who you think has the better painting. We'll film a male staff member saying your answer so you don't have to." Yoongi said. You appreciated not having to have your voice in the recording. 

You gave each painting a very good look. Namjoon painted what appeared to be the Han River. Seokjin painted a rainbow that had been destroyed by brown paint, most likely by Jungkook that sat next to him. Jungkook didn't have much on his paper, obviously focusing more on disrupting the other members. Taehyung had an all-black abstract drawing that almost looked like it belonged in a modern art museum. Jimin's painting was of a variety of flowers in a bouquet, also destroyed by Jungkook by a brown marking of 'JK' right in the middle. Yoongi and Jimin seemed to have a combined painting that illustrated the seven members of BTS as crudely drawn stick figures when placed side by side. You chuckled at Yoongi's portion of the picture where he drew Seokjin with comically large shoulders. 

"Yoongi wins solely for how he drew Jin," you said, smiling at the excessive cheering from the normally calm member.

It really was days like this when you enjoyed your job. 

You sat in one of the production lounges on your laptop, editing some promotional photos for Instagram. Stretched out across the length of what had to be the building’s comfiest couch, you let out a long yawn before checking the time. 

A text alert is shown as you checked your phone. An unknown number had called you before sending a simple text. 

‘Hey y/n it’s Jin, are you busy?’

You smiled as you responded ‘No’ with a smiley face. You had no idea where or how Seokjin got your personal number, but you didn’t let that thought bother you much. Once you felt your phone buzz with an incoming phone call did you sit up straight on the couch. 

“Hello? Seokjin?” You asked. The line was quiet for a moment before you heard Jin’s voice through the phone. 

“Hey, could you come to our dorm? It’s not urgent or anything.” 

“Sure! Just text me the address and I’ll be right over,” You replied, standing up and starting to exit the building. There were the sounds of shuffling and muffled voices through the phone, making you wonder just what was going on over there. 

“Actually,” Jin suddenly said, “It’s nothing. You don’t have to.” You stopped in your tracks, now very curious and concerned about what was happening. 

“No, no. Come over. I lied,” Seokjin said quickly after, correcting himself. “We want you to come over.”

————

Jimin roughly nudged Jin with his elbow once the phone was hung up. There was no way he didn’t sound suspicious during the call- stumbling on his words and even backtracking on what he said. They were lucky you just followed along. 

“Fuck,” Yoongi said, holding his head in his hands, “Now we need to think of a real reason why we needed her here. Jungkook missing her isn’t a good enough answer.”

“I think it’s fine…” Jungkook mumbled to himself. 

Namjoon looked across the room and into the kitchen, coming up with an idea upon seeing the state of it. “We could tell her we needed help putting the cabinet knobs back on.”

“We need our social media manager to help us with home renovations?” Yoongi questioned Namjoon’s idea.

“We wanted to film a TikTok?” Taehyung suggested. 

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s go with that one!” Seokjin said. 

————

By the time the bus had arrived, the sun was close to setting. You kind of started to regret agreeing to come- it was late and you were quite tired. Finally, you had regulated your sleep schedule to be like a normal adult’s, and the members of BTS had to screw with it. What else did you expect from them?

Within seconds you were buzzed in and headed to their shared penthouse. All seven of them had their own apartments by now, but they all chose to live together still for the majority of the time. You often questioned how they were able to do it for so long- you had two roommates back in college that made you question your sanity at any given moment. 

You barely even knocked on the door before Jimin opened it with a smile. He ushered you inside, and you stood in the entryway in awe. The dorm was beautiful and big. Much, much bigger than your tiny apartment that probably couldn’t even fit seven people in it. The ceiling was high up and the doorways were arched, making everything feel so much bigger and fancier. 

“y/n! Thank God you’re here!” Taehyung said, running up to you and hugging you. You awkwardly stood there, allowing him to hug you. Never once had you had any physical affection or contact with them, and it felt like a weird time to break the boundary. You laughed slightly as he let go of you. 

After taking off your shoes, you were led into the living room where the other members sat. It was odd- everyone acted as if you weren’t needed and that there was nothing you needed to do. The sitting members all smiled and waved at you, remaining in their spots on the couch. 

“So,” you clasped your hands together behind your back, swaying slightly on your feet. “What do you guys need?”

“We just-” Jungkook started to talk, only to be interrupted by Namjoon. 

“We wanted help filming a TikTok!”

You stared at him confused. Filming a TikTok was something they were more than capable of doing by themselves. You had directed some and given them ideas, but for the most part, they would just film it themselves. It felt more natural and created more of a connection with the fan base. 

“You could’ve just done it yourself, you know,” You let out a chuckle. 

“We couldn’t think of any ideas for one,” Hoseok said. He stood up from his spot on the couch and motioned for you to take his seat. You pretended to ignore him at first, but he only kept insisting you take a seat. 

“I mean, there’s a trend of AI face filters right now. You each could do that.”

“Yeah! Let’s just play around with filters,” Taehyung said, pulling out his phone. “Wait, y/n has an iPhone. Can we use your phone instead?”

Without hesitation, you handed your phone over to Taehyung. The seven of them took turns playing around with silly filters, doing their best to keep you out of the shot. You happened to glance over at one that turned Jungkook’s face into a creepy unicorn. 

Hours passed by eventually, and you took your leave. You stood up from the couch, trying to locate your phone. A chorus of disappointed ‘aww’s filled the room at your sudden insistence on leaving. 

“It’s already 22:00 and the buses have stopped running. It’ll be a long walk.” You claimed. Jungkook stood up and walked over to the windows, observing the dark skies and falling rain. 

“It’s pouring rain out there. We can’t let you leave in this- you’ll catch a cold.” He said. The others agreed with him excitedly. 

“Or I could just drive-”

“No! It’s too dangerous. We’ll fix the couch up for you tonight.” Taehyung interrupted Seokjin and his logical solution. Everyone soon began to hunt for spare pillows and blankets for you. 

“It’s fine, guys. I really don’t need to stay here.” You slowly began to approach the front door, hoping no one would notice you leave. Hoseok snuck up behind you, blocking your path to the exit. 

“Nope, no way. We’re older and know what’s best,” he said, guiding you back to the couch. A crack of lightning struck and illuminated the dorm, making you jump at the sudden strike. 

“Awh, you’re afraid of storms,” Jimin said, placing the last of the blankets on the couch. “Now we’re definitely not going to let you outside in this weather.”

The couch had a plethora of blankets and pillows piled high on it. It seemed like each member brought at least two of each for you to sleep on. When you pointed out the hilarious amount of blankets and pillows, you were told that it got cold at night. You looked over towards the thermostat on the wall that read 23°C. The members pretended to ignore your questioning stare. 

You gave in eventually and got settled in on the couch. They made sure you were tucked underneath each of the six blankets and placed some pillows on the floor next to you. 

“Just in case you roll off in the middle of the night,” Namjoon said, seeming like he was speaking from experience. 

Within minutes of the lights turning off and the boys going to bed, you were out like a light. 

Yoongi, Jungkook, and Hoseok snuck out of their rooms at one point, standing in the hallway and watching as the city lights illuminated your sleeping body. They watched as each breath caused the blankets to move up and down, and as you softly snored. 

“You’re crazy for having this idea, Hobi,” Yoongi said with his arms crossed. 

“I mean, it sounds like a pretty good plan,” Hoseok tried to defend himself. “Jungkookie really wants her, and I figured it would be fun for us, too.”

“We do really want her, hyung.” Jungkook said to Yoongi. 

“We? What part of this involves ‘we’?” Yoongi asked, before letting out a sigh. 

“Yeah, I guess it is we.”

[gracemain919]

Find more about that here: The Fungus

(intro blog)

Summary: It’s a corrupted military facility full of addicted and lovingly sick individuals.

It’s a Yandere story I’m writing. I will be doing many posts about concepts of such a story especially it’s characters. Concepts that can range from fluff to more erotic/smut.

I more than welcome questions and requests about these characters/concepts, and I don’t mind how crazy it can get but:

Things I don’t allow;

- Pedophilia

- age regression

- zoophilia

- incest

If I find more then I will add them to the list. And also pls credit me if you use any of these characters or the story. Tag me if you want me to read them.

I don't condone any actions from these characters and stories in real life this is just a work of fiction.

Also English is not my main language

Master list

I’m working on the main thing on Wattpad but I might rewrite it in the future since I'm not too proud of its pacing but if you're interested then its there it's like a prequel to what I'm writing here. (also that story has a determined protagonist not like here where its ‘you/ reader’)

[maskedrealities]

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Basics

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╭── ⋅ ⋅ ── 💛 ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╮

・❥・ Name: Lilith

・❥・ Age: 21

・❥・ Pronouns: She/They

・❥・ Gender: Intersex Woman (transfemme, intersex traits)

・❥・ Orientation: Demiromantic, Demisexual, Omni, Poly

・❥・ Extra: I’m American, Japanese, and Korean and currently reconnecting to Japanese heritage before connecting to Korean.

╰── ⋅ ⋅ ── 💛 ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╯

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Get To Know Me

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・❥・ I am someone who identities as non-human due to past trauma and cannot easily identify with human experiences. I associate more with demon/devil, puppet/doll, vampire, and angel. These labels help me have a better understanding of myself and allow me to love myself more.

・❥・ I actively enjoy reading, writing, photography, gaming, and making art. My favorite games include Halo, Assassin’s Creed franchise (particularly fond of the first, Mirage, and Valhalla), Jedi: Fallen Order/Jedi: Survivor, Stardew Valley, Minecraft, and otome games (major fan of Shall We Date games).

・❥・ I write more poetry but I’m getting into fledging more into books. I actively despise AI “art” as it takes away from the process it takes to learn and shape your own designs while writing. It also isn’t art, it is something that has used works of incredible people and takes away from the artist.

・❥・ I am an active fan of Hozier, STARSET, Breaking Benjamin, Three Days Grace, Set It Off, Sleep Token, Citizen Soldier, 8 Graves, Fall Out Boy, Hollywood Undead, and many more.

・❥・ I deal with a lot of things regarding obsessive thoughts and behaviors relating to my disorders. I do consider myself to be a yandere as it gives more details into how my disorders affect me and I support other people that have reclaimed the term.

・❥・ I am an intersex individual and learning more about my community and learning to be more comfortable with myself.

・❥・ My religion is mainly surrounding Norse paganism. I do not claim the people that use the religion as a means of supporting any sort of bigotry. I do not support ANY type of bigotry here.

・❥・ I actively enjoy making friends and answering questions. Please feel free to talk to me!

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Blog Related:

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・❥・ The only tags I will post under will be regarding to the blog itself, such as #maskedrealities and #lilith speaks/#lilithrambles/#rambles of Lilith.

・❥・ My blog is where I get to be unapologetically me. I will not conform to what others want of me.

・❥・ I actively do not mind others needing a place to go either, you are more than welcome to send something via message or ask as a means of just talking to someone. Though I cannot say I’ll be quick to respond.

・❥・ Anon asks will always be a thing, but any hate will include me laughing in your face. If you’re going to waste my time and your time being negative, I can at least find some joy in how much you must hurt someone else because you aren’t able to appreciate yourself.

・❥・ I am not required to be nice.

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My DNI:

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╭── ⋅ ⋅ ── 💛 ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╮

・❥・ Homophobes, transphobes, racists, any and all types of bigotry.

・❥・ Pro contact, anti-recovery paraphilias (I.e pedophilia, zoophilia, etc.). If you are actively getting help or are no contact and pro-recovery, feel free to interact.

・❥・ Political things. I know the world is going to shit, but I can’t stand it.

・❥・ Anti goodfaith, anti mspec labels.

・❥・ Anti neopronouns/xenogenders.

・❥・ If you actively mock or hate furries, therians, otherkin, otherhearted, non-humans, etc.

・❥・ If you use any sort of regression as a means of supporting pedophilia.

・❥・ Anything dealing with self harm or eating disorders.

・❥・ If you judge kinks/what someone likes.

・❥・ If you preach about “closed culture” and try and remove people from that culture away from it and need “proof.”

・❥・ Anything related to Christianity. I love you guys and what you believe in, but I have personal issues related to the religion and I don’t want that to cause harm for either party.

・❥・ Pro harassment people.

・❥・ TransIDs/radqueers

・❥・ If you actively make fun of, mock, or harass people for taking the term “yandere” back to express their experiences.

・❥・ If you believe in any type of [disorder] abuse. Such as narc abuse, bipolar abuse, borderline abuse. These types of “abuse” don’t exist. Stop turning disorders into horror tropes.

・❥・ Endogenic/any type of non-traumagenic “system” and their supporters. A CDD must have trauma behind it.

╰── ⋅ ⋅ ── 💛 ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╯

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Extra Notes

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╭── ⋅ ⋅ ── 💛 ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╮

・❥・ Thank you for your time and patience for reading through this! It means a lot to me that this was read or skimmed through.

・❥・ Things might be added, changed, or removed in the future. As of now, though, I welcome everyone that isn’t on my DNI to interact even without following!

・❥・ I hope you have a good day!

╰── ⋅ ⋅ ── 💛 ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╯

•┈┈┈••✦ ♡ ✦••┈┈┈•

Bye Bye!

•┈┈┈••✦ ♡ ✦••┈┈┈•

[Begin ID:

Top border (Section Divider): Three pairs of decorative symbols; a series of a dot, lines, two dots, a filled in star symbol, a center empty heart symbol, a filled in star symbol, two dots, lines, a dot.

Basics in Bigger text

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Top Border (Decorative): Decorative symbols in order of bolded curved line, lines, two dots, lines, yellow heart emoji, lines, two dots, lines, curved line.

Sideways heart symbol Name: Lilith

Sideways heart symbol Age: twenty one (21)

Sideways heart symbol Pronouns: She/They

Sideways heart symbol Gender: Intersex Woman (transfemme, intersex traits)

Sideways heart symbol Orientation: Demiromantic, Demisexual, Omni, Poly

Sideways heart symbol Extra: I’m American, Japanese, and Korean and currently reconnecting to Japanese heritage before connecting to Korean.

Bottom Border (Decorative): Decorative symbols in order of bolded curved line, lines, two dots, lines, yellow heart emoji, lines, two dots, lines, curved line.

Top border (Section Divider): Three pairs of decorative symbols; a series of a dot, lines, two dots, a filled in star symbol, a center empty heart symbol, a filled in star symbol, two dots, lines, a dot.

Get To Know Me in Bigger text

Bottom border (Section Divider): Three pairs of decorative symbols; a series of a dot, lines, two dots, a circle filled in star symbol, a center empty heart symbol, a filled in star symbol, two dots, lines, a dot.

Top Border (Decorative): Decorative symbols in order of bolded curved line, lines, two dots, lines, yellow heart emoji, lines, two dots, lines, curved line.

Sideways heart symbol I am someone who identities as non-human due to past trauma and cannot easily identify with human experiences. I associate more with demon/devil, puppet/doll, vampire, and angel. These labels help me have a better understanding of myself and allow me to love myself more.

Sideways heart symbol I actively enjoy reading, writing, photography, gaming, and making art. My favorite games include Halo, Assassin’s Creed franchise (particularly fond of the first, Mirage, and Valhalla), Jedi: Fallen Order/Jedi: Survivor, Stardew Valley, Minecraft, and otome games (major fan of Shall We Date games).

Sideways heart symbol I write more poetry but I’m getting into fledging more into books. I actively despise AI “art” as it takes away from the process it takes to learn and shape your own designs while writing. It also isn’t art, it is something that has used works of incredible people and takes away from the artist.

Sideways heart symbol I am an active fan of Hozier, STARSET, Breaking Benjamin, Three Days Grace, Set It Off, Sleep Token, Citizen Soldier, 8 Graves, Fall Out Boy, Hollywood Undead, and many more.

Sideways heart symbol I deal with a lot of things regarding obsessive thoughts and behaviors relating to my disorders. I do consider myself to be a yandere as it gives more details into how my disorders affect me and I support other people that have reclaimed the term.

Sideways heart symbol I am an intersex individual and learning more about my community and learning to be more comfortable with myself.

Sideways heart symbol My religion is mainly surrounding Norse paganism. I do not claim the people that use the religion as a means of supporting any sort of bigotry. I do not support ANY type of bigotry here.

Sideways heart symbol I actively enjoy making friends and answering questions. Please feel free to talk to me!

Bottom Border (Decorative): Decorative symbols in order of bolded curved line, lines, two dots, lines, yellow heart emoji, lines, two dots, lines, curved line.

Top border (Section Divider): Three pairs of decorative symbols; a series of a dot, lines, two dots, a filled in star symbol, a center empty heart symbol, a filled in star symbol, two dots, lines, a dot.

Blog Related in Bigger text

Bottom border (Section Divider): Three pairs of decorative symbols; a series of a dot, lines, two dots, a filled in star symbol, a center empty heart symbol, a filled in star symbol, two dots, lines, a dot.

Top Border (Decorative): Decorative symbols in order of bolded curved line, lines, two dots, lines, yellow heart emoji, lines, two dots, lines, curved line.

Sideways heart symbol The only tags I will post under will be regarding to the blog itself, such as #maskedrealities and #lilith speaks/#lilithrambles/#rambles of Lilith.

Sideways heart symbol My blog is where I get to be unapologetically me. I will not conform to what others want of me.

Sideways heart symbol I actively do not mind others needing a place to go either, you are more than welcome to send something via message or ask as a means of just talking to someone. Though I cannot say I’ll be quick to respond.

Sideways heart symbol Anon asks will always be a thing, but any hate will include me laughing in your face. If you’re going to waste my time and your time being negative, I can at least find some joy in how much you must hurt someone else because you aren’t able to appreciate yourself.

Sideways heart symbol I am not required to be nice.

Bottom Border (Decorative): Decorative symbols in order of bolded curved line, lines, two dots, lines, yellow heart emoji, lines, two dots, lines, curved line.

Top border (Section Divider): Three pairs of decorative symbols; a series of a dot, lines, two dots, a filled in star symbol, a center empty heart symbol, a filled in star symbol, two dots, lines, a dot.

My DNI in bigger text

Bottom border (Section Divider): Three pairs of decorative symbols; a series of a dot, lines, two dots, a filled in star symbol, a center empty heart symbol, a filled in star symbol, two dots, lines, a dot.

Top Border (Decorative): Decorative symbols in order of bolded curved line, lines, two dots, lines, yellow heart emoji, lines, two dots, lines, curved line.

Sideways heart symbol Homophobes, transphobes, racists, any and all types of bigotry.

Sideways heart symbol Pro contact, anti-recovery paraphilias (I.e pedophilia, zoophilia, etc.). If you are actively getting help or are no contact and pro-recovery, feel free to interact.

Sideways heart symbol Political things. I know the world is going to shit, but I can’t stand it.

Sideways heart symbol Anti goodfaith, anti mspec labels.

Sideways heart symbol Anti neopronouns/xenogenders.

Sideways heart symbol If you actively mock or hate furries, therians, otherkin, otherhearted, non-humans, etc.

Sideways heart symbol If you use any sort of regression as a means of supporting pedophilia

Sideways heart symbol Anything dealing with self harm or eating disorders.

Sideways heart symbol If you judge kinks/what someone likes.

Sideways heart symbol If you preach about “closed culture” and try and remove people from that culture away from it and need “proof.”

Sideways heart symbol Anything related to Christianity. I love you guys and what you believe in, but I have personal issues related to the religion and I don’t want that to cause harm for either party.

Sideways heart symbol Pro harassment people.

Sideways heart symbol TransIDs/radqueers

Sideways heart symbol If you actively make fun of, mock, or harass people for taking the term “yandere” back to express their experiences.

Sideways heart symbol If you believe in any type of [disorder] abuse. Such as narc abuse, bipolar abuse, borderline abuse. These types of “abuse” don’t exist. Stop turning disorders into horror tropes.

Sideways heart symbol Endogenic/any type of non-traumagenic “system” and their supporters. A CDD must have trauma behind it.

Bottom Border (Decorative): Decorative symbols in order of bolded curved line, lines, two dots, lines, yellow heart emoji, lines, two dots, lines, curved line.

Top border (Section Divider): Three pairs of decorative symbols; a series of a dot, lines, two dots, a filled in star symbol, a center empty heart symbol, a filled in star symbol, two dots, lines, a dot.

Extra Notes in Bigger text

Bottom border (Section Divider): Three pairs of decorative symbols; a series of a dot, lines, two dots, a filled in star symbol, a center empty heart symbol, a filled in star symbol, two dots, lines, a dot.

Top Border (Decorative): Decorative symbols in order of bolded curved line, lines, two dots, lines, yellow heart emoji, lines, two dots, lines, curved line.

Sideways heart symbol Thank you for your time and patience for reading through this! It means a lot to me that this was read or skimmed through.

Sideways heart symbol Things might be added, changed, or removed in the future. As of now, though, I welcome everyone that isn’t on my DNI to interact even without following!

Sideways heart symbol I hope you have a good day!

Bottom Border (Decorative): Decorative symbols in order of bolded curved line, lines, two dots, lines, yellow heart emoji, lines, two dots, lines, curved line.

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If anything is missing/wrong within the ID, please tell me. This is my first time trying to make an ID.

[deusvervewrites]

It gets even worst when you mix in Dadzawa into the stories, which you know full too well by the tag that the author intentional will make OCs out of Inko and All Might and not use them correctly unless they have actual long term validation, good build up and good writing onto why they’re the way they are. It’s to the point that I won’t read Izuku(angst, feel-good or otherwise) with Dadzawa stories, even if they lack abusive/dead Inko and All Might bashing, simply because they woobify and regress Izuku. Not to mention how the rest of 1-A can also be negatively affected by adding Dadzawa without cause.

Dadzawa, even if they is no bashing of the other characters, is frequently overused and improperly used to the point that the intended individuals for a Dadzawa to exist suffer. I understand why the authors want to have a feel-good and father like teacher for 1-A, especially for Izuku since in all scenes, Hisashi is still a deadbeat unless you subscribe to DFO, but don’t believe that All Might can change simply because of his first scene telling Izuku can’t be a hero(All Might had a bad day, it happens to everyone). A randomly inserted Dadzawa with or without the common OCs committing identity theft, has a chance to influence and develop the story and characters in the wrong way.

The impression that canon Aizawa gives off, especially if you know what it’s like to have a great father and good teacher, is that Aizawa would not be a great person to emulate due to his hygiene issues and what he does in the daily basis, which is what we see in canon. There’s a number of Dadzawa fans who haven’t even read the manga nor watched the anime, thus they believe that Dadzawa exists in canon, it’s an entirely fanon creation, especially after Eri joins the story. I know that some of them may have father issues themselves but we already have a greater father figure in All Might. I guess they are more horny and attractive to the slim figure(who doesn’t do Batman right at all) that is Aizawa and implants all of Inkos, All Mights and everyone else’s good traits onto Aizawa.

Aizawa does seem to do a good job with Eri, but for his class? I think it's telling that when Bakugou was kidnapped, several members of 1-A decided that saving him themselves was the best course of action.

But it's infuriating that so many characters have to be turned into flat OCs so they can be assholes solely to make Aizawa look better.

(That being said, the Prince of Heroes series setting up All-Might-Bashind-But-Dadzawa only for Aizawa to drop the ball so hard the kids think he hates them for several months was absolutely hilarious)

[mono-lee-mmxxii]

Alright I'm posting this bc my cherished mutual on main said they'd read it if I did, sorry not sorry if ya follow for TMNT

Nightlights

Chapter/Part One: Drop With Rosie

Tags: Caregivers & Littles AU; Designation AU; dissociation, non-sexual age regression, autistic aroace Alastor (Hazbin Hotel), Little Alastor (Hazbin Hotel), Caregiver Rosie (Hazbin Hotel), Switch Vox (Hazbin Hotel), bad to outright negative self care, everyone has a complex dissociative disorder it came free with your designation, Rosie is a little bit codependent but she is self aware as hell and we love her for it

Summary:

Hell is a fucked up place, but sometimes the people in it can do good things for each other. Alastor doesn't know what to do with that.

Seven years away from Hell had left Alastor in relative privacy to manage the most miserable punishment the Divine Eternity could give to sinners. He didn't find any of the “natural wonder” that Charlie went on and on about in his designation. There was no joy when he thought of the inevitable next time it would come knocking on his door, demanding his time and attention and most disgusting, vulnerability. 

Drops were the bane of Alastor’s life after death. 

Now, he was at the Hotel. Things needed to be different than they had been in the last seven years. 

Rosie was the only person that knew his designation and would respect his privacy in how he handled it. She'd always been a confidant and constant in his life, and one of the few individuals he would deign to call his friend. She was his opposite in many ways, from the way they chose to rule as Overlords, to how they took their tea, and up to including their designations. 

She'd think he was a stupid fool for what he was going to ask of her, but she'd do it anyway. 

His headspace was not, in and of itself, a terrible thing. 

Being a Little was not a punishment more terrible than any he'd inflicted on others; he'd done far worse to people than make them dissociate severely for several hours if their social needs went unmet. Dissociation was undoubtedly the right word, but Alastor wished it came with a side of amnesia as well. Being vulnerable as a Little was something he hated to remember. When he recalls the visceral feeling of losing control of himself, of his own reactions and responses, he wants to raze the entirety of Heaven to the ground until the Divine Himself rescinds this curse. 

Social needs. His face threatened to wrinkle at the very thought. Not social needs as he'd known them in life, as a human. These were needs that scratched an itch in his brain, that soothed tensions he hadn't realized were there, actions that had no meaning before suddenly full of a million things to interpret.

Letting people do things for him, letting himself be held or taken care of. Small things could be used to keep full drops at bay, or at least to ease the severity of a full drop. Drops could even be handled by a Little on their own, if it's not a bad drop. He's seen it. Nifty manages her own drops very well, for the most part, surrounding herself with toys and soft things until the fuzzy headspace has faded.

Most Littles had that. They had a method that worked, or they had people, or sometimes could pay someone, to care for them through their drop cycles. 

Alastor was not most Littles. Eventually his body would force a drop. It had been four months since his last drop, with very little happening in between to meet his social needs or ease the building stress. When he did drop next, it promised to be bad. 

Which was why he was in Cannibal Town. 

In all the years he'd known Rosie, she'd always worn a rose perfume that was heavy and sweet, but it couldn't hide the sharp scent of decay that covered her delicate figure. The smell drifted like an invisible cloud, a heavy odor that announced her arrival before she came into view through the parlor door. She was carrying a tea tray, of course. 

“Oh, Alastor, darling!” Rosie's voice was bright and over the top and she set the tray down to press kisses to both of his cheeks. She urged him to sit, gloved hands pressing on his shoulders with familiar authority. 

“It's been seven years! I refuse to count the Overlord meetings or her Highness's favor. Where have you been?” She demanded. 

“I'm afraid I can't share that one with you, my dear.” Alastor grinned, reaching for the teapot. “Allow me.” 

“No, no, I insist, let me pour for you.” Rosie swatted his hands away from the teapot; the sting, however slight, made him bristle. 

“I can do it myself.” He would deny any testiness in his tone. 

“I know you can, Alastor. But let me? I like to do things for you.”

“Rosie, I am capable of pouring my own tea.” He snapped, and she pursed her lips. Shit. He'd made her mad. 

“Fine, fine. You're a grown man, you can handle yourself. What did you need from me, Alastor?” 

He deliberated on how to say this as he poured, but he already knew what to say. He'd scripted his part of this conversation several weeks ago. 

“I find myself in need of suppressants, my dear.” He said it quietly, taking extra time setting the teapot down with deliberate motions. He needed to collect himself a bit more, and he was frankly glad the teapot wasn't trembling, even slightly. She hadn't slapped him yet, thank the stars. 

“Alastor.” 

“Yes?” He sipped his tea. If he didn't look at her, he couldn't see how much she was judging him. 

“How close to dropping are you?” 

“How close of friends are we?” Alastor countered, because he couldn't answer that directly but both of them knew he was far too gone to actively lie to her. 

“I'd say we're rather close friends.” Rosie was eyeing him critically. “Finish your tea, and I'll pour you a new cup.” 

He looked down, surprised to see it was already almost empty. He didn't remember drinking that much of it. Regardless, he followed the first part of her instructions before he thought better. 

When she reached to pour him a new cup, he stopped her. 

“Alastor.” 

He hated how she said his name. With pity, like he was a child who couldn't understand that bedtime meant the lights went out. 

“…” 

How did he explain this to her? That if he let her do this one little thing for him, he'd be falling over the edge of his headspace when he was already grasping for straws. 

“You've been missing seven years. For all I know, you haven't dropped in seven years, haven't had a Caregiver or even a friend, in those years. Do you expect me to give you suppressants when I don't know how long it's been since you dropped? I'm not letting you poison or stress your body into a second death.”

He blinked, and then laughed a bit. 

“No, no! It hasn't been seven years, gracious no! It's… it's been four months. I am going to drop soon, that much is inevitable but I cannot be at the Hotel when that happens.” There was no one he trusted there, and no one he trusted anywhere else. The Radio Demon had far too many enemies who would just as soon use his headspace to kill him as they would mock him. 

“You know my rooms are always private.” Rosie offered, and he hummed noncommittally. 

“We'll see what happens.” He said. “I just need to get past the extermination.” 

“I'll give you one bottle.” Rosie said. “Come back in three weeks, and we'll see how you're doing.” 

He nodded sharply, reaching out to take the bottle. She pulled it back a little, and he raised an eyebrow expectantly.

“But Alastor, you know as well as I do, I won't give you a refill until I know you're dropping regularly.” 

He scowled, if one can scowl and smile at the same time. Rosie was one of the best illegal drug suppliers in Hell; she prioritized her clients well-being above all. 

“As you wish.” His tone was as hard as the little tablets crashing around the bottle; he hoped it wasn't nearly as rattled. He didn't know how the hell he was going to manage a single drop in the next few weeks, much less trying to go down regularly. 

But right now, at least, he could afford a moment to relax. He could make it work, if he could get just a bit more soothing before he went home. He could hold out on a drop, no matter how tenuous his threads to the present felt at the moment. 

“Please, stay and eat.” Rosie was saying, and he found himself nodding. A meal with Rosie sounded like a good idea. She'd bring in the plates and make sure he hadn't forgotten his napkin before they ate, and she'd probably see to their drinks just to spite him for the tea. 

“Rosie?” His voice felt strange, and his eyelids were slow and heavy when he blinked. That wasn't good. She hadn't drugged him, had she? She was his friend, surely not. They were friends, right? 

“Yes, we're friends.” Rosie seemed concerned at the question. “Are you okay, Alastor?” 

He bit his tongue, uncaring that the sharp pins of his teeth weren't as sharp as normal, that he couldn't taste his own bitter blood. The pain was still there, more than enough pressure to make sure his tongue didn't slip away from him again. He hadn't realized he'd asked that question out loud, and now the answer to hers eluded him so thoroughly he concluded it must be a no. 

“You know you're safe.” She said, and he nodded again. 

Everything felt soft around the edges. His drop was happening faster than he'd expected. He hadn't taken the suppressants yet, but they wouldn't work now. Everything was out of his control now; weightless in his own body, a falling numbness in his limbs. He didn't want to drop, he couldn't. He'd be a laughing stock and a fool. He'd be dead within a week if word ever got out. They were gonna kill him. Dropping was a risk, a threat; he wasn't safe.

“Rosie.” He repeated her name with a great deal more urgency. 

“I'm right here, Alastor.” 

Except he was safe, wasn't he? Because she had just told him so. Friends didn't lie to each other. 

“This is gonna be a bad one.” His words were slurred, and he hated the sound of them. But he had to communicate, before that slipped away like the ability to move more than a few inches. “May not remember it.” 

“I know, sweetie. I'll take care of you. Food, toys, and a light show, that's all. I'll lay you down for a nap after all that, and we'll talk more about this when you're big again. How's that sound?” 

He nodded, just a touch too eagerly. 

“Please,” he said, and his tongue gave up entirely after that. 

He frowned, trying to form the words he wanted to say.

He knew them, he knew that he knew the words. How to spell them, how to read them, how to say them. Why weren't his words working? 

Al could feel cotton in his brain, making keeping a train of thought difficult. Why did he need to talk again? He didn't want to talk to anyone. No, no he wanted… he couldn't remember. It hadn't been important if he couldn't remember it. 

---

Rosie was sitting across from him, watching as the demon in front of her went from sharp angles to soft curves. His antlers had receded, leaving little knobs of velvet sticking up out of his hair, and his ears flicked about constantly with each little sound, but he probably didn't notice those things. 

“Alastor, honey, are you hungry?” She asked, and he stared at her with round, wide eyes. 

He was smiling, but it was a very small smile. Scooting the platter pinkies she'd brought with tea closer, she nodded at him in encouragement. He slipped off of the chair, pulling the plate closer as he made himself comfortable sitting on the floor. 

Little Al usually enjoyed pinkies as much as his Big self did, and she hoped that hadn't changed. 

It hadn't. 

His teeth weren't as sharp as they could be but he had no trouble making quick work of them. These were prime choices, of course; they wouldn't serve anything less to an Overlord. She'd have eaten whoever thought it was a good idea to send chewy or tough meat to a meeting between her and Alastor, and was glad that such measures hadn't proven necessary. 

He was picky, though, which was something she'd forgotten. 

Currently he was sorting through the tray of provided pinkies, arranging them by size. 

Each mouthful was chewed diligently, and swallowed carefully. After each bite, he’d take out the bone, all the meat cleaned off, and methodically set it aside. 

Alastor started humming, something she'd heard on his radio more than a few times. A favorite song,one he'd enjoyed for a long time. 

He was arranging the bones on his tea saucer, the tea cup moved onto the doily. She moved it onto the tea tray before it got knocked over, obviously already forgotten. 

“Do you want to draw?” She asked when he finished eating and was just playing with the bones. He was making a castle, remnants of sinew the flags flying from the parapets. 

Rosie had to try not to laugh as she watched him sit forward so fast he had to use both his hands to catch himself against the table before he smacked into it. He was nodding, strands of bright red hair falling down into his eyes. He didn't bother brushing them back, just staring at her more, an unnerving gaze as eerie as any cannibal’s in Hell. 

She wasn't sure why the Divine had made him a deer when he was still obviously a cannibal. Why not just make him an eyeless undead like the rest of them? Maybe the All Knowing had known that the demon would tie himself up in the Hotel, and it was to spare the sensibilities of those seeking redemption. But his wide, dark eyes would be considered doe-like on anyone else, and they were as captivating and endearing as the phrase would imply. 

“You can draw, just don't make a mess too big to clean up.” 

He needed no reminding of where she kept her drawing supplies. Within moments he was at her desk, pushing her chair out of his way. 

Rosie smiled, clearing off the tea table so he could color on the table. She'd have the pinkie bones he'd spit out earlier washed and cleaned; they'd look nice strung together as a little bracelet. Maybe she could get his name carved on it? Something nice, to celebrate his first drop since coming home.

Al remained unaware of her wandering train of thought, pulling out stacks of paper and crayons and colored pencils from the drawer in her desk that he knew kept all of it. It was his favorite of her desk drawers, aside from the one that had candy. That one was his absolute favorite. 

He carried the supplies back over to her, ignoring both desk and tea table. Dropping everything on the carpet, it was clear he'd rather be on the floor again. 

Sheets of construction paper were spread out in front of him, blank canvases for when he wanted to draw something new. Everything was ready, he just needed… colors! He needed to pick colors. 

He hummed, picking through the crayons. 

Red and black were his favorite colors as an adult, but it never failed that the moment he was in Littlespace he reached for the cyan and gray crayons first and the red ones second. 

She knew why, of course. No one was friends with Alastor for as long as she was without becoming privy to things the demon hadn't yet divulged. 

He hummed, drawing pictures of televisions and radios arguing, and the radio always won, of course. 

Every picture was presented to Rosie for approval, and she made sure to complement each one. 

His favorite seemed to be one where the radio danced on the television set and had blasted the antenna of the TV clear off with his radio waves. He'd taken care with the detail, one red and one black dot taking up the television screen and two bright blue dots for the irises. 

“Is the TV your friend?” She asked, and he shook his head no so fast strands of hair whipped around. 

“He's your enemy?” 

More hesitant, but still a no. 

“He's your rival. That's different than enemy?” 

Alastor nodded happily. He kept drawing, before he showed her the picture again and she took it with a smile. He'd added Rosie to the picture, smacking the television with a long stick that ended in a crudely drawn skull; her cannibal Overlord scepter. With his coordination at the moment, the entire drawing was imperfect and uneven. 

“Such artistry! This one is going on the fridge!” 

Beaming with a bright smile, Al laughed. He pulled another sheet out of the stack and grabbed another set of crayons. 

While the boy entertained himself with drawings, Rosie put on an old record, one of her favorites. Shortly after the soft music started playing, his feet were kicking in the air. 

It was a sight she never got tired of: little Al, laying on her floor, drawing and kicking his feet. It was his favorite thing to do when he was little, but she'd never asked him why. It didn't matter why he liked to draw and refused a table to do so, it mattered that it made him happy to do it. 

He'd confessed more than enough that he hadn't had someone to ease his drops for a long time, and she missed being able to give him that. 

Taking care of her cannibals was plenty to keep her own Caregiving impulses in check. She had plenty to take care of when it came to her town, and she'd guided more than a few lost Littles back up out of their headspaces. Poor things usually came looking for her, regressed and contracted to her, and she always took them back to their Caretakers. 

If they didn't have one, as most of the new sinners didn't, they stayed with her until she could get them a house, and get them established in Hell and taking part in community drops and guides. No one in her town went uncared for. 

Taking care of Alastor was always a little different though. 

There was some small, selfish, impulsive desire to have him as her Little, to be the only one to take care of him, the only one who got to guide and guard him during his drops; she recognized it was the same selfish, hungry impulse to own that had driven her to devouring her second husband. 

It was only part of why she'd never offered, and why she never would. She respected him too much to pretend that being his Caregiver wouldn't change his public image, which she knew he was already worried about if he was looking for suppressants. No, while she enjoyed caring for him through his drops on occasions he needed it, their interests and paths diverged far too much. 

She'd never let Alastor know she thought this either. To do so would only damage their friendship, and she'd never do anything to betray that trust in any way. 

Besides that, she'd rather not make an enemy of a fellow Overlord. 

Little Alastor snaps a crayon and starts crying, and she knows that her night is far from over. 

[bluravenite]

Can people please put content tags and warnings when they talk about regressed ghouls????

CW: mentions of trauma and abuse, fetishization of age regression, sexual abuse, parenting? Just complaining about people romanticizing age regression, trauma, abuse and treating other mental illness/disorders badly... Also very brief mentions of self harm and eating disorders...

Summary: I'm upset

I feel like people baby ghouls a lot, and while I understand that age reg and little space is a trauma coping mechanism, trust me.. I know... I also just feel like sometimes I open Tumblr to a bunch of people babying ghouls in ways that make me upset...

I think often the way people handle regressed ghouls is by treating them like dumb little babies, instead of the actual procedures that should take place to ensure someone who is regressed is emotionally and physically safe... It's not just about which toys they love playing with, or which sippy cup they use most, it's also not A GATEWAY FOR YOU TO WRITE AGE REGRESSION AS A SEXUAL FETISH, I understand that sometimes when you regress your body may still experience those feelings, but mentally???? It's not going to be safe or enjoyable, cannot consent properly either BECAUSE ITS UNDER A TRAUMA RESPONSE, and also??? It can be even more traumatic and DANGEROUS for a person HANDLING a regressed individual, to engage in sexual acts WITH A REGRESSED INDIVIDUAL

I get that Tumblr used headcanons as comfort, but if you're going to talk about traumatized ghouls experiencing age regression and instead of having people/other ghouls take care of them safely and properly, then I can't stop you but at least TAG THEM PROPERLY??? This goes to mentions of SH and EDS, should not be romanticized... Can it be talked about? Part of a story? Yes, just like it can be part of people's lives and needs to be discussed... But please just don't romanticize it... Don't make regressed ghouls engage in it too if you're not going to properly explain the content and the reasons why it's there.

I have my own way of dealing with small children, age regressed individuals (and littles)... It may not be correct, but it caters towards listening to the individual I am responsible for taking care of...

You don't know what they want or need, you need to talk to them and ask them how they're feeling, how you can help, what they would like, what is safest for them. Get them something of comfort, something for entertainment, and at all costs try to ensure their safety, even if you fail, you can talk them through calming down. I do understand that 1. Children can be difficult sometimes, it depends a lot on the kid... 2. Not all instances will have bad experiences or feelings involved, but sometimes they might, which is why you need to understand age regression is a trauma response... 3. You cannot treat children as dumb brainless babies, AND YOU SHOULD NOT TREAT AGE REGRESSED INDIVIDUALS HAVING TROUBLE PROCESSING EMOTIONS like CHILDREN.

My point being, just try to learn some gentle parenting. It doesn't always work, it doesn't always ensure everyone's safety... Yes you can still have your cute headcanons of things people enjoy and it does not have to be exclusive to age regression...

I have spent entire summers volunteering with special needs and disabled kids, as well as having my own mental issues and disorders and I'm just tired of seeing people treat a lot of them like they're toys to play with and sexualize... And since I know I can't stop anyone from doing that, AT LEAST FOR SATAN'S BELOVED COCK, USE TAGS

[jiangwanyinscatmom]

Do you think YQYs death is the original SQQs fault? I was in the SVSSS tag and I saw that take that it wasn’t SQQ fault when I was kinda like…but it is? I was just reading like…no…this isn’t victim blaming is it?!? I haven’t actually thought about it. I didn’t even think of the original after everything was said and done and I’m using my last three brain cells to figure this out. Might the smart and illustrious Raccoon Mom do it for me🥺🥺🌸💖 pls I don’t have the brain power to do this myself and my sister hasn’t read it yet and I have no one to bounce stuff off of😩

Hello dear Ticobi!

I think this is a bit of a convoluted consequence on both Yue Qingyuan's guilt and Shen Jiu being well... Shen Jiu...

It has to be mentioned that Yue Qingyuan did actively take the bait of Shen Jiu's torture by Luo Binghe. How this concluded the way it did needs to be broken down due to the theme of actions having consequence and the points of abuse through relationships.

1: Yue Qingyuan had promised to come back to save Shen Jiu eventually some way from his situation due to their dependency on each other.

2: Yue Qingyuan ultimately was not able to save Shen Jiu at the expected time both believed they would be reunited. This leads to Shen Jiu's growing resentment of the world he already despises and his own faith in people is lost, and the beginning of Yue Qingyuan's guilt complex for failing someone so vital to him.

3: This leads to Shen Jiu's resentment of people as a whole, and his degradation as a person as he chooses to become nihilistic and jealous. Yue Qingyuan in his guilt continues to let this be as he doesn't know how to mend their rift. The hypocrisy of Shen Jiu wanting to be "strong and independent" is warped now as he is just an unhappy person while still craving some form of affection and comfort.

4: Luo Binghe is introduced, Shen Jiu just finds a target to essentially continue the abuse and jealousy he endured in an individual that mirrors his own circumstances in life.

5: Yue Qingyuan knows this is abuse of Luo Binghe, but because of his guilt, he enables Shen Jiu instead and Shen Jiu's hate and abuse of Luo Binghe continues.

6: Eventually, this leads to Luo Binghe growing into another Shen Jiu, the abused, become the abuser with the enabler remaining passive and stuck.

7: Shen Jiu is forever convinced Luo Binghe is disgusting as a person, as well as Luo Binghe thinking the same of him. But due to that past with Yue Qingyuan, Luo Binghe is able to take advantage of an already wrought relationship between all. Luo Binghe tortures his abuser, becoming the abuser, the former abuser, is made a victim, the victim/abuser's enabler is forced to do something, and is killed for it.

There really is no "It is on the fault of one only", here, as all parties are guilty of abusive action or, regressive inaction. These were all continued choices to escalate the abuse of each other, so, each are a victim in one way, while the abuser as well. What came first, chicken, or the egg? Nature, or nurture? We know with Shen Jiu by the end of his life, knows exactly what led to his end, but, regret isn't always an epiphany, and what if's don't matter for the future or the present where you make your choices.

[takeyourcyanide]

That Which Destroys You, You Adore

AO3

Content Warning(s): Blood, Gore, Violence, (Technically Unethical) Human Experimentation, Mentions of Cannibalism, Vomiting

Fandom: Soul Eater

Character(s): Franken Stein, Spirit Albarn

Tags: Blood & Gore, Blood & Violence, Blood & Injury, Canon-Typical Violence, Aftermath of Violence, Science Experiments, Human Experimentation, Mentions of Cannibalism, Sharing a Bed, Hurt/Comfort, Addiction, Sickfic, Nausea, Vomiting

Word Count: 3 733

Summary: Stein experiments on Spirit whilst he’s asleep, which leads to a very nauseous and ill Spirit.

Note(s): Here’s something in between chapters. I’m working on two age regression fics, too. People, at least on ao3, seem to be enjoying those just as I am, so fun.

Disintegration was far from easy to bear witness to; similarly to taking a lawn chair out to helplessly watch as every last bit of the supposedly stable world you knew is blown to smithereens, only rubble, ashes, and fire remaining - burning every last bit of whatever green is still visible into a cloudy, black nothingness, for that is all you are able to do.

But refuge could be found simultaneously within the madness, within the harrowing, yet captivating static.

It could be found within the maddeningly pleasurable sadism you tried your best to force into latency, within the pleasant curiosity - both the sadism and scientific inquiry intermingling and joining as one, bringing about a thrill with them, becoming a delectable cocktail of pure, and unbridled, fervent pleasure like no other.

Exacting what they consider violence on others was exhilarating; though for him it was not about the fact that it was barbaric or homicidal. He was merely interested in anatomy, in souls, in what lies beneath the surface. An inability to view others as thinking and feeling agents certainly helped, along with the enjoyment he found in the fear and utter trepidation in people’s eyes - for it was simply so incredibly fascinating to observe. It is as though they revert back into small children, pleading for mercy, and pleading for their parents; predator and prey, the cycle of life.

And he’d always experience the seething desire to find out how and why.

::::———::::———::::———::::———::::

The clock ticked on endlessly, the noise reverberating throughout the unnerving and breathing walls, reading ‘02:46.’ And it had been well over a week since Stein had last dissected an animal.

He trudged from out of the whispering shadows of his bedroom, through the threatening and chilling air of the corridor, utensils in hand, clinking gently together.

His frigid hand interacted with the frigid knob of Spirit’s door, an entranced and thrilled grin contorting his chapped lips, as he removed, or ,rather, opened the border between him and his favorite test subject.

Stein had often described people and their fleshy outermost layers as being something like wrapping paper, their insides and what lies at the bottom of the iceberg to be the gift within the gift box. Though you may keep the pretty wrapping paper until it’s no longer useful to you and throw it away, ultimately, that was much more of an adult thing to do. Even if he had himself utilized others to his advantage. And it was in moments like these where Franken felt the most immature, only after his own hedonistic desires, little care for anything else. He never once had any real interest in the wrapping paper covering the box. He may admire its beauty, and even find it to be rather fascinating, but at the end of the day, he’d always mercilessly rip it to shreds to get to the goodies on the inside; what he truly wanted.

And Spirit’s innards, the very recesses of his soul were what intrigued him the most. He wanted to know what the soul of such an interesting individual was precisely made of, what all his body was made of - even despite his extensive knowledge of the average human body. But how different was a weapon’s body from that of a regular human’s?

Truly, viewing photos and diagrams for the sake of studying and getting up close and personal with fluid-covered and eye-catching organs were two entirely separate things.

Stein made short and hushed steps closer towards the weapon, of whom had the idiotic tendency to sleep with his shirt off, which was only idiotic because he lived with a certain opportunistic meister.

As more and more of the redhead came into view, he could see how disheveled and sprawled out both his long hair was, and his body happened to be, the comforter only covering his thighs and a small portion of his abdomen, on which was already a few leisurely healing scars scattered about; products of the meister’s previous endeavors.

His grin grew into a disturbingly wide and manic smile as he beamed at the sight before him, his weapon-partner’s pale skin absolutely littered in markings. The sight was almost too much to bear…… Surely blood would be even more stunning on the male subject’s complexion.

He placed his utensils neatly upon the steel medical tray had he brought along with him, which he put on the bedside table, of which was only occupied by a lamp and a compact clock. He ensured that they each made little noise, taking precautions, despite his scythe being quite the deep sleeper.

As the final scalpel had been lied down onto the reflective and shining surface, Albarn’s fingers twitched, his head turning to the side, his lips pursing as a soft groan escaped him.

‘Perhaps he is having a distressing dream,’ Stein pondered to himself, tilting his own head curiously to the side like a quizzical mutt. His own life was one big distressing dream - torturous, even. Thus, he more than certainly could understand the need to audibly make that known, whether in the form of words or not.

Franken retrieved the latex gloves that had been impatiently awaiting his impending usage of them, tugging them roughly, yet carefully over his fingers, spreading his digits outwards, fitting the gloves over his palms. And with a sense of precision, and a sense of elation, he grabbed the appropriate scalpel, handling it with a tenderness he hadn’t the capacity for when it came to any other existing object or creature. He brought the blade down to the plush, vulnerable flesh of Spirit’s abdominal cavity, applying pressure as he drug it through the lengthy organ, blood beading up from the cut, slow and methodical.

A giggle bubbled up in his throat, on the cusp of his tongue, fully prepared to burst with the slightest of movements. Stein was left desperately trying to suppress the euphoric feeling from escaping from the confines of his skull, focusing instead on ensuring that the moaning scythe not awaken.

The ginger’s hand rose by a slight margin, falling over his face with a noiseless slap, as Stein revealed the blanket of subcutaneous fat and abdominal muscles beneath the sheets of flesh.

The meister’s eyes widened to an unprecedented size, marveling at a sight he’d seen a dozen times.

It never became any less awe-inspiring.

He took a rag, dabbing at the rushing blood, as he grabbed a syringe, entirely unsure of what wonder he wanted to perform first.

Allowing for the middle of Spirit’s abdomen to hang open, Franken placed the needle into a bottle of liquid iodine that he had been planning on using for quite the long while, filling the barrel with the halogen.

He smacked the aforementioned barrel with his fingertips, making certain he wouldn’t be injecting air into his partner’s veins.

Stein brought the needle down, on level with the arm that was simply lying straight upon the sheets, maneuvering the male’s fingers in such a way that he could forcefully form a fist.

A blue vein made itself known, as the meister lowered the needle further, shoving the foreign body into the unwilling skin. A bit of blood poured around the sharp injector, as he thumbed down the plunger, injecting just enough iodine to lead to mild poisoning, but not enough to be lethal, not enough to need an emergency room visit over, curious at to what might happen.

He padded the area with square, fuzzy gauze, allowing it to simply sit there and soak up any blood that dared to spill from the near-microscopic hole left by the needle, shushing the mildly writhing Spirit, whilst moving back to the enchanting incision he had made only moments prior.

He picked the bloodied scalpel up from off of his peacefully dreaming chest, his movements languid, as he scanned every picturesque feature on Spirit’s face. The weapon truly was rather beautiful, at least in Stein’s eyes. And that only made him want to rip him gracefully limb from limb even more so. Perhaps he’d keep his head in a large sort of jar, and he’d fill it with formaldehyde so his beauty could be preserved much longer. Perhaps he’d consume his nutrient-dense liver, allowing his beauty to spread throughout his gastrointestinal system, to be filtered by his own liver… He never had much interest in practicing cannibalism, however… Other than purely scientific.

The scythe’s eyelids were still delicately shut, both of his long sets of eyelashes almost cuddling with one another.

He and Marie were the most fascinating subjects he’s ever been in possession of; two picturesque, scientific wonders of his. It was almost too good to be true.

Stein took his scalpel, placing the blade at the very top of the incision, dragging further upward, the slice extending through Albarn’s thoracic cavity.

The crimson liquid rolled from the blade down to the handle, and off onto his subject’s already dirtied skin, as Franken raised his hand from the male’s form. He placed the tool down onto the tray, taking a moment to admire the buttery yellow, and the reddish striated patterns before his eyes, and just how mesmerizing they were.

He, then, proceeded to take a moment to sigh, a little disappointed he couldn’t take it further to the level of a full on dissection, forced to control and withhold his inexplicable desire, because that technically wasn’t today’s experiment, and he was out of any proper anesthetic that would leave his partner knocked out for the process.

Stein fetched his nylon sutures, readying himself for the concurrent enjoyment and dissatisfaction that always came with sewing his partner back together again.

::::———::::———::::———::::———::::

The morning rays of the rising sun shone through the blinds of each and every window, dusting across Stein’s face.

He lay with an alert expression, eyes having been wide open since he finished with his little experiments, staring daggers into the crawling animals on the ceiling.

The sound of anxious pitter-pattering towards the bathroom caught his attention, as he shot upwards. The same individual those rushing footsteps belonged to began hurling, hacking up a mixture of hydrochloric acid and their own profuse amounts of saliva.

He knew who that ‘they’ was.

The trials had begun.

“Spirit?” He called out, having stepped out into the hallway inquiringly.

The weapon whimpered, Franken listening as he, ever the crybaby, choked on a sob.

“Don’ feel good,” he slurred, his fingers gripping the toilet bowl like a vice, his complexion impressively pallid, somehow even more so than Stein. The only color present in his visage being his vermillion-coated cheeks, of which stretched out to the very tips of his ears.

Stein kneeled beside the scythe, placing his hand upon his sweat-slick forehead, of which was scorchingly hot. Spirit nuzzled into his partner’s freezing touch, shakily whining.

“You have a fever.. Would you like me to get you some Zofran and water?” He offered. “I can get the thermometer, too..”

“Yeah… An’ some Advil. Why’re you bein’ so nice?” He questioned exasperatedly.

Because I am here to observe every single symptom you exhibit that I have bestowed upon you.

“I’m bored and I find illness fascinating,” Albarn rolled his overtired eyes, leaning into the crook of his arm to roughly cough.

“Yeah, that tracks… Thanks, anyway,” he sniveled. “C’n you call ‘n sick for me, too? I clearly can’t go to school like this.”

“Sure,” Stein agreed, exiting the bathroom to retrieve all of the necessary supplies, including his cellphone.

Spirit’s hushed mewls could be heard in the background as he conversed with the staff working in DWMA’s office, more acid being excreted from his churning stomach.

“Here, Spirit,” Stein held out an ondansetron tablet towards his weapon-partner after having finished with the call, placing a glass of water on the counter, ibuprofen beside it, holding the thermometer for himself.

Albarn graciously accepted the medicine, putting it beneath his nasty tongue, allowing it to dissolve into his bloodstream, attempting to ignore his pounding temples whilst it did as such.

He massaged circles into his skull, his countenance stuck in a permanent grimace, as the meister merely stood, watching him, observing him with pensive eyes.

He was underneath the inspecting lens of Stein’s microscope.

“Advil and water, please,” he held his hands out expectantly, Franken handing him the gel pill.

“Do you want me to help you with the water?” The ginger popped the Advil, awaiting the pleasantly cooling liquid.

“Why?”

He pointed towards the weapon’s hands. “You’re trembling.”

“Oh, yeah… Tremors,” a disappointed sigh racked his shuddering frame. “Fine, if I have to.”

Stein grabbed the glass from off of the marble, moving to sit beside his partner, as he slotted the edge of the cup in between his most likely bitter-tasting lips, tilting it upwards.

He obediently took sips, swallowing the pill, only to place both of his hands around the glass and, with assistance from male next to him, swig every last drop of water down his burning, scratchy throat.

“Ah,” he put his relief on display. “Thank you,” Stein stood, depositing the glass back onto the counter, as Spirit fussed, evidently seeking comfort from the same individual who had hardly heard of the concept. “I wanna go back to bed.”

“Let me check your temperature first,” Franken spoke in his typical monotone, sticking the thermometer into his ear, the beeping disturbing the both of them.

A part of Albarn found his meister’s voice to be the least soothing thing ever, a public display of his apathy. But another part of him found its gentle timbre to be relaxing, its steady, unchanging rhythm something he could easily fall asleep to.

“39 degrees,” Stein read aloud, Spirit groaning in response, as deliberately sitting it next to the emptied glass. “All right, let’s go… Here,” he lifted the scythe up by his armpits, shifting him and allowing him to lean against his form, Spirit’s head resting against the top of his own.

Franken pushed open Spirit’s bedroom door, assisting him with getting settled under the comforter, pulling the blanket all the way up to his collarbones.

The scythe winced, sucking in air through his gnashing teeth, moaning in pain.

“What is it?” Stein knowingly asked.

“I’ve b’n having, like.. not only inner stomach pain, but outward, if that makes sense. It’s like my skin… and even some of the deeper layers of my skin are really tender, an’ it hurts when I move in certain ways,” he deliriously elucidated. “An’ I don’ ev’n know how I ended up with this shirt on me. I could’ve sworn I’d fall’n asleep with my shirt off… Maybe I sleep walked? Or jus’, actually, forgot to take it off?”

Stein shrugged his shoulders, inching farther and farther away from Spirit - much too far for his liking.

“You’re not leaving are you?” Albarn rushed out, almost sounded panicked.

“Well, I wasn’t planning on it,” he slinked under the covers with his partner. “You actually want me to stay?

The redhead appeared almost bashful as he replied, his already vibrant cheeks becoming rosier. “Well, um… I don’ really like bein’ alone like this. I c’n hardly ev’n think, y’know?”

“Yeah, I get it,” he chuckled, making himself comfortable on the weapon’s awfully silky sheets.

“Oh! An’, uh… My right arm’s b’n a little sore, too… A li’le bruised.. ‘M starting to think I really am a sleep walker..”

“You’re ending up like me,” he jested with a smirk.

“I really am! I wake up with cuts an’ bruises an’ shit all the time, an’ I never know how I got ‘em! Like, huge scars, too! Kinda like you… I don’ know how you manage to wake up with new bruises all the time, but now I do, I guess,” he allowed for the weight of his eyelids to emerge victoriously as they fell, a particularly piteous and raspy cough beating its way from out of his oral cavity. “There was ev’n a little speck of blood on my sheets, I think, when I woke up.”

I suppose I got a little sloppy this time.

“Going to sleep?” Stein asked, suppressing a pleased grin as he imagined how the previously gaping hole in the male’s abdomen must look now.

“Thin’ so,” he murmured sleepily.

Humans were so adorable sometimes, along with fascinating. How could Spirit possibly fall asleep with an individual such as Stein merely right beside him? Franken often questioned whether or not he should even sleep in the same apartment as his weapon… And really in the presence of anyone, which only served to worsen his treacherous and horrid insomnia.. Though, perhaps that was a good thing. He knew the truth. Perhaps this was Spirit’s way of tricking him into believing that he was safe to sleep, and he’d exact his revenge on him come nightfall.

Whatever the case may be, the moment the scythe’s breaths steady to a certain point, and his wheezing ceases, he’d examine the infuriated scar that was clearly forming. He’d need to take the stitches out rather early and hope for the best… Or perhaps he could utilize a little ability he had been working on..

Albarn soon stopped moving entirely, though Franken still poked him a couple of times simply to make sure.

He soundlessly twisted himself out of the coziness of his partner’s comforter, tip-toeing over to where he tranquilly rested, pulling the covers down slowly and gently. The ginger whined a long complaint out in his sleep, but as soon as Stein began deliberately running fingers through his scalp, he returned to his former contented state.

How easy.

He found the hem of the male’s shirt, lifting it warily, as the owner writhed. The sight before him was a heavenly one; the cut was enraged, ruby red and pinkish, the stitches holding the skin together evidently against its will.

With ungloved hands, Stein pulled each and every section of the thread out conscientiously, a little bit of blood smearing on his fingertips.

The incision reopened - not to completion, but it could still most certainly be classified as having been open, as the mad meister took an attentive seat on the edge of the bed, just barely not touching the older boy’s legs.

He had been rigorously practicing it for a long while, practicing making sutures with his soul wavelength, and it had been going rather well, but he never once tested it on a breathing human subject, despite the passionate desire and impulse to do so. Thus, as he eyed the angry wound, he muttered as quietly as possible, “Soul thread sutures,” holding a focused hand above the injury, concentrating on his static-filled wavelength, as he heard the faint sound of skin being sewn together.

His soul-curated stitches were crafted in such a way as to not be visible to the naked eye, to anyone’s naked eye, not simply just so he could continue his non-consensual and delightfully unethical human experiments, but also so he could utilize them on the battlefield - leaving enemies sewn to the ground and unable to continue fighting, confused as to what has caused their sudden paralysis.

It was nearly flawless.

And as he opened his eyes, the incision was sutured perfectly together, the skin almost appearing as one again, if it weren’t for the long line going down the scythe’s middle. It, thankfully, just looked like a healing and irritated scar now.

With this, and hopefully with a shipment of proper anesthetics, he could, soon, proceed with a true dissection. Of course, he couldn’t detach his organs from the rest of his body, but he could definitely have a little look around, and analyze whatever differences and similarities exist between weapon-human bodies, and average human bodies. He could observe what this most engrossing and riveting scythe was made of.

Just the thought was enough to brighten his morning in a way no other thought or other thing could. He didn’t just want to dissect him and everything else, he needed to dissect him and everything else. There was nothing else that made him feel so… good. He might even give up cigarettes if it meant he could dissect all day, everyday…. If he could face no repercussions for his actions. Sure, the possible consequences add an obvious layer of thrill to the vivisections, but they were such godsends on their own, that they didn’t need that extra layer. He couldn’t care less whether there were consequences or not - dissection, both metaphorical and physical, and observation were all that mattered to the unhinged, maladjusted scientist - without it, what would he be? Who would he be? How would he be?

He bit into his lip, hard enough to draw a teensy bit of blood, as he tittered, pulling the weapon’s shirt back down, and tossing the covers back over him.

If he lost the ability to dissect, he’d lose everything. He owes his life to dissection, to the scientific method itself - it’s how he’s survive in a world not suited for the likes of him.

It was an addictive force.. It was his drug, besides the nicotine. It was his only shred of will to live. But what would become of him if he indulged in it too much, if he fell into it like an abyssal hole he failed to detect? What would become of him if he allowed himself to disintegrate, allowed it all to slip through his fingers? But it felt so wondrous…

It was the static that felt as gut-wrenching as a crucifixion. And surely he’d be crucified if he were to continue. But he had to. What else would he do? Dissection was his life, it was the oxygen he breathed, even the static had become a cruel mistress to him. Even if he was being destroyed, where would he go in the forest without that vintage radio? Without his scalpels?

But he could never put his steel blade down at the end of the day. Nor could he release his hold on the radio and allow himself to be taken away by those shouting endlessly into the waves of static, pleading for his return, or really, his first steps into their world.

Perhaps he’d just allow for the thievery of his soul. He’d observe, sitting in a lawn chair as everything and everyone crashed and burned.

After all, he could never learn to properly care.

<——————>

[ask-the-clergy-bc]

Papas with an so who age regresses (like when they’re stressed they’re kinda child like?)

I hope this is what you are looking for! :)

And to avoid confusion this is NOT to be confused with the 18+ Subject of DD/LG or any kink content related to it!! THIS IS NOT FOR ANY SORT OF NSFW SO DO NOT INTERACT WITH OR TREAT IT AS SUCH!!! I DO NOT WRITE FOR THOSE KINKS NOR DO I WANT THIS TAGGED OR FOR IT TO BE ASSOCIATED WITH IT!!

This is for the very real coping mechanism utilized by therapists and individuals. :) Also looking into it I wasn't sure if you meant full regression or just very casual, so I did more casual stress relief.

Also a very minor content warning in the tags because this is a coping mechanism for many and can be related to trauma.

Papas with an S/O who Age Regresses

Papa Nihil: Honestly has no idea what the hell that means or what it is used for in therapy, but he tries his best! And it makes you happy so who cares? Papa is very good about using a baby tone or child like tone when talking to you if that's what you prefer. After all, he had three kids so that's not hard for him to do! Nihil doesn't typically assume any sort of care taker role for you. But he does get you whatever you want! You are quite literally a kid in a candy and toy store on days you need it! He just hates seeing you stressed in any capacity.

Papa I: Out of them all, Papa is the most familiar with Age Regression. So he recognizes immediately how it helps you and makes you happy. He has sat you down before to express that no, he is not put off by your coping mechanism. Instead, you both have a good long talk about what you need from HIM during times of regression. Papa doesn't skip a bit when you start speaking in a childish tone or ask for help for 'grown up' tasks. He's very gentle and patient, and happy to give you words of praise when you get things done! Very good with head kisses and giving you treats to make you smile.

Papa II: Usually when you regress he leaves you to it, knowing you are decompressing and managing your stress. He's never sure how to exactly engage with you, but Papa is not one to push you away during. He's never been good with childish things or situations. But it makes you happy so he's content to let you be happy. His main concern is that you feel safe and loved when you do regress. On one occasion you were a bit self conscious of your regression because you were scared what others would think or that Papa found it weird... but instead he handed you a toy you put back the last time you went shopping. "Don't like fools shame you for what brings you peace."

Papa III: Papa is a refined and dignified gentleman... but that sure as Hell doesn't mean he wants to grow up either!! He is happy to see you do the same, and even happier when he knows it helps you. Papa makes sure you have the space to regress and feel safe in doing so. There has been more than one times he has taken one of your stuffies to make it talk, dance, and sing for you. He's also happy to tuck you in for naps and sing to you. His main concern is only that you always feel comfortable when you regress. But he would be lying if he said he didn't enjoy doing simple childhood activities with you. He didn't exactly have the most stress free youth so it brings him comfort too.

Papa IV/Cardinal Copia: For a long time he thought you were just very young at heart and sometimes loved to express it. He thought it was adorable! The closer you got the more you eventually opened up about what you were doing and how this state of mind helps you manage stress. Copia did his research immediately so he could help! While he doesn't offer a care taker role, he certainly likes to help! There was one time he surprised you with a coloring book when you were having a particularly rough week. His logic? "When I was a boy I loved crayons... I thought you would enjoy them too! eheh!"

[chickpea0]

Please consider donating to Gaza Municipality Project or purchase some esims gor Gazans. If you don't want to pick the individual this will help bring relief. Know your limits with world tradgedy but please, do not shove your head in the sand.

My Name is Chickpea! But these names also work! Young adult - ey/em/eirs pronouns

Age dreamer/generally young at heart and I rarely regress, just here to have a nice time! This blog is for security, fun, being light-hearted, whimsicality and at it's core, vulnerability in general!

I love animals, getting creative and trying new things :> I'm not too fond of social media but Tumblr is my little chunk of the internet.

My lifes mission is just to get to know myself and how I work, to enjoy myself and to just be around for the ride. Life has been tough but there's always a future and there's always something good about the present. I want to meet as many good people as I can. Regression helps me to not dwell on the bad, which is a really important skill I have yet to master lmao. It's also works to make feeling vulnerable way easier.

~

Dms open, asks open, I love being tagged, I love people leaving notes and mass reblogging and liking is really flattering to me. Drawing of my soft toy, Blueberry kindly drawn by @roseyposie-agere. He now guards my profile and makes sure everyones alright. 🫐

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