#not sure if ill make any of the others like this.. this was more to play around w the idea but idk

[starsfic]

Child Support

I got inspired by @linkinaboxx's ideas for @quitealotofsodapop's Shadow Triplets, including the one where the triplets refer to Macaque as a deadbeat.

Something was up on Flower Fruit Mountain.

For the past few weeks, Wukong had opened the door to the cabin to find an arrangement of... stuff on his doorstep.

At first, it had started off as gold and jewels, with a monetary worth enough for the triplets to go to college in America several times over if they wanted to. Wukong had ended up exchanging it all for money, confused but shrugging it off. Weirder things had popped up, and even if he was already rich, it was nice to have more money just in case.

Then, toys and treats joined the gold, narrowing down to match each child's taste.

This sent terror down Wukong's spine. It confirmed that something or someone was actively stalking his children.

Thunder had complained about breaking a calligraphy pen and the next morning, there was a new pen. Savage had been introduced to the 1941 Princess Iron Fan animation and, by next morning, the animation stills that had been reported stolen had popped up on his porch. Rumble wanted croissants but the nice bakery he bought them at, which got butter directly from France, was having delays, and the next morning there was a fresh box from a French bakery, still warm from the oven.

Wukong had checked with the others, even the Demon Bull Family, to make sure he wasn't freaking out over nothing. He had double, even triple checked to make sure there was no curses ir or anything before letting the children have them. There was no ill-intentioned magic, but the fact that his family wasn't involved?

He could still feel the Lady Bone Demon's strings. The Mayor had disappeared.

That meant one thing.

Wukong went through the evening routine as usual. He kissed each of his sweet little stormclouds after they fell asleep. He turned off the lights, making sure the nightlight was on to keep any nightmares away. He created a clone and ordered it to sleep in his bed.

With that done, Wukong settled next to the door and kept his breathing soft and even.

And then he waited.

What felt like an eternity passed. Wukong waited and waited and waited. Once, he startled, but realized quickly that one of the kids had just gotten up to go to the bathroom.

He kept waiting.

When 2 AM blinked from the stove, Wukong let out a soft groan. Exhaustion tugged at him. His butt felt numb from the floor.

He was tempted to get up and go to bed. Xiaojiao had offered to set up cameras-

A soft noise rustled outside.

Unlike other nature noises, however, this contained the soft ssh ssh of magic.

This was it.

Wukong sprang to his feet and let out a war cry as he threw open the door-

"Macaque?"

His ex-mate knelt on his porch, frozen. He looked kinda like Thunder when he got startled by something. Wukong looked down and stared.

He was setting down a box of Savage's favorite cookies next to the usual gold. Next to it was a small jewelry box, open to reveal a citrine bracelet, another box of sweets, and a large box of chalk.

In his arms was a large bundle of yellow flowers, sunflowers and peonies alongside roses, all tied with a turquoise ribbon bearing a tag with "WUKONG" written in his ex's familiar swooping handwriting. A few petals had fluttered off but stuck, making his dark fur look like sunlight shining through trees.

"...hi?"

Wukong blinked and then rubbed his eyes. He was half-convinced he was dreaming. When he looked up again, Macaque had stood up, half hiding his face behind the flowers.

"What are you doing?" Wukong finally settled on asking. He hadn't really seen the shadow monkey since the bone demon's defeat and, he hated to admit it, but it hurt. He had at least hoped Macaque would want to see the kids.

Macaque stood there, not looking at him. Wukong was ready to ask again when there was a quiet rumble, one he had to strain to hear.

"...child support."

[bebsi-cola]

myself and others have mentioned before that being physically disabled makes you incredibly vulnerable to traumatic experience and prone to mental illness by virtue of how we exist in the world as physically disabled people. so physical distress can lead to mental distress sure, but i also wish that it was well understood that any sort of mental stress can just hair trigger a range of physical health issues if you already have them. stress and IBS are linked, and people know anxiety can cause chest pain. but it's also anything and everything that can be triggered just by how interlinked they are. a stimulating movie gave me a cfs/me flare up. a particularly upsetting conversation can trigger my migraines. getting too angry makes me nauseous, which triggers my stomach illness. and anything can ping pong off each other like my cfs/me is my number 1 migraine trigger anyway. any issue that makes it harder for me to eat will also make me super sick from not eating which hits the cfs/me and migraine triggers anyway and also makes me more mentally distressed like it's just a soup of everything everywhere all at once

[kedreeva]

Sorry if this is a silly question or has been already asked (I looked but didn't see it), but what might be the qualitative risk of health consequences associated with the ultramarine? If it's so new and has so few birds, I would think there hasn't been much chance for evidence of linked issues. Related tangent, but how do peafowl peeps balance interest in new color mutations with concern over watching for long-term health ?

So far, no birds have shown any health concerns in ultramarine! It appears to be some kind of axanthism (missing yellows), which is a pretty common mutation in captive animals, and generally harmless. I expect that there won't be any associated health issues- generally if you're going to see them, they're going to happen by the time the bird is hitting maturity (3-6). Peafowl don't tend to decline much with old age, they are more like cats in that respect. They may slow down a little, but they're generally hale and spry until they drop suddenly at the end. It's always possible something develops down the line, but given what we see in axanthism in other animals, it seems unlikely.

Most breeders don't have any kind of quality control in place to check for health problems. I'm not saying it never happens (R&R held onto Amethyst in secret for years now keeping an eye on it, the og UM breeder was holding onto them and only let them go because she was afraid of losing them entirely if something happened and they were only on one farm), but we still have cameo and charcoal because they were let go too soon and weren't watched for health problems. Progressive pied was released because people thought it was another leucistic gene (despite me telling them over and over and over at the time it was vitiligo and would likely present autoimmune issues later.... And then it did. But I was "new" (derisive) and so what did I possibly know (more than them apparently)!).

So the answer is: they're very bad at waiting! They're very bad at checking for health problems and then not reproducing them! Despite raising birds with 20+ year lifespans, they are not that great at planning for the future, and they've traditionally been TERRIBLE at working with other breeders. Typical health watch says you discover a new color, you produce some, you split the babies among 2-3 breeders to make sure no one farm loses the mutation entirely to disaster (illness, fire, storm, injury, predators etc) and you all breed maintenance for around 6 years to watch for issues (which is what Els was doing with them, except she was late with the spreading and nearly found out the hard way why you share ASAP with a couple trusted breeders who can babysit the mutation with you). If you don't see anything by 6 years, it's a pretty safe bet it's going to be fine.

So, in this particular instance, we have birds old ENOUGH that you could expect to have seen health problems if we were going to, and the particular kind of mutation itself is unlikely to be harmful. So at this point it would be a surprise to see anything bad happen with UM.

[crushribbons]

thanks, peg J

summary: Dr. Michael Robinavitch needs help building a shelf.

cw: 2.7k words, flluff, my actual husband is an actual doctor i should probably know more/anything about how hospitals work, vague age gap (reader/oc is in her 30's), vague to graphic depictions of injury/illness, fem!OC/reader.

a/n: paging dr. daddy :) <3

(gif cred)

She pulled her stethoscope off her neck. “Oof. Sounds like a ball of a Friday night. Is it from Ikea?”

“The Ivar,” Robby specified with a nod and shrug. He looked back down at the patient list from their shift, which couldn’t have been ending at a more merciful time. The last man she had examined had spat on her. And what else should she expect?; she’d diagnosed his pain as a small kidney stone passing through his urethra and written a prescription that would all but eliminate the discomfort. If that wasn’t deserving of a loogie to the face, she didn’t know what else would be. Robby let out a sigh that sounded exactly like the exhaustion tugging her eyelids down. 

Nurse Dana swept by them, her fleece jacket already three-quarters of the way on. “Don’t take too long on those autographs, kids, or night shift will just let you keep right on rolling.” 

A raspy little laugh slipped past Dr. Robby’s lips and the corners of his eyes crinkled the way they always did on the rare occasions someone could tug a genuine smile out of him. Suddenly, she wasn’t sure if the lack of breakfast and the bag of Ritz crackers she’d scarfed down for lunch were the only things making her light-headed. 

“Yes, ma’am,” he called after Dana. The charge nurse raised her hand without turning around and wiggled her fingers at them while darting out the double doors that led to the waiting room and exit before anyone could stop her. Robby turned back to the doctor next to him and handed her the clipboard he’d just finished signing about two hundred times. 

Her hand grazed his, and the level of attention she paid to how warm and rough his fingers felt made her grit her jaw in frustration. It was her first year as an attending, how could she be letting something as ridiculous as a workplace crush get to her? She realized it had been a while since she’d spoken, and that Robby was pulling his own coat and backpack from underneath his desk. 

“Need any help chasing down the million nuts and bolts that are guaranteed to burst out of the little bag when you open it?” she offered jokingly. Robby’s eyes flicked to her too fast. She felt her hairline heat up, worried she’d overstepped. 

None of the attendings did anything outside of work together; the work hours were long enough to get their fill of each other without feeling the need to add alcohol or food to the mix. Some of the students and residents would occasionally hit bars after their shifts, and though she had no desire to join them, it made her miss the relative lack of responsibility of med school. Dr. Robinavitch, in particular, never broached the topic of his personal life at work, so she tried to do the same. There were too many patients to see and too much to accomplish to bother checking if the attractive ER chief with the puppy-dog eyes had plans for the weekend. No matter how much she wanted to.

He let out another chuckle, though this one was without humor. "Don't tell me you got nothing better to do than that," he said. "On a Friday night."

"I'm, uh, still finding my way around Pittsburgh." It was true. Her residency in California had spoiled her, and she found the stark greyness of Pennsylvania off-putting. She rarely ventured from her apartment for anything other than work and necessary grocery shopping.

He regarded her for a few seconds. His gaze felt heavier than it should have, as if she had some symptom that didn't line up with her lab results. She remembered what Dr. Santos had muttered to her on her first day at the Pitt when she'd caught the new doctor staring a little too long at Robby typing his notes.

"I know. He's crazy hot, right?" Trinity had pinched her elbow and embarrassment had made her stutter nonsensically. Then, to top off the humiliation, Trinity had started swaying her shoulders side to side and singing under her breath, "I will be your father figure, put your tiny hand in mine..." The younger woman was known for being abrasive, but, shit, she was a perceptive little fucker, too.

"I'd be a fool to turn down help wrangling Ivar. Ikea furniture is my Achilles heel," Robby was saying when she snapped back to the present. He seemed hesitant. He couldn't tell whether she'd been joking or not, and, frankly, she couldn't either. "But I couldn't ask you to–"

"You'd be doing me a favor," she cut in quickly. He would, in more ways than one. "If I sit on my couch with my cat for one more weekend, I think they're gonna start letting me collect Social Security."

A genuine laugh! Her stomach flipped upside down at the sight and the sound. Both were warm and inviting and made her want to kiss each of the individual lines on his weathered face. "Then by all means, please."

Oh, wait. Was this happening? Was it, actually? Nerves gnawed at her while she finished handing off the patient list to the night shift. What was it? A date? A friend helping another friend put a shelf together? A coworker helping another, older and more senior coworker who intimidated the hell out of her put a shelf together?

As Robby departed through the same double doors Dana had dashed through, he turned and pointed significantly at his phone, and she pulled hers from her pocket to see that he had texted her his address. Nothing else, just the address, dashed out in Robby’s usual efficient and minimalistic tone. He hadn’t even included the city and zip, but he didn’t need to. Living further than 15 minutes away from the hospital seemed like something a less dedicated physician might consider, but she knew that Robby didn’t really live at the address he’d sent her, anyway. He lived in all the exam rooms and hallways surrounding her, their sanitized scent pricking at her nose one last time before she stepped into the waiting room and the few remaining rays of sunlight waiting to greet her outside.

The door opened on her second knock, or, more accurately, before she could even finish it. Goddammit. She should have taken more time to consider what an off-duty Dr. Robby might look like. 

“Hey,” he said, a genial smile lighting up his tired face.

“H–mm, hi,” she replied. She tried to hide a swallow.

Robby stood aside and let her pass through the front door of the aged but charming brownstone. The long hallway was lined with dark wooden panels that creaked when she walked over them. She tried not to feel him following behind her, the scent of some musky shampoo or body wash drifting off him. She also showered directly after a shift. Too much hospital.

A line of hooks held various jackets and sling bags, and a haphazard pile of worn sneakers sat beneath them. “I gotta get a rack for those, or something,” Robby muttered from behind her, noticing her sightline.

“You should see mine. The floor of my closet is a nightmare.”

She walked into the living room and couldn’t help the grin that spread across her face. It was sparsely but cozily finished, an overstuffed couch and matching loveseat positioned atop a plush rug that hugged her feet taking up most of the space. And, of course, a veritable disaster of boards, planks, plastic bags, and ripped cardboard in the middle of all of it.

“Yikes.”

“Thank you, again, for helping me with this,” he said, and came to stand beside her. “Why is it that I can perform a trach in my sleep, but the assembly of Swedish furniture is my downfall?” He scratched the back of his neck, the white t-shirt he was wearing showing off far too much of what was usually hidden beneath a few layers of thermals, scrubs, and hoodies. Her hairline started to feel hot again. 

She cleared her throat and made her way over to the pile of shelf. “For what med school costs, they really should be teaching us the essentials like this stuff, too!” He didn’t respond, making her look up at him. He was watching her again, with that sort-of-absent-but-always-thoughtful x-ray vision. She wished he’d stop.

“You really got none of the cynicism and all of the optimism out of your residency, didn’t you?”

She flushed and looked back down at the ground, unsure if he was making fun of her. “It being basically on the ocean didn’t hurt. Lots to be optimistic about in northern Cali, it’s so beautiful.”

Robby shook his Midwest-born-and-bred head. “Damn hippy.” His voice was gruff, but his dark eyes were sparkling and she felt some of the tension in her shoulders dissipate in a giggle. He crossed the room and through an arch that led to the kitchen. “I ordered some Chinese for dinner, hope that’s alright,” he called back to her.

The tension returned tenfold and her heart began doing somersaults in her chest. Dinner? This included dinner now? Sure, it was time for dinner, but she hadn’t wanted to be so presumptuous as to suggest adding food to this friendly favor she was performing. Robby returned laden with white paper takeout boxes and a handful of napkins and chopsticks. “Like lo mein?” he asked. She nodded.

“Yes, but you really didn’t have to get anything for me! That’s so nice,” she gushed, trying to reign in the attraction to this man and behave as if he was just any other rugged, kind, intelligent guy she might come in contact with. She was so screwed. 

He pressed the box of lo mein into her hand with a pair of chopsticks. “It’s the least I can do to thank you for helping with this,” he shrugged. “Hopefully, you still have an appetite after that bike accident from this morning.” The memory of the young man’s torso torn open and spilling out onto the operating table sent a nauseous wave from her head to her stomach, but she quickly compartmentalized it, as she’d learned to do long ago.

“Why do people even buy motorcycles,” she muttered rhetorically.

“Uh, because they love visiting you so very much,” he returned with a wink that made her miss her mouth with the chopsticks.

Two hours later, the shelf was only two-feet tall and missing three of the nine screws it had required so far.

“Peg L, peg L, peg L,” Robby said through gritted teeth, “where the fuck is peg L?”

She held the instructions centimeters away from her face, hoping the proximity would illuminate its solutions somehow. “Peg L goes into plank K. We just placed plank H.” He stopped running his hands along the carpet to search for the missing peg L and looked up at her with a speck of encroaching insanity peeking through. 

“I’m out of order?”

“Miiiike,” she laugh-groaned. “Did you already use peg G? We need J right now!” When he didn’t answer, she glanced up from the “simple” instruction packet. A sleepy kind of flush appeared on his face, and he pulled the reading glasses off to massage the bridge of his nose and–hide it? Then, he sighed.

“God, no one’s called me just…Mike in forever.” It was a complete sentence, a complete statement, a complete story, and he was done talking about it, but it made a million questions bubble up in the back of her throat. She ignored them.

“You’re at work too much,” she almost whispered. Why she was no longer scared of stepping over some professional, coworker boundary, she wasn’t sure. Maybe it was the way he had accepted her help with such a domestic task, or the fact that they were seeing each other in something other than scrubs for the first time (the loose, perfectly worn-in jeans he was wearing would surely be appearing in her dreams that night), or maybe it was because their legs had been pressed together for the last half hour as they tried to decipher the mysteries of Ivar. Whatever it was, Robby–Mike, felt it, too. He stared into her eyes before averting them to the floor and mumbling,

“Yeah. I know.” He put the glasses back on. “So, peg J.”

“C’mere, ya little Swedish asshole,” she agreed, and they resumed pawing around the rug to try and find the screws that, as predicted, had spilled from the package as soon as Robby had ripped it. She tried to avoid brushing against his hand as well as she could, until her fingers bumped into a tiny piece of metal, and she snatched the screw from the ground. Carefully consulting the instructions, she looked from the page, to the screw, to the page, before shouting, “Oh my God, I found it!” 

His hands were cradling either side of her face in a second, and then he was kissing her. The part of her brain that handled compartmentalization clocked in at lightning speed and swept all her confusion into the bin so she could focus on nothing except his beard scratching her, his warm hands cupping her jaw. Well, well before she had gotten her fill of him, he pulled back and blurted, “Awesome! Good job, let’s put it in.” He plucked the screw out of her hand like the conversation had just been on pause, scooting over on his knees to the feeble half-shelf.

She sat in complete shock until Robby, without turning to face her, said, “I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry.”

“Mike.”

“You just looked–and I, it’s been…I’m really sorry.”

“Mike.”

He was attempting to twist the screw into place with his fingers so he didn’t have to come get the screwdriver from beside her. “I overstepped. It won’t happen again. If you want to take it to HR…”

That was enough to jumpstart her brain again, and she burst into laughter, forcing him to finally spin around.

“HR? Really?” She made a phone out of her pinky, fist, and thumb and held it to her ear. “Hello, Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center Department of Human Resources? Yes, I’d like to file a report against one of your doctors.” She was having a hard time stifling her laughter. “Dr. Michael Robinavitch. Yes, the hottie from the ER, that’s correct. He really laid one on me—"

It was Robby's turn to cut her off, and he did so by rolling his eyes and snatching the instructions out of her other hand. "Hey!" She dove after them but decided instead to drag him in by the collar of his shirt for another kiss. They both held each other tightly, Robby's hands wandering, respectfully, under the hem of her shirt. When she tugged a handful of his hair, he grunted in annoyance.

"Watch it. Don't have much of that left."

"You've got a lot for an old man." She regretted it as soon as she said it, even though he had already alluded to it. His head dropped and apologies bubbled up and out of her lips, assurances that that's not how she'd meant it, that he was the most attractive man she'd met at the Pitt, but he waved them off.

His glasses were sliding down his nose again. He cleared his throat and pushed them back up. "Are you okay with it, then? I mean, I know I'm not..." Her heart ached when he trailed off, nervously scratching the back of his neck again.

"Very ok," she whispered. She reached for his hand and took it. He was fiddling with a screw that she plucked out and tossed to the side. "I'm 31, you know, Senior Elder Doctor Robinavitch."

Robby smiled, clearly in spite of himself. He tucked a piece of hair that had fallen into her eyes behind her ear. For a minute, they just sat and looked at each other, matching each other's lazy smiles. "That's it. Didn't want to have to do this, but you're fired."

"Okay now I want to take this to HR."

masterlist

[awesamdude-w]

He panted heavily, feeling his breath getting more ragged behind his gaz mask. He sighed before slowly letting go of his fur, noting the fact his hands began shaking slightly once he took a look down. He noticed Dream flinching and quickly raised his hands in a reassuring matter, sweating.

"No.. hey- its okay-"

Before he could try any further he heard XD speaking again, annoyance already building up. He groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose as he tried his hardest not to tear up. He felt so incredibly tired after everything that happen. He braced himself.

"You know what? Fine- fine! Go ahead! Make me hear it all."

He waited before he felt the flick, flinching as his face scrunched up for a second. He raised his hand to rub his forehead as he started to listen, blinking with furrowed eyebrows.

His chest tightened once he started hearing the voices in Dream's head, his own and Quackity's. The way the voices spoke sounded indentical in every way, from the tone to the manner. He felt sick. He watched helplessly as Dream stiffened and flinched with such familiar terror in his eyes.

It scared Sam to hear himself say these things, especially because he knows full well hes the type to say them. It made him think too much about every horrible thing that came out of his mouth ever since he started working in this hell of a place. It really puts it all in perspective once youre the one who hears those words. Once youre on the other end of the wall.

His fists clentched as he kept listening, kept watching Dream react to the same things he was hearing. He felt numb, as if he was watching himself through a different perspective. He barely registered himself begining to speak, near mumbling. He tried to speak out to Dream, call out for him, even moved foward slightly, but he couldnt hear himself or see himself apart from the voice Dream was hearing. It took XD begining to speak again for him to snap back to himself.

His attention darted to the invisible presence, releasing a breath he didnt know he was holding. He felt sweaty, and his mask was fogging up a lot. He tried to adjust it, coughing out. The information loaded in his brain, his guilt heightening. He didnt know what to reply for a bit.

"..I- of course it doesnt bring.. good effects, but- it isnt my fault that every person who visits ends up in a bad state.. I needed to fix it somehow.."

He convinced himself, despite the obvious guilt in his expression. Hes felt a lot of guilt today.

"He wont just.. forget me. Im one of the only two people in this place who keep him company. If he does forget things, he'll surely remember me."

The idea didnt seem to make him feel bad, even the opposite. Dream forgetting everything but him didnt seem that bad of a scenario, even borderline useful if he thought about it- but that was just his thoughts. And his thoughts often rounded back on ways to make Dream less dangerous, which definitly wasnt the must useful right now.

"Whatever he forgets, ill remind him- im not a liar. If its really that important, then ill just tell him to write it down. All that matters is that he remembers the book. And how would he forget it, if its the sole reason hes being.. pursued, in the first place?"

That first part was already a lie in itself, since Sam does lie, especially to Dream. If hes feeling to tired to give him food, he'll often just tell him he had some the day before. Despite this, his mind was still firm.

"Im.. the Warden. And im doing what I think is best for the server as a warden, even if it seems bad."

He replied, his voice stern as he spoke to XD. His composure faltered at the mention of Ponk. Of course he had to go there.

"Me and Ponk's.. situation, isnt in any of your buisness. They arent to be included in this. Ive assured that Dream will never get sick, and ill keep doing it like that. Even if he does, ill deal with it as the warden. You wont succeed in trying to use his health against me, XD."

He felt more confident now as he said this, despite it only being partially true. Dream still had a possibility of getting sick, though he was convinced he could fix it. He kept listening to XD, stubborn.

"There's no denying in the fact ive caused damage to Dream.. but it was for reasons. He had no reason for all the things he did- Hes always done it due to being a bad person! Inculding Tommy, which is what differentiates them-"

Before he could finish, he heard a thud. He went quiet as he looked foward, seeing the prisoner infront of him drop limp. His heart sank, his breath leaving him.

He stood there for a second, processing the scene infront of him before he rushed down on his knees, his trembling hands hovering above Dream's lifeless body. He picked him up gently and put the side of his head against his chest, trying to spot any heartbeat, any sign of life. Nothing.

Panic rose in his chest, shattering his composure. His mind screamed at him. His own heart started to beat out of his chest as his ear ringed. He could barely see anything infront of him, feel anything- smoke poured out of his mask like never before as he could barely breathe. If he took off his mask he would definitly explode. He had to bite his lip to hold himself back from crying. Or screaming.

"Nonononono-"

He repeated over and over, his hand coming up to tug at his fur as he tried to reach for his communicator, barely able to take it out without dropping it from his trembling hand. He opened Punz's contact and messaged him, his frantic fingers not being able to write properly on the screen as he was hyperventilating at this point. He couldnt hold himself back from tearing up.

[Awesamdude messaged Punz]: Punz

[Awesamdude messaged Punz]: Nnd you. Quick.

[Awesamdude messaged Punz]: S abou Dream.

[Awesamdude messaged Punz] : Please

Dream's been quiet as of late. His body barely moving after his last visit from Quackity. Hell he hadn't even touched the potatoes from the night before.

He just sat on the bed staring at the wall across from him, knees brought to his chest. He hadn't even notice the warden appear or approach. It was like physically he was there but everything else was distant. He felt numb... it was a lot better in his own opinion than anything else. His prison uniform was torn up this time. His shirt having been ripped off by Quackity, exposing his back.

No one on the server even knew Dream had wings. All that remained of them were stubs obviously. Something he painfully tried to keep hidden but after yesterday's visit and those stubs were revealed... The fact Dream was a hybrid came to light, and hurting another's hybrid traits was frowned upon among the players. It was an unspoken rule.

And yet... Someone did do that to Dream, and no one knew about it. Some would think he did it himself. But they were torn off, someone physically had to tear them off. Despite everything Dream could never tear off someone's wings. Maybe the realization that two people now knew caused Dream to shut down... To Disassociate. Can't get hurt if you're not mentally there right? It wasn't healthy. {{HOPE YOU DON'T MIND THE ASK- I like your sam btws}}

*The Warden walked in the cell and looked at Dream from afar, a quiet sigh leaving his lips. He couldnt hold back from glancing briefly at Dream's back before coming towards the bed he was sitting at and standing infront of him, his figure slightly looming.*

"Dream."

*He spoke in his usual monotone voice, a hint of tiredness in it.*

"You havent been speaking much lately. Would you do me a favor and answer why that is? If you wont answer, ill just figure it out myself."

*His arms were crossed over his chest as he waited for an answer, slightly inpatient.*

//I dont mind at all hihi ty ty pathetic wet cat man//

[ch1zzie]

The original in the bottom

Plus the picture I mainly drew but decided to draw the rest for funny

[fatratinatophat]

Drew some Goob and Glisten together! @towost wanted us to match on Rentry but couldn't find any good Goob and Glisten art so asked me to make some, and here it is :]

This can be read as a ship or platonic, doesn't matter to me

Also if you're wondering why the image has a weird overlay I used Glaze on it, if you think it makes it look weird please tell me, I'd love to hear whether or not I should keep it

Bonus without background below:

[rbtlvr]

& by the way i literally CONSTANTLY think about how loop uses the partys titles to create distance to remind themself that those arent 'their versions' of them. that theyre not loops party anymore. and yet and yet and yet

[doctorweebmd]

ok my OTHER reflection:

on the one hand its really frustrating to see the posts about docs and healthcare in general on here be so narrow-minded. bad experiences with certain providers have lead to a huge spread of misinformation and mistrust with the whole system. which can and HAS lead to people avoiding 'evil' doctors for perfectly treatable illnesses and dying from them (the vaccine bullshit, anyone?)

but on the other hand. it is TERRIFYING how some of these docs practice medicine. at times i think 'are you just burned out and don't give a shit or are you straight up just stupid?' and i work in critical care. where quite literally every case is life or death. even in the academic sector where there is supposedly a standard of excellence, some doctors i would not let touch my loved ones with a ten foot pole.

and that sucks. i know this is the no nuance piss on the poor webbed site but 'the medical system and people that work for it are fallible and aspects of it are morally questionable at best/unethical at worst' AND 'the field of medicine exists to help people first and foremost and mistrusting/avoiding it can be detrimental in the long run' can and DO co-exist

[surreal-duck]

hope i’m not just some guy to you but also that one deranged mdyz enthusiast

extra:

[charliespringverse]

i think it should be possible to scream without making any noise or disturbing anyone or inviting any questions . just sometimes . as a treat .

[wackywatchdotcom]

ragatha has ocd to me. i mean thats not all shes got going on but as a professional ocd haver, she resonates with me so hard... i feel like she gets obsessions around people being safe, like 'i need to check on that person, cause what if theyre about to abstract?? what if theyve ALREADY abstracted? if i dont check on them right now they could be abstracted and i wouldnt know." and also obsessions abt interpersonal relationships that make her constantly just . saying anything in order to make sure people ARENT mad at her, because what if she doesnt say something and she was SUPPOSED to say smth so if she doesnt theyre gonna HATE her??? stuff like that

she personally just reads so much like a woman whos had ocd so long and has since fallen into relying on reassurance seeking and SO many subtle compulsions because of being in a situation so out of control (bc ocd often latches onto the fear of not being in control of this or that)

[inseparabiles]

observing that there might be a connection between significant levels of pain and poor mood

[xxplastic-cubexx]

Every post X Men 2000 film voice actor for Erik has been trying to copy Ian Mckellens vocal inflection in some capacity, including James Arnold Taylor... and it works.

the blueprint.... just make him Not British and we got it...

[arolesbianism]

GUYS.

New dupe real! Also new pod????? Olivia is that you girlie speak to me

[ratatatastic]

"Who's idea was it to put the cone on your head for the parade? Was that all you?" "Zach Eisenberg [Director, Executive Operations]—I think is his name—he takes care of us a lot at Amerant Bank Arena. I don't know his exact role with the team but he's just kind-of always around, and helps us out. He's friends with Brooks [Koepka.] I think he helps Brooks when he comes to the games. Anyways he found a pylon or I think I might have told him—I was pretty drunk at the time but I think I told him to go get a py—'if you could find a pylon, find one!' 'Cuz they sprung that speech on me, kind-of, last second, you know, five minutes before I was supposed to go up there. I'm like, 'What the fuck am I gonna say?' So I had him go grab the pylon and I grabbed it on the side of the stage right before I was gonna do my speech. And luckily all the clips are of that, you know, me telling him to go fuck himself... 'cuz the rest of my speech was terrible. There's really nothing to it! And I'm so happy that, you know, all the clips are only of that so!" "Yeah, we didn't know you said anything else! I thought that was the entire speech!" "That's all that matters!" "Exactly, exactly! I got away with it there!"

The Cam & Strick Podcast | 7.30.24 (x)

i love finding out they basically told ekky he was gonna have to do a whole speech 5 minutes before he was up while hes been drenched from rainwater and alcohol for like the past 6 hours absolutely pissed out of his mind like yeah no wonder his speech basically culminated to THANK YOU SOUTH FLORIDA AND ALSO GIVE IT UP FOR MY D PARTNER WOOOOO yeah that tracks

"But what golf tournament* were you at shortly after that? Somebody was dressed like a cone? Was that Lomberg who was dressed in like a costume? A cone costume?" "He came—Brooks came up to you—" "No, that was his buddy, that was his buddy. He was actually a Sunrise police officer. I actually saw him last night at the Zach Bryan concert! But yeah, no, that's one of his buddies. No, he was completely put to bed the day after. Right? Like he texted me—I personally didn't care, like, how many people at a hockey game are calling me a cone and telling Barkov he's got no hands like it's—you know, that's hockey. That's sports, right? So I didn't give a shit but—yeah, no, it was all in good fun. And then I got a way to get him back! It's perfect!" "But when you did see the first video of him in the box—and I remember watching that, I'm like, 'this motherfucker is rolling esctasy!' His eyes were fuckin' gigantic, he's like, 'Aaargghh.' Like, 'I can't take him, he's calling me a cone! I can't—' But that is kind-of odd that a professional athlete is gonna call you a cone and he's like a fan of yours...it's just—it was really bizarre!" "Goofy!" "Yeah..." "And his eyes were black which, you know..." "What does that mean?" "I just know what that means... and he was fucked up, you know..." "Yeah, yeah! He was definitely fucked up and he agreed that he was fucked up. And he apologised so I didn't care, obviously. And then when I was at that golf event I should've thrown a beer at his backswing or something—at the LIV event when he was actually competing? I should've fucked with him but I couldn't do it... I couldn't—I couldn't find the courage to throw something at him..." "So did he reach out to you like that night? And say, 'Hey, dude... I was just joking, you know...'" "'I took some pills and...'"

*2023 LIV Golf Team Championship (Miami) held from Oct. 20-22 in Doral

[and i suppose more context here lombo and koepka are friends and he even showed up to his cupday when he went golfing in parkland and not to mention that lombo facilitated koepka apologising to ekky so its why the whole cone costume came to be really]

theres a lot more context about this incident and the ensuing storm after it so for archival sakes here are articles about it (x)(x)(x)(x)(x) because its quite a saga but its water under the bridge and there's only so much tabloid-esque coverage thats been reignited after the ekky speech i can take about an athlete who's dumb enough to insult another guy while hes drunk off as his ass in a fucking public setting

but anyways i think its really funny that i said to myself wow thats an oddly petty thing to admit to you know the whole wanting to throw a beer at his backswing ekky... for such a good vibes sweet man who like the only thing youve particularly said about the cone novella is "we'll never be buddies" to which you quickly retracted and then went "holding ill will against somebody and pulling negativity in your body is never a good thing"

and then i remembered who he attended the liv event with and it all made sense

behind every aqua whos being a little mean there is a much worse much more evil looming presence who is encouraging them down this dark path (a gem but especially a june gem)

truly a tale as old as time