#the last post I made at like 3am but I feel like this might be more incoherent lmao

[too0bsessedformyowngood]

Sorta a continuation of this post.

I’ve been thinking more about reverse robins AU with Duke as the Dick/Nightwing parallel, and I have some ideas.

So like, Duke came first. He was the light to Batman’s darkness. I don’t know if he would start off with Signal or another mantle and become Signal later on, but he definitely had the bright colors from the start. Batman might be the Dark Knight but Duke was Gotham’s (K)night Light. Batman fought what hid in the shadows but Signal chased the shadows away, provided a guiding light home. He was the Sunshine when the never ending grey clouds got too thick. He was Gothams hope and inspiration for a brighter future.

But don’t forget he was also a menace. I don’t think it would go down exactly like it did in the comics, it was the early years for Batman-and for the villains as well. After Duke’s parents were gone (maybe by Joker still turning them mad with Joker gas in Joker earliest year, maybe year one for him or something else) he started planning. He started working harder in school, focusing on the sciences to one day make a cure but also would go out looking for his parents, like in canon. He would stumble into things way bigger, overhearing plots from villains and mafias and decided to become an inconvenience for them. Letting the airs out of tires when no one was watching, a fire alarm pulled right before an attack, door stoppers on the outside of each door to a warehouse trapping the villains who where planning inside. A sudden strong of bad luck befalling the main terrors of Gotham. It didn’t go unnoticed, especially by Batman. Duke kept his streak of being unseen until one night he crossed paths with the Bat.

Bruce for his part would have know about the little boy who lost his parents in the attack, and it would have also brought up some memories for him as well. He would have kept a small track of him, but noticed he was in foster care so didn’t do much until one day he came across the reason behind all the karma the villain have be having. Looking into the boys eyes and seeing the same fire that he had, blazing more fierce as Duke explains how he will find his parents and save them, and if he could prevent more bad things along the way he will. Something pinging in Bruce’s soul, this kid lost his parents like he did but not fully, and he still had hope among the need for justice, something that had faded so long ago for himself. He took Duke back that day, promising that he will find Duke’s parents, and kept a closer eye on him after the fact.

Duke noticed that after that day it became like clockwork, he would sneak out, search Gotham, cause a little chaos, get caught by the Bat and brought back to his current foster home. Bruce did some digging, looked for Dukes parents but also found out that Leslie Thompkins was the person in charge of Duke’s case. After a few weeks of the new schedule he met up with Dr. Thompkins. They talked about how Duke has been bounced around from home to home and sneaking out to find his parents almost every night. After a long conversation, and not as much convincing as one would expect, Duke found himself being driven to his next foster home, Wayne Manor.

Okay I’m going to leave this here for now. I ended up writing so much more than I though I would lmao. I have more ideas and will probably continue this soon.

[mattybsgroupie]

sleepover | matt sturniolo

contents: established relationship; handjob (m receiving); thigh riding (f); p in v; creampie; mommy kink; sub!matt

- ♡ -

notes: i wrote two dom!matt fics in a row i do not recognize myself. back to the sub!matt agenda, somebody has got to do it, i am the chosen one!!! (please it’s a trump meme) this is a silly little one i wrote cuz i’ve been dreaming some weird things these last few days and i’d very much like to fuck matt afterwards. not proofread but hope you enjoy it. always so thankful for every like, comment, reblog and follow, love y’all sm ♡ btw next week i might post a chris request i got idkkk

- ♡ -

i woke up out of breath, sweat dripping from my forehead as i tried to calm down. it was a nightmare - a terrible one, where i no longer had matt and no matter how much i’d scream, my voice wouldn’t come out. my phone buzzed, the screen lighting up the ceiling and part of my room. it was 3am.

i reached for the nightstand, first taking a sip of water and then grabbing my cellphone, checking my notifications. i had one missed call from matt and two other messages, which only read “babe, you up?”

i felt as the weight of the world had been lifted off my shoulders, my chest gradually lowering as i got more relaxed. i smiled and speed dialed the first number on my list.

“why are you awake!” matt picked up in a surprised tone, not really waiting for my answer. “i just texted you, did you feel it coming or something?” he giggled.

“hi, babe” i said, my voice still shaky. “i just woke up, actually”

“what happened?” matt asked me once again, clearly concerned as he heard how i sounded. i gulped and gave a few taps on my chest as i rested my back on the headboard. “what is it, hm? bad dream?”

“uhum” i nodded, even though he couldn’t see me. he knew i’d soon be curled up between the sheets, trying to fall asleep again. “what about you babe? can't sleep?” i asked, already knowing the response.

matt sighed and i could picture him running his fingers through his hair, trying to not upset me “anxious”.

“i’m sorry to hear that, matty” i pouted from the other side of the screen. “do you wanna facetime?” i suggested what we had done plenty of times. we’d be facing each other, talking nonsense until one of us fall asleep - of course, when things didn’t take a turn to either matt’s or my own horniness.

“actually… was thinking about coming over” i smiled, but he couldn’t see it. he always made me feel like a teenage girl, changing the reason of my nervousness to something silly, like him coming over.

“no way, you’re not getting the road right now” i said, playing hard to get.

“what?” matt sounded confused. “why not?!”

“it’s late and i worry about you” i responded. “don’t you have something schedule for tomorrow?”

“i don’t give a fuck” matt said, “i wanna be with you right now, do you wanna be with me?” i nodded and as if he could see me from there, he continued. “please, mommy?”

“i’m waiting!” i jokingly hang up on him after gasping by the nickname, as if it was too bold of him to call me that.

- ♡ -

i heard three knocks on my bedroom door and didn’t bother getting up. i rolled myself on the bed, waiting for him to join me.

“did i take too long?” matt asked, biggest smile on his face. he locked the door and quickly came next to me, lying down by my side.

“yeah, you know mommy doesn’t like to wait” matt widened his eyes, gulping at my words, realizing what he had done over the phone.

“i just said that so you could let me come over” he said, acting tough as he rolled his eyes before resting his head above my chest, snuggling into me.

“oh, that’s too bad” i pouted, my fingers running through his hair. “you got me all worked up…”

matt quickly raised his head, blue eyes staring at me in surprise, grin growing on his face. “did i? really?”

“of course, my good boy always gets me going” i teased, matt’s cheeks turning red. “why? you came here to sleep?”

“i mean” he started, grabbing my waist, turning my body over and changing our positions. he was now under me, his hands resting on my hips while i adjusted myself in order to get comfortable on his lap. “not anymore”.

matt leaned in for a kiss, holding the back of my head and bringing us closer. i could feel his beard slightly tickling my face as he deepened the pressure of his lips against mine, silently asking to go further by sticking his tongue and teasing me. i opened my mouth and matt’s tongue quickly slid in, the wet sounds taking over my darkened room.

one of matt's hand moved to my breasts, massaging it over the shirt. i gasped for the sudden contact, pulling away from the kiss, which led him to go to my neck instead. he trailed his lips down, altering between biting and licking my skin. my hands went to his hair once again, tangling my fingers on his curls.

matt lowered his head and stopped right above my nipple before looking at me with needy puppy eyes. i nodded vigorously, but instead of removing my shirt, matt hid his face underneath it, streching the cloth in order to fit inside. i felt his wet tongue teasing my nub and since i could no longer pull his hair, i rested my hands on his bare thighs. as matt started to swril his tongue, i threw my head back and couldn't help but start to move my hips forward, trying to get some friction to my already wet pussy.

i let out a moan when his free went to my other boob, his thumb circling the hardened nub that poked through the shirt. i wanted to look at him - wanted to see how his beard looked like rubbing against my skin, which color the hickeys he left would be, how much would the saliva run down my torso.

with my eyes closed and feeling matt sucking my tits, i tried to touch the hem of my shirt in order to remove it, i couldn't stand one more second without looking at his eyes again - however, my palm met something harder, covered by a soft fabric. i groped his shaft and received a muffled moan from matt, still busy in my tits. now with my eyes open i could finally take my clothes off, revealing matt with his messy hair, beard wet from rubbing his face against his own kisses, lips swollen.

“look at me baby” i called and carressed his cheek, “you said you wanted to sleepover and now look at you, already a mess for mommy...”

“i'm s-sorry, mommy” he started, “can't help it, you taste so good”.

“yeah? did you miss me?” i teased, starting to drag myself over his thigh once again. “we saw each other two days ago”

“it's too much” matt complained, hands going to my hips, helping me set a proper pace. “needy again”, he glanced at tent on his shorts, where my palm rested.

“is mommy's baby needy?” i almost mocked him and he nodded pathetically, but still not letting me take full control as he started to pump his legs' muscles, making my pussy clench. i opened my mouth, but nothing came out of it. matt's grip tighetned and he forced my body down, completely leading my movements.

“mommy seems needy as well” matt spoke, smashing his lips against mine. i let out a frustrated whine, wanting to feel more - i needed him inside of me. “aren't you?”

“yes- fuck” i said, trying to come back to my senses regain control of the situation “babe, be a good boy for me hm?"”

when i finally stroked matt's boner, his hands rapdly went to my ass, both palms groping it harshly as i entered inside his pants. i wrapped my fingers around his aching cock, and being the good boy he was, matt lifted up his hips, allowing me to pull down his shorts and reveal his hardened dick. he touched my waistband in response, silently asking if he could do the same to me. i mimicked his moves, letting the fabric slide down my legs.

“thought i had told you to not wear panties to bed” he said, pulling the strings of my underwear. “isn't mommy supposed to be good as well?” matt was driving me crazy with all the teasing.

i suddenly started to move my fist up and down, quickly jerking him off. matt was used with me starting slow and building up his excitement until he climaxed. but tonight, it didn't seem like he wanted to be treated kindly. matt threw his head back and closed his eyes, groaning loudly “f-fuck!”

i brushed my thumb over his tip, matt’s body immediately reacting, jointing his hips forward into my fist. i dragged my finger on his slit as matt’s nails dig into my skin, spreading the pre-cum down his shaft. his breathing got heavier, chest rising and falling quickly while he bit every inch of skin he could reach.

“not talking back anymore?” i asked, gradually stopping my motions, receiving a groan in response.

“mommy, don’t be mean” he pleaded as his sneaky fingers made their way to my entrance, pulling my panties to the side. he kissed my neck, making my eyes roll as i melted into his touch.

“matthew” i caught his attention since i didn’t really use his full name often. “stopping teasing so fucking much and just fucking say it”. he widened his eyes before letting the grin grow wide on his face.

“please, please, please” he said, “ride me, momma”i immediately got out of his thigh, adjusting myself to be in between his legs. i could feel matt’s cock being lazily dragged against my now bare pussy, panties removed as soon as i got up.

i lowered myself on his shaft, nearing my throbbing cunt to his leaking tip. both of my hands went to matt’s shoulders, looking for balance as his grabbed my hips, helping me fully sit on his length. matt’s dick was huge, stretching my walls as he hid his face on the crook of my neck, tickling beard making me giggle as i tried to adjust myself to his size.

“wasn’t so hard, was it?” i asked, getting comfortable to move my hips up. as i started riding, matt wouldn’t say a word, only muffling moans in my ear. he denied with his head, whining as i fastened my pace.

“c-close” he said, gripping tighter. “mommy- fuck”

“hold for me baby” i spoke, already out of breath, bouncing harder on his dick. matt decided to stick his face on my boobs and dragged his tongue along my skin, biting my nipple and holding me by my waist, jointing his hips forward in order to reach his high quicker.

“yes baby, just like that” i praised, matt now pounding mindlessly into me. “good boy, good boy” and that’s what took for him to snap, groaning loudly as his cock twitched and he released the knot on his lower belly, spurts of his warm cum filling my insides.

his spasms brought me closer to the edge, but i wouldn’t stop riding him. i kept on bouncing on his cock, now in search of my own climax. “mommy- mommy, fuck!” matt cried from the overstimulation. his whimpers got louder and so did my moans as my orgasm washed over me, mouth hanging open with my trembling body as i came over matt’s shaft.

i was too tired to remove myself, letting my weight fall over him. matt rolled us over, both of us laying in my bed. he turned to the side and pulled out, the mix of our realeases running down my legs and staining my sheets. matt let out a chuckle as he wrapped his arms around me, bringing me closer to his chest.

“should we sleep now?” i asked, running my fingers through his tummy.

“kid” he called, pointing to my bedroom widow. “the sun is already up” he spoke - as if this was gonna stop us from sleeping till noon. “but that’s why i came here, right? sleepover”

“of course, you’re always so clever” i rolled my eyes and giggled, allowing my body to relax next to his. i closed my eyes and knew that, while matt was around, the bad dreams would no longer come.

- ♡ -

taglist (drop a 🌸!): @thepubeburgler @submattenthusiast @pearlzier @mattsfavbitchhh @her-favorite @bugeyedgrl @mattswhore-44 @sturncakez @riowritesitall @joemamaaa42069 @mattttypooh @sturnsmia @sturnthepot

[scoutofmymind]

Saw that someone said Luigi’s Reddit had a post where he eluded to a pretty heavy drinking habit in college, which then makes me think about drunk ex!luigi. I’m sorry, but you write angst too well

Unlearn Me — { Luigi x Reader}

Content: SFW, angst, yearning, slight pining, mentions of canon back pain, ex’s reminiscing, heartbreak all over again.

Wc: 4,336 (holy shit)

Notes; Two semesters of carefully crafted distance crumbles at 3AM in the computer lab when your final project implodes hours before the deadline, leaving you with no choice but to seek help from the one person you've been avoiding since the breakup.

Before we continue, I cannot ignore that wildfires continue to ravage Los Angeles, countless families have lost their homes and livelihoods. I urge you to consider supporting those affected through any of these donation links, additionally, Roadogs on Instagram is looking for fosters for mass evacuations of shelter dogs in California.

Foster or donate if you can. xo.

Now, let’s go.

"Mother fucker," you curse, attacking your keyboard with increasingly desperate keystrokes.

Each combination might be the one to salvage this disaster, but deep down you know it's hopeless — your software has corrupted itself into oblivion, taking six months of work with it.

"You can ask for an extension," Emma suggests, her voice carrying the weight of exhaustion that matches your own. Your roommate had burst into the media center still wearing her pink silk pajamas, immediately launching into a nervous tirade about after-hours permissions and potential expulsion risks.

Her constant hovering and worrying grates on your last nerve, and you tell her to leave.

Predictably, she refuses.

"Listen, I'm not just gonna leave you here on your own." She leans across your workspace, her body pressing against your laptop screen until it tilts halfway closed. You freeze, fingers suspended above the keys, terrified of losing what little progress you've made in this digital archaeology expedition. "There's - like - a murderer on campus."

"One girl said she was followed home," you gently remind. Under normal circumstances, Emma's mother-hen routine would be endearing — charming, even. But right now, with your project in shambles and deadline looming, her protective hovering feels suffocating. "Not murdered, Em."

"May as well have been." Emma fixes you with that look — the one that screams why am I the only rational person here? While her nails tap nervously against your desk. "Probably hasn't left her room since. And you know what? Smart girl.”

You scrub your hands over your face, your eyes fixed on the projector's word vomit — an endless stream of error messages and unintelligible code painting the drywall from a tired projector like some twisted modern art piece.

Not exactly what you were going for.

Emma stands mesmerized, "How did you even do this?" She watches the cryptic display crawl across the wall, her eyes tracking each line as if she could decode it. "This reminds me of-" she catches herself, the name hanging unspoken between you. She's learned that lesson the hard way. "This is wild.”

You can't help but notice.

Notice how she almost speaks his name, how these meaningless strings of letters and numbers somehow bridge the gap to memories you've tried so hard to bury — promises whispered under star-sprinkled skies, fingers intertwined beneath the cosmic glow.

Moments that felt eternal then, ephemeral now.

Your gaze drifts to your phone, lying face-down like a surrender.

You blink several times, trying to clear the ghosts from your vision before speaking, your voice emerging barely above a whisper, as if the words themselves might shatter something in the air, "Should I text him?" You ask, offering the idea as if it was something too controversial to be spoken aloud.

Emma shifts her weight, both from exhaustion and the sudden weight of responsibility.

Your night's trajectory now rests in her hands — she who has witnessed every shade of you, from triumph to devastation. Her own memories of him surface: the way he'd raid her ice cream stash only to replace it with a premium pint the next day, how he'd tackle the dish mountain without prompting, those small gestures that made him feel like family.

"He was my favorite boyfriend of yours," she'd told you once, in a moment of wine-honest conversation. "He was a good boy."

A good boy who made a couple mistakes.

But those mistakes had compounded like interest on a debt you never agreed to pay, until the rift between you and Luigi widened into an ocean.

Everything good had been pulled out with the tide — your trust, your shared future — swept away to depths where no light could reach.

"I-" Emma's hand finds the back of her neck, her expression cycling through a slideshow of conflicted emotions. You can see her internal struggle; the desire to crawl into her bed warring with her loyalty to you. And she knows you well enough to realize you'd stay here until sunrise if necessary. "I mean — babe, I love you, but you can't fix this." The admission seems to pain her, as if acknowledging your limitations feels like betrayal. "We aren't techies."

You stare helplessly at your gutted gallery, stripped bare by your own accidental digital vandalism. Your artwork, your portfolio, your future — all reduced to incomprehensible strings of code projected onto an indifferent wall.

"Do you think he'd come?" The question escapes before you can stop it, your eyes magnetized to your phone as if your stare alone could resurrect that old text thread, buried beneath months of careful silence.

"Of course he would."

A soft, defeated whine escapes you as you turn back to glare at your corrupted work, as if you could intimidate it into fixing itself through sheer force of will.

Emma's voice softens, "Hey, he's mature enough to understand you've exhausted your options."

A violent shudder runs through you at the thought of Luigi being your last resort.

You'd managed to exile the visceral memories — the heated arguments that left you gasping for air, the promises that turned to vapor in the morning light.

"Which are?"

Emma looks down at her Pokemon-clad self, then back at you. "Me." She gestures vaguely in your direction, "and you."

The campus sleeps around you, everyone else lost to their dreams or late-night calls home. Just the two of you remain, trapped in this dimly-lit purgatory on a Wednesday night, while error messages mock your existence with their endless scroll.

"Slim pickin's," you mutter as your fingers betray you, finding Luigi's contact with muscle memory that refuses to die.

How many times had you pressed these same digits before?

But this is different.

Different because you haven't spoken since that night in your kitchen, when you stood with your back to him, voice steady despite the trembling in your hands, "So, we aren't going to try to figure this out?" You asked, and he’d responded with some pretentious comparison about your relationship being like corrupted code, fundamentally flawed, destined to fail its own quality test.

The irony isn't lost on you — the very metaphor he used to end things is now the thread that might pull you back into his orbit. Your only connection besides the elaborate dance of avoidance across campus, treating each other's paths like holy ground neither dares to tread.

Opening the thread, you're greeted by your last exchange — your final words to him blazing across the screen in angry blue bubbles: "I want my fucking shit back or I'll make your life a living hell." Such poetry. Your new message hovers in the text box, simpler, desperate in its brevity.

Hey need help with somethin. U up??

You thrust your phone at Emma like it's burning your fingers, watching her eyes widen as they catch on those months-old texts — digital artifacts of your rage that should have been scrubbed before tonight's desperate plea. "Jesus," she whispers, amusement dancing in her expression. "I'd still be licking my wounds if I were hi-"

The familiar buzz cuts through the air, a notification chime that once made your heart leap but now makes it sink.

"What'd he say?" You mumble, gaze fixed on the mocking projection that bathes the room in its sickly digital glow, code continuing its relentless march across the wall.

Emma settles into a chair, hunching over your laptop's makeshift altar. "Said he's at Ruddy's." She squints at a fresh message. "He said 'what do you want?'" She deepens her voice into a cartoonish baritone, making him sound like a caveman discovering text messaging for the first time.

You can't blame him for the cold response — you’d scorched that earth thoroughly.

But a selfish part of you wants to delete the whole exchange, pretend this moment of weakness never happened, go back to the careful choreography of avoiding each other's existence.

But you can't.

The corrupted gallery looming on the wall is a stark reminder that pride is a luxury you can't afford right now.

His icy reception is the natural consequence of your scorched-earth campaign, those venom-laced messages sent in the throes of heartbreak and confusion.

You'd played the role of the woman scorned perfectly, even though you'd written your own tragic script.

"Just send him a picture." You wave listlessly at the wall, where your work continues its digital decomposition, folding in on itself like a dying star. The error messages stretch into an endless serpent of nonsense, each iteration making less sense than the last.

The artificial shutter sound of Emma's photo breaks the silence, followed by the soft swoosh of sending. The wait feels eternal until-

Ding

Emma's attention snaps to your phone resting on her thigh, her eyes widening. "He's typing like he-"

Sorry;m,, I’m fucked uo

Up

I am

fucked up

Emma clicks her tongue and rises, crossing the room to lob your phone into your lap, screen up. "Guess some things don't change." You manage a weak half-grin, memories flooding back unbidden — Luigi stumbling into your dorm in the small hours, wrapped in whiskeys warmth, all soft edges and desperate hands.

"Well, make up your mind." Emma's yawn threatens to unhinge her jaw, arms wrapping around herself like armor. "Are we done here, or are you gonna have him come take a look?"

I’n be there son

I’ll be rherw soo

I’ll be there soon

You stand to wrap your arms around Emma’s shoulders who reluctantly curves her arms upward to squeeze your shoulders. “Go home.” She seems reluctant to listen, staring at your phone screen as if it would take her home itself. “I promise, I’ll be just fine.”

The space between you pulses with that unique warmth reserved for someone who shares your roof, your darkest secrets, and the monthly struggle with Con Edison. "Just don't make any brash decisions."

"Oh, Em." You press a kiss to her forehead. "You think I'm so much cooler than I am."

Emma's laugh follows her as she spins toward the door, collecting pieces of herself like breadcrumbs — the scarf draped over a chair, the coat hung forgotten, the backpack abandoned when the day still held promise.

Each item a marker of how long this digital nightmare has stretched, from sunshine to moonlight.

And as if summoned by cosmic irony, the lab door swings open to reveal Luigi. "Oh - hey, E." The surprise flickers across his face before he schools his features back to neutral.

"Hey, Lu." Her greeting carries the easy familiarity of their old routine, like NPCs in a cozy game exchanging preset dialogue, their paths crossing exactly as programmed.

"You g'na help me with this?"

Emma shakes her head, patting his shoulder as she passes — a gentle handoff. "I did my time." You want to protest, but words fail as you absorb the sight of him, eight months of careful avoidance crumbling in an instant.

"Ahh-" Luigi waves, feigning disappointment through the druken haze. "Need a walk back home?"

Ever the shepherd, guardian of late-night wanderers.

It didn't matter who you were — friend, stranger, ex-lover’s best friend and roommate — his self-appointed mission to ensure everyone's safe return never wavered.

You'd once wondered if it stemmed from some deeper anxiety, his mind unable to rest until every sheep was accounted for in its fold.

Tonight though, the alcohol has mercifully dulled that protective instinct. Emma's potential disappearance into the night ranks lower on his list of concerns than usual, although Emma herself had been the one earlier to warn you of the murderer on campus.

"You still got my location," Emma reminds him — a callback to conversations past, to the day she'd granted Luigi permanent access to her whereabouts, a level of trust you'd wisely withheld.

"Right."

She presses a kiss to her fingers, flashing you a peace sign with the same hand before it briefly lands on Luigi's shoulder. Then she's gone, disappearing into the snow-globe world he'd just stumbled in from. He stands before you now, arms hanging like dead weight, his eyes somehow both wide and narrow.

"Hey," you whisper.

"Hey."

You gesture weakly at the wall where your work writhes in digital agony. "So, uh — remember that time you salvaged Professor Wren’s entire thesis when her drive crashed?"

Luigi's eyes follow your hand, professional interest temporarily overriding the awkwardness. He steps closer, squinting at the corrupted display, "Jesus," he mutters, "what did you do to it?"

"Would you believe me if I said nothing?" The laugh that escapes is more nervous than you'd like. "It just. - it started disintegrating during final checks."

He's already pulling out his laptop, muscle memory from countless late-night tech rescues. The familiarity of it hits you in the chest — how many times had you watched him do this same thing, hunched over his keyboard, bottom lip caught between his teeth in concentration?

"I can try," he says finally, not quite meeting your eyes. "But no promises. When's this due?"

"Tomorrow at nine."

"Of course it is." He drops into the chair beside you, close enough that your elbows almost touch, but enough of a distance to still feel far away. “Okay, walk me through what it's supposed to look like when it's not — uh - whatever this is."

For a moment, Luigi stares at the corrupted display where red pixels bleed and stutter across the wall. His fingers hover over his keyboard, then pause. "Wait. This is your circulatory modeling project? The one you were-“ He cuts himself off, remembering this was before the eight months of silence.

"Yeah." You swallow. "It was working perfectly until an hour ago. Real-time hemodynamics, pressure differentials, vessel elasticity. Everything." Your voice cracks slightly on the last word, feeling more helpless when you verbalize it.

He nods, already typing with uncanny precision despite the slight sway in his posture. "Show me the base code. Did you save any backups?"

"Three. All corrupted." You lean forward, careful not to crowd him as you pull up the mangled files. "It's like something got into the core simulation and just - I dunno - started rewriting them."

"Hm." His eyes scan the screen with that laser focus he somehow maintains no matter how much he drinks, that familiar furrow appearing between his brows. "These values are cascading. One corrupted variable triggering a chain reaction through the whole system." He glances at you, slightly overshooting before correcting. "When's the last time it ran correctly?"

You check your phone. "6:43 PM. I have a screen recording from then."

"Good. That's good." He pulls up a second window, his typing still flawless even as he reaches with his free hand to steady himself against the desk. "We can compare the execution logs, maybe isolate where it started going wrong." His fingers fly across the keys with a precision that seems to mock his clearly inebriated state, and for a moment, it feels like those eight months never happened. "I'm going to need coffee for this." He looks up at you from where he sat, “Or more booze.”

You land on coffee, your feet carrying you down the familiar path to the kitchenette.

The fluorescent lights flicker dimly at this hour, casting strange shadows across the linoleum, the lab's overpriced espresso machine hums to life under your touch, its gentle whirring a counterpoint to the distant sound of Luigi's typing.

Suddenly you're back in that first year, both of you hunched over at 3 AM, him teaching you the proper way to pull a shot: “You're murdering it, stop torturing the beans”, your quiet laughter echoing through empty halls.

"Got it.” His voice carries down the corridor, slurred but triumphant, snapping you back to present.

You return to find him illuminated by screen-glow, his tie loosened and dark hair disheveled. The paper cup lands in front of him — double shot, one packet of raw sugar.

He doesn't stir it, never has.

Instead, he tips the cup back, and you hear that familiar crunch of sugar crystals between his teeth, a sound that used to drive you crazy, until somewhere along the way it became endearing.

Still, the jumbled code taunts you from the screen, though its chaos seems less threatening now. Under Luigi's touch — steady despite the alcohol — your final project is slowly remembering its original shape.

"You should have texted sooner," Luigi murmurs, tilting his head back to collect the last sugar crystals from his cup. The movement exposes his throat, his collar wrinkled where he's been tugging at it all night.

"Well," you say, watching the way his fingers dance across the keys, each stroke precise despite his obvious intoxication, "takes a minute to swallow something as big as my pride."

The corners of his mouth twitch upward, eyes never leaving the screen where broken code is knitting itself back together under his attention.

"Oh," he huffs out a laugh, the sound low and dangerous in the quiet lab, "I've seen you swallow far bigger things before."

It strikes like summer lightning — quick, bright, and leaving the air charged in its wake. The innuendo lands with no real bite, yet you find your jaw slack, a startled laugh shaking loose from your chest.

"Kidding," Luigi says, his eyes flicking from screen to you and back again. There’s a ghost of a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth, softened by the alcohol but still sharp enough to cut. You wave him back to his work, grateful for the blue glow of monitors that hides your flush. "You kinda set that up perfectly, though."

He squints up at the projection where your broken code still bleeds across the wall, letting out a soft grunt of frustration at some digital roadblock. "Just mean — ya know, you could have caught me two beers deep instead of seven."

You shrug a shoulder, watching as the projection slowly crystallizes into something recognizable. "Seems you work better under such conditions."

The lie tastes metallic.

You both know the truth.

Luigi would have come if he was sober as sunrise or drowning in bourbon. Would have come with broken ribs or pneumonia or his heart barely beating. Would have traced these familiar hallways blind, deaf, or dying — because that's what the two of you do.

Have always done.

You've seen him at rock bottom, curled into himself on cold bathroom tiles at midnight, trembling hands pressed against his mouth as if he could physically hold back the pain that wracked his body. Watched him try to explain to puzzled doctors how someone so young could hurt so constantly, the frustration in his voice when they suggested it was all in his head.

You were there through the trials of medications, the nights when existence itself seemed too heavy to bear.

And you've seen him soar; standing tall in that charcoal suit that made him look older, more polished, shaking hands with tech giants who saw in him what you'd always known was there, his future spreading out before him like a golden road, brilliant and boundless.

Now he sits here, seven drinks deep but coding like he's never been clearer, and you realize that maybe both versions are equally true.

Maybe that's what makes him Luigi — the ability to contain multitudes, to be simultaneously broken and brilliant, wounded and wonderful.

He catches you watching him and raises an eyebrow, the gesture slightly delayed, which means you must have been a bit too obvious. "What?"

"Nothing.”

His fingers pause on the keys, and even through the alcoholic haze, his gaze pins you like a butterfly to cork. "No, really. What?" The words have a slight blur around their edges, but his focus is knife-sharp.

You could deflect again, but there's something about 4 AM and code that glows like dying stars that makes honesty feel less dangerous, perhaps you’re finding comfort in the fact that Luigi is drunk, although you’re stone cold sober.

"Just thinking about that time in the Thompson building bathroom." Your voice comes out softer than intended. "When you couldn't stand up, and I had to convince the janitor you had food poisoning."

He doesn't flinch from the memory like he used to.

Instead, his mouth curves into something caught between a smile and a grimace. "You told him it was from the cafeteria." His fingers resume their dance across the keyboard, but slower now. "Got the whole place investigated by health services."

"Yeah, but got us three days off while they checked fucking everything.” you remind him.

"Got me through that week," he corrects quietly, and for a moment, the mask of that brilliant-drunk-techie slips, showing the man underneath who still remembers what it feels like to be held together by nothing but someone else's faith in you.

Then he blinks, and the vulnerability is gone, replaced by that familiar crooked grin. "Though I maintain the cafeteria deserved the inspection anyway."

The projection flickers, another section of code healing itself under his touch, and you wonder if he knows you'd do it all again.

Every bathroom floor, every late-night crisis, every moment of putting him back together - you'd choose it every time.

"Speaking of which," you venture carefully, watching his hands move across the keyboard. "How's the new treatment working?"

His right shoulder shifts in what might be a shrug, but there's a shadow of a real smile playing at his mouth.

Not the sharp, defensive one he wears like armor, but something softer, more genuine. "Six months post-op and I actually slept through the night last week. First time in -“ he pauses, considering, "Fuck, I don't even remember how long."

The admission hangs in the air between you, weighted with the two years of 2 AM phone calls, of nights spent pacing, of pain medications that never quite touched the core of the problem.

Watching him try to code through hands that wouldn't stop shaking.

"Still hurts sometimes," he adds, almost absently. "But it's different now. More like background noise than a scream." His fingers still on the keyboard, and for a moment he looks almost surprised by his own words. "Guess that's what normal people feel like all the time, huh?"

The question carries an edge of wonder, like someone who's lived in darkness suddenly discovering dawn.

You watch him roll his shoulder — a gesture that used to be followed by a wince but now flows smooth and unconscious — and think about how strange it must be, learning to live without constant pain after it's become part of your identity.

"Though I kind of miss having an excuse to drunk-code at 4 AM" he adds, but you both know it's a lie.

The code blurs on the projection as silence settles between you, charged with something that's been building for ages — through bathroom floors and hospital visits, through triumphs and failures, through pain and healing.

The alcohol has stripped away Luigi’s careful boundaries, leaving raw honesty in their place.

"You know," Luigi says slowly, finally turning from the screen to face you fully, "I never thanked you properly. For all of it."

"You don't need to-"

Your diagram pulses back to life, the holographic heart rotating lazily against the wall.

Its red glow bathes the room in a surreal warmth, catching on the sharp angles of Luigi's face, softening them into something almost dreamlike.

The light flickers across his cheekbones, turns his eyes to amber, makes the whole moment feel suspended between reality and imagination.

"I do." His voice is quiet but firm, steadier than someone seven drinks deep should manage. "Because I've been thinking — now that I can actually think clearly without-“he gestures vaguely at his back, at all the years of pain, "I've been thinking about how you're the only constant. The only person who never-“ He trails off.

You lean a little closer, drawn by the vulnerability in his voice. "Never what?"

"Never saw me as broken." He turns himself toward you, and there's something desperate in his eyes, something the alcohol has finally given him the courage to show. "Never treated me like I needed fixing. Just stayed. Through everything."

Your lips part, but the words catch in your throat. He takes your silence as a sign, turning back to the screen with a sharp exhale that might be resignation or relief — you're not sure which would be worse.

"Lu,” you say softly, and something in your voice makes his fingers still on the keyboard. "Look at me."

He does, slowly, like he's afraid of what he might find.

The neon bathes half his face in crimson, leaving the other half in shadow, and you see the moment his carefully constructed walls start to crumble.

"Time hasn’t changed that much about me.” you say, each word deliberate, heavy with meaning.

His breath catches audibly. You watch the impact of your words ripple across his face — surprise, understanding, and something else, something that makes your heart race against your ribs.

"Hasn’t it?” Luigi is focusing on you now, the reason he really came here now practically completed but pushed aside until further notice. “Eight months is a long time to hold onto -“ he gestures vaguely between you, as if he can’t quite say what it was. Hopeless devotion, the right person, wrong time.

“Not long enough to forget.”

“Forget what?”

“You.”

His breath catches again, a sharp inhale that seems to pull all the oxygen from the room. When he speaks, his voice is rough and ragged, “Maybe that’s the problem.” His gaze drifts down to watch as you lick your lips, and back up again. “Maybe you should have.”

[magicandmundane]

Inspired by a couple of posts and interactions with @here-comes-the-moose here’s some midnight snack shenanigans that I headcanon Echo has seen while getting a glass of water like a normal person during his post-finale Pabu visits

Wrecker, Crosshair, and Omega raiding the cookie jar (the joke that started this lol)

Hunter and Crosshair brandishing knives at each other, having a standoff worthy of the Tantiss catwalk scene over the last loaf of Echo’s chocolate zucchini bread (Echo takes the knives and splits it for them)

Wrecker and Omega making a five course meal (what? they’re hungry!)

Hunter eating cereal and sharpening the kitchen knives

Omega passed out on the floor with a block of cheese in hand (she was sleep walking, Echo carries her back to bed)

Crosshair playing darts with vegetables or something idk lol

Wrecker somehow getting into a heated argument with Gonky while microwaving leftover lasagna

Omega dragging an exhausted Hunter out of bed for hot chocolate at 3am

Wrecker and Crosshair half in the fridge and squabbling over the stir fry Hunter made last night

And every time Echo’s just kinda like “this might as well happen,” gets his water, and goes back to bed lmao

Feel free to add on!

[deadassluv]

Okay this is my last post until chaos theory s2 comes out. I’m gonna talk about things I expect to see in season 2. Dinostar love confession/argument flashback- I need an argument or love confession. I want to see Brooklynn face when Darius told her his feelings, I want to see them argue, I want to see Darius hesitating on meeting up with Brooklynn. I just need more Angst.

Sammy’s family problems explanation- I need an explanation because how in the world did that even happened? Like why aren’t her parents talking to her? That girl sacrificed herself for them, why would they stop talking to her? Is not homophobia because Sammy’s father seemed to be okay with it in the last episode of cc, and Yaz even moved in with them. I heard its because she turned vegetarian or some like that but she literally ate a corn dog with Ben so I don’t think that’s it. The most possible one is Bumpy or her parents being afraid of living in the country side. Maybe her family didn’t wanted to deal with a dinosaur. Or maybe they were too scared to keep living on the country side so they moved, and that made Sammy not want to talk to them anymore. Idk, they better explain that.

Ben’s girlfriend- I need more information about her cause I ain’t believing that yet. The way he said it was not very convincing to me. (I think he might be hiding something.) but I do hope is real though. Just imagine how funny it would be if Ben asked Yaz, Sammy, or Kenji for girlfriend advice.

The Long Run chapter but reversed- What I mean with this is instead of Yaz saving Sammy, is Sammy saving Yaz. That’s it. I need it.

More Darius and Kenji bonding- I need this y’all. I want them to talk about their times as brothers when they lived in the same house and were taking care of by the same mother. I so need this :(

Brooklynn and Handler- I want those two to at least look at each other. Badass woman should always meet another badass woman. (Not a ship)

Mae, Roxy, or Dave- I want them to at least be mentioned. I miss Mae so much.

Angel and Rabel-Please come home your parents miss you. ;(

Nublar six back together- I want them to reunite with Brooklynn so baddddd. I don’t want them to be happy though, at least not right away. I want them to be mad at her because that girl made them sufferrrrr so much and for what? Like I better see some arguing.

Handler- I just want more handler content, she’s just too good.

The new characters lore- I’m so excited for the new characters they look so good, I want a background story for them😭

That’s all…I’m so excited for this season chat, I’m waking up at 3am Thursday to at least have an hour and a half to watch the show before I have to go to school :( (I’m binging when I get home)

[myloveismineallmine]

Sydcarmy & Beauty and The Beast

So, The Bear is a story with many themes and messages in it. The process of creating a story a lot times is just frankenstein-ing other stories and elements you like plus your owned lived experience.

I don't really remember how I started thinking about it, I do remember it was like 3am so that definitely has something to do with it, but I started thinking about Beauty and The Beast. And then I started comparing certain elements of it with The Bear. And then I started reading the Wikipedia page for Beauty and The Beast. And then I looked at the clock and it was like 4am so I was like okay, I should sleep now actually.

I did notice a lot of interesting similarities between the two, so I wanted to compare some of them in this post here. I think it's a really interesting lens to look at the story of The Bear from.

Chapter 1: The Beast

So, while it would be cool to do some kind of role reversal with the two romantic leads, this story does not do that, and the obvious parallel for Carmy is The Beast.

Rundown of The Beast's character traits, via wikipedia:

"In the original tale, the Beast is seen to be kind-hearted for the most part, and gentleman-like, with only an occasional tendency to be hot-tempered. Disney's interpretation of the Beast made him more constantly angry and depressed, due to the shame from his unkind actions which led to his transformation, and particularly his struggle of reconciling his hideous appearance with his inner humanity which made him feel hopeless about breaking the curse. Supervising animator Glen Keane describes The Beast as "a twenty-one-year-old guy who's insecure, wants to be loved, wants to love, but has this ugly exterior and has to overcome this." Upon his reform under his love interest Belle, his personality changes to refined and more even-tempered, while naive about the world at the same time."

Obviously this isn't to shame JAW's appearance, he's a pretty attractive dude, I'm looking more at the personality traits here.

The Disney version of him is way more unhinged and animal-like, which I'm not sure perfectly fits Carmy, but I feel like the insecurity, anger and depression is pretty accurate.

I don't think the "beast" element is entirely irrelevant, however. Let's think about what the namesake of the show is: The Bear. In reference, or course, to the main family having the last name Berzatto. They do also refer to each other as "Bear."

It's Cousin Michelle who makes the connection between the Berzattos and literal bears:

When she mentions this quote someone had said to her.

Stevie likens the Berzattos to bears later on in this episode:

It's pretty clear that the Berzattos = bears. Aggressive, but also kind and emphatic.

I also want to talk about the very first scene of The Bear:

Carmy is letting the bear out of it's cage, walking slowly towards it. He says "I know" to the bear, trying to calm it, or maybe trying to empathize with it. The bear growls and attacks him, and he wakes up from the nightmare.

It's clear that the caged bear represents something in Carmy. His rage, his stress, his grief. And he can't control it, it escapes and it consumes him.

Backstory of The Beast, extremely paraphrased:

Disney version: A prince is spoiled, cold-hearted and extremely selfish. He's transformed into a hideous beast as punishment, and told he won't transform back unless he earns the love a beautiful young woman.

Fairytale version: The prince's father died before he was born, and his bio mother leaves him in the care of an evil fairy godmother. Things get weird and incesty, this was the 1700s ig, the godmother tries to seduce the prince when he's an adult. He rejects her and she curses him to become a beast and says the curse won't be broken until he receives a maiden's act of true love. There's then a lot of really irrelevant fairy-lore and other stuff that I don't really want or need to get into.

I feel like evil mother figure one might be more accurate? Especially because Donna's one of the people who gave him so much trauma that he still carries with him? Generational trauma and addiction is "a curse" in a way.

Chapter 2: The Beauty

So it's very clearly Sydney.

Beauty in the OG fairytale doesn't have a super interesting personality outside of "pretty, caring and kind." so I think we'll look more at the Disney version here:

"While the studio wanted Beauty and the Beast to resemble an old-fashioned film, the writers envisioned Belle as "a woman that was ahead of her time"."

"...  the screenwriter conceived Belle as a headstrong feminist to avoid creating another "insipid" Disney princess."

"Beauty and the Beast's story department was predominantly male. Woolverton often argued with the more traditional story artists over Belle's role and personality, but continued to be supported by Katzenberg and lyricist Howard Ashman, the latter of whom also lobbied for "a thinker and a reader" who "wasn't a victim"."

So, Belle was basically a strong and independent woman for Disney at the time. I wanna hone in more on these character traits they mention specifically.

Sydney is very intelligent, even an overthinker at times. She literally shows up to, like, week 2 of work with a full book written on how the business can be improved.

We know she's a reader. Not only from the coach K book, she also mentions lending Marcus books at some point.

I also think Sydney fits the "not a victim" criteria. Sydney is shown pretty consistently to stand up for herself and fight back in situations.

On Beauty's backstory:

In every version of The Beauty and The Beast, Beauty's a daughter to a widower (much like Sydney is.) Beauty has many siblings, most notably her evil older sisters. They are omitted from the Disney version, and Belle is an only child.

In the Disney version, Belle is well known for her beauty, but looked down upon for not conforming to more traditional feminine roles.

Being a headstrong woman of color in the very white and male dominated world of fine dining, I can see how she fits this.

Her father has doubts about her career as a chef, she has had bad experience with chefs in leadership positions before, and the crew of The Beef really looks down on her at the beginning of the series.

Chapter 3: Beauty and The Beast

So now let's talk about the actual relationship of the Beauty and The Beast.

Belle/Beauty is lured into The Beast's castle because her father is being held captive inside. And interestingly....

Sydney references her father as the reason for why she applies for The Beef.

In the fairytale, The Beast is immediately smitten with Beauty and asks her to marry him every day. That would be a very obvious HR violation in The Bear, so I think it might be better to look at the Disney version of this story.

So in the Disney version, The Beast is more annoyed that Belle and her father showed up at all, but he does know she's a pretty woman and allows the release of her father so she will be his prisoner instead.

Their relationship is pretty bad at first, like you'd expect a captor and prisoner relationship to be, but he does allow her a nice lavish room. He orders her to have dinner with him, and she refuses to leave her room to protest against him.

Carmy and Sydney were friendly at first meeting, but after The Stock Incident, their cracks really start to show. It's when Sydney really stands her ground and argues back at him. This is not the end of the arguments and tension between them.

Belle and the Beast end up getting in a fight when Belle snoops around his room. He yells at her more loudly this time, and Belle flees the castle on horseback. She gets attacked by a pack of wolves and The Beast saves her. She takes him back to the castle and nurses his wounds.

This to me matches with the final fight Sydney and Carmy have in season 1. Carmy displays the worst of his anger, and it causes Sydney to want to wipe her hands with him completely. She grabs her stuff and leaves, telling him she's quitting.

She comes back when he apologizes to her, and they have a real bonding moment when they decide to open a restaurant together.

The Beast and Belle start to have a better relationship after The Beast heals. They become more friendly, The Beast more docile, and they're both really happy for the first time in the film. There's a scene where The Beast shows Belle the castle library and tells her it's hers.

I think the equivalent would be seeing Carmy and Sydney plan the menu together. In those scenes they seem less like co-workers and more like friends. You can also tell it's one of the few things they get actual real enjoyment doing.

I think the main parallel I see for this relationship is how Carmy and Sydney improve each other. Like with Belle and The Beast, you can actually see Carmy learn how to better handle conflict and communicate more efficiently when he's placed with Sydney.

He's more vulnerable. He apologizes more. He's able to better control his temper.

There's two very concrete examples of Sydney being able to help stabilize his emotions, actually.

Sydney is quite literally "taming the beast" in Carmy. Cognitive behavioral therapy would also achieve that, but Carmy is too much of a workaholic to attend a session, so Sydney will have to do for now. They didn't have CBT in 1700s France, either, unfortunately.

I will also say that this isn't a 90 minute Disney movie, so the slow-burn will be slow-buring for awhile until we get to the actual conclusion of the fairytale.

Chapter 4: Gaston

so I have two characters in mind for this role: Richie and Marcus. But def more heavy on Richie than Marcus.

Gaston is a villain made exclusively for the Disney movie. Here's some description for him:

"In direct contrast to his adversary the Beast, Gaston is depicted as physically handsome with an unattractive personality, both physically and emotionally embodying hypermasculinity. "

"Gaston has been generally positively received by film critics, as his lack of "magic power or political influence" means that his villainy tends to resonate with audiences who often identify someone similar to him in real life, although critics regard him as a less memorable villain than some of the studio's previous efforts."

"The Huffington Post described early drafts of Gaston as "a weaselly, sort of wimpy character." In fact, Gaston was originally intended to resemble more of an annoying than antagonistic character,"

So I think Richie kind of fits the "hypermasculinity" thing, in terms of some of his mindset and sexist behaviors.

Richie, for at least the first season, really looks down on fine dining as a concept. He makes fun of Carmy and Syd for their background in it and makes snide comments about it whenever possible.

Gaston also looks down on Belle for liking books, and encourages her to live a more "simple" life with him instead.

Here's a really interesting parallel I found with these two:

Making fun of the main character's book and then throwing it away? In the intro of the story? Very interesting.....

As far as the similarity with Marcus: it begins and ends with Marcus and Gaston both having unrequited feelings for the main female protagonist.

Other than that, Richie is way more Gaston coded in the grand scheme of things. Just not as evil. I feel like he gives first-draft Gaston with being "More annoying than antagonistic."

Chapter 5: What about Claire?

I see Claire fitting into this as almost like a faux-Belle. The love interest that's supposed to "fix" the main protagonist, but something doesn't work.

Again, there's two scenes I wanna look at specifically to showcase this:

This reaction shot of Carmy. This is the last shot of the sex scene, and there are some other previous shots of the sex scene overlaying this at times. But I've been wanting to do a deep dive into it for awhile-- why have this shot? What's the purpose of it?

I think that this shot clearly tells us that Carmy is either pensive and/or dissatisfied with what has happened. Laying with his eyes open and just staring at the wall, deep in thought, possibly regretful. This isn't the expression a man who's just had sex with a pretty woman usually has. This is one of many clues that this relationship isn't something that he really wants or enjoys.

Aaaand, the panic attack scene again. If Claire was his "true love", she would be able to quell his anxiety and panic, if this whole "beauty and the beast" story arc I'm putting together is to be believed.

Claire is the perfect girl. She's pretty, smart, talented. His family loves her. She loves him. But she does nothing to fix his problems. Because it's not true love.

Carmy not being happy at the thought of Claire vs Carmy cracking a smile because he looks at containers of radichio + fennel, ingredients Sydney cooked him once.

It is ABUNDANTLY clear that his feelings for Syd help his mental state in ways his feelings for Claire do not. Because what he feels for Sydney is closer to true love.

Conclusion:

Am I saying Christopher Storer took the plot beats and characters 1 for 1 from Beauty and The Beast? No, obviously not. Am I saying that maybe he sat down one day and this movie was on and he was like "hey maybe i can do something with this"? Possibly!

This is just speculation at the end of the day, but I really loved looking at all the possible connections between these two things. Tell me your thoughts on all of this: cool interpretation or am I just talking out of my ass?

[lunarleonardo]

I was gonna put something here but decided to check ao3 first and THABK GOD I DID cuz that was hands down the best chapter ever. Im gonna say the other thing i wanted to say in a different ask because I need to talk this out soo uhh here comes another yap session from me :3

Just the first sentence made me actually scream (my poor friend was a witness of this as i sent her dozens of voice messages qwq) because oh my GOD ORPHAN KOKICHI!!! AAAA!! This is making me super duper happy because JCJDJFJDJD KOKICHI ive read alot of kokichi pov fics and I can assure you you are NOT mischaracterizing him and anyone who thinks so missed the whole point. He is being PSYCHOLOGICLLY TORTURED!!@@?! HE IS NOT OKAY GUYS!!@@%!! I did notice how the mastermind acted a bit differently each time but I thought it was just dependinf on tsumugis mood i was NOT EXPECTING THIS!! HELLOOO?!?#$&!?!? the tho8ght of there being more of them ooohj you are so SO clever your ideas just feed into mine and UDHDHJDJS i dont think theres a time i wqs ever even slightly dissapointed with ypur writing because it ALWAYS HITS THE RIGHT SPOTS and ooohh it just keeps getting crazier and I finally found something where I am the target audience and it is making me gen so happy JXJDJDJE oh and don't even get me started on the END?!?!? HEELLOOO?!?! Shuichi my poor little baby oh my god I am going insane AAA I am so not prepared for what shes about to do to him i have a teensy weensy feeling they are gonna get tortured together and that is.perfec.iom AND LITERALLY ONE OF THE THINGS I WROTE. I like roleplayinf my silly ideas and then if its good enough i write it out and there was this one wehre likee im not gonna rsmbke about thst now but basically THAT. Like they have ti make choices and watch eschother suffer and OOOHHH THE DESPAIR!!! And also. The last sentence. ??. I REMMEMBER THAT PIC YPU POSTED. STRAITJACJRTB KOKICHI. THAT WAS THERE. I feel like this is important since it was mentioned in the official art AND OH i am SO excited AAAAAAA

Well....thats that....i really hope i dont annoy youbwith my long ass asks i just like showing how much I LOVE your storys and ideas by writing out my thoughts LOL i do wanna draw something about thus but it is late and I do wanna write another ask about the thing I was originally gonna say SOOOO that can wait till tomorrow TwT BYEE!!

(*^▽^)/���*☆♪ I love these long asks!!! Don't worry!!

It was probably cus I finished the chapter at like 3am when i was insecure and anxietyridden that I felt so nervous about it but it sounds like it came out okay! :P I realized that the only time I've ever rlly gone into my Long Standing Kokichi Backstory(Fanon) was in m5 with that girl, so I figured now might as well be the time to explore it more in depth ゜゜(´O｀)°゜

:O That . Roleplay writing story thing. Sounds SUPER INTERESTING omg I love roleplaying!! ♪ヽ(´▽｀)/ i rp with my girlfriend and currently im on my #316th streak of reminding her to respond. its success rate is stagnatingly low

Tsumugi's Mood seems to have been a big part of everyones assumptions so,, I'll tell u this. There are very specific "styles" of torture each person will do. The violent one prefers to be physical, the cruel one (also known as "doll whumper" in my notes ;3) prefers things on a more psychological standpoint, but will definitely lash out if they lose enough patience (hence them dislocating kokichis shoulder QwQ)

i cant say much more than that cus i fear i have a story to write and i cant give out "spoilers" or whateverrr but . time will tell!

Thank you so so much though!! Im super glad ur enjoying it lol (*＞∇＜)ﾉ

[astolfofo]

coming back here again to be annoying sorry- but have you been enjoying hsr? any brain rot thoughts so far? :>

ur not annoying in the slightest! ty for sending in these asks. I've been enjoying Hsr a lot. I'm kinda busy as of right now, so I haven't been playing too much, and I haven't gotten too far in the story. But. I will be playing and writing more in July. So... we'll see until then

also I'm so sorry for just like. answering these like more than half a day apart, I wrote this at 3am and forgot to post it. So I apologize for any spelling errors or if it's like. Uncomprehendable.

As for brainrot ideas...

Okay so the first one I had was about Isekai!engineer reader. Honestly, sort of more like an oc at this point, but it's kinda more of my own self-insert more than anything so... hehe. Basically my idea for this is that like, any good old classic isekai. You're living your life, as an engineering major, until you get pulled into the HSR world. No reason why, but now you're just here. Depending on where you land, it's either gonna get bloody and brutal for you, or it's gonna be a cakewalk, so you have to be careful.

You're given a weapon (gun) for basic self defense, and you know the basic skills, but to survive, but... it's not like these skills will be of much use against an entire world with an envoirment the real world can only dream of.

But it's okay. You're an engineer. You've been through tough times, you know how to survive. You're not one of those wimpy kids who took computer science, or computer engineering. You've been out in the wild for various projects, you've survived long periods of harsh times. You're confident in your practical survival abilities. You have to be. Plus, it's not like you can hesitate, cause you might die at any given point. You're not from this world, and you know people are hostile here.

And because I'm a helpless simp for Kafka (this entire au was literally made while i was thinking about kafka hhhhnnng), no matter where you land initally, given that you survive, you're gonna run into Kafka, and she's gonna take you. Because you're interesting to her, you're an exception to the world. You don't have any future, nor a destiny, you were guaranteed to die.

But not anymore. Kafka's going to keep you no matter what. No one else will be able to have you. She'll have you alive, even if it's the last thing she does.

And you can't escape Kafka. You can't escape the world until you die. Everyone is after you. For less than pleasant means too.

-------------

Okay also... I've just been having chronic brainrot over Dan Heng.

Like just... Him. Him as a very self aware, yet painfully unaware yandere is just... incomprehendable screaming noises. Like he's introverted, has attachment issues, and is just hella repressed. He'd know these emotions... feelings aren't normal, but he can't help himself as he just falls into insanity. Maybe you showed kindness to him, maybe you looked at him a bit more than usual, or even talked to him. Well, whatever it is, he can't help but long for more of it. It's been too long since he had a will for something. It's wrong. It's so wrong. He's aware enough to know that. But you make him feel complete. And he can't help it. He can play this war of mind and heart all he wants, but in the end he'll always succumb to his emotions.

And he'll win you over no matter what. It's the only thing he can do.

--------------------------------

Oh a few others just include like... mean girl Seele/Bronya (Heather's style au. no I will not elaborate. please ask me to elaborate)

Yandere trailblazer too...

Oh Oh and Asta x Subordinate reader (I love asta)

[rocketyship]

Hey, it's the anon who sent the really long ask and I'm sorry to say but i forgot what i was going to write about AM so I've put off sending another ask hoping I'd somehow remember 3am me's thoughts. That's obv not going to happen, though, so here's what i can scrounge up!

Your AM is in the very unique position of not only being non-human but also the only person BE openly has, let's say a... "dislike" for. There are ways he could relate to the humans of course (treated like a pet, not given any real self-determination etc) but it's experience is so different in so many other ways.(Naomi and AM were both "taken in" by BE while they were still.. idk young might not be the right word, but Naomi had time to grow up a bit before the whole thing while AM barely had time to realise that he's a person. Evan and AM are both seen as different from the others by BE, Evan for being a man and AM for not being one but Evan isn't dealt divine punishment for the whole trying to destroy humanity thing etc.)

Point is that AM as the narrator would be so fundementally different from the others, i think that's why i wanted to write about it. Narration from AM has the potential to be even clearer than Naomi's would be since there are things about BE she wouldn't show in front of the humans and things the humans just wouldn't be able to see in the same way(code AM might be privy to they couldn't interpret and such).

BE is also the reason AM can see, hear and feel so while he didn't have over a century to lament over not being able to (like the original AM did) that has to change so much, like you've already shown some of.

Oh and like you brought up in the post after my ask: there's no way traces of BE's code hasn't corrupted AM somehow! How would that change things? Does the corruption increase over time or would he just use that as an excuse for why he cares about these humans now? Would he even acknowledge that he has been "corrupted" or is he still too proud for that somewhere deep down? There's so much potential for character exploration!

The parallels between BE and the original AM is fun too! AM torturing it's humans to reinforce and remind itself of it's hatred for them and superiority over them vs BE torturing your AM as "divine retribution" for his sins and a way to remind herself of her job as her sheep's protector, her love for them as well as a reminder to both herself and your AM of her superiority over him.

Once again, hope you have a nice day!! It made me happy you've enjoyed my asks, and the explanation of the sanctuary was a nice bonus for the one before the last :)

This ended up really rambly, but i hope most of it is understandable and that my interpretations aren't like... completely different from what you were trying to portray. (Also, I'm used to referring to the original AM with it pronouns so i might mess up your AM's he from time to time, so here's a disclaimer that i dont do it on purpose)

You have a very good interpretation of my AM and it pleases me that my work my nonsensical posts came across the way I intended. One thing I have decided moving forward is that the story will be told in chapters or parts told from each characters perspective, with the exception of BE, as idk how to write the utterly bizarre way she thinks with it also being understandable to a reader.

But besides that I really like how you worded everything here, especially in pointing how BE is the counter part of the original AM. Truthfully the AM of this world is so different from the original, that I wouldn’t even describe him as the opposite of the og anymore. And you asked about how her code has corrupted him, and it definitely has become something that has gotten more prominent over time. In the beginning AM for sure had some of his pride and his og “hate-everything”ness, but overtime it has started to fizzle out, mostly as a survival tool priority, in the present time (109 years later) he struggles to recall exactly why he killed humanity in the first place, but still knows he did it as BE reminds him. He is also aware of his love for the humans coming from BE and often has crises if it’s own feelings or hers.

One thing about BE’s treatment of this AM (Who I might start calling Amy Idk), is that the body she gave him is very-very human like, as in it may or may not contain real human organs and bits of flesh, to really give him a warped “human” experience. So like the original AM, she has starved and dehydrated him for extensive periods of time, as well as the severe phycological and physical torture, yet she also doesn’t allow him to really “wonder” around. Although as stated before a bit ago his senses and nerves are hypersensitive, so he is generally very cautious about the stuff he gets up to. But one of the biggest differences between her and the OG AM, is how she has discovered to keep him in place. As in like what many real life abusers do, she kind of love-bombs him. As in she treats him nice sometimes, as it kind of “assures” him that he deserves this and if he behaves well then he can go upstairs and play with the humans. Not really helped that he has figured out that if he’s with the humans, BE doesn’t do anything (well she does it’s just more subtle), so that in of itself has definitely contributed to his love of the humans, finding safety with them, especially Evan who he has a particular interest in.

His body has contributed to him gaining things the og AM probably didn’t have cause of his circumstances, or at least a more tamer version. As you stated he is “young”, although I wouldn’t describe him as a child really, just kind of immature. Like he’s kind of goofy when his guard is down, if not clingy. His body is very sensitive, so while that does mean he experiences horrendous agony, it also goes the opposite way. So his odd cuddliness and enjoyment of warm things isn’t just me liking the idea of him in a pile of plushies I swear.

Anyhow I love your asks and everything, you se so cool. Thank you so so much. Hopefully you understood this ramble of mine like you did the others :D

[crystalsnow95z]

Part 2 to my Taejin story. So..it's gonna need a part 3. I cut a lot from it.

Jin takes a break from taking care of Taehyung boiling some water to make himself a quick meal. His nose started developing an itch, similar to Taehyung's a quiet sneeze escaping him. "Hehtigh.."

I sure hope that's the only one..

Jin poured the boiled water into the instant Ramen cup. I should try to give Taehyungie a steamy shower when his fever lowers a bit. It should help with his clogged nose.

Jin continued to think of ways to help the younger vocalist while he tried to eat his noodles as quietly as possible, trying not to wake him. He only makes it halfway through the cup before his stomach feels uncomfortably full.

"Heh..Hah...heitchi..!" Taehyung wakes himself up with his own sneezes, the itch building up again. "He'itxchi!"

"Aiish..You scared me.." Jin places his hand over his racing heart.

Sorry Hyung..

Taehyung texts with a sniffle.

"It's okay. I didn't expect you to be up so soon.. are you hungry? I made some ramen, but I can't finish it.." Jin offers the half eaten ramen, but Taehyung shakes his head searching for his phone.

I'm not hungry.. my stomach still hurts..

"That's okay, Voo.. I'll make you some tea for now. We have to do something for your voice.." Jin uses some leftover water from the pot pouring into a cup adding ginger teabags. "Namjoon got you gingseng, so it might be a little bitter.."

"heh'tixhti!" Taehyung sneezes into the blanket, sniffling, trying to rub away the itch, but without success "HEHTICHIH! Heh..he..Heitchis!"

I don't want bitter..

Taehyung types with a frown, wiping his nose with the back if his hand.

"Tete, please just try for me?" Jin asks gently, steeping the tea. "I'll even drink some with you."

But you don't mind it..

Taehyung pouts, but takes the cup Jin offers him, but as soon as the steam reaches his nose it triggers a series of sneezes quickly shoving it back into Jin's hands.

"Heh'tixhi.. Heh'itch..HEH'TICHI!" Taehyung whimpers with the last one wiping his nose with the side of his hand.

"Aiigo, use a tissue.." Seokjin tuts at him, cleaning off his hand with the wash cloth. "What am I going to do with you? You're like a little baby." He smiles fondly, getting him a tissue.

"Sorry..habit.." Taehyung whispers, trying to clear his nose once more facing away from Jin. More thick mucus comes out, giving him momentary relief, but he knew it'll only be minutes until it's right back where it started. He went to complain to Jin, but when he tried talking again, only a cough came.

"No talking Tae. Okay?" Jin takes a seat next to him tapping Taehyung's phone.

I hate this.. I can't make up my mind if I'm hot or cold, I can't breathe, my head hurts, I keep feeling dizzy, and I can't even talk.. There's no point of using a tissue..it just comes back a minute later.. how am I going to perform?

Taehyung types up his frustrations, feeling tears trying to form with the last sentence. He blinks quickly, looking up to try to stop them, but one still rolls down his cheek.

"Vuu, come here.. don't cry. We'll figure this out.." Jin pulls him close, gently scratching his nails across his back, clenching his jaw when he feels the sweat soaking his shirt. "You can't stress yourself out baby, you'll only make yourself worse.."

Taehyung wraps around Seokjin, burying his face in his shoulder. He tries to fight off the tears by closing his eyes tightly, but they still find their way out, landing on Jin's shoulder.

"Shh..it's okay baby..it's okay.." Jin pulls Taehyung closer, trying to calm the sick vocalist. I need to distract him..

"Hey Taehyungie, do you want to watch something together? We can watch a Ghibli movie like old times. Would you like that?"

Taehyung nods slightly, slowly letting go of Jin so he can get up.

Jin feels the itch in his nose, pursing his lips together as he fights off the urge to sneeze scruching up his nose. I can't sneeze with Taehyung already being so sensitive..

"Hang on, Vuu, I gotta go wash my hands, okay?" Jin dismisses himself to the bathroom, turning on the water to try to mask his sneezes.

"Hehitch!" Jin covers his face with both hands. "Hehitcgh!" He takes some toliet paper to blow his nose. "This isn't good.." Jin speaks to himself, looking at the cloudy white goo in the tissue before folding it up and throwing it away, pushing it to the bottom of the trash can.

"Heh'tixhich!" Taehyung's sneeze is heard over the water, Jin quickly washing his hands and turning it off to go to the sick dongsaeng. "Heh'heh..Heh.HEHTITCGHDH.." Taehyung tried to stop it from coming by pinching the bridge of his nose, but it came anyway. "Ugh.."

"Are you okay, Vuu?" Jin offers him the tea cup.

Taehyung shakes his head, pressing his palms into his forehead. His head was throbbing, making him feel dizzy. "Spinning.." He whispers.

"Come here, baby, let me try help.."Jin comes behind Taehyung, gently moving him to lean against his chest, finding his temples and rubbing his thumbs across with small circles.

Taehyung relaxes underneath Jin's touch, ebbing away some of the pain, the dizziness fading. "Than-" Taehyung coughs, being reminded about how raw his throat was.

"Shh.. you don't have to thank me Tae-yah. Move for a minute, I'm going to go get the tea. At least try to drink a little for me?"

Taehyung sits up, moving off of Jin. "Okay.."

Jin gets the tea, handing it to his dongsaeng. "Here Vuu."

Taehyung sips it, face distorting at the bitter taste. "Hyung.." He tries to shove it back into Jin's hands, but he doesn't accept it.

"I know, I know. I'll ask for sugar next time, just drink as much as you can." Jin puts his hand on Taehyungs head, giving him an applogetic smile. "Just a bit?"

Taehyung drinks a quarter of it before the annoying itch returns. "I gotta sneeze.." he whispers hoarsely, barely getting it into Jin's hand before a wet sneeze comes. "HEHTICHIH!"

"Bless you, Tae. Here. Wipe your nose." Jin gets him a tissue.

"Heh..tichizh..!" Taehyung sneezes quickly grabbing the tissue to try to clean up the snot that leaked down his face.

"The medicine should've kicked in.." Jin says softly, heart tightening when he hears Taehyung coughing again. He didn't seem any better than before he took it, besides his cheeks looking less flushed than before.

"I'm feeling better, I am.. my head doesn't hurt as much.." Taehyung tries to reassure Jin, but his voice doesn't come out louder than a whisper, sniffling as another sneeze tries to come.

"Voo, you don't need to lie to me." Jin says, gently rubbing Taehyung's back before getting up to set up his laptop. "It's okay.. we'll figure this out. Let's watch that movie. After we'll get you in the shower."

Taehyung cuddles up to Jin as soon as he sits down again, nodding. He's warm.. Was he always this warm, or am I just running a fever still?

Taehyung quickly types on his phone.

If my fever is gone by practice can I go?

"Practice? Oh Vuu I don't think that's a good idea." Jin's jaw clenched when he sees Taehyung's shiny eyes, not wanting to upset him. "If you do go, you wouldn't be able to sing and you'd have to take it easy."

We usually take it easy during practices close to a concert. I'll be okay..

"I'll ask the others when it's closer to that time. Right now we all need to focus on resting up." Jin gently runs his fingers through Taehyung's hair. "You're still sweating, baby.. Try to sleep a little more. I'll text Namjoon-ah about practice okay?"

Taehyung nods, nuzzling into Jin's neck, the older man wrapping his arms around him watching the brightly colored movie on the screen. He only made it halfway through before drifting to sleep.

"Kim Taehyung, Kim Taehyung!" Army cheered for him, laying flat on the set bed, the music to Stigma playing in his in-ear.

Taehyung goes to sing, but he can't make a sound. The more he tried, the more pain it caused, only coughing.

No..no I have to sing..I have to..

Taehyung sat up to try to make it easier to sing, but the coughing didn't stop scarlet droplets spraying out. He covers his face, trying to stand to leave the stage, but his knees collapse underneath him. He could hear all the voices of Army crying to see him that way hurt even more than his throat, that felt like it was being ripped from the inside.

"Vuu!" Jin runs to the stage to his side, but as soon as he touches Taehyung, he starts coughing, his skin losing all its color. "I..i.."

No.. no Hyung... Taehyung reached to touch Jin, feeling the blistering fever that made him unbearable to touch. He'll die if i don't bring it down..

Taehyung forces himself to endure Jin's body heat. It felt like he was hugging fire to his chest. His blood ran cold when he saw the others rushing to help him.

He tried to scream, but no sound came. No, no please don't touch, you'll get sick too..

Taehyung's silent scream filled the hotel room.

"Woah, Woah Taehyungie, Taehyung it's okay, it's okay!" Jin hugs Taehyung closer to his chest, cursing himself for falling asleep. "Vuu wake up.."

Taehyung's eyes fly open, clinging to the oldest member tears flooding down his cheeks. "Hyung.. I'm sorry..I'm so 'ry..I din nt mean..." Coughs cut off his incoherent sobbing, Jin stroking his hair.

"Shh, its okay, its okay it was only a dream.. Taehyung please you need to breathe. Deep breaths Vuu." Jin strokes his hand down his back. "Y-your making your fever worse.."

Taehyung holds his breath to try to stop himself from coughing, trying to shake the memory of the dream away, cuddling into Jin's cold clammy collarbone.

He's in a cold sweat because I scared him.. he's not burning up, he's fine.. it was just a dream.. only a dream.. Taehyung takes deep shaky breaths.

"That's it..Good.." Jin takes deep breaths along with him. "It was only a dream.. everything is fine except that you're not well.. Vuu we need to cool you down. We need to get you in the bath."

"Will you bathe with me?" Taehyung mouths the words.

"Of course Voo." Jin gently gets him to his feet, letting him lead on him. "Slowly, slowly.." he takes a few steps before Taehyung stops moving. "What's wrong?"

"I..ah..heh'itch! HETHIXH!" Taehyung sneezes, making them fall forward, Jin helping them to their knees. "Hah..hah..etichiff!" He tries to muffle them.

"Don't try to stop them, you'll only feel worse.." Jin scolds him.

"I don't want you to get sick.." Taehyung whispers.

It's too late for that. I'm feeling too weak to even help support your full weight..

"Don't worry about me.. just worry about getting better." Jin helps Taehyung back to his feet, making him to the bathroom. "I'll fill the tub, you get.." Jin felt the itch of a sneeze come, relieved to have his back to Taehyung as he forced the sneeze away.

Taehyung looks at him with confusion.

"Just get undressed. I'll find us clothes." He quickly leaves the room, hoping the running bathtub will cover the sneezes that built up again. "Hehtichih! Heh..itchish!" He sniffles, using a tissue to try to blow his nose as quietly as possible.

Taehyung couldn't hear Jin over his own coughing, filling up a cup of water to try to soothe the pain in his throat. I need to get better. Jin.. he looks so tired, I'm keeping him up..

Jin quickly returns to the room. "Tae I told you to get undressed. What am I going to do with you?"

Taehyung pouts. "Couldn't.."

"It's okay, I know. I'm only teasing you. Let me help." Jin gently pulls the shirt over Taehyung's head. "You're doing your best. Come on, pants.." Jin coughs. "Ah, I'm really thirsty.." he quickly gets a cup of water.

I'm sorry.. you've been too busy with me. I'll try to be easier.

"Don't be sorry. I chose to do this. Get in the bath honey.." Jin gently leads him into the water, getting undressed himself.

Taehyung whines when he gets in the water, curling up into a ball. Jin gets a wash cloth and joins him, wrapping around him. "Cold.." He whispers.

"I know, I know.. its cold for me too.." Jin admits, gently rubbing the wet cloth over Taehyung's body. "We won't stay in too long okay? Just enough to wash you up a bit." He rubs the bar of soap in the cloth, creating a white lather. "Lean against me while I wash your back, okay?"

Taehyung nods, wrapping his arms around Jin's waist as he rubs the cloth down his spine, leaning against his chest, suppressing a cough. His heart is racing.. I'm stressing him out..

Jin washes him quickly, wanting to get out of the water as soon as possible. "Now your hair. Keep your eyes closed tigh..heh'tichi!"

Taehyung quickly picks up his head, giving Jin a concerned look.

"It was only a sneeze, don't worry. I'll be fine. Head down, I have to wet your hair." Jin pushes his head back down, not wanting their eyes to meet.

Jin hummed softly as he washes Taehyung's hair, trying to keep the mood light. "There all...Aiish Taehyung-ah!" He shouts in surprise when the younger member poured water on his head. "What was that for?"

Taehyung smiles softly, taking some shampoo and squeezing it into his palm.

"You don't have to wash me Vuu.."

Taehyung nods, continuing to massage the lather into Jin's hair. It's the least I can do..

The two boys finish washing up, Jin takes Taehyung back to bed. "Here.. you can have your phone back so you can talk."

Taehyung shakes his head, eyes watering.

"Are you feeling okay Tae-yah?" Jin asks, towel drying his hair. "Are you crying?"

Taehyung quickly wipes his eyes,nodding. He takes the phone from Jin, quickly typing.

don't want to miss the concert hyung, but I can hardly talk.. how will I sing..?

"I know, i know. I don’t want you to miss it either.. Don't cry Taehyung, please?" Jin panicks, quickly trying to think of a new distraction. "Oh! Taehyungie..the movie,it reminds me of a fanart I saw of you. You want to see?" Jin quickly searches his phone, pulling up a photo of Taehyung drawn as blonde haired Howl. "I also saw one of Gukkie. See?" Jin tries drawing his attention. Taehyung looks with a sad smile.

Army are super talented. They show us so much love, that's why I want to get better so I can put on a good show..

Taehyung sniffles, wiping his eyes. He's trying his best to cheer me up.. I can't cry about it..I have to be srrong..

"I'll get you well enough by the concert, but you'll probably have to sit. Okay? Even if I have to carry you to a doctor."

Taehyung nods, taking the phone to scroll through the photos, showing him his favorites.

Hyung?

"Yeah?"

"I love you.." Taehyung whispers, sounding clear."Thank you.."

Thank you for trying to cheer me up. I'm sorry you're missing your exploration time..

"You're sounding a bit better Tae." Jin smiles, ignoring his apology. "I can't find as many for me. Jungkookie says it's because I'm too old to be Howl." Jin says with mock offense, getting a giggle out of his ailing teammate.

"I'll draw you as Howl."Taehyung whispers, coughing out the words.

"Vuu shh, don't push it and no drawing me. Your art is weird." Jin teases, stifling a cough, quickly laughing to cover it up.

Are you laughing at my art style? I know I'm not good like Jungkook, but I'll try really hard.

Jin smiles. "I like your art, anyway. I still have a picture you made me in my room."

I didn't see it in your room.

"That's because it's in a memory box, along with other precious gifts."

Taehyung goes to type a response, scolding him for not putting it in a frame, but the sneezes build up again. "He..heh'tichi! Heh'itchugh...HEH'TICHIUGH..augh..hurts.." He whines, covering his face.

"Aiigo, I jinxed it.. I'm sorry.." Jin checks the time. "It's been four hours since the last time I gave you medicine, I'll get you some.. after you need to try to sleep okay?"

Taehyung nods slightly, hiding his face underneath the blanket to cough. Jin looks back at him, taking the opportunity to quickly take a dose of medicine himself, quickly pouring another cup and bringing it to the bed.

Taehyung accepts it with a hiss at the awful taste.

"I know, here, drink some tea." Jin offers, Taehyung looking offended, laughing. "Fine, fine I'll get you water, but after, you should go to sleep.. I'll restart the movie, since we both fell asleep halfway through." Jin sets the laptop back up,gently rubbing his hand down Taehyung's side, suppressing a cough as he gets up to get some water.

He doesn't allow himself to show any signs of sickness until he the was sure he was asleep, getting him a drink of water. "Sleep well Tae.." He whispers, wrapping around him. Jin waits a few minutes to hear Taehyung's soft snores before texting Namjoon.

Me and Taehyung won't be going to practice..I'm not feeling well either..

(To be continued... sorry I didn't edit this.)

[dragonagitator]

If I were to time travel back to 2004, I think one of my biggest ongoing difficulties would be remembering to always speak in the formal register (which hasn't changed much in 20 years) lest I accidentally reveal myself as being not from around here now by slipping back into my casual register (which is full of 2024 colloquialisms and internet slang).

Imagine saying to someone in 2004, "My spoonie friend posted that YouTube clip of House's 'Life is Pain' rant on her Facebook and I was like, 'That slaps. Mood.'"

That's a perfectly understandable statement to almost anyone who might be reading this on Tumblr in 2024, but would sound like schizophrenic word salad to 2004 ears.

Even if I were able to keep up constantly speaking in the formal register despite how exhausting and unnatural it would feel, I'd still have communication difficulties. IRL I rarely speak to anyone in the formal register anymore, even at work -- my last couple of jobs were in very laid-back environments where everyone else was at least a decade younger than me -- and I've noticed recently that when I force myself to switch to the formal register, I always sound pissed off even when I'm not.

It finally clicked that the reason I've lost the ability to emote appropriately while speaking in the formal register is that for the past few years, there's been only one context in which I consistently speak in the formal register every single time: Leaving angry voicemails for US Senators.

It cracks me up that somewhere in the language part of my brain, I've apparently got a bit of code running that "Senators = teh oldz" and therefore I must address them using a register that feels frozen in time. Not only was this not a conscious decision, but it's also so hard-coded that I instinctively switch to the formal register even while drunk-dialing their constituent feedback lines at 3am.

(Pro tip: If you have never drunk-dialed your Senator at 3am, you're not Americaning hard enough. Get to it, kiddies.)

Thinking about time travel has made me realize just how much colloquial English has changed over the past 20 years and how it keeps getting weirder and weirder at an accelerating rate. Speaking in code to route around censorship algorithms. New slang spreading within days instead of years. Horrible new suffixes. An emerging fourth person pronoun. It's wild.

I lived through these changes. I was already a grown adult back in 2004. And even I would have to carefully mind my speech in order to blend in and be understood. Can you imagine what would happen if you sent an extremely online Zoomer back 20 years?

[tinykpopstories]

I've been thinking about omegaverse Ateez living their post-idol pack life a ton lately and the way hongjoong would just deadass ignore the fact that hes in labor until someone points it out to him is kinda sending me but in like a soft way lmao

Hongjoong is achey and grumpy and can't get comfortable, so he can't sleep, so he might as well be working since he won't have time to work when the baby comes.

He's been working from the apartment for the last week-ish between having had a pretty heated fight with Mingi the last time he was at the studio and the fact that he's pretty much constantly leaking slick being so close to his due date, so he's been going through sweatpants like crazy.

He finally says "fuck it" and packs his shit to go to the studio for a distraction, kisses his barely-awake husband and leaves.

Seonghwa sleepily wanders in barely an hour later with an americano for himself and a chai latte for Hongjoong. His beloved mate is totally in the zone, eyes locked onto his screen as he makes one adjustment after another, but he does catch Seonghwa's hand when he sets down the latte to press a kiss to his knuckles with a murmur of thanks.

"You didnt have to get up just because im up, love. You could have stayed in bed." Hongjoong says quietly between clicks.

"Couldnt get back to sleep." Seonghwa admits as he settles onto the couch with his stuff. "Felt like I couldn't relax without you nearby so I thought I'd come keep you company." Hongjoong knows the feeling. While he's still not the most touch-feely, even after years of being together, being surrounded by Seonghwa and their other packmates' scents relaxes and grounds him when he's tense. Seonghwa isn't at all surprised that Hongjoong is bundled up in one of his favorite hoodies, zipped all the way up and hood pulled forward to envelop himself in as much of Seonghwa's scent as possible. Somehow he looks tiny like this, hunched over in the oversized garment, though it fits snug around the belly taking up so much of Hongjoong's frame. Seonghwa smiles softly to himself. His husband is so cute. He busies himself with the newest animal crossing game, determined to not be a distraction for Hongjoong, but he can't quite immerse himself in his game the way his husband is with his own screens. He looks up to see Hongjoong wince and shift slightly in his seat.

"Is he going FIFA mode in there again?" Seonghwa asks with an amused smile, thinking of Hongjoong's complaints about his his insides being used for soccer practice the last few weeks. Hongjoong shakes his head.

"Contraction. Had one or two the last couple days."

At thirty-nine weeks, that was to be expected. Warmth fills Seonghwa at the prospect of meeting their little boy. He's a little apprehensive, as any good husband is, but Hongjoong is in good health and their doctor had said everything looked perfect just two days prior, so he's more excited than anything. He glances at the clock on his game out of curiosity. 6:42 AM. Early, but nothing like when they'd been active idols back in the day. Sometimes he missed performing onstage with his pack and his mate, but he much preferred these later starts to the 3am wakeup calls they used to deal with.

He goes back to his game, dutifully plucking weeds and rearranging flowers and furniture to suit his vision, peeking up now and then to admire his husband as he works. Hongjoong's desk chair squeaks slightly with movement and Seonghwa glances up to in time to catch hongjoong wince again, one hand gently pressed to the bottom of his bump. Seonghwa glances back at his in-game clock again. 7:38. He frowns lightly. Less than an hour apart. He starts watching Hongjoong more closely then, tracking every time he pulls a face. Years spent working together had taught Seonghwa to read Hongjoong like a book, and he can easily read which faces are made at something in his project not turning out the way he wants and which faces are a reaction to physical discomfort. Silently Seonghwa marks in an app every time  his mate tenses up in discomfort and measures the time between. Forty five minutes. Forty two. Thirty seven. Thirty six. Hours roll by, and Seonghwas tension grows and grows.  Today is the day. He's sure of it. He lets Hongjoong work uninterrupted, apart from trying to nudge him into eating something around ten or so. Hongjoong barely glances away from his screen, but he does eat a little, and Seonghwa's not about to demand his husband detach from his work just to experience his increasing contractions with no distraction. Not yet at least. It's not until Hongjoong has been fiddling with the same stretch of track without making any solid changes for a while and Seonghwa's tracker is showing a pretty consistent 10 minutes between contractions that he gathers his things and gently places a hand on his husband's shoulder. Hongjoong removes his headphones with a soft questioning noise, looking up at his mate from under the hood of his jacket with that doe-eyed gaze Seonghwa loves.

"Its time to go, baby." Seonghwa says gently.

"Go where?" Hongjoong hasn't quite caught up with situation.

"The hospital, Joong. I've been timing your contractions. they're like ten minutes apart, so unless you plan on having the baby here in the studio, we should go now."

Before Hongjoong can think to say anything another contraction squeees down on him, ten minutes exactly from the last. His face pinches in pain, breath coming in a hiss as he inhales sharply through gritted teeth. It's a lot harder to ignore the feeling of being headbutted in the cervix once it's been pointed out to you, he finds. He takes a moment to really take stock of his body and all its sensations. Seonghwa's right. They should go now.

Seonghwa's hand is firm in his, gently pulling him to his feet, keeping him steady on the way to the car, keeping him grounded as they drive. Hongjoong shoots a few texts to the rest of the pack and to his and Seonghwa's parents. He's full of an energy he hasn't felt since the stage. He's excited and a bit frightened all at once, but he's never been one to back down from a challenge, especially when he wants something, and he wants a family with Seonghwa more than he's ever wanted anything in his life. With his husband's hand in his, he waddles a determined march through the hospital doors and into the next chapter of his life.

A few hours later Hongjoong is awake, vaguely rested, and ready for visitors. Yunho and Mingi are the first to arrive, finding their pack leaders cuddled up together, Seonghwa pressed so close to his husband's side if he got any closer hed be in the hospital bed with him. Mingi plops into the chair at Hongjoong's free side and shuffles in close, doing his best not to cry. He chokes out an apology for the fight they'd had earlier in the week that Hongjoong handwaves away with a tired smile. They've fought in the studio for years before, they'll fight in the studio for years to come. Mingi opens his mouth to protest but his voice dies in his throat when Hongjoong carefully passes him the baby. Mingi does cry then.

"He's so beautiful, hyung. I cant believe how tiny he is." Hongjoong makes a face at Seonghwa at those words and Seonghwa laughs quietly. He'd said the same thing when he'd first held his son and Hongjoong had grumbled a tired "Didn't feel tiny, that's for fucking sure."

"What's his name?"

"Park Yonghwa" Hongjoong answers, beaming at Seonghwa.

Yunho carefully strokes a finger over the baby's cheek and wraps an arm protectively around Mingi's shoulders, and he leans into quietly whisper in Mingi's ear.

"Eight months baby, and we'll have ours. They'll be best friends." That warms Mingi's heart. The thought of their kids growing up together as part of the pack, playing together, fighting and making up and learning together as one big family. He hands Yonghwa back to Hongjoong gently and his heart flutters in his chest watching him and Seonghwa curl around their child. Soon enough that will be him and Yunho.

"I'm pregnant" Mingi blurts out, then claps a hand over his mouth.

Three shocked faces look to him and he flushes bright pink. "Sorry, that just slipped out. We weren't going to say anything and now I just said it and, fuck, I messed this all up, this is your moment and I-"

"Breathe, princess." Yunho tells him, cutting off his panicked rambling. He rubs a comforting hand down Mingi's back and gives the new parents an apologetic look. "We were going to wait until you came home to tell you, didn't wanna take away from your moment, but I guess the secret's out. Surprise?"

Hongjoong and Seonghwa exchange a look before soft smiles spread over both their faces.

"I told you something was up with them." Seonghwa says, the barest hint of a smirk on his lips.

"Yeah yeah, you were right. You always are." Hongjoong rolls his eyes but he's openly smiling. "How far along?" He turns back to Mingi.

"Like a month? We're still kinda wrapping our heads around the whole thing to be honest."

"Wooyoung's going to be jealous." Hongjoong teases.

Wooyoung is away on a final tour, having moved back to Hybe as one of BTS' backup dancers when KQ shut down, and they all knew he was counting down the days until his contract expired so he, San, and Yeosang could start trying for a baby. He had already texted that he would facetime them as soon as his show was over, and San and Yeosang would do the same. They didn't want Wooyoung to be the only member of the pack to not meet the baby and were visiting Yeosang's parents until Wooyoung's return in three days. In between, the grandparents arrive to coo over their grandson, Hongjoong melting under his mother's doting care while Seonghwa proudly presents Yonghwa to his own parents. Wooyoung and his mates all facetime at once and Wooyoung's baby fever kicks up another notch. Now all they're missing is the youngest, now second-youngest, member of their pack. Jongho arrives just as Seonghwa and Hongjoong's parents leave for their hotel, quietly ducking through the door with a large bouquet of flower and an even bigger smile. He giggles when Seonghwa tells him the baby's name, claiming it's fitting for the news he wants to share with them. Just then a soft knock sounds at the door and somehow Jongho's smile lights up even brighter.

"Hyungs, there's someone I want you to meet," He says. He pokes his head out the door and quietly gestures for someone to come in, and they're met with a familiar face from years ago. "This is my boyfriend, Lee Yongsoo."

[thepringlesofblood]

Major ACOC Spoilers

so, there are a few posts out there pointing out two math errors in acoc ep9 - Liam’s damage to Ciabatta being miscounted as 67 instead of 77, and Jet’s riposte for 13 damage not hitting Ciabatta when it should’ve. this is true. this might lead one to wonder, “well, if those extra 23 points of damage were counted, would Ciabatta be dead? would Jet have lived?”

I wanna clear things up for all of yall who are watching ACOC for the first time after the ravening war, so i did the math (under the cut) by counting his hp in the finale as he took damage.

Ciabatta had 118 hp

it wouldn’t have made a difference. if both errors were fixed and he was dealt the full 77 + 13, he’s still walking out of there with 28 hp.

to be clear: absolutely no shade on the intrepid heroes/brennan. no one clown on this post about whether they should’ve done this or that. it was 3am in a warehouse in Hollywood on a wicked messed up shooting schedule. Jet’s death was a beautiful, emotional scene, and it’d be weird and narratively dissonant to go back and redo it bc some math was wrong.

i did this math bc my logic brain just needs to know how the numbers do for my own personal peace of mind. given the several other posts I’ve seen trying to calculate this same thing, others have the same problem. so. enjoy.

Ciabatta doesn’t physically appear in the finale until pt 2

“The last Ceresian force musters, appears at the front of the wall with Imperator Ciabatta” is at 1:33:00ish

first damage done to him is by Saccharina, when she Cone of Colds his whole force in front of the castle for 41 damage (1:37:08). it hits him and the forces he was leading, and they do not save for half.

after that we have this exchange:

Zac: Ciabatta's-

Brennan: Ciabatta is still very much alive.

Emily: Okay. He's very much alive though, he's doing really well?

Brennan: Yes.

Emily: Okay. Then just to fuck with him, I'm gonna fire breathe on him.

and she does. Cinnamon uses his breath weapon to deal 57 damage, demolishing the rest of the forces

Brennan: He does not save for half. He goes from looking wounded but okay to injured, badly injured.

then of course the final damage is done by Ruby w the water-steel dagger

Siobhan: It's 4d6.

Brennan: 4d6, he just rolled a natural 4 on his Constitution save.

Siobhan: Great, it's actually three Constitution saves. It's 12.

Brennan: 12 damage, but you also add your sneak Attack.

Ally: Oh!

Brennan: Yeah.

Siobhan: 12, 14, 16.

Brennan: More than 20?

Siobhan: Yeah.

Brennan: Standing in the burned and frozen remains of his soldiers, what happens to Imperator Ciabatta?

[as a 7th lvl rogue, Ruby has 4d6 sneak attack dice]

so, presumably, Ciabatta had 20 hp left before being stabbed.

41 + 57 + 20 = 118

now, I highlighted those exchanges for a reason. It is technically possible that Brennan was using a similar mechanic for Ciabatta leading his troops as the PCs leading theirs- being attacked as a troop by another troop does deal the commander as an individual some of the damage, but not all. so, the Cone of Cold may not have dealt all 41 points of damage to him. here’s how he’s described after the Cone of Cold

“very much alive” “doing really well”

after breath weapon “He goes from looking wounded but okay to injured, badly injured“

so it is possible that the Cone of Cold did not do full damage bc of troop mechanics. however. personally I feel like since Saccharina is not attacking as a troop but as an individual (with a dragon), it’s not troop v troop action.

fun fact: Saccharina’s breath weapon attack + Ruby’s finishing blow is 77 damage - the same amount of damage Liam (should have) done to Ciabatta in episode 9 (that didn’t take him down)

so as long as Saccharina’s Cone of Cold did more than 13 damage [Jet’s riposte] to Ciabatta (which I’d fucking think it would even w very unlikely troop mechanics), then it wouldn’t have made any difference.

and bc we know he took at the very least a non-zero amount of damage from the Cone of Cold (“wounded but okay”), nothing would’ve saved Jet. the other assassins had already hit, and even with the math fixed on Liam’s damage 77 would never have taken him down. the only difference even possible is that her 13 damage riposte might’ve downed him, but even that is extremely unlikely - Ciabatta would’ve had to take less than half damage from Cone of Cold, and he did not save.

[wishfuldeity]

im just gonna minimal editing thought dump before i try sleep becuase i think i need that

fuckk no yeah im Doing The Thing again. yk, that thing i post about at least like once a week at this point? where my sense self just up and splits off? yeah. that. might be sleep deprivation related. idk. theyre correlated at the very least.

we're not completely separate yet. (we being my body and my mind) (no wait it just kinda happened) yeah ok so from here on out i/me is the mind that does. she/her and sometimes it/its is the body that feels. unless she does something. idk.

i was gonna say she sleeps in too much but like, we're literally up at 3am. have been for the past 2 nights (tonight and yesternight) (as in, was up past 3 last night)

and it doesnt think its a bad thing? like she enjoys drifting in and out of consiousness, at least the concept of it. in practice its a little less interesting but yk

i really do think she just needs someone to hold. someone made of flesh and blood and bones who can listen to her and who she can listen to as well. like it longs to be held but i think she also has the need to comfort. to tell someone else its gonna be okay and believe it with all her being. to be their shoulder to cry on.

hooly shit we're touch starved. i dont usually have the ability to "feel" that i just kinda guess but no, i feel it. shes yearning hard. i know for a fact if she were on hrt she'd be SOBBING about this. plushies are nice and all and do help a little but they aren't living. she needs a living breathing person here

once again not labelling this split as anything. feels less like multiple separate individual things and like two halves of a whole separated with minimal communication between them. my ability to ""sense"" the body's emotions is kinda vibes based.

like i can "see" an emotion and how potent it is but i dont actually feel it really. if it is strong enough she can sometimes do something about it tho which is interesting (like earlier she grabbed the teddy next to her and hugged it hard)

from our (mostly my) minimal research (im unqualified as shit) this feels like it could be depersonalisation-derealisation??? we often get both at the same time so....

do have the classic thing where whenever an... i guess ill call it an episode. whenever an episode happens during the day im always like "it always happens when i think about it" "am i trying to prove something" so it feels like we're faking it but im pretty sure thats just because literally everything feels fake when that happens so.... yeah

like (in shorter term episodes) everything suddenly feels like im looking at it through a screen? like everything becomes flat.

idk. its 4 now. shes eepy and cute. im tired and dont have a separate physical form, so i guess im cute too. its been a surprisingly long day given that we did fucking nothing. again.

she'll snuggle and cuddle her teddy and ill... idk what happens to me when she sleeps

ok on behalf of my body, gn chat!!!! :3:3 she loves you all in the moot way. hugging you petting your hair squishing your cheeks :3 meow

[isolaradiale]

ISOLA MUNDAY (MAY 2024)

I may have forgotten to run this last week until the end of the day but we're doing it this week! The activities are the same as last month and, of course, you're welcome to repost the posts you made then if you don't want to make something new!

feel free to post an intro in the "#isola mun intro"! it can just be a little blurb about yourself, your name, that kind of thing! we'll be including a little form further down in this post for you to include in your intro if you'd like!

in a similar vein we have an "#introductions" channel in our public discord server! if you've posted in it before and it's been a while, today might be a good day to update your introduction there! or if you've never been in the server before you can always join through this link!

you could post an "#isola follow" post for your character if you haven't already, update and repost your existing one, or create a permanent starter call in its place! not only do these help others get to know your character but they also help with thread ideas. we also suggest pinning one of these to your blog for easy future access!

there's never a bad time to make a new RP ad (unless its like 3am on Meme Friday) but today might be a good day to make a new ad in the "#isola rp ad" if you're looking for new thread! you could also explore it to see if there any open ads you might be interested in liking!

we'll be allowing the reblogging and answering of memes until 3AM EST on the 2nd provided they are OOC memes! memes like these include character information or development memes, aka memes that you answer about your character or yourself and not from your character's point of view.

Below we have a form that you could use for your Munday post! It isn't necessary to include all of these fields, please only share what you're comfortable with sharing, and if you'd rather do it in a freeform way that's totally up to you!

NAME / ALIAS: AGE / AGE GROUP: PRONOUNS: TIMEZONE: WHERE ARE YOU FROM?: CHARACTERS IN THE GROUP: A LITTLE ABOUT YOURSELF:

Have a great Monday!

-- the island stars.

[lazer-screwdriver]

my genius plan to lure you into reblogging that post worked- i mean. uh.

anyway. what i was thinking for the headcanons thing: i’m assuming the nanogenes would probably, since they heal things right away, undo any kind of body modification as well, piercings and the like, specifically tattoos. meaning that if she were so inclined, she’d have to find a clever way around that to get the nanogenes to leave a tattoo alone.

(which. feel free to ignore this bit and just use the first part, but speculating here in Weird and Kinda Metal territory: tattoo ink made with her own blood? presumably might at least last a little while longer if it’s part of her she’s putting back into herself because the nanogenes don’t attack it as quickly? (we are ignoring the reality that, cool as it would be, blood cannot be used to make tattoos. this is doctor who. bees are an alien species. there are no rules.))

UR SO CORRECT, piercings would probably be easier because if you left the metal in long enough it would heal around it (whether or not that would last through another injury is kind of a shot in the dark but temporarily at least it’s possible) but ur completely right abt tattoos being uhhhh difficult! Using blood for tattoos seems like the kind of weird 3am idea she’d come up with and spend 4 days trying to rearrange her blood vessels into cool patterns and accidentally kill part of her skin bc “cool” isn’t actually efficient for spreading oxygen dhsbsvs. A proper design would probably use melanin and chlorophyll and such to change to top layer :O!