(Slight TW/CW for injury)
With how their whole positivity/negativity thing works (and that they're the only ones who can mortally wound each other), what if Dream and Nightmare aren't able to physically touch anymore?
Imagine, in the past, the brothers' main love language was physical touch (hugs, play fighting, etc). But after they ate the apples, the negativity and positivity act like poison to the other as a defense mechanism.
Any prolonged contact will burn Dream and make Nightmare's corruption boil and melt. It is extremely painful for both of them.
Imagine how this affects them in Parallel Synthesis.
When after all the fighting, after they've settled on a truce, after they've found peace and are able to actually be brothers again,
there will always be that one thing they can never have back.
Btw this takes place during the lunch meeting mentioned here! The stars and the gang decided to have an outdoors lunch :]
Dream and Nightmare belong to Jokublog
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Nina, how did Stan figure out Kyle liked him?
ohhhhhh my goddd.
so, i’m still kind of taking a break, but this is sort of a low maintenance ask i can answer quickly
— and it’s cute. c’:
alllllright, so basically after they started secret dating, jerseykyle, having an ego the size of jupiter, was like “…how d’ya even figure out i liked you?” because he thought he was being soooo fkn slick.
he was not, btw. like when have you ever seen kyle GLUED TO HIS PHONE??? and not only that, but this man was sending ‘Haha’ TO STANS LAME ASS MEMES. like are you JOKING??? literally when has jersey ever sent HAHA in his goddamn LIFE????
anyways, stan shrugged n said “well, it was easy…
— you blush everytime i look at you.” ;)
aND JERSEKYLE WAS AGHAAAAST. he was like “I. Do. NAUGHT.” and i shit u not when style gently guided his chin towards him because he looked away to meet his eyes, the way that blush spread over his nose and cheeks and all the way up his ears. UNSERIOUS! SIMP!
to which ravenstan, feeling very victorious indeed, whipped out his compact mirror ( yes, he does actually carry one around bc he be doing his hot boy guylinea ) was like “see?” SO JERSEY KYLE COULD SEE HIS RED ASS MO’FUCKIN FACE. and kyle, extremely humbled, was like “pfpfppftttt!!! l-listen! I HAVE ROSECEA!!!” he was stutterin, that man never stutters. ravenstan nation.
speaking of ravenstan nation, he did in fact do the stupid stan laugh and one dimple smile at him and bop him on the nose and go “aw, that’s so cute.” <3 AND KYLEEEEE OH MY GOD THAT PLACE WHERE STAN TAPPED HIS NOSE WAS SOOOO RED HELPPPPP.
anyways…my sons.
-uncle nina, proud mom
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In the place where the foundations shiver with the weight of every ghost you’ve laid to rest beneath the floorboards / In the liminal, staticky place where you were first made monstrous (made hollow and whimpering and fickle) / In the place that tore you lengthwise and emptied you onto the front porch, you learn to swallow back the rage, hold it captive and writhing in your gut.
You learn your way around a set of teeth.
You learn the hackles-raised, jagged-mouthedness of a home without a scrap of heat. You learn how to pull each of your canines out by the bloodied pulp, all nerve endings and the blunted edges of grief.
You learn it because what other choice do you have? What’s the alternative, when all you’ve ever known is the dull scrape of your back against the wall, of your heart tearing clear through your chest?
And god, god, god (you pray to an empty sky). God, you’re so bitter and your bones are all galvanized under your skin, and it hurts. It fucking hurts.
And yet you’d sooner turn your own snapping jaws on yourself than risk learning what happens to animals that misbehave.
So you make yourself small, you make yourself antiseptic and supplicating and placid. You domesticate every thrashing need to escape. You walk into a family dinner with darting yellow eyes: Cerberus with three heads, each maw zip-tied shut by your own hand. You show them the soft flesh of your underbelly—you show the whites of your eyes.
You bite back the terror, you choke on the wrath. Because what else is there to do?
(inspired by this post from @actual-changeling. thanks for the gut-wrench, alex </3)
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i wish brokeback mountain fics entertained the idea that jack knocked lureen up and thats why they got married more often
cause in the short story jack mentions the fact that he'd never wanted kids or anything like that, so i think its highly plausible that bad luck jack, whos life never seems to go the way he wants it to, would fool around with some rodeo queen one night and he winds up getting her pregnant. and what else can he do but marry her? he's been taught to do the respectable thing, and her daddy would probably find and gut him if he sullied his little girl's reputation and left her to deal w it on her own anyways.
but i just think it would add an extra layer of sadness to it all...the idea that jack, whos pretty much only interested in men, probably only messed around with lureen because he was pent up and lonely and sexually frustrated, and heres this beautiful, rich rodeo cowgirl whos giving this poor ranch boy the eyes and making him feel wanted for once in his sorry godamn life. making him feel like someone sees something worthwhile about him. he doesn't prefer a woman, but he's desperate, and she chose him. she could've had her pick of the bar because shes a big deal and any man would've been lucky to have her, but she chose him.
and now this thing—that was supposed to just be a quick fuck in the backseat of her car to help quell the need for human contact until the next motel cowboy came along—is going to define his entire life.
hes going to do right by her and get married. shes going to have his kid. hes going to be a dad.
his whole life has been laid out before him and the one time he said fuck it and had sex with a woman is all it took for everything to be set in stone. its just so. fucking. sad.
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