#{OOC: MY BRAIN IS NOT BRAINING...}

[nouverx]

*proceeds to drink the whole bottle*

Yeah Alastor you're gonna be loved and appreciated wether you want it or not :)

[cuterrguy]

is this funny i think it’s funny

art/au by @kitsuneisi and @xmaruu11

[homeofwyrm]

Part 2/2 (If I misspelled something, please don't tell me I can't read and will NOT learn)

Finally had some free time to finish this and now the brain worm is fed.

[ask-the-rag-dolly]

this is going to be long . but at this point what else do you expect from me .

i've always had a Feeling that ragatha might've gone through abuse since the pilot , and the feeling got stronger with each new episode . her lines employed a lot of passive voice ; which speaks to how astronomically Low her self-esteem is without actually saying it . on top of that , her behavior blared those alarms for me . constantly blaming herself ? people-pleasing ? emotional repression ? they're hallmarks of the fawn response . you know ... one of the four f's of Trauma Responses .

now knowing that aspect of her backstory it ... Sadly makes sense . did i see it coming ? yes . do i still find it sad how it puts so much of her behavior into perspective ? also yeah .

just taking notes from her present behavior and the tiny hints given of her home life , i imagine she grew up in an overly-controlling , repressive environment deprived of love and affection . the perfect incubation chamber for one , fully fucked-up child , basically . it's no wonder that ragatha's desperate for companionship and validation — because it's something that was never given to her all her life . there's a pit where a mother's love should've filled .

with no mention of her father or any other relative , it paints ... a very bleak and isolating picture . like , no wonder she misses her horses , i think the animals were the Only thing that brought her joy in that farm . either her dad is absent OR if we consider how traditionally feminine ragatha is ( being demure , modest and passive ) , it could be a conservative household that's patriarchal ... or maybe she's a child of divorce . idk which one i prefer lol .

either way , she Might've had ... Zero Support ! i can't believe we've gotten to a point that i could confidently say i was a lot Nicer to ragatha than gooseworx was . like the implications here are Not pretty . it could explain why she's desperately grasping for Any strand of companionship she could have in the circus .

obviously , fawning comes from appeasing to The Threat , and you can make an argument that by appeasing to a non-existent threat in the circus , she thinks she's avoiding The Scenario™ .

but something is telling me that she was taught all her life that love is to be Earned . that you have to Prove that you are worthy of being Loved . and of course , not being able to meet her mother's impossible expectations , she didn't really ... get it . and now being in an environment where there's people that actually Cares for her , she's Grasping . she's keeping them Pleased because It's All She Has . seeking warmth in a dwindling fire kind of thing .

BUT THAT'S JUST MY INTERPRETATION . i'm not really completely with it but ! it's what i came up with . whatever interpretation you can come up with , it adds a level of tragedy into ragatha's increasing distance from the others . her pleasing works for Avoiding Conflict , not for Creating A Deep Connection . which is why i like that one line where gangle thanks ragatha for teaching her softball . ragatha sharing her interest instead of giving empty praise made them bond , yay !

so yeah ragatha needs to be spoiled and pampered lovingly this post is already long enough i'm going to drink water

[oobbbear]

Was playing with idea of fool having tattoos

Fool belongs to @venomous-qwille !

[sweetmapple]

Mostly Hiring manager, but HR manager and PR manager too

[weepingalaxy]

drown myself into sleep / hands are tightly binded breathing dust, grinding teeth / senses are not minded.

everyone play the am i nima demo NOW, i am no longer asking!!

[cxffeek]

We all know what you are Kineshi.

[bluelizze]

Doodle page of Min and Johann (belongs to @bunnygirllover45)

Min’s Toyhou.se Page

idk why but johann is like... comforting to me so im indulging myself. also i love how the entire time doodling this, i was listening to I Love You, I'm Sorry by Gracie Abrams and its funny to me bc i would've listening to something... less soft than that? but idk maybe bc it was raining and it's when nostglia hits.

also yes, the second doodle page is reference to this (which is my fav to reread)

[3am-brainrot]

[jaso7]

sladejay hannibal au feverdream strikes again

[gillmossyagate]

Was talking with a mutual about this earlier but like, if someone somehow managed to get Cale to laugh hard enough, I feel like he would have one of those midwestern dad cackles. Normally he'll have a quiet laugh, snort/smile if he finds something mildly amusing or wheeze silently if something catches him off-guard. But a full belly-laugh? That man CACKLES.

Like imagine:

It's fully silent in the Super Rock Villa because everyone is busy doin their own thing, and then all of a sudden this loud laugh starts echoing through the place, and everyone has a moment of pause when they realize.

Something made Cale fucking Henituse cackle.

This has never happened before, but the same thought crosses everyone's mind:

"We need to hear him laugh like that again."

Suddenly, it becomes a challenge with money on the line. Whoever can get Cale to cackle again will get 100 galleons from everyone participating as well as bragging rights at having made Cale laugh.

Alberu gets involved, and adds the condition that if someone manages to get him to slap his knee while he's laughing, he will give them a golden plaque.

The Henituse Family gets involved.

Duke Fredo von Ejellan gets involved.

Eruhaben gets involved.

Ron motherfucking Molan even joins in.

Everyone is so incredibly invested in this, so much so that Cale has started picking up on a shift in something. He isn't sure what changed, but he starts gaining a 6th sense for dad jokes thanks to all the attempts made by Deruth and Duke Fredo. They were all so bad that they almost looped around to being funny again. The moment Cale feels a dad joke coming, he goes stone-faced in preparation for one of the worst puns known to any race.

At most, if they're bad enough, it makes him crack a smile or snort. But none have managed to make him belly-laugh yet.

Eruhaben and Rosalyn are almost tempted to magic their way through and use a harmless laughing gas, but both agree that it would probably be cheating and also very unethical.

Raon, Ohn, and Hong are in it too. So far, Ohn has come the closest. No one knows how she did it, but she got a laugh out of him. But it wasn't quite THE laugh.

Eventually, when Sui Khan comes around, he catches wind of this alleged cackle-laugh and gets involved too. He doesn't fully join into the challenge. That would be unfair after all, as he's known Cale the longest. But he does help the others out with their ideas or jokes to get Cale to laugh.

A lethal duo begins to form, as Ohn has decided to request Sui Khan's help. No one knows what to expect, but everyone is absolutely in this to win the money and, most importantly, the bragging rights.

[hajimeseyo]

(part 1 here! it's not required for reading this piece, but they are connected, so it'll make more sense if you read the first part first!)

The door to the sewing club slides open with a loud BANG!

“Yo.” A tall, intimidating guy with blond, braided hair strolls in, with all the casualness of someone taking a trip to the convenience store.

You gape wordlessly at him from where you're sitting, still jolted from the lound and sudden bang. Who is this? What does he want?? Has he ever heard of knocking??? 

“Let’s go eat, Mitsuya, I'm hungry as fu– oh, sorry, didn't see you there.” he strides into the room, pausing when he sees you. You can only blankly nod in response, the movement itself almost pure instinct, brain still running on fight or flight mode. 

A light chuckle comes from your right, and you shift your gaze to the lilac haired male sitting next to you. He shoots you a reassuring smile before turning his attention back to the blond, now standing in front of him.

“Gimme a moment, yeah? I'm almost done here.” He motions to the school jacket in his hand. Your school jacket, actually. You accidentally ripped it while you were at school, and Mitsuya insisted on helping you fix it, waving away your voiced worries of taking away his precious lunch time. 

He returns to the current task at hand, hands swiftly and fluidly sewing the tear up, masterful after years of practice. Your gaze returns back to the blond guy as he pulls up a chair from one of the nearby tables and plops down across from Mitsuya. They seem familiar with each other, the way both are relaxed in each other’s presence. 

“Oh yeah, this is Draken, by the way. The guy I was telling you about.” Mitsuya pauses briefly from his sewing to introduce the new person in the room. You immediately perk up at the familiar name. Well, that clears up a lot of things.

“Draken? The guy with the matching dragon tattoo?” You ask, eyes alight with intrigue. Draken snorts amusedly. 

“I see you've heard the story.” He turns his head so you can see the familiar dragon tattoo inked into the left side of his head, the exact mirror of Mitsuya's. Your mouth forms into a little ‘o’ at the sight of it. “This tattoo is mine, by the way. Paid for it and everything.”

Another snort, from Mitsuya this time. “Right, I'm sure you paid for it fair and square.” A smile dances on his lips as he continues sewing, eyes focused.

“Hey, who was the one who ate all my rice first?”

“Um, excuse me…” Your voice turns Draken's attention back to you. “If you don't mind, could I take a closer look at your tattoo?” You shyly ask the blonde male. 

His eyebrows raise at the bold request, and you hurriedly add on to your previous question. “It’s just that, I've seen Mitsuya's one before, but I couldn't really get a full view due to his hair covering most of it. It seemed really cool, so…”

The explanation seems to placate him, and he smiles reassuringly, the sight easing some of your nerves. “Yeah, go ahead, knock yourself out.” 

You brighten up at that, immediately moving your seat to Draken’s left and wasting no time in studying every detail of the tattoo.

“Woahh…it’s so different seeing it in its entirety! It really is beautiful…”

“Heh, right? I thought it would’ve been such a shame, leaving such a cool design to stay hidden in some dingy alley, so getting it as a tattoo was a no-brainer. Didn’t expect this guy over here to do the same, though.”

“Hahah, you really made the right decision. It fits you really well!”

“Yeah, and it fit with my name too, y’kno? Draken, dragon. Really helps with making a name for yourself.”

“Ooh, that’s a cool detail!”

As you ooh and aah over the inked dragon on Draken’s head, unconsciously shifting closer and closer to him, you don’t notice how Mitsuya pauses in his work, quietly staring at the two of you with an unreadable expression on his face.

“Have you seen the actual mural? It’s way bigger than this tattoo.”

“I haven’t, actually.”

“If you want, I can bring you sometime—”

“[name].” Mitsuya cuts in loudly, both your heads snapping towards him at the sound. He raises the repaired jacket in his hands with a smile that doesn’t really seem to reach his eyes. “The jacket’s done.”

“Oh!” You hop off the stool and gratefully accept the jacket as he walks over to hand it to you, lilac eyes never leaving your figure as you slip your arms through the sleeves, blissfully unaware. “Good as new! Thank you so, so much, Mitsuya.” 

His eyes soften at your sincere words, a warm smile naturally finding its way onto his face at your happy expression. “No problem at all, [name].”

“I’ll get going, then. I don’t wanna take up anymore of both of your lunch time.” you say, turning around to leave. You shoot Draken a wave as you walk past. “Bye, Draken! It was nice meeting you; maybe I’ll take you up on that offer to see the mural sometime.”

“You too, [name]. I’ll see you around.”

Mitsuya coughs lightly, and the sound prompts you to continue moving towards the exit. He follows closely behind you, reaching forward to open the door before you can.

“Thank you again, ‘tsuya.” You say once more, turning to him with a bashful grin. 

He huffs amusedly. “Like I said, it’s no problem at all. You can come to me anytime if you have any problems.” Your lips curl up even more at that, cheeks tinged with the slightest pink.

“Also,” He lets out another light cough, and you can’t help but take note of the way his ears are tinged red, how he suddenly seems to be avoiding your gaze. “You don’t…have to take Draken up on his offer.” he quietly says, words slowly turning into mumbles, the red from his ears slowly spreading to his cheeks. “I can bring you…if you want. And,” His face is fully red at this point, words so quiet you had to lean in to hear them. “if you want to look at the tattoo up close, you can just look at mine anytime…” he trails off, eyes looking anywhere but you.

You gape at him. This was something you definitely weren’t expecting. Despite your surprise, you can’t stop the giddy smile spreading across your face, giggling as you try to hold back your teasing. He’s already flustered enough; you suppose you’d spare him, just this once.

“Okay then.” You wave at him as you step out, eyes twinkling with mirth. “See you, ‘tsuya!”

Mitsuya watches your figure go until you disappear from his sight, sighing in relief and slight disbelief as he closes the door to the club. He hadn’t really planned on saying that, but the words just… slipped out. Something about the way you looked at him made them bubble up until he couldn’t contain them any longer. At least your reaction was positive.

He turns around, fully prepared to put the whole thing behind him, only to be greeted with a razor-sharp grin. Draken wiggles his eyebrows at him, looking like a cat that just caught its prey.  “So…someone got jealous, huh?”

Mitsuya lets out a suffering groan. “Please. Don’t tell anyone. You didn’t see anything.”

Draken cackles. “Maybe I’ll consider it if you buy me a karubi don.”

He’s so telling everyone. 

[ceniwen]

scaracyno from scara's birthday letter

[y-elleven]

before bunny iglesias gets lore and an actual personality that we can comb through and derive headcanons from, i am hitting him with my loverboy beam rn. typa bf who will sulk and sigh loud enough for you to hear if you choose to subject him to the worst horrors known to man (you're paying attention to something else) bc he's not home as much as he'd like due to his career. yes he does see you most days and it's a balm to his soul that he gets to come home to you after practice pretty regularly but like. he's also a bit of a whore for your attention lmao. he wants 10000% of your attention and affection whenever he's free enough to latch onto you like an annoying strip of velcro. he's a velcro bf. if you dont give him the attention he wants when hes with you he will explode in the next five seconds. this is what my loverboy beam is telling me

[kusanagihaku]

the other on my heart

⭢ haku x mc, 2.1k

If you are sliced open right now, you think, if you erupt into flowers right this moment - you will bleed the same gold that shone in Haku’s eyes that first day on the train, the same gold that shines now whenever he looks at you, all affection and adoration, devoted and devout. or: Haku’s got a one-hand feel on the steering wheel, and… on ao3 here / masterlist.

belated birthday fic for @ghoulspaw but i'm two months late (;´ - `;) happy birthday ily!! inspired by this one mel post and haku's affinity 11 voice line about the woes of the people and our screaming crying throwing up in the dms about driving!haku with his hand on your thigh... thank u for screaming w me abt haku always… haku gfs club 4ever... i hope u enjoy!!

“That should be all,” Haku says, surveying the trunk. 

It is packed full of tightly-taped boxes, brown cardboard tops messily labelled in a chicken-scratch scrawl barely readable by dim streetlight. You squint at the top-most package, and check the last item off your list – red mizuhiki strings, requested by Festival Stall #28 – then click your pen shut. 

“That should be all,” you confirm. 

Haku reaches up to slam the trunk shut. 

“It was a good call to borrow a car from Alan,” you say, as you get into the car. “I don’t know how we’d haul all this back within one trip.” 

Haku laughs, tugging the driver’s door closed. “I should be thanking you, then, since you were the one speaking to Vagastrom.” 

You tuck your clipboard back into the tote bag at your feet. “If I didn’t convince Alan, Subaru would have spoken to Sho.” 

Haku laughs again, a short huff as he leans in over the centre console. The proximity sends a flush up your neck, especially when you feel his nose brush your cheek, followed by the soft press of his lips. “Thank you for doing it, then, so our captain didn’t have to.” 

Even though it’s been months of this it still sends a shy swell of adoration through your lungs every single time. You turn slightly to reply, but Haku is reaching across you with his right hand, long fingers catching on your seatbelt before pulling it across you. His lips don’t leave the edge of yours as he murmurs, “Your seatbelt, princess.” 

If you turn just a little more, you’d feel the press of his lips against your own– 

But there is nothing stopping you, you remember, nothing stopping you from tasting the honey of his words straight from the source– and so you do, and he kisses you sweetly, gently, heart-thumpingly–

It is so easy to pretend, that you are just two people, out running errands and heading home for the night. That everything is ordinary, that after this, you will unlock your doors and unload your groceries and put everything away, and spend the rest of the moonlight murmuring in the warmth of each other’s eyes. 

But there is a beep from your phone, a sharp crack in the still of the car, a snap of notifications and reminders that you are nothing but a tool of Darkwick–

When you pull away, Haku sighs.

The smile he offers you is tired and rueful, and he straightens back up to start the car as you dislodge your phone from your blazer pocket. 

“It’s Subaru,” you say, apologetically. “He’s asking if we managed to find everything okay.” 

Haku drums his fingers against the steering wheel. The gold of his watch catches the streetlight as he begins to manoeuvre the car out of the parking lot. “Guess that’s our cue to head back.” 

You tap out a short update to Subaru before leaning back into your seat. When you sneak a glance at Haku he is half-lit by the red of the stop light, one hand resting on the top of the steering wheel and the other resting loosely in his lap. 

You bite your lip. “Haku.” 

His eyes flicker to you. 

“Thanks for inviting me to come with you,” you say, quietly. You worry the edge of your phone case with your fingernail. “I know it wasn’t a mission and you could have asked the general students to do it, but it was nice. Spending time outside of Darkwick. With you.” 

Haku’s returning smile is the sort of fond only ever reserved for you; it makes you want to melt into him, gentle, safe, your personal equator. He reaches over to take your hand, carefully tangling his fingers into yours. “You look like you needed it.” 

He gives your hand a squeeze. It squeezes your heart. 

You squeeze back. 

The lights turn green, and you settle into silence. 

Time comes in waves, on the road - you are looking at him, fringe falling into his eyes, then at the twinkle of city life and flash of taillights, then at the way Haku’s fingers have molded themselves into the shape of yours, steady and sure and soft, and then suddenly it is all gone and you are faced with the blank canvas of black road and the expanse of stars above you that you cannot see. 

The car hurtles towards your destination. 

Before Darkwick, you’d bemoaned having to do chores, having to spend time doing supermarket runs, doing laundry, doing paperwork. But now, having had stood in line for wagashi for hours, Haku’s head dipping towards yours in shared secret laughter, having had sprawled out on the floor of Haku’s room, buried in mission briefs and reports, having been pinned against the thrum of your washing machine, cradled between the heat of Haku’s palms— what wouldn’t you give, to do those things with him forever. What wouldn’t you give to wrap around time like this, to repeat your everyday in his company, to spin forever in each others’ orbit like two dust motes from a star that have never been apart. 

Your intertwined fingers flash gold under the passing highway lights. 

In another life, you think, this could be your everyday – white noise on the radio, road humming beneath your feet. Haku humming along, painted in city glow, framed in mundanity. Haku, with his hand in your lap and his name on your lips and his heart in yours. Haku within reach, always. 

“Do I take this exit or the next?” 

Haku’s voice breaks you out of your thoughts, and you squint at the tiny text flashing across the screen to his phone. The words are too small, however, and so you have to somewhat reluctantly let go of Haku’s hand to reach for where it has been propped up as a navigation system on the dashboard. 

His hand drops to your thigh. His palm burns through the grey of your skirt, thumb brushing along its hem. 

“This one,” you say. The pad of his thumb is rough against the bare of your skin. 

You lean forward to set his phone back on its stand. The movement dislodges his hand; as you settle back into your seat he slips it neatly under the hem of your skirt, and gives your inner thigh a squeeze. 

“Haku,” you say, warningly, smiling, and he laughs in surrender. His hand returns to the steering wheel. 

He does not take the exit. 

“Haku–“

“I know,” he says. He glances over at you again. “There’s a place at the next exit I want to show you. You can see the city lights and all, from up there.” 

You hesitate for just a fraction too long, thinking of the report record you’ll have to fill up, and Haku reaches to take your hand in his again. “Just for a little while, I promise. You can just write it up as us taking the wrong exit and losing our way for a couple minutes.” 

God, he’s too persuasive. 

“If you’re going to murder me,” you say, at last, “I won’t tell Darkwick.” 

It pulls another laugh out of Haku, startled and bright, and you lean into it like you’re drinking the sun. 

“You say that like I could ever live without you, princess,” Haku says, grinning at the road. His voice is lighthearted. Neither of you mention the fact that he will soon have to. 

It takes a while to get from the next exit to the top of the small hill that Haku decided upon, but as Haku slides the car headfirst into the parking lot you see why he has chosen it. 

The car park is empty, with only a pair of dim streetlamps at its entrance, but beyond that– oh, beyond that–

The city sprawls out beneath your feet. From this overlook you can see the rise and fall of buildings, dotted with tiny lights that flicker on and off with every movement of your eye. The cars on the highway you left behind crawl like ants to and from their kingdom; the clouds, lit a dim purple from below by the glow of the city, hang low across its occupants. 

How far away you are now, from this life. How far away you will be. 

“I’ve always liked the city lights more than stars,” Haku says, quietly. The soothe of his voice shatters your thoughts into tiny, brilliant pieces the way it always does, rounding their sharp edges into something muted, dull. “People are always going on about stargazing and stuff, you know, but you can barely see them, most of the time.”

You turn to look at him, turn to look at the way his earrings brush the sharp of his jaw. His head is tilted against the headrest, eyes half-closed as he stares out at the cityscape. 

“But every light I see here,” he says, softer, his hand sliding again into your lap, sliding home, “every light in every window is a person. They’re going about their lives and getting their groceries and doing their laundry and thinking about their problems and celebrating their successes and they’re just one in fourteen million people who are doing so.” 

He does not look at you, not yet. His thumb runs along the inside of your thigh, starts a dim burn in the hollow of your spine. “It makes me feel insignificant, sometimes. That I’m just one in fourteen million people who are just struggling along. But then I remember, that out of these fourteen million people, on that one day on that one train at Kisaragi Station, I got to meet you–“ 

They say that gods are invisible, but when Haku half-turns to look at you, then, haloed only in yellow streetlight and dashboard glow, you think you might know what holy is supposed to look like. 

Your own personal angel, with his hand on your thigh and his voice low and tight in his throat like a prayer. With the green of his fringe shaded grey by the night, but with the gold of his eyes glowing bright all the same.

“This life kinda sucks,” Haku murmurs. When he leans in across the console to tip his forehead against yours his breath ghosts across your lips. “But in my next one, I’m hoping that in these fourteen million people, I’ll get to meet you again. And we’ll do whatever we did today together again, but this time every day, again and again, for the rest of our lives.” 

“Haku,” you breathe, but your voice is tangled up in your lungs, and there is a heat behind your eyes that threatens to leak–

But then you are kissing him something soft, sweet, lips on his like you are speaking, praying his words into existence. And he is kissing you back, something yearning and yawning and needy, something shaking and pleading, like he is willing the universe to make it happen; he kisses you like the press of your lips have the power to turn back time, like the curl of his tongue can rewrite your ending. 

When you break away, gasping for shared breath, eyelashes tangled in his and your trembling hand on his hand on your jaw, blinking away your thoughts like stars in the winter, this is what you write into your memory of tonight: 

That if love is a place, perhaps it is in the cup of his palm, in the soft of his laugh. Perhaps it is in the press of Haku’s shaky smile against yours as you pull him in, again and again, kissing him silly in the middle of an abandoned parking lot. Perhaps it is not in the promise of forever, but buried in the cracks of everyday vice-captain and inspector duties, in the minutes he has carved out for the both of you in the moments you have remaining. In the heat of his hand on your inner thigh, in his breath in your lungs, in the unshakable assurance of I’ve-found-you-too-late-in-this-life-but-I-promise-you-I’ll-find-you-in-the-next. 

That if you are sliced open right now, you think, if you erupt into flowers right this moment, you will bleed the same gold that shone in Haku’s eyes that first day on the train, the same gold that shines now whenever he looks at you – all affection and adoration, devoted and devout. 

“It’s a while yet until curfew,” Haku murmurs. His words are warm on your cheek as he pulls away. His hand slides higher, higher, as he looks at you, begging. “Shall we stay a while longer?”