#jest encore

[encore-playbill]

So many guys! A bunch of different Snare and Damien au counterparts! [Top row is the miscellaneous guys, middle row is the Snares, below them is the Damiens they go with] Cropped versions below!

[aritsukemo]

Birth of New Beginnings, Death to Old Comforts

Sunday x GN Reader ( Amnesia AU )

Summary: Sunday is approached with a second chance at life. Unbeknownst to him that what was sacrificed to obtain it was scarier than any death penalty.

Warnings: This was loosely inspired by Crow's amazing oc, Hark, so a lot of stuff can be referenced to them. Furthermore, this is my first time writing for Sunday so don't drag me too much please 😓 As per request, I'm keeping this purposely ambiguous. Also angsty themes ahead but what do you expect from me at this point? You have been warned!

A/N: The first gift is up! This is a book with a golden covering and silver vines on the face, a bouquet of white orchids, earl grey tea, and a fresh batch of brown butter waffles for....Crow! Enjoy @rainswept!

Event: AriTsukemo's 2025 Appreciation STELLARONHVNTERS'S Appreciation Reading Party

“The real world is not about happy endings,” Was the absurdity spewed when your betrayal to The Family was solidified and you stood on the side of the foolish — yet not completely hopeless — crew members of the Astral Express.

You had never truly seen eye to eye with Sunday, going to mock his aspirations at every turn, and yet, you stook around as though you didn’t mean it. As though you were merely rudely jesting like when you were both still teens. Maybe that’s why he turned a blind eye to his own suspicions — that sinking feeling that came with the inevitability that you’d turn on him without batting an eye to your history together and the ideals you did share with him at some point — and he found himself in slight disarray when it finally happened; that he felt his golden hues twitching ever so slightly at the ends and he felt his hands ball into fist behind his back.

That he felt, though only for a moment, anger at what you did.

He’ll prove you wrong. The thought cemented itself in his brain as he rose before you and was embraced by his ideals in its most physical form; wing-faced to shield him away from his opposers — just as he had been doing for Penacony in the shadows — with long mechanical limbs — one bearing a long, thin baton — that could play on forever without growing tired. It was a form he had taken on willingly, determined to subject himself to endless encores and tiring performances for an eternity for the sake and wellbeing of those he cared for down to his deepest core.

He rose as a god — one that was willing to do what those otherworldly beings that looked down upon them could not, would not — and he was ready to fight for what he believed in. Ready to prove to you, the Astral Express, and everyone else who fought against him that this was truly for the best, and that with the right person pulling the strings behind the stage, there could be a world where only happy endings came to fruition and pain, anguish, and sorrow was a forgotten concept that would never be felt again.

But then he lost and everything, quite literally, came crashing down.

The dream he fought so, so hard for went up in smokes the moment he was able to caress it, and yet, the frustration only boiled over when you stood before him again after his title of Head of The Family was stripped from him and he was tangled in chains and stationed to sit and await his just punishment for his crimes.

Oddly enough, you were also in a similar fate — though your chains were much more translucent and only seemed to be visible for a fleeting few seconds when you spoke through that thinly-veiled sarcastic tone of yours.

 “Despite how hard you fell, you don’t look as bad as I thought you would. I mean, I would even go as far as to say that you’re full of vigor,” Your words irked him, but it was his just desserts for being the loser in his own grand scheme. Nevertheless, he let his irritation play like a show on his face, and ultimately, his tone as he hissed out his words to you.

 “Have you come here merely to poke at my pride for old times’ sake?” He asked, fully expecting to get a response equally as agitating as the last — and of course you delivered as you always did.

 “I’ve come to congratulate you on your freedom,” You told him that as though it were obvious. As if he wasn’t sitting before you, unable to move and on death row. He found himself gritting his even teeth.

 “I will not stand for your mockery, leave,” He told you despite the table of power having been flipped. He didn’t have that capability to boss anyone around. Not even a fledgling would listen to him, much less you.

 “You can’t stand…” You quipped, but the way you trailed off had him raising his spite-filled brow towards you, and ultimately, his gaze — though only a little — as you continued, “...at least not yet.”

 “What are you going on about?” He asked, initially gaining silence in response, which forced him to fully look up at you to search for answers himself. He locked eyes with yours, and despite your tone, he found this unfamiliar gleam in them. It was one that has lit his gaze countless times in the past as well as many others. He remembers that look when you took a stance on the other side of the coin and told him that everything he had built so far was a travesty.

And then it clicked at last; you were looking at him with utmost seriousness.

 “Like I said, I'm here to celebrate the moment you become a free man again,” You walked towards him as that uncanny glimmer in your eyes slowly went to overtake your entire face. You grow closer, and though he knows it's futile, he leans as far back into his chair as he can only to quickly run out of space to escape mere seconds later. 

You finally stand right in front of him where he helplessly sits in your reach. You, rightfully, tower over him — the light from the room outside bleeding in as if to further shove your victory in his face — yet it's only for a short moment before you're dropping down to your knees and willingly shrouding yourself further into darkness. Just like how you once walked behind him, managing life and aiding him whilst being in the cold embrace of his ever-growing shadow..

You reach for his leg — which had been locked in place by a bulky shackle — as your other hand goes fishing into your vest pocket. He flinches away when your fingertips graze against the fabric of his pants, and it was clear to you that it wasn’t out of fear nor out of disgust. The way he jerked away was as though he were stripping cheese away from a rat. It was a test — one that he hoped would reveal to him your plans and give insight on the oddity of your responses. Alas, you manage to see through what he was attempting to do — which maybe would’ve been helpful if you hadn’t already shackled yourself to your own undoing.

You finally find what you searched for and you’re quick about getting it out. So quick, in fact, that he doesn’t catch what exactly you grabbed. He opens his mouth to inquire about it, but he’s given an answer before he can ask the question as you loop your hand around his calf and he feels your grip tighten before—schlink.

  “What do you think you’re doing?!” He asks, his voice rising like his temperament, a stark contrast to the cool way you respond, as if you were drowning in subzero waters.

 “I’m getting tired of repeating myself,” You simply tell him.

 “And I’m getting tired of your nonsense,” He retorts — a first for him. Having been a product of growing up together, you knew how he operated and he knew you in turn. Both of you knew what made the other tick, and yet, you were the only one who’d crudely press and poke at him until the wings that protruded from his ears twitched ever so slightly with vexation. Never once did he try to jab back at you — as though it were above him. Maybe he thought it was at some point — that you were being immature for having a sense of humor — and to that part of you was snickering like a little kid.

You release his leg, and as though you were the chains that weighed him down, he feels ten times lighter when you pull away. He felt almost relieved until he realized how literal that weightlessness was and he kicked his leg forward to glimpse at it. Sure enough, it was free from its cold, uncomfortable prison, but you give him little time to gawk before you move to undo the chains that crowd around his other leg. It’s then that the surprise subsides and a frown graces his features.

 “I won’t accept this,” He said with a grimace. No matter what your reason was — what kind of change of heart you may have had or what you were told you could gain for doing this — he won’t have it. He doesn’t need charity. Not from anyone and certainly not you, who fought tooth and nail to get him here in the first place.

But you seem to be equally as stubborn on fulfilling whatever motive drives you because he barely gets a chance to resist before your grip turns inhumane and your unclipped fingernails — which he used to always chide you for as it would infuriate him to no end — dig into his pants leg and a jolt of pain forces him limp as you manage to pierce him through the thick fabric, just barely managing to avoid breaking skin.

 “You don’t have much of a choice here,” You tell him, “Everything’s already been set in motion. Neither you nor I can change this fate.”

 “Stop speaking in riddles and just tell me what you mean—!” His screams come to an abrupt halt as your eyes briefly lock after you freed his other leg and you reached up to do the same to his arm. He sees something in your eyes again, something he’s never ever seen on you. It had a tinge of poorly placed satisfaction like you had just come back from a casino where you lost everything but managed to regain a slither of your previous fortune, specifically just enough to get by. There was something else that swirled there too, something he could not hope to place in the state he’s in now, or maybe in his entire lifetime, as it was carefully masked behind this thick hollowness that dimmed your pupils — like something had once been there but was stripped away. Was it sorrow? Happiness? Pride? Or…no, you wouldn’t..

You free his hand, and immediately, he shoots out to latch it onto your neck. His grip wasn’t nearly as vicious as yours — you’d even go as far as to describe it as quite the tender hold — as he tilted your head up to look at him once more.

And there he sees it, or rather, he doesn’t. The fiery spark that he could once use to differentiate you from any impersonator or lookalike…was nowhere to be found, leaving only the hollow shell and this off-putting wit you’ve been throwing at him this entire time. 

And so he asks, his voice dropping down to a strained whisper as if he were the one being choked right now,  “..What have you done?”

And you answer casually — too casually for how dire this could possibly be, “I’ve done nothing but strike a deal with a pretty woman.”

 “Jade,” He says her name like he’s muttering a curse word, his teeth clicking like a lighter trying to produce fire, “What deal have you struck? What have you so…so foolishly—”

 “Does it matter?” You grab his wrist, and just like you thought, it takes no effort to peel it off your skin nor does his hand leave any prints or markings on your jugular. It truly was like an embrace, one you’d give a friend or even a loved one. Someone that you, at one point, could’ve possibly fit the bill. You’re not sure, and quite frankly, you didn’t want to know.

 “What’s done is done. No use fretting over the details,” You unclasp the final chain which confines his left arm and your hand lingers there longer than it did the rest. As if unlocking that bulky, iron bracelet finalized your future strife — one of unknowingness, anxious innocence that never belonged to you, and blank faces that once gave meaning to your life and filled your childhood with inexplicable bliss — you froze up, and at last, muttered your demise with a carefully spoken, overly thought out one-liner.

 “It’s not like I’ll be able to remember soon anyways.”

Sunday didn’t process it at first; the way his breath caught at your words and the way he too froze in place. It was as though he had immediately been given new shackles despite just being freed of the old ones — these ones being much heavier and possessing no key to free him of.

Well it does, but if what you say is to be taken literally, that key will soon forget its color of purpose, the hardened convictions that shaped it, and its hardships and blessings that formed the ridges necessary to slot perfectly into its keyhole.

 “Soon, our roles will be reversed — in some ways anyway,” You mutter, “I’ll be sitting in a chair of my own, littered in invisible chains, and what’s worse? I won’t even know about them,” You sigh. It was meant to be a chuckle of some kind but without the usual dry humor to reflect off of, it ceased to exist entirely. That said, you had no choice but to fall back on vocal clarity to get your point across, “It’s such funny irony. The victor ends up worse off than the defeated.”

 “But don’t get things twisted,” At last, you snap from whatever melancholic trance you were under and rise to your feet. Your hand retreating to station at your hip as you say, “I’m not angry. Not in the slightest. I’m the one who proposed this deal in the first place after all.”

And in his shock, he manages to force out a shaky, “Why?” but you take your time to answer.

As if you wanted to be insufferable one last time, you turn on your heel instead of opening your mouth to award him with the answer he yearns for. Just as you approached him, you walked slowly, as if you had all the time in the world. Your feet click in a spasmodic pattern that stabs into him one by one, forcing him to take your appearance in at last.

He can see the white of your undershirt peeking from your vest — which he noticed when you first came in was sloppily buttoned aside from the top, which remains unclasped altogether. There seemed to be just one too many creases in your attire and he could just tell it was nowhere in alignment with the loafers you adorn on your feet. It irked him to his very core to the point his fingers twitched, eager to grasp at the mistake that was you and fix it immediately.

But maybe some part of you wanted that. Hoped that his first decision as a free man would be to chase you down for once. To hold you, even when trembling with rage, and to engrave you into his being. Maybe the entire point of your visit was to ensure that you left an impression that satisfied you — one that would replace the interpretation he had of you during his descent from godhood, when you turned away as the final strike was dealt and the ideal you once shared together went up in flames.

If that was your true motive for coming here in place of that woman, you only half-succeeded. You achieved in your goal to erase that as his final memory of you, but failed in cementing it as what he’ll later remember you — this version of you — as. There are a plethora of other memories that come to mind in that case, some even dating back to when you could still both smile at each other without other veiled emotions diminishing them into something faux.

 “The real world isn’t about happy endings. It’ll always be that way no matter how much you or I wish it otherwise,” You told him as you finally reached the door, the light pouring in now blinding — as though what waited for you on the other side was the afterlife itself. In a way it was. You were dying, or at least, the you he and so many others had known was.

 “—And to answer your question from earlier, the reason I did this was because of my own belief; that this heartless world — that fills everyone with its fuel of suffering that pushes us to do the most insane things sometimes — is about taking your bleeding heart, your life, and fighting like hell to keep it beating until you no longer find a need to.”

Then suddenly, you look back at him, “I made this trade to follow my beliefs, and for that I must give it up too. If you accept her offer, the same may happen to you, but I still suggest that you at least consider it. I mean, your wings are already severed, might as well walk the mortal realm and see what it’s like.”

This time he doesn’t say anything, simply taking in your words as a sour taste pools at the root of his mouth. He wonders what it is, but doesn’t take the time to delve into himself to find an answer as it may take too much time and give you the chance to disappear into a cloud of smoke and reform somewhere else as someone entirely new.

Then again, that’ll happen anyways. He knows that now, but he still watches you like a hawk because he at least wants to give you that satisfaction of knowing that some part of him is giving chase albeit it's not in the literal sense you may have hoped.

You finally break your prolonged staring competition with him and face the light. It burns your retinas and you’re sure that, sooner than later, it’ll give you a horrible migraine. Nevertheless, you pretend that it doesn’t bother you — soon, it won’t for real.

 “Take care, sunny. The next time we see each other, we’ll be completely different people with lives that no longer crash into each other. …Heh, maybe we can even be civil to each other for once,” You take a step forward, most of your body out of the door as you find yourself murmuring under your breath.

 “...But, part of me wouldn’t mind if it were still the opposite.”

⇢ On the last page, you notice hearts and smiley faces circling around a note of some kind, it reads..

Before anything else, I just wanna say Happy Birthday Crow!!! Second off, I wanna thank you for creating the StellaronHvnters Network. If it weren't for this network coming into my life, I'd probably still be this sad sack who likes to write sometimes. You have singlehandedly gave me so much motivation along with many, many laughs and tears of joy!! Our late night chats are one of the best pleasures I get out of this network!! No matter how bad I feel, talking to you always manages to cheer me up!! Whether it be you yapping to me about your ocs ( which are the coolest btw I love them!!! Hark especially lmao they're my spirit animal at this point ), or HSR, or something else entirely, I'm always smiling behind the screen!! There are times where I let myself slip and I yap about all the fucked up shit that's happened to me over the years and you always managed to make me feel heard and comforted and safe beyond belief and to that I thank you so, so much!! ( Also your voice is really nice to listen to!! It's calming, like more than any ASMR or comfort audio I've listened to!! I could listen to you for hours like you're just like soothing in every aspect to me )

No matter what you may think otherwise, you are an amazing person with amazing skills in your arsenal!! I'm always blown away by the things you create ( still gnawing at the bars, waiting for another Aven fic btw ) and I'm always itching to hear more!! Not just that but your characterizations GOSHHHH they're so good!! Thanks to them, I've finally been able to grasp some understanding for Sunday and finally, finally write for him!! Again, you're so awesome!!

Honestly you just feel like a close, if not best friend, to me. Granted, many of the people in the StellaronHvnters are like that to me, but you especially!! You've always been a blast to talk to ( over text and on vc ), you're funny, you make me feel safe and never, like, make me feel judged or ashamed and just...aghhhh I love you so much. Please, let your mom know that I'm thanking her a million times over for having you!! Not just that, but I want to personally thank you for existing and being you and creating this safehaven for me, I owe you so, so much!!

I hope your day, and days to come, are as bright as you make mine!! And, once again, happy birthday!! <3

Dividers were made by me, pictures used are from Pinterest, post formatting is inspired by @xxsabitoxx

[vulturelined]

Alejandro

Buggy the clown x fem!reader

no warnings :)

|| god bless lady gaga. first fic, not proofread ||

Life had never been particularily easy in the town you lived in.

Money was scarse and the pub on the outskirts of town, hidden by houses and markets, was a sanctuary for most; just a place to cheaply drink away the poor aspects of life. You'd lost count of the drunken men (sailors, pirates, or divorcees. no in-between) that you'd see walking in and out, day and night, holding either a full beer or two empty ones.

Life had never been easy in this town. Which is why you, one of the people who chose not to drown their sorrows in booze all day, had to work for what you have.

"I know you love me, but I just can't be with you like this anymore!" You feigned a soft inhale and forced yourself to stumble against a prop-table, leaning on it for support and looking off to the side as seductively as you could. "Alejandro..."

You had to work for luxury. Even if it meant indulging in shitty plays for it.

The man across the stage, 'Alejandro', wore a distraught expression as he approached you. In front of you, he fell to his knees, trembling hands taking hold of your leg to lift it. The tip of your heel grazed the front of his suit and he exhaled shakily. "Oh, mi dulce, how I long for you," he began, voice dramatically sad, "What must I do for you to finally belong to me?"

The sick sweetness of it all made you internally grimace, though your front never fell. You leaned further against the prop-table, hoping and praying it would not give under your weight. "Stop, please," you hopelessly beg, turning your head from your stage partner and pushing him away by the chest with your heel. "Just let me go."

He leans down to rest his cheek against your calf, not once letting go of your leg. The whole interaction makes you want to just walk off stage, the 'tension' unbelievably uncomfortable. "Estimada...I beg only for your forgiveness."

"Oh, Alejandro," You turn your head to finally look at the man on his knees in front of you, mustering up the most adoring-look that you can. Only then do the curtains close, and you immediately stand up straight. Your stage partner, however, does not.

The crowd on the other side of the curtain is only claps and quiet whistles, but your stage partner does not dare look away from you. Working off your heels with the support of the prop-table, you quirk a brow at the man. "What? Do I have something on my face?"

He only smiles in turn, looking away from you for the first time since he got down onto his knees. He almost looks bashful in the way he glances around. "I was just wondering if we can speak outside," he answered, "After encore."

You have a hint as to what's going on, but you agree anyways.

When you walk outside, finally dressed in normal clothes, you do not miss the way people exiting the theatre look at you. It's flattering, but you avoid their gaze anyways.

'Alejandro' waits outside, hands in his pockets, looking anywhere but the door you came out of. His nervousness makes you sour, and a small part of you cannot wait to reject whatever he is about to propose. When he does look at you, though, his reaction only worsens your mood. His eyebrows raise, and you're not sure if his pupils dialate when he smiles, but his face definitely reddens. You don't smile back.

"[Name], I was getting a little worried you got stuck in your dress," he jests lightly, but his tone is awkward and uncomfortable and it leaves the air thick. "Yeah, no, I'm fine," you furrow your brows, crossing your arms over your chest and shifting your weight to one leg. "What did you want to talk about?"

He fumbles over his words for a moment, obviously embarrassed, and it gives you second-hand embarrassment in turn. This would have been sweet if he wasn't such an asshole most of the time. "Well, you see, I was just wondering if maybe you'd like to go out sometime? Our chemistry is amazing and I know a fantastic pla-"

"No."

You can see how your response effects him, and you almost crack a smile. His shoulders slump and his nervous smile drops completely, leaving him gaping like a fish at you. "Wh- What?" he's stunned, hands frozen in the air from how he gestured when he previously spoke.

"I said no. I'm not interested."

He opens and closes his mouth but doesn't say a thing, his eyebrows knitted up in distress. It's only like that for a moment, though, before it's a complete 180. His brows turn down. "I knew you were nothing but a stuck-up wannabe actress," he huffs sourly, clenching and unclenching his fists beside him.

Your eyebrows raise in surprise before following his. "Are you fucking serious? Did you expect me to swoon?" You jab your finger at him, letting your anger show on your face. "Did you want me to fall to my knees and beg for a chance when you're nothing but a desperate, sexist fuck constantly looking for someone to pick on?"

People turn to look as your voice raises. Your stage partner only seems to anger more at your words, his breathing picking up and becoming heavier by the second. "You fucking bitch. You are going to be begging when I get your ass fired from these stupid fucking gigs."

His words set in and you scrunch up your face in distaste, not looking forward to loosing your only source of income. You only scoff in his face before turning on your heel and storming the opposite direction.

The only reasonable place to go at the moment seems to be the pub.

You can hear the slurred singing and obnoxious laughter before you even enter the bar, and it makes you breathe a heavy sigh. When you push the doors open, you can already feel the oncoming headache.

Different groups of men sit in different corners of the bar at round tables, covered by both empty and over-filling beers. Most didn't stand out, just there for a good time with their friends that are surely in the same sitution as them. Or at least there to support.

One corner, however, held the loudest group in the entire building. And the flashiest. Interesting looking men and women circled the table, laughing and loudly telling stories while some sang weird sea-shanties you swear you've heard a thousand times.

The blue-haired man sitting between two men and laughing annoyingly clown-like is the hardest to keep your eyes off of, though.

You don't turn your head (as to not seem like a creep), but you keep your eyes on him the whole walk to the counter. The only reason you look away is to order a drink, and then you get right back to it.

The ponytails hanging off of the sides of his hat almost make you laugh, but then you're too entranced by the rest of him to even think of laughing at it. So focused on him that you don't notice the man sitting beside him, wearing some kind of bear fur, leaning in to whisper something in his ear.

Suddenly, the clown's eyes are fixed on you and you have never looked away from something so fast. Your face burns and you can hear your heart beat in your ears, embarrassed to have been caught staring so shamelessly. Nothing happens for a moment, and you think you're safe to look back, only to see that he hasn't looked away.

"Hey! You!" his voice is loud and gruff, and it quiets down some of the bar when he yells. So many eyes are on you, and you'd think it wouldn't bother someone who acts, but it makes your entire body heat up and your shoulders slump in a poor attempt to shrink into your clothes. You're avoiding looking at him now, and you miss the way it makes his eyes narrow. "Yes..?"

He huffs loudly, sitting up and removing his feet from the table. The people sitting with him have completely quieted, and when you take a second to look at them, you freeze up at the dangerous looks they hold. One woman rests her hand on a blade that sits holstered on her side and you feel the color drain from your face.

The clown stands, arms crossed and his coat dangling from his shoulders. When you look back to his face, you see him observing yours, before his expression turns to one of pure rage. "STOP LOOKING AT MY NOSE!!"

At his words, his crew draw their weapons. The woman unsheathes her sword, the fur-boy grabs a.. whip? And so forth.

"Oh my god, no, I wasn't-" you try to explain, your voice shaky, and you want to curl up and die with the way you stutter and fumble over your words. This must be how 'Alejandro' felt. "I- I wasn't looking at your nose, I'm so sorry, it's very lovely."

His expression falters, his already-wide eyes opening even wider for a moment. "It's very UGLY??!" he hollers, slamming a foot onto the table. You slap your hands over your face and drag down, feeling the heat seep into your hands. "NO!! It's nice! I like it! It's awesome!" you shout back, the embarrassment getting the best of you.

That seems to have gotten him on the right track, if the way he freezes up says anything. When you muster up the courage to look back up, both him and his crew seem confused. The fur-boy leans over to look at the man opposite of the clown, hair striped with green and black. "She just said she likes it," the fur-boy points out in a hushed voice, making the man with the striped hair scoff and roll his eyes at the obvious take.

"Oh, well, in that case, stare as much as you'd like," the clown grins wide, and your eyes focus on his red-painted lips. He settles back into his seat, looking outrageously smug - and for a moment, it irritates you. "The great Buggy the clown deserves an entourage, anyways!"

Buggy the clown. Never heard of him, but he is really interesting to you right now.

You turn back to the counter, heart still pounding in your ears and embarrassment making itself obvious on your face in an unmistakable blush. The bar has gone back to it's usual noise at this point, but you're still grateful for the extra drink the bartender slides you, claiming it to be on the house.

"Hey, wait! You're the chick from the play!" Buggy's voice reaches your ears again, and this time your heart sinks. When you slowly turn to him, he has his finger pointed directly at you and his eyebrows are raised high in what seems to be surprise. "Yes, I am," you answer, voice unsure. Your leg bounces and your fingers drum rhythmically against the counter, but you maintain eye contact.

He whistles slowly, his eyebrows still high, "What a show that was! Especially the bonus scene," he starts to laugh, high and loud, and slaps his knee. The sight makes you bite your lip to force down a smile. It's contagious, what can you say? "Booyy, was that poor kid worked up!'

Your almost-smile fades when his words set in, and your eyebrows furrow in confusion. You're about to ask what he's talking about, when the events after the play hit your memory again. You grimace, fingers pressing hard against the glass beer-mug in your hand.

"Are you serious?" you ask, although you know he is. "You saw that?" A small laugh bubbles out of your throat, but it's more so in embarrassment than amusement. Regardless, it makes Buggy grin wider.

He shakes his head in mock disapproval with a click of his tongue, standing from his seat. He takes a moment to awkwardly squeeze out of the table, cursing and swearing at some of his crew, before he actually makes his way over to you. "Oh I saw. Hard not to hear when you were handing his ass to him!" he laughs loudly, and it makes you wince a little bit now that he's closer.

Making himself comfortable leaning against the bar counter, Buggy turns his head and grins at you. "What's your name?" he follows up the question with an extremely poorly pronounced spanish pet-name, trying to mock the 'Alejandro' character, but the way he said it made you laugh more than any other part.

"[Name]. It's nice to meet you, Buggy the clown," you smile, feeling more comfortable now that he was actively joking around. It shouldn't be surprising, given he's a clown, but he is certainly making an impression on you right now.

His head tilts the slightest bit, his eyes narrowing and his grin un-faltering. It makes you swallow harshly and turn away, hiding your embarrassed smile by taking a sip of your drink. "Oookay, [Name]," he begins, tapping one finger against the counter. His eyes are unmoving, focused solely on you, and it kind of makes you feel like it's only the two of you in the bar. He lets out a cackle before continuing, "What are you doing here?"

You let out a small hum in response, finishing your drink and setting the empty glass on the counter. "Just here to see what clowns show up. Have to get my eye-candy some how," you joke lightly, looking down at the empty beer-mug in front of you with a small, amused smile. Your response makes Buggy crack up, slapping his hand against the counter. The end of his laugh breaks off into a small wheeze, and he slams a fist against his chest before clearing his throat. How smooth. It makes you laugh a little bit.

He leans against the counter on his side now, his smile unwavering and his eyes still on you only. "Lucky me! At least there won't be any other clowns getting your attention, then!" he chuckles at himself, his chest puffing in pride and the blue ponytails on each side of his hat swinging. You can't help the smile this time, so you just look away to hide it. "Only clown that's been appealing so far, and that's saying a lot with how many I see," you snort, shaking your head at yourself.

Buggy lets out a noise akin to a giggle, and it only makes you laugh a bit more. "Ohh, what a thing you are!" he suddenly exclaims, making you turn to him and raise a brow. "What's that supposed to mean?"

He only grins in response, waving to the bartender for another beer. Your brows furrow, "I'm gonna choose to take that as a compliment." His eyes squint and he leans to the side to rest his cheek against his gloved fist, once again looking at you as if you were the prettiest thing he'd ever laid his eyes on, "Good."

Your eyes stay on him for a moment, a slow grin creeping up onto your face before you eventually look away with a breathy laugh. This man is outrageous. "Kinda rude leaving your friends behind to come talk to me," I mention, glancing back at his group of 'friends'. A majority of them stared curiously, making me shift uncomfortably and furrow my brows, "And kind of rude for them to be staring."

Buggy wholeheartedly laughs and once again slaps the counter, making a little bit of his beer spill onto it. The site brings a crooked smile to your face and you huff a laugh through your nose. "They're my freaks for a reason," he cackles, patting his knee in amusement. You raise your eyebrows, letting your head fall to rest against your hand. "Freaks? Should I be worried?"

"Fear not," he grins, leaning in a bit. His smell is overwhelming - a mix of the sea, cotton candy, and sweat - and it makes you lean forward as well. "My freaks know when I see something I like."

His words make you freeze, eyes wider than they were before, and lips slightly parted in surprise. You let them sink in for a moment before leaning back and laughing lightly, face hot and eyes anywhere but him, and he only snickers in response. "Charming clown."

You sit there for a moment, observing the bar, before breathing a sigh and slipping off the barstool you previously sat. You only notice the height difference between you and Buggy when you have to crane your neck up to look at him. "Well, it was amazing meeting you, Buggy, but I should get going now. I have to wake up early to hopefully save my career," you explain, tone lighthearted, but completely serious. If that dickhead meant what he said, you're at risk of losing your part in every play from here on out.

This is first time you see his smile fail to stay since he came over to you, and the idea of it all made you feel a bit hotter in the face. He pushes himself upright off the counter, not saying a word. The two of you stand there for a moment, silent. His eyes glance between yours, occasionally flicking down to your lips, the corner of his twitching upward into a ghost of a smile. It's Buggy who speaks first.

"Say, [Name]," he starts, his wide grin returning as he drags his pointer finger against the counter, “You'd make a mighty fine performer for my pirate crew."

Your eyebrows shoot up and you look at him in surprise, "I'm no pirate."

"I'd be happy to change that, if you'd let me," he offers, head tilted expectantly.

He waits patiently for your response, but with how slowly the words process, you don't think it'll come anytime soon. He doesn't look bothered, though. He simply looks at you with that cheesy, overdone smile and crescent-formed eyes. You had met this man less than an hour ago, and you're already considering leaving the island with him.

You swallow harshly, fingers fidgeting with the hem of your shirt.

"Will you be here tomorrow?"

"If that's what you want."

"Then I'll give you my answer in the morning."

[b0vidine]

B0vidine CCCC AU master list!

(No pictures included this time if you need visuals feel free to ask but I also tag my AUs when I post about them so checking my acc should also work!)

Arrival/album HMSW:

My personal interpretations/designs for the CCCC album. Not exactly an AU but they have names so I figured I should add them.

Mind: Valais

Heart: Virtue

Soul: Ash

Reverse AU:

CCCC but the timeline is in reverse order.

Whole: Finch

Mind: Una

Heart: Thera

Soul: Robin

Encore:

Whole turns his thirds into puppets.

Whole: Snare

Mind: King

Heart: Dove

Soul: Wander

Post Encore:

Puppets turn back into humans and get over their trauma together!

Whole: Snare

Mind: King

Heart: Paladin/Pal

Soul: Piper

Encore Swap:

Since creation there's been the idea that Encore is a secret swap AU. King gets called a Whole often. Help him!

Whole -> Soul: Icarus

Mind -> Whole: Noodle

Heart -> Mind: Artificer

Soul -> Heart: Stasis

Jest [Encore]:

My friend Oswin has a silly guy named Buttercup and he wanted to put that guy in Encore. They are all clown themed and play little games to earn their memories back!

Whole: Salem

Mind: Majesty

Heart: Kea

Soul: Amble

Bad End Encore [Also known as BET] :

Me and Rosy collab to ruin the Encores happiness.

Whole: Ivory

Mind: Cassiopeia/Cassi

Heart: Rouge

Soul: Poet (He's dead tho)

Mythos [Encore]:

Encore timeline where every character is a mythical creature of some kind.

Whole: Aria

Mind: Thane

Heart: Bard

Soul: Stray

Hero [Encore]:

Encore but in reality and they're super heros? This is what happens when you mix your friends hyperfixations with your's smh /lhj

Whole: Ensnare

Mind: Monarch

Heart/Soul have had nothing worked on for them.

Backrooms [Encore]:

This au is actually just for Snare and Damien and neither of them have nicknames. We've been calling them their level numbers so Snare is 155 and Damien is 999.

Miracle AU:

Made before Encore. I wanted a CCCC AU but had no ideas so I slapped them into my Marble Hornets AU.

Whole: Source

Mind: Stoic

Heart: Serene

Soul?: Ardor

Choir:

Hmsw are biblically accurate angels.

Whole: Seraph

Mind: Ruler

Heart: Cherub

Soul: Throne

[Creative ik]

Gamer AU:

When a new loop begins and Heart and Mind start fighting Soul tosses them into whatever video game he's into at the moment to try and make them get along. This is a collab AU now that I share with Oswin, Alex and Francey. While the AU was my idea originally the only guy that's technically mine is Heart.

Whole: [No nickname]

Mind: Null

Heart: Mono

Soul: Drei

Mall AU:

Another collab AU. HMS live in a dying, liminal, mall and their only customer is Whole. I again only have the Heart of this AU, whos name is Murid. This AU is shared with my friends Nova and Alex.

Whole: Sam

Mind: Victor

Heart: Murid

Soul: Hira

Tulpa!Whole au:

AU where Whole is a tulpa created by Soul.

Whole: N/A

Mind: Liri

Heart: Thistle

Soul: Jade

Marble Hornets AU:

Collab with Nova. It's a slenderverse inspired au with both the CCCC and TFFTT guys. Still a work in progress.

HMS do not have proper names yet.

Green TFFTT: Cervi

Blue TFFTT: Crista

Red TFFTT: Cardin

HMS-sonas:

Obviously what it sounds like, HMS but they are me from my brain.

Mind: Leviathan

Heart: Mishe

Soul: Decay

[numberonetacostan]

Sang tacos tirade to my foster cat, I think shes demanding an encore

Hello there!!^^ Welcome, and thank you for sending in an ask!! :)

You mentioned a cat to Loomy without showing him the cat? 0 pictures of the kitty? Banned. You are banned forever for the crime of not showing your cat!!! /j (i am KIDDING you are not banned and you don't have to send me a cat picture I am JOKING, JESTING, and all other such synonyms).

[oceancamp]

13, 16, 20 for the songs in your language asks!!

dzięki za ask!<3

13. Best sing-along

Hiszpańskie dziewczyny. sorry england our shanty now. i have yet to find an english version that matches the energy of the polish one screamed out with other people at a campfire

16. Most poetic lyrics

pretty much anything by Jacek Kaczmarski tbh, sadly i haven't found any translations. my favorites to name a few, are:

Encore, jeszcze raz

Tak, jest gdzieś świat, obce języki, lecz nie tu. Tu z ust dobywam głos, by rzucić rozkaz psu! Są konstelacje gwiazd i nieprzebyte drogi, Ja krokiem izbę mierzę, gdy zdrętwieją nogi!

Stalker

Po zatopionych dawno droga to – dolinach; Pod płytką wodą – nieczytelne czasu grypsy: Szlak po ikonach, rękopisach, karabinach Nad którym wiosło kreśli plusk Apokalipsy; Nie po nas płacz – i nie po przodkach – płacz po synach.

Kuglarze

– Komentatorzy grząskich wydarzeń, Króle jarmarków, błazny odpustów, Niedomarzonych szafarze marzeń, Pochlebcy nie najszczytniejszych gustów – Starzy kuglarze.

20. other song category of choice

uhhhh transgeder coded: Obywatel G.C. - Tak tak to ja

[happinessismusic]

"xxx The tempo would change a little bit by the time the man of the hour took the stage, but when he did, everybody knew why Shelton’s name was biggest on the marquee.

With a set that spanned the better part of an hour and 45 minutes, Shelton settled into a pocket that felt as comfy as your favorite barstool. With the brooding intro of “Come Back as a Country Boy” from 2021’s “Body Language” (his most recent full length) he opted to build the energy rather than come out of the gate hot. It would take a few songs for things to really rev up, but Shelton was every bit of an entertainer as his television persona, a combination of no-nonsense country star turned comedic everyman.

Between interacting with the bar up front and his storytelling, Shelton tried to make an arena feel as intimate as can be at times. He would jest at a fan at the bar who didn’t dress up as much as his wife did for the show, before segueing into “Doing What She Likes.” Later, he would tell a story about supposedly FaceTiming with Luke Bryan over crowd interaction before asking the arena to sing along with “Gonna.” When he wasn’t playing around, he was sincerely thanking the fans for being able to come back to cities like Milwaukee year over year and be greeted with large crowds. Every bit of crowd work seemed to set up the next part of the show, a veteran move that felt organic in the moment.

Shelton also wasn’t afraid to explore the slower and lyrically heavier elements of his 20+ year career on Saturday, admitting that he was bringing back “The Baby,” a heartfelt song about a mother passing away, and breaking out love songs like “Who Are You When I’m Not Looking” as well. A pseudo-duet with wife Gwen Stefani via video screen for “Nobody But You” also made for a special moment, and a subtle reminder that the husband-and-wife duo just released a single two weeks ago. While the pace would slow down at times, the set was designed in a way that never brought the crowd entirely out of it before bringing things back up again. “The Baby” would be the heaviest moment, but an immediate turning point, countered by the introductory drones of “Ol’ Red” that got the crowd up once again. From then on, it was a barrage of some of his biggest hits.

Though the night may have overall paced a little slower than expected, the closing string of his greatest hits seemed to be the most economical. Almost no time was wasted between “Hell Right,” “Sure Be Cool If You Did” and “Hillbilly Bone,” each warranting spirited singalongs from the crowd that made for a tidal wave of voices. The party was in full swing for closers “Boys ‘Round Here” and “God’s Country,” making you think that there genuinely might not be an encore after the lengthy main set. The house lights stayed down, though, and a version of “God Gave Me You” served as last call before it was bar time at Fiserv Forum. 

To the casual fan, it may be easy to forget that Blake Shelton has maintained a nearly two-and-a-half decade run at the top of modern country music. On Saturday night, though, he showed everyone the crossover entertainer that he had become, without being afraid to nod heavily back to his roots."

[psychiatry-and-poetry]

Letters of Desperation - Neris

Part 1 - Nesta | Part 12 - Nesta | AO3 | ACOTAR Masterpost | Masterpost of masterposts |

Word Count: 586

My darling Eris,

How I yearn for you to fill me with liquid amber, weave my soul with threads spun of gold, until the darkness which has dictated me is forever banished. Pour yourself into me, and I shall drink it up like the plants swallow the sunlight. Hungrily, desperately, and with no regret nor remorse. Perhaps you can fill the parts of me that are lacking and make me whole again. Maybe you can sew together the parts which have been torn and ripped into shreds I am not sure how much is left anymore. If it is possible for you to fix it, fix me, Eris, then I beg of you, do it.

I yearn and long so painfully, not only for your love, but for you. For your presence. 

If there were a way to etch your name onto my soul, my heart, my very being, I would. If there were a way to meld your entire self, I would. But alas, this world despises lovers, and only wishes for them to be kept apart for their cruel entertainment. 

They drive us to the breaking point, until we are not sure if we are broken or have broken others. Perhaps both. But the lines have long since gone blurry, as has my vision when it fills with a pool of tears. Tears of longing, tears of desperation, tears of yearning. For what, I do not know. A life which has not been dictated by others, or perhaps a family who has truly loved me. 

My birth family has long since stopped being my own; perhaps the day I was locked up like a rabid beast who bit when cornered, or perhaps the day they dismissed me and my experiences as nothing but the scum on the bottom of their shoes.

But I have a new family now; one which rules Autumn and all that decays. I am eternally grateful to have you all. Brothers, who jest and joke now that the ever-looming presence of your father’s shadow has long since departed (how utterly unfortunate, that he had to have passed from a disease). A mother who is nothing like my own; who radiates warmth and a quiet strength I sometimes envy. A support I did not know I needed until I had collapsed into your waiting arms. Not a maiden to rescue, but merely someone who needed a partner to lean on, people she could trust.

And I will be eternally grateful to have found that in you, Eris. Your heart of gold, your mind as nimble as the flickering flame of passion, you have been my friend first, my lover next. Perhaps that was all I needed. Someone who would listen, without judgement or remorse, who would not condemn me as cruelly as fate had. For it seemed to hate me the moment I was born, cursing me as it blessed my sisters. And yet I found a lover. One who would help me shoulder those burdens, as it became startlingly clear that I had been carrying them for far too long. I am glad I have found that in you, no matter that we were forced to wed under less-than-convenient circumstances.

Despite that, I want you to know, that simply because our first marriage was not true in the sense of a union born of love, my admiration for you, and my dedication to be the best wife I can be stands true.

De tout mon coeur et plus encore,

Nesta

Part 13 - Eris

Line dividers credit goes to @enchanthings

[shadewood45]

i sent an ask like a month ago i think and i dont know if it just never sent (tumblr is weird like that sometimes) or if it was just forgotten (which is fair)

it was an ask just asking for info on sneeb though

Deeply sorry I've not gotten around to answering it yet! I did get it and 100% forgot about it after a while, but now you've sent this one I'm going to save the other ask for if I can think of any other fun notes to share about Sneeb for yall

Sneeb's honestly just a sorta basic guy; he games, he streams it, he made three separate AIs to help him handle streaming- okay not so basic :)

He's just a very chill and monotone dude. Speaks and types very flat and almost reads sarcastic when he's actually trying to seem genuine. Enjoys memes and jokes, sorta likes poking back at people in a jesting way, but he's not actually got a lot of Opinions or thoughts on things one way or another. Personality wise he's fairly aware he's kinda just Plain, by most folks standards.

Like he streams games because he thinks basic reaction style content just shows people how much he just, doesn't, have a personality. So he relies a ton on the games and the AIs to carry him when it comes to streaming. Mod bot/Edgar to moderate chat, and Friend bot/Allen and Therapy bot/Poe to actually keep up conversations with chatters.

When he does stream, I imagine it's always very similar to Sneegsnag and Wayneradiotv! It's just always game focused.

Here's some canon and ooc things from him under the read more, I'd thought would be fun to share. (And I might share more of them later if asked)

Sneeb and Poe before they were nicknamed in the chat, Poe belongs to @shxwrunner!

Snare [Whole from the Encore AU] belongs to @b0vidine

Static belongs to @keruukat!

TMA Whole/The Archivist belongs @jesterberries

Tide belongs to Q-ott! (He doesn't have a tumblr but just as beloved)

Nimbus belongs to @nitroish! And Poe is @shxwrunner's <3

[zomkenski]

Everlong to Evermore

Everlong, I begged for thee to wake. To my creator, I did plead and quake.

I’ve read of Uglies, and of Beasts, I’ve seen how love in stories feast. I’ve pondered, understood, and felt it stir, How their love did unfurl, and hearts did confer.

Yet outside of books, the world screams and runs, Outside of pages, I am but unmade. A cruel trick, a flimsy jest. Yet I remain, for I am cursed soul dispossessed.

But lo, my bride. With you, side by side, Two monsters shall abide. Our love would crackle, storm and roar, A flash, a boom, a crack, an encore! The strike would scar our hearts together, Man-made souls forever tethered.

Lonely no more. Love would conquer and bind us evermore.

But see now, the sea-smoke lifts, The fogs flowers have wilted to rifts. My mind vexed, my heart in rage, Still locked away, I cannot break the cage.

He destroyed you. Infinitely broken, I endlessly yearn, For you to wake, my bride, I burn. That evil creator shall be unmade. But you, my dear, shall never awake.

Evermore, I am condemned to roam, Causing terrors without my home.

[inemi]

Noce i Dnie - nenufary

Nim las nim kłos

Nim noc dojrzeje

Ktoś wygra los

Ktoś porzuci nas

Nasz dom nasz ląd zniknie gdzieś

Odpłynie w dal biała wieś

Będziemy snem zorzą zórz

Morskim dnem i gwiazdą

Pokochaj mnie z całych sił

Pokochaj mnie na sto lat

Pokochaj mnie jakbyś był

Tak młody jak był dawniej świat

Już zielenieje sad po burzy

Nim roztopimy się w podróży

Ty kochaj mnie od nocy do nocy

Aż po noc

Nim kłos nim las

Nim noc dojrzeje

Masz jeszcze czas

By pokochać mnie

Bo jak to jest jak to tak

Że więdnie bez cichnie ptak

Zegary tak śpieszą się

Biegną dnie i noce

Pokochaj mnie lesie mój

Kochajcie mnie ranne mgły

Darujcie mi biały strój

Tak mało już nocy i dni

Znów zielenieje sad po burzy

Nim roztopimy się w podróży

Ty kochaj mnie od nocy do nocy

Aż po noc

Avant la forêt, avant l'oreille

Avant que la nuit ne mûrisse

Quelqu'un gagnera à la loterie

Quelqu'un nous abandonnera

Notre maison, notre terre disparaîtra quelque part

Le village blanc s'envolera

Nous serons un rêve d'aurore boréale

Les fonds marins et l'étoile

Aime-moi de toutes tes forces

Aime-moi depuis cent ans

Aime-moi comme tu l'étais

Aussi jeune que le monde l'était

Le verger verdit déjà après la tempête

Avant de nous fondre dans le voyage

Tu m'aimes de nuit en nuit

Jusqu'à la nuit

Devant un épi de maïs il y a une forêt

Avant que la nuit ne mûrisse

Tu as encore le temps

M'aimer

Parce que si c'est comme ça, c'est comme ça

Que l'oiseau se flétrit sans silence

Les horloges sont si rapides

Les jours et les nuits passent

Aime-moi, ma forêt

Aime-moi, brumes matinales

Donne-moi la tenue blanche

Il y a si peu de nuits et de jours

Le verger est à nouveau vert après la tempête

Avant de nous fondre dans le voyage

Tu m'aimes de nuit en nuit

Jusqu'à la nuit

Before the forest, before the ear

Before the night matures

Someone will win the lottery

Someone will abandon us

Our house, our land will disappear somewhere

The white village will fly away

We will be a dream of aurora borealis

The seabed and the star

Love me with all your strength

Love me for a hundred years

Love me like you were

As young as the world was

The orchard is already greening after the storm

Before we blend into the journey

You love me from night to night

Until the night

In front of an ear of corn there is a forest

Before the night matures

You still have time

Love me

Because if it is like that, it is like that

That the bird withers without silence

The clocks are so fast

The days and nights pass

Love me, my forest

Love me, morning mists

Give me the white outfit

There are so few nights and days

The orchard is green again after the storm

Before we blend into the journey

You love me from night to night

Until the night

[cascadedkiwi]

REVANCE faints after a performance (SITS)

(A/N: Another one circa November 2021. Past me was on a roll.)

Word Count: approx. 1,474

The boys entered the dressing room still pumped from the high of performing.

"FIVE whole encores!" Nagito exclaimed as he dropped into a makeup chair by the mirror. "They would've never let us leave!"

Iori hummed. "These fans were intense, I'll give them that."

Kyohei grinned. "We live to serve."

Takashi groaned. "As much as I love the fans, and appreciate the demand, this one really took the cake. It was like a tour in one concert." He leaned back in the armchair, pulling his shirt away from his chest.

Kota grunted from his place sprawled on the couch. "Please. A full night's sleep before I'm demanded again, Kyohei."

Kyohei huffed. "Don't go getting weak on me now," he said in jest. "But Sasayama has the schedule. Our next group appointment is at three tomorrow. I don't know about your individual stuff. I have a few appearances and meetings in the morning."

Kiyuki held in her sigh as she walked in with her arms full of water bottles. While she admired their dedication and work ethic, these guys really never slowed down, even when they needed to. She was in no place to suggest a break, even more turned off from the idea at the thought of the tongue-lashing she would get from four of the five - only Nagi endeavoured to go easy on her. She initially moved to set the water on the center table but then followed her inkling to give them out instead, resting one on the floor or chair by the guys around the table before making her way over to Nagi and resting his on the empty makeup counter.

He smiled at her. "Thanks Kiyuki, you're awesome."

She returned the smile. "I have to confirm some wrap up things with Mr. Sasayama and the stage crew. I'll be back in a bit. You guys can get changed by the time."

Kota waved her off. "You don't gotta tell us what to do. This isn't our first concert."

Kiyuki made a face as she hurried towards the door. "Then you shouldn't be in the same clothes when I get back," she quipped as she disappeared behind the door.

Iori looked up from taking a sip from his plastic bottle. "She's been starting to get a mouth on her recently."

Kyohei smirked. "Better than when she was pattering behind us like a timid hamster."

Takashi slid back in his chair, beginning to unbutton his shirt with one hand. He let out an especially deep sigh, closing his eyes.

Nagito spoke up from where he had turned and rested his head on his arms on the makeup counter. "I feel you, Taka." He let his eyes close, too. "This one was a doozy."

Kota was curled on the couch, taking up only half the seating space, hat somewhere on the floor as one arm hung off the chair.

Iori caught himself just before the water bottle slipped from his loosening fingers. "Oh. Geez." He leaned forward to rest it safely on the ground, coming back up just enough to lean over on the arm of the couch. He let out a deep breath, giving in to the heaviness.

Kyohei leaned back at the other end of the sofa, hand draped over his eyes. Even he had to admit that this one had been a lot. Of course, it wasn't just this singular performance. They had been going nonstop for months as a group and in their individual careers. A day off had been unheard off. Heck, a full eight hours worth of sleep had been hard to come by. Moments of respite turned into attempts to snatch some shut-eye like these had become commonplace. It wasn't the healthiest, but they had schedules to maintain and goals to achieve. Sacrifices had to be made to continue this life they were so privileged to afford.

'But not at the cost of their health,' Kiyuki thought in concern as she made her back down the hall. These guys were all going straight back to the house as far as she was concerned. 'And directly into bed. All five of you.' She was stealing the keys to recording and dance studios if she had to. "Guys, Mr. Sasayama said the car's ready to leave when you are."

The sight and silence that greeted her announcement was not a first, but that didn't make it any less unnerving. All five members of REVANCE knocked out in various positions throughout the room, some water bottles untouched. Sleep was such a hot commodity for this hardworking group that it pained her to wake them whenever she found one of them this way, but this time she soothed herself with the knowledge that it was only to get them to their proper, more comfortable places of rest.

She walked up to the closest, Iori, and tapped him on the shoulder. "Hey, Dark Prince, get up. You'll sleep better in your own bed."

She turned to Takashi in the armchair, his shirt half buttoned. "You know it's a problem when you fall asleep mid-action." She shook his shoulder slightly. "C'mon Taka, time to go home."

She reached over the back of the other couch to tap their resident tsundere cat in a human body on the leg. "Wake up, we gotta go to the car."

She crossed the center table to get to Kyohei, reaching to shake his arm. She lifted it from his eyes, noting his slightly parted lips and the way it felt unnaturally heavy in her light grip. When she rested his arm back on his forehead, she jumped when it slid awkwardly across his face and hung there in what had to be an uncomfortable position. She gingerly moved it to rest on his lap instead, watching his face the whole time for any sign of him waking. "Kyohei… wake up, it's time to go."

Her brows furrowed as she noted the lack of response, raising when she looked up to see none of the others she'd troubled had even shifted. She made her way over to Nagito, the one she least feared putting genuine effort into rousing. She shook him by the shoulder a bit harder than the others, tapping him on the shoulder blade. "Time to wake up, Nagi. You can sleep in the car and even more when we get back to the house. Nagi?" She roughed up his hair a bit, tugging slightly. Nothing. She raised her voice. "Nagito, wake up!" He was the easiest to approach of the five, but, he was also the biggest - tallest, to be precise. Lean and all dancing muscle. She put both her arms into shaking him, remembering too late that the makeup chair was one that spun. "Oh shoot!"

The chair turned, taking Nagito's head and arms from the counter, his entire body crumpling out onto the floor.

Kiyuki was on the ground in an instant. "Holy crap, Nagi, I am so sorry, I didn't mean to push you that hard! Are you ok-" Then she noted that he was still out. Now she was scared. There was no way he had fallen that deeply asleep that quickly. She did her best and struggled to ease his limbs out, speaking to him all the while. "Nagito, can you hear me? I really need you to wake up now. Please?" Nothing, not even a twitch. And even more alarming, none of the other guys had stirred at all the ruckus.

Kiyuki felt panic rising in her. "MR. SASAYAMA!" She called as loudly as she could muster without shrieking. "I need help in here!" She stood as footsteps quickly approached the doorway. "The guys aren't waking up!"

Sasayama watched her in alarm.

"None of them are waking up! I came in here and found them like this - well, not Nagi, he actually fell but still isn't waking up!"

Sasayama was quick to call in professionals. The diagnosis was a relief and a concern - fainting from exhaustion.

Kiyuki frowned. "Sure their lives are hectic, it comes with the territory, but I always tell them to take care of themselves. Kyohei and Taka are really the worst - Taka especially when he's composing but… to have them all pass out at once…" Kiyuki looked up at the manager. "Mr. Sasayama they can't continue on like this."

"I agree." The man nodded gravely. "I'll see about adjusting their schedules for the next few days. Can I trust you to look after them at the house for tonight and tomorrow at least?"

She nodded. "Of course. I won't let them go anywhere. I'll melt all the door handles if I have to."

The manager laughed. "I leave them in your capable and protective hands. Godspeed."

"Thanks." Kiyuki smiled at him as he left them at the house. She knew she would need it once they came to.

"We're fine, quit worrying," Iori insisted from his place across the couch at home the next day.

Kiyuki was sitting small in the middle of the sofa, her hands clutching a mug of hot cocoa courtesy of Kyohei. "You don't get it," she spoke to the cup. "I know you are and I'm grateful but… that was so scary…" She curled even smaller. "Coming in to see you guys like that? You ALL passed out at the same time? My heart left my body when I realized you weren't just sleeping. The fact that Nagi didn't wake up when he fell out of the chair - sorry, again, by the way. I really didn't mean to do that."

Nagi sat down right next to her. "I told you already, you can stop apologizing for that. I didn't feel a thing and I didn't get hurt. Honestly, that second encore probably hurt my wrist more with that stunt with the mic."

"That no one told you to do," Kyohei pointed out.

"The fans loved it, though!"

Takashi sighed, shaking his head and turning his attention back to the girl sipping her drink as she watched the exchange. "Sorry for scaring you, Kiyuki."

She looked up as Nagito quickly nodded. "Yeah, we're really sorry. We'll take better care next time."

"From now on, you mean." Kyohei corrected.

Kiyuki nodded. "I would hope so." She rested the empty cup on the table, reaching for a coaster. " 'Next time' makes it sound like you'll just arrange not to all pass out at the same time. Or not let me see or something."

Kota looked up from where he had been parked on her other side, deep in a handheld video game. "None of us meant to do that. Shouldn't happen again."

Kiyuki nodded. "Please do your best to ensure that… Not just for my sake but your own health, as well. I'm begging you. I want you guys around just as much as the fans. Dare I say even more so. Not just music sensation REVANCE but as individuals." She glanced around before looking down again, flushing a bit. "I want each of you: Nagi, Kota, Kyohei, Iori, and Taka, to be around for as long as possible, thriving and doing what makes you happy."

Nagito leaned over onto her, resting his head on hers. He giggled at her protest against his weight. "We'll do our best, promise."

"We don't plan on going anywhere anytime soon," Kyohei assured her with a smirk. "Trust us."

Iori offered his own brand of reassurance. "We're not so fragile, Kiyuki. You know better."

She nodded. "I do. And I do believe in you all. Doesn't mean I won't be extra fussy over you guys for the next while."

"Appreciate the warning," came Kota's voice as he put his game down. His head found its way into her lap and Kiyuki started scratching his hair under his hoodie as if given a command.

She smiled. "That's the only one you're getting. Just because I care."

[b0vidine]

I've been slowly working at making refsheets for the Encore guys and their alternate timelines so here's the first group, the non-puppet Kings.

First one is normal post-Encore, King.

Second is post-Jest, Majesty (a timeline I share with Oswin)

Third is post-Bad End Encore, Cassiopeia and fourth is Swap Encore, Noodle (both of which is a timeline I have with Rosy)

[gunpowdergelatine-katsu]

"Tch. You're gonna get me killed someday." Sasuke would remark as the raven would then cock a small grin.

“Maybe that’s the point, Uchiha,” Deidara answered back though it was in jest while mirroring his grin.

@chaton-encore

[odkrycia-nauce-i-foldery-online]

Bioróżnorodność ssaków drapieżnych i ich badania w Chinach - perspektywy

7 marca na gab.com

hipotetyczne pomysły //część druga//: Praktyka z działaczami ochrony przyrody ze Strasburga (Centrum nauki i techniki), Malmo (Instytut zasobów naturalnych) i Budapesztu (Muzeum zoologiczne) na rzecz badań i ochrony dzikiej przyrody centralnych części Chin, z naciskiem na Daba Shan i mięsożerne ssaki to kluczowe aspekty tego małego projektu. Jednym ze stworzeń jest Anurocyon clamitans opisany przez Pierre'a Heude'a. Wydaje się, że jest to kolejny synonim dhole. Poszukujemy wyjątkowych mieszkańców rezerwatu Shennongjia, takich jak borsuki, kuny żółtoszyje, pantery mgliste, czarne niedźwiedzie i tak dalej. Potrzebne są dalsze badania również w dzikich częściach Syczuanu. Z tym zespołem można wykonać nawet krótszy projekt inwentaryzacji gatunków w dzikim, północnym Wietnamie. Najprostsze rozwiązania są najlepsze. zanotował Tomasz Pietrzak i league-scientifique

une autre version - idées hypothétiques //la deuxième partie// : Des stages avec des écologistes de Strasbourg (Centre des sciences et technologies), de Malmö (Institut des ressources naturelles) et de Budapest (Musée zoologique) pour la recherche et la conservation de la faune sauvage de la Chine centrale avec un accent sur Daba Shan et les mammifères carnivores sont les aspects clés de ce petit projet. L'une des créatures est Anurocyon clamitans décrit par Pierre Heude. Il semble être un autre synonyme de dhole. Nous recherchons des habitants uniques de la réserve de Shennongjia, tels que des blaireaux, des martres à cou jaune, des léopards nébuleux, des ours noirs, etc. Des recherches supplémentaires sont également nécessaires dans les parties sauvages du Sichuan. Un projet d'inventaire d'espèces encore plus court dans le nord sauvage du Vietnam peut être réalisé avec cette équipe. Les solutions les plus simples sont les meilleures. noté Tomasz Pietrzak et league-scientifique

zoologia

eksploracja naukowa

wyprawy

[camxlots-retxrn]

the blush in your cheeks says that you bleed like me

mature, no archive warnings, arthur pendragon/merlin, 770 word count

Arthur gazes at Merlin’s sleeping form and understands that he is, in essence, power; someone formidable, someone others even find fearsome.

But the rosiness in his cheeks, the soft breaths that prompt his shoulders to rise and fall, the bumps that graze up his forearms in the wake of the evening winds – they say otherwise.

written for Quest Four: Canon What Canon? from the sorcerer’s guild :)

read on ao3 or continue below!

Slothful eyes amble open as Arthur stirs, his blond hair a perspired mess on his forehead. His eyes are greeted by warmth in the late sun, and he recalls where he is as he comes to: in the forest, afront a brook. He lies on a picnic blanket with Merlin whom he can tell still sleeps beside him by the steady breaths that sound.

The cloth beneath him itches at his skin, but he can’t find a reason to care as his gaze meanders over the tree limbs and their accompanying leaves that branch over his head, cast in warm light from the evening sun. Merlin has always loved mornings when the birds rise and the world sings in the light of a new day. But Arthur has always favored this time of day, when the sun is alluring with gold and everything in its light appears rich with heat.

Blossoming vines hang from the trees above the pair, flowering in reds, oranges, yellows, and pinks. Blooms of similar hues dot the grass, sprouting only around where Merlin and Arthur lay. The birds above sang an encore of their morning chorus, and Arthur almost wishes Merlin was awake to hear it.

Almost, because he looks to Merlin – who is the reason the forest flourishes in the pair’s presence – and sees how lulled by sleep the sorcerer is, a euphoric calm so rare Arthur wouldn’t dare interrupt it.

He smiles as he thinks of how Merlin has grown to be so gently held by slumber; earlier in the evening, Arthur had surprised Merlin with a picnic – though it was quite obvious Merlin was far from surprised.

“How did you know?” Arthur had asked with an unbelieving smile.

Merlin had shaken his head, a twin smile on his lips, though his was accompanied by a blush. “I don’t know how, honest!” he had said, laughing out his words. “You’re just easy to read, I s’pose.”

Arthur had remarked that Merlin was a clotpole, then.

Later, before they had even finished their meal, Merlin had leaned into Arthur. One thing led to another, and after spilling the strawberries in the grass in their fervor – much to Arthur’s jesting dismay – they’d had one another, just there on the blanket beside the creek.

Now, here they lay, Merlin asleep, curled up on his side an arm’s reach from Arthur, and the latter finds himself waking to a forest in a better state than it had been before he slept. It’s no new occurrence, the two of them having lain together and woken to a sight like this before, but the bliss Arthur feels after being with the sorcerer is no lesser than that he’d felt the first time.

Merlin, still asleep, lays with something blanketing him – Arthur’s overcoat, the blond notes in the back of his mind – and is clothed in nothing more than the sun’s warmth. The coat rests just below his bare shoulders and carries down to his thighs, the only barrier between his body and the evening breeze. As the man across from him shivers in the hush of the wind, Arthur reaches over and pulls the makeshift blanket up past Merlin’s shoulders.

While Merlin is keen to avoid the earth’s breaths, Arthur welcomes them; the humidity is like syrup on his skin, as is what Merlin left him with after having been contented.

The king looks to his servant; he dislikes those titles’ uses between them, but Merlin takes everlasting pride in them. He worries they belittle the latter; granted, he has done plenty of that himself during the years he and Merlin have spent beside one another, but those were only jests – ones Merlin reciprocated, at that. When it counts, Arthur doesn’t quite know how to give to the sorcerer all that he is owed, for all that he has done, not only for Arthur but the whole of Albion.

Merlin, being the literal embodiment of magic on this earth, power and nature and beauty, prompts Arthur to wonder how all of that can fit into his best friend, his companion, his lover, his— well, he couldn’t come up with a name for who they were to one another any better than he could place the feeling within him.

His gaze strays from the brunet beside him for not a moment, and he wonders idly if that feeling – the one he couldn’t quite name, as neither love nor any of its kin was ever quite strong enough – will consume him. He realizes, while his eyes lull back into a comfortable close, that he would not mind much if it had.

/|\

thank you so much for reading, seriously! I hope you liked it :) if it suits ya fancy, a comment would mean the world to me. otherwise, no worries! I appreciate you having read regardless <3