#lord why why WHY do i do this/does this happen every god fucking damn time

[unicorn-shadownight]

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[iiiiiiis-things]

"But you're the only one that's holding me down!"

pairing- bsf!satoru x reader

cw- igs angst idk i js needed plot to build up, fluff, highschool toru

analysis- your ex leaves you & satoru gets stood up

a/n- HEY PEOPLES i just wanna thank you for all the support and love yall are giving me im close to 1k and i wanna do a special so ill be having a poll posted soon, also this story was heavily influenced by strangers things season 2 when nancy was dancing with dustin !

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"are you fucking shitting me ?" your stern voice could be heard by your ex, who was standing in front of you dancing with another girl but quickly removed her away from him the second he saw your face. "is this what you meant by be right back? to go blow me off with this bitch?" you point to the girl he was dancing with, completely shocked because not to be rude but you knew your self worth and this was just down right disrespectful. "baby i swear she's just a friend-" you tune him out making an overly dramatic eye roll as you feel your eyes began to water, honestly you didn't even know why exactly this little situation had you threatening to spill tears.

your ex was embarrassing you nothing new before- this was the same routine, the same cycle, and he had the same excuse every. single. time. you wanted to quite literally punch yourself in the face for falling for it yet again.

There was something in your gut telling you going to the snowball with your ex would have horrible results, yet you ignored your female intuition and went anyways, now you stood here looking so idiotically stupid in front of everyone as your confront this piece of shit. honestly ? you weren't even close to being as upset as you were embarrassed. hell the only reason you found out what he was doing on his "bathroom break" was because your friend pointed him out with a "uh girl- ain't that yo man?"

"bottom line is- you mean more to me than she does" is he serious ?.. "oh so she means something to you? just not as much as me right" the girl look so uncomfortable in this situation she began to remove herself from the middle of you two "little word of advice sweetheart, don't date him in the future, he's just looking to get his dick wet."

"wha- no what are you- why are you putting words in my mouth?! you know what are being such a bitch about this! jesus y/n you're always blowing things way out of proportion it's why i can't stay in a damn relationship with you ! and i try so hard to be nice but it's like you latch on to me like a fucking leech, just admit it without me you would be nothing! you had no one before me, no one loved you until I came along. your so god damn annoying seriously." staring in absolute disbelief and your eyes are so hot as people were now looking his way wondering what was going on and why his voice was growing louder and louder by the minute.

"let me tell you something you sick fuck. I am my own person and i do not need a little boy who's insecure about his penis size to contradict me about me and my life, you may have gotten me to come out of my shell but you didn't make shit, you are not my father nor my mother so you have absolutely no right to speak to me the way you're doing right now. I am a growing woman with my own liberties and ideals and if you didn't see that before, then that says a lot about the way you view me." hot tears are not streaming down your face as you make your way back to the table you were sitting at. you had made sure to keep your voice down so you wouldn't attract a crowd because lord knows all hell would've broken lose.

you sat at the table trying to dry your tears as a wave of nausea comes over you, feeling upset about everything that just happened as his words relayed in your head 'no one loved you' no. he was wrong so utterly wrong, you had friends, great ones in fact, you even had a best friend the one who stuck by your side through thick and thin.

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"shit" satoru cursed out as he realized he was crying, he was currently sitting behind the flimsy decorations the at covered the bleachers, alone and out of sight form everyone who could see how pathetic he looked right now.

crying over a female.

satoru honestly didn't even know why exactly this little situation had him crying, he had been showed up. nothing new before- girls who flirt with him for his wealth and ditch as soon as the connections start. of course he was used to it, sad but true. he came to the conclusion of it wasn't the girl herself that he was crying over. it was his inability to find love. most people would laugh when if they hear that satoru was true a lover boy, especially with his reputation for moving into different relationships faster than a virgin boy cumming for the first time.

in fact he had been in more flings you can count on your fingers just this semester. but it wasn't on purpose it's not like his goal was to become a pass around. it just sorta happened...

satoru was more upset than he had realized. thoughts running around his head about how unlucky his love life was. He sat on the bleachers, on the last day and most important moment of the first semester of his senior year, crying and alone.

it was so unfair, he had come here with a group of friends and though they didn't come with dates it sure as hell looked like they were leaving with one, suguru and shoko didn't even have a plus one but in the mist of waiting with satoru on his, they had both picked up someone to dance with. which was fine, he couldn't bring himself to be envy of his friends love life. hell even his best friend who stuck by his side through thick and thin was probably around the gymnasium somewhere slow dancing with her-

"hey." satoru immediately wipes his face as he hears your voice. "uh hey, what's up?" he looks up at you hoping you wouldn't notice his red and puffy eyes, but you were his best friend so of course you did.

"are you okay?" walking over to the bleachers you sit a couple feet away from him "yeah, heh why wouldn't i be?" he said with a little sniffle "oh well- this is just an observation but maybe it has something to do with the fact that you're crying... and alone" shit you had noticed, satoru did not like the feeling swarming inside his tummy he felt self-conscious. he didn't want to look so vulnerable infront of you

"well- technically i'm not alone, you're here" he looks up at you giving his infamous cocky smile that you've grown the love you can't help but giggle at his antics "what's funny?" "you" you catch yourself smiling a little to hard at him which causes you to clear your throat and switch the topic of the conversation. "so uh- where's your date?" looking off to the side his smile faded as soon as it came "i don't know if i should tell you, it's pretty lame" he spreads his legs further slouching down as he picks at his fingernails in the middle of his lap.

"satoru i've been your friend since middle school... i've seen your emo phase" his eyes shoot open as he looks over at you in horror "oh my god! you remember that?" a pink hue dusted his cheeks as he remembers the sight of that god awful side part and horrible black eye liner (sorry nanami) "of course i do" you let out with a laugh gojo leans his head back and groan bringing his hands up to cover his face out of embarrassment. laughing once more you decide to scoot in closer, now sitting right next to him, opposite to the few feet when you were away from him. "so?"

"i've been stood up" his eyes falls into his lap not having the guts to see your face of empathy right now. "if it makes you feel better" you lean back and stretch your arms out on the row behind you eyes having the same fate as his "my ex ditched me for someone else then proceeded to call me annoying" gojo felt his heart squeeze as he looked up to see the waterline of your eyes activate "he's a piece of shit, seriously i don't even know why you keep going back to him" redness around his eyes slowly faded and started to fill with anger as he talked about your ex "it's cause- i just- i just want to be loved by someone who truly wants me for me and every time he walks into my life it's usually at one of my lowest points and i just fall right for it!" your best friend watched intensely as he took in every word you were saying as you began to pour your heart out to him all the while in his head agreeing with you since all he wanted was to be loved.

"i mean its so hard to find someone in this generation who truly cares about me, it's like im" you lean forward and put your face in you palms eyebrows furrowed as you let your frustrations out

"doomed for love"

the two of you make eye contact shocked that the same words fell from both of your lips "i get you in so many ways you wouldn't even understand." a comfortable silence fills the air around you for a moment until he broke it (fucking blabbermouth) "for the record, i don't think your annoying, and-" mumbling the last part you look over in confusion "what did you say?" the blush began to creep back up his neck as he looks to the side "i said-" he voice went inaudible once again "toru i can't hear you" "i said you look beautiful tonight!" he suddenly shouted, turning back around to look you in your eyes, the two of you just looked at eachother not knowing what to say next "well thank you, i think that you look very handsome" you scootch over more and lean you head on to his shoulder

at first satoru tenses up not sure what to do but as time went on he relaxes, slowly bringing a hand around to your waist to pull you in even closer into a nice side hug as the two of you watch the other people have fun on the dance floor "jesus, suguru can not dance" letting out a sigh satoru puts his head down embarrassed for his friend who was currently making a damn fool of himself infront of his date you giggle looking around the gymnasium spotting your closet girl friend "if you think he's bad look at shoko" you sit up and he follows suit only for his jaw to drop at the her cruel dance moves "what about-"

"utahime" in unison the two of you burst into laughter as you seemingly spot her at the same time, she was moving her hips so off beat that it was unusual, but hey at least she was happy. after the fit of giggles you return back into the position before "you know, we shouldn't even have come to this thing in the first place- it's so corny i mean cmon, what's next there gonna play a thousand years by christina pe-"

"heart beats fast"

"oh you've gotta be shitting me" you cackle at the perfect timing of his crude joke as he leans back once more. you take it upon your self to get up and stick your hand out in front of him "y-you wanna dance?" rolling your eyes you snatch him up by his blazer dragging him to the make shift dance floor "uh, i'm not sure if i-" "relax you got this, just like we practiced" right. how could he forget that the two of you practice slow dancing together (it was his idea since he didn't want to embarrass himself) just the night before.

you stretch you arms out behind him, caressing where his smooth skin and the fluffiness tuffs of his hair connected as he wrapped his arms around your mid back the two of you smoothly swayed from side to side looking into at another with a smile. "hey let's try something" satoru says he then adjust your hands on him for a more comfortable position and soon enough he's leading the way as the two of you dance together laughing at the little stumbles here and there "okay you ready?" "yeah" just then satoru spins you around so lightly you would think that he thinks you're made of glass, fragile. everthing is in slow motion and you don't catch it, but your best friend looks at you with love filling his eyes. you looked so beautiful. your pink dress illuminating under the fairy lights that hung around. gojo satoru had never seen such beauty in his life. he begins to think how lucky he is to have someone like you in his life. after the spin is over he brings you into a hug one hand wrapped its long arm around your back and the other pushes your head into his chest and he leans his neck down to give you a small kiss on your forehead. the hug catches you off guard by its firmness but you reciprocate nun the less.

"wanna go back to my place and watch a movie?"

[fillinforlater]

A little pre-Christmas breeding perhaps?

Feeling your hot thick cum inside of her only encourages Sakura to dance harder 😉

Both of you managed to not get caught but Chaewon knows something is up when Sakura has that burst of confidence and energy. Just thinking about it distracts Chaewon and she makes a cute little mistake when performing (Chaewon actually made a mistake during AAA performance 😂)

Knowing Chaewon is starting to get suspicious but deep down she's also a needy girl (Or so you've heard).

Would you continue to secretly fuck Sakura until Chaewon inevitably comes to you? Or would you rip the bandaid off, surprising Chaewon by fucking Sakura in front of her and hopefully convince her to join your frisky activities?😉

The Award She Wants

Male Reader x Miyawaki Sakura (ft. Kim Chaewon)

Length: 509 words

Tags: Quickie, a literal quickie, dialogue only, needy sex, THIGH STRAPS WORLD DOMINATION, prais kink, standing sex, creampie, cumming deep inside her, trying (not?) to get caught, needy_noona!Sakura

(A/N: the definition of late night BFH, as often thanks to @friskyriskywhisky)

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"Hurry, we don't have much time left."

"I'm here, I'm here—God, it's so hot in here. The Philippines are killing me."

"What do you think of this? Do you like it?"

"Your face? Gorgeous as always, Noona."

"No! The, the outfit. Does it look any good?"

"Oh, you better not feel self-conscious about it, Noona.

"Please, spin around for me. God, you look so good in this. Sexy, hot, perfect—naughty."

"Your hands, hng! You're the naughty one."

"I love that this dress exposes your navel. It makes you look irresistible, I can't get my hands off of those abs.

"You smell so damn good, Noona."

"You too~"

"The thigh strap is a nice touch. I bet many people want to get their hand underneath it and—"

"Hey, what are you—"

"Lift your leg high like this. Oh lord, Noona, I can see it in the mirror: your thighs have gotten rounder. Look how they jiggle in my hands."

"Touch them more, okay? Are they nice?"

"Hm, yes, but what is that? Your ass is hanging out, they will see so much of it. Almost like an Arin fancam."

"Y-you, ah, watch Arin fancams?"

"No, I only watch fancams of you.

"Now, what do you want, Noona? I can already feel your wet pussy; should I finger you? You'd glow so bright on stage after I make you cum."

"N-no."

"Should I pull down the bottom of this outfit—with this way, waaaay too short skirt and eat your beautiful ass?"

"Hng, no."

"Then what do you want, Noona? Tell me."

"I want, I want your c-cum, deep in my pussy! Quick, Chaewon will be here soon!"

"Oh, but last night you wanted me to last forever~

"And now you want to be filled while Chaewon waits outside, her ears on the door of the locker room? Lewd-kkura~"

"Stop, please, just fuck me!"

"Pull them down, I'm already hard for you, Noona.

"And kiss me.

"Let me give you the confidence you deserve."

"Oh fuck, your, your pe-nis is so nice, ah."

"Aw, you're so cute—my tight, little Noona.

"Your pussy, no, your fucking cunt is trying to empty my balls."

"Don't call it that! So deep, so deep, f-fill me."

"You're so lewd, your eyes, you

"Hot-kkura, Noona.

"Fuck, I'm getting close."

"Ah, right there, faster, yes!"

"Noona, y-your cunt, I—

"I could fuck you the entire time, e-every day. I need your snug cunt, and I'm gonna make it my little hole for cum. Be my little cock-sleeve for now, Noona, and, and shine—like the star you are."

"Ahhh!"

"Noona, I—

"Kkura-unnie!?"

"Chae-chaewon, wait!"

"I'm cumming, Sakura~"

...

"Our performance is in forty seconds, what are you still doing in there?"

"Pull them up, quick!"

"What the—who are you?"

"He, he is a friend."

"Yeah, I just got here and—good luck, on the performance?"

"You should not be here—dang it, Unnie. On stage, now!"

"Yes, of course!"

...

"Who are you, really? What happened?"

"I'm... just a friend? And we, uhm, hugged."

"Seriously? Is that why you got a fucking bulge?"

"Uhmm...

"Yep."

[eddiesghxst]

Meeting Eddie years after you’ve both graduated highschool and everything he’s was picked on or bullied for being nerdy about is so hot and attractive and arousing to you and he’s like this girl is actually an alien why didn’t I meet sooner 😩🙌🏽

ugh you’re in the same college psych class and on the first day you sit near the back and eddie’s rushing in a little late so he just takes the closest seat to the door which happens to be right next to you.

your professor makes the class do icebreakers and well it’s safe to say that eddie is one weird fucking guy but holy shit something just does it for you

it starts with tiny shit, like you saying “i like your ring, where’d you get it?” and it’s a pentagram ring and eddie’s like um…that’s new, never had a chick like that one, but okay.

and then it progresses as time goes on: “cool ink, ive always liked bats, they’re just adorable!” and “i like your nail color. you should do a deep red next, it would look good on you.” and “i like your hair today, eddie, it’s cute.”

cute?! nobody’s ever called eddie fucking cute. he thinks about it all day, and somewhere along the lines eddie’s mind twists it to where you basically just said he was cute, not just his hair. whatever, same thing.

and then the touches come. laughing at his shitty jokes and placing a hand on his bicep. gently tapping his thigh to get his attention to ask a question about to upcoming paper. gently squeezing his arm as you smile and wave with that fucking adorable, “see you on monday!”

what the fuck?

nobody’s ever been this way with eddie and he thinks you might be a figment of his imagination when you ask him about all his nerdy shit like, “how’d your dnd campaign go last night?” because god, you really remembered that? even after eddie practically rambled about it for decades, he’d assumed you were just being nice.

and then you ask eddie if he’d like to study together sometime, and now you two spend every tuesday at the library in the private study rooms, and you hardly ever get any work done because you and eddie just talk the entire time but you both love it.

and eddie wishes your “study sessions” weren’t just once a week but he’s like 99.9% sure you’re just doing this out of the kindness of your heart, so he’ll be damned before he asks to hang out more and make you suffer through more of his insanely intricate and confusing theories about lord of the rings, or the thousands of ideas he has for a dnd campaign, or how excited he is for the new iron maiden album.

but then one day you’re both walking to your cars after class and you turn to eddie to ask, “do you maybe wanna go out sometime? like watch a movie or eat or something— like…. like a date?” and eddie just looks at you like there’s no fucking way this gorgeous human being is asking me out on a date right now.

he takes a moment to respond, “…why?”

“why… do i want to go on a date with you?”

“i—…. yeah, like… why?”

“oh. well, because i like you, obviously.”

and well, eddie thinks you’re the weirdest person he’s ever fucking met, but you’re cute and you make him laugh so he’d be a fool to ever say no to a date with you.

[hunterbunter3000]

Okay so, since Krueger is obsessed with Sweetheart. Does that make him a Yandere? I mean like after he first met her and is with her like lost puppy. Does one of the men’s notice his behavior?

Oh damn... I guess so? 🫢🫢🤔🤔🤔🤔 he does have yandere tendencies. Wow I guess I made him a Yandere 😭😭 BUT LIKE-- HE WOULDNT KILL JUST BECAUSE?? like "just because you talked to Sweetheart I wouldn't kill you immediately, I would just threaten you and be intimidating so you can back off and not make a move on my future wife." But if you hurt Sweetheart then yeah you're done. DONE.

And he isn’t the type to be “if I can’t have you, no one can” and kill off Sweetheart, or be the type to lock her in the basement or have sadistic punishments. GOD NO

He would throw up if he ever tHOUGHT of hurting Sweetheart like that. (He has gotten on his knees, legit sobbing like he lost a family member, and apologizing to her because he slapped her when she accidentally startled him— it was a reflex and Sweets understood but Kruger did not stop crying. And then he bought her a designer purse 💀) he’s just a really big love drunk guy that treats his future love like a fucking goddess.

He listens to Sweetheart only, (and Graves I guess because thats his boss) so whatever she says goes. She says to leave her alone? Alright I'll give you some space. (Even tho he would be crying) she says to beat up that guy cause he disrespected her capitan? Done and done. She says to stop threatening strangers that come up to her? ...eehhhh that's gonna be hard, but I'll do it.

He does it because he wants to please her. Like a lot.

It’s unhealthy how attached he is to her, but he’s still respectful. He doesn’t want to lose her, but he also doesn’t want to be alone anymore. Does that even make sense lol

But yeah, I guess he is a yandere. BUT LIKE A SOFT YANDERE WHO UNDERSTANDS SOME BOUNDARIES

And good lord, everyone notices every time Krueger is around. Especially König (since they're step-brothers in this) König has always seen Krueger act like this, but not to a person, so it was shocking to see that happen.

He's so restless and snappy when Sweetheart isn't around and always asks where she is and why she isn't here yet. And one time, Ghost is like "Calm down mate. She's just running some errands." And Krueger just tenses, and you can see in his body language that he's getting angry. "By herself? You let her go by herself!? Where? Which store!? Fuck!" And he storms out of the lounging area. That was when they all knew that Krueger had a different kind of love for Sweetheart. And was waaayyyyy different than them. They feel a bit awkward with him because they know he's unhinged and a bit psycho, especially when it comes to Sweetheart. He's a very skilled soldier and will not hesitate to rip and tear everyone that is around her in a heartbeat. And they know Krueger's distain towards them, except with Ghost, Roach and König, Krueger just toys around with him like the annoying big brother he is. With Ghost, he's kind of friends with because he knows that Ghost will sacrifice everything for Sweetheart just like him. And they also have somethings in common- like torturing people and watching football. (soccer) With Roach, Krueger likes him because he's quiet and has sadistic tendencies when it comes to fighting enemies.

(He doesn't like when Roach hangs off of Sweetheart tho)

He gets jealous and irritated easily when he doesn't get his way when Sweetheart is around them. Like with Soap, he HATES Soap so much omfg- that is his enemy. He sees how close they are to each other and sees how Soap touches her and vice versa (he has many violent fantasies when it comes to Soap. König knows about this and purposely makes him avoid the two when they are together) those two butt heads CONSTANTLY

Like one more word from that Scottish dumbass and he will put him under bro 💀

They see how clingy Krueger is when she gets back from a mission, especially a solo mission omg

He would just hug her from behind and sway back and forth, his hood draping over her head as well as his (the hood that she made him is huge) and Soap can hear him whisper praises to her and her giggles. He can also hear Krueger kissing Sweetheart. Where? He doesn't know. Hopefully, not on the lips. WHY ARE THEY SO CUTE TO ME WTFF

And Krueger will not. Let. Her go. AT ALL. Like if he comes over to their side of the base, Krueger takes allllll of the attention from her (I talked about this before) especially if they're taking a nap together, like he's sitting on the couch with Sweetheart cradled in his lap, asleep on his broad shoulder as his arms hold her. Gaz fucking hates when they take naps together, especially when he sees their breathing in sync (Like FUCK OFF) So one time, Gaz was sick of it. He reaches for Sweetheart but Krueger tightens his hold on her, and he growls so fucking low and animalistic like a damn rabid dog protecting its owner-- it legit scared him. (Especially when you can't see his face 💀) And Krueger just says, "mine." In the lowest voice Gaz has ever heard-- he just backs up and leaves (AND WASN'T HE SUPPOSED TO BE ASLEEP??? LIKE IS HE MAGICAL-)

Krueger is something else yall 💀 can't wait to write more of him with Sweetheart 🤭🤭

[nectardaddy]

Tuesdays At Three - Choso Kamo

pairing: baker choso x reader, non-curse au, gender neutral

synopsis: an ask from anonymous, link here, kinda took it and ran with it if that's ok? I just started writing and ended up here.

cw(?), notes: language, tooth achingly sweet, parallelism and repetitive statements are done purposefully, anxiety ish (repetitive statements hint at this), I'm deadass proud of this fic right here

The man simply couldn't help as his eyes flickered to the clock for the umpteenth time; checking the time as if he really had anywhere else to be. And he truly couldn't help the dread that created a pit in his stomach as the minute hand crept closer and closer to the time he was supposed to leave. A departure that would surely leave him in shambles, a wreck for the rest of the week, if he wasn't able to see you.

You were here every Tuesday, and every Tuesday at three you would bring about various fruits and produce to the bakery he so happened to work at. Every Tuesday at three, never late and never early - until today. It was now Tuesday at three thirty, and he was set to leave at four.

He used to ask himself 'why' to his racing heart, sweaty palms, and flushed cheeks even at the very mention of your name - god forbid how he felt when you actually spoke to him. But his brother quickly, a mere five minute conversation, chalked it up to be infatuation. "Jesus, dude, you've got it bad," Yuuji would say to him every Tuesday. "Just ask them out already."

But he couldn't do that. Wouldn't dream of doing that. How does one even go about doing that? The sting of rejection was all too great in his mind. What if you said no? Then he'd be damned to see you every Tuesday at three, and have to pretend you didn't yank his heart right out of his body. He wouldn't bear to see your smile, a smile that made his heart ache in his chest. He wouldn't bear to hear your laugh, a joyous sound that made his lips turn up at the thought; god forbid you made him laugh as well, he often thought he would simply lose his life every time you did. And, god, he wouldn't bear to feel your touch, accidental or not, that made his lungs heave and his mouth dry.

Choso wasn't shy by any means, greeting you with a gentle smile every Tuesday, but he played his part deceivingly well. Shoving his emotions down to the very pits of his stomach, as if to try and deny them, but more likely to not act a fool. So when you were late, oh god when you were late, he felt his already frazzled mind continue to fray. Fraying at seams already damaged, losing himself in his thoughts as he stood before an oven.

He felt silly and weak, how on earth could someone, anyone, have such a sickening effect on him? A sickening effect that he longed for, craving so desperately it was nearly an addiction. So enthralled in his thoughts, the gentle chime of the bell on the front door fell on deaf ears. Footsteps that neared the kitchen completely unaware to him, his thoughts taking a mind of their own. Thoughts that only revolved around where you were. Were you alright? Why were you late? You're never late. Did you know he left at four? Would you come after four as to not see him?

"Choso?" A voice asked, ripping him harshly from his thoughts and taking a step back.

"Fuck," he breathed out rather loudly, finding himself gripping the counter adjacent to him. His adrenaline spiked, and he turned quickly to see who startled him so easily. But he felt his heart jump to his throat upon seeing the familiar face, the familiar face he was certain wouldn't show up while he still occupied the building.

"Hey," you mused, "are you alright?" Your voice was laced with a twinge of worry, but the same smile you always wore still appeared on your features. Greeting him like a slap in the face and making his cheeks flush.

Lord above, he felt stupid. Stupid to think you wouldn't show, stupid to let his mind wander to such things, and stupid that he had the wits scared out of him by you, of all people.

"Yeah," he reassured, plastering a gentle smile on his lips in faux contentment. "I just- wasn't expecting you. It's past three." He spoke as he motioned towards the clock, the clock his eyes couldn't seem to leave the past thirty minutes.

Hearing a chuckle bubble past your lips made his already racing heart skip, "yeah, sorry about that. I woke up late this morning, so it threw my whole day off by thirty minutes." You spoke nonchalantly, now placing a box down you had in your arms. "Did you miss me?" You probed with a teasing tone.

He felt a nervous chuckle leave his mouth, praying to whatever god was out there that he didn't look like a fool. "Maybe just a little," he admitted, albeit sounding a lot more confident than he felt. "It felt wrong not seeing you at three, I thought something had happened."

"How sweet," you mused. "But you don't need to worry about me not showing up at all, you're the highlight of my day on Tuesdays."

Breath hitching in his throat, he completely paused for a moment. As if trying to find a rest button for his brain, your words scratched an itch that he'd been longing to rid himself of. "Really?" He choked out as he swallowed hard. He felt like he looked ridiculous, sputtering and choking at words he wanted to say, but not finding a time until now.

"Well, duh," you spoke with a laugh. He felt the need to breathe again, holding his breath in anticipation and nerves. But he simply couldn't find the air to do so, lungs being restricted by the saccharine sound that left your lips. "I thought I made that pretty obvious," you spoke. Pretty obvious? Wonderful, now he felt even more dimwitted. "I don't just like you for the free pastries you give me. If that's what you thought."

It was almost endearing, sickly sweet, how far off your thoughts were from his own. Free pastries? He dreamed his mind only went as far as free pastries. Instead his mind always seemed to linger on minute details: how tired you looked as you always, without a doubt, greeted him happily, the callouses on your hands when your fingers would brush his own to hand him a box, or a smile, coated with gratitude and joy, that made him a puddle of a man whenever your eyes locked with his. He wished it was only free pastries, maybe then he wouldn't feel so sickly and senseless.

"That means there's more to share about liking me?" he mused. "What is it more than just free sweets?" His smile faltered as he felt his stomach drop and mouth run dry, what was he doing? Did he dare have the sheer confidence to take his brother's advice? God no. But he had to confidence to teeter the line of it, not letting it slip unless your words continued him on. "And I don't give those out to just anyone, by the way." He felt the corners of his lips begin to shift to a smirk, swallowing his pride and completely giving into himself. "I only give them to people I like."

"Ah- so you finally admit you like me," you countered. A playful glint in your eyes that all but made him drop to his knees, "and come on. Have you met yourself? You're a dream, Choso." His mind raced within his head at your statement. Does this mean he's not the only one to feel so infatuated? Did your heart flutter and plummet at every word that left his lips the same as he? Does he dare ask or cater to the connotation of your words? Fuck, does this mean his brother was right?

Finally? Did you know this whole time? And a dream? Oh dear god, his brother was right. His smirk didn't hold for much longer after this conclusion, genuinely more bamboozled than any other. Was he truly that readable? Did he really have no self restraint when it came to you, that you would so easily pick up on his emotions? Even he had to ask his brother, of all people, what in the hell he was feeling.

But, oh my, did he show his feelings - unbeknownst to himself. The small acts you saw of the man, intentional or not, had your heart reeling. Every Tuesday at three he turned to a love doomed man. A man too beside himself to realize his gaze softening, smile widening, and gentle touches lingering a bit longer than normal. Every Tuesday at three any singular response given to you was with rosy tinted cheeks or a nervous laugh that made your knees buckle. You were obsessed with it.

The feeling the man gave to you from such simple, silly actions, had you yearning. Giving you a pastry? You felt like a child again, a love sick puppy, eagerly awaiting for Tuesday to cross your path all over again. His, usually bored, eyes brightening at the sight of you? You were left in shambles and only dreamed he would put the pieces back together for you.

Dark eyes glanced at the clock once more, watching the second hand gingerly sweep by as it neared four. Every Tuesday at three you would tell him you ended your day at four, and every Tuesday at three he was all too afraid to admit he did as well. But this Tuesday at three forty five was unusually different, a special kind of different where he found himself taking Yuuji's advice. Advice he truly never thought he would see himself taking so eagerly as he did in the very moment.

"Are you doing anything after four?"

[thatruerealmwalker]

The Madness We Realized Working for Playtime Is

The Pipeworks 1: Karl’s First Assignment- Oh god why this?

Read on AO3:

HERE.

Karl Kingsworth is a simple man. Someone who doesn't have much ranking in Playtime's "Pipeworks" sector of the company, but still somewhat good at his job. He gets in, fixes the "leak", gets out.

But when he's assigned to a Leak that the BOSS would cover... well he's not doing okay.

Especially for what the damn "leak" actually is.

HOW DID THIS EVEN HAPPEN?!!?!?!?!

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

Soundtrack: Ryūnosuke Naruhodō ~ Overture of the Adventure - The Great Ace Attorney

Karl, a junior staff member at Playtime Co's Public Relations office, often referred to by the staff as "Pipeworks" due to it's unenviable reputation as "We fix the leaks when Playtime fucks up... every damn week", is standing in front of the door leading into a room where a very important “talk” will take place.

His first big assignment- and it has to be about this of all things. There is a almost zero chance that if he messes up here he won't end up as a test himself. 

Yeah that's right, he knows what Playtime really does. Everyone in the Pipeworks does. Playtime thought they couldn't let that happen for a while- Then escape attempts started happening and how else were they going to know what to say? That didn't stop Playtime from trying to wipe out the Pipeworks staff and bring in fresh faces- but the Boss put a stop to that quickly. Who knew that telling someone about the shit under your carpet would backfire, especially when it's their job to have contacts and manage the people managing Playtime's image.

That doesn't mean anyone in Pipeworks is off the hook if they mess up. They have a lot of leeway other workers simply don't, but completely failing is still lethal. And this right here? This is something Karl has been dreading once he was assigned to it. Him, low rank new face bitchboy got assigned something the Boss would have taken if he could- How is that fair? 

Of course the Boss and the top 3 were hard at work patching an even bigger leak involving a certain news company getting their hands of files that should have never left Playtime's doors. The dedicated teams weren't around either- Wrench was hunting down and trying to silence a potential whistle blower- the second this month- Hammer was dealing with the fact that the sane toy companies were suing playtime co for their next toy line push- because of course Playtime would try to make off brand Hotwheels and not ask Pipeworks if it was a good idea- and Driver... fuck Driver team was just GONE. No one knew where the hell they were sent. At least the Boss reassured the staff that they didn't get "terminated", just doing something hush hush.

And that left only the newbies and clerks to choose from for this assignment. 

Of course it had to be Karl. Wrong place wrong time- he swears to god Pierre was drunk when he selected him for the task- and by himself no less!

This is it... all Karl can think is that he's gonna get killed-

The door to the room opens up and he comes face to face with a young girl, probably an intern with how young she looks, looking at him with surprise.

"Oh you're finally here! Mister James was worried we would have to reschedule."

"Y-yeah... Just traffic got in the way. Are we getting started soon?"

"Mister James actually sent me to go get stuff for lunch since it's about that time- you haven't eaten already have you?"

Oh thank the lord above!

"Oh no! And I'd love to join you all! What are we having?"

She waves her hand back and forth in the air, "Nothing too fancy, just some deli sandwiches that got catered to the office today. Any kind you like?"

"I can go for Ham and Cheese if you have some?"

"Ham and Cheese... think so! Just head on in, I'll be back in a bit!" With that the young intern makes her way towards where Karl can only assume to be the cafeteria for the building.

At least he has some extra time... maybe he does still have a chance! Just gotta see if he can figure out how to make that chance in the first place.

Entering inside, the room is rather furnaced- well it's probably normal to expect a place to want someone to feel welcomed when talking... Playtimes own interview/guest/meeting rooms, despite the Boss and the Big 3 pushing it, still lack any real comfort. "You all don't need that, just make em shut up and go away!" is apparently what Pierre said to Boss's face last time he tried.

Karl can only wish that bastard hell for that. There is a reason why Pipeworks always sends staff out instead of inviting people in. Technically two- but everyone knows letting outsiders into the main building or even on the campus itself risks someone seeing something they shouldn't. The impressions a low quality room with a folding fucking table does not make good first impressions!

And by god does Karl need that here. 

“Ah, hello there. You must be Mr. Kingsworth. Such a fancy last name you have there my good sir.”

Sitting on a nice leather couch on one side of the room is a rather well dressed man. Brown hair curled up into a stylish cut, the suit he’s wearing being rather expensive looking as he gestures for Karl to take a seat. 

“Please, make yourself at home. It isn’t everyday I have a toy company, especially one as prodigious as Playtime wanting to work with my humble craft.”

Humble is a fucking UNDERSTAMENT. This person Karl is talking to is Alexander James- who happens to own a somewhat high class clothes line. You know, with a clientele that could most likely pay for an average American home in a single payment. 

Alexander James, who’s clothes make regular appearances on runways and fashion magazines. Alexander James, who should have NO investment in Playtime at all. Alexander James, who Playtime cannot make disappear or actually pay off.

As Karl takes a seat on the couches on the other side of the room, with a beautiful table he maybe would have actually paid attention too if he wasn’t dying from anxiety born from this entire situation, he only hopes he can actually cover this neatly.

“No need to address me as such Mr. James, I’m merely a representative for Playtime. Thank you for allowing this conversation under such short notice.”

“If we are to drop the honorifics, please, just address me as Alexander, Karl. Now, while I’m sure you’re as eager to start this conversation as I am- I believe we should first have some lunch no? May I suggest some tea while we wait? I recently had it imported from Japan. Supposed to help cleanse anxiety from the body, but it’s quite delicious as well.” 

Alexander gestures toward the tea set in the center of the finely crafted table that separates the two men. As much as Karl thinks he really shouldn’t impose so soon- especially when he hopes he can cancel this entire “deal” before it gets off the ground, the smell of the tea, which is that of a very sweet scent of cherry blossoms, one that Karl almost mistakes for vanilla, entices him to partake.

Time flies by after just a cup of some rather well made tea. Soon enough the intern returns with the promised lunch, the smell of the sandwiches adding to the comforting feeling Karl’s hosts provide. He only wishes he could feel that comfort when it would stick.

Lunch is eaten rather quickly, Alexander keeping tidy as he swiftly eats the well made sandwiches. The ham in Karl’s sandwich gives a wondrous crunch as the melted cheese mixes with the taste. It’s only the bread, softly sweet but not extremely so, that makes it a fine meal.

Once again, Karl wishes he didn’t have such a heavy burden on him to properly enjoy this.

The food is soon gone and messes cleaned up. Tea refilled as Alexander is handed over a folder from his intern assistant.

“I’m glad you have been enjoying yourself Karl, but I believe we should begin our talks sooner than later, don’t you agree?”

And now the bliss is gone, and Karl realizes he still lacks any plan… he really shouldn’t have indulged. With the poker face trained into him by his higher ups, he keeps a front of joy over his growing dread, a smile shining with false bravado, “Of course Alexander. Thank you for the meal and tea, it was quite a treat… so about the partnership.”

“Yes yes, so, I will be honest with you Karl, when your company reached out with this idea, it was quite a shock. But… It has sparked my mind to begin working on some designs already.”

Alexander opens the folder and begins to lay out several papers, all Karl briefly ignores in favor for the final items to part for the insides of the folder- the damn thing that started all of this.

A set of enlarged photographs… of the BBI Roxie and Catnap… posing in several company branded cosmetics… Not in the factory. Outside of the fucking factory. Seen by someone not connected to the company.

The humor at the situation is not lost on Karl. Honestly, if it was someone else from the Pipeworks, he would be laughing his ass off at it. But it’s happening to him. He cannot find humor in this. His very life could end if he messes up here.

Somehow, an employee was able to sneak in fashion magazines for the Critter sector of the BBI. Said employee was approached by Roxie who requested them to send these damn photographs to Alexander James’ designer office so they could “Become a model with my brother!” after seeing the ad for runway models for Alexander’s work.

Someone, they got the photos out, got it set up to where it was not some random person but the COMPANY sending the damn things- and kept it undercover for another 2 MONTHS.

How?

HOW?!!

HOW DOES THIS EVEN HAPPEN?!?!?!

Karl simply swears if he even encounters the racoon he’ll deck them in the face for this fucking shit show! If he can’t cover this up- It’ll be the last damn thing he does!

He would lash out at the apparent mastermind behind this instead, but they are currently locked in a cell as the company finalizes the “Farewell” procedures. God Karl can only hope no one else needs to be said “farewell” too. That’ll be even more work for Pipeworks if so- 

But all he has to do is make sure Alexander doesn’t… what?

Wait what hold on no that’s not how this was supposed to go-

Karl’s mind rebooted as he finally processed the last line from Alexander James… NO.

Eyes upon the paper placed down first- OH FOR FUCKS SAKE.

Karl was very close to breaking his false smile at this point… because Alexander made designs. MADE CLOTHES DESIGNS FOR THE FUCKING CRITTERS.

WHAT THE-

“Oh that’s wonderful Alexander. I’m glad you found the proposal that engaging… your thoughts on our models?”

“Well Karl, you and Playtime have outdone yourself. Those mannequins look almost life-like! How could I say no to such an opportunity to have some fun.”

OH THANK GOD- he thinks they're fake! Good good Karl can work with this and-

“I do hope when I get my hands on them I’ll be able to find which designs work best. Photos never do capture what I need to make my work shine.”

OH GO NO- Fuck Fuck Fuck- SAY SOMETHING- YOU CANNOT-

“O-of course sir!- we would just have to figure out how to get them ready on our part!”

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH- IDIOT. You can’t just-!

“Splendid! I look forward to cooperating with you all… I am worried about the bad press that using your… Catnap would bring. Can Playtime ensure that it wouldn't risk any bad press for the Magazine?”

Okay… There is still a chance! End the deal right here!

“I’m sorry sir but… they unfortunately come in a pair. We’re attempting to fix the bad PR done by the incident with the Catnap plushies but… I cannot ensure it. Maybe we can postpone this until it’s far safer to do the photoshoot?”

Alexander gives some time to ponder while Karl internally sighs. He almost messed things up real bad but he’s almost there. Just gotta make sure Alexander says no and he’s free-

“Well… Let’s give it a try. It won’t be my first controversial piece after all. It would be a waste for your kind folks to throw away the work you did with the large toys anyways.”

Oh no, “Are you sure Mr. Ja- Alexander? We at Playtime care deeply about our partner’s wellbeing. We can push this back if it would-”

With a wave of his hand, Alexander gives a chuckled laugh, “Thank you for your worry Karl, but I promise, there will be no hard in at least giving it a try. I’m excited to start soon all the same! It’s not everyday you get to make clothes for mascots after all!”

With a silent breath, Karl weighed his options. He knows for a fact that if those photos got to someone who knew just a bit more, this could end up being a leak the Pipeworks couldn’t patch up. The problem comes with Alexander himself. If Karl pushed for the deal to stop here and now… he might realize something is wrong here. The man already pointed out how life like they are, so he’s noted that. Karl can only hope he truly is that ignorant or disbelieving of the idea that those “mannequins” are really alive.

A half lie. Just say to the man that the toys are damaged and can’t be used.

“I’m sorry Alexander but… Playtime was hoping to drop the deal entirely.”

Karl suppressed a flinch when Alexander’s eyes snapped to his face like a spotlight, “Oh? For what reason Karl? Both we here and Playtime have put quite the bit of work into this already, no?”

“And you would be correct, however a… accident occurred recently and our, hehe, ‘models’ ended up getting damaged. The employe who caused such a thing has been reprimanded and demoted but-”

“Mr. Kingsworth.”

At the tone forming from Alexander’s lips, Karl’s protests died in his throat. Alexander was leaning forward now, hands interlocked with his chin over them- oh no.

“I would not survive in my line of work without being noticed when a clear lie is being told bluntly to my face. I’m no idiot Kingsworth. I had only hoped you’d be willing to keep things on track… but it seems I’ll have to force your hand.”

Sweat began to drip from Karl’s forehead as the worst case scenario seemed to come about, “Now Alexan-”

“Mr. James, Kingsworth.”

“Mr. James, please, why would I have any reason to lie about this?”

A laugh bellowed from Alexander James, once that put fear into Karl’s very core.

Alexander gestured towards the photos that laid in the center of the table “To the common person, Mr. Kingsworth, these individuals in these pictures could be assumed to be only manufactured… The eyes have a watery shine to them and I wouldn’t miss the tongue shown on this one here.” He pointed towards a photo of Roxie with one hand wrapped around their “brother” and another doing a peace sign over their head. Both are wearing Playtime branded water coats- and that fucker is with their tongue out as they practically winks at Karl through the photograph.

He can at least agree with Catnap’s face- Karl’s was fucking tired of this yesterday.

“Now… All of this could be described as you attempting your utmost best to prove to me quality hand made models… and I would have bought that if that was your sell. I really would…”

Alexander leans back, fishing out a piece of paper from his suit that he treats with utmost care. Slowly unfolding it as if to make a point of Karl’s helplessness.

“If I didn’t get a letter from this… Roxie as well.”

NO.

NO.

THAT RACOON BITCH.

HE’LL FUCKING KILL THEM YOU CAN’T DO THIS TO HIM- WHY THIS?!!

Alexander, uncaring for Karl’s internal damnation of a certain purple racoon, begins to read out the somewhat messy handwriting of one Roxie Reedcycle: 

“Hello there Mr. James! My name's Roxie! Marie said she would send this to you so I wanted to add a letter! Me and my brother would be perfect models! All of your clothes are so cool and I really want to give it a try! Catnap says he doesn’t want to but he got vetoed- I’m not sure how Clothes would work with our tails- I mean it was really uncomfy trying on all the clothes Marie found for us. It just wasn’t good, I hate my tail being cooped up like that ya know! Maybe you could also figure out how to make it not itch so much? The clothes kinda made my stitches feel tingly and it wasn’t really good. I was scratching at it and everything and Naps had to stop me- I don’t think my fur likes cotton. : ( So maybe something soft? OOOOOO maybe silk! I’ve never worn silk before! I think DD would look wonderful in silk! Would you be okay with the others joined in too?! I can ask Marie if she can send more photos of them like the ones we did before! Hmm- Maybe I should see about stitching up some old clothes into some stuff for everyone- I think Bobby would love a dress! Maybe-”

At the sight of Karl’s now visible horror, his body deflating into the couch he sits on as he stares at the guillotine axe being read aloud in Alexander’s hands, Alexander stops reading out the letter and smiles so damn smugly at Karl, even if Karl would never dare point that out, “Should I keep going Mr. Kingsworth? I must say, I did enjoy reading this letter from such a dear fan of mine. So much details as well- stuff a company such as Playtime would never put into a formal letter. Little Roxie even talked about how much they wanted to try cake again after they was… oh yes “I got super yelled at when I stole that piece of cake. It wasn’t even stealing! Someone just left it out! Even if I got no food for dinner it was worth it though!”

This is a set up , it has to be. THIS WAS FUCKING PLANED- It had to be! No way that bastard Marie didn’t think this through. The fact they even set it up to be sent under Playtimes own names only adds to that! There has to be still a chance, Karl can't just accept this lying down. His life is on the line!

“Haha- Mr. James that must be just a mistake, we at Playtime Co would never condone-”

A slam of Alexander’s free hand on the table, rocking the tea set, quickly told Karl he lost the moment he came through these doors, “Mr. Kingsworth, here is what's going to happen. You’re going to set up a photo shoot for this child and their brother and friends, I’m going to make the best damn clothes I can for them, and Maybe I’ll remain quiet about the rampant child abuse your company takes part in. This is for the good of all of us, isn’t it?”

Karl could only nod at that- what could he do but follow along with the demands of someone who could absolutely spread around these images and letter to god knows who.

“Splendid. I hope you have a good day now! I’ll be looking forward to when we begin.”

That smile of a predator sinking teeth into prey… it’ll haunt Karl for a long time after this.

Karl’s mind doesn’t process leaving, or getting into his car, or driving home, or when he found himself on his bed at his dingy apartment, small tears running down his face as he stares at the fan slowly cycling above him.

Karl no longer can think about any of this. 

He can longer process anything anymore.

Because his very mind is consumed with absolute dread at what Playtime is going to do with him when they learn he FAILED.

He can only hope he’s just made into a toy. God he hopes that’s all they do with him. 

He can still remember the screams for the most recent tests on the properties of the poppy gas.

He can only beg that he won't end up like that.

Well… Maybe there’s a way he can avoid that fate.

Sitting up from his bed, a plan comes together. A desperate, half formed plan that could just make everything worse… but the best he has.

If he can follow along with Alexander’s idea while keeping the risk of an unfixable leak in check… and use this connection to Alexander to create a social barrier from being said “farewell” too…

All he needs to do is force the company's hand to allow this to happen. And by god does Pipework have what he needs to do that.

Well- Guess it’s time for an honest to god fashion show.

Karl is so fucked.

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

And that's it for Chapter 1! I hope you all enjoyed! This was a crack thing I cooked up when talking to @visinox about the @realizinau. (look, someone has to be in charge of keeping Playtime's brand okay when Playtime is... PLAYTIME.)

Of course, since this is part of the Realizing Extra's AU, I couldn't not include the other parts from it. So thank you @iidgm for letting me use Roxie!

I may continue this if it's wanted enough, or hey, better yet even collaborate with even more creators on this project! Feel free to reach out if you ever want to chat about it! I love talking to new people about being creative gremlins!

[halfetirosie]

Quincy is Unintentionally Comedy Gold; Edmond Is Fuckin COOL and I LOVE HIM ♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

(Prison Cell 08-010 React-os!)

Guys, am I tripping, or are the Part 2 chapters significantly longer than the ones in Part 1 of this event?

1. PFFFFFT (≧∇≦)

Quincy... you sleep all the time, everywhere... Just how stressed were you that YOU couldn't sleep, and turned grumpy about it????

BRUH 🤦‍♀️

2. T....Topper-nese.....Quinglish......

EIDEN, SWEETIE, I LOVE YOU. NEVER CHANGE.

3. Topper is the ULTIMATE HOMIE!!!! ♡♡♡♡♡

No, but, for real!!! I think sometimes we forget--since we, too, or not well-versed in Topper-nese--but every time we seen Topper looking out for Eiden and being genuinely concerned for him, it just warms my heart right up!!! What a dude!!!!

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

4. PFFFFFT (≧∇≦)

QUINCY, YOU'RE KILLING ME!!!

Quincy was literally only trying to talk to that guy, but the poor dude got so scared he immediately shifted into Fight or Flight mode!!!!

Yes, I realize that Quincy is just a Giant Man to people that don't know him, and I realize that they were in prison. BUT. Given the context we have, someone getting SO SPOOKY by just a Casual Quincy is hilarious to me.

I do feel kinda bad for Quincy, tho.... 😅

5. NO FUCKING WAY DUDE

PFFFFFT (≧∇≦)

OLIVINE JUMPSCARE!!!!!

YO. I was NOT expecting to see him here! Like, I started reading the bit with Eiden praying with everyone, and I just thought, "Oh my god, are they--?" And then, POOF! There's our boi, in all his glory! XD

In my defense, since they already pulled the 'ol Surprise Visitors in Part 1 (with the Yakumo Jumpscare), I didn't think they would do it again, okay??

6. I honestly love it when events tackle big societal issues; it happened in the last event, and it's happening again now!

Eiden's got me like:

(I keep finding myself in situations where I just HAVE to use this dumbass meme I made XD)

Nah, but this really is a conversation-starter, ain't it? Eiden does have a point--whether you give lawful justice of vigilante justice, at the end of the day, do either of those do anything to change the corrupt system?

Personally, I think there's a time and a place for either of those, but idk if I want to get into all of that right now... I'M not the one majoring in Philosophy...

7. THIS IS WHY I LOVE EDMOND SO DAMN MUCH!!!!

MY BABE! MY LOVE!!! YOU'RE SUCH A BADASS!!!! ♡♡♡♡♡♡

Listen. First in the Character-Ask Meme, then in the Giant Ed-Post for Fanfic Writers, what do I keep saying???? Time and time again?????

ED IS A FUCKING GOOD PERSON, WITH INTEGRITY, THAT GENUINELY CARES. THIS DUDE HAS PRINCIPLES AND HE STICKS TO THEM. HE WORKS GODDAMN HARD, DESPITE DANGEROUS SITUATIONS AND LONG HOURS, TO CHANGE SOCIETY FOR THE BETTER. HE'S DOING HIS FUCKING BEST TO COMBAT RAMPANT CORRUPTION.

THIS MAN IS A GODDAMN HERO!!! AND THIS LITTLE SPEECH HERE IS AN EXCELLENT EXAMPLE OF THAT!!!!

Hell, even Quincy (in his infinite wisdom) knows what's up.

Lord help me, I just can't stop simping for this man.....

♡ End of report ♡

[s0lar-ch3ri]

mythborning in the year of our lord 2024

do we think about how ryan and aster probably never fully accepted connor being dead. after the first day reset and shit i mean. theyd go to bed, silently hoping tomorrow theyd wake up and itd be like that day never happened, hell maybe they get set back again to the day of the big game. and they both just. they dont want to think of the idea that connors gone.

asters the one who trys to fight for him back. she makes up new reasons and such as to why hes not gone, ways they could possibly bring him back (it doesnt help that in this state she sounds so much like him about his brother). she looks through her dads artifact collections, seeing if any would make sense in any way to bring him back to life, losing care of its cost. she even tries to find his book or something of its nature, but finding that, if even possible, doesnt help because its a book made to kill not bring to life again. i dont imagine asters religious, not in the sense that she doesnt think gods are real (one is her mother), but that she never felt a pull to worship one. for the first time in her life, she tries to pray. she prays to her mother, reciting every word and performing every detail, squishing the tears from her eyes because god she cant let herself be seen so broken by this boy infront of a divine being and sure its the first time shes tried reaching out like this but she just needs one chance to talk to her. of course, whether or not it works and she sees her, she doesnt revive him. the day doesnt reset and he comes back to life. and somewhere inside her she knows this couldnt have worked, shes the daughter of a goddess and knows the balance of mortality and immortality. shes known he was gone the moment the rats attacked. thats why she fought so hard, because the small amounts of divine energy she held surely could beat what has been written by those above her just this once, just for him.

ryan doesnt let himself break. he has a floatball team to be on and an act to keep up and a friend who needs him. he doesnt have the ability to stop and let himself process how hed join in the bullying of "con-nerd" and how he gave ryan that hug before going to that gym and getting to see the vulnerable sides of connor when he talked about or even showed them (he probably showed him his friends) his brother. sure, he may know what its like to have lost family and connor was close in a way similar (might be a small shipper of those two. what of it. /lh they can be friends too ofc) and now hes gone and hell never get to hear him call ryan stupid when hes wearing his goofy grin or does something actually dumb. ryan, whos meant to be strong, let his friend get crushed by rats. and he wont break. he'll just tell gary to fuck off when hes caught tearing up after a floatball game because he had to look in the stands and know that connors not gonna be there selling hotdogs again. he can just put another lie in his act when hes looking in these history textbooks and say he wasnt thinking of olden magic usages and how they might be able to bring him back, closing his eyes so he doesnt gaze on them.

it takes ryan grabbing asters wrists and looking her dead in the eyes and telling her "i dont fucking like it, but connors gone. you know it. i know it. this is just gonna hurt you more. please. i cant lose one more person." it takes her looking in ryans eyes to see how theyre tired and dried out and his muscles seem to instinctively hold up a smile and how his grips just slightly too strong and yet he just is so tired and wants more then anything his best friend back. his breaths getting shakey and louder and he starts sniffling and she just grabs him down and they become sobbing messes of kids on the floor because god fucking damn it connors gone and nothings magically fixing this and nothing will be the same ever again.

it takes them a bit to figure out where his gravestone is. its empty. they should have honored him sooner, they know it, but they just wanted to hope that it wasnt just connors memory they had left living.

[catwyk]

silt versing now heres my immediate thoughts

"rejoice! the authorities are on their way" love the blending of the mundane and divine i eat it up every single time

faulkner so silly messing up his scary evil sermon thank god for this sibling rane realness

"I, high prophet faulkner, chosen by the trawlerman- I-I was responsible for the return of the withermark? and the revelations at bellweathers you might have heard. that it was the linger straits but thats untrue thats all been debunked" hes so cringefail i love him

him talking about being unbound from his duty....... someone introduce him to atheism QUICK

i need to make alpha male podcaster faulkner fanart

THE OPENING CREDITS 😭😭 THEIR LAUGHS😭😭 IM GOING TO THROW UP I LOVE THEM SO MUCH THIS IS THE HAPPIEST WE'VE EVER SEEN FAULKNER

"he does not, in truth, care about the people who took him in and gave him a home" sending greve a mail bomb rq hold on

"he will die as he lived. alone" SENDING 5 MILLION MAIL BOMBS

b narr ripping out my heart. again

my god faulkner really will not let up on building his own mythology. he is so desperate to be somebody

🔥RANE LORE🔥

FAULKNER DAD AND BROTHER APPEARANCES EX FUCKING SCUSE ME?????????????

did they ever find out about charlie. who is we eddie. do they know about faulkner's insane life right now. how long has faulkner even been away at this point

stopppppp eddie calling faulkner richie is so cute 💔💔 jon naming faulkner richard just to avoid the three brothers having -ie names and it happening organically anyway

his dad calling faulkner charlie. oh.

the fucking serials faulkner and his dad are watching?? hello??? silly as hell

i was right when i said sibling rane's family came from the faith hell yes vindication

"its not blasphemy if the high prophet does it" eyebrow raise

faulkners desperation with these prayer marks is breaking my heart. theyre so not gonna work

not missing the parallels between faulkner and paige begging and threatening their gods for protection. very interesting

faulkner standing off against uncle just is the most intense scene ive experienced in so long

this heart to heart is KILLINGGGG ME. faulkner is just a little boy oh my god and his dad is only acting in his interest NOW when its too late..... someone hold me

"every god's a god of death. it's the only thing we need them for" COME BACK COME BACK COME BACK C

NO FAULKNER TRYING TO FOLLOW CHARLIE??????? this is NOT ok im gonna cry poor blorbo

dear lord this episode hurt me so badly. why are the voice actors so damn good. why are the characters so well written. i love them so much and i rlly like the direction faulkner is going in, i feel less like hes doomed to die by the trawlerman

[st-asya]

Okay, so my passion is whatever my current hyperfixation is and commenting something everyone has already commented. Here we go.

•••

Pilot

1. Things did not go as planned...

Love the way the colour of the font switches to red instead of staying some basic white as the rest of the text, cause my life always does the same, metaphorically speaking, when shit happens (well if somebody typed everything that happens in my life). It's like honey, red means passion and your passion (one more) is turning every single thing in your life to shit when you wanna change something really bad, so imma change the colour for you not to forget that you're gonna fuck something up. Right off the bat, symbolic. Red is my fav colour btw, wonder why (it's, as fall out boy said, a sign (×5) indeed).

2. Pirate bard (?) sounds pretty nice (and beautiful), I already like Frenchie.

3. The "what we're about do will be perilous" speech.

(Why did I instantly think about Lord Farquaad, what's wrong with me?)

And oh my God, the whole bit where Stede talks to the crew is borderline ptsd-loaded flashback, cause I used to work as a teacher so I had to talk to the kids ofc and say something to a class full of students who looked at me the exact same way.

4. Wee John's raised hand and saying that they gotta talk about whatever they're gonna take part in and Stede's enthusiastic yes, damn that hit too close to home. These kinda students are a blessing, btw

5. "We talk it through as a..." and the reluctant ass "crewwwww", my ptsd horrors persist, but so do I. That's the exact same experience I had at work, there's no difference.

6. "Keep it straight if you can" (they couldn't, in fact, keep it straight). Love the way there's a place for choice, cause it's not an order, it's a pretty mild (gentlemanly, see what I did there, huh?) request. Love the way it's not strictly needed (and completely forgotten as the story goes on).

7. Lucius's face expressions throughout the ep are my normal face expressions, wonder why people don't usually think I'm friendly and always ready to chat actually (that's prolly cause they can't read my mind, that's on them duh).

8. "I'll be your robber here today", we all fell for him right this instant, didn't we?

It reminds me of the time I worked as a shop assistant (my career choices are a mess, I know), cause essentially that's who I was, I just had to word it slightly differently so customers would give us their money willingly.

9. The leg crossing and uncrossing is just... Yeah. Idk how to elaborate, I just get it. Completely in character for the character, let's put it that way.

10. The arts and crafts bit is the school experience all over again, I cannot shake this feeling. Don't get me wrong, I enjoyed being a teacher a great deal (that's exactly why I don't work as a teacher anymore, yeah).

11. Going from making dresses to being a pirate sounds precisely like my careers changing plans, really.

12. "Do you think Blackbeard's crew sews?" Holy shit, I'd love to see Izzy sew.

13. The mini speech about cats, why is Frenchie so adorable omg

14. Not killing your captain for the sake of hearing the story in full sounds like a solid idea, ngl

15. The complete collective aversion to Lucius's wooden boy voice pls. Turns out Stede stays alive only cuz the crew doesn't want to hear Lucius read, that's loyalty right there.

16. "I've made a mistake, I'm not a pirate, I'm an idiot". Well, omitting the pirate part, it's as relatable as it can possibly get. Ouch

17. Eye. No thoughts, just eye.

18. Stede hiding from the navy is me hiding from my problems, we've got the exact same style of solving them.

19. "It's always the quiet ones", cause usually it's the quiet ones who have to put up with all the shit there can possibly be and they're usually accused of being soft at the same time, I mean you cannot blame Stede for snapping, that's what Badminton deserved (I sound way too bloodthirsty, don't I...)

20. Oul's "might as well enjoy it while it lasts" speaks to me on more levels than I'd like to admit. I love Olu's levelheadedness (is this even a word)

21. I love the way all the flags are up there, it's important for everyone to be included, love this detail so much.

•••

So that's basically just a retelling of the plot with bits of my tho(ugh)ts, tried not to digress too much and not to make it way too personal (initially there were 31 points😅). I'm just genuinely curious to know what the dynamic of my perception of the series will look like at the end, so dear diary, 🎶be prepaaaaaaaared🎶

[strangedreamings]

S2E2 (spoilers abound)

They found Blood but not Cheese, just like the book.

Otto is being completely callous about using Jaehaerys as propaganda, Aegon II looks ready to chop his damn head off, and Alicent just fucking stands there, doing nothing. Shut your father up! Comfort your son!

At least Aegon II called out Criston for not doing his duty. Worst kingsguard commander ever.

Oh God. Not only are they going through with this heartless funeral procession, Otto wants Alicent and Helaena to follow the body. Fuck you, Otto. I hope you have the most painful GoT franchise death since Oberyn Martell.

Hug your daughter, Alicent! Fuck, she truly is a shit mother.

Oh dear fucking God, someone had Jaehaerys' head sewn back onto his body and they're making Helaena look at it this whole procession. Where's the silver shroud we've seen at every other Targ funeral?

Oh God, the carriage with the body is stuck and they're having to rock it back and forth to free it. Jaehaerys' head is going to roll a second time, I just know it.

Thank God that didn't happen, Helaena would've fainted, I'm sure.

Now Rhaenyra's getting blamed, Daemon's denying the "son for a son" thing, and there goes their marriage.

Hi, Baela! The writers are finally giving you something to do, yay!!! Now if they could just do the same for your sister.

There goes Daemon and Caraxes. All hail Ramin, the music this episode has been top-notch.

At least fucking say something to your wife, Aegon.

Servants are taking Jaehaerys' bed apart as Criston looks on all sad. Fuck you, Cole. This is on you. (And Daemon, mostly Daemon, but Criston is definitely not completely innocent in this, fuck any TG fans who say otherwise.)

Rhaenyra playing with her two youngest. The boys are so cute!

"There is none for what I've done." Ah, so you do have a brain, Criston. I was beginning to wonder. I saw a bingo card in the show tags that included "Catholic guilt" as a square. That person called it beautifully.

Criston, go fuck Alicent again because you obviously need a fix if you're being this surly. Let the man eat. Again, treating people badly is how you turn them into turncloaks.

"The white cloak is a symbol of our purity, our fidelity." Then your cloak should be fucking black, Criston. "Where were you when Jaehaerys was murdered?" WHERE WERE YOU, COLE? Oh yeah -- FUCKING THE KID'S GRANDMOTHER.

"Where were you, Lord Commander?' I want to capture Criston's "deer in the headlights" expression and make it my lockscreen until the end of time.

"and then the young prince is murdered on your watch." You are so full of shit, Cole, that I'm surprised people aren't complaining about the smell.

"You are mad." He truly does look fucking unhinged. Cole, you've lost your damn mind. (Fabien is fucking KILLING IT this season.)

(God, the Butcher's Ball cannot come soon enough. I believe this is still 129 AC, so next season, then.)

"Or to triumph. And glory." Arryk, don't listen to him, he's clearly insane, you can see it in his eyes.

Jace and Baela. At least he doesn't get offended when she brings up Harwin.

Great, Aemond's ego has gotten bigger, just what we needed. Lord, he's skinny. Just muscle and bone, no fat on him.

Can I just be shallow for a moment? The Hull Brothers are HOT.

Why is Daemon's title "king consort" and not "prince consort"? (Matt Smith is making a career out of playing the husbands of queens.)

I do love Corlys and Rhaenys flirting in the middle of this serious talk. They're so good together. (I just have a suspicion Rook's Rest is at this season's halfway point.)

Emma is also killing it this season. I hope that their next role is something other than a grieving mother, they're a little too good at it, it's heartbreaking.

SEASMOKE?!

"... and curse your name." I fucking hate it when Otto has a point. Aegon II doesn't consider any consequences at all. But then, look who's guiding him -- Cole.

"And what has Ser Criston Cole done?" Nothing good, that's for sure.

Why do the highborn men's and women's costumes look like they're from different centuries?

"Fuck dignity!" That's it, that's the show.

(Tom's killing it too. Can someone please put him in a rom-com? I want to see him play a sweet guy in love.)

"Give it to Cole." Criston looks at him like, "The fuck you say?" Don't do it, Otto.

"My new Hand will be a steel fist." We all know what he can do with those steel fists.

Criston has been in over his head from the moment he met Rhaenyra, this is nothing new.

Good on you, Mysaria, for being able to tell the Cargyll twins apart. Hey, if she can keep them from killing each other, more power to her.

Oh great, we've got the Cargyll twins' fight in the middle of Rhaenyra's bedchamber with Rhaenyra and Elinda Massey caught in the middle. I'm pretty sure this isn't how this scene goes in the book.

Oh good, nobody dies but the twins, that's in the book. (Elinda's ultimate fate isn't happy but that's still coming.)

It's about FUCKING TIME that somebody mentioned Daeron. This child has literally not existed until this moment, I swear.

"I have sinned." Alicent, Otto a self-righteous ass but he is nowhere near a priest.

"I do not wish to hear of it." Otto says, "Leave me out of your drama, girl, I've got enough messes to deal with."

COMFORT YOUR SON, ALICENT! You are an absolute shit mother, especially compared to Rhaenyra.

Must we waste screentime on Alicole? They deserve each other, sure, but only because they are both UTTER FAILURES!

The preview makes it look like Rook's Rest is next week, I was expect the week after. Interesting.

[cuckoo-on-a-string]

Tithe 2/2

Part One

Summary: Younger Gods AU - don't need to read the original fic to enjoy. (But you do need to read part one.)

18+ NSFW

Warnings: Neglect/abuse/manipulation, unhealthy relationship dynamics, SMUT (artisanal?), the whole-ass angst train, needlessly verbose prose for the "aesthetic," potential (minor) S2/comics spoilers

My master list for further reading

Recommended listening: Son Lux "Let Me Follow," and Ghostly Kisses "Blackbirds"

Next on the one shot list is a Hob x reader x Morpheus inspired by a prompt. And Younger Gods, of course. And the new, super-long mystery project.

Any of you lovely fucks want an AU of this AU? Like, with the Tom Ellis Lucifer? Same premise, wildly different story. I kinda want to write it, but I can't promise when it will appear. Let me know if there's an audience or if I should leave it on the back burner until it boils down to sludge.

Part Two

The bread runs out, and then the waterskin goes dry.

Her life becomes an hourglass, slowly draining as she waits to be remembered.

The Morningstar likes her best when she’s weakened, desperate, when there’s nothing but frantic hope left in her eyes, and it all belongs to the ruler of Hell. She hasn’t reached that point yet, but each day brings her a step closer, and if the Morningstar does not come, does not bring light to her cell, she’ll eventually fall beyond even that.

The last drop of water rolls over her parched tongue, leaving a damp trail that sticks to the roof of her mouth. Her cracked lips aren’t bleeding – yet. She’d rather be asleep before they do. This time, she won’t crawl back towards consciousness without a light to follow. Until the door opens, she’s determined to dream. Of all the things she may lose, her misery, her life in Hell is not at risk. But damned souls cannot enter the Dream Lord’s realm.

If she remains forgotten, she’ll lose her meadow and the storms that rush to greet her like old friends she never knew.

Dreams have become a finite resource, and she wants as many as she can hold before they disappear forever. The Dream Lord said he would not take them from her, but death might.

She curls into the dark, face tucked against cold stone, listening to the hollow shadows that keep her company. Until she drifts.

She escapes.

It’s so easy; it never fails to surprise her how quickly and far she goes in the space between breaths. Hell, she’s always been told, is the one place in the universe impossible to escape, but that just isn’t true.

One moment, she waits in the cold. The next, she rests in soft grass with rain washing her clean of cares.

The meadow bursts with life – slow-growing things and skies rolling thick with heavy clouds – all very busy existing. Peacefully thrumming with a green pulse removed from time. Each beat of the space’s verdant heart lasts a moment. An eternity.

She loves every inch of it, and the possibility of losing this home breaks her heart.

For a day, she stays in the grass. Unmoving. Bathing in the rain and the beams from the sun and moon that peek between thunderheads.

Although she imagines his eyes on her, suspects his touch in the rain and his attention in nodding daisies, the Dream Lord only returns on the third day. He did not visit – openly at least – as her rations slowly drained away. She can only guess why, but she sees the question unspoken, the unwanted answer that brought their last meeting to an end.

Maybe he senses the change, the deeper melancholy infecting her place of peace, and it’s called him back like an open wound left to fester.

He still cannot save her.

She knows.

She was the one to tell him, after all.

But when she looks up, knee-deep in the stream with the rain peppering kisses along her neck, she’s glad.

What can he take she isn’t already doomed to lose?

He’s a familiar face now, and she doesn’t have many of those. He stands in her sanctuary, and no bad thing can happen here. She refuses to believe otherwise. She needs faith in something. Her hope in the Morningstar fades in the dark with her half-mortal body, and her grey-sky meadow fills a flaking hollow in her chest.

There’s room in that hollow for him, too.

Her meadow is already a part of the Dreaming, and thus a part of its Lord. She found rest and safety in him before he waited at the edge of the woods, and if he wants to visit the stormy plain while she sleeps, who is she to deny him?

He doesn’t approach, and neither does she. He’s content to watch, studying her leisurely play like her wet ankles will tease out some great mystery, or the grass she weaves into a plait holds terrible riddles. But she only wants to feel flowing water over her skin. She only wants to make something green and fresh into a pretty wreath to set in the rushing stream.

When the sun catches the clouds on fire, and sunset burns hot pink and gold, she settles in a cluster of colorful weeds to wait for the stars. Yellow flowered sour grass, little wild violets, and bristling white clover peep up between her fingers, cushion her head as she lies back.

She feels the Dream King approach more than she hears him. It’s like the wind stops to bow, and his presence fills the little pause in the meadow’s pulse. Sitting beside her, he watches the sky clear. The clouds never hide the constellations when she dreams. They’re too wonderful to hide, even for the most liberating storm.

His eyes mirror the cosmos as he turns to her, enchanting. They should make him distant. Unreachable. But she swears she could name the constellations twinkling there.

“What brought you here?” she asks.

“A part of me has always been here. I am the Dreaming.”

She isn’t sure if he’s being obtuse on purpose, but she can’t remember the last time she felt free enough to ask questions, so she presses it, building a history between the two of them, growing their encounter into a connection.

“The first time I saw you. When you waited by the trees.”

Galaxies comb over her as she rests, looking up at him from the bed of weeds and wildflowers.

“Curiosity.” Honest and simple. It isn’t exactly a vulnerable confession, but he doesn’t have anything to prove to her, and she likes the honesty.

She wonders if it will stretch to the present.

“And this time?”

The light in his eyes sharpens as they narrow. He looks at her like he’s the one who asked the question, hunting for answers behind her eyes.

“Curiosity unsated. And –” He hesitates long enough she thinks he won’t continue, but when he does, his voice has something beyond a ruler’s curiosity, a trace of the stories buried in his gaze during their last encounter softening the words to a rumbling whisper. “Perhaps, concern for a dreamer.”

The last rind of orange sun dips under the horizon, and the stars jump to life, ignoring the twilight. They’re all eager to burn.

She rolls fully onto her back, smiling as she takes his gaze with her, and looks up. How many more nights of dreaming does she have left? How many stars can she count, and if she tallies them all, can she keep them when she goes?

He waits for her answer patiently, as sure and still as the dark he wears so well.

Since he didn’t lie to her, she can’t bring herself to lie to him, either.

“This may be my longest dream yet. And my last.”

She thought he was still a moment ago. But now the dream goes still with him, and he’s a black hole locking the world in his gravity. It’s only suspense. Not suffocation. It draws her without either having to move.

When he breathes again, the stars remember how to twinkle. The stream dares to run.

“Has the Morningstar forgotten you?”

“Yes.” She’s resigned to her death, but she already yearns for all these beautiful things she can’t keep. “I wish this were real.” So she could tuck a flower in her pocket to smell when she wakes. So she could cradle a star in her palms during the coldest nights of her pitch dark cell.

More than anything, she wants the storms to follow her home like a stray dog.

“Your life here is as real as what you feel in the waking world.” He pauses. Corrects himself. “In Hell.”

Her view fogs over, and she blinks quickly, before any tears leak down her face. She doesn’t try to hide the misery in her voice. “That just makes it worse, though.”

A shooting star arcs overhead. Instead of a wish, she pins her fears and regrets to it, hoping it will take them far, far away, leaving her to enjoy however many dreams she has left in peace.

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

He leaves less and less.

For the first week, he comes every other night. Then he appears with the stars. Eventually, he arrives early enough to see the sun set and lingers long enough to watch it rise again. A growing pattern spreads like a bright stain: the weaker she becomes, the closer he sits. The longer he stays.

Rain still falls, thunder grumbles, and lightning flashes quick as thought. It’s all still her, all still her dream and her place, but she’s dying, and they both know it.

Eventually, it becomes a matter of leaving when he must rather than visiting when he can.

She isn’t sure why he cares. He oversees all dreamers, and the Dreaming expands beyond even those countless billions. She waits for the right opportunity to pose the question – a bright afternoon when the then clouds glow with the sun and dim rainbows hover over the trees. Everything tastes possible.

“I am the Dreaming, but I believe this corner of my realm would crumble away without you.” He buries his long fingers in the grass, tilts his head back to study the gathering clouds. “The meadow is mine, but the storms are yours, and their energy feeds everything that grows here. I could create a facsimile without your rain, but…”

His endless eyes turn to illuminate her, expressing all the dangerous things hanging like forbidden fruit between his words.

It would not be the same.

It would not feel like her.

It would lack the smells and shades of her untrained, demi-god soul.

And he would miss it.

He would miss her.

How should she tell him she will miss him, too?

“Dream Lord –”

He interrupts her. “You’ve given of yourself, and I enjoy your company. Please.” His chin drops so he can eye her through his lashes, and she isn’t sure if it’s an invitation or a dare. “Call me Morpheus.”

Her mouth feels strangely dry as she meets those eyes – dark in spite of the stars they hold. “Morpheus.”

“Yes.” His deep voice drops even lower, pushing her thoughts aside like a puff of dandelion seeds. “What name do you wish me to use?”

The dandelion seeds fly back to the stem and turn to stone. She looks away, humiliated, wondering if he’ll just forget he asked and tell her something new instead. But, patient as ever, he waits, though he seems aware the question wasn’t taken as intended.

She lets the silence sit until it’s awkward, until the shame and horror burn in her throat, begging for some kind of release. The answer chokes its way free.

“People call me things, but I don’t have my name. The fae didn’t think I needed it. The Morningstar calls me Rain. But that isn’t my name.” It all tastes like vomit. Ugly and undeserving of the quiet meadow. He’s given her permission to call him by name, and it’s a wonderful gift, but she can only show her scars to excuse her failure to offer the same. “I have no name to give you.”

That strikes him. When she dares to look him in the face, she sees the empathy. His slackened expression holds no judgement. He doesn’t mock her or take back what he’s shared. Frustration lies in the way his eyebrows pinch, though, and she’s seen it there before.

He’s found a limit to his power, and he doesn’t like it.

This time, instead of placing her alone in the field and leaving, he folds the narrow space between them so she presses into his side, under an arm that brings her even closer.

It’s a denial on his part. Who would dare pluck a dreamer from the defense of the Dream King’s arms?

She chooses to accept his embrace regardless. It’s the first she’s enjoyed in quite some time. The best by far, even if he’s claiming something she hasn’t expressly given permission to take.

With his chin resting on her head, he murmurs, “We shall find it for you, and you will have any name you wish until that day.”

Like she has time to wait. Time and opportunity to search the waking world for the name her mother gifted her.

She doesn’t have the strength to argue. She wonders if he says these things because he knows, too.

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

The storm rages through the meadow. She feels herself slipping fast, but she irrationally hopes if she pushes more of herself into the dream, some fragment will live on. Morpheus can keep it. He can keep the meadow and the chaotic weather. Her afterlife will keep her away, but she doesn’t want to leave him lonely in a dusty field.

They stand together by the stream because she’s sick of lying down and waiting for the end, even if she feels it biting her heels. She’ll meet death on her own two feet. His arms keep her upright, pulled close to his chest.

Only days left now. Maybe hours. She fights to stay in her dreams, aware of the throbbing headache and spiking pain in her physical belly. It all washes through the link to flesh and bone, echoes that manifest in her dream. She’s lucid enough to recognize them for what they are, and she’s lucid enough to ignore them. She chooses the dream. Considering Morpheus holds her fast, the dream has chosen her, too.

Even in the circle of his arms, remaining takes focus. The discomfort of her living body leaches through and jerks on her tether to wakefulness, demanding she return and suffer in full.

As the Dream Lord holds her, she holds him. Her arms loop around his narrow waist like he’s a tree in the storm that will anchor her against the pull from sleep. Lovers would carve their names into the trunk. Instead, she whispers, “Will you stay? Just a little longer.”

It is all she has left.

He breathes into her hair, and the gust is pleasantly warm compared to the wind. Only a little longer. She imagines his arms cinch just a bit tighter in defiance.

When he speaks, his voice is haggard, the smooth darkness roughed by an unspeakable emotion that has dared touch the Endless. “I will stay.”

He’ll stay until she can’t.

Until the end.

They stay together, breathing in time, pretending the end isn’t galloping towards them. Playing at eternity in cherished silence.

And then –

The door creaks, and she jerks awake. Dim light – still blinding – pours into her cell, framing the winged ruler like the sun.

“My sweet Rain. Did you think I had forgotten you?”

She looks to the light with hope, but it isn’t for the Morningstar. It isn’t for the fire’s warmth or the bland food that will fill her shriveled belly. She hopes to live so she may dream again, bring rain to Morpheus’s lonely meadow.

The months have taken their toll. The Morningstar holds out a hand, calling her to rise and return to her monarch’s side, but her knees fold the moment she tries to stand. And she does try. The igneous rock scrapes her palms as they catch her full weight, and she gasps for breath at the effort.

Even if there is light, she’s still dying. She needs water. Food. It isn’t too late to perish.

The Morningstar sweeps down, not to lift her off the floor, but to hold her chin and force her eyes from the floor. Lucifer’s eyes are hungry on her face. They demand her helpless adoration. Her wild hope.

“You are unwell.” The ruler of Hell says it like someone else left her in her cell for the better part of a year. No responsibility. No guilt. Only feigned concern tender and light as a feather. “We must remedy that.”

Mazikeen helps her up, half-carries her as the Morningstar moves to a table full of food and a tall pitcher full of what she desperately hopes is water. Little chimes ring through the marble hall with each shuffling step. The demon helps her sink to the floor their ruler’s side, her head resting against a knee. Easily within the Morningstar’s reach, angled so her desperation is on display.

As ever, she’s at the Lightbringer’s mercy. Her tormentor is her savior. But that’s only true because she must live to keep her dreams, and there’s a cup of water in Lucifer’s hands.

A ringed hand holds her jaw steady as the goblet nears. “Here. Drink and be well, Rain.” As she swallows, a hand runs over her hair. Torn chunks of bread and grey vegetables follow, taken from the Morningstar’s fingers. She knows how to behave, how to appear thankful and glad when she’s screaming inside. Her dignity died a long time ago. It doesn’t chafe her. But she has someone else’s hands in mind now.

She is still something the Morningstar fears to lose, and the Morningstar has no idea she’s given her hope to another king.

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

She enters the dream in his arms.

He holds her like he’s been waiting, unmoving since the light of the open door woke her.

They stand in the meadow with the threat of rain carrying across the sky in rolling thunder, and as she finds herself, discovers her balance, his hands rise to her face.

He studies her as he had from the edge of the woods, but it isn’t her actions he marks. Inquisitive stars peer deep to draw out new pain, searching for hurts, asking without words if she is well.

Her hands trace the back of his fingers, wandering to his wrists, over his sleeves and up to his elbows. Then back to his wrists in a soothing stroke.

“I will dream again,” she assures him.

The Morningstar has remembered her. She will live, and she’ll return to this green place in his Dreaming.

His hands shift so his thumbs press on her jaw, tilting her face up to meet him. She expects a word or some nebulous expression she’ll spend her waking hours puzzling over, but he banishes all her expectations effortlessly.

With a kiss.

Silken lips press to hers. A touch. An introduction.

Her heart stalls in her chest as her hands cling to forearms. Holding him close in confusion.

“I thought you lost.” His mouth barely leaves hers, and each word is practically a kiss of its own. “I thought this meadow would languish without the rain.”

Apparently, the grass wasn’t the only thing to grow thirsty in her absence. He barely finishes before he kisses her again. An invitation this time, a call to dance as their lips glide together. Careful touches grow warmer, firmer, and she dares to answer in kind. She’s never been invited to play this game before, but she feels like she’s glowing, like there are no bones or muscle left in her body, only the hazy idea of lightning before a bolt gathers itself.

His hands slip along her jaw so the tips of his fingers can curl into her hair. She has his full attention, the weight of a billion dreams, and she wonders if this will consume her. She entertains a fantasy that he can tear her away from her mortal body, keep her in his soft hands like this forever.

Their lips break apart so he can press his forehead to hers, noses brushing together as he puts together the questions he must ask before he takes more.

“Will you spend this dream with me?” He pauses his thought for the next kiss. It’s quick, but no less sweet. When he pulls away, he leaves enough space to look, to hold her gaze. She sees his need, his hunger, and she hopes he’ll swallow her whole, let her never be lonely again.

“May I show you what it is to be worshipped, little storm god?”

There’s a touch of a growl in his voice, and it carries through her in a delicious shiver. He isn’t the only one who wants, who needs, who hungers. Her hands wander to his chest. Two curious, brazen fingers creep higher to ghost over his lips, trying to discover the secrets behind the blinding power of his kiss. When his eyes flutter shut, bolder hands brush along his eyebrows, down his nose, until he shudders and catches them up in a grip like silken iron.

With more kisses to her fingers, her knuckles, the inside of her wrists, he says, “Please. Give me your words, little storm god.”

Here, in his realm, he’s asking permission. Has anyone ever asked for it before? No. Never. She swells with something painfully bright, and she feels drunk on power. She smells ozone from her lightning.

The feeling burns, fierce and lovely, as she stares into the stars he calls eyes. She doesn’t recognize it. It’s nameless as she is. But she wants more, and if she has to give him every word she’s ever spoken and ever will, she’ll gladly surrender them.

“Yes.”

He slips closer, nuzzling with soft kisses under her ear as he presses her hands against his chest again.

She tries to think of more words – the right words. Breathless, she says, “I’ll spend this dream with you. Please. Morpheus.”

Before she can descend into frantic babbling, he seals her agreement with another kiss. He asks with gentle touches for her to open for him, and she gladly gives leaves for him to take as he wishes, because she’s falling into the sky, and one of his stars burns in her heart.

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

He pulls night around them like a curtain.

Even the stars disappear behind a thick scrim of cloud cover.

The trees rustle with the breath of a rising storm, and for the moment, their psithurism is the only song in the dream, the only sound as he lowers her into the grass, its emerald flush gone silver in the night.

When he first reclaimed his tools and began the laborious process of remaking his realm, the green meadow had dazzled him. He’d stumbled upon it by chance. Great swaths of ruin and decay gave way to a peaceful storm, and as he’d stepped into her space at the edge of the Dreaming, the rain melted the weight on his shoulders. His power mingled with hers across the landscape, and though he knew all dreamers without stopping to speak with them, he found himself wanting to understand. He wanted the little storm god to look at him and answer his questions.

How could a prisoner of Hell have so much life to share with the world of sleep? Did she know what boon her rains granted the desolate corner of his kingdom?

He approaches her with all his questions, and he finds a lonely demi-god who hardly knows what she is. Her divinity is fact, but it has no influence on her waking hours. It is a gift unconsciously offered, poured into his world to sustain life and passion where all else cracks and decays.

The longing in the dream touches him, a lonesome song of a trapped thing, so he gives her warm sun between the clouds, lets the long grass embrace her and the stream kiss her feet. When he returns, when he struggles to leave, he soothes her with contact she’ll recognize as his embrace. Hands, and arms, and his chin on the crown of her head.

It’s a quiet thing. A balm for a heart that has never been any way but broken. He basks in her relief as she faces an end he unwittingly inspired, and it soothes aches of his own. It goes this way until he craves the little storm god in her meadow – her respite from Hell.

The craving grows in quiet hours and misting rain, fed by the threat of imminent loss. He thinks he has lost her when she fades from her dream, only for an instant, but it’s more than enough. When she returns to his arms, he is decided.

He pours that reverence into every soft touch, each stroke of his lips.

She gives him the words he most wants to hear, and he begins his worship.

When she looks up from her bed of grass and flowers, her expression suggests she’s the one eager to praise, that he is the god deserving offerings. He must show her differently.

He sets a hand on her chest, splayed fingers just reaching her collar bones. His palm drags down as he leans in to claim her lips, splitting her attention as his palm travels between her breasts, down her belly. As his hand returns, he banishes her clothing. His hand rests over her heart, flesh to flesh, and he listens to her waking pleasure through the dream. It’s only an inexperienced whisper, but he will teach it to sing.

Prayers drip from his tongue as he tastes her neck. Her confused, eager hands roam his hair, his neck, the collar of his coat with little noises of joy and frustration. When he smiles, charmed but determined to keep his slow pace, he moves his hand from over her heart to cover a breast. Patience has its rewards, but he will not leave her cold and wanting.

He fills his mouth with her other breast instead of words, and he tastes her heartbeat through the tender skin as he teases her peak into a bud. She gasps and arches, so his free hand slips around to support her back, keeping her near as he begins his feast.

The first sprinkles of rain patter over them, but the storm god panting under him hardly seems to mind, and neither does he. He loves her rain, her kindly chaos.

“Morpheus.”

He answers the summons, returning to her lips as his thumb circles a stiff nipple. Pushing her thighs apart with a knee, he reclines between her legs, giving her time to adjust to the position without feeling exposed. She fills his senses. Petrichor and crushed grass. Moving water and electricity.

There is more of her to have, and he thinks he may combust if he can’t have it all. He breaks their kiss with praises as he works his way down the path his hand took in the beginning. Words feel hollow, beautiful, and good, and perfect – his mouth does a better job expressing his passion when it’s full of her skin.

His hands paint her body with affection. They explore each dip and curve, spread over her back, cradle the dip of her waist, return to her breasts and curl around her hips. He doesn’t give her space or time to grow shy, but he enjoys her yelp of surprise when he swoops low and pulls her knees over his shoulders. A kiss to the inside of her knee reassures her of his intentions, and he moves to her core.

He licks her entrance, and a broken moan rewards him. How sweet. He must discover what other sounds she makes when she isn’t guarding her words and asking careful questions. As free as she believes herself to be, she does not know how to be unrestrained, even in her dreams. That is alright. He will help her.

Every flick of his tongue triggers a gasp. When he takes her clit she whines. Her hips try to dance against him, chasing pressure and release, but he has complete control, which he uses to build a slow pleasure that will shatter her. He wants her to fall apart on his tongue, and Dream of the endless is nothing if not determined.

She comes with a cry that sounds almost hurt, but the dream practically glows with her passion, and the clouds echo her calls with thunder.

He isn’t satisfied, and he pulls another from her, this time beckoning her to the edge of madness with curling fingers in partnership with his tongue. He allows no pain, free to banish any possible discomfort from this encounter. If he ever has her half-mortal body in the Dreaming, he will drag her through hours of bliss until she cannot recognize any pain in their coupling. But that is a concern for another day.

For the time being, he’s happy to grow drunk on her taste.

After she catches her breath for the second time, she reaches for him, and he takes her outstretched hand, pondering how lovely their fingers look laced together as she tugs him back up to cover her so she can rain chaste kisses over his face and down his neck. He’s burning for her, and the ache crawls from his belly into his chest as she puts her lips to his eyes, his nose, his chin.

His clothes melt away, and she explores every inch she can reach with fresh enthusiasm. He kisses her back into the grass, savoring the warm fingertips tracing the lines of his chest, dipping over his stomach.

He gathers her leg to rest over his hip, maintaining the kiss as he presses inside. A groan reverberates through the entire Dreaming, and he bites down on a name he doesn’t know. It has never bothered him so much as it does in that moment.

But her hands are on his face, and her whole form writhes to welcome him.

As he moves within her, he aches to fill her with stars and wishes, to let her breathe her dreams through the desperate gasps billowing over his ear. She clings to him, and he reaches for her heart. Though they are too close for him to even imagine a parting, he kisses his hopes and assurances into her flesh, breathing devotion and faith as the wind sweeps down with the rain to bless their union.

He wants to take everything she naively offers, but he wants to give as well. He wants to search out the name bestowed by her mortal mother and return it. He wants to whisper it like a benediction as he takes her again in the storm, tying them closer with old magic and simple understandings.

She chants his name with dizzying fervor, stoking his desire to find more, to press nearer in every way. Her body offers him the relief of a cottage fire in an autumn tempest, and he throws as much fuel on that fire as he can. As his hips roll to meet hers, he murmurs, “Let me feel you again. Will you give me another? Can you give me more?”

She’s past the point of words. Even his name has fallen from her lips, though he still feels it thrumming in her mind as she flutters around him, approaching the end with the most desperate sounds. He kisses her sternum, just over her heart to ask a boon of the little goddess coming to pieces in his grip.

“Please.”

She remembers how to speak as she crashes through her third high.

“Morpheus.”

What would he give to hear her call him thus every evening? It must be a spell. He prays the magic takes, that it sets around them, binds them like satin cord.

He works back up her throat, hungry for another kiss as his own end rushes near. She accepts him so readily, so happily. Even though she’s exhausted from pleasure, the smile she meets him with has the flavor of spring.

Joined in every way, he shudders with his release, filling her the way her rain filled his heart. Reluctant to leave, he rests above her, within her, as he stills. Quick breaths push her chest against his, and he cradles her blissfully limp body. Her fingers twine through his hair again, soothing, trying to return satisfaction and fulfillment she’s already given him twice over.

Her storm tempers itself. Satiated purrs carry through the sky, and a misting rain glitters on her bare skin, catches in her hair and lashes like jewels plucked from the night sky. Her eyes may as well be moons for the tidal pull they exert over him.

Though he has just had her, has yet to even pull away, he wants more. It’s a thirst he can’t slake, and he marvels at his own sway as she presses into the palm he holds to her cheek.

All too soon, she will wake. In Hell. She will suffer, regardless of the Morningstar’s favor.

There are few hates as strong as the starving man’s as he watches a fool leave all he’s ever craved to rot.

He will not allow it. He cannot bear to as she kisses his hand and glimmers in the sleeping meadow.

“Twice traded storm god,” he murmurs, “should you be willing, I would negotiate a third trade for you, to make you a creature of the Dreaming.”

He watches her face, almost mistakes the tears dripping from her wide, hopeful eyes as more rain. Eager again for her words, he kisses over her cheeks and returns the salt in a searing kiss, branding her with their entwined passions.

He wants all of her. Forever. He tells her as much.

“I would make you mine and keep you.”

If she agrees, she need never disappear from his arms again. He need never worry that the rain will cease. She need not sleep in a cold cell, trapped in the dark alone.

Her acceptance shines in her eyes, haunts the stroke of her hands over his back.

“I would be willing.”

It’s better than an oath, and he knows just how to honor it. He’s more than ready to worship her again.

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

He sends Cain as his emissary. It’s the first thing he does after he loses the storm god to waking, and he waits on his throne for news, struggling to attend to his duties as he wonders what news his subject will bring.

Will Cain see the storm god, veiled and chained with bells in the corner of the room, or will the Morningstar lock her away again at the first whisper of a guest.

What demands will the ruler of Hell make of him in exchange for the storm god? It is a negotiation he dreads, and not only for the risks he will face. The Lightbringer is often cruel, and the tithe may have to pay for her own freedom in blood. But Morpheus will have her regardless of the Morningstar’s machination. Even if she comes to the Dreaming mauled, he will celebrate her arrival.

Surely she knew the danger when she accepted him?

She is made to weather storms.

He need not fear too much.

Cain returns.

He gives Morpheus a letter from Lucifer Morningstar, formally sealed with wax, written on parchment made from some ancient beast’s hide. Before he breaks open he words, he quizzes his subject. Had he seen the storm god? Was she well? Did the Morningstar intimate violence as it became clear who, in fact, claimed the tithe’s allegiance?

The first murder shakes his head. “She stood in the shadows with the Morningstar’s favorite Lillim. I didn’t even notice her until I said your name and the bells on her ankles trembled.” He hesitates, and Morpheus feels the sun dim behind the throne room’s stained glass.

“What?” he demands.

“The Morningstar – well, the Morningstar smiled.”

Morpheus opens the letter and immediately spots the trap. It is a terrible thing, clearly meant to destroy him. But he doesn’t care. Not as much as he should. And the Morningstar must know it.

It’s less of a letter and more of a will. Lucifer Morningstar has left Hell. The infernal realm and all within is given into the hands of Dream of the Endless.

An impossible burden. An invitation for war and conflict with a dozen of the most powerful entities to ever grow thought.

Yet all he can think of is the door in the royal chambers, and the little god locked behind it.

Cain took a day to travel back, and the storm god is not asleep. He cannot feel her in the Dreaming, and he wonders if she’s hurt, if the pain keeps her from resting. What has the Morningstar done in the hours since handing Cain the message?

He rushes to Hell. He does not pause to enter by the gate, armed with the word of the Morningstar. This time he enters not as a guest but as lord. If any demon dares interfere, he will not regret tearing his way through them.

Word of the Lightbringer’s desertion has already spread, and Hell hums with a particular kind of anxious chaos. Demons press against rules, abandoning their posts in the image of their former keeper. Souls wander, wild-eyed but free for just a moment of their torment.

He cares for none of them.

A few small devils scatter as he enters the Morningstar’s chambers.

The door stands open, the cell empty. Subdued fear crests over him like a wave.

Had the Morningstar simply left the demons to tear into her flesh? Undefended? Screaming as he waited for word to reach him?

He will find her soul and take it away with him, turn her into a true creature of the Dreaming and give her an eternity free of whatever agony the Morningstar had left for her.

One of the devils tries to skitter past him to the door, and he seizes it by the neck.

“What happened here?”

It chitters and croaks, but it is weak, and it bows quickly to Dream’s power. As razor-sharp claws scratch at his hand, it hisses what it knows.

“Ruler summoned fae king. Wanted magic. Wanted potion to stop sleep. Stop dreams. Stuffed it down the tithe-pet’s throat. Took the tithe. Took Rain. Not here. Gone. Gone. Gone. Let me go?”

He throws the twisted cretin across the room, snarling.

Yes. Now he sees why the Morningstar would smile. The little storm god made good bait, even if the former ruler of Hell had no intention of surrendering her.

The eternal ash scratches his lungs, but he can’t help drawing breath after breath, looking for some trace of her as he crouches to touch the floor of her cell.

She met him here.

He wonders if he can feel her hunger and thirst in the stone, her loneliness in the shadows.

She dreamed herself away, and now she will have no escape. Even if she walks the waking world, Morpheus has no doubt the Morningstar will find ways to punish her. And without a realm to govern, there should be plenty of time for torment.

The burden Lucifer so elegantly foisted on him prevents Morpheus from chasing after his little storm god for weeks and months. Time slips by as he sorts through the mess left by the Morningstar’s retirement, and by the time he’s free, she is gone.

He searches the waking world and discovers nothing. No stories, no whispers, no hints. The Morningstar has hidden her well, and he knows better than to ask the Lightbringer to trade a second time.

Months stretch on, birthing new years and decades.

He wonders as he waits in her meadow, still hoping that she will break the magical chains twisting through her mind and dream her way home.

Does she ache for him as he yearns for her?  

The grass is turning yellow.

Is she in pain?

The stream runs dry and the bare trees rattle like skeletons when faint breezes disturb the still air.

What else has the Morningstar taken from her in retaliation?

The sun is too bright, and the stars turn dull.

He was right. It is dying without her. Fading around him even as he tries to sustain the place where he kissed her, where they joined and made love for the first and last time.

Morpheus does not give up, but there is no path to follow, and the corner of his world they shared crumbles. She becomes another bleeding scar he cannot staunch, a misery he carries in love.

Perhaps one day. Perhaps by some miracle or mistake they will meet again. Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps.

Nothing kills hope, not even when it becomes a knife between his ribs.

He wanders the sea of the unconscious, looking for storms.

[catchyhuh]

You once told about crying, so let's talk about the happier scenario: LAUGHTER. We were shown them sharing it a lot in canon but maybe you have some additional thoughts? Who would have the most twisted, dark sense of humor? Or maybe the cringiest? Who would laugh his butt off while reading some stupid text on the birthday card on the local shop? Does any of them snort or hiccup while giggling? Are any of them ticklish on some unusual spot? Do they prank each other? And what do they do to actually cheer up the others? Those kind of headcanons!

oh my god. i want to hug you. you’re right we DO need to talk about this!! peace and love and joy on planet earth!!!! all of them laugh when they see a guy walk headfirst into a glass pane and only two of them sort of kind of feel bad about it

lupin:

it takes almost nothing to make lupin laugh. and he’s not even fucking with you either he just sincerely thinks THIS much is funny but he has more of a control over his giggles than people might assume. he CAN stop laughing but he knows its obnoxious to people so he DOESN’T 

he knows how to weaponize levity. like, he really does have more emotional maturity than people give him credit for (not that he’s GREAT about it, just better than people give him credit for!) and it’s been shown multiple times that he tries to use laughter to pull people out of their emotional pits of despair. he exaggerates his gestures, he makes weird faces, and since he’s already such an animated person you wouldn’t even realize it’s an intentional thing unless you really knew him

lupin arguably pulls pranks every day, but not on his gang. at least, not the standard kind. it turns out people with nightmarishly fast reflexes have um. pretty wild kneejerk reactions if you pop out from behind a corner to try to scare them! usually he just replaces unimportant items for the hell of it. sour cream in the yogurt tub. pens replaced with black straws. shit that’s annoying but never WILD. he saves that for the heists 

jigen:

jigen laughing is (like so many things) ENTIRELY dependent on his mood. if he’s grouchy it’s almost impossible to make him laugh, even if it’s something he normally finds hilarious, but if he’s easygoing on this particular day it’s not. i mean its a REASONABLE level. it’s reasonable. honestly a lot of it has to do with the person it’s coming from too so it’s like. there’s factors. there’s factors to what makes him laugh. and oddly enough none of it has to do with his sense of humor. although in THEORY he would be the pickiest. it’s not HIGHBROW good lord not highbrow humor by any means, but he’s like. unimpressed with absurdist meme humor. probably because so much WAY wackier shit happens to them organically every damn day BUT YOU KNOW HOW IT IS

jigen. is a very loud laugher, when he gets to that very sincere point. like if he’s outside checking the mail or whatever and you’re standing in a bedroom upstairs on the opposite side of the house, and he sees a squirrel fall out of a tree flailing wildly before it just lands on its feet, blinking in confusion… you’ll know. you’ll know he saw that. and so will any house that happens to be in a 1 mile radius of the hideout. full lung capacity, clutching his stomach, pointing and everything. 

fujiko:

it is not impossible to get fujiko to laugh. difficult, but not impossible. especially because she’ll just do that laugh that indicates “that was funny/entertaining” but doesn’t actually like. turn into real laughter.  but fujiko sincerely, fully breaking into a laughing fit is like a haley’s comet level rare, beautiful event in nature. i know i said she never CRY cries but her eyes water up almost immediately the minute she starts laughing laughing, and her face gets all red and streaky. it’s exceedingly undignified. it’s so great

fujiko does admittedly find things funny the most in a like. objective sense. she’ll watch a movie and grin and be like “that was funny” and it’s like. ok then why aren’t you laughing? SHE JUST HAS A HIGHER COMEDY TOLERANCE. it’s not even one of those things she’s trained herself on. it’s just. being around these idiots for so long she has come to realize if she actually did start cracking up every time one of them did something stupid, intentional or not, she would have fractured a rib by now, and that’s just not super ideal for anybody really,

tied with jigen for the darkest sense of humor, easily. of course, again, unlike jigen, she won’t immediately start losing it, but her eyes will widen with this like flash of humor and she’ll just kind of smile tightly because she KNOWS she shouldn’t laugh at generic dead baby joke number 482938 but unlike jigen she cares at least a little about not seeming like a total ass. just a lil.

goemon:

less giggly than lupin, more giggly than jigen. goemon’s sense of humor is kind of hard to pinpoint, even for him. it could be something as simple as someone deliberately mispronouncing a word that gets his smile all twisted up, it could be a stupid pun, but he INSISTS he does NOT find others getting hurt funny. he insists. and then when lupin actually trips and eats shit and jigen immediately bursts out laughing goemon turns his head away like No No No it's not funny i will not laugh. i won’t BUT IT’S TOO LATE. WE’VE ALREADY LOST HIM. not above finding others’ misfortune funny in other ways though, he just (says) bodily harm isn’t funny. someone trying to step out of the rain and getting an entire awning’s worth of water dumped on them though, he will admit that shit is funny as hell

when goemon really REALLY starts laughing like, uncontrollably, can’t stop laughing, he just stops making noise. but he hates how stupid he must look with his mouth hanging open and no sound coming out, so he tucks his chin and halfway tries to cover his face, his shoulders just shaking the whole time. of course it takes a lot to get to that point like a LOT lot, so it’s amazing he’s as concerned about it as he is

zenigata:

zenigata WANTS to be like jigen in the “this is serious i'm mad at you. stop giggling” sense but he’s. not as sturdy in that department. he like draws his mouth super tight to stop from smiling and he’s like “this is not funny. stop. stop it. ITS NOT F--” and then he puts his head in his hands to try to stop laughing but it’s too late the dam has already broken

like with crying, he doesn’t ever really feel the need to stop himself from laughing outside of I’M SERIOUS CUT IT OUT type situations. like he gets giggly just when he’s in a good mood and nothing funny has even happened yet. and like with literally everything with him he’s loud. very loud. almost anything can get him to laugh, nothing is too stupid or juvenile despite what he insists. also sometimes laughs when he’s nervous, and it’s like, the only time he’s at a semi-average volume doing it. because he’s fearing for his life. it happens.

[dialovers-translations]

DIABOLIK LOVERS LOST EDEN Vol.1 Sakamaki Saga [TRACK 5]

Original title: 魔力の暴走

Source: Diabolik Lovers LOST EDEN Vol.1: Sakamaki-hen

Audio: Here

Seiyuu: Toriumi Kousuke, Katsuyuki Konishi, Midorikawa Hikaru, Kaji Yuki, Hirakawa Daisuke & Takashi Kondou

Translator’s note: It has honestly been so long since I translated this CD, I almost forgot what happened, haha. I do think it’s interesting how these provide us with one ‘canon’ scenario in which Ayato is the one to inherit Karlheinz’ powers. Then again, he has always been the poster boy of the series and the default ‘adam’. I also find Laito’s role in this very interesting, because he’s completely on board with Ayato blowing up the whole world, lol. Gotta love that chaotic energy.

→  LIKE MY TRANSLATIONS? SUPPORT ME ON KO-FI!

TRACK 5: MAGIC GONE OUT OF CONTROL (35:30 - 42:36)

You stumble as Subaru drags you along.

Subaru: Ah…

*Rustle*

Subaru: Tsk…God. I had a bad feelin’ and seems like it was spot on too. 

You tilt your head in confusion.

Subaru: Don’t ‘eh?’ me! I noticed those guys were kind of on edge, so I figured that maybe you had gotten caught up in the mess. ーー And I was right. Fuck! …You’re to blame as well though! For lettin’ them do with you as they please! At least fight back a lil’! There’s plenty of ways to get away, right!?

*Rustle* 

Subaru: Your existence tempts us. 

You say sorry. 

Subaru: Ah, don’t apologize. …We’ve spent a considerable amount of time together so…I kind of understand how you think at this point. 

You thank him. 

Subaru: Che…Just when I thought you didn’t say ‘sorry’ for once, it’s ‘thank you’ instead? You really are too good for this world, aren’t you? Anyway, your neck…

*Rustle* 

Subaru: Those bastards really went to town on you, didn’t they? …Come here for a sec. 

You hesitate.

Subaru: Come on…

*Rustle* 

Subaru: I’m gonna do this…

He kisses along your neck to heal the marks. 

*Smooch*

Subaru: Mm…Haah…A Vampire’s saliva has a healing effect…You know about that as well, right? 

*Smooch* 

Subaru: Nn…Haah…Why do I have to bother with this? 

You thank him.

Subaru: Shut up! Stop thanking me every two seconds. I’m the one pullin’ the short end of the straw here. If you keep on spoutin’ random bullshit, I’m gonna suck your blood as well, understand? 

You flinch.

Subaru: What!? Does that mean you don’t want to get bitten by me!? …I’m pissed now.

Subaru bites you. 

Subaru: Haahn…

*Gulp gulp gulp* 

Subaru: Hah…This is your punishment…

*Gulp gulp gulp* 

Subaru: Mmh…

*Flap flap flap* 

Subaru: Are those…familiars? They seem to be in quite the rush. 

Subaru gets up. 

*Rustle* 

Subaru: I have a bad feeling about this…Oi, you! Let’s get inside the house. Hurry!

Subaru drags you inside. 

*TIMESKIP*

Shuu: …Ugh. Right when I had finally fallen asleep. What kind of trouble happened this time? It better not be some random bullshit. 

Reiji: While some might categorize it as such, the Familiars have come to report on a situation which we simply cannot ignore as members of the Vampire Clan. 

Kanato: A situation we cannot ignore…? 

Ayato: Ugh…

Reiji: Vampires who had moved to this world, have been getting murdered one after the other. 

Laito: Nfu~ I guess that truly is something we probably shouldn’t ignore. Still, I also don’t think it was worth waking us all up and dragging us here to the living room? 

Reiji: Uncle…Lord Richter has passed away. 

Ayato: …!

Subaru: …!? He died!? Who did it? 

Reiji: By some kind of organization who calls themselves the ‘Ravens’. 

You ask who they are. 

Reiji: It would be nice if I could answer that question. Point being, uncle was killed by an unknown group of people and afterwards, they pierced his corpse on the peak of Kaminashi Tower. 

Shuu: To show off…or perhaps warn us for what’s to come?

Ayato: …!!

Shuu: So, what are you going to do, Ayato? Are you going to hunt down the culprit or…?

Ayato: Why are you askin’ me? 

Kanato: Well…You are the head of this family, remember? 

Ayato: Like I give a damn! Besides, I don’t remember ever taking on that position. Don’t push it onto me!

Laito: Eeh~ ? Oh come on, don’t say that now. You were the one who inherited that man’s powers, remember? In other worーー

Ayato: Shut up!!

Reiji: Haah…Well, if you want to leave this case untouched, then we will follow your lead. 

You grab hold of Ayato’s hand.

Ayato: …!? What’s with you, Chichinashi? You’re not gonna tell me to get my shit together as the Heir as well, will you? 

You shake your head. 

Ayato: Then what’s your problem!? 

You frown. 

Ayato: So what!? Don’t go quiet and give me a proper answer!

*Thud* 

Ayato: All of you bastards just keep on goin’ on ‘bout me being the Heir or having these powers…Just shut the fuck up already!! These powers were forced upon me against my own will!! So…Why are you expectin’ so much from me!? It’s fuckin’ annoyin’...!!

His powers begin to charge. 

*Woosh* 

Subaru: …!! Ayatoーー!

Shuu: …! Oi, calm down!

Kanato: Kuh…Ayato…Not here! Stop!

Ayato: Shut up! Not another word!!

Reiji: …!! This is bad! …Don’t stand there spacing out, we have to run!

Reiji grabs hold of your hand. 

Reiji: Let’s go!

Shuu: Hey, you! Do you want to get sent flying by his powers? I’m sure you realize that would be meaningless, right!? 

Ayato: BLOW THE FUCK UP!!

Laito: …Nfu~ 

Ayato: ( …Everythin’ and everyone should just disappear…All of it!! This entire world…As well as these powers which were irresponsibly forced upon it…Every single thing! It pisses me the fuck off! Everythin’ should just…GO AWAY! )

ーー THE END ーー

[unsleepingtales]

Finale Time!!! This is a LONG one containing many emotions. Thank you for bearing with me through all of these reaction posts lol. See you next season. <3

Ooh only episode of the season to have the content warning in the episode not just in the description

They all look so cool!!

Return of stupendous stoats :)

Siobhan <3

The time you have left is such an ominous way to put that thanks!

Yayyyyyy

That’s just gonna be an existential crisis every time they say it

This is fun. They’re besties

Brennan is really hitting the murder bits

This is old Tutu coming back lol

Actually???

This radio bit is unhinged and I love it

I love her

Oh fuck shit pants motherfuck

He’s leaning SO hard into the contrast between the desire for peace and the murderous bloodlust

I do not believe her. I don’t think that’s how people work.

DAMN. That impression is actually really good

I love how you can see the astonishment go from Aabria-as-Tara being impressed to all of them legitimately being impressed

He said the name of the thinggggg

Okay but actually Brennan saying “that’s a pro” probably meant So much to jwc because he’s such a fan of D20 and I’m emotional thinking about it

I have lost track of what’s happening. I’m keeping up with what’s important! But the bits and jokes are so simultaneously interwoven and distracting that I am a bit lost.

(Group laughs at this motivational speech turned threat)

Oh good lord

Is that the map?

Real Pinocchio pole dancing on his nose vibes

DO THEY HAVE THE FORCE???

Yeah it makes sense that if the stoats have magic the humans do too. Or maybe this is Phoebe from inside Wenabocker.

ONE HUNDRED FEET???

The least energetic singing of grease 😂

Oh god

He’s hot 😭

Why did they have to make Wenabocker hot guys.

HELLO?????

What the fuck bitch

Oh my god that is the worst thing I have ever seen.

Well. He’s not hot anymore.

Carlos 😭

Oh my god. Aabria warned us not to eat dinner during the show but jesus

Awww the mini upgrades <3

That’s so sick actually

Brennan is pulling no punches for the finale

Humans don’t have a dick bone but they’re about to! (group laughs at the threat of dick bone violence) Do you have a dick bone inside you? Would you like to??

Oh god Brennan

What does that mean. Aabria. Aabria what does that mean.

Okay. Okay.

There are seams in the mini that remind me of MeatWolf. Does this fucking thing do the ship of theseus thing too. Because I will lose my goddamn mind.

The stroke vibes ARE so real right now Aabria you’re so correct.

I’m so stressed

LUKAS’S HAT

FIFTY DAMAGE BITCH

The art team is knocking it out of the fucking park with the spell effects

Oh right. Guns.

Oh god ouch.

Nice

Aaaaaaaaaaaaa

HAPPY BIRTHDAY?????

Please

Oh no oh no oh no

The only thought you’ve ever had

JESUS

Aabria came for pvp and she is getting it

What the fuck

I’m

upset

About this

HOW is he still up tbh

Oh god

Oh thank god but oh no

The most hollowed out a person has ever been. Oh my god

This is soul crushing.

Aabriaaaaaaaa

Uh oh!

Izzy I think you’re on the right track with the MeatWolf comparison. The mini having seams makes me nervous

Sorry I think Brennan not being able to perform that is actually gonna haunt me more than if he had. Here is this brilliant actor and improviser whom I admire so much and even he is so troubled by this that he cannot fathom how to portray it.

This is fine

Siobhan you’re brilliant actually

Get roasted

Aaaaaaaaa

Why would you provoke him

WHAT

Okay but that bullet is not as small as they’re miming. A bullet from that gun is like the size of a stoat’s hand, minimum

Erika Ishii your mind <3

ONE HUNDRED AND NINE DAMAGE TO. THE GROUND.

Hm. Troubling.

Oh damn okay.

Why the ny accent lmao

Noooooooooooo

Rules lawyers <3

Send the kids to camp!

Ey

Lair action????

Jasper that was the funniest thing I’ve seen in my goddamn life

This fucking map I’m losing it

This is all so upsetting Izzy you’re right.

Fucking shitting fuck Siobhan you’re right.

Siobhan just smiling sadly at Brennan. Augh.

This is all so deeply bad.

Yeah boiiiiii

Aabria asking are you okay. Babe what do you think??

Holy SHIT Rashawn

So many numbers

It would be completely fine if we did crack right now :)

Holy fucking shit what the fuck oh my god he’ll cook in forty minutes oh my god Rashawn Nadine Scott you’re incredible

I would believe that she can use a human gun

OH she’s actually letting her shoot a human gun that’s wild

ANOTHER ONE?

Erika is gonna cry

The dimensional dome I don’t think I’ve ever heard that but I love it so much

This is fucking incredible

WHAT

Viola just fucking killed two humans in one turn and hasn’t even taken her bonus action yet

You ARE so hot.

Ooh Aabria finally gets to do the remaining hit point reveal

YES BITCH KILL THEM ALL

The little sticking of the post it to her forehead <3

(Group applauds Rashawn as they should)

Erika legitimately is near tears god

Oh god

Oh

AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

Oh no

Uh oh?

Uh oh

UH OH

The suicidal ideation is real with this one folks. This is. Bad!

Oh FUCK

Brennan I’m gonna cry

Joining Erika and Jasper in the near tears club

“It’s not obligation. It’s believing that you can put your head up, and look for a day where you won’t be so tired anymore.”

I’ll be honest, I fully paused the episode and cried for a few minutes after that line. I don’t talk about my mental health a ton on here because this is a d&d blog. But that really hit me so hard.

Okay. Going back to rewatch the couple minutes preceding. We’re gonna finish the episode and it’s gonna be fine.

Everyone’s just fucking recovering from that Jesus.

It actually was his birthday??

Okay. Okay okay.

I do not have immense faith in the humans tbh but ok

Jasper

Jasper please

Ooh ok

The WORLD?

Oh good god okay. There’s no way that could go wrong. Yeah okay.

They’re just. Giving it to them? Ok! Cool!

Awww

Aaaaaaaaaa

Sobbing actually

Eyyyyyyyy ok not sobbing anymore

Back in her ho days! Do that lil dance you do!

Blood for the blood gods 😭

Hell yeah Ava. Fix the system.

Hell yeah baby

What

Just straight up. Incredible

(Cast loses it over Jaysohn the Sport Stoat)

THIRTY ONE

They go to the fucking Olympics

BRIGHTER THAN THE SUN SWIFTER THAN THE WIND

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

What a fantastic season. Aabria, thank you for being such an incredible GM. You have once again blown me away. <3