#this song is so good for them too GOD

[luck-of-the-drawings]

[<==PREV PAGES] [NEXT PAGE==>(not out yet.wait a year.or maybe more.imagine.]

saw alot of comments on prev pages; saying 'i HATE that mean teacher! im gonna FIGHT HIM!!' & i LOVE the energy!! it WOULD be nice. to have that catharsis. but the story of young tidestrider is Not one of catharsis. it is a story of being so small and so special and sucking so bad.

[b4kuch1n]

and the storm he was driving/washed it away/in the eye there was a silence

[cynningly]

oh to have your story be told hundreds of times yet still be unable to change it

The Guardian, The Firebrand, The Damsel, The Voyeur; damned to repeat this cycle of torture until they all fall prey to it-

-only to begin it again

“THE GREAT FLOOD SHALL WASH AWAY ALL THE ASH, READYING THE WORLD FOR ANOTHER GREATER, CYCLE”

-HABIT

[madootles]

a baby

[feroluce]

When Al Haitham dreams, it's in shades of sandy blonde and red, metallic gold and feather-blue. His nightmares are colored much the same.

Kaveh leisurely strolls ahead of him, shoes leaving deep treads in the soft desert sand. He keeps a careful distance, arms length, and in return Al Haitham keeps an eye on him, the other man's back dead center in his sights.

He curses the sand in his boots and the long line of footprints he steps into, already the exact shape of the soles of his shoes.

They aren't lost. Al Haitham knows where they are. They've been here before. They are still here.

Kaveh doesn't watch their feet. His head is constantly tipped back with his eyes on the stars and their constellations (of which Al Haitham only knows two, Vultur Volans and Paradisaea). He'll walk right into a cactus like that. Al Haitham yells ahead for him to watch where he's going.

Kaveh reaches up to touch the side of his head in a strange motion, but otherwise there's no acknowledgement. They press on into the dark of night.

Something squelches beneath Al Haitham's boot.

It stops him short, pulls his attention like a magnet and as much as he wants to, he can't ignore it. He doesn't want to lose any more ground. But something won't let him move on. Al Haitham watches as red seeps into the golden sand, spills beyond the border of his bootprint until he slides his foot aside.

It's an ear.

It's a human ear, and there's a heavy earring attached, metallic gold, gems red and green, a familiar shape, a familiar shade-

Al Haitham opens his mouth to yell. Chokes. Swallows the lump in his throat as he quickly restarts his pace. Tries again.

"Hey!"

Another squelch under a hurried footstep. He doesn't stop to look. Al Haitham is pretty sure he knows what it is.

"Kaveh, hey!"

The path becomes littered, little slices and small pieces, fingertips and knuckles, Kaveh's arms once held casually behind his back now strewn along the sands. Every time Al Haitham extends his hand to him, reality warps and bends like the twisted image in a broken mirror, lines mismatched and edges jagged. Kaveh flits just beyond his grasp, fleeting fae, no longer able to hear him or to reach out to him. Al Haitham can only grit his teeth and follow.

His right foot marches forward. His left follows. His right again. His left suddenly doesn't follow, and Al Haitham is thrown off balance and pitches forward, swinging his arms outward to land on his palms and keep his face off the ground, because he's been in the desert enough times to know what a foot suddenly being stuck can mean.

Quicksand.

Al Haitham curses and swears in just about every language he knows as he tries to spread his weight as evenly as possible, stay afloat at the top of it because if he sinks, he knows he'll be done for, and shit, Kaveh.

His neck cranes uncomfortably in his search, Kaveh had only been a few feet in front of him, he can't be sunk much further, and he's in the desert much more often than Al Haitham anyway, he'll be familiar with what to do-

Kaveh stands in front of him, empty sleeves fluttering loose. Still just out of his grasp, still watching the stars. The quicksand is already up to his calves.

"Say, Al Haitham..." It's the first he's spoken this whole time. His voice resonates somewhere deeply nostalgic in Al Haitham's chest, produces a ripple that momentarily stuns his heart.

Kaveh is sinking.

Al Haitham stretches out on his belly as far as he's able, it's quickly up to his knees, Kaveh isn't even trying to redistribute his weight or pull himself out, it's at his thighs, Al Haitham sucks in a breath and yells for him, his hips, yells louder, his waist, Al Haitham's trembling fingertips can almost reach, his chest, Kaveh drops level with him, quicksand about his neck like a noose.

Kaveh's head tips back, back, impossibly far back, until it hangs, angle awkward, and he's looking right past Al Haitham with his tired smile and gouged, blinded sockets full of starlight.

"Do you believe in karma?"

The quicksand swallows him entirely and Al Haitham dives, shoves his arms deep and pushes off with the one foot he'd had left on safe ground, because he can't, he can't, it's not the same without Kaveh, not anymore, he needs him, no one else keeps him sharp, no one else challenges him like Kaveh, if he can just grab him, if he can just pull him back up-

Al Haitham thrashes, against the sands, against gravity, against the hardwood of his bedroom floor. Clumsily scrubs the back of his hand across his face to rub the grit of quicksand and sleep out of his eyes.

Sometimes he thinks he preferred it when the Akasha was still harvesting his dreams.

He pops his head out from under his weighted blanket and lays where he'd fallen out of bed for a moment, blinking blearily against the lamplight shining from his desk in the corner. Deep breaths. His consciousness shifts along the blurred line of nightmare and reality, crosses over the slow transition into wakeful awareness.

He's home, Kaveh is home. It's dark out. The house is dead silent.

He's just going to go check, he tells himself as he peels himself out of his sweat-soaked shirt and roots around for a replacement. He's already losing memories of his nightmare, the details spilling away from him like wet ink, but he knows he needs to see Kaveh. It'll feel better to do something, anything, than try to go straight back to sleep.

He's quiet when he slips out of his bedroom door, because they both keep late hours but their bedrooms are right next to each other, and Al Haitham will never hear the end of it if he wakes his roommate up.

Lights off, door shut. Nothing conclusive. He moves out to the main room.

Kaveh sits on one of those ridiculous sofas he'd ordered three of for some reason, back to him as he tucks a lock of hair behind his ear. A mostly-empty wine bottle stands tall on the table, next to the cobbled-together remains of an architectural model that's been picked and fussed over for four days straight now.

"Kaveh? What are you doing?"

This earns him an exaggerated startle, but Kaveh doesn't turn to look at him, preoccupied with whatever new sketch or blueprint he probably has in his hands. "Ohhh, nothing," he slurs cheerfully. "Just working. Just thinking."

Kaveh has always been the world's chattiest drinker. Al Haitham waits for the rest of it.

"Say, I think...I think I asked you this years ago, back then, but you never answered me." Al Haitham feels all the blood drain from his face in ominous familiarity, drip cold down the length of his spine. Kaveh sinks into the couch until he can tip his head over the back of it, looking up at him with a tired smile and exhausted eyes.

"Do you believe in karma?"

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

do you ever just sit there thinking about your favorite ocs while violently shaking. god. clenches fist. They're So.

[allfortzu]

what if i EXPLODE

[unknownarmageddon]

cross set his cup down, his tired eyes taking in the sloshing wave of his hot chocolate. it gleamed a pretty hazel brown in the light of the setting sun, steaming hotly, freshly poured. the sweet taste still burned his tongue in a sugary aftertaste that settled his rickety nerves.

the whisps fluttered up into the air, and cross felt a pulse of warm fondness, following the curling trails until the overlapped with the thicker pale smoke that killer himself blew out from where he sat outside on their short little balcony.

they moved in together just recently, and had finally settled into routine; cross with his daily cup of hot cocoa and killer with his daily smoke. cross's softened eyelights traced down the smoke, back to the source, only to find that killer was staring back at him.

the warm feeling in his chest sent his cheeks alight, tightening his throat and making his soul balloon in his chest, and he was helpless to the broad smile that broke out across his face. he felt dizzy with joy, with a happiness so strong that he felt like he'd choke on it.

the balcony doors slid open and the bitter twang of killer's cigarette filled the air, mingling with the sweet chocolatey smell, and cross couldn't think of anything else he'd rather smell.

"you're staring," killer chuckled, putting out his cigarette in his ashtray and hissing out the final little puff of smoke. it parted around him, spinning as he stepped through the fading cloud and sliding right into his rightful place beside cross, slotting himself against him so neatly that it floored cross once more with how perfectly they fit.

every passing day was another added moment of certainty that they belonged together. killer's head found its place on cross's chest, cross's arm settled where it belonged around killer's shoulders, and cross hummed as he pressed a kiss to killer's skull, "so were you."

"you just looked so damn pretty, i couldn't help myself."

cross's soul fluttered, and he felt a pressure bubble in his chest, a need to just kick his feet and squeal and shout his love from the rooftops, but all he managed was a shuddering breath, and he put his phone down, pulling killer's head up by the chin to slot their mouths together, relishing in the surprised, but pleased noise that rumbled between them from the depths of killer's chest.

this was it. killer was it, this was where it all was. cross didn't ever want to see an end to this, he'd give his everything if only to keep killer here, to keep time standing still--

cross opened his eyes.

the fire popped and cracked steadily behind him, warming his back, dimmer but still as hot as before. he'd have to add some fuel to it, killer was always prone to getting cold at night more than cross was.

cross carefully slid out of the sleeping back, taking gentle care not to move too harshly or suddenly, and he quietly knelt by the fire, nudging some branches and twigs into it and stoking the fire with the tip of his machete.

he stared into the fire, his eyelights dim in the dark, bags under his eyes, his sockets aching with a stiff dryness and stuffiness that came from lack of proper sleep.

a chilly breeze blew by, and he shivered as it went right through his worn shirt and pants. he didn't have his coat available though, not tonight.

he tended to the fire a little longer, and lifted his head, still heavy with sleep, to squint at the muddy red horizon, trying to gauge how many hours of night they had left. the dark was a little more diluted than before.

cross left the fire, and crouched by his backpack, his fingers numb from the biting cold as he found canned soup. it was the last one before they would have to eat dry packaged food, until they could find more.

he pushed the can into the hot soil close to the fire, burying it halfway and scraping some of the glowing bits of wood over it, watching as they pulsed red and orange over and over. he clapped his hands a bit, clearing the dirt from his hands, checking the distant horizon once more for a moment, letting his hands hover over the fire.

the chill finally sent him silently padding his way back to the bedrolls, hands warmed by the fire, the rest of him aching from the chill. it didn't matter, though. not tonight.

killer's head poked out just barely from the layers he was tucked in, his face pale even for a skeleton. his breath was shaky, thin and reedy, pained, his expression contorted in discontent.

he stirred as cross's warmed hands cupped his chilled cheeks, his eyes hazily cracking open to the a slit, and his eyelight, fuzzy and blurred with pain peered up at cross.

"...up..?"

cross shook his head, "no, no.. not yet--" he bit his tongue, hard enough to cut into the ecto, before adding a hesitant, "sweetheart."

the pet name was stilted from him, awkward and tinged with discomfort, but it earned a wry smile all the same, and that was all he wanted. it made it worth it. he could try, he could go that extra step, for killer's sake.

"c'm back t'bed," killer slurred, and cross scrambled to heed it, readjusting killer first, setting him closer to the fire and easing him onto his side with careful touches, wincing when killer whimpered at the movement.

"easy, i've gotcha," cross reassured, bowing over him to nuzzle a kiss to killer's skull, the act full of apologetic affection. killer settled again, whispering hoarsely, "m'cold.."

cross's mouth pressed into a thin, upset line of dismay at the watery tone, the sheer misery in killer's voice, and he grit his teeth before hastily shedding his thick, long sleeve shirt, "okay, just- one second, amor, one moment."

killer whined his protest, the sound wrenching at cross's soulstrings, but he forced himself to stay on task, standing by the fire to hold his shirt over it, close enough that he risked getting burned by any embers that went skittering up into the sky.

he gladly took that risk.

it took a minute, a minute longer than he would have liked, but he needed to warm up killer. he waited, letting his bones soak up the heat, retaining it far better than killer could, his magic greedily clinging onto the heat, the temperature letting his magic flow freely again and his natural heat, a fraction of it, returned to him. having high LV really was, sometimes, handy, and as much as he hated the occasional episode it brought him [and he fucking despised the pain it put killer in, he hated it so much, he fucking hated it--]

he was thankful to have it now, regardless, because it allowed killer some relief in times like these.

cross hurriedly returned to the bedrolls, trying his damned best to keep his touch gentle, to not jostle killer too much, as he pulled the fire-warmed shirt over killer's freezing bones, and killer's broken moan of relief soothed cross's rankled instincts, his soul calming just the slightest.

"okay?" he asked lowly, and killer's wavering eyelight flickered, focusing again on cross's face, and he even sounded a little better, just barely. it wasn't enough, no where near better enough for cross, but it was still something.

"m-mmn," killer mumbled affirmatively, and cross heaved his own relieved sound, and finally, slid himself back into the sleeping bag, still so careful, whispering apologies over and over at every hurt warble killer let out.

LV breaks were ruthless on killer.

cross's LV wasn't anywhere near as high as killer's. he hadn't started gaining any until after the world ended, only ever killing these days out of necessity; defending himself, catching food, fighting for supplies. survival. his LV was manageable. it gave him headaches, mild migraines at worst, left him itchy in a way that drove him up the walls sometimes, and gave him heat flashes, warming him to the point of shedding most of his outer layers if it was bad enough, but he was fine at the end of the day. it never lasted long.

killer's LV was... something.

it made cross wonder, sometimes; how the hell had killer's LV gotten so high? this kind of LV didn't come from just survival. killer never really told him why his LV was so high, and despite cross's curiosity, he didn't push for it.

it was another life, anyways, another person who'd collected that LV, and now it was killer who was left behind coping with it.

it drained the strength from his body, weakened his soul, pulled his magic thin, making it painful for him to move, to breathe, his magic stretched so thin at his joints that he'd described the feeling of moving like being torn in half. his bones itched fiercely, so much that it burned sometimes, the feeling leeching outwards from where his soul hovered over his chest. and the migraines.

killer groaning into cross's chest, his every other wail breaking with hitching sobs, his eyesockets, his nose, his mouth even, gushing with black liquid so thick that it strung between them every time killer pulled back, staining cross's shirt with thick clumps like honey or syrup. he was choking on it, spitting it up in chunky globs laced with red blood that made cross's own magic twist with nausea.

the migraines were the worst of it. killer compared the feeling to that of a concussion, of getting struck in the head so hard, you see white. it makes me want to scream, killer had said. on a scale of one to ten, one being a papercut and ten being a broken bone, it's a solid fucking twenty. i think the only thing that would hurt more is my soul getting ripped in half.

killer pressed his black-stained face into cross's bare sternum, and cross shuddered at how ice cold the sticky fluid was. it tickled the inside of his ribs as it slid in thick drops over his bare ribcage. cross ignored it easily, pulling killer's trembling body to his own, grimacing at the chill killer's body gave off.

that was another thing. it was either a burning feeling, leaving killer feeling so incredibly warm that cross had once caught killer lying fully nude in an ice-cold puddle, or it left killer so cold that he felt like he'd shrivel up into dust, trembling and whimpering in cross's arms as he desperately sought out every bit of warmth cross's body and the layers piled onto him could offer.

cross winced as killer's cold breath brushed over cross's collarbone, and cross finally caved into killer's earlier request from the night before, and let his ecto form fully, already warm with cross's warmer magic and his intent to soothe, his soul summoning as well, sitting readily contained within the opaque magic of his ecto and ribcage.

"okay?," he asked, checking first, and only when killer nodded, cross pulled him flush to himself, doing his best to wrap himself around killer, hugging him to his chest and letting his magic's intent to warm, heal, protect, soothe seep into killer.

another whimper bubbled from killer's open mouth, his eyes squeezed shut as his soul, as it always did when they were this close, phased through cross to sit within cross's ribcage, right up against cross's own soul, right where it belonged. a shiver wracked killer's body as his soul, buzzing with hurt and upset, pressed itself into cross's welcoming soul, soaking up the offered warmth and love.

cross held killer close, tense, uneasy, as killer folded his arms within the space between them, and he was so cold still, but, just a little less.

a little better.

"..i had a dream about you," cross whispered, low, because killer once told him that he hated the quiet.

killer huffed a quiet laugh, his soul's buzzing wavering, changing in pitches, and the faint murmur of affection passed between their souls. the corner of cross's mouth twitched upwards at killer's croaky voice, "t-tha's'cute.. whassabout?"

cross ran a hand up and down killer's back, his eyes shutting as he tried to recall the faint, fuzzy memory of warmth and contentment.

"well, it was.. short. but," cross rolled the words on his tongue for a second before recounting it, "the sun was setting.."

his voice filled the quiet, soft and as unobtrusive as he could make it, recounting every detail he could recall, until he recounted all he could remember, and continued on, making up more and more, their souls singing to each other within his chest.

he wasn't sure when it happened, only noticing it when killer's soul responded like it was speaking through water, and cross glanced down, and found killer sound asleep, his cheeks flushed a healthy red and expression soft and lax.

his breath was warm and steady on cross's bare chest.

cross's soul pulsed, warming, a feeling ballooning in his chest and tightening his throat, and he was helpless to the crooked smile that broke out across his face.

this was where it all was.

-p anon :]

"but i'll hold you like i do love you" arms by the paper kites

OH MY GOD????????????

[janthecrow]

decided to post my sky:cotl edit here

[nandermoenthusiast]

i do think it is a crime that i dont have any video editing skills because sometimes i hear a song and i see an amv that could make us cry so clearly in my minds eye…

[platypotoo]

I'm having a Sherlolly-renaissance in the year of our Lord 2023 somebody help me

[fatuismooches]

Same anon as the Hercules song ask :p I’ve got another song inspired brainrot for you !!!

Please imagine the following: Dottore x AI!reader based on the song “world.execute(me);” by mili or “ga1ahad and scientific witchery” by also mili

Here’s the scenario I’m thinking of: one of the Dottore segments creates an AI assistant in secret, maybe this is the same universe as fragile!reader but after the unfortunate event of reader passing away before any of the dottores could prevent it

So this particular segment hasn’t been taking their death very well (though I’m pretty sure none of the others would be either) and in a very ill advised decision in his grief, he creates and AI in the form of the reader in both likeness and personality

Of course, because this is an AI, AI!reader isn’t the same as fragile!reader, disappointing the segment greatly. And thus he hides the AI from the rest of the segments and prime seeing his creation as a failure

But eventually he does eventually start to care for the AI, albeit in his own odd way. It’s not quite the same love you shared before, but AI!reader still has that same care and kindness and snark that made Dottore fall in love with them in the first place

Things won’t ever be the same, but it’s still Something y’know?

But of course, things come crashing down, once the sumeru archon quest concludes and all the segments are destroyed. Including the one who made AI!reader, who now believes he “left” them (in reference to the second chorus of world.execute(me); )

At least until prime Dottore finds out about the segments “project” from the fatui agents coming to the lab to pick things up :p

And that’s where most of my thoughts end aside from some scattered scenarios of AI!reader learning how to love LMAO

- songs anon (can I be that? Since I’ll probably be showing up often to bring more song related thoughts :3c )

oh mY GOD... SONGS ANON YOU ACTUALLY BLEW MY MIND CUZ THIS IS SUPER GOOD AND ALSO SO SAD AT THE SAME TIME 😭😭😭 The clones would be so absolutely distraught at your death because to be real, you were the only one who truly acknowledged them. Who liked them, loved them even, showed them attention and affection. Not even their creator extended that feeling to them. So to say they missed you would be a massive understatement... the lab would never be the same.

The segment would probably be a younger one, he was slightly more irrational back then and was just learning how to be loved by you... until it was snatched away far too soon. He just wants a taste of you once again, your sweet soothing voice, affectionate yet sassy nature... which leads him to do something that he shouldn't have.

Though he did his best, he realizes that you aren't the same as your past self. You may be a copy of them, but you couldn't hope to replicate the old you exactly. It just wasn't the same, and it would never be the same, the segment knows, and yet he can't help but check up on you every once in a while. A few times become a couple and then much more frequent. He does like you, maybe not the same but... your eyes remind him of when you were alive far too much.

You come to expect the segment's visit to your lonesome hideaway everyday, but one day he stops. And never shows up again. Despite being an AI, you can't help but feel... discontented. Empty? The one thing that was constant in your life seems to be gone. So you silently resolve yourself to this fate. Until you meet a masked man who looks oddly similar to the segment - you hope that this is your friend! - but when he opens his mouth you know that he is the opposite.

Ngl i imagine Dottore would probably treat AI reader poorly at first because being reminded of you leaves a very poor taste in his mouth and makes him feel a fury of emotions - how could this faulty copy ever live up to the real you?

[thedreadvampy]

I tried listening to Olivia Rodrigo and I'm sure this is really good for its target audience of Teen Girls Going Through A Breakup but has she actually ever put out a song that isn't about a guy cheating, breaking up with her and moving on to someone else?

like babe he's not coming back it's been 2 years you gotta find something else in your life

[synthshenanigans]

I love trying to Jash people but MAN is it difficult tho

"Can i listen to them on Spotify?" Yea but the videos themselves are important as well plus he worked hard on them so you should watch them on youtube instead.

"Okay well what order do i watch them in?" *gives a list* this is the canonical order but there's 2 videos that have multiple songs in them. So you have to listen to a part of the video, leave, listen to other songs, and eventually come back to finish it.

"Okay but i should understand the lore very well at that point right" WELL YOU SEE THE THING IS-

[squarebracketsmileyface]

if you liked Don't Blame Me you should listen to the rest of the album, Are We There Yet? the entire thing is about breakups and the cycle of toxic love! not only does the music absolutely fuck but it'll ruin you

I've listened through the album once in the background of doing other things, so I wasn't paying much attention to the lyrics. I should listen to it properly, because if it's about break ups and toxic love it'll be perfect for my Sorry It's Locked playlist

OKAY I'm back having relistened to the whole album. And this got long soooooo hiding it so it looks neater.

Romanticise This????? Alex's pov on breaking Jay's heart and betraying him. "God forbid that I romanticise this"? Like, as far as I'm concerned, Alex romanticises breaking Jay's heart through believing that it was the only choice he had to save him, he was doing it for the greater good.

You Are Here, i love this one so much and it makes me think of the entry 80 and onward fic idea I have for the sorry It's locked universe, where both Jay and Alex have kinda done a little healing (mostly Jay if i'm being honest, Alex if fucked) and they meet again under the circumstances of, yknow, entry 80. Jay's trying to kinda talk Alex out of killing him, and like, is just kinda realising how much he's had to change for them both to be here in this moment, but he also realises upon seeing Alex that he hasn't changed enough.

Idk I think it's more the general vibes of the song than the lyrics in this one but I still love it.

"You are here, And so am I, So come for a moment, And stay for a while" I think this bit is the most lyrically similar to the fic idea, like, Jay's going to not be able to bring himself to push Alex away even after he's shot him and they'll just both stay there together until Jay dies in Alex's arms.

In Between, Alex again, like, just, thinking about everything that came before, back when they were in Uni together. Like, him thinking about the things he'd do differently now (if all the shit with the Operator wasn't happening) Especially the chorus with the, like, wanting to "be like you" and "be with you" like, Alex kinda admiring Jay in a way I guess? Like, I'm thinking admiring Jay's ability to, like, be vaguely more open about his sexuality than Alex ever was. I'm terrible at analysis. THEY'RE MY BABIES AND THIS SONG MAKES ME GO "ALEX ARARARARARARARARARARA" there we go.

Then like, the last verse where it's like the chorus but changed a little? That's like Alex in the entry 80 fic idea realising how badly he fucked everything up and how there's no way to fix it now. He can't be like Jay, he can't be with Jay.

On The Other Side, more Alex, except it's Alex finally kinda losing it and realising he is very much not in control of himself or the Operator, and that the Operator is pretty much conpletely in control of his actions, or like, the thought processes that inform his actions. Specifically the end of the song I think, tho like, the whole "You wont find me on the other side" feels almost like he's resigned himself to hell after death, whereas everyone he's killed (and eventually Jay because he's realising he'll have to kill jay too now) won't be there with him. He's like, resigning himself to being okay with that reality.

The whole "I'll sleep in the eye of the storm" line to me feels like it could be about the Operator kinda. Like, the Operator is the storm, and Alex is sleeping in the eye of it, as in, staying close to it and kinda doing what it says (while also trying to still save people from it) is the best way to keep himself alive for longer so he can "save" more people from it in the end. I think that makes sense? God knows. I'm tired and terrible as song analysis.

Once again: Alex ararararrarararararrarararararararrarar

Okay. I'm done. My apologies for ranting I just love this fic SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO much that any chance I get to talk about it, I will talk until my jaw falls off because oh my GOD I love these characters so fucking much.

Denial, Jam Jam Jam Jam Jam Jam. Jam. Idk, this just feels like Jam in Sorry It's Locked. Specifically because as great (comparatively) as their relationship is there are still issues they're ignoring/staying in denial of. They definitely hook up too quick, they definitely need to talk things through more before they have sex, but they don't because they really don't have the time for that. They're making the best of a shit situation and as much as Tim would like to be sensible, he'd also like to do stuff before one or both of them ends up dead. They try to talk about stuff after they hook up but "How can we speak with all our clothes on the floor?"

"Say what you need and you can stay for a while, Say what I like so I can stay in denial" Jay talking to Tim methinks. He's just trying to forget everything. Everything that happened with Alex, everything that's happening with the Operator. He just wants something he can use to pretend his life is normal.

"Won't you come away with me? And water 'til we're overgrown" Tim being so very hopeful that they'll get out of this alive and well and they'll be able to grow older together.

"So just hypothetically, Will you be the death of me?" As much as they like each other, they definitely don't fully trust each other. In their situation they can't, so they're definitely wary of the other being the literal death of them lmaooooo. But also 'oh you'll be the death of me' in the fun cute way because like, sometimes they can pretend things are normal and their relationship is normal and came about in a normal way.

[doushiteworld]

Proseka friend told me that both God-Ish and All I Need Are Things I Like are being added to the game on JP covered by Nightcord (God-Ish) and Wonderlands x Showtime (All I Need Are Things I Like) and oh boy am I scared. They're also adding (Not) a Devil but it's not covered so I'm not worried about that