#he likes cinnamon hes so right for this

[of-dream-land]

the french translation of this piece of dialogue in the epilogue implies that magolor rly likes cinnamon and i think that's rly adorable

translation: "I know! I'll open a super huge black hole! And it'll even smell like cinnamon. Why? Why not."

[kennyomegasweave]

In defense of Maya (without knowing the manga):

She definitely annoyed me because obviously I know Taichi isn't the person she was claiming he is and she clearly knows Kohei likes him as a friend, at least, so it's like ...girl, come on. But like.

She only went off on Taichi after she got the first set of notes he took? Which, let's be honest here, were dogshit. He really didn't take a service that Kohei needs seriously and he was initially doing it for Kohei's lunch. She didn't lie there. We also learned there's only 23 notetakers in the entire college. This is a service that is very much needed, yet doesn't have nearly enough volunteers for, and Taichi was treating it like a joke that didn't matter at first. That shit was hella disrespectful. He didn't mean it as such, and Kohei didn't take it as such either, but it was. So no shit Maya got that notebook and was like "...what the hell am I supposed to do with this? And this is who Kohei thinks is so nice and cool and everything?"

All Maya has are the initial terrible notes that Kohei gave her like they were helpful (they weren't) and knowing Kohei only kept Taichi as his note taker because he liked being around him. With the unspoken fact, that maybe non disabled people didn’t pick up on, that he also only kept Taichi as his note taker because there just aren't enough note takers, so he couldn't have gotten better anyway. Which almost certainly factored in as to why Maya blew up at Taichi. Disabled people shouldn't have to accept shit notes just because the alternative is no notes at all. We already have to work uphill cause of the disability, it's adding insult to injury to basically know everyone’s like "well, yeah it sucks, but you could have nothing." Or even a “yeah, I didn’t care at first, but I do now!” Because it’s like “it’s great that you finally realized this is a real service needed for a real disability that affects real people. Glad you finally figured that out. Congrataritos.” Like it is exhausting being disabled and having to sit there and smile when people have their lightbulb growing moment since we don’t have the option to dick around until we decide to lock it in. So I completely got why those shitty notes set Maya off. Because she didn't go off at him after the dinner, it was after she got those notes.

And on a related note, we all clapped for Taichi when he went off on homegirl in the cafe because she wasn't treating Kohei like a real person with real issues, but he also wasn’t taking Kohei and his problems seriously with those initial notes. Like yes, he started trying and actually doing better, but that only happened once he became friends with Kohei and realized he needed to do better. Who knows, maybe the cafe girl could have grown as a person, like Taichi did, if she had been able to get to know Kohei as a real person. But Taichi didn't let her get that chance, just like Maya wouldn't have let him get that chance if she could. The only difference in those two situations, to me, is Taichi is already Kohei's friend so Maya can't stop them from interacting like Taichi did with that girl.

Like I’m sorry y’all, Maya's not being any more of a bitch than Taichi was because she can only work with the information she has, which obviously isn't what we as viewers have. She’s pushy and overbearing and, yeah, annoying because she also obviously has a crush on Kohei and we know he's sprung on Taichi, but it’s really not like she just looked at Taichi and went “fuck this guy” for no reason.

[taexual]

Hiii !!! I hope you're doing great !! I was wondering how do you picture Jungkook in Sleepwalking like for example the hairstyle, the clothes (i mean it's Rated Riot so obviously something rockstar style) but overall his look i'm curious from your pov hihi anyways thank you so much i love Sleepwalking so so so much 🖤

hiii that's such a beautiful question 🥺 i think i've emphasised his dark clothing, heavy eye makeup, his wolf cut, tattoos and piercings a lot throughout the story, so that part's probably obvious dhsjfh

but really, i didn't even have to go very far to find inspiration for how i'd imagine he looked if he was in a rock band, because i think he naturally embodies a rockstar aura with some of his looks, and his overall energy? he's a cute dork with a killer stage presence in general, so that helps

but since you asked, i do have a folder of sleepwalking-coded jungkook pictures.......

so these are only some of the pictures that i've used or might use for header images in the actual chapters for the story, but they're almost an exact fit of the way i imagine him to look in the story!!

[limeskye]

I just met my blorbo

[icewindandboringhorror]

various little Pictures of thinges

[foxgloveinspace]

saw your tags on my post and i hope you find that ‘spark’ to really go feral over sleep token again! they’re so much fun to be batshit crazy over, there’s just so much going on and they all seem like such genuine dudes i can’t get enough

that post was sparked by seeing a video of vessel sobbing through the end of ascensionism and like i was so done for after that. like physically shaking so i figured i needed a break for a bit 😂

also i think that altar sounds like an awesome idea! as soon as i move my dresser into my new place i’m setting up an altar on it

1). i am trying so hard to get it back, for real for real. I lit the candle I associate with them this morning, and thinking about the *altar thing has helped a bit.

2). share a link👀?? if you still know the video?? even if you don't know the video still, maybe send some others?? I would like to be a menace over them lol.

3). * I am now going to info dump to you about my sleep token altar a bit. Cause I am thinking too much about it lmao.

(readmore cause this got long and something... 'tragic' happened.)

(a little.. background, I am currently irl in the closet for everything including witchy stuff lmao) So far my idea for stuff on it includes: a small back prism, a small whale statue, a small apple pendant (each to represent the three albums). A bottle of oils (the little one I made, but also maybe something like the prayer oil we talked about). The candle I associate with them. I'm kicking around getting the incense holder if it comes back in stock on their website. bones/teeth (wolf, I'm thinking wolf). I'm thinking it'll be a little place on my main/working/creative altar. I might also try to find a tarot deck that i associate with them, I think that would be fun. something else I have been thinking about, but it would be so freaking expensive to do, is making a rosary with the 'offical' -

shit.... fuck shit fuck. I think I just spoiled myself on accident cause of google. I didn't see much but i think an old pic of vessel came up, but fuck google man. I went to google the official scythe pendant and google change sycthe (yes misspelled like that) to members for some reason, I am so confused and actually mad. Ok. I think I have forced my brain to forget. worst google fuck up ever.

ok, so ... trying to move on... I want to make a rosary with the official scythe pendant, some tahitain pearls and some black amber beads. I think that would be so pretty, and nice to hold and maybe wear. ( i know traditionally you don't wear them, but like.... I am making one to a band/fictional god lmao, it's not traditional at all.) but that would be very pricy for a piece of jewelry and I would probably never wear it cause of that haha. it would be like 400$ to be able to get the supplies.

[gemssum]

i text leon pictures like these like “this is us!! 💖” and he’s like “It is. :)” even tho he doesn’t fully get it lmao

[unproduciblesmackdown]

superior "ugh this isn't a joke >:(" route

[itspileofgoodthings]

Matthew Saracen is one of the most real boy characters ever created.

[creamecream]

The inquisition went and got an upgraded look.

Left to right

Helena Adaar - Mage - Sera Romance

Terra Lavellan - Rogue - The Iron Bull Romance

Venus “Ven” Trevelyan - Mage - Dorian Pavus Romance

Aurora Cadash - Rogue - Blackwall Romance

[captain-cheeseboi]

regulus black hated cinnamon

[shawtuzi]

this video got me thinking….its kinda giving choso so walk with me real quick besties

˚ʚ♡ɞ

“fuckkkk,” the back of choso’s head knocked against the headboard, his chest heaving with a thin sheen of sweat covering it. the poor boy couldn’t form a single thought—the only thing swirling around in his empty mind is that he needed more.

his breath hitched when he felt your tongue wrap around his nipple once more, flicking the sensitive bud with your tongue. you didn’t bother saying much to him, it’d be pointless being the only word he could respond with was a breathy ‘fuck’.

“i’m ’bout to—hmph! nut again, it’s coming baby,” his head lolled onto his shoulder, his hips now bucking up to create a rhythm with your hand. you hummed around his nipple, squeezing his angry red tip, the clear pearls of precum leaking from his tip had you dying for a taste. “be louder…w’nna hear you cho,” you whispered in his ear, licking at the shell of it.

choso shuddered rather violently at the feeling, but nonetheless he got louder for you—a tad bit louder than you had expected. choso’s mouth dropped opened, a symphony of whiny moans following right after.

if he had any energy he’d fuck your fist himself, but alas after 3 consecutive orgasms all he could do was pathetically roll his hips. “so fuckin’ close, cmon baby make me cum,” choso nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt your soft hands begin to play his balls, squeezing them ever so softly.

choso’s entire body went limp as his orgasm hit, moan after pornographic moan spilling past his kiss bitten lips. the first shot of cum landed on his chest, some getting on his chin, which you greedily licked at a second later. his thighs shook in overstimulation, nearly closing because now it was really starting to become too much.

“baby baby baby wait—hah! you’re gonna f-fuckin’ kill me,” his larger hand wrapped weakly around your wrist, but it stopped nothing. you kissed you way up his chest to his neck, sloppily kissing, licking, and sucking any bit you could get. he just smelled so good—like vanilla and cinnamon, you just wanted to eat him up.

you brushed his hair out his face with your free hand. you looked into his tired, yet oh so lustful eyes, “you good?” you asked, halting your hand’s movements. choso sniffled and gave you a weak nod, “want you to drain me dry angel, even if i start crying.” it’s funny because just as choso finished his sentence a stray tear slipped from his eye, landing on his already messy abdomen.

choso stuck out his tongue making you giggle. you knew exactly what he wanted. you leant over, wasting no time shoving your tongue in his mouth, swallowing up his whiny moans. you resumed your hand’s movements, squealing when you felt choso’s teeth sink into your bottom lip.

he truly didn’t know if he had another orgasm in him but he didn’t care, even if he blacked out. why do you ask?? because soon he’ll be receiving the best aftercare known to man. cuddles, kisses, BACK SCRATCHES!!! he was as content as could be.

[kil9]

roxas: *is being used for evil*

roxas: damn i'm leaving then... u guys don't even like me

ventus: *is being used for evil*

ventus: i think you should kill me.

fanon: roxas is the more emo one for some reason and ventus is some chipper uwu baby

[bi-writes]

thinking about mob baking simon a cake for his birthday (without his prior knowledge) mm good soup

mail-order bride

"you think he likes chocolate, baby?" you ask the cats. they sit side-by-side at the breakfast counter, being good girls as they sit on their chairs and watch you mix batter. "he totally likes chocolate. big boys like daddy love chocolate, don't they, girls?"

you grease two circular pans, pouring the chocolate cake batter into them. you set them in the oven before getting to work on your chocolate buttercream. you're using the new mixer simon bought you--it's beautiful, stainless steel, heavy. when you saw in the store a few weeks ago, you gushed at it, telling simon you saw someone make cinnamon rolls, bread, cakes, all in this mixer, but when your eyes skimmed over the price, you said nothing more, just smiled up at simon and let him lead you over to where the cast iron pans were (you wanted a real one).

a few weeks later, you noticed it on the kitchen counter. sparkling silver, right there, with the whisk attachment on it just waiting for you. and in the cupboard, ingredients--bread flour, powdered sugar, cornmeal, corn starch, dutch process, baking chocolate, whole wheat flour--all for you to play with. and when you baked him the most decadent triple chocolate coffee cake he had ever had, he bent you over the same table his empty plate sat and ate your cunt out with your apron still on. when you kissed him afterwards, he still tasted like chocolate.

you turn off the mixer, reaching in with a spoon to lick the buttercream off of it. you hum with delight, setting it aside, and when the oven timer dings, you pull the cakes out to let them cool.

you wrap simon's present as everything settles. special order, a favor you called into johnny. it's in a nice wooden box, and you tie a big red bow on it, and when you go back into the kitchen, you level and stack the two pieces of cake between buttercream and use a spoon to make a fancy decoration over the top of it.

the front door sounds as you're putting the finishing touches on the cake. you can hear him coming closer, and you gasp.

"no, no, no, don't come in the kitchen yet!"

"wot?"

"just--wait a little bit in the living room, okay?"

"for wot?"

"simon--" you groan. "please? for me?"

you don't hear anything after that except for the tv turning on. when you finish putting the last candles on the cake, you light them, picking up the plate and coming into the living room.

simon looks surprised. he was concentrating hard on the tv, watching the game, but his face relaxes when he sees you holding the cake. the cats perk up from where they're laid down beside him, and their ears flit as you start to sing happy birthday.

his whole face twitches. he stiffens, his palms flat on his thighs as he grips them tight. you set down the cake on the coffee table in front of him, candles glowing as you take a seat next to him. he's still staring at the cake as you finish the song.

"happy birthday, dear simon...happy birthday to you."

you smile at him, wrapping a hand around his bicep, squeezing it gently. you kiss his shoulder before motioning to the cake.

"you can blow them out now, simon," you say softly. "make a wish."

he doesn't move. he stares straight ahead, his eyes fixated on the flickering candles. you reach down and take his hand in yours, intertwining your fingers and hugging his arm. you sit with him quietly, looking at the cake with him, and after a minute or so, you turn back at him.

"simon?" you whisper.

he's crying. you put a hand on the back of his head, scratching his short hair, and you cup his face gently as you wipe his tears. he's silent. the tears come, but he still doesn't move, still won't meet your eyes. you smile, going over to pick up the cake, and you hold it in front of him.

"here...make a wish, simon," you say softly. he picks up his sleeve and wipes his face, leaning over to blow out the candles. you put down the cake, standing up to go get his gift sitting on the kitchen table. when you sit down next to him again, he's still staring at the cake, still trying to pretend his face isn't wet with tears, but he stops wiping them when you place the box in his lap.

he unravels the bow. when he opens the case, he lets out a little chuckle, smoothing his hand over the foam inside.

there are an array of throwing knives laid before him. perfectly crafted, in different shapes and sizes, and when he picks one up and twirls it around between his fingers, the weight of them and the ease at which they move tells him you only picked out the finest quality. they're beautiful, and it's a thoughtful gift, and when he closes the lid on the box, he still can't meet your eyes.

"i'll cut us some cake," you say softly. you busy yourself getting plates and a cake knife from the kitchen, cutting generous slices before handing him one of the plates. he picks up the fork, and when you notice his hand shakes, you take the plate back from him gently and scoop a bite onto the fork for him. you don't say anything, just hold it up to his mouth, and once he takes a bite, you set the plate down and watch as he chews.

when he swallows, you sit again in silence. you reach over and take simon's hands in your own, squeezing them gently before bringing them up to your mouth to kiss softly. when he finally looks at you, all you do is smile.

he hadn't even remembered it was birthday. he never told you when it was, but he supposes you must have been curious enough to look for yourself. he can't remember the last time someone made him cake. he can't remember when he last received a gift, especially one like this. he doesn't know when he last thought himself happy enough to celebrate anything at all, but there is no other way he would've wanted today to go.

joy. you bring uninhibited, unfiltered, all-consuming joy. the way you're smiling at him--he can already see you in the kitchen in that apron, baking this cake, talking to no one but the cats as you carefully decorate it. the way you're looking at him--he knows you dreamed about this all week, scheduling the day so you could have the cake done as soon as he got home.

and chocolate. his favorite. decadent, sweet chocolate--it's still under his tongue, and he wants another bite already, he cannot wait to devour the slice that waits for him on the table.

"happy birthday, simon," you whisper, and when you lean in to hug him, he cradles the back of your head, tangling a hand into your hair as he presses you to his chest. "i love you."

fuck. fuck, fuck, fuck--

"love you, too, baby."

"what did you wish for?" you mumble into his shoulder. simon snorts a little, shaking his head.

"if i tell ya, it won't come true."

"oh, yeah," you giggle. "keep your secrets then."

he doesn't want more; the only thing he wishes for is more time. more time with you. as much as he can get. to live long enough that he gets to see your face for as long as possible.

that whatever he sees for the last time will be you and you only.

[lostfracturess]

beneath the mistletoe — satoru gojo

having a crush on your brother's best friend is bad enough. having that best friend look better at every family dinner is just cruel. but worst of all? he's noticed your not-so-subtle staring.

It should be illegal how Satoru Gojo manages to look better every goddamn single Christmas dinner.

You watch him over the rim of your glass as he throws his head back laughing at something your aunt just said, the sound rich and warm like honey. And it doesn't help that he's rolled up the sleeves of his dress shirt, giving you a perfect view of his unfairly handsome forearms.

Your grip tightens on your glass as he runs a hand through those perfect white strands of his, and you catch yourself wondering, not for the first time, if they're as soft as they look.

It's been like this for years now — ever since your brother Suguru first brought his college roommate home for the holidays, Satoru's own family being overseas.

Now he's practically part of the family, showing up to every gathering with that infuriating smile and those stupidly blue eyes that seem to find you no matter where you are in the room.

You deliberately focus on your plate, stabbing a potato with perhaps more force than necessary. But your eyes, the traitors, keep drifting back to him of their own accord. It's frustrating, really.

Almost impossible not to notice the way his white hair falls just so over his forehead, or how his jaw flexes when he's deep in thought, or the way his throat moves when he takes a sip of wine.

Not that you're looking at his throat.

You're not.

(You totally are.)

And then, because the universe hates you, he catches you staring.

Those blue eyes lock with yours across the table, and his lips curl into a faint smile that makes your stomach flip. You nearly choke on your wine, quickly averting your gaze to study the tablecloth like it's the most fascinating thing you've ever seen.

"Stop staring at my best friend," Suguru whispers as he passes behind your chair.

Shit. Was it that obvious?

After dinner, you escape to the back porch, needing some air that isn't thick with the scent of cinnamon and Satoru's cologne. The winter night is crisp and clear, your breath forming little clouds in the darkness.

You're not surprised when you hear the door open behind you, or when the familiar scent of cigarette smoke wafts your way.

"Those things will kill you, Suguru," you say without turning around.

"That's what I keep telling him," Satoru's voice chimes in, and you turn to find them both strolling onto the porch, your stomach dropping. Suguru takes another deliberate drag of his cigarette, maybe just to spite you both, while Satoru wrinkles his nose.

"Speaking of things that might kill you," Satoru says, "how's that final year of college treating you?"

You try to focus on the question, but it's difficult when the porch light is hitting his eyes just right, making them look impossibly bluer and you have to resist the urge to melt under his gaze.

"It's fine," you manage, aiming for nonchalant. "Just trying to survive my thesis."

"Ah, your thesis." His lips quirk up in that stupidly attractive way of his. "What was your topic again? Something about modern interpretations of folklore?"

Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise. You mentioned it exactly once, months ago, during summer break. You hadn't expected him to remember.

"Japanese urban legends and their evolution through social media," you correct him, trying not to read too much into the fact that he remembered at all. "Though at this point, it's more like about my own evolution into madness."

Suguru snorts, flicking ash off his cigarette. "Please, you're the only person I know who actually enjoys research. I've seen your color-coded spreadsheets."

"Some of us like being organized," you shoot back.

As if on cue, your aunt's voice carries from inside. "Suguru! Can you come help your father with something?"

Suguru sighs, crushing his cigarette under his heel before heading inside, leaving you alone with Satoru. And suddenly the porch feels much smaller than it did a moment ago.

Great.

"So," Satoru says, shifting closer until his arm brushes yours. "Going to tell me why you've been watching me all night?"

Heat floods your cheeks. "I haven't—"

"You're not as subtle as you think," he interrupts. "I can feel you glaring holes into the back of my head whenever I'm around."

"I don't glare," you protest weakly.

"No?" His voice drops lower as he steps closer, backing you against the porch railing. "Then what would you call it?"

You swallow hard, trying to ignore how good he smells up close. "Curious observation?"

He laughs, the sound sending warmth spreading through your chest despite the cold. "Is that what we're calling it now?" Then his eyes flick up. "Would you look at that?"

You follow his gaze to see a sprig of mistletoe hanging from the porch ceiling, definitely not there earlier today. You're going to kill your mother. Or your aunt. Or your cousin.

Maybe all of them.

"We don't have to—" you start to say, but Satoru's already leaning in, moving into your space with that casualness he's always had, like being this close to you is the most natural thing in the world.

"I've been waiting for an excuse to kiss you since sophomore year," he murmurs. "Please don't ruin this for me."

Oh.

Oh.

His lips meet yours before you can process that confession, soft and warm and tasting faintly of the mulled wine from dinner. Your hands find their way to his chest as he cups your face, thumbs stroking your cheeks as he kisses you like he's been thinking about it for years.

And the truth is, he has.

When you finally break apart, his forehead resting against yours, you say, "Suguru's never going to let us live this down."

"Worth it." Satoru smiles, stealing another quick kiss. "Though I should probably thank him for the mistletoe."

"You knew?"

"Of course I knew. Who do you think helped him put it up?"

You smack his chest, but he just catches your hand and brings it to his lips, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. "Merry Christmas to me," he says with a wink.

And despite yourself, you can't help but smile back. "Merry Christmas, you idiot."

© lostfracturess. do not repost, translate, or copy my work.

[everything-is-as-it-was]

I know I've waxed poetic about this before but the fact that Dan's letting go of this ironic, self-depracating, everything's-a-joke persona means SO much to me. Like don't get me wrong, it has value. I loved Dystopia Daily, for example.

But just the idea that last year, his cinnamon rolls were the "depressing" ones, the black ones, and this year, he's got the cute ghost mug, he's got the purple dye (when he originally wanted blue, but that's still not black!!) AND he has the lavender in it. Like. Visual storytelling right there imo.

Seeing Dan being able to come out of his shell more and really decide and show who he's going to be in this post-WAD era has been such a privilege. It really feels like him, not some wall that he puts up in order to avoid being earnest. Because before, he was able to hide all of that behind the sheet of a joke.

But now, he's so earnest. It radiates off of him. It's sickening. I love it. So yeah, whenever we see him making That Face, we're gonna tell him to stand the fuck up, but of course he knows how he looks, and he does it anyway because he's not afraid to show how much he cares anymore.