#i am a soft foolish clown

[9w1ft]

What purpose do you think it served bringing the clown on stage? Why trash your art like this, unless your consider it trash already so he completes the picture? I know Karlie's bearding heavily as well but what would it look like if she brought Josh along to walk the runaway with her?

actually i found the whole thing amusing. and i firmly believe taylor found it amusing and intended for it to be amusing. to me, the bearding is an integral part of taylor’s art. because it is an integral part of her story.

i know many people want the pure unfiltered free and unproblematic version of taylor —an idea of taylor, if you will— that is a beacon and role model example for the community. but might you not agree that taylor hasn’t been that for years now? can you imagine a world where she doesn’t want to be and that’s okay? is there only one specific way that she is allowed to be gay (umbrella term)?

i think present day taylor knows and acknowledges that she is not the Best Gay Artist. people point to miss americana and say oh but she all but said she wanted to be the Best Gay Artist and an Activist, but guys, it’s been 5 years. and i happen to think she’s in a different stage of life and her priorities are different. you can hold her up to the same standards all you want but, woof… five years out and dare i say it’s foolish to expect her to meet them.

there are artists out there now that fit the bill better if you are looking for them. she showcases them a lot!and there are so many in general. those that have the edge she never did. now that being gay isn’t forbidden, being secretly gay isn’t sexy anymore. i think taylor gets that. i think she has been saying it. find another guiding light!

as an unnecessary post script i feel compelled to say one more thing. out of all of her beards, ive always had a soft spot for tom regarding one particular point— because he was willing to wear that i heart ts shirt out at the beach. he wasn’t too proud, he wasn’t ever acting like he was above it, he was never self serious. i saw the same quality in travis in his performance and it actually improved my opinion of him overall. it’s a quality that is distinctly different from how it looked like calvin was. and time will tell with joe because i assume some amount of his demeanor was for the bit but, joe also came off that way too. for me, if taylor is going to beard, which is a reality i have accepted and its a reality that am living in for the time being, i would rather taylor do funny fourth wall breaking wink winky things with the beard than for there to be this weird dynamic wherein taylor has to keep her beard invisible because closeting is Unethical, a dynamic where she isn’t allowed to make art that leverages being closeted because apparently she should be at all times ashamed of bearding. a dynamic that’s always putting expectations on her that if she flags during pride month that it means she’s going to come out, instead of it just being her allowing herself to express herself within her circumstances. bringing him onstage isn’t a slap in the face to me, it’s just her poking fun at her own circumstance, finding the humor in it. making a lark of it.

i dunno fam 😆 i just, i dunno! it worked for me!

[gr00vyminibus]

𝐎𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞

Izogie x Black fem reader —

— Even if you thought Izogie was unbearable, your body always disagreed. Or, a tangible love between the two of you blooms on your father's farm.

will include; reader being stub-BORN, izogie is a clown, your clown though, reader claims they dont like Izogie, bad. Heavy on, betrayal of emotions, smut, watching a person masturbate, fingering (mostly to themselves), clit play, first time, and fluff at the end.

“How are you and my daughter getting along?” Your father smiles at Izogie.

“Quite fine, does she speak of me?” She flashes a smile back shaking her wet hands off. Your father does little chuckle.

“She says you annoy her greatly”

“She has no humour! all I do is tease her” Izogie can feel a playful side-eye directed to her.

“Can you go see if she's done with that half acre of corn, I also need some water” Izogie nods and brings a metal bucket out with her on the path of a sparkly river. She cuts through the the plants and hears a soft melody in the distance. Instantly assuming that it comes from you. Her hands push past long leaves that soon reveal you, skin shining like glitter under the sun.

Izogie was so in awe of you that her feet were planted in her spot.

You ring out your frivolous curls and turn around ready to leave but instead you jump back when you spot Izogie staring at you.

“My god, stop doing that!”

“Doing what? it's not like you own this river. I have to get water for dinner anyway” you hold onto your chest as she crouches down, scooping some water in the big bucket.

At the feeling of your eyes glued on her, Izogie glances up, the smallest sight of her teeth bareing from the side. Her eyes scan you down shortly, judges of amusement paneling in her eyes.

You snap ushering her to speed up her task, “it doesn't take centuries to scoop water! hurry up!” she rolls her eyes.

“do you want me to fall into the river?”

“yes, as I matter of fact.” you swim to her and she quickly yanks the bucket from the water, trying to equal it's weight so the liquid doesn't spill. As she grins down at you frustrated face, there comes a loud calling of her name.

“well I am off, be sure to tend to that corn or your father will be angry” before you can retort she's on her way calling back to her uncle.

You don't miss the sight of her biceps flexing to hold the bucket and that makes you curse quietly, swimming to get your clothes.

Dwanu was a good friend of your father and planned to start coming over so the two could exchange agricultural secrets. You could imagine the two cackling over foolish things back at the house. Though, the neice Dwanu talked so fondly about was not who you thought she was.

Izogie was buffer than you thought, having toner muscles than the men in your village. There was something about her that felt laddish and when you both were left alone her mouth seemed to ruin everything you thought of her. Izogie brags and teases a lot, she was also competitive and felt the need to show her many skills at any chance given.

If she'd turn off her chatter maybe you would befriend her.

Whatever.

You tell yourself to stop thinking about it and dry off with a towel, soon making your way back home.

•••

“Amen.” the whole table echoes this praise as you uncross your hands and grab for a wooden bowl. You can't help the way Izogie's presence makes you feel, conflicting your senses in so many ways you wished it wouldn't. Even the subtle heat of her body which you can clearly feel is taking over you.

But she didn't have a clue, just sat in her seat and ate dinner, more indulged in the plate of food than the verbal back and forth between your father and her uncle.

The way her lips sucked the sauce off her thumb made you feel like the top of a beer mug, layered with lots of bubbly cream that slowly dissipated. Your eyes went through the arm hole of her shirt, gaping slightly at the sight of her obliques tensing up.

She laughed at your father's antics for sucking his teeth, just like you did.

“Swesi do not be angry that you cannot grow your tomatoes like mine, it requires great skill to get them ripe and juicy and-”

“Ntchu, Dwanu hush didn't you come over to ask me how to grow corn fresh?!” Swesi's accent flows strong like a tipped barrel full of water.

“You are not the king of farming-”

“The people say I am!” You can't help but let out a small laugh as well. Izogie glances at you, face propped on her knuckle. Mauve gums make the slightest appearance in your smile and in a way it makes it cuter.

She also sees that the loose strap of your gown has fallen and pulls it up. She knows what she's doing and if your father and her uncle weren't here you would attempt to wrestle her.

Your hand comes up straight after fixing it more as she smiles to herself and returns to her plate again.

“pass the milk, please” your father sighs and you blink.

“we have none father.” he gets ready to say something before he snaps.

“you are right, i meant to get some yesterday but I forgot”

“i have to go by the market as well, we should go together?” Dwanu furrows his brows before scooping a spoon of beans into his mouth. Your father asks if they should leave now and Dwanu confirms that they should.

“well you two we will be leaving, protect eachother and cause no trouble, I must say this knowing you too” your father raises his brow comedically.

“of course, I will protect her.” you were so tired of Izogie's shananigans that you just give her the most dirtiest look you could muster, her ignoring it just fueling the twist of your face.

“be kind to one another as well” Dwanu chimes in slipping his feet into some flats.

“Right, me and dwanu are off.” When they both leave Izogie follows on their way out and waves them good bye until there in a far distance. You put your plate up and make your way to your room but Izogie's voice stops you.

“Hey, I have to wash my clothes, don't step out of the house until I come in. I don't know what will get you beyond these fields.” you step up to her, chest to chest as you dig a finger in-between her chest.

“I am not a child, I am older than you.” you walk off and the way your hips sway have her swooning, she adores the way you speak to her even when it's coated in an attitude. Izogie calls after you and you roll your eyes at the smile being heard in her voice.

“I'm going out now!” she chuckles and grabs some gloves and a bucket from the the porch. When you arrived pulled back the curtain to your room, settling on your quilt and sighing. It was long day and you wanted to relax.

•••

Izogie clipped that last piece of clothing on the line before walking back to the house. She pushed the material that covered the entryway to the side and looked around. It sounded too quiet and the atmosphere was too dark. Not a hint of candle lights or the sound of moving against a quilt. Izogie wouldn't go to bed without checking on you.

The path to your room wasn't far anyway but when she reached it the faintest thing was heard, she tilted her head curiously to test if it was her imagination. Both hands resting on either side of the door way.

“mh.” Izogie parts her lips slightly looking in every direction she can't see before focusing in on your voice, for a second she feels ashamed for eavesdropping but can't bring herself to move. The way ecstasy dripped from your voice sounded so sweet.

Every whiny breath and moan flew through her ears like a song, why would Izogie want to leave this gentle entraption, that was you.

Something like this was only possible in her dreams.

The moment Izogie met you she couldn't think. Honest to the gods the way you looked at her made her feel small, at a feeling so foreign she wanted to reject it which led to her constantly taunting you.

Deep inside she wanted you to read her and make her confess, because bottling up these emotions she hid didn't necessarily feel good.

So as Izogie listens to you touching yourself, the images in her mind make her body feel loose, fluid-like. Her protective walls are melting down until the obscene thoughts of her mind are bared to succor.

Another moan comes but it's louder than the rest and Izogie's eyes get large. She finds herself settling on her knees, biting her lips as only muffled sounds meet her ears. Would she be wrong if her hand traced across the waistline of her shorts, placing her thumb inside to brush across her curls.

Izogie leaned forward as she mindlessly peeled the curtain back, your body was shown covered with a dainty beige material over your waist and chest, she felt breathless.

The hand in her shorts traveling further as her eyes did the same down your neck. Parts of your body are glowing from the moonlight, the argent shade overlaying your warm cocoa skin.

Izogie's eyes flickered up to your hand sliding from your mouth, a connecting string of spit that she desperately wanted to lick up, even biting her lip to suppress her groans about it. She wanted include herself in your pleasure so badly, wanted to handle you the way you liked and learn your body with her hands and her lips, and her toungue.

She shut her eyes at the thought stroking her clit as she momentarily put her head back. The long shirt that pooled around her working wrist was lifted up by her free hand, the task of her rubbing her clit becoming easier. Izogie let out an involuntary moan and quickly yanked her hand away, rushing to the guest room.

You sat up in panic, quickly wrapping the material over your whole body. Your curtain was still as you took your hand to it, dragging it to the side and sighing in relief as there was no one there, maybe it was your imagination and once Izogie finished washing clothes she immediately hit the bed. You hoped as much.

•••

In the guest room, Izogie needed to tend to her throbbing as soon as possible. The temperature in the room felt tropical and in a snap of a finger all her clothes were off. She wanted to reach that state you'd been so close to obtaining, remembering how you touched your clit and resuming the circles.

Her body shudders slightly, elbows not serving her anymore to which she lays flat against the cover relaxing her legs apart. Thick brows furrowing when a shock makes her moan.

You walk down the hallway and approach Izogie's room to see if she is asleep. Not much thought occurs when you peel back the curtain, the sight making your jaw drop. In the faint light her body glows and her pussy is drenched in an luminescent fluid you thought of licking up.

Izogie's switches her hand over her mouth for inserting a thumb. That makes her think of penetration, what if she were to..

Her fingers prod at her entrance and insert a finger, hissing lowly. It's tight but the pain feels somewhat satisfying, Izogie finds herself wanting more and inserts another one moaning loud again and you believe she doesn't care anymore.

Your thighs get stickier the more she lets out those sinful noises including the wet ones coming from her pussy. Nibbling on your bottom lip unmercifully.

“god—”

She glances at the curtain and jumps, cursing loudly. Instead of taking her fingers out she keeps them in, as she covers her most intimate body parts with a blanket.

Your expression feigns alarm, “oh!” your feet only go three meters before she's calling you.

“stop!” you oblige and watch her place a cover over her. She looks flustered, an expression you wanted to see more often instead of her arrogant facade.

“you spied on me?" She stares at you intensely, ironic how you two were both interrupted from your masturbations. “how long have you been watching?”

“not long!” Izogie looks skeptical and brought her legs closer to her chest.

“.. what were you doing before?”

“... relaxing.” she doesn't expect for you to tell the fake yet unfake truth and sputters for words, the action making you chuckle and shrug.

“it's normal, no?” she reluctantly shrugs also struggling to ask you a certain question now that you're here.

“Is it.. normal to..... offer help during this?”

“What, touching yourself?”

“yes.” Izogie sighs out and you decide to play with her a bit.

“I guess, what? Do you want my help? Seems like you have it figured out."

“this is not.. the time to tease-” a smirk forms on your lips, "it is the perfect time to tease you my sweet izo. I just wanted to check if you came back inside and here you are, pleasuring yourself..." A moment of silence passes when you trail off. Izogie is beyond embarrassed but your tone strangely didn't give off any ridicule.

It was low and soft as your eyes were observant through the shadows. Observing each shift and movement of her body. Izogie realized quickly that she didn't have to be the core of your taunt, she could be shameless and flip this situation in her favor. And that is what she was going to do.

"Yes, as you've seen.. I am pleasuring myself. Judging by the way you're still standing and staring at me you must want to see more?" Then you snap out of every little thing thats kept you afloat. The anchor of confrontment pulls you down and you hold the side of the entrance to keep from buckling at her bold statement.

"You're disgusting.. "

"Says the girl who's still in my room, knowing i was doing something privately to which you had no right to know?" Izogie frowns and gets comfortable against the wall, fully covered by now.

"... when did you get inside the house." You blankly asked and she sucked her teeth, "I got in a while ago."

"So you saw me?" You began walking and let the flap go as she visibly froze. "I saw you?"

"You watched me too.. and–" you get on your knees, glancing down at her legs that are still tightly squeezed close.

“let out an interesting sound when you realized what I was doing, Izogie.” Your tone is sultry and she bites her lip from it, heart pounding as she slowly spread her thighs to make space for you.

"You are un-believable, you don't even mind me being here do you?" You scoot closer as inhales through her flared nostrils and presses against the wall.

"I mind a lot."

You chuckle “sure.. just tell me you want me here.” Izogie never broke from yours until she flickered her eyes to your lips.

"And make your ego swell? Please." She rolls her eyes and you finally scowl, body raising to go.

"I didn't say leave." She held your wrist and from then on you showed her a lot of things that night.

•••

Her lips fell open to let out deep breaths. You wanted to pounce on her whole visual and make her reach the finish line but you can only praise her.

“good, good. You can go faster if you want” in regards to the fingers inside of her.

“I'd finish to soon— mm”

“y-yeah- go at your own pace.”

Her pussy swallows her long fingers bit by bit, squelching when she reaches a tight abyss. Izogie wets her lips just to bite them over. You would have never thought to see her like this, ever.

“can you touch me too?” she mumbles.

“only if it's okay?” she nods her head, shakily breathing as she begins to stop. You feel the insides of her thighs and scoot closer to her.

“can I get on your lap?” Izogie hums permission and you settle there, reaching a hand to cup her mound. She closes her eyes leaning her head on your chest. Two fingers give attention to her swollen clit that jumps at the contact.

“do you feel what I'm doing to you?” you ask breathing throuh your nose to calm yourself down, she drags her head up and looks at with the most irresistible eyes. Her plump lips blowing around an —I do— and it's hushed. Only for you to hear. You can't control yourself anymore and grip her tricep circling it faster as her thighs shake.

“Your near, aren't you?”

“Mhm” you nod and feel proud of yourself for unraveling her. Hands float over your sides and grip your ass, the aggression making you emit a quick yelp.

“can I— touch you?” you give the green light and she lifts the wrap up, fingers searching for your clit and then rolling it the same you pace were going in on her. You moan loudly and rise off your knees a bit.

“mm. mm.” she hooks an arm around your waist, strictly holding you close as she abused your clit with focus.

“yes!” her mouth is pressed against your breast and unconsciously sucking your nipple through the material. You stroke her head and quickly slide some of her juices on her cunt to make the slides easier.

“I'm close- cumming-” When you still, her pace doesn't stop. You're cumming all over her hand and you know it, you must grab her wrist and tell her that it's too much before she apologizes, that being cut off by her own gasp. Now she's finishing herself, arching her back off the wall before tensing up her core. She holds your elbow gently and you stop, rubbing your fingers on your wrap.

“How was that?”

“I just gave my virginity to you.”

“oh, me too.” as your highs come down you can't believe it but it's true, both of you just had sex and there's stars in Izogie's dim lit eyes that sparkle the more she looks at you. She's just staring until you get closer and peck her lips. Her eyes shut closed and then she grabs your face for something much longer than a simple peck.

She's still in the middle of rebooting so her motions are slightly sloppily and then you feel a thick tongue licking and lapping at your lips, before she uses her own to slowly enclose around yours again. Izogie hopes she's kissing you right, you transfer the most lightest whimpers through her throat and it's lulling her unbeknownst to you.

When you're out of breath you pull away and she settles for kissing your cheek and temple, moving down the slope of your neck.

“thank you” she mutters.

“of course, I'll be here whenever you need me”

“whenever I need you?” she hums in your shoulder and you can tell, slumber is bound to take her conscious any moment from now.

“Ɛɛn, ayi ce.” yes, my heart.

[karl-raccoon-in-a-teacup]

i heard someone wanted

FIVE pairs of gays

1. bramcraft + "the waves are pleasant to listen to"

2. tachigawa + "you're utterly hopeless"

3. nikonathan + "we're going to hell and it's your fault"

4. lemon futon + "i told you that'd happen"

5. shiburan + "i tricked you!"

I did in fact want five pairs of gays, and all good quality ones too. Hope you enjoy!!

Bramcraft:

"The waves are pleasant to listen to," Bram murmurs, leaning against the bow of the boat. "Mh," Lovecraft hums in agreement, approaching his side. "I was certain that it would relax you." "Were you that worried about me, dear Howard?" The count chuckles, leaning his head against the other man's shoulder. "I assure you, doing such a thing is foolish." "Of course it is," Lovecraft murmurs, "but I do it all the same."

Tachigawa: (ADA Tachihara edition!)

"You're utterly hopeless," Akutagawa hisses, and the damned Agency member laughs at him. "Maybe I am-" Tachihara grins down- "but as long as we have this alliance between our groups, we might as well make the most of it, right?" Akutagawa scowls, crossing his arms. "Had I not promised the weretiger not to kill you, you would be dead where you stand." "But you did, and here we are." He swings an arm around his shoulders. "So- how does the Port Mafia's fearsome hellhound spend his day off?" Internally, he decides that Gin cannot know about this.

Nikonathan:

"We're going to hell, and it's your fault!" Nathaniel shouts, grasping at the cross as if such a thing could save him now. Nikolai, of course, laughs, arms spread in an almost joy. "As if we weren't going there already, reverend!" "Repentance was always an option-" he grabs the clown and snarls in his face- "but now, now-" Nikolai's returned grasp is gentle on his face, a soft caress that startles him more than the violence they've been surrounded by. "Now, reverend, we are free."

Lemon Futon:

Kajii cannot help but laugh, even if it makes his ribs hurt. "Well! That was a complete and utter disaster!" There's shuffling behind him, and a blurry shape- ah, Katai, of course- looks down at him with a sigh. "Oh, I told you that would happen," he laments, voice ringing slightly. "Are you happy with yourself?" "Mostly, yes!" Kajii chirps. "Though, I might feel be more happy with myself if you'd kiss it better-" Katai splutters, and smacks him with a pillow.

Shiburan:

"What is this?" Shibusawa can't help but to whisper, but to stare in shock at the man in front of him. The man who was supposed to be fighting his own hyperintelligence now, who was supposed to be begging for his life against his own ability, suffocating in the fog- -except the fog dispersed, leaving him sitting in his chair just the same as before, legs still casually crossed and grin still smug. "Oh, isn't it obvious?" Ranpo Edogawa asks with a laugh, sticking out his tongue- and Shibusawa finds himself stepping back. "I tricked you!"

[no53472]

Alone now

[princess-of-thebes-1995]

Obsessed

Chapter One: I Believe You.

Johnny Depp x Reader

Johnny sighed as he rubbed his temples. His secret girlfriend was being paranoid... again. She told him that someone has been following her and her phone has been hacked.

Johnny shrugged her concerns away. He knew your condition of social anxiety. He knew your life story. Since he was working with your mean and strict father. He saw you as a child. He watched how rude and harsh both your brother and father was to you.

That caused his heart to shatter. Johnny's own mom was abusive. As soon as you became eighteen, he offered you a place to stay with him. Well...not really. Johnny Depp knew you were too scared to accept help from someone outside your family and you were shy. So, he indirectly threatened you to live. Johnny didn't mean to. But, you were foolish to refuse him.

As months went on, Johnny realized he loves you despite being much younger than him. You were legal but still much younger. After getting a job and ready to start college. Johnny begged you to stay with him and confessed. You were confused. Your strict father never let you date. So, you didn't know how to respond.

"It's okay, baby." Johnny pleaded as he gently grabbed your chin to look at him. "I know you never fell in love. But, I am willing to wait for you till you do realize that."

You agreed. Johnny let you go to college and he paid for everything. He put a restraining order against your brother and father. But, you have been getting bad feelings.

Johnny bit his lips in annoyance. He felt offended that you didn't rely on him. Sighing, he came back to his shared mansion with you.

He walked up the stairs.

"Lovely, you didn't reply my texts." He found you in the bedroom with your head hanging down.

You looked up with worry. "Did you send me these gifts?" You whispered.

Johnny frowned. He looked to see where you were gesturing. Roses that were black laid on the marble floor. Not old roses. They looked charred burned and weird porcelain dolls and clowns in boxes. Odd gifts. Too ugly too.

"The Fuck?" Johnny muttered. He usually sent you lingerie and fresh flowers and little jewelries.

Never this crap. He ran a hand through his hair. He looked at you seriously and asked for your phone.

You handed it to him. Johnny unlocked your screen since he knew all your passwords. He looked through texts. Your normal texts with him. Such as I love yous and how he would ask for nudes. But, there was a number he did not recognize. He clicked on it and saw pictures of couples kissing and some photo screenshots of what appeared to be from porn videos.

Johnny's breath hitched. You weren't paranoid. You had a stalker. You were being sexually harassed too.

He looked at you to see you hugging your body. Johnny sat next to you and pulled you to his muscled chest.

"I'm so sorry, baby. I should have believed you " He whispered into your soft hair locks.

That bastard was doing this for almost three months. Johnny took out your night medicine and placed the sleeping pills in your mouth. He made you drink water and then began to remove your clothes.

You let him tuck you in and felt his lips over your forehead before he turned off the lights.

Johnny still had your cellphone in his hand. Was this your family? No. It would be incestuous to send porn to your daughter or sister. It must be a man not related.

Johnny nodded. He needs to hire an investigator. Johnny was planning a vacation with you to propose. He will not let this monster ruin your already fragile mood. He wanted everything to be perfect as you agree to be his wife.

[dreamteamspace]

We hit 400 so here’s a- ✨ DREAM APPRECIATION ESSAY ✨

(by Yours Truly. Much thanks to the one, innocent anon who just wanted to ask a small talk question but hit my serotonin-providing hyperfixation.)

1. Self-esteem

I love the way he’s confident in his abilities when it’s become such a “trend” to either be completely and utterly self-depricating about your own skills out of fear of being labelled an asshole or overconfident nowadays.

At the same time you can still tell he doesn’t want to pull anyone down ever, and will always be really careful with that and take every oppertunity to lift up the people around him. Dream has a very emotional voice that gives him away a lot, so you can really tell he genuinely admires the people around him and he’s never afraid to say that they could totally easily beat him in something if he doesn’t have practice with it.

He tends to be a bit too hard on himself, so his friends always encourage him in his abilities, and that’s just. So nice. He celebrates his victories! He gets so so excited and happy when he wins in the manhunts, and I think celebrating your hard-earned victories isn’t something that should be villanized.

He won, and we should KNOW by now that doesn’t mean he thinks he’s somehow better than everyone. He has a pretty good eye on his abilities, and that allows him to really use them to the max.

2. Morality

He isn’t afraid to change the game! His adhd picks out a Cool New Thing and he just goes, You know what? Why not! His adhd goes “do this thing repeatedly another 3847 times” and he’s like, yeah sure!

Nobody expected him to release a song, but he just went for it! He’s been speedrunning so much, but he isn’t afraid to stream it every day 5 days in a row for hours while his friends bicker in the background.

Dream genuinely does the things he finds fun, but at the same time puts in so much effort to make them good and entertaining to watch and never forgets about his viewers.

He’s kidfriendly because he wants to be! Fame-wise, at this point he could definitly swear more if he wanted to (and he does when in other people’s content who don’t care about swearing), but despite that he doesn’t swear on his main because he wants his content to be accessable for everyone.

Sure, on one hand it could be for clout/money, but consider: Dream doesn’t stream the DSMP because he doesn’t want to take attention away from other people. He participates in the videos of his friends. He lets compilation channels and the like do whatever they want and even monetize his content. He lets his friends stream Road Trip on twitch as much as they want for free.

Dream doesn’t not swear just for his fanbase, but he does it because he has so so much respect for people. No matter how high he goes, he’s always consciously focused on respecting and admiring the people around him.

He has genuine respect for creators so much smaller than him, and he has respect for people in his fanbase that are younger than him. He isn’t afraid to go against the norm and STAND for that, either (see the video where he defends his stans).

And he defends his friends so much too! So much so it could almost be a little bit of a flaw sometimes, but I feel like he truly wants to learn from his mistakes. He apologizes for things even when nobody asked him to, and that just shows that he does it out of genuine guilt and fear of hurting someone.

He’s always seemed like someone who is genuinely willing to change to be a better version of himself, who isn’t afraid to challenge what he thinks and what other people think and what the norm thinks in order to improve everything for everyone.

Dream also doesn’t let any of the fame get to his head! As I said before - he’s confident in the things he’s good at, but in a way that doesn’t pull other people down, and he still remains firmly admirable of other people.

And even when OTHER people let fame get to their head (it was a while ago, but there was a video he made about five block jumps, where he added in a clip of a video of another guy doing it complete with credit and link etc. The guy was 100% alright with it at first, but when his video started getting more views because Dream’s video blew up, he started accusing Dream of “stealing” his content (when dozens of other videos of the 5 block jump already existed, and Dream could’ve just put in a clip of himself doing the jump)),,, but he insisted in his reponse that fame gets to people’s heads sometimes, nobody should blame anybody, he genuinely was never upset at him and just said that this just... happens sometimes.

He’s a very forgiving person all around, in part due to being willing to challenge his own norms and give people the benefit of the doubt JUST in case he’s wrong. He lets people enjoy things so long as they aren’t hurting anybody, like allowing people to ship him w people who are also alright with shipping, but at the same time taking a hard stance on, say, how shipping minors is absolutely wrong and should not be done ever (and he’s right).

3. Fandom

He appreciates said fanart and fanworks as well! He thinks dnf fanart is cool and he even appreciates the fanfic part of his fandom, something many ccs wish to ignore or forget it exists altogether (and it IS ofc in their right to do so or be uncomfortable with such content!), but Dream sees the work put into it and how people find connections and friendships through the fandom and appreciates it all the same.

He loves his fandom. So much. But not in the overdone, fake-feeling way I’ve seen other ccs be,,,, he’s just. Quiet and shy and genuine about it but not afraid to defend it.

He’s said before - and I QUOTE - “If you send hate to people or have sent hate to people, in the form of hateful comments or DMs, you aren’t welcome in my fandom. You’re no fan of mine”, which is the HOTTEST take he’s ever uttered and I love that. He really just went and said that. And he’s right. I like that despite how he’s usually more held back and waits things out before taking a stance, he chose this topic to really take a hard stance on and not budge and stick to it.

Pmbata has also said that he believes his fans have his back no matter what!! And that he really loves them a lot!!! And I am!! Emotional!!!!

4. ND/Adhd

He has adhd which is something I relate to personally (I have it as well sdlkfj). He gets excited sometimes!! I love how he shows being fidgety in mc, always pacing and parcouring around,, the way that in manhunts you can SEE when he’s thinking or bouncing back and forth between two options,,, or the way he gets close to people in mc to laugh with them.... He shows so much with his movements by them being quick and daring and calculated (and it’s especially hilarious to watch other people react to it in the video “mc but three people control one player”, where he’s the one moving and Sapnap and George will gasp or go “Dream!!” in surprise when Dream was THIS close to falling off a ledge, but he just laughs sdlkfjsdf).

When he’s not moving around he stands perfectly, perfectly still (which, idk if thats what all adhd ppl have, but I know I have something similar? Like when I’m nervous I’ll sometimes just. Freeze in place. No movement at all). He’s just relatable sdkjf.

There was one Manhunt extra scenes where he,,,,, stims by clapping,,,,,, the lil excited clap in the background,,, I’m gonna cry. I’m so soft for excited Dream that one is such a comfort clip for me!

He also tends to stim by getting under trap doors and then jumping back out of them, or jumping up a block and then walking back down over and over (especially noticable in The Village Went Mad tftsmp episode, where they were all discussing who the murderer could be and he was the only one moving, hopping up the log and then running back down again).

Also it is. Really Soft when he starts rambling and overexplaining something. What’s even better is that George, who is usually present at such moments, will laugh a little at his antics, and Dream will automatically laugh with him.

5. Rp/Uplifting other ccs

Dream wasn’t all THAT into the rp at first, but his server has been so strongly supporting and giving attention to smaller creators that he’s since completely rolled along with it. Being a villain in the RP is a difficult role because you will, inevitable, as much as it is just roleplay and all scripted, always get some amount of dislike from people for it.

Despite that, he’s basicly the main big villain on his own server where he let a bunch of theater kids beat him up in character and imprison him on his OWN SERVER. He wasn’t as into the rp at first, but has obviously been practicing and joins every Tales of the SMP when he can, despite getting zero clout for it.

What Dream also tends to do is find small content creators, see their talent and lift them high. His entire discord server is dedicated to give smaller ccs a place to grow, and when he first found Tubbo, Tommy, Ranboo, etc., they were much much smaller than they are now. He truly wanted to help them make it big.

He’s also added Foolish Shark and Hannah onto the SMP, both much smaller ccs (not tiny, but you get what I mean), allowing them to grow. He doesn’t stream on his OWN SERVER. He let himself get imprisoned to let the good guys win on his OWN. SERVER. He’s willing to play the villain and everything.

An interesting thing though! A lot of people used to/still do clown on Dream a bit for his sometimes uncertain acting,,, but when he’s around people he knows well (Sapnap and George, Tubbo and Tommy) we’ve seen him go ALL OUT. I have the theory Dream might be genuinely afraid to accidentally be mean to someone in character and have them misinterpret it sldkfjsdf,,, so he’s rly careful when he goes into the rp, and sometimes even when he’s in it he goes quiet, especially with other people around.

But also the fact that he needs time to feel comfortable around ppl is,, a mood,,, and adorable,,, sdlfkjsdf-

Apparently he’s also shared his youtube algorithm secrets with Tommy?? Which he had only shared with Sapnap and George before?? Dream took one look at that chaotic kid and immedietly adopted him as his little brother. He literally got up super early to rp the prison visit. Idk about ya’ll but I would die for someone first and get up horribly early for them second-

6. Friends!!

Dream?? Considers so so many people his friends?? And despite having so many friends, he also has his few closest friends (George and Sapnap) whom he would absolutely die for in a heartbeat. He WILL defend them with everything he has and loves them so so much.

He listens to them and really, truly wants them to succeed. He respects them so much and will go OFF about how good they actually are and how talented they are and how important they are to him.

I can’t even COVER everything about how much he is SOULMATES with Gorg. They live in each others heads rent-free. He mentions him all the time. They get!! So happy when they’re around each other!!! Their voices get so soft,,

And I can’t even BEGIN to explain the energy of Sapnap and Dream just moving together permanently. Imagine moving together with your best friend. Like, permanently. Into one house. They’re best friends Your Honor,,,,

Also,, remember the Techno and Dream rivalry? And Dream has recently said that he’s hesitant to make a serious manhunt against Techno because he doesn’t want there to be any feud between them or have them be compared to each other. He said that while he absolutely wanted nothing more than to beat Techno at first, now that he knows him better he just wants to be friends with him. He wants to be FRIENDS. With his, essentially, mc RIVAL. Friendly rival, but still. He doesn’t even wanna fight Techno or have ppl compare them cause he,,, wants to be friends with him,,,,

7. Vulnerability

What I feel like really sets Dream apart from some other ccs for me is that he’s willing to be vulnerable. He will tell George he loves him. He defends his friends. He sounds so, so genuine when he tells his fandom that he loves them.

What’s just really rare to see, especially in male ccs, is that vulnerability. It’s becoming more acceptable as time goes on, but it’s certainly not easy, and a lot of people become and stay long-term fans BECAUSE they can see how genuine he is.

I know Dream looks up to Mr. Beast a lot, for example, but honestly? I think he’s a little better than Mr. Beast. Because he feels more genuine, more bound to what he believes is right. I’m sure Mr. Beast isn’t a bad content creator! But ultimately they have different target audiences and I’m very glad Dream is the way he is.

Less of that insecure masculinity and more willing to be vulnerable, to care about things, to get emotional and to encourage and uplift the people around him.

8. Pure Brainrot

Green boi has nice deep calm soothing voice. Little shy laugh. Wheeze laugh. Gorg live in his head rent-free. He lov friends. He lov block game. He good at block game,,, a little shy but confident,,, big heart,,,, soft voice,,,,, rambles sometimes....

He also Gender. He’s so gender. I don’t know how else to describe it. I want That. Whatever That is. My gender is Dreamwastaken

[kazuharem]

"Forever and Always” ↠ [FLUFF]

Genre: Drabble, Fluff, tiniest bit of angst

Pairing: Lucien x MC (Female)

Description: Lucien’s wedding day. That’s it

Summary: The happiest day of Lucien’s life.

Word Count: 2,008

Author’s Note: You guys requested for me to make Lucien happy and-

Oops my fingers slipped. So here’s happy Lucien 😊

Also, happy birthday to the love of my life. I honestly don’t think I’ve ever loved a 2D man as much as I do him, but here I am... ʅ(́◡◝)ʃ *puts on clown makeup*

Happy Birthday Lucien! 💜

[DISCLAIMER] I do not own the pictures, characters, or song. The only thing I own is the plot.

You're the first face that I see And the last thing I think about You're the reason that I'm alive You're what I can't live without

You never give up When I'm falling apart Your arms are always open wide And you're quick to forgive When I make a mistake You love me in the blink of an eye

I don't deserve your love But you give it to me anyway Can't get enough You're everything I need And when I walk away You take off running and come right after me It's what you do And I don't deserve you

You're the light inside my eyes You give me a reason to keep trying You give me more than I could dream And you bring me to my knees You bring me to my knees

Your heart is gold and how am I the one That you've chosen to love I still can't believe that you're right next to me After all that I've done

I don't deserve a chance like this I don't deserve a love that gives me everything You're everything I want

“Don’t Deserve You” - Plumb

A figure in a light gray tuxedo examined his reflection silently as he adjusted his tie. He studied his fully dressed self in the mirror, making sure that not even a hair was out of place. When the man was finally satisfied, he met his reflection fully. Lavender met lavender. A smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

Lucien exhaled. He had never seen such a myriad of expressions on his face before. Apprehension, nervousness, happiness, and perhaps just a touch of excitement. Lucien smiled wryly. He looked like a fool stupidly in love.

Love.

What a seemingly absurd concept. Something he had never believed in. Until now. Until her.

He gazed at himself, eyes glimmering with faint excitement and he chuckled. “What have you become?” He asked himself quietly. “Look at you…believing in some crazy concept.” The tone in his voice was deprecating.

He could never imagine it. A beautiful woman in a white dress walking down the aisle. A pair of rings. Vows that spoke of forever. A companion for a lifetime. The sort of things he had never dared to want for himself.

And why should he?

Lucien had always been alone and quite frankly; it was easier this way. Doing the things he wanted to accomplish by himself. No one to argue with him. No one to get in his way. The research that spoke of advancement for the human race. Ever since the tender age of seven, he has always done things on his own. It was something he was familiar with, loneliness accepted as his way of life, and he was content to live with that fact.

Until he met her.

What was supposed to be a mere task of awakening the Queen’s powers morphed into cozy movie nights on his couch. Running for shelter from a surprise rainstorm. Sunny afternoons filled with delighted laughter. The anticipation of having someone wait for him.

Before long, she had replaced the emptiness inside him with a warmth that spread throughout him, spouting feelings of blossoming love that she had carefully sowed within him.

Lucien had found himself opening up to her. He had found himself wanting to know every little detail that made her so unique in his world.

And then there were the colors.

He had been thoroughly dazzled when he could see the prismatic colors of a rainbow for the first time. She had brought color into his bleak black-and-white world, something he had previously thought impossible. But she had accomplished the impossible. She had shown him a brand new world. And it was absolutely beautiful.

She had gone against his expectations. Gone against his point of view that humans were weak and only the strongest got to evolve. She had stood up to him, while holding her own ground.

Even after he had betrayed her, even after all the things he had done as Ares, she was still willing to welcome him into her arms. She was still able to see his side of things and yet, still loved him.

He remembered the moment she had stood up to him, defiant and strong.

“I wouldn’t. If I had the gift of prophecy and knew all kinds of secrets and knowledge…if I had faith to move mountains, but didn’t have love… Then none of it would count for anything. Even if the light’s source is put out, I’d still try to keep my own shining. No matter how difficult, or how dark it gets. Or how foolish or ridiculous.”

He could hear those very words.

“Silly girl,” Lucien murmured as he recalled the memory.

They had gone through all sorts of trials and tribulations and now they were here, at the cusp of a future Lucien had never thought he would achieve in this lifetime. But she had made it all possible.

After Black Swan had no more, there was one evening she had fallen asleep in his arms. And as Lucien gazed at the peacefully slumbering girl, he was struck with a desperate need to keep her in his arms, to want her to be the first thing he sees when he wakes up and the last thing he sees before going to sleep. The urge consumed him, until it was the only thing he could think of.

The next day, he had impulsively stepped into a jewelry shop. When he set his sights upon a pearlescent stone which scattered rainbows when met with light, he knew. That very night, he had knelt before her and asked her to spend the rest of her life with him.

Was he selfish?

Lucien frowned, and the face in the mirror mimicked him, brow scrunching up with distaste.

Don’t be foolish, Ares, look at all you have done. Do you think you deserve such happiness?

A voice, poisonous yet alluring, pricked at the back of his mind.

He watched himself as his hand curled slowly into a fist. Did he? Did he deserve to live this happy and loving life?

That is nothing but a distant pipedream, and you know it, the voice sneered. It taunted him, reminded him of all his faults.

His fist shook as his mouth parted, letting out a silent cry of pain.

Selfish. Foolish Ares. To think you are deserving of happiness-

A sudden knock at the door interrupted the drowning tirade.

And then-

“Lucien?”

Her voice, like a blessed rainstorm after a long drought, washed away the lingering traces of the poisonous voice.

“C-come in,” Lucien cleared his throat.

The door swung up open gently and all the toxic thoughts were immediately wiped from Lucien’s mind.

She walked into the room and the sight of her made Lucien’s entire being swell with a familiar warmth that he’s learned to associate with her.

She was breathtaking. And she looked the epitome of a dream Lucien didn’t dare dream. Didn’t dare hope for. But all the same, had desperately searched for.

“You-” Lucien exhaled and walked slowly towards her. “You are beautiful…” there was wonder laced in his voice. Her cheeks reddened prettily at his words. “You are so beautiful…” he whispered in awe.

He could feel the corners of his eyes prick.

He doesn’t deserve this, doesn’t deserve her.

But that did not stop him from wanting to.

“The photographer is waiting for us to take our pictures before the ceremony,” She fidgeted nervously as she smiled shyly, and Lucien’s heart nearly threw itself against his chest at the sight. She finally looked him in the eye and tilted her head curiously. “Are you ready?”

Lucien did not speak, couldn’t speak as he tugged her gently into his arms.

“Lucien?” She asked, voice slightly muffled by his shoulder.

“Shhh…” he murmured, and his voice is raw, thick with unspoken emotion. He buried his nose into her hair, inhaling her familiar scent. “Let’s just-stay like this for a little bit…” His shoulders began to tremble, and she belatedly realized that Lucien was crying.

“Lucien-” she struggled to turn to look at him, but he firmly kept her head tucked under his chin.

The sight of her in the white wedding dress evoked faint memories that he thought he had long forgotten. The feeling of his mother’s hand as she petted him, calling him “My Little Prince.” The pooling of his father’s big lab coat around Lucien’s tiny frame as he read voraciously through a textbook, undoubtedly much too advanced for a five-year-old. Lucien remembered his father looking on proudly. He remembered the warm afternoons of relaxing in the park when his parents took the day off to spend with him.

Lucien remembered being loved.

He sucked in a shaky breath as he pressed soft kisses against the crown of her head. “Thank you,” he breathed, his words a gentle puff of air.

She didn’t question him and only wrapped her arms around him. Lucien felt warm all over.

The couple stayed in that position for several moments until Lucien broke away slightly, “Shall we?” He asked, “Isn’t the photographer waiting?”

She huffed at him and he smiled, tweaking her nose gently. Lucien pulled her close, his hands naturally finding purchase on her waist as he led her out the door. They walked down the path where weeping wisteria hung above their heads, creating a lilac, perfumed shelter.

Lucien could see their photographer waiting in the distance.

He suddenly stopped and grabbed her wrist, spinning her into his arms.

“Lucien! People are waiting for us!” She cried out with surprise.

“They can wait a little longer,” Lucien declared, a hint of mischievous creeping into his voice. “It’s our wedding, after all.”

She pouted at him and Lucien grinned broadly. “I have something I want to say. And I want only you to hear these words,” Lucien started quietly, the teasing tone easing into one that was more serious.

She nodded and Lucien could see the blind trust and unconditional love in those beautiful eyes.

He took a deep breath, “When it comes to you, I seem to have planned many beginnings, but I can never predict the endings,” Lucien began, and her eyes widened.

Somewhere, a photographer was holding his camera anxiously, as he looked around for any sign of the couple.

Somewhere, a group of guests were sitting in confusion, wondering when the ceremony was going to begin.

Somewhere, a certain CEO was looking at his watch impatiently, brows furrowed in annoyance.

Somewhere, a certain police officer was bouncing his leg in anxiety, secretly wondering if anything had happened to the bride.

Somewhere, a certain idol was waiting restlessly on stage, ready to give the happy couple a wedding performance.

But all these people did not matter to Lucien as he continued.

“I purposely tried to distance myself from you. It’s not that you did anything wrong. It was…safer. For you. Before I met you, I disliked the idea of having a companion. We all have our own destinations, and if I had to match my steps with anyone else’s, I’d walk much slower. But as I walked my path alone, every time I turned around…I’d always find that you had caught up with me. This time is no different. You’re the only one in the world whom I’d gladly turn around for. Or…you’re the only one who could catch up to me and remain by my side. You are the first person I want to see in the morning and the last at night. Thank you for bringing color into my world. Thank you for loving me. I promise to keep you safe, to keep you happy. I promise I will take your love to give me hope, give me joy, and make me a better man. So, from now on, I’ll never let go.”

Lucien paused, gazing into her now watery eyes. He leaned in closer until their noses touched and their breaths mingled.

“I love you, forever and always.”

⊱ ──────ஓ๑♡๑ஓ ────── ⊰

The companion fic to his birthday karma “Cozy Day” will be coming soon!

I love this man so much, y’all don’t understand the amount of love I have for him, okay 😌 Paper Games, let my mans be happy for once pls

For more of my work: 📖

[patchwork-panda]

Thirsty... (Kunikidazai smut)

Kunikida awoke to a hand slipping under his shirt. He stirred softly as that hand slowly glided up his abdomen, flitted over the contours of his ribs and stopped only when it reached his chest. He sighed as the hand began feeling up his muscles.

“Good morning, Dazai…”

The voice that responded was bright and clear, unlike Kunikida’s, which was nothing more than a low rumble, still thick from sleep.

Clearly Dazai had been awake for some time already.

“Good morning, Kunikiiiida-kun,” Dazai chirped, still feeling up his boyfriend’s chest like it was a favorite toy he liked to play with (which it kind of was).

“I’m sorry, did I wake you up?”

He didn’t sound sorry in the least, Kunikida thought to himself with a frown.

Blearily, he reached over to grab his phone and his frown deepened into a scowl when he saw the time.

“There’s a little less than an hour before the alarm goes off,” Kunikida growled. “Go back to sleep, Dazai.”

“But I’m thirsty,” Dazai whined.

“There’s a full glass of water on your nightstand. Go drink it and go back to sleep.”

“Not that kind…”

And as Dazai’s voice dropped to a low, sultry whisper, two fingers found Kunikida’s nipple and pinched it just lightly enough to get his attention.

Kunikida stiffened.

“Dazai… we have work soon.”

“Two hours isn’t soon.” “The alarm’s going off in an hour,” Kunikida sighed, “Once it goes off, we need to shower, brush our teeth, get dressed, eat breakfast, make lunch--There’s simply not enough time--”

“Then why don’t we shower together,” Dazai pointed out, not pausing in his molestation of Kunikida’s chest, “ask Atsushi-kun to make a convenience store run for us, get lunch at Uzumaki later--”

“I will not have you bullying our junior like that,” Kunikida snapped, swatting Dazai’s hand away at last.

He rearranged his shirt and tried to shift himself in a way that Dazai couldn’t reach his chest. But with Dazai spooning him from behind like this and the man’s limbs being extraordinarily long and flexible, his efforts were proving futile.

He turned his face away as Dazai’s hand slipped back inside his shirt and began slowly slipping downwards towards his navel. His face warmed. He could feel his resolve crumbling as his body began responding to the man’s touch.

“In any case, the budget doesn’t allow for extra meal expense this month--”

“So we put it on next month’s tab…”

Dazai’s hand was traveling further south with each word.

“You’re going to get sleepy in the middle of the day,” Kunikida insisted, hating the way his breath hitched as Dazai’s hand finally found the waistband of his boxer-briefs.

A single long, thin finger dipped underneath the band and Kunikida nearly swore.

“Y-you’re going to fall asleep at your desk--or try to hog the couch in the client booth so you can take a nap--”

Kunikida swallowed, his protests sounding weaker and weaker even to his own ears.

“We simply don’t have the time --”

His sentence ended on a gasp. Dazai had found his boyfriend’s half-hard cock and was now squeezing it very, very tightly.

He shuddered as Dazai’s voice sounded low in his ear. The man’s own rock-hard erection was pressed into the small of his back like a steel pipe.

“I never said I was planning to take my time with you.”

He punctuated the statement with a bite and Kunikida hissed as Dazai’s teeth sank into his earlobe.

It wasn’t often that Dazai got like this. Just the other night, he was playing the part of a petulant child, draped all over Kunikida’s broad shoulders when the blonde was trying to read and whining about being neglected. He kept at it until Kunikida finally had enough and threw him onto the couch to give the man the kind of “attention” he wanted.

Dazai so rarely took what he wanted from Kunikida, generally preferring to be serviced or taken himself. But this morning…

Kunikida groaned as his boyfriend’s hand tightened further, almost painfully so, around his cock and began pumping.

While he didn’t get to see it very often, this side of Dazai was nice every once in a while. Kept him on his toes. Or more like his knees…

He shuddered as Dazai continued to mouth at his ear, nibbling and sucking at that sensitive bit of flesh like he was determined to leave it so red and raw that Kunikida might be forced to leave his hair down for once.

Yes, this was a reminder that while Dazai so often preferred to wear the mask of a clown in public and keep his cards close to his chest, just beneath the surface of that smiling, foolish facade was a mind so brilliant, it often seemed vicious in its cunning. And damn it if Kunikida didn’t find that hot as hell …

Another sharp nip at his badly smarting earlobe and Dazai moved on to Kunikida’s neck. The taller man shivered as Dazai swiftly brushed the long blonde hairs aside and yanked down the collar of his partner’s nightshirt to expose one sturdy well-muscled shoulder. He heard Dazai’s sharp intake of breath just before the brunette latched onto his neck.

Kunikida winced.

Indeed, Dazai could be downright sadistic when he wanted to be… How many times had he seen the man break an informant with words alone? How many times had he lobbed irritating comments in Kunikida’s direction just to see him squirm? And how many times had he tried to push Kunikida away before finally he accepted the blonde’s feelings as well as his own…?

He moaned--loudly--as Dazai found that one spot between the junction of his Kunikida’s neck and shoulder and immediately flushed as he heard--or rather, felt --the inevitable chuckle that followed immediately after.

“Mm… Kunikida-kun is getting so hard for me,” Dazai breathed, the subtle vibrations of his voice sending shivers down the taller man’s spine.

“ So hard .”

And as he spoke, Kunikida felt his body respond, his cock rising and swelling to fit the Dazai’s hand as if it knew exactly where it belonged. He bit back another moan as the hand relentlessly squeezing and pulling him grew steadily slicker from his own fluids.

“I thought you said you weren’t going to take your time with me?” Kunikida wondered aloud, gasping as Dazai’s teeth found that spot on his neck again.

“Oh, is that a request?”

Another bite.

“Am I going too slow for you, Kunikiiiiida-kunnn~?”

He gasped sharply as Dazai started pumping faster, doubling over as waves of pleasure coursed through him. Dazai’s chuckles echoed in his ear.

“There.” Dazai’s voice was low, husky, sweet.

“Is that better?”

Dazai’s fingers were squeezing him so tightly, their rhythm so steady and controlled. A stark contrast to the bites and nips that seemed to come out of nowhere and were steadily covering Kunikida’s upper body in angry red marks.

All the while, Dazai just kept pumping...

Kunikida let out another low moan.

His nightshirt had practically been torn off. He could see a couple of buttons lying on the sheets in front of him as Dazai’s free hand continued to caress his chest and abs. Pressure was building in his lower body and Kunikida’s breathing was starting to come in sharp, labored gasps.

But just when Kunikida thought he wasn’t going to last much longer, Dazai abruptly stopped. He pressed his thumb against the tip of Kunikida’s cock, squeezing just a tiny bit more liquid out of the slit, then slowly moved to rub that thumb over the head of Kunikida’s steadily dripping manhood.

“D-Dazai…”

His face felt hot. Why in God’s name did he sound so much like he was begging?

“What--”

“Shh…”

Dazai’s lips were soft as he pressed a kiss to Kunikida’s bite-riddled shoulder. The first kiss of the morning. His shoulders ached.

“Call me Osamu, my love.”

Another kiss. Another flick of his thumb. Kunikida moaned.

“You know you want to.”

“O-Osamu…” Kunikida gasped, burying his face completely into his pillow when he heard just how desperate he sounded.

“Mm. That’s a good man.”

And with that, Dazai took his free hand, yanked down the waistband of Kunikida’s underwear, followed shortly by his own, and carefully positioned himself against the entrance. Kunikida shot one look over his own bruised shoulder and nearly regretted it. In the weak light of early morning, the eyes of the man behind him looked pitch-black...

Dazai licked his lips.

“And you are such a good man.”

He started pushing himself in.

“ Doppo. ”

It hurt. Not a lot but it was just uncomfortable enough that Kunikida remembered Dazai hadn’t done a thing to prepare him this morning. Still, at least Dazai was giving him a chance to adjust before pushing further in and it wasn’t long until he was buried all the way inside.

Kunikida shuddered as Dazai began moving his hand--the hand that had never actually left Kunikida’s cock--again.

And then Dazai began moving as well.

A curse ripped its way out of his throat.

“ Fuck .”

Sweat beaded on his brow as Dazai’s movements slowly synchronized. The brunette’s free hand was once again ghosting up Kunikida’s chest, palming at his abdomen, feeling the way Kunikida’s muscles strained and flexed whenever he so much as took in a breath. His clothes and the thin blankets once covering them were long since gone. Strands of long blonde hair were falling into his open mouth. The light in the room was slowly growing brighter but without his glasses, Kunikida couldn’t properly see--he could only feel. And what he felt was full .

“ Fuck …!”

Dazai was hitting something deep inside him that so rarely got the attention it needed and he cursed again as Dazai bucked his hips in yet another sharp, powerful thrust.

Dazai’s voice was breathy, he was laughing or gasping or both.

He was loving this.

Kunikida had no idea where Dazai’s shirt had gone. Maybe he’d gone to sleep without it or maybe he’d taken it off while he was playing with Kunikida just minutes--or was it hours ago? He couldn’t remember. All he knew was that Dazai’s bare chest was sticking to his exposed back and he could hear skin slapping against skin in a hot, wet, lewd way that had no right sounding as loud as it did in the early hours before the sun came up.

And speaking of loud…

He had no idea he could make the kind of sounds that were echoing off the walls. The neighbors were sure to come knocking any minute-- how was Dazai forcing these kinds of noises out of his mouth?!

“You sound like you’re enjoying yourself,” Dazai panted, dark eyes glinting.

Shouldn’t I be saying that to you? Kunikida longed to say but all that came out of his mouth was another breathless moan.

Dazai laughed again. Breathier this time, less controlled. They were getting close, Kunikida could feel it. Pressure was steadily building in his cock again--enough to make him burst--and Dazai’s pace was growing oddly frenzied. Without warning, Dazai suddenly let out a shout. Heat exploded deep inside his body and with one last, final tug, Kunikida came shortly after, spilling all over Dazai’s hand and onto the bedsheets with a low, heady groan.

His energy spent, Kunikida strained to look at the man clinging tightly to his back. Brown, tousled, sweaty bangs fell against Kunikida’s reddened shoulder, the bite marks more evident than ever in the light of the steadily rising sun. He could hear Dazai still straining to catch his breath and his lips twitched upwards in a half-smile at the thought of his boyfriend spending all of what little physical stamina he had just to satisfy this one impulsive need.

He felt Dazai peel himself away and shuddered as the man slowly took out his steadily deflating rod, leaving a trail of sticky, pungent, white all over Kunikida’s backside and the short stretch of sweaty sheets between them. Mumbling something unintelligible under his breath, Dazai reached over and tugged the taller man onto his back. Kunikida grimaced; the sheets were cold and wet and were sticking unpleasantly to his backside.

He let out a long, drawn-out sigh.

“Satisfied?” he asked, turning to the brunette now happily resting a hot, flushed cheek against his broad, bare chest.

Yawning, Dazai wrapped his arms around Kunikida’s shoulders and nodded.

“Good.”

And as Dazai’s breathing slowly settled into a slow, steady rhythm, a small, secretive smile crossed Kunikida’s face. He pressed a kiss to Dazai’s forehead, settled his head back onto the pillows and closed his eyes.

But just as Kunikida was drifting off to sleep at last, the alarm went off.

He groaned.

Laughing, Dazai drew Kunikida a little bit closer and nestled his head a little more comfortably in the crook of his boyfriend’s neck.

“Looks like we had enough time after all.”

[fleckcmscott]

After

Summary: Arthur is heartened to have Y/N back by his side. But moving forward isn't as simple as he'd daydreamed.

Warnings: Adult situations, Swearing

Words: 3,391

A/N: This request comes from @jokerownsmysoul​! It's a continuation of Ch. 23 of Watch What Happens and takes off right after the last paragraph. Funnily enough, when Karen originally beta'd that chapter she said, "Where's their conversation? Oh, well, I guess it's implied." 😄 Special thanks to Domino, aka @thegirlwho​, (who also wanted their conversation 😂) for sharing her point of view and helping me see things from a different perspective.

A good portion of my life is the exploding head emoji right now, so it's been a while since I've posted. However, I'm still here. Still writing. Still trying. Work on the new multi-chapter continues. If you've got any requests, let me know. Your patience, support, and you mean a lot to me. Thank you.

Nimble fingers twined through his loose, brown curls, a gentle tug as lips met and parted, met and parted. Her body surrounding that soft, most intimate part of him was visceral. Warm and wet. "I love you" fell from her mouth. Once, twice, more than the walls of his apartment had ever heard. He swallowed but was unable to murmur an appropriate reply. She came back, his mind affirmed. She came back.

Shit, I haven't mopped for a week.

Arthur braced himself on his knees and elbows to look down at her. The notched collar of Y/N's blouse had somehow remained uncrumpled. Strands of her hair fanned out messily over the beige, aged hexagons of the kitchen linoleum. Her tears had reduced to stains on her flushed cheeks. He brushed them away with the back of his knuckles. She'd said he hadn't hurt her, that she was happy. Both good things. If he could figure out the next step...

His eyes flitted back and forth between hers, brows pinched. Moving to kneel, he tucked himself back into his briefs, pulled his light blue pajama bottoms over his rear, then ran his hands along his thighs. "Have you had dinner?"

Buoyant laughter left her as she propped herself on her forearms. "I'm famished. Especially after that." She extended her hand and he accepted it gladly. When she started to pull herself up, he grabbed the other. Her kitten-heels slid the weave rug along the floor; it took some effort for her to get her footing. Once she stood, she tied the drawstring of his pants and adjusted her skirt. "Be right back," she said and scurried to the bathroom.

The thud of the door closing cleared the awe from head. He'd rather have kept it. Changes in mood were typical as of late. The bliss of her return was already twisting into dread. No longer consumed by the need to be inside her, his mind conjured questions, too many to brush off. He turned the knob of the toaster over. Studied the orange glow of its heating element. Had charity - or worse, pity - caused her return? Had distress afflicted her as deeply as it had him? Had she thought of him half as much as he'd thought of her?

Was she going to abandon him again?

He suddenly felt very silly and quite small for allowing himself a modicum of relief. Nothing had been clarified. By having a quickie on the floor after they'd barely exchanged a word, he'd set himself up to be hurt. The way he had when he'd kissed Helen, or when he'd considered Randall his friend, or when he'd believed, for one foolish minute, that Murray might be kind. He flinched against the fury simmering in his stomach. That same panic and anger from when Y/N had walked out of his apartment and, he'd been convinced, his life. He clutched the counter's curved edge so hard his fingertips went numb.

But then she curled herself into his side and squeezed him tight about the waist. Her blithe bearing was almost enough to quiet his tumult. "Anything I can help with?"

"No." He moved to dig through the freezer. Beans and franks with a brownie. English style fish 'n' chips. His mother's favorite, meatloaf. Only the teal packaging made them appealing. He grimaced at the meager offerings. He snatched one from the door, held it out with some trepidation. It was possible the gel-like gravy, slices of turkey roll, and drowned stuffing wouldn't put Y/N off. "Um, this was on sale. I bought a few."

"It's perfect." She accepted the carton and tore it open. "I heard a song on the radio yesterday that made me think of you."

"Oh yeah?" He closed the door of the toaster and set the timer with a flick of the wrist.

"The man was singing that his name was Carnival. That's your clown name, right?" She chuckled, dragged the black, wooden stool from under the counter, and perched on it. "It reminded me of the subway." A flirty pinch to his abdomen. "And that I still have to see one of your performances."

Arthur scoffed and averted his gaze, struggled to push through his anxiety and enjoy her. But he wasn't the type of man to let questions lie. When he'd gotten the courage to ask Y/N on a date, he'd taken the risk. When he'd read Penny's letter, he'd hopped on the first train to Wayne Manor. After the confrontation in Wayne Hall, he'd gone to Arkham and stolen that wretched file.

His curiosity tended to pick wounds that hadn't yet healed over.

The warmth of her hand met his back. "Thank you for giving me time."

The tenderness of her tone loosened the clench of his jaw. But he still couldn't bring himself to look at her. He'd done what she'd requested, because he'd feared mistakes would drive her further away, not because he'd wanted to or understood. He wondered if someone without a mental illness would have behaved differently. She'd pleaded with him to listen, kissed him goodbye, then left like it was nothing.

Whatever the case, her appreciation felt wrong. He didn't need gratitude. He needed answers. He inhaled sharply. "Why did you go?"

She traced the knobs of his spine. "I had to figure out the best way to be with you."

"Am I that hard to be with?" he bit out.

"Of course not. That's not what I said."

He gulped and released a ragged breath. "It broke my fucking-" He faltered when his voice cracked.

"Arthur, I didn't want to hurt you. I'm sorry." Her embrace was tight, a welcome pressure on his ribs despite the ache. Her palm slid up his sternum. "I was afraid to do more harm than good." He should have contradicted her, told her she was crazy if she believed loving him would damage him. But he stopped himself when she nuzzled his bicep. It was a while before she cleared her throat. "I love you more than I imagined possible." She giggled, then, and sniffed. "Which isn't bad for six weeks, Mr. Fleck."

Tears threatened as his eyelids fluttered. He managed to keep them at bay, covering her hand with his to distract himself. He pressed it tighter to him, until he thought her fingers might break through his chest. Finally, he met her stare. Found it full of love and what might have been joy at being together. In that moment, he knew nothing would ever separate his heart from hers.

~~~~~

"Christmas is coming up. Let me know what you'd like to do."

Arthur's slight nod was typical of their conversation this evening. Well, that wasn't quite fair. More like half of it. He'd been vacillating between bouts of confidence and timidity, with the latter tending to win out. He'd put his arm around her, examined the latest issue of TV Guide, and asked what she'd preferred to watch. She'd let him choose; he'd picked a three-hour variety show. Minutes later, he'd been squished into the corner of the sofa, legs neatly crossed with his hands clasped in his lap. She'd risen to refresh their ice teas, and he'd halted her with a kiss to her knuckles and his handsome grin. Upon her return, he'd focused on the floor and kept quiet. The changes were difficult to predict.

At least the periods of stillness made it easy for her to reflect, even as those reflections weren't entirely pleasant. She'd had faith in his ability to take care of himself and his judgment to reach out to her if he was in crisis. And while she had no regrets about taking five days to ensure she could sustain their relationship, she lamented the pain it had caused him. She'd detected it in his stiff posture in the kitchen. Seen it in his glistening eyes. Sensed it in his inconsistent reluctance to be touched.

It had been hard for her, too. The absence of their nightly calls, of shared laughter, of his presence had been keen. She would have returned to him without receiving his letter. But the ink on the page, with its occasional misspellings and earnest admissions ("I don't kno if I'm doing this right but I want to try. Maybe you want to try with me, to?") had prompted her to run to the subway before she'd taken off her coat. Confirmed that despite their differences, them being opposite in many ways, their hearts were the same.

He perked up slightly when the next performer came on, an old man from Whitefish, Montana and his paper mache ventriloquist dummy. Y/N's attention drifted to Arthur as he leaned forward onto his knees. Though the act was nothing special - terrible jokes, drinking water while the puppet talked, strumming a ukulele as it sang - his face crinkled in amusement. "They just have regular people on there," he said. "I haven't seen anyone from Gotham. I should try out."

Thankful he was focused on the show and not her, she pursed her lips. Had he forgotten how Murray had gone? Or Pogo's? Then again, he'd believed both had gone great. And she wanted him to succeed. To strive. To dream. His determination impressed her, made her proud. She searched for a truthful but kind answer. "Once you've got a set you're comfortable delivering, sure. Would you send a tape? I have a recorder you can borrow."

"I wrote a lot this week. Not many jokes but I've done some brainstorming." He flicked ash from his cigarette into the pink ashtray on the coffee table. Splayed his fingers and rubbed his palms together. The bob of his Adam's apple was faint in the dim, blue light. "Do you- Do you want to sleep over?" He turned to her.

Elated, she smiled widely and shifted to sit side-saddle. "I'd love to, but I didn't bring any clothes."

"Hold on." He rose from the couch and disappeared into the bedroom. After a minute, she followed to find him digging through a couple of cardboard boxes. Boxes filled with his mother's things, she realized. She'd have to follow-up for details, find out what had happened to ensure the transition would go as smoothly as possible. Though the relationship between him and Penny was complicated, change wouldn't be easy.

He held out a threadbare, light-blue, nylon nightdress with ruffled cap sleeves and a ribbon at the neckline. "Here."

Y/N cocked her head. The gown was exceedingly narrow, its seams stretched. If she had been inclined to wear it, it wouldn't have fit. Arthur's hopeful expression made it plain he did not see the oddity in offering his romantic partner his mother's nightwear. It was logical, she supposed. His years had been spent living hand to mouth. He didn't have any siblings. Hand-me-downs - a spare sweater here, a pair of socks there - would have come from Penny. A tad strange, to be sure. But poverty had a way of making the abnormal normal.

"Thanks," Y/N said. "But I'll be fine in my panties." At his pout, she closed the inches between them. "If you have a t-shirt, I'll take it." His brows lifted and he gave a toothy smile, comprised of surprise and conceit. The shirt he retrieved from the living room was plain and white. The lightly stained armpits didn't bother her, nor did its loose fit. It was part of his work outfit, he explained. And he claimed she looked cute in it.

Her sleep was restful, deep, better than it had been the last two weeks. Arthur being nearby and her certainty when she'd lain her head on his pillow had calmed her. She didn't think about the Wayne Foundation. She didn't worry about how to pursue a future with him. She didn't waste her energy being afraid of powerlessness. Warmth filled her, aided by contentment and cozy blankets.

When the mattress sunk beneath his weight, she didn't check the clock. Judging by the speed with which her drowsiness dissipated and the blackness of the room, it was likely around 4:00 AM. She'd gotten a solid five hours. With a slight stretch and mewl, she blinked up at him. Her elbow accidentally bumped his chest. "Aren't you tired?"

"No." He palmed her shoulder, caution palpable in every movement. Then his caress dragged down her upper arm, hovered over her breast.

She stroked his stubbled cheek. "What are you up to?"

"Making sure you're really here."

It was unclear if he was kidding. The extent of his imaginations or hallucinations - if that's what he experienced - weren't yet known to her. She recalled how he'd clutched her jacket, the way he'd fiddled with her wall calendar and coffee table when he'd come to her for help. Tactility oriented him, as it had her father before the final stages of his diagnosis. And, outside of acute episodes, Loving Someone with... had advised her to carry-on as always.

Laughing gently, she entwined their legs. "Where else would I be?"

"I don't know," he scoffed. He tucked his chin. Silence permeated the room, interrupted only by their exhalations. Eventually, he spoke, his rasp bashful and desperate. "Are you going to leave me again?"

"No." She pressed his hand to her breast, tried to soothe his tremble away. "I like it here."

She could hear his smile in the dark. He dipped his head to capture her lips. He kissed her and kissed her and kissed her again. She kissed him back until she ached with emptiness. Until she felt him hard against her hip.

"Y/N?" he breathed into her mouth.

Her pulse throbbed in her ears. "What?"

His forehead met hers and she shivered all over. "I wanna make you come."

~~~~~

Drip, drip, drip. A calming, predictable sound. The pungent smell of generic brew wafted to his nostrils, slightly burnt but familiar. Coffee. He was making his girlfriend coffee before she went to work. After they'd made love and snoozed until sunrise. After she'd admonished him for smoking in bed, then caressed his flaccid sex and teased him about his "secret freckle." (He'd covered his face in horror and delight and promised himself that one day he'd find a "secret" on her.) He hummed along to the radio, though he disliked the song, and whistled while he filled their cups. Once he'd added three sugars to his and the last of his milk to hers, he padded to the bath. He leaned on the doorframe, an imitation of nonchalance.

In her apparent rush to get to him, Y/N hadn't simply neglected to pack a change of clothing. She was swiping his stick of deodorant under her arms with haste. When she grabbed his comb and tried to tame her hair, he didn't mind. She declined his offer of Penny's eyeliner and mascara but that was fine. She didn't need them, anyway.

As she buttoned her pleated blouse, he giggled. He'd heard jokes about women going to work in identical outfits two days in a row. The innuendo had escaped him until now. A thrill went through him at finally getting the joke. He blushed. "You're dressed the same."

"I left Patricia a message that I'd be late. It won't surprise anyone." She accepted the proffered mug and took a long drink. A mischievous look as she arched a brow. "She'll want details."

Arthur's eyes widened and he rubbed his forehead. This would take getting used to.

She squeezed a line of toothpaste onto her index finger. "What are you doing today? Any gigs?"

He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, braced his arm on the wall. "I have to call the hospital. Figure out where to send my mother." He was glad to begin the process of moving on, moving forward. To start building a life of his own. Freed from the woman who hadn't protected him. Paired with the woman who understood him most. Still. He was daunted.

After a few seconds of attempting to brush her teeth, Y/N rinsed her mouth and washed her hands. "The social worker should be able to help. There must be homes specializing in lobotomy patients, given how common they were. Actually..." She stepped to him and wrapped her arms around his middle. "I bet there's an advocacy group for the elderly in Gotham. I'll call around on my break. We can have lunch and review their recommendations."

The tightness in his chest prevented him from holding her gaze. His longings for kindness didn't make it any less peculiar. He hoped he would be able to accept it without skepticism soon, like a normal person. That he wouldn't wait for the other shoe to drop. He tried to fight his negative thoughts rather than give into them.

But he couldn't. Not yet. "Why are you doing this?" he mumbled.

She gave a small shrug, as if what she was about to say wasn't a miracle. "I love you. Why wouldn't I?" Before he could react, she walked to the front door and slipped on her heels. "Besides, we should plan this weekend. Shall We Dance is showing at the Monarch. We could catch it and have dinner at my place. And there's a doctor I found for you - when you're feeling up to it. We'll go over the particulars."

The offer to see the film, one he knew every number of, was an obvious attempt to butter him up for that discussion. It would work. "That sounds nice." He went to her side and took her coat off the wall mounted rack, guided her arms into the sleeves

"Arthur," she started, zipping her jacket. Her pretty eyes met his. "I wasn't going to end our relationship. I don't want you to fear that."

He winced and clutched his hands together, annoyed she had raised the subject again after the wonderful morning they'd shared. "I believe you now."

"Back home, I made mistakes. That's why I needed time." She shook her head. "The thought of repeating them with you..."

Mistakes? What kind of mistakes was she referring to? She'd said her divorce had been mutual. A big fight with her sister or mother hadn't been mentioned. She almost never talked about what had happened with her father, other than to name his diagnosis and state she'd gone on medication. She was a good woman. Whatever she had done, it couldn't be that terrible. Not half as bad as the notions that wormed their way into his brain like a broken record.

Then she continued. "I didn't know what to do then. But I think I do now. " She nuzzled his sideburn and carded her fingers through his hair. "If I see you walking towards a cliff, I won't follow. I'll pull you back before you get there."

He stared at her, blinking rapidly as he tried to hold himself together. Her words felt like the kind of fantasy he'd created to ease his misery. To try to convince himself he should exist another day. That he should stick around. Multiple hospitalizations had proven that hadn't always worked. But this was new. Real. Maybe that reality would allow him, for a little while, to be all right.

He cupped her face, drifted his thumbs over her cheeks. She leaned into him, into the kisses he placed on her brow, her nose, her mouth. His lips parted but all he could manage was a shaky exhale. The press of his face to hers.

She must have noticed he was overwhelmed. It frustrated him - he wanted to find a way to articulate himself. But her peck to his jaw, her hand covering his, made him feel safe. "Meet you at my office at one?"

"Mm-hmm." He nodded into her hair, not quite ready to let go.

Gently, she pulled away from his grasp, took her purse, and opened the door. She smiled. "Call if you need anything."

At that, she strode down the hall in the direction of the elevator. He stepped out and watched until she disappeared around the corridor's corner. He rested against the door and closed his eyes, wishing harder than he ever had before that every morning would be like this for the rest of his life.

~~~~~

Tag list (Let me know if you want to be added!): @harmonioussolve​, @ithinkimaperson​, @sweet-nothings04​, @stephieraptorr​, @rommies​, @fallenstarsabyss​, @gruffle1​, @octopus-plasma​, @tsukiakarinobara​, @arthur-flecks-lovely-smile​, @another-day-in-chuckletown​, @hhandley80​, @jokerownsmysoul​, @mrscarnival​

[themousefromfantasyland]

The Nutcracker and the Mouse King (4/14)

A classic Christmas fairy tale

Told by E.T.A. Hoffman

Chapter Four: Wonders Upon Wonders

In the sitting-room of the Doctor's house, just as you enter the room, there stands on the left hand, close against the wall, a high glass-case, in which the children preserve all the beautiful things which are given to them every year. Louise was quite a little girl when her father had the case made by a skilful joiner, who set in it such large, clear panes of glass, and arranged all the parts so well together, that every thing looked much brighter and handsomer when on its shelves than when it was held in the hands. On the upper shelf, which Marie and Fritz were unable to reach, stood all Godfather Drosselmeier's curious machines. Immediately below​this was a shelf for the picture-books; the two lower shelves Marie and Fritz filled up as they pleased, but it always happened that Marie used the lower one as a house for her dolls, while Fritz, on the contrary, cantoned his troops in the one above.

And so it happened to-day, for while Fritz set his hussars in order above, Marie, having laid Miss Trutchen aside, and having installed the new and sweetly dressed doll in her best furnished chamber below, had invited herself to tea with her. I have said that the chamber was well furnished, and it is true; here was a nice chintz sofa and several tiny chairs, there stood a tea-table, but above all, there was a clean, white little bed for her doll to repose upon. All these things were arranged in one corner of the glass case, the sides of which were hung with gay pictures, and it will readily be supposed, that in such a chamber the new doll, Miss Clara, must have found herself very comfortable.

​It was now late in the evening, and night, indeed, was close at hand, and Godfather Drosselmeier had long since gone home, yet still the children could not leave the glass-case, although their mother repeatedly told them that it was high time to go to bed. "It is true," cried Fritz at last; "the poor fellows (meaning his hussars) would like to get a little rest, and as long as I am here, not one of them will dare to nod—I know that."

With these words he went up to bed, but Marie begged very hard, "Only leave me here a little while, dear mother. I have two or three things to attend to, and when they are done I will go immediately to bed." Marie was a very good and sensible child, and therefore her mother could leave her alone with her play-things without anxiety. But for fear she might become so much interested in her new doll and other presents as to forget the lights which burned around the glass case, her mother blew them all out, and left only the lamp which hung clown ​from the ceiling in the middle of the chamber, and which diffused a soft, pleasant light.

"Come in soon, dear Marie, or you will not be up in time to-morrow morning," called her mother, as she went up to bed. There was something Marie had at heart to do, which she had not told her mother, though she knew not the reason why; and as soon as she found herself alone she went quickly about it. She still carried in her arms the wounded Nutcracker, rolled up in her pocket handkerchief. Now she laid him carefully upon the table, unrolled the handkerchief softly, and examined his wound.

Nutcracker was very pale, but still he smiled so kindly and sorrowfully that it went straight to Marie's heart. "Ah! Nutcracker, Nutcracker, do not be angry at brother Fritz because he hurt you so, he did not mean to be so rough; it is the wild soldier's life with his hussars that has made him a little hard-hearted, but otherwise he is a good fellow, I can assure you. Now I will tend you very ​carefully until you are well and merry again; as to fastening in your teeth and setting your shoulders, that Godfather Drosselmeier must do; he understands such things."

But Marie was hardly able to finish the sentence, for as she mentioned the name of Drosselmeier, friend Nutcracker made a terrible wry face, and there darted something out of his eyes like green sparkling flashes. Marie was just going to fall into a dreadful fright, when behold, it was the sad smiling face of the honest Nutcracker again, which she saw before her, and she knew now that it must be the glare of the lamp, which, stirred by the draught, had flared up, and distorted Nutcracker's features so strangely. "Am I not a foolish girl," she said, "to be so easily frightened, and to think that a wooden puppet could make faces at me? But I love Nutcracker too well, because he is so droll and so good tempered; therefore he shall be taken good care of as he deserves."

With this ​Marie took friend Nutcracker in her arms, walked to the glass case, stooped down, and said to her new doll, "Pray, Miss Clara, be so good as to give up your bed to the sick and wounded Nutcracker, and make out as well as you can with the sofa, Remember that you are well and hearty, or you would not have such fat red cheeks, and very few little dolls have such nice sofas."

Miss Clara, in her gay Christmas attire, looked very grand and haughty, and would not even say "Muck." "But why should I stand upon ceremony?" said Marie, and she took out the bed, laid little Nutcracker down upon it softly, and gently rolled a nice ribbon which she wore around her waist, about his poor shoulders, and then drew the bedclothes over him snugly, so that there was nothing to be seen of him below the nose. "He shan't stay with the naughty Clara," she said, and raised the bed with Nutcracker in it to the shelf above, and placed it ​close by the pretty village, where Fred's hussars were quartered. She locked the case, and was about to go up to bed, when—listen children—when softly, softly it began to rustle, and to whisper, and to rattle round and round, under the hearth, behind the chairs, behind the cupboards and glass case.

The great clock whir—red louder and louder, but it could not strike. Marie turned towards it, and there the large gilt owl that sat on the top, had dropped down its wings, so that they covered the whole face, and it stretched out its ugly head with the short crooked beak, and looked just like a cat. And the clock whirred louder in plain words.

"Dick—ry, dick—ry, dock—whirr, softly clock, Mouse-King has a fine ear—prr—prr—pum—pum—the old song let him hear—prr—prr—pum—pum—or he might—run away in a fright—now clock strike softly and light." And pum—pum, it went with a dull deadened sound twelve times.

Marie began now to tremble ​with, fear, and she was upon the point of running out of the room in terror, when she beheld Godfather Drosselmeier, who sat in the owl's place on the top of the clock, and had hung down the skirts of his brown coat just like wings. But she took courage, and cried out loudly, with sobs, "Godfather Drosselmeier, Godfather Drosselmeier, what are you doing up there? Come down, and do not frighten me so, you naughty Godfather Drosselmeier!"

Just then a wild squeaking and whimpering broke out on all sides, and then there was a running, trotting and galloping behind the walls, as if a thousand little feet were in motion, and a thousand little lights flashed out of the crevices in the floor. But they were not lights—no—they were sparkling little eyes, and Marie perceived that mice were all around, peeping out and working their way into the room. Presently it went trot—trot—hop—hop about the chamber, and more and more mice, in greater or ​smaller parties galloped across, and at last placed themselves in line and column, just as Fritz was accustomed to place his soldiers when they went to battle. This Maria thought was very droll, and as she had not that aversion to mice which most children have, her terror was gradually leaving her, when all at once there arose a squeaking so terrible and piercing, that it seemed as if ice-cold water was poured down her back. Ah, what now did she see!

I know, my worthy reader Friedrich, that thy heart, like that of the wise and brave soldier Friedrich Stahlbaum, sits in the right place, but if thou hadst seen what Marie now beheld, thou wouldst certainly have run away; yes, I believe that thou wouldst have jumped as quickly as possible into bed, and then have drawn the covering over thine ears much farther than was necessary to keep thee warm.

Alas! poor Marie could not do that now, for—listen children—close before her feet, there burst out sand and ​lime and crumbled wall stones, as if thrown up by some subterranean force, and seven mice-heads with seven sparkling crowns rose out of the floor, sqeaking and squealing terribly.

Presently the mouse's body to which these seven heads belonged, worked its way out, and the great mouse crowned with the seven diadems, squeaking loudly, huzzaed in full chorus, as he advanced to meet his army, which at once set itself in motion, and hott—hott—trot—trot it went—alas, straight towards the glass case—straight towards poor Marie who stood close before it!

Her heart had before beat so terribly from anxiety and fear, that she thought it would leap out of her bosom, and then she knew she must die; but now it seemed as if the blood stood still in her veins. Half fainting, she tottered backward, when clatter—clatter—rattle—rattle it went—and a glass pane which she had struck with her elbow fell in pieces at her feet. She ​felt at the moment a sharp pain in her left arm, but her heart all at once became much lighter, she heard no more squeaking and squealing, all had become still, and although she did not dare to look, yet she believed that the mice, frightened by the clatter of the broken glass, had retreated into their holes. But what was that again! Close behind her in the glass case a strange bustling and rustling began, and little fine voices were heard. "Up, up, awake—arms take—awake—to the fight—this night—up, up—to the fight." And all the while something rang out clear and sweet like little bells. "Ah, that is my clear musical clock!" exclaimed Marie joyfully, and turned quickly to look.

She then saw how it flashed and lightened strangely in the glass case, and there was a great stir and bustle upon the shelves. Many little figures crossed up and down by each other, and worked and stretched out their arms as if they were making ready.

And now, Nutcracker ​raised himself all of a sudden, threw the bedclothes clear off, and leaped with both feet at once out of bed, crying aloud, "Crack—crack—crack—stupid pack—drive mouse back—stupid pack—crack—crack—mouse—back—crick—crack—stupid pack."

With these words he drew his little sword, flourished it in the air, and exclaimed, "My loving vassals, friends and brothers, will you stand by me in the hard fight?" Straightway three Scaramouches, a Harlequin, four Chimney-sweepers, two Guitar-players and a drummer cried out, "Yes, my lord, we will follow you with fidelity and courage—we will march with you to battle—to victory or death," and then rushed after the fiery Nutcracker, who ventured the dangerous leap down from the upper shelf. Ah, it was easy enough for them to perform this feat, for beside the fine garments of thick cloth and silk which they wore, the inside of their bodies were made of cotton and tow, so that they came down plump, like bags of ​wool.

But poor Nutcracker had certainly broken his arms or his legs, for remember, it was almost two feet from the shelf where he stood to the floor, and his body was as brittle as if it had been cut out of Linden wood. Yes, Nutcracker would certainly have broken his arms or his legs, if, at the moment when he leaped, Miss Clara had not sprung quickly from the sofa, and caught the hero with his drawn sword in her soft arms. "Ah, thou dear, good Clara," sobbed Marie, "how I have wronged thee! Thou didst certainly resign thy bed willingly to little Nutcracker."

But Miss Clara now spoke, as she softly pressed the young hero to her silken bosom. "You will not, oh, my lord! sick and wounded as you are, share the dangers of the fight. See how your brave vassals assemble themselves, eager for the affray, and certain of conquest. Scaramouch, Harlequin, Chimney-sweepers, Guitar-players, Drummer, are all ready drawn up be​low, and the china figures on the shelf stir and move strangely! Will yon not, oh, my lord! repose upon the sofa, or from my arms look down upon your victory?" Thus spoke Clara, but Nutcracker demeaned himself very ungraciously, for he kicked and struggled so violently with his legs, that Clara was obliged to set him quickly down upon the floor. He then, however, dropped gracefully upon one knee, and said, "Fair lady, the recollection of thy favor and condescension will go with me into the battle and the strife."

Clara then stooped so low that she could take him by the arm, raised him gently from his knees, took off her bespangled girdle, and was about to throw it across his neck, but little Nutcracker stepped two paces backward, laid his hand upon his breast, and said very earnestly, "Not so, fair lady, lavish not thy favors thus upon me, for—" he stopped, sighed heavily, tore off the ribbon which Marie had bound about his ​shoulders, pressed it to his lips, hung it across him like a scarf, and then boldly flourishing his bright little blade, leaped like a bird over the edge of the glass case upon the floor.

You understand my kind and good readers and listeners, that Nutcracker, even before he had thus come to life, had felt very sensibly the kindness and love which Marie had shown towards him, and it was because he had become so partial to her, that he would not receive and wear the girdle of Miss Clara, although it shone and sparkled so brightly. The true and faithful Nutcracker preferred to wear Maria's simple ribbon. But what will now happen? As soon as Nutcracker had leaped out, the squeaking and whistling was heard again. Ah, it is under the large table, that the hateful mice have concealed their countless bands, and high above them all towers the dreadful mouse with seven heads! What will now happen!

[amomentsescape]

Michael was brought to court thanks to the security council. Why? Because apparently they think that a young man with no knowledge about technology and engineering should not be owner of half of Stark Industries and also, because they think he could be a future threat for the US goverment. So Michael decides to play the same game Tony did back in 2010. Exposed this ass clowns.

A/N: I took a lot of parallels from the original council scene from Iron Man 2. That movie moment had me CHEERING.

Not Yours to Have (Avenger! Michael Langdon)

“I stand here before the council today to share my concerns about the ownership of Stark Industries.”

Michael couldn’t help but to let out a silent groan, his whole being trying not to lash out at the situation at hand.

“This man has no prior knowledge of engineering, nor any intellect towards the risk being posed by this type of technology.”

Okay, that pissed him off a bit.

He was a Stark after all. They really thought that Tony would be foolish enough to share his company with someone who posed a risk? 

Whoever the idiot was that was talking quickly sat down, the attention now being faced towards Michael’s defense.

What annoyed him more was the fact that he wasn’t really able to talk for himself. What’s the point of having someone else take over for him?

“You are free to share your points.”

The man beside Michael began to read off some information, attempting to share as much as he could, only to get cut off by one of the council men. 

“Read that again, please.”

The man looked up at him and back down to his paper.

Michael knew exactly what the council was doing. They had pulled this same stunt years prior to his father. 

“If I may, that information isn’t what I’m trying to-”

“Read it again.” He was cut off for the second time.

The man beside Michael looked to him and let out a sigh, signaling that he was apologetic.

“Michael Stark, formerly known as Michael Langdon, shows possibilities of becoming a nationwide threat to the citizens and government of this country.”

A soft cacophony of voices began to flutter about, only to be cut off once again by the council.

“That is all I needed to hear, thank you.”

Michael had enough of this. He would have thought that men in such high positions would be smarter than to make the same mistake twice.

“In fact, what gives me my threat is the same thing that keeps the people of this country safe,” Michael raised his voice, gaining the attention from everyone.

“Mr. Lan-”

“It’s Stark. And no, I have every right to speak for myself among this court. My father is an incredible man who has no tolerance for imbeciles.”

Everyone in the room made audible sounds of surprise, only pushing Michael to continue further.

With a wave of his hand, the electricity within the building began to flicker on and off. 

Suddenly, papers from the council men’s desks rose above them and stayed in the air, the words close enough for Michael to read.

“Lets see. Blueprints and locations set up in Afghanistan, China, Chicago, and many more areas that I don’t care to name,” Michael silenced the room. “Why else would they have these plans set up then to mosey their way into these areas?”

Many of the people began looking on at the council men. It was obvious that the older gentlemen were beginning to look nervous as they glanced at each other for some sort of guidance.

“You want ownership of Stark Industries to use our advancements for... unnecessary plans. I am a Stark! And on behalf of myself and my father, this industry is ours. All of you have continuously tried, and failed, to take these things away from us. After all this time, and you men still want what you can never have. This is over.”

With that, Michael dropped his hand and the papers flew about, landing around the court room softly.

The council men were left speechless as Michael walked out of the room. He knew he had made his family proud today, and he hoped that this mistake wouldn’t be made again.

[no53472]

HPHM Rarepair Week 2019

aka Dating Sidequest 2

aka Matchmaker Sidequest

aka “proof that No is a dumb, multi-shipping clown” lmao

The biggest of thank you’s to the mods of @hphm-rarepair-week for starting and organizing this little event. 🌟 🌟 🌟 For people like me, because I don’t ship my MC with NPCs, this was such a breath of fresh air aaaaaaa

Jam City, y’all should take notes.

[dethshit]

Rocking Around The Christmas Tree

Dec 13th: Your Favorite Holiday Tradition Dethklok Style

Toki practically vibrated in place, shifting from foot to foot as he waited impatiently for everyone to come into the living room of Mordhaus. It had taken him hours, hell, days of begging, pleading, whining and complaining to anyone within earshot but he finally got his wish. 

He was going to decorate the massive Christmas tree he had pestered Offdensen into buying with his family. 

The massive evergreen tree smelled of artificial pine and stood tall, so very regal despite the macabre décor. It was custom made and probably cost more money than most people could dream of touching. It was bolted down to the floor by an iron base to keep it from wobbling. 

The black tree skirt had been Toki’s personal choice, decorated with white skulls with splatters of red and green glittery pools that looked shockingly close to blood. It wasn’t the only thing he had a hand in. He had helped prepare the massive star to adorn the top of the tree. It was made from stainless steel painted black with fourteen sharp points to symbolize everyone important in his life. There was one for each member of the band (he had reluctantly included himself to make it an even number), one for Murderface’s partner Noni, two for Charles and his partner, three for Abigail and her partners, one for Knubbler, one for Mashed Potato Johnson and even one for Magnus. The center had a red gem that Toki was told was some super expensive ruby from a far off land he never heard of but he loved the shine. He even convinced the creators to put a set of lights around the ruby that would twinkle cheerily. 

He hugged the star tightly, ignoring the bitter cold of the metal and the jab of the ruby against his face and chest. 

“Tokis? What ams yous doings?” He turned to Skwisgaar with a massive smile before running over and grabbing the blonde’s hand. 

“Skwisgaar, yous ams just in times! Theys brought de stars!” He yanked him to the black star, Skwisgaar falling over his feet from the amount of strength Toki used. “Sees? Offdensens lets me makes the stars with the helps of the blacksmiths and the makers and it has a points for everyones!” 

Skwisgaar wrenched his hand away, rubbing his sore wrist as he looked up at the star. “Oh, yeahs?” He asked dryly, bored with no one else around but the hyperactive Norwegian. 

Toki nodded excitedly. “The tops ams Offdensen and to his rights ams Akitas. To his lefts ams Noni. Moidaface ams next to Noni and Dana ams next to Akitas. Abby ams next to Danas and Carmens follows hers. Yous ams next to Moidaface and I ams next to yous! Pickle ams next to me and Nathan is next to Pickle. Knubbler is next to Nathan and Magnus is next to Carmens and the last one ams Mashed Potato Johnson!” He pointed out each individual arm of the 14 pointed star while Skwisgaar rolled his eyes. 

“...Oka- wait. Whys ams I next to Moidaface and yous?” Skwisgaar asked, eyes narrowing. 

Toki shuffled. “...Yous can takes a different points if yous want. You can be nexts to Mashed Potato Johnson?” He offered, hoping not to start a fight. 

“And be nexts to dats psycho Magnus?! Absolutely nots!” Skwisgaar huffed, upturning his nose at the very idea. 

Toki’s smile fell. “...then wheres dos yous want to be?” 

Skwisgaar glared at the shorter man. “Amnest it obvious? I shoulds be at de tops!” 

Toki stomped his foot, not caring how much he was acting like a child. “Nos! It ams for Offdensen! Yous cans have my spots instead!” 

“Of course yous wants my spots! Yous always wants my spots!”

“That amnest even whats we weres talkings about!” 

Their argument escalated until they were screaming in each other’s face, not noticing when the others came into the room. 

“Boys, really?” Offdensen asked, lifting his glasses to rub his face tiredly. Toki quickly shut his mouth, worried that Offdensen would change his mind and have the Klokateers decorate the tree instead. He had gone through so much trouble to pick out all the ornaments and he had a whole plan set up, the likes that would make Offdensen and Abigail proud. 

Skwisgaar scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. “Dis ams a stupid ideas anyways.” Toki deflated slightly as Skwisgaar tried to leave the room. He was held back by a strong hand. 

He glared indignantly at Nathan. “We said we were gonna do this with Toki so we’re gonna do it.” Nathan mumbled, forcing the blonde back into the room. 

Skwisgaar bristled. “Yous can’ts makes me!” Nathan only frowned at him before turning over to where Offdensen and his boyfriend were busy unpacking some of Toki’s custom ornaments. “HEY AKIT-”

Skwisgaar hurriedly smothered Nathan’s yell, glaring at the lead singer. “Yous bastard!” He hissed. 

“Something wrong, boys?” Akita asked innocently but his eyes said something different. There was a definitive threat in those ice blue eyes that if anyone did anything to ruin the youngest bandmate’s plans, there would be absolute hell to pay. 

“Nothings!” Skwisgaar squeaked, his voice scaling up an octave. Akita narrowed his eyes and he read that there better not be. 

Toki grabbed a green bulb that had been strung with alcohol bottles instead of lights. “Pickle, this ams for yous.” The ginger grabbed the glass and grinned. “Dat’s pretty cool, Toki.” Toki’s face threatened to split with his wide smile before returning to his box. 

He had a black skull with a white Christmas sweater pattern running across it for Nathan. A knife with a bough of holly hanging off of it for Murderface. A palm tree wrapped in string lights for Noni. A makeup kit that lit up for Dana and a dress mannequin that had on a Santa suit for Carmen. Abby had a pair of old school headphones wrapped in ribbon. Offdensen had a computer that had HAPPY HOLIDAYS written across the screen that alternated between green and red. Akita had a golden microphone that sang Christmas carols when a button was pressed on the bottom. He had chosen a festive clown that reminded him a lot of his straw companion from his days in Norway. 

And then there was Skwisgaar. 

He reached into the box, hesitating as he ran a thumb over the cold glass. He startled when he felt a hand gently land on his back. He whirled around and blushed, feeling foolish. 

It was only Akita whose eyes were full of concern. “What’s wrong, Toki? I thought you wanted to do this.” 

He nodded eagerly. “Ands I stils do. I just...” He lifted the box to let Akita see the ornament he had chosen for Skwisgaar. 

It was an exact glass replica of his Gibson Explorer down to the tiniest scratch on the neck. Akita glanced up at him, cocking a blonde eyebrow. He turned redder. “I guess....” He glanced down at his boots. “What ifs he hates it? He hated his points on the stars.” 

Akita held back his soft chuckle to avoid offending Toki. He cupped his cheek, rubbing his cheekbone with his thumb. “Toki...you know he’s going to love it. The damn Swede is a drama queen, that’s all.” 

“SHUTS YOUS FACE YOUS DAMN FINNISH SHIT!” 

Akita let go of Toki’s face, turning around to confront Skwisgaar. “Oh, shut your own ass, you wish Sweden was as great as Finland!” 

“FINLAND AMS A SHITHOLE COUNTRYS!” 

“IT”S THE FUCKING BEST YOU ILLITERATE JACKOFF!” 

Toki smiled faintly at the familiar bickering. While the words were harsh and an outsider might suspect that the two blondes hated each other, there was genuine amusement in Akita’s voice and Skwisgaar’s insults were lacking the usual bite they had when the two opposing Europeans first met. 

Toki walked up to Skwisgaar while Offdensen pulled Akita away to help him untangle the lights much to Akita’s chagrin. “You just had to volunteer for the most difficult part of the job?” Akita asked dryly as he sat down next to an outlet. Offdensen rolled his eyes fondly at the complaint. “Four hands work faster than two.” 

“And six are even better. Hey, Noni! Come help, please!” 

Toki patted Skwisgaar’s shoulder. “U-Uh, Skwisgaar?” The blonde glanced at him from the corner of his eye. “Whats do yous wants?” Toki winced and pulled the ornament from behind his back. “....I gots yous an ornaments too.” 

Skwisgaar was silent and Toki braced himself for the backlash with his eyes screwed shut. All he could hope was that Skwisgaar didn’t throw the precious glass and break it in his tantrum. 

He opened his eyes when he felt the weight lifted off his finger. Skwisgaar was gently cradling the mini guitar as if it was his real one. “...Yous gots dis...for me?” Toki nodded, keeping his gaze on the floor. “I wanteds to get ones for everyones. Yous ams part of everyones, Skwisgaar.” He explained quietly to his boots. 

He missed the way Skwisgaar had covered his mouth with his free hand, eyes starting to turn wet from unshed tears. The blonde quickly blinked away the tears before they fell and he shook away any visible emotion on his face. “It ams okays.” He finally deemed, underplaying how much it meant to him. Most of his Christmases as a kid were spent either in the cold or bouncing from house to house with anyone who would put up with him. The Christmases in the band were usually blurred by alcohol but even then. There was nothing festive about the day until Toki began his quest to make Mordhaus as festive as possible. 

Toki gave a small smile and grabbed his own ornament. It was a mini snow globe where a snowman with his fu manchu was in the middle of a group hug. There was a tall snooty snowman, a shorter one with Pickles’ fiery beard, another with a fierce scowl and the last had Murderface’s mustache. He wanted to add more snowpeople: one with a turquoise pendant around her neck, one with a set of glasses and semi circle green buttons for eyes, one with green robot eyes, an elderly looking snowman with a cane and another with a white and brown goatee. That was without even adding the newest members of his family!

But the man making the ornament begged him to keep the number small, his hand cramping with the amount of detail he was trying to cram on the small snowmen in the snow globe. 

There would be other years and he could add to the ornaments. 

He climbed up the ladder behind Skwisgaar and waited patiently for the taller man to place his ornament near the top of the tree. He placed his own towards the front so that everyone could see his snow globe and grinned happily at the sight below him. 

Noni and Murderface were adjusting some of the lower branches, Noni using their height to place some of the colored balls onto the tree. Murderface made a comment and the tall tanned figure laughed. Abby was sitting between Dana and Carmen as the trio worked on the beaded garland that would wind its way around the tree. It had gotten tangled in its voyage to Mordhaus and Carmen and Abby were talking while Dana nodded or shook her head along with the conversation. Nathan and Pickles were starting to work the lights Akita and Charles had untangled around the tree. Akita and Charles were watching them, Akita waving at Toki when they locked eyes. 

Toki waved back and winced as Skwisgaar pushed on his head. “Comes on ands moves it! I do nots plans to spends all days up heres!” 

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

I ended up combining two traditions into a small snippet of a fic. I love decorating the tree with my family and I usually get some ornaments for my friends and I take a long time to pick them out. 

And yes I added my own OCs and their respective ships what you gonna do about it

[wordsthativelost]

Stalking Jack

Hey, look what I found on an old flash drive!  I guess that counts as “words I’ve lost - and found” I don’t even have a place to post original fic any more.  Might as well put it here. I wrote this when I was very depressed.  I still think it’s *interesting* if not necessarily *good* CONTENT WARNINGS: suggested child abuse, hints at sexual abuse, suggested violence. -----

    "My real mother would never make me do that," you say to me.

    All children tell themselves secretly that they have other, better, parents somewhere -- kinder, grander, more exciting -- or so I have heard.  I never did, but then I was never one for daydreaming.  Not like you.  Most children are not brave enough, cruel enough, to speak that story aloud.

    You, however, stand before me, your eyes now level with mine, your father's broad jaw jutting forward, and cross wiry arms against a chest that is no longer quite so thin. You repeat, "My real mother would allow me to stay."  To hide the trembling, you push your hand through that ragged straw hair with its gleam of sunrise, covering your eyes so I do not see the hurt.  O my careless burden, my Jack, your words slice my heart in two, and it falls empty to the dirt floor between us; but no blame spills out, no blame at all.

    How can I blame you for denying me, denying this the home I made for you?  We are dirty and dark, rough and ramshackle, no place for you, O my shining youth, my shame, all sunlight and softness and the sweet drone of summer bees.  Surely you could not have sprung from between these splintered thighs, slipped from this chinked womb.  

    "Good.  Then ask your real mother for food and a fire," I say harshly.  Like this hovel, I have no shelter left to offer, and the Spring turning is still many weeks away.  "Go and find work, for there is nothing more for you here."

    Your eyes, molten gold, flow away from mine. "There's still the cow.  I could take her to the knacker's yard."

    "What?  She is all that I have left from..."  I do not finish. I do not think of the time before.

    "She is too old.  She is useless.  She requires feed and water and gives no milk in return."

    "She is not yours to sell."  This is true.  The cow had been a gift to me, a calf then, with eyes as warm and whimsical as a promise of faithfulness and fertility.  It is also true that she is now withered and dry.  I am still not ready to let her go.  "You would kill her to purchase a few more days of idle scribbling?"

    At that, your eyes flash.  "I am not idle!"  You shake your hand at me, still gripping the stick of charcoal you use to etch your fancies on scraps of wood and bark.  "You have never understood.  You have never cared about what is important to me!"

    No, I do not understand you, O my strange one, my changeling child.  How you drink tales and eat stories, how you exhaust yourself from your pretend battles and lie spent, bleeding words from a thousand invisible cuts.  But still the ice in my chest melts before your fire.  "See that you get a good price for her, then," is all I say.

    But when you return the next evening, you bring me no cheese for our supper, no wood for our fire.  No copper coins to purchase a few more tomorrows.  Instead, you show me a fist filled with foolish fancies, and your mouth drips with dreams like poisoned honey.  A strange man, you tell me, a man with flaxen hair and the eyes of a lion, met you on the forest path and offered you great things. You traded my cow, my past, for his promises and plans.

    I say nothing. You chatter on nonsensically, but I cannot hear you over the howling in my ears and I cannot see you for the darkness in my eyes. I take your folly and fling it out the door, scattering your daydreams like dirt in our yard, and you fall silent, and I think that now the rage in your heart will choke the hunger in your belly.  

    Maybe this time your stories are true.  Maybe you are not my son.

    In the morning you are gone.  You have followed this stranger's ensnaring lures, I tell myself.  Trapped in the clinging vines of your own imaginings, you climb them into the clouds of fairytales, the fog of let's-pretend.

    I hope that someone will feed you there.

    As for me, I search beneath my pillow for my small bag of precious things:  a faded blue ribbon, a crumbled flower wrapped in a yellowing scrap of lace, many tiny ivory teeth that tumble onto my hand, biting into the palm.  There is also the ring, the one your father gave me six months before you were born.  I use my own teeth to pry out the stone, sparkling topaz, like his eyes, like your eyes. It glitters like the deceitful endings of your magpie daydreams, and I close my fist tightly. The Travelers will come by soon, when the Winter rains end.  Perhaps they will trade me supplies and seeds for the empty silver band.

    Weeks later, I am digging in my new garden with a stout sharpened stick.  You return to me, your golden eyes blazing like the sun reflected in the puddles all around me. Sitting in the doorway, you watch me kneel in the mud, and spin me fantastic tales of a giant's mansion, filled with amazing treasures. No, you did not see the giant, you admit; but you met his woman, a delicate, fragile, timid thing.  She pitied you, you say.  She fed you, and cosseted you, and hid you when the giant returned, his voice like thunder.  The woman told you to run, and you did, ran all the way back to me.

    "And look what she gave me!"  Your voice cracks like ice with excitement, as you shove a small purse into my hands. "Gold! Jewels! She says that all the giant's fortune shall be mine!"

    I look inside, and my eyes see only the dull gleam of brass buttons and bright shining beads.  O my besotted fool, my dreamer.  When have you ever seen real gold, real jewels, so that you should recognize them?  But then, when have I?

    I say nothing.  Instead I give you hot soup, made from the wild onions and cattails I have gathered near the lake.  You eat three bowls' worth, scowling all the while, comparing the meal to the rich scraps from the giant's table.  "But you shall eat such food now, shall you not?" you tease me. You insist that you must go back on the morrow, to fetch me more wealth from the giant's store.

    When you have left, I pull out my last set of spare sheets.  The cotton is soft from many washings, but still not worn through.  I boil the cloth with the onion peelings until it is the color of ripe wheat, of new butter, of your father's hair, your hair, shimmering under the smoking tallow-dips as you struggle to soothe your frantic fantasies to lay quivering, flat upon the page. I cut and pin and stitch it into a fine dress, such as an alderman's wife might wear, and sew the buttons you brought me down the front and sleeves.  Tomorrow I will bring this into town, and see if I can trade it for an iron trowel.  

    It is only two weeks later when you return again. I am searching the ground for fallen sticks to burn; although the days are warmer now, it still grows cold at night. "My father!" you shout as you rush to me. "The giant's woman told me of my father!"  Your words spray out like stones from beneath a cart wheel.  I flinch as they strike me.  Your father, you say, your real father, was a great man, a fine lord, a king! Indeed, he was the true owner of the grand house where you have been hiding for so many days. The giant came and slew him, and cast you, his infant heir, away into poverty and filth.  Surely, you ask me, it is your duty to reclaim all that should be yours by right?

    My duty is to feed you.  I grind acorns dug from the beneath the bracken and set to boil for hours.  They taste bitter and flat, so I stir in a handful of dried berries and the last of the windfallen apples.  You wolf down the porridge and grimace, but then you grin at me, like you are hiding the most delicious secret.  "Look at what I brought you from the giant's house this time!"  You thrust an odd bundle of carved sticks and wires into my hands, fingers stained brown and purple from cooking.  You tell me that this is a harp, that I can hang it in the doorway, and the wind will make it sing with marvelous, magical tunes. You say that it will make me less dull, make my days pass quickly and my sleep more restful.

    I say nothing.  You are so pleased with yourself and your gift.  O my heartless poet, my clown, what need have I now for music? Your father whistled haunting melodies to me once, when I was young and lovely, and I would hum them back to you as you suckled greedily at my breast, to put you to sleep so your father could have his turn.  If I want songs I can go listen to the senseless yammerings of the forest birds. My days are too short and my dreams too empty as it is.

    When you are gone the next morning, I turn the little device over in my hand, recalling your tales of talismans and triumph with a sour smile. I take the beads you brought me, and string them on my old blue ribbon, wrapping it around and around the delicate wooden frame.  A few early jonquils stuck here and there give a festive look.  The blacksmith believes me to be a hedge-witch, and has been pressing me to supply him with love charms.  Surely he will exchange this pretty bauble for a sharp axe.  Who knows, it might even work.

    You return to me again, only eight days gone. I am chopping at a dead tree with my new axe, pleased to depend no longer upon finding sticks on the ground. You are running through the trees, pale hair streaming behind you, something clutched against your chest.  "The axe!  Give me the axe!" you shout, shoving a squirming hissing bundle into my arms.  Snatching the axe, you whirl about to face the path to our house.

    I look down and see that I am holding a goose. It pecks at me.

    "She betrayed me!" you say, voice raw with fury and hurt.  The goose? No, the giant's woman.  She had assured you that everything in that fine house should be yours.  That you should eat at the giant's table.  Wear his clothes.  Sleep in his bed.  She took your hand, you tell me trembling, and brought you to his rooms with silk soft words, promising to uncover his most secret treasure.  

    O my wounded innocent, my dupe.  I hear the axe sing like a harp as it slices through the air, chopping your story into slivers. You asked her instead to take you to the giant's larder.  So that you might share his delicacies with me, foraging too long in the dirt and the muck. The giant's woman flushed red and hot and sharp, answering that she'd as soon give you a goose that laid golden eggs as provide a feast for the harlot of the woods.  

    Your eyes flicker with hot angry flames as you repeat her words. Do you believe that they shall burn me?

    When you asked to see this goose, she laughed at you. She pointed to the kitchen gardens, where the chickens wandered foolishly, and she laughed and laughed, and then the giant returned.

    Stop thief she shouted, and he lunged for you. You ran, you say, and you ran, and as you ran she grabbed shrieking at the giant, and you ran.  In the yard you saw the goose, the golden goose, and you snatched it and you ran. And now the giant is running too, running after you, coming for you.  Coming for us.  Down the forest path to our little hut.  "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," you cry, "I will protect you," and O my brash brazen boy, my hero, you are weeping and angry and confused and terrifying, and I lift the axe from your hand.

    I say something.  "Take this wretched bird into the house and shut the door." And I turn and I wait for this giant.

    I stand ready, axe held level.  I shall chop down that strangling vine you have been climbing.  I shall hew it out, root and branch, and no clinging tendril shall remain to claim you. I shall bite deep with my blade until the sap gushes out sticky and wet, and washes away any hidden thorns.

#

    When I come back inside the little house, you sit still and huddled on your bed.  Your eyes, your golden eyes, are bright and full of tears and terror, not dark and empty like your father's are now. "You were a great lady once, mother," you whisper to me. "You were a queen in a splendid castle."

    I say nothing. But I nod, and hold you close until you fall asleep against me.  When your breathing is slow and soft, I go back to my small garden, and finish weeding among the pushing green that reaches already to my knees.  Later tonight I will take my axe and strike the goose dead.  It would be wiser, I suppose, to keep it for the eggs, but I can render the carcass for the good yellow fat instead.  I will make you many dip candles, O my treasure, O my song, O my prince, my son, and they shall burn clean and bright; and you shall scribble out your stories by their golden glow for many months to come.

    Besides, goose broth will taste well with these beans.

[jeidafei]

D.Gray-Man Chapter 234 Translation Notes

I haven’t posted a note for many chapters, but this chapter dropped so many reveal-bombs I just can’t i just can’t aaaaaaaargh gurglegurgle

/regain composure /why am I listening to “Send In The Clowns” on loop while posting this?

Ahem. So, in short, this chapter is super LIT, but also a headache to translate. As with all reveal-heavy chapters, there is no knowing how disastrous the ramifications of one tiny misinterpretation can be on future reveals. Whoops! 

So let’s peruse the story page-by-page, word-by-word, unraveling the story plus a little ramble on the Japanese language. 

Warning: this post is incredibly long

(You can skip to 5 for my wild theory on The Pillar)

1. Gawd, I’ve always hated these opening captions T T

Because they always give me this feeling of I think I kinda understand what this means but I don’t know how to translate this so it makes sense!  

紐解かれるかつての別離（わかれ）

I think I spent time on this one sentence even more than the rest of the chapter. Despite it being the first thing on the first page, this is honestly the last thing I translated this chapter.

Word-by-word, 紐解かれる (himo-tokareru) is the passive form of the verb 紐解く (himo-toku), which by definition means:

1) Unbinding and opening a new book 2) Unraveling (i.e. memories, history, the truth, etc.) 3) A flower blooming

紐 (himo) and 解く(toku) are also actually two separate words used normally in daily life. The first one means “rope” and the second means “to solve, to untie, to unravel etc.”

So, in essence, this word refers to something hidden, a secret being revealed. No surprises here, since we’re talking about D.Gray-Man. 

かつての (katsute no) means “Once”, “Used to be” whereas 別離 (betsuri) means “parting, separation” but the furigana indicates must be read as わかれ (wakare) for some reason, and means farewell or separation as well. 

I take it that as Mana and Nea were once separated by death, but now Nea has returned to Mana as he vowed to, the “farewell” is no more; it just used to be a farewell.

So now that we have all the pieces...

HOW ON EARTH DO I TRANSLATE THIS !!!???

You saw how it turned out above. To be frank, I’m still not satisfied with it, but as my period cramps are killing me and I’m literally typing this to distract my mind from it because I can’t sleep yet with this pain, and my brain is out of ideas, as always...

I’ll leave it to you guys to interpret freely!

2. Nea’s last words 

Just when I thought I’d skip that troubling caption and start on the dialogue right away, manga-kun messes with me again! Who was Nea talking to? In the background, Nea is reaching up to Mana while decaying away. However, on the next page, turns out it is Cross recalling those words. 

So I walked over to my bookshelf and picked up DGM volume 17 and 22.

In volume 17, in their last meeting before Cross disappeared, Cross told Allen that Nea promised him that he’d return to Mana if Cross kept watch over Mana. 

In volume 22, however, Road reveals to Allen that “Don’t stop, keep walking.” were Nea’s parting words to Mana.

Um...so...which is it, exactly?

So if context doesn’t help, then should we turn back to the literal word? If it were some other language I might’ve said great idea! But this is Japanese; a douchebag of a language that assumes all parties must be native speakers and privy to the conversation beforehand. And thus omits subject, verbs, and objects whenever it pleases to screw foreign learners and outsiders alike. 

Why, Nea’s sentence has no subject and object!

まってろ。必ずマナの元に行く。「アレン」が目印だ。 それまでは立ち止まるな。 

Literally this says “Keep waiting/Just you wait. (I will) definitely go to where Mana is. ‘Allen’ is the sign. Until then, don’t stand still.” 

While Nea using Mana’s name might imply that Nea’s not talking to Mana, but to someone else, otherwise he would’ve used “you/your”. But in Japanese, usually people will refer to their convo partner by name as well, i.e. Lenalee and Allen refer to everyone by name instead of “you”. This is considered neutral and politer than the textbook pronoun “anata” (which is kinda condescending actually...so why do they still keep it in the textbooks!?). 

In case you’re not that close with the person you’re talking to, and not sure which pronoun you should use, using their name is the safest bet to avoid offending them. (Don’t go calling your client omae, of course lol!)

So, back to Nea, going by this rule, he also could’ve been talking to Mana himself as well. See? Curse you, nihongo!!! 

Anyway, Nea didn’t talk to Mana/Earl that way when they met in recent(?  I dunno, my sense of time is already warped from too many hiatuses and hopeless waiting) chapters; Nea refers to Mana using the pronoun “anta” which is the shorter, more casual form of “anata”. And judging from his overall language, he’s not that polite or soft-spoken either, so the possibility is lower. 

Also it’s kinda weird to tell someone who’s sitting right in front of you that you’ll “go to” where he is.

So, using my spidey sense plus all things considered, I finally concluded that since it’s Cross’ flashback, Nea was talking to Cross this time. 

Looking back on this, I don’t know if I’d be able to translate DGM even with 50% accuracy had I not read the series from the start and have the volumes stacked on a bookshelf nearby just in case. Screw you, NIHONGO!

3. Pierrot, Clown, Auguste, Whiteface, Harlequin; What’s the difference?

In Lost Fragment of Snow, Mana is described as a Pierrot whereas Cosimo is a Clown. As I’m not well-versed in clown traditions, I did some Googling and Wikipedia, and learned the art is even more interesting and richer than I once thought:

In this informative blog , it’s explained that while in appearance, the Pierrot and the Clown are almost the same, there is one rule that sets them apart: 

The Pierrot has tear marks under his eyes, whereas the Clown does not.

The Pierrot’s tear marks:

(I just noticed Joaquin Phoenix’s Joker also has tear marks)

The blog is long and detailed and very interesting, but in short, though both the Pierrot and the Clown are supposed to make people laugh by doing foolish things, while the Clown intentionally acts foolish to be laughed at, and can also  joke back at and laugh at the audience as well, the Pierrot will always have to be laughed at and made fun of by the audience. 

Deep down, though the Pierrot is hurt and sad, he must act as if he’s not, to conceal it from the audience. Thus the tear marks indicates a deep, profound sadness.

(*pause to sob for Allen and Joker*)

Back to Mana, we can clearly see he has a tear mark on his right eye. But Cosimo has what looks to be a tear mark and a star under his eyes as well. 

So...aren’t they both Pierrots? Grrrrrrr! DAMMIT HOSHINO!!

Anyways, moving on. I think we remember that back in Allen’s epic showdown with the Earl in Edo, this scene happened:

The Earl compares Allen to the White Clown/Clown Blanc and himself to Auguste. In classic tradition, Blanc and Auguste are often paired together, and it is said that this originates from the pairing of the Pierrot and Harlequin.

No no no obviously I’m not talking about this one lol

Ahem, back to serious-ass clown lore: 

Both Blanc & Auguste and Pierrot & Harlequin are similar in that the former (Blanc and Pierrot) is more sophisticated, stern, serious and melancholic, whereas the latter (Auguste and Harlequin) is the happy, clumsy, grotesque, sometimes rude fool that does the former’s bidding, to comical results. 

In Lost Fragment of Snow, Mana is said to always be smiling and extraordinarily kind, and that he is an enchantingly elegant, beautiful clown, but when he smiles, he always looks as if he is actually crying, dying inside. 

I mean, pretty much everyone has had that moment in their lives, no? 

Okay, back to seriousness, again; Yes, Mana is the ultimate Pierrot, the Whiteface, the Blanc. The sad fool who must always be laughed at by the world. 

And now Allen, who has taken on Mana’s personality, became the melancholic laughingstock of the world himself, constantly being pushed down and trodden on and used, but having no choice but to push on with a smile, hiding his pain deep underneath the white greasepaint.

Cue the music!

I started a joke, which started the whole world crying But I didn't see that the joke was on me. I started to cry, which started the whole world laughing Oh, if I'd only seen that the joke was on me.

(Bee Gees - I Started A Joke)

4. Great, Cosimo had a hard life too. One more confirmed-dead character I have to cry for!

I hated Cosimo. Still do. Heck, EVERYONE HATES COSIMO. I mean, until now, the guy totally has no redeeming qualities and no justifying reason behind his relentless cruelty.

But in the recent chapters, there are reveals not mentioned in LFS: 

Cosimo was bought and forced to work as an errand boy, like Red, before he somehow crawled his way out and became the circus’s top performer. While drunk, Cosimo would also complain about how he was actually born a noble (this last one is also mentioned in LFS).

Imagine that. Your parents abandoned you for whatever reason (maybe he’s a bastard child?) and you ended up sold to slavery in a circus. After years of being worked to the bone and abused, you struck it big and thought you had it all, then new guy waltzes in with his stupid dog and takes your spotlight. 

Heck, you don’t even have to live such a rotten life to feel bitter. In Toy Story, even brave and fair Sheriff Woody was reduced to a jealous wreck in the face of Buzz Lightyear stealing Andy’s attention from him, wasn’t he? And I think we can all relate to that. Most of us have been jealous of someone before.

Cosimo’s unforgivable actions towards Mana and Allen the Dog may have been fueled by insecurity, trauma and fear as much as jealousy. His abuse towards Red is a result of long years of being abused himself; his own way to cope. 

While Red/Allen blames himself for his pain and not inflict it back upon others, Cosimo did the opposite, because everyone reacts and adapts differently. However, to be clear, both of these traits are not healthy. 

There’s also the fact that Red was saved by the kindness of Allen the Dog and Mana while he is fortunately still young enough to regain faith; whereas Cosimo suffered alone all through his life, surrounded by selfish, two-faced scumbags like that guy handing out leaflets. Had things been different, who’s to say Red might not turn out the same as Cosimo?

In a nutshell, Cosimo is simply a product of his harsh environment. While I still despise him, I can’t help feeling some pity for him and understanding where all that evil had come from. I don’t believe he is inherently bad. Nobody is. Had he been raised with love, I’m sure he would have been a very different person.

5. The Pillar

I know, this is what y’all are actually here for. I mean who cares about Cosimo’s tragic life or the difference between a Pierrot and a Clown when there’s an honest-to-gods HOLY LIGHT SPLITTING THE SKY APART AND OBLITERATING THIS WHOLE WORLD FULL OF SINNERS!? And it’s even teased, like, waaaaay back in Timothy’s Arc (gawd how old was I back then?) !!

First, a recap of this chapter: 

7,000 years ago, The Pillar destroyed the world (which seems pretty modern). The Noah survived and held a grudge against The Pillar for forever destroying their world, leaving them with nowhere to return to. Once they found the reborn Millennium Earl, they pretended to be his family, but instead are using him to exact revenge on The Pillar, because it is predicted the Earl will one day become The Pillar and destroy the world again. Cross however took pity on the Earl and chided Road for believing in that prophecy and causing the Earl so much misery.

Some IRL tidbits: 

Hoshino-sensei revealed she traveled to Ground Zero of WTC for inspiration, now we finally get to know which scene that inspiration is for. And IMO, the instant obliteration coming out of nowhere on one fine day, the Pillar etching a line from sky to ground amidst the pile of rubble, reminds me of the A-bomb’s mushroom cloud over Hiroshima and Nagasaki. And we all know which country Hoshino-sensei comes from, right? Could there be a link? 

Now, my personal analysis (or rather, pointless rant with no answers coming out whatsoever): 

This chapter both confirms, clarifies and also debunks important things we have believed from our time with the Order, listening to the Order’s side of the story. 

1) In the very beginning, Komui tells Allen about the previous end of the world 7,000 years ago. The Bible calls it “The Great Flood”. The Cube calls it “The Three Days of Darkness.” However, we now learn it is neither rainy nor dark. Nope, one day all of a sudden, a blindingly bright shaft of light struck down from the sky, and The Capitol suddenly became The Scorch. How did it achieve that? No clue! 

2) Komui tells Allen that the end of the world was caused by a war between the wielders of Innocence and the Earl + the Noah Family, and the ensuing flood that destroyed the world scattered the Innocence around the world. 

However, in this chapter, we learned there was no war. There was no flood. Just the Pillar that appeared suddenly one day. And surprise, the Noah Family hated The Pillar for destroying their beloved world, their only home (wait, aren’t they supposed to hate the Innocence?). 

Yet now the Noah are working with the Earl, who wants to destroy the new world and would someday become the Pillar and destroy the new world too? Yet Cross says they’re just using him for all this time? 

WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE? 

My super duper wild theory is that since 1) The Earl is the Pillar-in-Making,  2) The Noah show hatred for The Pillar as much as they do for the Innocence, 3) The Pillar, like Innocence, could trigger their Noah Memory to threaten to swallow them, then it’s kinda implied that;

Mana = The Millennium Earl = The Pillar = The Heart of Innocence

And the Noah, knowing this all along and wanting to prevent the end of the world from happening again, tricked the Millennium Earl into thinking they’re helping him fulfill his raison d'être of Harbinger of the End of The F***ing World (sorry, another reference, heh), not telling him that he’s actually the Heart of Innocence itself, watch him go after Exorcists he suspects are the Heart, and gleefully accept his orders to kill those Exorcists looking for the Heart, in order to prevent the Black Order from ever getting the Earl aka the Heart on their side. 

They also let the Earl create legions of Akuma to fight the Exorcists and destroy all the Innocence shards, literally using the Earl to destroy himself, keeping him away from his true allies, chipping away at his lifeline one shard at a time, like Harry crushing Voldemort’s horcruxes one by one, not knowing he’s a Horcrux himself. Until finally, when there is nothing left but the greatly weakened Heart with no army to protect it, then will the Noah have the chance to defeat it once and for all. 

And of course while they keep the Earl busy searching for the Heart, old man will never pause and think hmmm, maybe I am the Heart? 

Perhaps this is why Wisely said that all humans who have awoken into Noah will accept their duty once they learned of Noah’s mission. Since Noah’s mission now seems to be preventing the end of the world at the hands of Innocence, which I take as God’s power, and God’s weapon for “cleansing” the world whenever he deems it too sinful. 

After all, we have seen the horrors Innocence can do, the lengths Innocence will go to punish people it judged to have sinned. Innocence is said to be a crystallization of God, and like God, it has been foreshadowed numerous times to have that ruthless, merciless, unforgiving streak within it that could alienate even Allen himself.

Anyway, I typed this one without checking the earlier volumes that much. I expect there will be several loopholes, so be sure to point out any inaccuracies and also please, please do let me know what you guys think of these reveals as well! I’d love to hear differing theories!

Other tidbits

The Garvey Troupe, not Garbeigh. Sorry, everyone. Phonetically, Japanese does not have the “v” sound. Nowadays, you can write it out by adding the mark on the ウ (u) letter like this: ヴ, but most words would still transliterate it to the “b” sound, and most Japanese people will still have trouble pronouncing the “v” sound properly anyway. For example, “Violin” could be written both as (v)ヴァイオリン or (b)バイオリン, and most people would pronounce it like the latter.

Do you think Road’s memories of the End of the World has anything to do with Lenalee and Allen’s shared dream of the End of the World as well? Though Lenalee’s nightmare features the Black Order in ruins and not the modern skyscrapers of Road’s. 

So Cross knew Nea and Mana from childhood!? I’ve always thought he met Nea by chance when they are grownups and he was forced to do Nea’s bidding. Interesting!! 

So, that’s it for this chapter! Phew! That was uber long. Thank you so much for bearing with me this far. Hit me up in comments!

[haiqyu]

"I've finally found you."

If you haven't read the first part, it's here >> Part I

Kuroo Tetsurou x F! Reader

Soulmate and Reincarnation au! : one gets flashbacks of their past lives when they reach the age of 10

Angst? Fluff? It's a mess

Warning: suicide mentioned

Sorry for the grammar mistakes and spelling lmao don't read this please 😔 it's embarrassing

"I hate you."

The words spilled out my mouth carelessly. I did mean it. He caused me so much pain and I've been haunted by the torture for years. I deserve to feel hatred towards my soulmate. I've only received beatings after beatings in every dream and flashback. For years, I've been so scared about falling asleep or having flashbacks. Excruciating pain. Sadness. Accused. That's all I felt.

However, why do I regret saying that phrase? I'm only speaking the truth. I blamed it on the soulmate mechanism. I should feel relieved and glad that I get to say this to my soulmate. I should be hating my soulmate. I should feel hatred and anger. Why do I feel the opposite that I should be feeling? Why do I feel regret? Why do I feel love and sympathy for my soulmate? Why do I feel bad?

My tear-filled eyes glanced at his face. He looked sad and hurt. His eyebrows furrowed. His eyes screaming with love and longing. His mouth parted so slightly, small breaths of hot air condensing when exposed to the cold winter air. His hands reached out towards me. He looked like he was ready to run towards me and catch me in his warm arms.

My heart beating quickly, it was trying to tell me to go to him. My heart screamed for the warmth of Kuroo. My heart wanting to be in the arms of the man that I've been with for generations. However, my mind told me to run away as far as possible. Kuroo... Is a bad person. I decided to go against my heart. I immediately turned my back on him. My knees buckled. I took off, with the cold and bitter winter air hitting my frozen face.

"wait! (Y/n)! Fucking-" I heard him yelling from the distance. His voice gets further and softer every second I ran.

I didn't know where my legs were taking me. I just ran. I hope it is far enough not to face the soul mate I just rejected. My face was cold. My lips were cracked. Tears streaming down my face, wetting the white scarf that I tucked snugly around my neck. Mucus were escaping from my nose. I must've looked gross.

My legs carried me to the park near my house, at least I knew where was I. I slowed down and I sat down on an empty bench under the shade. With the cold wood of the bench touching my legs as I sat on it, I shivered. I placed my bag down beside me and took out some tissues to wipe my tears away and blow my nose.

I must've made a scene in school. Now I looked like a fool. A clown. A whole circus. I couldn't face anyone in the school anymore, not even Kuroo. I ran away from my soulmate. Society would look down on me. People would be so disappointed. They don't understand me. They don't understand the pain I went through for years.

I rubbed my puffy red eyes with my cold freezing hands. It was really getting hard to see with my eyes so swollen. I shivered again. The cold was really getting to me. Shifting my bag onto my lap, I hugged it tightly.

I stared into the blue sky. I just looked up for a few minutes. I spaced out. I needed to get my mind off this tragic situation. My eyes wandered around my surroundings. What am I waiting for? Should I go back home? Should I go back to school? So many choices, yet my body doesn't want make a decision and move.

I sighed and I looked down at my feet. I hummed a random tune, with my voice breaking of course. I stopped and stared off into space again. My eyelids were starting to droop down. Cold... Tired... I want to sleep and never wake up... Sleep... Coma...? Footsteps... Black hair... My vision went black.

Kuroo ran after me. He immediately ran after I took off. As a volleyball player, you expected him to catch up with me quickly. However, since he was carrying a bag of volleyballs and his heavy bag, accompanied with his winter outfit, it was hard to ran as quickly as he could normally.

He huffed and managed to catch up by following me. He knew the direction towards the park well as he and Kenma walked around his park to hang out after school several times. He walked around the park, trying to find me. "(Y/n)!" he called out. His footsteps hastened.

He finally spotted my head. He sighed in relief. He brisk walked towards my direction. He lighten his footsteps as he didn't want to scare me away. He also didn't want to chase after me anymore. Slowly walking towards me, he saw me dozing off on the bench.

My head was only supported by my bag. My arms wrapped out it tightly, trying to trap as much heat as possible. He quietly sat beside me, wrapping his warm long arms around my shoulders. My eyes shot open at the sudden weight and I flinched. I immediately noticed the guy that I didn't want to meet beside me.

He quickly grabbed my arms and trapped me on the bench. His head lying on my shoulder. His face at the crook of my neck. His soft and messy hair tickling the sides of my face. He hugged me tighter. "hear me out, babe."

I flushed at his nickname for me. It flowed out from his mouth naturally. It was like he said it to me millions of time before, technically he did but this was the first time we actually met in this life. "stop." "go away." these phrases escaped from my lips multiple times. I tried to push him away, it was useless. After a few seconds of trying, I knew his grip was too tight and I couldn't escape again.

I sighed. It's either I avoid the situation or I face it. I decided to be a big girl now, facing the problem myself and not running away. "o-okay." my voice cracked.

I felt his warm breath on my neck. He rubbed his thumbs on my arm in a circular motion. It was comforting. It felt normal. I felt so loved and warm. But I snapped out of what I was feeling. Be angry, (Y/n).

He started. "I'm... Sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you like that. I didn't know the other side of your story. I was hot tempered. All emperors are hot tempered, by the way. I acted rashly. The concubines accused you for cheating on me. I was foolish enough to believe them. I should've believed you. I missed you a lot. I shouldn't have did that to you." his voice started cracking as he continued his speech.

His lips quivered. A knot formed around his throat, making it harder for him to speak. "I dreamt and i had flashbacks of you being tortured. I was mad at my past self. I was extremely foolish. I had flashbacks about dying a few months after you died. I... Committed suicide. I couldnt bear the pain. I was alone. I regretted everything I've done to you. The flashback of me committing suicide replayed over and over and over. The pain of knowing that you've been tortured due to my selfishness was more overwhelming than the pain I inflicted on myself. I know it's hard for you to forgive me, but please... Give me a chance."

He choked back his tears. I felt his gripped getting tighter and tighter every second. My heart and mind were in a mess. Feeling guilty, I didn't know he had such terrible flashbacks too. I thought I was the only one that had the receiving end of the torture. I regret saying the three words to him. I should've listen to what he was going to say first. I was indeed a fool.

"it's not your fault, (y/n)... It was mine. Please, I beg of you. Please forgive me. I love you... " he cried.

His words pierced through my heart. I couldn't say the sentence back. I didn't know what to do. I couldn't speak as well. A similar knot formed at my throat as well. I just waited a few minutes to pass by, letting him calm down.

I was extremely dizzy. It was so overwhelming. I didn't know what to do that this point. I just don't want to exist. I slowly let go of my bag, grabbing one of his cold hands that was on my other arm. I grabbed his freezing fingers, signalling him I wanted to tell him something.

"I... want you to change my mind. I'm willing to try and love you... Again. " I spoke softly.

His head shot up and he smiled. His eyes brimming with hope and adoration. His smile was so handsome. It really do fit his face well. "thank you, (Y/n). I will make you fall in love with me again." he whispered to me.

We were in our own world. Our own private and safe world, which no one can enter. Little did he know, I lied.

I already fell in love with him from the beginning when I met him.

----

Thank you so much for reading! It felt really rushed but I've tried my best cause I had no time. Haha,,, :')))))))

- jen