#i could draw this look 500 times and never get sick of it

[bononocat]

torn mask kakashi hours 💗💗

[mewhenthhe]

ok SO! say ur ocs all played botw…… favorite characters……??? also how many ship zelink the masses (me) need to know,,, which ones are sidlink shippers

AHHHHHH excellent question !!1 i am So brainrotted

ryu: hey. hey guys. i wonder. what kind of guys the Human Fish Likes. this man for SURE has a zora sona that he made long before realizing he was actually a fish himself. he’s a mipha fan prolly. thinks the koroks are cuties. every time he and ian play together he points at them and goes “look it’s u!”. doesn’t care much about shipping but likes the zelink dynamic.

ian: al title bit basic. link is his fav character. he likes to dress him up in the TOTK outfits specifically i think u know the ones. he’s probably a sidlink shipper LMAO

kei: is probably bad at video games and gets annoyed every-time he takes fire/heat damage bc like damn he already did that irl?? leave him alone. zelink shipper for the only purpose of being a sidlink anti.

alyce: not a gamer. thinks the rito are cool tho . ryu drew her a rito sona once that she likes but would never admit that she likes. no shipping opinions.

esteri: the type to spend like 300 hours playing the game before ever picking up the main story. her fav character is the guy who lets u dye ur clothes/hj it’s probably the fairies bc she thinks they look sick. zelink shipper.

cy: spends about 50 hours collecting all the cool horses which is not what u asked but i had to share. shipper of link x jumping off cliffs and pulling out the paraglider absolute last second and also swimming up waterfalls to jump off them again.

avery: would beat the game about 12 minutes in to see if she could and then spend about 500 hours doing everything else. did not go in intending to be a compltetionist but the collecting koror seeds mechanic draw her in. in TOTK she would be building shit allllll the time. sidlink shipper. sidins prob her fav too LMAO

[acasualcrossfade]

Mr. Sick and Mr. Injured Have Dinner

Sicktember Day 6: "Sick and Injured"

Stranger Things: Steve Harrington/ Eddie Munson

Words: 500 | Rating: T | CW: mild cursing

@sicktember | divider art by @saradika

Summary:  Steve is injured, Eddie is sick. They talk over dinner.

Find me on Ao3!

Steve shifted the bag of ice cubes over his ankle and shivered. Both his and Eddie’s bat bites had mostly healed, but Steve’s ankle was still swollen and bruised from where the bat had grabbed him. And somewhere through it, Eddie had come down with sniffles and a terrible cough.

Dinner had been quite the sight with Steve’s leg elevated on one chair and lozenges next to Eddie. There was a pile of growing tissues on Eddie’s side of the table, and the man had paused between bites of casserole to cough into his sleeve. 

“Shit, Eds, you want some tea?” Steve lifted his leg and grabbed his crutches.

“Stevie, nah, don’t worry about it. Got cough drops,” Eddie managed, unwrapping one.

Steve slowly elevated his leg again. “What a pair we are.” 

“Yeah, my shitty lungs, your fucked up ankle.” Eddie’s voice was hoarse.  

“A miracle they left us alone together.” 

“Yeah I was convinced Dustin was going to fight Robin for the couch.”

“She would’ve won.”

“My money would’ve been on Henderson. That kid can make a case like no one I’ve heard of. You know he got me to steal chocolate pudding for him once?” Eddie revealed.

“God, he’s told you about the chocolate pudding, too? And about Lunch lady Phyllis?” Steve rolled his eyes.

“Sure did. Had me snag like seven cans of ‘em for our campaign.” 

“That sounds like Henderson,” Steve agreed. “You think she’s still there considering the kitchen’s basically a soup kitchen now?” Steve volunteered there a few times because it was easy to lean against the doorframe as he handed out soup bowls.

“Dunno. Doubt they’ll even open the school for classes again,” Eddie responded. “Not that I want…” He trailed off and paused. “I was supposed to graduate this year.”

Steve looked up at Eddie. “Shit, I didn’t even think of that, Eds. You think they’d send out honorary diplomas?”

“Don’t think that’s on the top of anyone’s priority list right now,” Eddie laughed dryly, shaking his head. “Maybe I was never supposed to officially get out of that hellhole.”

Steve suddenly was unsure if he was talking about high school or the Upside Down. His heart sank.

 “I have nothing against doing a graduation here,” Steve mentioned. “Will could draw up a diploma and Henderson and Wheeler can write all the official stuff on it. Maybe add some of that D&D game stuff on there.”

“On my diploma?”

“Yeah, being Dungeon Master is a big deal, at least according to Henderson.” Steve shrugged. “Like you said, kid can make a case.”

“He does,” Eddie agreed. He brightened slightly. “Dungeon Master Eddie Munson does have a nice ring to it.”

“I’ll have Will do it in that fancy script, too,” Steve added. 

Eddie laughed along. “Thanks, Harrington. Even the sentiment means a lot.”

“Course,” Steve said easily. “But I won’t be able to keep Henderson from officiating the ceremony.”

Eddie laughed again. “Truly, I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

[coconox]

honestly been going back and forth w myself on a lot of things lately attaching a read more for the sake of ik i'll be rambling like theres no tmr

a part of me wants to drop pnc but i havent really gotten everyone i wanted yet + im broke so i need to build my stash up *looks at clotho and eos* oddly enough pnc has been a game ive been pretty happy on playing still hate how i missed a login day tho tbf ive rarely borderline never interacted w the fandom so me just being in the dark w what goes on there has kinda been a blessing and a curse in a sense that i can enjoy the game in peace but it feels like im alone doing so

pgr im really REALLY tempted on dropping my glb acc, once nocti comes around which will prob be around the end of the school yr for me thats where i'd be like ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ welp ig im done and drop that acc after playing around w nocti and whatev. tw im still not too sure abt?? prob when i get around to lvling up my main teams i can be like ok im done and drop that at any time since im just there to experience content ahead of time without being in cn directly

before dropping pgr entirely i do wanna complete a few stuff i had in mind tho

countdown for hyperreal which will prob happen bambi patch

still need to finish that nocti countdown for tw ive barely had any motivation completing that

nocti's bday countdown (similar to how lee's went)

glb nocti's countdown

draw every char up to latest one in cn

a few noctiskk comics thats been in the back of my head for MONTHS now

basically LOTS of countdowns and nocti stuff before i drop everything entirely

will i still draw pgr stuff after all that? mayyybeee???? itll moreso be towards kye's lore building rather than it being a standalone thing. i'll still collect merch and build up my shrines and make cosplay for chars but aside from that i'm pretty much gonna be moving on to other things

ive always had 50/50 feelings w being in the pgr fandom, tho being introduced to it on disc and then going to twt may have affected my views on this whole thing. esp when the side of the fandom i was first introduced to is like the lowest of the low, i dont want to go back to a place where a bunch of dudebro incels made fun of me for being afab and liking lee and me thinking that was a norm when it clearly isnt. its been 2 goddamn yrs and theyre still poking fun at that?? like my god grow up im so sick and tired of it.

if by a slim chance i still want to participate in being in the pgr fandom i'll just go back to lurking like ive always done in prev fandoms, if i really wanna be active in talking abt the game i'll talk abt it in servers or dms, but publicly i felt that i could never really comfortably talk abt how i feel abt it aside from here cause this site >>>>>> bc i felt like my opinions arent valid, tho that really applies to anything i do so 💀💀

pgr has been a really nice game for me to destress and detach myself from reality for a bit, tho now i wanna move on to other games and focus more on my ocs like i did back in the day. once i properly set up everyone's lore doc maybe in the future i'll make a game around them, nothing too big since i'll pretty much be making most of it, but i kinda wanna fulfill my childhood dream that was just recently unlocked

theres also that small part of me that wants to be known for my oc stuff rather than pgr stuff, but bc im not tagging w popular art tags im kinda just existing, and thats fine by me. hitting 500+ follows on twt was like peak realization of me going like "oh shit, 😨 maybe this big of a following aint for me" and it truly isnt lol

[amarantine-amirite]

Pumpkin Dilemma

I've never had a date with James where it was just us. We always went on a double date.

So far, we've shared our dates with his parents, his brother and the weird goth girl whose name escapes me, and my grandfather and the bikini model. I haven't really gotten to know whether my relationship with James is going to last past high school. To be honest, I don't think it will last to the end of the month. Based on what I've seen with his parents and brother, the odds look grim.

This is our fourth date. This time, we're going pumpkin picking. We're doubling with Boris and Angela. Boris is James's father's boss's son, and Angela is some poor girl with terrible executive functions.

"This'll be fun," Boris said, "Why don't we carve pumpkins anymore?"

"I haven't carved pumpkins since the sixth grade," I said.

James tipped his head to one side "What changed? Isabel," he asked me, "I kind of want to know"

"Well," I began, "some kid in my class who couldn't wipe without bemoaning the plight of those employed by the toilet paper industry gave a speech about how she found carving pumpkins on Halloween to be deeply triggering."

Angela laughed, "What was her problem?"

"She insisted it brought back memories of the Great Pumpkin Massacre."

That comment opened a window into how Gracie behaved. At first, I thought it was a joke. She insisted it wasn't. Next, I thought she meant the time that four unknown students destroyed 40 pumpkins grown by the eighth-grade class for the school's upcoming fall festival. She showed me a headline referring to something else: Killer In Helmet Made Of Jack-O-Lantern Stabs 500 To Death.

Long story short, it wasn't pumpkins that had been massacred. It was people. And she was a survivor. It then occurred to me that she got offended by everything in sight because people wrote off her trauma as a joke. Everybody's going to laugh if you survive something known as the Great Pumpkin Massacre.

It's been years since I carved a pumpkin. It seems pretty straightforward. First, you get a pumpkin. Then you draw your design. You then cut a hole in the pumpkin, remove the guts, and then cut out the shapes. Finally, you put your handiwork out on the front porch and hope the squirrels don't massacre the results.

Getting the pumpkin is not as easy as it sounds. You can get a pumpkin at either a pumpkin patch or a retailer like a hardware or grocery store. The problem is that the store only operates from 10:00 a.m. to 3:00 p.m. If you can get in, you won't be able to figure out where the hell they keep the pumpkins. Even if by some miracle you do manage to find them, the pumpkins are expensive and not very good.

Most people go to a pumpkin patch. Not only do pumpkin patches have better stock, but you also get a classic fall experience. That's both a good and a bad thing. Most pumpkin patch operators are sick of badly-mannered morons swarming to get yet another photo for whatever dumb IG account they have, so they restrict walk-ins. Pumpkin patches only let in group events like corporate team building, weddings, bachelor parties, and the like. Not only do those folks behave themselves, they make more money catering to those groups. Kids under the age of 18 aren't allowed unless they're with a school group.

And the result? You end up waiting in line for four hours to pick pumpkins. And depending on how thoroughly this place checks IDs, we could essentially be waiting for nothing.

Angela looked around. The line didn't seem to move. "Do you see a problem?" she asked us. We could see her getting frustrated

"What problem?" James asked.

"This line." Angela groaned, "What if the pumpkin patch doesn't exist?"

Boris sat there with a confused look on his face, looking confused. "How...how could it not exist?" he asked.

Angela bounded up and down on her toes and launched into a rant. "We went to Boston last year for my grandpa's 100th birthday, and we wanted to go to this restaurant called Original Spanish Kitchen. Original Spanish Kitchen had five stars from no less than 100 distinct reviews. There were tons of photos of the place on TripAdvisor, Wikipedia, and the like. We called them and they answered the phone. Can't miss, right?"

"So how was it?" I asked.

"It didn't exist! When we arrived at the address, the cashier couldn't figure out why we'd have a dinner reservation at a fishing store."

James had no idea what Angela was talking about. "What's your point?"

Angela huffed, "My point is pictures on the internet don't make it real. And that's why I can't wait for something. What if it doesn't exist?"

I saw where Angela came from. I also have an aversion to waiting in line.

It happened when we were in Los Angeles for a vacation. I couldn't have been older than four. Me, my father, and my two cousins waited in line at Taco Bell for about an hour and a half. The line stretched back to an intersection a mile away, holding up the traffic. If I recall correctly, a family of Canadian tourists ordered a sandwich without the bread, and the request slowed operations down to a crawl.

At the point where we were third in line to place our order, Dad took us back to the hotel. We turned on the TV and saw a news story about a robbery at the Taco Bell. The robbers started to take hostages. The whole thing taught me that waiting in long lines was more trouble than it was worth.

Angela and I asked James and Boris to save our spots and went up to the front. We discovered an empty tent and a van with the NYU Faculty of Psychology logo on it. Two people sat in the van, apparently keeping track of how many people left the line.

Angela was right. The pumpkin patch wasn't real. From the looks of it, it appeared to be a psychology experiment intended to measure how long people will wait in line for something before they decide they're wasting their time and leave.

The next day, I saw a news story about a bar fight at a sports bar in Trenton, New Jersey being connected to an NYU psychology experiment. Besides the sports bar in Trenton, the researchers set up shop at an upscale restaurant in Toronto, Ontario, Canada, a Christmas tree farm in Sherbrooke, Quebec, Canada, and the pumpkin patch that we went to. Honestly, the whole thing felt more like a prank than an experiment.

@scealaiscoite

[malfoysstilinski]

pretty sights | draco malfoy smut

draco malfoy x fem!reader

summary: draco walks in on you masturbating on his bed and talks you through it before finishing you off himself.

warnings: smut, female and male masturbation, fingering, eating out, praise kink but also some degradation, slight cum play, maybe more?

word count: 2.1k 

a/n: this was meant to be less than 500 words for a blurb but i got carried away--

Draco was late. The two of you had been hooking up for a few months now, right under the noses of all of your friends, and he was easily the best you’d ever had. He’d slipped you a note that morning, telling you to be in his prefect dorm by seven that night-- no excuses. 

Yet here you were, all alone, no Draco in sight at all. You sighed, shutting your eyes as you lay your body across his silk sheets. They were the same Slytherin green that he loved, making you smile a little as you skimmed your fingers across them. His scent surrounded you; the green apple of his shampoo, the expensive cologne you bought him every year for his birthday. 

It was hard not to get turned on when you thought about all of the things that had happened on this bed. All of the words he’d said to you, all of the things he’d done to you and promised to do to you again and again and again until you were sick of it. You were sure you would never get sick of Draco and his fingers or his tongue or his cock. 

Without thinking too much about it, you sighed and wriggled on his bed so your head was comforted by his pillow. Your hand snaked down past the waistband of your school skirt, past your panties, touching your cunt. Your hands were cold from the coolness of the Slytherin dungeons, making you gasp. 

“Fuck…” You whispered, arching your back slightly to get a better angle at your clit. 

Waves of arousal surged through you as you began to rub yourself, feeling it throb beneath you as wetness collected around your entrance, dampening your fingers slightly as you slid them down. Swallowing, you threw your head back and closed your eyes, small breathy whimpers leaving your lips as you thought about Draco. 

“Are you imagining those are my fingers, darling?”

You glanced up, barely phased by Draco’s silent entrance into his bedroom. He stood leaning against the door, his arms folded and his silver eyes dark. His jaw was slightly clenched as if he was restraining himself from marching over to the bed and finishing your job himself. 

“Mhm,” you gave a small hum and a nod, deciding to part your legs a little so that he could see what you were doing better. 

Draco nearly groaned at your words, his lips parting slightly as he strode over. He kneeled on the end of the large bed, grabbing your knees with his large hands and parting them even further. Your actions didn’t stop on your clit, your fingers drawing circles that he couldn’t see properly past the lacy panties that you were wearing. 

Hiking your skirt up, he then reached forward and pulled at your panties. You moved your hand so he could tug them all the way down, but quickly returned your hand. Draco’s tongue darted out and wetted his top lip, entranced by your movements. 

“Are they as good as my fingers?” Draco questioned, voice darker than usual.

“No,” you whispered, sliding your middle finger down to your entrance and thrusting it inside, curling it the best you could. “Yours are so much longer. Feel so much better inside me. Thicker and deeper.”

Draco nearly looked like he was drunk, sort of dazed as he focused on your pleasuring yourself. He’d never seen you do it before, he’d always been the one making you feel good. His cock felt hard in his trousers, throbbing as it begged to be inside of you. Draco refrained from palming himself, tracing circles on your knee as he studied you. 

“Add another finger, pretty girl,” Draco murmured, “Stretch yourself wider for me.”

Chewing down on your bottom lip, you did as you were told, sliding your ring finger inside as well. Draco’s mouth parted a little further, his hand now gripping your knee a little as you began to slide your fingers in and out of your dripping cunt. He watched the way you curled them upwards, but he could tell that your own fingers didn’t do it for you like his own did. 

“Go faster,” Draco ordered, “I want to hear how wet you are.”

Your breath hitched but nevertheless you obeyed. Thrusting in and out of your cunt, you threw your head back and allowed your thumb to simultaneously rub at your clit. You wished he would take over and fuck you as hard and fast as he wanted into his green, silky sheets, but this was also arousing-- the coil in your stomach beginning to tighten already.

“Does rubbing your clit feel good, princess?” Draco whispered. 

“Yes,” you whimpered.

“Pull out your fingers,” he commanded, watching with a smirk as you followed everything he said. “Let me lick them clean for you. Don’t want a drop to go to waste.”

You sat up a little, Draco moving to hover over you, his hand hand supporting his weight. You guided your fingers towards his mouth, watching as he opened his mouth and stuck his tongue out slightly. A gush of wetness dampened your cunt even further, a moan escaping your lips as he took your fingers into his mouth, sucking lightly whilst looking you in the eye. 

He smirked around your fingers, the tip of his tongue cleaning you before he pulled away with a small pop. Breathlessly, you reached for him and tugged his face close to yours, your lips smashing against his. Draco’s mouth worked against yours like magic, like you were made for one another, his other hand moving to grab the back of your neck and bring you even closer.

���So good for me,” Draco muttered as he pulled away, his forehead against yours. “You’re my little slut, aren’t you? You’d do anything I say…”

“Anything,” you promise with a nod.

Draco bit his lip and then grinned, grabbing you by the neck and forcing you down against his pillows. You gasped as you looked up at him, feeling his hand snake down between your legs. He swiped a finger through your folds without breaking eye contact, causing your back to arch a little, thrusting your hips as he cupped your cunt with his large, cool hand. 

“So fucking wet…” He muttered, “Did imagining that it was me make you wanna cum, darling?”

“So bad,” you whispered. 

You were nearly cut off by two of his fingers thrusting straight into your entrance. It was so abrupt that you cried out, your head snapping backwards. The sound vibrated through the hand that Draco had wrapped around your neck, his thumb rubbing over your pulse point as he thrust his fingers in and out of you. The sounds that were being made nearly made you blush, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as he curled his fingers, hitting spots that you could never reach by yourself. 

“Good girl,” Draco growled, “Such a good fucking girl for me. You know that nobody can make you cum like I do, don’t you? Not even yourself anymore. I’ve ruined you for even yourself.”

You could barely nod against him, your head too fuzzy. You felt like you were on cloud nine, small screams ripping past your lips when his thumb found your clit. He rubbed at it harshly, feeling your legs tremble. 

Draco pulled his fingers out of your cunt and retracted his hand from your throat. You squirmed as he moved down your body, grabbing your hips and pinning you down against the mattress so you couldn’t move. Your entire body shook a little as you felt him spit on your cunt. 

He moved one arm away and swirled his spit around your pussy, mixing it with your arousal before diving down. He didn’t ease you into it like normal, didn’t lick a stripe through your folds and then kitten lick at your clit, but wrapped his entire mouth around your swollen bud and began to suck. 

“Draco!” You moaned, reaching down and grabbing at his platinum hair, tugging slightly. “Fuck! Fuck, just like that…”

Draco made slurping noises and moaned against your cunt, enjoying the waves of wetness that coated his tongue as he lifted from your clit to thrust slightly at your entrance. Squeezing your eyes shut, you threw your head back and whined, desperate for some sort of release.

His moans against you grew more frequent so you lifted your head slightly, finding Draco rolling his hips against the bed. He thrusted his tongue in and out of your entrance a few times before peering up at you, silver eyes dark and hazy. 

“Have I ever told you how much eating you out fucking turns me on?” Draco muttered, grabbing your knees and yanking your legs apart again from where you had begun to squeeze them together for some sort of pressure. 

He delivered a smack to your clit, causing you to whimper. “Do not shut your legs,” he hissed, “Or I’ll leave you here alone to get off by yourself again.”

“No, no-- please,” you begged him. 

Draco’s smirk widened as he palmed himself through his trousers, bending down to suck at your clit. You felt his teeth nibble slightly, your mouth shaking as it dropped open. His hand that wasn’t currently unbuttoning his trousers moved to thrust fingers inside of you, fucking in and out of you whilst his tongue lapped you up and swirled around your swollen bud. 

The coil in your stomach was growing tighter and tighter, your teeth clamping down on your lips. You peered down at him again, moaning even louder when you realised that Draco had his hand in his underwear and was pumping at his cock whilst he got you off. 

“Please let me cum,” you sobbed, “Please, Draco. I’m gonna cum!”

Draco thrusted his fingers in harsher, lapping you up quicker. His tongue was flat against your clit, his breath hitting you in the most delicious way. You felt him nod and knew that permission had been granted. It didn’t take long before you tumbled over the edge, cumming all over Draco’s tongue. Your walls squeezed at his fingers, Draco groaning into you, sending vibrations across your body. 

“So fucking hot…” He muttered as he pulled his finger out of you and kneeled between your legs.

He pushed his trousers down and pumped his cock, rubbing his hand up and down it. It looked like he was going to cum any moment, hard as ever and leaking precum. Then, Draco moved to hover over you, his hands either side of your head. You thought he was going to thrust himself inside of you and use your body until he came, but then one of his hands reached down to guide his cock through your folds. 

You whimpered, feeling his dick slide through your arousal and hit your clit. Draco thrusted his hips, rubbing his cock up and down your wet cunt, pressing into your clit every now and then. His mouth dropped open a little and then he swallowed thickly, glancing down between your bodies to watch his cock slide between your folds, hard and red and glistening with your cum. 

“Fuck, gonna cum all over your beautiful cunt,” Draco hissed, giving a few more thrusts before you felt his hot seed spill all over you. “Yeah, that’s it. Take my cum.”

Draco groaned loudly, burying his head in your neck, his lips nipping at you for a moment or two. Your hands moved to his pale back where you grazed your nails up and down his skin, thrusting your hips up to apply some more pressure to his cock. It jerked slightly when he was finished cumming and he pulled away, studying the mess that he had made all over you. 

“Fuck…” Draco muttered, “I’m not sure there’s a prettier sight than this… You covered in my cum.”

His fingers moved to swirl in his cum and he dipped them down to your entrance, thrusting it inside of you. He scooped more and did the same, painting you with it. Your body trembled and you swore, watching lazily as he rubbed your clit a few more times. You shuddered and came, this time less intense than the last, his name falling from your lips over and over again. 

“Maybe I’ll turn up late again if I get to walk in on you getting off on my bed,” Draco muttered, leaning up and brushing your hair out of your face with his clean hand. He slipped his messy one into your mouth, letting you clean it for him. “Fancy a bath now?”

You chuckled breathlessly and nodded. “You read my mind.”

[thewoodshungers-if]

Aen’frie - The Sting of Iron

500 Followers Special - Hurt/Comfort, Angst

For someone who literally lived in the woods, Aen’frie was not someone who goes out often. At least, not out of the woods itself. The city are full of iron and knights and those two combinations together never results in something good for Aen. 

The one time they did though, they thought they’ve hit gold. Some idiotic and obscenely rich noble ate up all of their taunts, and they had won a bet between them, effectively robbing the poor man of his riches. That guy’s gold are rightfully theirs then, right? So why is it that they’re curled up in a jail cell in the middle of the fucking capital?

Aen didn’t know the name of the knight in charge of them (a shame, but they’ll work on getting it), but the knight was insulted often. Bastard. Hybrid. Watered-down noble. The Alloyed Knight never said anything, eyes cold but burning with embers of spite and maybe.. loneliness. 

The best kind of person, just the right flavor that Aen likes. 

Everyday, the knight would stand in front of their cell, back facing them. Aen did not pull their punches. They would smile and then the smile would turn into a smirk, and then the smirk would turn into a taunt. Then a promise of whispered sweet-nothings, that they would take it all away, that Aen could silence them all. 

Most times, The Alloyed Knight would just stand there unmoving, as if they didn’t hear anything. A paragon of justice and virtue who would stand like a guard dog even when their peers would drink and play cards at the end of the hallway. 

Aen has been thrown into human jail thrice including this little trip into the no-magic dungeons in the capital. Their first warden cursed and spat at them with no inhibition, their second warden completely terrified of them, harmless fae. They slipped their name out of their lips with no problem. Their warden this time, however, was somebody they couldn’t read. 

The knight ignored them all day long before setting down their dinner gently in front of them. Aen didn’t miss the way there’s somehow extra servings of bread and even jam sneaked into their tray of prison food. Nevertheless, the knight gazed at them with a cold glare before turning away to ignore them again. 

But today, their shoulders tensed the moment Aen leaned closer to whisper at their ear, careful not to touch the iron bars. They’re getting closer, the knight’s name is within arm’s reach, and they could feel it. So they inched closer, “Aren’t you sick of those assholes? I have a hundred ways I could silence them”

They stopped, letting their voice drop to a husky whisper, “Or.. I can distract you from-”

The Alloyed Knight turned to face them, eyes downcast and red, and just like that, Aen’s confidence plunged into the cold waters. The knight slowly looked up, eyes the widest they’ve ever seen, searching for something in theirs, “Can you?” 

Yes, anything you wish for, all I need is your full name. 

“Can I what?” 

What is wrong with his tongue? Why did they say that? They just need to push the knight a bit more. 

Aen half-thought the knight was laughing at his question.. because.. Well, their shoulders are shaking, and they had just said something stupid. What else would that mean? But tears slid down their cheeks as they let out a quiet sniff, arms and fingers tensing against the bars of their cell. 

Their heart stopped. 

They’re intent on getting the knight’s name, and this is the right time. Just a little push, just one more false smile and the knight’s name will be theirs. So why. Why?

Instead of feeding them lies and promises, they couldn’t say anything, voice dying in their throat at the sight of the knight’s quiet tears. The knight grits their teeth, jaw tensing as they roughly wiped at the tears sliding down their cheek. Their pride stands in the way, keeping them from revealing all their pain to the inmate they’re in charge of, but the floodgate has already burst open. 

Instead of pulling them closer to whisper false dreams at them, Aen reached out, hands slipping between the bars of their cell, fuck the risk of touching iron, and wiped at their tears with their thumb. 

Their arms stung with the sting of iron, it burned, eating at the strip of their exposed skin, but they didn’t draw their hand back. The knight’s cheeks were warm under their touch, their hand immediately taking Aen’s into their grasp, clinging for assurance. 

The knight’s nails dug into Aen’s hands, but they didn’t draw their hand back. Not when the knight’s breath hitched before they let out a shaky sigh, jaw tensing and yet they didn’t pull away from Aen’s touch. 

They’re close, the knight’s name were within their grasp, but no words come spilling out of their mouth. 

The fee Aen slipped from the knight wasn’t their name this time. It’s that extra serving of bread and jam. They’ve always been naive and stupid for a fae, they’re sure anyone who learnt of this would never let them live this down. 

Aen ignored the sting of iron, this is nothing for them. The warmth of the knight’s hands didn’t go unnoticed. Aen’s hands were now damp with their tears, and yet their hands felt feverish even compared to the sting of iron on their arm. They pulled away as quickly as they showed their tears, leaving to get them their dinner with an extra serving a of jam.

They noticed the way the knight wouldn’t look at them in the eye, the way their voice was tinged with a warning to never address what had just happened before. 

The knight didn’t show up the next day. They’ve laid the broken pieces of their heart before Aen, warm hands gripping their hand like a lifeline, and they ran off just like that, took out a week-long leave. In their place was another knight. 

She’s the Alloyed Knight’s junior, heart pinned on their sleeve with a facade made of glass. A promise of coins once Aen can use magic outside the palace was enough to make her turn to them. 

Aen would’ve liked to wait for that Alloyed Knight. They won’t be able to run from their duties forever, after all. But their execution was in three days. And they wouldn’t know what to do if the knight had gone back to ignoring them, had pretended that nothing has happened. 

Why does it matter anyways? 

That knight was just a plaything that slipped between their fingers. 

Maybe next time, they’ll have the resolve to slip their name from their grasp. To weave their name together with their magic. To keep their unsaid promises. If that knight would even stop avoiding them, that is. 

Aen’frie was not someone who took pity on others. They’re merely intrigued of what that knight has hidden beneath their aloof face and cold stare. Of how their facade would crack if they smiled. Merely intrigued on what would happened if they gained their victory. 

They do not take pity on other. Never.

Right?

[cafedanslanuit]

Legend

♡   —   personal favourites

☆   —   fan favourites

♠   —   nsfw

♫   —   includes songs

Headcanons

RFA + Saeran - Dirty Dancing  ♫ ♡

RFA + Saeran - MC wants to have her own business

RFA - MC is ten years older than them ♡

RFA - What goes through their mind when they’re cuddling? ☆

RFA + Vanderwood - Having a rebellious kid ♡

RFA - MC can’t sleep unless with them

RFA - A bubbly MC makes self-deprecating jokes as a coping mechanism ♡

RFA - MC that is bubbly, confident and never afraid to stand up for someone

Yoosung dragging MC back to bed because it’s raining

RFA + V - MC blasts music when she’s upset ♫

RFA + V + Saeran - MC with a passion for anime and drawing

RFA + V + Saeran - MC with a major in fashion

RFA + Saeran - Quarantine edition ♡

RFA + V + Saeran + Obey Me! brothers on a trip to the beach ♡ ☆

RFA - MC with a hand fetish

MC has Jumin trying commoner food

Zen + Jumin + Saeyoung - MC is selfconscious about being chubby and they make her feel better  ♠ ♡

Jumin comforts MC about a guy who is texting her constantly and making her upset

RFA reacts to a MC that is called Elizabeth

RFA + V + Saeran - As Les Misérables songs  ♫ ♡

Saeyoung messes with Yoosung’s phone to help him out

Saeyoung x MC - MC makes her own music

Latina!MC and Jumin get stuck with MC’s latino parents during quarantine ♡

RFA + Saeran - MC gets her wisdom teeth out ♡ ☆

RFA + V + Saeran - MC has a bad coping mechanism of punching her thighs (tw!)

Domestic Texts Series: Zen & MC || Saeran & MC ♡

RFA - MC is obsessed with Elizabeth the 3rd

RFA + V + Saeran with a MC that likes going to protests

RFA - MC grew up in really bad poverty

RFA + V + Saeran - They find out MC is only eighteen after everything that happened during their routes ☆

RFA - How do they calm MC when she’s anxious?

RFA - MC has dyslexia

RFA - MC with chronic pain

Royal AUs with Jumin, Zen and Yoosung

Love Language Event with Yoosung, Zen, Jumin, Saeyoung, Saeran and V

Happy New Year Event with Saeyoung, Saeran, Zen, V and Yoosung

Thirst Asks [+18]

[All Asks]

[Jumin] [Jihyun] [Yoosung]

Fanfiction

Mystic Messenger as failed love stories  ♡

reminiscing about the characters and your failed love stories in an alternate universe

You get me ♡

What happens when you’ve finally found your prince charming, but he doesn’t seem to fit in your life anymore?

Bet you can’t leave me

Mystic Messenger Week 2020. “The first time she threatened to leave me, I felt like I was dying.”

Who are you?

Drabble prompt - Zen always sought recognition for his work. Lately, he’s been using other resource to achieve his goals.

Dance with me

Latina!MC tries to teach Zen to dance bachata.

Jealousy [Kinktober 2020 - Day 2] ♠

When Zen agreed to be MC's plus one at a fancy party, he never expected she would lock them both inside a bathroom in a fit of jealousy. The hunger in her eyes could only indicate she was about to remind him who he was with.

A plan gone wrong [Mysme Angst Week - Day 1]

You convinced Zen to stage a fake coffee date in order to give Jumin, your fiancé, a wake up call about how much he had been ignoring you lately. However, things don't go as planned.

i could buy you anything but i cannot buy you  ♠ ♡

[kinktober 2021 - day fifteen: body worship] Zen had always had the need to be in control for a lot of years. (...) His guard may not be up as much as it did back then, but to this day Zen still takes a second look at any situation he’s in. He can’t let anything drive him away from his acting career so he always has to give his best and not take anything for granted.

You get me  ♡

What happens when you’ve finally found your prince charming, but he doesn’t seem to fit in your life anymore?

I always wanted to marry rich

Jumin Han stood with his hand holding the doorknob, not believing what he had just heard. There was no way this was happening. Not days before his wedding. Not only that, days before he married who he thought was the love of his life. The one who he thought he could trust, the one that didn’t ask for anything but his love and attention.

Home

You are staying at Jaehee’s after Jumin did something that made you really angry. While staying there, you start feeling sick and end up at the hospital. What you first thought was nothing to worry about, quickly turns into a nightmare that could change your relationship.

Sweet Creature  ♫ ♡

Jumin gets stuck in another country away from his wife due to the pandemic. He’s been having trouble falling asleep, so MC decides to tell him a bedtime story. A simple request ends up making Jumin open up about a small insecurity he had over his wife and his best friend.

If I could tell him  ♫

Request: “can i request a jumin fic where MC has a crush on jumin but is very shy and so ends up talking with the other members more and then jumin confronts her about it and she accidentally confesses/he confesses.”

Animal I Have Become  ♫

500 followers event. “So what if you can see the darkest side of me? No one will ever change this animal I have become. Help me believe it’s not the real me.”

Young God ♫  ♠

500 followers event. “He says: “Oh, baby girl, don’t get cut on my edges. I’m the king of everything, you know my tongue is a weapon. There’s a line on the clock that’s separating your thighs, if you wanna go to Heaven you should fuck me tonight.”

Crowded Room  ♫ ♡ ☆

500 followers event. “Baby, it’s just me and you, just us two, even in a crowded room, baby it’s just me and you” - [SMAU Epilogue]

Dear Jumin ♡ ☆

What if after all the events that happened during Jumin’s route, he didn’t fall in love with MC?

A new life

When MC gets into a car accident, Jumin ends up with her medical records. He never thought he would find out about what happened to his wife six years ago.

You see me in my room, wish you were here right now [Kinktober 2020 - Day 12] ♠ ☆

Jumin Han clicks on a pop-up ad and gets stuck into a cam girl website. As he waits for someone to come to his penthouse and fix his laptop, he can't help but notice a young woman giggling as she read through he comment section. From that moment on, he's hooked. And he can't wait to see more of her.

Sometimes I think about Elizabeth [Mysme Angst Week - Day 3]

Jumin tries to deal with the grief of losing Elizabeth the 3rd.

A late night conversation

A late night conversation with Jumin takes another turn into a much better scenario. [Fix-it fic for Jumin's DLC. Set on Episode 3]

Seven Minutes in Heaven - Holidays Edition  ♠

You’re home for the holidays and your friends invite you to a party. After a couple of drinks, one of them proposes playing seven minutes in heaven and makes everyone at the party leave an item of theirs in a small basket. When it’s finally your turn, you walk over and inspect the items before choosing the one that will decide your fate for the night.

A day off

For @/mysme-rbb event! You convince Jumin to take a small trip to the theme park. Taking into consideration it was the first time either of you had stepped foot in a place like that, it went exactly like expected.

you know i’m just a flight away (if you wanted you could take a private plane) ♠ ♡ ☆

[kinktober 2021 - day five: sex tape] Knowing Jumin is about to leave on yet another work trip, you suggest recording something for him to see while away. A little souvenir so he doesn't miss you too much- but now he's not sure he wants to leave at all.

Superstar  ♫

500 followers event. “Before I met you, I pushed them all away / Soon as I kissed you, I wanted you to stay.”

What you always wanted

Mystic Messenger Week 2020. As MC’s anniversary with Saeyoung is approaching, she asks her friends of the RFA for advice on what present is the best one. After several recommendations, she decides on what she should give him. Her only hope is that he’ll be happy with her choice.

The Ghost Of You   ♡   [ Vietnamese translation ]

A love story between a man with a mysterious job and a nurse during the Second World War. “And all the things that you never ever told me and all the smiles that are ever gonna haunt me. Never coming home, never coming home.”

Loving You ☆

Drabble Prompt. “I am profoundly enchanted by the flowing complexity in you.” - John Keats

Discoveries [Kinktober 2020 - Day 27] ♠

After you find a transparent light blue dildo hidden in Saeyoung's room, the question hangs in the air. Why not trying it out together?

Lost on you [Mysme Angst Week - Day 2]

A discussion about how to handle Saeran's recovery turns into the worst fight Saeyoung and MC have ever had. Both of them bring back past memories that should have never been talked about, in a desperate try to prove their point, not noticing how much they're tearing their relationship apart.

Just like him [Mysme Angst Week - Day 7]

No one teaches you how to grief. Sometimes you just do whatever it helps the pain go away.

give me the stars

For @/gureishi’s event. A small piece to celebrate Saeyoung’s birthday. A late-night escapade for two young lovers.

Wildest Dreams  ♫ ♡

500 followers event. Slightly NSFW. “He says no one has to know what we do, his hands are in my hair, his clothes are in my room.”

Seven Minutes in Heaven - Holidays Edition ♠

You’re home for the holidays and your friends invite you to a party. After a couple of drinks, one of them proposes playing seven minutes in heaven and makes everyone at the party leave an item of theirs in a small basket. When it’s finally your turn, you walk over and inspect the items before choosing the one that will decide your fate for the night.

Beautiful  ♡

Jihyun has a couple of burn scars on his torso after the fire that took his mother’s life. You make sure you know he loves every part of him.

Wait for me

When the pandemic starts, MC gets stuck in another country, away from Saeran who was just starting his recovery. She tries to work a system with him so they can feel close even when they’re kilometres apart.

How ♫

500 followers event. “I’m asking for your help, I am going through hell, afraid nothing can save me but the sound of your voice.”

Vanilla ♠ ♡ ☆

NSFW. Saeran’s favourite place was between MC’s legs.

Apricity

Drabble Prompt. He never understood the reason behind this change (...). All he knew was that when winter came, he would start feeling tired out of nowhere and he would lose his appetite.

Gardening

Drabble Prompt. In which Saeyoung and MC break one of Saeran’s pot and they try to cover it up before he gets home.

All I’ve Ever Known  ♡ ☆

Drabble Prompt. Saeran has some doubts before his wedding. Thankfully, you’re there to send all his worries away.

Not to be able to love

Drabble Prompt. He wants to love her, he does. But when you’ve been through that much, it gets hard to love and not need.

Four Seasons (15 chapters)  ♠ ♡

Saeran’s After Ending. Saeran has finally found MC and is ectasic to finally be able to enjoy the good ending his tumultous life has reached. But with Saeyoung still missing and Mint Eye around, his happiness may have to wait a little more. Was love really capable to win against his inner demons or will he have to learn to fight for himself?

In another life [Mysme Angst Week - Day 4]

When MC knows her time is coming, she promises Saeran she will do whatever it takes to find him in another life. The only mistake was that she didn't expect to find him like that.

Our time

Saeran is saying his goodbyes but this time, you decide not to let him go. || Fix-it fic for Saeran's After Ending

even in the dark

For @/gureishi’s event. A small piece to celebrate Saeran’s birthday. Some days are better than others. But the people who love us stay through it all.

[og-danny-dorito]

{ Some SFW Tamaki Headcanons For Your Daily Dose Of Somft™}

OKAY hi hello, I know I've been gone for a while but I'm kinda back now since ive had a burst of inspiration lately for no reason in particular. This is partially cause I actually just finished watching BNHA and good lord, let me tell you bro- I have WAY too many thoughts about this dude for it to be a normal infatuation so here we go! -w-;

- FIRST of all, I'm like 90% sure this dude listens to like really soft cute music like Lofi remixes or those rlly cute anime openings that give off Soft Boy vibes???

- he's like a soft person in general already so its kindof a given. he really likes pastel colors a whole lot for that reason cause they're more muted and subtle and aren't completely overbearing

- he actually owns like, 40 oversized pastel sweaters with various prints and designs on them for that reason. that and oversized soft sweaters are year-round

- most of his clothes are kinda oversized though?? like if you've watched the anime and can see how his shirt fits him I'm like 90% sure it's like a size bigger than it should be (his natural size is a medium in men's, I'm assuming, since he's like canonically 5'9" and not really muscular). his hero costume is also a little bigger than it should be in some areas and it fits around him like a big blanket

- there are MULTIPLE reasons for this imo, but the main two are that he's A) self conscious and therefore less confident in things that fit him better, and B) likes feeling like things aren't constricting him like tight shirts do

- on the self-conscious point, he already has issues with about like 500 other things that concern himself, so why not physical???

- let me explain- his form is naturally slim, which means that he hasn't really ever been as physically muscular as the other heroes (mostly cause his quirk burns up most of his calories and he has a naturally fast metabolism), and is consistently reminded of it

- he doesn't want other people to think of him as less or weaker in the general public because he doesn't look as physically strong as the other heroes, so he wears clothes that aren't very form fitting to hide this fact and therefore avoid the possibility of criticism of is physical features

- also, you're on tumblr, the land of people who are or have been physically self conscious for whatever reason, so it's pretty safe to assume that you've worn/wear oversized clothing. do you know how comfy they are??? it's like being wrapped in a formless blanket that makes it feel as if you arent able to be subject to criticism from others. it's literally the BEST

- his closet really just consists of things that are bigger than him really, but he does have some skinny jeans and a few formal outfits that fit him properly. his figure is actually kind of cute in a way since he's more on the slim/muscular side but if you EVER tell him he looks handsome in something that's more fitting than he ususally wears he will have a slightly boosted self confidence but amplified anxiety, no exceptions

- but he doesnt really like receiving compliments to be honest, and there's a few reasons for that

- as a kid not many people talked to him so he would occasionally be subject to being outcast by others. as a child he knew that when the teachers were being too nice to him by complimenting his work or talking too him too much that it was out of pity. he felt like he was being patronized out of personal obligation to be inclusive and not in personal interest, so he still has some remnants of that mentality due to having grow up with that

- being given a serious and genuine compliment isn't something he's used to and quite frankly he might be a little uncomfortable if he doesn't know you very well

- if, however, he knows you well and trusts that your comments aren't out of spite or ill-intent, his face usually turns a bright shade of red as he either A) stutters out a nervous thank you or B) hides his face in his hands and refuses to say anything until it's subsided

- he'll usually try to compliment you back, even though its hard to hear over his incredibly soft voice. it's usually something about how nice you are or how he doesn't understand how someone like you can think that way about him, but he secretly really likes feeling like someone cares and appreciates him

- speaking of soft voices, I'm almost entirely convinced that he can sing. since he doesn't really go out with friends in his spare time since he basically only has two close ones, he usually either trains or, alternatively, sings

- its more of a subconscious thing to him to sing along when his favorite song is on, but he only does it when he's alone. the thing is that he thinks his voice is horrible since he hasn't had any extensive formal education in music and generally doesn't try that much to refine his skills manually but his singing voice is like, literally angelic

- seriously, if you get this man to sing 'Heather' by Conan Grey its like listening to some sort of ethereal being trying to lull you to sleep

- its not like he'd ever do this in public because of his anxiety and insecurities, but asking him nicely and swearing you won't tell anyone about it usually gets him to do it, albeit kinds shyly at first. it takes some working up to really, from him nervously singing gently to a song while his back is turned to you to just starting to hum along to songs by habit while you're around

- the only time he really does it to his own violation can be when you're sick (he cant say no to someone who's injured, it makes him feel terrible), when you're about to fall asleep, or even when he forgets that he's around other people and is doing some sort of chore or task around the house

- mentioning it to others makes him even more embarrassed than physically possible, and he usually covers his ears to mask the sounds of your praise about him. he hates drawing attention to himself and simply cannot Deal™ with the compliments he's receiving

- this is amplified if you're in a romantic relationship with him since, lets be completely honest here, he's literally never been in a relationship before

- I mean like, if that one girl who was with him for a week in 5th grade counts for anything, then I guess he's been in one before but other than that he has no experience

- how does he accept compliments? how do you genuinely love him?? should he dress better when around you???? oh god, do you secretly hate a bunch of things about him and only like him because he's a good hero????

- there's literal pages in his search history dedicated to is panicked questioning about what he should do if you haven't told him you love him in more than a week, what he should do if he accidentally calls you the wrong name while making out/having sex, when it's acceptable to talk about getting a plant together without seeming like he wants to get married in that instant, etc.

- for this it doesn't matter whether or not you're experienced since its good both ways! someone who isn't experienced could help ease his nerves a bit since hey, you might not really know what you're doing ether, so you're both gonna mess up. if you're a little more experienced then you can help show him the ropes and probably might help him improve in future relationships if you ever decide you don't want him anymore. both win-win situations basically

-  it also doesn't really matter if you're male, female, or anything else since he's demisexual panromantic. your personality is basically the most important aspect to him, even though he still thinks you have the face of a god/goddess

- the first few weeks of the relationship are basically him figuring out when its okay to touch you and/or ask for you to touch him since he doesn't want to scare you off with how affectionate he can be

- and when I say affectionate, I mean like a full out cuddle-bug

- Tamaki is straight up touch starved so like jot that down. like high key he really didn't have much physical affection as a child and even now can’t really figure out how to do it since he doesn't have any experience with it. he still craves physical affection though, and consistently

- a good way to tell that he wants affection is that he sticks a little bit closer to you during the day. not exactly under your feet, but still in your space when he knows its appropriate. usually just giving him a long hug or hdoling his hand in private helps to alleviate it a little bit, but his favorite way to get affection is to sit down and either sit in your lap or have you sit in his lap

- the reason I say private though is because PDA makes him nervous. it already kinda draws attention to the two of you since the act of PDA is basically outing a relationship on display and that alone makes him nervous, so he usually avoids it unless its in a barely populated park, a quiet cafe, etc.

- so in public he's probably gonna stick close but not outwardly hold your hand by himself, but behind closed doors he's basically hanging on you wherever and however he can

- can you really blame him for liking you as much as you do? I mean you're patient with him, you genuinely like him, and you're so sweet that he doesn't even know what to do with himself. that, and you're super fascinating to observe

- not,,,- he doesn't mean that in a creepy way I swear. he means it like- he means that he likes watching you work because the way you move around catches his interest. part of his training is observing others and he already does it a lot due to being more of that type of person by default, so he can tell a lot about you just by watching you do simple tasks such as cleaning the floor or doing some work you need to get done

- his observance makes him a great partner when it comes to remembering small things about you like your favorite color, how you do your hair in the mornings, what your favorite band(s) is/are, and more! expect him to bring you small gifts that reminded him of you because of something you said four months ago at a very specific time and a very specific date and a very specific location

- this applies to anyone that he really knows or pays special attention to really, but you're one of those people that he subconsciously has encyclopedic knowledge of because he thinks about you so much all the time

- anyway, we're getting to the end so lets get to my favorite part of the list- miscellaneous headcanons! :

he really likes Conan Grey and Lofi remixes of songs that he likes since they're more on the calming side and less intense and help his nerves go down if he's feeling anxious

when he does get severely anxious he curls into a ball and pulls at his ears and cries. he's unresponsive for this time but usually just letting him calm down after a little bit on his own or telling him softly to listen to you helps

he likes insectariums a while lot, specifically the butterfly rooms where you can walk through and let them fly around you. for some reason they tend to be more prone to lighting on him than anyone else, even though he only really wears dark colors and doesn't make an effort to get them around him

he has some purple fairy lights set up above his bed in his room that look like glowing butterflies cause he thought they were cute

he's incredibly good at cooking complex and simple dishes since he usually has to eat large amounts of certain things for his ability, and almost always cooks for the two of you if you're staying long enough to eat with him. he's arguably one of the best home-taught chefs at UA besides Bakugo even though they specialize i different areas of cooking basically

- well, it looks like thats the end for this list! Tamaki is such a sweet dude, really. being his friend or lover is like having a cheerleader, an endlessly loyal supporter, and an eternally loving partner (and more) all rolled into one. once you've been nice to him like once he's automatically favoring you over others. it may be hard to try to help him get more comfortable with the things he's anxious with, but he's a fast learner and if it makes you happy it makes him happy too

- Be careful with him, and you've got a friend for life!

[ ~Thank You For Reading, and if you think I missed anything please let me know in the notes or in my inbox. Any feedback is heavily appreciated!~ ]

[dershloop]

i wrote this while sick nd did edit it while slightly less sick so excuse and weird discrepancies LMAO

Title: Get Well Soon, Gumball

Words: 1698

Warnings: a bit of swearing, some self-esteem/body issues mentioned

Relationships: Glacier, background Plasma

“Are you sure you should be training today Cole? You don’t look so good,” Jay said hesitantly, looking over at his friend concerned for his health.

“Yeah dude, you look rough. I’m surprised Zane even let you get out of bed,” Kai chimed in, narrowly avoiding a hard blow to the head from the automated training dummy.

“Don’t say my name too loud guys, he didn’t,” Cole croaked, “I just can’t afford to take a day off.”

“What?” Kai exclaimed, purposefully being as loud as he could to try to draw Zane’s attention from inside the monastery. This time, however, he wasn’t as lucky in regards to dodging the dummy while also attempting to look after his best friend, letting it land a well-placed blow to his ribs. “Fucking hell, ow,” He groaned from his new position on the dusty ground, splaying out his arms in legs, letting out loud, long, laboured breaths as he attempted to lessen the pain.

“Oh my God, firefly are you ok?” Jay said, abandoning his kendo helmet and Shinai on the ground as he rushed over to his boyfriend to help him up. Cole walked over too, though with a lot less urgency, not even taking off his helmet or dropping his own Shinai.

“Ok you definitely need to get back in bed,” Kai said through laboured breaths to Cole, taking Jay’s hand and hoisting himself up with a wince as his side stabbed with pain “You didn’t even drop your Shinai. I’ve known you for years and even if you’re feeling rough you’re always one of the first to help us if one of us falls. You’re not well.”

“I heard shouting, is everything ok?” Zane called, walking out into the yard to the sight of Jay fussing over Kai and Cole stood, fully geared out and standing shakily, looking as if he wasn’t 100% sure where he was.

“You’re boyfriends being a little shit,” Jay said, looking over at Zane as he practically dragged Kai away from the yard and towards Nya and Pixal’s workshop to get some kind of medical help for his extremely bruised and possibly broken ribs.

“Yeah Z, he is not ok. You need to sort him out and get him in bed,” Kai wheezed, hobbling slightly.

“Kai shut up before you do yourself anymore damage. This dumbass probably just broke a few ribs and he still has the nerve to lecture Cole about being out of bed. I hope he feels better soon, I’ll come and see him after I’ve dumped him on Nya and Pix,” Jay said, beginning to attempt to drag Kai away.

“You know you love me really,” Kai coyly remarked, stilling wheezing slightly. Jay didn’t respond, but Zane could tell he rolled his eyes.

Zane panned his eyes over to his own sick boyfriend, who was still standing, fully kitted out in his Kendo training gear. Even his shinai was hanging loosely from his large hands. He looked genuinely awful, worse than he had that morning in fact.

“Before you say anything, I feel fine,” Cole croaked, letting out a long sniff afterwards.

“Cole Hence Brookstone I told you to stay in bed,” Zane said sternly, looking over at the quivering mess of a boyfriend who was currently stood in front of him.

“I know but-”

“No buts, you’re coming with me right now.”

Cole knew better than to continue to protest; in situations like this, Zane usually got his way. Whether or not it was rightly so was down to interpretation. He shuffled through the blurred hallways, not 100% sure where he was going. He knew a bed of some kind would be involved but the question of whose bed was a largely unanswered one considering his brain was 300% more concentrated on keeping him upright and at least semi-conscious. The room he was led into was dark; too dark to be Zane’s and it wouldn’t be Kai, Jay, Lloyd or Nya’s because that’d be weird. Even he was conscious enough to know it was his room.

“Here, I’ll sort out your gear and stuff just try to relax,” Zane spoke softly, taking the kendo helmet off and placing it to the side, doing the same with the rest of his gear and gi. He then began sifting through Cole’s wardrobe, pulling out a hoodie and sweatpants to change into. Only then did he let him back into bed. Cole frowned and looked up at Zane from his place in bed.

“Get in with me. I need my teddy bear,” Cole groaned, his voice gravelly and even deeper than usual. Zane smiled.

“Ok, just give me a second to change. I doubt I’ll be leaving here for a while so there’s no point in being in my gi,” He said, walking over to Cole’s wardrobe again and pulling out a t-shirt and shorts, quickly changing and climbing into bed with him, any thought of training for at least that day discarded. Cole quickly readjusted himself, scooching over onto Zane, wrapping his arms and legs around him, resting his head on his chest for warmth.

“Why’d you get out of bed? I told you I’d be back with tea soon.” Zane said softly, running Cole’s hair through his fingers, twirling strands around and watching as the light reflected off it, showing at least another 10 hues shining through. The deep blues, browns and midnight blacks mingled and danced with the golden light streaming in through the curtains. It was beautiful. He was beautiful. Even if he didn’t always think so. Zane would always be there to remind him that he was.

“I can’t afford a day off,” Cole said hoarsely, “I’m already not as thin as you guys, the more days I take off the worse it’ll get.” Zane furrowed his brow and thought for a moment, trying to fully process what Cole had just said.

“Are you… saying what I think you’re saying? Because if you are, I’m going to have to take evasive measures,” Zane said matter of factly. If Cole really did think him being bigger was a bad thing, there would have to be action taken.

“What? You know it’s true. If I stop working out I’ll just get fatter, I can’t take a day off,” He croaked sadly, biting his lip. His head was spinning but he couldn’t just lay in bed all day; he had to do something. He had to at least get a few reps in.

“Hmmm,” Zane hummed, “It’s worse than I thought. Cole, it seems you are suffering from a serious case of negative body image. There’s only one known cure,” Cole laughed a little and played along.

“What is it, doc?”

“500 kisses and a whole day in bed of cuddles,” Zane replied stoically.

“Oh well then, someone who spent 2 hours downloading every episode of greys anatomy must know what they’re talking about,” Cole replied sarcastically, a goofy smile playing on his lips.

“Exactly, and I know you’re being sarcastic so I see I’m going to have to crank it up to 700 kisses.”

“Oh no! How terrible!” Cole gasped, still being sarcastic, however, it backfired as he began to cough aggressively.

“That’s what you get for being an asshole, I’m also cranking your prescription up to 1000 kisses but seeing as this might go on for a while, I’m capping it at that,” Zane said with a chuckled, rubbing his hand up and down Cole’s back slowly, just waiting for Cole to say the word so he could administer the treatment.

“You know me too well,” Cole laughed weakly, propping himself up on his chin which admittedly was uncomfortable but he was willing to endure so he could look at Zane’s beautiful face, “So doc, when’s the treatment starting?”

“How… about… now!” Zane exclaimed, beginning to pepper kisses all over Cole’s head and face, making Cole laugh hoarsely.

Zane pushed Cole off of him, pinning his arms down and kissing all up his arms and onto his hands and fingers, before moving to his torso and making sure every square inch was covered in his love. Eventually, he made his way back up to Cole’s face, making sure every little bit of his neck was covered as well, in some places even leaving small red marks behind. Whether or not they were unintentional, Zane would never tell. The final kiss was placed on Cole’s lips, making sure to press extra hard to accentuate his point.

“Wow, Z, you’re meticulous I’ll give you that,” Cole said through laughs shaking his head at the nindroid currently sat on his lap. His hands sat on his waist comfortably, a true testament to how much they really were meant to be. It was almost as if the sweet tin can sat on top of him was made for him.

“Why thank you. Are you cured?”

“If I say no, do I get more kisses?” Cole said coyly with a smirk, massaging circles into Zane’s waist with his thumbs.

“Depends. If you’re good and get in bed properly and don’t leave until your better, then most assuredly,” Zane said matter of factly, his own hands idly drifting over Cole’s torso. If he could see inside his mind for just a moment, Zane was sure he’d see himself the way he saw him. He was the perfect size for hugs and cuddles, and his larger stature just meant all the more Cole to hold and love. It also meant he could pick him up which, in their 2 years of dating, Zane was sure he’d never find it the most amazing and adorable thing ever.

“Oh well then, it’s settled,” Cole said quickly, moving Zane off of him and getting under the covers, quickly snuggling back into his chest. He could hear all the mechanical parts inside him buzzing and whirring, turning and pumping, keeping Zane alive. There was something comforting about the soft noises that emitted from his boyfriend that just radiated comfort. The mechanical buzz was a grounding constant. Always there, always around, always keeping him sane.

Zane smiled and wrapped his arm around Cole, holding him close.

“Get well soon, gumball.”

[ilguna]

Malefic - Metanoia (f.o)

Summary: you will be crowned victor of the 75th hunger games.

warnings; swearing, BLOOD MENTION, angst.

wc; 500-ish?

NOTES; i give reader a last name to fit the world.

I WROTE THIS AT 3AM. IT’S NOT FANTASTIC. IT’S A BLURB. DON’T TAKE IT TOO SERIOUSLY. THANKS.

–

“(Y/n), just stop.” Finnick says, his entire face is twisted in anger, he motions for you to leave.

“Stop what?” You ask, stalking towards him, “I thought you knew what you were getting into. You said so yourself, you knew me.”

“No, that’s not what I said—“

“Really? Because I have a pretty good recollection of it.” You tilt your head, “You were the one saying that you’d be here through thick and thin. That you could handle whatever I dished out.”

“This is not what I meant.” He hisses, eyes snapping to you.

For a moment, you want to be angry. But you don’t even get a chance, because a smug sneer is crossing your face, “You thought I would be sunshine and rainbows?”

“Stop!” He says lowly.

“You thought that just because I’m dating you, is suddenly change like that—?” You snap your fingers, shaking your head.

“Shut—“

“You are by far the dumbest person I’ve ever fucking met. I even came with warning labels and you still managed to fuck it up.”

“Quit it.” Finnick’s face is straight and angry. You’ve briefly seen him angry, but not like this. This is different.

“Or what? You’re going to go crying to Johanna? Call me a fucking bitch and have her rub your shoulders and tell you that you deserve better?” You mock a sad face, “Have her tuck you in and read you a bedtime—“

Finnick shoves your shoulders hard, too hard. You stumble, arms reaching out behind you to catch yourself on the wall before it’s too late. It doesn’t work, your head slams into the cement wall, a white hot pain straight out of hell collided with your head.

You slide down the wall with no choice, fingers fumbling to the warm feeling that’s creeping down the back of your neck. At the sight of rich red blood, you’re looking back at Finnick.

You open your mouth, prepared to send him a snarky remark; a congratulations on him finally being able to hurt you in some way, since he can’t do it emotionally or mentally.

His voice overlaps yours, loud and roaring, “Don’t you fucking get it?! You’re so fucking manipulative!” He stands over you, seething rage, “You do this—all the fucking time and then wonder and pout about how no one wants you—

“This is why! You’re so fucking unbearably unloveable because of your stupid superiority complex!” Finnick’s lip curls, snarling, “You think you’re so much better than the rest of us, but the truth is, you’re worse. At least we figured out healthy coping mechanisms, you just sought out abuse.”

He doesn’t stay, he leaves immediately after. The back of your head is throbbing, gushing blood. You sit on the floor for a while, carefully leaning your head back against the wall while you try not to be bothered about the heat on your back.

At some point, the slightest head movement is enough to make you dizzy. You gently get off the floor, carefully placing a hand on the back of your head. There’s a good puddle of blood where you had sat before, and you find that you’re coated in it when you look in the mirror.

Smeared down the side of your face, around your ears and down your neck. You aren’t too focused on your expression in the mirror until you go to leave and catch how pale you’ve grown. You need to get help.

You’d take care of it yourself, be self-sufficient as usual. But they don’t keep medical stuff in the room. And if they do, you don’t know where to find it. So, you wander out of your room and down the hall until you find the elevator.

Its not empty when it reaches your floor. In fact, you’re face to face with Haymitch and Katniss. At first, they glance past you, until a voice that you hardly recognize as yours is leaving your lips.

“I need help.” You whisper, blinking to keep yourself awake, “Please.”

Haymitch sees you first, and snaps awake. Once the door is pulled up, he’s grabbing you to keep you upright, “What happened?”

“I fell. I blacked out and hit my head and when I woke up, I was covered in blood.” You look between Haymitch, and Katniss. Katniss looks less than thrilled to see you. You can’t blame her, “I’ll make it by myself, I think.”

“We should walk you—“

“No, you’re doing something important.” You pull away from him, “I’m not important. I’m nothing.” You make it inside of the elevator, pressing yourself to the corner to keep upright, “I’m sorry for asking. Don’t worry about me.”

You push the button to the medical floor, which has an asterisk next to the number. Haymitch looks like he still wants to offer help, and you think you see something different in Katniss’ eyes, that you easily play off as nothing, you’re just dizzy.

The elevator moved, leaving them where they are. You have to keep to the corner, away from the door since you didn’t pull it down like you should’ve. You go down for what feels like forever.

You’re motion sick at the bottom, but drag your feet long enough to make it. Black spots eat away at the corners of your eyes, white static taking over spaces where it shouldn’t be. You feel hands on your arms, and slump.

Whoever it is, follows you all the way to the floor, cradling you in their arms. You keep your eyes shut, hoping that the spinning motion will die out if you see nothing but darkness, but it doesn’t go anywhere. It feels worse.

“Hey,” the voice is gentle, and warm and too familiar, “(Y/n)? Please open your eyes for me, just real quick.”

There’s a pressure beneath your eyes suddenly, making you flinch.

“Look at me.” There’s a certain softness to it, too delicate, on the verge of breaking.

Your eyelids feel heavy, words barely forming in your brain long enough to form a lazy string of thoughts. Whoever it is, cares about you deeply.

What a waste, you think, you’d have a better chance at striking gold.

Your eyebrows draw together, and you struggle to open your eyes for a second to see who would be stupid enough to help you, much less care about you.

Oh. Of course.

Brown hair that looks golden in white light. Sea green eyes that used to catch the hearts of everyone in the Capitol, now filled to the brink with clear, wobbly tears. The lightest blink could send them over the edge.

Finnick, back so soon? What a surprise, you never learn.

“I’m sorry.” He says, slowly scooping you up, “I’m so sorry. I thought that you’d come down here sooner. I didn’t think...”

Taking the blame all on himself, as if you’re not the one that sat there knowing the consequences.

You blink, and struggle to open your eyes again. You think it would be better if you died here. If only you’d stayed in the dorm and let yourself wither away there. At least then you’d get what you deserve.

“This is a mistake.” The words are slurred, making no sense. Finnick looks down at you, worried.

“What?”

“Just let me go.” You turn your head, at the end of the hall stands bald Johanna. You think you can see the scar from when you slammed her head against the rock.

Now we’ll be matching.

“Shut up, don’t do this now.”

“Do you know the definition of insanity?” You murmur, eyes locking with his, “It’s when you do the same thing over and over and over and expect a different outcome every single time.”

You press your lips together, willingly closing your eyes now. Finnick’s saying something, you purposely drown him out, hoping that the usual coldness of the darkness, now replaced by warmth, is going to be enough to show Finnick just how good he’ll have it without you.

After all, you’re unbearingly unlovable. He shouldn’t be wasting his time on you.

[quarantineddreamer]

If the World Was Ending 

I reached 500 followers today!!! 🤯 To celebrate here’s a one-shot I recently wrote inspired by the song If the World Was Ending by JP Saxe and Julia Michaels. It’s a Zutara song if I ever heard one -I simply could not get the idea out of my head to write a little something on it. Hope you enjoy, thank you so much for being here💙 (and if you’re not here for the Zutara, let me know what content you’re looking for and maybe I can rustle something up ✨).

P.S. There should also be another chapter of Element of Change posted this weekend!!! --- Best wishes, B 

The sun was rising over the Fire Nation capital, its light gradually gracing slanted rooftops, empty streets, and the face of the newly crowned Fire Lord.

Zuko breathed in the cool air of a new day and exhaled the stress of yet another night of meetings and paperwork. He set his hands on the stone of the balcony railing and surveyed the tranquil scene, still not quite able to believe it.

“How are you feeling, Fire Lord Zuko?” a voice called teasingly from behind him.

Just as the dawn warmed the land before him, so too, did the sound stir a similar reaction in his chest. As Katara came to stand beside him he turned to greet her with a weary smile. “I’m surprised to see you up,” he commented, well aware of her nocturnal propensities.  

She shrugged in reply. “Lots to do before we leave tomorrow. Including,” she bumped her shoulder against his playfully, “checking in on my patient. How are you feeling?”

“I’m exhausted,” he admitted, “but that has nothing to do with my injury.”

Katara frowned. “You should really be taking it easy. Getting lots of rest.”

“I can’t. Not yet. There’s too much to be done. Too many things that need to be set right.”

“Well, I can’t argue with that... Will you still have time to come to our farewell gathering later today?”

“I wouldn’t miss it for anything,” Zuko promised. He gestured to the room behind them. “Uncle has already set his tsungi horn inside and picked out the finest tea to serve.”

Her eyes crinkled in amusement as she laughed. “It’ll be nice to have some time, just us, to say good-bye…”

He knew what she meant, but he silently corrected her in his head anyways: not just us… The others would be there too. It wasn’t that Zuko didn’t want to see them, but it was dawning on him that this might be his last real moment alone with Katara before she returned to the Southern Water Tribe. And who knows when I’ll see her again… His weariness dissolved rapidly, the heaviness in his body replaced by apprehension that ran up and down his spine and tied knots in his stomach.

“Hellooooo, Zuko?” Katara waved a hand in front of his face and his attention returned to the present --though his heart still sank at the thought that tomorrow she would be waving at him for a different reason.

I thought I had more time… “I just --I can’t believe you leave tomorrow…”

The same melancholy that crept into his tone found its way to her words too as she said, “I can’t either…”

They stood in a heavy silence, listening to the faint echoes of a city coming to life below them, attempting to savor a bit of the peace they had fought so hard for. Zuko found it was more difficult than it had been a few moments ago. The weight of her impending departure was impossible to deny and the once dreamy picture of the city before him now seemed incomplete.

“I should get going…” Katara murmured, her eyes tracing the path of a bird in flight overhead.

‘No, you shouldn’t. Please don’t.’ Zuko wanted to say. His heart seemed to chant with each beat: Now or never, now or never, now or never…

He reached for her hand, then stared at it for a moment in surprise, unused to the impulsiveness he suddenly found guiding him --but what else was there to do when it felt there was no time left to waste? She was going to sail away... He couldn’t let her go without her knowing.

Katara carefully intertwined her fingers with his own. Her gaze lingered there before she lifted her head. There was longing in her expression and pain too. “Zuko…”

“Wait,” he said in a strained voice. “Just wait… Don’t. Don’t say it.” Because it felt like she had been about to say good-bye and he didn’t want that. He wanted… he wanted…

He wanted to kiss her, had wanted to for a while, but the moment had never seemed right, he had always let the inclination pass. They had just ended a war. He had nearly died. Then he had become Fire Lord, and there were so many duties for them both to attend to, and now… Now she was standing right in front of him as she had so many times before, and might not again for he didn’t know how long, and he wanted, more than anything, to kiss her.  

Zuko leaned closer till his nose touched hers, till her exhales became his inhales, and he could smell the warmth of her skin, see the flutter of her eyelashes as she hesitated before finally shutting her eyes and sinking into his touch.

She tasted salty and sweet all at once and her lips were soft, but insistent as they pressed against his own. He wrapped his arms around her and gathered her closer, closer, till he could feel her heart hammering in time with his own, till it felt like they shared one body, one ridiculously happy soul.

Her hands rose to his chest and tangled in the silk of his crimson robes for one desperate moment, before she pulled away, breathless and… shaking her head.

“Katara, what’s wrong?” Zuko cupped her cheek in his hand. His palm grew damp from her tears.

When she looked up he could see them streaming down her face turned gold by the morning light. “Zuko, we can’t do this. I know you know that.”

He did know. He had thought about it all before, everytime the urge to act on his feelings had risen he had resisted only because he was aware of the consequences of them. Of all the impossible things Zuko had done: finding the Avatar, facing his father, ending a war, the path that lay before him seemed the most insurmountable, because yes, she was right, but he didn’t want her to be…

The politics of it would be complicated -- several of his advisors would take issue with the Fire Lord being romantically connected to a Southern Water Tribe ambassador. No matter that he couldn’t care less what they thought, it would still get in the way of the work that needed to be done. They would accuse him of being partial when negotiating, of clouded judgement. Time would be wasted arguing the dynamics of his relationship instead of focusing on the way forward to a better world.

She spoke again, as though reading his mind. “My people need me and so do yours…”

One specific person came to mind, who Zuko knew relied on and loved her very much. “Aang… He’s forgiven me for a lot, but… I don’t think he’d forgive me for this.” Zuko looked down at where her fingertips stuck loosely to his own, not yet ready to separate. He lamented the loss of what was right in front of him.

“We just weren’t-” Katara’s voice broke and she inhaled shakily before continuing. “We weren’t meant for each other.” Her face told a story that contradicted her words. Her face said she felt the same as he did --that they were connected in ways that were indescribable, as deep and powerful as the love between moon and sun.

Still, she pulled her hand away from his and stepped backwards and Zuko felt a piece of himself fall away with her...

Later that day the sky would be pink and purple where it had been blue and gold. He would turn away from the friends gathered to seek fresh air, and he would see her standing where they had stood that morning, receiving a kiss from the Avatar --the sun setting behind them.

***

There were letters exchanged over the next few years, but writing them felt like playing a part in a play. It was make-believe, a well-practiced lie.

Zuko found that the white spaces on a page were blinding. For every word he wrote there were infinitely more he wanted to add -- shattered, wish, missing, love…

He thought he might develop a tolerance for the pain of exchanging such mundane and careful sentences with her, instead, he eventually figured out it was simpler to say nothing at all than to bear the burden of holding back what went unspoken.

It was easier then, when the communication at last died out, to let her go…

***

It was sometime in his third year as Fire Lord that an assassin nearly succeeded in ending his reign.

The poison raced through his veins like lava, setting his skin on fire from the inside out, pulling at his muscles like strings of a puppet, but it was not the physical agony that tortured him the most.

It was the closest he had come to death since the Agni Kai and he had not spoken to Katara in nearly a year. The last time the world had been ending she had been by his side, facing it with him…

All the reasons not to be together, all the fear… They were irrelevant when paired with the regret he had for everything that could have been. He was dying --and what did it matter now what might have gone wrong, when in the final hour the only mistake that mattered was that they had said good-bye.

***

Zuko opened his eyes to blue.

He was certain that the spirit world had chosen the color most calming to him to help ease his transition into the afterlife.

Then the blur began to draw into focus…

He sat up so fast the room spun and her form became distorted again.

“Hey, take it easy… How are you feeling, Fire Lord Zuko?” Katara’s face had lost some of the roundness of youth, but her voice remained the same and Zuko marveled at the wonder of hearing it again after so many years.

He gave her cheek a gentle stroke to ensure it was not a dream. She smiled at the touch and his heart hiccuped at the sight. “I’m so happy to see you,” he breathed.

“Your uncle said you gave him quite the scare…”

“Uncle?… You mean you didn’t know?”

She shook her head. “No, I just got here. I didn’t realize you had been sick…”

“I assumed someone sent for a healer --the Fire Lord deserves the best, right?”

Katara rolled her eyes at his teasing, but when she spoke again her voice was serious, “That’s not why I came here.”

“Then why?”

She shut her eyes, took a deep breath and slowly released it. When she opened them again her hand had reached for his. “I almost died... I was traveling with Aang and Toph and one day I decided to go for supplies while they made camp. I was surprised by some bandits. Not a big deal for a waterbender normally --except the only scratch they managed to land on me came from a poisoned arrow. By the time I realized what was happening it was almost too late… I got lucky.”

“It was the same for me…”

“Right,” she nodded, glancing at the damp rag on his bedside table --a remnant from the battle he had fought against the poison’s fever.

“So, you came here for help? We need to track down the bandits? Do they have Aang and Toph?!” The questions tumbled one after the other until Zuko had worked himself into such a state of concern he was preparing to leave the bed right that moment and gather all the resources at his disposal to assist.

“Zuko, no, no, it’s not that. Aang and Toph are fine.” She steadied him with a hand to his shoulder.

“Katara… I don’t…” He searched her eyes for answers, but the years had not erased the pain of the day on the balcony. “Why are you here?”

“Zuko… The world was about to end, I was going to die, and…” The words tumbled out. “And the only thing I thought of was that morning before I left. I thought I had figured out how to think about you --living your life- without it ripping my heart out, but I thought of you and I thought of dying without seeing you again and it hurt more than anything. We were wrong, we…”

He didn’t let her finish the sentence. He leaned back and pulled her on top of him, held her tightly and kissed her for all the times he hadn’t in the years since their good-bye --like the world was ending, and nothing else mattered.

[straymackerel]

Congrats on 500 followers!!! could i request no.15 with Dazai plz? i hope you have a nice day/night!

dazai + mencolek (indonesian, n.) the act of tapping someone on the opposite shoulder from behind to fool them.

➽─{hi, hello, nice to meet u!!! hehehe this prompt tho 🙈 i will admit i was tempted to go the obvious route~}─❥

Working alongside Dazai Osamu is a rollercoaster to say the least. He’s slothful, insensitive, and morbidly self-destructive. He pawns off his busywork, manipulates those closest to him, and constantly flirts with death. Hell, he’ll flirt with just about anything. 

It’s so unfair, you think to yourself, trailing behind your coworkers as they survey the vicinity. How did this bandaged bully become my greatest weakness? You drag your feet through the Yokohama shipyard, pretending to look around as best you can─anything that’ll keep your eyes off the tall brunette in front of you. It doesn’t work for long.

You’re not the biggest fan of Dazai’s wanton ways; no doubt he’s strung along dozens of victims with his coquettish behavior. Given the way in which you were welcomed into the Armed Detective Agency, it pains you to see him tease and toy with others. When you first joined, he actually made you feel special for once... but little did you know that he played with pretty much everyone’s hearts. Upon finding out, you were crushed.

It is no simple task, however, to go about ignoring a man like Dazai. You note the tilt to his head, the sway of his trench coat. The manner in which his hands reside in his pockets, the way that his legs sweep the ground with swagger. It confuses you to no end─you should be absolutely sick of the sight of this shameless womanizer. Instead, he’s instilled a sense of jealousy in you. The sneaky bastard. The fact of the matter is you’re bitter over a guy who was never even yours.

Despite yourself, you crack a smile. After all, Dazai gives you something to look forward to at work. You can pretend that, even for just a few moments, that someone so flighty could be into you of all people. There’s an endearing quality to your daily interactions, even if you truly are the rule rather than the exception. He loves to make you laugh─is that really so bad? You suppose for a second that you’d feel even worse if he treated you differently, distantly. It might make you feel excluded or even... undesirable.

Still, a part of you wants to get back at him─some way, somehow. As the band of detectives starts to drift apart, a cheeky idea suddenly crosses your mind. You wait for the majority of the group to advance before springing your plan into action: just the tiniest act of retaliation against a heartbreaker unaware.

It’s a simple but theoretically effective trick: you’ll creep up on one of his sides, hold your breath, and tap his other shoulder. Yet, as you reach out to his left he turns clockwise, already aware of your exact location. You don’t get the chance to so much as graze him.

“I was wondering what you were doing back there, keeping all to yourself,” he says, a knowing smile spanning his face. You draw back into yourself, surprised. You were sure you were being quiet enough.

“How did you..?” your mouth hangs wide open. He chuckles, clearly amused.

“I may not look the part, but I’m quite keen. I’ve been a detective for some time now,” he replies, all gleaming eyes and teeth. “Besides, it’s you after all.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Your lips press together in a fake pout, much to his obvious delight. 

“What can I say? I pay attention,” he says, tossing his hands out of his jacket and into the air. “I know you.” 

At first you laugh it off, assuming the worst. He’s kidding. He never means any of it. But then he pauses to say in a low, sober voice: “No, seriously. [Y/N], I see you.” 

It’s not much, but it may be the most direct Dazai has ever been with you. Cheeks heating up, you turn away, a sheepish grin plastered to your face. You hear him shuffle in his clothes; could it be? Is he actually nervous, too? The truth escapes you before you can bottle it up again: 

“Is that so? I always I assumed that you didn’t.”

[infinites-chaser]

//.reverie // mlqc // lucien

print(hello world)

im knee deep in a writing slump bUT i plugged a paragraph of writing into this funky little neural network and kept generating 500 words with it for. an aBSURD amount of time (while also telling it to focus on including the words ‘memory’ ‘dreams’ and ‘color’) and what it spit out was the cOOLEST. and i tried to kinda parse through it to find the most interesting bits and make it slightly more coherent and it ended up being a little like how i’d imagine a series of dreams Lucien might’ve had post ch.18 so i hope someone? enjoys?

warning for non-explicit drug use, general fragmentATion and lack of narrative plot or coherence, the bizarre nature of dreams, spoiler-adjacent content for ch.13 and hinting at stuff from ch.18 onwards

The paragraph the neural network consumed (from watch the universe expand):

"You know, sometimes I think the stars must be lonely," she says, and though he doesn't dare look at her, he hears her both in real life and through the phone speaker cradled close to his ear. He feels rather than sees her move closer to his side of the balcony, closing the distance, coming to the edge.

"They're thousands of light years away from each other," she continues. "Maybe they wonder if they're all alone, sometimes, if they're the only light for miles in an empty, endless dark sea."

"It makes me sad, to think about it. We spend our lives looking up at the stars and casting lines, drawing constellations between them, but in reality, they're just as lonely as we are. Maybe even more."

prelude.

In his dreams, he has color for days, but that's because his memories are always colored with color. He remembers the colors of all the colors, he knows it, because colors fade in real life, colors can be rearranged. They stay the same in dreams. He remembers colors and faces in dreams, with absolute certainty.

He stands up and steps away from the glass, out onto the balcony. As the darkness reaches all the way to the bottom of the floor, he sees shadows in his mind. He recognizes the colors, the colors of dreams, as colors of real life. He can tell his memory is broken in his dreams, with such clarity that he could read an entire newspaper front page through color and dreams.

(He takes a step closer to the blue sky.)

i.

He remembers when he had first been able to see the constellations in the night sky, just a few short years ago, when his eyesight still had the capability to take in so much. They'd wanted to go to a star party, together, where he could be amazed by a whole world of constellations, but he'd turned it down.

"You were scared of strangers," she says. "It's not a strangers-only thing."

"That's true," he says.

"You're still shy," she says.

"I never was shy,” he says.

I never really grew up, he thinks.

ii.

He feels her warm breath. The scent of her.

"Do you think they look down at us and feel the loneliness of millions of years alone?"

"The stars? I've always imagined they might."

“Do you think they wonder about us, too? Or feel sorry for us?”

He scoffs.

“What’s there to wonder about?”

She shrugs. Her eyes look as distant as the stars. As cold.

"The sadness of losing one's entire species and the companionship of someone who sees and understands the beauty of the stars because of what we lost. Or the loneliness of knowing our species won't survive the disaster we caused."

“What do you mean,” he starts. Her lips curve up into a mockery of a smile.

“You know what,” she breathes. “Ares.”

(He wakes. Calls the dampness on his cheeks a nightmare’s cold sweat and not tears.)

iii.

He shrugs.

“We forget, don’t we? The world moves on. We move on.”

"That's not the way it is,” she says. “The best love in life comes from time spent with another person, the love that never fades or leaves you in darkness, like memories do. Sometimes, it's not the love we give each other but the love we receive from each other. I don't know, I guess the answer would depend on the person."

"Maybe the stars never forget their dreams,” she says. “Or the people they knew, or their color. Maybe they never lose the ability to recognize and remember what they're drawn to. Or maybe they can never forget the color of your eyes."

iii, ii.

“We forget, don’t we? The world moves on. We move on.”

(Do we? He thinks. Thinks they’ve been here, standing atop this balcony before. Thinks he's seen her eyes turn cold. Thinks he's seen her cry.)

He shrugs.

"No," she says quietly, but softly, still looking at the stars, still thinking about the comfort she gave him. (It's never enough, always, to fill the emptiness, the longing, the memories that must remain buried inside him.)

"I don't believe that. I know that the stars up there are as lonely as us, because they're like us, they love each other, they care for each other, they care for us, and love keeps us warm in the cold. Love is the one thing that can save us."

"You're right," he says. (Holds her close. Wishes he could do the same while awake.)

"Love really can save us. I have faith in that. No matter what happens, no matter what we do, we have to find ways to love each other and hold on to each other."

v.

"Do you remember the dreams you've had about the colors, or the faces of the people in the colors?"

She laughs softly. "I can never forget you, or your color, or the color of that sky in your memories, now. But that picture might look a little different in the morning light. Right now, I can't see it very well. You know, sometimes it's hard to remember what color the sky looks like in your memory when it's bright outside. It doesn't really feel like a real memory. You've said that yourself, at least."

"No, I haven't," he says. "It's just a memory."

"A memory?" she asks.

"A memory?" she repeats. “It’s always memories with you.”

He can't tell if she's laughing or not, or if she's teasing him or not.

“What do you mean?”

"It’s a secret,” she says. “You could always just ask me in real life.”

(I can’t, he thinks, but can’t say. Can't remember why.

He wakes.)

vi.

"Color?" she repeats. "Color?"

"Yes," he says. "You're color. You're always ... different, in my memories."

She laughs. "Maybe that's a good thing. Maybe we remember our lives as they were, not what we wish they were. Maybe that means we can forgive ourselves a little more.”

"For what?"

(She's frozen.

She fades.

For what? He thinks, then wakes.)

vii.

"I think I have colors for months in my memory," she says. "See here?"

"What?"

"Colors. In the moon, or this tree, or maybe the sky?"

"You mean right now?"

"No. All of them, at one time or another."

"What color is the sky?"

She laughs, and her voice is beautiful. She tells him that the sky looks the color of memories and dreams.

But then he asks another question. "When you dreamed last night, what did you dream about?”

"I can't remember all of them," she says. “My dreams. They fade.”

"But you do remember that you were dreaming, back there?"

"I was dreaming. About you."

"Why?"

"I don't know. All I know is that the dream felt like a good one."

"It must have been, if you remember it. Did you have the same dreams when you were growing up?"

"Yes," she whispers. "Sometimes."

(“Sometimes I think we must’ve met in one.”

“What?”

“A dream."

"That'd be nice, wouldn't it?")

viii.

“The stars,” she murmurs. “Do you think they dream? Do you think they can escape?"

"Perhaps they can, to some extent," se says. "I'm not sure it works for everyone."

She asks him to step into the blue sky with her. To escape. To return.

"Can you go back? I haven't asked anyone to go back yet, but maybe you can."

He takes a step, closing his eyes. He remembers the color of this blue sky, and he remembers dreaming and dreaming. He remembers colors, and colors are real, so they must be real in real life. So he steps forward into the blue sky.

His skin stretches and stretches and stretches, the colors in his skin growing more vivid as he steps further, he gets closer to the sky. The colors disappear in his memory, which can still contain dreams, so that his skin looks almost white, at first. His body elongates until he looks like he's wearing a strange version of a spacesuit, like the one his friends wore when they had to wear oxygen masks on the surface of planets and robots to stay alive.

He hears his echo. It’s saying that he looks lonely. Pale blue dot— he'll drift through space, he'll miss her in the dark, or he won't but he'll be too late, anyway.

It's hard to figure out which colors in the blue sky he's really seeing. He thinks the color of his skin looks like the sky he remembered, but maybe it isn't really the sky he remembers. He sees colors of the people he knew and the colors of the colors of the sky, but he sees colors that are impossible to connect with other colors.

(He surfaces to darkness, insides twisting, writhing, turned snakes by the venom he's made of his blood. He staggers to the sink, spits up poison. Thinks about forgetting. Thinks about taking more.)

ix.

His color is yellow, the color of a sick leaf, and the first of the colors of his dreams.

"Tell me again what color I look like in your memory," she says.

He tries to focus on that part of her, of her memory, where he actually sees her. He thinks about how good her skin looks, how smooth and pale and slightly glowing. He can't remember her color.

"Do I look just like you remember?" he asks.

"Your color is the color of yellow of the leaves, right?"

"Yes," he whispers.

“You’re sick,” she says, and places a hand on his cold cheek, lets it warm.

“Sick,” he echoes, closes his eyes against her touch. Lets himself fade. Lets himself rest. “Perhaps.”

x.

"I don't remember it," he admits. "Your color."

"But you don't want me to, do you?"

She sighs, and for a moment, it seems she's crying. "No," she whispers. "No, not all."

"You didn't want me to know, did you?"

"Yes, I did. I do."

She bites her lip. Looks down. Looks away.

"I want you to remember. Just— not like this. Never like this."

"Why?"

"Because you'd see the way I laugh and the way I'm breathing, and if you just heard it for yourself, you'd know the way I loved your hair when you woke up from the dream that you shared with me. The way you looked when you talked about your life, when you stared up at the sky, seeing the dreams in your eyes."

(He had forgotten them already, because they were beautiful, those memories, and he knew them without remembering their color. Without remembering her name. Without remembering the truth.

The sky, he thinks, is even more vivid than memories.)

xi.

"I don't know," he says. "Why don't I remember? What am I forgetting?"

"I don't know either," she says. "I think...I must've forgotten, too."

"But maybe it doesn't matter— we do remember colors, don't we? As colors really are. Because we can remember them. You know, that's why color blindness must be one of the most terrible things that's ever been born. For a color-blind person, they see the colors of people and things by the color of their eyes, and they can't tell when the color is off. Just like colors are difficult to remember, and colors are difficult to see."

He smiles at her.

"There's one more way, isn't there?"

“To see color?”

“To remember,” he whispers, and lowers his lips to hers. She flinches under him, he steadies her, then she’s limp, his hands tight around her neck and he—

(He wakes.)

xii.

"Why are you here again?" she asks.

He shakes his head.

“I don’t know.”

"We might be in the middle of remembering," she says. "We're both always in the middle of remembering things in the middle of moments."

"Oh, you're an astrologist, then," he mutters, trying to remember the word. It doesn’t sound right. Nothing does.

"Astronomer?" He asks. She shakes her head. She's smiling, but her eyes are dark. Dark and blue.

"It doesn't matter, anyway," she says. "We should probably stop."

"Stop?"

She smiles again, her eyes bluer still.

No, he realizes. Not blue. Sad.

"It's time to wake up," she murmurs. He reaches for her, but it's too late. She fades, and he's left alone drifting under the stretching stars.

(Astronaut, he thinks, between planets and stardust. He remembers.)

...

fin.

"Are you saying I'm color-blind?"

She laughs again.

"Oh, no," she says. "Not color-blind at all. Your color blindness is just a side effect of your memory. You remember some colors well, and it doesn't matter what color the sky or a flower is, you can recognize it. So, yes. Your color blindness is your memory of colors."

"How is it my memory?" he asks, and though he could never be color-blind, he can still remember colors well enough to recognize the colors of the rainbow on the horizon as clouds drift by the sky.

"Maybe your color blindness is what happens when you spend so much time remembering color and color and color," she suggests, and somehow some part of him knows what she means is remembering me. Remembering my smile.

"Oh," he says. He considers it.

They are silent, for a time, until a sound cuts through the night air, crying through his whole body with a low swish of noise. He thinks he hears a whistling, and then it's back again. Then it's different, maybe growing louder, and he wonders if it's a ringing, but the sound gets fainter, so faint that he begins to think he imagined it.

"Is that the whistle?" she asks, and he can hear the alarm in her voice.

"Did it start again? Is this world going to end?" She whispers it, the sound again, and the sound grows closer, an elongated screech. The whistle never ceases.

The whistling sounds in every direction, like a swarm of insects.

And the smell is the worst, the most awful smell, like bad meat, or a stagnant ditch full of mud and dirt and rotten meat. He can barely breathe, and can barely see through the curtain of fog. He stands, reaching toward her, trying to hear her, but everything around him is changing.

"What is it?" she asks, and her voice is lost, lost in the darkness. She is lost. She is gone.

The smell, a putrid odor like rotten meat, begins to affect his mind, and he cannot remember her words.

There's something blue (sad) behind his eyelids. He tries to look and discovers that he can't.

"What's that?" he asks. He's in the clearing, still dressed in the dark color of morning (mourning), and everything is out of place, though he can't see it.

"It's my color. It's blue." He stares at it.

"My favorite color. Blue. And there's something pink around it. Couldn't see that before. It's pink."

The colors, he thinks. Those are colors. The whistling sound, I must have heard that noise before.

(The whistling doesn't sound like whistling at all. It sounds like heartbreak. It sounds like a scream.)

That's why I can't remember her. I remember colors, and it's like there's a wall in my mind, because I remember color, color and nothing else, color and her smile, the beginning, the middle, and not ever the end.

"I remember colors," he says. "Now let me remember her."

And he remembers pink, he remembers the smell. The whistle (the scream).

(Remembers she died. Remembers he wasn't there to save her.)

There's something red on the sand. It's a bouquet of roses he's picked. Pink and red. Roses. The smell, his nose draws in is the scent of roses.

(He knows they smell like her, but the moment's passed. Once again, he can't remember her.

He thinks, he must not have been hers. She must have not been in love.)

epilogue.

It is dawn when he wants to close his eyes and remember. But he tries not to think about it. He closes his eyes slowly, praying silently to the skies, barely able to imagine that the next time he opens his eyes, maybe they'll be different.

"... like his dreams," he whispers under his breath.

"... and her dreams."

"... like everything here." His steps seem slow today. Steady. Better than any other morning. Fresh.

"Just like his memories. Rest easy, Lucien."

(When the apartment door opens, it’s Ares who emerges.)

this is where im legally obligated to tell u I'm slowly being converted to a comp neuro nerd so i went and read the github of the language learning model inferkit uses, megatron-11b, and it'S hella cool but basically if anyone is worried. no it is not trained on the words u provide it-- the sentence structure/word information that the model 'learns' from is scripts made by the dev. so uh. basically, it's 'learned' all it will about language based on these provided scripts of vocab and sentence structure so when you give it a paragraph of writing, all it's doing is 'reacting' to your words by using its memory of these writing rules to predict (and auto-generate) what words it thinks will come next (the algorithm runs a tON of probability computations and this is the 'thinking' and predicting.)

[cockasinthebird]

419 please?

I hope 26 is grown up enough for you!❤️

419. “Spend the night with me?”

Thank you so so much for requesting a mystery prompt, and celebrating my 500 followers with me!!! I am so happy that people are wanting to participate in this! And I hope that this is to your liking 💕

It got long, as in, 5.8k long, which was not at all my intention, but when inspiration strikes, go with the flow, right?? So here we are! Enjoy~

--

They had kept in touch over the years. Or at least tried, although it did become near impossible to find time to chat after graduation.

Billy went off to college and afterward started his own quite successful workshop, where he with a charming smile and abundance of personality has wormed his way into high society, and old women’s lust for young and rowdy guys covered in oil and tats as they fix their expensive porches - shirts not included.

And Steve moved to Chicago to begin his “training” as an heir to the Harrington Construction empire, where his current title as COO is simply a pretty facade, as his role is nothing more than to put up appearances and give orders originally from his father’s lip.

  Today’s headache comes from a stack of papers towering like a city on top of Steve’s desk. He flips through page after page after page of permits and legal shit, trying to understand what any of it means; if he’s to ever take over as president of this company, he must know what a “nonconforming structure” is, and learn to read a site map.

Thankfully he gets interrupted when the intercom dings, and his secretary speaks; “Mr Harrington, there’s someone on line two for you. Says he’s an old friend.”

It’s kind of weird how he just immediately knows who it is, and it brings forth a deep and exasperated sigh. He rubs his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose as he gathers up energy, before reaching for the button that allows him to say, “Thank you Claire, you can go home for the night.”

Out the window he has a gorgeous view of the cityscape, drenched in black and dotted with night lights, proving to him that it is far later than he anticipated.

He then brings up the handset and, in a company approved tone, says, “Harrington Construction, this is Steve Harrington.”

“You’re a hard man to get to, Stevie,” a voice that sets his soul aflame drawls out every single syllable.

Steve’s heart beats a bit faster, a bit wrong, at the thick tone of his high school “sweetheart”. The “one that got away,” and all that painful jazz they make movies out of.

“Hey Billy,” he sighs and thuds his head against the back of his expensive leather chair.

“Don’t sound so excited now, princess,” the grin on Billy’s face all too apparent in his tone.

To think, 8 years has passed since he called Steve “princess” for the first time, and even at the ripe age of 26 he keeps up the same old front. Yet it still makes Steve blush all the same, a curse or a blessing, that depends entirely on who you ask. Some things never change.

“What do you want?” he grumbles, sounding just like his father, and that realization makes him sick enough to call a doctor, or a therapist, either one is good for him.

“Woah, bad timing?” 

“No…” Another of a thousand sighs escapes. “No, just… work, you know how it is.”

“Actually I do!” and Billy sounds all too chipper for Steve’s taste in energy levels right now. “I’m in Chicago this week for a fancy car show downtown; going to schmooze with some rich folks to get sponsors for my shop in Cincinnati.”

“Oh yeah, you mentioned that some time ago, I completely forgot.” Steve peers at the haunting sight of papers stacked nearly as tall as himself. He’s been too busy lately and forgets all too much. 

“Don’t worry ‘bout it, I’m sure your work is way more stressful than mine.” Billy has become more forgiving with age, and it is something to get used to. “You busy now?”

Steve takes a second to respond, stares at the papers on his desk in hopes they’ll catch fire, but settles for a more realistic solution, and spins around in his chair for as long as the wire of the phone allows, till he can’t see his obligations any more.

“Nope, I’m free, what’s up?”

 -

He should have expected this. 

Sure Billy spends his days flexing in front of the rich ladies whose Wall Street husbands give all their attention to their secretaries and assistants, where he no doubt has grown accustomed to champagne, scotch, and what else these lonely housewives might bring him as a “thank you”, but he still manages to choose one of the seedier bars in all of Chicago, Illinois. Some things never change.

Low ceiling, even for a basement, half-circle booths in dark leather, a bar that can maybe fit 7 people, and walls decorated in probably stolen road signs. It reeks of sweat and cheap beer, successfully assaulting Steve’s senses.

He definitely doesn’t fit in, sticks out like a sore thumb immediately in his custom tailored suit and tie that draws everyone’s attention to him, staring like he just insulted their mothers. 

“Hey! Harrington!” Billy calls out, barely audible over the old school rock music, and all Steve sees is his hand waving in the air near the back where the lights can’t quite reach.

Being raised proper like he was, by the hand of babysitters and maids, Steve apologizes the entire trip from the front door to the last booth, as he pushes his way through the more sleazy and possibly dangerous looking crowd. He wouldn’t stand a chance if even one drop was spilled on any of these men’s shirts.

When he sees Billy his heart does the same dance as it did last they saw each other, years ago at the kid’s graduation, where they got drunk and reminisced about “the way things used to be”, about the way they used to be, and being reminded of that now makes it a bit hotter under his white collar.

Billy’s slumped against the seat, arms full of tattoos and spread across the back of the booth, legs as wide apart as the skinny jeans will allow. Some things never change. But he has. He’s gotten thicker, more muscular, which is awfully apparent in the way his white tee hugs his torso. His hair is longer, curlier too somehow, but still it’s good to see he kept the mullet. Oh but that wicked grin carries the same charm that led Steve into the lion’s den way back when.

“Good to see you could find the place,” Billy says and gives Steve a very obvious once over, taking in how sharply dressed he is, smoothly shaved, hair short and slicked back.

He doesn’t move further in to allow for any room, hogging all the space except for a bit at the end where Steve won’t be able to sit without them being inappropriately close in such a public setting.

“My driver knows his way around, thankfully.”

Steve unbuttons his jacket and takes a chance; sits down and hopes that Billy will move once he sees that Steve isn’t afraid to push boundaries anymore, isn’t afraid to challenge the retired Keg King.

But he doesn’t move - stays firm in his placement on the seat, planted even, biting his tongue as their thighs press together.

“Still living on daddy’s dime, huh?” 

“Kinda hard not to since I work for him,” Steve laughs.

Even through the fog of alcohol and cigarettes, he can smell Billy’s strong cologne, and it triggers something in him he hasn’t felt in damn near two years. Some things never change.

“Ah yes, good ol’ nepotism,” Billy chuckles, low and gravely, eyes staring too long at Steve’s lips before going up to meet his gaze.

“It’s a family business, a dynasty if you were to ask my father, so it is only to be expected,” Steve says with a smile, exhausted in a sense that is all too clear despite the low lighting.

“Mhm, sure, listen,” Billy mumbles out with disinterest, then leans in closer - not that there was much space between them to begin with. “I didn’t ask you here to talk about work or your father, if I cared for that I’d have simply called.”

Billy hadn’t called in close to half a year before today.

Steve hasn’t called in over half a year.

Neither had bothered finding time to “hang out” in two years, both had tried to move on from their past, yet they’re here now, together, and maybe Billy is tired of trying to forget, and maybe Steve is willing to remember.

“Then why did you ask for us to meet here?” Steve whispers, certain that Billy can hear him, and the way his eyes go dark beneath heavy lids proves he’s right.

And Billy licks his lips before pulling the lower one in to bite at it suggestively. “I think you know exactly why.”

His hand brushes against Steve’s neck, sending a ripple of goosebumps across his skin, his entire body perking up at such a simple and gentle touch. Steve can’t look away from those deep pools of desire, won’t even try, honestly.

He takes a stuttering breath before saying, “Not getting enough from your aged clients?”

Billy huffs a laugh and smiles rather than grins at that. “Come on, Stevie, you know me better than that, don’t you?”

“Do I?” the response quick through a teasing smirk.

“You should. I don’t sleep around with married people - their sons and daughters, however…” he trails off, well aware that Steve understands, but Billy isn’t exactly subtle, ever.

“Is that all I am to you?” Steve coos and pushes his knee against Billy’s. “Some rich married man’s son?”

“Is that all you want to be to me?” Billy moves in to ghost his breath across Steve’s lips.

“Billy…” Steve whispers cautiously.

“Don’t worry, pretty boy, it’s a gay bar, no one here will mind…”

And perhaps that’s why people stared at him like that when he came in… or at least some of them.

Steve’s hand rushes up to feel the slight stubble of Billy’s jaw as he kisses him with such eagerness that only grows from missing another person this much, a touch that Steve didn’t know he had been craving so bad till he walked into the room.

Billy’s tongue dives in as he pushes to deepen their kiss, a hand on the back of Steve’s head to pull him closer, proving just how needy Billy is as well for this, as if there’s nothing else he could want for in the world but the taste of Steve’s mouth.

And it makes him breathless, lungs wanting air but lips wanting to touch. When Billy pulls away Steve tries to move along, to stay connected like that, but Billy dodges every attempt, to groan out,

“Spend the night with me?”

Steve can’t help but laugh, gaining him a rather inquisitive look from Billy. “Why didn’t you just ask me to your hotel room right away?”

“Well I thought you’d be more likely to agree to go to a bar with me than my room!” Billy can’t help but laugh, too. 

“You’re not even gonna buy me a drink first then?” 

“Oh baby,” Billy purrs and nuzzles his nose against Steve’s neck, kissing him softly and dearly. “You can order all the room service you want at my hotel - wine, champagne, scotch, vodka, if that’s what you want.”

“Mmh,” Steve hums and tips his head aside to allow Billy better access. “Are you sure you can afford my expensive tastes?”

Billy reaches forth to loosen Steve’s tie and frees the first button of his shirt. “I’ll write it off as a business expense, anything for my princess.”

“Fuck,” Steve lets out a breathy moan as those words shoot straight through him; jolting his heart and waking his dick. Some things never change. “Then what are we waiting for?”

 -

Maybe it’s because he grew up with old money, a house full of expensive and dark furniture, ornate and vintage, but the hotel is not what he expected.

It’s so… modern, with white furniture, large windows, and polished metal. It all looks impeccably clean.

The couch faces a large fireplace, a TV mounted in the wall above, glass tables on either side of the armrests, and behind the seating is a set of glass doors that open into the bedroom that holds a king sized bed with no doubt real silk sheets, and an en suite bathroom. It’s a small and generally scarcely decorated hotel room, a plant over in the corner to bring some color, a pretentious painting with only a streak of red, but it’s upscale and no doubt rather expensive.

And the trust fund kid in Steve wonders how the hell Billy can afford all of this and room service, but he’s not going to ask nor complain. Pretend he’s on an all paid trip where he can do whatever he wants, far far away from his father and his duties. Even if it is just for one night, he can relax and enjoy himself; leave his baggage at the door.

“It’s paid for by one of my ‘sponsors’,” Billy says while taking Steve’s jacket off.

“What?” 

“Don’t think I didn’t notice you looking around thinking ‘How the hell can Billy Hargrove afford all of this?’” Thankfully Billy doesn’t sound offended by the notion that he’s still just a poor man.

“And who is your sponsor that allows you to live so lavishly?” Steve turns to Billy with a smile, who offers a smirk rather wide.

“Mrs. Howard.”

“Ah,” Steve huffs as if it was what to be expected.

“Yeah, ah,” Billy mocks him and brings his hands to the Armani belt, unbuckling it and smoothly slips it through the loops of Steve’s dress pants. 

Steve toes his way out of his shiny oxford shoes as Billy expertly unbuttons his shirt, only to find a tee beneath, and he expresses his irritation with a clear groan.

“Why do all you suit monkeys always wear a shirt beneath your shirt?” he complains lightly yet shoves rather hard for the button up to fall past Steve’s shoulders.

“I don’t know if you know, but white fabric is often rather sheer, and I’m not a fan of my subordinates seeing, well, more than they should,” Steve explains rather matter-of-fact, but doubts that Billy actually cares for the reason of it.

Instead he throws off his own tee before pulling at Steve’s, caring for something far more carnal as is evident in the way he goes to kiss and bite up and down Steve’s now fully exposed neck.

“Didn’t you- ah- didn’t you promise me something like room service?” Steve asks as he pulls Billy away by the luscious mullet, earning him a snarl and exposed teeth that want nothing more than to taste his flesh.

“Can’t it wait?” Billy growls lowly. 

And Steve wants to say no, wants to tease and make the other wait for it, if not perhaps beg a little, but when Billy grabs his ass for leverage as he grinds them together, all Steve can say is, 

"Fuck," as his brain short circuits.

Billy grins like he knows what he does to poor old Steve, like he remembers the kind of power he has over him. Some things never change. 

He licks a hot stripe up Steve's neck, and nibbles at his ear. "Come on, pretty boy, let's get you into something more… Comfortable." 

Hand in hand, Billy leads them both through the glass doors to the bedroom, and before Steve can even think of anything to say, he’s shoved onto the silk sheets where he lands with a loud poomf.

As he lies there flat on his back, he gets a good and proper look at Billy, and finds time to appreciate just how much he’s changed, how out of place he is here, inked skin in stark contrast to the white and dull background the suite offers.

His arms have been decorated with more skulls, which is no real surprise. A crown wrapped in thorns on top of one skull, another seemingly choking on rose petals. On his left bicep sits a gorgeous, topless mermaid on a rock, looking out over the horizon, surrounded by an ornate frame as if she were a painting.

Billy stares all the same down at Steve, who’s gotten a bit softer with age, his very legit excuse being that practicing sports in high school was what kept him fit then, and now he’s barely ever got time to hit the gym. But Billy looks at him like he doesn’t care, like he enjoys it, like he did back then.

Steve is incapable of looking away as Billy’s strong hands unbuckle his own belt and zips down his jeans, and…

“Are… are you not wearing any underwear?” He gawks and stares at the full, veiny cock jumping to attention as those jeans fall to the floor.

“Thought it was unnecessary,” Billy says with a grin all too alluring and knowing.

Steve wants to say something; feign protesting that Billy shouldn’t “assume I’m that easy,” but isn’t he? About an hour ago he was in his office, flaccid like a eunuch, accepting of his status as celibate what with his luck in the dating pool. Now he’s so fucking hard words fail him.

Billy wants Steve.

Steve needs Billy.

Some things never change.

Fingers calloused from hard work drift down Steve’s chest and stomach something so reverently and grateful, and as they hitch themselves in the waistband of both trousers and trunks, Steve lifts up his ass to allow for Billy to strip him clean.

“Mmmmm,” Billy, pleased with the sight of Steve’s lengthy erection and flushed skin, hums like he’s just been served his favorite meal on a silver platter.

And he drops to his knees by the end of the bed, kissing his way up the inside of one thigh, hands on the outside of either, guiding Steve’s thighs over Billy’s broad shoulders, around his head, feet locking together on his back.

Steve props himself up on his elbows for a better view, as Billy’s warm, soft, wet lips get closer and closer to his throbbing cock that hasn’t been touched proper for months, and even that one time at the office Christmas party wasn’t all that fulfilling.

The further up Billy goes, the more he sucks on the skin, drawing forth purple marks to leave as a reminder for Steve - not that this is something that will be forgotten anytime soon. And when he finally reaches the end of his short journey, he wraps his fingers around Steve’s dick, firm and confident in the grasp as he moves his hand up and down at a tantalizingly slow pace.

“Fuck,” Steve sighs with appreciation, well aware to the fact that it’s because it’s Billy, specifically, that makes this all the more enjoyable - all the more formidable.

Because Billy knows what he’s doing with Steve in his hands, and he makes use of old tricks as he lets out his tongue to tease at Steve’s taint, licks his tongue flat over his balls, to the base of his shaft, making the entirety of Steve’s body twitch and writhe as waves of euphoria rush through his muscles.

“Shit, Billy!” Steve moans and is quick to entangle his fingers in golden locks, as Billy starts a slow climb up his aching dick.

He can’t resist the way his back arches, abs flex, hips stutter, as he involuntarily thrust into the hand aided by a wide and sensational tongue, that eagerly laps up the pre cum that dribbles down.

And when Billy closes his mouth around the head of Steve’s cock, the poor brunette chokes on his own sounds and presses his head hard into the mattress, eyes screwed shut tight, as Billy immediately goes as deep as he can before Steve hits the back of his mouth, prodding at his uvula as he gags and swallows the best he can, making Steve practically cry and tremble with self restraint as to not just shove his lengthy prick all the way into that gorgeous heat.

Not that Billy isn’t trying his best to do just that, gagging and drooling all over Steve’s cock and his own hand working at the start of hard flesh, all of it a wet mess as he starts bobbing his head, looking up through his lashes to see how those erotic gasps and curses drip from Steve’s open lips. He keeps a calm and trained rhythm, tongue out where his lips can’t reach, throat contracting around the leaking head, hand moving along with every bow.

It’s driving Steve mad; the sweet wetness of Billy’s mouth, cheeks hollowing, the ecstatic humming and moaning sending vibrations down his pulsating cock, it’s everything he’s been craving for years.

“Billy… Billy, stop,” he tries to warn him, “Or I’ll- ah-”

But it only makes Billy more eager, somehow - keeps his lips locked around the head, tongue twirling at that weak spot beneath, as he jerks Steve off fervently, effectively pulling him undone.

“Shit, ah- fuck, Billy, I’m- I’m-”

The heat in his gut reaches a fever point, and he’s powerless as he cums into Billy’s mouth, dick kicking as he empties out, voice so loud the neighbors must be hearing it, but he can’t be bothered to care about that, as satisfaction soothes across him, like sinking into a Jacuzzi and letting yourself drift away on the soft bubbles.

Gingerly, and with what could be misconstrued as honest affection, Billy licks Steve’s softening cock clean of what he might not have initially swallowed, then leaves a trail of affable kisses up his torso as Billy climbs onto the bed, situating himself comfortably between Steve’s shaky legs.

“Hmmm good?” Billy whispers with a well deserved, self-satisfied grin. He continues kissing the soft and pale skin, along the jaw, the moles on Steve’s cheek, the corners of his lips as he smiles and nods.

“Yeah,” Steve chuckles warmly and with a full heart, “Good.”

“Don’t think we’re done just yet, pretty boy.” And the grin grows wider, grows more salacious; rousing in the way he licks across his teeth.

“I’d hope not,” Steve just barely manages to mumble out before pushing their lips together, quick and brief before Billy pulls away from the needy embrace.

He takes long and hurried steps from the bed to his open suitcase, where his hand dives straight for a bottle of lube and a condom, and the sight of it jolts Steve right awake, because oh god oh yes does he want nothing more than Billy’s steely cock inside him.

The bed dips beneath Billy’s weight as he kneels between spread legs. “Think you’re ready for more?” his breath a ghost on Steve’s desirous lips, who leans in for a kiss, but Billy pulls away with a shitty little smirk.

“Please,” Steve whines and brings a hand to the back of Billy’s head. “I need you to fuck me, Billy; haven’t had a good dick in years.” He nuzzles their noses together and carefully kisses Billy’s astonished expression.

“Jesus Christ, princess,” is all he can groan out in response, sounding like he’s never been more turned on, which might just be the case. “Such filthy words from such a pretty mouth.”

And the electricity in the air courses through Steve as Billy kisses him again, deep and sensuous, lets out his tongue to feel how Steve’s own writhes around the vivid little sounds he makes.

While Steve tangles his fingers in that mane, Billy pops open the bottle and slicks up three digits before swiftly bringing his hand down between them. Their lips break apart as he teases the tip in a circle around the rim, because Billy wants to witness the way Steve’s face shifts, and with gazes locked tight and assuredly, he pushes in, slow, courteous. 

Steve bites hard at his lip when Billy smoothly dives past the first knuckle, then the second, and a slight “Fuck,” escapes as he fights to keep his eyes open, keep himself raised and near where Billy watches him with fondness that can only come from absence. Or maybe that’s just what Steve wants that look to mean. He moves his hips down to swallow up what’s left of Billy’s middle finger, keeps eye contact with intensity that begs for more.

When the finger curls together inside it knocks out a little “Ah,” that interrupts his steady, heated breathing. He licks his lips before leaning in to meet Billy again.

He was never one for a quick fuck, something hard and rowdy and crude, which took some confidence to tell Billy way back when. No, Steve wants it nice and soft and gentle and loving. Wants to hold hands, kiss and lick at salty skin, wants to be kissed, bodies flush and sticky with sweat as they rock together, held dearly. Some things never change.

“You think you can take another?” Billy asks, kind and considerate, pulling Steve back from where his mind was drifting off to.

“Yeah, please,” Steve coos and refocuses on those gorgeous baby blues.

Billy chuckles like thunder on a warm summer day, and he smiles just as charming. “You don’t have to say please or beg for it, I’ll give you whatever you want.”

Steve hopes to find a glint of a lie in his eyes, because the truth will only make saying goodbye all that much worse, and when there’s nothing but honesty there, his voice cracks dangerously as he whispers, “Billy…”

As Billy presses in a second finger, Steve lets his head fall backwards with a pliant moan, arms wrapped around Billy’s broad shoulders to keep him up and close. Close enough for Billy to kiss and nibble and bite playfully up and down his neck, feeling the vibration of his voice and rhythm of his pulse as Billy pumps his fingers in and out.

It doesn’t take long for it to not be enough, making Steve whisper out, voice going hoarse, “More, ah-”

And Billy raises up his head to try and read Steve’s expression. “Already? You sure?”

The tenderness to his tone makes everything better, makes everything worse. Makes Steve want to beg him not to go, please.

“Yes, fuck-” Steve wets his lips and meets the inquisitive gaze. “Billy it’s been so long, I just need to feel you inside me so bad.”

There is no resisting the magnetic pull between them, as Billy eagerly kisses Steve, to taste how sweet those words are, how needy they are. With their lips locked he adds a third digit and swallows every sound Steve makes like he’s starving for his attention.

“God, you make me so fucking hard, baby,” Billy growls out and moves his hand faster, going as deep as he can with every thrust, making Steve whine. “Can’t wait to feel how tight and warm you are again.”

To even his own wonder and amazement, Steve’s cock is starting to fill out again already with only a few minutes break from his last orgasm. Two years since he last felt this good, felt Billy’s thick fingers open him up, felt Billy’s veiny dick brush against his thigh, eager and wet with pre.

The stretching burns faintly, but the pure pleasure of it all is making him impatient for more, and he kisses Billy with breathless enthusiasm. “Billy, I swear to God, if you don’t fuck me right now, I’m gonna go insane.”

Billy chuckles, awestruck and joyful in a way that makes his eyes crinkle, lips stretch wide, Steve’s heart ache for the good old days. So he leans away, retreats his fingers and reaches for the condom he dropped on the bed before, but pauses with it in hand, staring down.

“What?” Steve asks, his stomach turning in some way at how those eyes adore him like he’s a marbled statue behind velvet rope.

“You’re so gorgeous.” Billy reaches up with his dry hand to push away brown locks from Steve’s face. “You’ve grown so handsome over the last few years.”

And Steve should have known- he should have known that that was what that look meant, should have recognized it from the way they’d watch each other in secret back then. He wants nothing more than for this moment to grow into eternity. Moving on was painful and he should have said no to meeting, because now he’s facing another half year just yearning and pining and wishing.

He returns to reality as the condom wrapper gets torn open, and watches how Billy slips it on with a perfected roll of his hand, how he strokes himself with the excess lube, how he lines up with Steve’s fluttering hole.

Billy grabs the underside of Steve’s knees, spreading him out and folding him in half to properly expose everything, allowing Billy a splendid view as he slowly pushes the head of his steely cock in.

Steve’s arms give up beneath him and he falls onto the sheets; a long drawn out “Fuuuuuck,” escapes with a moan as Billy fills him out, satiating his hunger, stretching the muscle till he’s panting for air with a stutter.

“Oh Billy,” he gasps and sends his hand in search for another, blindly skipping across silk till he’s found.

Fingers lace together and Billy leans down to kiss each of Steve’s digits. He settles in between wide spread thighs and sits still there for a moment, appreciating how well his cock fits, how Steve is clenching around him.

His lips travel down Steve’s arm, up his bicep and past his shoulder as he moves down and closer to whisper in a blushing ear, “You feel so amazing, princess. Warm and tight and perfect, like you were made for this- made for me.”

Words that could make him cum untouched, if Steve were to be honest about it. He had love once. They had love once. But life pulled them apart, and it was always a struggle to find their way together again, only for brief moments, a day or two, before they’d have to abandon that warmth and feel the pain of separation again.

And Steve wonders if Billy feels the same way as he does.

With their bodies drawn together, chests flush and warm and sweaty, Billy starts moving gently, pulling almost all the way out just to bottom out in a slow motion, and Steve adores how the head of his cock drags against each muscle, massaging every inch in reach.

“Fuck, I’ve missed this,” Steve moans softly and relaxes fully underneath the heavy weight of Billy’s sweaty, tan, inked up body.

“Ahh, me too, mmh-” Billy whispers back, voice thick and luscious in Steve’s ear before finding his way to his mouth.

Fingers entangled, hips thrusting tenderly, tongues dancing a well practiced waltz, it just proves that-

“Some things never change.”

Steve had gotten lost in the euphoria of their tryst, and barely even heard Billy’s words, wouldn’t have believed he had spoken at all, if when he opened his eyes he wasn’t met with such a caring look from heaven's own gaze. He can’t help but smile at Billy’s talent for knowing exactly what’s on his mind.

They both smile into the kiss, but falls into bawdy ‘o’s as Billy sets a faster, more shallow pace, encouraged completely by the way Steve moans more and louder, and when his prostate is found he arches his back.

“There- ah! Billy!”

“I got you, princess,” Billy grunts out, going for soft but sounding too fucked out.

He kisses as far down Steve’s chest as he can, running a hand over his twitching stomach to reach for the leaking prick-

“N-no! Don’t!” Steve utters through whimpering lips. “I-I can cum without- wanna cum without.”

Billy’s quick to remove his hand again. “You sure?”

“Y-yeah, I’m- mmh- I’m close-” With his free hand, Steve reaches up to push off of the headboard and deeper onto Billy’s cock sliding in and out.

The devil’s grin smooths across Billy’s face, and he licks his lips. “Already?” his tone low and desirous, “You really needed this, huh? Needed me.”

“Ah- shit- yes, you! Only you, Billy,” Steve calls out loud and turns his head to press kisses against Billy’s wrist.

“God, that’s so fucking sexy, Stevie,” Billy groans roughly, like tires on wet gravel. He grabs Steve by the hip; angling him up so that he can thrust deeper, grind harder. “Wanna feel you cum, baby, strangling my dick with your tight little hole.”

Every movement lights sparks inside of Steve, the fuse to the fireworks burning faster and faster every time Billy’s incredible, fat cock pounds into his prostate, every touch scorching and phenomenal, overstimulating to a point where he won’t last much longer.

And it truly takes no more than a kiss to his collarbone, Billy’s hand squeezing at his hip, before he’s cumming again, body tensing up, emptying his lungs towards the ceiling as Billy fucks him fast through his orgasm that sends fireworks loose behind his lids.

“Fuck, yes that’s so fucking good, arrh, Steve-” Billy spills into the condom, hips stuttering involuntarily with a few too hard and crude thrusts as he buries his face in the crook of Steve’s neck.

They freeze like that once all energy has drained, sweaty and heaving for air, pressed together in a mindless haze of unadulterated pleasure. Steve almost forgot how good he can feel, how satisfaction feels, to be completely and fully blissed out, happy.

He’s the first to move in a while, as he wraps his legs around Billy and snakes one arm across his back and up to hitch on the opposite shoulder, keeping him as near and close as physically possible, hoping to lock them together forever.

Billy kisses him gently, tasting the salt that runs down Steve’s neck, humming content and ending with a happy sigh.

“You know…” he breathes out, voice so faint it’s as if he’s barely there at all. “I’m staying in town for the week.”

“Mmmh, yeah,” Steve coos, sleepy and exhausted. “For the car show, you’ve mentioned.”

“Yeah, but also…” Billy raises himself up on his elbows.

He runs his fingers through Steve’s hair, removing the locks that’s plastered to his forehead. It takes him a moment to continue, thoughts clearly processing something, as is evident in how concentrated his brow furrows.

“I’m… considering relocating my shop, keep the old one running but make headquarters in a bigger city.”

And Steve’s no fool, he catches on immediately, knows exactly what Billy is barely insinuating, and his heart is going rampant, close to exploding maybe as it jumps around his chest, making him truly speechless.

“Was hoping you’d, I dunno, help me look around? Find a shop for sale or something. Some place here in Chicago.”

“Billy…” Steve whispers, hoping that his tone conveys every single thing he’s feeling right now, and perhaps the way Billy smiles at it proves that he hears it all. “Yes, I’d love to help you out.”

Billy leans down to kiss him, lips portraying something new and hopeful.

Maybe… maybe some things are about to change.

[holycow99]

石田お寿司 18/9/21 stream summary Part 1

This is not the full translation of the stream. I only translated the parts I could understand & interpret or parts I found interesting/important. I’m still a beginner in Japanese, so the translations may not be accurate. If you want to repost, please repost at your own risk.

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(t/n: ** = translation may not be accurate, SY= Y****, TS= S******)

1. According to his memo, he woke up at 1.30 am that day.  He started recording his daily activities, e.g. what time he woke up and what he did.

2. He got too excited and did 100 pages of draft.

3. He’d forget his goals if he didn’t say it out loud. His goal was to draw 72 pages. Since chp 8 was already 20-something pages, so he only had around 50 pages left. Then, he could release another 2 chapters. He planned to probably release both chapters on 26th sep, but it’s impossible since he had only 6 days to finish them.

4. There are 2 fans he saw had the name Take Hirako (TG’s character) as their usernames and he’s amazed of the character’s popularity. He’d never seen fans using other characters’ names.

5. Someone asked if KotaRAW was named after Take Hirako’s dog and he replied maybe since they both had the same name.

6. He actually didn’t want to play Hitman on the last stream. He just wanted to leisurely chat with the fans. He kept on looking at the comments while playing.

7. Someone asked about the 30,000 subscribers commemoration and he suggested karaoke streaming.

8. He jokingly asked people to fill his wallet with money by buying JJ OST’s album that was released on that day.

9. He’s gonna start eating fan letters bit by bit.

10. There were karaoke versions of JJ songs included in JJ ost album and Ishida didn’t know about it. He said he was probably informed by the staff about that but he didn’t pay attention to it. He was surprised when he got to know about it.

11. He continued that Broccoli might’ve not told him since they turned his illustrations into goods without his permission.

12. Someone asked if he’d get any money from the karaoke. He heard that the fee was around 1 yen per play, but the money probably would go to Mr. Kosemura as well. (t/n: Kosemura Akira is JJ’s composer.)

13. Someone asked him if he’s watched midnight summer. He said he’s watched it. Later in the stream, he googled to see if there’s a movie called Midnight Summer. It turned out OP miswrote the tittle. It’s supposed to be Midsommar.

14. He wondered why people like to ask him or other streamers if they’ve watched this or that. If he said he didn’t watch them, people would keep asking him every single stream, just like with the Tower of God. (t/n: There’s a fan who used to ask him if he’s watched Tower of God every stream.)

15. Someone commented that they probably interested to know if Ishida watch the same thing as them. Ishida replied by saying it didn’t really matter whether he’s watched it or not. Rather than asking him that kind of question, he’d like people to write their reviews about the movies/series.  Tell him the greatness of Tower of God.

16. Ishida checked on one of his former staffs’ manga that’s currently on Tonari Young Jump. It’s something with library in the title. There was a lewd scene between the MC and one of the female characters, but the MC was expressionless throughout the scene. He thought that the MC should be wilder while he’s at it. (t/n: I tried to search for the manga title, but couldn’t find it. If anyone knows, feel free to share it in the comment.)

17. Apart from drawing 100 pages of draft, he did the colouring for magazine as well.

18. SY asked him about the typhoon & he didn’t notice it, so someone asked him if he purposely ignored SY’s question. He later told SY that he was bashing the boy for leaving the stream while he’s giving advice on the last stream.

*Ishida started playing Made in Wario.

19. He felt scared when people wishing him to be healthy or to live a long life since he felt like it was foreshadowing him falling ill.

20. Ishida passed the stages in the game easily, so he felt the game was too easy for him. He wanted to play games where he could die and retry multiple times.

21. Someone commented that Hanae Natsuki also did a playthrough of this game. He said he should’ve watched Hanae’s playthrough first before playing the game to know what kind of game it was. He also mentioned that he watched Hanae’s PUBG’s playthrough and Hanae died a lot times in the game.

22. Someone said that Hanae died in this game as well and Ishida said that Hanae wasn’t much of a gamer then.

23. He was drinking the same sake as the last stream, a honey-flavoured sake.

24. He said he might not be cut out for game streaming. This game would be fun if he were to play it before sleeping, but not at the moment. He played this game because he wanted to experience playing it for the first time with the viewers, but he’s had enough of it already. He wanted to play games where he could go crazy & be noisy.

*Ishida getting confused about what’s going on in the game and what he’s supposed to do.

25. He wanted to play games leisurely, but the game made him panic. If it was Hitman, he could play it in a relaxed manner since it was light. He mentioned that Resident Evil Village was a great game.

26. He’s gonna watch Hanae’s playthrough of the game later.

27. Someone commented that Hanae is noisy. He replied saying that Hanae did that to entertain the viewers. Besides, with Hanae’s voice, it’s nice listening to him talking. The way seiyuus scream was on another level.

28. There were two loli characters in the game. People asked him if he hated kids, and he said he really liked them.

*One of the villains used hypnotism on animals to attack people.

29. He said he couldn’t forgive people who do bad things to animals. The villain was coward for using those sinless animals to do his dirty works. Hearing this, people in the comment was like “sensei is angry.” He kept on saying how he didn’t like it and how pitiful the animals were. He’s gonna write a complaint to Nintendo.

30. He’s not keeping any pets at the moment. He couldn’t even take care of himself.

31. Ishida really liked the one of the loli characters and he confirmed himself to be a lolicon.

32. He goes to the gym now and then.

33. He used to go to a rock climbing place with his staffs in Shinjuku. Goubaru was really sick at that time, so he slept on a chair there. Then, Goubaru got moody when he teased him. He got sick from eating tempura in a nearby restaurant.

34. Ishida fanboying over a character name Ashley.

35. TS liked also liked Ashley & Ishida was disappointed in him, thinking he was different.

36. Someone asked how old is TS. Ishida told that person that TS wasn’t gonna answer it. Instead, he’d return the question back at them. He’d use the phrase “On the contrary”.

37. He said he has a bias view against men who like female characters like Ashley because she’s too moe, though he understood why people like her since she’s cute. It turned out Hanae also liked this character. He ended up fanboying over Ashley as well.

38. He went to the toilet for a while and people were guessing what kind of flowers did he pick this time. Last time it was dandelion, so they guessed flowers such as daisy, lavender, etc. When Ishida came back, he told them it was pansy. He mentioned that there was a grand prize, which was just an acrylic keychain, for the person who could guess it right. Unfortunately, no one did.

(t/n: The term Ishida uses whenever he goes to the toilet is “Ohanatsumi” which literally means ‘flower picking’. This term is used usually by female whenever they’re going to the toilet. That’s why people were guessing what flower did he pick this time.)

39. He’s drinking makgeolli after he just had a sake.

40. He wanted to have a drinking meeting with 500 ppl.

41. Someone thought that his idea of eating letters was just him being drunk, but he’s just hyper because he’s taking a proper break from work. He truly intended to eat the fan letters. He wasn’t drunk. He was like that even before he drank.

Part 2