#i'm gonna be seeing this in my dreams

[canyonkingdom]

on top

cw: ooc

tw: swearing

The good-for-nothing citizens of Broomstown were fortunately not in trouble, and the rescue team can finally have some time for themselves. All alone.

All...

alone...

Oh, well, it's not as bad as last time.

Right?

Once again proven wrong when Poli walked into the room with a can of gas in his left hand. He seemed to not give a shit about the dire consequences of his actions and gave even less of a shit when he accidentally tilted his can to Roy. The firetruck gasped in utter shock.

"Dude, what the fuck?" Roy shouted, desperately wiping off the gas on his frame. You could've used a towel, but no, hands are way better.

"You got in the way, asshole," Poli said callously. Helly then walks in with an AK-47- wait, an AK-47?

Poli and Roy looked at him with horror. Poli drops his can of gas. "PUT THAT DOWN-"

Helly uncharacteristically shoots the gun, pointing it at the calendar. His resting bitch face didn't budge. Poli dodged and Roy miraculously skims himself out of the situation.

"DUDE!" Roy screamed at Helly. "Didn't we tell you literally this morning not to use any of the weapons-"

Suddenly, Jin bursts through the room. Her laugh was deafening, and a machine gun was in her hands. The gun was pointed at the roof. Poli and Roy screamed.

"This is not normal." Poli muttered. No shit, Sherlock.

"There's nothing to do!" Jin shrieks as the ceiling filled with roles. Music to my ears.

"We're gonna spend a fortune on reparations-"

Jin threw Roy a machete, which didn't help as it landed on the ground helplessly.

"What-"

"Let's gang up on Poli!" Helly suddenly shouted. All faces turned the police car.

"Woah, woah, woah!" Poli said defensively, backing up against the doorway. "Who said that-"

"Let's just get on with it," Jin said.

Wait, what-

CHARGE!"

Poli ran for his life as gun sounds and metal clunking filled his ears.

Not as bad as last time, they said.

Poli makes his way out of the room. The hallways confuse him.

Then he thought.

Think faster bitch three idiots are literally ganging up on you-

"Alright! Alright! I'm going to the storage room!" Poli shouted. Footsteps get closer.

"It's him!"

Poli drives faster.

He transformed and stared at the door to the storage room. What a great time to stare into nothingness when you're being hunted down. Eventually, Poli shakes out of his trance and opened the door.

Weapons all around.

Poli zoned out. Only a glowing purple light shown.

"it's about time."

"Why are we doing this again?"

Roy was a pussy for cowering behind the two far superior human and helicopter holding weapons that could bust your fucking ass.

"The author made us do it, man." Jin replied in a joking manner.

The trio saw a purple light emitting from the storage room.

What a great way to loathe.

"We're fucked." Helly said.

"What?"

Suddenly, the ground started shaking like hell. Glass started breaking.

"What's happening?" Roy's naivete said, terrified.

Jin kept laughing like a maniac as she reloaded her gun. "He actually used it! Fuck!"

Poli, unnaturally swift, zoomed through the hallways. In his hands, there it was-

The Immortal gun.

"Oh God no." Helly muttered, "He's possessed."

"Dude!" Roy butted in, the machete in his hands almost swinging to the helicopter. "He literally owns the thing, we all know what happens when-"

"I'm on the top of the world!" A purplish laser shot out from his immortal gun. Amber and Helly dodge as they reload their own weapons. But Roy screamed as the laser shot through his face.

"AHHH- WHAT THE FUCK-" Roy started glowing in purple, dropping his machete as he floated in the air, still screaming horribly.

"Is... is that what it's supposed to do-"

Poli then shot the gun to an unobservant Helly.

"What-

-the-

FUCK."

Jin watched as her two allies went fuck that shit and left her with a rogue Poli.

"Let's battle." Poli said to the remaining person.

Jin hissed as he pointed her gun at the robocar. "Will do-"

Helly screamed like he was in pain. "Why am I in hell?"

...

What did the bitch just say.

"Are you stupid?" Poli laughed, but it will never replicate Jin's amazing evil laugh.

"Yes you are." Wads of bullets shot at the car.

Amber returned from Cleany's fiasco over an irremovable stain spot she sighed as she drove into the gate of the headquarters with her eyes closed, blissfully unaware of the chaos the team had created.

"I'm ba-" she opened her eyes to the burning remains of the headquarters.

They are all gonna die, aren't they?

-///-

this is for @light-everything-in-pink

the crack is not cracking lmao

and idk how the immortal gun is supposed to work so-

[egophiliac]

DOGS

IN

SPACE

[kurikorso]

nostalgia slapped me upside the head a little while ago so i had to draw my favorite dudes ft. the gecko effect

[j-em-g]

Oh and I drew this because I dreamed of this movie for no reason days ago haha

These two are very very adorable. Very tiny, yet very fierce.🗡🗡🔫

[triglycercule]

mtt therapy moment except dust keeps taking breaks to talk to phantom papyrus and horror just wants this to hurry up so it can get to his turn because he couldn't give two shits about dust and killer's trauma and killer physically cannot discuss his issues and just starts zoning out while crying for some reason during it

and i'm the therapist listening to all of this writing down notes fervently because ITS CANON MATERIAL CANON I NEED TO GET THE CANON MATERIAL

[tarobii]

so who's ready for the barbie movie

I was gonna do the mtt too but I got tired 💀

dream and nightmare belong to jokublog ink belongs to comyet/myebi cross belongs to jakei95 blue belongs to popcornpr1nce error belong to loverofpiggies

(closeups under the cut)

[cuubism]

i said i might write something based on Sonnet XVII by Pablo Neruda and well. yeah.

--

“Have you been thinking much of this time?” Dream asks.

They are at the beginning. The ancient, smoky main room of the White Horse, all the way back then, when that sweet, starlit entity had loomed over Hob with challenge and strangeness and then swept away again, leaving the start of a story in his wake. Only this time, Dream is sitting with him, and the rest of the room is faded out, as it had when Hob had first seen him, this collected truth of the universe.

(Dream does not believe in objective truth—of course he doesn’t, he is made of dreams—though he would not articulate it that way if asked. Hob, meanwhile, knows at least one truth, and it’s what he feels when he looks at Dream.)

“Don’t you think of it?” he asks, wrapping an arm around Dream’s waist, fingers over his hipbone. It is a dream, but that distinction does not matter to Hob much anymore.

“I suppose. I think of much.”

“‘Course you do.” He strokes his hand up and down Dream’s side, and Dream hums. “I wondered about following you. Think if I did you’d have been gone into smoke already.”

“Yes. I did not care to stay long.”

“Nor I,” Hob admits.

“Truly?” says Dream, with surprise.

“Was thinking about you too much,” Hob says. “How could I go back to just chatting with my mates when I had seen you?”

“Why did you stay, then?”

“You have to take time with your mates while you have it,” Hob says. “Didn’t need six hundred years of life to know that one. Just a couple dozen deaths. Had the rest of eternity to mull over you, after all.”

“And did you?” Dream asks.

“Oh, yes.” He pulls Dream close. Slides over until he’s half in his lap, straddling his thigh, perfectly placed to kiss him. Hands on his shoulders, his neck, the sharp cut of his jaw. Once, Hob had held him from afar, like a wish. Now, Hob holds him close, as dream, as friend, as lover, in his human way, with sweat and time and hands.

“I mulled over you like fine wine,” Hob says, twisting his fingers in Dream’s hair, and Dream smiles. Hob kisses him again. Sips of his mouth like mulled wine, indeed. But his love for Dream is nothing so fleeting as spice on his tongue.

Or as fleeting as Dream sometimes thinks it will be. Dream is a living love poem to creation. But he does not know how to be loved in the way Hob wants to love him. In the way Hob does love him. Hob thinks that Dream knows how to be loved as a dream is loved, as a hope is loved, as an ideal is loved: held in glass, or in the sky, distant, perfect, disappointing up close. Parts of him are held as bubbles in different souls, but never in entirety.

He knows how to be loved as a nightmare is loved, bloody fear and history, raw closeness, curling in the humors of the body. He has been loved as a story is loved, which is to say, as creation is loved, as transmission is loved, as distance, as connection, as hearts on radio waves, as endings are loved, the pathways of him, container and fill.

Dream does not know how to be loved as a person is loved.

Hob loves him still when he grows teeth, and when a sweet taste comes to his mouth. Hob loves him as potential, as uncertainty. Story unset in stone. In softening belly and uneven step. Hob will show him how to be loved as a person is loved, because Dream is a person, especially when he insists he is not, and Hob loves him as one, has loved him as one, and Dream, who is used to being loved as dreams, cannot comprehend this.

He asks, sometimes. Why? Not even in a hurt, self-hating way. In a genuinely curious way, for he is not used to it. Hob hasn’t had the answer to that. Just trust that I do.

This moment, kissing Dream in the smoke of memory, is an answer. This is the beginning, but a fragment of words comes back to him, read in the between-time, when they were apart.

“You wanted to know why I loved you.” His lips are to Dream’s skin as he speaks, moved to his throat, his chest, pulling open his high collar, as Dream shivers under him. In the Dreaming, things can be like other things in a way that makes no sense in the Waking; Dreaming-sense is like a collage, the distant truth of collected fragments. And so touching Dream’s skin is like stepping out into the earliest morning, before the human world’s woken up, and feeling what’s un-meant to be felt.

“I do not think love needs a why,” Dream says. “Yet I have wondered.”

He gets it, Hob thinks, except that he doesn’t let himself.

He traces the harsh line of Dream’s collarbone with his mouth. Dream is full of harsh lines and seems incapable of letting softness stick to his bones. “‘I love you because I know no other way than this.’”

“I am familiar with the poem,” Dream says, but his voice is caught on Hob's words, his long fingers disbelieving in Hob’s hair.

“Are you?”

“Between shadow and soul is where dreams reside,” says Dream.

“And what about Dream?” Hob says, looking up at him, stressing the singular.

Dream’s lips purse, and Hob goes back to kissing his chest, up his sternum, over his heart. “I know,” he says between kisses, “no other way. Than this.”

Dream tangles him up, long arms, legs curled together, shadow and star around him. Hob’s loved him so long that he doesn’t remember what it was like not to. He has been tangled up in Dream since the beginning. It is what he is.

“A dream resides where it is wanted,” says Dream, finally answering his question. His voice has roughened, his breath has quickened, affected by Hob’s touch, by the words of the poem. Each lick, and kiss, and bite coils the Dreaming closer around them. One day it might be harder to wake up than to fall asleep.

“It’s wanted,” Hob says, and claims his beautiful mouth, pressing him back against the wall. His hair in its uncontrollable frissons, his eyes in their changeable void, his needy starvation of a thousand unanswered love poems—this kiss is a response to those missives. Dream is in the shadowed parts of him, in his turning points, in the words he speaks. Hob sees his answer in the tears that bead along his eyes but refuse to fall, in his darkness and whimsical creations, and his surprised, gentle pleasure when he’s kissed.

Hob loves him so. There’s no moral or end to that story. Hob’s love for Dream is. Full stop. End of sentence.

[kingsofgaytham]

i sometimes think about how one of the first things stede did upon waking up and meeting the charming stranger was inviting him into his secret closet and then in the same episode they not only swap clothes but exchange rings too

[americankimchi]

this is the most devastating choice in this entire game

[beastblade69]

well that's fucking awesome. all of the damage russians have done to our electric infrastructure can be repaired in one year minimum. IT'S GONNA TAKE MORE TAHN ONE YEAR TO REPAIR ALL OF THE ELECTRIC STATIONS RUSSIANS HIT WITH THEIR MISSILES. AND WE AIN'T EVEN TALKING ABOUT CIVILIAN OR ANY OTHER INFRASTRUCTURE. ONLY ELECTRIC ONE. MORE THAN ONE YEAR. AND WE ARE STILL NOT STRUGGLING ENOUGH IN ONLINE PEOPLE'S OPINION. FUCK OFF

[slashthrashandcrash]

The amount of silly Ghostface shirts I've seen people wearing at HHN brings me great joy

[artofloof]

Day 1: warmup

Deciding to try @/galacii's Shattered September! Kinda just started out with something very "nothing" and simple. Normally I don't pull through with 30 day prompt challenges so we'll see how far I get with this 👀

[demodraws0606]

You know I think there is something interesting to say in terms of where the fuck WxS is going because like

I think WxS is the only unit where the end goal or overall progression is probably the most unknown out of all of them ???

MMJ and VBS are extremely obvious, they both have the most explicit goals that are said to us in a straightforward way

25-ji, in the end we know the main goal at the end will be for all of the characters to go over their hurdles with Mafuyu finally being able to find herself and move forward

Leo/need is probably the closest in terms of vagueness but we know the end goal is clear for them to grow as a band, probably ending in a big concert or something along those lines

But with WxS...like I guess the closest thing I can see to an end goal is all of WxS preparing a show together with everyone playing their part but that definitely doesn't feel like something you'd build up for an entire arc and definitely not something that feels fitting after the emotional turmoil that was the disbandement arc ???

In terms of physical achievements as well they literally revived an entire parc through one gigantic show, so it just comes into question what they can do now.

Then you look at their first few event for this arc considering usually the first event kinda set up what will be planned for the future but it's...weird.

Yeah, Tsukasa and Rui's events set up they're inexperienced and how they will grow in the future but also there is this weird feeling of something feeling off ?

The plays/scripts all are strangely depressing, the play in Tsukasa's event being about a failed writer planning to drown himself (which I believe is one of the only undeniable explicit description of suicide ever in the game?????) and the second being someone whose given up on life meeting their estranged sister only for her to become ill.

We even have Emu's side story in Rui's event where they watched the movie Rin was watching during the event made by the same producer and Emu herself note how depressing the story is (meanwhile the main character of the movie clearly parallels Rui)

We don't see the conclusion of these in-game stories as well, lingering on their worst moment never really seeing the presumably happy conclusion.

THEN we also have Emukasa fes which....again strangely different in tone from what you'd expect a WxS fes card, they're not really all that conclusive either. Tsukasa never aknowledges how he relates to the brother in the story and Emu doesn't really get a conclusion on her grief.

Then we also have Rui's entire fuckign event with the cards and his cyberpunk deadbo-YOU SEE WHAT IM SAYING

The closest we fucking have to knowing what WxS's fucking endgoal towards the story is, is fucking WL which....TELLS US NOTHING

At least with VBS we know that they're goal is to go even further beyond and conquer the whole world, that is a developpement of their goal.

What I'm saying is I don't know what the fuck colorpalet is cooking wiht WxS but I feel like i'm a fucking twilight zone reading the way they're writing WxS now because I can't be the only one feeling insane at how weird all of this is

[cushfuddled]

I've been rewatching Voltron

[rabbits-of-negative-euphoria]

some dreams are meant to be kept to oneself

[spinjitsuburst]

good. morning.