#lets cheer for them!

[inkskinned]

actually sometimes being neurodivergent is great bc you have a particular kind of Silly Mode that just . manifests glory. harmless fun is my precious side quest & i have a high score in whimsy. like okay if i gotta be the first dork in the dance pit it's gonna be me and this random toddler and we're gonna avril-style rock ouuuuttt

[yourangle-yuordevil]

Minutes before disaster... cheers! 😏

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 185

No one could get into contact with Constantine. 

Now usually that wasn’t that big of a deal, the man constantly disappeared for a few days at a time doing something or other, but he’d been completely silent and unseen for months. Usually he’ll at least answer a call to tell them to fuck off or something. 

And they really need his expertise and are getting incredibly worried for their grumpy team member. Yes he’s an asshole, but he’s their asshole, y’know? And he has a habit of getting into Situations (sure he also usually gets out of them, but what if he didn’t this time?!) 

So they’re desperate. Kind of really desperate. Desperate enough to use the summoning sigil they found on his fridge. They’d checked it, multiple times, and it should summon the hellblazer. 

“You’re not Constantine.” . 

The white-haired teen in the circle yawned, stretching and blinking at them blandly with familiar blue eyes before sighing. “Actually I am,” he stuffed his hands into his hoodie as he looked down at the summoning circle. “Well, technically just one of the many Laughing Magicians currently in the Realms.” 

He gave a grin, looking more amused than annoyed. “Pretty much every one of us is in the Realms right now for family reunion lol. (Did he just say lol out loud??) So like, you’re gonna have to specify which of us you’re tryin’ to summon. Honestly perfect timing for me thanks, the fruitloop keeps flirting with John and it’s horrific so.” 

… That was probably their John, wasn’t it…

[sharkenedfangs]

— ☆ “YOU REALLY ARE A FREAK . . . KYLAR .”

promise he didn’t mean to stupidly jack off to you , it was just hormonal urges acting up, yeah.

Fuck, underneath this thin layer of pure impulsivity, he’s undeniably aware that he should’ve stopped things here the second it escalated— Hastily shut off the cheaply recorded clips hazily shown back towards him by the dimly lit monitoring of his screen. He had his tell-tale suspicions secretly simmering deep within, yeah, lil’ freak here knew you weren’t necessarily the most loyal of people ‘round town. Didn’t mean his skittish eyes to instinctively seek yours out in a crowded room, hidden amongst the numerous people he’d usually glance over in bare disinterest when in search for your own recognizable frame. A harmless crush, he’d initially call it to soothe the lurking urges annoyingly gnawing at the back of his mind, repeatedly whispering to him the instinctual need to fervently possess you further, sweetly leave his fair share of littered marks all around your unblemished skin so that the town may notably take notice of your cherished bond.

Still, this is— this is so fuckin’ unfair, y’know?? How dare you merely prove your brazen disloyalty to him time and time again and here he is, curled fist stubbornly snug around his leaking cock, tacky globs of pre-cum profusely dribbling out of his swollen slit as if he’s not crudely getting off to the sight of you— you, fucking getting your whorish boy hole ruined by another person. Desperate bucks of his hips, jeans carelessly slung down to his ankles below, rest of his sticky with cum underwear probably thrown somewhere along the scattered mess in his room. It’s sick, downright vile and he knows it, but fuck— it has started off with a familiar scowl making its way past his normally soft features when faced with your usually placate room devoid of anyone else but his watchful eyes carefully taking in the sight of your snoozing frame comfortably tucked away under the woollen covers.

Except, you’re not truly alone and ah, here goes.. Robin? Seamlessly sneaking himself into your room instead, not him, but that fucking friend of yours constantly sticking to your sides at school, outside of there too — yes, he’s checked, no he’s not a creep for it! — Affectionately nosing along the crook of your neck, muttering out wistful words, he, himself cannot possibly hope to discern considering his— well, namely cheap equipment he has to forcibly deal with, here. Subtle brush of your best friend’s palm sneakily disappearing underneath the thick blanket, though he can barely make out the outline of his hand dizzyingly slipping its way past your boxers, probably.. hah, feeling your cute cock up, sticky mess pervertedly staining the material already. The little, heated sighs collectively tumbling forth from both of your lips, discreetly obscured within the dark corners of your narrow room shouldn’t be affecting him this much. Yet, it is as proven by the burning flush heating his cheeks, teeth instinctively digging into the rosy flesh of his bottom lip. Inwardly seething at the pure display of love intimately being shown to him — without your aforementioned knowledge too, by the way — and that his cock itself is painfully reacting to it, stupidly tented against the front of his ripped jeans, craning his neck closer as if it might magically allow him to see your movements beneath.

Don’t need to wait all that long for it since you decisively do the honours for him of course, or unfortunately Robin here, whose hands and lips are busying themselves all over your originally untouched body. Supple fingertips coyly caressing rhythmic circles along your hips, thumb lovingly circling around the edge of your hot, drooling tip freed out in the air. Relishing in the hitched gasps, slightest shivers of your curled frame snugly pressed against his, adorably pleading for more with a needy whine of his name. A name, name that should be Kylar’s — not his. Repressed freak frustratingly chewing at his chipped nails, gaze not leaving your glazed over eyes for the briefest of seconds in favour of freeing his fat, throbbing cock from the tight of confines of his pants. It’s— It’s not bad! He’s just helping himself because at the end of the day, he’s nothing but a man too, just like you. A pathetic loser who’s wracked in a mess, stupidly fisting his cock at the bare sight of your figure being sinfully defiled by your best friend hidden beneath the haphazardly spread sheets. Swollen, pink nipples shown out in the cooling air for his eyes to breathlessly take in, soon also taken by Robin’s mouth hungrily latching onto one of them. Audibly suckling on the perky buds with noisy sucks, relishing in the muted gasps gradually being drawn out of you. Noticeable scrunch of your face, timid grasp finding its way entangled along the soft strands of your best friend’s hair in a shy mewl for more cuz’ shit, it must feel good, right?

He could make you feel way better than that, promise! Though that’s the very last repetitive protest on his blurring mind, dumbly shut off as he jerks himself off. Slippery slides of his palm gliding along his cum coated length in an audible squelch!, rhythmic up-and-down motion of fisting his cock raw against his palm, furiously humping upwards in time with each controlled thrust of Robin on the other end. Hah, wonder what you’d do if you truthfully knew what he’s currently doing, how that precious owl toy gifted to you on that faithful day wasn’t for innocent intentions and all that, wasn’t to kindly look over you to make sure you’re always at ease. He means, it is! But, not necessarily that, no— in fact, it’s for opportunities like this. Like a pervert, he’s shamelessly getting off to your tight, little fucking hole being stuffed full of your best friend’s fat cock, bobbing dick cutely swaying between the tantalizing spreading of your thighs. Legs deftly locked around Robin’s hips in a tentative beg to keep going! and feels so fuckin’ good! and oh, how he wishes he was the one stupidly balls deep inside of you. Subtle arch of your back, peppered kisses being repeatedly planted against your pouty lips, lolling tongue and rolling eyes and fuuuckkk—- it’s the second you make immediate contact with him, maybe not out of purpose. No, definitely not, but the split second of eye contact you both share, slightest flicker of your gaze settling upon the owl who’s flickering camera is blinking back, recording this all — that has his hips stuttering, head impulsively thrown back and whiny moans hurriedly spilling past his open lips as hot spurts of his sticky seed spurt out of his cock and into the air. Stiffening limbs wracked with his orgasm, quivering legs sat atop his creaking chair all the while milking every last drop of his cock, till it uselessly dribbles out in pitiful droplets onto the ground.

Ah, look at the effects you have on him that he embarrassingly enough, cums so quickly from a mere glance of your eyes in his direction. And really, how he should be properly blaming you for the coated mess on his wooden floorboards which he should be currently cleaning right about now, lest his parents find out again. Truly, he should probably go and.. grab a wet rag now.

..And some tissues for later.

[theoppositeofprofound]

not to go off topic but i think that ideal post-canon dungeon meshi situation for kabru is for him to simultaneously have a slowburn domestic cozy noodles and rare escapes to go monster hunting and falling asleep in the same bed situation with mithrun AND some sort of high politics high stakes power dynamics they can't escape, manipulation equally matched by hopeless affection, glances shared over council tables, getting caught in the closet with the king again (explaining basic social protocols to him) thing with laios.

then just as he's coming to terms with his own feelings and the possibility that they might be romantic he learns that mithrun and laios have in fact been carrying on some sort of psychosexual no-strings affair the whole time (mithrun sits on the dresser and dispassionately explains horrific and bizarre monster situations from around the globe while laios gets off seven feet away)

[perpetuallyboo]

The posts ive seen about "I really hope the bad kids dont hurt the rat grinders :(" is giving the same energy as the hangman to fabian going "we should be nice to her cause if we just keep being nice to her then she'll stop being so mean!!"

[corpusdiem-seizethedead]

*Angel and Husk taking Nuggets for a walk, minding their business*

Some rando: Slut!

Angel: *stops*

Angel: Hold my pig-

Husk: Kick his ass, baby. I got your pig-

[lunarharp]

scrappy. idk why it's weirdly alcohol themed

[bacchuschucklefuck]

and! barbarian!fig! its her

[titfairy]

"I got sick of having the same old thing."

[navree]

"rhaenys could have ended the war by dracarysing all the greens right there" yes because a distant relation to the throne deciding to barbecue an anointed and publicly positively hailed king and his entire family who is well loved within the city and in multiple other parts of the country for the sake of the succession of a far-away princess no one was ever on board with who hasn't been seen by the populace in literal years, her psycho husband, her three obvious bastards, and two toddlers from the psycho husband would go over super well with westeros and especially in king's landing where scores of the still-cheering population were killed for no reason by that same dragon who would do the barbecuing, because when targaryens act unilaterally without thinking of how the people would react there's never any problem, which is why the storming of the dragonpit and robert's rebellion were actually just collective delusions dreamed up by readers who hate rhaenyra and not key parts of the story and house targaryen's history that directly contributed to their demise and are intrinsic to the plot

truly team black stans are made up of only the most genius and media literate amongst us

[cheerleaderman]

Day 15 Jan what are you on?

The Pumpkin king Yuya Florence with their cousin Jamil Viper the Pumpkin Princess

We can see who influenced Jarid’s daughter dream world

Outfit design (this is not Yuya’s event outfit)

Jarid princess x Knight who is secretly a run away powerful mage

[rainbow-nijisaki]

Partners for life

[redwinterroses]

There’s a cherry tree in the middle of the redwood forest.

False isn’t sure what to make of that. She shifts her grip on the staff in her hand, its pale glow reflecting faintly off the fresh snow. She’s come out here for resources—the vault altar is demanding logs, and these giant trees are an easy source—but the incongruous sight of an enormous, blossoming cherry tree sending pink petals wafting on the frozen wind…

She wonders if this is what fish feel like, when they see a lure.

“Hello?” she calls, her voice echoing off the trees. The world stands in permanent semi-twilight here, and the deeper shadows hide the mobs that will venture out come nightfall. A sneak of creepers is bedded down in a sweetberry bramble just on the other side of the clearing, and False tenses when the lead boar lifts his head, but he apparently doesn’t deem her worth stalking so early in the day. 

There is no other reaction to her call.

False is of half a mind just to head back home and farm her own dang trees. It’s not like the vaultar is picky about the kinds of logs—she could just as easily grow up a bunch of birch and throw those in there. But that will take so much longer… not to mention she’s not sure if there are even enough saplings in her storage.

She unhooks her enchantment-glittered axe from her belt and pauses to mentally poke at her mana reserves. Plenty high. Whatever’s lingering near this tree, it can hardly be worse than what she deals with on the daily in the vaults. Overworld dangers are barely a challenge anymore.

The logic of that doesn’t change the uneasy feeling that buzzes over her skin though. 

Venturing further into the clearing. False’s gaze traces up the trunk of the cherry tree, following its branches to where they terminate in lush bursts of pink and white blooms. A sweet smell drifts on the wind. She wrinkles her nose, reminded of compost piles and fermented spiders’ eyes. 

The tree’s branches stretch long and low—a canopy of their own, heavy with flowers and dark, glossy leaves. The space underneath is filled with falling flowers and a fog of pollen, the air moisture-thick like a lush cave.

Lifting one hand, False catches a falling petal on her fingertip.

It sizzles as it touches her skin, stinging and buzzing like live redstone.

She hisses through her teeth, shaking her hand and letting the petal fall to the forest floor. “What the heck?”

Another petal tumbles past her face, and she watches it with narrowed eyes—right until it fizzles out of existence a few pixels above the forest floor.

“Glitch,” she mutters. “That’s… not good.”

Iskall needs to know about this—it could be a bug from one of the new updates, or it could be something deeper in the code, but either way: this glitched tree is a problem. She’s probably lucky it just stung her.

She reaches for her communicator, raising it to take a pic of the cherry tree.

“Oh, hi there, False!”

False yelps, spinning around with her axe ready to swing.

Gem is standing behind her, a wreath of cherry blossoms tangled in her hair and antlers, leaning casually on a tall staff of blooming cherry wood. Her smile is wide, and sap flows over her fingers, pale golden, dripping down her arms to leave dark spots on the faded denim of her overalls.

“Gem!” False lowers her axe. “Oh my gosh, you scared me. I didn’t know you were doing Vault Hunters.”

“Hm?” Gem raises one eyebrow, and for a moment her eyes flicker to red and then purple before settling back on green. “Oh—I’m not doing Vault Hunters, False.” Her voice is amused, almost chiding.

“Oh.” False feels unexpectedly small—which is impressive, considering she’s nearly half a block taller than Gem. 

More of the glitched petals fall, resting on Gem’s hair and slowly melting into it like snowflakes. The brief moment of relief when False had seen Gem’s familiar grin is fading into something like the sensation of freefall. 

“What’cha up to?” Gem asks, and her face blinks from one expression to the next like a bad video message. Her clothes are blue—no, green—no, bloodstained and grey—no, blue. They’ve always been blue.

False takes a step back.

“Uh, not much…” she glances up at the redwoods. “Just doing some… resource gathering. You know.”

“Cool!” Gem giggles, and stands up straight. False tenses, but Gem only spins around her staff and waves a hand at the glitched tree. “I didn’t realize this was an occupied server—are there many people here?”

There’s a buzzing in False’s skull, and she blinks rapidly. A muscle twitches under her eye. 

“Um…”

“I guess it doesn’t really matter.” Gem lifts one hand and grabs one of the lowest branches of the cherry tree. She really should not have been able to reach that.

Swinging herself up with the lithe, effortless strength of a cat, she perches on the limb and stares down at False. The grin is gone from her face now, and she looks down at False with bright eyes.

“Etho’s not here, is he?”

False opens her mouth to answer, the words yes, of course he is, I can take you to him heavy on her lips… And with effort, she swallows them back. 

They taste of sweet rot.

“Why... why doesn’t what matter?” she asks instead.

Gem stares at her for a long moment, expressionless. The flowers woven through her antlers are growing of their own accord, twining up to caress their brethren in the branches overhead. 

Then she smiles broadly, flashing teeth that nearly glow white in the dappled shadows. “Oh!” she exclaims. “No reason! I’m only passing through, is all.”

“You’re not… you’re not sticking around?” False tries—and mostly fails—to sound disappointed.

“Naaaaah…” Gem stands and walks along the branch, as secure and balanced as if it were a stone floor. The flowers in her hair flow along behind her, sliding from the branches and falling like a cape down her back. “Worldhopping is easy. Staying in one spot is way harder.” 

False watches the flowers move and swirl, their smooth, strange motion ensnaring her attention. The buzzing is back, too. Like bees, drunk on honey and sleepy in their hive.

“World hopping…?” she manages. “With admin commands?”

Gem’s laugh is as brilliant as a knife and as sharp as a spark. “False!” she crows. “You say the funniest things.”

False laughs. It seems appropriate. She isn’t sure why.

“Anyway,” Gem continues, fading into one patch of blossoms and reappearing on the other side of it. Her eyes are sprays of cherry flowers now. Her antlers are branches. “Anyway, cherry trees are all the same. They make it easy to get around.”

“That…” doesn’t make sense, False wants to say. But her lips are heavy, and coated in sticky sap. Maybe it doesn’t really matter.

“Oops! Behind you, False!” 

Gem’s chirped warning is flaked in glee, and False turns around, as slow as if her feet are buried in soul sand.

The creepers she had seen—the entire sneak—are standing behind her, pink flowers blooming from their eyes. 

“Oh no.”

The boar’s blinded head snaps toward her voice, hissing. He starts to aggro, bioluminescent streaks flashing from his snout to flanks in increasingly-swift pulses of light.

“See ya in season ten, False!” Gem cries out cheerfully.

The axe drops from False’s nerveless fingers, trailing strings of sap. She smells the inescapable stench of burning gunpowder, overlaid with rot.

“...Dangit.”

[FalseSymmetry was blown up by a creeper]

~*~

Jerking upright in her own bed, False swipes wildly at her face, trying to smear away tree sap that isn’t there. 

“What the heck, Gem?” she exclaims at her empty base. Her voice falls flat, swallowed up by the sky that surrounds her builds. The clock above her head ticks impatiently, and she huffs in frustration, pushing up out of her bed. All her tools, gone—her levels, gone... and after all that she still needs those logs for the vault. 

Grumbling, she starts pulling backup gear from various chests, trying to cobble together something that can get her back to the redwood grove before her items despawn—assuming they hadn’t all been obliterated by a second or third creeper explosion. She glances at the vaulter, and freezes.

It’s been completed. The crystal floats gently atop the stone pedestal, gleaming with an inner light. 

And, tumbled at the base of the vaulter—abandoned, more than was needed to fill the crystal’s requirements:

Half a stack of cherry logs.

[worstloki]

there is a difference between being born to a throne, maliciously vying for a throne, stealing a throne, and having a throne thrust upon you when you are already in the midst of an identity crisis. And I fear Loki's place in the line of succession has people unable to differentiate between any of these

[essektheylyss]

I'd thought I remembered, in the Knights of Requital planning, someone mentioning the gala being moved, because it gave the Nein an extra day to prep, and Dolan did specify that it had been unexpectedly pushed back a day, but doesn't suggest he knows why. (It's not clear to me based on the conversation when this change happened—it's possible Dolan has simply heard this update recently, but it also might've been a last minute change.) I was wondering because the timing of the Zauberspire attack coinciding with the gala seemed odd.

It is very narratively convenient, of course, and certainly the Kryn spies could've been using it for the same reason that the Knights of Requital were—important figures of the city were distracted and otherwise occupied, and Thuron does give an indication that Ulog was feeding them information as well, so he certainly could've suggested that timing to both.

But two things about the attack struck me: first, that the Zauberspire does not seem to be very far from where the gala is held, which makes it less of a distraction and more of a liability for covert military operations; and second, the Assembly reacts instantly. Moreover, Trent is already there, though he normally resides in Rexxentrum. He doesn't exactly seem the type to show up for annual holiday festivities, given he doesn't stand to gain much if anything from hobnobbing with a bunch of regional socialites, and Ludinus later suggests he is not exactly being dispatched to events as a diplomatic entity. Of course he can be in another city quite quickly, but this all happens so quickly that I find it unlikely that there would've been time to inform someone in another city prior to apprehending the infiltrators, given the immediacy with which the mages respond.

The point being, I think they were warned.