#mitsy day

[abbythesleepdeprived]

[themightiestpotato]

why do cats get the zoomies after they take the nastiest of shits

[hidingoutbackstage]

Tbh if I had to describe the Deadgirl 2 script it would be "Pearl, but like a decade before Pearl" cuz that's p much all it is, Pearl with Deadgirl elements

[echos-gal]

TBB fans and fellow tech girlies, here's my cat in case you are sad (because i know you are)

[hanrinz]

“when are you coming home?”

“next week,”

“too long,” you whine, burying your head in your comforter, your phone beside you prop up by your pillows as you hear sae let out a small chuckle on the other side of the phone.

it has been two weeks since you last saw your boyfriend, with him going for a game with real madrid and with you not being able to go there to support him because of your schedule, you were settled with watching him through a stupid screen throughout the whole match.

and as much as you would've loved to be there with him, you have so many things to tend to. and with the time differences between the two of you, it's been hard to have an alone time with him.

this is just one of the small moments where you can have him all to yourself. you turn your head to your phone as you peak at your boyfriend in the kitchen of his apartment, cooking a meal for himself.

“what are you laughing at, huh? do you find joy in me, the love of your life, dying because of you?” you said, dramatically. sae could only shake his head at you for your theatrics. “i miss you so much, you know.” you mumbled a little softly now.

“well then, you should've gone with me here in spain,” if you were a little sleepy right now, his statement might have just woke you up from how he casually said it. not that you've never imagined going to spain with sae before, but the thought has never been brought up since you started dating.

“are you proposing to me, oh great genius midfielder sae itoshi?” you questioned, with lilt to your tone, teasing him. positioning your body to your elbows as you face him on the phone a smug smile on your face as you see him growing a little shy and attempting to cover it with a small cough.

“maybe, if you say yes,”

you quirk your brows from his statement, say yes, huh? “come home soon and maybe i will say yes,” making you smile wider from the thought.

and the conversation was now diminished into a small kindling thought in his head, while you babbled about your day and how you have missed him a lot. whining about how you missed the taste of his cooking and saying you might die if he doesn't come home any sooner.

and when he doesn't hear your voice in the background anymore, he looks at you fast asleep in your bed with your arm under your head. exhaustion was written on your face, he took his phone and snapped a photo, a smile making its way to his face. he mutters 'good night' to you, ending the call.

grabbing his food and sitting on the kitchen counter to eat, he opens his contacts calling his manager (who is about to be bothered again by him.) at the second ring, he picks up and he doesn't wait for any greeting, already going straight to his concerns,

“book me a flight to japan for tomorrow morning,” he hangs up, not even staying on the call to hear the complaints of his ever pitiful manager.

yeah, he's gonna make you say, yes.

◞♡ uhm first writing for sae??? i hope he's not ooc but it's what i do best anyway :p i literally enjoyed this for some reason. @mitsies you said you wanted dessert😘

[joy-laufeyson]

Blue Lock fic recommendations

(Reader inserts) Recommendations of my favorite headcanons/imagines/fics/scenarios (I don’t own any)

・・・・・・

@ 24hlevi's masterlist

@ adoringbllk's masterlist

@ earthtooz's masterlist

@ fallenssun's masterlist

@ garoujo's masterlist 1, masterlist 2

@ justauthoring's masterlist

@ mitsies' masterlist

@ naosaki's masterlist

@ sir-kuroo's masterlist (nsfw)

@ yuquinzel's masterlist

・・・・・・

fluff / cliche romance tropes (part 1) ⟶ w/Bachira, Nagi & Rin

fluff / cliche romance tropes (part 2) ⟶ w/Isagi, Reo & Chigiri

fluff / reuniting with them at the airport⟶ w/Nagi, Bachira, Rin, Sae, Reo & Kunigami

fluff / you open up a blanket for him ⟶ w/Nagi, Sae, Rin, Bachira & Reo

fluff / kissing ⟶ w/Nagi, Chigiri, Bachira, Rin, & Sae

fluff / how he kisses you ⟶ w/Isagi, Bachira, Kunigami, Chigiri & Nagi

sfw / hot things he does ⟶ w/Isagi, Bachira, Kunigami, Nagi, Chigiri, Rin & Barou

sfw / hot things he does ⟶ w/Bachira, Nagi, Rin, Reo & Isagi

sfw / flexible s/o ⟶ w/Bachira, Chigiri & Rin

fluff / all mine ⟶ w/Isagi, Bachira, Chigiri & Nagi

fluff / chapstick challenge ⟶ w/Bachira, Rin, Nagi, Kunigami & Chigiri

sfw / whipped for manager ⟶ w/Isagi, Sae, Rin & Reo

sfw / coming to his game for the first time ⟶ w/Bachira, Nagi & Rin

fluff / booping their nose ⟶ w/Bachira, Isagi & Reo

fluff / lovesick confessions ⟶ w/Bachira, Chigiri, Isagi, & Nagi

fluff / someone asks if you´re single during his q&a ⟶ w/Nagi, Bachira, Rin, Sae & Reo

fluff / beautiful ⟶ w/Isagi, Kunigamj, Reo & Eita

angst fluff / you receive hate (part 1) ⟶ w/Nagi, Rin & Sae

angst fluff / you receive hate (part 2) ⟶ w/Reo, Kaiser & Isagi

fluff / I know I love you ⟶ w/Nagi, Rin & Reo

fluff / pulling them closer by their collar ⟶ w/Rin, Sae, Nagi, Reo, Isagi & Chigiri

・・・・・・

Isagi Yoichi

sfw / dreamer

fluff / "god, I'm so f*cking in love with you"

sfw / crush

fluff / when was it (when we fell in love)

fluff / content

fluff / sweet dreams

fluff / I'm not ready to leave

nsfw / girls need love

nsfw / bedroom

fluff / mr. & mrs.

Bachira Meguru

fluff / under the snowy sunrise

angst fluff / I love you, sorry

sfw / that thought made Meguru feel like he might die of loneliness

Chigiri Hyoma

ansgt fluff / reviver

fluff / kissing his injured knee

fluff / silky hair

fluff / au happily ever after

fluff / overprotective

fluff / friends to lovers

fluff / braiding his hair

Kunigami Rensuke

fluff / footsie

angst fluff / needed comfort

sfw / visit of a hero

fluff / clingy

Nagi Seishiro

fluff/ "you´re beautiful, you know that"

nsfw / dating simulator

angst fluff/ between love & lies

fluff / laundry day

sfw / eye contact

angst fluff / just say it

fluff / panda bear

fluff / pouty

fluff / clingy

Mikage Reo

nsfw / love taste

angst fluff / your place

angst fluff / gold diggger

angst fluff / boyfriend

fluff / grocery shopping

angst fluff / a hug and some words

fluff / bank notification

fluff / lovin' you right

Itoshi Rin

sfw / 6ams with you

ansgt fluff / jealousy, jealousy

sfw / gloves

fluff / twenty sundays

angst fluff / 2 am

fluff / sugar and everything nice

angst fluff / nervous

fluff / ferris wheel kiss

fluff / dimples

fluff / the train ride home

fluff / dedicating a goal

angst fluff / no fear

fluff / idiotically in love

sfw / drunk confession

sfw / cupid hit me with precision

angst fluff / more

fluff nsfw / taking each other first time

fluff / only you

fluff / shut up and i love you

fluff / clingy

fluff / seeds

・・・・・・

Updated:10-January-2024

[suzyq31]

Another @jilymicrofics for team Gryffindor! Can easily be a continuation of my previous one. Prompts used: pride and joy.

===

The first thing that alerted Lily that things were amiss was the cat racing through the kitchen, ginger tail puffed and making disgruntled yowls. The next was the sound of clattering, and heavy footsteps over the record she had playing softly.

She summoned a towel and dried her hands, moving swiftly towards the direction that Mitsy had come from. Fleetwood Mac faded and the sound of laughter reached her next, easing some of the tension from her shoulders as she rounded the corner into the living room. 

James was chasing after Harry who careened around the sofa astride his toddler broom. The one she had banned from inside use over a month ago. There was also a broken picture frame and glass littering the hardwood floor. Much too close to her son’s socked feet. 

“James!”

Her husband’s head snapped up, a flash of guilt in his eyes. Harry spotted her and the sheer delight on his small face was enough to bring her back from the edge of panic. James was right behind him beaming and waving away the jagged edges of glass with his wand.

Lily crossed her arms. 

“I thought we agreed that the broom would be outdoors only.”

He tugged at his hair, Harry already taking off around the sofa again. “I know…but It’s been raining for days. Poor lad needs an outlet.”

As if in agreement Harry gave a loud shriek of happiness and James’ grin widened. Lily glanced around the sitting room now in complete disarray; tufted cushions on the ground, records spilling out of the cabinet that had clearly been collided with and the last of her summer flowers now strewn across the rug. Last time Harry had knocked over a vase–one of the many Potter heirlooms that filled their home, and Lily had put a stop to the insanity, insisting that brooms were never meant for indoors, no matter how low to the ground they flew.

James’ hands on her waist drew her attention back from the mess and her small child who was still laughing with joy. 

“I’ll clean it up. I promise.”

Her answer was cut off by Harry, who noticed the lack of attention and came barreling towards them. Luckily James' reflexes were quick and with a wave his broom halted right near Lily’s shin. Harry slid forward on the broom, green eyes wide and mouth gaping open. Lily scooped him up before he could fall off and once safe in her arms he gave her a toothy grin. 

“I see you’re inheriting your fathers gift for trouble.”

Harry laughed and said “Da.” 

James smiled proudly, ruffling the matching dark mop of hair that their son had also inherited. “Admit it. You wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“He’s likely to shave years off my life,” she sighed, before kissing her son’s pudgy cheek, and tilting her head up towards James. “But you’re right.”

[thatbennybee]

Hello ☺️

I just wanted to tell you how much I love your fanfic Rewinding our fate ❤️😭😭🥺

Each time you post a chapter is a good moment to have

Ho and btw this is for you

Branch with Mitsy ☺️💞

OH MY GODDDD THIS IS SO CUTEEE TYSM 😭😭😭❤️❤️ Thank you so much for enjoying my fic, this totally made my day!!!

[prolix-yuy]

The Booth (and All its Misuses)

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x F!Reader Editor "Murch"

Summary: Dieter is pushing boundaries with the roles he takes. And with you.

Word Count: 4.4k

Warnings: Explicit, 18+ MINORS DNI, descriptions of male and female bodies, heavy fantasizing including oral sex (m and f receiving) and allusions to PiV sex, exhibitionism, dirty talk like whoa, male masturbation, allusions to female masturbation, Dieter's voice is a weapon.

Notes: That fucking cat show waltzed on in here and made me imagine Dieter recording those ridiculous lines and here we are. It's such a role for him I couldn't resist. This Dieter and Murch are from my series Best Laid Plans, and this story takes place before the events of The Plan. I also have to thank @boliv-jenta for being part of the inspiration for this fic with her hilarious Claude story that I've been giggling over for a couple days now.

Cross-posted on AO3

Best Laid Plans Series Masterlist

“What stupid thing did you sign me up for?”

Dieter’s agent blows a sigh into the phone that makes him wince. He’s still a little hungover despite the IV service he ordered this morning, the grease-laden breakfast sandwich, and the lazy handjob he gave himself in the shower. He thought today was a light day, maybe a press junket in the afternoon he could roll into once the edges of his vision cleared. But instead he’s ushered into a Mercedes and finds himself on the way to a studio to record…

“The voice of a bald horny street cat?” he asks, flipping through the short script. 

“It sounded up your alley…cat,” she quips back, and despite the low ache in the base of his skull he has to admit he enjoys the over-the-top dialogue. A little slutty, artistic, dramatic? Yeah, his agent’s got him pegged well.

His thoughts drift for a moment at the suggestive wording. He should really call Mitsy for another night in.

By the time he exits the car his head has cleared a little, aided by the coffee he whined to pick up and a few more minutes of shuteye. It looks like it’ll be a quick read, only a few pages of dialogue. He sweeps in, heavy brown cardigan flapping behind as he greets the audio tech and director. Their handshakes are straightforward, professional. The tech settles him in the sound booth, testing levels and microphones as the director walks Dieter through the scenes. It’s exactly how it sounds; a lascivious street cat wooing a plump pink hairless counterpart. He’s scrungly but smooth, devilish but dashing. Dieter raises an eyebrow at some of this - are people supposed to be horny for the cats? - but makes no comment.

The read is pretty fun for a one-off job. He leans into the ridiculousness to the director’s delight, and ad libs a few responses. The “follicle divergent” line was a favorite addition. He even turns on the bedroom voice for a few takes. If some classic Dieter filth gets him on their good side, maybe he’ll score something less ridiculous next time. Connections, connections, connections as his agent always says. 

As he finishes up the final page, a door opens on the other side of the glass. His eyes flick up briefly before the words slog to a stop in his mouth.

What are you doing here?

“Problem, Dieter?” the tech asks through Dieter’s headset. It sounds further away than before, like a string between two tin cans instead of Sennheisers. You lean over to address the director, his quick nod dismissing you to sit on a chair in a darkened corner. Dieter swallows hard, shaking off the stumble.

“How do you want me to pronounce ‘gordita’? Throw more accent on it?” he asks, directing their attention away enough to sneak a look at you. Your phone screen illuminates your face, harsh blue light carving your pretty features into something sharp and focused. 

He wants you to look up so he can give you a little nonchalant wave, like it’s no big deal the cute girl who keeps showing up on his movie set and making him laugh is here when he’s reading for a syphilitic cartoon cat. He tries to think up a good line to shoot you when he exits the booth - so this is where you hang out when you’re not on my set, Murch? - but even that falls flat in his head. Plus there’s something about calling you Murch in front of people who don’t know you that makes him cringe. You’ve got enough working against you in Hollywood, you don’t need him tossing out pet names that could lessen their respect for you. He respects the hell out of you in the first place; how hard you work, how everyone likes interacting with you, the trust people have in you to do your job well. Murch is just between the two of you, its own sign of respect. 

He can admit to himself it’s also a sign of a little more than that. Only for him.

He throws himself into the last fifteen minutes of the recording, flourishing his vocals for peak laughs. He wishes you had some headphones on so he could make you roll your eyes or snicker with him, but you’re tapping on your phone up until the tech ends the recording. Dieter gathers himself and feigns casual energy as he exits the booth.

“Need any more takes? We’re running early on my schedule,” he says breezily, letting his gaze fall to you almost by mistake. “Oh, hey, didn’t see you come in. Elias doesn’t have you working today?” He offers a friendly smile, the most professional he’s even been with you. 

“Running drives today,” you say simply, hovering next to the tech while he transfers the audio to a slim hard drive. “The DIT has my footage until 6, so I’m sneaking some extra hours in.” 

Right, you’re still “working your way” in the business, putting in hard days for not enough pay and expected to be happy about it. He’s seen you with lunch orders on set, filling in for a PA or making calls in the home office when shoots are delayed. You’re happiest behind your computer, hands fast on the keyboard and eyes darting over a timeline as you help massage a masterpiece out of the mess. But you’re still working towards that being all you have to do to survive in Hollywood. Maybe after this film you’ll be able to breathe easier. Maybe he could win an Oscar for it and you could be an award-winning editor. It would be nice to win an Oscar for you.

Not for you. For himself. That would just be some icing on the cake, to give you a leg up in the industry where he can. That’s all. 

“That’s all Dieter, you’re wrapped. Sean, take off, you can still make your kid’s game,” the director says, the tech smiling gratefully as he snatches up his bag. A little flash of an idea, born out of wandering thoughts and attraction and foolhardiness, crosses Dieter’s lips.

“Hey, could I use the booth for a little while longer? I’ve got some pickups I need to record for an audiobook and I forgot to book a space,” he asks, silently hoping this moment of assholery might work out. The tech sighs loudly, rubbing a hand over his face, before you chime in.

“I can wait around, I’ve seen Sean do this enough I can figure it out. And I’ll lock up as we leave,” you say, sunny expression lightening the dour mood. It only takes a moment of shuffling for the others to leave, Sean waving a thanks to you as the door swings shut. 

Shit, he only planned this far, now what?

“Well you better hop back in, you’ve only got…17 minutes,” you say, settling into the swivel chair and pulling the huge headphones over your ears. 

“Not even a, ‘hey Di, nice to see you, thank you for brightening up my day with your dramatic cat-acting’? …Cacting? Ooh, I like that,” he says, leaning in the door frame. You smirk and roll your eyes.

“Hi Di, it’s always a pleasure to see your shining face, and whatever you rolled out of bed into. That’s a comfy looking sweater,” you smirk back, redirecting your attention to the soundboard. “Now can you get in there and do your lines so I’m not late getting back?” you say.

“Yes ma’am, thanks again,” he says, shutting the door behind him. A little smile settles on his face that she liked his cardigan, actively dashing it off before he pulls over a chair to the microphone stand. He’s got a reputation to uphold, and getting gooey over a compliment isn’t part of his brand. Settling back into the seat, he pantomimes opening his phone and placing it on the stand in front of him. 

There’s no script, it’s just a ploy, something to get you to stick around and talk to him more. He always enjoys the handful of minutes he gets with you on sets as you wait for dailies or a script revision to bring back to post-production. He wishes you were one of the actors sometimes, stranded on set while the crew reset or shuffled you around, leaving time to chat and open up. He wants to ask you what your favorite memories were, discuss a new art exhibit at length, pop a few edibles and get high enough that your minds could melt into each other, followed by your bodies. But you’re always moving, a skip in your gait like you’re worried about being a step behind. He dreads the day Hollywood tries to beat that drive out of you, make you step on something precious to get ahead. He wants to put his hands on your shoulders and tell you it’s okay to slow down, to walk instead of run, that you don’t deserve to fall into bed exhausted every day just to get up and do it all over again. 

“Do you need me to keep an ear on your recording?” you say, hand hovering over the button as you look at Dieter through the glass. He twists a crooked smile onto his face, his improvisation skills helping him navigate the conversation.

“It’s an erotic audiobook, so I’ll leave that up to you Murch,” he says, winking. You roll your eyes again, hitting record before reaching to mute yourself. “Wait, before you do that, how’s your day been?” he asks, slouching into his chair with spread thighs. He likes to see if you’ll look, give him any hint that you may be as interested in him as he finds you.

“Not too bad, Di, living the dream,” you say, leaning forward on your elbows with a smile. “Post’s coming along good, you’re getting better at not spitting every time you shout at Alé.”

“They keep asking me to drink during that scene, it gets me all drooly!” he retorts, the tinny laugh coming through his headset warming his chest. He really likes the way your eyes scrunch up when he gets a good giggle out of you, that you’ll laugh with your whole body if he gets it right. 

“Besides that, nothing special. You looking forward to the scenes you get to shoot in Rome?”

“Looking forward to being told I can’t have any pasta. What else are you supposed to eat in the city of love?” You laugh again, goosebumps tingling along Dieter’s neck at how intimate the sound is coming through his headphones.

“I’m pretty sure that’s Paris.”

“Tell me you’ve never fallen in love with a pasta alla vodka.”

“You eat all the things you love, Bravo?”

“Some of them,” he purrs, dropping his voice down an octave and tilting his head. You shake yours with an exasperated sigh, but he thinks he sees your eyelashes flutter. He’s about to elaborate - I do love pussy, and not just the weird cat I’ve been reading for - when the glow of your phone directs your eyes down.

“Shit, I’m blowing up,” you curse, scrolling quickly. “Are you good to go?”

Dieter nods his head, squaring up his chair and adjusting the microphone stand down to his level.

“I’ve got it Murch, you take care of business. Thanks for doing me a favor,” he says, trying not to let the disappointment bleed into his voice. You shoot him a tight smile before muting yourself, red light blinking in his view. You watch the screen for a moment before taking off your headphones and diving back into your phone, alternating typing and scrolling.

The silence of the room lays heavy on his shoulders, the warmth of your voice slowly fading. He feigns opening up something on his phone, a blank webpage all that actually stares back at him. Wetting his lips, he wonders what the hell to say to make it look like he’s not just dicking around in here.

“Hey Murch,” he finally settles on, keeping his eyes glued to his phone, now dark enough to reflect his face back at him, your blurry silhouette in the corner of his eye.

“It’s nice to see you today. You haven’t been on set in a bit. Things must be ramping up in your edit bay. They’re keeping you busy, that’s for sure. Or you’re keeping yourself busy. Because you know, you work really hard. I see it. Everyone does.” He clears his throat briefly, eyes snapping up to you. You flick your own up, a question on your face, but he just thumbs-ups you. 

“What would you do if you got a break? What does the lovely Murch do on a day off?” he says, his throat catching a little on lovely. “I think you like a big breakfast, something with fruit in it. You like…mangos, right? I’m pretty sure you said that once. Or peaches.” The phantom flavors drift along his tongue. “And then I’d bet you’d want to do something outside, especially if it’s nice out. Get out of that dark basement. Wear something light and breezy.”

It occurs to Dieter he’s never seen you in anything more than jeans and a t-shirt. What would you look like with your shoulders bare, legs on display, breasts scooped into a flattering neckline and ass swishing along? Did you even like pretty summer dresses? God he hoped you did. You would look fucking delicious.

A tightening in his groin alerts Dieter to a path his brain probably shouldn’t go down, but it’s the Wizard of Oz in there and his libido is following the yellow brick road. He licks his lips at the thought of you turning to wait for him, a flirty hemline skimming along your thighs. If a little breeze kicked up the skirt would flutter just a little too high for your liking, making you smooth it back down. And he’d be helpless to stop from falling to his knees and ducking his head under it.

His cock is at full attention now, straining against his slacks. He tries to shake off this train of thought, redirect to something that will refocus him, but every time he glances up to take in your features, your attention elsewhere, only hardens him more. 

“Fuck, you’d look good in something like that. You look good all the time.” Dieter’s hand clenches on his thigh, dangerously close to crossing a line. An irrelevant notification lights up his screen - ten more minutes of studio time. He squeezes his eyes shut, worrying at his lower lip with his teeth.

He shouldn’t. You’d be grossed out if he did, violated. Probably scream at him, call him a filthy little slut. 

Fuck, his pesky degradation kink’s not helping.

“Shit, Murch, you got me hard in a fucking sound booth. I can’t even get this hard this fast watching porn. What the fuck have you done to me?” he husks out, running a hand over his face. His cock bobs in his pants, the mistake of even alluding to porn in the same breath as your name furthering his thoughts. Because now that he’s said it, all the little scenarios he lies to himself about jacking off to come to the forefront unbidden.

The way the slip of your tongue over your lower lip makes him want to follow it with the head of his cock, fat and weeping at your hot breath. 

How your hands moving along a keyboard make him wonder how they’d look wrapped around his shaft, pulling him to the brink expertly before easing him back.

The fact that there’s a couch in that dark little room you work in that calls for him to fuck you on it over and over again.

You put down your phone right as he’s spiraling, imagining how you’d look spread on your back on that beat-up monstrosity as he hovers over you, and slip your headphones back on. He coughs once, hoping his face isn’t too red.

“You doing okay Di?” you ask, a note of concern coming through.

Busted. 

He shifts in his chair, his erection thankfully hidden by his low seat and the little stand his phone rests on. 

“Hah, yeah, just…getting through some of this dialogue.”

You smirk, chin in your hand.

“What, a little too spicy for THE Dieter Bravo?” you say, and have the audacity to pull the corner of your lip between your teeth. 

Well never mind then. He was going to be the gentleman and suffer in silence. But if you were going to insist on egging him on when he was just imagining how sweet your cunt would taste, then he’s going to play a little dirty.

“You can be the judge of that,” he says airily, raising an eyebrow in challenge.

“I’ve read my fair share of romance novels. I don’t think you’ll surprise me.”

Oh, it’s really on now.

“Then listen in. Maybe you’ll learn something new.”

You settle back into your chair, motioning for Dieter to begin. He rolls his shoulders, putting both hands on the stand and pulling focus to his phone. His grayscale reflection is remarkably confident for how rippling his insides feel. Pulling from memories of early gigs that were a hair shy of softcore pornos and his own racing thoughts, he writes you a story.

“I fucking want you. Keep telling myself no but I fucking want you,” he growls, puffing hard out his nose. Your reaction is immediate; your eyes snap wide, mouth parting. He wants to look you in the eyes as he improvises a scene but doing that and trying to keep his composure above the waist is proving too much. His lips brush hard against the microphone, his whiskers scraping along the sensitive instrument.

“I’d make it so good for you, make you mine so many times you’d have to spend the night. Would you like that? For me to take care of you so fully, so completely, you wouldn’t be able to walk out after? Because I want you like that every. Single. Day. Let me make you feel so fucking good, baby.”

You’re trying to keep a neutral face but he can see it. The tremble of your lower lip. The rigidness of your posture. He would bet his summer house you were squeezing your thighs under the control table. God, he wants to be on the other side of the glass and saying these things in your ear, lips brushing against your skin. Filthier things too, like how he wants you to cum so hard it drips down your legs for him to lick up. That he’ll stretch you so good on his cock, make you drunk with pleasure every moment you let him. 

“Because you deserve to feel like a goddess. You do so much for me, baby, let me give you even an ounce of that back to you. I’ll be so good for you, sweetheart, treat you better than that goddamn shithead of an ex that was never worth your time.”

Dieter’s running his mouth as close to the truth as he thinks he can get away with, sneaking glances up to see how you react. Your arms are folded in a picture of ease, but he can see how your fingers dig into your bicep. He drops his voice into a lower register, rumbling deep but with a gentle quality he enjoys utilizing for narration.

“He lets her ride his buttery slick thighs, buried so deep he can’t tell where her pleasure ends and his begins. He doesn’t care as long as she keeps throwing her head back like that and crying his name. If his heart gave out now he’d die happy with the musk of her on his lips and her velvet walls clenched around him. Even though she’s already cum twice he urges her into a third with his clever thumb and a grin when she shatters.” Dieter’s half impressed at himself for thinking on his feet, the words quickening the rise and fall of your chest. Your cunt must be on fire from this, he hopes he’s not the only one aching. You can’t be unaffected, not with the way you can’t look away, gaze tight on his face when he looks up. He’s got one more tiny idea that could get him in trouble, or make the tension thread between you finally snap. Leaning forward, he looks through his lashes at you. You’re holding your breath.

“Be a good girl for me, baby.”

Your reaction is instant. Blinking hard and flaring your nostrils, your grip gets even tighter. Your skin must be blazing hot, the heat between your thighs unbearable. He wants to soothe it with his tongue, quench it with his fingers as you fist his hair and tell him how good he’s making you feel. His cock is hard to the point of exploding in his pants, the telltale tingle in his hips warning him that it’s all too possible. 

A question hangs on the tip of his tongue, one he’s so prepared to ask:

Want some help with that Murch?

You jump suddenly, the faint clanging of an alarm on the other side of the glass a shock to his own system.

MotherFUCKER.

“Sorry Di, time’s up. I gotta get moving,” you stammer, shakily pressing buttons to stop the recording and transfer the data. He tosses the headphones off quickly, taking the briefest of moments to wrap his cardigan around his middle to hide the prominence of his erection. He saunters back into the room with a smug smile.

“Now who’s gotten all flustered?” he teases, hopeful you won’t bolt from his sight. The balance is precarious now, a tiny nudge in the direction he desires setting everything off balance. Thankfully you chuckle and shake your head.

“That’s really paying your bills? I swear I’ve read better online for free,” you say, sticking in a loose USB stick and transferring the “audiobook” over for him. Dieter hovers in case you open the file, but you only hand him the drive with an overly bright smile. He takes it from you, searching your face for any hint of the titillation he caught earlier.

“You’ll have to send me your favorites, I’ll record them for a good price,” he drawls, leaning on one hand in your space. It’s a dance he’s done with you in the past, but never with so much charge in the air. He can almost taste the electricity between you, and when you meet his eyes there’s a flash of something deeper, something you won’t let come to the surface so you tamp it down with a dramatic sigh.

“Why would I want my scorching hot erotica in your voice?” you joke, his hands coming up in mock hurt before he winks at you. You shake your head and put the hard drive you came here for in your bag. 

“See you on set?” he asks, and god he sounds pitiful to his own ears but you tilt your head and smile, hand on the knob to leave.

“I’ll be around,” you say before leaving him in the booth in silence and his own tangle of thoughts.

A bolt of arousal claws down his spine, a filthy moan falling from his lips.

“Sweetheart, I’m so goddamn hard for you. I need you to look at me. Look at me and I’ll cum so hard. Just fucking look at me. See me. See what you do to me?” His hand moves faster, fingers catching along the thick ridge of his head, the need almost painful as his mind conjures the image. Your lips pursed, eyes still cast down as he whimpers into a microphone.

“Want you to put those talented fingers inside your panties and rub your clit on the other side of this window. Let me whisper all the fucking depraved shit I want to do to you, how I want to lick and finger and fuck every hole until you beg me to stop. I’ll be…such a…good boy for you.” He’s on the knife’s edge, looking down into the chasm, heavy breaths making it harder to hide. “Let me…be your good boy, sweetheart. Please, look at me.” 

And in the moment before he cums, you look up and catch his eye. 

It’s a livewire to his cock, and he empties onto his stomach with ragged cries. He’s begging it to hurry up, be as fleeting of an orgasm as when he pumps it into some starlet wanting a night with his publicity, but it keeps rolling and rolling over him, shuddering breaths and clamping legs. Tears come to his eyes because even with how fucking good it feels, he knows it could be so much better. He knows a night with you would be a million fucking times better than his hand and his phone next to his ear playing the soft laughs he coaxed out of you. That you’d make him cum, but you’d also make him smile, and preen, and maybe even glow.

Shame burns along his chest at how fucking sad this must look, legendary playboy Dieter Bravo, who could open his hotel room door and have anyone on his cock that he pleases, covered in his own cum while your voice tells him Paris is the city of love. 

Stopping the recording, he flops an arm over his face. He’s gotta get you out of his system, invite you to one of his parties for one really good fuck then send you on your happy little way. You could brag about bedding him, about how many orgasms he gave you and how much he’s ruined you for other men. And he could scratch the itch buried between his shoulders that flares when you trade good-natured barbs. Clear his head of this weird little infatuation he hasn’t experienced since he was 25 and drunk off his first love. 

That’s it, he’ll do what he always does. Make you feel like the center of his world for a night and part happy and satiated. It might finally ease the giddiness you bring with the swing of your hips. Maybe it will finally feed the emptiness inside him when the drugs peter off and his skin feels too tight and all he wants to do is find the next high or low to distract him.

But first, he’s gotta get you to accept his invitation.

END

[kalegrinch]

Can I have a headcanons request Rocky from Lackadaisy having a mom type of friend from a coven?

✨Lackadaisy’s Witch✨

Rocky Rickaby/Reader

1k~ words

OH MY GODS it took me SO LONG to write this fic bc I felt burnt out after my last one lmao. While this fic can be read as romantic if you really want it’s meant to be platonic. I’m not really used to writing (or even reading) platonic fanfiction if I’m being honest, and this turned out to be longer than I’d anticipated and isn’t my best work but I hope y’all like it.

SUMMARY: Your first rum-running gig with Lackadaisy and Rocky as a Healing Witch

WARNINGS: Little bit of blood and violence w/ guns but nothing too bad

=========

Rocky is always getting himself into trouble

Everyone knows that

But something everyone does not know, however, is that you are one of the most powerful healing witches in the entirety of St. Louis

AKA the one force keeping Rocky from his succumbing to his death

And no one cares more for his safety than you do

Your expert healing skills always aid him after a long time out completing odd-jobs for lackadaisy

And you've found you’ve needed to heal him more often day by day

Sometimes its internal bleeding, this one time it was pneumonia

(And there was also that ear he never let you touch with your magic)

But most commonly its bullet holes

You still remember the first time you healed him

And you still bring it up wherever he does or suggests doing something stupid by himself

Shortly after you applied to join him on his quests for The Lackadaisy he took you with him to a random abandoned house in the middle of the night

It was a mansion built in the early 1800’s that could have once been a beautiful, eloquent structure, but was now no more than an old, creaking pile of wood

It stood tall in the night sky, a silhouette in front of the pale moon

The mansion casted long shadows that stretched across the barren farm fields it resided, shadows you and Rocky currently stood in

The objective of your first mission with Rocky was to retrieve an old case of whisky that hid deep in the cellars of the manson for the Speakeasy

A rather unnerving mission for an already eerie night

Being the motherly figure you were, you had tried your absolute best to hurry the expedition up

You knew when you signed up to work with Rocky that there would be trouble everywhere

But because of the fact that you obviously could not ever get him to stop working for Mitsi you decided patrolling the missions Rocky went on was good enough

Your so called “Patrolling” seemed to come up short because right after clawing your way into the house a suspicious figure seemed to move ever so slightly in the opposite side of the house, shaded in darkness

That figure held a gun

A bullet flew straight into Rocky's chest

With no time to heal or fight, you decided fleeing was your best option for survival

Taking Rocky's falling body into your arms and heaving him onto your back, you ran through the dark night

Gunshots sang behind you, some whizzing past too close for comfort

But all you could do was run as fast as your legs allowed you with Rocky’s dead weight on your back

And no, he wasn't very heavy (Which was something that concerned you from time time)

Your legs continued to pump into the earth until you reached your car and haul Rocky into the passenger seat

Turning the engine on and stepping on the gas, you made your way past the barren farmlands of the Manson as fast as you could and into an overgrown forest

Trees and leaves and bushes and shrubs were all a mixture of brown and red and yellow bathed in nightlight as you sped past them

You hadn't realized how much time had passed until your came to a screeching halt the top of a falling cliffside at the edge of the forest

The cliff overlooked the Mississippi River, which eventually gave way to the twinkling night lights and tall gray buildings of St. Louis you had come to love

You let out a long sigh as soon as you saw the site, realizing you’d been holding a long breath since your escape from the manson

Unlike the Mississippi River and golden lights of St. Louis, you did not like the sight right beside you

The one you had forgotten since leaving the manson in your previous terror and panic

He was breathing so heavily, on the verge of unconsciousness

A paw pressed against the bullet hole, a futile attempt to stop the blood from seeping out

The red, red blood now a shade of mahogany in moonlight

Fear rushed through you

Rocky had been so nice to you

He didn't mind your witchery in a place where your people were discriminated against

He had shown you a job in a place where money was scarce and people slept hungry

He had made you laugh more times than you believe you ever did in your childhood, more times than you ever imagined you could when you first moved here and were one of those people sleeping hungry in the streets of St. Louis

Even though you were the person who took care of others, the “mother” of the Lackadaisy Speakeasy, Rocky had taken you under his wing

Holding a hand out in front of the hole, you set to work with determination

Light radiated from you, washing the car in the color of your magic

The light cascaded out of the car and into the forest

Even though you couldn't see yourself, you knew your pupils had turned your color, too

Internally you chanted your mantra as you focused all of your energy into healing Rocky, binding and knitting his skin and flesh back together at an achingly slow pace

Luckily the bullet had not hit any vital organs, straying to the left of his body

If it had, though…

You shivered

A couple of minutes later you felt that familiar satisfying feeling of healing course through you and you knew the job was done and his skin was okay again

The night had turned to dawn before you realized it, and all that was left to do was to wake Rocky and return home, tired and beaten

You took some time breathing in and out after the nights events, recollecting your thoughts and turning back to the wheel to start the car up

Rocky eventually opened his eyes as you passed over the bridge that brought you closer to home

You noticed he was awake when he shot up and grimaced, shutting his eyes and hissing as he settled back down

Even still Rocky managed a sleepy smile in your direction as he croaked a low “Get me some pancakes later, will you?” before falling into a more peaceful sleep than earlier

You finally felt relieved as you drove back to The Lackadaisy, making a mental note to scold Rocky later

Even long after the whole ordeal of your first mission with Rocky everyone in the speakeasy made remarks on your relationship with him, commenting on how you baby him around as if he was no intellectually smarter than an infant

Not that those comments offended Rocky or you

For everyone also knows Rocky’s a 22 year old going on 12

[falsehound]

hey guys! long time no hear. i decided to take a break from tumblr because a lot of things happened to me irl and then to lucky.

we got a cat. her name is mitsie and she has no tail and she is the sweetest creature on earth.

we need to move house as early as january next year so my parents are looking for a place to live.

and last but not least, the worst news of all. Lucky got diagnosed with severe bilateral coxarthrosis. aside from that, some vertebral issued mean that he could paralyse from the waist down basically any day now. and to top it all off, his knee ligaments went bye bye so he needs to go into surgery tomorrow in order to just. walk. since he cannot do that anymore.

hes not allowed to go on long walks anymore. he cannot run or jump or climb up stairs. we had our last long walk after his coxarthrosis diagnosis last month, and since then its gotten progressively worse. but we enjoyed one last nice fall day in the sun together, in the park he grew to love.

hes going into knee surgery tomorrow. its the only surgery i am willing to try for him and the only one that will improve his qol instantly, i believe. if it doesnt work out, it will be time to say goodbye. the potential treatment and medication is too expensive and with no guarantees it will work. im using up all of my funds that i kept for moving out of the country. all of my post-college job earnings. its a repeat of what happened with my old dog.

diagnosis given at the same age, of barely Seven. he is only 7! my little darling boy. my other darling little boy was also just 7. they received the same prognosis. could be 1 week! could be 2 years! my vet friends doubt it can be more than that.

i love him to the moon and back. and i dont know what to do. and i dont know what to fucking do. im mourning and i havent even lost him yet. its unfair. its stupid. i want my little walk pal with me.

anyway. i would appreciate some good thoughts for him. im sorry for the long post and for my prolonged absence. not exactly riveting content to post nor a post i was looking forward to making. sorry.

[awholelotofladybug]

(stammering au) Say Dog owners, why don't you tell us more about your precious pooches?

"Well, Buddy is a yellow lab. He's s-s-s-seventeen inches at the shoulder with a short coat, and technically still a puppy. My mom got him for me as a g-g-g-gift when a friend of hers had a litter of puppies. He's very… He's very playful. His favorite game is Fetch. I play it with him almost every day. He's a lot of responsibility, but he's absolutely w-w-w-worth it."

"My Sophie is a white standard poodle. She's the sweetest thing, very cuddly. She's about twenty-three and a half inches at the shoulder, and we got her a modified continental cut so she looks pretty. Sophie also loves to go swimming and play in puddles. She can get muddy once in a while, I don't mind. I love making my Sophie Baby look all clean and pretty."

"Rex is a European Doberman. He's loyal, intelligent, and tough as nails. My parents got him for me as a gift. He's got a short coat and is twenty-eight inches at the shoulder. Before we adopted him, someone cropped his ears and docked his tail. That's illegal in my country, but whoever did it to him is bound to be dealt with eventually. Rex LOVES to roughhouse. It's exhausting, but whatever makes my Champion happy."

"My little Mitsi is a golden teacup Pomeranian. I found her at the animal shelter and simply had to have her. She's a tiny little thing, about eight and a half inches tall, but that only makes us love her more. She loves playing with her squeaky toys and will play tug-of-war with Rex and one of his rope toys. I almost named her "Fluffy" because of her coat, but "Fluffy" is more of a cat name, so I named her after my great aunt."

I have a Shiba Inu named Gigi. She's around sixteen inches at the shoulder, has a beautiful, golden goat, and the cutest curly tail. Giselle and I picked her up about a year ago when she was just a little puppy. She's such a precious little dog."

"My mom got Luka and me a red wiener dog named Lola. She's adorable. Smart too. She already knows "roll over," "sit up," "shake," and "play dead." She's only nine inches at the shoulder, so she's pretty low to the ground, but she has more love than a truckload of dogs. Sometimes she sneaks into one of our rooms and crawls into bed with us to snuggle. Such an awesome little dog."

"My mother recently gifted me with a Corgi named Toby. He's twelve inches at the shoulder and has a soft red and white coat. I love him, honestly. He's a friendly little guy. It's fun to watch him scamper around, and play with his chew toys. I've never had a pet before, so it's a new experience for me but Toby seems to like me enough. I'm sure it'll work out, as long as I give him food, water, and lots of love."

"I have a yellow Pomeranian named Winston. He's eleven inches tall. I found him at the animal shelter two years ago when he was just a little pup. We've been inseparable ever since. He especially enjoys playing catch, usually with tennis balls or rubber squeaky toys."

"My family recently adopted a French Bulldog named Lulu. She is the sweetest little thing. She's 13 months old, fawn-pied colored, and is about 18 inches tall at the head. Most Frenchies have breathing problems, but not my Lulu. Her snout is just big enough that she can breathe easily. And she is SUCH a loving dog. She adores people, cats, and other dogs. I can't tell you how many times she's jumped up on me to greet me."

[verdemoun]

It’s already established that Mary-Beth was not timewarped but what about the other people that had happy live in the credits, like Pearson and Tilly?

Rockstar gave us so few happy endings I'm not changing any of them. :sob:

Pearson ended up having a kid with his second wife Ethel. Despite hoping his son would one day take over the shop, growing up hearing his father's drunk stories of the navy inspired him to enlist the second the opportunity presented itself. Pearson was very relieved it was navy stories instead of Van Der Linde tales he shared, and passed away peacefully of old age still holding onto his gang days as cherished memories but thrilled to have had his little shop in Rhodes.

His modern era counterpart is his great grandson Sam Pearson, a biology major who's chemistry experiments fail as spectacularly as his forefather's stews. He has had the entire campus evacuated on multiple occasions for varying levels of toxic smoke. Built like an absolute gym-bro and a hell of a talented baker, he brings all the best snacks for study break. --

Tilly stayed in contact with Mary-Beth her entire life. Mr Pierre, despite being a big-shot lawyer with his grand house in Saint Denis, worshipped the ground his darling gorgeous capable-of-murder wife walked on. They had four healthy children together and never wanted for anything in life. She found comfort in being able to put all the love she had for the gang into her family and was every bit a mama bear who would in lady-like sophistication cuss out anyone who upset her gentle husband or babies.

Two of her descendants are in Isaac's little study group/gang: Mitsy and Theresa Pierre. Mitsy adores queer literature. They will be awake at 3am writing an essay about how their great grandmother Tilly Jackson was in an obscure gang with Leslie Dupont and they think one specific line in her dozens of novels was actually a romantic confession of love. Theresa (Rae) Pierre, however, has the exact same volatile charm of her great grandmother and would have been the weapon Dutch needed for world domination if she was born in canon era. She's the new gang's schemer who sets their targets and plans the break-ins to steal inflammatory documents in the name of human rights. Designs and 3D prints her own crime tools.

[twistedwonderlandshenanigans]

Divus' Backstory - Monster AU

Monster: Shapeshifter Word Count: ~ 0.4K Relationships Mentioned: Lady Crewel/Divus mom, an attendant, Mitsy the dog TW: Lady Crewel dehumanizes her son, he pretty much embraces it ------------------------------------------------------------------ "Darling! My love, where are you?" Lady Crewel's voice rang out, slurring her words slightly as she swirled the bottle of red wine in her hand. "Mitsy! Mitsy darling, come to mama! Ohh come to mama sweetheart, aren't you just adorable!"

Lady Crewel bent down to greet her tiny white pouch puppy, taking what care she could in her state to not spill the wine on the dog as she picked it up and nuzzled into it, kissing it's forehead repeatedly. Her lipstick stains negated her efforts in not wasting her wine, but went unnoticed as she hugged the dog to her and petted its ears down as she addressed one of her assistants. "I have a meeting in half an hour. Ensure that my precious doll is dressed and ready to show off the new line I'm dropping in a few hours." "Ma'am, with all due respect, Divus has asked you on several occasions to not refer to him th-" "HALF AN HOUR, HE BEST BE DRESSED BY THEN!" The attendant flinched slightly and watched as the tipsy woman walked away, going on about her meeting to some capacity. ------------------------------------------ It wasn't until she was in that blasted meeting that the little dog managed to squirm away from her, transforming silently to slip out of the conference room and into the hall. Divus sighed softly and tried to pull himself together. After all, he was meant to be a doll for his mother. A toy she could dress up and mess around with as she pleased, and discard him when her fun was over. He knew full well part of it was her trying to cope with the freak that was her son- he was no human, and nobody around him seemed to be even remotely like him. She had made it very clear very early he wasn't to transform in front of anyone. Which was why replacing her beloved pet seemed to be the only way he could hear the praise he needed to hear from her to have the motivation to carry on for another day under her red bottomed heels. He just needed to make it until sixteen. Then he could leave. For now though, he would head to his bedroom and get dressed and prepped and all dolled up so as not to throw his mother into another one of her fits. In due time, he would find a way to get even. ----------------------------------------------------------------------

School has been kicking my goddamn ass and Crewel was being a bitch to write for. But I Wrote It. if you made it here, you might want to check out my other Twstober works here, or if you're looking for some fluff after that fic, you can check out my main masterlist here.

[escapingjune]

Jujitsu Kaisen

Favorites - ✨

Masterlists

Masterlist (Gojo Satoru) By: dumbkiri

Series Masterlist By: chuluoyi

One Shot Masterlist By: chuluoyi

Masterlist (Gojo Satoru) By: greycaelum

Masterlist By: awearywritersworld

Masterlist (Gojo Satoru) By: kayuzu

Masterlist (Gojo Satoru) By: jabamin

JJK Masterlist By: soy-garbage

Masterlist (Gojo Satoru) By: risuola

Masterlist By: just-jordie-things

Masterlist By: rrairey

One shot Masterlist (Gojo Satoru) By: chuluoyi

Series Masterlist By: chuluoyi

Good Gojo Satoru Recs By: mitsies

Series

Golden Child (Goho Satoru) By: nakachuchu

Object of Obsession (Gojo Satoru) By: dumbkiri

True Blue (Gojo Satoru) By: chuluoyi

Little Sun (Gojo Satur) By: lateraniansweets

Limitless (Gojo Satoru) By: greycaelum

Chain (Gojo Satoru) By: greycaelum

Kaleidoscope (Gojo Satoru) By: greycaelum

Remember Spring Days (Gojo Satoru) By: yueebb

To Build a Home (Gojo Satur) By: just-jordie-things

Threads of Fate (Gojo Satoru) By: bakugoushotwife

Puppy Love (Gojo Satoru) By: beautifuleveryon

Older (Gojo Satoru) By: jabamin

Gomen’ Nasai (Gojo Satoru) By: noroi1000

Sincerely yours (Gojo Satoru) By: santobio

Another life (Gojo Satoru) By: meiissblog

Puppy Love (Gojo Satoru) By: beautifuleveryone

Seasons of Love (Gojo Satoru) By: Mikareo

Us and them (Gojo Satoru) By: mononijikayu

Limerence (Gojo Satoru) By: sorcerersseestars

Love entries (Gojo Satoru) By: chuluoyi

True Blue (Fushiguro Megumi) By: chuluoyi

In the range between despair and hope (Gojo Satoru) By: thiniceofeternalyouth

Leave out all the rest (Gojo Satoru) By: villainbait

Why Her & Not Me (Gojo Satoru) By: xxspringmelodyxx

Say you love me (Gojo Satoru) By: dilxcc

Of angels & curses (Gojo Satoru) By: storiesoflilies

He fell from the sky! (Gojo Satoru) By: satorunigojaloo

Zombie Apocalypse (Gojo Satoru) By: sachirobabe

Zombie Apocalypse (Gojo Satoru) By: staryukis

Gojo’s Wife Series By: itostea

Snapshots (Gojo Satoru) By: stsgluver-archive

Where the blue roses grow (Gojo Satoru) By: giuliettagaltieri

Love is the most twisted curse of them all (Gojo Satoru) By: animehideout

I wasn’t waiting (Gojo Satoru) By: tender-rosiey

The official dad (Gojo Satoru) By: kingkonoha

2 for the price of one (Gojo Satoru) By: aloesarchives

Smitten (Gojo Satoru) By: thejujvtsupost

JJK x Inuyasha (Gojo Saturo) By: kitsunetama

When lightning strikes (Gojo Satoru) By: xsatoru

✨ A typical family (Gojo Satoru) By: literaila

The Gojos & I (Gojo Satoru) By: shogunish

Serendipity (Gojo Satoru) By: risuola

To Marmoris (Gojo Satoru) By: shiin-ye

To the End of Infinity (Gojo Satoru) By: hexpea

The act (Gojo Satoru) By: hexpea

The Six-Eyed Rebound (Gojo Satoru) By: hexpea

Deja Vecu (Gojo Satoru) By: halfmoth-halfman

Don’t go slowly, tell me if you’re lonely (Gojo Satoru) By: katerina-marie

Six Eyed Rebound (Gojo Satoru) By: hexpea

Threads of fate (Gojo Satoru) By: bakugoushotwife

No strings attached (Gojo Satoru) By: beautifuleveryone

Sinking lily pads (Gojo Satoru) By: d3adlyromb3ar

Red strings (Gojo Satoru) By: ilovelovewithallmyheart

Motion Sickness (Gojo Satoru) By: lvl10gojocoper

You have my undivided attention (Gojo Satoru) By: stariiesz

Need some cuddles (Gojo Satoru) By: coffee-and-geto

Shame on Me (Gojo Satoru) By: starmapz

View of paradise (Gojo Satoru) By: manias-wordcount

Please please please (Gojo Satoru) By: thestrongestkikufuku

Suffocation (Gojo Satoru) By: for-ests

Aurora borealis (Gojo Satoru) By: spiteless-xo

Was I dancing in a trance? By: munv

Unnamed (Inumaki Toge) By: stillnotherapy

One Shots

parent-teacher conference (Gojo Satoru) By: just-jordie-things

fear (Gojo Satoru) By: chuluoyi

Breaking Infinity (Gojo Satoru) By: kayuzu

Don't like the blindfold (Gojo Satoru) By: junosmindpalace

But now I'll go... (Gojo Satoru) By: saltoru

Peaches (Gojo Satoru) By: chuluoyi

12:24am . Jan 1st, 2019 (Gojo Saturo) ch. 236 spoiler By: svtcrus

Undercut & Massages Pt. 1, 2 (Gojo Satoru) By: phoenixisdabestwriter

gojo satoru isn't the type to fall in love with your personality first (2 parts) By: kumezyzo

Little spoon Gojo (Gojo Satoru) By: rrairey

Blocking your gaze (Gojo Satoru) By: yuwuta

Confession (Gojo Satoru) By: nhoirr

Break Room (Gojo Satoru) By: 7nami

Marriage is about balance dear (Gojo Satoru) By: thewritetofreespeech

Pink (Goio Satoru) By: shibaraki

Recorded Memories (Inumaki Toge) By: tunal0verr

[mushiimune]

HELLLOOOO POOKIES!

So I’ve been thinking a lot about Playhouse lately (what else is new😔) but this time it’s about the band itself! I’m still trying to come up with a name for them rather than just “the band” because I think that would be cool. I used to call them “Carnival Co.” but now that’s just the name of the company who developed the Playhouse, aka the business partnership of Rockefeller & Carlyle.

I think their stage performances would have different costumes than the ones I’ve drawn them in so far. I want to give them different outfits that match more with the circus aesthetic. Frivilous and gothic, in the ornate victorian way. Their attractions will still remain the same, they change after the show back into their normal clothes, but the vibe of the theatre and the vibe of the wing in which all of their attractions are clustered are very different.

The game wing is bright and eye-catching, focused more on children and interactive games: roller skating, laser tag, the playplace, the circus, etc., and the theatre is geared towards teens and adults. I’ve also decided that the band puts on roughly one or two shows a day, and the rest of the time they’re off in their attractions or at the circus. Mitsy and Ace have business at the circus, the other two do not. Mitsy is an acrobat, and Ace is the ringmaster who introduces the show and various acts.

I do not care that this is like 90% sci-fi now :3 it makes me happy and that’s what matters yippee yo and yippee yeah‼️

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