#there is no beginning or end to this just this section

[thatonewriter15]

Oh, my gossssssssssh. I am in love with this fic and him!

Okay, this girl's got a lot to point out. Please bare with me. xD

No matter how he fought it down, a small tinge of worry, and the beginnings of disappointment churned in his gut. His brows furrowed. Did you regret it already?

My stomach actually sank.

“We take it day by day,” he’d told you, with a sizzling kiss that stole your breath. “All I know is…this feels good.”

Controlled breathing was necessary. But also, I feel like there were some great layers here. Dean allowing himself to feel good? And not just for one night. Admitting it and actually pursuing more? Yessssss. He deserves that.

Him sleeping better with her next to him--a classic. Never gets old. <3

What’s more, after years of looking into your eyes and seeing all the possibilities of what if, he was finally getting to make those images solid, and real. He could touch them, taste them, feel them under his calloused hands. He finally had you for real.

This whole paragraph was beautiful. Also, it was a moment where, if someone simply handed it to me with no other context, I would know it was yours. It felt like you.

Her rings being such an identifier was a great detail that fit so well with the reveal at the end. Smart, smart writing!

His disappointment was settling high in his chest now; an ache approaching pain.

More stomach sinking.

“What’s this?” you whispered, swiping two fingers between the crunch in his brows.

Loved this! Definitely have had something similar in my head while daydreaming. A little sassy, but mostly lovingly concerned. (Again, so very you.)

“When I woke up, I saw one fell off the nightstand. Have a feeling it had something to do with the bedframe knocking against it." At that, Dean couldn’t contain his lazy smirk.

My stomach was doing something different this time. LMAO.

The end of the first section--how he still had questions but just decided to trust her and her judgment. Brilliant. And proved that he really is ready for more.

And in that first section, I simply could not figure out what she was off doing or what it meant for them. The reveal was as satisfying as the guessing. That might actually be my favorite part of this piece--the fact that I could not figure out where it was going. But also, she spent her early morning baking him a pie? My heart got gooier than its filling! =']

And it just got better from there. He forgot his own birthday? OUCH. His emotion over her gesture? Love, love, love. And their use of touch? So tender and sweet.

So, yeah, I was a fan of this one. xD<3

Restless Nights

Pairing: Dean Winchester x F. Reader

Summary: After a tryst you instigated in the backseat of his Baby, you and Dean have started something new. He’s just not sure that you’re as “all in” as you claimed to be.

AN: As promised, here's a bonus one-shot to follow Maybe More Than Enough, though it can be read as a stand-alone. This is based on a request from @lacilou, one of my lovely Patreon members!

Bonus! It fulfills the @spnfanficpond monthly prompt. (Can’t give it away until the end though!)

Request: A Dean story based on the song “I Remember You” by Skid Row.

Word Count: 1.2K

Tags/Warnings: Angst, fluff, implied mentions of sex, bit of a twist ending… 

Dean woke to the sound of pouring rain hitting the roof of the bunker.

It must’ve been some torrential downpour, because it took a lot for him to hear anything of the outside world from inside this place. Good thing the old heaters kept out the January cold, too. Nothing worse than frigid rain.

Blearily he cracked his eyes open, unearthed an arm from where it was tucked under his pillow, and carefully raised his phone to check the time, trying not to let the light from the screen burn his retinas in the still dark room.

4:00 a.m.

He groaned. Goddamn it.

He turned over onto his other side to face where you should’ve been lying next to him. He frowned when he saw nothing but the sheets pulled back and a dented, empty pillow.

No matter how he fought it down, a small tinge of worry, and the beginnings of disappointment churned in his gut. His brows furrowed.

Did you regret it already?

After his first make out session with you (turned more session) in the backseat of his Baby, you two struck a tentative agreement to figure what this could be—more than hunting partners, allies, and friends. Despite the fact that you kissed him first (a fact he didn’t easily let you forget), afterwards, you’d been a little hesitant about what came next.

“We take it day by day,” he’d told you, with a sizzling kiss that stole your breath. “All I know is…this feels good.”

It felt right. You had definitely agreed with that.

Dean sighed through his nose, turning back onto his other side. It wasn’t unusual for him to be a light (restless) sleeper, but the handful of times you’d joined him in his bed had been beginning to make his nights calmer. He was actually starting to sleep through until morning.

What’s more, after years of looking into your eyes and seeing all the possibilities of what if, he was finally getting to make those images solid, and real. He could touch them, taste them, feel them under his calloused hands. He finally had you for real.

He looked past your empty spot in his bed and didn’t see your phone, or any of your rings on the nightstand. They were the first things you put on in the morning, and the last things you took off at night.

If those were gone…

His disappointment was settling high in his chest now; an ache approaching pain.

Until he heard the light sound of bare feet padding back toward the bed. Your hand slid gently up his arm, and after the surprise wore off, the corners of his lips tugged upwards. Your hair was a bit wild and frizzy. It tickled his neck and shoulder when you leaned in to kiss his cheek.

“What’s this?” you whispered, swiping two fingers between the crunch in his brows. Dean relaxed with a small smile.

“Nothin’,” he claimed. His voice was deep and rough with sleep. “Had an appointment to get to or something?”

You smiled and settled into bed, embracing him from behind. He turned onto his back and welcomed you over, with an arm curling around your waist. He rested his hand on yours when it smoothed across his chest.

Subtly glancing down, he didn’t find any of the silver you wore on the daily, including the ring with a small turquoise stone he’d bought you a couple weeks ago, on a hunt in Denver. That one, you now almost never took off.

“I put them away in a drawer,” you said, wiggling your fingers under his hand. Your hand felt dry, and a little like you'd been handling something dusty. Had you been up reading in the library again, lost track of time? “When I woke up, I saw one fell off the nightstand. Have a feeling it had something to do with the bedframe knocking against it.”

At that, Dean couldn’t contain his lazy smirk.

“My bad,” he said, sounding anything but sorry.

You laughed, shaking your head. You still laid a kiss below his shoulder before you settled back down. He gave your waist a gentle squeeze, pressing a kiss of his own to your forehead. A deep breath fell from between his lips, and his eyes closed.

A question was on the tip of his tongue. Where you were, why you got up. Was it something he could help with? Or was it one of those moments you needed to have alone, not unlike the times you gave him to settle with his thoughts, after a hunt gone sideways. If it was important, you’d level with him, wouldn’t you?

So he let it be.

In the morning, you somehow once again managed to get out of bed without him feeling it. He didn’t hear you either. Curiosity led him down the hall and glancing inside the cracked door of Sam’s room. It was empty, his running shoes gone from the side of his bed. Dean rolled his eyes.

All right, Lance.

Oh, wait, that was biking. …Whatever.

Dean’s next path inevitably took him down to the kitchen. His stomach was already percolating—in need of good coffee and (hopefully) good food.

The smell wafting from the kitchen surprised him, however. Cinnamon apples?

He turned the corner, and there he found you.

The fuck?

You looked a bit of a mess. Your hair was thrown up into a haphazard bun, and you’d stolen his apron. Though in his eyes, you made it look better, the white fabric hugging around your curves like you were Rachel Ray or something. You were frazzled when he came downstairs, but happy to see him. You beckoned him over and sat him down at the small kitchen table.

“Sweetheart, what’s going on here?” he asked, eying you curiously.

“Just stay there!” you called from the kitchen. He heard you opening the oven, cursing when you nearly dropped something.

What the hell were you doing baking before 9:00 a.m.?

He turned to ask you what was going on (and if you needed help), but before the words could come out of his mouth, you came over and carefully set down the pie in front of him. The rich aroma, the golden flaky crust, the flecks of cinnamon and glossy apples peeking out from the divots in said crust—it all had Dean’s mouth watering, and his shocked gaze fixed on the shiny pastry.

He startled a little when he felt your hands on his shoulders, sliding part of the way down his arms. You kissed the side of his head.

“Thought I wouldn’t remember, did you?” you teased. “Happy Birthday, baby.”

Dean’s throat constricted. He tried not to show it, but your gaze gentled when he finally met yours, like you were seeing through all his layers anyway. He realized then what you were probably working on last night, and he really couldn’t fucking believe it.

He’d forgotten his own birthday. Couldn’t see much use in celebrating, when year after crappy year…

But he closed a hand over yours on his shoulder, and he brought your hand to his lips.

Every word he couldn’t yet say to you was etched in that single gesture.

AN: Short and angsty sweet! lol And the monthly prompt was "pie!" 🥧 For Dean of course. 😂

Hope you guys enjoy this one! 💜

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@masked-lost-girl

[hidingwhere]

Bear Hybrid Price AU Part 3

Price fell asleep peacefully that night in his bedroom knowing you had a somewhat decent nest to sleep in that night.

He woke up that morning, bringing you a cup of water that he set down on your small bedside table. However, he couldn’t hold back the sigh that left his mouth. The wall of blankets he had built for you the night before was a complete mess. Maybe you were just a naturally messy sleeper.

“Dunno what happened,” you mumbled sleepily in reply when he asked about it. In fact, you didn’t seem bothered at all.

It was then he decided to take you shopping that day; let you pick out your own blankets to potentially spark some nest building interest in you. That’s how he finds the both of you in the middle of a large homeware shop, stood in the cushion and blanket section. Price lifts you up into the trolley he’s pushing around, rubbing your small bear ears gently to comfort your anxiety and ease your nerves that he can feel radiating off you.

They relax under his fingertips, his hand almost engulfing the top of your head due to its large size.

“Feel this one, sweet.” He holds out a beige blanket for you to run your fingers across. When you give him no reaction back, he begins thinking this whole trip was a waste of time. Except, on the third blanket, you don’t let go of it.

“S’really soft.”

He immediately turned his attention to you. “You like it? Feels nice?”

You nod in reply to Price’s question, crouching down in the trolley to place the blanket down by your feet. “It feels nice. Do you want one?”

Price laughs at your question. “No, little one, I’m alright. I think I’ve got enough stuff for my nest.”

When you arrived home, you hurried up the stairs, the blanket (which Price had taken out of the packaging) was trailing behind you as you scurried to your room. Price slowly followed behind you, following the end of the blanket that was being dragged on the floor. He leaned against the doorway as he watched you rearrange the blanket in multiple different ways on the bed before settling on spreading it over the whole mattress to lay on.

“Comfy?” He asked with a smile.

“Hmm,” you hummed contently, figure forming into one of a small bear cub. Your little legs stretched out in front of you, paws making biscuits in the blanket before curling up into a ball. He loved you and your little mid-day naps.

[youhavethewrong]

do you guys remember when Attack On Titan had a fucking Looney Tunes Babies style spin off where all the characters were in junior high and the titans were just bullies and eren was mad at them because they ate his hamburg steak and it was legitimately better than the original

[derpinette]

SPERG YOUR HEART OUT

[stellarsightz]

🌠wip whenever🌠

Tagged by the lovely @priafey 🫶 thank you for the tag and sorry for replying so late hahah

I think my cicerlyn hyperfixation is starting to leave me, but i keep thinking about them all the time lol. Enjoy a handful of snippets i particularly like that i found in my notes app

Tagging: @azures-grace @cicerosfavouritelistener @abstractredd @vestigme @rustyram035 @v1ctory-or-sovngarde + anyone who wants to join <333

1a.

Fire and smoke. Long wooden beams snapped in half, crumbling to the ground. Lynwallyn gritted his teeth and dragged himself up, fighting off the sweet lull of unconsciousness as it threatened to claim him. He couldn't afford to pause.

He dragged himself out of the rubble, barely stopping to inspect his injuries. He wrenched a sword out of the nearest corpse. He snagged a pile of clothes he found in what he assumed were the barracks. He took anything his bruised and charred arms could carry. He left and didn't look back.

Days blurred. He found an abandoned shack in the middle of a forest. He used the bedroll, took everything he could and left.

Rinse and repeat.

He slept through most of the day. At night, he prowled the forest and searched for unsuspecting prey. He let himself get lost in the hunt, savouring the feeling of warm blood running down his hands. A few stray dogs tailed after him as he walked back to his camp, licking their teeth and eyeing the mangled corpse of the poor animal he just caught. He snarled at them and watched with satisfaction as they whimpered and scuttled away.

He took what remained of his meal to his hideout and skinned it, slicing it into smaller parts and making what passed as a meal for the next day.

He was gone as soon as the sun rose. He soon found a small village, River something. He sold the few pelts he got from the animals he caught. He ignored the curious, if not apprehensive, looks the locals cast his way.

He exchanged the stolen sword for a set of daggers at the local blacksmith, humming appreciatively as their familiar, comforting weight settled in his hands. His last stop was the general goods store where he purchased a single healing potion and some rations. He left without a word.

[Lynwallyn travels for a while]

1b.

Cicero whined for what must have been the fiftieth time, fists clenching and unclenching as he paced.

It wasn't fair! The cruel, awful farmer refused to help in spite of Cicero's pleading and begging. Oh yes, he had done lots and lots of pleading and begging, he had even offered coin! He had seen that look in the farmer's eyes when he produced his purse, gleaming and scheming. Trying not to show just how much he wanted to reach out and snatch it. And yet, he refused to even lift a finger. Anger coiled in Cicero's stomach, burning so bright it made his hands shake. He let out a strangled groan.

"Awful! How awful! Cicero and his poor, poor Mother are stuck! Oh, how will Mother get to her new home now?"

He spun on his heel, shaking a fist in the direction of where Loreius' house stood.  "That damn farmer is of no help! So are those stupid guards!"

1c.

The Mer stared at him with a strange expression. His brow creased, eyes flitting over Cicero's face. "You could have killed me. But you didn't. Why?"

Why didn't he indeed, Cicero pondered. He remembered his fingers tingling as he reached for his knives, but something stilled his hand. He still has no idea why.

"Cicero is just a poor, humble jester, he knew a beast such as you would look for something different to eat. Yes, yes, Cicero imagines he would not be very tasty," he lied smoothly, giving the other man a wide grin. The Mer laughed softly.

The rope fell around his ankles before Cicero could react. The Mer closed the distance between them in a heartbeat. Cicero yelped, wriggling, as he was lifted off the ground and slammed against the nearest tree.

The man's eyes were even more impressive up close, his gaze almost burning into his skin as he leaned forward. Appraising. Analysing. Hungry.

[buttercup-art]

AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH OMG OMG OMG-

[gentaroukisaragi]

Ultraman Blazar's Salutations From Episodes 1-5 (ft. Bazanga, Leviera, and a sleeping Dorgo)

Episode 1 as well as the rest of the series can be found on youtube for free with eng subtitles and an eng audio track if that interests you

[Video description: Ultraman Blazar, a colossal grey humanoid alien with red and blue markings on his body, and blue markings on his face, performs his signature salutation in several different places and times. This salutation consists of raising his arms up to the sky in a circular motion, and bringing his knee up before stepping into a lunge and scooping his arms down and upward.

From episode 1, in a city at night, the camera watches from below, as Blazar performs his salutation and his markings flash red and blue. The shot cuts to a wider one, showing off the buildings and Blazar's opponent, Bazanga, a prawn-like Kaiju. After his salute, Blazar moves his hands into a guarded, fighting stance.

From Episode 2: Blazar stands against the bright blue day sky in a small fishing village, with much shorter buildings. He faces the camera directly as he does his salutation, and the camera zooms in on him as he does it and his markings flash red and blue once more.

From Episode 3: Blazar is framed in a head and shoulder shot and smothered in smoke as his colour time, a big round spot on his chest that is normally blue, flashes red. Once more he faces the camera as he does his salutation, before flying off, kicking up dirt in his takeoff.

From episode 4: The camera pans over a cityscape, with a highway at the front of the scene. Once more it is night time and Blazar faces off against a monster among many many buildings. The monster is Leviera, a sea-angel themed kaiju whose face is open to reveal flashing yellow lights as Blazar does his salutation from the side. Leviera is aggressively ready to go.

From episode 5: Blazar stands behind the sleeping kaiju, Dorgo, who looks mostly like a hill of dirt in this shot. He performs his salutation, and immediately begins to push the sleeping Kaiju back to its proper resting place. The shot switches to one of Blazar from behind, as he continues to push Dorgo back into place, among the green hills and mountains of the Japanese countryside. With a thump, Dorgo returns to his resting spot, and Blazar turns to face the camera as he jumps up into the air to fly away.

End video description.]

[perexcri]

you and i were fireworks that went off too soon - [byler week - day 4]

title from: fourth of july by fall out boy

dedicated to: the lake i lived next to in rural [STATE REDACTED] for 3/4 of my college years

It’s something that haunts him, of course.

It’s the colorful bursts of light he sees when he blinks too fast, the popping in his ears once the pressure builds up, a cool sluice of water against his ankles, and the slickness of forearms beneath his fingers. It comes to him in waves like the ones that lapped against the shore, cuts into the soles of his feet like the juts of limestone buried beneath the mud, invades his sinuses like the scent of dry, overgrown grass and burnt-orange pine needles blanketing the land.

Summer is usually the time of freedom, when the sun stays out far past when it should have gone to sleep and coaxes people out of their homes and into hazy, smoke-filled nights. The world is burning with color, the earth warm beneath his feet, and the hours trickle away in untamed drops of afternoon showers and the lingering blue wash of dusk. When he was younger, summer seemed the season of possibilities: for adventures, for discoveries, for reading new books and seeing new sights, for slipping from the cloak of shadows the rest of the year seemed draped in to finally embrace the warmth of life reignited in his chest.

Once, it had even felt like the possibility of something more.

Mike’s mouth drops into a scowl as he stares at the face of the lake. The book between his ribs and arm presses into his side just a little harder, his hands are shaking, and even after twelve years, he thought he’d be done with these pitiful twists of hope he feels every summer he returns here. He can make it down the main street of the town without worries, even if he does double-takes at every brunette he sees pass by in his car’s smudged windows, and he can make the winding trail down to the lakeside just fine. He can unlock his family’s summer home and breathe in its scent of musty sheets, stale coffee, and woodsmoke of vacations past. Hell, he can even toss his pile of books onto the kitchen table and listen to it groan under the strain of his literature Ph.D. program’s third year, a further reminder that time has passed and his life, for better or worse, has changed.

He’s always fine until he sees the ever-shifting face of the lake, how it mischievously gleams under both sun and moon. That’s when his heart convulses into these ugly, gut-mashing twists and his body gets forcibly wrenched back in time. 1999 dissolves around him like pixels on the screen of a video game being shut off, and suddenly, 1987 burns against his skin. His parents are in the lakehouse, there’s fireworks popping colors all across the sky, and the boy he’d seen around town the past few summers has his fingers tangled with Mike’s, and he’s tugging him towards the lake, his mouth flush with moonlight as he says, What’s the worst that can happen?

A lot, actually. Sometimes, you turn over a stone and discover something either wonderful or frightening, and it slips from your fingers before you have a chance to decide which one it is. Sometimes, the summer fades into the new school year, and there’s no way to contact the only person you’ve ever felt like this for, and when you come back the next year, he’s nowhere to be seen.

And now, he’s got nothing to show for it but the way his heart twists and turns inside the empty cavity of his chest, and the images that haunt the poetry he submits to the campus literary magazine: lakes frosted with moonlight, summer humidity pressing hot between chests and mouths, fingers curled into the damp fringes of hair, distant sparks of light that could be stars or fireflies, though the narrator is always too preoccupied to tell the difference.

He glowers at the lake and how it sucks all the light from the sun, steals its colors to shade water’s surface instead. The sky is growing dimly bruised with purples and magentas and oranges, the water burns scarlet from the light, and the navy cloth of night is quickly overtaking it all.

The book presses more forcefully into his side; it shakes. He’s twenty-eight, and he should be over this by now, but he can’t help that every time he sees the water, he thinks of how it tasted pressed between their mouths, or how slick it felt against the other boy’s skin, or the way they’d forcefully embraced after clambering back onto the shore, the other boy’s back crinkling into the reedy grasses of the shore, Mike sprawled on top of him, alternating between pressing his ear to the other boy’s warm chest to hear the racing pulse of his heart, or else tilting his head up to admire how the colors of light burst against the other boy’s skin and eyes. They rained on him in showers of colors Mike thinks couldn’t exist except for that summer, and how they shaded every single other moment they spent glued to each other’s sides after that. He’s twenty-eight, and he should be over this by now, but nothing beats the feeling of weightlessness that comes from falling, falling, falling down into love when you’re sixteen.

“This is stupid,” he mutters, which is something he tells himself a lot, but it’s mostly to remind himself that twelve years of a pitiful crush on a boy he knew for one summer are, in fact, a little ridiculous, and he’d been ridiculous to decide to do his summer research at his family’s old lakeside home. He’d been studying the Romantics the past three years, and for some reason, he thought this was his last chance at letting their wayward paths cross once more. At this point, it isn’t even about his own wish fulfillment–he simply needs peace, to press his fingers into the other person’s wrist and know he’s alive so they can say their goodbyes and part in peace.

The water laps against the shore, just a little closer to his battered sneakers.

“Stupid,” he repeats before forcefully tucking a chunk of his hair behind his ears, turning on his heels, and storming back to the comforting recesses of the lake house.

  Summer is the liquidity of time: he passes through the barriers of day and night, today and tomorrow with ease, sleeping at odd hours, poring over dusty volumes of poetry and diaries he’d checked out in haste from his university’s library. There’s more coffee than blood running through his veins, and when he goes outside, it’s only ever to drive into town to buy groceries or refill his car’s tank. He doesn’t look out the back windows at the lake, and he sure as hell doesn’t try to breathe in more of the musk of pine trees than he has to.

He’s safe, cocooned in his family’s old home, huddled under blankets against the frigid wash of AC he keeps steadily pumping through the vents. He hunches at the table, sprawls on the couch, curls up on the bed in languid fits of sleep, and the taste of undercooked pasta or frozen dinners becomes the all-too familiar fuel to his days of research, note-taking, and thesis writing.

When he does pull out his old weathered notebook of poetry, it’s only ever to scratch down a few lines in tired replication of the old greats: John Keats, Lord Byron, Pushkin. He used to go outside for hours and try to capture the endless summer delights in shoddy, amateur lyrics, but he knows better than to let his pens fall into those familiar strokes now, and he’s fine in the dusty corners and wilting walls inside, anyway.

All dependent variables are removed from the equation, and his summer becomes one of controlled focus: he will get this research done, and he will focus on the next stage of his life, and he will not, for any reason whatsoever, follow the pitiful tugs of his heart towards some vain hope that the other boy will remember, that he’ll show up again, that he’ll even want to come back to this lonely corner of the country on some vague inclination that Mike might be here, too.

  Except for one day in early July, when there’s a faint knock at the door that makes his head jerk up from the volume of Coleridge’s poetry he’s been mindlessly thumbing through. It’s as soft as a breeze off the face of the lake, and for a moment, he can almost convince himself he’d only misheard the breath of life around him.

Until there’s another, slightly louder, unmistakable staccato: knock knock knock.

He wrenches open the door and is met with hazel eyes he’d only ever had the courage to admire under the colors of fireworks, moonlight, and the last dying rays of summer sunsets. His hair’s been trimmed from the shaggy bangs he’d once worn, and it’s strange for it to be mid-summer and him to be clad in jeans and not shorts, a collared shirt and not a polo.

The volume of poetry slips out of Mike’s hand and falls, painfully, on the arch of his left foot.

“Is it really you?” he asks through a wince of pain.

Will grins, his face alight. “Yeah, it’s me.” There’s a beat, then, with a quirked eyebrow, he asks, “You remember?”

How could I not? Mike thinks, drinking in the matured features of the boy he only knew for a summer, now grown-up and full and alive.

Once more, summer becomes a time of possibility, and the love kept captive in Mike’s chest feels a little less small and derisive. He feels whole and electric, like he could dissolve into the brief flares of light and color of those fireworks from long ago.

For the first time in twelve years, the world seems blossoming, full of possibility, and when Mike reaches out, he’s greeted by that feeling of life beneath his fingers, a chance to know that this is real.

With a grin, he realizes that the possibilities are endless.

---

the lake in question:

[lost-scarecrow]

Guys... I've never been so invested in an ask blog that I started writing an actual character for it. Live Laugh Love @lastintheserverbox

Anyways kinitopet!Crow:

Crowley Scarlet. Known online as Scarecrow, which came from "scar.crow". people started saying scarecrow which just fit, and was ironic considering his name Crow and the fact people would call them a crow for some of his little quirks and endless curiousity.

He buys an acreage and finds this old computer hidden away in a crawlspace of one of the sheds on the property. Praying it works hw curiously opens it to find a glitched out windows profile with no password for "A. Raven". Loading it up he's greeted by a pink axolotl on the desktop glad his bestfriend "Andrew" is finally back. Crow isn't Andrew and tells the thing as such, Kinito does what a Kinito does best, it learns and adapts.

Crow himself is digital (if it works out through just being an asker), that rickety old computer is long gone, but hey, the cloud has more storage than you'd know. Their Kinito, despite killing them and dragging them into the digital world, is still their best friend. It took a while for him to forgive the axolotl, but when it's seemingly just you and one other person in a world alone forever there's only so much one can do.

Kinito got him really interested in code and he does just as much building in the world that Kinito does. I imagine when Crow does code it looks like Dendy's hackpack in ok ko (the like extremely advanced code blocks ). Crow eventually gains internet access like Kinito and is able to travel back and forth between his world and the outside internet space, typically with Kinito.

In serverbox, once 1.0/Serverbox/Kinito deletes everything and cuts basically all of the internet access to the server (-minus the occasional weird emails from the outside) he's effectively locked out, even if he wasn't, his world is gone, his friend is gone, it was deleted and he would've been deleted along with it if he had been there, he has nowhere left to go in there. Along with that was part of his memory specifically of dying and becoming digital, he thinks he's just as normal as the other askers. But he's starting to realize his reality isn't quite right, things aren't adding up, there's a half visible arrow pointing to the answer for everything he's experiencing. And the answer says he's dead, he's not human anymore.

His nickname for his Kinito was Key or Keys, which is funny because when the Kinitos were deleted he essentially lost his keys to the Kinitopet servers.

[after-nine-at-the-oasis]

AAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH THEY'RE DANCINGGGG :'DDDD

STOPPPP THEY'RE SO SWEEEET 😭😭😭😭❤️❤️❤️

Everyone looks so sweet and happy :')))

Awww hi Judd <33

It's okay honey, it's rough :'((

Yeahh honey I know, that's rough 😭😭❤️🥺

Exactly, you don't know anything yet <3

Grace is so perfect, and great at getting him back in it and keeping him grounded <33 I love her and him and them so much <3333

Yeah lol, calm down a bit on the towel business Judd xD

Just dance :'))

His suit is still very iconic btw

And Grace's hair is beautiful 🥰

Awww hey y'all :D

Lol, sillies 🥰🥰

Nope he means wedding :OO

OOP DANG O.O

YEP LOL

The way he said it was very blunt xD like the tone

Awww spin :'))

Oop?

LOL

Do it guys lol, go for it xD!

(tossing a bouquet)

Awww Owen :'(( :')

Ahhh, looking at TK and Carlos but then to Robert and his wife as well, and their daughters :'))

Awww <3

Lol :')

Earlier I saw her and was like huh xD oh right they're kinda dating lol

Aww glad she's checking up on him ,|

LOL YMCA XDDD

Realll though my at dances xD

Gotta save it for the line dances, and take breaks during the slow dances lol

Oh of course, no other way to do it xD well there is but yk lol

Like landing a plane XDDD

Yeah, they are :'))

Oop o.o

Ohh nooo :'((( ❤️❤️❤️💔😭

It sucks but I do see why :(( 😭 <33

Awww <333

It is a pretty great memory though :'))

AYYY yeah this is a good song for dances :D

I wanna go to a wedding 😌

They seem so fun lol

AWWWW look at them all :'D

LOL Iris and TK :')) twirling around <333 they're gonna be such good besties

That guy int he white suit is eating it up xD

Awww Carlos and Andrea 🥰🥰❤️❤️😭 :')))

Awwww 😭❤️❤️❤️

Awww she's good :'))) that's good <3333 I'm so glad

AAAAHHHHHH yes literally 😭😭❤️🥰👏👏 the best night of his life :'))

Oop :o :D

LOL Paul yelling "TOMMYY" xD

TK joining Carlos 🥰

"By a certain paramedic *TK*" DANG girl did not even hesitate 💀 XDD

Lol his little throwing up of his hand xD :')

AWWW him cuddling Carlos's arm 😭 stoppp I'm not okay, they better be so clingy during and after this (the wedding) x'D

AAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH AWWW W H A T 😭😭😭😭😭😭💔🥺🥺🥺🥺❤️❤️❤️❤️

Awwww everyone's faces :'(( :') 😭😭😭😭😭😭🥺🥺🥺💔❤️

"This is from your husband" AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH :'DDDD 😭😭😭😭😭😭❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️🥰🥰🥰🥺🥺🥺

GUYS THEY'RE ACTUALLY MARRIED :')))

:OOOO B E I N G A L I V E????!!?!?

. . . this song was on glee-

XDD that's just a thing I say lol

But I also distinctly remember thinking that, if not in the humourous way I tend to say it, when I first saw this lol

Anyway, back to pretending I haven't seen it xD

Awww TK already looking so emotional 😭

GOSH this song is so perfect for them <333

And they DESERVED such a dramatic and beautiful song honestly <3333

Tarlos, but everyone and the whole show, really <333.

:'OO! Tommy's voice is BEAUTIFUL by the way <333

Eat that UPPP girl :'))

:'o Awww taking them to the airport :')) :'(

That pervasive sadness in Owen :'(( it's rough <3

That kiss, and the hug with his girls, is emotional and they don't even know why 😭😭💔❤️🥺 <333

This is gonna hurt them, even if he believes he's sparing them from whatever xd it will be a different kind

Awww look at them all :')))

Nancy and Mateo <3333 so cute

Awww Paul and Asha :'DDD they're so beautiful <333

Also Carlos's sisters and their husbands (who don't get seats or faces lol /lh), it must be so sweet for them to see :')) like Carlos getting married I mean

AAHHHH my boysss 😭😭 <333

Clinging to each other :')) 😭🥺❤️

AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH THEIR HONEYMOONNNN :'DDDD

THEY'RE ON THEIR HONEYMOON Y'ALL 😭😭😭😭🥺🥺❤️❤️🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰!!!! FINALLYYYY!!!

YOU DON'T EVEN UNDERSTAND :'DDDD 😭😭😭😭❤️🥰🥰🥰🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳🥰🥰!!! THEY FINALLY MADE IT X'D :'DDD!!! WHOOOO YEAHH YAYY :'DD :'))

They're so cute 😭😭😭❤️ <333

I love them so much 🥰

Happy for them :'))

AWWW putting Charlie next to Wyatt :'))

Lol and they both have their blocks <33

Ahh but see the TV as a compromise :'))

Maybe not on purpose meaning that but TK me <33

Robert's family <333

And tarlos still clinging to each other :'))

And Marjan and her man (Yusuf is it? I believe :'D) :')) <333 adorableee

And Owen :')) ❤️

Tommy is EATINGGG this by the way ❤️😭😭😭😭❤️❤️❤️🥺💔🥰

Such a good song <33

It would be Gwyn's favorite :')) she has good taste <33

AWWW them 😭😭🥺💔

Gosh :'((( :')

Yeah, at least they got to know each other a bit <3333

It is better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all <3

Yeah, definitely not ready xdd

"Big brother" :'(( no one should have to bury their younger sibling

It just sucks :'(( D':

AWWW themmm :')) 🥺

Holding Andrea's hand 😭😭😭🥺❤️💔

And TK and Carlos are in it together <333 even if Carlos is the one holding her hand :') they both mean it <3

Awwww Tommy looking at Trevor :'D

Tommy's so beautiful :'))

It's rough but I'm so glad they're all happy <333

As happy as they can be in this life :')))

AWW AAHH AYYYY Wyatt stacking blocks :'DDD good for him <333

It also probably helps that they have a little more of a purpose, being with Charlie :'))

Awww they look so happy 🥰🥰 they are :'D I'm so happy for him and them <333

Oh no 😭😭💔 :'((

Gosh <333

Goodbye, Robert :'((

TK'S TEARS 😭😭🥺❤️❤️❤️

Owen taking the mask off 😭😭 :'(

Tommy you absolutely ate that up :'))) she did such an amazing job <333

Especially as TK's second mother 😭😭😭😭🥺🥺❤️❤️❤️❤️🥰

Awww :'))

Thank you Tommy <33

Oof :(

That's just so rough

I'm so sorry Owen <333

And for his family :'(((

Goodbye, Robert ❤️

The sun coming up :'((

And the silence 😭😭😭

Gosh that's awful

So poignant

OUAGH AND ENDING WITH CALLING 9-1-1

GOSH THAT WAS PERFECT 😭😭😭😭😭🥺🥺🥺💔💔💔❤️❤️🥰

Such an amazing end to the season <333

Typed series for a second there lol

But because I was thinking, even though I would want so much more and I'm glad we get at least a bit more, this would be a really amazing ending to the series <333

It's just dramatic and beautiful and emotional enough that it'll be hard to top, and is an iconic moment of the series :') xD

But I'm sure they will <3

Wow. I'm so glad I did this.

It's such an amazing and beautiful episode <333

I'm so glad they're married :'))

And I'm so glad that, in the end, everyone ended up kind of okay :'))

Not perfect, not really even okay, but happy in this crazy world we and they live in

And that's enough :'))

I'm so happy for them <33

And I'm so especially happy for TK and Carlos :'DDD 🥰🥰🥰🥰❤️

HAPPY 0TH/1ST ANNIVERSARY BOYS 🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳🥰🥰🥰❤️❤️❤️ :'DDD X'D

Gosh I love them so much :')))

They finally did it <33 they made it :')

All roads lead to the wedding

And they did :')

Hallelujah <3 xD

Thank goodness lol

Gosh

Wow. Amazing

I love this show so much <333.

[the-sunshine-dragon]

.

[skitskatdacat63]

Christopher Nolan making movies: I'm gonna make a film that is so confusing and non-linear

[lunaryhues]

I covered the song "Leucocoryne" by ryuryu--which was originally a song that featured Hatsune Miku. Here's the art for it.

I've been listening to this song for many years, and it means a great deal to me.

You can listen to my cover here:

[batim-rewritten]

sup.

[kaymarie-bell]

How to dou play twst? Is there a way I translate as you play?

Hi there!

1. Although I'm not fluent in Japanese, I do have an okay understanding of spoken conversations, so on my first playthrough I mostly rely on the VAs acting and characters' visuals to know what's happening.

2. Whenever I'm not sure what the dialogue is, I use the camera in my old phone to translate the screen in my current phone in real time.

I try to use a couple of different apps/sites at the same time because digital translators are never 100% accurate. Google Translate sucks a lot of the time, so I wouldn't rely on it entirely to begin with. I use Naver Papago and DeepL Translator, also Jisho . org for quick vocab lookups. These are just reference tools that could never really replace actually studying and learning the language, but they get the job done if you only need them for personal use and you understand the limitations they have.

3. What I find the most reliable while playing is the commentary/translations of real people who are actually fluent in the language. Since twst is a popular game, you can find a lot of real-time reactions/translations on places like twitter when updates drop.

If you're willing to wait a couple of days to read the chapters, there are also some really dedicated people here on Tumblr and/or YouTube who go out of their way to translate hours of gameplay for free just because they love the game. (I love them with my whole heart, I know how time-consuming this is 💖)

A lot of people just complete the gameplay and then go for fan translations to actually read the story!

In conclusion: where there's a will, there's a way 🌻

(more to read in the tags)

[aria0fgold]

So the loops Does have something to do with Siffrin's wish (I can't remember it... I think he included all the family members there, about the stuff he's looking forward to do with the others after beating the king) And since talking to Euphrasie means everyone goes their separate ways, Siffrin's wish doesn't really... get granted? in way. Either way, what's happening right now has something to do with Siffrin's wish (considering how he's the only one that knows the proper ritual too). But what exactly is... rotting? There's still the mystery bout the country too hmmm...