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#a different flavor of dream hah..
Heeeeeeyyyy 👋
Could I please request platonic! Sisterly reader with freckles?? Maybe reader joined with Smile and Black as a fortune teller and grew really close right off the bat? YOU KNOW IM A SLUT FOR THE LULLABY TROPE-
So maybe reader has to room with freckles instead of Smile? :3
PLEASE AND THANK
aaaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAA!!!!
DISCLAIMER: This piece contains sections of lyrics from "The Call" by Regina Spektor! I don't own the song, am not claiming to, and am not profiting off this piece at all.
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You came along with you master and coworker, and although you didn’t know you had any kind of talent with fortune telling, you suppose it’s good that you’ve got something up your sleeve.
As spellbound as you are by the entire circus, you’ve been all but claimed by this eager little waif who calls themself FRECKLES. For some reason they seem oddly charmed by you ― you wonder if it has anything to do with the fact that their face lit up when you proclaimed that they would be an incredible parent in the future. (You’re not sure that required any kind of divination. It’s plain to see that any child of theirs will be overwhelmingly loved.)
The ringleader, Joker, wanted your young master to room with Freckles, initially. However, they threw their arms around your neck and batted their eyelashes and asked if pretty please you could room with them instead. Apparently Joker just can’t say no to that face.
So here you are, trying to get settled in Freckles’ tent. It’s such a different environment from anything you’ve ever slept in, but that doesn’t mean it’s a bad thing. Actually, when you lie down on the bed, it seems pretty comfortable.
“Oi! Gettin’ tired?” Freckles briefly flips themself down from the top bunk, holding out a few Funtom-brand lollipops. “’Ere y’ go, sis, pick one. Wanna make y’ feel welcome on y’r firs’ day!”
You tilt your head before laughing and taking your favorite flavor of the ones they’ve offered. “‘Sis’?”
They nod and retreat back onto their bunk, seeming to stretch out by the sound of things up there. “Mhm. I figured if I ever ‘ad a big sister, I’d want ‘er t’ be someone like y’. Is it alright if I call y’ that, then?”
All you can do is shrug. You tuck the lollipop away into the small bag you brought with you and stretch out yourself. “Aw, sure.” Who can blame you? Even in just the short time you’ve known them, Freckles has wormed their way into your heart. Just like you charmed them, they appear to have charmed you just as easily. “It’s late, so, big sister duties include reminding you to get plenty of sleep.”
“Hah! Alriiiight,” they say, and you can practically hear the pout in their voice. After a moment, they speak up again, a little more shyly. “Um, y’ know, (Name)… there’s this thing I ‘eard ‘bout big sisters ‘n’ mums ‘n’ all that doin’ that I kinda dreamed ‘bout a li’l. Maybe y’ could… do it f’r me?”
“Oh? What is it?”
Their response is equally as insecure as the initial request was. “Could y’… sing me a lullaby? I mean, I know I’m an adult ‘n’ all, but… I dunno… it’s jus’ somethin’ I thought sounded kinda nice.”
You let out a small chuckle. Is that all? “Well, I can’t promise my voice is much good, but I can try. Are you all comfy?”
“Mhm!”
“Alright, close your eyes.”
They snort. “I only got the one, but done.”
“Good, good. Just relax, then.”
You can hear them breathing gently above you, and you start to sing quietly.
“It started out as a feeling which then grew into a hope which then turned into a quiet thought which then turned into a quiet word and then that word grew louder and louder till it was a battle cry I’ll come back when you call me no need to say goodbye just because everything’s changing doesn’t mean it’s never been this way before all you can do is try to know who your friends are as you head off to the war pick a star on the dark horizon and follow the light you’ll come back when it’s over no need to say goodbye…”
You don’t even need to get to the very last verse. As your voice trails off a bit, they’re already starting to snore. Evidently the ‘big-sister-sings-them-to-sleep’ dream was every bit as calming as they’d imagined it would be.
You smile and close your eyes, intending to get some sleep yourself.
“You’ll come back when they call you no need to say goodbye…”
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chaifootsteps · 6 months
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Hullo! It's SecretID!Alastor Anon, haunting your inbox with Alastor blether again:
I'll preface this with that this continues off of my rewrite AU ideas, Radio Demon's Identity-is-a-secret/unknown AU and wing amputee, peryton!Alastor who's been in survival (stressy) mode since his ass dropped into hell decades ago (is it bad that I kinda want Hell time and Earth time to have time dilation? 1:1 time ratio's kinda boring ngl).
For your consideration: Transman Alastor. He doesn't have physical antlers, they'd be shadow constructs and he can change their size and shape generally however he wants if he's got the magic/energy for it. I'm thinking of his powers being more shadow as well as radio-based (god his canon powers, design and motifs are so goddamn overcrowded, radio, shadows, eldritch-in-the-lovecraftian-sense, AND voodoo? holy fuck)? And maybe some shadow realm hammerspace for travel convenience (personal meat freezer and travel bag anybody?)? He'd be the kinda fellow who's always on the move, never stays in one place too long or too often and once a place's "safety" in his mind has been even partially-compromised he won't return to it for quite some time.
Also I had the design-idea of even replacing the black hairtips from canon with something like, bits of shadow crawling up his hair. Because he doesn't cast a shadow the normal way? He would keep his shadow off the ground, possibly hidden under his clothes, basically hugging himself tight (it could even help with holding himself upright whenever he's injured or weak/tired), leave no trace for predators to follow or tells for prey to see. Hell, maybe the shadow antlers are his shadow's hands but transformed and warped into different shapes? Can also resemble Radio Wireframe antennae or something sometimes?
And because I have nowhere else to put it, but, Alastor with the ability to steal voices and stories of people he kills in a certain way (certain criteria?) or something? Somethingsomething radio stuff? Idk how the radio and how sound design works, even with 30s or 30s adjacent tech, I feel like there's flavor to be found there of him being able to throw his (or someone else's) voice (or multiple voices). I can imagine him doing a wounded gazelle gambit but with voice throwing to lure a target somewhere more isolated.
I'm really in love with the idea of themes of Alastor being equal parts Hunter and Hunted, both in his behaviors and design. Shadows and radio, mostly heard, and if you DO see him, you either never knew he was there or it's too late (for you). Predator and Prey and awfully aware of it, the preference of low-risk moderate-reward ventures warring with that prey instinct that is equal parts hide/run away and beat the ever-loving shit out of that thing that looked at you vaguely threateningly. And it's not like these instincts come specifically from just, dying and his new form in Hell, but also based off of either experiences or exaggerated bits of Alastor's personality and the magic that formed his Hell-body going off of that or something idk.
Also, yanno another thing that could be interesting? What if in his life on Earth, he never even got to be on the radio? And the closest he ever got was being one of the studio crew or staff, or his 'crimes' being reported/talked bout on air (I'm kinda leaning more and more vigilante killer with Alastor, to tie further with the comic). But maybe he collected radios and tried making his own setup (a lot harder in the 1930s I'd imagine), practiced his voice and what his show would be like, but never got to be on the air no matter how hard he worked or tried, a dream forever unrealized (until Hell).
Random more down to earth (hah) stuff about my version of Alastor, besides cooking, hunting/tracking, and butchering/dressing down kills (whatever they may be), I could imagine him liking to sew or make clothes, something he could've done with his mother maybe? Or maybe he's just picked up some things from some trades he's worked in his life back on Earth when he was trying to work up into the radio business. Kinda a jack of several trades. Also this Alastor would drink his (at least, his version of) Respect Women juice, and Vaggie isn't excluded from this either (like I could imagine him annoying her a bit, but no ass slappage like canon, sorry not sorry). Also wing amputee things but, chronic residual limb pain? Or burns too, I haven't decided (sorry not sorry, I like my whump what can I say).
Also when trying to pitch the Radio Demon's deal to Charlie, Charlie can tell that Alastor himself was lying about Something, just not about what because idk I would imagine that everybody in Hell (and on Earth too) lies about things, even normal regular things. Charlie isn't that stupid, she's lived in Hell her entire life. Also okay, I really like the idea of her doing this entire plan all because she just wants Vaggie (can I rename her Aggie or something, pls) to be safe in Heaven and has no idea if this could work, they don't even know by what measure Heaven accepts people, much less condemned sinners ffs.
I would imagine that Alastor himself would be 'sending reports' to the Radio Demon (lol) as he helps the Hotel run better or something, with the Radio Demon making a few 'appearances' over the radios that start to populate the Hasbeen Hotel after the (informal?) alliance is started. There would be some mystery as to Why the Radio Demon wants to ally with this venture, because the boredom excused won't hold forever, and according to Niffty and Husk, Alastor has been in the Radio Demon's employ longer than they ever were, so who better to grill or watch for info? Any maybe, I would say that out of all his (relatively few, compared to other Sinners in the weight class that everyone assumes the Radio Demon is in) contracts, he likes Husk and Niffty the best (I mean, they've actually met Alastor as himself enough to sorta know him, even if they don't know he's the Radio Demon either, so that could say a lot). Idk what to do with his relationship to Rosie rn.
Thanks for listening to my ever-increasing Alastor blether again, thoughts, rebuttals or additions are welcome. <3
Loving all this blether! The part about Alastor drinking his respect women juice jumped out at me in particular, because I'm pretty sure Vivzie's under the impression that he already does. There's that comic where he saves a woman from being attacked and kills the guy who does it, but Vivzie also can't resist the urge to have him slap Vaggie on the ass because she thinks it's funny when characters are horrible to Vaggie.
A better writer would contrast the perfect gentleman Alastor thinks he is with the reality and also with Angel, who doesn't give a shit who he's rude to, but...Vivzie!
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janumun · 1 year
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Sukuna giving Vessel hook up advice.
Vessel is lonely, craving sentiment; to touch, worship and love, receiving and giving. The Vessel wants to know people, befriend new minds, see sights alike. But shit they're a shy, nervous lad; sometimes ashamed to indulge lustful fantasies. It eats their heart on the inside. A sort of sad, longing for connection and companionship. As humans, we build to communicate and establish ourselves, for better or worse.
Vessel and Sukuna share a single body, interlocking them deep physically and mentally whether they want it or not. When the Vessel is happy there is a small shift-a soft wash of joy in Sukuna's stomach. It's strange, not humanly understandable for a King of Curses, but he can be weirdly content with it. When Vessel is sad or upset, Sukuna temporarily shares that specific emotion or feeling. And as much as Sukuna adores his Vessel's struggle. That sweet, delicious despair that gives him a classic sadistic kick, that doesn't mean he wants a constant uncomfortable environment, especially if it comes at an inedible expense of his pleasure.
He's incredibly bored, but not so bored as to deny himself comfort within his own caged space. Not when Sukuna knows he can do something about it, despite if he doesn't actually want to, only for his own merit, if it works it works. Pathetically human as it is.
Besides, in a certain way, he's getting something out of it too. Seeing you, feeling you, his adorable vessel, his body and mind, losing themselves in sinful moments of pleasure.
What does a King do, if not indulge?
Sukuna takes what he wants, steals whatever catches his interest. But it isn't possible in his current state within you, and you aren't willing to immorally kill/destroy either, that's out of the question. But that hardly means Sukuna is any less a smooth talker, experience aplenty on melting people with a sinister rumble in their ears. He is a master at flirting, at leading unfortunate people and eventual worshippers into the palms of their god, helping you pick up a long-time friend of yours at a bar will be no different. All men are the same at their cores; greedy meatbags.
You want this friend of yours quite badly, don't you? That worthless fool? Hah! Don't be so predictable brat, stop the denial, I ain't fucking stupid.
You dream of them, their fingers, their tongue, their flesh. You want to be eaten, savored and picked apart; you want to be all the flavors the royals dine for. You know better than to hide from me, brat. I know all your filthy little secrets, I felt them, saw them as you ate yourself from the inside out. That's right, I saw you.
Be honest with yourself. Admit all your desires, go in for the kill then take the weak fool home for the awaited flourishing. I grow impatient, go brat, you waste precious time.
(I'm sorry, but I think Sukuna can be oddly poetic when he wants to be, more so when he acknowledges the benefits.
Maybe this is where his obsession roots growth. You dream, desire-you think about all these people, indulging in their lust and bursting at the seams when they hold you close. Yeah, Sukuna definitely enjoys it too, its sex, what's there not to love? Maybe convinced you to let him take a bite. That seductive, cruel wet mouth sucking-teasing at your entrance, touching and poking passionately as your "lover" gives an admittedly impressive show. He can feel them like you do, pleasure you enjoy to the fullest, everything you share increased tenfold via your unique connection. Because of your apparent sensitivity, he can’t do too much suppression for pride’s sake, but Sukuna isn't complaining-not about to ruin everything, you finally gave in. As insulting and crude as Sukuna is, you both know it just tightens you up further, liquid excitement Sukuna drinks like his favorite sake. Feeding off your pleasure, adrenaline, a lusty high.
And you do this, ascend to Heaven, to fill the dark loneliness that threatens to devour you faster than even Sukuna would. Pitiful, you're a slave nature. Maybe he starts to realize just how delicious it really was, how his precious Vessel moved and moaned. Your nervous nature, your virgin perspective on self-indulgent activities and your eagerness to praise and adore your lovers, that addiction to the limit breaks of physical prowess. How far you will push yourself in and outside of privacy, you have a strong wish to prove yourself capable of anything, to take everything you do.
Sukuna once encouraged your one-night stands,
now he begins utterly loathing his suggestion.
 Because people-these insignificant strangers-saw you, desired you. It pisses him off, his source of pleasure knew them in ways not only by sight, that you agreed to lay amongst them but didn't turn a glance toward who really mattered when he actually went out of his way to help you gather those weaklings; lied right beside them, kissed unworthy skin when Sukuna was better in every way man could never hope to become.
It angers him further that you dream of them just as often. You house a god, the all-powerful King of Curses, who deserves nothing less than worship, praise, devotion and pleasure of all sorts. And he sees you, an admittedly worthwhile fool-someone whom he knows craves to give all of that and more-looks at mere mortals. You choose pathetic meatbags over a god who can generously gift you all the pain and pleasure you could ever wish, far more than what some random man or woman could ever live long enough to bless you with.
Those fools, you dare think him lesser?
Sukuna never felt more insulted in his entire immortal existence.)
2/
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No worries over the fun Ask, Nonny. Displeased Curse King over his Vessel’s choice of lovers is something I eat up delightedly. 😋 He’s going to be slipping in, disrupting his Vessel’s sexual activities with those insignificant insects, forcing them to realize their King is the one who could truly make their body sing.
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hk-charas · 3 years
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“Friendship over many lifes can happen. But they can falter in some too.
I met the Grimmtroupe many lifetimes ago, and .. I admit I grown quite fond of the troupe Master, we became friends, and I couldnt resist feeling quite fraternal, to joke with each other, for me to teach some things when he  desired.
 The first time I came to knew of the Ritual I didnt take it well. He did explain to me what would happen, and I was worried for him. But he said that if we became friends in this life, we can do it again can’t we?
And yes, we still became friends! I even took care of him in some lifes. Other lifes his own experiences, and... We didnt get along much. Sometimes it would hurt too much so I would choose to not interact with him for a while. I still had my thing going on, The ones that needed my aid never fade. And we would go lifetimes without knowing each other.
I met the Nightmare King once. And I’m still not sure what to think of him. I think he looked annoyed of me and did kick me out of the realm. But no harm done, and Grimm politely but fiercely told me to not go there anymore, and so I did. 
So if you ask me, if friendships can go through lifetimes? Yes. But its all a fresh begining.”
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ddarker-dreams · 2 years
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Yan Genshin Boys / First Kisses.
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Warnings: Yandere themes, unhealthy relationships, implied coercion, and implied unwanted contact. 
Childe
You once thought that nightmares were supposed to end when you awoke. 
This time for certain, you’d think, hopeful and covered in a thin veil of ignorance that offered anything but bliss, I’ll wake up. 
He won’t let you breathe. The sheer fervor behind his relentless assault on your lips keeps your mind from wandering away — and you’re kept grounded in a reality you wish to take no part in. You’ve tried pinching your side, squeezing your eyes shut, demanding your subconscious to snap out of it and release you from your slumber.
Childe releases an odd noise and pulls away. Hesitant, you slowly reopen your eyes, his hazy features coming into focus as a metallic taste blossoms on your tongue. A string of reddish saliva connects your lips to his. There’s no physical pain on your behalf, and at this, you blink, trying to make sense of what happened. 
Are you no longer dreaming? 
"Hah...” he throws his head back and laughs. His subsequent grin is wolfish in nature, and poking through his pearly white teeth, you notice glimmers of crimson. “You really know how to keep a man’s attention, don’t you?” 
He licks his lips and stains them a darker shade.
No way. You actually bit the tongue of a harbinger, the man who holds your delicate life in the palm of his hands. His pupils have dilated to the size of a pin’s end and you’re backed even further against the wall. There’s no telling what’s worse, when his eyes are home to a vast nothingness, or when they’re maddened with corrupted love like this. 
The first thing you notice when he presses his lips to yours again is the iron flavor growing stronger. 
This must not be a nightmare, after all, you muse. It’s something far worse. This... is my life from now on. 
Diluc 
The young master of Dawn Winery has found that the best time to contemplate matters is at night. His thoughts will go round and round in circles, reminiscent of a dog chasing its tail despite knowing it’ll always evade capture. 
The back of his knuckles gently caress your cheeks. He notices how warm they are. His entire life, he believed himself to have been familiar with heat, yet yours is far different from his. It doesn’t seek to destroy or leave ashes in its wake. Yours is far gentler, boasting no destructive power. That is, to anyone aside from him. 
Most nights, he’d press a chaste kiss to your forehead before patrolling for evil that could be located far easier if he examined himself. He came into your adjacent master bedroom for such an innocent purpose. Maybe it’s the iridescent glow of moonlight making your features all the more enticing, or maybe the starving beast inside himself could only awaken while you slept. 
You can’t judge him if you’re not awake — can’t glare at him in that way you do whenever he enters the room, straightening out whatever you were doing, then briskly walking past him. It isn’t right, he knows that. You’d hate him even more if you knew. 
Just one quick peck wouldn’t hurt, he told himself. Then he latched his lips to yours, and minutes later, he still can’t find the strength to part. Not when he finally managed to experience something so intimate with his dearly beloved. Still, moments like these weren’t meant to last forever, especially not for men like him. 
Diluc breaks away at the possibility of you stirring. Coward that he is, he vanishes from your bedside, and by the time you wipe the sleep from your eyes, you’re left at a loss. 
That’s strange, you think, and your head rolls further into the feather-soft pillow. For the aroma of cologne mixed with charred wood and leather to linger as it does. You’ll ask a maid to light a candle to get rid of the scent. 
Kaeya
What is more plentiful: the crystalline tears running down your cheeks, or the despair taking refuge in your soul? 
His hands might be resting upon your neck rather than the hilt of his blade, but for some reason, kissing you reminds him of swordplay. Perhaps it’s the way in which your body is crumbling into his like it would if he had plunged his sword into your side. He’s the reason for your fall, while cruelly enough, being the one to keep you standing. 
“Isn’t this so much better?” Kaeya asks though he knows you’re not listening. Not when your mind is far too busy processing the gaping wound in your heart. The Calvary Captain wonders if you thought he might be able to fill it. Or at the very least, serve as a temporary plug, so that it wouldn’t bleed out. 
“I wish I could say,” is your response. How honest of you — you’re no longer bothering to hide from him. It would be difficult to do so, he supposes, after he tore down the flimsy walls that once kept you separated brick by brick. 
Your honesty isn’t what he wants. Not this brand of it, at least, he wants a kind that better suits his needs. 
“If that were true,” he smiles, noticing how your breath catches in your throat, all too familiar with his various tells. This smile is a premonition, the calm before the storm. “Then why would you seek me for comfort in the first place, hm?” 
There it is. That expression, that uncertainty! It isn’t enough for him to plunge his sword into your aching soul. He must twist it too, again and again, until the pain is too severe for you to handle on your own. 
Then you’d have no choice but to come and seek him out. And what could be better than that? 
(Zhongli, Albedo, Xiao, Scaramouche and Kazuha are underneath the cut!)
Zhongli 
Contracts between two parties require both to uphold their ends of the agreement. 
There are many things you believe Zhongli to not fully understand. He observed enough human behavior over the millennia to get a rough idea of what romantic relations entail. For every finding he cataloged, you were left to fill in the gaps. He’d happily let you if it meant he’d be treated to luxuries like this. 
Act as my lover. 
This stipulation detailed within the contract he held over your head spurred you into action. Defying a god, as tempting as the idea sounded, was always better left to theory than practice. So you kiss him. Again and again, no rest in between, until the air in your lungs depleted entirely. 
You loathe his composure. How calm and graceful he is, even now, when handed all he’s ever wanted on a silver platter that you’ve delivered by hand. You want his hands to wander, for him to grasp you harshly, just so you could spitefully call him out for it afterward. 
He does no such thing. 
Zhongli treats you more delicately than he ever had before. So gently, in fact, you temporarily deluded yourself into thinking he wasn’t there. Parting your eyelids revealed he very much still was. Golden irises greet you, radiating light like the high afternoon sun, yet devoid entirely of warmth. 
“It’s creepy to stare,” you murmur, your voice coming out far weaker than you intended. “Can’t you... close your eyes or something...?” 
He chuckles in a way that tells how little he takes you seriously. 
“And risk missing the various expressions you make?” He stares down at you through his eyelashes. “That’s a joy I couldn’t imagine depriving myself of.” 
Your fingers ball into fists by your side. 
“You’re not done, are you? Let’s continue where we left off, shall we?” 
Zhongli phrases it like a question — an offer — something you’d have the right to refuse or accept. But when his mouth is back on yours, you know it’s anything but a reminder of all that you owe and could never hope to fully repay.
Albedo
Albedo isn’t certain of his thoughts on destiny, or fate, whatever label ascribed to the passage of time bringing separate forces together. Stumbling across you that fateful evening in the Dragonspine might be enough for him to argue for its existence. 
How fitting that the resting place of his creator’s other masterpiece would be where he made his greatest discovery: you.
Without it, you wouldn’t have sought shelter in his camp from mutating monsters. He wouldn’t have gotten to see the starlight sparkling in your eyes as you spoke of adventure and your dreams. His attention and manmade heart wouldn’t have been connected to you, spun into ties that were impossible to sever. 
And most of all, he wouldn’t have been able to experience tasting you like this. How fortunate is he? It’s no wonder he can feel envy pervading into the soil itself. That the failed creation must witness its successor’s joy, a joy it could never hope to experience itself. 
You weren’t much better off yourself, he supposes. The bitterness you hold in your heart toward the alchemist was tangible at every turn. Albedo takes note of how you keep your eyes narrow, the way you try to cover your anxiety by putting up a tough front. What train of thought brought you to the point of asking to kiss him, he wonders? 
Were you trying to lower his guard? Gauge his reaction as he does with you? Or was it something else? 
Whatever the case, he’ll enjoy this simple pleasure and ponder its implications later. There is one aspect that’s been troubling him in this otherwise enjoyable moment. Albedo separates himself from your lips, a certain knowingness present in his eyes that makes you gulp. 
“Let’s keep the sharp objects in the kitchen where they belong, shall we?” 
He lifts up the knife you had been hiding beneath your coat. It shines, reflecting the lamp to his side, much to your apparent horror. 
Albedo supposes you and his failed predecessors have quite a lot in common — the both of you seem obsessed with ending his life.  
Xiao
You think you might suffocate. 
Teeth clashing against each other, a tongue shoved down your throat, heat consuming your body from head to toe. It’s too much to handle at once. The strength and love of an adepti goes beyond anything you were meant to withstand. You know he knows this if the way he’s treated you like fragile glass was to be of any indicator. 
That’s why you don’t understand this drastic change in behavior. 
The air itself is heavier, weighed down an invisible miasma unperceivable to the human eye. Karmic debt, you believe he called at once. Back when you could feel the warmth of the sun against your skin and the breeze billowing through your hair. 
“What’s— ah, gotten into you?” 
Your voice snaps him from the reverie he’s fallen victim to since returning minutes ago. 
Xiao blinks, taking in the situation before him, his hold on you going lax. The madness corrupting his eyes fades away as each second ticks on. Your chest is heaving, greedily taking in the air you were refused while he helped himself to tasting your lips. 
He stands, immediately creating distance between the two of you. The confusion etched onto his countenance is clear as day. You can see numerous emotions passing through, ranging from disbelief to mortification. 
Did he really lose control of himself, or was he acting on a whim kept suppressed for ages? 
“I...” He reaches out for you yet pauses when you shrink away. It must pain him, something you’re grateful for and wish to inflict upon him again and again. He pivots on his heel and hurriedly exits the room you’re being kept in. The door remains wide open, but you know better than to dart out. This is his realm, after all, you could only leave if he allowed it. 
And you know he never would.
Not when he knows you’d never be by his side otherwise. 
Scaramouche
Why isn’t it working? 
He holds you firmly in place, refusing to give you the slightest wiggle room. The most you can do is try to keep up — and even that’s a battle that you’re losing. Electro thrums at his fingertips. It serves as a silent warning, an invisible knife pressed to your throat, demanding that you be good. 
The puppet with frayed strings wonders if this is what love is supposed to be. 
If it was, then this would work. You would melt into his touch. Why aren’t you doing that?
Scaramouche pushes you back by your shoulders. He’s searching for something in your expression, an endeavor you assume will be fruitless. Whatever he’s looking for, he won’t find. You take the opportunity to try and steady your breathing. The chance doesn’t last long, as his fingernails begin digging into your skin. 
He must be coming to realize it himself. 
That you don’t love him back. That you’ll never love him back. 
“Stop,” he inhales sharply, his voice both weak and frustrated, “Stop looking at me like that.” 
Maybe you shouldn’t ask, but you do. “Like what?” 
“Like you want nothing to do with me.” 
He knows he’s throwing a childish tantrum, deep down, in someplace he sealed and threw the key away to. It’s natural you hold dissent for him. He tried to follow the proper steps, the type of courtship that won over individuals and had them smitten, but somewhere along the line, he messed up. Once, twice, then too many times to count. 
Still... he tried, didn’t he? For such a divine creation such as himself to try for you, should that not be the highest honor? 
“Kiss me again,” he orders, his grip loosening up just enough for you to do as he demands. “I won’t let you stop until I find your conduct satisfactory.” 
The air of superiority is back, forcing the momentary vulnerability he showed earlier away. That’s right, he thinks, ignoring how you keep your movements purposefully sluggish. 
If you won’t love him, then he’ll make it so you never have the time to hate him. 
Kazuha
When it rains, it pours. 
The pitter-patter outside your temporary shelter melts away into meaningless background noise. Your captor’s words repeat in your head like a looping chorus sung by a condemned choir. There’s no way he’d take that from you too — not after everything else he’s stolen...! 
“May I kiss you?” 
What resistance are you capable of offering? Your eyes flicker to the sword sheathed at his hip, then to his Vision, glowing and pulsating through the fabric it’s covered in. He’s never used violence against you, nor have you ever felt like he would up until this point, yet the question of what if permeates your head. What if you saying no is the breaking point? What if the patience he showed you is waning? 
So you nod in a daze. 
Kazuha’s bandaged hand rests on your chin and tilts your head up. His eyes soften while he takes in your appearance, his lovestruck expression enough to make your heart twinge. How can he be so gentle and so cruel? 
He smiles as he marries his lips to yours. The kiss itself lasts for only a few seconds, yet you feel it’s an eternity. You feel too much of him at once. The soft locks of his hair, the warmth of his breath, his scent of autumn mixed with the ocean breeze. It’s enough to make your stomach twist. 
Or is it yourself you’re disgusted with for not having the strength to refuse him? 
“That was your first kiss, right?” 
Your mind is too foggy to be certain of the answer, but to placate him, you nod again. 
“Ah, what a relief...” he massages your lower lip with his thumb, “I don’t know what I’d do if someone else had taken the privilege from me.” 
A chill runs down your spine as an unsettling smile settles on his features. 
“You are telling the truth, right, [First]?” 
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crowtrinkets · 3 years
Text
Barista’s Adventures in Wonderland
What if a cosplaying Barista was thrown into a more unconventional Astraea?
Chapter 1/?
Chpt 2, 
Alice in Wonderland AU! Inspiration was taken from @thislemonboy I've never done a multi-chapter fic so let's pray this won't kill me lmao. Merging canon with Lewis Carol's Alices Adventures in Wonderland
Tags: @avarifromtheotherside
Word Count: 2,964
~Down the Portal We Go~
I run my hand over my face and then extend my arm as I stretch, I had a long day at work and I'm finally off. Not even bothering to remove my apron from around my waist, I wave goodbye to my coworkers and step out into the chilly air. It's been raining all day but it seems to have let up. The scent of stale coffee and sugar radiates off my apron, I make a mental note to wash it when I get home. Tossing my items in my car I stand at the door just for a second, letting out a long slow breath. A loud clang from behind surprises me and I whip around to see, no one.
"What the… hell?" I look down and I see a scepter of some sort in front of me. It has a glass orb detail at the top and its spear is covered in gold, thinking I recognize the object, I reach down to get a better look but once I do a bright light emits from it. It catches me off guard and I fall backward, but rather than hitting the ground I continue to fall.
Down
Down
Down
I suddenly wake to the feeling of cold concrete on my face, letting out a groan I roll onto my back. Above me is the night sky, a swirling storm slowly dissipates revealing the moon behind it. I must have hit my head or something, but how long was I out? I finally sit up and my breathe hitches when I realize I am not where I think I am. Old ruins surround me, long-forgotten candles melted down till their wicks are nonexistent, reside in the corners. I slowly stand to further take in my surroundings when I hear a voice echoing around the corner
"Hello?" I call out, but I hear no response. However, the voice grows louder.
"Oohhh I am very very late, the Duke will curse me for this," from around the corner a man appears. He decently short in stature, his dark hair tousled slightly in his frantic state. He’s dressed in formal clothing, dark pants and a white poofy shirt with a low v, and a dark red waistcoat is that pokes out from the large black jacket he has draped over his shoulders. He frantically flips through a book, squinting through his glasses, not looking where he's going. He runs past me without hesitance, shouting frantically about being late.
“Wait! Hey, wait!” I call out, the ground seems to move below me causing me to lose my balance, but I manage to keep track of where the man ran off to. I chase after him but he doesn’t answer my calls. The man suddenly stops and waves a hand out in front of him and a black, swirling oval forms out of nothing, he jumps through and disappears into the dark leaving behind the dark oval. It must be some sort of portal, I think to myself. Without thinking I bolt towards the portal and jump through, hoping it takes me to the man. I fall onto my hands and knees and an overwhelming grape flavor fills my tastebuds.
“That’s a weird side effect,” I open my eyes and stand to see where I ended up and I see I am in a long hallway, it seems to be a part of a castle. The frantic man in a waistcoat is nowhere to be seen. Instead, I find a wall of doors. Did he go through one of these perhaps?
In the center of the hall is a low table, upon approaching it I find what looks like a finger bone.
“Gross,” I mutter, but something compels me to pick it up. Once I do it vibrates and suddenly forms the shape of a key.
“Hah, a skeleton key,” I joke to myself. “Maybe it’ll fit into one of these doors?” I turn to approach the first door, but once I put the key in the keyhole an ungodly screech emits from it. I pull back and cover my ears then I quickly rip out the key allowing for the screaming to cease. The hallway becomes deadly silent.
“Ok well that wasn’t correct,” I say to myself. I look down the hall at the multitude of doors and let out a sigh. The only way out is through one of these doors unless I wanna go down the seemingly endless hallway, and if it means having been screamed at so be it. Door after door, scream after scream, I start to become more and more frustrated.
“Aren't skeleton keys supposed to open all doors?” I exasperate. Once I try the last door I sigh, my attention then falls upon a curtain to the left of the door, pushing it back I spot possibly the tiniest door I've ever seen in my life. I look at the keyhole and then at my key.
“Might as well try it out,” I stick the key in and sigh with relief when it doesn’t scream at me. I slowly turn the key until it finally clicks. Letting out a sigh of relief I lay down and look through the tiny door which is no bigger than my hand. On the other side, I spot what looks like a greenhouse. A multitude of colorful plants occupy it and I see a pond off to the side but past that my vision is obscured.  Sitting back up I pull the key out of the door allowing it to close.
"Of course my only way out is impossible to go through," I grumble as I go to return the key to its spot on the table. However, once I approach I notice a tiny wine bottle with a label that says "drink me".
"I don't think it's very smart to drink from strange bottles," I look around the hallway, it seems to have no end or no beginning. My options are to either traverse through and potentially be lost forever or drink this strange bottle.
"This is probably some weird dream that I'm having so it can't hurt to drink a strange liquid," removing the lid I take a sip. At first, I taste nothing, but then a latte? Then is that a mocha? Is that a macchiato or is it a latte again? They're all made the same just in different order of ingredients so how am I supposed to know.
"Why would coffee be inside a wine bottle?" I think out loud. As I try to guess which coffee I'm tasting I suddenly realize the bottle is getting larger and larger. I drop it when it becomes too big and heavy for me to carry.
"What the hell kind of dream am I having where wine bottles grow larger in size?" I turn around to grab the key once again but then I stop and look up, way up.
"Oh, the wine bottle didn't grow I just shrunk," I say flatly. "… Shit," I turn back towards the door and realize that I'm short enough to fit inside.
"Hey that works out I guess," I run and grip the doorknob but it won't budge and when I yank on the knob the screaming the other doors emitted starts up, I pull back, and the screaming stops.
"Of course it's locked," I pat my pockets and feel my apron pockets and then I realize I left the key on the table.
"Ughh, I really would like to wake up from this dream now," I let out a frustrated huff, fiddling with the end of my apron. "This really isn't how I wanted to spend the rest of my day," I bring my head into my hands and groan. When I bring my hands down I see something glint out of the corner of my eye. I approach the shiny object and  I see a custard flan inside a glass box, labeled "eat me". How they got writing to stay on the flan is beyond me. I pick up the box and open it but then hesitate.
"The last time I consumed something I shrunk and now I'm stuck," I contemplate for a while. "Well, this is just a dream so… it can't hurt," Thankfully the glass box had a spoon on it, I start eating the flan, savoring its sweet flavor, not even thinking about my surroundings when suddenly my head bumps something. I look up and realize I'm getting closer and closer to the ceiling. I get on my knees as my height grows taller and taller.
"No, no no no!” I continue to grow until I have to crane my neck down even when on my knees. Finally, the growth seems to cease.
“This is most unfortunate,” I sigh.
“Can’t be late, can’t be late,” I hear a voice call. I look around and I see the man in the waistcoat. His nose stick poked into the book he was carrying earlier.
“Oh time, always passing, always making me late,” he mutters as he walks past, holding up a pair of glasses so he can look through them.
“Hey wait! U-uh you! You with the waistcoat!” The man jumps at the sound of my voice and whips around to look at me. He trails his eyes up until he meets mine.
“O-oh, dear!” He looks at me fearfully but doesn’t move from his spot.
“Excuse can you help me uh…” I trail off
“Oh uh,” he bows nervously “Felix Escellum, at your service, um… please don’t eat me, giant,” I can't help but chuckle at his statement.
“I’m not a giant!” I lean down to get closer, but Felix, as he calls himself, yelps in fear and takes off running.
“I must meet the Duke! Terribly sorry!” He shouts, his voice trails off as he disappears down the hall.
“Oops…” I let out a sigh. "He seemed nice, that bow was a little dramatic though." I lean to one side until I hear a crunch sound and a pain shoots through my palm. Wincing I lift my hand and realize I crushed the bottle I drank from earlier. The liquid spills all over the ground mixed slightly with blood dripping from my cut hand.
"Damn! How am I supposed to fit through the door now," I grab the corner of my apron and put pressure on my cut, groaning with frustration.
"I find a way out but then I leave the key on the table! Then I'm too big to go through and then I scare off the one person that might be able to help!" I feel my nerves begin to build up inside me. A painful lump forms in my throat, as I curl in on myself. I try to stretch out when my foot bumps something. When I open my eyes I see the book the man in- er Felix was holding earlier. It's practically the size of a doll's book when compared to my large size. There's also a very tiny pair of glasses with a chain. I turn them in my hands and look down the hallway but Felix is long gone at this point. Letting out a sigh I put them in the pocket of my apron and hope I see him again. I take in a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to calm my nerves.
"There's no way any of this is real… I mean growing and shrinking? It sounds like a storybook," I think for a second and look at the cut on my hand which has stopped bleeding at this point. "There's no use in pinching myself awake if broken glass didn't do anything," I shuffle so I'm sitting more comfortably, my knees up to my chest and my arms wrapped around my legs.
"Well if this isn't a dream then how did I get here? I was at work, I had a long shift and they finally let me go… and um I walked out to my car and there was a sound," I rub my hands together remembering the cold sensation of the object I touched and how brightly it flashed. As I am remembering I notice a faint light emit from my chest. It feels warm and grows brighter and brighter despite my shock.
"Ah! What the hell?!" I pull on the neck of my sweater and look down at my chest. A bright light flashes and I flinch away shielding my eyes.
I sit for a second waiting for an inevitable to happen but nothing. I open my eyes and look down at my chest again, no light, no nothing. When I look around I realized I've shrunk again.
"Oh I guess that worked out, but the key…" I mumble. As I grumble about being pushed a step back I hear footsteps off to my left. I turn and I see a figure running towards me. I squint and see, a pink dress, white hair, and rabbit ears?
"Um, hello?" I call out, but they don’t seem to pay me any mind. As they approach I am able to get a better look at them.
"Hey wait, aren't you that cosplayer? Celena?!" I call out, but Celena still pays me no mind and runs past me.
"Wait! Where are you going!" I watch her run down the corridor, still, a little baffled by my situation.
A rumbling sound slowly builds up behind me, and when I turn I realize why she was running, a huge wave of water comes crashing down the hall, headed straight towards my direction. I turn to run but the water catches me by surprise and tumbles me underneath it. I finally gather my bearings and I swim to the surface taking a deep breath after being thoroughly tumbled like a load of laundry. I see a log floating on top of the water and I grab onto it to stay afloat. After catching my breath I look over and see Celena, peacefully swimming beside me.
"Hey, you!" I shout. Celena flinches but when she looks at me she relaxes, her expression inscrutable, however. "Ah, I'm sorry, you're Celena right?" she nods in response.
"Yes I am, how do you know me?"
"Oh uh, I really like your cosplays," I admit shyly.
"Thanks! I really like your costume too, what's your job class?" she asks. I look down at my now soaked outfit. I only put on a sweater and pants today, and my work apron over it.
"Umm… Barista?" I say. She smiles in response.
"You said you like my cosplays? Did you hear about the new Last Legacy game?" I feel a tinge of excitement well in me. Almost enough to forget I'm floating on a log in this seemingly endless hallway.
"Yea I did!" I laugh a little. "Hey don't you think Escell would look good in a chainmail bikini?" I ask. I look over at Celena but her expression darkens. Without taking another look at me she swims faster and over to a dirt shore off to the left.
"Hey wait!" I let out a groan, I'm tired of chasing people but that’s at least a way out. Abandoning my log, I follow Celena to the shore. The water nearly takes me under a couple of times but I eventually crawl my way up and out of the water. I turn around and see the hallway is gone, all I see is an endless horizon of water. When I turn back around Celena is nowhere to be found.
"Curious," I mumble to myself.
I run my hands across my apron and realize it's suddenly dry, thanking whatever miracle or magic kept me dry I follow a dirt path which seems like the only direction I can go.
 Eventually, the path leads into a forest, with seemingly no other direction to go I head into it. The forest is dense and dark, but little bits of sunlight poke through the leaves on occasion. I play with the strings on my apron as I walk, hoping nothing comes out and attacks me. Continuing on, I hear mumbling. Heading towards the sound and I see none other than Felix, leaping out of a portal. Stumbling slightly he leans on a tree and looks at his hand. Flexing it, he glares at an angry-looking injury.
"Oh dear the Duke is most impatient, he's requesting my presence now," I hear him grumble to himself.
"Felix!" I call out, heading in his direction. Felix barely looks in my direction, his attention locked onto the welt on his hand that almost looks like an image rather than a scar or cut.
"Oh Rime there you are," he rummages through his pocket and pulls out a key. He places it in my hand and closes my fingers over it, causing me to blush slightly. "Could you please stop by my office and grab my relic and glasses? It seems I have left them,"
"O-Oh um... Yea, yea ok," I stutter out. Felix gives me a quick nod, he then opens a portal and then jumps through it. I stare for a second, my hands still clamped over the key.
"Who’s Rime?" I ask out loud. I look down at the key, twisting it in my hand. A sudden dread takes over me.
"More importantly where is his office… I'm in the middle of a forest," I let out a loud huff. I look around and only notice the same path I've been following.
"Well this has to lead somewhere," I try to be optimistic. Trudging down the path, I hope and pray I find someone who knows where I'm going, or at least where I am.
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spockandawe · 3 years
Note
Bingqiu
HELL YEAH HELL YEAH
Downsides:
I’m not a... huge fan of the pov character being like ‘i’m not gay, tho! i’m not!’ even though I do think it gets resolved in a fairly timely way. And it fits with Shen Qingqiu’s oblivious personality, haha. But in this case, how do I put this. It played not-great with the book’s pacing (uneven, but I don’t really mind) and a central conceit that I like a lot, which is that our main character spends quite some time convinced that his love interest wants him dead.
I don’t necessarily need the book to linger, directly over relationship development for me to be into it, and I absolutely LOVE a dynamic where one person is like ‘hah, you want me dead’ and has to realize they have things very backwards. But in this case, by the time Shen Qingqiu is coming around to ‘oh, you don’t want me dead!’ he slides right into the ‘but i’m straight!’ side track, and by the time he becomes willing to consider that maybe he’s less straight than previously assumed, we’re practically at the fuck or die climax of the novel.
Which isn’t terrible, I honestly adore this relationship. And I do think that binghe’s breakdown over seeing that he fucked shen qingqiu hits much harder if he still feels 100% insecure that his shizun wants him around, period. But I do sometimes wish that we’d gotten a little more opportunity for them to be... platonically-close-with-background-slow-mo-queer-awakening, if you know what I mean.
Upsides:
Oh lord, it’s hard to know what to say here, because the accurate response is Everything. Let’s see. Well, to start with, I adore the emotional high of reading a relationship that starts on such unstable footing (maigu ridge) and works itself out in the end (that marriage extra tho). Reading about Binghe being so unhappy and lonely and insecure and then being loved will never stop doing it for me.
Usually, a teacher/student dynamic would be not my favorite, but something about the shizunfucker genre clicks well with me for some reason. Especially for a student like Luo Binghe, where we’re told about how much he suffered as a child, and how alone he was, and all the ways that original flavor Shen Qingqiu mistreated him, because then, it opens the door to such an intense adoration of a teacher that treats him well and takes care of him. I haven’t read a shixiong/shidi book that plays with quite same themes, but I don’t think it would hit me in quite the same way (yuwu goes there a little, but even though the ship is great, it's not THIS kind of adoration). There’s something about ships with this sort of intense codependence that really work for me, and this book absolutely nails that.
But also, the power dynamics in here are FASCINATING to me. Erha is the main point of shizunfucker comparison that I have, which really is too small of a sample size to judge from. But I don’t think I’d like either of these as much if the teacher was also the driving force behind the relationship. I don’t just mean that in a top/bottom way, but more pursuer vs pursuee. And to go with that, I do also like how hard Binghe has to pursue to get anywhere with Shen Qingqiu. I like... suffering XD As long as it ends happily. And this book really delivers. Tgcf is romantic and all, but I can’t personally conceptualize eight hundred years. I have trouble visualizing 13/16 years. But three years, then five years? I can picture that, and it hurts. The dream flashback where Binghe is telling Shen Qingqiu that he can’t go on....... that hit me right in the stomach.
Also too, not canon-based, because even if it’s a standard genre feature, I don’t have much patience for strict gong/shou roles, but... For a character as needy as Binghe, this is a situation where I absolutely have no trouble setting aside what the book says and substituting a different reality. And I do love me a pair of switches. And I also love me a boy who is very enthusiastic about sex, and very, very bad at it, which is canon, which delights me. The neediness in this relationship, and binghe’s CLEAR room for growth make me much more interested in exploring a post-canon relationship than I tend to be for the other relationships (caveat: i am still prodding at new depths of hua cheng’s issues, and am much more interested than i used to be, but binghe still fascinates me more)
And this may sound weird, but..... I love me a manipulative, needy love interest. It’s real easy for it to play badly, and it’s real easy for it to leave a bad taste in my mouth, but bingqiu works really well for me. It adds tasty tension before the relationship is established, and once the relationship is established and Shen Qingqiu is well aware that Binghe will cry at the drop of a hat, I still love love love to see him folding like a damp paper towel anyways. It’s a flaw, but it’s a flaw that adds depth and flavor to their relationship that I really, really adore.
Okay, I’m losing coherence here. But I just have to copy one excerpt, I just. I love them so, so much.
Shen Qingqiu said, “The way you called ‘shishu’ was too insincere. From now on, don’t call him that.”
Resentfully, Luo Binghe said, “When he calls me a little brute or a thankless wretch, he’s sincere enough.”
Shen Qingqiu couldn’t resist laughing at that. His folding fan was sitting beside the couch, and he picked it up to give Luo Binghe a few taps on the head. “Was he wrong? You dare lay your wolf claws on this teacher’s body? If you’re not a little brute, then what are you?”
The words came too smoothly, and he himself hadn’t realized that this was pushing the bounds of propriety. The tail end of his words lifted the corner of his mouth, in a way that was frivolous yet heavy, a bit coquettish, and extremely undignified.
Luo Binghe looked down at him from above. Watching Shen Qingqiu beneath him, he felt some sort of fire beginning to burn wildly in his heart and stomach. He subconsciously moved to place a leg between Shen Qingqiu’s knees, but suddenly afraid he’d be kicked off the bamboo couch, he quickly dropped his head down to let Shen Qingqiu swat him with his fan to his heart’s content. “Even if I am a little brute, then I’m only Shizun’s little brute. Other people can’t call me that.”
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lardguz · 3 years
Text
Zeke’s Just Desserts
This is a "little" story I worked on a couple weeks ago that I kept forgetting to make a new blog to post it to, so uh, here it is! It's about characters from Xe//nobla//de 2 because I have been like really into that game lately haha.
The calm night air of the Urayan Titan made for an intoxicating atmosphere to relax in after a long day of fighting and adventuring. Zeke von Genbu, the prince of Tantal, was currently taking in this beautiful weather while sitting outside a vacant shop front. The muscular man was sitting at a café table, watching flower petals falling from the trees and dancing in the breeze. He was waiting on his Blade, Gorg, to finish… whatever it was he was doing in that vacant store, when Zeke caught a whiff of something delicious on the breeze. The one eyed warrior inhaled deeply, smelling the intoxicating scent of something sugary and delicious. Closing his eye to try taking his mind off the smell, Zeke was taken off guard by the clatter of a plate sounding right next to his feet that were reclined on top of the table. His one good eye shooting open, the prince was greeted by the sight of his newest Blade, the merman Gorg, standing proudly next to a plate piled high with freshly baked cookies.
“What’s all this, chum?” Zeke inquired, staring down at the plate of cookies in front of him, and glancing back up at the aquatic Blade.
“Cookies, sir. Made ‘em myself,” Gorg replied proudly. “Try ‘em! They’re my special new test recipe for the café!”
Zeke took a cookie in his surprisingly delicate grasp, sniffing it suspiciously before taking a pensive nibble. The flavor surprised him, spicy but sweet at the same time. Within seconds the cookie was devoured, and the muscular prince immediately grabbed another. As he was reaching for his fourth cookie, a metallic hand gently grabbed his wrist.
“Ah, sir, I didn’t need you to eat them all at once,” Gorg smiled apologetically. “I just needed you to taste one for me and tell me if anything needs improvement.”
Zeke’s face flushed a slight pink as he hurriedly looked anywhere but at his Blade or the plate of cookies. “A-ah, yes, right, ahem. I did in fact realize this, but you see, the bearer of the Eye of Shining Justice has a mighty appetite, and needed to taste more than just one cookie for the full effect!”
Gorg placed his mechanical hands on his muscular hips and chuckled heartily at the embarrassment on his Driver’s face. “Sure thing, Prince, that makes perfect sense to me! But if you wanna help me out even more, you can just finish off that plate of cookies and tell me if you think they’re good enough to sell at the shop once and for all!”
Zeke cleared his throat, about to pass of gorging himself any further on the delicious cookies, when the smell of the spicy treats reached his nose again. Damn, why did he have to love spicy food so much? Sighing deeply, the one eyed prince vowed to himself that he’d train extra hard with Pandoria tomorrow to work off the extra calories he was about to consume. Then, he proceeded to shovel the test batch of cookies into his mouth one after another in steady succession, even after his stomach was already painfully full. The Zekenator didn’t back down from a challenge, whether on the battle field, or at the dinner table.
Finally, after clearing the plate of every cookie that was once upon it, the unlucky prince groaned in pain as he rubbed at his exposed midsection, his stomach slightly distended from all the food he’d just packed into it. The overstuffed swordsman slowly got up and walked to the local inn to go sleep off his food coma, hoping he would feel better tomorrow so he could begin working off the excess he’d just devoured.
 A week had past since that first taste testing day that Zeke and Gorg had had, and the aquatic Blade had only amped up his recipe experiments since then. The day after that first trial run, Zeke woke up feeling more sluggish than usual, his gut still feeling slightly heavy. He had been about to go train with Pandoria when Gorg stopped him in the lobby of the inn and asked for his help tasting another batch of a different cookie recipe for him. This happened again and again over the next six days, a never ending cycle of delicious baked goods being handed off to the prince for an honest opinion on their flavors, and Zeke being unable to stop himself from gorging on the entire batch. This led to the man’s current predicament.
Zeke stood in his rented bedroom at the Fonsa Myma inn, staring at himself in a full length mirror. His hands were currently holding onto his stomach, which had a budding layer of fat forming on it that was blatantly obvious to anyone with at least one eye, seeing as he never wore a shirt under his long tattered coat. His hands groped and prodded at his once-chiseled chest and abdomen, now sporting a much softer, rounded physique. Zeke was about to go out and train a little on his own to see if he could burn the fat off of him before it became too much of a hindrance, when he heard a knock at his door.
Opening the door slightly, Zeke was greeted by the ever-enthused face of Gorg, the budding pastry chef Blade. “Hey there, good morning to you, Prince! Just thought I’d stop by and ask for your help again at the shop today! I made a bunch of a test recipe for flans and need to know what a human thinks of them, if that’s okay with you?” The Blade grinned proudly, obviously excited to have finally moved past cookies.
Zeke almost didn’t have it in his heart to turn the excited merman down, but if he kept up these eating habits, no one would ever look at him the same again. The prince cleared his throat and looked Gorg in the eye. “Gorg, my friend, you see, there’s a bit of a smallish problem with me being your designated taste tester. You see, a strong, handsome, powerful prince such as myself can’t do nothing but eat desserts all day. If I keep doing that, I’ll lose my combative edge, and then what? No one will fear the great Thunderbolt Zeke, the Zekenator, the Eye of Shining Justice, if they think he’s gone soft, right, chum?”
Gorg looked down apologetically before responding. “Yeah, you see, Prince, I did kind of already notice you’d been putting on a little weight from the cookie taste test trials, and I’m sorry I didn’t do anything to stop or help. But I did come up with a plan for the flan tests! I’m using much less fattening ingredients in this trial run, so you should be able to shed the excess weight from the cookies in no time!”
“Wha—really?!” Zeke exclaimed, “That’s fantastic news, Gorg! Well, in that case, I’m all yours for the day! Point me towards the flans, and Thunderbolt Zeke will see to it they never see the light of day again! Hah!” He struck one of his usual dramatic poses, the soft layer of flab on his stomach wobbling slightly as he did so. Gorg led him to the shop front, with a table laid with an array of his latest attempt at a flan flavor, enough to feed a small family for a week. Zeke managed to put it all away in the space of an hour, and then asked for seconds, to which the chef Blade was happy to oblige. He loved baking, but what he loved more was seeing people enjoy his desserts, but Gorg had never imagined someone would ever enjoy them to the extent that his beloved Driver did. So he promised himself that he would do nothing else aside from keep cooking marvelous dishes to please the Tantalese prince for the rest of their time together.
Zeke woke up groggily one morning because of a sudden loud noise interrupting his slumber. He blinked his eye slowly, trying to determine the source of the sound, when it happened again: a low, gurgling rumble, coming directly from his stomach. The prince grumbled and slowly rolled over, swinging his feet over the edge of his bed. Heaving his considerable bulk up into a standing position, the topless prince made his way over to the mirror to take a look at his body.
The first immediately noticable thing was his face, which was much less sharp, and softened considerably by round chubby cheeks and a double chin. His neck was covered in a layer of fat as well, which caused him to have a triple chin when he looked down. His once-hardened muscular chest had softened to a flabby set of moobs, which sagged to the sides of his massive gut. His six pack was long gone, replaced now by a double-decker flabby stomach that split right across the middle, where the top roll folded over the belly button. His arms were much larger than they once were, but not in a muscular way; his biceps oozed with flab, dangling off his arms in true bingo wing fashion. His hands were even starting to get fatter too now. His massive thighs and rear gave were large compared to most other humans, but not enough to give him pear shaped body, his gigantic round gut giving him an undeniable apple shape. His thighs were covered in flabby rolls, a fold of fat beginning to form over his knees, and his ass cheeks were each the size of a large melon, wobbling every time he even took a slight step. His footsteps were now an exaggerated waddle to prevent his enormous thighs from rubbing together too much.
Sighing, Zeke donned his coat, which was now painfully tight around his shoulders and armpits. It had been a month and a half since the warrior prince had begun helping his Blade, Gorg, pursue his dream of opening a dessert shop, and Zeke had since resigned himself to his new fate of being a fatass. Sure, Nia gave him a hard time, and Rex and Mórag were constantly worrying about his health, but he was strong and was able to push off their comments about his size quite easily at this point. If it meant making his Blade friend happy, and getting to enjoy his delicious cooking every day, the prince was happy.
Thankfully, the inn was a single floor building, and Gorg’s shop was right outside the front door, because Zeke was not in the best shape anymore. As the massive prince waddled his way to the store front, he plopped himself heavily into the nearest chair at a table, ignoring the creaking of the wooden seat as his gigantic behind sat down upon it, the flab of his ass and thighs oozing over the sides and threatening to swallow the chair whole. Wheezing from the exertion of just getting over to the store from the inn, Zeke was thankful when he saw Gorg approaching with plates piled high with drinks and cakes: milkshakes to cool him down after his exercise of waddling less than 200 feet, and piles of cakes for him to taste test for the shop. Gorg watched, pleased beyond words at the look of blissful satisfaction on his Driver’s fattening face as Zeke shoved slices of cake into his greedy mouth with barely any breaks or pauses, aside from slurping down milkshakes to clear his throat of crumbs. The strained seams of Zeke’s pants and coat popped in some places from this onslaught of gluttony, causing small bubbles of fat to seep through. Something about his Driver enjoying his food so much that he was outgrowing his clothes because of it sent a thrill rushing through Gorg’s chest, and he realized he wanted to cause the Tantalese prince to outgrow his clothes entirely.
Zeke chugged down the last milkshake, belching into a closed fist as he did so. His fat face was covered in frosting and crumbs, which he didn’t even seem to notice. “Really good stuff, there, Gorg! I think that’ll be some top-hole stuff to sell at your shop, chum.” Zeke patted his overfed middle joyously to emphasize his point.
Gorg grinned enthusiastically as he clapped the prince on his jiggly shoulder. “That’s great to hear! Well if that’s the successful cake recipe, then I think I’m ready to open the shop tomorrow. I’ll just need you and the others to help me advertise. Can you do that for me, Prince?”
Zeke huffed as he hoisted himself up from his table. Breathing heavily as he stood, balancing himself with a hand on the table, he finally responded. “Sure, chum, I can definitely help out with that. What’ll you need me to do?” Gorg looked thoughtful for a second before responding. “You, sir? I’ll give you a whole hell of a lot of free samples to try and entice people to our store, sound good?”
The obese prince nodded enthusiastically, chins wobbling as he did so. “Oh, absolutely! Nothing that the great Thunderbolt Zeke can’t handle!” Placing his chubby hands on his flabby love handles, he laughed heartily, his entire body jiggling as he did so. Tomorrow would be a day to remember for him, getting to participate in the grand opening of the first-ever Blade-made dessert store!
 The day of the grand opening of Gorg’s Just Desserts arrived, and the sample table in the square in front of the shop was absolutely piled high with desserts. The overfed swordsman, Zeke, scratched at the upper roll of his round gut as he stared in awe at the display. “So he wants me to hand out all of these? For  free??” He scoffed, and reached a hand out to grab some cookies. “There’s far too much here for just samples. I doubt we’ll really need all of it.”
As his pudgy fingers were about to grasp a cookie, a much smaller and skinnier hand slapped his away. “Wh- Hey!” Zeke turned his lard-stuffed body towards the aggressor, being confronted by the much smaller form of his comrade, the salvager, Rex. The brown-haired boy grinned up at the jiggly obese mountain of a man, patting him on his exposed gut. “What d’you think you’re doing with that, Zeke? Those samples are for everyone, you can’t just steal some for yourself, that’s bad for business y’know!”
Zeke sighed dramatically. “Rex, my treasured chum, you simply don’t understand! I haven’t had anything to eat since breakfast today, and there’s far more here than we could reasonably give away to everyone who walks by! Gorg has been having my extraordinary taste buds to test his recipes all this time, so he must have thought ahead and put extra out for me to dull my impressive hunger! He’s my Blade, you know. We have a special bond, so of course he’d know that!”
“Oh, sure, guess that makes sense. I did figure that might be a bit too much product for free samples,” Rex mumbled as he messed with his hair embarrassedly. “Well then, maybe you should pull up a chair? I reckon standing for too long’s probably out of the question for you now, yeah?”
Zeke huffed in an annoyed manner as he pulled a chair up and lowered his considerable bulk down into it, once again oblivious to the ominous wooden creaks as he did so. Rex chuckled as he headed back to his spot for calling patrons into the shop, wondering to himself if Nia was gonna complain about Zeke’s size again.
Now comfortable in his comparably small café chair, which was dwarfed by his absolutely disgustingly oversized ass and thighs, the morbidly obese prince promptly began stuffing his face with cookies, flans, and cakes, grabbing each with his fingerless-gloved hands, his plump sausage fingers coated in frosting and crumbs and the fabric of his gloves stained from his weeks of wanton gorging. His jiggling jowls and multiple chins wobbled back and forth as he chewed ravenously, and his flabby bingo wings slapped against his overstuffed pillow moobs and numerous side rolls every time he lifted a handful of sweets to his hungry mouth. His overfed gut pooled in his lap, forcing his massive tree trunk thick thighs apart on the inside and drooping over them on the outside. His love handles squeezed out of the top of the waist of his pants, pushing the sides of his long tattered coat even further back than he used to wear it.  His lardy, misshapen ass oozed over the sides of the chair, each cheek now the size of an average bean bag chair. His flabby thighs ripped through the fabric of his overburdened pants in many different spots, and he could no longer properly bend his legs because of the fat covering his knees.
The spectacle of the gigantic man attracted more onlookers than even Rex or Nia’s shouted introductions of the shop, every Urayan fascinated by the massive Tantalese man absolutely stuffing himself in a strange attempt at advertising. Entire personal-sized cakes vanished down his greedy throat at an alarming rate. Yet, none of the observers were put off by this gluttonous display at all; in fact, quite the contrary. Urayan made their way to Gorg’s Just Desserts by the dozen, walking away with their own personal mountains of confectioneries. Nia, the Gormotti Driver who had been traveling with Rex for longer than anyone else now, was absolutely stunned by this marketing strategy.
The furry-eared girl muttered to Rex as they watched Zeke pop a few more seams on his pants and coat while shoving handfuls of cookies into his mouth. “Hey, Rex, why d’you think people are so obsessed with watchin’ Shellhead stuff himself silly? Seems a little weird, don’t it?”
Rex gave her a little bit of a reprimanding look before responding. “Nia, you’ve got to stop being so mean to poor Zeke. He’s just trying to help make Gorg’s dream a reality, isn’t he? And isn’t that why we decided to travel to Elysium together?”
“What, so Shellhead could become a gluttonous blob?” Nia snickered
Rex looked baffled. “Wha… No! To make our dreams a reality! Me and Pyra’s, remember?”
The Gormotti Driver rolled her eyes. “Yeah, thanks, I know Rex. I was only jokin’. You know, humor? Laughs? That stuff?” She sighed heavily. “Anyways, I guess you’re right about Zeke. He always was a bit too willin’ tae help others. Maybe I’ll cut him some slack from now on. I mean, his clothes sure ain’t cuttin’ him any.”
Right as she said that, the sound of ripping fabric rent the air, and Nia and Rex both turned their gazes towards their flabby companion just in time to watch the last threads of his shredded pants give way. Scraps of the fabric caught in his love handles and under his drooping stomach rolls, as the rest drifted to the ground below his chair. Zeke didn’t seem to notice that his strained pair of boxers, which barely contained his pasty ass now and looked more like an oversized bikini bottom, was now exposed to every onlooker. Nia averted her gaze, blushing furiously. “Ey, Rex, go and tell Shellhead to cover up his unmentionables! I don’t wanna see any of that!”
Rex blushed as well at the realization that Zeke was this close to being nude in front of potential customers. “Oh, er, right! I’ll, er, take care of that I guess. But uh, I think his guy’s big enough now to cover up any, er, wardrobe malfunctions, isn’t it?”
Nia closed her eyes and snapped back at the oblivious Salvager. “’Ow should I know?! I’m not lookin’ at my fatass friend’s body tae see if his one-eyed monster is on display for all to see or not!”
Rex looked at Nia, amused. “Oh hey, so you do know what that means after al—”
“JUST SHUT UP AND GO COVER UP SHELLHEAD’S FAT ASS BEFORE HE SCARES OFF OUR CUSTOMERS!”
Rex hastily scurried off and came back with lots of fabrics he’d been holding onto from various stores, all from his travels with his friends. He usually used them to give to his Blades, but desperate times called for desperate measures. Zeke didn’t even notice his approach, the corpulent man continuing to stuff his face even more with the “samples” provided by Gorg. Placing a massive quilt over Zeke’s ever-growing lap, Rex heard a strange creaking noise as he did so. Creaking… and then… splintering wood?
“Oh, that can’t be good.” the Aegis Driver thought to himself, right before an ominous cracking noise came from under Zeke’s monumentally-sized ass. A split second later, the morbidly obese prince plummeted to the ground, his landing causing the entire area to shake as his considerable bulk hit the floor. Blinking slowly, Zeke looked around at all the awestruck onlookers, then to Rex, who was next to him looking concerned, to Nia, who was standing a fair distance away trying not to burst out laughing, and finally down to himself. He couldn’t even see past the rolls of fat that made up his massive round stomach anymore, so he wasn’t aware of his missing trousers. He felt a chill breeze hitting his back and shoulders, alerting him to the fact that his favorite coat was no more, and his entire upper half was devoid of clothing as well now. The rotund man realized that his arms were now so swaddled with fat that he couldn’t properly bend them anymore, and he also couldn’t put them down at his sides due to the abundance of flabby side rolls and his oversized moobs getting in the way. He also realized that his massive gut was currently pinning his legs to the ground, so he had no way of getting up onto his feet on his own.
 The portly prince turned his lard-wreathed face towards his comrades, beseeching them for assistance. “Um, a little help here, chaps? Having a bit of a predicament with standing up, you know.” Rex immediately grabbed one of his fat hands and started heaving upwards, while Nia made her way over to do the same with the other arm. Once he was standing, it was quite apparent to all just how much Zeke had grown during this “marketing exercise” today. His massively round stomach now drooped down to the middle of his calves, the lowest roll dangling just a few inches off the ground. His fat-covered arms and legs were beginning to absorb his hands and feet respectively, both being gradually sunken into the lardy rolls of his arms and legs. The massive pillow sized biceps on his arms, which stuck out at an angle because of his moobs and love handles, were now extra apparent as the reason for his inability to lower them fully anymore. His good eye was in a permanent squint, due to the fat of his cheeks now forming a drooping set of jowls on his face. His double chin had graduated to a full-sized triple chin, and his neck was no longer visible at all, completely absorbed by rolls upon rolls of fat. His rear was covered in massive rolls of back fat, which would probably make it so he would never be able to lie on his back again. His flabby, shapeless ass cheeks drooped nearly as far as his gut when standing, most of the fat seeping out from under his overburdened boxers.
 Wheezing after the exertion of just standing up, the mountainously obese man addressed the crowd of observers. “Huff… huff… ahem. As you can all see, Gorg’s Just Desserts are the best desserts you can find this side of Alrest! So go on over and buy some for yourselves!”
As the crowd dispersed to go rush over to the dessert shop, Zeke turned his round face as best as he could to address Nia and Rex. “Now, if you chaps’ll excuse me, I should probably go sleep this off at the inn.” He began slowly waddling the short distance to the building, his flab jiggling and slapping against itself the entire time. Rex and Nia stood transfixed by the hypnotic sway of his pendulous ass cheeks as he inched each tree trunk thigh forward step by step, the lower rolls of his gut slapping against his flabby ankles every time. His labored wheezing could be heard by anyone in a 100 foot radius, but no one seemed to pay the pudgy prince any mind. Nia turned to Rex, a smirk forming on her face. “D’you reckon he can even fit through the door to the inn at this point?”
 Zeke von Genbu spent the entire afternoon and evening of the grand opening of his trusted Blade’s dessert shop sleeping off his food coma in his rented bedroom at the inn. He awoke with a start when there was a rapping at his door, blearily opening his eye to see pale moonlight filtering through the window. His insatiable stomach let out a loud rumble as he woke, and he called out to the door, “Who is it? If you don’t have food, you can bugger off!”
The bedroom door opened, revealing Gorg pushing a trolley cart loaded with desserts from his shop. The water Blade smiled at his blob of a Driver, watching him heave his considerable bulk into a sitting position on his bed, panting with the effort of doing even just that. He’s absolutely massive now… He must be getting close to 800 pounds, maybe even more than that! Gorg thought to himself, before wheeling the cart of desserts over to right beside his Prince’s bedside .
“What’s all this, then, chum?” Zeke asked, a look of confusion upon his flabby face. His apron of a belly was just beginning to push up to his toes when he laid down, and Gorg couldn’t help but notice how soft and comfortable his chest and tummy looked. The Blade cleared his mind and spoke up. “Well, because of your PR for the shop today, my debut as a patissier was a massive success! So I figured I’d bring you a thank you gift so we could celebrate my grand opening… together!”
Zeke’s overstuffed sausage fingers scratched at one of his highest love handle rolls, the only part of his enormous body he could still reach with his pillowy arms. “That’s great news, Gorg! But, ah, how am I supposed to eat all this when I can barely move my arms to grab any of the food with my arms this size?” Gorg didn’t use any words, but instead used action to answer the Prince’s question. Grabbing a tray of cakes, the athletic Blade scrambled up the rolls of Zeke’s belly, perching on his massive, cushiony breasts, and shoved a cake directly in between his plump lips. Zeke let out a muffled exclamation of surprise which promptly turned into a moan of pleasure as he tasted the cake. Gorg must have made it special for him, as its flavor was unlike any he had ever tasted before in his life. The one-eyed prince and his loyal Blade stayed up all night, Gorg stuffing more and more desserts into his Driver’s mouth as Zeke grew rounder, fatter, heavier, bigger, all because of his trusted companion. At one point during the night, the bed completely gave way under the immense weight perched upon it, but neither of its occupants cared; they just kept eating and feeding, Zeke crossing the threshold into complete immobility.
 Local Urayan gossip spoke of the Blade-owned desserts shop and the massive house of its owner. Strange loud noises could often be heard emanating from it, but no one knew what it was. Many assumed it was a ghost or a pet or something, but in reality, it was the former Prince of Tantal, Zeke von Genbu. The man had reached full-on blob status thanks to a constant feeding schedule of desserts baked by Gorg,his Blade. His massive body filled an entire large room on its own, his shapeless ass cheeks and countless stomach rolls pressing against the walls of his quarters. His thighs as thick as couches now, dimpled with rolls of lard all over their massive expanse, were forced even further apart by his mountainous belly, which seeped in the space between his thighs with no effort whatsoever. His hands and feet had long ago been swallowed up by the flab encasing his appendages, his body a shapeless mass of rolls and fat that showed no signs of ever once being human at all. That is, unless you could find his head in all the expanse, the easiest way to do so being to listen for the sounds of eating and heavy breathing. Nestled between two enormous flabby jowls, an uncountable array of chins and neck rolls, and an expanse of back rolls that threatened to cascade over his head any day now, was a mop of silvery hair atop a comparably minuscule face adorned with one eye patch. The spoiled Prince’s face was always covered in small smears of frosting and crumbs from the Blade-powered conveyor belt of desserts built to deliver directly to his greedy mouth at all hours of the day, his blobby body growing ever larger every day. This was of course why Gorg purchased such a large house for just two occupants: so he could freely knock down any walls or ceilings needed to give his cherished Driver room to further grow.
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ukaiknowsbest · 3 years
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Review: Two Car
After years of watching just sports anime with boys I've become increasingly bored with every new release. My main problem is that the tropes among animes are just recycled over and over again. Moreover I have developed an aversion to being able to identify male voice actors across different works. Watching animes have sometimes turned into a "guess the voice actor" game with myself and eventually I hated it.
Therefore, since 2021 I have started watching sports anime that feature girls.
Anyhow the first anime I'm reviewing is called Two Car [CONTAINS SPOILERS]
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Setup
Highschool girls. I forgot what year they're in. They live on this island where racing is a Thing. Their school is a powerhouse for sidecar racing. And sidecar racing enthusiasts all over japan go there and hang out. Basically their whole island is a sidecar racetrack. Their culture revolves around it. Yuri Miyata and Megumi Meguro are the best highschool racers in their island, and also in japan.
The team is composed of these 2 athletes, 2 technicians and their coach. Before the series started, their coach left them to pursue his dreams of being a pro racer in the Isle of Man in England. He could leave the girls behind coz they were already skilled af and they had a local lady coach who could handle things. Now Yuri and Megumi may be partners but they are also rivals. They want to beat each other guts. Think momoshiro and kaido from prince of tennis. They work quite well together coz they're so competitive with each other.
Now make no mistake, Sidecar Racing is an extreme and dangerous sport. People legit die from this irl. The trust between pairs (a driver and passenger) is important because they need to balance each other AND the vehicle or else they'll steer off-course and crash (and then die).
From what I remember, this 12-episode anime focuses on the national competition in sidecar racing. Therefore the best pairs all over japan have come to the island to be the national champion. 5 other female sidecar pairs are introduced. For some reason, the drivers and the passengers are housed separately, but the pairs train and plan together.
The anime follows the histories and conflicts of each pair as they all practice to get used to the race track. This culminates to the final battle at the end of the series.
My Rating: 3/5 -the plot is pretty meh. I was honestly curious about how it will unfold though. The characters are weird and meta af, combine that with girl power and "female flavor" (for lack of better word), it's a different POV on things honestly.
Art and Animation
It's pretty decent ngl. I enjoyed watching the racing sequences and how the sidecar pairs moved while operating the vehicles. It is smooth and the colors are pretty.
Technicality
I'm not into vehicles but there were technical aspects discussed. Modifications and etc. are often shown and you can see how the characters manipulate the different parts of the vehicle (like clutch and accelerator handling, etc.) Techniques to improve speed and handle curves/bumps are also briefly explained among other stuff. I dont know how realistic or legal some of the stuff they're doing tho so..watch with a grain of salt. XD
Characters
I'd say the characters were interesting. The main characters aren't beginners and are smh treated as pros even in their own island. So you dont get that "dumb beginner idiot with freaky abilities vs loner genius" partnership that is so common and overused in shonen series.
It's refreshing to see adults enjoy the same sport too and they also help the characters.
next part is under cut because [spoilers]
The MC's rivalry is honestly so..uh...petty and icky if you think about it. Both of them got this crush on their coach (help me pls) and they want to defeat each other to become their coach's partner in the sport. It's honestly so childish? but also reminded me of CLAMP/CCS bullsht and if I survived CLAMP then this plot point is basically peanuts.
They have healthy competition tho. Both of them grew up together (childhood friends) and developed love for the sport together because their moms were the og teammates. (yeah their parents participation and love for the sport is a big thing in this series).
The other character pairs are interesting too:
announcers
twins
master-servant
lesbians (like legit sailor neptune and uranus type)
osaka girls
and etc.
Each had their own drama and they resolved it within the series.
Realism
Honestly this show is more meta than sport. Like... it's not for casual viewing. I remember there was some deep psychological issue which the twin pair portrayed. There's a lot of drama okay? HOWEVER!!! I've only been exposed to Shonen type of drama (like the USTs and hero complexes) so whatever Two Car had was unique to me!! Girls are really written differently. It easily reminded me of my interactions with fellow girls (albiet more extreme).
Fanservice
They are always shown to be in the onsen after every practice day but honestly it doesnt count as fanservice. Only their busts are shown.
You'll have to get used to shots of the butt especially in sequences of the passenger manuevering the vehicle tho. I guaranteet that there is no excessive boob action sequences and other sht.
Look I have seen stuff over the years and since this show didn't provide see-through-shirt stuff, Two Car is "fine" in my books.
HOWEVER There is a dream sequence (one of the characters dream stuff up) which is straight up bdsm (i think that's in ep 6). NGL I dropped this show for a while because of that but hah it's honestly just a few dreams for one episode.
I TOLD YOU THIS SHOW IS META ALREADY.
Final Notes
Would I recommend this show? Honestly...no. But watching this was an Experience. Against the highly sanitized world of shonen anime, it's an interesting change of pace.
First of all, in girls sports, there is a lot of casual skinship because it's normal and comfortable. And there is more communication. Maybe it's a writing flaw that conflicts aren't as dragged out but idk, we dont have a lot of decent female sports anime to see what really works. Because I am often frustrated with how slow burn most shonen are, seeing characters resolve conflicts BY TALKING IT OUT is the most rewarding experience.
Honestly I really had fun watching the whole thing. The ending made me want to flip tables tho but the rest was quite enjoyable.
Personally I think ppl have more freedom in writing girls/women. There is just so much you can do with them.
you can see my live reactions in this twitter thread lmao
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kiseki-no-scenarios · 4 years
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Of course you may, anon! This is my first request ever so I’m vibrating with excitement in my seat!! 
Friendship Headcanons - Vorpal Swords Team x Reader
Honestly, when you remembered how Jabberwock had treated the team so terribly afterwards, you were ready to do something really crazy and petty and probably stupid
“Kuoroko-kun, next time you decide to confront someone who is 3 times bigger than you, we should stop at the store first!”
“_____-san, why do we need to stop at the store?”
“To buy silly string of course. I’m going to spray it IN THEIR FACE. They’ll get so embarrassed that they’ll run away.”
“I like the idea, but I don’t think that’ll work.”
“Well you were the one that tried to fight them!”
“Of course. Look at these guns.”
“…I can’t even with you-“
Of course, you weren’t to be underestimated and would probably come up with even more ridiculous plans to prank Jabberwock including, but not limited to: hiding live cockroaches under their seats, dumping itching powder into their clothing, etc.
But the other members veto-d those ideas and reminded you that athletes should settle their differences on the courts but technically you weren’t an athlete so really, did that even apply to you
Your investigative powers rivaled those of Momoi’s, and you utilized this method to encourage coerce the members into the odd practice ideas and training regimens you’d designed for maximum teamwork
“The power of friendship overcomes all.” You stated sagely, as if you were passing on a piece of rare advice.
“Hah? What the hell are you talking about, _____?” Aomine scowled, resting his hands on his hips.
“Teamwork makes the dream work.”
“You too, Tetsu??”
“_____-san gave me a book with different sayings. I felt this was appropriate to the current situation.”
“Glad you’re on board! Aomine-kun, you’re gonna have Kuroko-kun on your shoulders and run an obstacle course.”
“Pfft, I can do that, eyes closed-“
“I’m glad you said that cause you’re going to be blindfolded!” Whipping out a length of black cloth, you held it out towards him. “You’ll have to rely on Kuroko-kun’s instructions.”
“Damn it, Tetsu’s going to intentionally make me hit something!”
“How rude, Aomine-kun. I wouldn’t do that.”
“Enough chatter, get going already!” Blowing the whistle hanging around your neck, you positioned Aomine to the start of the path. “By the way, Aomine-kun, you better take this seriously or I will tell Momoi to burn that photobook she took from your room.”
Of course, Kuroko being Kuroko he did accidentally have Aomine bump into a few things, but your attempt at strengthening the bonds of trust between the former light and shadow worked
Up next was Kagami and Aomine, but the two just ended up fighting about who carried who so instead you just sent Kuroko out to punch them and get them to shut up
With the other Generation of Miracles, you left the reins up to Akashi in terms of the general practice and what they needed to improve upon, but it was clear that everyone was stressed out
So, your second role became that of the team’s cheerleader to keep everyone’s spirits up
“You may have wondered why I have gathered you all here…but it’s time, to finally see which one is the best of us all.”
The sound of a ping pong ball dropping in the distance made the situation slightly less intense than what you were hoping for, but alas, you couldn’t plan out everything to the last detail on such short notice.
“…New, why is _____-chin making us play ping pong?” Murasakibara drawled, staring sadly at the empty bag of chips in his hand. “I’m hungry…”
“Because, whoever wins gets a super special present!” You reply, holding up a bag of exclusive caviar-flavored Umaibo. “And if you win, Mura-kun, you get this super special treat.”
“…I guess I’ll play.” Murasakibara muttered, but you didn’t miss the glint in his eye as he stared at the brightly colored packaging in your hands.
“_____-cchi, what if I win??”
“I was just waiting for you to ask, Kise-kun!” Brandishing a deck of printed photos, you fanned them out for display. “Behold! An ultra-exclusive collection, never before seen pictures of baby Kuroko-kun!”
“KUROKOCCHI!!!!!!” Kise squealed, making grabby hands as he started jumping in place. “KUROKOCCHI is SO CUTE!!”
“Oh, and I’ve got plenty of extras, so don’t even try destroying them, Kuroko-kun.”
The ping pong tournament ended up being a success and a good stress reliever for the team before the big game
Really, it was clear that all of them were strong players in their own right and you were sure they were going to win
But you couldn’t help but feel that there was an end coming after the big game, so part of you arranged all of these silly activities so the members would have lots of good memories with each other
The rest of the training camp flowed smoothly, and you did your best to support the members while keeping everyone in good spirits
Before you knew it, it was time for the game and you were sitting on the bench, watching them do their final warm-ups
It was time for you to give them a speech that would be talked about for years to come, one to give them that last final push.
But as you looked at them, you realized that there was no need for a final push. Everyone was brimming with excitement, with passion channeled from the rage at having the sport they love so cruelly mocked
Feeling your eyes tingle, you instead chose to strike a victory pose accompanied by the biggest smile on your face
“Go out there and win, everyone!”
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pippki-writes · 3 years
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Moot and Eirelandais
People like to think that to snap, something has to happen. Some precipitating event, big or small, that is nevertheless different from the thousand repeated indignities tolerated prior. But nothing different had happened. The same unwanted hand making its way up her leg as she waited tables. The same undesired breath on her neck, whispering the kinds of things she had no interest in hearing. All of it exactly the same as it had been for nearly the past three years. All of it she had put up with, every day, relentlessly, until one day Eirelandais realized she could not tolerate it any more.
The apothecary, Eidle, had to die.
Like most nights in his life, Dubius Moot found himself in a tavern. Like most nights in his life, someone, somewhere, was trying to kill him, or at least have him killed. What was unusual for Moot was that at least one of those people was his former mentor, and because of that he’d had to flee her and the city he loved trying to survive in. He’d made it far enough by now that no one in the tavern seemed to have any idea who he was. That was unusual too. Back in the Bryc, at least one person would’ve recognized him by now, offered him a drink—but no matter. The goal was to get as far from Opelia’s reach as he could.
Though he’d stolen enough to pay for his lodgings honestly, he couldn’t resist engaging in enough misdirection and sleight of hand with the tavernkeeper that the man would be paying Moot for the privilege of having Moot sleeping in one of his beds.
“And let me know if any of the girls catch your eye, we can add it to your bill,” the tavernkeeper said to him, oblivious to the money he’d just lost.
“Ah, hah, hm, yeah,” Moot replied, doing his best not to wince. He hated men like these, but the world was too full of them to fight them all. He took a watery ale toward a seat in the back corner and resolved to steal more of whatever he could before he left in the morning.
Eirelandais watched the traveler passing money back and forth with her uncle, quite certain he’d left her uncle poorer for the exercise. Her uncle, the idiot, had a look on his face as though the traveler had paid him double. She smiled to herself. The world finds ways to punish the deserving.
She watched the traveler as he was preoccupied at the bar, hoping to observe him without catching his eye. He clearly was not from around here—humans had come through before, but they were few and far between, particularly for a town that wasn’t on the main road between Cliath and Enniscorthy. His dark, curly hair was pulled back in a careful ponytail from which a handful of wild strands had still managed to escape. His clothing looked like the deliberate sort made to be sturdy, but not look too nice lest people realize what kind of money you’ve really got. Most of it was still covered by his dark hooded cloak.
Eirelandais managed to look away before the traveler turned in her direction. Best not to catch his eye. Best not to make this night any more complicated than it needed to be. She glanced at Eidle, already at his usual table near the fire. His cold, greedy eyes met hers. Tonight, she thought to herself. It will be tonight.
Moot kept walking but stopped the mental inventory of what appeared to be most easily stealable ranked by value and weight. He mentally cursed that slithering weasel of a tavernkeeper, because a girl had caught his eye. It wasn’t her long blond hair, gathered high on her head, nor the steady way she carried herself across the room on those long, inviting legs. It was the look she gave, one that went unnoticed, there for the briefest moment and then gone. Dangerous and determined and deadly. And most importantly, not directed at him. His heart beat a little faster, for the first time in days not over some imminent crisis or threat to his own life. He sipped his ale and watched her surreptitiously, hoping she’d do it again, or look his way, or come talk to him. The night was young, and there weren’t many other girls working. Surely she had to talk to him.
Oh. But that meant he had to come up with something good to say. This was an unusual problem. Nothing came to mind. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been at such a loss for the right words. But as he continued to watch her as discreetly as he could, as she approached some average-looking creep at a table by the hearth, he found himself overwhelmed with the desire just to talk to her, and for her to want to talk with him.
“My sweet baby bloom,” said Eidle in a low voice, his fingertips brushing against the nearest bit of exposed skin he could reach. “My delicate young flower. That man—” he flicked his eyes in the direction of the traveler “—is staring at you.”
Eirelandais felt her pulse quicken in irritation. Of course, the human would bring himself trouble.
Eidle reached out for her arm, pulling until she was forced to lean over awkwardly toward him, his lips nearly touching her ear. “You’ll need to slip him a drink, before he tries anything.”
This was unnecessary. Eirelandais knew what to do. Eidle didn’t need to tell her.
“And bring me something I like,” he said. He boldly tried to nibble her ear, but she had already straightened back up again.
She kept her eyes down, and murmured, “of course, Eidle.”
The traveler was a detour, a diversion, and the perfect distraction. He would need to be poisoned—the usual blend, something to cloud his memory, preoccupy him with uncomfortably lusty dreams, and leave him with a little headache in the morning. He would be fine. And Eidle, the apothecary who had foolishly taught her everything he knew about poisons so he could keep her all to himself, who would not have suspected how sharp this delicate young flower could become, well. If she got the dosing right, he would not be fine.
Moot wondered idly to himself if it was feasible to be in love with someone you hadn’t even spoken to yet. Because he was quite certain that the girl was going to kill the creep by the fire, and he loved her for it.
The longer he sat thinking about it, the higher the stakes got to come up with something to say to her besides, “hi” and “can you get me a drink?”
He started quietly reciting pick up lines to himself to see if any were so bad they circled around to being good again, and was so lost in thought he didn’t notice as she slipped right past him to the kitchen.
Eirelandais stared thoughtfully at the cup as she prepared it. Fortified wine for both—Eidle’s favorite, and she found in her experience the poisons tended to compliment the flavor of the wine, bringing out a subtle complexity. She wondered about dosing for the human, and hoped they weren’t too different. She’d check on him later, just to make sure he was still breathing. She didn’t worry about toning down the dosing for Eidle. He’d built up a resistance to a good many poisons. She made sure his would kill him.
No one was listening to him, so Moot gradually brought his volume up to conversational level to try out various tones of voice. “Is your dad a baker? Because those buns look amazing. Are you a thief too, because I think you’ve stolen my heart. If I told you that you have a nice body, would you hold it—ugh. No, no this is all wrong. Maybe if I just—”
“Excuse me, sir?”
Moot panicked. It was her. “Is your dad an amazing thief because I think you’ve stolen my buns,” he blurted out. Oh, no.
Eirelandais laughed, a genuine giggle she couldn’t help. “I’m sorry, maybe I don’t need to offer you this drink.”
“I’m sorry, that was. Hm. I’m not normally. Hm,” he sighed, frowning at himself.
Eirelandais had been feeling anxious as she approached, but as she watched this young man trying to pull himself together she smiled. “Well, I haven’t met too many humans to say if you’re what would count as normal.”
“Apologies,” Moot said with a smile, his thoughts finally catching up with his mouth. “To be fair, no, I suppose I’m not normal. But,” he waved his hand, “enough about me. I seem to be finding you so intriguing that my mind doesn’t know how to deal with it. Won’t you sit down and tell me your name?”
“Why don’t you stand, and offer me yours?”
Moot gazed up at her, unable to control his grin, resting his chin in his hand as he admired her. “Quite honestly? Because I think you’re a lot taller than I am, and I’ve already given you good reason to laugh at me. I’d like to keep that one in reserve, in case you need something new to smile about. Also, I’m a little bit on the run and haven’t come up with a good fake name to give out yet.”
“It’s Eirelandais,” she said, setting a cup of wine on his table. “I can’t come sit with you while I’m working, but have a drink on me, and I’ll see if I can think up a name for you.”
“Eirelandais,” he repeated, taking up the cup, toasting it to her. “Thank you.”
Eirelandais chided herself. She had enjoyed that too much. She hadn’t meant to really talk to him at all. She’d been repeating to herself—left, traveler, right, Eidle—until she’d gotten close enough to hear the traveler talking to himself. He had looked like he would be the sort of person to know exactly what to say to someone, and it surprised her that he wasn’t. She hoped Eidle hadn’t noticed them talk, her laugh, her expressions unguarded. She took his cup to him. It would probably be at least an hour before his poison took effect. Eidle was just barely sneering, sitting at his table quietly seething. Of course he had noticed.
The wine was good—surprising to find in a nowhere town like this—but after half an hour or so Eirelandais had not come back with a fake name for him. Moot decided to go back to the bar for another watery ale, since there was little point wasting the amount of time or money it would require to get him drunk on even the good stuff. He didn’t want to deplete the town supply. Just give him something to do with his hands. Perhaps he’d come across an excuse to trade a few more words with Eirelandais. He stood up.
Or, tried to anyway. His body disagreed completely, and the room suddenly felt about fifteen degrees off from the axis where he had thought it had been. He stumbled back down into his chair.
“Oh, no?” he whispered to himself in confusion. This was an unwholesome new feeling. Moot had a legendarily high tolerance and built resistance to every known toxin, powder, and otherwise vile concocted liquid. He’d never successfully been poisoned before.
His arms felt very far away, and a little bit like his fingers were on fire. He pressed his palms firmly to the table, holding on onto the surface so that he wouldn’t slide off. He would be a magnet for pickpockets if he ended up on the floor.
“Eirelandais,” he whispered, trying to look around for her without moving his head, trying to summon her through sheer force of admiration.
Eirelandais saw the movement out of the corner of her eye. The traveler looked like he’d lost all cooperation with his legs. That was fast. Human dosing must be different. She had better help him.
“Drunk already?” she asked, moving the cup and the mug off to the bar.
“We need to talk,” he slurred confidentially.
She checked the time. If Eidle died at his table, well she could just slip out the back, perhaps. She glanced at Eidle. He did look like he was making a strange face.
“Come on,” she said, offering her arm. “I’ll help you to your room.”
He managed to stand, leaning heavily on her and clinging to her arm. He looked up at her, his rich brown eyes wide and glassy. “Oh, spirits help me,” he mumbled, “I told you you were taller.”
He leaned his head against her arm, and she couldn’t help but laugh.
“Youuuuuu,” drawled Moot, trying to unbutton his vest as he fell over sideways on the bed, “Are. Amazing.”
Eirelandais shut the door and looked him over. His cheeks were flushed, his eyebrows looked like they were sweating, and she started to wonder if an antidote might be needed. That was doable, but not something she had time for.
“Run away with meeee?” said Moot, trying to roll over. “I think alluv youuu,” he slurred.
Eirelandais tapped her fingers against her chin, thinking while he rambled, trying to decide what to do. She liked the traveler, and wouldn’t feel right leaving him to potentially die just because he was human.
Moot managed to push himself up and tried to wave her over. “’M serious. This’s serious,” he slurred, clearly working hard to be as understandable as possible. “D’you know, d’you KNOW, that no one, no one has ever, ever, EVER managed to poison me before? Y’gotta teach me, y’gotta tell me, ‘s gotta be enough poison to kill a man, his mother, ‘n the horse they rode in on.”
Eirelandais shook her head. “It’s a common poison. You’re just human.”
Moot slapped the bedcover indignantly. “No. M’best friend is the most poisonest man to ever mix two liquids in a bottle, in all of Innisfail ‘n Ivernia. Common poison’s m’breakfast, lunch, an’ middle name.” A thought managed to occur to him, and for a moment he looked like he could cry. “Did Opelia send you? To kill me? Ohhhh no, you reeeeeally did trick me…”
“What? No!” Eirelandais snapped. “Who? No. I’m not trying to kill you—”
Moot gasped, loudly and dramatically. “I knew it,” he hissed with glee. The unbounded look of adoration returned to his face, then slowly slid to a frown, attempting to think. “But you did give me poison.”
Eirelandais tried to remember. Which cup had she sat down, and which one had she carried over? She thought she knew. There were only two cups.
“—and a lesser man than Dubius Moot would be dead before you, y’know, you’re very lucky,” he drawled, trying to wag his finger vaguely in her direction.
She slumped against the wall. The wrong poison. Could it be possible? Surely the traveler was just wrong. But if he wasn’t? That meant Eidle would not be dead. Nor would he be asleep from a poison he’d designed. A poison he knew the taste of. The face he’d been making. She was in trouble.
And her only help was too incapacitated to even come up with a good fake name.
“Dubius Moot?” she said absently, her mind still hoping to avoid reality for a few more moments. It couldn’t be true. It couldn’t be.
“Oops.” He clapped his hands over his mouth.
“That’s a terrible fake name.”
He sighed. “That’s ‘cuz it’s my real name. You were s’posed to help me witha fake one.”
“Yeah. Dubius?”
“Mm? Call me Moot. Mos’ friends do.”
“Moot? I’m in trouble.”
These were the facts: it should not take Eirelandais this long to put the drunk to bed. He had seen them smiling. She was his. And she had tried to poison him.
This would not do.
She could hear his footsteps coming down the corridor, recognized them immediately, like so many nights before.
“Eirelandais,” Eidle called softly. “My sweet little blossom, whatever are you up here so long doing?” His tone seemed gentle, but she could hear the sharp edge, the seething rage simmering beneath, the promise of violence yet to come. She held her breath, hand on the doorknob, waiting.
His footsteps stopped outside the door. She felt his hand rest on the doorknob. “Please don’t make me have to teach you a lesson,” he said as he turned the handle.
Now. Eirelandais jerked the door inward, pulling Eidle stumbling forward. Dubius Moot exploded haphazardly from a crouch beside the door, his solid frame connecting into Eidle with a crash that knocked Eidle’s head against the footboard. Eirelandais quickly slammed the door shut again, but Eidle was out cold. For now.
Moot rolled off him and peered closely. “He’s breathin.”
“For now,” said Eirelandais, hurriedly undoing Eidle’s belt, yanking it roughly out of the belt loops.
“If you think you can stand, help me,” she said, slipping the belt around Eidle’s neck as she tried to reach the other end to the top of the bedpost.
Moot got as far as his knees before falling over again, and did the best he could from there to push Eidle’s slumped form upright enough for her to tie a knot. She braced her shoe against Eidle’s neck, pulling the belt as tight as she could, then arranged him into an obscene tableau before taking the money from his pockets.
On the little table, she left a note –“For Eirelandais”—and the money from Eidle. Perhaps it was enough to cover the debt her father had sold her for. It would have to do.
Moot had managed to drag himself upright, propped against the other bedpost. Eidle, raggedly, was still breathing. For now.
“Do you…still want to run away with me?” she asked.
Moot burst into a smile as he clung to the bedpost. “More’n ever.”
“How do you not have a horse?” hissed Eirelandais, struggling to hold Moot upright with one arm while she searched for the key she had taken off of Eidle.
“Horses...can’t climb trees,” he managed to get out. He slipped out of her grasp, hit hard against the side of the building, and just barely managed not to throw up on either of them. He’d really hoped that vomiting would at least make him feel a little better, but that was not the case. “Might not be ok,” he muttered.
Eirelandais got the door to the apothecary’s shop open and pulled Moot inside. There was nowhere to put him, so she lowered him as gently as she could the rest of the way to the floor and let him curl up on his side. She had been here enough times to know what she was looking for, the jar full of powdered charcoal sitting next to the jug of cold, clear water drawn under the full moon’s light from the allegedly enchanted spring. She wasn’t sure she bought all that, but it was good, clean water. She poured it into an empty bottle and carefully dumped in several heaping spoonfuls of charcoal, then sealed the bottle shut with the palm of her hand while she shook it. This wouldn’t fix everything, but it was a start, and it would buy Moot some time so she could think.
“You need to drink this,” she said, sitting him upright, “and try to keep it in you.” She helped him hold the bottle to his lips, and it took all his concentration not to spit the gritty liquid back out at her. “Keeping it in,” he mumbled, clutching the empty bottle as he sunk back down to the floor.
It wasn’t merely that she’d poisoned him with any one poison--it was the combination, the unique ways the poisons had been brought together, treatments and mixtures Eidle never would have dreamed of, the unique interactions resulting in a constellation of symptoms that no simple antidote could cure. Not that Eirelandais had put any thought toward making a cure when she’d thought and mixed it up. Now she wished she had.
She tapped her fingers on her chin, trying to remember what kinds of rare ingredients Eidle kept on hand. She tried opening a few small drawers, but found them locked--a different key, of course, was needed. She swept her hands blindly along the top of a few high shelves, hoping another key would appear beneath her fingers. No such luck. She spared Moot a glance. He’d begun to shiver, teeth clenched. She didn’t have time to think of something better than finding more ways to shovel charcoal into him. She doubted that would be enough. He needed a healer, and there was only one person in town who knew any healing magic.
The apothecary’s wife.
Eirelandais quickly straightened up the things she had moved, grabbed a few vials that looked like they would be worth having, and helped Moot off the floor. He was soaked in sweat.
Eirelandais had never met Eidle’s wife. She had heard a good many cruel things about her, but Eirelandais always suspected her only true crime was having been young once. And loving Eidle, perhaps. Still, it would not look good to wake her up and bring her to Moot laying on the floor of her husband’s own shop that Eirelandais should not have had a key for. She shut and locked the door behind them, and pocketed the key. She’d considered slipping the key under the door, but what if Eidle’s wife led them right back into the shop? The sight of the key without its owner wouldn’t lead to anything good.
It felt like Eirelandais was the only thing holding Moot up at this point. They made it to the door of the home attached to the back of the apothecary’s shop, and Eirelandais rapped sharply, urgently on the door while her mind was racing. What was Eidle’s wife’s name? Should she address her by name? What would she tell her? What would make her ask the least amount of questions? What if she didn’t wake up?
The sound of movement came from the other side of the door, and a wary female voice--”Who goes there and what do you want? It’s late.”
“Please,” said Eirelandais. “Are you the healer? I believe you are, it’s my friend, I think, I think he’s tried to poison himself.” Why did she say friend, why would she have some random human friend, there aren’t any humans in this town, come on Eirelandais. “I’m Eirelandais, from the tavern just down the road.”
“Ah.” A pause--the door was still chained shut, but the apothecary’s wife opened the door to peek out at them. “One of Corrigan’s girls.” She had tried not to mean any judgement by it, but Eirelandais could tell she’d taken the term ‘friend’ euphemistically. Fine. Whatever.
“Please,” said Eirelandais again. “We gave him some charcoal for it but I don’t think it’s enough.”
The older woman sighed. “Bring him in,” she said, shutting the door long enough to undo the chains. “I can’t promise much, I’m no great healer.”
“Thank you,” said Eirelandais, as the two of them helped lay Moot out on the couch. “I don’t think you can do much to make him worse.”
“It’s a shame you’ve come when my husband is away. He’s a great apothecary, could probably help your friend more than I can.” She sorted through a series of bottles in a cabinet on the wall. “I’m sure you could find him in town--”
Oh no, thought Eirelandais, absolutely not.
“--but by now he’s probably too drunk to do much good. So you’ll just have to settle for me. My name’s Aellys, by the way.” She set some bottles on the table by Moot with a mortar and pestle, and took out a sharp needle. “Any idea what he took?” she asked, holding the needle in the flame of the candle on the table.
Eirelandais shook her head. Would the knowing make a difference, when magic was involved?
“Do you know his name?”
Eirelandais looked at Moot’s troubled face. He’d asked her for a fake name.
“I think he said his name was Dolan.” Dolan - unlucky one. Probably not what he would have picked, but certainly an accurate reflection of how his night had gone.
Aellys chuckled a little to herself. “No wonder, with a name like that. Well, let’s see what we can do to help. Hold the bowl for me, I need to get a bit of his blood.”
“Dolan?” said Aellys, raising her voice as if it might be heard over the pain. “This might hurt a little my dear, but then again everything probably hurts right now doesn’t it?”
Eirelandais held the mortar while Aellys pricked one of Moot’s fingers with the searing-hot needle. She squeezed a few drops of blood, and then knelt by the little table, speaking softly in the sort of long-dead language reserved for the use of magic while she added a sparkling gray powder from one of the bottles. Aellys ground the powder with the blood, and added enough liquid to the bowl that it would be drinkable. Eirelandais watched nervously, hands clenched and feeling useless, as Aellys continued to chant. Aellys waved her over, and motioned for her to take Moot’s hand while Aellys helped him drink the mixture, all while continuing the spell. Once the mortar was empty she stopped, and let Moot lay back down on the couch.
“What now?” asked Eirelandais. “What did you give him?”
“Now we wait,” said Aellys, clearing away the table. “I gave him something I’ve been holding onto for many, many years. Charcoal made from enchanted helix horn. It was a wedding gift, if you can believe it.” She smiled, but there was a hint of sadness to it. “You hold onto these things waiting for the right time to use them, and then you never use them. It seemed like the right time. Might as well use it.”
Eirelandais watched as Aellys closed the cabinet. Did she know who her husband had been, when he wasn’t at home? Perhaps she knew all too well. Perhaps she hadn’t wanted to know, and had been content to stay at home and ignore whatever rumors and whispers managed to reach her. Eirelandais was too afraid to ask.
“Wake me up if you need me, and sleep if you’d like. I doubt you will though. There’s nothing more either of us can do for now, dear.” Aellys patted Eirelandais on the shoulder, checked the locks on the door, and went to the bedroom. Eirelandais wondered if Aellys had been waiting for Eidle to come home. Maybe that’s what she’d done every night.
Moot had fallen into a fitful sleep. Eirelandais found herself wanting to brush the stray curls off his face, but resisted. She looked at the strange, soft curves of his ears, and this time she could not resist reaching out to feel one. She could feel faint scars beneath her fingertips. Moot shifted onto his side, and Eirelandais quickly pulled her hand away.
Eirelandais found the most uncomfortable chair in the room and pulled it over by the couch so she could keep an eye on Moot without falling asleep. Aellys had been kind, too kind. She would probably make a good enough apothecary. But Eirelandais didn’t intend to find out. They needed to leave before daybreak. Eirelandais stifled a yawn. She would carry Moot like a sack of potatoes if she had to.
Moot’s consciousness came struggling back to him. The first thing he noticed was pain. He had thought he’d felt pain before, but those were mere inconveniences. This was Pain, perhaps the worst he’d ever felt, screaming through every ounce of his existence. If he wasn’t dying, someone should have let him, because this was the most cruel and tortuous experience of his life. His skull felt too small, and his brain felt like someone had yanked it out through his mouth and slammed it back in upside-down through his eye sockets. His stomach was in a confused and untenable state, feeling simultaneously hungry enough to eat a horse, yet too nauseous to even speak. The taste of devil ferrets haunted his tongue. Everything was awful.
The second thing Moot noticed was the feeling of a hand pressed on his mouth (oddly comforting, for the moment, because it made him feel like he could keep all his insides inside of him with someone else fortifying the gate), very nearly blocking the air from his nose too. A poor attempt at smothering? Maybe they were just getting started. Another hand was shaking his shoulder. He opened his eyes unevenly, blinking in the dim pre-dawn light, trying to get his bearings.
Eirelandais. Very close. Her hand on his mouth, as she softly shushed him. If she was trying to smother him, well. He found himself strangely alright with that. Existing right now hurt. She leaned a little closer to him and whispered, “We need to leave.”
Moot nodded as little as possible, closing his eyes. If he could just go back to sleep, maybe forever, he might feel better. Yes, that would do. He felt dimly aware of the hand leaving his shoulder as he tried to drift back into the less consciously painful embrace of sleep. Two fingers slowly pinched his nose closed, cutting off all his air.
Eirelandais let go as soon as Moot’s eyes flew open. “We need to leave now,” she whispered fiercely. “Come on. Can you stand?”
Moot made quiet noises of protest as Eirelandais pulled him up off the couch. He gripped her arms, white-knuckled, as waves of pain and nausea hit him. He focused on his breath, harsh and intense, in and out, in and out through his nose, mouth and eyes clamped shut. For a moment he merely stood there, clinging desperately to Eirelandais, frowning and furrowing his brow as he battled every awful feeling that fought for his attention. Need to leave now, she’d said. Even if he’d wanted to question it, there was no way he’d trust himself to speak feeling the way he did. He gave a little nod, and waved a hand in what he felt was the direction of a door, and hoped that was enough to convey both “lead the way” and “please don’t let go of me.”
Her hands were steady as she helped him across the room, her feet light on the floor, listening for any sound of Aellys stirring. She wasn’t sure Moot could keep himself together, but by the look on his face picking him up was out of the question. He was glaring daggers at the world ahead of him, wholly consumed by the laborious process of remembering to successfully walk without falling down or turning inside-out.
They made it outside, Eirelandais closing the front door carefully behind her. She left Moot resting against the side of the building, his head tilted back as he focused on his breathing, and grabbed their bags she’d hidden in the apothecary’s little stable. Supplies were critical. If they could get enough distance between themselves and this town, she’d be able to stop and make Moot some ginger-root tea. He desperately looked like he needed it, she thought, securing their bags over her shoulders. As she returned Moot had undone the top half of his vest and was working to unlace the shirt beneath it, as though any fabric encroaching on his neck threatened to choke him.
“Can you walk?” she asked.
“Mhm.” He slowly pushed himself off the side of the building, and managed to get himself braced, upright, unassisted on his own two feet. For a long moment, he simply stood there.
“Are you...sure...you can walk?”
“Mhm!” Moot managed with false cheer. His entire conscious existence had boiled down to two things: breathing, and walking. He did both forcefully, deliberately, looking like a man possessed as he trudged over to Eirelandais.
She offered a hand, but he waved his dismissively. Focusing on a third thing would be catastrophically distracting, and he could only accomplish the other two through great powers of concentration.
“You mentioned something about being on the run, right?” she prodded, looking up and down the road. Eirelandais realized, in the chill light of the slowly rising sun, that she had had no real plan beyond killing Eidle. The world was opening up before her, strange and full of unknown potential. “What direction do we need to go?”
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You should do all of them questions and 90 is true
I love you!!!!
1. Favorite instrument?
I work at a music store u can’t just ask me this. When my coworkers play it’s the saxophone or the flute, when the boys in the repair shop are testing repairs and they harmonize with each other or try to outplay one another it’s the bassoon or the trombone or whatever they’re fixing at the moment. When I hear 🎺 give his lesson on Wednesday afternoons it’s the trumpet, and when I think about middle school it’s the clarinet, the flute, the French horn. When I hear the nutcracker pas des deux is the oboe and when I hear edith piaf l’accordeoniste it’s the remarkable human voice. Really my favorite instrument is all of them, it just depends.
2. Favorite fic trope? Mutual pining 🥺
3. Sport you played for the longest amount of time? LMAO I wasn’t a sporty kid but I did ballet
4. Shoe size? 10-11
5. Most recent (good) dream? Uhh I had a dream last night about my coworker 🎹 it wasn’t bad though I can’t really remember what it was about
6. Last person in your DMs? smugg
7. Can you do a handstand? Nooo nooo lmaoo nooooo
8. Unpopular food opinion I don’t like oranges or red meat
9. Conspiracy you believe in? There’s some kind of weird weather dome in my hometown around the military base that makes most storms pass around us
10. Is your hair its natural color/style? Most of it is I dyed the bottom layer of my hair tho so it’s blonde rn
11. state a useless fact all that’s coming to mind is outright lies rn hold on. The inventor of pringles is buried in a pringles can that’s so fucking nasty omg
12. most interesting gossip you’ve heard? Idk I don’t really care for gossip uhhhh have u heard tho rin dippindogs is a huge gay hah she uhh she like men AND women lmao gaaay gaaaay
13. Middle name? Carolyn
14. Sexuality? Bisexual
15. Amount of sleep you got last night? Idk actually I think like 9-10 hrs tho I slept in until 11
16. Opinion on ice cream cake? Tasty!!!
17. Opinion on (cup)cake frosting? It’s depends buttercream is usually too sweet for me in large amounts so I prefer whipped cream frosting
18. Last board game you played? Idk??? We played hunt a killer tho last Thursday me n my family I guess that counts kinda
19. Project you want to start? I need ideas first baby
20. Project you’re working on right now? HAHAHAHAHAHA
21. TV show you’re watching? nothing rn I just rewatch bojack a lot if I watch anything
22. Last movie you watched? Lego batman I think
23. Ever left anon hate? Not legit hate
24. Ever left anon love? Yes all the time. Sometimes to strangers it’s my favorite thing to do
25. Best Disney movie? The princess and the frog
26. Best Pixar movie? Soul or Up I can’t decide
27. Best Star Wars? Um. Empire strikes back
28. Last thing you consumed? Fuit gumy
29. NoTP? Idk I don’t really hate ships unless they’re gross like pedophilic gross
30. story behind your (nick)name? When I was a fetus my great grandfather had a dream that my name should be Carolyn Marie but my parents were huge dweebs so they named me Marina after the actress of Deanna Troi in Star Trek. Idk about my nickname ive just always been Rina/Rin as long as I can remember
31. ice cream order? Lately it’s lemon sorbetto I know it’s SO high in sugar but I love it
32. describe your blog in <5 words I love you
33. how many blogs do you follow? 436
34. Describe your voice it depends usually I sound like a sick child but my customer service voice is really pleasant
35. Describe your smile it’s cute :)
36. What is the place you live known for? LMAOOO LMAO we have a military base nearby and like. I could go on abt that one but also like. There’s a lot of gang violence and a lot of the other consequences of poverty. People from the cities around us see us as “””ghetto””” or violent but it’s just. It’s more than that it’s always more than that. And idk what else there’s nothing really particularly special about this town except that we’re all here and not anywhere else
37. What is the place you’re originally from known for? (if they’re different)
38. pronouns? she/any idc
39. Languages you speak? English
40. first friend you made through tumblr? Idk. I probably don’t talk to them anymore :(
41. Person on tumblr you know in real life? my brother
42. First dog breed you think of shih tzu I have 2 next to me rn
43. room wall color? Purble!!!! The paint color is called grape juice that’s why I picked it!!!
44. Song that’s stuck in your head right now? It’s tricky to rock a rhyme to rock a rhyme that’s right on time it’s trickyyyyy
45. Favorite number? 5, 34
46. Color you associate with your name? Red
47. Favorite jolly rancher flavor?watermelon
48. Pets? 2 dogs rocket and groot and 4 cats loki danni who r from the same litter and we raised from kittens, miss kitty who we adopted from a shelter after my boy blue moon passed away and ben (his real name is Kylo Ren thanks to my mom but I refuse to call him that) he is my little baby and he has 7 toes on his front paws
49. Collections? Hot wheels
50. Character outside of your fandom you’d marry? Girl what lmaooo idk
51. Character outside of your fandom you’d kill? That’s mean :(
52. Have you met any celebrities? NO thank god id have to kill on sight
53. Favorite time period in history? Itslian Renaissance & Romantic Era
54. What time is it right now? 2:35 am oops
55. History or future? Future but like . A good one. Or prehistory
56. Space or ocean? Space
57. Fears? Abandonment
58. Command + v and post. It’s this list of questions u don’t want that
59. Favorite season? Spring
60. Describe your aesthetic. Messy just a mess, neon and old buildings and things, antiques, countryside if there weren’t so many trump pence flags still lmaoo give uppp give up, nature just al of nature and space and places humans can’t touch and places they used to touch but can’t anymore
61. MBTI? Infp but I haven’t taken it in a few years
62. What’s your relationship with your family like? Normal.
63. “Biggest fan” in your tumblr activity? I’m in mobile hold on acc to tumblr it’s akky
64. Favorite musical? Sweeney todd
65. Comfort book? Idk how to read 💔💔💔 wuthering heights tho
66. Comfort movie? Whisper of the heart
67. OTP? Girl idk
68. BroTP? Joey and Tristan yugioh
69. AUs or canon compliant? Canon ig idk
70. Opinion on the person who’s sending the ask? It’s an anon!! But I love them
71. FMK + 3 characters anon didnt leave any characters and I was going to say something very bad but I won’t
72. Dream date? I’ve wanted to do this for a while but ideally it would be after we’d been together a while maybe even engaged or whatever, I wanna go to like a Home Depot or a furniture store and pretend to be married and looking for house paints and furniture and plan what our home is going to look like I wanna do that so bad. But idk for a first/early relationship date i really want to go to the zilker botanical garden it’s one of my favorite places, we could also go to the natural gardener which is a plant nursery in Austin I really love it there too and it’s not that far from zilker.
73. Relationship status? Single
74. Ever dyed your hair? Do you plan to? Yes and perhaps. Maybe
75. Dream job/career? Idk anymore I used to have big girl goals and I haven’t had any in a while. But when I was younger I wanted to be a game warden
76. Favorite band/singer? Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky
77. Something that makes you soft/that you find adorable? My cats
78. The first thing you would do if you won the lottery? Buy a house
79. Are you superstitious? Yes
80. Character you project onto? Shizuku tsukishima
81. Fictional character you’ve had a crush on? Vergil devil may cry. Forever husband
82. Celebrity crush? LMAO
83. Person on here you’d date? my mutuals
84. Person on here you’d marry? 🥺 my mutuals
85. Person on here you’d throw into the void? Smugg
86. Other social media you have? I’ve got a photography insta that I barely use and a Twitter that’s just nintendo switch screenies that’s it
87. Finish the sentence: Due to personal reasons, ___________i will be passing away
88. Bad habit? I find it rlly hard to say no or like to say when and why I’m upset I don’t feel like for the latter I don’t feel like I should bring something that’s upsetting me up because I know I’ll get over it on my own and I don’t really trust myself to be upset about rational things. Idk I’m working on it
89. Three things you like about yourself? I’m hot, I’m kind, I’m resilient
90. Ily and you deserve the world I love you!!!!! YOU deserve it too!!!
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ask-classicdreams · 4 years
Text
Uh so. Masterpost I guess. Here's my ideas. They're all shit, but here ya go.
--while the void attempted to recreate dreamtale as the classic universe, dreamtale has a wildly smaller amount of resources to work with. therefore in putting dreamtales code into the classic universe, it just turned basically everything into apples since that's the focus of dreamtale. so, toriel and flowey are apples.
--dream is in papyrus's role and instead of cooking spaghetti and such, he cooks everything out of apples since there's such an abundant supply of them. the underground is located underneath an apple orchard.
--nightmare is in sans's role, and he hates apples. instead of the classic "burn in hell" genocide quote, nightmare just sighs and flips dream's cape-hood-thing up. after a pause and some shifting, he just says "i fucking hate apples." before fucking you up
--after the first hit when you deny his mercy, dream basically says 'fuck you' to the script and goes apeshit. if you somehow survive that, he turns into your passive aggressive narrator. (eg. "woshua steps in! you're gonna slaughter him in cold blood aren't you, you f-") him and chara have fights over the flavor text rules.
--when nightmare dies, there isn't any blood or anything. just a sigh and nightmare going "heh, well. guess that's over. dream, i think i'll try that apple pie now." there is no whoosh sound either, just a thud.
--dream's outfit is underswap sans's down to a T. the only difference is that dream's is in a shade of yellow. dream's first words when prompted are "wait isn't this just underswap sans's--" but gets kicked in the teeth by annoying apple, the substitute for annoying dog. nightmare's first words are "patrick noise. wait fuck i can't say that--ererererer" but instead of saying the text tone noise, he pronounced the letters.
--instead of his circlet, dream wears a plastic cinderella tiara with himself scribbled over cinderella in black marker. nightmare stole it to draw a mustache on it at some point. eg:
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--nightmare's outfit is gross, goopy sweatpants that was once an unidentified color. they have the walmart logo down each side of them. his shirt is black, obviously. but he's wearing the Official Patented Sans Jacket, the one with sans's face on the zipper? it's somehow untouched by all of the goop. pristine condition. his slippers are black and fluffy with google eyes on them which dream calls his goopshoes.
--frisk n chara are still humans.
--when you look in dream's fridge, all you see is apple products. look closer, and you'll start to see the apple meat, apple stomach, apple feet. you decide to close the fridge.
--toriel is another apple. whenever she has to move, she politely asks you to leave the room. nothing progresses until you do. once you move, theres obvious slide marks on the floor where toriel once was.
--when you kill her in genocide, you get the apple. if you decide to go back into toriel's house, you have the option to make apple pie.
--muffet's place is Whole Grains Fruits and Vegetables For A Super Low Price! (no exceptions or abbreviations, you have to type it out in full every single time) the Whole Grains Fruits and Vegetables For A Super Low Price! fight is just. shopping cart. upon further inspection, it's an applebys shopping cart but you don't know how because applebys is a restaurant, not a supermarket. the joke is that nightmare stole it.
(*There's goop on the handlebars. You wonder what Nightmare wanted with a shopping cart.)
dream, if you call him at the dump: oh yeah! nighty always wanted to go to the surface so he could try something other than apples! it seems we're right under an apple orchard, so we mostly get apple-centric foods.
my boy wanted to keep it but dream talked him out of it (unless it's true pacifist, go into his room after the barrier breaks and it's in the place sans's treadmill would be. he'll be sitting on his bed when you walk in.)
when prompted nightmare says:
nm: what? a guy can't dream?
frisk: dream of what
nm: my brother, dream of the underground [sans wink]
frisk: no what about the shopping cart?
nm: what's a shopping cart?
[dialogue box disappears, shortcut sound plays, shopping cart is gone]
go underneath the sink and it's in there though, with frantic scuff marks on the ground. seems like the wheel got stuck halfway down.
--the neutral fight is a giant apple with eyes. nightmare is with you for some reason, showing clear disgust because it looks like you'd have to eat all of it. but, frisk just throws their dora the explorer light-up sneakers at the apple's googly eyes. when the eyes come off, you get the apple.
(you're supposed to put it on nightmare's bed. during the phone call, at the end, he says "oh by the way i got your gift. fuck you." and hangs up.)
--everybody else is statues.
--if you give nightmare the apple directly it starts a dating sequence that only lasts a few seconds before he bodily picks you up and chucks you at the barrier. you faceplant on the other side. he likes throwing you around, if you come back to the bridge between snowdin and the ruins after killing dream, he picks you ups and throws you off of it.
--at the end of genocide, instead of chara appearing it's just nightmare but 80x taller than frisk.
--they have a pet frog named phenylcyclohexyl piperidine. when asked, dream will say "oh nightmare named her! i don't know what it means though..." you have the choice to tell him "it's a drug" or "ask him later". if you choose "it's a drug" dream will nod solemnly and stay quiet.
if you choose to tell dream to ask night about it, the next time you see dream he'll say "nightmare told me what it means! im so glad our frog is an angel :))"
--during nightmare's fight, in the middle of his strongest attack, you get an award titled "congrats! you've been distracted!" and he immediately throws a sequence of attacks faster than you can dodge if you were distracted. if you click on it, it says "nightmare kicked your ass, didn't he? hah."
--when night uses his magic a giant fuckoff apple tree bursts out of the ground behind him that he normally uses to hide in (which is how he dodges) and his apple soul forms and hides in the branches. you have to aim for it to win.
--instead of bullets apples get thrown at you (main reason frisk flirts with everyone, throwing an apple at someone's face in ancient greece normally substituted for a marriage proposal).
--everythings gone to shit both apple brother's have a blatant disrespect for the script and the game changed every time you play it. eventually, if played too much, the game will bluescreen and you'll have to turn your monitor on and off.
Yeah, that's probably it.
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sirimirihiro · 4 years
Note
Ok so I love your writing, I think I remember you doing 5 characters, and if you dont do x readers ignore this! Ok so, could I have headcanons for the Bakusquad(mina, baku, sero, kami, and kiri-) bringing their girlfriend to an amusement park cuz they know she loves amusment parks as a date? Thank you :DDDD
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Waah, thank you for requesting again so quickly! And thank you for the compliment, too. I’m glad that you like that.
And it’s okay! I realize that not many here don’t do female reader, so that’s understandable. Hope that you enjoy reading these! Sorry that it took me this long ><
————-
Bakugō Katsuki:
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- We all know how Bakugō can be when it comes to.. Well, almost anything. Grumpy and not exactly seeming all that excited as his s/o in the beginning.
- But when they once mentioned that it had been a while since they had been to a park because of studies and they were sort of missing it, he spark of inspiration hit. Even if his first response had been something in the sense of, " Hah! That’s stupid.
- I headcanon that he might be one of the richer one of his class. Have you seen this guy's house?! Might need a couple of weeks to pull it off, but Bakugō ends up taking them to an amusement park, even if it wasn’t a traditional invitation?
- " Just come one, idiot! You said that you wanted to go to one of these, right?! "
- Something in that sense. But anyway. Once that you both get inside, he’d probably want to go around of the whole park with you.
- Buys spicy snacks popcorn, likely. It’s popular to have flavored popcorn in Disneyland in Japan. Also, you only need to taunt him once, and he’d be ready to beat any booth here to get you whatever gift you could want.
- Different and more chaotic trip to a park they’ve been to, but one to be remembered.
Kirishima Eijirō:
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- The sweetest person in the whole world I love him so, so, so much y'all don’t know-
- He's pretty excited when he heard that you liked amusement parks. It actually made him plan to spare up money do that the two of them could go together.
- If it’s a park that his s/o has been to before, he would love to go all out. Trying the rides that they liked the most, get the best food there - everything.
- Notices their eyes lingering a bit on that one cute plushie a bit long by the booth and of course he ended up getting it for you. He honestly loves to spoil his s/o a lot.
- Holds your hand the whole way around of the park, chatting and holding onto it tightly while on the rides. Even if you both weren’t afraid or if it was boiling hot, he’d keep them close.
- Really wants to see the fireworks show they do. They will not be disappointed with how utterly adorable that Kirishima can be when he is excited.
- Willing to follow them the whole way home. Even if they had said no, he’d still want to, since it has gotten so late that the sun had gone down for hours ago, without either of them realizing it till the last bound of fireworks had gone off.
- Being in an amusement park with Kirishima is a fun ride. Something the would be cherished for long. Exactly why they planned their next visit to be soon.
Kaminari Denki:
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- You know that Kaminari knows all the good date spots. Amusement parks were one of those were if you went together, it was bound to end up being a romantic, cute day.
- He will actually beg them to get a set of animal ears when they pass one of the things at the front. He’s always seen couples do it and really wants to try 🥺
- Screams on the rides. His s/o almost thought that he had fazed out of reality when they came back down again. Luckily, he did manage to snap out of it before long.
- Please give him a hug afterwards. Denki really needs some reassurance after that last ride, with the loop in it.
- Wants to share an ice cream/milkshake with them. You know, one of those with a cute mascot theme that look so pretty. With one to share between the two. But, he definitely wants you to eat more of it.
- Takes his s/o up in one of the feris weels. Yes, I stand by that this man is both cheesy and romantic. You two watch the luminous park light up around of you, eyes sparkling over the long horizon.
- Yes, he did kiss them. And yes, Denki would without hesitation go on another day again with them if asked to.
Ashido Mina:
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- You know how Mina is essentially one of the most energetic people in all of the class? Yeah, her reaction would be similar to how she would usually react. Peppy and full of excitement, to know that her s/o shares the same passion as her own in amusement parks.
- She,, She really wants to go to Sanrio world [Hello Kitty theme park] or Disneyland 🥺 please, do you know how happy that would make her?
- When the day did arrive, the both of you got there early, so that you both had lots of time to look around and try all kinds of different things. It also happened that there wasn’t that much people in line.
- Oh, you best believe that there is going to be selfies involved! Mina would want to take pictures of her s/o being cute and all kinds of sweets that the two would get together through of the visit.
- Screams and laughs during the rides, as well as holds them so tight so that they both wouldn’t be so afraid not that either of you were complaining about that.
- When the day ends and on the way home with the train, Mina finds herself snuggled up and resting her head against of her s/o's shoulder, tired from all of the adventures, dreaming of the future visits they’d have together.
Sero Hanta:
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- Sero has never been the extreme fan of amusement parks. Yes, he did enjoy them and have fun with it. But it isn’t that he enjoys every part about the, though. Do you know how many people that there can get on a weekend or during vacation?
- That was why, when his s/o brought their love for it up one morning that they were walking together, that it had seemed to have hit him a little bit. That he might’ve been a little bit to hard on the idea of it.
- He suggested that the two of them should go when they were free at one point, which had finally seemed to be that day now! One where there wouldn’t be too many people that Wallis be there.
- Lets his s/o walk him through most of it, looking around and trying a ride here and there. For the bigger ones, he would maybe try one of them, even ending up having some fun, despite being a bit terrified.
- He has now also fallen in love with chocolate crepes that you could get from there, despite him usually being to healthy food. The ones that had cream and strawberries in them, with something that he would guess was caramel. They would have to pull him away from buying another one.
- The team-up they had with the laser shooting on that one ride was incredible. No virtual mutant stood a chance for the upcoming hero and his lover!
- Sero definitely has a new love for amusement parks, one which he shared by the one he loved so deeply. In the back of his mind, he’d be reminded to do this more often. For now, he just wanted to enjoy the day they had together.
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Text
Thank You, Dear Last Night’s Mental Breakdown.
| Barista!Han Jisung Au |
 💌  Requested? Yes --  @jone-00​
🌸  Genre: Fluff, a hint of a hint of Angst. As much angst as a Strawberry flavored La Croix has Strawberry.
✏️ Word Count: 2,600
!GIFS ARE NOT MINE!
T/W: Mentions of a mental breakdown, doesn’t go into detail.
A/N: Get ready, you bean. We about to enter some emotional and fluffy territory. Bring yo shades-- to look cool AND to make sure people can’t see you crying.
Also I’m sorry if this secretly sucks and I have no idea. Leave your thoughts so I can improve and know what’s good and what isn’t! I read all feedback and they all are important to me! <3
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You breathe out, the light sunshine kissing your lashes as your eyes flutter open. The buzz of your alarm fills the air.
Your eyes glide softly to the dress you hung up on your bedroom doorknob. The early sunrise sets the warm shadows of your room across the lightly pleated skirt. The fabric’s rosy pastel-pink hues are cast onto the white paint of your door.
You breath in, and out again. Let’s begin.
You had a mental breakdown the night before. They aren’t an irregular thing for you, but you wish badly they are. After crying, trembling, and crumbling slowly for hours, you stopped suddenly. You clenched your fists and stared, determined, into your very own eyes through that mirror.
I’m not going to let you fall apart like this anymore. I can’t-- I won’t.
So you stood up, breathing shakily. Scared, you started making preparations for what you were determined to be a better tomorrow.
What can I do that would make my younger self proud? You jot down ideas that would suddenly come to you as you set clothes out, put trash in a bin, and tried your best to write reminders.
“Making your younger self proud” has always been a way to measure how happy you are with where you’re at in life. You saw it in a newspaper, or maybe your mother heard it-- it might have even been a popular Tumblr text post, who knows! You just know it’s been your compass to point you in the right direction for about three years now.
You have an emotional attachment to the things you went through as a child, and if you could go back in time and just hold her, and tell her everything would be okay, you would. Doing things that would make younger-you smile is your way of doing that.
I’ll go to the cafe in a pretty dress that makes me feel happy, you wrote carefully. You remembered as a child dreaming about romantic cafes and old books. You sighed, releasing pent up air, feeling your muscles relax, little by little. If I did that, I think that would make my younger self proud...
By the time you made it to your bed that night, it was only 9:12pm. You fell down in your bed and closed your eyes, feeling your space. Your favorite-but-forgotten dress that now hung there on your door; the sneakers you once bought yourself and have finally decided to wear; the alarm clock that, for the first time in three years, was set for 6:00am; and a notebook full of ideas to return to the person you never were but always wanted to be, that sits on your bedside table.
You fell asleep, muscles relaxing. You, melting into your bed, almost becoming one with it.
* * *
Fast forward to where we started-- you are sitting upright in bed and staring at your dress. It seems to stare right back at you. Can you really do this, Y/N?
“Can I do this?”
Yes. I will.
You swing your legs over your bed, and you feel the fear begin to fall away like an old skin being shed from a new body. Suddenly, you feel light and happy, slipping on the bright-white wedge sneakers. The dress glides down your body, the fabric sending shivers up your spine as it falls into place.
As you pull the zipper up the side of your torso. you think about what you’re going to order when you get to the cafe. I haven’t been there since my mother came to the university to drop me off. I miss her... what did she order that day? I hope I can remember once I get there.
* * *
The jingle of tiny bells above the door tickles your ears as you swing the glass door open. The cafe is mostly empty, other than a mother and her child quietly sitting in a booth by the window. Succulents and aged books lined hanging shelves on either side of the room. The hanging lights gave the cafe a soft industrial feel, and the glass pastry displays made the room that much sweeter. Mom had chosen this cafe because she said it felt like a secret place that only few knew about... She liked how special it felt because of that. You smile softly at the thought of your mother. I think ill come here more often. I miss her.
A boy from behind the counter snaps his head up to look at you, his blond bangs tossing lightly as he does so. “W.. would you like something?”
You snap out of your daze and realize how long you’ve been just standing there in the doorway, staring at everything. You lock eyes with the boy.
“Oh! Uh-- yeah, I’m sorry! Ahm...” You stutter.
“Don’t worry about it!” He waves it off.
You brush your hair behind your ears and walk to the counter. You quickly read his name tag. Jisung.
His bright smile puts you at a light and airy ease. Maybe I wasn’t as awkward as I thought I was being...?
“Have you been here before...?” He tilted his head to the side like a little kid, eyebrows raised curiously.
Wow. That was attractive.
“Um, kind of... i’ve only been here once. When my brother-- mother!-- brought me... yeah, haha..”
Sparkling conversationalist.
...Wait-- don’t insult yourself! Be positive, Y/N!! You can make your younger self proud today!!!!
You open your mouth to speak, but you don’t know what to say, so you immediately shut it again.
Why is talking to pretty boys so hard?
NO! JUST GO FOR IT! F L I r T !! WHAT DO YOU WANT IN LIFE, HAH?
“...So anyway, that’s basically all we’ve got at this cafe right now.” He looks at you, smiling patiently.
Wait, has he been talking to me this whole time? Agh! I haven’t even been listening!
“Oh! I forgot, we also have--”
“Do you come here often?”
Well. You just made things worse, didn’t you?
“What?”
CODE RED CODE RED CODEREDCODEREDCODEREDCODEREDCODEREDCODEREDCODEREDCO
This is not a thing that makes your younger self proud, Y/N. This is the opposite.
YOU JUST ASKED THE BARISTA IF HE COMES HERE OFTEN. YOU NOW HAVE PERMISSION TO RIP OFF YOUR ANKLES.
You watch in horror as he stares at you, frozen to the touch, with those eyes.
“Oh! Did you ask me if I come here often? I thought I didn’t hear what you said at first. Yeah-- I work here actually! Thanks for asking!” I smiles, oblivious to your failed flirting.
“Oh, um. S-sure thing!”
Mission... not abort..ed?
Well-- This means I don’t ever have to think what happened ever again! Wonderful.
You aren’t sure if he’s actually dumb or if you just suck at reading him-- but either way, there’s no escaping the situation now. Unless you’re willing to literally sprint out of the cafe and run all the way back to your apartment, lock the door, and cry in the shower.
But, unfortunately for everyone else, you aren’t willing to do that.
“Um, when my mom came here, she ordered something really specific, but I can’t remember what it was called or anything...,” You say hesitantly.
“Yeah-- Don’t worry at all! Do you remember what it looked or tasted like at all?”
His enthusiasm encourages you and you feel brighter. “Yeah! Uh, it had strawberries in it, and a special kind of cream-- I think? And then there was this special topping she got on it. It was green? The topping? Sorry if that sounds totally dumb, but I just now that it-- they-- were green, I guess, haha!” You feel your heart start to beat faster the more you talk to him. Why am I nervous? and stuttering?? It’s just a drink, jeez.
Suddenly excited, his eyes squint with a wide smile. “Ooohhh! Were they mint spirals, maybe? I love those soooo much!!!”. You don’t even know what those are, but that isn’t gonna stop you from nodding excitedly with him. It would have been hard not to. When he smiles you kind of just want to join on the thrill, I guess.
You notice a whisper of heat brushing against your cheeks as he turns to the chalkboard behind him and points at a meticulous drawing of a fluffy pink drink. “Did it look like that??”
Excited to have found your mom’s favorite drink, you nod, a big smile leaving your eyes in the shape of giggling crescents. “Yes! Yeah! That’s exactly it, I think!”
His sunshine-smile turns half shy. “Great! I’ll get that just for you then...,” He softly says. He turns his back to you as he hurries around behind the counter to concoct the drink.
Were his cheeks flushed like that this whole time?
... Whatever...
You carefully sit down at one of the pretty little cafe tables closest to the counter so you can be ready to grab your drink as soon as it’s ready. You have maybe a few minutes, so you pull your notebook with the chestnut leather cover out from your purse. You open the middle of the book to where you urgently wrote down the ideas the night before.
things that would make my younger self proud of me:
- keeping a journal
- keeping my body clean
- wearing the clothes that make me feel peaceful
- waking up at a time that makes me feel happy
- wearing the clothes I’m scared others will judge me for
- going to the cafe in a pretty dress that makes me feel happy
- talking to people I feel like talking to but am scared to
- going on a cute date say sike rn
Smiling to yourself, you use a pencil to put a check next to the third-to-last one. You thought of scratching it out, but you didn’t want it to be gone from your precious list completely... you feel you’ll be coming back soon. You like how it feels.
Nevertheless, you are glad you’re here. You’ve gathered the courage to come here when it’s been so hard for you lately! You look down at your lap and give a sigh of relief. Closing your eyes, you take in how it feels to be here.
It’s different, but warm here. It smells of both exotic and familiar flavors. The lullaby effect of the fluffy low-fi music overhead mixed with the gentle metallic sounds of Jisung working behind the counter is somehow comforting. You lift your head and peak over at him slyly, watching as he leans against the mixing machine. He seems to be waiting on something.
You watch almost in shock as he slowly peeks over his shoulder to look at you, making quick eye-contact on accident. You smile instinctively-- not even knowing why.
He turns his face back to what he was doing as soon as this moment happens and you notice a smile he’s hiding and the blush that’s growing on his face. You turn your body to see more of his turned-away face from where you’re at, and as you do, you spy the massive smile he’s desperately trying to hide. Oh dear, he’s adorable.
Bubbles rise in your stomach and your lungs seem to fill with cotton candy as his undeniably-cute, blushing self hits you all at once.
-- o h. Oh n o.
You lean back in your chair again, suddenly very worried.
No? No. No!
It always gets bad once I get crushes on people.
You make an immediate promise to yourself to not at all drop any hints that you kind of want to mayhaps hold this almost-stranger’s hand. Flirting is fine when you don’t actually like the person-- once you genuinely develop feelings, it’s absolutely not a good idea anymore. Everyone knows that. Good, cute things with crushes only happen in fan-fiction and Wattpad stories.
Sike.
All of a sudden, you notice the sound of clinking and whirring has stopped from behind the counter.
“Am-- uh-- am I interrupting you... at all, or something?”
Reality crashes into your view again as you tilt your head up and to the side to lock eyes with Jisung. Ah.
“W--what?”
“Ahm, you just looked kind of... really worried about something.” He furrows his brows, confused. “Anyway-- here’s your drink!”
“Oh-- thank you! Yeah, I was just-- thinking about something! Haha!
He sets your drink on the table and pauses for a moment. “By the way, your dress is really pretty, I think.” Jisung Blush: Activated. “Don’t mean that in a weird way! I just thought you maybe might like to know...”
🎵 KISS KISS FALL IN LOOOVE 🎵🎵🎵🎵
“Oh, thanks! I actually tried this morning, haha!”
“Oh, yeah? Well I think you look great. But you already know that, i guess, haha..” Jisung Confidence: Boosted-- Reason: Compliment Accepted.
You feel your ears heat up as you avert your eyes, looking down at your drink. “Thanks again! It’s funny because I didn’t even have an occasion to dress up for. I just sort of did it to treat myself, I guess.” You smile softly, proud.
“Isn’t that enough of an occasion? I think celebrating yourself is a worthwhile thing.” He sits down across from you, muttering something about how nobody is going to show up to the cafe in a while.
You look up at him, smiling in agreement. “Right? It really helps to take care of yourself. I think it’s one of the best ways to pick yourself back up from something hard.”
He tilts his head like he did before, but this time with worry. “Are you going through something..?... Oh, you don’t have to answer! I pry without thinking first sometimes...”
“No, no! It’s okay. I don’t mind talking about it to others, it’s good for people who need to hear it...” Why do I feel so comfortable with telling him about this..? I’m sure it won’t do any harm. He’s being genuine after all...
“Well, if you really do feel like telling me, we won’t be having customers again until about 10:30-ish. I’m all ears!”
Your heart said: Oof.
As soon as you start explaining the night before and all that lead up to it, he leans in, his hands cupping his face, intent on every word you say. You tell him about all the stress, issues, and fears-- both self-inflicted and otherwise-- that are holding you down lately. He nods and listens, asking clarifying questions.
You notice how his reactions remain compassionate when you talk about the hard things that are happening because of your own mistakes. A feeling of warmth and safety sets in after you finishing your monologue. You apologize for taking so long-- maybe thirty minutes?-- but he immediately tells you it’s all okay.
“No, please don’t say sorry!! I really am grateful when people share what they are going through with me... It helps me to connect with them better and find ways to help them feel better. Don’t be sorry.” He softly smiles and gently asks if you are all done.
“Yeah-- heh-- i’m done. Thank you so much for listening! I’m really grateful I have-- had-- someone to listen to me...” You rub your eyes worriedly, afraid you might have started crying at some point while telling him the whole story.
He stares down at the table for a moment, quiet. “Hey, wanna be random?”
You giggle. “Always.”
“Wanna go on a date?”
“What?”
“I understand if you don’t want to. You seem to be working through a lot of things right now... I don’t want to--” Jisung Blush: Reactivated And Intensified.
“Yes.”
“WhAT?”
“Yeah!.. I think that would be awesome.”
Jisung is suddenly beaming, which makes you instantly happier. Dang, mirror neurons are so cute.
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bladekindeyewear · 4 years
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Bloggin’ bout HS^2′s second upd8 continued.  > (==>)
And it had felt so real, almost like he could have reached out and touched him--
--Yeah, the next page is gonna be BGDirk just standing there like I saw before I read the update, right?
> (==>)
> (==>)
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Two pages. Close enough.
> (==>)
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Hah!  Get fucked, Dirk.  (Even if you’re supposedly one of the better Dirks.)
> (==>)
Yep, all see-thru and everything.
DIRK: You passed out in a puddle of your own drool. And what the fuck is that on your face? JAKE: My face? What do you mean on my face? DIRK: The moustache, Jake. Who’s idea was that. JAKE: Oh! You dont like it? DIRK: I didn’t say that.
Oh come the fuck on.  He looks good in a mustache, Jane-influence or no Jane-influence.
DIRK: We’ve had this conversation before, dingus. I’m you. And I’m me. But I only exist because of your powers. The fact that I’m manifesting here, in the new universe, outside of a dream, is evidence in itself for just how absolutely boned you are.
Now what exactly do you mean by that last part?  How is this a sign of trouble?
--Is it because this Dirk thinks he’s needed?  And therefore shit will be going down?
DIRK: You’ve been a useless sack of shit for two decades. I’m here to kick your ass back into active duty.
...Hm.
I mean, Jake MIGHT be able to help stop this stupid goddamn war, but this IS Dirk trying to help him, so...
JAKE: And what side am i supposed to be fighting on? for jane or against her? DIRK: Against her. Obviously. What the fuck, dude.
Pffff.
JAKE: But you were the one who wanted her to run in the first place! You wrote her bloody speeches! DIRK: Yeah, I did. And every single one of them kicked ass. I wanted Jane to be the democratically elected president. Not a cake-slinging Jeff Bezos with a great rack.
Pfff.  I mean, you didn’t do a great job the first way, either.  It’s heavily implied things in Canon-land were about to go to shit too.
Not as FAR to shit, nor as quickly, but still to shit.  So, really, how DIFFERENT is this from the way you wanted it done, Dirk?  How can you claim this isn’t half YOUR fuck-up too?
DIRK: Don’t worry about it. The point is, you have a chance to make a difference. You’re in the perfect position to infiltrate her operation.
Oh hell no.  Don’t send him back in THERE you utter horse’s ass!  How could THAT be good for his mental health!? What the fuck about Tavros?!?
DIRK: That’s horseshit and we both know it. Jane would take you back in a second. She loves you.
I think Jane’s definition of “taking him back” would be a bit broader than his body or soul could fucking afford.
> (==>)
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Eugh.  You really liked the Condesce’s way of doing things right down to her style, huh?  To think you used to love the spoon.  Is that a fucking spork?  Is that zilly Battlespork your go-to weapon now?
Also, it took me a moment to realize those green and orange silhouettes were Jake and BGDirk.  I was a little like “how did Rose get here?!?”.
> (==>)
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Have I mentioned how good all this art is?  So much attention being paid to the use of color, to making everything look so soft and streamlined?
Looks like she’s going in for at LEAST a hug.  And the art style might be mercifully light on showing us indulgent details of just how asset-laden Jane is supposed to be.  Shots of Jake’s manly bod aside, something in me doesn’t like the traditionally-sexualized stuff pushed like that in a canon that’s been light on it for so long...
> (==>)
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Oh, that... THAT looks fake.  Or like, she’s about to turn around and happily wail on his ass or something.
JANE: Boo hoo hoo! Oh, Jake! Something awful has happened! JAKE: It--it has? You mean more awful than usual? JANE: The opposition has taken Tavros, Jake. They’ve finally shown their true colors. I knew it was only a matter of time before they attacked our family directly!
.....Ah.  Well, that explains it.  She’d never cry like that about HIM returning AFTER STEPPING OUT ON HER.
It’s then that Jake realizes that Jane isn’t mad because she’d never realized he was gone.
Poor pages, huh?  All their most dramatic gestures always undercut.
...It seems like we might see Candy kind of resolved in less of a fucked-up worldstate after all, at this rate?
She seems to have forgotten that she’d been cross with him the last time they met, because now that Gamzee is gone, there’s no one left to talk to.
It’s true. Gamzee’s absence always improves things.
> (==>)
All of it is made worse by the occasional wry glint in her eye, or moment of self-deprecation in the slant of her mouth. It reminds him of the Jane he used to know. Or the Jane he thought he used to know.
Ambition is a hell of a thing.  Seems like she’s drunk of it almost as deeply as Prince Dirk.  I’d imagine this could be a pretty consistent thing with really active Life players when they get actual power, huh?  The way it just gathers to Life players in all its forms -- power over others, status, wealth -- it’s easy to start to leverage it in ways that constitute abuse of power over others from a Riddle perspective.
At first Dirk stands at Jake’s elbow, a one-ghost support staff, before he appears to lose interest in Jane’s rant and wanders off across the office, reading the spines of books and spending way too long staring at a startlingly phallic piece of installation art,
--PLEASE let us see it.
, the provenance of which Jake doesn’t know, but could hazard a guess it wore a codpiece.
Nope, never mind. Interest lost.
> (==>)
Then he settles on Jane’s desk, propping his ghost butt there and sort of just...well. Here’s a picture of what he does.
Um.
Where is this going?
> (==>)
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Oh, so the BEST option, then.  :D
Okay. That’s a bit of an exaggeration.
Boooooo.
> (==>)
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--Alright, forgiven.
he’s thoroughly exhausted from attempting to pay attention to his supervillain wife while trying not to look at the crotch of a ghost man from his brain.
...Okay, hold up.  BGDirk, are you trying to steer him into doing this for self-indulgent, non-comedic purposes? Or is this a bit of Prince Dirk in there?  (I mean... I can’t definitively say Jake wouldn’t have wanted this.)
And I’m still wondering how all of this is going to be relevant.  IF it’s going to be relevant.  Despite promises to the contrary that are seemingly being ignored.
> (==>)
DIRK: All according to keikaku.
Fuck you.
JAKE: i really didnt think id fall off the wagon so quickly. I dont think being here is good for my emotions to be honest. DIRK: Yeah, probably not. But that’s okay. They don’t matter. JAKE: Oh.
Yeah, Dirk, you suck at this more than you know.  This ain’t going to go as well as you “hope” I don’t think.
DIRK: Don’t know anything about stiff lips, dude. But that’s not what I mean. It’s not because you’re a man. You’re a god. JAKE: Oh right. That. DIRK: The world comes first, even at the expense of all your relationships and personal happiness. That’s what being a hero means. JAKE: I guess...i never really thought about it like that.
You’re also not guaranteed to be fucking right, you know.
There are definitely dichotomies where what was best for the world wasn’t best for the person, so far, and vice versa in Homestuck.  But Dirk’s taking his anime-flavored principles as gospel as usual, and ignoring, oh I dunno, the impact of the heart in all of this.  Some people, ESPECIALLY JAKE and other Pages so far, CAN’T operate at their best until they’re at least reasonably healthy and sure of themselves, and investments to that effect are essential to letting them slowly realize their full potential.  Brain Ghost Dirk is likely making the same goddamn mistake he made with his overbearing Dirkbot back on Jake’s island.
> (==>)
DIRK: Think what you want about Jane, but at least she realizes that none of you can ever be normal, and she never bothered to try. Can it really be a god-complex if you’re actually a god? DIRK: People like us don’t get happy endings.
...Yup.  This is the fucked-over part of Dirk’s worldview coming in full play, here.  And he believes in it so strongly that he couldn’t even fucking leave NON-CANON alone anymore.  Fuck.
JAKE: Thats bleak dirk i dont think i could possibly believe that!
Mmmhmm.
DIRK: Yeah. That’s probably more a Dirk thought than a Jake one. I told you, it’s hard to tell sometimes. JAKE: Is...is that really how dirk felt the whole gosh darned time?
Mmmhmm.
> (==>)
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Last page of the upd8.  Well... all I can say is, it’s a good thing he’s a fucking ghost here.  And half Jake, at that.  At least that can limit the damage.  Hopefully giving Jake just enough of a kick in the doing-something direction without being so overbearing that he makes things worse, making for a balance of...
...Wait.
Wait, is that why we’re here?
Maybe that finally makes some sense of all this.  Of this cut, of this small violation of that last sentence in Meat, of--  ah, yeah, I might be on to something here!  Only maybe, but still--!
We’re quite possibly bearing witness to a realm of influence where, through measures outside of his control, Dirk has a balanced impact.  Where this same ideology of his, tempered by Jake’s hopeful mindset and Dirk’s inability to take direct action, might just manage to make things better and actually make everyone happier by the end, while solving Earth C’s fucked-up Candyland state at the same time.  It’s possibly to show the readers (through the lens of a Hope player specializing in positive possibility) that Dirk, had he been restrained, COULD have had a positive impact, even at the same time that we’re shown Prince Dirk at his soul’s most overblown and heinous.
And, if we want to be optimistic..... perhaps this’ll show Dirk, too?
Canon and Non-Canon may not “meet” again.  But that doesn’t stop Dirk, via this fragment of his multiverse-spanning soul, from seeing Non-Canon.  From seeing how well things COULD have worked out, had he held back.  And if we keep cutting like this -- back and forth between the “real” story and these events in Candyverse -- perhaps the moment at which Brain Ghost Dirk realizes what he’s accomplished, realizes how much better things are because he could hold back, will coincide at the end with Prince Dirk finally, belatedly, realizing just how fucked his plan was, and understanding at the very, very end why he has to fucking die?
THAT would be interesting.
I guess we’ll see?  Talk to y’all next upd8.
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