#and the main stream chat isn’t it at all | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

Visit Blog

Explore Tumblr blogs with no restrictions, modern design and the best experience.

Fun Fact

The Tumblr office adopted Tommy, an 11-year-old Pomeranian.

#and the main stream chat isn’t it at all

mashioca · 5 months

Text

The Brothers’ + Diavolo, Barbatos, Solomon’s reaction to GN!MC teasing them in public 18+

CW! Exhibitionism, degradation (Belphe)

-Lucifer

definitely does it during one of Diavolo’s meetings.

MC decides that they will make it the best time to humiliate Lucifer!

They slowly travel their hands up higher and higher up his thigh before he stops them.

He glares one of his most terrifying glares, only for a second.

When you get home? Make sure you don’t have any plans for the next week.

He uses a riding crop to smack your bare ass against his desk, begging him for forgiveness.

Maybe if you’re good and obey well enough, he will *consider* letting you ride his thigh.

Until then, he wants you to cry out.

“You’re not to please yourself until I hear a genuine apology.”

-Mammon

Mammon’s doing his usual thing, betting his money on casinos.

You decide to come along, why not? It might be fun!

You start to get bored; it’s the same thing over and over again.

You sit on Mammon’s lap; he sees it as an innocent gesture, none the wiser of your plans.

You grind your ass against his crotch, seeing if he can keep up with the game.

Sure enough, he can’t

He drags you off to the nearest bathroom and fucks you right then and there.

“D-Damn it, MC! You just gotta tease me like that, huh? F-fuck..”

-Leviathan

He is live streaming his favorite game, Ruri Tunes!

You’re observing in the background, keeping up with his chat.

His chat seems pretty dead, even with the number of viewers he has.

You decide to fix that.

You get out of the view of the camera and go under the desk Levi’s playing at.

He doesn’t notice anything until he feels something palming against his groin.

He makes a sound, almost like a moan. His face grows bright red.

The rest of the stream consists of him muting and unmuting his microphone as his gameplay gradually gets worse.

“N-Normie! Stop doing—! Hah..”

-Satan

You’re reading with him back at RAD’s library.

You're reading a book you randomly picked based on the title, but a specific scene makes you think

The scene is about the main love interests finally getting to love each other, but the scene is more spicy than you thought.

You close your book and head over to the demon that’s sitting beside you.

You unzip his pants and take out his member.

Needless to say, he is somewhat pissed that you interrupted his reading time, but at the same time, he isn’t fighting back.

You begin to pump his penis at a rapid pace.

By the end of it, he has a crimson-red blush across his face, and he is breathing heavily.

“MC.. I can’t focus. Do that..hah.. later.”

-Asmodeus

You both are getting ready for a photoshoot. You both are in the changing rooms, trying out outfits.

You both are in nothing but your undergarments.

Something about that clearly excites him, seeing as he has a hard-on

You look at the clock, and you still have 30 minutes before the actual shoot.

You pounce on him, and he gets the hint right away.

You both make it to the shoot barley on time, only with a bit of limping from the both of you.

“You’re so naughty, my dear~! I’ll be sure to please you ♡."

-Beelzabub

You both are at a restaurant that just opened.

He practically BEGGED to go to this place with you.

You had your fill, but Beel still doesn’t show signs of slowing down.

You didn’t bring anything to distract you for the time being, so you decided on the next best thing.

Your foot slowly travels up towards his groin, teasing it lightly.

He doesn’t react much, but a light pink hue is dusted on his cheeks.

Once he finishes his plate, he picks you up and finds a bathroom or empty ally.

When he’s done with his "desert,” you aren’t able to walk at all; you need him to carry you.

“I’m hungry for desert, MC. Can I have you?”

-Belphegor

He doesn’t go out much, but that makes it all the more exciting.

He is sleeping in after class, as usual.

You decide to put his sleepiness to the test.

You crawl under the desk, undo his pants, and watch as his cock springs out.

You go on to suck his dick, maybe for an hour before he wakes up.

When he does, oh boy! He’s going to be a bit more forceful with you.

“Mmnn.. slut.”

-Diavolo

He’s doing his work, with his servants coming in and out and checking up on him.

Little do they know that you’re under his desk.

Diavolo is almost an expert at covering up his emotions.

You take this as a challenge.

You suck on his dick harder, trying to fit his whole member in your mouth.

He finally finishes his paperwork, but now he has a bit more work to take care of.

“Haha, I see what you’re trying to do, MC.”

-Barbatos

He never stays in one place for long, being a butler and all.

The only time he stays still is when he is with Diavolo.

Lucky for you, his tail is sensitive.

When he stops to talk with Diavolo, you’re beside him, stroking his tail.

He’s even better at masking his emotions than Diavolo!

When work is done and everyone is asleep, let’s hope he goes easy on you.

He will tease you with his tail all night if it means you’ll learn a lesson.

“Don’t try these tricks again, especially around Young Master.”

-Solomon

You’re walking around in the House of Lamentation.

He just so happens to run into you as well.

You both walk around the place, talking about random subjects.

He makes some embarrassing comments and talks about embarrassing topics.

You decide to get some well-deserved revenge.

You pull him into an empty hallway.

The next thing you know, you’re grinding against his clothed cock.

He isn’t exactly embarrassed; he has done this to you before!

“Well, look who decided to join in on the fun~.”

804 notes · View notes

luvyeni · 6 months

Text

MY SHY NEIGHBOR ( chapter 3. )

— CHAPTER THREE: lovestreams …

— 𖦹 warnings? 18+, cursing, masturbation, jeongin is down bad ( this is told in jeongins pov )

previous chapter - next chapter - my shy neighbor masterlist

jeongin genuinely was gonna go to sleep, but han jisung put the thought into his head. “fuck it.” he got up — sitting at his desk, opening his laptop. “oh that’s right.” he grabbed his headphones, sitting back down.

after plugging his headphones in, he typed in his favorite sight, scrolling through the main feed, searching for his favorite cam girl. “shit.” he cursed realizing she wasn’t streaming that night. should he just go to bed then? but he was already hard.

he was about to head to twitter, when he got a popup ad. “hm?” he read the words on the screen. “love streams?” he never heard of it, he shrugged, clicking the ad — what’s the worst that could happen.

he rid himself of his jeans while waiting for the page to load. his eyes widened at the new selection of girls, this sight was much bigger than the previous one, his cock twitched at the all the content.

he scrolled down, palming himself until he came across the top streamers selections. he scrolled over searching for the best one until he stopped at one. “lovergirl?” he clicked the screen, your body coming into frame, the camera off your face — you must want to keep your identity hidden.

“hi everyone!” your voice low and seductive, but also had a sweetness to it — that was what he liked the best.

“did you guys miss me?” you asked, your white robe hanging off your shoulders along with your bra strap. “yes? good i missed you guys to.” you chuckled, his cock was begging to be freed. “oh you want me to take it off?” you pulled at the robe, he nodded his head, like you could see him.

“if i do something nice for you, doesn’t that mean you have to do something nice for me?” he knew what that meant, so did the other viewers, because soon your tip jar was filling up. he reached for his card, typing in his credit card information.

he typed in $50 without flinching, you smiled at all the donations. “you guys are too kind.” you said, coming closer to the camera, he could now see your plump lips, your boobs about to spill from your bra, he bit his lip. “i guess i owe you guys something.”

you slowly undid your robe, letting it fall, your bra was next, you slowly pulled down the straps, undoing the latches, watch the bra fall into your lap, your boobs bouncing from being freed, he could hold it anymore, he stood up, pulling his underwear down, he cock sprung from his boxers, hitting his abdomen. “shit, he hissed.”

“is this what you guys wanted?” you chuckled , squeezing your boobs together, they looked so soft, he could only imagine what they felt like. “fuck.” he squeezed the base of his cock, teasing himself.

“no? this isn’t what you want?” your lips formed a pout, he thought about what they would look like covered in his cum. “well what is it you want?”

he quickly typed into the chat box. ‘your pants, take your pants off.’

“my shorts?” his heart fluttered, he knew there was thousands of comments saying the same thing, but it felt like you were personally answering him. “don’t you like them?” you teased, pulling at your waistband, a whimper emitting from your lips as you let it go, the elastic snapping against your waist.

“i wore them especially for you.” for him? that made him squeeze his cock, he for sure found his new favorite streamer.

“i guess you have to do something else for me.” he quickly typed in $100 dollars, he knew he shouldn’t have spend that much, but he was desperate — clicking the send button. “oh? 100 dollars, you must be really eager.” he froze, you were talking about him.

“what’s your name?” you said. “thank you FOX.YJN, everyone say thank you to FOX.YJN.” he smiled, the way you said his name, fuck he was gonna cum, he had to stop himself, you hadn’t even done anything, yet you had this hold on him.

you sat back, your legs fully on display, as you took off your shorts, revealing your white matching lace underwear, a wet patch in the middle. “shit.” he whispered, as you rubbed yourself through your underwear. “fuck.” you whimpered.

he seen the tips go up, and the comments telling you to remove your underwear, he didn’t hesitate to type in another $150, hitting send. “o-oh, YJN seems to want it more than any of you tonight.”

you slid your panties down your leg, spreading your legs, your wet cunt on display. “i’m so wet right now.” you moaned, rubbing your folds slowly. “f-feels so good.”

jeongin began to move his hand up and down his cock, moving slowly with you. “fu-fuck please speed up.” he groaned to himself, but it seemed like you answered his prayers, your fingers slowly entering your cunt, you moaned.

the noises from your pussy filling up his earbuds, as you sped up. “fu-fuck my fingers aren’t enough.” you moaned. “i wish it was yours.” he moaned, probably louder than he should’ve, but hearing you say that, in that whiny tone drove him crazy.

“fuck i’m gonna cum.” you whimpered. “m-me too.” he sighed, squeezing his tip. “fuck, please cum with me, cum with me please.” your begging really pushed him over the edge.

“fuck, i’m cumming!” you screamed, cumming all over your fingers. “shit.” he came right after, cum spurting from his tip, covering his hand and shirt. “oh fuck.”

you were talking to the camera as he came down from your high. “wow you guys tipped a lot tonight.” you giggled, your lips swollen from biting them.

“i should show my face next time?” you read the comments. “i told you guys already, maybe one day, but not right now.”

you interacted with a few more comments before, you slid your robe back on, covering your body. “i have to go now guys.” you pouted. “i know, i wish i could stay with you guys longer, maybe next time.”

you blew a kiss to the camera, before the stream cut off — leaving jeongin to sit with his thoughts, fuck it was his first time watching you, yet you left this impact on him, he had to see more of you.

he closed his laptop, grimacing at the sticky mess he created. “i guess i should get cleaned up.” he got up from his chair.

it hadn’t even hit him that he spent 300 dollars.

— ( taglist. OPEN ) @soulsbbg @k-poplv @yourmomscuntis2tighy @bbokarimenu @enczen @queen-in-the-shadows @thesweetesttattoo @ririlinoriri @aloverga @ashiitex @ddazed-lhs @heartsforhyunjin @chlodavids @simp4myself @surefornext @lostwonderwall @xxr-s4sha @charmer-c @vixensss @frobin4ever @bmnyy @semi-semiisbae @m111nho @i2innie

©LUVYENI

563 notes · View notes

shubblelive · 7 months

Text

— NOT MUCH LONGER

summary : wilbur has always been dedicated to his viewers, sometimes too much. his fans are aware of this, you are aware of this, and he is aware of this. so when you go multiple days without seeing your boyfriend because of how hard he's working you take matters into your own hands, not realising that thousands of people are there watching you do it.

genre : fluff

warnings : mentions of eating/food, a few swearwords, wilbur not taking care of himself, very small panicky moment

pairing : cc!wilbur soot x fem!reader

pronouns : she/her, reader is called wilbur's girlfriend/wife

featuring : cc!wilbur soot

requested : Could you do a fic where the reader isn’t a very public person (in regards to the internet) and one day, wilbur’s streaming and she goes in and brings him some food and kisses him, not knowing he was live, and when she notices, she just gets all red and embarrassed and wilbur goes out of frame with her and its just all fluffy, and the chat goes craaazy

word count : 1.3K

note : hi lmao. i know, i know it's been nearly 2 months since i 've posted anything. school really caught p to me, i was so stressed out i was crying like multiple times a day for a few weeks. i wanna thank you guys for your patience, i have one more week of classes before spring break and then exams are right after that so i am really unsure of how much free time i'm gonna have until like mid-november.

There was a lot of things that you loved about Wilbur. Of course there was, the two of you had been together since university, nearing on 5 years. Knowing for someone that long, though, and there were obviously aspects of your boyfriend that you were less than fond of. There weren’t a lot, but the main one was the fact that he was a major workaholic.

You were completely understanding of how important his job was to him. He had been doing it longer than you’d even known each other and you’d never want to do anything to make it seem like you were anything less than supportive.

But the last couple of weeks had been driving you crazy.

He’d be out all day filming for twenty different videos or in the studio - that was fine, you had your own work and hobbies to keep you occupied. But then he’d get home and it was straight to editing, or writing, or meetings for merch, album art, new videos. It had gotten to the point where you hadn’t even seen him in two days. You knew he’d been home, you vaguely heard the shower running while you were asleep, so tired you couldn’t bring yourself to lift your head. Clothes had been added to the laundry hamper, and water glasses had been added to the sink. He’d messaged you, of course. You were high on his list of priorities, it being a no-brainer that whenever he got a free minute he was texting you to let you know where he was going, promising that he’d be home soon.

When you got home from work, you were pleasantly surprised to find his docs at the front door, neatly kicked to the side so they were out of the way along with the rest of your collective pile. You put your stuff down and practically floated around the house, searching for your boyfriend. Not in the kitchen, though the dishes had been done for you, left to dry. Not in the living room, though there was a coat draped over the back of the couch that you picked up and deposited in the bedroom (also empty, but his side of the bed was rumpled like he’d fallen straight on top of the blankets).

You were walking down the hallway when you finally heard him. He was talking softly, not outside of the norm for him. His office wasn’t soundproof, and you often heard him through the walls as you went about your day, whether that was laughing loudly as he streamed, or the muffled sound of him strumming his guitar, trying to write a new song. He was being quiet, probably editing a video. You knew he had his own room in the group office, just for him to edit, but he liked to bring them home sometimes.

You went back into the kitchen to dry the dishes for Wilbur and you noted that there weren’t any new plates added to the pile. You knew that Wilbur had eaten while he was gone, he’d texted you every time they ordered food, but you also knew that it had been a couple of days since his last home cooked meal. You, admittedly didn’t have much in the pantry, but it was made with love, which was the thought that counts.

That was the thought on the tip of your tongue as you knocked gently on the door, a plate of mac and cheese and a glass of water in hand, smile breaking out at the sight of your boyfriend at his desk.

Wilbur’s viewers had always been aware that he had a girlfriend. He mentioned you for the first time after you guys had been together for a year, and since then you were a sporadic presence in his online life, maybe a mention every couple of weeks or months. They didn’t know anything else though, not even your name. His viewers, over the past couple of years had developed their own nicknames for you. It started from one of the first streams you were mentioned in, someone in chat asked if you were Wilbur’s wife. He’d laughed, said no, and then tried to say you were not his wife, and instead pronounced it “wiff.” It got slightly out of hand over the years, with most people lovingly referring to you online as wiffleball. Wilbur had apologised profusely for the slip up, but you found it too funny to actually care. It was definitely weird for you to see, though, the phrase ‘Wiffleball’ randomly trending every couple of months.

So, they didn’t know your name, and they definitely didn’t know your face. Wilbur was usually on high alert for even your footsteps outside the door, let alone you wanting to come inside. He’d yell that he was live, and you’d wait dutifully at the door for him to come outside. It was more for your sake than his, but he cared just as much about your right to privacy as you did. But today, he was so preoccupied with the fact that he hadn’t seen you in nearly three days that he completely forgot to.

The monitor with his own face in it was tilted away from the door, and you were so entranced by the smile on his face that you didn’t notice until it was too late. He was standing to meet you, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Hi, lovely, I’ve missed you.”

“Missed you too, Wil,” Your hands were on his arms the second you placed the food down, and you were right about to kiss him properly when you saw a fast movement out the corner of your eye. His chat was whizzing by so fast that you almost couldn’t read it. You backed out of frame immediately, almost out of instinct, wide eyes meeting Wilbur’s. “You’re streaming?”

“Fuck,” Wilbur made sure that you were definitely out of the frame before putting his stream back on the loading screen and going back to check on you.

Your breathing was much faster than usual and he could all but see your heart jumping out of your chest. “I am so sorry, darling, I was too busy being happy to see you that I completely forgot that I was even streaming. Are you okay?”

Your hands found Wilbur’s shirt, clenching it between your fists and burying your face in the fabric across his chest. His hands were securely on your back as he held you while you calmed your breathing. You weren’t crying no, he could tell you just needed to slow your breaths down and you’d be alright. He was whispering reassurances in your ear and within a few minutes your heart had calmed down. “I’m alright.”

“I’m so sorry,” Wilbur launched immediately into apologies again but your vice grip on his shirt stopped him.

“I’m alright, Wilbur.” You strangely were alright. What you could see on the chat were all nice things, they were all so excited to see you. “Never want to go back on your stream again, but I’m okay with them seeing me.”

“You don’t have to be okay, love, if you’re not. I’ll get the VOD taken down when I’m done and edit you out and say something about not circulating the video, I am so sorry-”

“I’m fine, Wilbur.” You pulled the fabric closer to your chest, the movement effectively silencing him. “Like I said. I am still good not showing up on your streams and stuff, but you can leave the video up. I’m alright with it, I promise.”

He softened at your determined face. “I love you,” he said in place of another apology. “I love you, and I am still sorry that I forgot to tell you. No more until you say so, I promise.”

“Thank you,” you said earnestly, loosening your grip on his shirt. “I’ll let you finish up now, do you think you’ll be a while?”

Wilbur kissed you softly before sitting back in his chair and looking up at you full of love. “Trust me, I definitely won’t be much longer.”

#wilbuh #wilbur soot fluff #wilbur x y/n #wilbur soot imagine #wilbur soot x reader fluff #wilbur soot headcanons #wilbur soot x y/n #wilbur soot x reader #wilbur soot fic #wilbur soot x you #wilbur soot fanfiction #wilbur soot angst

599 notes · View notes

ventismacchiato · 1 year

Text

16 behind the lens — chat going crazy !

scaramouche x g!n reader

˗ˏˋ scara point of view ´ˎ˗

“Welcome everyone,” Scara greeted as he pulled up the game lobby, and as usual, he was the only one ready, “Why are all these fuckers late?”

“Let’s all agree not to snitch on me this time,” he mutters, “Last time you guys snuck into Albedo’s chat and told him to vote for me,” he continues as he adjusts his camera. He’d put more effort into his outfit that day for a certain someone, causing him to start later than usual.

xingyunclouds donated $15

so tell us about this y/n?? 😏

A small smile crept onto his face at the mention of y/n, much to his dismay, which didn’t go unnoticed by the chat.

“Don’t embarrass me tonight. They said they’re watching this stream,” he grumbles, stifling his emotions as he busies himself with decorating his character, “Also, it’s none of your goddamn business.”

ventismacchiato donated $20

HE'S BLUSHING CAUGHT IN 4K

“Everyone here?” Tighnari calls out. They were all streaming from their respective rooms in the house.

“Guys, should I leave the cheese hat on or not?” Childe asks instead of answering, his voice in Scara’s ear as he ran around the lobby.

“Just start it,” Heizou says, and Scara could hear the smug grin on his face, “You guys are going to lose anyway.”

“Play nice, Heizou,” Kazuha reprimands as the game starts to load.

“You know he’s ruthless,” Star answers, and Scara gets a tight feeling in his stomach. It’s been a year since he’s heard Star’s voice properly, but instead of how it usually unsettled him it felt oddly familiar. Perhaps he was tired.

“Shut up,” Scara remarks, ridding himself of those thoughts.

“Make me,” Star easily responds, which makes Scara pause and everyone else crack up.

“The fuck,” he mutters, “Y/N isn’t going to like that.”

“Get ready to listen to them fight the entire game,” Venti sings.

“Everyone mute until voting,” Tighnari instructs as the game loads.

“I swear to the archons if I’m imposters with Childe again I’m killing myself,” Scara complains as he mutes himself from the main chat, knowing Childe would start defending himself if he heard Scara’s comment, “He’s always been shit at lying. One time he ate the cake I baked for Y/N and lied to me about it with frosting smeared on his cheeks.”

The screen on his computer loads and instantly his chat is flooded with laughter as he and Star’s characters appear under the screen as the imposters for that round.

frzenhans donated $420

THEY ARE NOT GONNA GET ANYTHING DONE LMAO

“I take it back, I’d rather have Childe,” he mutters, joining a private call with Star.

“Hey partner,” Star calls out, laughing in his ear. It tickled his nerves.

“Shut up,” he says on instinct, “Do not be the cause of my first loss.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Star chuckles as they load in, “Who should we kill first?”

Scara trails behind Venti in the game, “Wait until two of them are together so we can double kill,” he offers, pretending to do tasks beside the blue character.

“I think Heizou saw me vent,” Star confesses.

“It’s been two minutes why are you this dumb?” Scara sighs as a meeting is called as expected and they all join the main chat.

Much to his surprise, Star defends themself with ease.

“I’m pretty sure Heizou vented in front of me,” Star falsely accuses, “I can’t be for sure though but he got there pretty quickly when my back was turned.”

“YOU BITCH!” Heizou yells into the mic, “You know damn well—”

“Babe,” Kazuha hums, “Deep breaths.”

“The fucking audacity,” he continues, “You’re the one who vented right in front of me!”

“Let’s just end the meeting, Heizou is trying too hard,” Scara interrupts.

“If this happens again we should vote out Heizou,” Tighnari says as the game resumes.

“I hate you all,” Heizou huffs as they all go on mute once again.

“I’m going to kill Venti,” Star says in his ear.

“Why don’t we sabotage first and double kill?”

“But he’s literally right in front of me, I’ll let Heizou find the body,” Star adds.

“Alright,” Scara muses, tailing behind Heizou, “I’ll do tasks with him.”

He follows Heizou into the Medbay, where as expected, was Venti’s dead body.

They both join the main call and are immediately hit with accusations. None against them though.

“WHO KILLED MY VENTI,” Aether cried out.

“It can’t be Scara since he was with me,” Heizou thinks out loud, “Childe has been real silent.”

“That’s because I cannot figure out how to do shit in this game,” his best friend whines, “I would never kill Venti.”

“Can anyone back up Heizou’s location?” Star questions.

“He wasn’t with me, he’s lying,” Scara answers, his lie garnering a gasp from Heizou.

“I swear to the archons above if you guys believe him,” Heizou starts, getting riled up.

“I’m with Scara on this one,” Tighnari hums.

“No, don’t do this. Kazuha please,” Heizou wails, “You guys are making a mistake!”

“I’ll vote for Childe,” Kazuha softly laughs, not able to rid of his fondness for the other male even during a game.

“Simp,” Aether comments, “I’ll avenge you Venti.”

They all place their votes, and apart from Heizou and Kazuha, it’s unanimous.

Heizou gets voted out.

“Why did we slay that,” Star comments, their giggles ringing in his ear once the two of them are back into their private call. He shakes the light feeling that it fills him with. Absurd.

bongohat3r donated $2

not him gaslighting

“I’ll admit we worked well together,” Scara hums, distracting himself from having Star directly in his ear by walking around the game’s floor plan.

“Why can’t you just admit we make a good pair?” Star asks, taunting him and following behind him.

“We don’t,” he sighs.

“We would make a great pair!”

“Mute yourself I’m sick of your voice,” he grumbles.

“You’re in your denial stage.”

“Enough, Y/N is watching.”

“You talk about them often,” Star muses.

“Jealous of my love life?” Scara smirks as they pull off a sabotage.

“Nothing to be jealous of,” Star huffs.

“You’re not slick.”

“I just think me and you fit better.”

“Is that the hill you want to die on? Because I can make that happen.”

“I’d like to see you try,” Star retaliates as they both walk into a room with Aether and Childe in it. Aether doing his tasks and Childe attempting to.

Words go unsaid as they silently agree to go through with a double kill, easily slicing their friends. A discussion wasn’t needed to know they should self-report. They worked too well together, it made his stomach churn.

“I literally saw Kazuha go in for the kill,” Star says as soon as the call loads, “I’m betting it’s him.”

“How could you accuse me of such a thing?” Kazuha muses and Scara can hear the smirk on his lips, “It was obviously you.”

“Well, there were two bodies so it’s Kazuha and someone else,” Tighnari comments.

“Unless he killed one then let the cooldown run and killed the other after,” Star thinks aloud, “We all know Childe still doesn’t know how the game works.”

“See, now you’re thinking too highly of me,” Kazuha laughs, “I can’t pull that off.”

“You didn’t because we’re going to vote you off,” Scara replies.

“Guys,” Kazuha starts, and it’s like Scaramouche can hear his pout, “This isn’t fair!”

“Life isn’t fair,” Tighnari says as he puts his vote in.

The victory screen loads in and Star cheers in his ear.

“We did pretty well, didn’t we?” Star asks, eager for his approval.

“I guess we did, good job,” he muses, hoping Y/N stayed until the end to see him annihilate the others.

“Scara complimenting me?” Star sarcastically gasps, “A dream come true.”

“It’s more of a nightmare.”

“Are you insinuating you think of me while you sleep?” Star says, their voice in a low murmur in his ear. Scara finds himself swallowing and his cheeks growing warm.

“Stop being a perv,” he manages to croak out, joining the main call so he wouldn’t have to be stuck alone with Star for longer than he had to. He wasn’t flustered, just annoyed.

“I TOLD YOU GUYS,” Heizou shrieks as soon as everyone loads into the main voice call.

“I believed you,” Kazuha answers, a soft laugh escaping his lips.

“I’m so sorry, Venti,” Aether calls out, “I couldn’t avenge you bestie.”

“It’s alright, you served well,” Venti solemnly says.

“Can we go again I think I figured out the controls this time,” Childe ponders.

“I’m killing myself for getting duped by the duo who despise one another,” Tighnari sulks.

Scaramouche tunes them out as he gives his attention to his chat, which consists of them all complimenting his and Star’s skills. He tears his eyes away from it, calling back on all the out-of-character comments they made throughout the stream.

In response he opens up a new tab and pulls up Star’s stream, listening to how they were praising his skills. He hastily exits it.

“Let’s do another round,” Aether huffs, determined as a new game loads in.

Scaramouche exits his zoned-out state and gets back into his streamer personality, masking the incoming fleet of emotions.

He couldn’t help but steal a glance at his phone every now and then, expecting a certain someone to get his mind off everything.

No new notifications…

behind the lens !

masterlist — prev | next

hope u guys liked the scara pov 🤭

ik u can have ten ppl in among us but i was too lazy to edit all that and realized too late so 🤷

lmk if u see urself in the twitch chat HAHA

zhangrenlin on ig as scara

guys my among us knowledge is limited it has been years so dont come for me if i got shit wrong

author’s notes — BRO THESE EDITS TOOK FOREVER YALL DONT EVEN KNOW I DID EVERYTHING FROM SCRATCH INCLUDING THE CHARACTERS SO PLS LOOK AT THEM 😇 was rlly fun tho i was looking forward to editing this chapter the most

synopsis — you, better known as STARDUST, and BALLADEER have always been in competition for the top streamer spot on twitch, which is especially impressive since the two of you have never shown your faces. you’ve never been on good terms, constantly one-upping each other in matches and getting into petty arguments on twitter, causing your fans to also dislike each other. that’s until BALLADEER does a face reveal that breaks the internet with his good looks…which makes you realize it’s the same guy you went on a date with last night. the type of date that made you crave to see him again. the only problem was he didn’t know you were STARDUST and he was way different behind the lens than he portrayed himself online to you. should you keep your identity a secret to salvage the relationship or just let him go?

taglist is closed — @captainzep @elysiumarchieve @plinkuro @sakkakuu-squared @eliqusgenma @vuvulia @kunikuzushiit @heehooyeslol @stxrgxzxr @lilneps @uma-umie @i9tto @mitsukifilms @caesars-bubbles @wheneverthesunrise @its-like-twilight @kazuhalvrr @erosdevil @thenightsflower @p1utto @noodleshark420 @lxry-chxn @orbitscara @court-jester-stuff @lauragalliart @veyu002 @kaeyas-eyepatch-69 @leathernourishingshoepolish @satowaluverr @lexlapis @drunkwithfever @exhaustedcommunist @vincanzu @ainlaw @ovaliz @kitsuvil @whatamidoing89 @celestair @kunihaver @kazioli @xiaosoneandonly @cridtiins @cherrybeomgyu @asukahiriko @moon-320 @orionicchaos [1/3]

#genshin x reader #genshin fics #scaramouche x reader smau #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x you #scaramouche x y/n #behind the lens smau

2K notes · View notes

monoclesnapple · 22 days

Text

Rockstar!Chuuya

Bungo Stray Dogs Chuuya Nakahara X Gender Neutral Reader Beginning Note: Little hint of Streamer!Chuuya, but it's not the main focus. Thinking of making this a full fic, but with a lot of stuff on my plate at the moment and my motivation dwindling, it may be a while before I upload a chapter. Word Count: 594 (Fluff)

Rockstar Chuuya, who’s overwhelmed with fans prying into his life and trying to know everything there is about him.

Has an s/o who isn’t involved with his career, so they’re his only peaceful outlet in life.

Chuuya streams in his free time about anything. Sometimes he just talks with the chat, plays some games, reviews current events in the world and any future plans that can be disclosed to the public.

But he doesn’t include his s/o because he doesn’t want his fans to potentially target them due to jealousy or some other reason.

He’s shipped with popular actor, Dazai, because they’ve done a couple collaborations, whether for meet & greets, films, interviews, etc.

Assures his s/o that he won’t leave them ever because they’re the only one he feels comfortable with to be able to show them his vulnerability.

Whenever he streams, the number of viewers is overwhelming and they’re always asking for confirmation on who his lover is.

At some point, he’s tired of what his fans are saying, so he takes you to a restaurant that’s littered with people, instead of the usual empty location due to him going to the most expensive restaurant or booking the whole place.

All the paparazzi are taking pictures, and there are so many news articles questioning who this person is.

On his next stream, he seats you on his lap and tells his audience that he’s been dating you and won’t be leaving you any time soon.

He was worried that his fans would despise you, but the trending topics on his newly revealed relationship support the both of you.

Everyone now loves you because they think you fit him so well. Those who hate on the relationship are attacked by his fans.

Chuuya sees all the responses and feels a warmth in his chest because he’s glad that you’re accepted by his community.

Now, there are a lot of fanfiction shipping the two of you. You read most of them and are entertained by their strange fantasies of you both (although a little creeped out and hesitant about the smuts. Some fics, you’re a little worried).

Chuuya writes a song inspired by the events, and it’s successful. The music is cool and while the story told by the lyrics isn’t necessarily relatable, it makes sense.

At the end of one of his concerts, Chuuya calls you up to the stage where he gets down on one knee, holding a box with a beautiful ring, and proposes to you.

“You’ve always been by my side, no matter how hard it was to reassure my love for you. Despite everything that we’ve been through, you always made me feel loved and safe. I can’t and I won’t let someone like you leave. Will you do me the honor of marrying me?”

Of course you accept, pulling him up and kissing him. The audience and other members on the stage cheer and clap for your milestone. When you pull away, he slips the ring on your finger and kisses you again.

Rockstar!Chuuya Nakahara, who continues his career and plans your wedding with you. His bank account doesn’t require a budget.

Rockstar!Chuuya Nakahara, who eagerly and nervously waits for you at the alter. The two of you say your own vows and immediately kiss when the words “You may now kiss” are uttered.

Rockstar!Chuuya Nakahara, who is eventually granted a child and golden retriever. Whose happiness is impossible to describe with all the words in the dictionary.

Whose fast paced music matches the beat of your heart.

#bungo stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs #bsd chuuya #chuuya nakahara #chuuya nakahara x reader #chuuya x reader #~writing~#~Headcanons~#Rockstar!Chuuya

64 notes · View notes

modelbus · 2 months

Note

MODEL HELP-

i just typed a long ass message and it all deleted itself-

question, do you think you want to do another part on cut chaos? No pressure ofc, but I’d be cool! (I have a bunch of ideas for it I’ll send seperate (maybe) feel free to ignore them but like free crappy inspo man)

Request: Y/N is a part of SBI but they aren’t treated that great by the fandom or really the rest of the group. Its not like SBI MEANS to disregard the ‘hate’ towards Y/N like its nothing but they tend to dismiss or just ignore it, of course, they are still really close and care about Y/N, it still just hurts a little that they ignore it. But where the creators don’t realise they’re neglecting their friends emotions, the fans? They are fully aware they constantly joke about Y/N being the worst member of SBI. They are fully aware they also always ‘joke’ about forgetting Y/N exists. They are fully aware that despite Y/N being in as many if not more ‘SBI’ streams or videos than the other creators, they act as if they’re not actually a part of SBI. They are fully aware many of them aren’t joking when they say Y/N is not a member of SBI, or when they say they wish Y/N would stop showing up to streams. They are fully aware that the main ‘joke’ people think of when they think SBI is something along the lines of; “Whos Y/N?” or “Y/N is SO the middle child of the SBI, we all forget them!” or “Y/N? Ohhh you mean the one that’s annoying but its not funny!” .. When the SBI are streaming bedwars 2v2v2’s with a random viewer each game and that viewer happens to end up on Y/N’s team (and be an asshole) they, of course, decide to complain that out of every member they could be teamed with, they got the worst member of SBI! (Even though Y/N and techno practice pvp together regularly and the only person in SBI Y/N can’t kill is techno) While Y/N does what they always do and laughs it off with a SICK comeback (despite how much it hurts when they realise they expected that kind of reaction to being teamed with them), the rest of the SBI seems to snap as though that was their final straw (starting with tommy yelling ‘THATS BULLSHIT’ or smth) and all collectively go on a rant about how shitty most(?) fans treat Y/N, to Y/N’s surprise most of all of the fives chats are agreeing..? Y/N starts to realise maybe they aren’t as hated as they thought.. and maybe, just maybe, they are a lot more loved then they realised.

MODEL I’M SO SORRY MY REQUESTS ARE ALWAYS SO LONG-

Its funny how I’m not motivated to write actual fics but I can write 800 word requests-

LOVE YOU AND YOUR WORK!!!

✨🌌🌙 Annon-

I’d love to write more for Cut Chaos! My writing has been all over the place lately because I’ve been really busy (school stuff :/) but I do enjoy writing for that (not-so) little series

Pairing: Gn!Reader X CC!SBI (Tommy, Techno, Phil, Wilbur)

Found Fury

You aren’t unfamiliar with the term unwanted. If anything, you’ve burrowed yourself a home in the word, splitting it in two. Accepted yourself for what you are.

Quite honestly, if there was a record for ‘most hated SBI member’ it’d go to you. Actually, it wouldn’t, considering how most people don’t even see you as a member of SBI. The forgettable middle child, adrift alone.

There wasn’t much you could do except accept it.

Bothering the others with it was unfathomable. Besides, they’ve surely seen some hint of it. They aren’t quite that blind, even if Wilbur and Techno do wear glasses. And, seeing as how they haven’t said a word… maybe it’s best if you didn’t nag about it.

It’s not that you’re partial to the so-called ‘suffering in silence,’ because you really aren’t. But you’re uniquely acquainted with brushing things off, pretending that your friends’ continued silence doesn’t sting and that being excluded from the group isn’t heart-wrenching. In the end, who really cares what strangers online think?

You can ignore the messages in your inboxes. The emails to your professional email asking if you’re really a part of SBI. All the replies to all your posts. Every fucking comment on every video you’re in.

Sometimes, it piles around you so high that you can’t see past it. Words strung together to form sentences that rephrase ‘Who even are you’ a thousand times. Or the more creative, ‘How do you manage to be unfunny AND annoying’ mixed with a side of scorn. It’s worse when it trends on Twitter after a stream, but who are you to complain?

After all, you’re just lucky to be following SBI around according to Twitter. Blessed to be in their fucking presence.

For the most part, you just hire more mods. And they’re pretty strict with bans, so your chat tends to err on the positive side. Everyone else’s? Well, let’s just say there’s a reason you don’t have their chats open.

Today is no exception.

Bedwars with viewers, everyone being randomly set into 2v2v2. Tommy’s idea, although he’s lost every round that Techno wasn’t on his team. That was mostly due to you sneak attacking him while he targeted Techno, but still.

“POTATOMAN!” Tommy shouts, practically bursting your eardrums. “YOU ARE THE CHOSEN ONE!”

“Christ, mate.” Phil laughs.

“…my ears…” Techno mourns quietly, making both you and Wilbur laugh.

“We’re getting in! We’re getting in!” Tommy says excitedly, and everyone spawns into their teams.

Your heart sinks when you realize you’re with the viewer on white team. Their character, a potato in a suit, stares at you as you walk backward to collect iron and gold from the generator.

You’ve been lucky up until this far, always getting placed with one of the others. Logically, you knew you’d eventually be placed with the random, but part of you still hoped. Still dared to relax into the game.

Potatoman’s character stands there for a few minutes, and you buy wool with your iron.

“Funnel me the gold, Tommy.” Techno says calmly.

“No! Fuck off! This is my gold!”

“You’re just going to walk off the edge with it!”

“No I won’t! When have I ever?!”

“Last game.” Wilbur inputs.

“Wha— I was pushed! That’s different!”

A message pops up in game chat, and your eyes flick to it for a moment, too busy with building a bed defense. When you realize it isn’t Tommy’s death message (it would’ve been really funny, let’s be honest), you do a double take to read it.

<Potatoman> My luck omg

Your eyebrows raise. For a split second, you dare to hope that the viewer is a fan of yours. That they want to be on a team with you. Hope is a dangerous thing; it just makes things worse when it dies.

<Potatoman> Stuck with the worst member <Potatoman> Not even a member fr lmaooo

Ah. And there it is.

Seeing the messages doesn't hurt; it's the fact that you knew to expect it right from the start.

That's not to say you're even the worst member, because in PvP you're a God. Hell, you and Techno train it all the time for fun! Even Tommy cheers when he gets teamed with you in PvP games like this. Being teamed with you for Bedwars was a pretty good thing, in theory.

Always in theory.

Because somehow, someway, you're never liked enough. Never enough for the viewers in general, even. Too annoying, too loud, too imperfect, too showy, too quiet, too anything. And you know to expect that feedback rather than to expect any semblance of compliments.

"At least the so-called 'worst member' didn't walk off the edge, unlike someone on my team." You quip, targeting your words at the viewer.

"Heh?" Techno asks.

"Oh, uh, nothing-"

"Look in chat." Wilbur interrupts.

There's a pause, then:

"THAT'S BULLSHIT!" Tommy screams into his mic. "WHAT THE HELL?!"

"I'm agreeing with the kid here." Techno sighs.

"Actually, we really should talk about how the fans have been online. It's not even a recent thing." Phil says, his calm a stark contrast to Tommy.

"I've seen it a lot too. Let's be clear; everyone here is part of the Sleepy Bois. I made it, I make the rules." Wilbur declares.

"You did not make it!" Tommy protests, but Wilbur doesn't stop for him.

"To make it clear, we won't tolerate any hate of anyone in this group, especially not to the extent that we've been seeing recently."

Your eyes glance over at your chat, already stunned, only to have your jaw slacken when you see that your chat is spamming hearts and "YESYESYES."

"Guys, you don't have to... do this." You try.

"I'm pretty sure we do." Techno deadpans, and you can practically imagine the optifine zoom on his character's face he's probably doing/

"The fans treat you like shit, and we're all tired of it." Wilbur agrees. "It's stupid."

"They're all internet assholes." Tommy chimes in, this time at a reasonable volume.

"So from here on out, anyone who says mean shit to you gets banned. From all of our chats." Your eyes go wide at Phil's words, and you quickly pull up his and Tommy's streams to see what their chats are saying.

But... that can't be right. The outpouring of agreement can't be right. The fans all hate you, you know this. There's no way they're agreeing with Phil, Tommy, Techno, and Wil.

So you open Wilbur's chat, then pull up a YouTube tab for Techno's stream too.

Agreement floods every chat, and for just a moment you can't breathe. You were the supposed forgotten middle child, the one nobody cares to stand up for. But that was wrong, wasn't it?

You are part of the Sleepy Bois, and you're just as deserving as everyone else. Of the fans, of the support, of being able to open chat and not see overwhelming hate.

Of being loved.

#dsmp #mcyt #mcyt imagine #tommyinnit x reader #tommyinnit x you #wilbur soot x reader #wilbur soot x you #philza x reader #technoblade #philza #tommyinnit #wilbur soot #sleepy bois inc #sleepy bois fanfic #sleepy bois inc x reader

123 notes · View notes

daisyychainssj · 4 months

Text

I’m seeing a lot of people talk about the whole Team Bolas thing with very different opinions and like that’s fine as long as you’re being respectful! share your opinions all you want but I think it’s being turned into more of an issue than it actually is? Like yeah when creators who are going into Purgatory 2 are talking about the previous purgatory a lot of their chats recommend watching bolas clips etc but people seem to be ignoring that a lot of the ccs either know they won or ask which team won and THEN proceed to watch their pov. Loads of the new ccs are doing so because they want to see what the winning team did to win (which I do think probably isn’t going to help them a lot as there’s so many difference between both events I feel like the only useful things they’ll learn is to drink tea and what to do for the natural disasters but even so) and even when watching bolas compilations or povs they’re praising blue and green team plays.

Another thing people are upset with is the lack of animatics and things being watched for blue and green team. It’s sad to say but there just genuinely isn’t many out there compared to the amount that there is for red team so creators are inevitably going to end up watching more of red team but how is that anyone’s fault? Why be upset about people creating artwork of something THEY personally enjoyed? It wasn’t done out of hate towards the other teams like some people seem to want to imply? At that point you’re just beefing with artists because they decided to draw/animate something else than what you wanted to see? Everyone is free to create the artwork they want to see. Nobody is stopping anyone from creating fan work for the other teams and recommending it to the new ccs participating in Purgatory 2.

Something that I’m seeing a lot which is starting to irritate me is seeing people be like “NOBODY is watching anything to do with Blue or Green team” No, the bigger creators who pull more viewers or the creators that YOU personally watch might not be but plenty of the smaller creators have been looking into all of the teams. Seapeekay (who’s said himself that he’s a bit nervous about the fact he is going to be one of the less well known creators in the event) is literally right now as a type this watching the flag event from Tubbo’s pov (again because they won that event!!! It makes sense to watch the winner POVs when you’re trying to prepare for a competition) so maybe let’s not pretend that nobody out of the 40+ people involved are paying any attention to any team other than bolas when that is incorrect.

I watched as much as I could of all the teams (yes I watched more of bolas because foolish is my main pov) but all of the teams worked hard and tried their best and were fun to watch! You’re free to create any artwork you want of any team and if you didn’t enjoy watching red team and you don’t want to watch other creators watch them then just chill on a different stream in the meantime until they watch or do something you do want to see and when Purgatory 2 begins I’m sure some other type of discourse will inevitably begin and we can all just put this shit to rest.

#qsmp #qsmp discourse #cw discourse #it feels like we’ve all had this conversation a trillion times now #cw negativity #<- I think I’m not too sure but just in case

60 notes · View notes

usergreenpixel · 11 days

Text

JACOBIN FICTION CONVENTION MEETING 37: CHÉVALIER (2022)

1. The Introduction

Well, hello there, Citizens! I’m back and I hope you missed me! Sorry for the multiple delays and all, but luckily I’m back at it now!!!

Okay, so this movie has been on my radar ever since it got announced. A story featuring a real Black man who lived during Frev? Sign me up! This has excellent potential and also, to my knowledge, at least a partially Black crew so we get more representation of marginalized groups in crews and on the screen!

At least, those were my thoughts before I actually watched the movie, but we’ll get to whether it was a good media piece later.

I found the movie on Russian language streaming websites, but it’s available on Amazon Prime and Disney Plus for those who would like to watch the original English version.

This review is dedicated to @idieonthishill , @vivelareine (who has a review that unpacks the movie from a historical pov and is welcome to add to the review 😊), @theravenclawrevolutionary , @sansculottides , @citizentaleo , @saintjustitude , @avergehistoryenjoyer , @lanterne and @jenxiez .

Okay, let the Jacobin Fiction Convention reopen!

2. The Summary

The movie tells a story of a real man, Joseph Bologne aka Chévalier de Saint-Georges. Recognized son of a white French nobleman and an enslaved black woman, Bologne must navigate the cutthroat world of the Parisian high society, dealing with racism and trying to reconcile his “white” upbringing with his African roots.

Sounds interesting, but let’s see how the premise was handled.

3. The Story

The Introduction scene - a musical duel between Mozart and Bologne, was actually quite good in my opinion. So were the other beginning scenes of kid Bologne growing up in France as an aristocrat and being bullied by his white peers, plus his father telling him not to let society break him.

These scenes establish quite well that Bologne has to carve out a place for himself among French nobility and make a lot of effort to get even a hint of acceptance. Sounds like a nice setup, right? Well, unfortunately at times Bologne in the movie doesn’t seem to have much agency at all.

For example, his title is granted to him by Marie-Antoinette basically on a whim, handed to him on a silver platter because the queen was impressed by his fencing skills, which in my opinion isn’t enough to show a character who has to work hard to be accepted. I think it would’ve been better if Bologne had at least several impressive fencing performances to prove himself and show more of his skills.

On the flip side, there are characters who have a bit too much agency. For example, in the story it’s Marie Antoinette who is calling all the shots and giving all the orders in France, even though Louis is alive and well. It’s definitely jarring to see how people say “by the order of the queen” when the king should be the one mentioned instead.

I didn’t care much for the love triangle storyline, but it’s my own personal preference and also the fact that it, like many parts of the story, isn’t all that nuanced. So yeah, very bland and boring.

Yes, Citizens, unfortunately nuance has officially left the chat, especially when it comes to the main character. See, at first Bologne doesn’t give a shit about poverty and famine plaguing France. He is enjoying his cushy life and his friendship with the queen of France instead. However, you know what makes him join the Jacobins? A fucking PERSONAL FALLING OUT WITH THE QUEEN. Not promises of abolishing slavery or granting rights to black people, not his own ideals… Just fucking pettiness!

It would have been much better if he didn’t have a falling out with Marie Antoinette and signed up for fighting with the Republicans because he genuinely wanted to do what was right, not due to personal beef. Especially since that was why he joined Frev in reality – the real Bologne made a choice to do the right thing simply because it seemed to be the right thing to him. Not out of petty desire to get back at the queen.

Also, the conflict between Bologne and his mother about how he is acting “too white”… eeeehh. To me it felt very anachronistic but maybe I’m wrong and there is more nuance missing because EVERYONE at court had to carry themselves in a certain way to make it. If you couldn’t do it, you were socially FUCKED. Besides, Nanon (the mother) and her friends crack really mean jokes about Bologne being “too white”, which is… well, an INTERESTING way to endear him to his mother’s culture…

The movie is juggling admittedly anachronistic theme about black culture, anti-slavery message, court drama and love triangles… and the juggling is done quite sloppily too, I’m afraid.

Also, just to illustrate how inaccurate this movie is, the events of 1789 are shown happening in 1776 for some reason, which shows just how much the creators didn’t give a shit about research.

Moving on.

4. The Characters

I really didn’t care for Bologne to be honest. He shows selfishness and pettiness, doesn’t have enough agency in the story and is also very inconsistent. After falling out with Marie Antoinette, he claims he defended her, which… he didn’t! At least it’s not shown in the movie! What the fuck happened to “show, don’t tell”?! Also, his incredible talents aren’t really shown in the way they could’ve been, more on that in the soundtrack section. A missed opportunity, really.

Nanon, Bologne’s mother, is a real embodiment of the themes of slavery and trauma present in the the movie. She merely exists to push him to embrace his African heritage and to remind him that he will never be truly accepted by other nobles. I honestly wish there was more to her character, because she ends up being little more than a walking theme embodiment.

Marie Antoinette here is a capricious, fair weather friend. She CLAIMS to support Bologne, but does it in indirect ways out of fear that nobles wouldn’t appreciate her openly backing a black man. Even though she is an absolute monarch so she can afford to show her support more openly. Actions speak louder than words, and she is clearly not a true ally of Bologne.

Marie Joséphe, Bologne’s love interest, is a woman trapped in a miserable marriage and yearning to act in Bologne’s operas. While I do sympathize with her, I believe that there really isn’t much depth to her either. We just don’t learn much about her. This is becoming a common theme…

Also, just as a side note while we’re talking about characters, many white characters in the movie are shown as mere flat caricatures. I can understand why, but, again, this doesn’t show nuance as in reality, while Bologne definitely had to deal with racism, he was not only accepted, but adored as a celebrity, but we don’t see that reflected in the attitudes of other people towards him. Because apparently the brains of the spectators will implode when they see nuance in a modern movie, it seems.

5. The Setting

Personally I wasn’t that impressed by the costumes or the settings. I’ve seen much better ones. Nothing bad, but nothing outstanding either.

6. The Soundtrack

Where the fuck is actual music from that time period?! Where is music by Bologne himself?! It’s a fucking missed opportunity and I don’t know what prevented the creators from including the music written by the MAIN DAMN CHARACTER into a biopic about him. A shame that they missed yet another opportunity.

7. The Conclusion

Honestly… I can’t say much when it comes to what this movie is fucking about. The story is bland, lacks nuance, doesn’t follow basic historical facts and is pulled in a million directions.

For a movie about an obscure figure, it doesn’t show much of the things Bologne was known for and at times even strips him of agency. We need to have better POC representation, because this is just not it.

The movie is mediocre, bland and forgettable. Don’t waste your time on it.

With that, I declare today’s meeting of the Jacobin Fiction Convention to be over. Thank you for your patience and support during this hiatus of mine.

Stay tuned and stay safe!

Love,

Citizen Green Pixel

#chevalier 2022 #joseph bologne #jacobin fiction convention #french history #black history #french revolution #marie antoinette

30 notes · View notes

streaminn · 1 year

Text

acting news

streamer enid au! once again part 2

There's a taste on Enid's tongue when she speaks. It's sweet, flavorful and distracting - addicting she can almost say. No wonder she keeps talking and talking, murmuring about anything just to taste that drug stuck in her mouth.

It's why she couldn't fully focus on her stream, why her eyes aren't drawn to the colourful lights of the game she was playing on autopilot. Something was distracting her and she didn't know what.

It isn't until she hears the slow yet measured footsteps passing by her door that it finally clicks and a smile grows on Enid's face.

Right, she ate well yesterday.

Chat is as noisy as always, clamouring with their normal chatter but they seem to be confused as to why Enid suddenly decided to shut up.

"streamer going insane?"

"U see that glaze in her eyes? Bet she’s high on chocolate"

“You can get high on chocolate???”

“Ofc not this is y u dont believe everything in the internet”

The werewolf quickly looked back to the game, a lil snort bubbling in her throat. Chat definitely has their moments, these were one of them. To think people wonder why she was streaming, it's for dumb reasons like this.

"hi guys what's happenin"

"ur mom is what's happenin"

“Yall so rude ;-; i was just asking”

A sound alert is the one that fully snaps Enid back to attention. With a quick thank you to one Sokoe-chan, she finally dragged her eyes away from the game to give a very concerned look at the camera, her eyes just reading that mess of a convo.

“What the fuck chat?” she murmured, but the tone definitely couldn't hide the upward quirk of her lips. “Also I don't get high on chocolate, that's not how werewolves work.”

Chat begins to spark at that, questions of ‘duh, dogs are allergic that makes so much sense’ to ‘who made you the werewolf expert huh!?’

It makes Enid lean back as she builds a house. She’s playing minecraft after all, albeit one with horror mods but considering that the sun was up and her chests were full, she decided to go and finally build a house.

Before her chat remembers and calls her homeless.

She shivers at that, can you really blame her? It's hard to build things when you’re being chased and only have your own flesh and bone to keep you running.

The sound of rattling bones rings through her headphones and Enid’s cheeks burned as she gave her full attention back to chat. It's still a little shocking to have people pay for a free live stream, so she does try her best to give her gratitude to any supporters. “Thank you again Sokoe-chan for the ten gifted!”

The text to speech drawled in reply “did you hear that Lunal curse is getting a movie adaption exclamation mark exclamation mark question mark.”

Enid’s eyes widened as she immediately straightened and pulled herself close to the camera. “Really?!” she places a hand on her chest, leaning back with a dramatic sigh. “My wife is going to do amazing, I'm telling you.” Enid points at the screen, a bright smile on her face. “Ain’t nobody can beat my woman! Imagine being a director and the main actor-”

As the werewolf goes on a tangent, chat meanwhile has their own thoughts.

“There she goes”

“Can you blame her?! Wednesday does such a good job as Viper”

“It just feels a lil self insert for the author to act out the main role yknow?”

“Hey now, if it works then it works”

“Just sayin!”

“Brother ur in the wrong channel to be dissing Wednesday”

“Endespair is a huge W.A simp after all”

Enid paused in her words to raise a brow. “Hey hey, nothing wrong with saying your thoughts but you’re treading a thin line there man.” she waves her hand around. “She’s giving good content and getting that bag! Besides, she auditioned for that role and the others greenlit her to be Viper.”

Most of the chat agrees, some even citing a few articles of the process. This definitely wasn’t a new topic in terms of Viper’s casting.

The tone overall seemed rather easy going, everyone vibing until a comment pops in that makes Enid’s lips drop and her brows to furrow.

“Trust a dog to be at someones heel”

“HEY”

“Too far dude wtf”

“MODS”

“U AINT ACCEPTED HERE”

A stormy look crossed Enid’s face and the ban hammer dropped. The wolf sighs, escaping the game to the menu as she gives a look.

“we’re boutta be scolded againnn”

“Its not our fault!”

“Sjdklajdklsja father forgive us”

“Pls not again, i havent recovered from the last lashing”

Enid’s look is affronted, but chat’s lil attempts to make her smile works. “You guys make it sound like I abuse you or something,” she laughs and for a moment, chat thinks they’re off the hook before she removes her glasses to raise a brow at the camera.

A classic look of disappointment.

“Dangit thought that was going to work”

“Lowkey i dont mind being scolded if its endespair”

“Daddy issues right here”

“Ay no need to call me out like that”

Normally, Enid would hold out for a few more seconds, just to make the tension palpable enough to fuck with her audience until the loud sounds of bones rattling makes her shoulders drop.

This is why she can’t be serious until it's really needed.

“Lunaslandingpad threw 50 gifted subs into the pile” spoke the alert but just before it could continue, Enid paused it to let out a harsh and very tired sigh.

One so filled with emotion that it makes Chat pause themselves as she rubbed at her eyes before sliding on her frames.

“One, no bribing me to feel better,” Enid starts and immediately, chat clammors in agreement. “Two, none of those dog comments. Not only is that a shitty thing to do but I have werewolf tagged on stream to make sure others like me find it easier so don’t make me regret it.” A shine of white is shown, her fangs seemed to almost be bared if it weren’t for the hand that covers anything below her nose. “Last, there is nothing wrong with criticising a piece of work but don’t bring that stuff here.”

Silence filled the air as Enid leant back, her lips pursed as she crossed her arms. “Got it?”

“Ofcourse!”

“Yesser”

message deleted by moderator

“WE SAW THAT” “Caught in 4k”

Soon, Enid’s scowl turned into a bigger raised brow before rolling her eyes as she opened up the mod log to see the rather.. Thirsty comment. “You all really gotta think before you type.” her head shakes as she laughs. “you guys are lucky i wouldn’t have you guys any other way.”

Taglist: @agathaharkness-simp @lunaslandingpad

#Wenclair #Writing #Enid sinclair #Streamer Enid au

188 notes · View notes

bad268 · 10 days

Note

Hello my friend! I've recently discovered your work for the frog boys and also saw you have requests open (if this isn't true anymore I'm terribly sorry!) I was wondering if you could write something about Pezzy (and maybe the rest of the frog house included if you want) playing horror games with his s/o? Have a good day!

Scared in Love (Frog Boys X Reader)

Fandom: RPF/Miscellaneous

Requested: Clearly (I decided to make this part of [Blank] in Love. I could be read alone though. Thank you my friend <3)

Warnings: Horror games

POV: First Person (I/me)

W.C. 1027 (about 250 each)

Summary: Horror games are scary, who knew?

As always, my requests are OPEN

MASTERLIST // HITLIST

Technically can be read alone, but Part 4 <-

Puffer (At Dead of Night)

“This is stupid! All we’re doing is running from a bald guy,” I laughed as I controlled the movements in the game as we ran between rooms. Puffer had been asked to play At Dead of Night. Despite knowing he did not like horror games, he agreed as long as I was there for it. Neither of us had heard much of this game, and so far it was pretty boring. “Am I supposed to lock this door?”

“Maybe? Isn’t the guy chasing you?” Puffer answered as he leaned closer to the screen. He broke his glasses recently, so he was blind for this stream, and that’s the main reason he asked me to join. “Wait, why is that light flickering?”

“Like I know,” I scoffed as I immediately moved toward it. Nothing happened. “See chat, y'all just be hyping up this game, and it's plain.” I turned around in the game and jumped in my seat as some random person showed up. “Holy shit!”

“Dr. Bose was accused of the worst crime possible,” Puffer joked with mock seriousness. “We need to go to the ground floor now to see the police lights!” He took over the controls, again leaning close to the screen to see.

“Maybe you shouldn’t speed run out of the room,” I advised.

“Nah, we’ll be fine,” And almost like Jimmy was listening, he jumped out from around the corner to kill us. Puffer jumped back in his chair, causing it to fall back.

“What did I fucking say!?”

Pezzy (Doors)

“It’s Roblox. How scary can it possibly be?” were going to be my famous last words. I was sure of it.

“I swear to god if one more of these things pulls me out of the closet again, I will throw my controller at the screen!” I shouted as I died once again.

“Welcome to the club,” Pezzy laughed, “It only gets worse.”

“I’m going to cry,” I joked as I respawned. “This is literally torture! I did not agree to do this!”

“Yes, you did!” Leave it to Pezzy to pull up the receipts in the form of a text you sent him a while ago. He briefly showed it to the camera before clearing his throat, and imitating my voice, “I doubt it’s even that hard. I bet that I could speed run it faster than you.”

“I don’t remember saying that sober,” I admitted as I ran through the doors, ignoring Pezzy’s laugh. “I really don’t. In fact, I think a certain someone stole my phone and texted someone while we were drunk. I wouldn’t put it past you honestly.”

“I cannot believe you would accuse me of such a thing,” Pezzy gasped as he put a hand to his chest. “I seem to remember you bragging about not being scared of anything. You’re eating your words now, huh?”

“Never,” I said definitively. It didn’t last long as, almost immediately, the red skull thing chased me through the rooms. “I swear! PLEASE!”

Droid (FNAF Help Wanted)

“It’s not even that bad,” I laughed as I glanced at chat while Droid stood behind me playing Five Nights at Freddy’s: Help Wanted. I had played it before since I was practically a FNAF channel, so Droid made it his subgoal to play it when they hit 5,000 subs. Granted, he did not think it would happen that quickly. “Just wait until you get to the third game.”

“You’re kidding me!” He shouted as he frantically looked around the room. “There’s no way it gets worse than this! You’re capping!”

“Nah, you’re just a baby,” I laughed as a highlighted chat caught my eye.

“You should shove him.” it read. Thankfully, he could not read chat while in the game, so I took this as my opportunity. With a smirk, I stood up and walked around to stand behind Droid. Just as the music picked up in the game, I grabbed his shoulders and he was jumpscared. From me and the game as Bonnie jumped out at him.

He flung his arms back to try and drab me, but I ducked and ran back to my chair. He pulled the headset off and immediately glared at me. He let go of the joycons as he pointed and slowly approached me.

“I will murder you,” He joked as he leaned down to be at eye level with me. “I will threaten domestic violence live on Twitch.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time,” I joked back as I raised my eyebrows.

“WOAH! WOAH! WOAH! Nah, don’t even!”

Grizzy (GMod Horror Maps)

“I don’t like the squidward-looking thing or the witches,” I cried as I ran my character through the dark maze. “Why did you mod them in?”

“Because I knew you didn’t like them,” Grizzy laughed as his character followed mine around. “I can remove one of them if you want.”

“Please do,” I laughed as I purposely let myself get killed by Squidward, so I would respawn. Grizzy exited the game to fix the mod as I stayed on the call with him, entertaining his chat. Eventually, he got it changed but did not tell me what he put in.

“Can I know what was spawned?” I asked as I reloaded the game. I had to update it since the mods changed, and I got stuck on the loading screen for a minute. I thought he would have told me at that point, but no. When I loaded into the game, I saw a hoard of witches immediately. I slowly looked over to Discord to see Grizzy’s face cam, and of course, he’s got that malicious smile. “I will murder you.”

“You always say you could outrun the witches,” Grizzy laughed as his character also loaded it. As soon as he spawned, he threw a bomb at the group. “I’m testing you.”

I screamed as I ran my character the opposite way through the maze, “What the fuck is wrong with you!”

“See!? It’s not so easy, huh?” Grizzly laughed as he watched my character run. ”What are you mumbling?”

“California girls were unforgettable,” I said a little louder than before as my voice got higher. “Daisy dukes bikinis on top.”

~~~~~

27 notes · View notes

n7punk · 24 days

Text

"Start Your Engine" Fic Notes

SYE is done! For once something didn’t get away from me. What, it was supposed to be a one-shot? Shut up!

Playlist:

Unreleased demo (we could be the baddest losers in the world together)

Life Sux — Leah Kate

Supernatural — Transviolet

I Want Her — Georgie Harris/The Blind Truth

I Can See You (From the Vault) — Taylor Swift

GIRL ON TV — chloe morionado

Cdbaby<3 — chloe morionado

Suburban Legends (From the Vault) — Taylor Swift

Hot Child In The City — Jessica Leigh

Ruin My Life — Zolita

Fruity — chloe morionado

GLOW — SNOW WIFE

Overdrive — Gia Woods

good girls go bad — Lauren Sanderson

Your Engine — Gia Woods

Epilogue Life:

Catra does take awhile to adjust to school because it is a huge shift from her last few years of essentially doing whatever the fuck she wanted whenever (she did have a stream schedule, but it wasn’t a big deal if she canceled, or extended, or slept or ate or anything else whenever she felt like it), but even though she spends the whole first year questioning her decision, she does adjust eventually. Her friends all graduate long before she hits grad school, but Entrapta and Bow both went for a grad degree too so their life keeps following the school rhythm and it keeps her from feeling too left out. Catra does keep up with streaming even after she gets an internship with a law firm, her hours just reduce as it becomes more of the side thing she was trying to downplay it as.

Swift Wind isn’t actually 100% done until the summer after graduation, but Catra certainly doesn’t mind how long it takes, and on nights when both of them have roommates home they like to take drives out somewhere private to make out on the side of the road under the stars. Adora 100% supports her girlfriend in her weird niche and later on hypes her up a lot as the more impressive one for going through law school, which kind of blows Catra’s mind because she’s still used to thinking of herself as a loser.

Entrapta’s software does see a steady rise in usership after the introduction of Wildcat, and there are two main reasons why: 1) yes okay she specifically improved the physics for Wildcat. I’m not going to pretend that wasn’t a driving factor lol, but 2) Emily did a great job of showing off what was unique about Entrapta’s software — but people who weren’t looking for unique didn’t have much reason to pay attention to it. Wildcat showed she could make great, more “mainstream” avatars as well. She doesn’t become the #1 overnight or anything, but she does slowly become the #1 alternative to the corporate options and that’s really what she was looking for.

Catra does eventually tell Glimmer and Bow she’s Wildcat — who Glimmer likes even more than she ever did Emily — once they’re better friends, but it takes a few months. Glimmer doesn’t really suspect anything until Catra lets slip the occasional comment leading up to her revealing it because Catra is very private about her identifying info on stream — and cognizant not to tell stories involving Glimmer when she’s in chat — so she doesn’t actually have a lot of clues to get suspicious from. When she finds out she loses it, though. She eventually comes around to finding it funny, but by god for a while she would pout about it if you mentioned it. She’s mostly annoyed that Adora hid it from her, but Adora does argue that it was Catra’s life and it wasn’t really her business what she does for work. It mostly matters because Glimmer actually watches her, lol. If it wasn’t for that, she wouldn’t care.

Around the time Catra is comfortable telling Glimmer she’s finally ready to meet Adora’s moms, something she has been avoiding as long as she can because she’s terrified of the concept of Family, but obviously Mara and Light Hope are super sweet, it just still takes her a little while to get comfortable with them, but by the holidays she’s ready to experience them with Adora and her family for the first time. She never thought she would get a family along with a girlfriend, but 14 year old Catra couldn’t even conceive of the life she would have ten years later.

Chapter 1:

⦁ I’ve already talked about this a little because an anon guessed it Fast over here, but the original concept for this AU was just the neighbor thirsting stuff around the car. Catra didn’t have a job planned, but that stuff came up when it did come time to write it. I figured Adora would be in university since they were supposed to be in their early twenties, and I could have stuck Catra there too, but I liked the concept of Catra having this kind of very different life experience that made her feel a little alienated from her peers and especially contributed to her not being confident when it came to actually making a move on Adora. I don’t follow any like, VTuber vtubers, because the ones I do are people like jaidenanimations who just use an avatar of themselves and aren’t a character or anything, but a friend of a friend is super into vtubers and I hear a lot of the drama and shipping and stuff secondhand because of that. When I was getting ready to write the AU, my friend was explaining the drama about this company having a bunch of controversies with its vtubers and nearly everyone leaving, and that planted the seed of “lol wouldn’t it be funny if Catra was a vtuber in this”. And then I put in the allusions in the first chapter to stuff like gigabit internet still not thinking I was going to do it, except by the end of the second chapter I realized I was definitely going to do it, so I doubled down on it when editing chapter one to post.

⦁ Before those additions, I was kind of thinking this would be a one shot, and tbf that would have made sense with the amount of content in the first three chapters, but then I decided I wanted to shift perspective in chunks, which meant it made the most sense to make it a multi-chapter with the POV shifting by chapter even without those additions, and hey, I did manage to keep to my predicted chapter count once I decided that! For once! It totally counts.

Chapter 2:

⦁ This chapter was really short but I had to show that they were both being so incredibly stupid with their flirting when at any point one of them could have asked the other out and they would have said yes so fast the marriage proposal would be implied.

⦁ Catra lashed out a lot in school because, to be fair, her home life absolutely sucked and she had no friends and no hope for the future, so she just hated everything about school knowing it would probably add up to nothing and at least if she was a problem people were paying attention to her. Teachers might not have liked her, but they were looking at her and not hurling insults like Weaver, so that was about the best she got.

Chapter 3:

⦁ Adora was really just trying to lean over and not caring about where she put her hand because all her friends are touchy and she is too, but any touch like that from Catra would be her trying to put the moves on someone she desperately wanted to hold, so she extended that to Adora’s behavior as well. Adora doesn’t remember it at all because it wasn’t important enough to. If you asked her about it five minutes later it would take her a second to think if she had done it at all.

⦁ Scorpia and Sea Hawk aren’t exactly friends, but they did have a class together. They would wait for it to start in the closest lounge for a good half hour if not an hour beforehand so they ended up talking a lot over that semester and they still chat now when they run into each other. Scorpia only saw Mermista if she came there to be with Sea Hawk, and usually she was “too cool” for that and Sea Hawk had to come to her instead, so Scorpia really isn’t involved in Adora’s friend group at all despite the peripheral connection.

⦁ Adora stopped working on Swift Wind for two reasons: 1) she was only working on him so much for an excuse to talk to Catra (though she’ll glad for all the work she got done once it does get hot) and 2) she just felt so disappointed when she would see Catra and Catra would ignore her that it discouraged her from going out even the baseline amount she would without her.

⦁ Adora brings up hooking up with Mermista once because she, not remembering the leg touch thing, can only guess that someone mentioned her history with Mermista to Catra and she drew conclusions from partial information that was out of date and incorrect anyway.

⦁ Catra knows Mermsita doesn’t believe in marriage from Sea Hawk telling Scorpia he’d love to make the gesture of proposing but Mermista would just dump him again for it.

Chapter 4:

⦁ The valentines card was handmade because ain’t no way Weaver has even letting Catra use a printer to get something that looked “better”. Adora would have treasured it as if

⦁ When Catra is talking about hiding her face, she doesn’t get deeper into it, but it’s all about being safe. It’s not just Weaver punishing her for acting emotionally, it’s also the danger of letting someone see when she’s afraid, or in love, or anything else they can use to hurt her later.

⦁ The "go live" scene was one of the first ideas I had related to Catra being a VTuber and is one of the things that kind of convinced me to include it in the fic and then I almost forgot to write the scene lmao. The only problem with this joke is the whole thing is based around the fact the two different kinds of "live" are written the same, but that makes it hard to control which version of the word people naturally read there (especially the people who had figured out Catra was a VTuber already) so I hope the way I framed Adora's reaction to it made it clear. Catra was SO grateful Adora read it entirely wrong, but that showed her she couldn't keep it secret for much longer, but she wasn't ready to force herself through telling her either.

⦁ Okay, Roach. The cockroach thing is actually a joke I had for canon four years ago, thinking about how ways Catra talks sound like insults because that’s how she had to disguise her compliments in the Horde. That lead to the cockroach nickname for Entrapta, because seriously, thought dead twice and actually just thriving? Really? And no one in the princess alliance is really sure how to take it because Entrapta doesn’t seem bothered at all — because she understands, and she takes it as the weird compliment it is.

⦁ The black curtains are supposed to muffle sound transmission. Catra shoved her sound absorbing foam boards — which she just had leaning against the wall even months after moving in anyway — into the closet when she showed Adora the room before.

⦁ Adora doesn’t know what an OC is, so she’s just assuming that’s the name for a VTuber avatar and calls Catra’s new V that. She’ll eventually figure out how it works.

Chapter 5:

⦁ I had a lot of fun with the chapter titles in this one. I used a similar basic structure in LotD to signal when I was switching perspectives by chapter but it’s fun to heckle the characters in them.

⦁ Catra did try to pay Entrapta. Entrapta was confused. Eventually she more than paid in her back in commissions following Wildcat.

⦁ Catra was just a clerk at a random department store in the mall when a guy snagged a designer purse and tried to bolt with it. The purse cost equivalent to Catra’s entire paycheck, which she desperately needed, and her boss was within eyeshot and yelled when the man started running, so Catra just acted on instinct to protect her job and fucking tackled the guy — which is a terrible idea by the way, pretty sure they can argue that’s assault — which then knocked the purse out of his hands, so her boss ran over and grabbed it, and then the dude struggled up and she wasn’t paid enough to get punched so she just followed him as he ran out of the store to make sure he didn’t yoink something else. And then obviously her boss called mall security and they both told the whole story and like two weeks later the mall offered for a job because they were kind of stretched thin. She did like the mall security job better because she got to wander around a lot more without a boss looking over her shoulder and do a lot less (especially from a customer service perspective), but they both were a little soul-draining.

⦁ I’ll be honest Auntie Anne’s pops the fuck off. Wetzel’s Pretzel’s can suck a dick.

⦁ Catra just says “she’s colorblind” here because I thought about it and didn’t think she would casually make the distinction of “partially” within her own head right then.

⦁ Catra’s race both wasn’t a secret and was, because there were plenty of “hints”, but stuff like Emily having antenna in place of ears didn’t actually mean anything. Her viewers didn’t know they were mapped to follow Catra’s ears, they could have just been animations. People who were observant could figure it out given they don’t do the same thing every time she laughs or anything — it’s especially obvious when she moves just one ear — but it did still surprise some people when they saw her new avatar. The Wildcat in her handle didn’t really give anything away considering there’s a streamer named smallant irl and guess what, he’s not an ant lmao.

⦁ I think this literally never came up in the entire fic (only vaguely implied by Adora “moving away” when she got adopted) but neither Catra, nor Adora, nor Glimmer, nor Bow is from Bright Moon. Scorpia is local and Entrapta is from nearby (as is Glimmer), but Adora and Catra grew up like two hours away. When Adora was adopted, it was to Bright Moon’s outer skirts, so she’s kind of local now and it’s not even a day trip to go visit her moms. It is, however, long enough Catra dodges it as best she can. Anyway, Glimmer and Bow try to arrange their time visiting family to overlap so they don’t have to be apart for too long because they’re really fucking gay for each other.

Upcoming:

*clears throat*

*steps up to the mic*

Ahem.

Are you ready for Heathers’ Broadway debut?

#ficmeta #fic notes #sye

23 notes · View notes

lilpunkrock · 1 year

Text

where you go (i will go) — epilogue

Summary: The next chapter of your story begins.

Pairing: Dream of the Endless x f!Reader

masterlist

. . .

ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ: Close Your Eyes by Michael Bublé

0:00 ───|────── 3:33

. . .

epilogue

“C’mon, kiddo, you can do it. Say, ‘dada.’”

“Matt, she’s still a little young for that, don’t you think?”

“No, my kiddo’s a smart one. She can do it. Isn’t that right, Seline?”

Seline is all curly blonde hair and brown doe eyes as she flashes her parents a one-toothed grin. The sound of her tiny hands clapping together echoes through the Kemper’s living room, which is positively littered with toys.

Ava scoffs, eyeing her husband with amusement. “You’re right, she is smart. That’s why she’ll say ‘mama’ first.”

Matt reaches for her hand where it rests on the floor between them. When he raises her knuckles to his lips for a kiss, his eyes are soft and adoring. “You’re right. She would be smart to say ‘mama’ first.”

Molten warmth floods your chest at their interaction, at the way that their attachments glow and sing with every word, laugh, and look. An unseen bystander, you reach forward from where you sit cross-legged in front of them to graze your fingers over the green storge attachments that tie their little family together. As your fingertips pluck at the threads like harp strings, they ring and strengthen.

Was it necessary to fulfill every attachment? No, not anymore. Now that all philia, eros, and agape attachments were ensured, that only left pragma, storge, philia, and philautia to fulfill. In spite of this, you’d realized over the past six months that you still liked to walk through your daily assignments, fulfilling all of the attachments that made their way onto your list. You are a creature of habit, after all. Plus, the way the threads sing when you pluck them never gets old.

Thank you, the storge attachments say, their threads bright, warm, and alive beneath your touch.

“You’re welcome,” you say in turn. “I’ll see you all again tomorrow. Don’t let her say any first words while I’m gone, got it?”

Got it.

With a pleased grin, you rise to your feet. As your attention shifts from the Kemper family, a new sight grabs your focus—a radiant stream of red, orange, yellow, blue, purple, and white. The threads unfurl from your chest, mingling and weaving into a delicate braid of light. They trail from your heart, out the Kempers’ front door, to a place far beyond this realm. Their whispers coax you to a realm of dreams and nightmares, to a man with a touch like cashmere and stars for eyes. At the mere thought of following them, your heartbeat quickens.

Philia. Eros. Agape. Pragma. Philautia. Erotoropia. Even after six months, there was still one attachment that you and your Dream Lord had yet to foster. Green, unconditional, familial storge.

You can’t help but wonder if today is the day. It is a very special day, after all. In fact, a quick glance at the clock on the Kempers’ living room wall informs you that it’s time for you to depart for the Dreaming. Lucienne will be expecting you soon.

Before you go, however, there’s one last stop you need to make. A friend to see, and a promise to fulfill.

. . .

The morning sun shines surprisingly bright upon London as you step onto the street outside The New Inn. Far removed from the main roads, the sound of morning traffic only faintly reaches your ears on the pleasantly warm breeze. As you push through the entryway, the door handle’s bells jingle a tune that is all too familiar to you now. The New Inn’s windows have been pushed open to welcome in the early summer air. Several patrons sit at various tables sipping tea or coffee and nibbling on pastries that Hob purchases from the bakery a few blocks over.

When your gaze shifts to the bar, you spot him—dimpled chin, stubbled jaw, chocolate eyes. When he begins to chat up an elderly gentleman sitting at the bar, offering to refill his coffee, you can’t help but beam. “‘Morning, Hob! Is the coffee pot still hot?”

Hob‘s gaze darts to you at the sound of your voice. As he begins pouring coffee into the elderly man’s cup, he waves you over. “Wouldn’t turn it off until you came through. Get over here.”

There’s an undeniable bounce in your step as you walk to the bar and hop onto one of the leather-topped stools. Hob makes his way over quickly, grabbing a clean coffee mug as he goes. When you spot the red apron he’s wearing over his normal attire, you have to suppress a snort. You rest your chin on your palm when he stops in front of you, gazing up at him adoringly. “You make a pretty barista, you know.”

Hob lifts one dark brow at you, lips drawing into a smug smile. He begins filling your coffee cup without so much as breaking eye contact. Show off. “I’m flattered. You don’t think the apron is too much?” he responds, dark eyes crinkling with amusement.

“Not at all. In fact, I’m going to buy you a fancy one with the little pockets for pens and the loop for towels,” you say, wiggling your eyebrows at him. He chuckles at your teasing, earning a satisfied grin from you. The warmth of the coffee seeps through the ceramic mug and into your hands as he hands it to you. “Thanks, Hob. I really did need the pick me up today.”

Hob returns the coffee pot to its hotplate behind the bar before turning back to you. “Ah, yes. Today’s the day you become the Queen of Gloom, right? The Monarch of Melancholy? The Sovereign of Solemnity?”

You couldn’t hold back your laughter if you tried. Silently, you thank the Maker above that you weren’t mid-drink when he said that. “Alright, you’ve made your point,” you say, swallowing another giggle before taking a long sip of your coffee.

A sly grin pulls across Hob’s lips as he rests his forearms against the counter. “Glad to hear it. You’ve yet to convince me that he’s not the God of Pessimists.” One dark brow shoots upward, curious and inquiring. “But you know what would? You telling me what’s really going on here.”

Fondness blooms in your chest, warm and supple. Before your temporary death, your blossoming friendship with Hob had been limited to occasional check-ins. Working to combat Desire had been a full-time job, after all. In the six months since your sacrifice, however, life had slowed down a bit. This allowed for many morning coffees with Hob, during which time your friendship had deepeed, and his questions about Dream had never ceased. “Secrets, Hob. You know they’re Tall, Dark, and Broody’s to tell, not mine.” You smile as another long swig of coffee warms your throat.

Hob rolls his eyes at you good-naturedly. “Right, right, secrets. Just you wait. I’m going to trip you up someday,” he says with a wink. A contented silence settles between you as you chuckle at him, closing your eyes and savoring the rest of your coffee in long, grateful sips. When you open your eyes, placing the empty mug in front of you with a contented sigh, you find that Hob’s expression has softened. When he leans toward you, it’s with a kind smile. “Well, I’m wishing you luck today. Really, Love. You deserve this. You deserve love.” His hand rests atop yours gently, but firmly. “You deserve to be happy.”

When the gratitude swells up at the base of your throat, it takes you off-guard. Sudden and powerful, it steals your breath away. The familiar prickle of tears stings at the backs of your eyes. It’s only when he gives your hand a gentle squeeze that you finally find the strength to speak. “Thank you, Hob. So do you.”

Off to your right, a new customer approaches the bar, waving Hob down for service. Hob gives your hand a quick pat before he slips away to take the patron’s order. The distraction gives you a moment to collect yourself, to swallow the lump in your throat and wipe the wetness from the corners of your eyes. You know it’s time for you to go to the Dreaming. But before you do, there’s one last thing you have to do.

When Hob finishes waiting on his customer, you wave him back over. As you rise from the bar stool, you flash him a dazzling grin. “Well, Hob, I’d better head out. I’ve got a wedding to go to, you know. But before I do…” You reach across the bar, planting a hand on each of his strong shoulders. Surprise flickers in Hob’s brown eyes as you hold his gaze firmly, intently. “A new patron is coming to the Inn tonight. Should be around eight-o'clock. A word of advice from me…” You give his shoulders an encouraging squeeze. “…make conversation.”

You can see the exact moment that your insinuation lands, the precise second that the meaning registers. Hob’s chocolate eyes widen in astonishment; his lips part in awe. Stunning the innkeeper into silence is no easy feat, but it seems you’ve done it. It’s several long moments before he slowly smiles, eyes crinkling at the corners. They glimmer with excitement, with promise. “Right. Yeah,” he breathes. “Make conversation.”

You pat his shoulders once, firmly. “You’ve got it, my friend.”

When you slip out The New Inn’s front door, it’s with the jingle of bells, a levity in your heart, and a smile on your lips.

. . .

The sweet scents of pollen and nectar greet your nose as you walk the fields of Fiddler’s Green with Dream at your side. Between crafting dreams and nightmares, visiting Cain and Abel mid-murder attempt, and listening to Mervyn complain about another blood-and-perrier mishap by Fashion Thing in the main hall, it had been a hectic morning for the Dream Lord. When you’d popped into the Dreaming from a morning walking amongst the mortals, you’d taken quick note of the overcast sky and heavy, humid air. One look at the particularly deep crease between Dream’s exasperated eyes, and you’d known just what was in order–a walk.

As you trek into one of the grove’s lush meadows, Dream Country’s sun beams down on you, fat and gold as an egg yolk. The air, once thick and oppressive, is now crisp and refreshing. A sea of blue flowers greets you–dancing periwinkle, bobbing hydrangeas, rustling forget-me-nots, and swaying hyacinth. A few days ago, when Lucienne was dusting the shelves of ‘1800’s - W’ in the library, you’d made the off-handed comment that Robert William Wood was one of your favorite painters. The fact that you’ve stepped right into the scene of Fields of Blue is not lost on you. You can’t help but smile.

As you enter the field of blues, a strong gust of wind sweeps the meadow, stealing blades of grass and stray leaves from the earth. As the breeze gathers the array of foliage into a familiar humanoid form, you come to a stop. Dream falls into place at your side.

When two blue poppies settle into place on the dream’s face, you smile. “Good morning, Fawn. You’re looking particularly radiant today.”

Fragile iris petals unfurl as Fawn offers you a smile. While you adore all of Dream’s creations, the dream of freedom has always been close to your heart. She was your first collaboration with the Dream Lord, after all. “Thank you, Miss Love. The Dreaming’s sun shines so much brighter these days. My leaves adore it.”

You shoot Dream a knowing glance out of the corner of your eye. A small, pleasant quirk of his rosebud lips is his only response. “As do I, Fawn. You’ll bring sweet dreams to my friend Theo tonight, won’t you?”

Fawn bats her dandelion eyelashes at you, giving you a wide grin. When she spins in a giddy circle, blue petals dance around her like confetti. “Absolutely, Miss Love. He’ll have so much space to run, he won’t know what to do with himself. I’ll make sure he runs himself silly.”

The sun is warm on your cheeks as you beam at her. “Thank you.”

With one last grin, Fawn dissolves in a flurry of leaves, departing for the Waking World. With a happy sigh, you step further into the meadow, relishing the warmth of the sunlight against your skin.

After several long seconds of silence, Dream speaks. “The Dreaming loves you,” he says, his voice a soft rumble on the honey-sweet breeze.

“And I love the Dreaming,” you say, crouching down amid a gathering of hyacinths. You press your lips to their blue petals fondly, drawing in a long, savoring breath.

“Then wed her.”

Stillness. You misheard him, didn’t you? Surely you must have. You straighten slowly, stunned. “What?”

When you turn to Dream, you find a tension in his form that is foreign to him. His pink lips are pursed, his shoulders pulled back, his hands held rigidly at his sides. He looks…hesitant. No, you realize suddenly. He looks nervous.

“Become her Queen. Her monarch. Her partner. Her caretaker,” Dream continues, his voice soft and tight. When he swallows, his throat bobs like sea foam on the tide. “Let us stand together. Officially.”

A powerful stirring is rising in your chest, like the rapid flutter of hummingbird wings. The dizzying mix of awe and disbelief grows and grows, warm and insistent, leaving no room for air. “Is this your Endless version of a marriage proposal?” you breathe, taking a small step toward him.

There’s a subtle shift in Dream’s form when you draw closer, like the coiling of a spring. He wants to touch you, you realize, but nerves have gotten the best of him. “In a sense,” he murmurs quietly. His ocean eyes study you intently, desperately. “You were expecting something more elaborate.”

You could laugh out loud. You could tackle him to the grass and kiss him silly. “No. Yes.”

“Clarify, love.”

“No, I don’t need anything elaborate. I’ve never wanted anything elaborate. All that’s ever mattered is you.” You step forward, taking his hands in your own. “And yes, I’ll wed her. I’ll stand beside you. Officially.”

Dream’s rosebud lips part in awe at your words. Was it possible that a small part of him was surprised at your acceptance, even after all this time? You bring his hands to your lips, pressing soft kisses against his knuckles one by one, as if pressing promises into his flesh.

Dream leans over you, regarding you softly. “To become Queen of the Dreaming is to wed her. And to wed her is to bind yourself to her creator,” he murmurs, lifting one thumb to caress your chin.

His skin is warm against your lips as you smile. Slowly, you draw his hands to your chest, lifting your head to meet his gaze. “You think I don’t understand the implications?”

When a small smile lifts Dream’s lips, Dream Country’s sun gleams like a golden yolk, an extension of its master’s heart. “You are certain, then,” he says. Though his voice is quiet, there is an energy beneath it, a thinly-veiled eagerness. Excitement.

When you lean forward to brush your lips against his, the grove’s birds chitter with glee. “As certain as I am that you are mine.”

. . .

In all your months in the Dreaming, you’re certain you’ve never seen the palace halls so busy. Dreams and nightmares of all shapes, sizes, and colors hustle back and forth through the halls in a blur of movement and chatter. As they pass by carrying trays of food, baskets of linens, and armfuls of decorations, they peer at you with wide eyes and even wider smiles. The excitement in the air is electric and infectious. You smile kindly at each resident as they pass, cheeks flushed and bashful, mind buzzing with glee.

“Your coronation attire will be waiting in your chambers within an hour’s time, Miss Love.” Lucienne’s voice cuts through the chatter around you, capturing your attention. You turn to where she walks at your side, spectacles perched on the end of her nose, reading over a list of tasks left to complete. “The beachfront is prepared, and the Dreaming’s residents will gather there at twilight.” Lucienne turns her head to you, brown eyes wide and attentive. “Will you still be reading your own oaths?”

Your lips lift in a nervous grin. “Yes,” you answer, heart fluttering in your chest. It had been your idea to do so, after all. Another mortal custom, you’d explained to Dream. Quiet as he was, you’d thought you might be the only one to write your own vows. When Dream had agreed to do the same, it had taken you aback in the best way possible. You’d been working on writing them for weeks, rehearsing them each morning before you left for your duties.

Lucienne’s lips draw into a wide, pleased smile. “Excellent. If you wouldn’t mind, prior to the ceremony…”

As you round the corner near the palace ballrooms, two approaching figures quickly steal your attention. Lucienne’s voice, once loud and clear, fades to a quiet hum in your ears. You watch in silence as Dream and Mervyn Pumpkinhead stride briskly in your direction on the opposite side of the corridor. Mervyn gestures wildly, features pulled into his characteristic frown, while Dream listens intently, his dark brows drawn inward.

The nature of their conversation, of Lucienne’s discussion, of anything else going on around you grows distant as Dream draws nearer. With each step, the thrumming of your heartbeat in your ears becomes louder, the coaxing in your chest growing stronger. You picture each thread between you glowing brighter with each footstep, whispering more insistently with each inch gained.

Come closer.

You need to be closer.

There is a moment as you pass ways when the spell suspends, when your transfixion takes a deep, yawning breath. When Dream’s eyes flicker to meet yours, your mouth turns dry as cotton. There is a brush against your knuckles, a featherlight touch that you feel from the tips of your fingers to the marrow of your bones. Fire and ice drip down your spine in equal measure. You shiver.

And then, he’s gone. In a blur of black and orange, Mervyn and Dream stride past you, their conversation uninterrupted. Your eyes trail after them, still halfway spellbound. You’re almost convinced that the moment never even happened. Only a lingering tingle against the back of your fingers makes you wonder otherwise.

“Miss Love?”

Your head whips around so quickly it verges on whiplash. When your eyes lock with Lucienne’s, she levels you with a knowing smile. “I was just inquiring whether you could bring me a copy of your oaths prior to the ceremony?” she prompts, voice lilting with amusement.

Heat creeps up your neck as you give her a quick, sheepish nod. “Yes, absolutely. No problem.”

“Splendid,” Lucienne says brightly. She removes her pocket watch with deft fingers, coming to a stop outside the tall wooden doors that lead to the palace kitchens. “This is where I must take my leave, Miss Love. I have a very zealous chef to attend to.” She gives you a wide, assuring smile. “Perhaps you should retire to your room for a while. There is much left in store for you today. It is best to be well rested.”

As the two of you come to a stop, it suddenly hits you that this is the first time you’ve really paused today. Between your assignments, visiting Hob, and preparing for the day’s festivities with Lucienne, time had passed in a blur with scarcely a moment to think. There was much of the day left to live. You wanted to be ready for it, to enjoy it wholeheartedly, to savor every moment and commit them all to memory.

“Thank you, Lucienne. You’re right. I think I will.”

With a nod and a bow, Lucienne departs, heading into the palace kitchens with her task list in hand. Likewise, you turn and head in the direction of the staircase that leads to the palace’s living quarters.

As you walk the halls, you pass dozens of dreams and nightmares discussing the festivities, carrying decor, and so on. Now that you aren’t busy with Lucienne, several stop you to make brief conversation as they go about their duties. You smile and greet each one, thanking them for their hard work preparing for the evening’s events. Though the excitement in the air is palpable, you can’t deny the nervous flutter in your chest. The gravity of the day’s events is far from lost on you. In fact, it’s been a persistent occupant of your headspace ever since Dream proposed in Fiddler’s Green.

I am going to become Queen of the Dreaming.

No matter how many times you think the words, they still leave you in utter disbelief.

When you step off the staircase and into the palace’s lodging area, you find the hallways quiet and empty. The quiet padding of your sneakers against the stone floor echoes off the walls as you walk to your room at the end of the hall. Your mind slips in and out of focus, rehearsing your vows, reviewing the schedule for the remainder of the day, remembering the brush of Dream’s skin against yours in the corridor—

There is a gentle pressure around your wrist, a quick tug. The movement is so sudden that you don’t even squeal as you’re pulled into one of the halls branching off the main corridor. Stumbling forward, you catch yourself against something warm, solid, black, and familiar. Instantly, the adrenaline in your veins turns to giddy glee.

Warm breath fans across your face, gentle and sweet. “You did not say hello.”

A small smirk lifts your lips as you slip your hands under Dream’s cloak, entangling your fingers in stars and constellations. In the low light of the side corridor, his blue eyes burn like the flames of young stars. “Neither did you,” you say, leaning instinctively into the warmth of his torso.

Dream’s eyes flicker at the teasing lilt in your voice. There is something downright otherworldly about the way his palm glides over the curve of your waist, the way his fingers trace the soft flesh at the nape of your neck slowly, tenderly, reverently. His touch leaves fire in its wake, a simmering heat that makes your mind scramble and your heart race.

Over the past several months, you’d been surprised to find that physical touch was a love language the Dream Lord was very adept in. While you’d experienced his more intimate side in the unconscious world he’d created for you, you hadn’t known what to expect from him in real life, especially given the new nature of your relationship. You’d quickly found that while he was largely reserved in public, he had no inhibitions in private.

Of course, you weren’t complaining. Dream’s touch was a drug and an antidote, a cure and an affliction, all in one. Even now, as his rosebud lips tilt upward at your shallow, eager breaths, a force greater than gravity pulls you toward him, like the poles of a magnet. When the pad of his thumb settles against the curve of your bottom lip, reality bends deliciously, your skin humming with delight.

“Of course I did. In my own way.”

The touch. You laugh breathlessly at him, fingers twisting in the fabric of his black shirt. “Of course, Dream Lord. Ever so subtle.” You push up onto your toes, trailing your nose along his jaw affectionately. He smells like salt and seaspray. You breathe in deeply. “Well, hello.”

”Hello, love.”

For several long moments, there is nothing but the soft chorus of your breaths, the sinewy warmth of Dream’s form against yours, the overwhelming contentment that you always find in his arms. Finally, you pull away just enough to make eye contact. “Did you and Mervyn successfully solve the world’s problems?”

Dream’s blue eyes roll upward, eyebrows pinching in exasperation. There is a certain delight that comes from seeing him annoyed. When you first met, his lack of non-verbal cues and muted reactions were maddening. How you’d longed to make a chip in the armor, to be privy to the inner workings of his mind and heart. The vulnerability that he now seemed to reserve for you alone was a gift, one you cherished and treasured.

“Mervyn prefers to work at his own pace. The high expectations of the day are a challenge for him, but one he is well-suited for.” When Dream’s eyes return to yours, the softness in them does, as well. “On the subject of the day, how are you feeling?”

It’s the first time that anyone has asked you. A small, tentative smile forms on your lips as you lean into him, fingers curling and uncurling in the fabric of his shirt anxiously. “Oh, you know. Excited. Nervous. Can’t wait, but also kind of want to throw up. It’s a big day.”

Dream’s eyes regard you gently, thoughtfully. You find no judgment in them, something that sets the flutter in your stomach at ease. “Indeed,” he says softly. His thumb traces the curve of your jaw slowly, as if he could dispel every trace of worry with his touch alone. Not entirely out of the question, you muse. “I assure you, there is no need to be tense.”

You lean into his touch gratefully, relishing in the solace he instills. It never ceases to astound you how completely transcendent you feel in his presence. As if you could move mountains and steal stars. His touch emboldens you to open up, to bring light to the shadow of doubt that has plagued your mind since that day in Fiddler’s Green.

“You know what I feel for you. I know what you feel for me. But the Dreaming’s Queen? Are you really sure about this?” You pause, swallowing down the nervous lump that presses at the base of your throat. “Are you sure that I’m…that I’m worthy of this?”

There is a long, lingering moment where Dream does not move, does not breathe. Not even the familiar flicker of his eyes searching yours. For a split second, you wonder if you’ve broken him. But then, his rosebud lips suddenly part.

“Worthy?” he echoes slowly. His eyes are wide, his tone incredulous, as if he can’t fathom what you’ve just said. When his palms cup your face, thumbs settling at the corners of your lips, his touch carries a gentleness that makes your heart ache and flutter equally. He pulls your face to his gently, so close that your noses nearly brush, so close that there is nothing but the bright, burning surety in his eyes. “There is no question of your worth. There is no question that you are what is best for the Dreaming. The Dreaming is not worthy of you. I am not worthy of you.”

Liquid light pours into you with every word from Dream’s lips, from every inch of his skin against yours. The shadow of doubt shrinks away in its presence, leaving assurance, solid and true, in its wake. When you offer Dream a small, grateful smile, his expression softens. He leans forward to press his lips to the space between your brows, to the corners of your eyes and lips.

“In fact,” he murmurs lowly, lips lingering against the corners of your mouth, “I intend to show you exactly how superlative you are later this evening.”

If you were molten light before, now you are raw static, all white heat and crackling energy. The pressure behind Dream’s fingers as they trail down your arms makes you dizzy. You can feel the giddy flutter of your heart in your chest, like a flurry of moths gathering to flame. Pressing the bridge of your nose to his, you hold his gaze, smiling against his lips. “Why wait?” you ask with a quirk of your brow.

If there’s one thing you know about the Dream Lord, it’s that he loves a challenge. When he tilts his head back to get a better look at you, his eyes dance with amusement. “You are incredibly adept at wearing on my resolve,” he rasps. There is a slight quirk to his rosebud lips. You want to kiss them silly. “But there is much left to attend to.”

Your mouth falls into a playful pout. “Lucienne says my coronation outfit will be here shortly. You’re sure you don’t want to stick around?” you tease, only half-joking.

A chuckle escapes the Dream Lord, ghosting across your cheeks. It’s low and breathless; the most beautiful sound you’ve ever heard. “Do not mistake my need to leave for a desire to leave. You know exactly what I desire,” he murmurs. He reaches for your hands within his cloak, holding them between you, thumbs dancing across your knuckles in farewell. “I will see you shortly, alright?”

Smiling, you concede. “Alright.”

When Dream steps away, you force yourself to swallow the quiet, pleading sound that rises in your throat. Just before he re-enters the main corridor, he gives your hands a gentle squeeze. “Remember my vow to you,” he says softly, his voice earnest. “There is no reason for you to fear ever again. And there is certainly no reason to be fearful of anything pertaining to today.”

You squeeze his fingers in return. When you smile, this time, it’s with confidence. “Right. Never again.”

. . .

You remember the first time you witnessed your function like it was moments ago, not centuries. The awe that had wiped your mind clean of thought when you’d witnessed the first attachment, the giddy excitement that had coursed through your veins when you stepped into the kaleidoscope world that was yours, the overwhelming rightness that filled your chest to the brim when you first made those threads sing and shine. Your function was radiant, vibrant, all warmth and technicolor beauty.

It was a juxtaposition, then, how you’d always seemed tied to the dark. You’d died in the dark, had come into new life in the dark. In all the years you’d spent isolated and alone, you’d always felt comforted under the night sky, as if befriended by those glittering stars. Though you couldn’t remember it, your mortal self had first encountered Dream in the midnight hours of sleep. When your paths finally crossed again in the throne room, he had seemed to you the darkness of night in human form. A walking dream with moonbeam skin and stars for eyes.

Perhaps it only makes sense, then, that you feel at home clothed in twilight. The place between the fading radiance of day and the comforting embrace of night. The gossamer fabric of your coronation gown spills over your skin like sand from the Dream Lord’s palm. Woven from stars, the silken material feels weightless upon you. As you gaze at your reflection in the mirror, your eyes catch on the gown’s hem. Traces of pastel pink, lavender, and teal swirl like nebulous dust beneath the glittering stars, accenting the fabric that pools at your feet.

A flash of color amidst the darkness. A piece of him, a piece of you.

A small, shaky breath escapes you as your fingers trail over black gossamer and stars. In the mirror, your smile is equal parts eager and nervous. It’s time.

As if on cue, there is the soft creak of a door and a familiar flash of dark hair in the mirror behind you. When you turn around, you find Dream standing in the entryway, quietly closing the door behind him. The rectangular-cut ruby that pins the top of his ceremonial cloak together gleams in the lamplight of your bedroom. Living flames lick at the cloak’s hem where it trails along the floor. In the soft lamplight, the flames flicker and jump, imbuing his porcelain skin with warmth, casting shadows from his cheekbones.

The breath slips from your lungs in a soft, awed rush. He’s beautiful. And his ocean eyes are on you, wide and staring, his pink lips parted as he looks at you like you’re the only thing that was, is, and ever will be.

He’s crossed the room before you even get the chance to say hello. “Breathtaking. Radiant. Exquisite,” Dream breathes. His hands find the curve of your jaw, cradling your face in his palms. “There are no words.”

You laugh, leaning happily into his touch. “You just said several words.”

There is a soft hum in Dream’s throat at your jest. “They are all inadequate,” he amends, a smile pulling at his lips.

Now it’s your turn to give a hum of pleasure. “You look pretty exceptional yourself. The flames are a nice touch,” you muse, tugging lightly at the edges of his cloak. You press a quick kiss to his chin before you step back, ruffling your skirt in a shimmering wave. “You like it, then?”

“More than you know,” Dream says. He takes a step forward, appraising your gown thoughtfully. “But there is one thing missing,” he continues.

For a brief moment, your brow wrinkles in confusion. But when Dream reaches into his cloak and withdraws his hand moments later, all you can do is gasp. From the cosmos hidden within the black fabric, Dream produces a swath of material spun from stars and comet dust. Thousands upon thousands of pinprick flames ripple and shift like liquid glitter against the black gossamer in his grasp.

With careful hands, Dream turns you to face the mirror. His fingers make quick work of fastening the cape of stars to the straps of your bodice. When the material slips from his hands, the bridal cape spills to the floor, burning like a comet’s tail.

Your heart catches at the sight, throat thick with emotion. It’s unlike anything you’ve ever seen, all of it. You are spun from cosmos and constellations. You are at home among the stars. You are a walking dream.

Your voice is soft, barely a whisper. “Oh, Dream.”

Dream’s touch is warm as his fingers trail down from your shoulders. His feather-soft hair tickles your cheek when he settles his chin in the crook of your neck. “You have always liked mine, have you not?” he breathes against your skin, blue eyes bright within the mirror’s reflection.

You capture his hands in yours, turning to meet his gaze head-on. With his rosebud lips so close, his breath warm and honey-sweet against your cheeks, the desire to pull him close and kiss him is undeniable, coronation schedule be damned.

And so, you do. “Yes.” With a gentle tug, you close the distance, pressing your lips to his. When you breathe in unison, it’s a sigh of contentment, an exhalation that says, finally. There is nothing but the soft whisper of breath; the gentle press of Dream’s mouth and fingers against your own; the fuzzy, intoxicating warmth that spreads from the top of your head to the tips of your toes with each movement.

When you finally part for air, you smile, nuzzling your nose against his, favoring the slight dimple at its tip that you’ve always loved. “Thank you. You really never cease to amaze me.”

“You never cease to inspire,” Dream responds. After pressing a final kiss to the corner of your mouth, he leans back to regard you. “They are ready for us. Are you ready?”

Dream’s eyes hold you gently, assuredly. Under his gaze, all doubt slips away. Under his touch, confidence blooms and thrives. By his side, you have nothing to fear ever again.

“Yes.”

In a flourish of fabric and stars, Dream whisks his cloak over the two of you. When the Milky Way and constellations slip away, you find yourself standing on the dirt path outside the Gates of Horn. Beyond the towering structure of polished bone and keratin lies the black sands of Dream Country’s shore. Twilight is breaching over the familiar waters, painting the sky in pastel pink, burnt orange, and rich gold. Beneath the watercolor sky stands two great crowds of Dream Country’s residents, gathered on either side of a self-made aisle. Their smiling faces and eager eyes are illuminated by the setting sun. And they’re all looking at you.

You had expected to feel nervous, or bashful, or self-conscious. But as Dream extends his elbow to you, as your arm slips into his own, as you begin to walk forward into this new life, all you can register is excitement.

Side by side, you and Dream pass through the Gates of Horn, the same gates that had led you to him all those months ago. The black sand is soft beneath your feet as you walk down the beach, still warm from soaking up the day’s sun. The glittering eyes and wide smiles of dreams and nightmares both humanoid and abstract greet you as you walk through the crowd.

You recognize all of them. You’ve had the privilege of encountering countless dreams and nightmares during your time in the Dreaming. After Dream had made his proposal, you had doubled down your efforts to mingle with the Dreaming’s residents. He was their creator, the seed from which all things grew. He loved them. You loved them, too. If you were to stand by his side, to care for the Dreaming as your own, you wanted to know them. You wanted them to know you.

There’s a particular face among the crowd that jumps out at you. Death of the Endless stands at the end of one of the frontmost rows, curls bobbing as she cranes her head to watch you two approach. When your eyes lock, the sheer enthusiasm in her toothy smile seems strong enough to light the Sunless Lands. You return her grin with equal excitement as you pass, making your way to the final smiling face that awaits you at the end of the aisle.

Lucienne gives a slight bow when the two of you stop in front of her. The flames along Dream’s cloak lick at the sand as the two of you turn to face one another, hands joined between you, just as you’d been instructed to do. A Dream King with raven hair and stars for eyes and a goddess with light in her veins and night on her skin. What a pair the two of you made.

It’s time.

“Greetings, dear residents of the Dreaming,” Lucienne begins. Her voice echoes over the beach, carried on the saltwater breeze. At her words, any quiet chatter and excited shuffling within the crowd stills. “We have gathered together today for not just a coronation, but a celebration. Today, the Dreaming gains a Queen, a defender, a nurturer, and a champion. As the Queen weds the Dreaming, so too does she wed its creator.”

Your eyes turn from the royal librarian to her King. Dream’s eyes are only for you, lingering on each flicker of your gaze, each shift in your expression. When you smile, his eyes brighten. His thumbs drift over the backs of your knuckles tenderly. No reason to fear, they say. You are what is best for the Dreaming.

“Agape, Deity of Love, presents herself to you today with the intention of leading you, guiding you, nurturing you, and defending you. She has passed through the Gates of Horn, ensuring that her heart is truthful and her intentions are pure.” Lucienne pauses, allowing her declaration to settle over the crowd. Out of the corner of your eye, there is a shift of movement as she raises her hands to address them. “The Dreaming acknowledges the presentation of their hopeful Queen. Does the Dreaming accept her?”

“We do,” a thousand voices chorus in unison. The flutter in your chest is undeniable as the sound washes over you, as the sunset’s reflection in Dream’s eyes shines a little bit brighter, as the grounding, peaceful sense of belonging settles in your soul like Dream’s hand in your own.

“Excellent,” Lucienne says. When you pull your eyes from Dream, you find her dark lips stretched wide, the corners of her eyes crinkled with delight. Lucienne had been with you since the very beginning, from nearly the first moment you set foot in the Dreaming. To see her joy, to know that she is pleased at your union with Dream, to receive her blessing, means everything. “The Dreaming accepts Agape, Deity of Love, as their Queen. As she binds herself to its creator, so too does she bind herself to us. She will now offer her oath to our King.” Lucienne leans forward slightly, lowering her voice to a whisper. “Do you need your oath?” she asks.

You shake your head gently. You had been dreaming of this moment for a long time. You had rehearsed these words again and again until they were etched upon your heart. You knew precisely what you wanted to say.

You turn to Dream with a deep, grounding breath. In spite of the crowd around you, the gravity of this moment, he looks at you as if there is no one else, nothing else, that matters. As if it is only you, the sand, the setting sun, and your joined hands.

A sweet, all-encompassing calmness settles in your bones as you watch one another. As you open your mouth to begin, you allow yourself to be drawn into his gaze, into an intimate pocket of the universe where it’s just the two of you. “Dream of the Endless, Lord Morpheus, Dream Lord, Dream. One night, on a wooden dock in a sea of stardust, I told you that love was difficult. That it was as much about sacrifice as it was about reward. And I was right.” A pause. A breath. “But what I didn’t tell you is that every sacrifice is worth it. Because it leads you to where you’re meant to be, who you’re meant to be, and who you’re meant to find. Sacrifice means that you have something, or someone, worth continuing on for, risking it all for, giving everything for. For me, that someone is you.”

There is a soft bob of Dream’s throat as he swallows, drinking in your words. The ever-present pull between the two of you swells and crescendos, coaxing you to him as the rising moon calls the tide. You take a step forward. “We’ve both lived lives with plenty of sacrifice. Now, it’s time for our reward. I vow to love, cherish, and keep you. I vow to be yours in any time, in any realm, in every reality. I vow to support you, protect you, and defend you. I vow never to forsake you. I vow to stand by your side in every circumstance; to be your constant solid ground; to be someone you can always rely on. I vow to make every sacrifice and moment we were without one another worth the wait. I vow to spend every moment of every day for the remainder of my existence showing you just how deeply, unfathomably, uncontainably loved you are.” You lean forward, your words a whisper for him and him alone. “I vow to be yours, forevermore.”

Time passes slowly in this pocket of the world. Seconds or hours could pass as you and Dream watch one another with bated breath. The flames at the edge of his cloak leap and flicker eagerly, as if your confession were kindling. There is an electricity between you, a yearning to answer that ever-present coaxing between you, to satisfy the universe’s will. When you feel Dream’s fingers curl around your own, you think he might just do it.

You have to suppress a jump when Lucienne’s voice startles you back to reality. “Does the Dream King accept these vows?” she asks.

Dream’s eyes flicker briefly to Lucienne, then back to you. It’s evident that the pull back to reality was just as off-putting for him. You offer him a small smile, raising your eyebrows ever so slightly as if to say, Later.

When Dream affixes you with a knowing look, your stomach erupts with butterflies. The slight quirk of his lips is hidden from the crowd, visible only to you and Lucienne. “I do,” he rasps.

Lucienne gives a soft huff, a thinly-veiled laugh that only the three of you can hear. “Excellent,” she says. Refined as she is, you suspect her desire to admonish the two of you over your barely-concealed affection at this event is compelling. But when she turns to look at Dream, her brown eyes are crinkled and happy. “Our King will now offer his oath to his–our–Queen.”

When your eyes lock with Dream’s, you find them burning with conviction, soft with promise. When he takes one step closer, you picture the six threads between you glowing and singing with glee. “Agape, Deity of Love. Love. Fate and destiny are powerful creatures, ones we are both well-acquainted with. Throughout the eons, there have been moments when I questioned mine. There was surety, purpose, and fulfillment in my function. It was my fate, my destiny. And yet, I was plagued with a persistent absence. Regardless of what actions I took, an enduring emptiness remained. It was a call I could not seem to answer, a phantom limb I could not shake.” A pause. A swallow. “From the moment you set foot in the Dreaming, from the moment we met, you were known to me. The soul knows its counterpart. For the first time, I found that the emptiness was filled. The call had finally been answered.”

A soft, shuddering breath escapes you at Dream’s words. It has to. After all, there is no spare room for it in your chest, not when this bittersweet ache is filling your lungs. The love, deep and deliciously painful, crowds out everything else, pouring forth from your heart, spilling over, over, over. When Dream squeezes your hands tighter, you wonder if he can feel it, too.

“I did not know peace and contentment until I knew you. I knew not what it was to feel complete. It took a long time to comprehend that sensation. But now, I understand,” Dream says. “You once confessed to me that the deepest desire of the soul is to not venture through life alone. You were right. And now, both our souls are satisfied.” A pause. A brush of thumbs against the backs of your hands. “I vow to devote myself to you, wholly and completely. To cherish you incomprehensibly, boundlessly, until the last creature dreams. I vow to give you stars to comfort you and an embrace to run to. I vow to protect and defend you, to rewrite worlds for you, regardless of the sacrifice. I vow to give. I vow to remain yours, as I always have been. As I always will be.” Dream draws near to you, his voice like the sea breeze, so soft that only you can hear. “S’agapo.”

When Dream withdraws to stand up straight, you think you’re seeing stars. The smattering of lights beyond his face must be a product of your imagination, a consequence of the lack of oxygen your brain is currently experiencing. But when you take a deep, settling breath and blink, you find that they are stars. As the sun dips below the Dreaming’s sea, twilight is receding, revealing the faint beginnings of a night sky overhead. The coronation is almost complete.

“Well said, my Lord,” Lucienne says, more for herself than anyone else. Her spectacles gleam in the fading twilight as she turns to you. “Does Agape, Deity of Love accept this oath?”

As if you could answer any other way. “I do.”

“Excellent. Together as one, the King and Queen of the Dreaming will now procure the symbols of their union.”

It was the only part of the ceremony that you hadn’t rehearsed. After all, you couldn’t do it without Dream. Will it really work? you had asked him one morning as you walked along the shoreline.

Eyes dancing with vague amusement, Dream had affixed you with a knowing look. Need I remind you of what I told you the first night we crafted together? In this Realm, all things are possible.

Dream reaches into the folds of his cloak with one hand, procuring his infamous pouch of sand. The whisper of the grains is barely audible over the ocean tide as he pours a palmful into your hand, and then his own. At first, when you re-join hands, clasping the grains together between you, nothing happens. And then, like magic, like a dream, they begin to warm.

“May these tangible objects serve as a reminder of the intangible union that is forged here today. The binding of souls, the merging of realms, and the entwining of futures.”

You feel the exact moment the sand disappears, the exact moment that something small and spherical rests in your palm instead. When you open your hands, you find that the sand has been replaced with two rings made of clear, iridescent sand glass.

“The King and Queen of the Dreaming have elected to recite a final vow as they conclude the binding ritual,” Lucienne announces to the crowd. Quietly, she adds for you and Dream, “Whenever you are ready.”

You had never been more ready for anything in your entire life.

Dream’s fingers are warm and gentle as he takes your hand in his. When he slips the sand glass onto your finger, he does so slowly, carefully, like making a dream. “Do not urge me to leave you or to turn back from you,” he breathes into the saltwater air.

Never again, you think. We will never be apart again. “Where you go, I will go, and where you stay, I will stay,” you vow in turn. The sand glass ring slips over his knuckle with ease, as if it was always meant to be there. And it was.

The stars overhead catch in Dream’s eyes as he watches you. In the darkness of dusk, the flames on his cloak reflect in the glass ring on your finger, coloring it orange and gold. His fingertips skim over its surface eagerly, ceaselessly, as if he can’t quite believe it’s there. “Where you die, I will die, and there I will be buried.”

“May the Lord deal with me, be it ever so severely, if even death separates you and me,” you finish softly.

There is a long, quiet moment where there is nothing but the whisper of the tide against the sand. And then, Lucienne speaks. “Dreams and nightmares, beloved residents of the Dreaming. I present to you…your new Queen.”

In an instant, the entire beach erupts into a chorus of cheers and applause, as if they were only waiting for permission to do so. Your gaze turns to the crowd instantly, lingering on each grinning face, soaking in each cry, shout, and holler. The Dreaming had always possessed an undeniable talent for turning the intangible tangible. It was a place of pure imagination, after all. In this moment, the sheer joy from the crowd crashes over you in a wave that truly feels physical. It’s overwhelming.

You can’t help but smile and laugh along with them.

Dream’s hand is warm against the small of your back as he turns you to face the crowd. He leans in close, so close that the unruly mop of hair you love so dearly tickles your cheeks, eliciting another giggle from you. “Welcome home, love,” he breathes, his voice low and honey-sweet, meant for you and you alone.

You turn to look at him as his words settle over you. Home.

It takes only the briefest of moments. Your hand against his cheek, a touch he leans into. Reaching out, reaching through, you peek into the Realm of Attachment. Because you need to know.

In an instant, the night sky overhead turns into a kaleidoscope of color. When you look at the space between you and Dream, you find seven radiant attachments. White, soul-bound philia; red, romantic eros; purple, playful erotoropia; orange, companionate pragma; blue, compassionate philautia; golden, selfless agape; and green, unconditional, familial storge.

Welcome home, love.

And it feels like, finally.

. . .

In all your time visiting the Dreaming, you have never seen the palace so packed full of people. When you’d peeked into the ballroom earlier today, the sheer number of tables and chairs set up for the post-coronation banquet had astounded you. You’d thought that surely they wouldn’t all be filled.

Now, sitting at the front of the ballroom, gazing out at what must be every single resident of the Dreaming, you realize that you were so wrong. Not only does every chair at every table have an occupant, but it seems it’s not enough. Dreams and nightmares gather in the corners of the room, drinking, laughing, and conversing. Winged creatures fly to and from the lavish buffet tables, bringing plates of hors d’oeuvres and delicacies back for themselves and their friends, while others brave the crowd on foot. The energy in the air is infectious, practically buzzing with chatter, laughter, and life.

Dream’s thigh presses against yours beneath the table as he leans into you. “Are you doing alright?” he asks, his voice warm and low against the high-pitched chatter of the crowd. “You’ve hardly eaten or drank since we sat down.”

Your hand finds his beneath the table, fingers toying with the sand glass ring around his finger. When you turn to him, you find his blue eyes soft with concern. You give his hand a reassuring squeeze. “Yes, husband. It’s just overwhelming. Everyone seems so…so happy.” Smiling, you lean in close, brushing your nose against his. “I am happy.”

Dream’s lips quirk upwards at your admission. “Then all is as it should be,” he murmurs against your cheek.

His skin against yours is like kindling to flame. You lean in eagerly, hungry for more, scarcely caring if any of the Dreaming’s residents take notice. “Indeed, husband. I think it finally is.”

Dream’s laugh is a rumble in your ear. “You seem quite fond of that term of endearment, wife.”

What you’d give to drag him out into the corridors and show him exactly how fond of it you were.

Just as you’re about to declare as much, the bright sound of silver on glassware captures your attention. Just a couple of tables away from your own, you find Death of the Endless rising from her seat with a champagne flute in hand.

“Before you two get lost in your canoodling, I think we need a toast. It’s not a wedding without a toast, right?” she states, wiggling her eyebrows for emphasis. As warmth creeps up your neck, Dream shoots his sister a knowing look. Though he does not smile, the twinkle in his eyes betrays his amusement. Death gives him a quick wink before continuing. “I just want to say that I feel largely responsible for this union. So, you’re welcome. And congratulations, lovebirds.” She lifts her glass so emphatically that her bubbling beverage nearly spills over. “To Dream and Love, King and Queen of the Dreaming.”

“To Dream and Love, King and Queen of the Dreaming,” the room echoes in response.

Death waves her fingers playfully at you as she takes her seat. You roll your eyes half-heartedly at her, making a gesture as if to say, I’ll find you later. “Maker love her. I should have known she’d make a toast. Did you know?”

“Perhaps,” Dream muses with a quirk of his brow.

Just as you’re about to ask if there are any other surprises you should know about, another round of sharp chimes echoes through the ballroom. Scanning the crowd for the source, you find that Matthew has perched himself atop a tray of glasses carried by a server. The sound of his talons clinking against the delicate drinkware gets everyone’s attention.

That draws a laugh out of you. “You’re letting him talk?” you ask incredulously.

Dream’s mouth smiles against your ear. “He begged me,” he says, the baritone melody of his voice trailing shivers down your spine.

Across the room, Matthew ruffles his wings, preparing for his big moment. “Alright, everyone, it’s toast time. I’ve been waiting for this for weeks,” he crows, his voice thick with drama. “First things first, Boss, Lady Love–congratulations. You two make a beautiful couple. And I mean that both literally and metaphorically.”

There is a gentle rumble of laughter throughout the room. You offer Dream a small smile as if to say, Here we go.

“If there’s one thing you all should know about me, it’s that the Boss and I have been friends for a long time. Or, it feels like a long time, at least. When you’re putting up with his melancholy ass, the days tend to drag on at times,” Matthew continues. He takes flight briefly, swooping over to land atop a lantern centerpiece on Death’s table. “But he and I have been to Hell and back together–literally–and I care about him. When Love first came around, I thought, ‘Man, this girl is nice. Way too nice for this guy.’ Honestly, Boss, you’re such a stick in the mud, I don’t know how she put up with you.”

Matthew pauses again, obviously reveling in the crowd’s chuckles. With a shake of his head, Dream speaks up. “Please, Matthew, do go on,” he prompts, eyes flashing with thinly-veiled amusement.

“Will do, Boss. So, yeah, at first I thought, ‘These two have nothing in common.’ Wasn’t really sure how this whole partnership thing would work out. But then, I realized I was wrong. They did have something in common. They’d both been hurt. They were both lonely.”

This time, there is no laughter when Matthew pauses. His eyes gleam like black pearls in the ballroom candlelight. When your eyes meet, your throat tightens. “I’ve watched these two go through a lot together. I’ve watched them grow and change and open up in ways I never expected. I’ve watched them sacrifice everything for one another. I’ve watched them heal. And now, I get to watch them both be happy.”

There is a long, yawning moment where the ballroom is entirely still. Beneath the table, Dream’s hand squeezes yours.

Matthew dips his head at the head table in acknowledgement. “To Dream and Love, two kids who finally got their happy ending.”

“To Dream and Love,” the Dreaming choruses in unison.

For several seconds, there is only the quiet sound of residents sipping their drinks. Then suddenly, Matthew ruffles his feathers emphatically. “Well, what are you all sitting around for? Someone get some music going! It’s time to fucking party!”

All at once, the Dreaming seems to burst into life once again. A round of applause sweeps the room as dreams and nightmares alike leap out of their seats. A group of dreams quickly gather next to the balcony doors across the room. With practiced hands, they procure a fiddle, mandolin, flute, and bagpipes from thin air. When they start up a fast-paced, jovial tune, the Dreaming’s residents flood the ballroom floor between the crowd and the head table.

“He really knows how to set the mood, doesn’t he?” you laugh, watching as Matthew sweeps across the room, shepherding people toward the dance floor.

“He has always been exceptional,” Dream muses thoughtfully.

The two of you watch in contented silence for several moments as residents of the Dreaming take their celebration to the dance floor. Between the electric joy in the air and the music, you have to admit that even you want to dance. “Well? Should we–”

In a flurry of black, Matthew lands on the table in front of you. “Ah ah ah, not so fast,” he says, waving a wing at Dream. “I call the first dance, Boss. I got the party started. It’s only fair.”

You can’t help but laugh out loud at the absolute Matthew-ness of it all. The raven ruffles his feathers appreciatively at your response. “Well, what do you say, Boss?” he asks.

Dream looks from you, to Matthew, to you again. You know he’s only dragging it out for dramatic effect. They were both dramatic, though neither of them would ever admit it. You suspected it was part of why their dynamic worked so well.

The Dream Lord lifts your hand to his mouth, pressing a lingering kiss to your knuckles. “Be my guest.”

. . .

When you slip out of the ballroom and onto the balcony, you’re not sure how many hours have passed. All you know is that you’re dizzy and breathless, and the Dreaming’s night air feels so good against your skin. The granite is cool against the soles of your feet as you walk to the balcony railing, your shoes long-since abandoned. You honestly can’t remember the last time you had them on. Spinning and stepping through the thick throng of dancers, it’s a wonder you’ve been able to hold onto the cape Dream made.

A long, contented sigh escapes you as you rest your elbows against the balcony rail. You can faintly hear the persistent hum of music as the instrumentalists start up another song inside. But now that you’re outside, you can also hear the soft whisper of the breeze and the quiet chorus of katydids and crickets far below on the palace grounds. Beyond the palace lights, there is only the darkness of empty houses and the endless expanse of stars above.

Will the mortals dream tonight? you wonder absentmindedly. With everyone here at the palace, would humanity have a single night of comforting darkness free of dreams and nightmares alike? Or would they dream of these festivities, awaking with joy on their lips and wine on their tongues, their limbs exhausted from a night of dancing in another world?

“Does my beloved wife grow weary of dancing already?”

The smile that lifts your lips at the sound of his voice is instantaneous. It’s as second-nature as the warmth that blooms in your chest when he draws near, as instinctual as the way your fingers find his when he wraps his arms around you. “Just needed a little break. I think Mervyn might have two left feet. He just kept guiding me in circles.”

There is a quiet rumble of acknowledgement in Dream’s chest as he winds his arms around you, resting his chin against your shoulder. “I have never seen him move with such fervor. It seems you brought out a new side of him,” he muses. Turning his face to yours, he presses his lips to the tender hollow beneath your ear, a sacred spot that only he knows. You sigh with contentment, sinking into his embrace. “As you do with all, love.”

You remain that way for a long time, wrapped comfortably in Dream’s arms, chests rising and falling in unison, looking out at the midnight landscape of the Dreaming. Allowing yourself to simply relish in the sweet warmth within your chest, the soul-deep contentment within your core, the stillness of your mind, and this overwhelming, all-encompassing sense of rightness.

Love. Happiness. Peace. You are complete.

Dream is the one who finally breaks the silence. “I have been thinking…once the festivities have concluded, perhaps we should go to the dock and craft?” he says, his voice a lullaby in your ear.

For a moment, you simply blink, allowing his words to sink in. With all of the day’s events, your functions had been the furthest thing from your mind. The fact that the Dream Lord was busy pondering dreams and nightmares while you were tripping over Mervyn Pumpkinhead’s feet is the most Dream Lord thing you’ve ever heard.

With a grunt, you spin around, hopping up onto the balcony railing to get a better look at him. Dream’s hands instantly settle on your hips, grounding you in place. Though it’s a long way from the balcony to the palace grounds below, you don’t fear falling. You have no reason to fear, not when you’re with him. “You want to go craft on our wedding night?” you say, raising a questioning brow at him.

Beneath the midnight sky, the Dream Lord’s eyes glitter with stars. “Do our functions ever cease?” he asks, each syllable spun from night and velvet. Leaning forward, he presses soft kisses to your forehead, the corners of your eyes, your cheekbones, your nose. His eyelashes brush over your skin, delicate as butterfly wings. Your eyes flutter closed in contentment. “Dreams and nightmares never rest, love, nor do humans ever cease to sleep.” He pauses, his breath warm and sweet against your lips. “And they sleep so much more soundly when you’re with me.”

Perhaps the Dream Lord was right. Perhaps love was too feeble a word to describe what was between you. As your heart outgrows its home, as your eyelashes flutter open, as your eyes lock with Dream’s, you’re certain that there is no word that can fully encapsulate this feeling. It’s impossible.

“So set in your ways,” you tease, your voice soft and breathless. “You know, stubbornness isn’t typically considered an endearing quality.”

Dream dips his head slightly, looking up at you through dark, full lashes. This is it, you think. You’re going to spontaneously combust. Your heart is going to burst right out of your chest and leap into his hands.

“And what do you think of it?” he asks softly.

It’s not just endearing. It’s downright maddening.

“Come here and kiss me, Dream Lord.”

When Dream’s lips meet yours, it’s like coming up for air. As if every fiber of your being that was starved for him is fed, as if every nerve ending that was numb is brought to new life. The hum that pours from his throat into yours is so much more satisfying than any feast. His mouth is cashmere and honey against yours, his hair soft as silk between your fingers. Everywhere he touches seems to burn and sing and glow.

If he is the night, then you are a star. With each kiss, he pours light into your soul. With each touch, he kindles the flame. There is nothing more powerful than this feeling between you. You’re sure of it. It could ignite galaxies and illuminate worlds. It could create and destroy. It could overcome anything that stood in its way.

And, you supposed it already had.

Only when the burn in your lungs becomes painful do you part for air. Fingers tangled in that beloved perpetual bedhead, you brush your lips against his. “Before we go craft, there’s one thing you have to do for me.”

Dream’s eyes burn like sapphires in the darkness. “Anything,” he says.

You pause, holding your breath for dramatic effect. And then, you smile. “You have to dance with me.”

For a long moment, Dream only stares. And then, he laughs. Not just a chuckle, or something soft and breathless–something low, delicious, and happy.

You want to coax that sound from him again and again. You’ll dedicate the rest of your life to doing so. It will be a worthwhile cause.

“I believe that is a fair request. A husband would be a fool to leave the celebration without first dancing with his wife,” Dream says. He presses a final kiss to your lips before stepping back and offering you his hand. “Are you ready, then?” he asks.

Yes. Yes, I’m ready.

Your hand slips into his with ease. “Lead the way, Dream Lord.”

. . .

AN: And so, we come to the end of the road, my friends. When I started WYGIWG back in September, I had both the highest hopes and the biggest fears. Writing was a passion that I had let lie dormant for a long time. Would this story be any good? Would anyone read it? Would I have the time to dedicate to it? Would I really be able to finish?

In the end, what encouraged me to take the leap was understanding that I didn't have to have a perfect answer to all of those questions. As long as I was writing something I loved, it would be good enough. Even if no one read it, I could be proud that I accomplished my goal. If it was something I truly cared about, I would make the time. If I kept my mind and heart focused on those things, I would be able to finish.

I never could have expected what has come from this story. All of the mind blowing support I have received, all of the phenomenal people I've had the pleasure of talking to, all the the laughs, smiles, and memories shared over this story! You all are the flame that lights the fuse. Every kind word and reaction fueled the fire that brought this story to life. I truly could not have finished WYGIWG without you all. Thank you, thank you, thank you. It's been such an honor to get to know you all and to bond over something that we all love.

I'd be remise if I didn't include my incredible husband in this thank you. Nearly ten years of loving him inspired every sentence of this story. Tyler, thank you for making writing about love easy. From every emotion described, to the very title of this story (central to our wedding and featured in our home), to the final song featured (Close Your Eyes by Michael Bublé - our wedding song), you were at the heart of each part. S'agapo.

I still hope to do some bonus content for this story. I'm not sure exactly when any future posts will be up, but I will be sure to let my update list know. If you'd like to be tagged in any future updates, please let me know! Also, if you have any asks or special requests, please let me know. I will try to do what I can. x

All my love always, my friends! x

150 notes · View notes

ohdearlingwhathappened · 7 months

Text

Chapter 3 Kid x Reader x Killer- And then there were two

Chapter 3- Is that all this was

Content Warning: Angst, Hurt no comfort, there will eventually be comfort- you just ain't gonna find it here, Kid is a warning himself soooo

Chapter 1- Is that all this was?, Chapter 2

I am so sorry for how long this took me. I was recently in a car accident, and with college starting back up and my new job, I think my brain was pretty much melted. I'm hoping I'll be able to get back into a normal writing schedule, so fingers crossed. In the meantime- Enjoy the new Chapter!

A bright light streaming in from Kid’s cabin window found its mark on his face, bringing him out of his less than restful sleep. The man brings his arm over his face, not ready to go out and start his day, but it seems his movement and the sound of the bustling crew up above was enough to draw him even further away from sleep’s alluring grasp.

Groaning out a small string of expletives, the arm covering his face lowers and drags the hand down his face. Waking up alone made the whole ‘waking up' thing a lot harder than he remembered it being- he was much more used to slinging an arm over another body to stall or having one of two people gently rousing him. This morning’s experience just adds yet another drop of regret for Kid’s words from yesterday.

Regardless of his difficulty getting out of the bed, Kid forces himself to roll out of bed- quite literally- and gets dressed for the day. Now that he was a little more aware of his surroundings, the fact that enough of his crew was on deck to cause a bit of commotion gave him some pause. They have been at the safehouse for a couple of days now, so Kid is a little surprised more people aren’t on the shore celebrating being on land again.

Going up the stairs to get to the main deck, Kid opens up the door only to bump into the last person who would want to see him at the moment. “Ah… Good morning, Captain. I take it you slept well since it’s well past noon, and this is the first anyone has seen of you today.” The tone was unfamiliar and- while not cold- it wasn’t exactly a warm greeting either.

“I actually slept like shit. Couldn’t get comfortable with all the room I’m not used to.” Kid grunts out with a hint of defensiveness, refusing to look away, no matter how much he wants to. Y/n’s shoulders tensed and they clenched their jaw.

“Well, not to worry, Captain. I’m sure you’ll be able to get someone to warm your bed soon enough. If you’re lucky, they won’t jump to any unsavory conclusions.” Never afraid to get to the point and be cutthroat about it- there’s a reason why Y/n fit in with the Kid Pirates so well. The sardonic smile loosely held on their face and biting tone would make just about anyone flinch, and though it was brief and minute, Kid was no exception.

“Y/n-”

“Now, if you’d be oh so kind to get out of my way, I have more duties to fulfill to do my part on this ship. After all, I haven’t proven myself to be worthy of this crew yet, right?” With that, they push past the broad-shouldered man and begin to make their way downstairs. Until, that is, a hand wraps around their bicep to stop them.

“Would you let me speak, Damnit?!”

“I think you said enough yesterday, Eustass.” Y/n’s tone was now frigid, leaving no room for argument. “Besides, you have your ever-important alliance meeting soon- you don’t have time to chat with the likes of me.” With that, they yank their arm from Kid’s grasp and stomps downstairs, waiting until they know he isn’t going to follow to let the tears they’ve been fighting to finally glide down their face.

Kid, not expecting to have this kind of conversation with Y/n this soon, heaves out a sigh before steeling himself and walking out on deck. The crew appeared to be hard at work, cleaning the deck and making sure any valuables were being stocked away to be put under deck. Wire passes by his captain but stops once he sees the confused look on Kid’s face.

“Y/n thought it would be a good idea to clean up for our… guests. They’ve been a bit on edge- probably just nervous about the meeting with Apoo and Hawkins.” Once he finishes filling Kid in, Wire goes back to helping the rest of the crew out.

There are still a few more hours before the meeting was to begin, so Kid decided to help with a couple of boxes before going into the safe house to work on his side of the negotiations. Killer had helped him set up the parameters of the agreement, to start him off but has most likely left him to his devices after yesterday’s events. The massacre killer would most likely come around to notify him of the incoming ships and will probably stay throughout the meeting to ensure no bloodshed erupts from Kid’s less-than-appealing temper.

This alliance has to go well.

* * * * * * *

“I can’t do it, Kil.” Y/n sighs, their head resting on his chest and arms wrapped loosely around his waist. “Everytime I look at him I feel like I’m going to implode. I’m so angry, but I love him and want to forgive him, but he hasn’t even said sorry. One second I want to punch him, the next I want to cry and have him comfort me… What’s wrong with me?”

“Nothing. You’re hurting.” Killer’s left hand is placed atop their head, his right is wrapped around the back of their shoulders, keeping them close.

“You were dragged into this, and I’m so sorry. You shouldn’t have to feel like you need to pick sides between your par- whatever we all are.” Y/n cutting themself off from calling them lovers cut both of them. And despite having no more tears to shed, they hiccup- grieving the relationship that apparently never existed in the first place.

“Look at me-” Killer, holds their chin to bring their eyes to meet his mask, “I love you. You are my partner. And no matter what he says, Kid does too- his head is just too far up his own ass.”

It wasn’t the first time Killer had said he loved them, but it wasn’t a common occurrence and every time made Y/n smile.

“I love you too, Killer,” They took his mask-clad head in their hands and brought it down to place a kiss on his forehead, and then resting their own against his. “But I can’t stay. Not right now.”

Killer stiffened and breathed out a heavy sigh. “Where are you going to go?”

“I don’t know quite yet. I just need time and space away from him.”

Killer doesn’t respond. While he understands their need to go, he can’t help but to worry about their safety- this is the New World, not the South Blue. His hold tightens around Y/n, knowing this could be the last time he gets to do this for a while. “I get it. But please, be careful.”

“Don’t worry about me- I’ll be totally fine. Look, if his plans stay the same, you all should pass by Wano within the next month- and no matter what, I promise you to come back. Nothing will get in my way.”

The usually stoic man had a slight tremble to his frame, never loosening his grip around one of the two most important people in his life, despite feeling like they’re slipping through his fingers. “You better.”

“Promise me you’ll stay safe too.”

“I swear.”

“And make sure that moron doesn’t do anything stupid either. Ok?”

“That’s a big ask, little one, but I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thank you, Kil.”

With their conversation having come to an end, they both stand there, soaking in each others’ warmth and touch, for a few more moments before Y/n pulls away, kisses his mask once more, and makes their way out of the small cabin- leaving Killer alone, wondering how things could have gone this wrong in not even 48 hours.

Taglist: @claxdoesntknow @teddyitalia @baelien-queen @heilee @iamn1ya @gnarlycrys

#one piece #angst #eustass kid #eustass x reader x killer #fanfic writing #one peiece x reader #one piece fanfic #tw angst #angst no comfort #I promise there will be comfort... eventually #Is that all this was

44 notes · View notes

glamjrwi · 2 years

Text

Okay I’m making this while tired but I figure I can at least get it started and smart people can add on. if you’re here from jrwitwt first off HELLO!!! Welcome. I know there have been several posts going around saying watch your step, we do things differently here, and to get with it, that might seem a bit intimidating. So I wanted to make this non-exhaustive list of how tumblr works and HOW we do things different so you can get settled in :)

also these are just to the best of my ability and based off my time here i am by no means a standard, just a starting point

-You might’ve heard this one already but there isn’t much of an algorithm here. You can follow certain tags and blogs. The best way to find people is to just scroll through tags and check out blogs whose posts you enjoyed

-reblogging is standard. Likes are typically for letting a mutual(or anyone rlly) know you saw their post or during liveblog sessions(at least that’s how I use them) while we have replies on posts that might look like a comment section. It really isn’t most of the time. Comments are normally put in the tags of reblogs. It’s completely okay if your blog is just reblogs that’s super normal here. you don’t have to have an original thought if you don’t want to

-If you really don’t want to post/lurk and only follow ppl, change your pfp so we know you aren’t a bot. Blank blogs have a history of being bots and if we can’t tell you’re a person a lot of people will block on sight. Just fair warning

-We do a lot of blocking here. If you don’t like someone’s posts, block em and keep going. The filter tags system on tumblr really works(I’ve heard twt is fussy and not great) and most people tag things appropriately here so you Will Not see the shit you don’t want to

-TAG THINGS APPROPRIATELY PLEASE it’s a give and take. When it comes to spoilers, as long as the original poster tagged it you normally don’t have to tag it again in a reblog but you can out of courtesy

-Bonus point a lot of us use “jrwilb” as a tag when everyone is on the dash liveblogging a stream ep or just when they get around to watching it. Some people have personalized ones, and some ppl also main tag their liveblogs so it’s just a good one to know ahead of time

-People chit chat through asks frequently. You don’t have to feel shy abt it, esp if you are being friendly. But if you’re anxious a lot of people leave on anon asks so you don’t have to have your name attached

-We don’t really do callouts/negativity posts. If you see a take or headcanon you aren’t fond of going around. You can block/filter, or you can make a positivity post or post abt your own interpretation!!! A lot of people here love different takes and headcanons and try to value all of them. Again, if one squicks you really bad, filter/block it. If you really wanna complain, be sure to do it in dms or a private discord server

-our concept of what jokes are okay to post are very lax. there really isnt an official thing but i’ve tended to notice we dont really tend to do anything the council havent done. we joke abt gillion tits and eggs here because the council have done it. we have made very lewd jokes because . . . mcs and everything else grizzly does when he’s not playing dakota. so be prepared to be jarred by how . . . interesting it gets here

Okay that’s all I can think of for now. Members of councilblr feel free to add anything smile

#also if you are adding pls keep the tone friendly smile #i wanted to make a greetings post #for the twt refugees fleeing the discourse site #jrwi #just roll with it #what tags would twt ppl search hmmm #jrwi show #jrwishow #councilblr

281 notes · View notes

noonaishere · 18 days

Text

Online/Offline [C.S] - forty-two | meet the morn

“So… how do I join?”

“I’m sending you the invite, just give me oneeee… second.”

You scrolled to San’s screen name, MorningStar, and selected it.

Di-Dng!

“Dear god, I can not take that place. Who’s the new guy?”

“Yeji this is MorningStar-- should I call you Morning or Star?”

“Umm…” San thought for a couple seconds. “I’m not sure.”

“MourningStar…” Yeji trailed off as she thought. “I think I would just go with ‘Mourn.’”

“‘Morn?’” You asked.

“Mhm.”

“Sort of… Shakesperian, I guess. ‘Meet me on the morn.’”

“OH!” Yeji laughed. “I thought it was ‘mourning’ like, ‘mourning dove’. I read it wrong.”

You and San laughed.

“My eyes are tired. I ended up fixing the printer at work again.”

“Does it keep breaking?” San asked.

“It doesn’t stop breaking, honestly.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

Di-Dng!

“Yeji, just break the fucking thing. I have a bat you can use. I’ll put nails in it for you.”

“Ryujin, you’re back? I didn’t hear you come in.”

“Yeah. I put some food in the fridge for you if you want it. Vietnamese.”

“Oooooh. You spoil me.”

“Hell yeah, I do.”

You chuckled.

“You’re not going to introduce me, Cat?”

“Sorry, I’m setting up the game.”

“Keeho isn’t here for a day and already you’re struggling. Do you want me to do it? I’ve done it before when you and Keeho both show up late.”

“Yeah, but could you maybe show me how to do it another time? Your job makes you late more often than not.”

“Yeah, I’ll show you later.”

“Thank you.”

“Introduce me while I do this.”

“Oh-- yeah. This is MorningStar. We’ve become friends recently. This is his first time streaming. We were just deciding if he wanted to go by ‘Morning’ or ‘Star’ and Yeji suggested ‘Mourn’ with a ‘u’ because she read his name wrong.”

“Hmm…” Ryujin mused as she was, most likely, selecting the settings of the game. “I sort of like ‘Mourn’ with a ‘u’, actually. Even as ‘Morn’ as in the time of day, it sounds cool. Like the… sound of it sounds cool.”

“What do you think, MorningStar?”

“No-U-Morn sounds cool. If you all like it, then I like it.”

QuackIsWhack✅: Easy to please JohnnyYuta: We love an unbothered king LeaBea: I like his voice YangYangGangGang: NO U!

Di-Dng!

“Heyyyy, Mick and Bracken are here.”

“Yep!”

“And we’re starting off in different rooms today.”

“Wooow-- oh! Did you finally finish unpacking?”

“We did,” Mick said triumphantly.

“Wooow, nice!”

“Mick, Bracken, this is MorningStar.” You said.

“Nice to meet you.” Mick said.

“Nice to meet you. I heard you’ve decided on ‘Morn’ as a nickname?” Bracken asked.

“Yeah, it seems like everyone likes it.” San said.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Morn.”

“Nice to meet you too, Bracken.”

“Ahem?” Mick cleared his throat.

“And you as well, Mick.”

“Where’d you get the name from?”

“Maybe he’s Satan,” you laughed.

“You, being friends with the devil?” Mick asked. “I’d believe that.”

You laughed.

“Um, I’ve never streamed before so I was trying to think of a name, and my cat’s name is Byeol and she wakes me up every morning, so…”

“Ah, so ‘MorningStar’. That’s cute, Morn.”

A🌲SurroundedBy🌷s: His cat’s name is Byeol? TheNicestGuy: He has a cat? JohnnyYuta: Show us the cat! UltimateHyung: Why no cam! MinHoe: We want cat! LuciPURR: Give us the cat! StrickenChicken: Cat! Cat! Cat! SleepySheepy😴: 😻😻😻

“They’re clamoring in my chat, Morn, do you see?”

“Yeah-- wow, they’re going wild.”

“The internet loves cats.”

JohnnyYuta: Let us see her! MinHoe: WE NEED TO SEE THE CAT A🌲SurroundedBy🌷s: We demand the cat!

“I don’t even have a camera, how would I show her?” San laughed.

“Maybe we can figure something out.” You laughed.