#Too good of a person who is endlessly kind and caring and forgiving

[shima-draws]

The fact that this won’t even be the LAST time Sanji gets horribly manipulated by another woman. I’m just 😔

[cath-lic]

Hello, I was wondering if you believe non-Christians can be saved? I know many Catholics believe everyone that doesn't accept Jesus will go to hell. Personally, I find this outlook very sad and I was curious on other points of view so please anyone respond with their own opinions. I mean to ask you this: If God is love and is forgiving of our sins, why would he send everyone to hell simply because they could not find their way to him?

hi!! YES absolutely everyone is saved!! now, everyone and their brother has a conflicting opinion on this, but i’ll throw in my two cents.

my first, more concrete point: john 3:16. the everyman’s verse!!

For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.

okay, but what if someone doesn’t believeth? vatican ii’s lumen gentium, no. 16, also covers this. (italics added by me)

Those also can attain to everlasting salvation who through no fault of their own do not know the gospel of Christ or his Church, yet sincerely seek God and, moved by grace, strive by their deeds to do his will as it is known to them through the dictates of conscience. Nor does divine Providence deny the help necessary for salvation to those who, without blame on their part, have not yet arrived at an explicit knowledge of God, but who strive to live a good life, thanks to his grace.

however, it’s important to note LG no. 14. bear with me here.

Whosoever knowing that the Catholic Church was made necessary by God through Jesus Christ would refuse to enter her or to remain in her could not be saved.

i’m not a theologian, i’m just joe off the street—so i may be taking things out of context. forgive me!

however—as much as i am catholic, i believe that this is putting WAY too much importance on the catholic church as we know it today. it is far, far different than the original organization founded upon the rock of st. peter, and i believe that there are many things that god takes issue with in the catholic church (notoriously, jesus criticized large institutions like these). therefore, i don’t know how much i believe that the catholic church today, nor as a whole, was made necessary by god through christ.

my second point: my most fervent belief is that god is love. pretty much all of my friends are atheists, and they are kind and caring and loving people. it is, therefore, impossible for me to believe that they are not saved.

my second-and-a-half point: i take a little bit of issue with your phrasing of “send” to hell.

personally, i believe that hell is not necessarily Dante’s inferno, but a place of complete and total separation from god. i also believe that hell is not a place you are sent to, but rather a place you send yourself.

i mentioned purgatory in my earlier answer to a different anon; this is where that comes in. i generally concur with pope francis when he says that he likes to think of hell as empty (note: he was not issuing doctrine here). i believe that in purgatory, 99.999% (you get it) of people, if not 100%, are able to reconcile with god and see the consequences of their decisions, good and bad, throughout their life.

you know when you tell someone something that is true, but they keep on rejecting it, no matter what evidence you show them? that’s what i imagine is happening to the other .001%.

god is endlessly patient; he doesn’t mind spending eons trying to convince others to have empathy for their fellow man. however, humans are not as patient. they get fed up and walk away—and this is my (limited) understanding of the process of going to hell.

i’ll be honest, i don’t know if hell is permanent, temporary, etc. i’m not sure how helpful it is to debate it, either. but what i do know is very helpfully summarized in this post by the lovely hymnsofheresy.

whenever i have doubts about some aspect of what i believe being incorrect, i remind myself that god is love. he loves us more than anything in the world, and nothing we can do will ever change that. he doesn’t look for reasons for you to go to hell; he wants to be with us all the time.

thank you for sending in this ask, and i hope it helped ❤️❤️❤️

[ilikekidsshows]

The most ironic part of people defending Marinette in Ladynoir and Marichat is that hardly any analysis I've ever seen about her "being soooooooooooooo adoring to her Kitty uwu" ever EXPLAIN Marinette's feelings either.

Even her own fans mostly only write abuse and neglect excuses and talk about some endlessly vague softness, some at this point meaningless heart eyes, and whatever short lines of kindness of the week on her end of the ship are thrown in there.

Even Marinette's own fans apparently can't not go in depth on her "boundless love and devotion" for Chat Noir because the show drags everything down with her writing. It's always the same surface level crumbs. So how are WE supposed to get more out of it then?

If even her own defenders mostly only really talk about Catrien doing 95% of the work in Ladynoir and Marichat in Canon, then how are WE supposed to say something different? We are complaining for the same reason as they are focusing on Catrien: he's canonically actually contributing to the damn SHIP in ways that are pure enough to talk about.

All canon ever does for Ladynette's side is explain what use, excuses and comfort she gets outta his presence. That's also all her canon self ever truly highlighted in her crush era besides him bein hot.

Even her own defenders reduce her crush on him to thirsting. I've never seen anyone actually talk about the scenes in Passion where she for real showed effort and progress cause, I guess, that would require of her fans to acknowledge that she prior to this acted wrong in the first place. And of course the critical people won't make the posts cause when her damn fans can't be asked to acknowledge the rare REAL moments where she actually TRIES then I'll sure as hell not do their damn job.

Cause it's almost hilarious, right? For as much as Marinette defenders yell about us being too harsh, I've truly wanted to read analysis posts on her feelings for Chat to be convinced. But for 2 whole seasons her own fans failed her. They hardly say anything of substance and mostly count on Catrien to make up for her lack of contributions in the ships. Even massive fan Blogs like Buggachat for example are constantly showing that writing flaw in their content. That Adrien has to put up with and has to romantically do WAY TOO MUCH to make up for Marinette’s writing that sticks even in the most best faith (and often to at least some extent ooc, if not entirely) characterization.

When even her own fans spew nothing but endless excuses then don't blame us for picking up on that.

When even her own fans say hardly anything but abuse apologia to defend her then don't blame us for picking up on that.

When even her own fans say that she should be thanked and rewarded for having failed Chat Noir in basically ever possibly way, but hey, at least she stopped being an aggressive Jerk about it, then don't fucking blame us for picking up on that.

We're the ones who can at least argue with Canon scenes and whole episodes to make our point that Ladynette treats him badly. Her defenders say that canon doesn't count whenever they don't like it and otherwise point to their fanon as arguments. Forgive me for thinking that our side has the stronger case, our arguments are the ones that hold up when put to the test by Canon.

---

Yup. Stanning Marinette has to be based off vibes and made up stuff at this point, because the canon is giving us nothing to root for other than her being the protagonist. All the likable aspects of Marinette are so downplayed in canon these days, that the fans have to actively ignore canon to make her a better person they can view as an undisputed hero. And that's without getting into all the abuse apologia and excusing of bad behavior they engage in whenever they don't outright claim Marinette didn't do something she actually did in canon.

It's basically what that person who wanted writing tips for Marinette said; how can we make fanworks where Marinette is a good person who cares about her partner, when the character in canon, based on her canonical actions, probably doesn't care? Well, I try to avoid Buggachat’s stuff these days specifically because all I've seen from said stuff these days is trying to make the toxic stuff look quirky and cute. This isn't the only fanwork that's like this, though. Like, I remember when the Paris Special came out and people started wondering if the alter versions of the heroes were gonna tell each other their secret identities and work more closely together and all the fanwork with this concept was just: “Haha, the main verse lovesquare can’t count on each other for anything and the supposed villains support each other better! It's so silly!”

Like, the toxicity does sometimes get depicted in fanworks but it's always just funtimes, and not actually a problem because they treat it as a two-sided thing, where Adricat participates in the mess in their relationship, when he's the only one trying to be wholesome. There are so many comics of Maribug doing something absolutely horrible to Adricat and the artist’s comments are just: “they're such disasters, lol” when Marinette is the only “disaster” in the equation, but they have to be equally guilty, because then they can brush it off as just “communication issues” instead of Marinette being a self-obsessed jerk.

Like, the reading of the lovesquare as mutual communication issues is understandable to a point. In seasons 1-3, the typical dynamic was “Cat Noir hides his problems, because they're home-related, and Ladybug remains oblivious that he isn't always happy”. However, Cat Noir did tell Ladybug, all the way back in Syren, that he doesn't want to be left out of the loop, which is all Marinette does in season 4. The season 4 “Ladynoir Conflict” isn't based on Cat Noir hiding something Ladybug is oblivious to, even though everyone is used to treating their dynamic that way. In season 4 Cat Noir does tell Ladybug what's wrong, tries to do so repeatedly, only for Ladybug to shut him down by ignoring him, giving him excuses or by repeating apologies she doesn't actually mean because she has no intention of changing the way she behaves with him. The more I looked into what actually happens in season 4, the more I realized that the “the Ladynoir conflict is mutual communication issues” take is wholly inaccurate. Marinette alone is the one keeping secrets.

Marinette Stans have to make stuff up and ignore huge junks of canon in order to depict Marinette as a good partner and person these days, because the stuff the writers have her get away with keeps getting worse.

[furiousgoldfish]

When abusive parents hurt you, they're not 'doing it for your own good' or 'disciplining you', they're singling you out and making you a target. Because they're not doing it to all other kids, they're not doing it to their guests, friends, coworkers, bosses, neighbours, it doesn't even count if all of those people make one of the same mistakes you do. It's allowed for them. It's okay if anyone else does it. It's okay if other people break things, or refuse to be controlled, or speak up, or demand something, or act selfish, or act childish, or don't cater endlessly, or don't guess their moods, or don't act submissive, it's okay for everyone else! Just not for you!

What exactly is that teaching you?

That you're different. That the brutal and torturous rules exist only for you. That you are the only one who deserves no allowances, no forgiveness, no gentleness, no tolerance, no nuance, no love. And you are the only one! Everyone else can get those things and do what they want, but you will get tortured for it, you'll get tortured even for things you didn't do, because these two people have singled you out and deserved that you're so rotten you deserve worse treatment than any other person alive. And those people are your parents, they made you.

It teaches you injustice, it teaches you to put yourself in a different category than anyone else in the world and to assume you must be so intrinsically different that you won't ever find community, you won't ever find somebody to be on your side or similar to you, because you are the only one who could ever deserve this kind of hatred. It separates you from humanity and makes you feel like you don't belong, like you don't have a home here, it makes you abandoned by everyone because nobody is stating anything different about you. With their silence, dismissal and neglect, everyone is passively agreeing that this is what you deserve. That it doesn't matter to them if you live in pain and despair because you're too different, too otherworldly for them to care about.

No child has deserved to feel like that. Nobody is supposed to be pushed into that pit of despair, injustice and pain, alone, with no visible way out. With nothing they can do to redeem themselves, to find a way to see themselves as human after all that's been done to them. This is not a pit that somebody can easily crawl out of, this is something that can follow you all your life.

All children deserve better than this. Never defend abusive parents when they do this to a child. If you don't want a child to believe themselves to be a monster, don't ignore when this is happening and don't act like it's none of anybody's business. It's all of our business to make sure no kid thinks this lowly of themselves, not even if their parents decide they should. Parents who do this to children should be charged with torture, isolation and psychological devastation of a human being. All children are human. And no child deserves that.

[mrsnancywheeler]

This one is so long I’m so sorry!!!

But Finnick is just so Hozier (I love a whipped man. Not like gale tho)

Finnick is “Work song” by Hozier it’s not even funny.

~~~~

“Boys, workin' on empty

Is that the kinda way to face the burning heat?

I just think about my baby”

Despite everything that has happened to him he persists because he thinks about his sweet girl. The pain, the hardships, the struggles, he can get through it all if he just thinks about her

~~~~~~

“I'm so full of love I could barely eat”

Just his all encompassing love, his love is enough to nourish him, he doesn’t need anything else she just needs his sweet girl

~~~~~

“There's nothing sweeter than my baby”

I mean….he literally calls her “sweet girl”. He thinks the world of her. She’s kind, she’s caring, to him she’s the definition of “sweet”. He thinks the world of her, nothing is better then her.

~~~~~

“'Cause my baby's sweet as can be

She give me toothaches just from kissin' me”

Again more just thinking the world of his sweet girl. There’s no one better, no one who makes him feel anywhere remotely close to what his sweet girl makes him feel. Just being around her fixes his mood, fixes his day.

And plus to him she literally tastes sweet, like peaches.

~~~~~

“When my time comes around

Lay me gently in the cold, dark earth

No grave can hold my body down

I'll crawl home to her”

So I feel like this is so much about 1) Finnick also having kinda a death wish sometimes but 2) feeling the need to live so he can be with her. He fought in 13 for her, he’d fight tooth and nail for her.

All he needs to know is that she’s gonna be there. He will crawl from the depths of the earth, the depths of display to go back home (aka her arms)

~~~~~~

“Boys, when my baby found me

I was three days on a drunken sin”

OKAY BUT LIKE THINK ABOUT THR CONTEXT OF WHAT FINNUCK WAS GOING THROUGH WHEN HE MET HER??? ITS SO FITTING

~~~~~~

“And I was burnin' up a fever

I didn't care much how long I lived

But I swear I thought I dreamed her”

Again think about what he was going through when he met her. It’s not like he valued his own life all that much and that year he spent with her felt like a dream, like something that was too good to be true.

~~~~~

“She never asked me once about the wrong I did”

“My babe would never fret none

About what my hands and my body done”

“If the Lord don't forgive me

I'd still have my baby and my babe would have me”

This is getting long so I’ll have these lines together…so like again during the first year of their relationship. Finnick feels very guilty about the death he caused, that he’s a bad person, but his sweet girl never once held it against him, never once blamed him. She never even asked. Despite everything he’s done she’s still with him

~~~~~

“When I was kissing on my baby

And she put her love down soft and sweet

In the low lamplight I was free

Heaven and hell were words to me”

AGAIN!!! Being with her is what defines his happiness. Those secrete moments between them, the ones in their home, when the Capitol isn’t with them, he was as free as he could be. Heaven and hell meant nothing being he was with her

~~~~

Anyway I love Finnick and I love Hozier

-🌾anon

you're all good pookie 💕

THIS. you're literally so correct with this, and he's the adorable, loving kind of whipped for his sweet girl

when he's in the depths of suffering or hardships he still only thinks about his sweet girl. how he needs to protect her and get back to her no matter what it takes, the games, the rebellion, the war, whatever he's got to do

and she truly is everywhere for him, like when he smells what he thinks might be peaches in his food and is consumed with grief because it makes him think of her. and regardless of how we as an audience might read into her actions as more harsh or impulsive, he sees only the good parts, her flaws are just things he has nothing but sympathy and love for. she does most of what she does out of a place of care of self-hate, and he just loves her endlessly. when he's without her, life is bitter.

yes yes yes, he needs her to stay as something he can come back too, to work for, to give him reason to keep living. he begs her not to go into the quell, he does all he can do she won't be on the squad. he won't let death get him when he knows he can come back to his sweet girl. if she's in the heat of danger and something happens, he doesn't think he'll be able to weather that and knows she wouldn't be able to either, which he could never forgive himself for, even in death.

YES finnick was a young, drunk teenage boy living in peak opulence, having everything at his fingertips, endless parties, and drinks, and fun, but then there's her. she feels so right, it's just too good to be true, to be real, because she's so perfect for him. he understands her and she understands him in a way that no one else can.

he's fresh out of the games really, like a year or so later and of course he's still wrecked with guilt, and always with the nightmares. she's so comforting, she doesn't pry, lets him open up whenever he wants too, and when he does she's nothing but loving. reminding him that he didn't have a choice and all the things he did just brought them together and he's starstruck with how endlessly kind she is. he can't fathom how she puts no blame on him, and he feels the same way when she comes back from her games.

when they can just purely be together, be themselves it's the most free he's ever felt and nothing else he's ever done or felt guilty for matters because it's just the two of them. his sweet girl in his arms, someone he loves more then life itself and he can drown in her very being because of the pure joy it creates

and that's so real of you, he's a Hozier of a man ❤️

[pennyserenade]

God Sejanus is so damn special to me. He’s such a unique character and I love him with my whole heart. He carries this belief that he’s somehow abandoned his people, abandoned himself, when he’s doing all he can to put an end to the games but he’s just a teenage boy with the weight of the world on his shoulders and he still feels like he isn’t doing enough despite doing more than anyone ever has before him and all he wants is a better life not for himself but for everyone suffering and oppressed by the capital and he’s just so important to me, like such a pure good hearted person in a world full of hatred and violence and he still thinks he’s not doing enough when staying as kind as he is and keeping his connection to his home was an act of resistance in and of itself

I could talk about him for hours tbh

i'm very happy to be receiving this ask because he's truly been on my mind for WEEKS. i feel oddly protective of sejanus because i think a lot of people have come to view him as weak and annoying---which, i think, is mostly a reflection of the way coriolanus views him. i do think there are conversations to be had about the fact that the decisions sejanus made weren't always sound, but he was meant to serve a foil to coriolanus. every move coriolanus made was calculated, thought out to even the most minute detail at times, and sejanus' were quick, instinctual, done not to impress because they he they had to be done. when arcahne crane was murdered by her tribute, coriolanus hesitated, had to be told by lucy gray to help, and did so because of the cameras. sejanus knelt down and spread bread crumbs over her body, without a single thought about the cameras. he did not care that no one understood this gesture, or that arachne was someone who never treated him with an inkling of respect. coriolanus thought about that-- he thought how she was evil and deserved to get her throat slit, and he thought about how he wasn't her friend, not really, and he even thought it was ironic that he was painted that way later. sejanus was angry at these people but forgiving, good, and he spoke out vehemently against their games and as often as he did because he hoped against hope; he wanted to reach them because he felt that he could. in all of his anger, sejanus never robbed these people of their humanity the way that they did the district people, because he knew how erroneous it was. the fight would not be worth fighting if he felt, even for a second, that there was no one to listen.

i also love that his identity is shaky; that, even though he has fierce, unapologetic ties to district two, he knows that they don't view him as one of their own. this is one of the parts that i find myself relating to the most when it comes to sejanus. i think many first gen latines can and do feel the same way. it is an odd experienced to be othered by your own and simultaneously hated by what you're 'meant' to be. sejanus could not readily fit in to the capital no matter how hard he might've tried, and he couldn't fit in to the districts because he was too 'capital' in their mind, just for the mere fact that he'd been sent there and taught there. and you do feel endlessly guilt about it -- at least in my experience -- and it is hard to contend with. you can carry on their traditions and love what you are and defend it until you are blue in the face, but what happens when they are in the cage and you stand on the other side, privileged? and like -- this is a real life thing that happened! they put children in cages. i wish with EVERYTHING in me that people would start talking about the parallels between the events in the ballad of songbirds and snakes and trump presidency because that's what it's talking abt!!! it is no coincidence they casted who they casted

[newhologram]

Taking my emergency meds even though it will likely make me sick/emotional/unable to sleep/put my colon on strike.

I don't like this kind of decision. But people accuse spoonies of "drug-seeking" just for funzies when I actually hate taking these drugs. I'm terrified of complications. It takes so much discipline to keep myself at small, spread-out doses, to cycle the drugs safely, and even that makes me sick too. I don't want this. I don't want to always choose between life through the filter of pain and the filter of "a little less pain, but you're hella stoned all the time lolz." Being medicated all the time, on something or other, then itself becomes a disability. I can't drive myself to and from work anymore, because that means I won't be able to medicate as much. I'm severely limited now in my ability to run errands or even see friends. People see it as character judgement, laziness or moral degeneracy, as "you did it to yourself"--but the turning down of the volume on the nervous system is not a selfish, gross thing to want, and the people who struggle with addiction don't bc of being "bad people"--I'm not a "good person" just bc I've managed to avoid addiction all these years. It seems very obvious but I guess it's not. Pain is actually super treatable. My situation is super treatable. But I've been blocked access to the medicines, treatments, and surgeries that would change my entire life. How to game the game, Ariel? What has to be cut away to get a leg up out of the sea? Spoonies are tasked with the decision of what we would sacrifice to live life on land even if our feet bleed. And we are endlessly stigmatized for these decisions by people who would crumble into despair at a 1/4 of our daily pain. The ice pick in the heart of this life is fighting so hard against the desire for self-destruction, for nothingness, and the realization that even if we resist that urge, the decision is likely to be made for us. Even in illnesses not considered "terminal", complications kill all the time. I'm walking on the surface of a glass tightrope. I don't want that decision made for me, so I fight, I have fought for what I need. For over 10 years it's "I'll get this, and then be better" but nothing ever gives me my life back. It's only been more disability, which was the grief that made me suicidal when I first "became" this disabled (I was always). My dreams and wishes carrots on a stick, for whom? If a flare up kills me before I get to do what I want in the world, then was hope only a sort of iron lung to incentivize continuation of the program? Who is collecting this data and why? Bitch. We're beefing hard. It's almost impossible to trust life. But if I suddenly go feral, this is why. I won't ask that you forgive or even accept this New Hologram. It's likely going to be a bit jarring and I know a lot of people will have opinions/beliefs/judgements of my image beyond the ability to influence or manage. Interest in being perceived as a good person is slipping from my grasp. I don't know if being "good" can get the change the people need. The change I need, for relief. If the only thing to believe in is belief, then rejection of the current structures must be the foundation of any change. There is literally no actual reason, a tangible reason, that something made-up like money should keep someone, anyone, from getting medical care. I don't want to die over money. But I don't want to live for it, either. Anyway: the American healthcare system has us like batteries in the Matrix. It's actual evil and I don't know what I can do, what can be done, to change it. Despair is acidic and eroding. Powerless at the bottom of the sea, waiting for my miracle body to burst into being. If it's a story, why can't it play out in a way that makes life better for everyone? Is it possible to do it without leaving only a trace of humanity behind, etched geoglyphs in a mountain for the new gods to decipher? I know not all humans are terrible, I know most of us want things to be better. But I want so badly to stop being human the first chance I get. I'm done playing by these rules.

[crumbingmask]

Honey & Glass (Yullen, Rated T)

Chapter 1; I won't stop until I get where you are.

AO3

In light of not being as dead as he had previously expected to be, Kanda now has several problems.

Problem one, no Mugen.

Problem two, he was in a dirt pit in no mans land and again with the whole not dead thing, his next destination was in England.

Problem three, he needed to save Allen Walker or kill the Fourteenth since this awaking him business was unfortunately, mildly His Fault. With the stabbing and all.

Problem Four, he did not know how to do that. Save Allen Walker, that is. But Kanda knows he has to. After what he did for Alma and him, even though...Kanda would be the reason he loses. He still saved them anyways. Set them free.

He doesn’t feel like he deserved it.

Not that the beansprout would care about something like that. Allen had once said to him that he was moved by what was in front of him, instead of big picture stuff.

Because he’s a fucking tender hearted, idiot martyr who can’t mind his own fucking business and even though he really would have rather died then admit it. He is going to have to thank him for doing it anyways.

so, Kanda needs to have some words with him. If he was even still himself, that is. But that brat was stubborn as hell so it’s probably fine for now.

—

The staff at the clinic on the outskirts of Mater recognize him quickly. Turns out they didn’t treat scientific anomalies that healed at abnormal rates very often, go figure.

—

The long trip was good actually, gave him time to think, process? Whatever you want to call the kind peace you get when everyone you know thinks you’re dead, and you’re thousands of miles away from the fallout.

Kanda follows a well-worn path alongside the train tracks. He’ll either find the station first, or just catch the next train that passes. Not much different then the way they’d always done it at the Order before.

After using the ark’s gates so much in the past year, traveling between missions had been so much faster. He hadn’t realized how much he missed the subdued pace.

Just the sounds of his boots crunching against the gravel, and rustle of wind through the trees.

The illusionary flowers have even rescinded enough that they almost seem to meld into the already heavy floral meadow. There are a lot of flowers in the countryside, apparently.

He stops to take a bit more time to appreciate the scenery before him. Just feeling the breeze on his skin and fluttering through his hair. Just breathing.

Alma and that person, they would have liked it out here. He knows it. Kanda hopes there’s lots of flowers to enjoy whatever they are now too. Maybe they’ll even tell him all about the flowers they’ve seen, when it’s his turn to rest too. It’s a nice thought.

Kanda moves on. He has a lot of ground to cover if no trains come by today.

—

Kanda thought he’d feel more apprehension, maybe even anxiety the closer he got to Headquarters. He certainly hasn’t forgiven them. Fuck no, not even in his second death will he ever forgive them.

But he’s not as revolted by the idea of returning as he’d thought.

Maybe it’s because it's different this time. That it’s his choice, as Kanda Yu, to become an exorcist this time. Not because it was what was expected of his duty to God or whatever the scientists had said to him upon awakening.

He’s taking a page out of Walker’s book and being moved by what’s in front of him. Becoming a destroyer who saves, even. Gross.

Because Kanda can't become another tragedy in a long line of others that have taken a piece of Allen Walker’s endlessly generous heart and destroyed it.

His life's mission to find that person is done. Alma and that person. He’d love them forever, as he promised. But that part of his restless soul had finally been laid to rest.

Now his new mission is to save Allen.

The one who had bore witness to all that he was, and still saw it fit to grant him salvation.

—

Kanda realizes, a bit belatedly, as he holds Mugen’s newly evolved form in his hands. He had been searching for someone the last time he’d summoned his innocence too. What a cruel irony.

—

“So, you’re really going to go after him?” Marie asked, even though it’s not like he really needed Kanda to answer to confirm it. Kanda didn’t exactly have a knack for subtlety. He had made his intentions clear as soon as he found him and Lenalee in Provence, demanding to know the whereabouts of his sword and the beansprout.

“I have to. I owe him that much.” If he didn’t find Allen, dying peacefully wouldn’t be an option. The regret would surely eat him alive.

“Allen would never think of it that way, that’s just how he is. And you know that.” Marie is smiling when he says it, but his face still looks grim. And Kanda can’t help but wish people would stop doing that. Just don’t smile if you’re unhappy, it seemed simple enough to him.

Kanda tightens his grasp on Mugen, his next words coming out harsh and hissing. Like a snake rearing to strike. “Well, who cares what the fuck that idiot thinks anyways.”

Marie raises an eyebrow, as if to say, “you obviously do.” But he’s known Kanda long enough to know that's not a smart idea, so he wisely doesn’t say anything. Even if he probably could’ve gotten away with it.

—

“You won’t be able to call us for back up anymore.” Lenalee says.

He knows she’s sad he’ll be gone again soon. Another piece of her little world slipping away as suddenly as it had returned to her.

She looks up at him, her eyes are shiny but she doesn’t cry. She stands straight and tall, with her chin held high. “So, be more careful this time, or else.” She says with a seething glare.

He can’t promise her anything. They’re both well aware of the risk he’s taking, that he’ll likely be branded a traitor as soon as the Order catches wind of his involvement with Walker.

He nods nonetheless, nobody liked disappointing Lenalee.

“And don’t be too mean to Allen when you see him again, ok?”

“I’ll be as mean as I need to be.” Kanda states in a deliberately flat tone, to avoid sounding petulant. Though it doesn’t fool her one bit.

Lenalee huffs an exaggerated sigh and tries very hard to continue genuinely glaring at him but the illusion is broken by the amused twitch of her mouth as she fights a smile.

Lenalee is a strong woman, always has been. Kanda knows she’s going to be just fine.

He’s just as proud of her as she is of him.

—

Around the twenty-seventh bar without success, Johnny begins to lag behind though he stills seems to practically deflate when they officially make the call to end the search for the night. The only reason Kanda relents to stopping is because those science division dweebs are basically useless when exhausted anyways.

Kanda hangs back while Johnny asks for directions. Preferring to lean against a wall as the scientist makes nice with strangers.

That’s when he happens to glance into the bar across from him. In it’s dim windows he catches sight of a well-worn flag like tapestry hanging above the bottles lined against the wall. The rose cross, the same insignia embroidered onto the breast of his coat. After working under the Black Order for nearly a decade, Kanda had become somewhat familiar in how to spot supporters of the organization. There were dozens of small things that one can do to subtly indicate their loyalty.

Kanda is surprised to see it but immediately intrigued.

So, Kanda grabs the back of Johnny's jacket collar and drags him along into the establishment.

When they hear the chime ringing from above the door, the barkeep glances up. The brown of her eyes reflect the light of a candle sitting on the bar in front of them, making them appear gold. Only for just a moment.

But it still puts Kanda on edge. Hm, that’s probably an overreaction. Another problem for him to deal with at some point.

She smiles, “Sorry, gentlemen, I’m about to close up for the..” She begins to say until she catch sight of the emblems across the front of Kanda’s uniform jacket. “Oh, it’s been a while since I’ve seen any exorcists around here. What can I do for you, sir?”

It’s all a stroke of dumb luck. Well, if it can still even be called luck anymore when the information gained was basically useless. The barkeep did recognize the photo of the beansprout Johnny showed them. Through it had been years since that bastard Cross Marian had dragged him though here.

Their disappointment. Well, Johnny’s disappointment, obviously. Must have been physically visible. Since she became very apologetic that she had no recent information on Walker.

Instead, as if in consolation, she offers them a drink, and to hear a funny story about that strange little boy she had met all those years ago.

And honestly, Kanda’s not going to turn down a free drink at this point. This search is already a fucking drag. Not like Johnny can or will stop him. He may be older than Kanda, but he knows who’d win that argument. They’d been about to find an inn anyways.

So, the two decide to stick around to hear the story.

It starts like this.

The masked priest had left the kid there, giving a vague excuse of taking care of business in the area and disappearing out the door before she could’ve argued back. This wasn’t a place for a baby. She had just started working there, and didn’t want to get in trouble but what she were supposed to do? Throw the kid outside with no supervision? No way!

“He was like ten, when he was here last.” Kanda said, raising an eyebrow at her.

Timothy was about that age too, right? And he’s an exorcist now. Kanda himself has been an exorcist nearly a decade and this body is only nineteen now. He doesn’t understand why they’re making such a big deal of the beansprout being unsupervised.

“Yes, a baby.” She insisted while nodding. Then continuing her story seeming unperturbed by his interruption.

So, she watched him. The strange kid was quiet, incredibly proper and raised no fuss. He simply sat and observed his surroundings, patting the equally strange golden toy sitting on his lap.

Once she had gotten caught up in a late afternoon rush of customers, it had been easy to forget he was even there at all. That was until some unsavory sort of men began causing a bit of scene, over the decided winnings of the poker match they’d be playing. Things had begun getting tense and everyone had been certain an ugly fight was about to unfold. The keep had been trying to keep the situation from further escalation, which seemed to catch the child’s attention far more than anything had in a few hours.

So, he had climbed down from his seat on the bar stool and wandered over to where she had been trying to calm the ruckus.

Then, ever polite, challenges the men to a game of poker.

If he won, they had to leave with no fuss and leave all the money they’d started the commotion for. If they won, his master would pay them double what they’d been playing for when he returned.

Kanda and Johnny are very certain Allen had been bluffing on his part of the deal. Cross Marian, pay double? Unlikely.

Also Kanda is possibly reconsidering his stance. Ok, so maybe he did need more supervision. What the fuck, kid? Was he trying to get maimed?

The barkeep couldn’t recall exactly how it had all gone down, because honestly, she had been a bit too overwhelmed with the situation. There must have been some further needling to get the men to raise to the bait of playing against a ten year old.

And it did not end well for those men. Allen decimated them. Absolutely slaughtered them in front of their peers, while smiling sweetly the whole time.

It was already embarrassing enough for these men, that someone that was barely four feet off the fucking ground had just wiped the floor with them. So, what were they gonna do, accuse a baby of cheating? With all these witnesses? Not a chance.

With the little pride they had left, mutually threw the cash on the table and stalked out in a quiet but obvious rage.

Then the kid neatly gathered the cash, counted it and tucked it into his pocket. He returned to his previous stool and continued to patiently wait for his master’s return.

And when said master had returned. The kid simply pulled the thick wad of cash out of his little coat pocket and handed it to the masked man.

“I played some poker while I waited for you.”

“Shit, kid. You sure did.” Visible eye widening as he counted through the bills.

The boy had simply shrugged, nose scrunched up in mild disgust. “They were being rude.”

Kanda is trying not to show his amusement. He’s well acquainted with the expression the barkeeper described on the beansprout’s face.

Surprising all of them, the General had slipped the barkeep a few bills for her trouble. Probably because it wasn’t his money. And thus, him and the kid left.

The last thing she remembers is the two had been discussing dinner as they had left. The kid had argued, since he had earned the money, he should rightfully get to choose what they ate with it. Then, that had been the end of it.

The story reminds Kanda of a similar one. Back when Krory had first joined as an exorcist. Lavi had insisted on telling him about how after some shady men pulled a fast one on the clueless pseudo-vampire in a game of cards. And so, Allen methodically and ruthlessly destroyed each of them at poker in return. Leaving them with nothing but their underwear. “And sure, he did give the clothes back, he’s such a good kid, but it’s about the message he sent, Yu-chan!”

It’s a funnier story than Kanda had previously given Lavi credit for.

As they leave and head towards the inn, Johnny seems to have bounced back into a somewhat energetic mood after their conversation with the barkeep. Which is good, he really didn’t want to deal with the scientist crying again.

Kanda, on the other hand. Well.

He’s familiar with an ache like this in his chest. As if the heart itself was bruised. But, the cause of it was new, and getting uncomfortably more frequent.

This could, potentially, be another problem. The best course of action Kanda decides, is to ignore that possibility as hard as possible.

—

Kanda was used to having nightmares, of being haunted by memories of his past. He is used to reaching out for a person just beyond his grasp.

But these nightmares are new and he’s definitely not used to them.

He’s back at that orphanage in Paris, always right when Allen’s sword had pinned it’s owner and the Level Four to the wall. Kanda disposes of Akuma, and when he looks up and connects eyes with Allen. The Fourteenth will be staring back instead.

Then he wakes up sweaty and nauseated.

Regret is familiar. It’s a weight on Kanda’s chest that has followed him from one life into the next.

Guilt was different.

What did a scientific abomination like a Second Exorcist need guilt for? He had never wanted to hurt Alma but it had been necessary. He had always regretted, but never felt like it had been his fault. It was the Order that had doomed them both from the start.

It’s not like Kanda had wanted to hurt Allen, either. Or anyone of the few people in the Order he could maybe on a good day admit to tolerating. Like Marie and Lenalee.

He’d also known that at the time, he truly hadn’t cared enough to think about them in conjunction to his desire for the Order's downfall. And after all, Lenalee may love the people working alongside her but she still hated the Order. Marie almost became a Second Exorcist. There had always been a way to find justification for the destructive revenge he sought.

He had felt no guilt.

Because more than anything else, he had wanted the Black Order to burn. Kanda had wanted to watch that hell forsaken place get leveled to the goddamn ground, then left to rot with the fucking worms just like corpses the organization had built itself upon.

But Allen Walker, now that was a different case. Wasn’t he always.

Guilt festers hot and sluggish under his skin, when he thinks of Allen. The unnatural corpse like gray of his skin, and cold eyes of gold. A cruel mockery of the soulful silver irises of the body’s true owner.

Which he was. The true owner, obviously.

And he will continue to be. If Kanda had any say about it. Regardless of whatever the Earl, or General Cross said. He’s Allen Walker, an exorcist no matter what.

Kanda presses his palms over his face and groans. This is stupid, he needs to be sleeping right now. The packet of debts that Johnny compiled was hundreds of pages. They’ll be searching all over London by the looks of it, and he needs to be able to focus if they run into more Akuma.

But when Kanda closes his eyes, all he can see is a Noah's eyes and skin, since he ignored the warning signs in Paris.

He didn't fall asleep again that night.

—

Through the spray of Akuma blood, Kanda sees a brilliant white cloak. Clown Crown.

It’s him.

If he’s able to wield innocence, it must be Allen in control. It has to be.

Kanda’s heart throbs so hard it hurts, it feels like it may just try to escape from his chest. The pounding of his heart seems to sync with his head. It only serves to make the hangover worse. He really feels like he’s going to be sick.

He looks like a dumbass dressed up like that. And there was no way Kanda was going to let it go. Once they get a hold of Walker again, it’s all over for that clown.

—

The fact that it becomes an absolute shit show the minute they find Walker, isn’t surprising. Though, Kanda is annoyed and exhausted already.

He’d definitely been too hungover for this.

—

“Why are you wearing an Order uniform? Why did you throw that freedom away?!” Walker had shouted at him, and now his words were left to ring in Kanda’s ears.

He had been free. But it hadn’t felt right. Not when he knew Allen would be imprisoned for it.

How did Kanda even convey to him that he was on his side?

How did the moron not know that already? Did he really think Kanda came back for the sake of the Order, the war? Like he’d be such a loyal lapdog to the organization that wished to extinguish them both. Not a chance in hell.

Fuck the Black Order, and the Fourteenth. And honestly, fuck their little holy war too. He really didn’t care at this point. Not like he’d even live long enough to see the end of it.

Until one of them runs out of their limited time, Kanda would be on Allen’s side.

Finding a way to tell the beansprout that, was just another problem he’d add to the unfortunately growing list.

[mountphoenixrp]

We have a new citizen in Mount Phoenix:

        Park Noah a 23 year old son of Benten.         He is a Escort at Babylon and Host at Sakura.

FC NAME/GROUP: park sunghoon / enhypen 

CHARACTER NAME: park noah

AGE/DATE OF BIRTH: 23 / december 25 2000

PLACE OF BIRTH: paris, france

OCCUPATION: escort at babylon + part time host at sakura lounge

HEIGHT: 181cm / 5'11"

DEFINING FEATURES: ears and tongue pierced; tattoos especially around his arms and beauty marks on his nose and cheeks. 

PERSONALITY:

a human golden retriever, that’s what people would say about park noah if asked about him; after all, he’s a very friendly person who seems to thrive under the presence of other people to the point that he ends up being a little clingy as well, doing every and anything to keep people around him so he’s always kind, always caring, always giving, always trusting and forgiving, always a little loud too; he’s someone who seems like he wears his heart on his sleeve, emotions splattered way too easily on every expression that passes through his face.

   a lonely leech, that’s what noah feels is a little closer to the real answer. after all, he prefers to be surrounded by people because then he doesn’t need to think about how he had to distance himself from one the passion that he has ever had in his life nor how empty he feels when he’s faced with the reality that he feels like he has nothing to offer to anyone or anything, of how he feels undeserving all of the good things that he has in his life but he also can’t complain about them because he feels like it wouldn’t even make sense, complaining about too many good things happening in his life.

   in the end he’s a little bit of both. it’s hard to pinpoint where exactly what he calls his persona starts and where it ends, how much of what he call his true self slips through the cracks of the masks that he puts on everyday, how much of his expressions are him showing what people want to see and what he really feels. noah isn’t the most reliable narrator of his own life, giving way too much credit to his power and too little to what he accomplished by his hard work and skills, or even by anything that doesn’t involve his naturally good luck. 

HISTORY:

lucky— that’s what people say that you are.

   because you were born right on christmas and dad, even though he raises you alone, keeps saying that you’re a present in his life and dotes on him endlessly as his only son; because dad is praying for a promotion in a work field that isn’t easy, but he still gets it; because the right people still take a liking to you so you get accepted into the popular clique at school almost right away; because you always get the get free one stick on your popsicle and win any prize draws that you participate in; because you get good grades even in subjects that you end up guessing most of the answers; because the art teacher takes a liking to you and decides to take you under their wing, your projects being chosen for competitions and exhibitions more often than not; because you always get first or second place every time; because good things happen when you’re around more often than not.

luck— it eats you from the inside out.

   because it feels like it’s everything that you have; because, in the end, everything you accomplish goes back to it— to luck; because nothing feels earned. it feels like you get into art contests not because of your skill but because you’re the teacher’s favorite or because the chosen person wasn’t able to make it and they needed to be replaced almost on the spot; your wins don’t feel earned because there’s always a friend of your teacher or even your father in the jury so of course they already have a biased of you; it feels like your friends don’t like you because of you but because good things happen when you’re around, affectionately calling you their lucky charm.

   but you tell yourself that it’s fine, that luck is a valid skill as well— it tastes like a lie no matter how much you repeat it to yourself, but then you also say that maybe if you repeat it to yourself enough times then you’ll eventually believe it.

a fraud— that’s what people say that you are.

   or, well, they don’t say it right to your face, but you hear them whispering behind your back, on the corner of your eyes; it starts as a nasty rumor from a person that you heard didn’t make it to the last art competition before your high school graduation, one that is known to be the first step to get into one of the most renowned art school in paris, but then it spreads like wild fire through the rest of the school, because it just makes sense, doesn’t it? because it can’t be just a coincidence, all the good things that happen to you and no one else; because people revive all your interactions with the art teacher who took you in and your competition rewards; because they look at your father and wonder if there were really no strings pulled behind the scenes.

   and they snicker cruelly amused, you hear them behind your back, on the corner of your eyes, when you mess up a line on your sketch or a stroke on your painting, when you have to start your work all over again.

a fraud— it eats you from the inside out.

   because that’s what you feel that you are; because nothing feels earned anymore; because people question your accomplishments so much that you start questioning them (even more) too; because the first thing that is brought up in when asked about your art is what your father does, if not how much good faith your art teacher holds towards you; because making art doesn’t feel as fulfilling as before, not when you’re unsure about every stroke that you make against the canvas; because your creative process turns into an endless symphony of wrong, wrong, wrong with undertones of not good enough, not good enough, not good enough.

   because you wonder if maybe those people are actually right; if your teacher only took a liking to you because of your father and if they both or either of them were always pulling strings behind all the competitions that you were a part of; because you’re lucky— lucky to have a father who now is a renowned art curator and lucky that your art style (or your father’s connections) was enough to captivated an art teacher who has connections of their own instead of your own skills; because you’re lucky— lucky that you caught the eye of the popular clique on your school and then college and lucky that they decided to keep you around even if out of interest for your ridiculously amount of good fortune than anything else.

   because, in the end, luck is the only thing that you have.

happy— that’s what you tell yourself that you are.

   because, in the end, you always get the get free one stick on your popsicle and win any prize draws that you participate in; because you have a loving father who made sure you wanted for nothing in your whole life, who understands when you tell him that you want to quit art school even if you can’t give him a reason to why; because you’re always surrounded by people that make it easier for you to ignore the things that are knotted so tightly in your chest; because you have rewarded art pieces under your name even if you don’t make art anymore, deciding to stop before your sweet memories were tainted with resentment and regret; because you learn how to get the validation that you never knew you needed through other means.

   because you tell yourself that it’s ok for things to not feel earned and that it doesn’t matter how you got where you are; because when you felt on the edge of true helplessness, someone reached out a hand to you and offered you a place where lucky is a somewhat a skill (or more like a power), a place where you don’t carry the name of your father or even your art teacher, no other name but your own; because you feel like you should be happy so you rare— or at least that’s something you tell yourself in hopes that you repeat it enough times then you’ll eventually believe it too.

PANTHEON: japanese

CHILD OF: benten

POWERS: luck manipulation - has incredibly good fortune and can temporarily bestow some of their own good luck upon others.

STRENGTHS: mingles with all kinds of people, skilled at anything that involves arts and crafts, attentive

WEAKNESSES: extreme people pleaser, clingy, insecure

[thelittlebirdwriter]

Frank Castle Fluff Alphabet

A- Activities: What do they like to do with their s/o? Frank likes to spend time staying in with you. He doesn't really care what you guys do, whether it's watch a movie or just cuddle on the couch, as long as he's spending time with you. B- Beauty: What do they admire about their s/o? He loves how you trust people and always see the good in them, something he fails to do sometimes. (Though he thinks your ass is pretty nice, too.) C- Comfort: How would they help their s/o when they feel down/have a panic attack etc.? If it's what you want, he'll hold you in his arms and stroke your hair, whispering reassurances. If you don't want to though, he will just sit there in front of you, and will listen if you want to talk. D- Dreams: How do they picture their future with their s/o? Frank dreams of settling and not fighting anyone anymore, and just peacefully spending the rest of his life with you by his side. Preferably somewhere secluded, but if you want to stay in a big city, he'll do that too. E- Equal: Are they the dominant one in the relationship, or rather passive? F- Fight: Would they be easy to forgive their s/o? Frank is the kind of person who treads lightly when it comes to arguments with you. He knows where your sore spots are, especially if you've revealed past trauma and insecurities to him, and he would never bring that up in a fight. That kind of low blow is just not cool and he would never hurt you that way. G- Gratitude: How grateful are they in general? Are they aware of what their s/o is doing for them? He's learned to be grateful for the things he has, and always appreciates the things you do for him, even if its something small like holding his hand when he's worried. H- Honesty: Do they have secrets they hide from their s/o? Frank doesn't keep a lot of secrets once you reach a certain point in your relationship. He starts out guarded, but eventually opens up to the point that he can't hardly keep anything from you. I- Inspiration: Did their s/o change them somehow, or the other way around? He thinks you changed him for the better, made him see the good in people. You think he was always like that, he just needed to open his heart a little more to see it. You guys agree to disagree. J- Jealous: Do they get jealous easily? It depends on the situation. If someone is hitting on you and you aren't doing anything, he'll leave it alone because he trusts you and knows that you are loyal. However, if you look uncomfortable, he'll gladly step in and help you out. However, if you start flirting back, he'll feel incredibly betrayed, and will sulk until you reassure him that your heart is his (you better reassure him, don't you dare hurt this human teddy bear >:[) K- Kiss: Are they a good kisser? Frank Castle is an amazing kisser. No I don't take criticism. Soft kisses, passionate kisses, forehead kisses, he can do it all. L- Love Confession: How do they confess to their s/o? Very agressively. Not in a bad way, just...Jesus, Frank, calm down. M- Marriage: Do they want to get married? How do they propose? He'd be a bit hesitant at first, but once he figured out that you were his forever, he was determined to do it someday. He planned to do this big, romantic gesture, at a nice restaurant and stuff, but then he just kind of...did it. When the moment felt right. That moment was post-you-waking-up-from-a-nap. So it took you a moment to figure what was happening. N- Nicknames: What do they call their s/o Sweetheart, Darlin', Baby (Can you tell that I'm fuckin swooning anyways) O- On Cloud Nine: What are they like when they are in love? Is it obvious to others? You can't tell me that Frank isn't a huge fuckin simp. He's so in love. It's ridiculous. He's like a love sick little puppy. And everyone around him can tell, and they tease him endlessly. P- PDA: Are they publicly affectionate/ upfront about their relationship? He'll have an arm around your shoulder, or waist, or hold your hand when you guys are around friends, but not in public-public. It's too

dangerous, and someone might hurt you for being connected to him. Q- Quirk: Some random ability they have that's beneficial in a relationship. He's very strong, and will carry you. Whether it's fireman carrying you while you screech at him toet you down, carrying you piggyback, or carrying you bridal style when your feet hurt, he'll just pick you up and lug you places. (murder husband my beloved *dances*) R- Romance: How romantic are they? Are they cliché or creative? He tries to be romantic. Some attempts are better than others. Very, very cliché. He knows the classics are classics for a reason, and he doesn't want something to go wrong if he tries something new. S- Support: Are they helping their s/o achieve their goals? He might not be actively doing something to get you to your goal, but you can bet your ass he'll support you and be in your corner as you chase your dreams (as long as you do so in a safe manner.) T- Thrill: Do they try new things to spice up your relationship? In most categories, he does a lot of the same thing. In the bedroom however....*wiggles eyebrows* anything goes. U- Understanding: How well do they know their partner? Once you open up to him, he can read you pretty easily. He knows what you're feeling, and he knows what things make you upset or trigger different things. V- Value: How important is the relationship to them? He puts you really high on his list. He would do anything for you. Even push you away if that is what it took to keep you safe. W- Wild Card: Random Fluff Headcanon. He tried to make dinner for you once. He almost burned the place down, but it's the thought that counts. X- XOXO: Are they very affectionate? You cannot convince me that this man isn't the biggest, most touch-starved teddy bear of a man. He loves to cuddle you, and hold your hand, kiss you on the forehead...very soft boi. Y- Yearning: How will they cope when missing their partner? He'll pout. There's no other way to put this. He's going to sulk until you come back. If you're able to call or text him while you're away, it tides him over for a little, even if it's a simple "made it here safe" message. Z- Zeal: Are they willing to go great lengths for the relationship? Abso-fucking-lutely. This man will do anything and everything for you. Refer to letter V

[gracelesslady23]

ProngsfootWeek DAY 1 - When and Why did you begin to Ship Prongsfoot?  What makes you Ship it?

Sirius/James is without a doubt the ship I have circled back to the most. I have fanfics I wrote all the way back in 2009 for them (all incomplete, and horribly written I am sure, but they are there :P).

I’ve seen it said that friends to lovers is a bit boring, but I beg the differ with these two. Despite the limited page time, I think Sirius and James have quite clear characterisations and are two of the most compelling individuals in the series.

James was a bit spoilt, bigheaded and arrogant, but also charismatic, energic, optimistic, able to find light and humour even in the darkest of moments, steadfast in his belief of right and wrong, endlessly loyal to his loved ones, generous with his wealth, time and own life. He was brash with a cruel streak, but that makes his choice to be who he was (a man who went into hiding with his wife and infant son instead of continuing to fight and ‘hunt glory’) and sacrifices he made all the more compelling. I also believe despite his perceived over confidence he struggled with insecurity at times and used his arrogance as a defection technique.

As the only son of an elderly couple, I believe James grew up loved but longing for stimulating companionship – enter one Sirius Black.

Sirius is not the opposite of James but nor are they simply different shades of the same character (à la Fred/George), but his compliment. Enigmatic, carelessly clever, full of quick biting wit and wicked grins, determined, precise and inquisitive. He had a dark sense of humour and devil may care attitude (concealing a burning sense of loyalty and love for those he cares for). Despite his effort to reject his family, was still entitled and disdainful at times and his moral compass was always a little off kilter. But he fought for what he believed in, no matter the personal cost (and it did cost him enormously). Yes he could be haughty, snarky, apathetic and cruel at times, but he could have so easily have chosen the easy path so many times but he never ever did (even in GoF, he’d successfully avoided capture at the end of PoA and seemingly shaken the Ministry off his tail. He was lounging on a beach somewhere getting some much needed R&R, likely never to be found, but he came back for Harry out of love, loyalty and duty). He also has one of the captivating aesthetics in the entire series… flying motorbike, careless good looks, long hair and a kind of enthralling aloofness (i.e. he is downright sexy 😉).

Together Sirius and James are somehow even more fascinating.

Inseparable, too-clever-for-their-own-good, impossibly handsome boys who are somehow both the most popular boys in the school and complete magical nerds (which I think speaks entirely to their charisma). I completely reject the idea that Sirius is some kind of sidekick to James. My reading is that they are the consummate equals: intellectually, in magical skill and in their leadership of their own school yard gang. They challenged each other to push harder, to be smarter. But they also endlessly supported each other and egged the other on (even when they maybe shouldn’t have). They each have their individual strengths but they never appear to be envious or covetous of what they lack, which I feel is quite unusual in friendships between teenagers, even really close ones (look at Harry and Ron, even they have aspects of the other they are envious of). On a darker note, I think they were entirely too lenient/ forgiving of the others’ flaws and would defend each other to the very end, even when it was S or J in the wrong.

IMO this pairing makes such a fertile ground for fanfiction. Even that first meeting you have this almost Romeo / Juliet-esque aspect with their families on opposite sides of the ideological divide; there’s also that instant connection / meeting your equal / melding of the minds kind of thing going on; and I kind of letting loose for the first time (James letting himself lean into his more cruel arrogant side, Sirius allowing himself to break out of the mould of the Black heir by disparaging the Slytherin house). They would absolutely be the kind of idiots to fake date (or marry) or practice kiss (or more) or try friends with benefits, and then fall in love (or more likely realise they had already been in love this whole time). They’d also entirely be the type to angst over loosing their friendship and try to stop themselves from falling in love/pretend they hadn’t. Or be so obvious about the fact they are already in love with the other (“all people fell this way about their best friends… don’t they?”) that they would go years before realising.

Anyway this got really long so I’m going to leave it here.

[saturnsstufff]

Epolouge: The Empress

Warnings: slight NSFW

"Thena, sweetie, you can't play with that-" Techno warned to his child, moving the wrapped sword away from her tiny hands.

"But Daddy- you said you'd teach me!"

As Athena got older it was obvious she shown sides of taking after her father. Her curiosity in weaponry, speech, and body language told you that much. But, to be honest, you didn't mind.

You would admit, after being away from the toxicity of the empire, and the people it entailed, life was much simpler, and way more humble. It was homey, something far more than the large palace was. Instead of large marble floors, tall lengthy walls, and perfect matching fabrics, the cozy cottage home Techno and you built was made of warm, strong logs, wooden floors that gave off a warm glow, mismatched blankets and curtains that hung with care, showing they were frequently opened and closed. It was perfect for your small family. You adored it.

After the fall of your kingdom and the near escape you all had, life was hard to adjust to. Techno was distant, scared he would lash out at you again like he did in the library. You wanted to tell him it was ok, that it was a terrible misunderstanding between the communication, and the people holding the letters. Yet, the way he grabbed you still had you hesitant. You could still remember the first few months within the tundra.

Your eyes watched the brute cut more logs. The way he moved the axe, you wouldn't have expected him to be a once prestigious emperor. Instead he looked like a boy far past his years- someone overly exhausted.

The baby in your arms was easily fast asleep. Warm and cozy from the near fireplace, and if that wasn't enough, her mothers arms and chest opted as a warm cushioned resting place.

The past month was hard, both mentally and physically. Between the tension techno and you had, and the fear of Athena getting too cold from no true shelter, you both were at your wit's end. Thankfully Techno and Phil worked to built a small shelter. Something you could rest Thena in, well the three of you worked to build a more suitable home for a family.

The rocking chair you were seated in offered a soothing place to think back on it, of course your thought's were disrupted when Tech walked back inside the home. Logs over his shoulder for the fire, not wanting it to die out and bring the tundra chill into the home.

"Did she fall asleep finally?..." he asked softly, setting the logs down. Although he walked over to the two of you, he didn't rub his finger on her cheek like he normally would, he probably had sap on his hands from the wood. Something that was now normal.

Your smile came easy to his tone "yeah, she zoned out pretty quickly after she ate. You were right about rice cereal, she's not as hungry anymore" your eyes went up to meet with his. His smile was just as gentle as yours. "Where did you even hear about it?"

"I was curious if it would... I was trading in the village and I herd it from a elderly woman" he explained, moving to the sink to wash his hands off.

Your curiosity perked at this.

"You did?"

He hummed and wondered back, sitting on the couch, still respecting the space you wished. Just because you two were married didn't mean it was all sunshine and rainbows. Things were still healing, you still got weary around his touch after the library incident, and he was still blaming himself for the years you were alone. He didn't feel like you could forgive him so easily- he knew you shouldn't.

"Mhm. She saw me looking at a small plush and rattle. She asked if I had any children or if they were for a friend... I explained I had a fussy infant... she kind of laughed and told me a few ways to avoid it..." his cheeks went pink as he glanced away.

It was easy to believe Sarah tampered with the letters, the tech in the letters was cold and distant about children. Where the one you laid with every night cooed, and played with his daughter, eager to show her the world. One thing he did for her almost made you break down in tears.

Due to fleeing for your lives, Athena no longer had toys, blankets, or anything she needed. She even lost her plush, the one she slept with every night. When she was particularly fussy one night, you explained to techno why. Of course he was saddened too, he didn't wanna hear his little girl cry, no parent did. So the next day he found some scrap fabric and sewed together a small Pig for her. You would always remember how eagerly she pulled it into her arms.

In the end. It was easy to see Technoblade was a family man.

When night time rolled around, you were thinking back on all the nights techno held you close. After his return you both slept with a bit of distance between you. The first night you both were tightly within each other's arms, too scared to loose each other again. But after that something about laying tightly like everything was ok didn't feel right. So the two of you kept a bit of distance, easily a hands reach away if needed.

Tonight however, you wanted tech to hold you. You wanted old times back, the endless giggles, the warm arms, slight smirks, his nose in your neck content with life. You missed it so much.

So when Techno crawled into bed, you fallowed in suit, but instead of crossing over him for your place by the wall, you sat atop straddling his waist. The action alone was enough to make him pink, and curious. His hands didn't rest on your hips, rather you guided them to rest there yourself, showing it was ok for him to touch you.

You could feel how hesitant he was. He didn't want to scare you, drive you away farther than you already were.

"Princess... what are you doing?" He asked softly, admiring your form above him, dearly missing the sight deep down.

"Tech I miss you... I miss you holding me, making love to me, whispering how much you love me... I miss how close we were..." you said slightly pained.

He drew a slight breath, the air coming out shaky. "Darlin'- Princess... look... I miss it too... But I hurt you... I accused you of sleeping with Orion, i also assumed you hated me... It made me draw my sword to you... it made me Grab you-" he was cut off by you.

"And I forgive you... it's in the past... we can move forward... I mean... I'm assuming you wouldn't do it again..." you said slowly, watching him discard your hips for your hands.

"Ill never raise a hand, or blade to you again... never again... God's I love you too much to even think of hurting you like I could have... Your all I have..." he said softly, tearing up slowly. Thinking back on it, he hated how he acted, he was hurt and took it out in rage, he took it out on the one person who endlessly loved him.

After talking out how you two truly felt, you tried to make love again, the action felt odd, yet long awaited, Both of you desperate to feel one another after so long without each other, but sadly when Tech moved you under him, you watched his eyes well with tears before he fully broke down in tears.

Their may have not been physical intimacy shared, yet the wounds of words, and actions began to slowly heal, and it all started with techno burring his face into your chest, his sobs drowned out by the wild wind outside the cabin.

Your thoughts were shaken from your mind as you watched your daughter try to charm tech into teaching her sword play.

"You promised!" She said, hoping it would budge the stubborn Brute.

"Yeah, well I promised your mother a new ring too and all she got was another one of you-" he said scooping Thena up into his arms, holding her upside down to get her to laugh.

"Yeah well she can take Ares back! I don't want a brother!" Thena said, sounding like she meant it. "He’s annoying and he always cries at night" she explained, finding her reasoning good enough.

"It sounds like you when you were his size" you said with a smile, stepping up beside your husband, almost eye level with your child. "Ares is young, he'll grow up and get quite darling. Crying is his only way of communicating he needs something" you explained, moving your head so you were somewhat looking her in the eyes.

When tech started to tickle her, it brought smiles to you both. Over the years her giggle, and laugh had become your shared favorite sound. Athena was so innocent and pure, she was the only hope that had survived the darkness of the empire. Luckily out of that darkness came a stronger relationship between you and Tech, even if it took time to develop again.

Without the empire down his throat, he had become much more relaxed. Even his voices seemed to dull down quite a bit. Not only that, but with his son born he felt more at home than he ever had.

This was, and always will be better than what you suffered. This was the life you and Technoblade deserved, after every tooth and nail fought for normality, this was rewarding. This was home.

[thebloggerbloggerfun]

@jellydeans: so are cas and jimmy novak just up in heaven existing at the same time @katebushstandean: #jimmy moves to heaven timbuku so that dean stops trying to make out with him every time they run into each other at the heaven grocery store

LINK

Thanks for letting me write this, guys!!

AO3  (2.1k)

The thing about Heaven was that it was whatever you wanted it to be, and most of its residents wanted it to be familiar.

Technically, Dean didn’t need to fill his car up on gas anymore, but there was still a gas station just down the street from where his new home was placed. He didn’t need to sleep, but he still had a large king-sized bed he made sure to make use of at least once a day. He didn’t need to eat, but there was a thriving supermarket that catered to whatever he was feeling like eating and always boasted the freshest ingredients for when he wanted to get a little fancy with his cooking.

Like today, for example.

Bobby had said he doubted Dean could make a proper souffle, so obviously Dean had to make the old man eat his words - and a souffle.

Dean stared at all of the different options of eggs, trying to decide if “free-range” vs. “organic” actually meant anything in Heaven, or if it was just meant to give him some sort of familiarity.

He grabbed the “free-range” option and moved on to the dairy.

There was movement out of the corner of his eye in the meat section across the way, and the way his heart stopped in his chest when he turned to look would have killed him if he wasn’t already dead.

It was Cas.

Cas, who Dean had spent every day thinking about since he’d left. Cas, who Dean had been trying to find ever since Bobby told him he was still around. Cas, who Dean still had unfinished business with.

He’d spend hours in bed, staring at the ceiling of his room and rehearsing just what he’d say when he saw him again, but in those scenarios Cas had shown up on his doorstep or in the passenger seat of his car where they could have a moment to just be .

He’d never been buying hamburger meat.

Dean rushed forward, cart forgotten, and skidded to a halt in front of Cas, just as he looked up in surprise.

“I love you -” Dean said in a rush, heart pounding, head reeling, “Of course I love you. You’re - fuck - you’re everything I could ever want and I’m - I’m so damn sorry if I made you feel like you couldn’t have me, too.”

Cas blinked at him, and it was in that moment Dean realized something was wrong.

His expression, his hair, the way he moved, the way he was dressed - all of it was wrong.

None of it was Cas, he’d just been too overwhelmed to see it.

“Oh, uh... hey Dean,” Not-Cas said, and finished putting his selected meat in his basket, “I didn’t didn’t know that you died. Um, if you’re looking for Castiel -“

Dean turned and ran out of the store.

*

What were the fucking chances that in all of Heaven, he and Cas’s old vessel were neighbors?

Dean gunned the gas pedal on his car as he drove endlessly, trying to walk himself through what exactly had happened the day before.

Jimmy Novak was here.

Jimmy Novak who - last Dean checked - hated him.

Dean had just spewed his feelings all over him without even thinking about the possibility that he wasn’t Cas. He’d been wearing a sweater vest for crying out loud - but he was willing to forgive himself for that one because he didn’t really know how Cas would dress if he had the choice.

His hopes had soared so high when he’d seen the familiar figure, only to be dashed the moment Jimmy had opened his mouth. They sounded absolutely nothing alike - and Dean yearned for the deep gravel of Castiel’s greeting.

Dean’s grip on the wheel tightened.

Where was Cas?

Didn’t he know that there was nothing keeping them apart now?

In what could only be an act of fate smiling down on him, Dean zoomed around a corner near the Heavenly library, and instantly had to stomp on the brakes of the Impala as a trenchcoat-clad figure stepped into the previously empty crosswalk.

Old habits die hard - Dean was still going to brake for Heavenly pedestrians, especially ones that looked like Cas.

Cas turned to look at him, eyes wide, and Dean shoved the driver’s side door open in a panic. The trench coat was unmistakable this time.

“Cas! Cas - don’t go okay? I gotta -“

Cas shook his head sharply and let out a breath.

“No - Jesus Christ - it’s still me, you idiot.”

Dean gaped at him as his brain tried to catch up with the conflicting bits of information it was processing.

“...what?” He heard himself saying.

Had he just wanted it to be Cas so bad that he’d ignored all the signs?

Jimmy gestured at himself like it was enough of an explanation.

“Uh. Yeah.”

“But - but you’re wearing his trenchcoat! ” Dean said, waved at it like maybe Jimmy hadn’t realized he was walking around as the mockery of the angel who’d once shared a living space with him.

Jimmy placed an affronted hand on his own chest.

“It was my trenchcoat!”

Frustration boiled inside of him and Dean quickly slid back into the car and slammed the door shut behind him.

He sped off, once again running from what could have been.

*

Dean was sulking under a pile of blankets in his bed when there was a knock at his door.

He ignored it.

After a few moments of silence, the knocking came again, louder and more insistent this time.

Grumbling to himself, Dean threw the blankets off and trudged down the stairs, flinging open the door with a scowl.

A person with nearly combed hair was standing on the doorstep holding a six-pack of beer in one hand and had a sticker on his shirt that said, ‘Hello, my name is Jimmy’.

“Very funny.” Dean said flatly.

“It’s not funny. It’s just in case you try to kiss me or something.” Jimmy held up the six-pack expectantly. “Can I come in?”

Dean didn’t appreciate the ribbing, but he didn’t mind the beer.

And after accosting him twice he might as well let the guy do what he wanted.

“Yeah, whatever.” Dean grumbled and left the door open as he walked back inside and flopped onto his couch. “Why are you here? Don’t you hate me?”

Jimmy hummed as he set the beer down on the coffee table and took a seat opposite Dean.

“I don’t not hate you.” He said with a shrug. “But last time we talked you were trying to convince me to chain myself to a comet again and I can’t say I appreciated it.”

Dean grunted in acknowledgment.

“I’ve been in heaven for a while now. It’s nice here. I take a yoga class with my wife.” Jimmy smiled at him. “I think I’m in a much better mental space now to consider liking you, especially if we’re going to be neighbors.”

Dean winced.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to like Jimmy, it was just… that was Cas’s face. It wasn’t , but it was. Was he really going to have to be constantly taunted with it?

“Look man - I’m sorry about - you know. That.” Dean waved a hand in the air generally. “But you don’t have to do all this. I’ll stop harassing you.”

“That would be nice,” Jimmy said, opening one of the cans and taking a swig, “So, considering the things you’ve said to me, I take it he finally told you he loved you?”

Dean paused, still raw every time he thought about it.

“You knew?”

Jimmy smirked.

“That angel’s love for you permeated both of our beings so potently I’m amazed I don’t love you.” Jimmy said, like it was the kind of fact you could drop casually. “Though even I will admit, as a happily married heterosexual man, that having a man as handsome as you proclaim your love to me in the middle of a grocery store was very exciting.”

Dean dropped his head into his hands and groaned loudly.

“Don’t beat yourself up over it,” Jimmy said, “That first one was pretty good. I’m sure he’s going to love it.”

“He’s never gonna hear it.” Dean muttered.

“Sure he will. You’ve already practiced it twice.”

“I can’t find him!” Dean said, and looked back up, “He’s here somewhere, and I can’t find him. It’s killing me.”

Jimmy held out a beer can.

“Good thing you’re already dead.”

Begrudgingly, Dean accepted the beer and opened it.

“I just. . . I just wanna see him again.” Dean took a long drink. “I want to talk to him. Tell him everything. Share everything. If he wants that.”

Dean let out a long breath, expecting Jimmy to interject with a quip.

He looked over at him when nothing happened, and Jimmy was smiling at him in a way that Dean could only describe as ‘fond’.

“What?” Dean said, indignantly.

“Nothing.” Jimmy said innocently. “You’re just not what I expected.”

Dean looked away.

“Anyway, you asked why I’m here,” Jimmy took another drink, “I’ve seen Castiel.”

“What?” Dean jumped to his feet, beer can dropped to the floor and forgotten about. “Why didn’t you lead with that?”

“I’m an enigma,” Jimmy shrugged a shoulder and leaned back against the plush chair, “Anyway, I wanted to let you know as someone who has literally been in Castiel’s head - I'm pretty sure I know the reason he’s not showing himself to you.”

“Well, fucking spill.”

Jimmy paused.

“Why do you love him?”

Of all the things Dean had been expecting Jimmy to say - this wasn’t it.

Dean sat back down.

“Why?” He asked, a little breathless. “Why does it matter?”

Jimmy shrugged again.

“I guess -” Dean said, trying to unspool his emotions from the knot they’d made in his heart, “He’s - he’s Cas. He cares . . . so much about everyone and - and he’s selfless and kind and he fucking saved me in more ways than just one. He’s always been there for me and Sam and he’s just… he’s just. He’s just good . I’ll never deserve him, but I want to try.”

Dean sucked in a deep breath.

“He pulls me away from the edge, man. I just love him.”

Jimmy nodded once, set down his beer can, and in a bizarre turn of events, began yelling at Dean’s ceiling.

“Did you hear that, Castiel? Not one goddamn thing about how you look! Nothing about me or my vessel!”

Dean stared, dumbfounded.

“Wh-��

“He doesn’t care what you look like! Can you please just come talk to him so I can stop playing marriage counselor for you two?”

Care how he - what?  

What was happening?

Before Dean could fully compile all of the new information, there was a hesitant knock at the front door.

Dean whipped his head towards Jimmy, who was smiling in satisfaction.

Nearly tripping over himself, Dean rushed to the door faster than he’d rushed towards anything in his life, and swung it open.

In front of him was the wavelength of celestial intent that Dean had always known existed inside of the vessel of Jimmy Novak - the glint of angelic creation he’d caught glimpses of in the glow of his eyes and in his healing touch. The being was massive and stretched high into the sky with what was (maybe three? four??) pairs of wings scraping the clouds even further above everything. He was flaming rings and rotating divine faces that Dean could barely comprehend - he was raw power and all-knowing eyes.

On the front of his form was a sticker that read, ‘Hello, my name is Castiel’.  

“. . . Hello Dean.” The voice rumbled through the air like thunder.

“Cas?” Dean said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I - yes. I’m sorry. I lost my vessel to the Empty - this was the only way -”

“I love you, too.”

The rotating faces on the form towering above him froze in place.

“I do! I love you, Cas. Okay? You didn’t let me say it back before - and if I’ve ever made you feel like I couldn’t love you back, I’m so fucking sorry. You deserve better.”

“. . . you love me?”

Dean nodded, his heart clenching at the disbelief he could hear in Cas’s voice.

“ Even as this?”

“You’ve always been this.” Dean swallowed. “I fell in love with the angel, not the vessel.”

“Dean. . .”

Dean smiled up at him in understanding.

“Just a shame that we’ll have to get a bigger house.”

“Oh I can -”

And as Dean looked on, Castiel began to shrink. The form didn’t change - he was still as striking as he’d been the first time with his wings and halos and faces still firmly in place - but he was now maybe one foot taller than Dean instead of one hundred.

“- make myself more manageable.”

Dean grinned and took a step forward, giddy and thrilled that this was finally, actually happening

He reached up, resting a hand on one of the divine faces.

“Bite-sized.” He murmured fondly.

Jimmy’s voice cut through the moment from somewhere behind them.

“Just so you two know - I. Am. Moving!”

[celestemagnoliathewriter]

How do their personalities compliment each other? How do they clash?

Thank you for the ask, anon!

Complementing each other:

Tonks has a huge heart, is easily forgiving, and warm. Remus needs someone exactly like that to coax him out of himself. He's got this dark self-loathing that needs constant care and attention to draw him out of it. Tonks is fundamentally kind and giving. When she latches onto something she cares about, she gives all of herself to it. She's not selfish. She is selfless. Remus needs someone like that - endlessly kind, selfless, and loving. He wouldn't do well with a partner who is cruel, status-oriented, or proud. He wouldn't do well with a partner who is arrogant or reckless for the fun of it. Nor could he do well with someone who is impatient. Tonks does lose her patience with him sometimes, but she is a patient person. She can be reckless and impulsive, but not for her own benefit. She doesn't do things because she's bored - she's got to have a personal stake in it and think it worth her time. She's also humble, which is remarkable, considering her talents. She doesn't gloat or boast. She sees the goodness in everyone.

Remus, for all his faults, wants to make the world a better place. This is something he shares in common with Tonks. He's very giving of himself, partly out of guilt, but partly because it fulfills him to do good in the world, even though the world isn't good to him. He's very conscientious. While Tonks is, too, she can be impulsive and reckless, even with the best of intentions. Remus tempers that and helps her reconsider her approach to be more deliberate. Remus is kind, too, but not to himself. Because of his condition he's not the kind to go out of his way to improve his own life but he'll help others. Tonks admires this a lot but is good for him because she helps him see his own value. Not for what he can do for her or what he can do for the world, but because he's a good man who's been given a hard deal in life. Remus needs someone who can be patient with him, get to know him - the real him, and accept/love him for it anyway. He also needs someone who will treat his lycanthropy seriously. Tonks does, in many ways, but not in all ways. She has the patience to learn from him, and the heart of gold necessary to be patient with him while he wallows in self-pity. She helps him out of those periods of darkness too.

Clashing with each other:

Remus is worried, anxious, and nervous a lot of the time. Tonks is carefree and free-spirited. They'll often disagree about how they do things because Tonks wants to have fun and Remus wants to be safe. This includes any social activities. Tonks is proud and happy to have him with her but all he sees is a chance for others to look down on them.

Remus thinks and ruminates. He doesn't like doing things without thinking about them first. Tonks is impulsive, but intuitive about it most of the time. Remus second-guesses himself, while Tonks only does when things don't go well for her. She's got more confidence and is an eternal optimist. Remus is a pessimist most of the time. Making decisions as a couple is difficult, especially when it involves each other. Tonks is too idealistic, Remus is too pessimistic, and they clash on what's best.

OTP ask game

[gummygowon]

cute relationship things with ateez!

genre: fluff (a lot)

warnings: none :)

established relationship!

a/n: i meant to post this like two weeks ago but i never finished it so consider this an early valentine’s day gift <3 ;) 

seonghwa:

for some reason, i feel like seonghwa likes to read books

with that being said, on lazy days where you guys didn’t want to get up and do anything

you guys would read books !!!

before you guys would read some were recommendations from each other on your own

and then maybe rant to each other over little details about the book like how the main character went back to their toxic ex or how the ending of a book was so bad

“seonghwa, how did you even read this?!? the stupid ass main character keeps going back to that one jerk! like does she not realize she deserves more than his ugly ass???!!!?”

“y/n, just keep reading.” 

“but hwa-”

turns out the main character got with the other woman yayyyyy!!! fuck shitty men

i don’t know how it happened but you guys started your own little book club with each other

so you guys could finally talk rant together at the same time about the book

so since you guys started to read the same book and if you guys found down time together you would read together

like, imagine it’s a peaceful friday night

seonghwa is back from work and so are you

you guys already showered and ate dinner

you’re just reading and then seonghwa just scoops you up and then puts you in between his legs with your back against his chest

and you’re like “wtf bro?”

and he’s just like, “what? i wanna read too???”

“didn’t you like read ahead tho??”

“yeah, but i wanna read it again.”

that was a fatass lie

he just wanted to be close to you 

hongjoong:

ok so, we all know that this man is hella busy all the time

mans is the leader, song writer, producer, dancer, rapper (which is why he is good at all positions)

but you were patient with him and whenever he goes days without seeing you due to his busy ass schedule he would make it up to you yk what i mean

but on the more chill days when you saw hongjoong or even the days where he was cooped in his studio (you would visit him there because sometimes you just had to see him)

you guys would just lay on the couch, just enjoying each other’s presence and not feel like you have to make up for lost time

you would be on the bottom on your phone or reading a magazine/book

then hongjoong would be at the top with his head on your stomach as he would be writing down lyrics that came to mind

killing two birds with one stone you feel me

sometimes you would show him a funny meme that you found or quote something that you just read to him 

“hongjoong, look at the way he fell!” you would be dying of laughter

and then he wouldn’t notice because he was really roped into making lyrics 

but you also didn’t see him focusing so much because you were of course laughing at the kid that accidentally got bitchslapped off the couch because of their sibling

“joongie look!!!”

“what is it?”

you would then show him what happened and then he would look at with that “you really interrupted me for this??” type of look

“i just lost my train of thought for this song because you wanted to show me this kid falling off of a couch???” 

“yes?” 

he would just bring a hand to his face and think what tf? why tf? and then slowly start laughing because of what just happened

“see, wasn’t it funny?”

“a child getting hurt isn’t funny, y/n” he would laugh while scolding you

yunho:

yunho powers im sorry for this one

alright so, it’s night time 

you guys are about to go to bed after a long day or work/school whatever

your eyes are fluttering closed because the day got you beat beat

but then yunho just kisses your face

and then you open your eyes slowly again to see yunho look like he just got caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to do

like imagine a kid that just got caught drawing on the walls

that’s what his face would look like

he’s just laying there like “i thought you were asleep...”

“i was just about to...”

yunho feels lowkey guilty now because you’re awake now and he knows you had a long day

he just couldn’t resist kissing you 

you just looked so pretty and peaceful sleeping 

mans was reminded by the universe themself about how lucky he was being able to date you

like, godamn what did he do in his past life to deserve you?

ok, back to this reaction idea thing-

yunho would apologize for waking you up with his cheeks a nice rosy color

you just look at him with tired eyes 

“i’ll forgive you, if you give me more kisses.”

and yunho’s smile just lights up the whole damn room and he’s like oh? say less

so he goes to kissing your face

like all over

your nose

your cheeks

forehead

basically anywhere ok?

and you end up laughing because it tickles 

but you just want him to kiss your lips which he does 

... eventually lmao

but when he does your still laughing which causes him to laugh

he tells you “i love you, did you know that?”

and you get all flustered and shit but you still keep that playful energy around 

“i love you too, but you aren’t forgiven just yet”

which leads to more kisses :))))

yeosang:

ok so you’re now the busy one

yeosang has so much respect for you because holy shit how do you balance that busy ass schedule of yours

your homework loads were no jokes 

then to add to that you have a job which was even more stressful

it was amazing how you can manage all that and still keep a smile on your face

you also had major respect for yeosang as an idol

the industry was not a place to fuck around 

you couldn’t be happier that your boyfriend was lucky enough to have a group who actually cared and supported each other

speaking of ateez, yeosang isn’t the most touchy person in the world

you didn’t mind of course, you’re the same way

however, when he did give you cuddles and kisses you would be a blushing mess

a sort of rare sight that yeosang loved to see

anyways, one night you were busy writing those argumentative essays that you were sure that your fingers would fall off by the time you were finished

you were working on it ever since you got home from school (with the occasional food and bathroom breaks )to the time when yeosang came back from practice

you moved to your shared bed by the time the sweaty boy came home and he was surprised that you were working on one subject for so long

the stupid piece was almost finished by the time yeosang was out of the shower

however, you didn’t even notice

you were too immersed in your writing to notice

yeosang took this as an opportunity to sit behind you and wrap his arms around your waist and watch over your shoulder as you worked

and of course, he would kiss your cheek occasionally

this was super sweet gesture but yeosang but you didn’t the notice that he wrapped his arms around you

“ai yah! what the hell?” you yelled and turned around to see your boyfriend clutching his chest

“oh it’s just you.”

yeosang would give you a deadpanned look and be like, “yeah, who else tf???”

you would apologize and kissing his cheek before returning to back to work 

which yeosang would return to hugging your waist and keep his head on your shoulder

and give you occasional kisses on your cheek or neck

after that night, it became a weekly occurrence

which you loved of course, who wouldn’t love their bf cuddling them while they chased their bag

san:

i am very excited for this one

ok so, san loves playing with your hair

it’s just so much fun 

running his fingers through it or just attempting to braid it or put it into a tiny ponytail

he loved it

he would probably always play with your while you were watching tv together, sitting together in the car, or even before you guys fall asleep

then one day after san came home early from work 

you guys were chilling on the bed watching the latest k-drama that came out since san made you wait so you guys could watch it together

san was in between your legs with his back leaning against your chest 

and that’s when you decided to run your fingers through his soft, fluffy hair

that’s also when san asked you to braid his hair

“sure, what type of braid though?”

“there’s different kinds????” 

“yes, san. now pick one.” you gave him your phone that was pulled up to different types braids.

“i want the french ones. they sound fancy.”

you roll your eyes and start sectioning his hair into two sections and start braiding his hair and lightly pull on the pink strands because you know san likes his hair pulled

so you doing his hair right 

and you begin rambling about your day/week

talking about whatever interesting happened to you because you know that san likes hearing you talk no matter what it’s about

however, you were knee deep into talking about the latest drama at work that you didn’t even realize that san stopped talking

“san?”

he didn’t answer and his head would be dipping down so low you were surprised you didn’t fall over

“baby?”

san still wouldn’t respond to you 

but this time he just flipped over so his head would be on your stomach as he wrapped your arms around your stomach

“mmmmmmm?”

“nevermind love, just sleep.” 

he would respond by burying his head further into your stomach and tightened his hold around you

you kissed his head and ran your fingers through his hair which lulled san to sleep even more

“goodnight sannie.”

mingi:

you have been best friends with song mingi ever since you moved into the tiny neighborhood that you call home

it all started when your parents brought you over to your next door neighbor’s house for breakfast on a cold saturday morning 

you were extremely shy when you were little so the only thing you could remember about your first experience with mingi was hiding behind your mother’s leg for the first hour of being there and watching the young boy play with his toy cars and planes before he finally offered a pirate ship to you

ever since that unforgettable saturday, you pretty much spent the rest of your childhood with mingi

you guys were practically joined at the hip 

even when you were getting endlessly teased by your classmates for the first month of school for having an accent whenever you spoke 

which resulted in you running to the bathroom crying

not even a minute later, you heard someone burst through the girls’ bathrrom

“y/n?”

you peaked your head out of the stall to see your tall neighbor looking out of breath

“mingi, you aren’t supposed to be here!” you said in between sobs

“it’s okay, i don’t care.” he said as he awkwardly wrapped his arms around you. “are you okay?”

you shook your head no looking at him with tears running down your face

the poor boy was internally freaking out since he has no clue on how to comfort people (especially if they’re a girl)

he was like eight at the time give him a little break

so of course, his first reaction was to make you laugh somehow

and he did this by randomly recreating the “boots and cats, boots and cats” rhythm after seeing siri do it in a youtube video and started to bop his head 

surprised by his sudden movements, you laughed out of pure confusion

as soon as mingi saw the corner of your lips flip upwards he began rapping faster to the point where he was gasping for breath leading him into a coughing fit 

“mingi you can breathe, y’know!” you giggled in between words

after the young boy had caught his breath from hacking away at his lungs, he smiled at you 

until- the teacher had came into the bathroom, scolding mingi for going into the girls’ restroom

even though mingi didn’t care at all that he got in trouble, the only thing he cared about was that you were feeling better

ever since then whenever you were sad or having a bad day mingi would whip out his phone and ask siri to rap while he free-styled over the monotone voice 

he literally still does it

even two years into your relationship-

“siri, can you rap for me?” mingi would ask his phone as he pointed his free arm at you

“boots and cats-”

“mingi, please no.” you laughed in between tears, your mood rising with every beat

wooyoung:

i wholeheartedly believe that wooyoung would kiss you face if you were sad

but the first time this happened, you guys were still fairly new into your relationship

which meant that you weren’t completely ready to be extremely vulnerable around wooyoung 

because in your mind, letting someone see you at your lowest lows of means that you really trust and love someone to let them see you like that

you always wanted to be known as the strong person in the friend group

you were that glue that held everyone together

always listening to others and taking care of others before yourself

which is why wooyoung fell in love with you in the first place

he had never been in a relationship where someone was so caring and thoughtful of others that he was scared that he wouldn’t be enough for you and that you deserved better

of course, he didn’t tell you that right away but he confessed to you about that wayyy later in your relationship which is another story to be told

but one day, life was coming at you so fucking fast

assignments were piling up left and right and deadlines were literally every other day

and then there seemed to be an increase in the amount of angry karens at your work

and your patience was thinning everyday with those people

then to top it all off, all the tests you’ve been studying for, you got mediocre grades, some even worse in other subjects

it just felt like no matter how much work you put into whatever you do, you got half ass results

it was just pushing your mental health further into the ground

you could handle a C every once in awhile but multiple? on back to back tests? no fucking way you just couldn’t

those stupid, dark thoughts would cloud your mind in an instant and on days like this, you would just let them consume you

you were too tired to pick yourself up again and fight back which led to you crying in wooyoung’s arms

usually, you would feel so embarrassed crying over things like this when you know other people have it worse but you couldn’t hold in it anymore 

you ranted about yourself in between your hiccups from crying which would hurt wooyoung’s heart a little bit

because he thought of you as such a strong and kind person- the complete opposite of what you were saying about yourself

so when you were done talking, wooyoung made you look at him and assured you that you were not any of those nasty things that you said about yourself

each insult turned into a thoughtful compliment accompanied by a kiss

“y/n, you are so intelligent-” 

kiss

“caring-”

kiss

“beautiful-”

kiss

“more than everything i ever wanted”

kiss

by the time wooyoung was done, you were a giggling mess

“and this is why i love you.”

he finally kissed you on your lips, smiling into it like the dork he is

it was the first ever time he told you that he loved you

jongho:

i am also a firm believer that jongho would sing his s/o to sleep

like with that heavenly voice of his, he better put them to sleep 

so on the first night you ever slept with jongho, you were too nervous to go to bed even though your body was screaming at you to close your eyes 

you kept tossing and turning every few minutes or your eyes would shoot open with your heart racing

at this point, you gave up on trying to sleep and got up (carefully to not wake up your sleeping boyfriend) to get a drink

while you were in the kitchen, clutching your chest in an effort to get yourself to calm down, jongho had stirred awake to an empty bed

a flash of panic surged through his body as he momentarily forgot where he was since he wasn’t at his dorm his room never looked this clean 

yawning, the vocalist would wander into the light with his eyes squinted, “y/n?”

“oh my god!” you jumped, water almost spilling out your glass

jongho covered his ears, “what are you doing up?”

“oh,” you felt your cheeks turn red since you felt bad for waking your boyfriend up. “i can’t sleep.”

“why?” he asked, walking towards the couch.

“i don’t know.” you answered as you followed close behind. 

you curled up next to jongho, clutching his shirt “i’m sorry for waking you up.”

jongho smiled tiredly at you before kissing your head, “don’t be. it’s okay. i don’t have work tomorrow anyways.”

you smiled in response before the two of you guys fell into a silence

“do you want me to sing you to sleep?”

“yes, please.” you murmured into his side as jongho placed his other arm around you, successfully trapping you in between his arms

he began singing softly into your ear as he stroked your hair

his warm voice coaxing your eyes to close 

at last, your mind was at peace with itself

your heart beat slowing down

and by the time the song was finished you were fast asleep in arms

jongho kissed your forehead once more 

“i love you.”

[mothandpidgeon]

Ok but since you are writing a Regency piece...could you imagine having Din Djarin and Marcus Pike fighting over you? Each of them is so different and you can't help it because you're attracted to both of them because Din is the brooding yet kind introverted man that quotes to you poetry and takes you on long boat rides (with someone else of course because he cares about your image) and you're head over heels in love but then Marcus comes along and he's dashing and sweet and a little introverted but mostly talkative whenever he has to be and although he doesn't read to you poetry, he does gush about how none of the Greek and Roman and Etruscan sculptures and Italian works of art come close to your beauty and he takes you on long walks in gardens and even invites you to go to Versailles one time with him and then the three of you run into each other during one of the balls and the two are begging just for a moment with you and you're dancing with no one else but them during the entire night and when you try to go to the garden to get some fresh air, you're bombarded by the two men and they get into a heated argument to the point where they say that they will duel for you but you stop them both because you don't want either of them to get hurt and then...oh my sweet lord...and then, you take each of their hands and kiss their knuckles and fuck you shouldn't be doing this because what if someone sees and your reputation and no no no...but they both grow even more shy and you smile at them and-

"How about you invite us over to your estate Captain Djarin? I'm sure we can all...come to an agreement. Right?"

And the two are so confused but when they look at each other and return their gaze to you, they finally realize what it is you're talking about and they're both appalled by your offer but their shock slowly subsides because they fucking crave you and they nod and you throw each one of them a wink and-

"I'm looking forward to the invitation, good evening gentlemen."

And AHHHHHHHHHHH I DIE!!!!!!!!

Ok, Maggie, you went SO HARD on this one. Phew. You really know how to torment me!!! You are always welcome in my inbox. Considering the tale you wove, I really hope this lives up to it and you’ll have to forgive me I could go on but I was already approaching 1.5k words!!

Also I hope you don’t mind (and apologies to Regency!Din) but the mention of Versailles just screamed late 18th century (an important distinction in my nerd brain) so…

A/N: 18+! This ribbon bit comes from Barry Lyndon so apologies to the ghost of Stanley Kubrick.

It was a shame that Misters Djarin and Pike detested one another so when they had so many similarities. Both of them were kind and sweet and terribly handsome.

Mr. Pike accompanied you to the opera on more than one occasion. In the privacy of your box, he would whisper sweet words into your ear and nudge the soft skin of your neck with his nose. Mr. Djarin was more of an outdoorsman. He took you riding on his estate. When you were far enough on the grounds, he would help you down from the saddle and recite poetry to you beneath a shady tree.

And yet seeing them side by side now in Mr. Djarin’s parlor where you’d just shared a very awkward tea, tension straining the air between them, they couldn’t be more different. Mr. Djarin, so reserved, dark and modest. Mr. Pike, flirtatious and warm, cheek always dimpled with a smile.

You knew it wasn't going to be easy to break the wall between them but you’d been wise enough to plan for it.

“It seems I cannot force an accord between you but I know how men like their sport. I propose a wager. Nothing like a friendly competition to encourage affection,” you said.

Marcus cocked his eyebrow. He had wanted to win you since he’d met you last summer, pursuing you endlessly and yet this other man still stood in his way.

“I wonder which of you is a better hunter,” you said.

“And how would we prove that?” Mr. Pike asked. Din’s brow creased. He didn’t know how hunting had anything to do with your ludacris proposal, the one that they had both scoffed at at the ball. He wouldn’t have agreed to contemplate the thought if he hadn’t been so afraid of losing you.

You rose from your seat and both pairs of brown eyes watched you intently.

“I have devised a test. I’ve hidden a white ribbon somewhere on my person,” you said, trying to bite back your smile. “The better man finds it first.”

Both men looked at you in a stunned silence. Your heart was racing nervously but you were savoring their expressions. Mr. Djarin collected himself first.

“You’ll forgive me for being unfamiliar with the ways in which women amuse themselves but I hardly find such a suggestion to be entertaining,” Mr. Djarin said, his cheeks turning pink.

He couldn’t pretend that the idea of undressing you didn’t make his heart pound but he hated how easily you would give yourself over to Mr. Pike. He disliked the way Pike flirted with you so openly. Of course, he knew some of it was envy— he had never been a charmer.

“I do not speak in jest, sir,” you told him.

“That is what you want?” Mr. Pike asked, his soft eyes already slipping lower. He was already thinking of places to explore.

You watched Mr. Djarin look away from you when he nodded.

“And the better man, does he win something?” Pike asked, enjoying how flustered the other man had become.

“My highest regard,” you answered coyly.

Marcus chuckled.

“Then the lady should get what she wants, don’t you agree?” he asked Mr. Djarin.

Din cleared his throat.

“Very well,” he said.

Pike came to your side and took your hand to escort you to the couch where you sat between him and Mr. Djarin.

“Perhaps you should take the first turn,” you suggested to Mr. Djarin who was looking at you with a mix of fear and yearning in his eye.

He’d been so careful with you, always so cautious not to overstep or do anything at all that might invite scandal save a few soft kisses. And here you were laying yourself out for him. He swallowed dryly and met your eye with a shrug of surrender.

“Is it in your hair?” he asked, eyes darting up to your coiffure.

You smiled at him, nearly reached out to put your hand on his cheek. That protective nature was what drew you to Mr. Djarin in the first place. You knew what he really wanted, you could see it in his eyes, but he was too polite to take what was being offered. Not without convincing.

“I believe this requires a more thorough search, Djarin,” Pike said from over your shoulder.

He cupped your hands and turned them over as in a playful inspection, then lifted both of your arms. “No. Not there.”

You laughed and the noise made his heart jump. He’d found that he would make himself a fool if it put a smile on your face. Marcus was happy to take the opportunity to move in closer, to claim you with his touch. He brushed your neck so gently, his fingers tracing a ljne from your jaw to your shoulder where the bodice of your dress began. Goose pimples broke out on your skin and Marcus put his lips against your earlobe.

“I wonder,” he mused, leaning your back into his chest.

He hooked a finger under the fabric and followed the line down from your shoulder to the swell of your breast and you gasped. He had so often admired the rise and fall of your chest, Marcus couldn’t help but caress your skin with his thumb. Din felt himself stiffen as he listened to the soft moans Pike was drawing from you as he put a kiss on your skin. Watching your lips part, Din was frozen in place.

Marcus moved his hand down the straight front of your bodice and you felt yourself pulsing beneath your skirts.

“Perhaps under here?” he asked.

You allowed him to work the front of your gown open, the silk parting to reveal the creamy ivory stays below. Din felt twin aches in his chest and his groin as he saw the other man slide the bodice off of your shoulders.

Neither had seen you in such a state of undress before. Marcus took a moment to steady himself, admiring the figure below and sliding his hand across your middle. You were hardly naked, still clad in your stays, shift, and skirts but your underthings made his cock twitch.

“Now you see how the game is played and that Mr. Pike has been so far unsuccessful,” you said to Mr. Djarin, your voice more breathless than before. “Would you care to try, Mr. Djarin?”

You encouraged him by bringing your foot to rest beside his knee, leaning back into Mr. Pike. Din licked his lips, staring at the floral pattern on your delicate shoe for what felt like a century. Finally, he gave in to his longing.

He ran his fingers up your ankle over your silk stocking, revealing the smooth line of your leg. His large hands encircled your calf as he inched your skirt up further. You let out a shaking breath, squeezing your thighs together. You could hear Mr. Pike’s jagged breaths in your ear as he watched with anticipation. He had half a mind to release himself from his breeches to relieve the torment building there.

Din was careful not to reveal any of your skin, stopping just above the spot at your knee where your stockings were tied with thick ribbons.

“These are blue,” he said, running his thumb over the bow.

You were looking down at him flushed and breathing heavy and it took everything in his power to stop from taking you then and there.

You leaned to him, putting your lips against his and letting your mouth fall open to invite him in. You heard him whimper and he clutched onto your leg. Then you turned to Mr. Pike who kissed you hungrily, his wide palm kneading at your breasts.

“I’m quite disappointed in the both of you,” you said once you could speak again. Your whole body was thrumming with arousal.

You raised your skirts up around your hips and felt both pairs of eyes lustily watching. There, tied around the thickest part of your thigh was the white ribbon. But they only noticed the slick shining between your thighs.

“We shall call it a draw. But I’m afraid that means you’ll have to share me, gentlemen,” you said.

And from their twin growls, it was clear that they didn’t mind.