#and my rarepair that i WILL die on a hill for is death the kid and blackstar in the soul eater manga

[eyestrain-addict]

Rarepair enjoyers I have a question. What is a rarepair you have that's really just a crackship or goofy ship for you, no stakes on canon or anything, merely vibes... and then what's a rarepair that you will die on the hill for, should be canon, so obvious everyone else is blind, type of ship. Put in tags.

[fckingflaminghomosexual]

a fairly extensive list of my favorite jatp headcanons

• trans pan luke!!! he wrote a song called "my name is luke" and has the energy of a post-top surgery trans guy with all his tank tops (also he could be unlabeled or queer instead of pan, i think it could go any way like that)

• he/they foster kid willie!!! i get the sense that willie has never had a real family and that's part of why he joined the hgc

• she/they lesbian flynn!!! i don't have an explanation for this one, it just feels right

• bi julie!!! "you know who i'm liking way before i like them, duh cause you like them first" (this could also mean bi flynn which is also hella cool!) and she wears the bi colors all the time!

• nick danforth-evans!!! we all know this one, his dads are obviously chad and ryan

• math genius bi reggie!!! i will die on this hill bc reggie is not stupid! he's also neurodivergent in some way!

• flynn/carrie is the enemies to lovers ship we NEED

• reggie/nick is an underrated rarepair and i need them to meet in s2 (when caleb isn't possessing nick)

• willie was a member of rose and the petal pushers!!! this would explain his dahlia pin and could maybe explain the possibility of julie being able to see him (assuming she can only see ghosts that are connected to her)

• alternatively willie died saving rose's life!!! this one probably makes more canonical sense since he supposedly died in the 70s or 80s

• ghosts get jolts based on how they died, which is why the boys get jolts in their abdomens, meaning willie would get jolts in his head

• since the hgc is a time warp willie hasn't experienced all 30-50 years that he's been dead (this is not a twilight situation i stg), and ghosts probably don't mature past their death age both physically and mentally

• alex and luke dated very briefly in their early teens (like 13-14) because they both like boys and love each other but realized they were better off as friends

• reggie has a crush on luke!!! or at least he did at some point (possibly his bi awakening)

• @bitch-boy-nerd and i talked about this a little but alex and reggie probably had a brief thing as well but it's unclear exactly what that entailed

• reggie has multiple siblings and is probably a neglected middle child

• alex has a little sister!!!

that's all i can think of right now but i'm sure i'll add more later and feel free to reblog with your own!!!

[hopeswriting]

FANDOM: Katekyo Hitman Reborn!

EVENT: Flufftober 2020

PROMPT: “Oh No, They’re Hot”

AUTHOR: @hopeswriting​

RATING: G

PAIRING: Adult!Colonnello/Adult!Skull

SUMMARY:

Colonnello officially meets Skull for the first time, and he finds him way more hot than a could-be, easy, bully target.

TAG WARNING: Swearing, Sexual Innuendos, Implied/Referenced Bullying

WORDS: 1603

*

How hard could it be to be a punctual human being?

Surely not that hard, seeing as Colonnello was one all his life.

You’d think he would have mastered the art of waiting by then, but if this Skull guy doesn’t show up in the next five minutes, he’ll just leave without looking back.

Or maybe he’ll stay until he shows up, so he can give him a piece of his mind, depending on how long he can make his drink last.

Colonnello rolls his eyes, bumps his head against the wall.

This whole “meeting the Arcobaleno one-on-one as your now teammates” is ridiculous. What is he, a new student at school trying to win the favor of the popular kids?

Colonnello was always among the popular kids, thank you very much. He can’t believe Lal would support this idea, but no matter now.

He just needs to meet the Cloud to be done with it all for good.

Colonnello hears it long before he can see it.

A black and purple motorbike rounds the street corner in a very sharp turn, an equally black and purple driver riding it.

He speeds past the cars in no time, driving around them but keeping so close it’s a wonder they don’t make contact, the sound of the engine revving and the tires against the concrete drowning everything else.

He speeds right past Colonnello, then makes an abrupt u-turn, his motorcycle tipping sideways so low Colonnello doesn’t comprehend how he doesn’t fall, switches lanes, and smoothly parks right in front of him on the sidewalk.

Is this guy… trying to show off to him?

Because it’s working alright.

Colonnello laughs breathlessly, goosebumps up his arms. A chill runs down his spine, adrenaline running through him from just watching.

Oh, he absolutely needs to earn himself a ride.

Skull casually walks up to him, not seeming to care about all the eyes on him. “Hi, I’m Skull. Sorry, I’m not too late, am I?”

Colonnello glances at his watch. Thirty five seconds before five minutes.

This fucker.

“Hi, I’m Colonnello. You are late. I thought we both agreed on the meeting time?”

“I know, I know, I’m sorry. I got stuck in traffic.”

Colonnello subtly narrows his eyes. He just can see Skull grinning despite his helmet, and he sure as hell heard it.

This little shit.

“So. You met all the others already?”

“Yeah.”

“Right.” Skull puts his hands in his pockets, fidgets uncomfortably. “Well, I’m sure you heard all kind of things about me from them, but, you know, I wouldn’t exactly call them Skull specialists.” He shrugs, raises his hand to his head. It bumps against his helmet. “Oh right, my helmet. Hold a second.”

Colonnello’s drink goes down the wrong pipe. He doubles over in a coughing fit, his drink slipping from his hand entirely.

“Woah man, what the hell?”

What the hell?

This guy is hot.

“Are you alright?”

Colonnello pushes his helping hand away, still coughing a little.

Skull’s purple eyes watch him with amusement, highlighted by his purple smokey eye, with heavy mascara on his eyelashes that somehow only draws the gaze more to his eyes.

He nips at the piercing on his bottom lip, linked with the one on his earlobe by a silver chain. Plump lips smeared with purple lipstick spread in a smug smile, emphasizing the teardrop tattoo under his left eye.

His purple hair points in every direction in a stylish mess of a haircut, a fringe falling above his left eye.

And really, it’s a lot of purple, but holy shit the guy is gorgeous.

How did that not come up even once during Lal’s briefings?

“I’m fine, I just swallowed wrong.”

“Yeah, I noticed.”

Colonnello straightens himself up, shakes his hand from the drink that spilled on him. He licks off the last of it, and oh, he knows that look in Skull’s eyes.

Good. Now they’re even.

“Sorry about that by the way,” Skull says. “These kind of accidents just keep happening around me, and I really just can’t figure out why.”

“Yeah,” Colonnello says, trying to play it off as casually as he can, “can’t imagine why either. I really don’t see anything that could provoke these kind of reactions.”

“Sure.”

“Listen, I’m a really smooth guy, alright?”

“I guess I’ll just have to take your words for it.”

“Fuck off.”

Skull snickers, something purposefully meant to rile him up further. Colonnello doesn’t take the bait, and bites the inside of his cheek to not laugh too.

Shit. Are they flirting? Colonnello can’t have that.

He has a reputation, and standards, and this guy... could very easily meet them, actually.

But he wears leather jumpsuits, chose purple as his defining color, and going on with the design on his helmet, octopuses of all things could get involved at some point.

And unfortunately Colonnello knows for certain it’s not just the symbol of the Carcassa famiglia.

“Oh shit, Immortal Skull?”

They both turn to the pair of teenagers, wide-eyed at the sight of Skull. Skull’s face lights up. He waves his hand excitedly, and poses for them to take a picture.

Colonnello raises his eyebrow.

Right. Stuntman shows, death defying stunts, famous guy.

He snorts. “Isn’t that cute? You have fans.”

Skull’s smile dims, and disappears entirely once the teenagers are on their way. “As a matter of fact, I do. It kind of comes together with being famous.”

“Yeah,” Colonnello scoffs, “famous for riding bikes.”

Skull doesn’t wince, not quite, but Colonnello catches his face twitching. He puts his free hand in his pocket, hunches his shoulders.

His voice is carefully neutral. “Yeah, for riding bikes. With hundreds upon hundreds of hours of training behind the handle, but no big deal right? Listen, can you...” he sighs deeply, meets his eye again “... just not? We literally just met? Or at least don’t come for the literal greatest passion of my life right off the bat, maybe? I don’t know man, just cut me some slack.”

“Sorry.”

Skull blinks. Colonnello blinks.

Well, that came out embarrassingly easily. And it did sound an awful lot sincere, if Skull’s more open face and posture is anything to go by.

Fucking hell, what is he doing? Playing nice? Is he actually trying to get on Skull’s good side?

“Thank you, I really appreciate it.” Colonnello watches the last of Skull’s hesitance disappears in his eyes, a smile slowly pulling at his lips until he grins at him again. “So, should we wrap this up? Or maybe we could keep meeting each other for a bit?”

Colonnello peers above his shoulder, at the sleek black and unfortunately purple motorbike.

Now, how much does he really want this ride?

“Sure,” he says, walking past him. He puts a leg over the bike, and sits comfortably on the back seat.

Maybe if he’s really good, Skull will let him drive it.

“Excuse you,” Skull splutters, “do you think I just let anyone ride my baby?”

“Excuse you,” Colonnello shots back, “take another good look at me and maybe you’ll realize I’m not anyone.”

“Right, you’re doing me a favor, is that it?” Skull crosses his arms on his chest, in what Colonnello supposes should have been an intimidating move. “I mean, you’re really hot alright, but I meet plenty of hot people on a daily basis. Don’t flatter yourself.”

“Take another really good look at me, and maybe you’ll realize I’m a category of my own among hot people.”

Skull laughs, very clearly despite himself, the hard-to-get act nowhere to be seen. He chews on his lip a bit, but Colonnello knows he already won the argument.

“You just doesn’t have any will, do you?”

“Oh, hush.” Skull rolls his eyes, shoves him playfully. “Maybe I’m just weak for pretty people.”

Colonnello mournfully watches him puts his ugly helmet back on, and rethink his life choices. Really, this goddamned Curse just might have affected his tastes too.

“You know, I did hear things. And I must say I don’t understand.”

Skull throws his hands up in the air. “I know right? You’d think I would have gotten laid with, I don’t know, at least three of them by now. Well, minus Luce of course.” Colonnello gets whiplash. What even—? “No offense to you. I know you have a thing going on with Lal.”

“No, let’s stay focused. That’s where your priorities lie?”

Skull shrugs, takes his place in the driver seat. “I mean, in exchange of all this shit I didn’t sign up for? I think it would have been the barest fucking minimum.”

Colonnello bursts out laughing, because really, what else is there to do?

Not that he doesn’t strongly share the sentiment. He met the others too, and does vividly remember what they look like.

Skull revs the engine, and hell yeah, here they go.

Colonnello wraps his arms loosely around his waist, leans a bit too comfortably maybe against his back, rests his chin on his shoulder.

“Tell you what.”

Skull catches his eye in the rear view mirror. “I’m listening.”

“If you impress me really hard right now—”

“What, with my driving skills you mean? Is that supposed to be a challenge?”

“—and make me spend a really nice time with you,” Colonnello continues, ignoring him, “I just might do an exception for you to the “not on the first night” rule.”

Skull chuckles low in his throat, crinkles at the corners of his eyes. He lowers his visor.

“This better be a promise, because I’ll hold you to that.”

*

The anime watchers only might not know that, because the anime did him so dirty, but Skull is straight up handsome.

I, for one, at the very least, find him very pretty, really handsome, and yes, straight up gorgeous. And it’s a hill I will die on, and I won’t hear any criticism on that.

Also I enjoyed myself writing this so much. Could you tell? Because this is my khr otp as of now, and I wish they’d be hundreds more fics about them for me to read.

Rarepair hell is, well, hell lmao.

Thank you for reading! Any and all review are appreciated ^^.

[kirasderek]

Day One of the @twrarepairnetwork​ Teen Wolf Rarepair Countdown 

Written for Favorite Rarepair -> Dira

“Are you coming or not?” Kira calls out, the deep purple of the last dregs of sunset falling over her. In this lighting, she doesn’t look a day older than she had when they met. The only thing missing is that uncertainty in every line of her body, in the set of her teeth splitting her bottom lip. Fifteen years have erased the doubt from her, and now that she’s in control, she’s always barreling headlong into something. “Well?”

Derek sighs and slings his pack higher onto his shoulder. “Under protest.” She waits for him until he tops the hill, looking out over acres of the same rolling landscape. He can just barely spot the small cemetery they’re heading toward through the cover of trees and brush. “We’re really going all the way out there tonight?” He’s exaggerating the distance, but considering the trip is pointless, he’s decided he’s allowed to complain.

“What’s the matter? Are you scared?”

“Of a ghost? No. There are no ghosts. Maybe of being bored to death.”

She’s smiling at him even as she’s rolling her eyes and it makes him think of the trip here, amiably arguing about the detour. Mason had taken Kira’s side when they’d dropped in on him with a late wedding present, and even his husband, fully human, had heard of the place. For Derek, that had been the problem. Anywhere getting constant visits from humans for decades had nothing to offer them.

“You’ll survive, old man,” she teases, shoulder bumping gently into his side. “It’s nine miles in, nine miles out. And you can always sleep out here in your fur coat if you’re too lazy to go back to camp.”

His mouth is half-open to insist that was one time, but he thinks better of it. That night in Greece has haunted both of them a little since, more than any other trip - ‘investigation’, if Kira has her way - that they’ve made in the last fourteen months. The less they dwell on their failures, the brighter this whole endeavor starts to look. Bit by bit, they’re gaining their own knowledge of people like them, untainted by the cruel eye of hunters exploiting weaknesses. Already they have more information than the bestiary on a dozen things, including the godforsaken lamia that ruined the tail end of a perfectly nice trip to Greece full of authentic food and sunshine. At the very least, this pet project of Kira’s is safe. A morbid little camping trip.

They walk along for a mile or two in comfortable silence, the sounds of the night softly filling the lull in conversation. The overgrowth here softens their footsteps, and already a mile out from the mostly empty campsite, there are no other human noises to drown out the world around them. Passing through a patch of firs, Derek can point out a tree vole nest, silently catching Kira’s attention when he spots the evidence on the ground below. Their eyes adjust quickly to the sliver of moonlight in the sky, and Kira navigates with the small device loaned out to them when they’d signed in. The cemetery is a popular site to visit, for obvious reasons.

Not every thread they’ve followed has led them into places like this, suited for nights out under the stars. Derek’s almost thankful for it, at this point. The both of them are familiar with cities, though neither of them has had the heart to try New York again, and there are a surprising amount of nearly-true urban legends around the world. Hurrying through crosswalks and grabbing street food keeps them busy in the downtime outside of research and wandering into places they probably shouldn’t be. Hiking trips unravel into long conversations, dragging old memories into the light, things Derek mostly wants to forget. Even when they trail off, there’s a lingering intimacy that he’s not sure what to do with. They know each other too well now.

“So you really think there’s something out here?” he asks her, when they’re much closer to the cemetery, wrought iron gates stark among the greenery. “Other than college kids scaring each other.”

Kira shrugs without turning to look back at him. “The screaming could be a mountain lion,” she allows, and Derek quirks a smile he’s glad she doesn’t see. “But put together with the ‘ghost’ sightings, I don’t think we can rule out a banshee. It’s not like we even know how long they live naturally, with what happened to Lydia’s grandma and her and Meredith being so young. There’s nothing in the bestiary because the hunters don’t care about a bunch of screaming women unless they’re getting in the way, and it’s not like we got a lot of information out of...well” He doesn’t have to see her face to know she’s blushing, the way she always has when she gets on a roll.

“Out of Jennifer,” he finishes. “Julia. You don’t have to pretend it didn’t happen, you know. It’s been a long time.”

“Uh-huh. And that’s why you talk about me and Scott so much.”

He has no defense for that. If it were anyone but Kira, he’d think it was meant to be an insult. Both of them are in touch with Scott, of course, but he’s never thought it was his place to ask about when Kira came home. There are bits and pieces of stories, the burnt sugar smell of that feeling you get thinking of how things might have been, but he doesn’t have the whole picture from either of them. He’s not sure he wants it, if Kira isn’t willing to offer it on her own. Both of them have histories. Someday, Kira will have more years of longing and loss than Derek has lived. If Scott is a tender subject, he won't dig his fingers into the bruise on purpose.

“Banshees age,” he says instead. “Lydia already has a cabinet full of high-end cold cream. Lorraine got old.”

“But she didn’t die on her own. Not everyone looks young forever just because they’re going to live that long. Satomi’s been old as long as my mom has known her.” She does look back at him this time, braid whipping around and eyebrows lifted. “Are you going to live that long?”

This conversation follows him around, especially now that he’s starting to find more than just the subtle suggestion of silver in his beard. For his own part, he’s mostly watching Peter - not a normal case by any means, but at least something he can measure by. “I’m not an alpha. I’ve never met a beta as old as Satomi, but I also grew up in Argent territory.”

“So you’re just going to be...waiting?”

“No. I’m going to be living.” He tries to parse the way her expression shifts, a flicker of sadness too deep to belong to someone her age that disappears into a look of approval. “If I don’t get myself killed, you’ll be able to mark it down. How long nature took to run its course.”

“Documenting isn’t my part of this job,” she reminds him, smiling. “Mister history major.”

By the time he’s done defending finishing a degree that he’ll never use for a real career, the air between them is a little clearer, less fraught. On the other hand, when he finally registers his surroundings, he can see the jagged lines of headstones southeast of them, growing smaller as they trek around a small copse of firs toward the thicker forest ahead.

“GPS isn’t broken,” Kira corrects before he can open his mouth. “We’ll circle back around to the graves. I wanted to check out something that isn’t plastered all over the website.” She doesn’t stumble even as they start to encounter briars and thick brush, so far from the clumsy way she’d made her way through the woods in Germany on their first official research excursion. Years of uninterrupted sand had spoiled her, but the turned ankles are behind her now, leaving her as sure-footed as she may ever be outside of direct battle.

Even his eyes don’t notice the remains of what was once a clearing before they’re at the edge of it, barely illuminated by the waxing crescent moon directly overhead. It’s a good forty or fifty yards across, a yawning gap punctuated by small trees, shorter and not as sturdy as the ones they’ve passed through. The edges are still too clean for it to have been natural, even with the work the land has down to reclaim it. “I think we’re about sixty years late to see the house,” he jokes.

“We’re not here for the house,” Kira answers easily, pointing across to two logs laid over one another into a sloppy point like an arrow. She grabs his hand, pulling at him with surprising strength as she follows, only now giving off that aura of excitement she gets when they’re on the verge of something. He can still see a faint orange glow around her when things are falling into place, settling into the picture she’s been building from the outside in. “We’re here for the tree. It was here before the house.”

It’s huge. Not nemeton huge, an ancient giant, but thick and towering over the others like a guardian. There’s nothing else special about it at first glance, no nests or hollows, the kind of thing he’d usually be the one to notice. The warm pull of Kira’s hand curled into his tugs him the last few steps around, over gnarled roots. “Here,” she breathes out, the aura around her seeming to vibrate with pleasure.

The gouge isn’t as deep as it once might have been. The edges are fading into the texture of the bark, blending into the tree the way the clearing is slowly becoming just another patch of the forest. But he’d recognize it anywhere in the world, and without thought he drags a finger through the groove of each spiral, rough texture pleasant to the touch - something rugged and alive, weathered but strong. “How?” he asks, foregoing the smalltalk of it all, the obvious.

“Malia,” she explains, her smile growing. “She may have had help, but. She wanted to know more about this part of her that wasn’t just...Peter. And she found this. The triskelion, and-” She does a half-twist, pointing over their joined hands back into the clearing. “What’s left of what used to be a root cellar. When the house was here. Before...before your family moved further south.”

He’d never bothered to ask about what came before Beacon Hills. When he was young it was all there had been and, so he thought, all there ever would be. Something about it had felt like it belonged to them, always had. He knows now, in the long absence of it, that the feeling had only been that of home. Of course there had been somewhere before him, before his mother or her uncle, before even Peter would’ve bothered poking into. “There’s no way this can still be here.”

“Malia said there was no scent left here, but that someone might have come before her. Marked it deeper, made sure it stayed just a little longer. She said would’ve too, but-”

Derek shakes his head, dismissing it out of hand. “It doesn’t mean anything to her. Her family is with Scott now, her pack.” He traces the two rings against the back of her hand with a fingertip, feels the tiny shiver that runs through her. “If anyone’s going to make sure it stays, it has to be me.”

Kira hesitates, glancing at him for approval before she reaches up to touch it as well, pensive. “I wanted you to have the choice. It doesn’t have to mean anything. You don't see me moving back to Japan. But...you could. This could be here, for a while longer.”

She lets his hand go reluctantly when he pull, holding back the shift until he’s clear of her soft skin. His claws don’t run deep enough on the first pass, or the second. She watches patiently as he digs his own history into the wood, whatever legacy he has or will have, his mother’s memory. By the time he’s finished, it almost looks brand new, an old thing remade in its own image, stronger. He remembers a time when he would have carved it deep into his own skin if he could, and when he burned it there instead, something to make the dark ink stay to remind him.

“We can touch it up,” she tells him, after they’ve examined the half-caves in shell of a cellar and the rest of the trees, searching for signs of life or death - both, really. They come together in pairs, always, eventually. “In a while. Twenty years, maybe thirty.” It’s too casual to comfortably question, and he wonders when she became as sly as the fox inside her. “It’ll last for now.”

“What about the banshee?” he asks, when she gently leads him back the way they came, past the cemetery, slow and steady toward the camp waiting for them, fire and something to soften the firmness of the ground.

She laughs at him, eyes bright, and digs her elbow into his side for good measure. “It’s a ghost story, Derek,” she reminds him. “There are no ghosts. Only us.”