#hope this doesn't come across as flippant

[its-avalon-08]

hi okay so since we have very little mark webber content im doing everyone a favour so like similar to the fernando one but this time y/n watched mark's flying 2010 crash and even though he's completely fine y/n is MAD (like it happened for the second time). Mark tries joking it off after they get home but she gives him the silent treatment+ doesnt let him kiss/touch her. then when she finally gives in she's angry and cries while mark consoles her?

please don't leave (mw6)

🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️

i had so much fun writing this one thank you so much for this request ! i hope you enjoyed! happy reading <3 do send in more requests! as for pre existing requests- im working on it! lots of love ava

🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️

y/n practically clawed at the armrest as the grainy helicopter footage on the tv flickered. it couldn't be. not again. the unmistakable red of mark's car was wedged against a barrier, smoke billowing skyward. her heart hammered a frantic rhythm against her ribs. "mark..." the word escaped her lips in a strangled whisper.

the newscaster droned on, thankfully confirming mark was unharmed. relief flooded y/n, momentarily pushing the anger aside. but as the adrenaline subsided, the fury simmered back. this was the second time she'd endured this terror in the three years they'd been together.

the apartment door creaked open, and mark limped in, a grimace on his face. even with the obvious pain, his smile was sheepish. "hey there, drama queen. looks like i caused a bit of a stir, eh?"

y/n remained glued to the couch, arms crossed. the silence in the room was thick enough to cut with a knife. mark's smile faltered, replaced by a worried frown. he shuffled closer, a hand reaching out tentatively.

"y/n, come on," he coaxed, "it's alright. just a bit shaken, that's all."

his hand hovered in the air, inches from her shoulder. y/n flinched away, the movement sharp and cold. the hurt flickered in mark's eyes, but he persisted.

the air in the apartment hung heavy with unspoken emotions. mark hovered near y/n, his own leg throbbing from the crash, but the physical pain paled in comparison to the emotional turmoil brewing across the room. he yearned to hold her, to feel her warmth and offer some form of comfort.

"so," mark started, his voice breaking the suffocating silence, "at least this time i didn't manage to take out any cameramen. silver linings, right?"

he forced a smile, hoping to lighten the mood. but as he reached out, y/n visibly stiffened. her back straightened, and her arms, which had been limp at her side, clenched into fists.

mark's smile faltered, replaced by a dawning realization. this wasn't the time for jokes. he saw it in the way her shoulders started to tremble, a silent tremor that spoke volumes.

"y/n," he began, concern lacing his voice.

but before he could continue, a dam broke within her. tears welled up in her eyes, spilling over as she whirled around to face him.

"silver linings?" she choked out, her voice thick with anger and barely contained fear. "mark, how can you even say that? don't you get it? every time you get behind the wheel of that car, my heart stops! i watch those races, glued to the screen, praying that the red and white doesn't end up tangled in a mess of metal, praying that i don't hear your name followed by the words 'critical condition.' this isn't some game, mark! these aren't just crashes, these are near-death experiences!"

her voice hitched, raw emotion pouring out. "and you have the audacity to joke about it? to try and find some humor in the fact that you almost died again? do you even consider what it does to me? the sleepless nights, the constant worry gnawing at my insides? i can't take it anymore, mark! i can't live like this, constantly on the edge, waiting for the other shoe to drop!"

y/n's rant hung in the air, heavy and accusatory. mark stood speechless, his heart sinking with every word. all the flippant remarks he'd planned evaporated. here, laid bare, was the true cost of his passion, the unseen burden he placed on the woman he loved.

shame washed over him. he hadn't truly understood her fear, the depth of her worry. now, seeing it raw and unfiltered, he felt like a monster.

"y/n," he finally managed, his voice hoarse with regret, "i... i'm so sorry. i had no idea. i was trying to be lighthearted, but you're right. it's not a joke. i was a fool. please, forgive me. i promise it won't happen next time."

"it's not enough, mark!" she shot back, tears welling up in her eyes. "what if next time... what if there isn't a next time?"

the room went silent again, the weight of her words hanging heavy in the air. after a long moment, mark sat on the coffee table beside her, a dejected sigh escaping his lips. he didn't try to touch her again, respecting the space she needed.

minutes bled into hours. finally, y/n's tense shoulders slumped slightly. with a shaky breath, she turned towards mark. he met her gaze, his eyes filled with concern.

"i just..." she began, her voice thick with emotion, "i can't lose you, mark. not like this."

large tears streamed down her face as she spoke, her voice cracking. mark was by her side in an instant, pulling her into a tight embrace. he held her as she sobbed, whispering comforting words into her hair.

the fear, the anger, all of it spilled out in that moment. when her cries subsided into hiccups, mark gently wiped away her tears.

y/n's words hung heavy in the air, each one a hammer blow to mark's heart. shame burned in his gut, hotter than any engine fire he'd ever faced. he hadn't just been selfish, he'd been blind. blinded by the adrenaline rush, the roar of the crowd, the thrill of the race. he hadn't seen the terror in her eyes, the worry etched into her every expression.

"y/n," he started, his voice thick with remorse, "i... i don't even know where to begin. you're right. it's not a joke. it's never a joke. every time i climb into that car, a part of me knows the risk. but the truth is, i never stopped to think about what it did to you. i was so focused on myself, on the competition, on the win, that i completely ignored the cost it had on you."

he took a shaky breath, pulling her closer, "those sleepless nights, that constant worry… you shouldn't have to carry that burden alone. you shouldn't have to live in fear because of my passion. it's not fair. it's not fair to you, and frankly, it makes me question my own damn priorities."

mark ran a hand through his hair, frustration lacing his voice. "this racing… it's been my life for so long. it's given me purpose, pushed me to my limits, made me feel alive. but if it comes at the cost of losing you, then what's the point? what good is a trophy if the person i love the most is shattered every time i race?"

he looked at her, his eyes pleading for understanding. "i can't promise you i'll quit. it's in my blood, this need for speed. but i can promise you this: i'll never take it for granted again. i'll never forget the fear in your eyes. every race, every decision, every corner i take, you'll be there, a constant reminder of what truly matters. and if, at any point, you can't handle it anymore, if the fear becomes too much… i'll walk away. no questions asked. because you, y/n, you're my everything."

silence stretched between them, heavy with the weight of his words. but this time, it wasn't a suffocating quiet. it was a space filled with the dawning of a new understanding, a fragile hope for a future where his passion wouldn't overshadow the love of his life.

the silence stretched on, a hesitant dance between hope and uncertainty. then, slowly, tentatively, y/n reached out. her hand brushed against mark's, sending a jolt of electricity through him. he laced his fingers with hers, the warmth a stark contrast to the storm that had just passed.

"i..." she began, her voice barely a whisper. "i don't want you to quit." her eyes, though still glistening with unshed tears, held a new resolve. "but i need you to be safe. to understand how much you mean to me."

mark's heart swelled in his chest. "i do, y/n. more than you know." he pulled her gently towards him, offering a quiet, "can i kiss you now?"

y/n melted into his embrace, lips meeting. he held her tightly, the unspoken promise hanging heavy in the air. they would face this together, fear and passion intertwined. but for now, all that mattered was the quiet comfort of each other's arms.

after a long while, y/n pulled back slightly, a small smile gracing her lips. "just promise me," she said, her voice muffled against his chest.

"anything," he whispered back, nuzzling his nose against hers.

"no more 'silver linings' jokes after a crash," she declared, a playful glint in her eyes.

mark chuckled, a genuine laugh that warmed the room. "deal. but maybe a celebratory ice cream after a win?"

y/n snorted. "we can negotiate."

and with that, they settled back into their embrace, a newfound understanding blossoming between them. the future was uncertain, the track still held dangers, but as long as they had each other, they could face anything. as mark drifted off to sleep, y/n snuggled closer, her soft breaths a lullaby against his ear.

[sokkastyles]

​That the Katara detractors keep up this insistence on being seemingly hard of hearing regarding The Southern Raiders is a continual annoyance, sweet Christ in heaven. What she said was that Sokka didn't love Kya the way she did... that that was in response to *Sokka* saying that, “Aang might be right”... that she need *forgive* the man who M U R D E R E R E D T H E I R M O T H E R, who burned her to death, whose actions had it so an 8 year old Katara walked in on the sight of her mother’s charred corpse and so smelt her burnt flesh. 😑 That Sokka seemingly has no real desire on his part to go and confront their mother's murderer, to Katara I'm sure might take to be an insult to Kya's memory, it's not just that but for Sokka to suggest that Katara's wanting to do so might very well be w r o n g. T_T So yeah, she lashed out, I should damn well hope she did, like, you expect anything else?!

Do you know what also gets me about it? All the memes that act like Katara brings up her trauma unprompted at every opportunity (she doesn't) and then when someone says something insensitive to her about her trauma and how she should deal with it, she should just keep silent.

And even if you don't think Sokka was being insensitive, Aang was, and Sokka acting like Aang was being rational when he was actually being very dismissive and flippant is something Katara should rightfully be angry about.

Also, the way Sokka frames it isn't helpful and is entirely about himself, not about what Katara is feeling. Even the "she was my mother, too..." comes across as an attempt to invalidate how Katara feels the same way Aang says "how do you think I felt when I lost Appa/my people." They make it about themselves and their loss rather than empathizing and then act like their feelings give them authority over how Katara should feel. And she's right to be upset about that.

[tsutsumi-kurose]

Do you have any Tsukasa analyses?

hi!! thank you sm for the ask!! i love tsukasa analyses, so i was really excited to get this!! there is a small/specific thing i've been thinking about with regards to a couple tsukasa moments recently, and that is:

tsukasa and some not-so-rhetorical questions

there are two specific instances i've been thinking about recently of tsukasa asking typically rhetorical questions in a genuine way. the first time happens in chapter 91. when hanako and nene ask tsukasa how he got to them and why he was there, he asks "who cares?"

i find it really interesting that this question comes before tsukasa asks a long series of hard hitting questions about nene's lifespan, hanako's wish, and destroying the yorishiros. he's asking very real, actionable questions! and this question is grouped in with them! so while "who cares?" is typically a very throwaway question, coming from tsukasa in this moment, i read it as having much more weight. i think tsukasa is experiencing the feeling of that in a very real way. especially given the context of more recent chapters ("he doesn't come when i call," "if you want out, you're going to have to do the best you can by yourself," etc.) while this question may come across as flippant, tsukasa must truly be wondering: "genuinely, who cares where i've been? how or why i'm here? genuinely, do either of the two of you care what i'm up to? you're worried about nene's lifespan and the yorishiros. who he cares about how i got here or why? i have no reason to believe you do." i don't think it's a stretch to think that a boy whose calls for help don't get answered would genuinely wonder: who cares?

and with all the context of 91 up to now, i love to read this question in 110 as a genuine question from tsukasa that hanako hears as rehtorical, and flippant:

"so?" asked so briefly and bluntly is often a rhetorical question: more a statement of "that doesn't matter" or "i don't care." and from hanako's perspective, he has just poured his heart out. he's just said, "yes i could have anything in the whole world, but then i wouldn't have you." to him, this surely must seem like a logical fill in of, "I wouldn't trade you for anything."

but this is tsukasa. tsukasa, who has spent god knows how many years calling out for amane with no response. tsukasa, who knows the following to be fact: 1) hanako knows tsukasa is his yorishiro. 2) hanako has been working to destroy all the yorishiros. thus, the logic from the facts tsukasa has would say that hanako prefers to be without tsukasa. of course he'll be confused that hanako's words suggest he doesn't want to be apart when all he's done with his actions is keep tsukasa away from himself!

it's not surprising, then, that he would want an explanation of how these things connect. the facts tsukasa has say amane doesn't care about him and is prepared to destroy him. so of course amane saying "i wouldn't give you up for anything" is not going to compute, that seems like almost an exact contradiction to the facts tsukasa is working with. the "so?" here is the same question tsukasa's been asking since 1968 in chapter 101: "you'd prefer it if i stayed here, right, amane? or would you rather me gone?" tsukasa thought he had the answer, but now amane's saying the opposite.

i love this panel, because it reads as so hopeful. i really read this as tsukasa wanting to know more about why amane is hung up on never seeing tsukasa again. how often does tsukasa ever want anything for himself? other than to know how someone is feeling? and this moment feels significantly softer than other times he's asked similar things. tsukasa's always asking: what are you thinking? what are you feeling? amane, are you happy to see me? so i think he's genuinely asking here: why would that be a problem? i interpret this panel as tsukasa really, genuinely asking amane to explain that he cares about him, that he wants to be with him. because he has nothing to go off of to prove that that's the case. are you happy to see me, amane? so what if you can never see me again, amane?

to get really specific, i love the lighting in tsukasa's eyes in this panel. his eyes are mostly in shadow, but there's just a bit of light at the tops of them; his irises are almost all black, but there's a little bit of light flooding in at the bottom. because i love to torture myself with tsukasa angst (lol), i like to interpret this specific lightning choice as representing understanding beginning to dawn for tsukasa. a literal flicker of hope. maybe... amane does care about him? maybe amane does want him around? he might just be starting to understand that amane cares, but he needs it explained more, needs it spelled out. hanako's actions have not suggested this is true, so all he can go off of are hanako's words. he needs more words from hanako to make it make sense. so? why would that matter? he's starting to get it, but he has to ask, especially since it goes against all the other signs he's been given.

but, of course, hanako is hanako/amane is amane (i love him but he does win worst communicator for more than fifty years running <3 lmao) so he takes this as a rejection, and doles out his own in return, not hearing the request tsukasa is making, thus affirming what tsukasa already thought: that he hates tsukasa.

the mix of light and dark is gone from tsukasa'a eyes after hanako says "i hate you so much."

his face and eyes are flush with light--with clarity. i know you hate me, amane. no more doubt, no more questions, no more hope.

i'm obsessed with the angst of this entire interaction, and tsukasa asking, "so?" is the hinge it all rests on. the moment of suspension.

here's their chance. here is tsukasa wanting to understand why hanako isn't going through with the plan just because the two of them would never see each other again. here is hanako's chance to explain that he cares.

but it can't line up, not expressed like this. not with "do you love me?" tsuakasa and "of course!" amane. not when they're both so sure their love for the other is obvious, not when they both hear rejection in everything. not when they've both come to expect loneliness as a default, to the point where the other caring about them is never the logical conclusion in their eyes, no matter how obvious their love for the other seems to themselves.

here is a beginning, here in tsukasa's eyes, in his question. but both of them are only ever expecting an end.

(this analysis of tsukasa's eyes in this interaction also connects to the seed of a larger theory i want to explore more soon, which is the possibility that tsukasa's eyes going black isn't necessarily--or at least not exclusively--about the entity's powers taking over, but rather/additionally a reflection of his emotional state... but then that also ties into the really long post i'm trying to wrangle into coherence about tsukasa being genuinely tsukasa... so i may have to elaborate on that another time lol)

thank you again for the ask!! i really love diving into all the possible meanings behind specific/small moments, so i had a lot of fun with this!!

[wannaeatramyeon]

THE ONE WHO REQUESTED THE SENSITIVE S/O WITH GUN‼️‼️

now i wonder how he would deal with his s/o if they were mad at him? Like they were offended at smth he said “accidentally” and they basically either throw punches at him or ignore him for a month or so?

I can't imagine not speaking to your partner for a month for anything small! So...

Gun Park x Reader: For you

G/N.

Gun thinks you must be a saint to put up with him.

Or maybe you're just as hellish as he is. There must be something a bit off with you to be with him, to see him for who he is and still stay. Shiro Oni and all.

Either way, he knows that he doesn't come across someone like you easily. Who can also hold his attention and make him feel his humanity for the first time in perhaps, ever.

(No, Gun makes up his mind. He is sure that there will never be another like you.)

He doesn't apologise, has never apologised. And it's not a habit he's about to pick up now. Yet the fact that you have been ignoring him for close to a month hurts him. Hurts him in a way no bruise or broken bone or physical wound ever has.

The type of ache that starts in his chest, reaching down to the pit of his stomach, and up to the darkest recesses of his mind.

Gun thinks about life without you, and rationally he knows he will be fine. He has survived most of his life on his own and will be able to survive the rest of his life on his own too. But now that he has you by his side, he doesn't want to think about the empty space you would leave behind.

Like getting the first taste of excitement, the adrenaline and high of a fight, and then never being able to find it again no matter how hard he searched.

The void remains, and cruelly, he would know exactly what was missing.

It started with a flippant comment.

You told him to be more careful as you patched up a cut and Gun didn’t respond, not at first. Because for him, dying in a fight, by someone else's hand, would be the ultimate thrill. Would mean that he has finally found, after long last, someone that has surpassed him. Found what he had been looking for all his life.

It escalated from there.

Being with someone like Gun Park means taking the good with the bad. The dangers and the risks.

You didn't know that when you first met, but you knew that by the first date. You knew that when you accepted to be his partner, when you told him you love him and when you moved in together.

In hindsight, he knows that it's the bare minimum he can offer. Even if he doesn't keep to his word, he can at least offer you that peace of mind. However, he always keeps to his word. Slippery lies and deception is not his style. A method his blonde partner prefers, whereas Gun has been more or less forthright.

He is again, tonight. It comes out more sentimental than he would have liked, but it is nothing if not the truth.

It's a simple text.

"For you, I'll try to be more careful."

He hopes that you'll be able to read between the lines and see what the 'for you' really means.

For you, he will walk to the ends of the earth and more. He doesn’t want you to test his limits because he is not sure there even is a limit.

Three dots appear and Gun observes it with more focus than he ever has with anything in his life.

The seconds stretches.

You respond and he smiles, doesn't think about how soft it is, the hold you have over him.

And the relief floods his body.

[qqueenofhades]

ok fix-it time hilary you can do this i believe in you

prompt is a classic one--Aziraphale runs after Crowley after the "i forgive you" "don't bother" exchange OR the kiss does magically work like Crowley hoped

no i am not using english grammar and spelling today my feelings are too strong

Aha. Well, I wrote this fic yesterday, but it... might not entirely qualify as fix-it. My bad. To make it up, I offer you this: technically not either of the suggested scenarios, but still something to salve the pain, set at the end of Season 3 or thereabouts.

The late afternoon light is still and weighty: golden, heavy, purposeful, the sort of light that takes up space, that polishes floorboards and sets dust motes drifting, settles on the backs of furniture and the pages of books like a sleeping cat. The sort of light that fills the room almost tangibly, that stripes the bed and spills off it to the floor like too much olive oil poured into an amphora, back in the hot white heat of the Holy Land. Since he is, of course, a being of pure light, Aziraphale can feel it in his sinews, in the core of his soul, but it almost seems... wrong. Not the light itself, but that he's still allowed to touch it. He doesn't know if he's Fallen or not, or if such trite distinctions even matter. He only knows this. Them. Now.

Aware that it is incumbent upon him to start the conversation, he clears his throat and looks at Crowley, sprawled out on the bed with a fair show of his old insouciance, but Aziraphale can sense the fragility behind the flippant smile. Crowley's black-clad legs are jauntily crossed, his shoes kicked off, his hair a particularly vibrant red against the little-used, age-yellowed lace of the pillow cover; this bed, after all, doesn't get much use in the traditional sense. Aziraphale's preferred human vice is food, not sleep, though he knows Crowley is very good at it and might have to teach him a thing or two about that, about rest. He craves it, but he doesn't know where to begin. That seems applicable to any number of things right now, but he has to start somewhere, he supposes. He just doesn't know.

"Er," Aziraphale says at last, to Crowley's increasingly-strained expectant expression. "My dear, I... I am..."

He bites his tongue. He's rarely been in this position before, knowing that he's the one who needs desperately to ask for forgiveness -- real forgiveness -- and not at all certain that it will actually be granted. It's always seemed so slick, so easy, something to toss off as easily and unthinkingly as the humans say bless you when someone sneezes, and carrying about the same spiritual or emotional depth. Aziraphale feels mortifyingly ashamed of it, of himself. He shuffles his feet, twisting the hem of his waistcoat between his fingers. At last, to the carpet, he says, "I'm so very, very sorry. I've been an absolutely dreadful ninny, and I don't... I don't know if you can forgive me, but..."

"Angel." Crowley's voice is rough. "Bloody look at me, would you?"

Half-fearing to be dissolved by infernal hellfire on the spot, but knowing that he deserves it, Aziraphale looks up.

It's hard to read Crowley's expression, even more than usual. The glasses are off, but his slitted amber eyes are opaque, careful, wary, not quite sure what this is or what's going to come of it. The dead-silent moments that follow, as he weighs up his options, are among the very worst of Aziraphale's entire unending life. Then Crowley fractionally shifts his weight, opening up a spot on the bed next to him, a silent invitation. He doesn't say anything. Using their words tends to backfire tremendously, even if they need to get used to it. He just looks. He just waits.

After all this time, after everything, Aziraphale finally doesn't hesitate. In fact, he almost trips over himself as he blunders across the floor, falls onto the squeaking old mattress, and clambers into Crowley's arms. Crowley wraps them both around him with fierce, ferocious, furious strength, pulling Aziraphale down next to him, Aziraphale's softer, rounder corporal form fitting neatly into the hard lines and lean angles of Crowley's. Aziraphale rests his head on the bare triangle of throat where Crowley's shirt is unbuttoned, burrows his face into the sharp cleanness of Crowley's collarbone, and becomes belatedly, embarrassingly aware that he's crying. It seems beneath the dignity of a (possibly-ex?) Principality, but he doesn't think he can stop. He just wants to lie here and clutch onto Crowley for literally dear life, to mourn for all the time they've missed, for the simple, unbearable, shocking, agonizing, perfectly exquisite pleasure of holding his love close. "I'm so sorry," he says again, struggling not to let his voice crack too extravagantly. "Dreadful ninny. Absolutely dreadful."

"You were doing what you thought was right. What you needed to do to stop the Apocalypse, just... differently." Crowley's voice turns distant, his fingers absently stroking Aziraphale's hair. It feels strange and shocking and quite, quite lovely. "Can't really tell you off for that, can I? After all, I'm a demon. What do I know about doing good?"

"Hush," Aziraphale says, primly and a little watery. "Now you know that's not true."

Crowley lifts his head and regards Aziraphale for a long moment. He doesn't answer, just thinks about it. "All right," he allows, at deliberate length. "Maybe a little. I'm still very mad at you, though."

"I do understand." Aziraphale nestles again, and Crowley doesn't stop him. "But perhaps, even if I have no real right to ask it, you can... you might... one day think about... f-forgiving me?"

His voice trembles and squeaks. It takes all the courage in him, even more than when he stood up to the full hosts of Heaven and told them no, no more, not ever again, but he looks Crowley in the eye. He tries not to look too expectant, or too arrogant. He waits.

Crowley, for his part, looks mildly flabbergasted. He makes one of those incoherent nnngh noises that he resorts to whenever he finds himself at a loss for words, and shakes his head. "Idiot," he says, very softly. "Of course I bloody forgive you. Of course. Now if you -- "

He doesn't get to finish his sentence. That's because Aziraphale likewise screws up every drop of courage, takes hold of Crowley's collar, and lowers his head, terrified that he's about to muck it up. But Crowley just looks at him like he's luminous, like the light is still in him and he is the light itself, and tips his head just that bit, in order to settle their lips together.

The kiss is long and slow, soft and sweet. Crowley's hand flutters up to rest in the wild white tufts of Aziraphale's hair, and Aziraphale -- somewhat in terrified awe at his own daring -- nibbles experimentally on Crowley's lip. He's quite bad at it, but neither of them care, or can think about anything else, or do anything but heave short sharp breaths, half-laughs, muffled sobs. When they finally pull apart, Aziraphale says anxiously, "I hope it wasn't very awful?"

"Oh." Crowley's eyes are half-lidded, and in the sunlight, he too looks as if he is burning like a beacon, brighter than his favorite stars. The affection in his voice is greater than the wings of heaven or the reaches of hell, the heights of the sky or the depths of the sea, and his smile outshines them all. "Absolutely terrible."

[willowser]

It's my birthday, & I'm not able to celebrate this year on my actual day because of work, but curious how the boys handle reader's birthday OR, what does reader for their birthday? Like, I imagine with bkg we do something small/intimate. But him and our day? He's running himself ragged. Stray cat touya trying to be aloof but also trying so hard. Gojo knowing he can do/get literally anything (for both yalls birthdays) but that's not what he actually wants. I just want to pick your brain lol

omg !! happy happy birthday dear !!! 🥺🩷���️🦋 how sweet that we get to celebrate it together like this !! even if you are unfortunately stuck at work 😔 i hope what you do get to do for it, eventually, is so, so wonderful !! 😌🌱🔮✨️

HOW FUN LOVE PICKING MY BRAIN LET'S SEE !!

i think — bakugou is pulling out all the stops but also trying not to seem like he is, if that makes sense ?? like in the coming days before, he's saying NOTHING about it, to the point that you're sort of wondering if he forgot 💀 you casually mention it during dinner like—

"oh, and i meant to tell you that my coworkers want to go out for my birthday this weekend, so..."

and he just kind of nods, staring at you from across the table with that look you can't read, and then he asks, "y'gonna be home on thursday though, right?"

which is the crumb of confirmation you were looking for LOL though he still doesn't say anything else about it 😒 only nods again when you tell him that you will be home 😒 and the morning of, you wake up to flowers in the kitchen 🥺 and he !! still !! doesn't say anything !! 🥺 and i feel like it's like that the whole day, him doing little, meaningful things without mentioning it 🥺 you get home and he's in nice pants and buttoning up a nice shirt 🥺 ready for you to get dressed too 🥺

and he maybe looks calm and collected and flippant but HE'S ACTUALLY BEEN STRESSED THE WHOLE WEEK COMING UP TO THIS. could not get the right flowers at two different places, almost lost the reservation to dinner because the restaurant staff are idiots, has been actually looking over what to get you as a present for EVER. STILL NOT SURE HE PICKED THE RIGHT THING 🥺 he's just really good at masking it, but he's been bending over backwards to make sure it goes as smooth as it does 🥺🥺🥺

and he finally tells you happy birthday much later that night, very quietly in your ear as you're falling asleep 😌🩷✨️ what a brat 😌

OMG TOUYA HOW FUN

another one that's trying to make it seem like he's not all that aware — and maybe he's even trying not to care, but he's thinking about you in the coming days. not constantly, but in the back of his mind, he's thinking about the weight of a single gesture, for you.

maybe it would mean too much and he doesn't wanna put that out there yet, or maybe you'll think his attempt at something is laughable, and then he'll be really pissed at himself. but he'll think about the one good birthday he can remember, with his sister and his mom and all the fun he had. the taste of it all 🥺 and — fuck it, he might as well.

maybe he buys flower from the supermarket and a bottle of champagne that was on sale, or a six pack of something, but he shows up at your place almost too late, leaning against the doorframe with a cigarette in his mouth. and he's trying to be so chill, all "hope i didn't miss the party," even though the friends you saw today have long since gone home — but his heart is beating out of his chest because he's never done this for ANYONE 🥺 whether you realize it or not, this is a big thing for him 🥺

the alcohol sucks and neither of you like it and the petals of the bouquet are already falling off by the time he works up the nerve to come see you, but you sit on the rooftop of your apartment and just, enjoy the company 🥺

at one point, he grins too sharp at you and says, "glad i got the birthday brat all to myself."

and you wag a finger at him, though you can't help but to smile because it's enough of an admission to have heat pooling in your cheeks. "just for now, kid," you tell him, sticking your tongue out when he rolls his eyes. "just for now."

and he's smiling too, despite it all. watching the flower he's twirling between his fingers because he can't look at you, not right now. not when you look at him, too.

"'s'fine," he tells you, shrugging. "i'll take whatever you're giving."

AND GOJO actually. i think he's panicking LOL AKGBDKAK

because i think he could give you anything. everything that you could want, whatever he could think to give you — but that doesn't actually help him very much in the moment LOL

he wants to do everything perfect 🥺 so he does — everything. LMAOOO you wake up literally surrounded by flowers and there's a silk robe and matching slippers and an overly sweet cup of coffee on the night stand. he bought you a puppy with a ribbon. there's a bunch of framed pictures he made for the two of you. he comes into the room and your best friend is on the phone because he face timed them so you could talk as soon as you woke up aigbruqkqkq

he's got a buffet for breakfast. he hired a chef for the day. he makes a joke about carrying you everywhere.....that you realize isn't....actually a joke and you have to fight him off LOL there are several different outfits that he knows you've been eyeing and he bought them for you to wear for the day. HE DOES EVERYTHING AND HE'S SO WORRIED IT'S NOT ENOUGH 🥺

by the end of the day, you can tell that he's like. biting his nails behind your back and he's sticking close to your side like he's going to catch you sighing, defeated about something, and when he asks,

"did you have a good birthday?"

it's so genuine, his concern, that you have to hold his face between your hands and squish his cheeks together and shake him a little bit.

"yes," you tell him, for what feels like the hundredth time, before kissing his eyelids. "i did, because i got to spend it with you."

BUT HE'S SO ???? i think he's so weird about gentle affection that he's like..........but did you really though ?? almost as if he doesn't believe it 🥺

you ask him, "do you love me?"

"...well if you have to ask, then—"

and then you have to shake him again, until he smiles. "satoru, i said, do you love me?" and he doesn't say it loudly or to the world, but he just murmurs back a quiet 'yes' that you know he means. "do you love me even though i haven't bought you a puppy or designer clothing or hired someone to make you a full course meal?"

he gets it, then, even if doesn't answer, and relaxes into you a little bit. all day long he's been wide-eyed and high energy, dragging you along from one thing to the next — but now he kind of melts, stress of the day slipping off his shoulders.

you squish his cheeks again and laugh at the face he makes, before giving him a fat kiss. "yes," you tell him again. quietly, as he had told you. "i had a great birthday."

[eff-plays]

hope this doesn't come across as rude (to you to be clear i'm not concerned with a video game man's feelings) but what does hira see in astarion? i know the fic will probably get into it but i'm impatient 😭

The fic will go into it!! So I don't wanna spoil it, but then again it will be months before we get to that point and maybe ppl will have forgotten by then. Or I will have changed my mind/come up with something else so lmao. Under cut for those who don't want spoilers either way.

They genuinely like that he's an asshole and that he doesn't censor himself even a little bit. Their line of "work" involves appearing as pleasant and attractive as possible, and they like that the moment Astarion doesn't have to do that anymore, he's like "um. I'm done being palatable. Fuck you forever." He's like "oh this fucking sucks" at any moment and yeah it's annoying but it's also like? Fun.

Like he tries? To be all suave and agreeable. But he's bad at it. And they like that he's bad at it because to them that makes him more genuine in a weird way. Cuz to them, being so good at pleasing people means you shave off bits of yourself in the process. Which he's done doing. And the fact that he's quite bad at being (deliberately) charming despite it being his job means to them that his core, his true self, is still there.

And that ties into how they like that he's resilient. That despite all the shit life (or undeath) has thrown at him, he's got enough of himself left in there to demand more, to demand better from the world. Hira knows instinctively that they also deserve better and could demand better from those who wronged them but they're also too scared and meek to go back and actually do that. They're happy keeping a low profile and doing shit they don't strictly want to just to avoid raising said profile. They're complacent in the sort of avoidant and flippant life they've built for themself so having someone who's just "no I know exactly what I want and I will get it or I will die shut the fuck up do NOT tell me I'm wrong or incorrect in any way" is very inspiring in a weird way. Like motherfucker is often wrong about things on a moral level but he knows exactly what he wants and what he's owed.

And to them that's like god. I wish that were me. I will help you weird vampire man. I need to see your dreams come true as a way to live vicariously through you.

So they're very proud of him at the end. Like he rly did that. Inspiring. Life-changing even. Muse behavior fr. The Radiant Hopeful stuff at the end just rly cements that. He goes from being a bad example/potential enabler to being a genuine beacon of hope. A-star-ion if you wi-- *gets shot*

[collegetennisoriginstory]

quick question! could you clarify the difference between the intense/laid-back and serious/flippant stats?

it doesn't bother me that my mc is somehow mostly intense and also mostly flippant - it honestly makes sense since they're very chill off court but hyper competitive on it - but when it comes to dialogue it can make choosing the 'in character' option difficult since i can't really tell if something is meant to come across as laid back (against my MC's nature) or flippant (in line with it); same thing with serious vs intense, especially with tennis related stuff (ex. interacting with emerson/jacks/rayyan during breaks)

Ahh!!

Intense has two main components: how (a) competitive and (b) passionate MC is. For example an MC who's like shoving someone aside to win blow wind blow or laser tag or intimidating their opponents or declaring their love in a dramatic way is intense. As opposed to an MC who lets Addie or G or whoever beat them to a seat or jogs around the laser tag arena or responds casually to an opponent or is chill about saying goodbye to Sam is laid back.

Serious is more... does MC take xxx seriously, so a serious MC generally nods at Coach Sy with deference or responds to Tobin or Rayyan in a frank legit manner, while a flippant MC would be winking at Coach Sy, trying to crack jokes etc.

Hope that helps! Either way, the personality stats are more for fun / role-playing, and don't actually (or shouldn't) affect gameplay too much in the sense of restricting choices.

[lgcyubin]

here to present (bad trumpet playing noises) the illustrious kim yubin whooohoooo (crickets chirping) please like this post if you're down to plot and i'll mosey over to your tumblr ims. i have a discord if that's easier (tho i am slower on it) - just lmk and we can swap usernames :) also clearly bandwagon-ing so i may be even slower here, but i made a twitter since it's come up a few times! i'm also still (slowly) reading through event stuff but to the extent anyone's still looking for event partners please hmu!

better known as jamie (not james) kim, kim yubin's a california boy who's found his way to seoul with lukewarm dreams(?) of becoming a kpop idol.

quick tl;dr of his relevant journey: joined lgc in july 2021 by sheer happenstance. it's been two long years and he's still not sure if this is what he's allowed(?) to do, but for now he's trying to dabble in a little bit of everything to figure out what he likes, and works his ass off regardless of what he does bc it's in his nature. he doesn't have a self-declared focus, but his (current) penchant is for rap.

vs. what he'd put on his hinge profile: fluent in english and korean, the proud owner of two on-and-off dimples that may as well be a craters, and his t-shirt's made of boyfriend materi—

family bg: born to an affluent family of doctors. literally. all doctors, all successful, all brilliant. he's the youngest of four (three older sisters) and the black sheep of the family because he's... well, not exactly studying for the mcat right now. he's smart and hard-working, but certainly doesn't think he is - growing up in the shadows of steep expectations will do that to ya.

for as critical of himself as he is, however, he likes to keep most of his neuroses strictly to himself. you will not get him to be vulnerable without an ample amount of kicking and screaming.

self-inflicted mental saw traps aside, yubin comes across as remarkably... well, unconcerned on the outside. he's a flippant person who has zero issues making small talk with complete strangers. he's candid, straightforward, and he's got a wicked sharp wit and a penchant for dramatics. he's a funny guy! sarcasm is his crutch! and he'd much rather you laugh at or with him than see him cry.

WANTED CONNECTIONS

in desperate need of: friends. and specifically: friends who will put up with him whipping his head around dramatically every time you whisper "look at the hot person behind you but don't make it obvious" (he would be such a good wingman fyi)

best friends! but just a couple, max. he's a closed off person so if he did have any best friends that might have a better grasp of the inner workings of kim yubin, it's a limited number, and you've probably known him since he joined lgc (or longer—he's not a seoul native, but he was in town most summers). fair warning that he will be calling you his work wife/husband (it's a show of affection).

at the back of my mind, he is very loudly like "i would rather die than have feelings for someone" so naturally i feel inclined to write out a terrible ex plot. or a crush plot. or both. any breakup with him was probably messy and might be accompanied by some resentment (at least from his end), and any crush he could possibly have will be saddled with internal conflict. let's give it up for being unlovable!

no one's seen him cry except maybe a close friend or his sisters but you happen to catch him at the worst possible time and he is now avoiding you like his life depends on it. even if it means hiding behind a potted plant the second he sees you down the hall.

someone go on a perilous hike with him where you end up terribly lost and start to think you may have to spend the last moments of your life in each other's company so you might as well dish out all of your regrets and dashed hopes, right? it's not like you're just meters away from the path you were supposed to be on, right? good thing neither of you are drama queens, right???

if you would like to entertain the idea of having an inconsequential crush on the most charmless guy alive, please do so because he'd be so so uncomfortable with the concept of it and it'd be funny.

familial connection — he joined lgc back in july 2021 with his cousin (female), and she is 100% the reason why he's here. he's all about tough love and being mister sass pants so no one figures out just how much he cares about them, but he would do just about anything for his family and he's especially close to her.

[fancytrinkets]

Circus

(Astarion/Tav) enjoy this snippet, second person, Astarion PoV, from my self-indulgent collection of little chapters in which Tav is a wizard (renamed Tamar) and Astarion is reluctantly falling for them...

Your poisoned blade sinks deep into the flesh of your enemy, the last to fall. When it first attacked, it appeared to be human. But now, you're aware that it isn't. Its long, pale corpse lies naked and contorted among half a dozen others just like it, strewn across the circus grounds.

Shapeshifters. You kick the foot of the nearest one. "A shame. I thought we were killing a real clown."

Tamar laughs and then can't stop laughing. You consider for a moment that they may have been cursed. But no. They wipe away their tears as the laughing fit subsides.

"Sorry. That one got me. Clowns were never my favorite."

"And yet, you cajoled me into going on stage with one." Gale's expression is sour. He looks supremely unimpressed. "Not just any clown, mind you — a shapeshifting murderous one. With a dog that bit me!"

"I'll make it up to you." Tamar sounds earnestly contrite. "What would you like? Facepainting? A go at the prize wheel? You name it, I'm buying."

Gale grins with mirth and mischief. "Oh, you'll pay for it, all right. I have just the attraction in mind. Follow me."

Tamar obliges, falling in step behind Gale. Karlach, still absurdly delighted by this circus despite its lackluster attractions and abysmal security, cheers with joy at the prospect of visiting another tent. She grabs your sleeve, pulling you along as she follows the others.

"Oh, what now?" You're growing tired of this place already.

Your displeasure increases by tenfold when you see Gale's destination: a small stage — more of a platform, really. It's trying to be rustic, but like all things designed by druids, the look it achieves is best described as poverty, but with trees adjacent.

"One good turn deserves another," Gale says as he pushes Tamar forward, closer to the druid who offers her services.

"This?" Tamar asks. "Really?"

"Oh, yes," Gale says. "I insist."

Apparently, it's to be a test of true love, which means Tamar is not being volunteered to undergo this fearsome trial alone.

Sure enough, Tamar turns towards you. "Astarion, are you up for this?"

You'd like to object, but the look on their face is so intrigued and hopeful. There must be something wrong with you — did you fall and hit your head without having noticed? — because you find yourself swayed to go through with it.

"How could I say no?"

Fortunately, it's a trick of druid magic. The trial takes place entirely in your mind, so Gale doesn't get to serve as a smug and laughing spectator. It's only you, Tamar, and the druid herself — which is more than enough for an audience.

The questions she asks are invasive. The answers are supposed to be honest. But to your overwhelming relief, Tamar plays this game more shrewdly than you would have imagined, with a mind for spotting loopholes and preserving secrets. Each truth they tell is an easy one — a joyful or flippant admission, chosen to protect the shameful things you'd rather hide than show.

Your greatest fear? Why, it's breaking a nail, of course! Not anything to do with Cazador. Not the clawing, strangling terror of one day losing this tenuous freedom you've won.

Each delving, probing question is different. Tamar's answers are always the same — a clever selection of half-truths, spoken in service of keeping you safe.

It ends up being rather enjoyable, actually; though, at the end you feel uneasy. Seducing Tamar was meant to be fun with a purpose, the combined pleasure of sex and manipulation, as simple as that. But something's changed, and you aren't sure when it started.

The trial of love ends. Your panicked musings are swiftly interrupted by the jarring reality of what comes next: the druid turns into Orin — the most unhinged of your Netherstone-bearing enemies — who disappears rather than staying to fight.

"Is this circus entirely made up of murderous shapeshifters?" Gale asks, looking shocked and dismayed.

"Last Days," Tamar says, grinning. "It's right there in the name."

[glass-expanse]

hi there. I really do truly agree with what you said about online dating. For a long, long time I've felt and still do feel it's almost entirely so abhorrently shallow, self-centered, and self-serving, like flipping through a menu of people looking for someone to serve one's own tastes, lusts, and desires. (Especially the culture around it in today's society.) To me, that's abhorrently lacking in understanding of human worth.

I also really do understand your perspectives on it being a "desire for a relationship that maybe you just aren't ready for yet" and that we should "allow the right person to come into our life outside the screen." On the surface, there is admittedly some plain Christian logic to those sentiments. I'd like to offer a different perspective in meekness and love for just a minute, if I can.

In 2020 I moved from a well-populated area of Cali to an another state and again in 2022 to an extremely rural place in the same state--for several reasons, but I had to. I've dreamed of and longed for marriage and children with my whole heart since I was a little girl, with the understanding and ache for what I was longing for only increasing greatly over the yrs. I'll be 30 this yr. I've never had a boyfriend or courted anyone, never once been on a date, never once been asked out, never have even come close. I struggle to believe that all my desperate longings matters to God, though I know it does. I now find myself in an extremely, extremely rural place, where the grocery store is 45min-1hr away. I recently had a deer accident that wrecked my paid-for car, and am having to borrow one until I can save up to buy a new one on my small pay.

In January, I decided to try the free version of Christian mingle, which has been extremely difficult and sparse in itself. But the years are flying by faster than I can even blink. I've been trying to think of it as simply a mode of hoping and trying to meet someone, that's new to me. Because there are simply no people around, and I have little to no other recourse. My somewhat small-medium church has no other available men anywhere near my age. This gives me access to possibilities who are up to 500-miles away. And I can't move again, not for at least another few years. It wouldn't mean that once I met him in person I'd rush into anything, which is not any different than if I'd met him in person. I can filter through the guys who seem flippant or that I feel I need to be wary of and look for guys who seem serious and respectful. I don't think of any of them as only a possible date. I think of each profile as a real, valuable human man with all his own hopes and struggles.

It doesn't really matter; there's been no success. I just wanted to offer a moment of a different perspective. I'm in a v, v painful spot in life rn. I was recently told by a fellow Christian that, "I've been given the gift of singleness." In my head I could understand what she was trying to say, but that doesn't mean it didn't absolutely gut me & my hope, which I already intensely struggle in. It felt somewhat lacking in empathy & compassion for my deep sorrow and loneliness. It's begun to seem to me that many Christians expect other Christians who have these longings and struggle with prolonged singleness and being childless not by choice, to go about life completely as normal, simply waiting for something to happen, and then also accept the outcome when it doesn't. When we also have to watch our fellow Christians be given marriage and children every day, so easily, as a part of everyday life. It’s heart-rending.

I hope I don't come across angry or upset. I do really appreciate your perspective and am grateful to see a young Christian person on tumblr. Thank you for your faithfulness and for your presence here. God bless.

Thank you so much for your kind and gentle ask, anon! I won't lie after some other anons I've gotten I was bracing myself as I waited for the page to load, and this was a really pleasant surprise.

It definitely sounds like a hard spot in life right now! I'll be praying over your car situation and everything else. What I know: God will provide!

I will admit I'm not someone who fully understands the desire for marriage, which makes it easier for me to make observations about the trends I see. However I have come across lots of people in a similar situation as you-- single for so long-- when will it end--?

I really do believe that when it comes to marriage, that deep longing and desire is proof that you're not in the gift of singleness-- just in a (maybe very long) season of it. It's tone deaf of people to say that a season of singleness is somehow equivalent to the gift of singleness somehow-- when it's not. They're different.

I fully believe that God has given people desires like that in their heart, and that He has put desires and proficiencies and everything in us from the time we were created in order to use those as tools for His glory. I fully believe in His complete and sufficient plan for each unique person on the face of the earth. I also believe that His timing is exactly what we need for our sanctification, even if it seems like something will never end.

In the tags of my original post, I did include a little personal memo-- my parents met online in the 1990s. (I know that pretty much makes me a baby.) I believe God can and does sometimes deign to use things like online dating apps for His glory... but He also uses other, worse things for His glory also. Like maybe someone is rescued from a terrible fire that takes away all their belongings, but it is through that fire that they start going to church and build a beautiful community.

I'm not saying a dating app is a fire. Like anything, it's a tool. Unfortunately it is one that is developed with those bad habits in mind, and it is a tool often misused. Because of that, in my mind, it does have a dark atmosphere around it and I personally would never touch one with a ten foot pole. And it hurts when I see others using it poorly, in the wrong context, at the wrong time of their lives.

Now I also do believe in gender roles... which means that my personal conviction is that women shouldn't be pursuing men. That works for me, doing nothing. I believe that men should show their leadership and conviction of discernment through his pursuit of women. Which is another reason I don't think dating apps are a great idea. I'm not saying that you're doing something horrible by using one thoughtfully and carefully! It just is not something that lines up with my convictions on the subject.

So... from my worldview (which is admittedly colored by my very low desire for marriage rather than an active one, my belief in God's constant providence and perfect timing, and my conviction on gender roles) if I were finding myself in your situation, I wouldn't be using a dating app.

But I'm not in that situation! And you're not me. And that's okay!

What I know is this, however your life plays out, it is for God's glory and it is according to His perfect plan in your life. Who knows, maybe you'll find someone online. Or maybe someone will show up near you! Maybe your future husband will appear in the most unlikely of situations. What I do know is that God will put him in your life exactly when He intends for it to happen, and that He has already set things in motion for everything to happen at just the right time.

Thank you again for your kind message! I love how your sincerity and respect shines through. You definitely show more maturity than me. I hope when I reach your age I will show the same kindness and grace and control of my speech! I will be praying that God's providence will be abundant in your life, and that you will be led at the right time to the car God has set aside for you. He's got the whole world in His hands-- how blessed are we that He has chosen us as children!

[wouldwhirl]

 ⚰. →  camila mendes   :  cis woman  :  she/her :   el paso by marty robbins  —  looks like feleena has been driven to mystic falls. the 21/170-year-old vampire is  known  for  being  vivacious on  a  good  day  and  flippant  on  a  bad  day .  now that you mention it, when i think of them i think of A CRAZY DREAMING RUNAWAY, DANCING & LAUGHTER, WICKED EYES THAT GET WHATEVER THEY WANT, and FALLING HARD AND FAST, FOREVER. lets hope they enjoy small town mystic falls, whilst they still can. ( michael ● 28 ● ctz ● he/him )

Currently: In Mystic Falls to mentor her newest sire, Lizzie Saltzman. "Renting" a large property on the edge of town, from where she routinely hosts crazy parties.

Born: 1864 Turned: 1885

Canon Change: For her origin, Marty tells it the best. But her tall and handsomely dressed cowboy was a vampire come to town. The man he felled in Rosa's Cantina was not with a shot — he had ripped out his throat. The cowboy had to flee, and despite her broken heart, Feleena knew there was no other choice. The morning he couldn't help but come back for her.. only to die in her arms with one final goodbye. Feleena couldn't bear the loss, and used his pistol to end her pain. After waking, in transition from the blood he used to heal her whenever he fed, she wreaked havoc on the men who shot her cowboy down. And with every man who knew of her demise gone, she simply returned to Rosa's the very next day.

Feleena made El Paso her own. There was nothing she didn't know, nor anything she couldn't do, and she stayed as long as she could. But her everlasting beauty became too hard to explain away, and she sought another home. Her next stop was New Orleans, where the many stories had carried across the plains, and she left West Texas — and Rosa's Cantina — in 1906. This kind of nomadic lifestyle carries on, and she finds herself in new, exciting places frequently. What once used to be decades quickly became a handful a years, and as her thirst for adventure grows, she has found herself even more mobile across the land.

Wanted Dynamics / Connections: She was in attendance at the the 1914 Christmas Party (the same Freya first met her family) and I'd love to have some NOLA connections with her! She spent longer in there, maybe 15-30 years, because she actually got to meet and interact with other vampires and would've absolutely been caught up in Marcel's war for control.

As for her wild-ridin' cowboy, I figure it can be swung either way. Was it hunters that gunned him down, or just the town avenging their friend? Is he REALLY dead, or is it more complicated than that? (There's a lovely sequel song to the whole ordeal, where it is implied the cowboy is resurrected and feels a connection to the town.) Feleena doesn't know for sure, she just assumes he must be dead. She didn't even know that his blood in her system would turn her.

Tags:

「🌹」 𝘈𝘍𝘛𝘌𝘙 𝘋𝘈𝘕𝘊𝘐𝘕' 𝘈𝘕𝘋 𝘓𝘈𝘜𝘎𝘏𝘛𝘌𝘙 ! » THREADS 「🖤」 𝘐𝘕 𝘛𝘏𝘌 𝘔𝘖𝘖𝘕'𝘚 𝘎𝘖𝘓𝘋𝘌𝘕 𝘎𝘓𝘌𝘈𝘔 ! » VISUALS 「💋」 𝘏𝘌𝘈𝘙𝘛 𝘑𝘜𝘚𝘛 𝘞𝘖𝘜𝘓𝘋𝘕'𝘛 𝘉𝘌 𝘚𝘛𝘐𝘓𝘓 ! » MUSINGS 「💌」 𝘉𝘖𝘛𝘏𝘌𝘙𝘌𝘋 𝘉𝘠 𝘊𝘙𝘈𝘡𝘠 𝘋𝘙𝘌𝘈𝘔𝘚 ! » MEMES 「💃」 𝘈𝘕𝘋 𝘓𝘖𝘜𝘋 𝘋𝘌𝘚𝘌𝘙𝘛 𝘛𝘏𝘜𝘕𝘋𝘌𝘙 ! » ANSWERED

[a-rumbly-in-my-tumbly]

All right (cracks knuckles)

Professional Japanese translator time!

You're right that the way the characters talk does say a lot about their personalities-- I would say that as far as the gap being too wide is concerned, that title would go to Edmond. Especially in the earlier intimacy rooms, their interactions don't really come across well because tbh, English is REALLY lacking when it comes to translating characters whose internal struggle is the problem. Essentially, it comes across as noncon when it isn't.

BUT, on to Kuya! I wouldn't particularly say he's polite as he is very aware of how hierarchies function. Sure, he says the right words, but it's more to make sure that, when he does do something to amuse himself, his victims have nothing to point to about his CHARACTER. He's seen what happens to rude, haughty yokai--because he's often the one to do it.

So no, he's not polite. He's sardonic. Painfully cynical. Acting in a way that his life suggests should be default (which is why he gets onto Eiden for being so naive, but can't dislike him. After all, if everyone just realized their petty optimism was worthless, we'd all get along; but that would be boring, wouldn't it?). Kuya, therefore, is quite disdainful about titles (remember his reaction to the yokai falling all over him?) so his "old friend", "young master", "wolf pup" should be read with that same sardonic disdain. HOWEVER, this doesn't mean Kuya doesn't LIKE Eiden and the clan members; it's just that a part of him wishes it didn't. Wouldn't life be so much easier if he was HAPPY being "Master Kuya", benevolently doing favors for old friends, enjoying the company of others? Of course it would, and he knows this. But he also knows how pointless getting attached is.

As a related aside and somewhat of a circle back, boku as a pronoun, too, I would say is default more than formal, per se. Of course the nature of the character will change that (i.e. how Edmond's "watashi" doesn't come off as particularly polite so much as just humble, or how Rei's "ore" doesn't come off as full of himself so much as flippant). A lot of beginners from English are told about pronouns because English needs them, but Japanese really doesn't; and unless you're translating jidaigeki or something you really don't see the Truly Formal modes of address like "wagahai" 我輩 and so on; but I would argue it's because teachers from English are very aware that because pronouns are so optional, they are also still associated with gender (Megumi Ogata, nonbinary afab voice talent, refers to themselves with "boku", for example), so they don't want learners running around subtly gendering themselves without being aware of it; so it's easier just to say "watashi for girls, boku for boys" and leave it at that instead of trying to explain how "atashi" and "ore" are different, but not that different, and it's not that boys or men CAN'T use "watashi" or that girls and women can't or don't use "ore", it's just that a Japanese person from Japan will assume that you're making a mistake with your pronouns over it being a deliberate choice for many social reasons that stem from how Japan still sees the world as binary in terms of there are Japanese, and there are foreigners, and foreigners don't understand Japanese. So, it's easier, especially initially when you're still learning the language and wouldn't be able to explain your choice, to set it aside.

So. There you have it, re: Kuya. Tl;dr? Formal? Perhaps. Polite? I wouldn't say so, necessarily. Sardonic is the word here, absolutely. Though Rei can be too, because he's also Seen Some Shit in terms of "the way people are is largely bullshit", Kuya has accepted it in the core of his soul. He's not ANGRY about it, or frustrated the way Rei is. At least not anymore... except during those rare times when Eiden makes him hopeful that he may be wrong, and that's when he tests him, gets angry (like in the spring card), and tries to mess things up--he knows he's right, why can't these people see that?

As someone who kinda understands Japanese, the way the characters talk really adds a lot to their personality. I'm the type of person who really pays attention to the types of pronouns they use and Kuya's speech drives me nuts every time!!!

Okay, so first of all, we all know that Kuya has high regard for himself and that's justified. He's powerful and the wise old fox of the group plus, he's been with Huey the longest. With that being said, he talks way too respectfully and that gap in character really sells it for me.In Japanese he refers to himself as "boku" which is a very respectful term for a males. It's used in more formal settings or just situations that require more tact and manners in general. That's not all though, he uses it in its kanji form "僕" which means that it's even MORE formal! Just how cute is that?

Next, he never really refers to people with the pronouns for "you". He doesn't use terms like "omae", "anata", or "kimi" towards Eiden and the clan members but instead refers to them as titles like "wolf pup" for Garu/Karu, "old friend" for Quincy etc. This is just another show of Kuya talking very politely because using second-person pronouns can be seen as informal or rude in Japanese. As for Eiden, he refers to him as "Eito-san". Calling people by their names is just more respectful. In English, it's translated as "young master" and I think that's just a way for us to see how he still recognizes Eiden's position in some way. He also refers to Rei as such, so we can definitely see that Kuya recognizes hierarchial positions despite his personality. Even just generally, he uses "desu" and "masu" often so YES fox boy is very very respectful in his speech.

This is just word vomit so I don't know if I'm making any sense but I just cry inside everytime Kuya has new voiced lines because I also love the intonations in his voice. I don't really know Japanese fluently but I know enough to be able to play Japanese only games so if anyone wants to correct me or elaborate feel free to do so!

[astudyinfreewill]

wasn't Maggie Stiefvater's husband....a cop..... :/ according to a 2016 interview: "He was a cop for ten years, but he loves helping people and so now he has a tow truck, which is kind of the same thing as being a cop, except you don’t have to wear a vest." ma'am. pls. i understand she isn't the one to speak on this and i have long ceased to look at her for social commentary outside of the books. but i hope she meant it when she said she's learning.

i did not know about this, but yes, after a quick google search, that seems to indeed be the case. my question is -- what am i meant to say to this? her husband’s not a cop anymore so we can’t accuse him of currently being complicit or ask him to quit -- bc he already has. can she go back in time to before he quit and un-marry him on grounds of being a cop? doesn’t seem likely either. 

i think it’s a good choice not to look to a celebrity for social commentary - and please note this is not just about maggie stiefvater but about celebrities in general. it’s never wise to idolise people, especially people we objectively do not know, because we can’t vouch for their morals and they are extremely likely to disappoint.

has stiefvater been a great ally? historically, no.

is stiefvater learning? i think she is. her new work, and her recent attitude on social media, seem to me like she has been listening. there’s more inclusivity, and more explicit representation (not that the lgbt rep in trc was subtle imo, but for example, people complained about her not using sexuality labels -- so now she is using them).

has her progress been perfect? no, there’s been bumps in the road (e.g.: the confirmation of blue being biracial, even if it’s technically good, definitely came across like “pulling a dumbledore”, and thus is not good rep); and obviously she could, and should, be doing more now. but i hate to break it to you, progress is rarely quick, rarely easy, and almost never perfect. and yes, that’s frustrating, but if we cancel, out of suspicion, everyone who does not immediately unlearn all their privileges and flawed attitudes at once... not a lot of people will be left. we want more allies, not fewer. even taking baby steps (even though they are clearly not enough) is better than openly and aggressively refusing to learn (*ahem* jk rowling anyone?).

as i mentioned before, i’m not interested in scrutinising how much celebrities are doing/not doing on social media right now, because it’s ultimately unproductive and i would rather expend my energies actively helping the cause. obviously this doesn’t apply to celebrities who are actively being hateful and bigoted, again see jkr. i wholeheartedly condemn anyone spewing divisiveness and prejudice. however i’m not interested in speculating on how celebrities feel/don’t feel about a certain issue.

but more to the point: i am not affiliated with maggie stiefvater, i don’t speak for her in any way, nor am i her agent/publisher, and therefore i have absolutely no way of influencing what she posts about on social media. if you wish to address her behaviour there (or her private life, though i don’t advise it) perhaps you should consider approaching her directly. 

[luveline]

can i pls request james and drunk reader who falls over and cuts up her knees? him being doting and worried? thank u 🌷🌷

hi tysm for ur request i made this as a continuation of my first james x drunk!reader but i dont think you need to read it to understand, hope its okay! xoxo

At first, James is just pleased to see you. You're smiling and glass eyed, obviously intoxicated but giggling something sweet anyways. The last time he'd seen you this drunk you'd been sobbing in somebody's kitchen - this is a nice contrast. 

"Sweetheart!" he says quickly, trying to gather your attention from across the room. 

Your head picks up like a puppy called to attention. He melts. 

"James!" you cheer, weaving past people much less drunk than you with much more expertise. 

When you reach him you trip, and he has to grab your arms more cruelly than he ever wants to in order to keep you upright. You look dizzy and then don't, staring up into his face with determination. 

"We're friends," you say. 

His heart drops. "Of course." 

"Yes! Because you said you'd be my friend. So we are friends now." 

He takes a second to realise you're talking about the last time you'd met. He'd thought you were sleeping, laid out on the floor covered in dog spit and mascara streaks, when he'd offered to be your friend.

"I did say that," he's talking carefully, enunciating, "I did." 

He seems to have friendzoned himself. 

"Right! We're friends. This is so fun. Wanna come outside in the garden with me? S'where all the cool kids hang."

"Sure, bub, whatever you want." 

You drag him out by the hand and he flexes his fingers in yours, hypnotised. The garden is decidedly abandoned. "The cool kids, huh?" he mutters to himself. 

You lead him to the steps and sit down quickly, so quickly he worries at first that you've fallen. 

"Headrush," you say, laughing breathily. You're bent over yourself, almost sandwiched in half.

He sets down beside you, crossing his legs as he goes. You breath deeply. 

"Nauseous?" he asks. 

"Smells nice. Like lavender." 

He takes a deep breath in imitation, finds his eyes closing too as lavender and cress and something fresh washes over him. He hears you shifting, hears a small intake of breath that doesn't sound right. 

"If you feel sick, that's okay, we can- Oh my god." James opens his eyes. Your knees are scraped to bits, weeping furious crimson and already bruising. "When did you do that?" 

"What?" you ask. 

"Your legs, your knees. Sweetheart," he starts chidingly. 

"Oh!" you interrupt him, flapping your hands. "Fell over." 

He worries for you, then, not just your current state but how you seem to view yourself and your body in general, how flippant you are about it. 

He holds his hand out. You push your ankles out and lift your skirt up to your thighs. He hates himself for that awful spike of excitement and keeps his eyes resolutely on your knees, quickly reminded of your grievous injuries. 

He presses the edge of his thumb to the biggest bruise, brushes dry blood from your scratches. You don't even flinch. His eyes flit to your face in case he's hurting you but you're completely unaffected. In fact, you're quite peaceful. 

"They don't hurt?" he murmurs, eyebrows furrowed. 

"I- James, I think I'm much too drunk to feel it," you confess sheepishly. 

He chuckles and nods to himself. Of course you are. He raises one eyebrow. "Well, they're awful." 

"Amputation?" 

He laughs again, startled at your humour. "Infection at worst, I'd say." He squeezes just above your broken skin, watches in delight as your face turns to a pleased shyness. 

"Let me clean them up?" he asks.

You nod wordlessly and he stands, offering you his hand. You push your fingers over his palm slowly. He pulls you up, leads your wobbly legs to the bathroom to dab your cuts with a warm flannel and wrap them with gauze. You babble the whole while, sitting atop the toilet seat. It might as well be a podium, a throne - you look like a princess. Flushed by drink, eyes wide, smile soft and earnest. 

"Thanks, James," you say when he's done, relatively quietly. 

"You're welcome." He holds his hands over your bandages. "How did you fall over?" 

"Slipped." 

"Yeah? By yourself?" 

"Mm. I went out for air 'cos it got really fast, and- oh, look," you dart forward. He flinches but you're only going for an eyelash on his face, pressing the tip of your finger to his cheek and procuring it proudly. 

"Make a wish," you say, and wait patiently for him to do so. 

He wonders if this is a good idea or not, even as he says it. "Can I give you my phone number?" 

You blow the eyelash and grin. "Didn't need to waste a wish for that one," you say lightly, tilting your head to one side. "Woulda said yes." 

And he tries to explain, tell you it's a matter of safety, because you're friends now, and you keep getting fucked up with your shitty friends who can't be bothered to look out for you, and maybe you're a little irresponsible yourself. He doesn't mind - thinks back to every bit of kindness and love you've shown him. 

You have a nice smile, you'd said to him once, tears running down your cheeks. 

In the end he doesn't bother explaining. You get your phone from your pocket with surprisingly deft fingers and shove it into his hand. "Put your number in that bad boy. Please," you say excitedly. 

He types his first and then last name, his number underneath. You take it from him like your phone is made of diamond and fiddle with the buttons. He watches fondly, surprised by a blinding white flash from nowhere. 

"There," you show him your screen, "look at that! You're so pretty." 

He presses his forehead to your knees in a moment of weakness and almost passes out when your fingers find his hair. 

"Your wish came true so quickly, I wonder when I get mine," you muse. 

"What's your wish?" he asks weakly. 

"I'm so hungry. I want pizza bad." 

"You're hungry?" he asks, pushing up, chin hovering over your skin. You push dark tresses from his face absentmindedly. "I'll make you something." 

"Would you?" 

"'Course." 

Your fingers still. He thinks maybe you're more tipsy than drunk in that moment, as a thoughtful look crosses your features. 

"Looks like we both get our wish," you say quietly. 

He grins. "Looks like we do. Let's get some carbs in you, sweet thing." 

[pinkanonwrites]

Can i request nsfw hcs of how savanaclaw would iniciate?

My Savanaclaw boys are so popular for the good smut requests! Not that I'm complaining.~ Hope you enjoy!

NSFW Below the cut!

Leona doesn't beat around the bush when it comes to stuff like this. If he wants something from you, or just wants you, he'll just say it straight to your face. If anything, I think Leona's pretty good at dirty talk, especially when it comes to using it to get what he wants. He'll lean in to your ear, voice dropping to a low, husky murmur as he whispers just what he'd be doing to you right now if only the two of you had a minute alone.

"When we get back..." He'll whisper. "I'll spread you open first, fuck you slow and deep with my tongue until you're just cryin' for it. Isn't that what you like, doll? You just love fallin' apart for me, don't you?"

Play-biting, play-biting, play-biting. I've said it before and I'll say it again, out of all the guys at NRC Ruggie is second only to Floyd when it comes to his predilection for biting, nibbling, and just overall getting his mouth on you. 9 times out of 10 he's just doing it to be cheeky, to get your attention. But that one outlier, ohhhhh boy.

Some play-fighting and wrestling will quickly change its tune when he gets you beneath him, nipping at your earlobe, down your neck, across your collarbone until he's pulling one of your shirt buttons open with his teeth, looking up at you with a sly grin and a mouthful of fabric. He'll soothe over each bite with a kiss, a lathe of his tongue to lessen the sharp sting of his teeth.

Poor sensitive puppy. Even when he's super needy, he struggles with being the one to initiate. He doesn't want to come on too strong or aggressive, but he doesn't want you to think he's being flippant about something like this either! You'll notice him suddenly becoming a lot more handsy, tucking your hair behind your ear, wrapping his big hand around your hip when he brushes past you, staying leaned into your space for just that extra few seconds longer after a kiss.

Hopefully you'll catch on to what he's silently implying, but if you don't he'll manage to croak out what he really needs from you. "I... I want you. So just- just let me touch you for a bit. If that's alright. I'll make you feel good."