#i tried SO HARD not to be a perfectionist on this for my own sake i tried SO HARD

[lonely-space-egg]

Getting Basil and Henry's designs drawn!!! yippee (◕_◕ )

[ID: A digital drawing of Basil Hallward and Lord Henry Wotton, both dressed in 1890s menswear. Basil is a Black man with brown skin, coily black hair pulled back in a low ponytail, and dark facial hair. He is drawing in a sketchbook as he lounges on the arm of a sofa and looks at Lord Henry with an unamused expression. Lord Henry is a white man with lightly tanned skin, slicked-back reddish-brown hair, and a pointed beard. He is leaning over the back of the sofa and talking as he holds out a lit cigarette, looking off to the side with a smug expression. The cigarette emits a trail of blue-tinted smoke. The background is a flower-patterned wallpaper composed out of two free-to-use designs. End ID.]

Images used for the background: Rose Wallpaper Rose Frieze

[goldenlaquer]

Woahhhh if asks are open... can I ask for Gintoki trying really hard to impress this girl he likes, but everything goes to absolute shit because this is Gintama? Totally fine if you delete! I still devour all your old stuff to fill my soul with life 🥹 Never come across anyone who writes Gintama as accurately as you bebe 😘

Sakata Gintoki Headcanons:

If Gintoki made a list of pros and cons about himself, it would probably read like this:

Pro: he has a big dick. (Big dick reading as BIG DICK, in bold, all-caps. Triple underlined.)

Con: he's a perfectionist. (Con: he's a liar.)

So, it isn't all that hard to imagine impressing you would be a Herculean task for Gintoki.

Asking Kagura for advice is like shooting yourself in the foot. Gin-chan is penniless, she says matter-of-factly. No lady wants a broke, mooching, deadbeat boyfriend. A pause to let him absorb these insults, and then, Papi brought Mama three heads, she kindly tells him like it's the secret to your heart, and that's very romantic in Yato culture apparently. Which reminds Gintoki that Kagura is from a different species just as much as her barely counting as female to begin with. Well, in human culture, he could give you as many heads as you'd want— but that's bases away and he's been swinging strikes all throughout this sad, unrequited game.

Asking Shinpachi— no, no. Now, that's a lost cause.

He tries. He does. He really tries.

He tries complimenting you. Suavely slide in a comment about how your teeth looks like it could bite into hard candy, no problem. That your hair doesn't look as dry and brittle today than it did yesterday, and oh wow, your tits look... wow. Double thumbs up.

He tries paying for your meal, to show that he can provide for you, that he's not going to be the broke, mooching, deadbeat boyfriend Kagura deemed him to be. Work a few odd jobs and have all the correct bills in his normally depleted wallet, even break a comb on his hair and get dressed to the nines in his nice, regular clothes that passed the sniff inspection when he shook it out from a pile of unwashed laundry— and it's just, while on the way to his favorite family diner he invited you to, he's passing by a pachinko parlor, with all of its flashy get-rich-quick displays and bright dinging noises from within, and that was when he's suddenly sensing it... the taste of victory. Long story short, the only thing he'll end up tasting is the strawberry parfait that you paid for.

Whatever poor progress that manages to inch forward always ends straight back to the negatives. Damn the perverted stalker and her masochistic plays she forces on him. Damn the timing and whatever deity has pitted against him when you step onto the scene to the sight of him wielding a paddle as the stalker squeals happily while tied to the wooden cross. No, this isn't— he wants to tell you, but your expression has already smoothed into a carefully blank canvas before you turn your back to him and walk away to leave him to... it. No, this isn't what it looks like, he wants to scream.

In a mood of desperation and shots deep in cheap gutter sake, he'd even wrote a poem in the dead of night, detailing the color of your eyes and all the things they reminded him of, invented a new word just to make a rhyme with your name, how the sound of your voice catches in his chest when he hears it— shit if he knew anything about pretty words, he'd never wrote anything longer than a drawn penis before— and once he was done, what he did next was ball the whole sheet up, open the nearest window, and pitch it to the stars. The lamest shit he ever did in his life will be taken to his grave.

Sometimes, because his name is Gintoki, and he is the protagonist of a septic tank for low hanging fruit comedy series called 'Gintama', sometimes the whole universe is against him.

There is a two episode-length arc the occurs, but due to the time-constraints of these headcanons and the writer's own laziness, the details of it shall not be outlined, but please know it involves an exposition, conflict, rising action, a climax (and not the good kind), falling action, some explosions and a tiny grave misunderstanding that leaves you storming from the wreckage in fury and exasperation, and Gintoki catching your wrist, spinning you around to face him. Emotions and adrenaline running high, chests heaving in exertion, and seeing your face covered in soot and sweat and your eyes huge and wet, looking damn more beautiful than you have any right to be, that's when Gintoki finally decides to put his big balls to use and confess himself to you. Opening his mouth and—

Plotfully, the wind picks up, and then suddenly a wadded ball of paper rolls to hit your feet. Both you and Gintoki look down to stare at this interruption. You bend down to pick it up and unfold the ball, startling at whatever you find, snapping your eyes up to him. "Gin, your name is on here?"

Shit! Gintoki realizes, recognizing the paper now. This is the worst possible timing! My stupid shitty poem somehow found its way to the woman it was written for. And why the fuck did I sign it!

He looks left and right, searching for a vending machine to put his head through, and when there are none, he's scrubbing his face with his hand, looking at you and the damned poem he wrote that found it's way to you, as if was meant to be there. "I wrote it." He finally grumbles. "For you. Don't be creeped out."

Your eyes scan the page from top to bottom, reading. Your eyebrows shoot up, looking up at him with wide eyes.

"This is really what you think about me?" Your trembling voice barely above a whisper.

Gintoki pauses. Then nods. "Yeah. Every word."

Your expression blanks. You turn the wrinkled paper around. Gintoki squints.

Shit! Gintoki thinks. I was so drunk I never wrote anything down, I just drew a penis!

[bitebitesnap]

Service Duty (Vegeta/Saiyan!Reader)

Summary: Saiyans mated or to-be mated can show affection by cleaning. This act can be done by washing one another in pools, but it's also possible by tongue-scrubbing. It's more effective logically to simply bathe together but many still commit to the act of washing a mate by mouth.

It had been well over an hour now. The soreness in your legs was starting to build into a cramp, "Are you done yet? I think I'm ready now."

"Hush woman," The growl rasped against your throat, "You're ready when I say you are." He ignored your groan, smirk nudging his canines into your skin, "You're not getting bored, are you?"

"Yes?? I've been in this position for an hour Vegeta. It cannot take this long, you damn perfectionist. We're not going to a funeral." Your tail thrashed at your hip. If you could, your eyes would have rolled out of their sockets a long time ago. "Of course, as my mate it would be disgraceful for any less. And even if we were to be present for a burial, I would have to clean your whole body for that. This is not nearly half as pleasant." His cocky grin nudged your jaw, "Now stop squirming, I'm almost done."

You cursed under your breath, the idea of his tongue in even more places sending shivers down your spine. All too soon the fantasy was ruined when his arms tightened, throwing your head back further to let the Prince scrape harder against your throat and redirecting you to the 'task'

Your legs were jammed up over the chair arm, bent unevenly due to his much shorter height not giving you enough of a seat. One shin was half on the floor and the other hiked up, pressed awkwardly into his bicep. With your back propped up by his thick arm as tense as steel it was far more uncomfortable as it dug into your shoulders.

While not horrible, the constant strain of being in said position had long caused your knees to ache. A nice crick was trying to form in your lower spine from being strained so hard. And then your neck, held back as far as possible, was starting to cramp. While his nose was buried right into your jugular. Outstanding.

Finally when his nose had dug it;s pointed end into the soft hollows just under your jaw you'd had enough, "Vegeta, for fucks sake. I'm fine. You've been cleaning the same spot for literally half an hour now. If we waste any more time we'll miss the ceremony." You shoved at his face, "Get off!"

He growled his dismay into your collarbone. He tried to ignore you, stuffing himself further into your neck but you grabbed a handful of his hair, yanking him right back out. And so, begrudgingly, he huffed, "Fine. Stubborn woman." Pulling back from your delectable throat his hands dropped to your waist with a deep scowl.

Him complaining like a cub didn't change the fact that the sun was halfway across the sky already. If you hurried you could make it to the castle before sundown-but that was a big if given mister priss could barely stand his own face unless he was draped in refined armor and the like.

Shoving off his now loosened arms you shot to your feet, darting into the closet to rummage around. Clothing you deemed unfit for important appearances was tossed out onto the floor behind you, not a care if it had a special pile or not while you dug through what you had. The good uniform was pulled out of it's box and struggled into, the pants halfway up your legs while you hopped around trying to shove on a boot.

Vegeta, meanwhile, made himself extremely useful by crossing his arms and leaning back into the comfy seat he occupied. Brow raised at his mate's frantic running about he barked, "Oi, woman."

"What? I'm busy, and if you knew what was good for you you'd be just as busy." You didn;t even look up as your tail wrapped around your waist while passing him. The fluff was dug out of the brush and tossed into the bin as you warred against your hair in the mirror.

When you passed him for the tenth time in the same half hour struggling into the undershirt his tail whipped out, wrapping around her thigh, "Aren't you forgetting something?"

Popping your head through the top of the black piece you wrinkled your nose at him, "What could I possibly forget that isn't already on me. Shoo," You swung your tail at him, "Go get ready before I make you."

He only shook his head, "You'd need to suddenly have the strength of an army to make me do anything, woman." He swatted away your attempt at brushing him off, "Are you dense enough to not remember your part in this?"

You glared in contempt, "What, the part where I clean up your messes like a maid." His little grumble made you snort before looking around, brows furrowed, "What do you even mean-"

He just smirked, " You did say I had to prepare, didn't you?" The immense scowl on your face when your eyes snapped back to him made him snicker, tail unwinding to flick at his face, "Come here then." One long finger tapped on his cheek, "Come service your mate and make him presentable."

You wanted to glare at him for longer-some vain hope that he would drop the subject-but when his smirk only widened you threw your hands up, "Fine. Fuck you, first of all." The brush was tossed onto the bed as you dropped onto his lap hard. Though his elated grunt and tightened thighs said it wasn't as much of a deterrent as you wanted.

Nudging his jaw up you murmured "Can't believe you're making me do this." Before dragging your tongue up his throat.

The knot in his throat thrummed under your lips, "Don't be so stubborn. As my mate you have your duties, as do I. Keeping me clean is one of them." Tilting his head he tapped his jaw, "Be thorough as well, little one. It's important my visage is pristine."

"Yeah yeah yeah, just shut up and let me work." The salt of his sweat stuck to your tastebuds like a film yet it was overpowered by his own taste. Spice, gritty, yet smoother than porcelain. A mixture of unpleasant and bearable, like eating a half rotten corpse.

You laved your tongue across his neck as much as you could bear. You pried the tip into as many crevices as possible, digging into the hollows from beneath his jaw to all the way down at his clavicle to scrub off whatever grime he'd accumulated in the span of the hour he;d been doing the same to you. Gross as it was, it could be worse.

He could be covered in guts again. Not an experience you'd like to repeat.

His neck outstretched as you leaned in further. A purr rumbled softly in his chest, hands limply folded over your back in a loose hug. Completely at your every whim, just from the scrub of your tiny tongue along his flesh.

Your hands leaned over the arms of his seat. The weight of his mate over him, pinning his chest to the back of the chair. His brows furrowed, fingers digging into your sides. Hot breaths puffed between his teeth as his tail, once limp over his thigh, jerked to life by wrapping around your waist.

Then, just as the soft purrs rolled into deeper, hungry growls, you abruptly pulled away.

Onyx eyes snapped open. The scowl had worsened into an outright snarl, teeth bared in his irritation.

The most shit eating grin was on your face as you shrugged, "What? You're done, get up and get dressed." Tossing at him the one item he'd managed to pull out before yanking you in for an impromptu bath you jogged away to get ready yourself.

Vegeta grabbed the red cloth out of the air before it could hit him, watching his mate dance out of his reach. With a humph he unfurled the red cape and stood up, throwing it over his shoulders.

He had to covertly adjust himself within the tight spandex suit as well. A few curses towards his unruly mate sparking from his lips less out of anger than he'd like.

Once it was buckled into place-with any hope it would help cover his issue- you darted back in, tying your hair back, "I can't believe we're going to be late to your own coronation. You're such an asshole for wasting time like that."

Your mouth was moving. Words were flowing into the silence he had yet to fill with a retort, but he simply couldn't find the words yet. No, his attention was completely fixated on you.

The model was one of a forgotten era. The golden strips looped over your shoulders, gilded with the Vegeta ensignia. Soft plasticine sparsely embroidered with dark ribbons envoking the thrill of combat, where blood and viscera would spray and color the white deep. Your gloves, the finest leather stained in white and gold, reached up to your forearms, gilded knuckles glistening in the sunset.

With your tail wrapped tightly around your waist, you were the perfect image of a warrior fresh from combat. Drenched in the blood of your enemies and coming home for him to cleanse you. Letting him taste your victory for himself.

Your eyes flickered to him, brow raising, "Well? Are you just going to gawk at me, dumbass?"

The fantasy faded. The blood was merely stitched imitation, viscera just strokes of deep lavender patches among the gold.

Yet you were still just as striking even without it

But instead, he huffed, "I'm coming, woman. Don't hurt yourself trying to move me alone." He crossed his arms, smirking at you rolling your eyes.

Later, maybe, he could convince you to keep the uniform on. When he was a king and you his princess.

As you hiked up your boots, making sure the gilded buckles clasped properly this time, his smirk lifted into a predatory grin.

Indeed, all the work would be worth it in the end.

[liminalpebble]

(Here's the first chapter. More are being uploaded to the Archive of Our Own link, but it might take me a bit to post them here as well. Enjoy, I hope!)

The Refugee

Masterlist link

Summary:

In a timeline where Loki, the prodigal prince of Asgard, struck out to establish his vast and powerful Laufeyson Empire, he stumbles upon Lenora, a refugee scarred by his bloodshed. One of the few surviving Morhari, she is captured and forced to use her considerable intelligence in service to the fearful warlord who destroyed her nation and her life. Will the peasant turned captive asset find her way to freedom and her own power, and will the cruel and scheming god of mischief discover that he can be more than a villain?

Notes:

Hello all 3's of you who are probably reading this. : ) This is my first fanfic and I'm incredibly nervous to post it, so please be polite and constructive in your critiques. I have many chapters already finished (or mostly finished, bar some perfectionistic tweaking and polishing) so I plan to post regularly if this goes over well. Also, be aware that I am playing very fast and loose with a lot of aspects of the original material and canon for the sake of the story, so please take it with a grain of salt, for example the Morhari are obviously a fictional nationality.

P.S. I mention sex work and sex workers but I intend to do so with respect and positivity towards their profession. I have tried to avoid any problematic words or descriptions, but please let me know if any exist and I will do my best to fix it.

On who I would cast for the major roles: Loki is obviously the Hiddleston Loki of the MCU. Magnus (original character) is very specifically Domhnall Gleeson in my mind. I imagine Queen Nadia (original character) as Lashana Lynch. Have yet to settle on casting for Lenora herself or Beatrice (OC).

CW: Non/dubious consent. slow burn to eventual smut. violence and torture. Loki is very unambiguously bad, morally complex but bad, and does bad things.

-----------

Chapter 1

Lenora (Lea to her friends, or those struggling to pronounce her name) blinked groggily as the sun peaked through her curtains, bathing her simple but tidy quarters in the light of another cold autumn morning. As she shivered into her layers of blankets, she wondered if her body would ever adjust itself to the biting cold of this land. She sat up in bed, (unwilling to relinquish her duvet just yet) to brush and pull her long dark hair into a practical braid down her back. Finally, sighing at the inevitable chill, she got up, washed, and dressed herself quickly. She tugged the final layer (a rough gray bar apron) swiftly around her hips, and stuffed a few books into the deep pockets. Hearing movement downstairs at the tavern she pattered down the steps to start her shift.

“Good morning, Lea my Love!” called Madame Beatrice from where she was still setting out the chairs and restocking the ale behind the counter.

“Morning, Miss Beatrice!” she said with a smile, sliding deftly behind the bar to help with the barrels as Bea struggled, wincing slightly.

“Is it your back again?”

“Yes child, I'm not as limber as I used to be.”

“Ah come on! You talk as if you're ancient. ”

“Darling...hard work ages a woman.” she sighed.

Lea nodded knowingly. This place couldn't be easy to keep up. Beatrice's Boarding House was the one stop for hospitality in a snowy village on the outskirts of the kingdom. Bea had to anticipate every need of the weary traveler, providing food, drink, lodging, and entertainment. Most importantly to Bea herself, she was responsible to pay, protect, and care for the many ladies here as they worked the oldest profession. Beatrice was a madame, yes, but she treated all of her employed women with dignity, and the ladies were grateful for this unusually beneficial arrangement. Lea respected this about Beatrice and felt silent gratitude for her yet again as she gazed at her calloused hands.

Still groggy, Lea settled in behind the bar, fishing out the books from her apron to make a small pile in the back corner, away from the guests. Mornings were slow except for some sad regulars and their liquid breakfasts, or the odd traveler in need of lodging and a morning meal, so Lea took the opportunity to indulge her curiosity and addiction to books.

Lost in the pages, she jumped as sharp series of knocks hit the polished wooden counter. Her big dark eyes flicked up, round cheeks blushing in embarrassment at her distraction from her work. Before her was a tall, regal looking man, with large expressive eyes the pale aquamarine of sea glass and a head full of thick blond curls. She fumbled a little sliding her book face-down on the bar to save her place and quickly asked, “Y..Yes sir, my apologies. How might I help you?”, small plump lips lifting into a kind, if awkward, smile.

His angular face looked startlingly serious for a beat, but then he broke into the widest, brightest smile she had ever seen. It made her exhale with relief.

His deep voice spoke crisply in a High Asgardian accent. She thought to herself that he must be some kind of nobility. Then what was he doing in a humble place like this? On the edge of the world?

“Good day, Miss...” he extended a hand and a quizzical look toward her as he paused to learn her name.

“Lenora...ah...Lea if you like,” she stammered, reaching her hand out in what she assumed would be a handshake of greeting (something Bea assured her is the usual greeting in Asgardian culture). She was surprised however when the stranger, took her hand gently by the fingertips and kissed her knuckles with a tiny bow of his head.

“Pleasure to meet you, Lenora,” he said with another blinding smile. “I would like... What book is that you're reading?”

“Ah my apologies, sir. I shouldn't be leaving them on the bar.”

He raised his eyebrows. “That doesn't answer my question.”

“Right...it's called Hamlet...a Midgardian play...it's about a...”

“Yes I'm quite familiar with it, however, not many are. So tell me...” He paused to lean down on the bar and make eye contact with her. “What is a barmaid, at a tavern in the middle of nowhere, doing with a book like that...and those?” he added, eyes traveling to the little tower of books on the far counter behind her, in several languages on a variety of topics.

“ Well,” she said looking down a bit shyly, “I'm afraid that's a rather long story Mr....I'm sorry, what did you say your name was?”

He chuckled with genuine amusement. “I didn't,” he said with a single wink.

Just as she was about to melt into the floor from embarrassment, Madame Bea came to the rescue in perfect time. She had a smile and a look of recognition in her eyes as she turned to greet the stranger. He gave Beatrice the same greeting, kissing her hand and nodding.

“Well, hello again,” she said to him wearing her most courteous but oddly conciliatory expression. She turned to Lea and said “Lea, be a dear and let us chat will you? There are some gentlemen up front who seem a bit thirsty so let's see to them, eh?”.

Lea gave her a tiny, curious twitch, before remembering that Beatrice was a woman of many dealings and secrets and this was probably yet another. “Yes ma'am, of course. And pleased to meet you, sir” she said with a little polite nod and a scurry of escape.

Bea and the stranger both leaned against the bar looking out across the tavern as Lea's small form glided between tables. Bea turned her head with a knowing smirk and a sigh towards the stranger. “What is it now, Loki?”

@lokisprettygirl

[afsaneh-jaan]

River Lullaby - The Prince of Egypt

[it’s such a beautiful song and so nice to sing, cannot get it out of my head]

[amistytown]

The Brothers Comfort MC During a Panic Attack

This is my first attempt at writing down my headcanons for the brothers, so I apologize if anything is out of character. I meant it to be short and sweet, but it grew out of my control after a while. I’m a perfectionist and wanted to rewrite everything. I made minor edits and am posting it anyway or it’ll sit in my drafts forever; I admit I put the most effort into Lucifer’s, forgive me. Also sorry for the repetitiveness and any typos you may find. I decided to write how the brothers would comfort MC during a panic attack, especially as someone who suffers from anxiety and panic attacks themselves. Honestly, I wrote this as a way to comfort myself since I’ve been dealing with terrible anxiety lately. Of course, everyone experiences anxiety differently, so I can only speak from my own experiences. I didn’t go into detail when it comes to the symptoms themselves because it’s from the point of view of the brothers and only so many are visible to the eye. Trigger warning for depictions of anxiety and panic attacks. Thank you for reading!

LUCIFER

Lucifer is troubled. Following lunch, you disappeared, currently absent from class. This is unlike you, his worry intensifying every minute you’re out of his sight. Yet he maintains his composure, resigning himself to scouring the academy grounds. Time passes at a torturous pace, his thoughts beginning to take a turn for the worst. He contemplates whether to involve his brothers and Lord Diavolo himself at this rate, however the sound of his D.D.D diverts his attention. A wave of relief washes over him at the sight of your name lighting up his screen, chased by frustration at you, your silence, and himself for losing track of you so easily; he couldn’t bear living if anything happened to you under his watch. He expects this behavior from his brothers, not you. Though his heart sinks, the Avatar of Pride uncharacteristically overcome with guilt while he reads your message. Of course, you are not his brothers. He should not have doubted you.

Your texts are apprehensive, a weighty pause between them as you hesitate to lay bare the darkest depths of your soul. He approaches you cautiously, to avoid upsetting you further. Your words alone convey the sheer panic taking possession of you, the last of your strength used to press send. Outside he discovers you, huddled miserably in an isolated corner of the building, swathed in shadow. The desire to shelter you from the world burns within him, but your eyes widen fearfully in his presence, wounding his pride. Immediately, you apologize. Sorry you’re missing class, that you left without telling anyone, and upset him—especially when you’re aware of his busy schedule. You’re sorry for not having the courage to pull yourself together, succumbing to your anxiety, your shame palpable. The hand clutching your D.D.D is trembling, your chest heaving as you struggle to breathe. He aches for you, each tear shed hurting more than the last, your pain managing to touch the very core of his being and set him alight.

If anyone is sorry, it’s him, pride be damned. Kneeling in front of you, he assures you an apology isn’t necessary—your wellbeing of great importance to him. He wants you to rely on him, grateful you confided in him despite your doubts. Hopefully, he can eventually put your mind at ease. His voice low, soothing, he continues to console you, making sure you’re aware he’s not upset, and your feelings are valid. Although he’s not familiar with the inner workings of anxiety itself, he’s willing to listen, learning how to support you to the best of his ability—starting today, providing you’re comfortable accepting his offer. Initially, he prioritized your safety for the sake of the exchange program and Lord Diavolo’s wish to unite the three realms, now it’s merely out of adoration for you, his beloved. Once you’re ready, he’ll let you know you’re not alone. He’s never too busy on your behalf. 

Offering you his hand, a smile graces his features as you accept. Slowly, he helps you to your feet, steadying you against him. He notes the way you relax at his touch, shoulders sagging and head coming to rest on his chest. Only you exist in this moment, his gaze not leaving you, not even for a second. Standing in silence until your breathing settles and you regain your balance, he sees you through the height of your attack before escorting you back to the House of Lamentation. He’ll personally excuse you from the remainder of your classes, understanding you need a quiet place to recover. Classical music plays softly in the background of his room, and he’s content to have you in his embrace, drawing you onto his lap after you finish the tea he brewed to calm your nerves. Lucifer pays you special attention, massaging your tired body and kissing you tenderly, his breath fanning across your lips as he reminds you how special you truly are—brave, compassionate, and incredibly loved.

MAMMON

Mammon mourns his loss, wondering how he let them gain the upper hand; admittedly, a foolish mistake on his part. He dreads breaking the news to Lucifer, and the resentment that shows on his brothers’ faces once he confesses does little to ease his mind. Still, he worries about your reaction most of all, knowing his stupidity has put you in a precarious position. In that moment he believes their words—only a greedy scumbag like himself dares to place his human’s happiness on the line. Although certain of his win at the time, he should consider how his actions affect you more often; otherwise, how can he claim he’s the Great Mammon? His confidence is his downfall in the end. Now you’ll suffer along with him. Yet you feign optimism, attempting to soothe everything over despite your innocence. His guilt only grows, a heavy weight on his shoulders. One he deserves.

Three days of waiting on and performing for large crowds at The Fall proves hectic for everyone. He can tell you’re struggling beneath the façade of a composed and hospitable server, going above and beyond to ensure the patrons leave satisfied. Furthermore, you lend him and his brothers a hand, coming to their rescue; it should be him making it as easy on you as possible. His concern for you runs deep, no matter how hard he tries to maintain his usual air of indifference, but you have the nerve to reassure him—it’s meant to be the opposite, dammit. Each night he goes out of his way to check on you, frustrated that you continue to dance around the subject. He can see the exhaustion on your face, hear the slight tremor in your voice, the toll his stupid decision is taking on you, and it stung. You comfort him, even when he’s undeserving, so why won’t you allow him to hold you and kiss the pain away? Not that he’s asked. You should realize by now you can rely on him, right?

Watching you suffer in silence tortures him. He can’t deny it regardless of his best effort to make light of the situation. You barely eat or spend time outside your room, saying you’re tired, which isn’t a lie—working is exhausting, no doubt about it—but he understands you well enough to notice the subtle signs of your anxiety, your smile unable to trick him into believing otherwise. Perhaps you find him as insufferable as his brothers do, or worse, and don’t want to see his face after what he’s done. That doesn’t stop him from showing up at your door, hoping he can offer some form of comfort. However, you keep up appearances, supporting the seven of them during the longest weekend of their lives. You work hard too, his chest swelling with pride as he watches you care for his brothers and customers alike. How can you like an idiot like him? You’re selfless and loving, looking past his flaws to see what lay beneath his sin. His human. His angel. He wants—no needs—you to be okay.

The last day comes and goes in a blur. Finally, he can toss these ridiculous clothes and rabbit ears in the trash and never perform that dance again. Better yet, you’re free of his burden, though the guilt remains. He can’t relax until he’s positive you’re okay, knowing he’s genuinely sorry. Standing outside your room, he tries to muster up the courage to open his heart to you—apologies not his strong suit—when he hears you crying. They’re small, muffled sobs that manage to shake him to his core, blood running cold. Yeah, he should knock, but he can’t control himself, throwing the door open without hesitation and rushing to your side. The sight of your tears is almost too much to bear, and he draws you into his embrace, face heating up at his own moment of vulnerability, but this is about you, not him. He can be strong for you too, telling you everything’s going to be okay, that the Great Mammon is here to help.

After his stupidity, you tell him you were afraid to bother him? He can hardly suppress the shock at your confession, the sadness in your eyes breaking his heart. You wanted to make sure it went smoothly for his sake? You suffer through Hell alone because you chose to put his feelings first? Crazy. Though he thanks you, not completely ashamed to admit he’s touched. However, he tells you that you don’t have to put aside your feelings for his benefit; he prefers to be by your side then know you’re having a rough time on your own. He is your first. Taking the initiative, he asks what he can do to make it up to you, no matter how big or small the request is because he’ll do it in a heartbeat. You opt to stay in his arms, burying your face into his chest, and he wipes away your remaining tears, being as gentle as he possibly can. He can feel how tense your body is, your skin unnaturally warm, and it takes a while until you stop shaking. It’s moments like these he’ll tell you how much you mean to him—that he loves you, okay—and he wants you to come to him for everything. He’ll hold you, taking your hand in his, and kiss you with all the adoration in the world because you’re incredibly important to him. Mammon can attest to that.

LEVIATHAN

Leviathan invites you to his room to play video games, a daily routine the two of you have comfortably fallen into. He loves gaming with you, though on occasion you opt to watch instead, thoroughly enthralled by whatever is on the screen. Miraculously, you enjoy listening to him ramble—whether it’s about the game he’s playing, anime he’s watching, or TSL among other things—genuinely showing interest in his passions; he’s incapable of expressing how truly grateful he is for your company. His heart nearly bursts whenever you compliment him on his gaming prowess, encourage him during a particularly intense battle, or merely tell him how you enjoy hanging out. How in the Devildom did a gross otaku like him get so incredibly lucky? He can hardly believe you love him of all demons. The thought alone sounds crazy lmao. 

Unable to contain his excitement, he awaits your arrival that night, ensuring everything is perfect when he hears a knock on the door. However, his smile fades the moment he lays eyes on you, mind beginning to race as he wonders why you look miserable, your gaze trained on your hands. Before he can speak, you apologize, dissolving into tears while you return the game he let you borrow. You’re stuttering, completely winded, and he can barely hear you confess to accidentally corrupting his data in your panic. In fact, he loses track of the number of times you choke out a sorry. He treasures his games, his collection extensive, but he cherishes you most of all. The loss is a minor annoyance, nothing that lessens the feelings he harbors for you. Although difficult, he overcomes his insecurities to show you it’s okay—you’re loved.

Not only are you sad, but you’re also terrified, a part of him wanting to destroy the game itself if it means you never have to experience the pain that torments you now. Regarding you carefully, afraid to make matters worse, he reassures you that he’s not upset—far from it, honestly—and that he cares about you more than any game. No stranger to your panic attacks, he reaches out to take your hand in his, hoping you find comfort in what he has to offer. And when you finally glance up, hope shining in your tear-filled eyes, he can’t help but wrap you in his arms. A warmth spreads across his face, heart pounding in his ears, but he knows you need him, allowing his body to relax around yours.

Holding you against him, he tells you everything’s all right, stuttering out how he loves you and, most importantly, wants to you to feel better. Your arms circle around his waist, causing his heart to jump into his throat, but he only pulls you closer. You’re his Henry, and what friend is he if you can’t rely on him? Leviathan is understanding, wanting you to come to him for support at your most vulnerable. Now he puts his knowledge to the test, easing you into his room with continuous words of affirmation. You always know how to console him at his lowest, and he hopes he can return the favor. If anyone deserves to feel loved it’s you, who brought joy into his otherwise bleak world, and he’ll sit with you every day and night if you need him to. 

SATAN

Satan knows he shouldn’t be awake, though he finds it difficult to satiate his curiosity as he peruses the books lining his shelves. He barely registers the sound of his D.D.D, reluctant to put the book aside to see who’s messaging him at this ungodly hour; Asmodeus most likely. His tune changes after he sees your name lighting up his screen, his annoyance replaced with worry. He knows you struggle, especially at night, but he can tell you’re hesitant to reach out. Nevertheless, you gradually begin to confide in him, his patience limitless if you’re concerned, and he feels a sense of relief that you choose to trust him at your most vulnerable instead of suffering on your own. Pouring over every book he can locate on anxiety, he studies it religiously, engraining each page into his memory. Not by giving unsolicited advice—he doesn’t want to make that mistake twice—but by comforting you the best he can, even if it simply means to stay by your side, waiting for the panic to pass.

A second later, he appears at your door, gaze softening as your eyes meet. In the darkness of your room, he can tell how exhausted you are. You apologize for bothering him, particularly this late, but he dismisses you with a shake of his head and a reassuring smile, sitting beside you on the bed. It saddens him that you feel the need to, but he’s familiar enough with anxiety by now that he understands how much of a manipulative monster it truly is; if only he can destroy it with his own two hands, strangling the life out of it so it no longer taints that innocent soul of yours. To watch you struggle fills him with a rage that he forces deep within himself, fully aware anger isn’t the answer no matter how great his desire to protect you is. So, he cups your face in his hands, your skin warm beneath his fingers as he strokes your flushed cheeks and presses your foreheads together. 

Focus on him, he tells you, the steady rhythm of his breathing, and his voice while he whispers words of love and encouragement. He never tires of letting you know how beautiful and strong you are, that he’s always here for you and loves you—all of you. You unravel in his arms, opening your heart up to him, and he listens intently, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips the moment you look uncertain. You’re not a burden he promises, hoping one day you’ll believe it yourself, but he’ll remind you every chance he gets; forever if he must. It’s worth it in the end, when you relax against him and smile, kissing him in return. Slowly, the anxiety leaves your body, Satan thankful that the waves of panic have receded enough to let you rest your weary mind. He remains next to you, pulling you down to lay your head on his chest and closing your hand in his, entwining your fingers. He’s content here with you, watching you fall asleep and chasing away the nightmares.

ASMODEUS

Asmodeus loves shopping, but he loves shopping with you most of all. The day is bright with you by his side, and he can’t help but buy you clothes and matching accessories to bring out your inherent charm. Your potential is endless, and he gushes over how gorgeous you are, unable to contain his excitement when your cheeks turn a beautiful shade of pink in return. He can hardly control himself around you, gaze fixated on your every movement and heart racing each time you flash him one of the sweetest smiles he’s ever seen; your very soul seeming to shine through and blind him. Nothing prepares him for the love he feels for you, but he considers it a welcome surprise, his desire to grow closer to you intensifying day after day. You captivate him, the Avatar of Lust of all demons. What an exciting turn of events!

Of course, he attracts attention wherever he goes, posing for pictures with adoring fans and basking in the compliments constantly thrown his way; nothing new, but he enjoys it, nonetheless. Who can resist the allure of his very presence? However, anger wells within him at the sight of you being shoved to the side, falling to the ground and lost to the crowd that has gathered. Their words of flattery fall on deaf ears as he rushes to you, throwing a heated glance at the lowly demon who dares to touch his darling human. He desires nothing more than to punish them for such an injustice, but the fear in your eyes tells him otherwise. By the time he scoops you up into his arms you’re trembling from head to toe, and he can feel your heart pounding against him. A part of him places the blame on himself, an unfamiliar feeling, but he chooses to ignore it for now, focusing on getting you home in your worsening state.

In the peace and quiet of his room, he sits you on the bed, wrapping you in his arms as he affectionately runs his fingers through your hair. He can tell you’re upset—in an absolute state of panic by the looks of it—and all he can do is hold you through it, quietly asking what you need and willing to answer your every beck and call if it means that adorable smile graces your features once more. For a moment he considers seeking out Lucifer, worried something has gone terribly wrong, but thankfully you find your voice, mumbling into his chest about anxiety and panic attacks, that you’ll be fine—eventually—and are sorry for ruining your date. He doesn’t understand completely, though he knows you need him, promising to stay by your side for as long as you want. Kissing your cheek, he assures you there’s no need to apologize to him, your safety more important than anything else; the demon who laid his hands on you won’t go without punishment either.

Admitting a bath helps calm you down, he prepares one for you, steam rising from the surface and the heady scent of roses filling the air. Together you slip into the water, enveloped by its warmth, and he hums in contentment as you lean into him, his arms coming to rest around your waist. He watches you carefully, making sure you’re able to relax and preparing himself in case you call on him; he’ll do anything for you if it brings you the happiness you deserve. Your eyes flutter close, Asmodeus showering you with delicate kisses, comforted by the fact your breathing has levelled out and you appear a lot calmer than before. The day didn’t go as planned, and he hopes to make it up to you, vowing that no one else will hurt you on his watch. He loves himself. He loves his brothers. But loves you most of all.

BEELZEBUB

Beelzebub notices you haven’t touched your dinner and is beyond happy the moment you offer your plate to him. Yet he can’t bring himself to enjoy the food in front of him while you excuse yourself from the table, eyes downcast and voice quiet, the usual smile gone from your face and leaving behind an emptiness that rivals his own hunger. His mouth waters at the thought of seconds, but his concern for you grows, and he decides to follow you without question, disregarding the ravenous growl of his stomach. He catches you in the hallway, calling out your name. You turn to him, his brow furrowing in unease at the sight of your tears and the slight tremble of your lip. It hurts him to see you in obvious distress, and he earnestly offers his support.

The only sound is that of your sobbing. He desperately wishes to hold you tightly and rid you of your pain. However, he falters, studying you. Your gaze is trained on the floor, shoulders stiff with tension, and the color drains from your cheeks. When you speak, he’s surprised by how helpless you sound and the fact you’re trying to reassure him, putting his needs above your own although you’re struggling to hold yourself together. Fear flickers across your features at the echo of the brothers’ voices travelling up the stairs, and he mumbles out an apology as he carefully lifts you into his arms, cradling you to his chest. 

Before the others can round the corner, he hurries down the hall and slips into your room, determined to protect his vulnerable human. He notices you relax against him, your fingers curling into his shirt, and he can’t help but want to keep you close, relieved after you lean in closer to wrap your arms around his neck. Stroking your hair, he allows you to cry, his patience and love for you endless. Eventually, you mutter an embarrassed sorry, thanking him profusely, but he’s merely relieved you’re beginning to feel a bit better, reassuring you that you can always depend on him. 

Listening to you intently, he never breaks eye contact. You open up to him about your anxiety, his stomach twisting as you describe what you call a panic attack and how it wrecks you both mentally and physically. Beelzebub knows he has a lot to learn, but he expresses interest in understanding anxiety and, most importantly, how he can help you, so you don’t suffer alone. For the rest of the night, he keeps you company and eases you through the remainder of your attack, giving you plenty of hugs and rubbing your back in soothing circles until you no longer shake, and your heartbeat returns to its usual pace.

BELPHEGOR

Belphegor enjoys the time you spend together, especially when the two of you are alone. He asks you to accompany him in the attic, and it’s not long before he curls around you, falling into a peaceful sleep as he listens to the steady beat of your heart. However, when he awakes it’s to the sound of your soft cries in the dark, which fill him with a fear he can’t seem to shake. Without hesitation he’s at your side, sitting up to softly place a hand on your shoulder and ask you what’s wrong. The sadness in your eyes as you glance up at him, tears staining your cheeks, tugs at his heartstrings. He can’t bear to see you upset.

Once he realizes you’re having a panic attack, he’s attentive to your needs, cradling you in his arms as you cry into his chest. You confided in him about your struggles with anxiety after you fell to pieces in front of him months ago. A part of him understands, the loss of Lilith haunting him throughout the years and instilling a similar feeling of unease within him, especially when his nightmares seem to blur the line between reality and the painful memories of his past. You always came to his rescue and now it’s his turn to comfort you in your time of need. Sleep can wait.

With you in his embrace, he brings you down to relax against the pillows, pulling the blanket around your shivering form. You rest your head on his shoulder, and he gently brushes the remaining tears from your face, whispering words of love and reassurance. He listens to you when you’re comfortable to talk, the slight tremble of your voice causing him to draw you closer and press a kiss to your forehead. Belphegor tells you he’s here for you—forever—and although he’s still learning about anxiety and finding the best ways to comfort you during an attack, he wants you to depend on him no matter what. Even if that means you wake him up in the middle of the night. He won’t rest until he knows you’re okay, and you’re peacefully sleeping in his arms.

[peach-astrology]

Mars in the houses

Mars in the first house:

1)A very strong and brave person.He can be quick-tempered,but due to his perseverance and strong character,he wins competitions and is a good opponent.

2)Depending on the position of Mars in the sign and its aspects,but in any case,a person(karmically)must work hard in life- both in the external world and in the internal,and especially devote a lot of effort to the formation of his personality.

3)People often fall in love with you.You are very inspiring to other people,please don't give up,you are really cool.

4)I noticed that people in this position have unusual facial features.For example,they have thick or unruly hair, freckles,or a sly and strong look.Most often they are high.

5)They value honesty and realism.They don't like to think much about philosophical things.

Mars in the second house:

1)Hardworking and very fond of money.They like to build a successful and long-term career.

2)This arrangement indicates people who are talkative,it is useless to argue with them.They are skilled in mathematics,earn money through real estate,are interested in politics and say frankly what they think.They sing or have the ability to work on the radio.

3)Bad aspects can indicate frequent financial and property crises.A person spends as quickly as he earns.He needs to learn to control his spending.

4)If a person has Mars in Capricorn/Scorpio/Aries,then he is guaranteed monetary success.He is enterprising,active,sees a large number of opportunities around him and uses them one hundred percent.

5)The good aspects point to the comfortable and favorite work of humans.It works not only for money,but also for pleasure.He is proud of himself and his position.

Mars in the third house:

1)Person is impatient.The last thing he likes to do is wait a long time for a response to his messages.Such a person can show pressure in business situations,and often achieves what he wants through courage and a natural gift of persuasion.

2)By the way,often Mars in the 3rd house has a great interest in technology,and therefore can fix a lot himself in the mechanism of a car,motorcycle or bicycle.

3)Good aspects indicate a strong and inquisitive mind,bad aspects indicate poor memory and learning problems.

4)You are witty and completely outspoken,and sometimes tactless.Active intellectual work is suitable for you.

5)If you have a brother or sister,they may have Scorpio/Aries placements.They can also be hot-tempered,get involved in boxing or make a permanent mess at home.

Mars in the fourth house:

1)He knows how to cool his ardor at the right time.They often want to be in charge of the family.They like to do the renovation and decoration of their home.

2)In 99% of cases,they have problems with their parents or family.Their characters are too different.

3)You may have been brought up in harsh or unpleasant conditions,so you have little trust in people and comfort is very important to you.You don't want to repeat the mistakes of your parents,so you can seriously get carried away with books about parenting and going to psychologists.There's nothing wrong with that!

4)With bad aspects,mental disorders and deep mental suffering are possible.Good aspects increase strength and energy,activity and enterprise and create an opportunity to acquire real estate and implement ideas,plans and goals.

5)I often noticed this position in people who worked hard and studied hard to support their families.They are very caring and loving,but they may not show it because of stress or fatigue.

Mars in the fifth house:

1)You love competitions,arguments and adventures.If you are the captain of the team,then you will definitely win.You are able to maintain team spirit and you are comfortable working in a friendly team.

2)The 5th house sometimes points to our children,so I just wish you patience.Your child may be too active or disobedient,try to teach from childhood to love to learn,otherwise there may be problems in the future.It can also be a Sun Aries or Scorpio.

3)In general,you are not boring.Positive aspects indicate that you are the soul of the company or you are often approached to get acquainted.Bad aspects indicate risky and dangerous actions.Think a thousand times before you do something.

4)I'm sorry to frighten you,but my book says that giving birth to such people is very difficult.Carefully monitor your health.

5)You are a sensual and passionate nature.You flirt well,which makes you even more attractive.

Mars in the sixth house:

1)Perfectionists,so they can be trusted with difficult and responsible work.They may be too lazy or too hardworking.They love to thoroughly understand complex mechanisms and processes,they like to process and analyze information,put everything on the shelves,optimize their activities.

2)Their main goal is not money and career growth.It is more important for them to get satisfaction from achievements and results in order to feel happy.

3)This is a born analyst who logically approaches the solution of problems and tasks.Relies on the brain,not the heart,to make decisions.He is a practitioner all the knowledge that he receives in the process of life,immediately applies.

4)He will try to create the most comfortable living conditions for his family.It is important for him to feel stability and be confident in the future.

5)With bad aspects,such people tend to be picky and grumpy.

Mars in the seventh house:

1)An unpleasant position,there is a possibility of a toxic or aggressive partner.Their partner can be a little brash,rude,or rebellious.On the other hand,it often indicates a partner with a lot of energy and plans.He is stubborn and always achieves his goals.

2)His opponents are strong and assertive,and fights with them often end in serious injuries physical or financial.He often gets into trouble and easily gets involved in quarrels.

3)The bad aspects point to divorce.

4)He was used to acting quickly and confidently towards others.Sometimes he shows excessive pressure and strong-willed influence,which is perceived negatively by others.With soft and sensitive people,such a person is not on the way.

5)You are a great competitor,so you can work in politics,sports or business.

Mars in the eighth house:

1)You are very sensitive to the topic of money and probably want to have more of it than you have now.You reach out to people who already have money or obviously want wealth.

2)For bad aspects,I sincerely recommend not taking out loans or spending property or huge amounts of money.There is a high probability of not paying back the debt and spending money on the wind.Read the contracts carefully.

3)Good aspects create a sense of benefit.Such a person knows who to make deals with,he has a profitable and active job.

4)Monitor the health of the genitals.Avoid fire and cutting objects and treat wounds carefully.

5)They like to explore theories and riddles.They are very curious and they like mysticism,they can like detectives.

Mars in the ninth house:

1)You may have been disliked by your teachers because you tend to express your opinions.You are the kings of discussion and know how to defend your point of view.

2)Such people love to learn.They have a broad outlook,but their brain doesn’t immediately understand the explanation,so they often learn in their own way.Sometimes this position indicates self-taught people.

3)Negative aspects indicate short temper and stubbornness.Such people argue for the sake of argument.Positive aspects indicate fairness.Such a person is interested in the opinions of other people and tries to expand their knowledge.

4)Often such people work according to their own regime.They can be freelancers or have a night job.

5)Very good position for businessmen.A person with such a position has good managerial abilities,purposefulness and great vital energy.

Mars in the tenth house:

1)He is very independent and responsible,knows how to make decisions and is not afraid to take the initiative.

2)He can quickly become successful,and then also quickly find himself at the bottom.His life is an endless series of ups and downs.

3)In the negative aspect,Mars makes a person conflicted,aggressive.In a positive aspect,it indicates success.His career is very important to him.But family and personal relationships often take a back seat.

4)Such a person may have a problematic relationship with his mother.

5)They know how to work in competition.In life(with bad aspects),almost all people are seen as enemies.Maybe there was some kind of psychological trauma.

Mars in the eleventh house:

1)You work well in collaboration with others who share your goals,ideals,and intentions.You can inspire people to work towards a common goal.

2)If he is passionate about something,he strives to bring it to the end and get a concrete result.

3)He's friends with all sorts of people.Nationality,level of education and status in society are not important here.The main thing is to have common hobbies,aspirations and desires.

4)Positive aspects indicate the qualities of an excellent organizer.It inspires and appeals to other people.Negative aspects create problems with people.He is often betrayed or deceived.

5)Such a person never adapts to someone.If you have different views on life or different characters,that such people will say goodbye to you.They don't fucking need to change you.

Mars in the twelfth house:

1)Watch your feet very carefully.Wear comfortable shoes,play football carefully and don’t overdo it with the stretch.

2)He doesn’t give the impression of an active and active person.Others often underestimate him.

3)He has a good imagination.He does a lot of his work intuitively.Such a person can’t always explain in words how he came to this result.

4)Very good position for astrologers,fortune tellers or psychics.Their work is often associated with something mystical or creative.They like detective stories and psychology.

5)You may have quite a lot of energy and energy,you lack confidence or just the desire to put yourself and your interests first.Love being alone at work.You like to help.

[pixelatedrose]

Sleepy Bois Wing!Au Masterpost

The master post for the Sleepy Bois in my Wing!Au! Under the cut will be links to their art as well as long descriptors of their relationship to one another, the way they feel about their own/others wings, and how they interact with each other on a daily basis!

Full Masterpost

Tubbo: Tubbo loves his wings, and quite enjoys how they feel and look, he loves having bug wings! But seeing Tommy so unhappy with having Moth wings makes him feel almost guilty for loving his own so much. He's not ashamed of his wings, and never has been, but he sees how angry Tommy is at the world for giving him such flimsy wings and often begins to feel upset. Tubbo can very often be found wrapped up in Phil or Techno's wings or with his head on Wilbur's shoulder when he feels this way as he vents out his frustrations to them, the old men always telling him the same things: you shouldn’t worry yourself with Tommy too much. I know you’re worried about him, but feeling bad about something you can’t change won’t help anyone- least of all Tommy. And he tries to take it to heart. And while he may not know the reasons behind it, he can always tell when his friends are upset, and he takes it upon himself to try and make them smile. They always do. But the worst part about it is that Tubbo knows when those smiles are fake only for his sake.

Tommy: Before Tommy's wings grew in, he had always imagined he'd have strong wings. Something big or at least a little bulky- it would match his personality after all. So when he found that he was not going to have bird wings or bat wings- but bug wings- needless to say he was upset. Tommy was already a little late to get his wings when he did, and Tubbo had tried to console him. Easy for Tubbo to say- he had gotten the most perfect wings in the world for him. And Tommy was getting moth wings. They looked and felt like a thick piece of paper- but paper is paper, and paper is NOT strong. To make matters worse, whenever he meets someone new they always call his wings butterfly wings. And that, made him furious. He wasn't happy with what he got but he'd be damned if he let anyone think they were anything but moth wings. They may shit wings, but they were his shit wings. More than a few times Tommy would find himself upset about his wings for one reason or another- too delicate to do something, not strong enough for another, they didn't look right- and would somehow find himself in the comfort of one of his friend's wings or arms. He never spoke about it and neither did they, but he appreciated those moments.

Wilbur: Wilbur is proud of his wings and he likes to show it. He isn’t as blatantly obvious as some people, but he takes pride in his wings. He isn’t good with aerial tricks like Phil or Techno, but instead is very expressive with his wings, flapping them about when he gets excited and such. Some people are jealous of the fact that he's able to do such things, seeing as how short his wings actually are, but Wilbur just sees this as a bonus. The only times he's not smug about his luckiness is around Phil (who scolds him for being narcissistic) and Tommy, for obvious reasons. He knows Tommy is especially jealous of his wings, and if given the chance, probably would trade with the boy. He may love his wings, but he loves Tommy more and knows how important it is for the boy- much more important than nearly anyone else Wil had met- and so the decision is obvious for him. He also ends up trying to help Techno when he feels overwhelmed- the shorter man stress cleaning his wings till feathers come out- but that's an even touchier subject. So he'll clean up his friend's room or make him his favorite meal, anything he can to show Techno that he's got people who love him.

Techno: Techno is a little more indifferent about his wings than most people, especially considering the the wings he has. Most people who first meet Techno will ask him about his wings or compliment them endlessly, seeing as having large, white bird wings are considered one of the most beautiful kinds of wings to have- something to do with angels and such- not that Techno cares at all, he just cares that they're useful. And they are. But they're also not, sometimes. He consistently trips over them or they end up knocking things (or children) over by mistake. Their white color also means when they get dirty it's VERY noticeable, and while Techno wouldn't usually care, he once showed up to a formal event with blood in his feathers, and was so mortified he that fell into the habit of stress cleaning his wings- now to the point of feathers falling out. Wilbur and Phil have tried to help, but its been a slow-going process. It was years and years ago that the event happened, so long ago that Techno hardly remembers the it, and now it's just a stress habit, so whenever he gets overwhelmed he ends up leaving to go clean his wings. The floor of his room is littered in pretty white feathers and he hates it, but doesn't have the heart to clean it up. But sometimes he'll come home and find that all the feathers are gone, and maybe he'll notice Wil or Phil give him a kind glance or sweet smile. He appreciates it, even if he doesn't say so. He's well aware of how Tommy feels about his wings, and while he may not be the best or first person you'd go to for comfort, sometimes he'll sit down next to the kid and wrap his wing around him, not sure if it was the right thing to do until Tommy sighs and rests his head on his shoulder. They never speak about these things. And maybe they never will...

Phil: Phil finds that his wings serve him perfectly. They're a wonderful length and strong, they do what they need to do and have yet to fail Phil. The real conflict begins when it comes to his friends. He knows how each of them feel or act. Wilbur wants to help others as much as he can, but doesn't know how and ends up stressing needlessly over things he has no control over. Techno is a perfectionist with less than savory habits that only end up harming himself. Tommy has fallen hard into a growing hole of self-hatred and is quickly becoming blind to what he has. And Tubbo is well aware of the fact that people fake when he tries to cheer everyone up on a bad day. And so Phil spends the bad days helping his friends in whatever way is best for them- cleaning Techno's room for him- Singing a song with Wil to help him relax- Sitting and chatting quietly with Tommy- Helping Tubbo with chores and giving genuine smiles. He cares for his friends and wouldn't trade them for anything the world had to offer him. Sure he overworks himself sometimes, but what does it matter if everyone ends up better of it?

[fyeah-bangtan7]

Jimin on Perfectionism, Missing Army, His Love of Dancing, and BTS' Future

"We've been telling people to really love themselves," says Jimin. "This year, I began to tell myself these things"

BTS’ Jimin describes himself as “introverted,” which may come as a surprise to anyone who’s seen his extraordinarily expressive dancing, or the moment he leans back and nails a high note in, say, “Magic Shop.” In the second of Rolling Stone’s breakout interviews with each of the seven members of BTS, Jimin contemplated his perfectionist streak, described his experience of the pandemic year, explained his love of dancing, and more. He gave his lengthy, thoughtful answers from a studio room in his label’s Seoul offices, wearing a zipped-up black winter coat with a white faux-fur hood, a large black bucket hat, and a white mask to protect a translator.(In celebration of BTS’ appearance on the cover of Rolling Stone, we’re publishing individual digital covers with each member of the band; check back throughout the next week for more.)

Some fans think that you may be working on a mixtape. Is that true? To be perfectly honest, there’s really nothing that’s ready or prepared. I am trying new things and really challenging myself with new things. But there is nothing that’s concrete or ready to put out.

What have you learned about yourself from the past year, in your time off the road? I realized that we’ve been telling people to really love themselves and telling them to be stronger. This year, I began to tell myself these things as well, and convincing myself that this is also something I need to keep in mind. I also realized there were times when I was being too on the edge with people around me. And I thought that I should go back to the way I was, to realign my gears, so to speak, so that I can become again the person that I used to be when it comes to how I treat people around me and how I treat myself. Now, I see people reacting positively to even small positive changes.

For seven years or so, you had ARMY cheering for you. In the past year, because of the pandemic, you’ve faced silence. How have you adjusted to that? I still have a series of negative thoughts about the situation. You know, “Why are we in this situation?” You know, “What are we doing?” And I didn’t want to acknowledge or admit or face the fact that we can’t see our friends and can’t do the things that we had been doing, as you said, for the past seven years.

What made you want to dance when you were young, and how did you realize that you had a gift for it? First of all, I never thought that I’m good at dancing. But I began to like dancing when I was young. It was my friends who suggested that we go learn how to dance as an after-school activity. As I did more of it, I began to like it more and I started taking more lessons. And I became more and more immersed in it. And I realized, as I continued to learn how to dance, that I didn’t have the stress when I was dancing. It was my own space where I could go to a different world, where I didn’t have to think about other things. It was something that I could really immerse myself into. And it made me feel really free. And it made me really happy. And then even after I debuted and I still have those feelings and those emotions, dancing is the best answer.

I understand that you don’t like to make mistakes. But that could make you very hard on yourself, couldn’t it? When I debuted, I had the shortest period of training. And I feel that I wasn’t fully ready and confident when we debuted.  I still have my shortcomings. I’m always moved by the fans who dedicate themselves — their time, their emotions, everything about themselves — to appreciating what I do and loving what I do. It makes me feel that for their sake and for their devotion that I shouldn’t make mistakes. So if you ask how do I learn to be easier on myself or more generous to myself, I think that will be something that will continue to be very difficult for me because of how I feel. When people point out things that I need more work in, it used to make me really angry at myself. Now I feel thankful if people point out things I need more work in. It makes me want to try harder.

Who were some of your early musical heroes? There were a lot of artists that influenced me. Foreign artists — Michael Jackson, Usher — and also a lot of Korean artists. But a lot of my musical inspiration came from watching the other members do their work.

You were sort of the project coordinator for Be. What did you take away from that experience? What I took away is first, how sincere the members were about making the album and making the music. So much time and so much effort goes into the creation of the music. What I also took away from it is I should also dedicate this kind of time and effort to making and creating music, and I should also try to make great music. I was really inspired by what the members contributed to the process and how we all worked on the album.

You’ve all said many times that there were differences between the members that you’ve overcome over the years. Can you elaborate at all on those differences? [Laughs] So many that I couldn’t possibly list. We all had different personalities, personalities that clash. And I, for example, may consider myself to be a little bit slower, more contemplative or more introverted. And then there are other members who want do things much faster. They’re much more active and outgoing. And then there are other guys who are even more introverted and even slower than I am. So, of course, these personalities continued to clash. I think we’ve all come to develop an understanding that it is OK to have these differences, that some people are going to be slow, and some people are going to be fast. Sometimes we have to wait. Sometimes we have to ask more questions. I think all of us sort of developed an understanding of each other.

I love the song “Serendipity” from 2017. You really pushed yourself as a singer on that one. Could you share your memories of recording it? I think this was the first time I really tried to highlight all the nuances of my voice and focus on each detail of my vocal expression. So it was very difficult to try to make sure that translated into the recording. And I just remember the recording process being very difficult because of how hard I tried to make sure that I focused on all of these details, making sure that they are expressed in the song.

Would you like to still be in BTS when you’re 40 years old? I don’t think I’ve ever really thought of being not a part of this group. I can’t imagine what I would do on my own, what I would do without the team. Even before we debuted my goal was to continue to work with these people, to continue to sing with these people. I think when I become older, and I grow my own beard, I would like to think that at the end, when I’m too old to dance, I would just like to sit onstage with the other members and sing and engage with the fans. And communicate with the fans. I think that would be great, too. So I’d like to keep this going as long as I possibly can.

© source

[rfaromance]

Hello!!! Excited to see a new Tumblr for MM!!! I was hoping to be able to request a Valentine’s Day fluff story with Zen where the MC struggles with seeing Zen get all his gifts from his fans and feeling like her attempts pale in comparison?? Thank you for taking the time to read my idea!! Have a great day!!

I LOVE this idea! I hope you enjoy my very first MM fanfiction! >w<

Friday, February 11.

One.

On what should have been an average Thursday evening, Zen entered the living room with a bouquet of red roses in his hands. MC wasn’t unaccustomed to seeing him with handfuls of daisies, tulips, or carnations, but red roses were… a little disconcerting, to say the least. Despite herself, she couldn’t prevent her nose from crinkling slightly at the sight of them.

“Hey, babe. Why do you have a sour look on your face?” The soft, sing-song voice of the musical actor traveled through the air, and even his teasing words had such a rhythmic lull to them that MC couldn’t help but smile. The corners of her mouth twitched upward as he approached, gently placed the bouquet on the coffee table, and kneeled in front of her, lowering himself so that they were eye level. “That’s much better, princess,” he cooed. “Seriously though,” he went on, rising to his full height, “is something wrong? Do I need to take the trash out?” He began to back towards the kitchen, his nose twitching as he inhaled deeply.

“It’s nothing,” the young woman tried to reassure him, but a small doubt lingered in the back of her mind: perhaps she just wanted to reassure herself.

She couldn’t keep my eyes off of those blood-colored blooms, especially not after he picked out a vase for them and placed them directly on the kitchen counter.

 Saturday, February 12.

Three.

A spritz. A wipe. A sneeze. A sigh.

Dusting was probably one of MC’s least favorite activities on the face of the planet, but she had noticed that Zen’s allergies were bothering him the night before.

As much as she wanted to attribute his sudden sniffles to that curious cluster of crimson roses, she knew that the more likely reason was that the pair simply had not had the time to properly clean the apartment in…

She swallowed hard. Had it been that long?

In any event, she was determined to make their cozy home glisten from top to bottom as she awaited Zen’s arrival. His attention to detail was absolutely immaculate; whether he was acting, working out, or merely carrying out mundane daily tasks, he was an absolute perfectionist.

(Fitting, for he was absolute perfection himself.)

Knowing the type of keen eye she was up against, MC was exceptionally careful not to skip any speck of dust, not to miss any molecule, not to forget any frame of furniture.

Flowers could brighten up a home, but she was going to pour in her hard labor to ensure that the home itself sparkled in a way that outshone even a bouquet of red roses.

“Wow,” a whistle sounded from the front entrance, but MC continued to clean. “Cinderella, don’t you need a break? Now that your prince has arrived, it’s time for the ball.”

Cheesy as always.

MC barely stifled a laugh as she shook her head. “Let me finish this table,” she declared, “and then I suppose I can turn into a princess for… your… sake…” She had lifted her head to cast a beaming smile at him, a smile through all the dust and dirt and grime and grease that coated her face.

That smile nearly evaporated when she saw the two boxes of chocolates in his arms. Not one, but two. She mustered all of the strength that she could to keep a semblance of a smile on her face, but she had no doubt that it must have come off as colder than she would have intended.

“Hey, do you like raspberry, my love?” Zen asked. He placed one of the boxes—an unassuming rectangular box—on the kitchen counter. However, as he flipped the heart-shaped box over in his long, slender hands, MC could feel her own heart flip over as well inside her chest. “One of my coworkers in this new musical gave me a box of raspberry-crème filled chocolates, but I’m not really a fan of the flavor.”

“I do,” MC murmured, unable to pull her gaze away from the pretty pink box of chocolates in Zen’s hands. “Your cast must like you very much,” she added as nonchalantly as possible before turning back to scrub a particularly stubborn stain on the leg of the table.

Raspberry. A fruit that was simultaneously sweet and sour, fiercely fresh and then tantalizingly tart.

How fitting for the way she felt tonight.

 Sunday, February 13.

Six.

The slow creaking of the door on its rusty hinges reverberated around the room, silent aside from the low hum of the stovetop and the sizzles and cracks of the frying pan.

“Zenny!” MC called excitedly, not taking her eyes off of the eggs that she was cooking meticulously. Zen liked his eggs a little runny, whereas MC liked hers a little on the crispier side, so she always made sure to prepare his eggs first.

Plus, tonight the young woman was a little… eager to impress him.

Fresh flowers in the living room. Sweet smells in the kitchen.

Everything they could do, she could do better. At least, that was the goal.

“Dinner is almost ready,” she went on, and carefully she brought the heat down to a low simmer. “Yours will be done first, but since the pan is already hot, I won’t be too far behind you.” She dared to take a peek at him, tearing her eyes away from the stovetop for just a moment.

At least, she thought it was only a moment, because as soon as her gaze rested upon the objects cradled in her beloved’s arms, time seemed to freeze.

“Should I… prepare an extra plate?” she murmured, and even though every one of her vocal cords strained to add an amused, teasing, lighthearted quality to her voice, she couldn’t help but hear how pained she truly was. Her tone, her expression, her posture—without a doubt, they would all reveal to Zen just how deflated she truly felt.

“Oh, for this guy?” Zen tried to shift all of his belongings into one arm so that he could rub the back of his head sheepishly. “Yeah, one of the stagehands gave him to me.” He then used his free hand to pluck a (rather large) teddy bear from his arm and hold it out in front of him. “I’ve never even heard her speak before today, but the director gave us the day off tomorrow, so I suppose she felt… a little emboldened by the occasion.” He chuckled and shook his head. “She’s a sweet girl, but an odd one at th—Hey, MC, are you feeling okay? You look really pale.” At once, Zen dropped his gifts onto the couch and scurried into the kitchen. “Let me—”

MC spun around and turned her attention back to the eggs. “I’m fine,” she told him, and she winced as she realized how terse she sounded. “I’m just hungry.”

Zen didn’t seem convinced by her paltry acting, but nevertheless he obliged. “Can I help, Princess?”

MC just shook her head and reached for the spatula. “Just get ready. I don’t want your eggs to get cold. There’s beer in the fridge, too,” she added. “Your favorite.”

A bear. A candle. An envelope. All intruders into their happy home.

Hopefully his eggs wouldn’t taste too salty from the tears dripping down her cheeks.

 Monday, February 14.

Mondays were exceptionally difficult to endure. The beginning of the workweek was always a hassle. Even though Zen may have had a day off from rehearsals, as his manager, MC still had contracts to negotiate and schedules to plan. Normally, she would have been able to persevere through the day with the thought of a delightful date awaiting her when she arrived home…

But given the events of the past couple of days, she couldn’t even relish in the fact that today was Valentine’s Day.

Zen had pronounced his love for her loudly and clearly at the RFA party, so why did girls still feel the urge to shower him in gifts? Were they just expressing respect and admiration, or did they have ulterior motives? This level of paranoia was unusual, and MC felt sick to her stomach at how negative she was being. She could handle stress. She could handle rigorous work. She could handle mystery. She could handle false allegations of sexual harassment, for God’s sake.

So why was she so vulnerable this Valentine’s Day, when she knew how much Zen loved her?

“I need to take a nice, long bath,” she murmured as she rummaged around in her bag for her keys. “Goodness, I really need to cut my bangs. I can hardly see into my own purse.” The faint starlight overhead hardly provided her with any assistance. Just how late had she stayed discussing Zen’s newest performance offer?

Finally she managed to withdraw the keys to the apartment, and carefully she inserted them into the door. Their apartment was somewhat on the older side, so every now and then the door would be stubborn and require a bit of elbow grease in order to open, but much to her surprise, it slid open with ease tonight.

Even more surprising was the scene that awaited her.

The lights were off, but candlelight provided a low, hazy guide to the layout of the apartment. Sweet scents of cinnamon and vanilla wafted in the air, drifting lazily from the candles to her unprepared nose. A mellow melody echoed throughout the apartment, and at once she recognized the aria from one of Zen’s most popular musicals: Zorro. A faint blush rose to her cheeks as she imagined the poster for that particular play.

Zen himself, however, was nowhere in sight.

“Zenny?” MC called out hesitantly, brushing her bangs out of her face as she took a humble step forward. Her breath caught in her throat as she heard a soft crunch underneath her feet; rose petals littered the ground, lining out a path for her to follow.

Apparently the kitchen was not part of that path.

“Alright, alright, I’ll play along,” she mumbled, and for the first time in days, she could feel a little spark of laughter rising inside her chest. “Zenny?” she called out again as she slung her purse off of her shoulder and delicately reached over to place it on a chair within her reach. “This is awfully extravagant, even for you,” she commented. Not that she didn’t like it—quite the contrary. With every step she took, heading deeper into the labyrinth that he had prepared, she caught whiff of new smells and sight of new décor: cherry blossom and sweet pea tickled her nose while photographs and posters awaited her eyes. Scenes of the two of them on the set, selfies of the two of them on their dates. The idea of Zen plastering pictures of himself around the apartment did not surprise her, but what did catch her off guard was that in at least 70% of them… she was beside him.

That was saying something, considering how many selfies he took.

Finally the rose petals came to an end before the bedroom door. Zen must have been waiting for her in there, right? “I’m coming in,” MC announced, but she still didn’t receive a reply. The only response came from the music humming around the apartment: Zen’s voice, without a doubt, but not actually directed at her.

One. Two. Three.

She inhaled and exhaled deeply before turning the doorknob and entering the room.

However, what awaited her on Zen’s bed was not at all what she expected to see. Instead of his familiar face, she spotted a teddy bear sitting there, staring up at her with button eyes and a gentle grin. It was the same teddy bear from yesterday, but in its paws it held a note specifically directed at her:

“Bonjour, mademoiselle MC.”

MC chuckled as she read the note. “Feeling French tonight, monsieur?” she murmured. She gently petted the teddy bear’s head, and as she picked it up to give it a soft squeeze, she noticed that a plate was sitting behind it on the duvet. “What in the world…?”

Should she laugh? Cry? Shake her head? All of the above?

A plate lined with chocolates around the edges, and in the middle was a cluster of fish-shaped buns in the shape of a heart.

“I hope our cuisine is to your taste, madam.”

MC whirled around at the sound of that voice, a sweet symphony to her ears. The man of the hour had arrived, the mastermind behind this entire display. Zen awaited her, adorning a dress shirt, tie, and a pair of freshly pressed slacks. “Too much?” he guessed, and he dropped the lofty tone from his voice with a laugh. “You’ve been working hard. Too hard. I…” He began to fiddle with the edges of his sleeves. “I’ve been a little insensitive, bringing all of those gifts home.”

MC felt a pang in her chest. Had she been that obvious? “You shouldn’t have to hide anything from me,” she insisted, trying to comfort him. “Plus, I know how popular you are. I see it at work.”

Zen considered her words for a moment, scratching his chin thoughtfully. “Yes, well, that still doesn’t mean I should flaunt them in your face… unless they’re for you, and not for me.”

The young woman furrowed her brow as she tried to make sense of his words. “For me?” she echoed. Realization suddenly dawned upon her like the sun cresting the horizon, and she clapped her hands over her mouth to suppress her gasp. The rose petals. The candles. The teddy bear. The chocolates. “You… Zen, you…”

“Oh, don’t cry!” Zen exclaimed, rushing forward to dab at her cheeks. “Oh God, don’t cry. Look at my face—that will make you smile. Well, wait, God made a mistake when creating me, so you might cry tears of joy. Oh, this is a pickle….”

That low rumble from before, that little spark of joy and laughter, rose up in her chest and tickled her throat until it finally poured out from her lips in the form of a gleeful giggle. “Never change, Zen,” she whispered. ‘Never change from the thoughtful, loving man that you are,’ she added silently.

“On stage, I will be Zen, and I will change into whomever the crowd wants to see,” he murmured, and suddenly he leaned in until his lips were nearly pressed against hers, so that she could feel his hot breath tickling her skin. “But for you, my valentine, I will always be Hyun Ryu.”

[yandere-daydreams]

do you have an oc? i want hear about your ocs

Right! I’ve actually had these four siblings in mind for a while, and I *will* use any excuse I get to talk about them. In my defense, they’re all great. Babies that are well past spoiled-rotten, but they’re my babies, and I can’t help that. (The picrews used are here x x x x) 

TW: Imprisonment, Emotional Manipulation, Delusional Mindsets, Non-Consensual Drug-Use and Toxic Relationships. 

Name: Lionel Hardcastle

Position: The Failure of an Older Brother

Age: 26

Type: Delusional And Obsessive. 

Bio: The tranquil, would-be heir to the Hardcastle organization. Although his younger siblings were considered, Lionel was always the best with clients, the calmest in painfully crushing situations, and even if he made a point to hide it, the undisputed favorite of his parents. He would’ve taken over as soon as he was of-age, but his glaring lack of interest in the world of business and leadership provided quite the roadblock.

Well, and the fact that he can’t read. Never could, never will, and he shows no indication of an ability to learn. Needless to say, this caused some… minor issues between him and the rest of his family.

That might be why he likes you so much, his sweetheart, his love, the light of his oh-so-frigid life. You’re just so kind, and he knows you’ll never abandon him, even if you act so stubborn whenever he asks you to promise. It’s all he can do not to laugh when you throw your little tantrums and scream like you don’t adore the affection he’ll lather onto you so suffocatingly. There’s nothing he’d rather do than be around you, any moment where his skin isn’t on your instantly becoming unbearable. It’s no wonder he’s always the first of his siblings to snap. He hardly remembers to breathe, when you’re not in the room.

Lionel is quite the artist, too, focusing on stone and sculpting but dabbling in paint whenever the temptation strikes him. Suffice to say, as his fixation begins to outweigh his rationality his patient partner becomes his favorite muse. There’s more of your likenesses in existence than there are galleries to house them, but don’t worry, Lionel’s got a special portion of his workshop dedicated to all those mediocre extras, if only to keep himself sustained when you’ve switched from begging for the restraints to come off to hiding yourself away. Still, there’s only so long he can last before breaking and running to find you. If you really wanted to be alone, then you must not want to be with him. That’d mean you were trying to get away from him, trying to leave him, and… 

Lionel just isn’t sure if he can take that. Not again, and certainly not from you. He’s a weak man, when it comes to that, but he as more than enough iron-based safety measures to put his mind at ease.

Name: Persia Hardcastle

Position: The Motherly Middle Sister

Age: 25

Type: Controlling and Overbearing

Bio: Where do you even start with Persia? She’s the second-born, but it wouldn’t be untrue to say she’s more akin to a nanny than another Hardcastle. Part of it comes from how she grew up, how she had to take care of a pair of twins and deal with a suddenly absentee older brother, all while juggling just how unprepared her parents were for their own tragic, mysterious, purely accidental deaths. But, some people think she’s just… like that. A perfectionist, even when it comes to her own flesh-and-blood. 

Of course, you’re no exception. She’s just as tightly-laced with you as she is while trying to save Finn’s reputation or bring Lionel back home. She does love you, don’t get me wrong, but you’re her stress-relief, her saving grace, the only factor in her life she can have complete control of, even if she doesn’t realize just how much sway she has over you. She knows it isn’t healthy, that no one should think the things she does about you, but Persia can’t risk losing you. She won’t lock you up, she isn’t crazy, but… she doesn’t really have to use chains and collars, either. 

It’s odd, how fixed a certain behavior can be for one person, even after they’ve outgrown the use for it. She was the main caretaker for the twins while they were growing up, so she may’ve gotten into the habit of being a little… parental, when it comes to those she loves. If that just means giving you a disapproving look when you’re eating something you shouldn’t be or insisting on tucking you in at night, count yourself lucky. Falling into her role a little too passionately certainly wouldn’t be out of character, not when she’s already so invested in making sure you’re happy and healthy and by her side. Her angel’s medication is a small price to pay for bliss, really, even if you’re such a baby when it comes to taking it.

Name: Evelyn (Evie) Hardcastle

Position: The Mature Younger Sister

Age: 19

Type: Manipulative and Possessive

Bio: Now, here’s our heir. I mean, why wouldn’t she be? She’s fully literate and everything! Evie’s parents were already gone before Finn and her were so much as differentiable, but their advisors caught on to the siblings’ personalities quickly. Naturally, Evie found her way into a position of power as quickly as she was able to, not only for lack of competition. Not unlike her older brother, she doesn’t have any real interest in whatever vague, sketchy medical field she was thrust into, but Evie stands apart from the pure-intentions of most Hardcastsles. She likes the power of it all, how big it makes her feel. 

She likes knowing she’s the one in charge. You’ll come to understand that, with time.

There’s a good chance you’re her assistant or secretary or some member of her staff that made the mistake of getting a little too friendly, stumbling your way into her cold, dead heart before she could properly put up her defenses. The specifics don’t really matter, not as long as you have those big, shining doe-eyes and the sense to do whatever she says without a second thought. She just thinks you’re so soft, so cute, so vulnerable when you’re in the hands of someone stronger than you… you can’t blame her for getting a little carried away, honestly.

Don’t worry, though, Evie’s the most responsible sibling for a reason. She’s not a nice woman, but she can put on quite the show, as long as it’s for your sake. She’ll be whatever you need her to be for the longest time, whether that’s a boss willing to make compromises or a shoulder to cry on. She’ll string you along for as long as she needs to, having you isolate yourself and falling into her arms so sweetly, but her patience tends to wear thin when someone else comes into the picture. Do your best to avoid that, regardless of how minor the relationship may seem. She already keeps you on such a tight leash… it’d be a massacre if you gave her a real excuse to use force.

Name: Finnian (Finn) Hardcastle

Position: The Rebellious Younger Brother

Age: 19

Type: Jealous and Obsessive

Bio: I hope you’re not prone to whiplash, because Finn is the polar opposite of his sister. Despite being twins, identical on the deepest level two people can be, Evie was groomed while Finn was cast to the side, spoiled and let run wild, unimpeded by the standards his other siblings were held to. He has nothing to do with the family cooperation and as little to do with the others as possible, and he likes it that way. You might’ve caught on, by now, but Finn isn’t exactly the ‘business’ type.

But, distance breeds loneliness, and loneliness breeds desperation. It’s not that he latches onto everyone and anyone, no, Finn is rather selective, but he refuses to let go when he does find someone he wants to be with. You’re just so smart and so clever and so perfect, and all Finn wants to do is stay close to you, to never leave your side. The goal is innocent, full of misguided hope, but Finn didn’t exactly have a normal upbringing. He doesn’t know he shouldn’t want to follow you home or that it’s a little off-putting for a stranger to sit so close to you on an empty train, nor is he going to catch on if you try to turn him down gently. Hell, even if scream and do tell him what a pathetic stalker he is, you won’t get very far. Finn is just so happy you’re talking to him, he can’t bring himself to process what you’re saying.

Oh, and keep in in mind that he’s very used to being the center of attention. Whether it’s Persia’s persistent demands for ‘family time’ or Evie’s loudly voiced concerns, Finn knows when he’s the focus, and he doesn’t like it when the spotlight is somewhere else. That applies to you, too, as hard as he tries to stay on your good side. Distractions aren’t an option, he just gets so twitchy whenever he starts to think he’s your second-favorite, even if you’re being stolen away by a gift he got for you. It’s not a pleasant sort of envy, either. The way he clings to you and whines may seem harmless, at first, but Finn isn’t exactly good at holding himself back, especially when it comes to you. Desperation can turn into destruction in the blink of an eye, and he rarely goes after your new toys. 

[destinygoldenstar]

Astrid Vesta is one of the main characters of the series Destiny’s Burden. She is one of the Chosen Ones in the world with a hereditary destiny as the next Queen of Fire, destined to rule Magma Empire, as it is a kingdom in charge of industry and protection for the rest of the world. She was born as a middle child of the current king, Kai Vesta, and as such had always been forced to choose sides of her family and what she believed in ever since her parents divorced. Her father and her little brother have strictly believed that strict order made for a great ruler, as Kais views have been highly stereotypical, leading the kingdom to split into two and be at a war with each other as the poorer district, Singe, is left with no job opportunities while the Royal Flame, the richer district, soaks up all the credit and fame. Astrid’s mother and older sister meanwhile, have believed that there was room for everyone to live free and decide their own fates, and seeing as they were far more caring, Astrid never had a legitimate answer of who she was outside of her fate. It simply got worse and turned her towards her father’s spoiled side when she blindly trusted an outsider who betrayed her and left her scarred, quite literally. Ever since, even if she doesn’t like her father, Astrid had believed him and thinks that she has to be a flawless and strict leader, or else she’s considered a complete failure that her father believes she is. She attended Eus Yram Academia to gain an influence that she truly is a great leader and that she was not the failure her father thinks she is, however once she encounters Fran, a non-special girl who ends up spoiling her plans, Astrid becomes more determined to succeed, not willing to see the point of views of outsiders. Even if Fran starts to reveal herself as someone capable of being Astrid’s first friend once they become foils.

Astrid has taken many forms as a character before this form was settled. Originally, she was a bad tempered and socially incapable outcast that was an orphan, but she wasn’t a bully character then. Then when the whole story changed, she became a lone ranger that fought for the sake of a love. However, the problem with those were that Astrid was perceived as misunderstood, rather as someone who develops and becomes better with time. So another rewrite on her character as made into a modern fire princess, which was my thought process when making her design, and she very much became a different character. Some things stayed the same, like the scar and the origin behind it, as well as her sister who didn’t change that much in personality, but for the most part, Astrid became a victim of spoiled royalty, that both learns her independence, but also learns about her faults and what it actually means to be a queen. 

In the first book, she’s meant to play the role as the bully character, as someone badly tempered, spoiled, and arrogant, especially when she mistreats people she deems as either evil or not special. However, a good writer knows that there’s more to a character than just their role, and as such, Astrid turned from a character that was misunderstood and sympathetic the whole time, into a character that thinks she is but actually has to learn to be better. It sounds like a small change, but it does go a long way into making her more dynamic and make her more flawed and interesting, as a child from a bad home life who actively grows up as the series progresses. 

Astrid is a practical girl, she thrives in proving herself and finding the solution that benefits her the most. She never had friends outside of her sister and her butler, so people appear as simply assets to her that could benefit her success. Sure she may think to herself that it’s friendship, but once people start avoiding her, she barely understands what she’s doing wrong, and eventually ends up blaming herself for turning herself into an outcast like the people she claimed to be. Before then, Astrid has rarely blamed herself for things that go wrong, she had wanted to be active in her role and work for her goals, and no matter how hard she tried, her father had always talked down to her for essentially being a failure. So she tries to convince not only the people around her, but herself, that there’s nothing spoiled about her, and that she’s truly genuine. She’s left blaming other people for stuff that goes wrong, but how long can she? It’s these attributes that makes her brash, hot headed, and strictly practical, a bit of a passionate perfectionist. Astrid is not entirely irredeemable, quite the opposite in fact, as she is a person who willingly tries hard for herself, she’s excitable at some times when it comes to social activity and presented fame, and even if she doesn’t like the work, she does put in the effort to have the best solutions and present herself as someone helpful. Sure she’s a kid with a ways to mature, but in a way, there’s some sincerity in what she does, and she’s a brash hard worker that is capable of redemption.

Join her journey in Destiny’s Burden: The Choice of a Hero. Available now on Wattpad @AnalyzGolden. There’s three chapters out now, I post a new chapter every Friday, check it out, you might like it! 

[dontwakeme-causeimdreaming]

Just finished my The Hunger Games trilogy reread, now I’m thinking about which Hogwarts Houses the characters would be in (this May be controversial idk)

Katniss: Hufflepuff

-She didn’t set out to start a revolution because of her love of justice, her most prominent instincts are for survival and protecting her family. Even after her stint in the Games, she wasn’t planning on igniting a revolution and wanted nothing more than to run away and save herself, or stifle the sparks... this leads me to cross Gryffindor off my list for her

-Her loyalty to her family is one of her biggest attributes, and her compassion is often a motivator as well (Take her distributing her food to her district when Thread cracked down, the mines were closed, and the Parcel Day packages were no longer arriving)

-Gale even says (when she kisses him in Mockingjay and he says that he knew she would) that preventing others from being in pain is a motivator for her, which again emphasizes her compassion

-Unlike Gale, Katniss doesn’t see things as black and white, which is a more Gryffindor trait. She accepts her prep team and doesn’t view them as the enemy, and also disagrees with Gale’s all-or-nothing attitude regarding the war. Her ability to see the grey area and her acceptance again make me think she’s a Hufflepuff

-I know most people think she’s a Gryffindor, and I can see the argument for it, but I personally feel as though she’s more of a Hufflepuff with Gryffindor as a second

Peeta: Slytherin

-again this will be controversial, but here it is

-Katniss is constantly calling him charming, which is a key Slytherin trait. He knows how to work a crowd and prey off their emotions (think of his star-crossed lovers announcement and his baby announcement. While he may truly have been in love with Katniss, he used it as a tactic to manipulate the Capitol)

-Being goal-oriented and really ambitious/determined is another Slytherin trait, and I would argue that his desire to save Katniss applies. It is ambitious to try to save her in a second Games, especially against seasoned killers but he remained determined to achieve this goal. Even once Katniss was rescued from the arena, he still tried to protect her by painting her as an innocent girl who knew nothing about the rebels, and by protecting her against the bombing

-He’s assertive in the way that he sticks up for himself when Katniss and Haymitch make plans for the victory tour and in the arena without him

-He’s cunning, like how he pretended to ally with the Careers in the first games in order to prevent them from killing Katniss

-Slytherins are known for caring about the impression they make, and right from his arrival in the Capitol before the first games, Peeta was waving to the crowd in order to make a good impression and manipulate the crowd

-Let’s ignore the stereotype that all Slytherins are evil because it’s not true

Gale: Gryffindor

-does it even need an explanation?

Finnick: Gryffindor

-He is willing to sacrifice himself for the greater good of the revolution time and time again. He believes in the revolution because he wants justice and fairness rather than his own survival

-He has the classic Gryffindor arrogance

-He also has the Gryffindor playfulness, like when he teases Katniss before the chariot ride before the Quell

-He owns his mistakes, like how he misjudged Katniss’s affection for Peeta

Effie: Slytherin

-Slytherins are known for their desire to preserve tradition, and Effie isn’t one to question the Capitol’s traditions.

-She is very much a perfectionist, with her need to stick to her schedules and with how hard she made Katniss work to perfect her walking in heels before Katniss’s first interview

-She’s very ambitious that she wants to work for a better district than 12 and works hard to get promoted

Haymitch: Slytherin

-He used cunning to win in his games by luring the girl from District 1 to the force field after he’d lost his weapon

-He is big on determining the cost-benefit analysis for all of his moves. It may not have been moral to lie to Katniss about his desire to save Peeta rather than her from the Quell, but it prevented Katniss from learning about the revolution so it was worth it.

-Idk I don’t feel too strongly about this one I could also see him as a Ravenclaw

Prim: Hufflepuff

-I was originally going to say Ravenclaw because she’s very smart, both socially and academically. She can always read Katniss and situations, no matter how much Katniss tries to shield her from negativities. Katniss even says (in Mockingjay when Prim is talking about why Snow will not kill Peeta) that Prim is wise beyond her years

-But I think that’s the only way she fits Ravenclaw

-I think she’s a Hufflepuff like Katniss because of her kindness, compassion and loyalty

-Prim literally dies in an attempt to help others. Her motives are to always help and heal

-She wouldn’t hurt a fly. She cares for Buttercup, even though he’s not cute and not very friendly to anyone besides her. She’s very loyal to him. She couldn’t bear the thought of letting Lady, as injured as she was, die, so she nursed the goat back to health. And she couldn’t even hunt because hurting the animals made her too sad.

-While Katniss is a Hufflepuff for her unwavering loyalty, Prim is more of a Hufflepuff due to her kindness

Rue: Ravenclaw

-She was smart enough to point out the tracker jacker nest to Katniss, and knew how to heal Katniss once she was stung. She was also very knowledgeable about which plants are safe to eat.

-Together she and Katniss determined their best bet of winning would be to destroy the Career’s food source, and came up with a smart plan to destroy it

-She built her own slingshot in the Games (she’s very creative)

-She was smart enough to survive until the final 8 in the Games at only 12 years old

Joanna: Gryffindor

-She is very bold, like when she yells in the Quell to Snow about uprisings

-She never cracked under torture in the Capitol and is very brave

-Was in on the plan to save Katniss from the Quell for the sake of the Rebellion (although I wouldn’t say her motive was justice truly, but more so revenge which I’m not sure is a Gryffindor trait)

[doc-pickles]

things just happened (and so did you)

I started this literally in a manic state at like... midnight when I couldn’t sleep. Then I completed it during a 112 degree heat wave so there’s obviously a lot happening here.

Anywaaaaaays I decided to rewrite 14x08 and 14x09 (Out of Nowhere & 1-800-799-7233) because while these episodes are LITERALLY flawless there’s something that every episode of Grey’s could use and that is babies. 

This will be a two shot with the second half coming sometime later this week (we’ll see how my brain decides to work) but I hope you guys enjoy it! 

xoxo Nina

Jo’s morning isn’t starting off great. First day as Chief Resident and not only does she not have the respect of her coworkers, she’s got a migraine that’s burning itself into her skull. She sent everyone off where they need to be and then barricaded herself in a supply closet. The darkness of the small room bringing her a tiny amount of relief. 

“Jo? You in here?”

Shit. Alex…

Suddenly she remembers that she was supposed to be working on a case with Alex this morning. He mentioned it last night as they’d curled up in bed together but with her hectic morning it had completely slipped her mind.

“Hey,” Jo lifted her hand weakly as Alex finally stepped into her line of sight. “I’m sorry, I totally spaced on our case together. I have a migraine and I’m stressed out beyond belief. This whole Chief Resident thing is taking its toll on me.”

Alex looped his arm around Jo’s shoulder, bringing her into a hug she hadn’t realized she’d needed. A deep breath escaped her and before she could comprehend what was happening, Jo was quietly crying into Alex’s shoulder. He took it in stride, rubbing her back and quietly reminding her to breathe. 

“What’s up with you, this is more than just first day jitters,” Alex pulled back, eyes raking over Jo as one hand came up to brush away the tears that had collected on her cheeks. “Are you okay? Talk to me.”

Jo was about to answer him when the past week played over again in her mind. Her emotions had been all over the place, she hadn’t been able to sleep, and her period was late. All three things she had just chalked up to stress and the price of being a perfectionist. Now though, as she stood crying in a supply closet, Jo thought something else might be amiss. 

“I… I don’t know,” Jo bit back the urge to tell Alex her suspicion, not wanting to unintentionally spook him. “I’m gonna find some pain killers and then I’ll meet you in Frankie's room?”

Accepting her answer easily enough, probably because the plan involved seeing him again so soon, Alex pressed a chaste kiss to Jo’s lips before leaving her be. Once she was alone, she rummaged around the shelves for a moment before coming up with pain killers for her head and two pregnancy tests. She knew Alex would start to wonder about her whereabouts if she didn’t show up soon, but the anxiety of not knowing pushed Jo to run to the restroom first.

Whatever the outcome, you will be fine. You’re Jo Wilson, you’ve got this. 

Jo breezed into Frankie’s room a few minutes later, face flushed as she took in Helm, Alex, and Frankie's mom all staring at her. She waved her hand at them, promptly asking Helm to present the case. She could feel Alex’s gaze on her as Helm talked, but she tried her best to ignore it. 

“Good job Helm, now you can see if mom has any questions,” Jo gestured to Frankie’s mom, who was eyeing Alex appreciatively. “Mrs. Baner? Any questions for us?”

“Not today, just take care of my baby,” she ran a hand through her son's hair, smiling at him before turning to Jo. “He’s the light of my life, I want to make sure you all give him the best care. Do you have children Doctor Wilson?”

Jo’s eyes widened as she stared at the woman with a stunned expression. The question had shocked her, her brain suddenly unsure of how to answer. Her uncharacteristic delay was only made worse when both Alex and Helm turned to her quizzically.

“Um no,” Jo voiced much quieter than normal, her heart beating erratically as her fingers slipped into her lab coat and grasped the two plastic sticks in her pocket. “No, I don’t have children yet. But I can assure you that Doctor Karev and I will take excellent care of Frankie. He’s one of the best peds surgeons so you’re in good hands. If I had kids, I’d want him to take care of them.”

“I have to agree with you Doctor Wilson, we do love having Doctor Karev around,” Mrs. Baner added looking at Alex with that smirk again. Jo could sense Alex gawking at her, this time not trying (but failing) to hide the fact. “Well thank you for stopping by doctors.”

Jo turned and exited the room without a goodbye, hearing Alex wrap up the pleasantries as she began to walk further and further down the hall. Her chest was constricting, a swell of burning nausea rising up her esophagus as she heard Alex calling her name from behind. 

“Jo! Hey,” Alex huffs, finally catching up with her. Resting his strong hand on her shoulder as he steered her into an empty exam room. “You’re acting really weird, you kinda freaked back there. Will you please tell me what’s wrong?”

“I’m fi-”

“You’re not fine, Jo. I know you better than I know myself,” Alex brushed away a stray hair from Jo’s eyes as she fought back the urge to cry. “Babe, I’m worried about you. If it’s just nerves then fine, but I think it’s more than that.”

Not trusting herself to say something coherent, Jo lifted the pregnancy tests from her pocket and placed them in Alex’s hand. She hadn’t removed her own hand from on top of his, but the wide eyed look he gave her told Jo that Alex knew exactly what she’d given him. 

“I haven’t looked at them yet,” Jo could feel the tears welling in her eyes finally spill over as she looked up at Alex. “That’s why I didn’t know how to answer Frankie’s mom. Because I hadn’t looked at the pregnancy tests I just took.”

“Oh,” Alex blinked, his free hand wrapping around Jo’s waist and rubbing her back softly. “Do you… do you want me to look?”

Staring at Alex deeply she finally allowed herself to actually consider the situation. She was, for the first time in her life, finally at a place where a baby wouldn’t be an inconvenience or a problem. She was loved by this amazing man in front of her and she had a job where she was excelling. So really she had no real reason to worry about bringing a child into the world. It was a safe and stable world that she had worked so hard to build.

“You look, I trust you,” Jo lifted her hand from on top of Alex’s and watched his face closely as he turned over both plastic sticks. His expression remained unchanged, eyes moving back up to meet Jo’s. “Well?”

Alex didn’t say anything as he moved his hand from Jo’s back to her stomach, a small grin breaking on his face.  

“Surprise.”

Jo can’t help the combination of tears and laughter that flow out of her as she reached up to kiss Alex sweetly. His hand is still pressed against her abdomen as he’s laughs along with her. 

“I guess that’s one way to celebrate you coming back home,” Jo raised her eyebrows suggestively, hinting at the night that they’d conceived as giggles burst between every few words. “Good surprise right?”

“The best I could’ve asked for,” Alex assured Jo as he kissed her again, a groan escaping from his lips as his pager began to beep. His eyes darted to the device, brows furrowing as he leaned back from Jo. “It’s Frankie, I gotta go. I’ll page you if I need you, okay?” 

Jo nodded, relishing in the feeling of Alex’s fingers trailing over her still flat stomach as he hesitated pulling away from her. 

“Go, sick kids need you,” Jo laughed as she ushered Alex away, squeezing his hand as he finally stepped out the door. “I’ll see you soon.”

-

Soon happens to be ten minutes later, Jo receiving a 911 page from Alex that has her speed walking across the hospital to get to Frankie’s room. Alex and Helm are arguing in the hall, an angry expression on his face as he listens to the fumbling intern. 

“I-I-I don't know what the…,” Jo approaches the duo as Helm stutters out an excuse. “I can’t, I don’t know!”

“What’s happening here?” 

“Frankie’s had a headache for awhile,” Alex sighed as he looked from Helm to Jo. Even pissed off, Alex's eyes immediately went to Jo’s midsection, which made her blush. “Now we’re trying to figure out if he got Vitamin K last night or not.” 

Jo rolled her eyes and grabbed the tablet from Helm, punching in her login as she spoke to the intern. 

“He's asking you what he was given last, something to thin his blood or make it clot?”

“I know that. I-I can't open his chart,” Jo tried her login again as Helm explained to Alex what her issue was, but it failed once again. “The screen is locked.”

Jo peered up at Alex, nodding to confirm what Helm had just relayed. An angry groan sounded from Alex, his fist pounding against the wall as he let out a breath of frustration. 

“Okay Helm, prep Frankie for a CT so we can see if we have an issue. And page Shepherd please,” Helm nodded and ran off, Jo looking for instruction from Alex, who was focused on her. “Can you talk to the nurses and see if any of them gave Frankie his injection? I don’t know what’s happening with the computers, but I don’t wanna take chances here.”

“I’ve got you covered, you go make sure he gets his CT,” Jo moved to walk away, but Alex grabbed at her hand so she was pulled into his embrace. His body was still tense with anger, but his eyes were scanning her with concern. After a few beats she asked, “What’s wrong?”

She knew Alex well enough to know that it wasn’t just Frankie clouding his mind. Jo watched for a change in his expression, but none came. 

“Nothing just… be careful?”

“Now you’re going soft on me,” Jo chuckled as she leaned up and pecked Alex’s lips, pulling away and beginning to walk down the hall. “We’ll be back soon!”

-

Fortunately Frankie’s CT scans were clear, but back in his room he immediately began vomiting from the headache. Alex was worried, but tried not to show it for Frankie and his mom's sake. His mind was running a million miles a minute as he went through everything that had happened since he’d clocked in that morning. The hospital was under a cyber attack – hence being locked out of the system earlier, his patient was quite possibly on the verge of a stroke, and he was going to be a father soon. Alex pushed everything irrelevant to the side however as he sat beside Frankie and pulled the little boy into his side.

“I feel like I'm gonna die,” he bemoaned, his tiny head falling against Alex’s chest in exhaustion.

“What? You're not gonna die.”

“Will you do me a favor?,” Alex looked down to Frankie, who wore a serious expression as he glanced up at Alex. 

“Anything.”

“If I die... will you marry my mom,” Alex laughed at Frankie’s request, but the boy continued talking. “She really likes you. And I know she'll be safe.”

“You're not gonna die,” Alex stated again. He looked around the room, assuring no one else was around, and leaned down to look at Frankie in excitement. “But you wanna know a secret?”

“What?”

“I can’t marry your mom, because I’m gonna have a baby soon,” Frankie’s eyes widened as he processed Alex’s news. It felt good to get the secret out in the open, even to one of his patients. “Yup, I’m having a baby with Doctor Jo.”

“Well… if you can’t marry my mom, I think Doctor Jo is a good choice,” Frankie barely got the words out before he began heaving again, Alex rubbing his back as he leaned over the basin. 

In all honesty he hadn’t been sure at first if he was ready for fatherhood. Of course Alex had been overjoyed that he and Jo had made a new life, but there was a lingering doubt in the back of his mind that any child of his would come out just as screwed up as him. But sitting here now making sure that Frankie made it through the day, Alex was almost certain that he was ready for whatever challenges being a parent would bring.

-

Jo felt like she’d talked to every nurse in the hospital at this point. After going through the grapevine, she’d finally found a solid answer and was racing back to the Pediatric Ward to deliver her news to Alex. For some reason he wasn’t answering his phone and her texts left bouncing back instead of sending. The nausea that had been lingering all day was finally rearing its ugly head, but Jo pushed on, figuring she would have time to vomit after she saved Frankie’s life.

Her feet tapping impatiently on the elevator floor, she checked her phone to see if any of her messages had gone through. With a hand firmly pressed on her stomach, she closed her eyes as she bit back the bile rising in her throat. As the ancient elevators crawled upwards she realized she was still for the first time all day. This only made her even more aware of the escalating physical symptoms threatening to consume her. 

Finally, the elevator beeped as she arrived on the surgical floor. Jo’s eyes flew open and she all but ran from the metal box on her course for Alex and Frankie. She made it about three feet before a solid body blocked her path, finely tailored suit jacket and pressed linen pants coming into her view.

“Hey Brooke.” Jo froze in horror, mouth slightly ajar as her gaze moved upwards to meet the dark green eyes of the man she’d tried so desperately to forget. She took in the face that haunted her nightmares, the one that sent her screaming and crying into Alex’s arms at 2 AM. He looked older, his face worn by time, but still handsome as ever. The signature devilish grin plastered on his face sending an electric shock down her spine. Like a grotesque halloween mask, it was the same face he would give her before pummeling her into the darkness.

Her breath caught in her throat as time seemed to stop around her. She forgot about Alex and Frankie, her baby, everything that had happened today as the world around her shrunk down to her and the man in front of her.

Paul. Paul had found her.

[ask-the-clergy-bc]

Hiya! So in your opinion what do you think it would take for the Papas and Cardinal Copia to open up and be vulnerable with a S/O? Would it need time and trust, maybe an event which caused them to have an epiphany, or maybe they get caught at a bad time and need some comfort? Thank you!

I accidentally made this into a giant character introspection, whooooooooooops! 

Ooooooooooooooooh boy, this is gonna be a long one so sit down! There’s no easy answer for me to give without a thesis sooooooooooooooooooooo-

Papa’s and Copia - What it Takes to have them be Truly Vulnerable with an S/O

Character flaw and reflection time! I will warn you these men are all far from perfect! 

There’s definitely a LOT of elements and circumstances for each of these Antipopes, so I will try my best to sum it up without letting it get too big! Trust will be the key word in opening them all up! 

A super short answer for this would be a small chart. From easiest to hardest to open up genuinely to an S/O (regardless of the situation), it would look something like this. 

Papa Nihil

Papa I

Cardinal Copia

Papa II

Papa III

Keeping this in mind is actually really important as a lot of it has to play into each personality and life experiences. Even then, this is a super tight race! They all don’t blindly trust and they all have a level of mystery they NEED to keep about them. So it’s a huge mix of their jobs as Papas and who they are deep down. 

There is a reason such things like Prime Movers exist/ Having courtesans and harem members rather than proper spouses. A Papa could easily be compromised by a spouse. With either a partner using them to manipulate the Church, or straight up betraying them. A Papa has to be alert, smart, and VERY VERY sure when choosing a lifelong mate. They have to be able to know without a doubt that they can count on their partner with their very lives and the lives of others. 

THEN there are so many personal factors and circumstances that come into play! It’s safe to say that all of them are emotionally guarded in some way, shape, or form. That comes with the territory of being a Hell Blooded man of power. You don’t know who REALLY loves you, who’s using you, or who wants something. On top of that, the emotional burdens of their work, their faith, personal fears, and the expectations put on them. 

It can be VERY hard to gauge what really clicks for each of them to trust someone. So, as asked, we will take a look into each of them! :)

Papa Nihil:

If you caught him in his younger years, he might have been more trusting with a serious partner. Not out of naivety or blind love, but out of arrogance. Arrogance that a partner could not hurt him even if they betrayed him. Nihil had an ego to him and felt on top of the world- being Papa and nothing to stop him. Not even a broken heart! To him, the worst thing that could happen with an S/O would be heartbreak, and he refused to believe that was anything that could break him! Well… it ended up happening with Sister Imperator. So after she left, he understood the consequences of his actions and what that would actually feel like. It’s not something he’s too keen to feel again. 

As he got older, he hardened. The only one who has really ever seen his softer, vulnerable side has been Imperator. She’s the only one he remotely trusts in the deepest sense, and even then- he has doubted her motives with the introduction of Copia! Nihil learned the hard way that putting your trust in the wrong people can have serious consequences to your life. 

That all being said, two things really work with getting Nihil to be open to you with his feelings. First would be his “test”- not something he purposely does to make his S/O jump through hoops, mind you. Consider it an observation period where he sees how serious a relationship can be with you. Nihil doesn’t mind flings, and as Grand Papa, has a willing harem at his disposal. The first months or years with a single partner is him learning about them. This goes from seeing how serious YOU are, your intentions and sincerity, how well you both click, and how close you end up being. That, and making sure you aren’t just using him. Granted, he doesn’t mind the occasional arm candy or someone who just wants to have fun. Those are just the partners he doesn’t put extra effort into when it comes to emotions or deeper mental intimacy.

The second is just plain old time. If you two become serious, and stick by each other through thick and thin- you will learn about him. Nihil will slowly disclose more and more to you. Don’t go crazy, because the Grand Papa is always watching for any hints of betrayal (nothing personal, it comes with the job.) So the more you are trustworthy, the more he shares. There will be a few tough subjects to crack with him, like his relationship with Imperator and his sons. But the more you mutually talk and grow together, the more things work out. I will warn you, no matter how much he trusts you he IS a stubborn old goat and some information HAS to be pried from him- simply because HE WILL NOT ADMIT ANYTHING TO HIMSELF SOMETIMES. 

Papa I:

Papa can be very open and trusting with a serious partner, that typically is not the problem. Granted, he’s very analytical so his own feelings are something he tries to approach logically. But that’s not the problem. The hurtle would just be you both getting to be a serious couple in the first place. As to him there is a vast difference between a sexual/romantic fling, casual companionship, and the workings of a true mate ship. The last of which is riddled with pitfalls due to his place as Papa and carrier of his bloodline. 

Papa tends to let his sense of duty rule over almost every aspect of his life. He is one of the ‘purest’ followers of Lucifer, and it shows in everything he does! Because of that, he has not typically sat down to consider companionship past his carnal needs and having someone to spend time with. Typically anything deeper would mean something equivalent to our idea of marriage- and with “marriage” to a Papa brings up the topic of possible heirs brought on by the Ministry. When a Papa is heavily involved with someone beyond their casual lovers, the idea of heirs is ALWAYS discussed. The Bloodline HAS to be continued. Depending on the sex of the partner, questions will be asked such as- can the partner become a prime mover? If possible are they SUITABLE? If they can’t have children will they interfere in possible heirs being made? In short, Papa equates “Serious” partners to this duty to sow the seeds of the bloodline’s future. 

That being said, Papa would actually prefer a partner he could be open with. The trick is that he has to snap himself out of thinking just for the family and ministry’s sake. Which is self admittedly a difficult feat for him, because he’s always in work and faith mode. That’s just who he is. The other just has to do with how he treats others. 

Typically Papa is much more interested in what you, his partner, is feeling. This comes with YEARS of thinking of everyone but himself. Papa has had to consider his flock, the will of the high clergy, the will of his father, the wants and needs of his brothers, and those he considers friends or in need of his guidance. Papa knows how to take care of himself, so HIS feelings are almost inconsequential. Papa much rather let you talk and share how you are than consider himself. It typically just takes a bit of asking and prodding on your part to get him to open up if you two have been close for a long time. Being honest and to the point also helps, as it gives him a moment to collect his thoughts and express himself thoroughly. 

Papa II:

Being emotionally vulnerable for Papa II is very difficult. Not because he CHOOSES to be a ‘wounded bitter old man.’ Even though he is very much that AND a known grouch and perfectionist; Papa just doesn’t know HOW to be. Papa does have emotions and he does feel them very deeply when he’s not trying to tough it out. But Papa has never been GOOD at expressing his feelings, even as a child. It’s not something he was in touch with, and not very comfortable for him to think about. Unlike III, Papa II just cannot seem to find it in himself to express his true feelings. Granted, he could put it into words as he is very eloquent. But… it’s difficult. 

On top of that, Papa has never been one to let his weaknesses appear. Emotions are often embraced by Lucifer, as expressing them. But to Papa, these are his weak points and he prides himself too much in keeping all his weaknesses guarded. Papa has crafted himself to cover his vulnerabilities in such a way that they play to his strengths! For his emotions and true feelings, he detaches from them; giving him the ability to lead with a critical and objective mind not bogged down by empathy. As a Papa, this makes him an excellent and analytical leader. As a lover, this often bites him in the ass- especially in pursuing any SERIOUS life time commitments. Something he wasn’t keen on doing in the first place. 

Papa is very aware of how ‘spouses’ work for the Bloodline. Bonding with a potential mate has always been in the interest of furthering the family, not personal fulfillment. He’s tried VERY hard to keep it that way. And like his father, he is painfully aware of those who would manipulate his feelings. And if we were being honest? The idea of genuinely falling in love scares the absolute shit out of Papa. The idea of being so vulnerable to a person who could crush your very soul, the soul of a demon blooded Antipope, is not something to take lightly! And it’s NOT like he has had any good role models to show how true love should operate… 

To win him over, it would be a good idea to show HIM your vulnerable side first. Kinda like when a cat shows you its belly as a sign of trust. LEt him see the ugly side of you, the insecure- but slowly. Don’t hit him all at once with everything. You have to let Papa come to you. It might take a lot of time this way, but it’s a start- there is a reason he feels more comfortable with submission. It makes him feel so much more secure. Also showing your dedication and love through action and not words will be HUGE! Showing him you can be trusted, that you have a good head on your shoulders, and that you have his best interests at heart. Alternatively, if something life altering should happen to him, you supporting him is the ultimate display of your dependability. If you try to force him at any point he will pull back out of reflex. It’s one of the few times he lets your roles be reversed. 

Papa III: 

Many would accuse his older brother, Emeritus the II, of being the hardest to make vulnerable- yet many are surprised that it is actually him! But Papa has spent years weaving a huge web around himself. Papa has so many masks and layers to him out of fear that sometimes even he doesn’t know what part of him is genuine or not. He learned from an early age that he was the most emotional, and most likely to get hurt. And let me tell you something, Emeritus the Third is NOT a man who likes the feeling of being hurt emotionally. It’s practically unbearable for him. He already deals with a lot of emotional burdens from feeling as though he were the ‘weak’ one of the Bloodline. Truth be told, he hasn’t had the best relationship with his father, either. 

What’s worse? As much as he likes to talk about himself, Papa does NOT like talking about his true issues and anxieties. Papa usually deflects in such subtle ways that those close to him THINK he is being vulnerable, when in truth he is being superficial. So when you hear him complain about how the Ministry treats him, or a minor insecurity brought on by an argument with his brother- you are only scratching the surface. And even if he loves you, Papa does not want you to see that ugly, miserable side of him. He doesn’t even want to acknowledge it himself. If he can barely stand these horrible sides to himself, how does he expect you to stay and accept him? 

For Papa III, the key factor would be time and patience. But this is further made difficult with his fleeting interests and inability to commit. The natural way to his vulnerable side is by never leaving his side, assuming he doesn’t forcibly push you away. For example, one of the few who know him deeply is Omega and his eldest brother, Papa I. That’s because they have been around his entire life. Either you would have to be the same, or be there in a huge moment of weakness to have him even remotely come clean. 

The best (or in his case, worse) would be you being there at his absolute lowest point. When he’s so far gone in his emotions that he can’t even muster up the energy to put on a show. When he can’t bring himself to be Papa, to be charming- hell even RUDE AND ANGRY. The best example would be like if you were around after he was stripped of the Ghost Project and made a fool out of publically. That was such a horrible time for him and everyone around him. But if you are there with unconditional love and he SEES that you love him through every facet of his identity, he will want to stick close and loyal to you. It will take MORE time, but little by little Papa ends up baring his soul to you. He’d be lying if he said he still wasn’t afraid to confide in you, least you up and leave...  

Cardinal Copia/Papa IV:

Copia has struggled with trust nearly his whole life, and ALL of his career in the High Ministry. If we are being honest, as welcoming and loving as the church is, the upper clergy is full of deceit and cutthroat tactics. It’s as competitive and dangerous as any monarchy or noble circles. That’s because within it there is a LOT more at stake. Ministry members have vanished or been found dead thanks to inner politics, and Copia has his share of close calls. He’s had to learn to trust no one but yourself, and never EVER let your guard down too much.

Unfortunately, this does bleed into his personal life. Copia has had his share of bed mates and even lovers that have stuck around longer than anticipated. But long term commitments have been very few and far between. And to be honest, he HAS been burned before. From those who sought to betray him to partners who just DIDN’T LIKE who he really was underneath. Copia has buried that hurt and tried to use it as a reminder of why he needs to keep himself until he makes it to the top. Then NO ONE could hurt him the way they could when he was a mere Ministry member.

Copia has always been really cautious around lovers to the point of paranoia. Where he adamantly refused to let himself be weak at any point! He is always good to them, but is just plain scared of letting his guard down. But the difference between Copia and the rest of the Papas is that Copia CRAVES intimate connection like you wouldn’t believe. Sometimes he desperately wants that stability and trust with another person without fear of repercussion. Copia often feels like he can never have it, and it’s one of the few things he wants almost as bad as the Papacy. But he’s never had time or a chance to- far too much to do and too much to risk!

One of the biggest ways Copia ends up calming down around you and actually opening up is if you have been there for the long run. Especially if you two were some type of couple or close BEFORE he was ever chosen for the Ghost project. Copia needs that undying support and consistency to really warm up to you. If you’ve unconditionally been there from the beginning and have not changed since his Papacy, Copia is nothing but loyal to you in return. Copia is a very good actor, but he will still be skittish and reluctant to talk too much. You just have to be patient with him as he gets comfortable. I promise, he wants nothing more than to trust you completely.

[themattgirl]

Hi Jasmine💖 I really like your writing you're amazing 💖💖 Sooo can you write sth where Y/N has asthma and she had an attack infront of Harry for the first time and he comforts her and does some cute shit coz I have asthma and I always fantasize about this

Thank you so much, I’m glad you like it. I love you🥺💘 Sorry for this late reply, my cousin came over unexpectedly and is now sleeping next to me while I’m trying to write this for you in the best way possible. Let me know if you like it and feel free to send more requests.🦋

Breathless

“Why did you do it even though I told you not to? Why can’t you just listen to me, huh?” Y/N asks Harry angrily.

They are in the middle of their fifth fight of the week, and it’s only Wednesday. They’ve both been very caught up into work and haven’t spent much time with each other lately. The lack of communication caused a lot of drama in this house the past few days. Y/N and Harry used to talk about anything and everything, but since Y/N is in the middle of the exam season of her last semester in college and Harry is currently struggling with finishing up his album, it’s hard to find the time. It might be necessary to say how much of a perfectionist he is. Plus, it’s the first album since the band went on hiatus and he really wants this to work.

“I just thought you’d like to be her friend again. I thought you’d listen to what she has to say.” Harry tries to explain why he invited Y/N’s ex-best-friend - or the traitor - to her birthday party even though she made clear that she doesn’t want to see her ever again.

“Listen to what she has to say? Are you kidding? She’s already said enough, don’t you think?” Y/N’s voice becomes louder by every second in which Harry doesn’t get what he did wrong.

Y/N has been ignoring her old best friend for weeks now and she’s not planning on stopping it. She is way too disappointed. Who wouldn’t be if their so-called best friend spreads rumours around the whole campus about them giving free blowjobs even though they have a boyfriend? And that only because said boyfriend is Harry Styles and the traitor has been crushing on him ever since she’s heard about him. But hasn’t everyone? Everybody loves Harry and Y/N happens to be lucky enough to be the one he loves back. A real best friend would be happy for you, right?

“Baby, I’m sure she did it out of anger. She loves you and wants to be your friend again. Give her a chance.” Harry’s voice is still very calm which is only adding to Y/N’s fury because it means he’s convinced that he’s right and he’s not seeing his mistake.

“Stop fucking defending that bitch! I don’t care if she did it because she was angry or jealous or whatever. I’m not giving her a fucking chance or any shit. She can go to hell and if you think what she did is forgivable then you might as well stuff her mouth with your dick and join her.”

This is it. Harry realises how angry Y/N really is. She never swears. He has never heard a curse word leaving her mouth, nor anything like ‘dick’ - not even while they have sex. Only now he notices that her eyes are filled with hurt, her face turned red, her nostrils are flaring, fists clenched while she’s glaring at him. Her breathing is heavy.

“Okay, but is it really that bad? I mean, the unknown calls have stopped, right? And you’ll be out of college very soon, anyway. It’s not that big of a deal. And most importantly, we both know that the only person you’re giving head is me.”

He certainly will not have that privilege anymore after what he just said.

“I’m already on the edge, Harry. Don’t make me lose my shit completely. Why do you even care so much about it? Isn’t it my choice who I want to be friends with?”

“It is, but you don’t have any other friends.” He speaks the truth, “I just don’t want you to be all alone when I’m not around.”

Before Y/N can respond her phone starts ringing. She pulls it out of her back pocket and checks who itis. Unknown. Those calls haven’t actually stopped, Y/N just stopped telling Harry about them. She has to pick up, though. For some strange reason, her father always calls with a hidden ID. So she slides her finger from the left to the right on the display and holds her phone to her ear. Not greeting the person on the other side of the line she waits for someone to speak.

“Hey, uhm... I was told you give head for free. Is-“ Y/N cuts him off immediately with a simple “no” and takes a deep breath to collect herself even though breathing gets harder and harder.

“Oh, is this not Y/N?” The man asks confused.

“It is, but I don’t do that. Whoever told you that was lying. I have a boyfriend who I really love and would never cheat on. Tell everyone, thank you, bye!” Y/N clarifies and ends the phone call.

She doesn’t even have time to put it back in her pocket when it starts ringing again. Unknown, again.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she whispers to herself before picking up.

“I’m picking you up in half an hour, ‘key?” The voice on the other end asks.

Y/N hangs up on him without saying anything. It’s so overwhelming, all of this. To get it all in her head she explains the whole situation out loud, hoping it’ll make her know what to do about it.

“So, my best friend told everyone I give BJs for free because she’s jealous and now my phone won’t stop ringing. I’m the whore of the campus, no, I’m not even a whore, apparently I don’t do it for money. That’s my reputation now. And as if this isn’t enough, my boyfriend - the one that I’m accused of cheating on - decided to be on her side and against me. So basically, I’m fucked.” Y/N is looking down at her feet, she is quiet but loud enough for Harry to hear her. With every word her breathing becomes heavier.

What might be important to mention is that Y/N has asthma. Well, she had. It stopped being so bad a while ago and she could live her life without an attack for more than a year. What she didn’t tell Harry is that she started to be out of breath very quickly in the past two weeks. She tried to ignore it but taking deep breaths doesn’t seem to work this time. Her airways become too narrow for her to breathe properly. She starts coughing and wheezing. Since there is nothing beside her that she can sit down on she is forced to let herself down on the floor. Harry reacts immediately by crouching down in front of his girlfriend and straightening her back.

“Baby, look at me,” Harry places a finger under her chin to make her look up at him, “It’s gonna be okay, just breathe with me, yeah?”

He inhales deeply twice, waiting for her to follow his example but when she doesn’t he gets up, tells Y/N to wait and that he’ll be right back and runs into the bedroom to get her inhaler that he knows is always in the drawer next to the bed. He grabs it and rushes back. What he doesn’t know, though, is that this one is not full anymore. He has to find that out when he holds it on her mouth and presses the button on the top of it so she can breathe in what comes out. Only this time, nothing comes out. She’s been waking up at night, troubling with her breathing almost every night lately. Harry can’t help but freak out a little, but for the sake of Y/N he has to keep it together.

“Do you have another one?” he has to ask her twice because she doesn’t respond the first time but nods the second.

“Where?” he wants to know and receives a gesticulation as an answer. At first he doesn’t know what she means but when she repeats it he understands what she’s trying to say. He goes back to the bedroom and empties her bag on the bed until a blue little tool falls out. He tries to be as fast as he possibly can.

When he’s with her again he repeats his action from the first time, this time it works. Luckily, Harry knows exactly what to do. He had asthma as a kid himself.

He lets Y/N take a puff of the inhaler every thirty seconds, whispering little encouragements like “you’re doing good, baby, keep going” every now and again. By the 13th time she is back to breathing on her own.

“Are you all right, sweetheart?” he asks her and hesitates to put the inhaler down already. But Y/N nods and pulls him in for a hug.

“You did great, baby girl, I’m proud of you. You’re a strong woman, you know that? My strong woman,” he tells her while stroking her back and hair.

“I’m sorry,” Y/N apologises quietly and pulls away.

“What’re you apologising for? Don’t be silly, love. I’m sorry for stressing you out to the point where you couldn’t breathe anymore. I’m so stupid. Who the hell does that? I’m a shitty boyfriend, I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re not. You just saved my life!”

Not wanting to argue with her right now he says “Okay” and pulls her into his arms again.

“You were right. You shouldn’t be her friend, she doesn’t deserve you. We’re gonna get you a new number and we’ll find a way to get those stupid rumours out of the world, I promise. Just don’t leave me, please!” Harry begs her to not make his worst fear reality.

“I’m not leaving you, what’re you talking about? I know you’re stupid sometimes but that’s not enough to make me even think of it. You’re stuck with me, whether you like it or not.” Y/N assures him.

“I most certainly do like it,” he smiles, “I really love you, Y/N!”

Before she can say it back the sound of a car honking interrupts her. Oh no, she thinks.

“Who’s that?” Harry asks when he notices the look on her face.

“A client,” she jokes and they both break into laughter.

“C’mon, let’s beat him up together, yeah?” Harry can’t help it but laugh when he sees how her face lights up at those words and she nods happily.

“Oh God, how I love you!” he gushes before he locks his lips with hers, feeling the butterflies in his stomach go crazy when she smiles into the kiss.