#makes sense because he is my little meow meow

[tuulikki]

The funny thing about Jesus shipping is it literally drops us into about 2000 years of Biblical interpretation. Which disciple we pick is an exegesis/headcanon. And, in the most literal sense, it even depends on what texts we decide to count as canon.

Like, if we want to focus on John, we have to note that John is the only gospel that uses "beloved disciple" in the first place. So our source for John is... John.

And obviously "'The Gospel of X' says that X is the most important disciple" is the best fun you can have.

That's why I use "The Gospel of Judas" (c. 2nd-century CE) as my canon, even though it's Gnostic fuckery. tbh I think the "kiss" is the least compelling bit of J/J, because the anachronism of reading anything into that kiss makes it the weakest bullet point in the Jesus/Judas Shipper Manifesto. And the idea of Judas as a zealot is pretty indefensible unless we're just having fun (and we are).

Peter sources are all from the Synoptic Gospels (the oldest Gospels, in chronological order: Mark, Matthew, Luke). We can cherry pick gospels for shipping, but let's be real... Synoptics have Word of God energy lol. We kinda have to concede first place to Peter and then squabble (in good fun) about every other spot on the podium. Peter sure did deny Jesus three times but hey, he didn't betray him to his death.

(Long post, I decided to ramble. Just for my own amusement. Because this was my undergrad degree.)

Judas:

"The Gospel of Judas" is probably the ur-source for Jesus/Judas girlies and I just gotta infodump. Is it canonical to any Christian tradition? No, it’s docetist tomfoolery. But it's a really fun text to pull in because, as you'd expect from "The Gospel of Judas," Judas is Jesus' specialist little disciple:

(Jesus said to the disciples) “[Let] any one of you who is [strong enough] among human beings bring out the perfect human and stand before my face.” They all said, “We have the strength.” But their spirits did not dare to stand before [him], except for Judas Iscariot. He was able to stand before him, but he could not look him in the eyes, and he turned his face away.

You get Jesus selecting Judas as the only one who was worthy while also being enigmatic and fucking off when Judas asks questions:

Knowing that Judas was reflecting upon something that was exalted, Jesus said to him, “Step away from the others and I shall tell you the mysteries of the kingdom. It is possible for you to reach it, but you will grieve a great deal. For someone else will replace you, in order that the twelve [disciples] may again come to completion with their god.” Judas said to him, “When will you tell me these things, and [when] will the great day of light dawn for the generation?” But when he said this, Jesus left him.

You also get an enigmatic nickname and weird lovingly condescending divinity:

Judas said, “Master, as you have listened to all of them, now also listen to me. For I have seen a great vision.” When Jesus heard this, he laughed and said to him, “You thirteenth spirit, why do you try so hard? But speak up, and I shall bear with you.”

And we can’t emphasise enough that while Judas is special and the only one Jesus confides the truth in, Jesus tells him he’ll be reviled pretty much until the End Times. Poor little meow meow Judas:

When he heard this, Judas said to him, “What good is it that I have received it? For you have set me apart for that generation.” Jesus answered and said, “You will become the thirteenth, and you will be cursed by the other generations—and you will come to rule over them. In the last days they will curse your ascent to the holy [generation].”

And although The Last Temptation of Christ was written well before we found the Gospel of Judas, we get the same dynamic where Jesus and Judas both know beforehand that Judas will enable Jesus’ sacrifice, which has a tragic weird intimacy about it:

“But you will exceed all of them. For you will sacrifice the man that clothes me.”

This bit really almost reads like fanfic already:

“Look, you have been told everything. Lift up your eyes and look at the cloud and the light within it and the stars surrounding it. The star that leads the way is your star.”

Speaking of The Last Temptation of Christ, I personally find it to be a better, weirder J/J source than "Jesus Christ Superstar." Not least because it tries to reconcile the gospels the most of I've seen in any other piece of media. Side note: When I say "reconcile," I mean narratively dealing with contradictions. E.g., how Nativity plays put both magi (Matthew) and shepherds (Luke) in the same story.

And "The Last Temptation of Christ" film adaptation really brings in the unsettling chaotic energy that I think a story about an incarnate deity destined to die requires. Apart from "Goncharov," it's my favourite Scorsese:

John:

If we ditch the Synoptic gospels and focus on John, of course John will give us John as the "disciple whom Jesus loved," since John is the only gospel that uses that term. And John is the best-written gospel, hands-down, so it's just a winner of a text.

Though, just to clarify for anyone who might have misread what OP said: the word "philtatos" is not in the Bible. The closest concept is the "ho mathētēs hon ēgapā ho Iēsous"/"disciple whom Jesus loved" term that the John author invented to describe John. And since John is the last of the canonical Gospels, it would be absolutely bugfuck crazy Dan-Brownery to make historical claims. But I hope Jesus/John shippers are out there pulling in the Apocryphon of John just because the opening is pretty poignant. And obviously John 13:23 with John leaning on Jesus' chest is tremendously good.

Peter:

For Peter, I feel like having the Synoptics backing up your ship will always give the superior claim to, uh, your ship being canon. But the full bit of Matt 26:33-35 kinda ruins my fun:

Peter replied, “Even if all fall away on account of you, I never will.” Truly I tell you, Jesus answered, “this very night, before the rooster crows, you will disown me three times.” But Peter declared, “Even if I have to die with you, I will never disown you.” And all the other disciples said the same.

All the other disciples chiming in makes it less special. And the fact that he does disown Jesus is a bit... :(

I think my problem is that Peter gives me Kronk energy by running about hopping out of boats and swinging his sword about. It's giving "Peter, dumb as a rock". But I'd be lying if that didn't make for good material.

Tangentially: I'm also in the camp that The Secret Gospel of Mark was a forgery (it's too damn convenient to find an intensely controversial "gay gospel" and then whoops! we lose the gospel à la Joseph Smith's golden tablets) but I respect Morton Smith for giving us this:

“The youth, looking upon [Jesus], loved him and began to beseech him that he might be with him,” it read. “And after six days Jesus told him what to do and in the evening the youth comes to him, wearing a linen cloth over his naked body. And he remained with him that night, for Jesus taught him the mystery of the kingdom of God.”

If only he'd had access to AO3...

jesus/judas isn't even the best jesus yaoi. the betrayal kiss is a powerful symbol for sure and judas killing himself after jesus' crucifixion is of course hugely significant (see: jesus christ superstar). but in biblical canon there is literally a disciple described as jesus' most beloved. his favourite disciple. his philtatos, for the song of achilles girlies. he was the last disciple to die, he leans his head on jesus' shoulder at the last supper (and some scholars believe he was the only one jesus told of the nature of judas' betrayal). and lest we forget peter, who also betrayed/rejected jesus after swearing his eternal love for him, threatened to kill and die for him, was all like "i'll follow you anywhere" and "i'll be with you forever". straight up tried to walk on water for jesus. He was crazy. it was yaoi central in there

[sunderingstars]

if alastor wasn’t literally a deer i’d call him cat-coded. man wants attention so so bad but cannot possibly be direct about it. he just shows up places and hopes in his stupid little demon heart that everyone will ask him where he’s been and what he’s doing

[krysmcscience]

I will be the first to admit I'm not the best at drawing animal or furry characters, but I wanted to get something scribbled down in my Non-Goof style, anyway. Plus, I've been enjoying the many reference pages folks were posting of their own designs for the Lamb and Narinder, so, uh. Here's mine, I guess! ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

do not comment on how long narinder's tail is or i swear to the lamb i will make it even longer next time >:]

[merry-andrews]

Johnny/Kenshi but there never was a Mortal Kombat, Johnny just met him at one of his travels to Japan and now they're married, on a honeymoon. Soft morning with Kenshi kissing top of his head and caressing his body when Johnny lifts his head to ask why Kenshi keeps him around only to be answered; "darling, I wanted to have you all for myself like a cute little pet from the first time we met."

[oceanwithouthermoon]

okay im still thinking about saiki snorting when he laughs..

its just.. nice.. and it makes sense!! because you tend to snort when youre trying to hold your laugh in, which he definitely always does.. so after a bit, he did it so much that he just developed the snort as a regular thing, even when he isnt trying to hold it in..

[laesas]

Pathetic!Kimhan truthers rise up 💕

[lesbiangiratina]

Started watching hxh 99 with a friend tonight we’re so close to 99 killua funny moments truly beginning i feel the 99 killua autism taking hold of me aaghhh uaaghh uuoogghh clutches my cursed eye gguhhh

[thevioletcaptain]

[Screenshot from the 11.04 Baby script, which can be found here]

he’s a maniac

[lesbianraskolnikov]

Never ever read a reddit thread on a book or a fictional character

[nightmarist]

Genuinely thinking Haarlep was ordered by Raphael to tell us the passcode to his safe. Haarlep in the post game letter tells us they were sworn to secrecy and with devil contracts being as thorough as they are, I dont think Haarlep would have been physically capable of telling us unless they were allowed to. Plus, it could be why they’d be insistent of telling us even if we don’t ask/comment on Raphael’s sex instead.

We’re told Raphael knew we were there, let us trounce around the House, Haarlep’s power means Raphael knew someone was having sex with them. If our soul is stolen then technically the other party members could accomplish defeating the Absolute and Raphael would just keep us as a new toy. Or we could kill Haarlep which means no more distractions for Raphael.

I think it’s fit for the son of the Lord of Contradictions to purposely want us to go to the House of Hope and all but give us the key to our freedom while also Not wanting us to take it. He's playing cat and mouse just to see how far we would take things. He only gets upset if we steal the contract/hammer/Hope from him. The rest of the House, even the Archivist basically lets us unless we’re stupid enough to do it right in front of them without hiding at all in which they’d be forced to act.

[hyunniesgirl]

My cat likes you

Pairing: Lee Know x gn!reader

Genre: fluff

Summary: your cat is behaving strangely lately and a walk outside your apartment shows you exactly why.

Warnings: none

A/N: I saw a video on Instagram with a cat rubbing on the floor when they saw a cute guy and I was like "why is this so Lee Know coded?" And had to make something like that with him heheheh

It's been a few days since your cat started behaving strangely, she'll wake you up early in the morning meowing at your room’s door. At first you thought she did that because she was hungry, but when you put food in her bowl she ignores it and keeps meowing.

You realized then, that she wanted you to follow her as she twirled and rubbed on the floor. She would wait for you at the door and would keep scratching it, waiting for you to open it.

“It's too early for a walk, Bo-mi”, you tell her, shaking your head and turning around, going back to your bed to try and sleep a little bit more before work.

She keeps insisting on the early morning walks, but you don't give in, you can't have her get used to going out when it's still time for you to be sleeping.

After a few days, Bo-mi starts having that same behavior late at night, when you are already in bed, ready to go to sleep. She meows for minutes straight until you get up and walk with her to the door.

“Bo-mi, we can't go out now, I'm already in my pjs”, you sigh, patting her. But she keeps scratching the door and meowing for you to go out. “Tomorrow is Friday, okay? So I can stay up late to take you out for a walk”, you tell her before going back to your room.

You spend the next day trying to figure out why she's acting this way. You think about the possibility of her being sick, but she's eating and drinking water normally and she's sleeping the same amount as she always did. Her last check up wasn't even two months ago, even so, you should definitely make an appointment with the veterinarian.

You arrive at home and Bo-mi comes running to you, purring and rubbing herself on you. After you pet her, she goes back to the couch, getting comfortable there again, she doesn't even try to go to the door. Why does she just want to go out when it's late? Or early in the morning? It’s just strange.

Thinking too much about it won't help you find out what's going on, so you give up on the thoughts and just go to the bathroom to take a shower and put on some comfortable clothes since you have to take the lady of the house for a walk in a few hours.

Everything kind of makes sense when you open the door and Bo-mi goes running to the corridor, however, she stops at your neighbor's door, sniffing a bit. The sound of the elevator takes you out of your thoughts and your cat walks in that direction finding a strange man coming out of the elevator.

He looks at her and smiles, trying to go past her but she throws herself in the ground, showing her belly to him and rubbing herself on the floor.

Before you can speak, the guy bends down, petting and making her meow. You look at your watch to see that he's arriving at the exact time that Bo-mi tries going out every night. The weirdest thing is that she hates strangers, especially men.

“I’m sorry”, you finally get out of your head to say something, “she has been acting strangely lately”

“It's okay”, he says, without looking at you. Hypnotized by your cat's little meows and cuteness. “I actually saw her on the balcony one of these days, but couldn't pet her because of the distance”, he chuckles. “What's her name?”

He finally looks at you when asking that and for a moment it seems like the world stops for the both of you. He's the most handsome man you have ever seen in your entire life, with cute boba eyes and an innocent look.

“It's Bo-mi”, you tell him, feeling your cheeks a bit warm.

He clears his throat, petting your cat for the last time before standing up again, fixing his clothes. He didn't look at you at first, but you are so pretty it actually left him speechless and that is a hard thing to achieve. He was even going to make a joke about cats, but couldn't even manage to get that out while looking at your face.

“I'm sorry to ask, but do you also go out around five a.m.?” You ask out of nowhere, making him look at you suspiciously.

“Yeah, why?”

“Because I think my cat is in love with you”, you tell him, pointing at Bo-mi, rubbing herself on his legs. “She always tries to go out around five in the morning or at this time of the night, I guess she wanted to see you again”

You really understand Bo-mi on that, you would also want to see him everyday if you had the chance.

“Oh”, he smiles, “I'm Minho by the way, I moved here two weeks ago”, he says pointing to his apartment.

“I'm y/n”, you give your hand for him to shake, “I know it's weird to ask this, but can I bring her out sometimes so she can see you?” You ask, shyly, making Minho chuckle.

“Yeah”, he nods, “maybe you can also meet my cats”, he says, feeling his ears warming up. “I mean, in a housewarming party, of course”, he completes.

“I would love that”, you smile and he feels like he could melt just with that, “I'll take her home now”, you catch Bo-mi in your arms even though she struggles to get out of your grasp and go back to Minho, “I'll wait excitedly to meet your cats”

Minho watches you go into your apartment, waving to him before closing the door. Now, how the hell does a housewarming party even work?

[emo-batboy]

Battinson on SNL

Idk how popular Saturday Night Live is outside of the US so there will be some links for context. That said, as a New Jersey native, I think Battinson would totally watch the show. And since he's a celebrity...👀

SO

To promote WE’s newest charity fund, Alfred signs Bruce up to be a guest host on SNL (à la this post) The announcement is made, and everyone’s like “oh this is going to be a disaster. That man can’t even hold eye contact or speak a full sentence without crying.”

But oh, that’s why it’s so funny.

Now, hear me out. Bruce’s strengths are displayed best when he’s himself. That’s why he’s so popular in Gotham. That’s why the internet calls him Relatable TM and a Disaster (Affectionate) and “Poor Little Meow Meow.” It’s his ✨ essence ✨

But he tends to get overwhelmed or self-conscious onstage, right? Because he can’t be Himself himself if he has time to overthink something. So after a few meetings with Bruce, the writers of SNL figure out the perfect way to keep Bruce from getting anxious.

They decide to load this episode with as many skits where Bruce plays different caricature-like versions of himself as possible. The objective? Make him break character and laugh so he doesn’t overthink. And if he breaks character, he’ll still technically be in character because he’s playing himself, you know? Genius.

So that’s how they go about structuring the show. During the few days they have to write, they decide to take everything about Bruce’s public image and either ramp it up to 11 or turn it on its head.

He speaks quietly? Turn it into a running gag. He dresses in all black? Make him emo. He tips well? Add that in too. He’s “depressed” and “sad?” Literally, all he does on screen is laugh and break character. What’s not to love?

Of course, Bruce also gets to decide what skits are in each episode as well. (Refer to this if you have no idea how SNL works.) He loves the idea, though, and he has a surprisingly dark sense of humor which bleeds into some of the sketches. They add in a few skits without him, and they’ve got their lineup.

It’s the wildest episode of the season. Here are the highlights:

OPENING MONOLOGUE

It’s the big night, everyone’s excited to see Bruce Wayne hosting a live sketch comedy show with no idea how it will turn out.

To begin his monologue, Bruce walks on, opens his mouth to start talking, and immediately two cast members appear as stagehands to set up six microphones in front of him. He is already struggling to keep himself together.

Bruce: “You may be wondering why I’m host- Cast Member: *adds one more tiny microphone to his chest* Bruce: “You may be wondering why I’m hosting tonight.”

It’s working. The audience loves it.

Halfway through, Kate McKinnon comes out in a dark cloak with a chalice. “Your sustenance, my lord.” *sees camera* “Oh. Sorry. Carry on.” And she shambles off. Bruce has to take a second before continuing.

Bruce knows when (most of) the jokes come. It’s literally on the cue cards, but he still falls into a fit of giggles.

There are a few more gags, including Lex Luthor peeking out from behind the band set-up, all teasing the show to come.

Overall, an amazing way to set the tone for the episode. Expectations have been set. Then the skits begin!

(Oh but before I forget: During every single live skit with Bruce, the writers have scheduled for one of the cast members to run in dressed as a stagehand and put an extra mic on him. They do not tell him when it will happen.)

SKIT #1

Between the monologue and the first skit, he has to do a really fast quick change, but to everyone’s surprise, Bruce is a natural. (Huh, wonder why.)

The skit is called Gotham PTA Meeting. We open in a meeting room full of stereotypical PTA moms setting down baked goods and gossiping. And apparently, there is a new PTA member attending today 👀

Right as the meeting starts, he enters. Bruce walks in wearing the most emo get-up imaginable. He’s got a Nirvana shirt, a comical amount of eyeliner, black skinny jeans, chain accessories, metal rings, AND a clip-in extension to give him fringe.

Someone immediately runs in and puts another mic on him.

PTA Mom: “Oh, Bruce! You made it! Did you bring a snack?” Bruce: “I brought lemon bars.” PTA Mom: “Why are they black?” Bruce: “They match my soul…they’re also vegan.”

He talks like a moody teenager. HE CONSTANTLY has to brush the fringe off to the side to read the cue cards. And because there’s so much eyeliner and he’s sweating a bit from the lights, it starts running everywhere.

PTA Mom: “Bruce, you’re a little quiet. What are your thoughts on increasing the school lunch budget?” Bruce: *eyeliner dripping down his chin* “I think it’s a great idea.”

SKIT #2

For a pre-filmed skit, they bring back the Chad character with Pete Davidson.

It’s 2 am, and Chad is working at a 24hr drug store in Gotham. He’s reading Twilight (the book is upside down) when the lights begin to flicker.

He turns around and tries the light switch, turns back around, and JUMPSCARE it’s Bruce dressed as Edward from Twilight.

Yes, he IS sparkly.

Bruce is awkwardly holding a bunch of items, all concerning. He plops down a few knives, several raw meats, Sudafed. Chad: “Oh hey.” Bruce: O_O “I’d like to check out please.” Chad: “Lit.”

Chad’s “No Fucks Given” energy and Bruce’s “Please Do Not Perceive Me” energy clash like titans. The whole skit centers around it.

Bruce: *sweating bullets* “Oh. You’re reading Twilight?” Chad: “Just the title.” Bruce: *throws the book through the window at lightning speed* “It’s not very good. You should probably read something else.” Chad: *shrugs* “Okay.”

Chad: “ID?” Bruce: “ID? For what?” Chad: “Sudafed.” Bruce: “Oh. I don’t really need that, actually.” Chad: “Already scanned it.” Bruce: “Haha. Of course.” *awkwardly produces a scroll from his pocket that says Bruce Wayne DOB: 1901* Chad: “Okay.”

Bruce checks out, Chad picks up a porno mag or something, and we see Bruce turn into a bat and fly off through the window behind him.

SKIT #3

The next skit they have is Celebrity Family Feud: Billionaires Edition. Again, Bruce plays himself, but he’s more of a background character. Instead, the skit makes fun of billionaires as a whole.

Bruce’s team consists of Kylie Jenner, Lex Luthor, and Oliver Queen. So just imagine three Lucille Bluths standing beside one another. 

Bruce’s bit? He just keeps handing cash to Steve Harvey every time he breathes in his direction.

Host: "We got the richest man in the world: Bruce Wayne!" Bruce: *hands him a roll of cash* Host: "Oh, what’s this for?" Bruce: "It’s your tip. I always tip." Host: "Oh, Mr. Wayne, you don’t usually tip the show host. I’m also a millionaire myself." Lex Luthor: *snatches it* "Well, if you’re not going to use it, I will…for charity, of course." Host: "Uh huh, whatever helps you sleep at night."

Just a ton of fun quips, the usual.

At some point, Harvey says, “That’s batty.” Bruce: *ducks* “Where?!” Host: “Oh, I don’t mean Batman. He’s not here.” Bruce: “You don’t know that.”

This time, the mic bit is a bit different.

Host: “We asked 100 billionaires: How much does a loaf of bread cost? Top three answers are on the board.” Bruce: *hits buzzer* Host: Bruce, your answer is? Cast Member: *runs in with a megaphone and holds it in front of Bruce* Bruce: “TEN DOLLARS?”

Board dings! That was the #1 answer

Brucie Wayne for the win

SKIT #4

Next is a skit that dares to ask Gotham, “Why would anyone live here?”

The skit begins with someone opening a press conference for Wayne Enterprises. “And now presenting: Bruce Wayne!” Bruce walks in…

But it’s not him. Instead, it’s one of the cast members dressed in a black suit with horribly gelled brown hair.

Everyone in the audience is wondering where the actual Bruce is before another cast member runs onstage crying, “Help! Help! I’ve just been robbed! Somebody call Batman!”

A mini version of the bat-signal lights up…

We hear some generic hero music play…

And there he is: Bruce Wayne dressed in a horribly cheap Batman costume

(They got the cowl ALL wrong btw)

Bruce puts his hands on his hips in a weird superhero pose. Bruce: “I’m Batm-” Cast Member: *runs out to attach another mic to his costume* Bruce: “….I’m Batman!”

Cue all of the gags and digs against Batman. The fake Bruce faints then starts crying under a table. Someone calls Batman a furry. Bruce is barely keeping it together the whole time. Lord help him, but he asked for it. He approved the skit.

Bruce: “Looks like a job for my bat taser!” Cast Member: “Isn’t that just a taser with a bat on it?” Bruce: *whispers* “You shut your mouth.”

He saves the day, the police take the thief into custody, then Batman myStErioUsly disappears. Bruce: “Look over there!” *runs off* Cast Member: “Oh my gooood, how did he do that?”

CLOSING SEGMENT

Finally, they have the Weekend Update where Bruce comes on as himself for the final time.

Since they got his permission, the writers switch out some of Bruce’s jokes last minute. (Think Bill Hader’s Stefon which notoriously caused him to break character because the writers would mess with his cue cards.)

News Anchor: “Here to promote his newest humanitarian project: Bruce Wayne!” “Mr. Wayne, what a pleasure to see you today.” Bruce: “Thank you. This is probably the longest I’ve been out of the house.” News Anchor: “Since the Riddler catastrophe?” Bruce: “Since ever.”

News Anchor: “So Mr. Wayne! Before you make your announcement, any life updates?” Bruce: “Yes, actually. Just a few days ago, I adopted five- *starts losing it* five more children.” News Anchor: “Wow, really? So you have eight kids now.” Bruce: “Uh huh. *tears streaming down his face* One more orphan and I get the tenth one free.”

News Anchor: “So where can people find you online?” Bruce: “Well, I don’t have social media because I’m afraid of people, but sometimes I’m on Twitter.” News Anchor: “What about a phone call?” Bruce: “Oh no, phone calls- *giggle* phone calls give me fainting spells.”

It’s a great way of finishing the show, with the most genuine version of Bruce. Then, he gets to what’s really important!

News Anchor: “So if they can’t reach you on social media or on the phone, what else can our viewers do, Mr. Wayne?” Bruce: “They can donate to the Wayne Foundation’s newest charity called The Arts Initiative. It funds programs for the arts in underdeveloped school districts nationwide. I’ve already donated $30 million, and I’ve pledged to match every dollar donated within the next week.”

And that’s what he’s here for :) They share a link for where and how to donate. The anchors praise him for his charity, which he deflects because he can definitely afford this, and the 90-minute broadcast is over.

The camera pans away with the whole cast waving goodbye, and Bruce is seen keeling over with laughter.

Along with some of the other skits, these four specifically go viral. WE raises a fuck ton of money, and everyone loves Bruce.

THE END

LOVE YOU ALL!! Let me know what you think :D

[shootingstar-scuderia]

shoot an arrow through my heart

max verstappen x reader

there's something you need to hear max say, but you're not sure if he's actually going to say it. you do know one thing though, it was always gonna be you and max.

a/n: started this longer ago than i'd like to admit but here we are! a big thank you to my fave beta reader K and to @scuderiahoney who helped me figure out all the banner image stuff. based on prompt #966 from this list.

masterlist

It starts with Lando. Because doesn’t it always? 

Lando says shit he doesn’t mean, Lando says things just for the sake of saying them. Lando says things as if they are fundamentally truths when they are in fact are lies.

And so, one moment you’re hanging out with Lando, letting him talk you down from buying the little trinket of the week you’ve fixated on, and the next he’s saying that Max is in love with you, saying it like it’s a truth, and then moving on as if he hasn’t just tilted your world on its axis.

And then, before you know it, you’re banging on Max’s front door trying to figure out if it’s true or not. 

Trying to figure out if your best friend is in love with you.

“Max! Open the door.”

He doesn’t.

You honestly don’t know if you want him to, or what you’re going to do when he does. Or if he even will, Max doesn’t know you’re here and you don’t even know if he’s home.

You’re just about ready to search for the spare key, the one you told him to hide in the firehose down the hallway because having a fake rock in front of his door makes no sense when he lives in an apartment building, when the door is flung open and a very grumpy looking Max, headset in hand, is giving you just about the most fed-up, unimpressed, stare you’ve seen in your life.

“Are you in love with me?” You can’t help it, the words foreign on your tongue but there’s an urgency to get them out and into the space in between you. You’re so desperate to hear him say it back.

Max blinks at you, bewildered at your words. You can see the gears turning in his head trying to work out what you just said and if you’re being honest you don’t know if you should be offended at the fact that the answer isn’t an immediate yes.

His brow furrows and his lips purse, “what?”

A beat passes, and then another, and then the idiot actually has the audacity to close the door.

You roll your eyes, even if he can’t see it you know that he knows that you’re doing it. As you push the exasperation out of your lungs you knock again.

“Max, nuh-uh, that is not going to work, open the door and answer my question.”

Nothing.

You bang your fist on the door one more time for good measure, “Max, you know I know where your spare key is and we both know that I’ll let myself in if necessary.”

It’s true and he knows it. 

There have been many nights where you’ve verged on the edge of too far gone and walked from the club to his apartment. Nights where you didn’t want the fun to end so instead of going home you go to Max’s where you can cuddle and coo at Jimmy and Sassy and sit around in comfy clothes and watch as Max putters around doing whatever it was he was doing before you came over.

It’s true. He knows it. But still, he doesn’t open the door.

You sigh and softly thump your forehead against Max’s front door, through the absence of your knocking you can hear his nervous shuffling on the other side. The inquisitive meows from the cats, the faint scrape of the peephole cover as Max checks to see if you’re still there, if you’re still waiting for him. 

You would wait for him for forever, but that’s just for you to know really.

Max opens the door again, just the barest amount. Just enough so his eyes, wide and disbelieving can lock onto yours. 

They’re so blue, you don’t know how you never noticed it before, so classically storybook blue that you’re really starting to wonder if this is all some kind of weird dream where you’re standing at his doorstep begging to be loved by him, like some kind of cheesy romcom star. Because after all, aren’t you just a girl standing in front of a guy?

“You’re in love with me.”

The words stretch the impossible distance between the two of you. Even when he’s halfway around the globe he’s never felt this far away.

And still, somehow, you feel too close to him. Like somehow all the other versions of you and him have been false proxies to what you’re reaching for right now. Like all of a sudden, somehow, he’s been molded into your every contour of your soul and you don’t want anything else

The door edges open a little wider.

“Are you asking me that or are you telling me?”

He’s stalling, you both know it. But, you can’t really bring yourself to do more than give him a fondly smile and roll your eyes at him. Because you know, if the roles were reversed, if he was the one throwing pebbles like some kind of suave Dutch romeo, demanding to know if you were in love with him, you would be doing the same thing.

“You and I both know how much you like being told what to do.” With a sigh Max opens the door to his apartment a little wider once more to let you in, “and yet, you’re still here telling me to open my door.”

You can’t really fault him for that one can you?

You make your way to the living room where you settle down on your spot on the couch while Max flits around the living room. Sassy is meowing at Max, desperate for a taste of the outside she only ever gets when the front door opens, and even though he knows she’s not going to make a run for it he still takes the time to half-heartedly shoo her away.

Max does this, dragging his feet, until both of the cats have curled up next to you on the couch and it is only then that he makes his way over to you. Coming to stand behind the armrest on his side of the couch, putting a little too much distance between the two of you for you to not feel spurned by him.

You can hear it in silence between you, you can feel it in the way your body seems to ache from having him in the ways you have him now and not in the ways you want to have him.

You’re not ready to have this conversation.

There’s a part of you that almost wants to say nevermind and forget that you even said anything in the first place. But deep down you know that the two of you have been putting on this elaborate dog and pony show for far too long. You’re only delaying the inevitable.

“So,” you say, nervously running your fingers over the fabric of the couch. “Is it true?”

You try to catch his eye as you say it, not only to try to make sure he doesn't chicken out but to see the reaction he gives. You want to see his soul and know that he means whatever he says.

But Max doges your gaze at every move in a way that makes him look like a kicked puppy. And you’re not really sure what it means but you can feel the way the dynamic has shifted. All of a sudden the two of you are on shaky ground, not sure where you stand with each other. Even though two hours earlier you would have called him your best friend with your entire heart.

“Well?”

“Please,” he says your name, strained and with a weight to it that you don’t quite want to acknowledge, “don’t make me say it.”

You’re not above begging, you really aren’t, but something about the way he sounds makes you falter. Just a little.

“Max,” you say his name softly, “I think you and I both know what your answer is going to be.”

“Then why do you need to hear it so bad?” His words bite, tinged with an anger that you know he doesn't really mean. “So, I can say it back!” Your words match the sharpness in his and you can see how much they throw Max off kilter.

He blinks at you and then rocks on his feet, first a step forward and then a step back like he’s blown away by the force of what you said. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Why did you never tell me?”

You cross your arms and shrug your shoulders, “it was a personal issue.”

“You being in love with me kind of also involves me.” 

You really don’t want to admit that he’s right on with that one.

You huff and shrug your shoulders again, “well it goes both ways, why didn’t you say anything?”

“I asked first,” Max shoots back.

You groan at his response and launch yourself up towards Max in a play attempt to strangle him. “Argh, you’re so!” You drape your arms over his shoulders as you slump against him, head resting in the spot where his shoulder meets his neck, “God I hate you.”

Max laughs underneath you, his arms coming up to wrap around your waist, “you evidently don’t.”

“You're so silly,” you sigh, tilting your head up to look at him. "You want to hear me say it so bad."

Your nose nearly brushes against his, he’s so close you think you could count every single one of his eyelashes if you tried.

Max makes a noise that’s somewhere between exasperated and surprised and you know that you’re toeing the line with your teasing

You always know when to give in when it comes to him.

“Okay, yes, I love you! I love you,” you say, “do you love me?”

“Yeah, I do,” Max says as he moves to cradles your jaw in his hands. “I love you.”

You grin, “good. Now kiss me please.”

And he does. He does and it feels like all the cliche things people say. It feels like coming home, it feels like fireworks are going off in the background, it feels like you were meant to be, that he was made for you just as much as you were made for him.

And you just know. You know that there can never be anyone else but him. That there was a version of you before Max and now there’s going to be a version of you that’s with Max, but there’s never going to be a you after Max.

“I love you.” Softer, quieter this time.

You don’t dare look him in the eye, instead choosing to press your cheek against his and stare out the window of his apartment. Your gaze settles somewhere in the distance as you try to memorize the feel of his body pressed up against yours.

You curl your fingers around the hair at the nape of his neck, tugging absentmindedly as you say, “I’m glad that worked out, I didn’t even know you were home.”

He pulls away from you to fix you with a look that is so quintessentially Max, “you have my location on your phone, you’re always stalking me,” he says, punctuating his words with little jabs to your shoulder.

It’s true, and you honestly don’t know why you didn’t try to check his location in the first place, your logic getting lost somewhere in the panic of knowing that he loved you. 

“Mhmm.” You shrug noncommittally, trying very hard to ignore the rushing feeling of warmth in your chest that comes with the realization that Max was so ingrained in your life and you in his from the start. 

You try not to think about the fact your toothbrush sits next to his in his bathroom, about the fact that your hand automatically gravitates to his favorite spoon in your cutlery drawer, the one you can identify solely based on the weight of it in your hand. You try very hard to think about how you couldn’t separate the love from the friendship.

It was always gonna be you and Max. 

There’s a silence between you for a moment. You try to match your breath to his and let the sounds of outside filter through your ears. And for a moment you can hear how the rest of the world keeps turning, even when your world has stopped spinning on its axis.

“So, what now?” Max asks, turning his head to press kisses to your hairline, his hand squeezing your waist. You can feel his nose brush against your temple as he makes his way down, lips featherlight on your skin. The intimacy of it makes your blood sing with electricity. 

You pull “Mhmm, you could take me to bed?”

It’s half serious, half a joke. You’ve waited so long to have Max like this that now that you finally do you want him in all ways possible. But still, there’s some young and girlish part of you that wants it to be special.

Max pretends to think about it for a little bit and it’s so impossibly silly that you have to resist the urge to strangle him again for it, “it’s three in the afternoon, I think it’s a little early for sleep.”

“You know that’s not what I mean, stop being a smartass.”

Max smiles, taking your hand in his and lacing your fingers together. “Well,” he says, “how about I send you home so you can get all nice and pretty for me and then I’ll come pick you up and take you to a nice dinner, hmm?”

You flush, not just from the way he pours honey, slow and sweet, into your ear, but from the way it feels like this was always meant to be. Like you were always meant to have this, always meant to have him. 

“And then,” he says, dropping your hand to pull you in by your belt loops so your hips are press flush against his, “after dinner, that’s when I’ll take you to bed.”

[sixosix]

requested by anon!! hope u enjoy, warning for profanity, fluff

As soon as Wanderer’s eyes laid upon the ball of fluff in your palms, he had said with a disdainful glare to “discard of that at once.”

But you aren’t having any of it. The little kitten curled up by your chest is looking up at you so adorably that you simply can’t discard it, no matter what your boyfriend might say. In fact, the shade of the cat reminds you of his eyes—but saying that would provoke him further, and you’re already on thin ice, letting the cute stray run around your shared home while he makes a face at each sight of its fur.

You coo as the kitten licks your nose when you hold him up to your face. “Do I name him after you? Can I name him after you? I’m naming him after you.”

His eyes narrow, glaring at the impossibly tiny space between you and the animal. “You are not naming it after me.”

“Kuni,” you negotiate. Not that he has a choice anyway because you already have your mind set on it. “Kuni, baby, are you hungry? Do you want some food?”

Your Kunikuzushi bristles, hackles rising. “Seriously? You’re doing this?”

The cat, as if beckoned by his voice, paws at him. “Meow,” the little kitten says softly. Wanderer, to the cat’s dismay, doesn’t respond; he simply rises from his seat and leaves.

So it’s established that you’ve long accepted that Wanderer is not fond of your new pet.

A crying shame because the cat adores him. You don’t know if there’s anything deep to his hatred for your new stray or if he’s just jealous that your undivided attention is no longer on him, but you took pity and decided to own the responsibility of taking care of it.

Which makes it a surprise to come home one day and see your boyfriend nestled against your bed with the kitten curled up on his chest, meowing as he smiles faintly and rubs its head with a finger.

“What? Don’t tell me you’re hungry again?” he murmurs. If you had been in another room, you wouldn't have heard it yourself. “Don’t get too greedy.”

Your breath hitches, too afraid to shatter this moment by bursting into the room. Then again, you should’ve realized that the cat has been sticking too long around him too often without something at play. Perhaps the reason why it’s so fond of your boyfriend is because of secret tender moments like this.

“Your owner will get mad at me if I overfeed you,” he says conspiratorially, rubbing his finger against the cat’s chin while it purrs and nuzzles its face further into his palm for more.

Your heart melts, a tiny noise escaping your lips at the sight of the ever-so-haughty Wanderer on the bed, all but cuddling with your pet.

Wanderer’s eyes snap the crack of the door, perfectly meeting yours as if he knew all along that you were there. “Not a word.”

You gasp, enough to startle Wanderer and make him jump but not enough to wake the sleeping kitten on his hat. Lambad’s Tavern is a little empty, with only an adult or two hanging around to drink their sorrows away or loosen up to their heart's content. And you and your boyfriend are tucked in the far corner, where no one would bother to peep.

“Kunikuzushi!” you cry out, hands hovering around his head in panic. “Kuni, careful, what if Kuni falls?”

Kunikuzushi the human(?)’s face twists in confusion. “You should have never named it that.”

“Kuni,” you hiss as his movements have caused the cat to stir, yet miraculously not wake. “Don’t let him fall, ‘kay? God, I can’t bring myself to even leave my seat.”

He sighs, long and heavy. “I’m not going to drop him. Have more faith in me, will you? I have a better sense of balance than any of you in this Tavern combined.”

“But what if he falls and you accidentally attack him by trying to save him?”

“I’m not gonna wind blade the fucking cat.”

You’re staring at the kitten, who is, unfortunately, looking all too much at home on Wanderer’s hat as if it’s more comfortable than his own bed at home. It’s even worse that Wanderer spoils the cat rotten and lets him sleep wherever he wants. Now, wherever he walks, he has a tiny animal asleep on the top of his head.

Wanderer huffs, squeezing your mouth with a hand to prevent you from arguing. “If you love the cat, you will get us food and avoid waking it up with your yapping, got it?”

“Aw,” you smile, “you don’t wanna wake him up?”

He scowls. “Are you going to let us starve?”

The sight of him and the kitten looks too adorable. You can’t resist from agreeing to whatever Kuni the human is ordering you to do. You rise from your seat, leaving but not forgetting to kiss the cat’s head and Wanderer’s cheek, who flushes brightly and grumbles but doesn’t complain.

[emilys-bangs]

Hiii congrats on hitting 200!! I love the concept you got going on!! I’d like to request Andromeda and the prompt 20? Emily let’s you borrow a shirt or sweater but seeing you on her clothes is her fave thing so she is all lovey dovey and all super super clingy and sweet. Don’t worry about it if you don’t feel like this, I understand ❤️

Hii sweetheart, tysm!! This was so fun to write, I hope you like it <3

Join my celebration here!

Word count: 0.9k

It’s not that you want to go home, but at this point you practically have no choice.

“Em, I don’t have any clean clothes.” You mumble, trying your best not to sink into her embrace as she hugs you from behind. It’s a very effective trap.

“Well gee, it’s not like there’s a fully stocked closet here.” Her voice drips with sarcasm. You roll your eyes.

“Emily—”

She turns you around abruptly, cutting the protest off just as it reaches your lips. Those eyes of hers stare into your soul as she cups your cheek with a warm hand, her brows furrowing in disapproval.

“Honey, I’m serious. We can throw your clothes in the wash. I’m pretty sure this,” she tugs at your sweater, “is clean, but you can borrow mine if you don’t wanna wear it anymore.”

It’s not technically dirty; you wore it last night after your shower and slept in it until you woke up a little over an hour ago, wanting to go home for a change of clothes. 

Except there’s someone blocking your way.

Emily has a way with words, you think, trying to make yourself feel better about submitting to her will so embarrassingly easily.

“You’re sure it’s fine?” You ask, nuzzling your cheek into her palm.

It’s Emily’s turn to roll her eyes. “No, sorry, we’ve exchanged bodily fluids but I draw the line at you wearing my clothes.”

Her dry tone makes you want to kiss her—just to shut her up. So you do, because you’re officially not going home and the weekend is stretched out in front of you and you’re not going to waste a single precious second with your girlfriend.

She smiles into the kiss, sensing her victory, and you can’t even be mad about it.

“You’re such a fucking smartass.” You murmur against her lips anyway.

Emily grins. “All part of my charm,” she says as she drags you back to her room, her fingers fitting themselves between yours. Sergio trots beside you as you pad into her room, winding his way around Emily’s ankles just as she’s opening her closet door.

She ignores the cat and rifles through her closet, searching for a sweater that looks appropriately your size. Seeing as she’s busy searching, you bend down and pick up Sergio instead, lavishing him with the attention Emily is withholding.

“Emily can be so mean, huh, Serg?” You whisper, scratching behind the cat’s ears. He melts into a purring puddle in your arms, yellow eyes slitting closed. “She bullies you into doing whatever she wants, and she does it with the prettiest brown eyes you can’t ever say no to.” You cuddle Sergio to your chest as Emily turns, a smile playing on her lips and a sweater held in her hand.

“I heard all of that.”

“Aw, damn it,” you blow a melodramatic sigh, “even the part about your pretty eyes?”

A light blush stains her cheeks pink. “Everything.” She shoves the sweater into your chest, above Sergio. The cat meows in protest and you laugh, throwing the sweater over your shoulder and letting him down.

——

You can’t even reach the ladle.

“Sweetheart, I’m gonna need my arms.” The smile is audible in your voice.

You can’t pretend not to love this. Ever since you came out of the bathroom wearing Emily’s sweater, she’s been wrapped around you like a vine. The sweater itself is warm and comfortable, smelling faintly of her, and it brings with it a noticeable bonus: Emily’s clinginess. 

Her head is buried in your neck now, her arms wrapped around you and trapping your arms to your sides.

“Is it a matter of utmost importance?” She murmurs into your neck. A small kiss is dropped there, her soft lips brushing against your skin.

“Afraid so.” 

Emily sighs. She loosens her grip and frees your arms just enough that you can scoop the pancake batter into the pan. When a perfect circle starts to sizzle, bubbles popping along its edge, you turn to face the brunette holding you hostage.

Her arms wrap around your neck and she immediately presses her body into yours. You grin as you hug her back, one of your hands sliding into her mussed hair.

“Anybody ever tell you you’re clingy?” You whisper, your voice teasing as you brush a kiss on her hairline.

“Never.” Emily’s voice is muffled into the collar of your sweater.

The pancake starts to smell, so you turn carefully with Emily still in your arms and free one of your hands to flip it. It’s a darker brown, evidently showing your neglect.

“So you’re just like this with me?” You stroke her hair, twirling a dark strand around your finger. Emily nuzzles deeper into your neck, apparently trying to crawl under your skin.

“Mhm. You look good in my clothes.” She turns her head and her lips catch the edge of your jaw.

“So that’s what this is about,” you laugh, sliding the overcooked pancake off the griddle and onto a plate. Emily’s hands sneak under the hem of your—her—sweater, and you feel her lips turn up in a smile as she hums.

“It’s just a small part of it,” she admits quietly, turning her head to watch you scoop out another pancake onto the pan.

“La razón principal es porque te amo.”

You don’t understand what she says, but with her soft voice and tender touches, the message comes across more than clear. Squeezing her waist, you kiss her brow.

“I love you too.”

taglist: @suckerforcate

[chaos-in-deepspace]

LADS Zayne: I Knead You | SFW

This was just a quick writing warm up, because I was playing the event (has no spoilers in here) and I just...give Zayne a pet cat. He deserves one. The title is from a song my friend shared with me when I was trying to come up with what to call this.

(Also sorry if there's typos, they're paid actors)

❧ Pairings: Zayne x Reader ❧ Warnings: None ❧ Synopsis: You come home, and you brought home a new addition to your little family with Zayne. ❧ Word Count: 1.3k

Disclaimer: This is an original fan work for “Love and Deepspace”. Do not repost on other platforms or plagiarize. All characters shown in this fic is 18+.

Blog Information | Masterlist

Zayne

I Knead You

It wasn’t often that Zayne found himself getting concerned by something you did. For the most part, he was used to your antics. You would always do something to keep him on his toes, and it brought a sense of excitement to his life. Today, however, was bringing more concern than any other emotion.

It was as though the moment he said, “Welcome back,” he found himself regretting it. Watching as you walked backward into the home with something in your hands made him wonder what you did. The way your shoulders had also tensed up wasn’t doing much, and then the gentle ‘meow’ from your arms solidified in his head, which is precisely why you had come home so late today.

“What’s in your hands?” Zayne said with a sigh, already knowing the answer but needing you to confirm it.

“I’ll tell you, but you have to promise not to be mad.” You said, not turning around just yet. You were facing away from him with the creature firmly pressed against your chest as if trying to keep it calm and quiet.

“I won’t get bad, but I make no promises on being disappointed in your actions.” He said, a ghost of a smile already on his lips. You were acting like a child right now who did something they definitely weren’t supposed to do. You were aware of this as well, but you honestly had a feeling if you had straight up asked him to do this, he’d say no. If he had seen it in your arms already, the chances of keeping the creature would have been higher.

In truth, you had already spoken to Yvonne about the situation, and she claimed she had been thinking about getting a cat. You had asked her if Zayne says no to keep it and if she’d be willing to. Of course, she said yes, excited about the prospect, and if Zayne happened to be fine with keeping a new pet, then she’d just go out and get her own, and you would set up kitty play dates.

“Okay, see, I think being disappointed is ten times worse, but I think that’s the best imma get out of you so…” You finally turned around to show Zayne the orange tabby in your arms. The small cat let out a confused ‘mew’ noise as it looked around the nice house. Zayne took a moment to stare and shook his head, letting out a small sigh.

“If you had wanted a cat, we could’ve discussed it.” He said, already standing up from his spot on the couch. He placed his laptop on the coffee table as he got closer to you. The cat in your arms is wriggling a bit at hearing someone and smelling the subtleness of Zayne’s aftershave in the air. It was clear the man had been ready for bed, wearing some pajamas with his hair still slightly damp; he had been waiting for you to come home, “We don’t even have cat supplies.”

“Oh see, that’s where you’re wrong.” You said with a chuckle. Zayne looked confused for a moment as you placed the little fur ball into his arms. The cat immediately began curling into him, nuzzling its face against his chest as if Zayne had always been its owner. “Come, follow.” You said, and Zayne found himself doing just that, following you through his own house to the guest bedroom he had set up.

When you opened the door, he saw a variety of cat supplies: toys, a bed, a few cat trees, treats, and food. Of course, he hadn’t checked the guest room; he never had a reason to, judging by how it was rare for a guest to say the night. It used to be for you, but you had long since evolved in your relationship and now shared the same room.

“What brought this on?” He said he was going to pet the cat. The small tabby began batting at his hand as if he were playing with it, and he found himself going alone, moving a finger around for his paws to tap at it. He was a bit surprised when it didn’t try to use its claws on him, and it even seemed comfortable being in his arms.

“Well…after that photo shoot last month, I just thought…maybe it was time to expand the family.” You said with a subtle blush. You and Zayne weren’t married, not by a long shot, but you acted like a married couple of 20 years most of the time. So, of course, you had thought of the two of you as a small family at this point. Zayne’s eyes widened a bit in surprise before going back to the usual, relaxed demeanor he had around you.

“So this has been on your mind for a while then?” he asked, slowly letting the cat down onto the floor. The small tabby began wandering off into the room, probably to explore some things while you two talked.

“Yes, it has been…so can we keep him?” you asked, and Zayne had a hard time saying no. Thankfully, you hadn’t brought home a puppy, or he’d be turning down the offer so much faster. Cats could be independent for long hours of the day, and if needed, they could set up an automatic feeder for nights when they’d both be coming home late.

“We can…have you named…him?” Zayne asked, unsure as to the gender of the cat. You giggled as you looked at the cat and then back at him.

“Figured if you said yes, we could brainstorm some names together.” You said, grabbing a small name tag that was blank. You’d have to go to the pet store to have it engraved later, but you placed it in his hand. He moved it around like it was a coin and gave you a small, knowing look.

“So you wanted to name our new child together?” the way he said it had your entire face going hot. You cleared your throat as you nodded.

“Yes, after all, he’s our kitty. I chose him specifically for us. He’s perfect in every way.” You began, and then Zayne heard a small thump as the cat ran into the bed frame. The small cat looked at it, using its paws to look over the frame, “It’s a bit quirky. It runs into a lot of things. It actually ran into my leg in the shelter and then the glass window. It was funny, and I loved him.”

“You bought a blind cat,” Zayne said as the realization dawned on him.

“I bought a blind cat. He didn’t like to eat his carrots.” You were trying so hard not to laugh at the statement. While the cat wasn’t fully blind, the person at the shelter did warn you that his eyesight wasn’t very…good.

Zayne was silent for a moment before grabbing your waist and pulling you closer. He put his forehead on yours as he looked at you, “Is this a warning about my future?” he asked, a subtle smile on his lips.

“Would you eat carrots if I made it into cake form?” You asked, then jumped slightly, your body pressing into Zayne’s as the cat suddenly began rubbing against your leg. You heard Zayne chuckle as he let you go and opted to scoop the cat back into his arms. The cat seemed to enjoy being held as it immediately relaxed into his grasp, once again nuzzling against him.

“I’m fairly certain carrot cake gets rid of all the nutritional benefits of the actual carrot.” He explained, and you hummed.

“It probably does, but that doesn’t answer my question.” You said, your voice still taking a teasing edge.

“It’s a no from me.”

“Rude.”

If you comment on this fic and leave notes, I ask kindly that you don't discuss Zayne being a father. Pregnancy and children make me uncomfortable.